Ellie's Wolf (23 page)

Darlin’. Pain struck her in an almost physical blow when she remembered Quill’s voice saying that word in a gentle, loving tone. Johnny was sprawled only a yard from her, a tiny dart stuck in the side of his neck, his face frozen in an expression of surprised horror. What kind of poison could kill so quickly, and where had these lowlifes found it? Had it been a painless death? She hoped so for Quill’s sake. She wondered if Paint and the others had buried him already. Just a few days ago she had knelt at one husband’s grave to say goodbye to him. Oh, God. This wasn’t the time to scream her grief and rage, but she wanted to. Quill was dead. Her body was bruised from head to foot, but the pain ripping through her chest was twice as bad. Quill was dead.

She refused to think of that while she scrambled into her clothes. Why had she never realized before that wearing clothes was like putting on armor? Wearing jeans and a shirt made her feel strong as she folded the blanket. She halted for a moment when she saw the small tears in the wool. Quill had made those tears. She set her jaw, lined the wool’s edges up neatly, and looked up at Half-Nose. He would pay for this. They all would pay for this. He nodded to her right.

When she turned to look that way, a cloth was clamped over her face. The scent was horribly familiar. “No,” she tried to say.

“Sorry,” said Half-Nose, not sounding sorry at all. “We have to travel fast, and the less you see the better for us. But I’ll make sure no one molests you while you’re napping.”

She fought desperately against breathing in, but it was a losing battle. She felt herself going away. She was light as air and heavy as lead. Her brain was going murky, but a few thoughts swirled around inside her. No matter what happened, she would survive. She concentrated fiercely on that. Taye would find her eventually, and Quill’s murder would be avenged. At least Connor and Tommy were safe. Thank God.

As the last bit of her consciousness faded away, one final thought came to her in vivid clarity. Paint was right. It was possible to love two people at the same time. Neal’s memory would always hold a precious piece of her heart, and her feelings for Quill were more than just gratitude and liking. Why had she closed her mind to that possibility? Why did it take death and agony for her to see things clearly? Now she would never see Quill’s face light up when she told him she loved him.

Sara was right. It wasn’t fair

* * * *

Thump. Thump. Thump
. Blood pounded in his head in the same deliberate rhythm the drums in the Clan camp set when they all got together to dance and tell stories. Wet grass irritated his nose. He tried to raise his hand to brush it away. It wouldn’t move. He couldn’t move! Panic surged through him, almost allowing him to twitch his fingers.
Almost,
he thought, feeling nerves tremble sluggishly along his knuckles. He concentrated on breathing, just dragging air in and letting it ease out. His cheek was on grass. He was lying on grass.

Breathe in. Breathe out. What could he smell? Wet wool. Earth. Men. Strange men, he amended, alarm growing in his throat. Ellie! That was enough to force his eyes to open. The scent of his mate was faint, edged with something sickeningly sweet, and she wasn’t in his limited line of vision. Tearing up a tree by its roots would have taken less effort than lifting his head did. Only the frantic terror of the wolf inside him gave him the strength. It was dark, but close to dawn? He wasn’t sure. His sight was hazy, but he knew his mate wasn’t close. Even if she had left him to relieve herself, he should have sensed her nearby. She was gone. A mess of boot prints flattened the grass just beyond the edge of the blanket, which still held the scent of their lovemaking.

“Ellie!” he shouted.

No, not shouted. It was the merest whisper and left him weak and faint. His face hit the ground nose first. The pain roused him slightly. His mate was in danger, and here he lay like a sick child. His wolf, usually quiet and unassertive, howled inside him.

“Come on, wolf,” he muttered. “Come out.”

In spite of his agitation, the wolf wouldn’t make the change. Maybe couldn’t make the change. Quill focused on reaching his wolf. Failed. Why was he so weak? He forced his torso a hand span from the ground. He could see more clearly now and knew at once that the men who had flattened the grass had taken Ellie.

Rage edged with terror flamed through him. It gave him the strength to raise himself on his hands and knees. Their trail headed west. His teeth ground together. He would find them. He would kill them. But he collapsed back on his face when he tried to rise. His panting sobs rustled the grass when he realized he couldn’t catch them alone. Help. He had to get help for Ellie.

