Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (37 page)

Ailill's smells rose in a sudden, invisible cloud, enveloping him, drawing him in as the sweat evaporated from her skin. The shame he had been feeling since he had all but forced himself on her ebbed ever so slightly and Micah's fingers twitched in his bandaged hand. When Jacob looked up he saw that his twin's eyes were open, focused on Ailill's bruised face with sad curiosity, underlaid with a strong current of pain. He wondered why she did not seem inclined to heal the poor man; surely Micah was far more deserving of such help, such magick.

Pulling a tiny flashlight from her pocket, shaking it with rapid motions to charge the power source inside, Ailill leaned forward , using the light to look carefully into each of Micah's dark blue eyes, a deep crease of consternation drawing a line between her cinnamon brows. Touching his full lip with the tip of her finger, Ailill shined the light in his mouth, frowning at the angry red coloring the back of his throat. An odd ticking sound was audible in the back of her own as she reached for her pack. After checking the inside of both of his rather small ears with a small pointed object she attached to the top of the flashlight, Ailill sat back, looking him over with a practiced ease.

"You can see me clearly?" she asked, watching his expressive face for a hint of his own thoughts.

"Yes." The single word forced through the rawness of his throat made tears spring up in his eyes. His throat worked convulsively, seeking moisture that was not there and she moved away suddenly, kneeling before him with the cup of warm medicinal tea clutched in her hands before his eyes even had a chance to follow.

"Can you sit, do you think?"

At Micah's tentative nod, Jacob leaned over, pulling his twin up by the shoulders and turning him so that his back rested against Ailill's pillow propped against the trunk of a tree.

"Drink this, slowly." Ailill wrapped Micah's fingers around the warm middle of the mug, noting the way his icy hands trembled slightly under her palms, how his eyes lost focus when they moved from her face. She lifted the mug to his lips, helping him drink in small sips that wouldn't make him cough and add more pain to his sore throat. "I added cherry bark to this, to soothe the raw feeling in your throat, but I would advise you not to talk. I need to know what hurts though, Micah, so nod or shake your head." Quickly, she ran through a series of questions, receiving a tentative nod here and there, his eyes never leaving her face. When she was satisfied, she sat back, watching him. "If you need to lie down, let me know, alright?"

He nodded but turned to Jacob, eyeballing his twin with a distinctly accusatory glare, soundlessly demanding an explanation. Without taking his gaze from his brother's face, Micah pulled his hands from the warm cup and placed them on Ailill's cheeks, showing Jacob the perfect match in the size of his own hands.

"I did," Jacob said in answer, his voice low, husky with regret. "And I'm sorry for it. I thought you were dying." His voice caught on that last word and he looked away, afraid that he might break down and cry again.

Questioning, Micah turned his eyes back to Ailill's face. Her cheeks flushed under his palms, her eyes shiny with moisture, but she met his gaze with open honesty. "I am fine," she whispered, trying hard to give him a reassuring smile. "Still only you; no other. And you are not dying. I would not let you. My... ability, is not quite up to par yet, so the healing will take a bit longer. I'm sorry." The tiniest spark of a smile showed in the depths of his eyes and his hands fell away in exhaustion. "I believe you have a concussion though, so you cannot go to sleep. I'll be here to keep you awake," she added, raising the cup once again to his lips.

His eyes met hers over the rim and she almost laughed aloud at the blatant question she saw there.

"No, Micah, you can't," she scolded gently. Jacob looked at her in surprise, but said nothing. "Do you remember what happened?" Ailill asked after a moment.

A hesitant nod turned into a shake of the head and he opened his mouth, earning a sharp look from Ailill. With a grimace, Micah shrugged and waggled his hand from side to side. So-so. His eyes traveled upwards, looking hard at the dark branches overhead before meeting her solemn gaze again.

"It was already dying when it hit you, Micah," Jacob said in a low voice. "Ailill shot it twice. She saved your life. She saved both our lives." Turning toward her, Jacob asked, "how did you come to be there at just the right time, anyways? Did you dream this, too?"

There was an edge to his tone that instantly set Ailill's frazzled nerves to humming. Micah watched a blanket fall over her eyes, closing the expression in them before she turned a dispassionate gaze on his twin.

"I did not," she answered in clipped tones. "I was on my way to the cabin. I did not want to sleep alone. This is not the Highlands." Her voice sounded oddly detached and both men looked at her carefully.

"Scairt." Micah's voice rasped barely above a whisper. He immediately raised the cup to his lips, soothing away the discomfort of that single uttered word.

"Lonely," she corrected softly, the closed expression gone as suddenly as it had come. "It is far too easy to get used to sleeping between you. Which is the same reason you were on your way to me." Her eyes glittered in sudden fury. "Except that
I
wasn't stupid enough to get high before takin' a walk in the dark! If it had been myself under that tree neither one of you would've had the quickness of your minds to save me.
I
might be dead because you were both too fuckin' stoned out of your fuckin' minds to even aim your rifles at the right fuckin' beast!"

Ailill stood abruptly, her eyes blazing, the color magified by tears that threatened to spill over. "You say you can't live without your brother, that you'd be dead, Jacob, but you know what?
I
cannot live without either of you! I told you not to come and you didn't listen. Now look what you've almost done! Thirty-four stitches between you; a terrible concussion! I thought you were both goin' to die tonight. I have never been more afraid in all my life! I do love you, can ye not see that? If anything were to happen to you
I
would wish to be dead because
I
would be to blame!"

Two huge tears spilled over the dark fringe of Ailill's lower lashes, leaving a trail of quicksilver down each cheek. She turned away, shoulders hunched as if to ward off a blow, her heart squeezed in an agonizing emotional stranglehold. Yanking the leather strap of her rifle over her shoulder, she stepped soundlessly into the shadows.

