Page 16 of Forty Days and One Knight
She took further stock of her injuries. Her breasts, ribs, back, thighs, and groin hurt. After making certain Darius wasn’t coming back yet, Tahira lowered her hand under the jacket, between her legs, and brushed it over her mound. Pain flared, and nausea roiled. Her body trembled, and she slammed her eyes shut.What—
“Here. Drink this.”
Tahira yanked her hand back, and her eyes flew open. She hadn’t heard him return, holding the large leaf and using it as a makeshift bowl.
“It’s rainwater so it shouldn’t bother your stomach. Open your mouth.”
He eased it forward toward her mouth, careful not to spill any. Tahira leaned forward and parted her lips. Darius gently tilted the tip of the leaf, and cool water trickled onto her dehydrated tongue. It was so refreshing, she greedily drank it all, then glanced up at Darius, her cheeks reddening in the dim light, when she realized what she’d done. “I am so sorry. I should have left some for you.”
The corners of his mouth angled upward. “It’s okay, Tahira. You needed it more than I did, and there’s plenty of rain coming down. Do you want anymore?”
Licking her lips, she shook her head, rattling her still foggy brain. “No, maybe in a little bit, but I really need to ... um ... to go ... uh ...”
Reading her thoughts, he chuckled wryly. “Well, unfortunately, the ladies’ room is out of order, but you can go behind that boulder over there ...” He pointed at the large rock against the opposite wall, halfway between them and the entrance to the cave. “... and take care of things. I’ll get myself some water while you’re doing that. Just let me know when you’re done.”
“Okay.” While it hadn’t been often in her life when she’d urinated somewhere that didn’t have a toilet, she wasn’t averse to doing it now. Her bladder was ready to burst. She tried to clench her thighs, but a sharp discomfort she felt between them forced her to relax her muscles again. Maybe she’d gotten a urinary tract infection—considering the conditions she’d been in and the limited amount of food and water the captors had given the women, it wasn’t an impossibility.
Holding out his hand, Darius helped her stand and made sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her. She was grateful for his assistance because her head had spun a few times before she was able to right herself again. Now that she was moving, the aches in her body felt ten times worse. She wanted to know what had happened to her but feared the answer. Her mind was in self-preservation mode and wanted a few more minutes before she questioned Darius. She had a deep suspicion she wasn’t going to like his responses.
Stepping behind the boulder, she waited until Darius disappeared from her line of sight. Leaning back against the wall for support, she widened her stance and pushed the waistline of the lounge pants down past her knees. She squatted down and waited for her body to relax so it could relieve itself. When the stream finally started, Tahira gasped at the harsh, hot sting that shot through her. A few tears seeped from her closed eyelids and rolled down her cheek. She clenched to stop urinating but that only made the burning worse.
Her legs trembled from being in a squat position. Tahira opened her eyes and looked down, but in the darkness, she could barely see anything, until several bolts of lightning lit up the sky and the grotto, in rapid succession, followed by cracks of thunder. The brightness lasted long enough for Tahira to make out streaks of dried blood and a milky-white substance on the inside of her thighs.
Make me hard, bitch.
Secada. Struggling. Drugs. A bed. Fear. Force. Pain. Resignation. Darkness.
Tahira turned her head and retched the acidic, watery contents of her stomach. The heinous memories bombarded her mind and senses. Her head swam in a brutal ocean of despair. She’d been violated, in a way no one should ever experience, by that vile bastard. His mouth, tongue, and hands had roamed over her skin, as she’d lain there, unable to move. Unable to protest. Unable to fight. Her treasured virginity had been ripped from her core and tossed aside as if it had been a worthless piece of garbage.
A blood-curling wail of grief was wrenched from her lungs. Her life was ruined. She could never marry. Never have a child. When she met her soulmate, she would only be able to love him from afar. If anyone found out, she would be publicly disgraced.
Her rapist had not only stolen her veil of womanhood, but also her future. Her heart. Her soul.
