Tara The Great [Nuworld 2] (5 page)

a thick, nasty-tasting paste. The ground grew cold and offered little comfort as she

gagged. Her face ached and pulling her lips together in order to spit proved to be quite

a challenge. It hurt to pucker. The spittle dribbled down her chin, but she ignored it and

spit again.

Tara
tried to push herself to a sitting position, and failed, her good arm slipping

under her weight. She cursed out loud. She had defeated warriors twice her size in the

Test of Wills. Her clan members knew her as a skilled fighter, yet one round with her

tramp half-sister, and she couldn’t get off the ground.

She spat again, feeling a small accomplishment at the success of the feat, and forced

herself to try moving again. Several attempts later, Tara pulled herself up and stumbled

forward, surveying her surroundings.

A waterfall dumped its cold mountain spring water into a small pond. The water

invited her with its gurgling noises and splashing sounds. Tara rubbed her eye with her

sleeve until she could focus. She could see clearly to the bottom of the pond, which

wasn’t that deep. The air felt damp and she imagined it soothing her cuts as she stood

next to the pond, breathing the crisp air. The tangy scent of moss, mixed with a more

pungent smell from the trees around her, provided a delightful bouquet. It was a

tranquil spot.

The first step was to clean the wound on her arm and determine its severity. There

would be no easy way to remove her shirt with the arm in its useless state, and the rest

of her bruised and sore. She tried pulling it over her head, but the intensity of pain in

her arm raced through her body and overwhelmed her. She pulled at her shirtsleeve,

and fresh blood began to ooze as she broke what little healing existed. Tara grew

frustrated when she couldn’t see the severity of the laceration in her forearm. The

amount of blood made her think the knife had cut fairly deep, and she knew if she

didn’t tend it quickly, infection would set in.

First order of business: remove the sleeve. None of the jagged rocks Tara found to

help her sharpen the end of a stick worked. One hand just couldn’t complete the task.

Frustrated, Tara threw the wood into the water. The only option left was to clean her

arm with the shirt still on.

The water was cold, very cold. It revived all her sensations, thereby focusing her

brain. She felt every cut and scrape with new vitality.

Tara
screamed.

Letting loose her rage enabled it to subside just enough for her to realize the

severity of her injuries. Every muscle in her body cramped, and she began shaking

uncontrollably. Everything around her blurred, and she couldn’t stop shaking.

This was all Tasha’s fault.

The slut probably sought out Darius as soon as she knew Tara had left.

And it hadn’t been Tara’s fault that she had been gone six cycles. The Neurians had

held her hostage; she hadn’t been able to return sooner. Darius hadn’t sought another

claim in her absence, and he had made no attempt to declare her dead.

Tara
felt the ground move under her. She staggered before regaining balance,

beginning to fear she might pass out. Her mind churned in turmoil as she continued to

jump from thoughts of Tasha to Darius, wondering how this terrible turn of events

could have been allowed to play out.

Someone would pay for the birth of this bastard. She would see to it personally.

* * * * *

Darius had no difficulty following Tara as she zigzagged through the trees. He

parked at the top of a small cliff and watched as his claim lost control of her bike.

Don’t help her yet. Wait until she’s ready to pass out.

Tara
was injured more from a spat with her sister than he had ever seen her after

any fight. He wanted to rip apart Tasha for throwing that child in Tara’s face.

As far as he could tell, Tasha had placed herself in worse standing than she had

ever before experienced by confronting her sister. And now he would have to calm

Tara
’s wrath and find a way to convince her that this child meant nothing to him.

He held his emotions in check as he watched her struggle to move toward the

water. He clearly saw she wouldn’t be able to remove her shirt after watching her try

and fail. When she screamed, he got off his bike and reached for a small bag he had tied

to his seat before he followed her.

Darius could think of very few warriors who would have the stamina to continue as

Tara
had, considering the amount of blood she’d lost. He wondered if he would have

been able to endure the cuts and lacerations and continue to move. The woman was

incredible!

As he watched her half-sit, half-lie by the clear water, he realized how hurt she’d

obviously been after discovering Tasha had his child. Darius had known the babe

would damage Tara’s pride, but now he sensed his claim had been hurt by the

knowledge of this bastard more than he’d anticipated.

It wasn’t his fault, damn it.

