RedKnife (Skin Walkers Book 2) (8 page)

Chapter 14

Twenty minutes later, Cindy was standing with her head pressed into a tree as she fought to catch her breath.  She was exhausted, and her bones and muscles ached for a break.  Stupidly, she’d caved and had eaten two handfuls of snow, and now she was freezing.  FREE-ZING!  Her teeth chattered and her body shook hard, whether from exertion, hunger, thirst, or cold, or a combination of everything, she wasn’t sure.  She figured it was cold, because her mind kept straying to thoughts of the warm fire in RedKnife’s cabin.  Compounding matters was the fact that her hips were aching.  No, aching didn’t cut it.  With each step she took, it felt like someone was stabbing her in the right hip flexor.  She figured it was from lifting her short legs so high to clear the snow.  She’d compensated by relying heavily on her left leg, but now that hip flexor was starting to hurt too.  She was in bad shape, and she knew she wasn’t going to make it out.  Already, the slope to her right was cast into darkness.  She could still see because the sun hadn’t set on her side of the mountain, but it wouldn’t be long now.  She wanted to cry out her frustration, but what good would that do?  Leaning dejectedly against a tree wasn’t going to help either.  She needed to decide whether to keep going, try to find her way back to the cabin, or hunker down and try to assemble some form of shelter for the night.

A noise jerked her attention around, and her eyes locked on RedKnife.  Relief swamped her, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that left her lips.  Still, she clung to the tree.

When RedKnife spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle, absent of any reproach.  “It’ll be dark soon.”

Cindy merely nodded.

RedKnife eyed the sky.  “Getting colder too.”

Cindy was about to nod again when a noise in the distance stopped her.  Her eyes cut to RedKnife, and she could see in his face that he’d heard it too.  Her mind shuffled rapidly, trying to place the sound that was so out of place in their current setting.  It wasn’t an animal, not a tree falling, not a frozen creek struggling to survive the cold.  No.  It was the sound of…a vehicle!  She was close to a road!  Well, not close, really, as the sound was pretty distant, but she was certain she could make it.

RedKnife’s eyes flashed, and she knew the second he realized that the sound had registered with her.  He lifted a hand and pointed a finger over her shoulder.  “Road’s that way.  If you think you can make it… go.”

Balling her shaking hands into tight fists, she pushed off the tree with a renewed determination.  She stepped away from RedKnife, and her soul screamed ‘
NOOOO
!’

I can do this!
  She tried to convince herself. 
I can make it!
  A few steps in, she was clenching her jaw to keep from crying out at the pain in her hips.  The small break hadn’t helped either.  Instead, it seemed in the few short minutes that she’d rested against the tree, her muscles had atrophied.  She had nothing left in the tank, and she was weak as a damn kitten.

Stopping at the nearest tree, she fell into it, bumping her shoulder hard as she let it take her full weight.  Exhaustion tugged at her and her belly tightened, no longer growling its demand for nourishment and water.  She could practically feel her body feeding off itself, though that was ridiculous as it had only been a day.  One long, miserable, arctic, exhausting day.

Her head fell forward, eyes closed, her forehead pressing against the tree.  When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, she found she was lower.  Her legs had given out, and she was squatting in the snow, her hips still throbbing an incessant whine at her idiocy.  Behind her, RedKnife asked gently, “Gonna make it?”

Hell no! 
But she didn’t want to admit it.  She didn’t want to admit defeat, but it was an absolute.  Even if the road were ten feet from her, she had nothing left.  Her eyelids drooped, and she couldn’t believe that her body was actually trying to literally shut down.  Why wouldn’t it listen to her logic?  She couldn’t rest here.  Rest meant vulnerability, and vulnerability in Montana’s harsh mountains meant death.  Still, she struggled to open her eyes.

“Cindy?”

She licked her chapped lips and went straight for the heart of the matter.  She was shocked to hear the quiver in her voice when she begged, “D-don’t let him kill me.”

