Captured & Seduced (15 page)

Fukk! Waterfall.

“Camryn!” Ry fought the current and bobbed along like a cork. A flash of white caught his attention. There. Hell, he couldn’t fail her. He struggled, fighting the suck of the water, the stirring of panic. He bounced off a rock and groaned at the rough gouge of his leg. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed hold of a jutting branch and struggled for footing.

When Camryn passed, he was ready. His hand shot out and seized her arm, gripping it cruelly. She screamed, but he didn’t let go, hauling her upward so she could stand and fight the current on her own. When she had her balance, he released her arm and hauled her against him in a tight embrace. Her heart thundered against his chest, each breath coming in shuddery pants. Pale and disheveled, she’d lost her pack, but he’d never felt so thankful in all his life. In that instant Ry knew he was in trouble. Although he’d given his promise, he didn’t want to take her back to Earth. He wanted to keep her for himself.

Ry shoved aside the traitorous thought. His brother might have taken everything he valued, but Ry liked to think he’d retained his decency and kept his word. Always.

“I’m ready,” Camryn said in a small, unsteady voice. “We should try to get to the riverbank.”

“We’re on the wrong side.” The stark truth.

“If you think I’m going to attempt another crossing you’ve got rocks in your head. Can’t you hear the waterfall?”

And he’d thought he’d done a good job of protecting her. All the time she’d known possible death waited ahead. “Do you need help?”

“The current isn’t as strong here.” Camryn angled toward the riverbank and Ry followed, ready to grab her should she fall. Guilt hit when he saw the way she favored her arm, but she kept moving until reaching the sluggish water near the riverbank. Progress became quicker after that. They dragged themselves onto the bank, forcing their way through the overgrowing bushes and vines until they lay on dry land, gasping for breath.

Ry placed a cautious hand on Camryn’s shoulder and rubbed gently. “You okay?”

“You almost wrenched my shoulder from its socket.”

Shame filled him even though he’d do the same again. He’d never hit or brutalized a woman in his life, and it pained him to know he’d hurt her now—a woman he cared for.

“I’m sorry. Let me take a look.”

“I’ll get over it. You saved me,” she said, sitting up in an awkward position because of the surrounding vegetation. “I don’t think I’d have managed to get to the tree on my own. You okay?”

A flash of warmth hit him square in the chest. “Still terrified. Fukk, I hate swimming,” he said with real feeling.

“Me too.” Camryn shivered. “We need to move so our clothes dry. Tell me about Mogens.”

The idea of lingering had occurred to him, but he knew she was right. “It’s not going to be easy traveling inland.”

“Following the river won’t be much easier.”

“Either we travel inland or we follow the river until we come to another creek bed. We’ll need to go inland to get past the falls.”

“Inland it is.” Camryn shoved through the bushes and struggled to her feet, favoring her arm. “Which way?”

Ry lifted his head to scent the air and couldn’t smell anything apart from vegetation and leaf litter. His senses didn’t indicate danger in any direction. “This way. Mogens walked up to me in the middle of a marketplace on Septius. He told me the ghosts of my parents were proud of me. I made a strong, noble cat.” He stood and belted his head against a low-hanging branch. “Fukk.”

“Poor baby.” Camryn leaned close and fingered the spot, tsking when he flinched. “No blood. I think you’ll live. Mogens and his ghosts freak me out.”

Ry bit back a smile, surprised by a flash of humor. “He doesn’t mean any harm. I’ve learned to listen since his predictions are usually right.”

He set off, moving without haste. Although the light didn’t pierce the tree canopy, the heat made it feel as if a heavy blanket surrounded them. Already sweat trickled down his back and face and ran into his eyes. He swiped his hand over his face and forced his body through a small gap between a tree and a leafy fern. Bloody vines. They were everywhere. Trailing across the ground and winding around trees. Like giant purple webs, they choked the life out of the living to gain a tenuous hold on existence. Unlike insect webs, they weren’t easy to sweep aside. They were tough and resilient. His blade had suffered and no longer bore a razor-sharp edge.

“Are you sure you’ve chosen the right direction?”

“I can smell water.”

“Smell it?” Camryn wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “A kitty thing, I suppose. Was the second change to cat as bad?”