With dogged determination, he turned himself in the direction of the camp a half mile away and managed two inches forward before he had to stop and rest. Then another inch. And another. He would crawl as long as he had to in order to get help for his mate.

His mind was clear now, clear enough to start planning. Sand was the fastest of them. He would be sent off to the den to alert Taye and fetch more wolves. Quill and the others would track the woman thieves while two stayed back with the boys. Staying behind while others raced to rescue Ellie was sensible, but unacceptable. He wanted to be there to rescue his mate. He would tell Paint to tie him to a horse and, if he held the rescue party back, they should leave him. His ego wasn’t as important as Ellie’s safety.

Grimly, he pushed himself another two inches closer to camp.
I’m coming, darlin’
, he thought as he paused for five seconds to breathe, and then he pushed his numb body another inch toward camp. Then another inch. And another.

* * * *

Ellie woke throwing up. She noticed, with satisfaction, that she managed to make a mess of Lenny’s boots. He stepped back too late and then kicked her solidly in the ribs. She heaved again, and the pain was shattering. Throwing up, choking, and screaming at the same time was not an experience she wanted to have ever again. She hoped her rib wasn’t broken. Throwing up was painful enough without that.

“Get away from her,” a rough voice said harshly, and Lenny retreated.

Her stomach settled a little, and she leaned back to take stock of her situation. The dark was illuminated by a small fire. She was propped against the rough bark of a tree trunk, her hands tied in front of her, her legs stretched out. Her vomit stained her shirt and probably her hair. She could barely stand her own stench.

“Leave that woman alone,” the rough voice said, and Ellie now identified it as Half-Nose’s. She could see his profile against the glow of the fire he hunched close to. “We’re selling her to the traders.”

“Not for another couple’a days,” Lenny said sullenly. “Don’t see why we shouldn’t use her until then.”

“She stinks,” Half-Nose pointed out.

“I don’t care.”

Lenny’s voice sounded eager now, and she heard some other men murmuring agreement.

Ellie could barely move, but she managed to press her back more firmly against the tree in an effort to retreat. Oh, God, what indignities would she suffer? Rape. It was more than an indignity. Ellie swallowed hard to force nausea back. The louder murmurs of agreement cut off when Half Nose rose from his crouch by the fire. “I say no. You care about that?”

Lenny shrunk back. “Sure. Sure. ’Course we do.”

“Then shut up. We have three hours to rest before we hit the saddle again. Chuck, douse the fire and take first watch. The rest of you, git.”

The men melted away into the dark. Ellie set her lips together tight when Half Nose approached her, holding a small lantern that lit his face into a demon’s mask.

“You need to piss?” he asked.

“Yes. And I need to wash up.”

His ugly face twisted in consideration. “All right, I can give you a few minutes by the pond.”

She raised her bound wrists. “You’ll need to untie me.”

“Since I don’t want to wipe your ass, I guess I will.”

His crudity might not have been deliberate. Maybe he always talked like that. Intentional or not, it made Ellie cringe. She kept quiet as he untied the strip of cloth around her wrists and led her to a place where she could pee and then to the edge of a small pond. She pretended he wasn’t watching her as she waded a few feet into the pond.

“Don’t go too far,” he warned harshly.

The mud at the bottom of the pond was cool and squishy between her toes, the water brackish with a fine layer of scum floating over the surface. Ellie didn’t mind a bit.

Half-Nose whistled to get her attention and waved a chunk of something at her. “C’mere, I got soap for you.”

She waded back to him to take the soap, wondering sourly why he hadn’t given it to her sooner and if he knew what it was for. Going by his appearance and stench, she doubted it. “Thank you,” she said woodenly.

His broken fingernail scraped over the wet cotton plastered to her breast. “Don’t forget to tell your wolf-man cousin who protected you from rape when he finds you.”

“I’ll tell him,” she promised in the same wooden voice.
And I’ll tell him who was in charge of the men who murdered Quill
, she added to herself. “The other men seem afraid of you. You must be the leader.”

His smile did nothing to improve his looks. He patted his breast pocket. “’Cuz I’m the one with the poison.”

