Page 39 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
chomp down as hard as possible, hearing a bloodcurdling screech and tasting iron blood. The knife drops. Something cracks. Behind me are the sounds of bodies brawling. Jeremiah smacks the side of my face, hard, enough for me to loosen my jaw.
“Fucking bitch.”
Ripping free, he shoves me to the ground, kicking at my rib. Pain guts me, and I sob from the throbbing hurt. I can feel the deep bruise forming. Anytime I move, it hurts. Not the first time I’ve had bruises.
A body drops before me, and I gasp, scrambling away from the sight of Levi knocked out cold. Jack focused on him first. Yes, he needed to take out the gunslinger. Now, Malachi is facing him, and they’re circling one another. Jack still has his cane and fully intends to use it.
“Jack,” I cough out his name.
He tenses. Malachi closes in. A silent scream leaves my throat. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have distracted him.
Through my blurred vision, I see the chaos unfolding. Jack wields his cane like an extension of his own body, deflecting blows and striking with a speed that leaves the other men stunned and stumbling. Despite his lack of sight, Jack relies on all his other senses, ones a little sharper because I am here.
And he knows the terrain. It doesn’t matter thatthese guys were born and bred on this land. After two centuries of haunting these mountains, Jack knows it more.
One moment, he spins to avoid a punch, then cracks the silver-tipped cane across an attacker’s jaw, sending Malachi sprawling to the ground with a hard thud that shakes the earth beneath me.
My breath chokes in my throat as Jack twists the cane in his hand, revealing a hidden blade shooting from its end. Awed, I part my lips at the blade gleaming in the dim light, and with a swift flick of his wrist, he swings the cane at Saul. Saul dodges easily, but his laughter is his downfall. And his taunts to Jack.
My Headless Horseman knows exactly where to swing that cane. In one powerful move, he upends Saul, sending him crashing to the ground. Saul’s head strikes a rock, and I gasp from the sickening crack and the sight of blood gushing. Bile swirls in my stomach.
Jack is focused on Lucas now, who keeps escaping the swing of Jack’s cane.
“Come on, you shadowy bastard! Scared to show your face?” Lucas bellows.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him—Jeremiah—slipping through the shadows, knife glinting in his hand, eyes fixed on Jack’s back. A surge of panic and fury rips through my veins, and without thinking, I scramble to my feet. The adrenaline storming through me dulls the pain as I lunge forward, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Don’t you touch him!”
I launch for Jeremiah as hard as I can. He raises his arm to strike Jack, but I collide with him. Wind knocked out of me. The pain of his earlier kick seems magnified.
Then, a sharp sting spears me, and I realize the knife has grazed my side, but I push through the pain, knocking Jeremiah off balance. His eyes widen, and he bares his teeth as we tumble to the ground, my hands grappling for his weapon. I manage to twist his arm, hearing a sickening crack, and the knife drops to the ground.
Jeremiah howls in pain, but his cries are silenced by the sharp,cold thrust of Jack’s blade. Lucas is down, knocked out beside Saul.
I don’t know who is still alive, but they’re all passed out. I don’t care. The pain splinters through me, returning tenfold as the adrenaline tapers off. I curl up into a little ball, hugging my chest, my gasps quick and short because it hurts too much to breathe. Sticky viscous fluid drips from my side, but it doesn’t seem too deep. My bruised ribs hurt more.
Jack turns, his shoulders heaving. Without a word, he crosses the distance in a single stride, his hands already moving to inspect my wound.Belle, he murmurs, his voice a low, concerned rumble.What have you done?
“I couldn’t let him…hurt you,” I whisper, wincing as his fingers brush against the torn fabric and the blood seeping through it.
A sob leaves my throat as he scoops me into his arms, holding me against his chest with a tenderness that contrasts with his earlier violence.Hush now, he says softly, his grip secure and strong.I’ve got you. My sweet, strong summoner.
He carries me through the darkened forest, his pace swift but careful. It’s probably a few miles to his manor, but I marvel at how the telltale fog curls around us a few minutes later. As if Jack can summon the veil that leads us to his manor anywhere he chooses.
It’s thinner during October, he explains as if he heard my thoughts.It still takes time and energy, but I must get you home, Belle.
I’m already home, I almost say.
He brushes the pumpkin cheek along the top of my head, no doubt hearing me. I shiver in his arms, nuzzling closer into his chest.
The manor looms through the fog, the beautiful gothic architecture like a comforting, albeit spectral, vision. Jack doesn’t hesitate, kicking the door open with a forceful push and moving swiftly through the halls and to the upstairs bedroom.
I wince as he gently lays me on the bed, excuses himselfto run the bath, then returns to strip away my torn clothes, covered in dirt and blood at the side.
I shiver as the cool air touches my skin, but Jack’s hands are steady, his touch sure and unflinching. He picks me up again, and I curl into his arms as he brings me to the bath he’s drawn, lowering me into the steamy water, soothing my cold skin.
Fuck, Belle…I hiss when he traces his fingers along the wound on my ribs. I am afraid to look down, afraid it will trigger a rush of memories.Don’t move, he commands.
“Where would I go?” I ask, voice hoarse and worn. I shrug, and he tucks his glove beneath my chin.