Ry ignored her doubt and bent almost double to force his body between two vines. He could hear the water now, a gentle flow across a stony bed. He kept walking, slogging through the undergrowth and hacking the vines with his knife where it was necessary.

“Mogens guided me through the change and asked if my ship required a man skilled in medicine. I decided we did and he joined the crew. I’ve never regretted it despite his peculiarities.”

They slogged up an incline and scrambled down the other side through a patch of prickly red bushes. At the bottom of the hill, a small creek ran toward the river. “There. What did I tell you?”

With relief, he stepped into the water again and splashed in the opposite direction to the river. Although it was easier to navigate, the trailing vines still created a problem where they stretched across from one tree to another.

Camryn wheezed behind him, laboring without complaint. A new noise—foreign and full of distress—stopped him short. He cocked his head.

“What is it?”

“You hear anything?” Ry asked.

“Yeah.” Camryn stepped up beside him and listened. “Sounds like an animal.”

Ry started moving again. The distressed cries grew louder. Grunts. Pained groans. Thrashing. Foliage rustling and the rattle of the vines. He could make out a dark shape but couldn’t identify the creature. He moved closer with Camryn right behind him.

“It’s a baby hell-horse,” Camryn whispered.

The creature thrashed in panic on hearing her voice.

“It’s caught in the vines.” Ry pulled out his knife.

“Ry.” Camryn grabbed his arm. “You’re not going to kill it.”

“Of course not,” he snapped, offended. “I’m going to cut it free. We can’t leave it there to suffer.” He stepped forward cautiously.

Camryn grasped his arm again. “Let me go first. I’ll try and keep it calm while you cut the vines.” She approached with caution. “Steady, fella. We’re not going to hurt you. Easy, boy.” She rubbed her hand across the hell-horse’s matted coat, murmuring nonsense to the creature. The thrashing ceased but the hell-horse trembled, its eyes rolling in terror. Camryn squatted beside the foal and continued to talk.

Ry hacked through the vines with his knife. The blade bit into the creeper but it didn’t give. The vines clacked together and the terrified hell-horse struggled.

A yip of anger came from behind. A hell-horse attacked, teeth barred.

“Camryn!” Ry grabbed her and thrust her behind him. He whirled to face the hell-horse, knife at the ready.

Camryn tugged his sleeve. “Back up,” she whispered. “It’s protecting its foal.” She continued to yank on his arm until he moved away.

“We can’t leave it like that,” he said, not taking his eyes off the mother.

“Of course not,” Camryn said. “We need to get the mother’s trust.”

And that wouldn’t be easy. The mother approached her foal and nuzzled it with affectionate concern.

Camryn slipped from behind him and approached the hell-horse.

“No.” Ry attempted to grab her and she dodged him, stepping toward the mother. His heart pounded, tensing to leap to her defense. His canines dropped into position and the leopard stirred uneasily, wanting to protect. His eyes bled to feline, his vision flickering between color and black and white.

“Easy,” she crooned in a singsong voice. “We’re not going to hurt your baby.”

The hell-horse pawed the ground, splashing water and throwing small pebbles into the air. It snorted. Ry watched the creature’s eyes, scrutinizing the horse’s intent. He edged closer and the creature charged. The hell-horse sprang at Camryn with its powerful hindquarters and snapped at her arm, sharp teeth flashing. She leapt out of the way but the creature snagged her shirtsleeve. The fabric ripped, exposing her flesh.

“Camryn, climb a tree.”

She stood her ground. “It’s frightened. It will settle.”

Ry didn’t agree. The creature didn’t look as if it would settle until she ripped Camryn apart and ate him for a chaser. “Damn it, back up.”

Camryn stood her ground and glared at him. “You might have kidnapped me but that doesn’t make you my boss.”

“It does if you want to return home.”

Her brown eyes narrowed and he tensed, ashamed of the threat. He mightn’t want to let her go but he’d given his word.

“I don’t want you injured.” Ry wanted to apologize but the words jammed in his throat.

“Because you need a horse trainer.” Bitterness coated her words, and she met his authority with defiance.

The hell-horse lined up Camryn for another attack.

“Move. Now!”

Camryn dodged the charge and swung in close to the foal. It bleated in fear, struggling with weak thrashes. The mother yapped and neighed, flashing her teeth in warning.

