Page 15 of Forty Days and One Knight
Make me hard, bitch.
One of her hands broke free of its confinement, and she struck out, trying to force her captor to release her.
Make me hard ...
“Princess ... shh ... it’s—”
She swung, kicked, and thrashed harder against whomever was holding her back, desperate to get away from ... from whom? She couldn’t remember but knew she had to escape. She bared her teeth and sunk them into the hand covering her mouth as best she could. Blood tinged her tongue.
“God damn it,” the man hissed in a low, insistent voice. “Tahira! It’s Darius Knight. Stop fucking biting me.”
The words penetrated her mind, and every muscle in her body froze.Darius? Oh, thank God!She quickly unclenched her jaw, releasing him.
She blinked several times, and it was then she realized her eyes had been shut this whole time. Her gaze darted around as she tried to figure out their surroundings. As her vision adjusted to the dimness, there was just enough light for her to figure out they weren’t in a house or other building. She was laying on something hard. The air around them was bone chilling, and damp, and a shiver chased away the last of the oppressive heat she’d felt during her nightmare. There was a tarp or something between her body and the ground.
Stretched out behind her, Darius’s body relaxed. One of his legs was draped heavily over her thighs and his arm crossed her torso, immobilizing her. While his shirt appeared to be dry, his cargo pants were damp. He slowly moved off her, as if making sure she wasn’t going to start fighting again, before he completely pulled away. She missed the warmth of his body immediately.
“Are you okay?” His voice remained low, but, this time, it was calming and filled with concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Hurt her? She didn’t think he had; however, she’d obviously hurt him. But as she rolled onto her back, Tahira realized she was aching—in a lot of places. From head to toe, her body felt like she’d been in a car accident or had tumbled down a rocky hill, although nothing seemed to be broken. She grimaced as she gently tried to get comfortable, then looked up to find Darius lying on his side, a few inches away, staring down at her. It had been months since she’d seen him, and she’d almost forgotten how handsome he was—almost. His emerald green-eyed gaze searched her face, and a mustache and beard covered his upper lip and jawline. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him with more than a five o’clock shadow and decided she didn’t care for the long, scruffy hair covering his face. Maybe if it was trimmed.
His brow was furrowed, and she almost reached out to soothe it with her fingers.
A torrential downpour registered in her mind, but they were obviously sheltered from the storm. “Where are—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. I don’t think anyone followed us, and it’s unlikely they’d hear us over the rain, but we can’t take any chances the bad guys might be looking for us.”
Bad guys?Memories flooded her mind in short bursts, making it difficult to focus on just one. The cruise. Jamaica. The waterfalls. Men with guns. Her bodyguards shot. Waking up in an underground prison with her cousins and other women. Struggling against someone’s grip. Pain. Then nothing but darkness.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “My cousins—”
“Are fine. Ian, Amar, and the rest of the team rescued them and flew them to safety on a helicopter.”
Her eyes narrowed with confusion. Why wasn’t she with them? She’d been in the cells with them, so it stood to reason she would’ve been rescued with them, right?
As if he’d read her mind, Darius said, “You weren’t in the cell area when we went to rescue everyone. I had to take a different route to get you out of there. We’re going to meet up with everyone after the storm lets up.” As though it was punctuating his statement, a bolt of lightning blazed outside for a split second, showing her they were in some sort of small grotto. They were back far enough from the entrance, and around a slight curve in the hollowed rock, so that the pouring rain she now heard wouldn’t get them wet. She shivered, pulling the unfamiliar jacket and blanket covering her closer around her body.
After the lightening’s accompanying thunder quieted, Darius continued. “Do you remember being taken to another part of the mansion?”
“Mansion? We were in a mansion?” Flashes of a large, unfamiliar, well-decorated house came to her, but they were mixed with rooms from the palace and vacation homes she’d grown up in. She was having trouble filtering her thoughts and making sense out of it all.
“Yes. In Argentina. I was working undercover in a drug cartel when you and your cousins arrived a few nights ago. I couldn’t let you see me until it was time to rescue you and the others. I was worried you’d give away my cover if you recognized me.”
He was right—even with his thick facial hair, she would have known him immediately and be unable to hide a reaction. But something he’d just said seemed odd to her; however, she couldn’t zero on it. “Where are we now?”
“A cave I managed to find just before the hail started coming down, thank God. From the size of them, we both would’ve been knocked out cold.” He hitched a thumb toward the wall behind their heads. “We’re about eleven clicks—sorry, kilometers—northwest of where we’re supposed to meet the team. Even without the hail, the rain and cooler temperatures were bad enough. I couldn’t risk you developing hypothermia in your condition. The ground was also pretty slippery, and I didn’t want to drop you.”
“You carried me?” Her voice croaked on her words. “How far?”
“Yeah, considering you were unconscious at the time, I couldn’t very well ask you to walk the five kilometers from Diaz’s compound to here.” He stood and stepped around her. “Hang on. Let me get you some fresh rainwater. You must be thirsty.”
Now that he mentioned it, she was parched. Gingerly sitting up, Tahira watched as Darius picked up a huge, green leaf from where it lay on a nearby rock, then strode toward the entrance of the cave. He was wearing black cargo pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and hiking boots. She glanced around and wondered if he had a jacket to keep him warm.
As he disappeared around the curve of the rock wall, Tahira assessed her current condition. Under the jacket and blanket, she wore someone else’s sweater, knit shirt, velour lounge pants, socks, and trainers, or as the Americans called them, sneakers. While she would’ve been ripped apart by the press for the awful, fashion-less color combination, the clothing was much warmer than her bikini and wrap had been. The trainers were a half size too large, but she’d survive in them.
As she sat back against the wall, she realized there was something soft and warm folded up behind her. She looked closer and discovered it was a fleece-lined jacket that had pillowed her head as she’d slept. It obviously belonged to Darius, and Tahira’s heart melted a little when she realized he’d given up his warmth and comfort for her. The black jacket she’d been using had probably come from the same place he’d found the other clothes for her. She briefly wondered who they belonged to, but it really didn’t matter. There were many other things to be concerned about.
Wringing her aching hands together, she felt jagged edges along her formerly-manicured fingernails. Slowly, she ran her hands over her arms and shoulders, finding several tender spots. Her face was next, and she hissed when her fingers touched her left cheek and jaw. The aches were almost unbearable. What the hell had happened to her? She struggled to remember but it was all a blur.
