Page 4 of Recurve Ridge

I traced a light fingertip over plump dusky pink lips, noting every tear in her swollen skin. Keeping my touch gentle, I cataloged each mark, lodging the damage in a running list entitleddue rewardsfor when I identified whoever had hurt her. The bruises mapped her torment in a stunning array of torture that cost hours of her life not so long ago.

Four close-together spots looked like finger marks. I sought out the thumbprint, finding it where I expected over the other side of her shoulder. The handprint dwarfed her dainty frame. I picked out more of the same prints in varying sizes. Each mark on her differed enough to suggest a line of attackers. A similar puzzle covered her torso.

I didn’t need to check her legs to know they would show the same.

Christ.

“How many?” I grated, grazing my thumb along her arm.

My other arm wrapped tight around her back, holding her to me.Unprotected, my ass.Anything that came at her had to deal with a whole lot more than a tiny, unarmed, and untrained woman.

The girl stood statue still during my inspection. A cool breath brushed my cheek through the untamed growth there. What did I look like to her eyes? A great brute of a wild mountain man, perhaps. A far cry from the silk-blend suits I had worn after my uniforms were stripped away.Three lives in a single lifetime.We all wore many hats in different seasons. My scars were covered with checked shirts and a beard, while she stood bare before me.

Exposed. Raw.

“Where did you come from?” I didn’t expect an answer as I fell into her galaxy-dark gaze, processing the too-still woman in my arms.

My mind kicked into gear, and it took me too long to realize that she stood still and quiet, not a shiver in sight. Cursing myself as a goddamn fool, I shucked my jacket free and covered her battered body. My lungs closed tight when she didn’t flinch, though the damage to her fine-boned frame bordered on horrendous. That she was still standing at all was a miracle. Shock did that to a person.

I’d seen soldiers trained for combat situations struggle with the reality of the traumatic aftermath when enemies returned to plain old human forms. This slip of a girl had no defense mechanism to rely on other than what her mind provided, and now me. I shoved back the violence that pulsed beneath my skin, aching to erupt and tear the woods apart for her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Darkened eyes shifted to my face, the lone sign she heard me.

I caught her chin between firm fingers, careful not to incur further damage. Either someone was overzealous with their impact play or abused this girl well past a horrific level. It didn’t take much nous to select the latter option as her fate.

“Your name,” I repeated, cradling her face between my hands, and prayed she’d emerge from her head for me. “You’re safe. I promise. What’s your name?”

She stared at me through hollow eyes, and I swore she wouldn’t answer. Then those pale lips parted, and she offered me a part of herself I’d covet for eternity.

“M-Mari.”

The inflection of her British accent whispered around me. I struggled to hear her, though she pressed against me. I squelched the need to hunt the fucker down and show him what being the recipient of those bruises felt like firsthand.

Sliding an arm across her body, I wrapped my jacket tighter around granite skin covered in a cold flush. How long had she run, how far? I cupped her bruises with as much gentleness as I could offer.

“Where did you come from, Mari?”

Her luminous gaze dimmed as she retreated. Whether triggered by my words or my presence, I’d likely never know. The girl possessed an ethereal beauty. Cleaned up, she’d be stunning, and I had a damn good idea what had made her a target for such an attack.

I kept murmuring, offering her what warmth I could, though she didn’t seem to make sense of my words. A flicker of attention entered her sapphire gaze as her brain appeared to process her adjusted situation.

Carrying her wouldn’t be hard, but we had a distance to reach the house, where I could offer a hot shower and food, plus medical supplies. She would need a whole lot more to heal her mind. I could provide the basics, at least.

As I prepared to hoist her over my shoulder and run her back, a part of me worried that placing an abused woman in a small space with five filthy men used to surviving in an all-male environment might not be my best idea, but it was the only option I had to offer her.

Mari blinked once and twisted in my arms. I held my breath as one hand rose. Soft, slim fingers grazed the rough edges of my beard, pressing close enough for her natural heat to brush my jawline. I held her gaze, keeping myself still and unmoving beneath her discovery tour, waiting for her to open to me. My heart slammed in my chest hard enough that she must have heard it firsthand.

Awareness slipped behind her eyes a second before her palm cracked across my face. Fine fingers tangled in my untamed beard. I caught her wrist, confining her as she writhed in my arms, scratching and clawing in a delayed reaction. Holding her at bay without hurting her took little effort. The size difference between us bordered on ridiculous. I dwarfed her as a mountain overshadowed a pond nestled at its foothills.

Her knotted fists pounded my shirt in weakening thumps. I weathered her beating until she panted, her frantic energy spent against my chest. Mari rested her forehead over my heart, her arms limp over my shirt. Ragged breath huffed against my lips as she turned up her midnight gaze clouded with fear and desperation.

Need.

For the base conditions a body required: food, water, warmth.

Security. Love.

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