Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) (4 page)

"Finally," he sighed with seeming relief, "a woman who understands my priorities."

Wynne gave him her best I'm-done-with-your-nonsense frown. Apparently, that look was universal because he responded the same way the children did when she used it on them. He rolled his eyes before he reluctantly complied.

"We're on the largest island on the planetoid. It's called Empor's Tor, Giant's Mountain. We'll get out when sun and tide allow and there's food and water under the seat. See? Nothing else to think about."

"Then start thinking about how we're going to get off of this, this... What did you call it?"

"Planetoid. It's an asteroid that was terra formed as part of an evolutionary experiment that didn't end well."

"More things like that?"

"I told you, nothing I can't handle."

"With a knife?" Wynne figured she had a right to sound skeptical.

"And fire," he said. "We'll have a fire starter once we get under the seat."

"There wouldn't be a little inflatable spaceship under there to get us off this failed experiment, would there?"

"No, that's going to be little harder, but I have a few ideas." He raised one winged eyebrow. "A good toss in the sheets might help me think it through. You wouldn't be interested, would you?"

She laughed at his nonsense. "There are no sheets, and I have no interest in being tossed."

"That's only because you haven't been tossed by me."

Wynne shook her head. The man did not give up. And a newly awakened part of her hoped he never did.

Chapter 5

She was reminded of those words hours later when Tor finally found a spot he felt was suitable to make camp.

Sun and tide had finally won the battle of the sea beasts. Once the vicious creatures crawled back into the water, she thought Tor might allow them, lid open, some well-deserved rest, but no. He was determined to put as much distance between them and the shore as he could before the sun set.

Her pod was gone, swallowed by the tide. Tor's was pulled back from the edge of the trees to where it had landed on the beach. Wynne wondered if their combined weight was what saved them from being drawn beneath the waves. Once he was sure the danger was past, Tor set about tearing the pod apart. Using his knife, he pried open the control panel and gutted the inside, pocketing small bits and pieces until he came to a small yellow box lit by a pulsing light from within.

Yanking it free from its mooring, he ran with it to the edge of the water and hurled it into the sea. Wynne screamed a warning, but he was already aware of the bloodsucker lurking in the shallows and easily avoided the tentacle rising up and reaching out for this post-storm snack.

"I hate those things," she told him after swallowing the heart that had risen to her throat with the rising of the beast. "I'll be dreaming about them for months. What was that thing you threw and was it worth the risk?"

"Homing beacon and yes, it was worth the risk."

He tore his shirt up over his head, tied two firm knots in the bottom and the sleeves together at the cuffs.

"Wait! Isn't that beacon for rescue? Don't we want someone to find us?"

"Depends on who's doing the rescuing." He began stuffing the makeshift pack with everything he found beneath the seat. "I need to see them before they see us and they're probably already looking. Right now, I need to get this pod in the water. Let the bloodsuckers carry it out. Let whoever comes looking for us think the beasts won."

"Wait!" she cried again. "What if it's still there, the one that tried to get you?" It was frightening enough inside the protection of the pod. Meeting it outside the pod was terrifying. "What if it tries to get you again?"

"You'll stab it and run." He handed her the knife. "I'll pull, you push, and when we get close enough, you stab anything that comes up from the water. Anything."

"Wait!" she objected a third time. "Are you saying there are other things out there? Are they as big as the bloodsuckers?"

"Bigger. There are things that eat the things that tried to eat us. Now move it, we don't have much time. You can ask your questions later.

He pulled. She pushed. She stabbed, but it was a small one. She saw nothing larger until they were moving up the beach and the open escape pod sank beneath the surface.

The water that had settled back to a glassy surface erupted into a geyser of spray. A bloodsucker was tossed into the air. An octopus of sorts, its many legs flailed in every direction. For the first time, she got the full impact of its enormous size, but it was the massive jaws of the creature that followed it upward that caused her to stop and stare. The size of a small whale, it looked to be more mouth than body. The jaws widened, seemed to unhinge to form a basket of row upon row of long, pointed teeth. The bloodsucker fell into that deadly basket to be instantly pierced by the razor sharp points. The jaws closed over it and she could have sworn the creature's black and soulless eye zeroed in on her.