“Steady.” Camryn stroked the foal, attempting to quiet its struggles. The mother released an anxious bark and held her ground. She snorted uneasily through flared nostrils. “Easy, little fella. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Fear coiled through Ry. He tensed, ready to pounce. If anything happened to Camryn, he’d never forgive himself.

“Easy boy.” She stroked the foal’s muddy coat and worked her magic. Ry had never seen the like before. “Move closer but slowly. We don’t want to panic them again.”

Following her instructions, he approached the foal and, without taking his gaze off the mother, he started to hack the vine. The mother stomped her front feet, snorting uneasily even though Camryn continued to stroke the foal. Her soothing voice seemed to placate the mother. Ry severed the vines as fast as he could, but the mother became increasingly agitated. Before she attacked, he cut the vine wrapped around the foal’s hindquarters and the foal slid into the water, giving a weak bleat.

The mother yapped, and Camryn cursed, a succinct sound of helplessness and panic. “It’s choking. Quick, Ry. The vine around its neck.” She struggled to lift the creature so the pressure on its neck wasn’t quite as bad. The mother seemed to accept Camryn’s presence but didn’t like Ry near her foal. She darted in between Camryn and him and snarled, her teeth glinting. No way did she intend to let him get any closer.

“Camryn, can you reach my knife?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Good.” Ry stretched out but Camryn didn’t move. “What are you doing?”

“Sarcasm, chump. Of course, I can’t reach. I have a sore arm. You’ll have to calm the mother because if I move her foal is going to drown.”

Ry cursed under his breath, guilt warring with irritation. Smart-mouthed woman needed her ass smacked. He edged back, placing each foot with care so he didn’t trip. The tension left the mother and she edged alongside her foal, nuzzling its hindquarters, issuing small chirps of encouragement. Ry let his breath ease out. Closer. No sudden moves. Apprehension lurched inside when he saw a tremor run through Camryn’s petite frame. She couldn’t keep the foal out of the water for much longer. He approached Camryn along the riverbank, once again moving with caution so he wouldn’t alarm the mother. Camryn slipped down to sit in the water, sliding her legs beneath the foal to take some of the strain off her upper body. The foal made wheezing sounds and ceased its struggles.

Without taking his gaze off the mother, Ry advanced. Finally, finally he reached Camryn and hacked at the vines tangled around the foal’s neck. His knife sawed back and forward, making little progress.

“Damn it,” he muttered. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and the stench from the foal brought a touch of nausea. He swallowed, cursed and yanked his knife from the vine. He’d try to sever another piece. The next vine was thinner and didn’t have the consistency of pliable wood. Yes. He cut another. Poor little bugger. It looked as if he’d been here for days, unable to feed.

“Can you cut this one?” Camryn said, indicating the partially severed one that had given him trouble before.

Ry stood and using brute strength he bent and twisted the vine, pausing to hack a bit deeper. Sweat dripped off him by the time the vine parted.

“Yes. Good job,” Camryn said.

The hell-horse mother trumpeted. The shrill cry froze them both in startled shock. Not a call they’d heard before. The hell-horse backed up a fraction, and Ry took the opportunity to lift the foal off Camryn. She scrambled up and, crooning to the foal, started to unwind the vine clinging to his emaciated body. The mother trumpeted again and sidled closer to sniff at her foal. Her body trembled with mistrust, and Ry knew she’d attack if they weren’t careful.

“He’s too weak to make it out of here on his own. If we leave him, he’ll die.”

“And his mother will attack if we make a wrong move.”

Camryn shrugged. “I won’t leave him.”

The sole alternative would be for him to carry the foal out. Ry cast a doubtful look at the mother.

“The vines have cut him. The wounds will fester if they’re not treated.”

Once again a silent statement of intent. Ry scowled. Camryn might not be physically strong but she bore an inner core of strength that hadn’t been apparent earlier. He found it attractive.

“I’ll carry him. You calm the mother and make sure she doesn’t attack. Here’s my knife. I’d give you my gun but it won’t fire until it dries out.”

“Which way will we go?”

Ry considered the alternatives. The mare and foal must have come through the trees but he’d only noticed one overgrown path. Maybe the mare had come here to foal since the foal didn’t seem very old. “Our best bet might be straight down the creek bed. Hopefully we’ll come to a place where the trees aren’t as thick or find a clearing.”