She was pulled away from the tree and blessedly warm arms enveloped her, pulling her into the impossible breadth of RedKnife’s chest.  His frame shielded some of the wind, and his embrace felt so safe that her body went lax as if to say, ‘Okay, we’re good people.  Let’s shut it down.’

With the last of her strength, Cindy fisted a gloved hand into RedKnife’s jacket.  She wanted to snort at the absurdity of it.  Here she was, freezing to death in a pile of clothes and he was traipsing the mountain in jeans and a thin jacket.

“No one is going to kill you, Cindy.  No one is going to touch you.”

She couldn’t help but lift pleading eyes.  “Swear it.”  She had no right to ask, but she was about to trust him to ensure she survived the night on the frozen mountainside.  And, if Monroe wanted her dead, how easy it would be for RedKnife to simply walk away right now and let her freeze to death by falling into the peaceful slumber that was no longer tugging at her, but jerking full force.

Full black eyes narrowed on hers, and angry brows speared down seconds before RedKnife finally spoke.  “I vow to you, on my honor as a Walker…as
the
Skin Walker, that no man, no beast, and no act of nature will bring harm to you while I still draw breath.”

She wanted to thank him.  She wanted to ask him how they were going to get back to the cabin.  She wanted a lot of things, but what she got was darkness as her eyelids fell and exhaustion consumed her.

***

Cindy woke sweating profusely.  It was hot. 
Too damn hot!
  She didn’t know where she was, and as she lay in the darkness, she struggled to recall the previous night.  Her trek through the bitterly cold mountains came back in a flash, and her heart thundered to life. 
Where am I?
  She was lying on something soft, warm and alive, so that counted for something.  Her hand snaked out, to be met by emptiness.  As it was too dark to see, she lifted her hand higher and felt above her.  Nothing.  Slowly, she sat up, moaning at the pain it caused.  Her hand dropped to her right hip, trying to massage the pain away, but stilled when she realized she wasn’t wearing pants.  Her hand met bare skin and she quickly moved the hand higher, relieved to feel her panties still in place.  Both hands skimmed her arms and chest.  No coat, no flannel shirt, no bra.  All she felt was what seemed to be a soft T-shirt.

Light suddenly filtered through the dark, and she was shocked to discover she was back at the cabin, back in her room.

RedKnife entered and dropped onto the edge of the bed, pushing her back into the pillows and placing a cool cloth on her forehead, smoothing it down her cheek to her neck.  It felt wonderful.

“RedKnife?  How did we get back here?”

“I carried you.”

Her voice was laced with disbelief.  “Carried me?  It was….
miles
!”

“Shhhh,” he crooned.

But she didn’t want to shush, she had too many questions.  The first of which was why it was so damn hot.  “I’m…,” she licked her lips and swallowed, taking stock for the first time.  Yes, she was warm.  Well, hot actually, but she was also achy and sore.  Her head was pounding, and her belly was back to rumbling, but she had no desire to eat.

“Here.” RedKnife lifted a glass from the bedside table to her lips.  “Drink.”  He held the glass for her while she did as he asked.

The cool liquid felt good, and she drank deeply before pushing his hand away to ask, “Why is it so hot?”  She went to shove the blankets off her legs, but RedKnife stopped her.

“You’re sick.”

Sick?
  The pounding head, achy muscles, and hunger with no desire to eat finally made sense.  But still…  “Can you open a window?”

“You have a fever, Cindy.  You hiked too far and got sweaty, then you’d stop and rest.  You couldn’t feel it because you were overworked, but it was too cold for your body to be coated in moisture out there.  Your clothes were soaked.”  He turned and eyed her room.  “It’s actually still pretty chilly in here.”  He replaced the glass on her side table and stood.  “I’m going to stoke the fire, then you’re going to eat something.”

She didn’t hear anything after
‘Your clothes were soaked.’ 
She wanted to ask where her clothes were, but didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she knew he’d undressed her.

When he turned to grab a pile of logs she tensed. 
Fire?
 
Is he out of his mind?
“Please no more fire.”