"Showtime's over, Princess."

Tor grabbed her hand and dragged her with him. He snagged the pack on the way by and only let her hand go once they were well away and deep under the canopy formed by the broad, leathery leaves of the trees. He settled the pack over his shoulders. It reminded Wynne of the way a boy her sister once dated always wore his sweater.

She'd been about ten at the time and for some reason thought he, and the way he wore that sweater was the coolest thing she'd ever seen. That kid's shoulders were nothing compared to what she was looking at now.

Tor, with the shirt sleeves capping his broad shoulders and the knot pulling tight at the center of his massively muscled chest, was way more than cool. He was spectacular.

"I've shown you mine, now it's your turn to show me yours," he quipped when he caught her admiring stare.

Embarrassed, she turned and walked a little faster. "In your dreams, cowboy."

"Obviously in yours too, Princess." He laughed, caught up with her in two quick steps, and then grabbed her hand again. He veered left. "Unless you know where you're going, it's best to let me lead."

That was the last smile he gave her for what felt like hours as they trudged uphill. Wynne didn't ask for relief. While he said nothing, his tension was communicated though the hand holding hers. The other held the knife. He paused fairly regularly, but only long enough to listen and scan the surrounding area. She wanted to ask what he was searching for, but his silence was so complete, she didn't dare.

Several times she thought she heard movement or saw dark shapes melting into the lighter shadows cast by the trees. Twice, Tor stopped and dropped the pack to the ground. Both times he made a stirrup with his hands and motioned with his chin to a branch high above his head. He never asked her if she could complete the climb, just accepted that she would.

And she did. She never could have reached the lowest branch without his helpful boost. She was too short. What surprised her was that once there, she had the strength to pull herself up onto the branch. It was a struggle, but she managed, and when he tossed her the pack, she actually caught it. Another chin lift told her to move upward. She did it with the heavy pack held firmly on her arm.

Even more amazing than this personal and heretofore unrealized athleticism was Tor's leap, unaided, from ground to branch. With one swing, he was on the lower limb and with the next he was sitting on the upper branch beside her.

The grin he gave her was the grin of any schoolyard show-off. Had the forest not been so eerily quiet, she would have giggled aloud. Instead, she rewarded him with silent applause.

His bow was interrupted by his sudden alertness to something she couldn't hear or see. He put his finger to his lips in a familiar gesture for silence.

Wynne returned his gesture with a frown. After noiselessly clapping her approval of his athletic skill, did he really think she might shout out now?

She didn't see what passed by their tree that first time because Tor shrank back and with arm around her shoulders, took her with him. He froze and thinking it best to take her cues from him, Wynne froze, too. Minutes passed before he relaxed.

She did see the second creature, though. Whether it was the same type of animal as the first, she didn't know and didn't want to know. All she knew was that she didn't want to see one again unless Tor carried something more lethal than a knife.

The creature was shaped, more or less, like an alligator with a thick and powerful body rising up on four short, but muscular looking legs. Claws, long and curled, dug into the ground beneath its feet. Its tail was as long as its body, heavily built, and just as powerful looking. Like the familiar reptile, its elongated mouth was generously supplied with nasty looking teeth. It was not a reptile, however. This creature was covered in a smooth, dark brown pelt and it was larger than any can-you-believe-the-size-of-this-one gator she'd ever seen on television.

When it opened its mouth, Wynne expected the honking roar of its earthly cousin. Instead, it belched and released a fume rancid enough to make her gag. Her eyes stung with it. Fear and Tor's steadying hand kept her from crying out.

It was only her trust in Tor's sixth sense that gave her the courage to hang from the branch and drop into his arms. Alone, she would have died in that tree.

She stayed there, head resting against his comforting wall of chest for longer than necessity dictated, but he didn't seem to mind if the hand at the back of her head was any indication. When she finally looked up, it was to see him watching her with soft and gentle eyes.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," she said, and knew that it was true.

The growth thinned as they climbed higher. The trees became shorter and their coverage less dense. By the time Tor dropped the pack, dusk was falling. Wynne was about to fall, too. She'd never walked so far or so fast in her life. The only thing that allowed her to keep up with Tor's pace was her fear of being left behind with that thing she'd seen in the woods. A distant scream added to her determination. She almost cried with relief when he finally spoke.