Her bones ached with the sudden shaft of ice that passed through them. This was the man who’d killed Quill. She forced herself to look away so he wouldn’t see the hatred she could feel freezing her face.

She washed herself as best she could with the harsh soap, grateful the moonlight was scanty through thick clouds. Maybe he couldn’t see her. She took stock of her aches as she washed. Her ribs weren’t broken, she decided, but painfully bruised. All of her felt bruised, but her ribs on the left side were the worst. Her blouse was stiff with vomit. She hastily scrubbed it without taking it off.

“Hurry up,” Half-Nose said impatiently. “You need to get a little sleep before we hit the road again.”

“I think I’ve slept enough!” She hastily finished wringing her shirttail out and strode back to him. “I need water and something to eat.”

“A little water, sure.” He turned and began walking back to their camp. “Not wasting food on a woman who’ll just puke it up.”

“The only reason I threw up is because of that filthy drug you gave me.”

“Does that to some people.” He sounded bored. “So I won’t waste the food.”

She stopped, heart thudding with dread. “I’m done throwing up now.”

He turned back. “Doubt it.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Hurry up.”

She resisted the urge to struggle and trotted to keep up with him. “I don’t want to be drugged.”

“And I don’t wanna have to sell you. If I had my druthers, you’d be cooking and cleaning and cock riding right now in our snug little cabin that we’re gonna have to abandon. But life’s real shitty like that, ain’t it?”

Anger boiled up her throat. “Why did you take me? If you want a wife, there are better ways to find one!”

He gave her arm a vicious jerk, and she stumbled after him into the flickering light of the dying fire. He waved at the half dozen men around the fire. “Look at us,” he sneered. “None of us is a beauty queen like your pretty boy husband. No woman would willingly accept us, so we take what we can find.”

Ellie straightened and put her shoulders back. “It’s not a man’s appearance that makes him ugly.”

That roused a chorus of nasty laughter from the men. Half-Nose closed the distance between them with a step and grabbed her hair to jerk her close. “Take your medicine like a good girl, and I’ll keep these ugly hyenas out of your pants. Fight me, and I’ll show you just how ugly we are.”

Ice coated her insides, but she raised her chin to hide it. “Fine. Give me some water first.”

She drank what was brought to her and settled herself into the most comfortable position before submitting to the smelly cloth with resignation. She reminded herself again that at least Connor and Tommy were safe. She could endure whatever came to her. Taye would find her. It might take him a little while, but he would find her. And she would tell him exactly who was responsible for Quill’s death. As consciousness faded, she pictured Quill’s smiling face with sun-kissed curls tumbling around his shoulders. He was a pretty boy, she supposed, but what made him truly handsome was the gentle way he touched her, his quiet pride in having her for his wife and Tommy and Connor for his sons.
Oh, Quill.
I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner that I loved you.

Taye Wolfe sat in the rocking chair beside the stove in his room, cradling his tiny, six-day-old daughter in his hands. It was dark in the room, past midnight, but his wolf sight showed him the loveliness of his daughter clearly. He marveled at the perfection of each miniature feature. Her hair was a fluffy pale tuft at the top of her head, her eyes clenched slits in her soft face. Each tiny eyelash was perfect. Her fingers were tipped with minute nails. He glanced at the bed where his mate slept, unashamed of the tears drawn by love and awe to his eyes. He was mightily blessed, with a mate who loved him, a strong young son, and now a delicate, precious daughter he would protect with every breath he took. Little Hypatia would never know fear or hurt. He would see to that.

Hypatia. It was a strange name he’d never heard of, but it was what Carla wanted to name their daughter. As far as he was concerned, all his mate needed to do was voice a desire and he would do whatever he could to give it to her. Hypatia was a learned woman from ancient times whom Carla had studied when she was young. She said they would call their daughter Patia. Who was he to say no? Pay-sha. It sounded pretty.

His daughter’s little face stretched in a yawn. It made him smile with gloating pride. Of all the babies he’d ever seen, Patia was the most beautiful of them all. The babe tried to stuff her fist into her mouth and let out a little snort before falling asleep again. He rose from the chair to lay her beside her mother.

A distant shout made him pause. “Chief! Chief! Come quick!”