During the six cycles of Tara’s absence, he hadn’t been able to think clearly. That

had been the main reason he had left Gothman, so he could clear his head and try to

move on without Tara. And on that night Tasha found him outside Gothman land, he

had been convinced Tara was dead.

He’d been drunk, and Tasha had a reputation as a slut.

Raping her had seemed so trivial. He never dreamed Tasha would conceive. So the

bitch had the kid. He could have easily resolved the problem by eliminating both Tasha

and the child. And possibly he should have done that sooner, but he hadn’t thought

their existence would hurt Tara like it had.

He pushed aside these thoughts and focused on what needed to be done now.

Darius didn’t hesitate as he began walking toward Tara. The cold water must have

sent her into a state of shock because she didn’t appear to be aware of his presence. No

warriors ever kept their back to someone approaching from behind. He squatted behind

her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

Tara
didn’t meet his gaze when he looked at her. Her expression turned dark when

she realized he was there, and she reached for her injured arm. “I told you to leave me

alone.”

“I know.” He ignored the glare she gave him and slowly took her injured arm in his

grip. “This is going to hurt.”

He cut her sleeve with a small pair of scissors he’d removed from the bag.

Tara
gritted her teeth and refused to allow her pain to show.

Darius slid the material down her arm and dropped it on the ground. Blood began

trickling down her arm again.

Tara
had closed her eyes during the process, but opened them when she felt air hit

her wound. She clenched her teeth in apparent determination not to break apart when

she saw the severity of her wound. Her arm had been sliced wide open.

Darius took a white cloth from the bag and covered the injury. He held her arm

tightly with his hand to stop the bleeding.

* * * * *

Tears welled in Tara’s eyes from the agony, but she kept her face blank. She blinked

a few times and looked up into Darius’ face, unable to speak.

He wiped the tear from her cheek and smiled. “If you weren’t such a damn good

warrior, the pain could overtake you and you’d pass out, you would. Then it wouldn’t

hurt as bad.” He rubbed her swollen cheek with his rough thumb, his voice remaining

quiet and calm. “I’m going to put a salve on it.”

He removed the white cloth. The underside of the cloth now showed bright red,

and the zigzagged tear in Tara’s arm looked clean, yet deep.

Tara worked to stay focused, telling herself that if she were at the clan site, Dr. Digo

could repair the wound with little effort. She would be fine. But out here, with Darius’

large hands attempting to place skin together to close the wound, the damage appeared

a lot worse.

Darius applied a salve that Tara recognized as a Gothman medicine. She wondered

how Darius had come by the salve, but couldn’t keep her thoughts focused long enough

to determine an answer.

The ointment stung and Tara winced. “I’ll do it.” She tried to grab the jar of salve

from him, but Darius pulled it back and she fell into him. Her arm hit his shirt and

covered him with blood. Tara reached for the ground with her good hand, but grabbed

air. Although she only leaned against Darius for a moment before he steadied her, the

pain almost made her pass out.

“I don’t want your help.” She choked on phlegm and broke into a cough. Clearing

her throat, Tara struggled to breathe. With every deep breath, she felt knives sear into

her rib cage. Something was seriously wrong. Panic rushed over her when she couldn’t

catch her breath.

* * * * *

Darius watched Tara place fingers delicately along her ribs while she tried to

stabilize her breathing. He frowned and took her hand, then placed his own fingers

along her rib cage, feeling gently.

Tara yelped when he touched her, then scooted so her back was to him.

Darius realized there was more damage than just her sliced arm. “We need to wrap

you. Those ribs are broken.” He crawled around to face her. “Your shirt needs to come

off.”

“You’re not going to touch me,” she hissed, but her voice was weakening.

She waved her good hand, as if dismissing him, and he noticed she had begun

shaking.

“You are not going to die today, my lady, no. Either you let me take care of you, or

I’ll knock you out and take care of you while you’re unconscious, yes.”

Tara remained frozen with her good arm blocking him. She glared with eyes that

were blurred and glassy.

Darius reached into the bag and pulled out a small syringe. He removed the plastic

cover from the end, revealing a long, thin needle.

“No,” Tara choked and tried to scoot away.

Darius ignored her feeble attempt to flee, grabbed her good arm, and injected the

serum into her vein.

As her surroundings went black, she heard Darius’ voice speak to her soothingly.

“I love you, I do. Don’t worry…you’ll be fine. I’ll see to it, I will.”

* * * * *

Tara wasn’t sure how long she slept. Distorted figures and echoes of voices trailed