"We'll stop here for the night."

Wynne looked around for the tree in which they would rest. "They're not big enough," she muttered and the thought of moving on until they found a tall one brought tears to her eyes.

"What's not big enough?" He must have seen her looking up. "You mean the trees?" He laughed. "We're not spending the night off the ground, but on it."

"Oh no, sir, we are not spending the night on the ground. You will find me a tree to sleep in. A tall tree. A very tall tree."

She said it in the same way she'd once heard her mother say to her father, "Oh no, sir, we are not spending the night in this fleabag motel. You will find me a decent hotel to sleep in."

Normally, hearing her mother's voice coming out of her own mouth would make Wynne cringe, but this time she was too tired to care.

Unlike her father, Tor didn't say, "Okay, honey, keep your shirt on. We'll find someplace better." No, Tor said, "If a tree is what you want, feel free to hike back down until you find one. I'm staying here."

"But what if it rains?"

"It won't, but even if it did, it won't be what occurs down at the coast. Up here, you only get water followed by bugs."

On that pleasant thought, she looked back the way they'd come, looked back at him, and then started to cry.

It wasn't the wracking sob sort of cry, more of an exhausted weeping, but Tor looked shaken by her sudden collapse. He took a hesitant step toward her and even more hesitantly opened his arms. Wynne didn't walk into them so much as tumble into them. She was acting like a big baby and she didn't care.

"Ah, Kushma, you were so strong and brave today I forgot you weren't one of my own," he told her as he gathered her in. "This is no place for a princess."

"I'm not a princess," she pouted, though she was acting like a very spoiled one. She sniffed loudly and looked up. "And what do you mean by one of your own? Your own what?"

"My harem, of course. I make them run miles and wrestle in the mud just for the chance of winning a night with me," he said with a teasing grin.

"Must make it easier for them to play dead after all that running and wrestling, huh? Kind of goes with the sex in a coffin theme, doesn't it?"

He laughed. "I think I like you, Princess."

"My grandmother would be appalled," she muttered against his chest, and only because she was too tired to watch her words admitted, "But I think I like you too, though if I wake up to one of those things chomping on my leg, I reserve the right to change my mind."

"Nothing will feast on your leg. We'll have the rock at our back and a fire before us."

"Like that's going to stop one of those hairy gators. He'll probably belch into the flames and toast us both before he starts munching."

"They don't like hiking any more than you do. The higher you climb, the smaller the wildlife."

"So you're saying the animals up here won't eat me?"

"No, I'm saying they'll take smaller bites."

"Lucky me."

The sob storm was averted, but she didn't move. She wanted to stay there, propped against his sturdy chest. She could have fallen asleep right where she was, upright and surrounded by warmth and muscle, and Tor seemed content to let her do it. That wouldn't fair to him, however. He had to be tired, too. Reluctantly, she pushed away.

"We'd better get that fire built," she said quietly.

In spite of her exhaustion, Wynne would have helped gather wood for the fire, but Tor insisted she rest. She didn't argue, but sat and watched the play of moving muscle along his chest and back as he broke and stacked the small branches. His shoulders sloped with the powerful muscles that extended from his neck. While not a perfect six pack, his abdominals were clearly defined and cut inward over his narrowed hips to disappear into the low slung waist of his trousers.

He was, she decided, what Nona would have described as a fine specimen of manhood.

With the fire built and the tall slab of rock behind them, they settled in. The night was chilly and Tor had donned his shirt before he sat with his back against the rock. The fire, the small stack of wood he'd gathered, and his knife were all within easy reach of his free hand. Wynne had no qualms about curling next to him with her legs folded under her skirt. He was warm and his chest made a good pillow. With his arm wrapped around her holding her to him, she felt safe and secure against whatever might be lurking in the dark.

He was a pirate of some sort, a thief most probably, and maybe a kidnapper as well. He could even be a killer, but he'd saved her life not once, but several times. Though he teased her with talk of sex, she never felt threatened by him, and while his looks and bearing were all man, when he smiled, his eyes lit with boyish mischief and she felt that smile deep inside as if it was hers alone.