Micah stared after her until it became painfully obvious that she would not be returning anytime soon, if she returned at all. The doorway was close by, all too easily accessible. She could slip away without a backward glance. That much was a given. The question was, would she? He turned an intense gaze on his twin, his eyes gleaming like cold steel in the firelight, waiting. If he could talk, if his throat didn't feel like that cat had reached in and used his voicebox as a sharpening stone for it's claws, Micah would rip into his brother with the daggers that suddenly filled his mouth with a foul taste. If his head didn't feel like an anvil constantly hammered by the blood pounding mercilessly through his heart, he would call Jacob out for what he had done to Ailill; he would lay hands on his twin to avenge her. All this showed clearly on his face when Jacob finally met his eye; pulling back, his own eyes widened in surprise at the vehemence in Micah's expression.

"I didn't do nothing!" he hissed with a sharp shake of the head that set the long tangled waves of his hair to swaying. "You heard her yourself. She said she's fine!"

Micah stared at him hard for a moment, then, reaching over, grabbed up Jacob's hands in his own, yanking hard to pull him closer; raising them to his face, he inhaled deeply of her scent. The only proof he needed, in his eyes. Flinging Jacob's hands away in disgust, Micah leaned back against the tree, clutching his throbbing head in his hands with a rasping moan.

"I was really scairt for ya, Micah. I thought all the screamin' you did hurt you more! When you passed out, after, I honestly thought you were dead. I freaked out on her, even after she told me you were alive. I demanded that she heal you, like she healed me and she said she couldn't, that she was still too weak. I thought she was lyin' and I hit her. She didn't say nothin', not one goddamned word. I wanted her to cry for you and she wouldn't so I hit her again!"

Jacob's breathing was ragged, his eyes gleamed with a touch of his earlier rage and Micah stared at him, seeing the look that Ailill had witnessed herself, seeing the truth in the black fury that threatened to consume Jacob all over again. It was a look he'd seen all too often in the eyes of a beast, a usurper by the name of Kiah Black.

"I used her," he spat, glaring into Micah's eyes. "I forced her to lay there and take all that I could give, all my anger, and even as I was ready, more than willin' to pound into her all I could think about was you, and everything that you told me, about the taste and smell of her. How you would never be with her if she didn't make you better. I couldn't do it, got that? I was gonna rape her and I
couldn'tbring myself to do it!
I can hear her, same as you; I can read her face like a book. She's meant for y'all,
not me
, and so I damn near sucked her dry, fucked my own fist not an inch from her cleft! Yeah, I used her hard, but I-did-not-fuck-her! She ain't mine, she's yours, and I promised myself that if she didn't make you better, if you died, Micah, then I would kill her and then myself and burn in Hell for all eternity for loving my own Brother too goddamned much!" Jumping up, Jacob stormed off into the darkness of the forest, in the opposite direction than Ailill had gone, leaving Micah much more wounded than he would ever know, vulnerable in more ways than one.

"Open your eyes, Micah, ye need to stay awake."

One dark blue eye peeked out through a narrow slit between thick black lashes, rolling slowly over her flushed face. "I knew you'd come back," he rasped, wincing at the scratchy feeling in the back of his throat. Taking the cup she held out to him with a sweet smile of gratitude, he drank deeply to slake his thirst.

The sun was just beginning to peek through the tops of the oak trees Ailill had made her camp beneath and he squinted at her in agony. "Light hurts," he mouthed apologetically, pointing up at the sky with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh, aye." Muttering incoherently, her voice muffled momentarily, Ailill slid a pair of dark sunglasses over his chiseled nose, grinning at the sight. "Better?" He blinked at her through the shaded lenses and nodded solemnly. "Ye look like a blind man." He smiled.

"
Ciamar a tha thu
?" Her voice was soft, almost childlike, and Micah looked at her in surprise.

"Head aches." He reached up, tentatively touching the bandage she had wound around his head hours before as he lay unconscious.

"You hit your head on a jagged stone when ye fell." His dark eyebrows rose in query. "Twenty-two," she answered calmly. "And eight in your arm, where the cat's fangs punctured your flesh in her last grip on life. Jacob broke her jaws clean apart. If she hadn't already been dead, I believe he would have lost all of his fingers." Blood had soaked through the cotton fabric and dried into rust colored stains on the underside of his right arm. Micah stared at her in silence. "I have no idea where he has gone, only that he hasn't been back. I am sorry." She looked away and blinked, uncertain if it would be wise to say more.

The light , feathery touch of Micah's fingers on her cheek brought Ailill's attention back to him. "Don't be sorry," he whispered, "don't ever be sorry, Abby. You saved us both." With a gentle tug, Micah pulled her unresisting onto his lap, wrapped his long arms securely around her small body. He kissed her with more tenderness than usual, drawing it out until he felt a tentative response in the relaxation of her limbs and a gentle stirring within himself. Raising his bandaged head, he whispered, "I'm sorry for what Jacob did to you. Did he...are you hurt?"

Ailill shook her head. "I told you, I'm fine." Micah eyed her dubiously and she sighed in exasperation. "Will you be needing me to prove just how fine I am then, Micah?"

He grinned down at her, the pleasure he felt at once again hearing her usual sarcasm suddenly very obvious between them, even as his head swayed from side to side. "Head aches," he repeated hoarsely, making Ailill laugh aloud.

"That's right," she said, her voice suddenly sensual, full of regret. "You couldn't handle it anyway."

Micah studied her closely through the darkened lenses, curious about her sudden change of mood. It was by unspoken agreement that both were still clinging to their informal union; it wasn't as if they'd said vows, after all.