15
After the improvised bowl was refilled from the pouring rain, Darius retracted his now soaking wet, injured hand and brought it toward his mouth. Damn, that hurt. In addition to a few small puncture marks, the area surrounding the bite mark was already starting to bruise. At least it was his non-dominant hand.
He took slow gulps, making sure he didn’t drink too quickly and give himself cramps. That was the last thing he needed on top of everything else that had gone FUBAR.
Smiling, he let out a small snort. Nowadays, every time the acronym FUBAR came to mind, he thought of a furry Belgian Malinois with big ears and a derpy grin. FUBAR, formerly known as Glock, was a training failure from Trident’s new K9 division—he’d been more interested in being a goofball than a badass. Babs had fallen for the dog and adopted him after he’d been dropped from the last class. His name had already stuck with everyone, and it fit him perfectly, so she’d kept it. He now hung out in the TS garage where his new mom was their mechanic when she wasn’t piloting their Sikorsky MH-X Silent Hawk—a very expensive, stealth helicopter.
Not knowing if his team could hear him, Darius still tried to give them an update through his watch’s transmitter. As soon as the worst of the storm was over, he and Tahira would head out. He hated making her trudge through the rain, mud, and underbrush, but the faster he got them to the orphanage, the better he’d feel. She was going to need treatment—at some point he was going to have to tell her what happened back in the bedroom he’d found her in. She would need to be treated for any possible STDs and be given a morning-after pill in case of pregnancy.
When Darius had found the cave over five hours ago, he’d been able to dress Tahira and make her as comfortable as possible. He doubted she’d ever slept on the ground in her life. After shaking the rain off his parka, he’d turned it inside out and tucked it under her head. While the tarp had given them some protection against the cold, damp earth, he’d spooned in behind her, using his body heat, her jacket, and the blanket to keep her warm. While he’d doubted any members of the cartels were in the woods looking for them, he’d remained awake while Tahira had slept, watching over her.
While the storm raged overhead, he’d worried about how much of the drugs she’d been given were still coursing through her system and when she’d wake up. Then he worried about what she’d remember after her mind cleared. He still couldn’t shake the image of her abused body lying on that bastard’s bed. He would give anything to go back in time to a point when he could’ve saved her before it had been too late. His hands clenched, and once again he wished he could kill Secada for a second time for what the bastard had done to the innocent woman.
A billion joules of energy crackled across the sky, illuminating the night, followed by several more streaking bolts that impacted the trees and ground less than a quarter mile away from their shelter. The corresponding cracks of thunder were close to deafening. Standing under the overhang at the cave’s entrance, Darius marveled at the strength of the tempest Mother Nature had summoned. Ever since he was a kid, he’d loved thunderstorms, while his younger brother and sister had hated them. He recalled how, when Levi and Barrie had been eight and six, respectively, he’d tried to convince them it was just God bowling, but they never fell for it.
As the thunder dwindled away, a noise behind Darius had him turning his head to listen over the downpour. “Princess?”
A sharp cry pierced the air, and Darius drew his sidearm as he ran toward Tahira. Rounding the boulder, he stopped short when he saw she was alone—alone and crumbled into a ball where she remained squatting. Her long, black hair hung down over her face, which she’d covered with her hands, but they couldn’t muffle her wails of despair. The curdling stench of vomit, combined with urine, reached his nose. There was only one thing that would cause this kind of reaction from her—she’d remembered. How much, he didn’t know, but she’d remembered enough to know she’d been raped.
Holstering his gun, Darius crouched down. Wary of how she would respond, he kept some distance between them and didn’t reach out to touch her. “Princess?” he said softly.
She didn’t answer him. Instead she rocked back and forth, sobbing and keening. The sweatpants were down past her knees, but between her position, her arms crossed over her lower abdomen, and the dimness of their surroundings, Darius couldn’t see anything that would embarrass her. However, another flash of lightening showed the bloody streaks on her thighs. Damn it. He wished he’d had time to clean her up, but it hadn’t been a priority at the time.
He raised his voice a little louder but kept his tone soothing, as if speaking to a spooked horse. “Tahira? Sweetheart, are you in pain?”
