Page 8 of The Promise
Hairs rose on the back of her neck, but she turned around anyway, caution warring with compassion.
"I'm…over…here." The voice was louder now and decidedly male. Compassion won out by a nose.
She stepped over the line of light and moved around a bend into complete darkness. Groping for the wall, she tried to get her bearings. If she remembered correctly, the tunnel went on for forty feet or so, then turned again to go deeper into the mountain, before deadending into solid rock. Hopefully, the owner of the voice wasn't too far ahead.
"Can you hear me?" She waited, heart still pounding.
"I'm here." His voice was weak, but clear. "I don't suppose you have a light?"
"No such luck, I'm afraid."
"There's a lantern back there somewhere." His voice filled the darkness, warm and alive, but she could hear the underlying pain.
"I saw it. But it's beyond being useful. The glass is broken."
A sharp curse rang out through the darkness. Concern laced through her. "Are you all right?" She leaned against the wall, all her senses focused on listening.
"I've been better." A tiny thread of laughter lightened his voice.
"Can you move?"
There was another groan. "Not without help."
"Hang on, then. I'm coming." She inched forward slowly, keeping one hand out in front of her and the other pressed firmly to the wall.
"Stop." The word was a command. Even in a weakened state, in the dark, this man had presence. "I'm right in front of you."
"How in the world could you possibly know that?" she grumbled, dropping to her knees, both hands stretched in front of her.
"You haven't exactly been quiet." There was the laughter again.
"It wasn't my primary concern." Her hands met solid muscle, and he groaned. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." She felt something sticky under her fingers and recoiled. "You're bleeding."
"I know."
"Well, there isn't much I can do for you if I can't see you." She strove to keep her voice, calm, businesslike. "We'll just have to get you into the light."
A resigned sigh echoed through the tunnel. "All right."
"You can lean on me. I'll help you up." She wrapped her arm around his chest and felt his arm drape heavily across her shoulders. "You ready?" He groaned in answer and she felt him nod. "All right then, on three. One…two…" She shifted her weight to her inside leg and pushed up with the other one. "Three."
He was heavy and the smell of him enveloped her—raw male mixed with the sick, sweet smell of blood. He groaned again, but managed to pull himself to his feet. They stood for a minute, getting their balance, then slowly began to move forward.
Cara kept her hand against the wall, following it as the path wound its way upward. Finally, turning the bend, they stepped into the weak light of the entrance tunnel. The man stopped, eyeing the opening with concern. "This is far enough."
"But we need to get you to a doctor."
"No doctors." It was too dark to see his face, but she could sense his stubbornness.
Exasperation flooded through her. "Fine." She glared at him. "But we still need to get you out of here." They could argue about doctors later. "Look, my house is just down the creek a bit. It's an easy walk." Without a wounded man. But she had to stay positive. "Do you think you can make it?"
"I can try. But first you'll have to help me stop the bleeding." He motioned to the rapidly spreading stain on his shirt.
"Here?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. First aid wasn't a strong point.
He smiled weakly, the white of his teeth gleaming in the dark. "Don't think I have a choice."
"All right." She nodded, accepting the inevitable. Carefully, she lowered him to a sitting position, the strain making her muscles ache. He stretched out his long legs and leaned back against the rock wall. She gingerly pulled his shirt open, exposing a broad expanse of male chest covered with a lightdusting of dark hair. The wound lay just to the right of his shoulder. His shirt had fused itself to the skin.