Ignoring her, he bent to the hearth and began loading logs onto the low flames that already kindled in the hearth.  “It’s not the room that’s hot.  It’s you.”

She lifted a hand to her forehead and wasn’t surprised that it came back moist.  She was sweating.  “Shouldn’t you be trying to cool me down?”

He chuffed a laugh.  “It’s thirty below outside, and while I’ve got the heaters running full blast, I’d still say it’s only high sixties in this room.  It’s cold.  Trust me.”

Trust me.
  The words pulled her back to the mountain, just before she’d passed out. 
RedKnife’s vow
.  He’d sworn to keep her safe, and he had.  For that alone she had to trust him.  But, honestly?  That wasn’t why she did.  He was a good man.  He’d been nothing but forthright and attentive since he’d kidnapped her…
  Listen to yourself!
She scolded herself. 
He’s been good to you since he
kidnapped
you?
  She shook her head.  Okay, she was ill
and
she was coming down with Stockholm syndrome. 
Great!

RedKnife got the fire roaring and then disappeared from the room.  He returned shortly with a tray that held a steaming bowl of something and a large glass of orange juice.  Neither item snagged Cindy’s attention like the bottle of ibuprofen.  She needed some relief from the damn headache that plagued her.

RedKnife settled the tray over her lap and was lifting the bowl when she asked.  “Ibuprofen first?  Please.”

He grabbed the bottle and dumped a handful into his palm.  “How many should you take?”

“I have a headache,” she responded, eyeing him expectantly.  Instead of dumping most of the pills back into the bottle, he stared at her.  “Umm, two.”

As he cupped his hand to drop most of the pills back into the mouth of the container, Cindy asked.  “You don’t take ibuprofen?”

“I don’t need to.”

Delicate brows hiked as she accepted the two pills.  “What?  You’ve never had a headache?”

She was drinking juice from the glass he held to her lips when he responded.  “No.  Skin Walkers are immune to illness.  I’ve never had a headache or been ill a day in my life.”

She was shocked, and had to force his hand to pull the juice from her lips.  “Really?  What about injuries?  I know you get hurt.  No one is immune to cuts, or bruises.”

“We heal quickly.”

“Wow!”  Was all she could say.  Thinking on it though, it made sense.  He seemed too worried about her fever, which compelled her to speak.  “It’s just a fever, RedKnife.  It should break soon.”

“I’ve contacted our chief of surgery.  She says I shouldn’t move you now, but once I get the all-clear we’re going back to StoneCrow.”

Cindy’s heart stuttered to a halt. 
What about Monroe?  What about RedKnife’s promise?
  She pulled away from him.  “But you said…”

His expression darkened.  “I remember my vow.  But you’re ill, and I don’t know what I’m doing.  My promise applies to myself as well, and if I can’t take care of you, then I’m harming you.  Jenny knows what to do.  She can fix you.”

“I’m just sick.  We can wait it out.”

“You’re not just sick.  Something is wrong with your hip.”

She was surprised that he knew.  “How do you…?”

“I followed you for quite a ways.  I was hoping you’d turn back.”  He shook his head.  “It was foolish.  I should have stopped you as soon as I found you.”

Cindy shifted on the bed, reaching beneath the covers to run a hand gingerly over her leg.  Her hips did still ache, but it didn’t keep her from saying, “I’m fine, I…”  Words failed as she smoothed a hand up over her naked abdomen.

“What?”  His eyes narrowed on her.

“That’s funny.”

“What?” He demanded a second time, stepping closer.

“It’s just…”  Her delicate brow crinkled.  “I’m so hot, but my stomach feels…”

When she didn’t finish, his eyes dipped to the covers that hid her stomach from view.  “What?”

Her mouth was open, but no words passed her lips, and she shook her head.  RedKnife crossed to sit on the bed, sliding a hand under the blanket.  Her belly felt like ice.  He slid a hand down to her thigh and found it hot to the touch.  His gaze jerked to hers as he pulled his hand out from under the covers and placed it on her chest, then her head.  Her body was burning up everywhere except for her stomach.