Haunting Warrior (53 page)

“Tiarnan,” Liam said. “ ’Tis surely death one way or another, isn’t that so?”

Tiarnan’s broad shoulders slumped at that simple statement, spoken in a voice that had not yet reached puberty.

“Aye. ’Tis always death.”

The resignation in his tone lanced her own building ire. Whether or not she deserved his hostility, it was clear this man carried a heavy burden on those strong shoulders. She had an almost uncontrollable need to reach out to him, to touch that beautiful face, to comfort the hardened warrior. It seemed he heard her thoughts, because he turned those golden eyes her way and stared at her. Something curled tight low in her belly.

“It doesn’t have to be death,” she said. “But if that’s my only option, I’d rather take my chances with the sea than be ripped apart and eaten by them.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Aye, if that’s the choice.”

There was no time to question him now, though, no time to even plan. The pack leader had begun the scramble up the sheer base of stone. It made it only a few feet before pitching back and falling with a thud and yelp. But now others attempted it, their large paws gripping, claws spreading as they tried to scale the wall.

Beside her, Tiarnan rubbed the bloody wound at his shoulder and swayed on his feet, but he didn’t fall. Looked as if he might never fall, unless it was in death. She saw resolve on his face.

“There,” he said, pointing to a jutting shelf that poked out a few feet up. From there they might be able to reach the lip between the massive boulders stacked on top of it.

They would have to jump from the formation where the wolves had them trapped, across ten feet of bared fangs and bloodlust, catch the ledge just right, and then hope they could scramble up to the next level. It could be done. Perhaps.

Tiarnan looked at the boy. “I’ll go first. Y’ come after. Do y’ understand me?” Liam glanced at Shealy and then away. “Do not worry about her. It is y’ that comes next.”

Reluctantly the boy nodded. Shealy stiffened when Tiarnan gave her a brooding once over from head to toe, his expression unreadable, yet those eyes glittered with a potent combination of remorse, awareness, and anger that sparked along her nerves.

“Who beat y’?” he said.

The question was so unexpected that for a moment, she couldn’t process what he asked. He pointed to her eye, making a circle motion with his finger that encompassed her whole face and neck.

As if his attention had brought with it feeling and sensation, her entire body began to ache again, and the pain she’d held at bay rushed through her. Shaking, she raised a hand to her face, wincing as she touched the swollen split skin under her eye, the bruised lacerations around her mouth, the puffy burning of her cheek.

And then it crashed over her like a thundering storm. The dress, the shoes—after she’d taken her father out to dinner for his birthday, they’d been attacked . . . in the dark parking lot. The man had a knife and . . . and. . . . Blackness swam in front of her eyes, and she teetered on suddenly rubbery legs.

Tiarnan stepped in front of her, gently took her shoulders in his big hands, the heat of her skin shocking her out of the spiral of panic sucking her under. “Breathe,” he ordered, and Shealy sucked in a deep breath that burned her throat and seared her lungs.

“Again,” he demanded.

Like a child, she obeyed, nodding her head to let him know she wasn’t going to pass out, that she would take the next breath and the next without his command. He released her immediately, and her body swayed in protest. Before he turned, she caught another glimpse of emotion in those whiskey eyes. Compassion. Regret.

He masked it quickly and moved away.

Before she could speak, he took a running step and leapt up over the chasm to the ledge, hitting hard, stumbling, and then catching himself. Both Shealy and Liam watched with wide eyes and terror as the wolves jumped and snapped at his heels, fighting with each other as they tried to scale the wall to reach him.

Tiarnan caught his balance and inched to the side. Wrapping his fingers around a sharp flange, he leaned out, reaching. “Liam, come on now.”

Liam looked guiltily at Shealy and took a step forward. Feeling panicked at the idea that once Liam made that leap, the two males would leave her here for the wolves, Shealy forced herself to give the boy a smile and a nod. “Go on. I’ll be just behind you.”

Liam did as his brother had, stepping back for a running start before leaping off the edge. Tiarnan caught him easily and his landing was surer, softer than Tiarnan’s had been. Tiarnan hauled the boy up, and Liam used his brother’s shoulder as a step to reach the next level. Only when he was there, did the big man turn to Shealy.

“Now y’, Leary,” Tiarnan said.

“It’s Shealy. Shealy O’Leary,” she corrected angrily. She turned, throwing her expensive high heels over the edge and into the distance, grinning grimly as a few of the wolves took off after them. She hiked up her dress and made a running jump for the other side.

Halfway across, she knew she wouldn’t make it.

The certainty came with a wash of panic that made her skin hurt and her nerves burn. She flailed her arms and legs crazily, trying to use momentum, force of will, anything to breach the distance. Close, so very close, but not there.

Gravity sucked her down, and she had only a second to read the alarm in Tiarnan’s eyes before she plunged. Below her the wolves frothed, snarled, and snapped. She felt teeth sink into her ankle, and then a hand locked over her arm and pulled. Her fall halted with a jerk that snapped her teeth and knocked a cry from her. Still scissoring her legs to keep the wolves from latching on, she felt her body move up an inch, then another. One of the bigger wolves found the break in the stones she’d known they would discover, raced up, and vaulted at her. Its body hit her hard, and she felt the grip on her arm loosen and then she was slipping, screaming, twisting while its claws scored her flesh as it fell. Another wolf jumped from below and nipped at her but couldn’t lock its powerful jaws on her thrashing leg. Above her, Tiarnan and Liam shouted, and rocks sailed down, pelting the frenzied canines. She heard them yelp as they scattered.

Tiarnan’s strong hands were towing her up now, and then he had her in his arms and he tugged her onto the ledge. She was shaking from head to toe and she clung to him, feeling the pounding of his racing heart beneath her cheek. He held her tight, telling her she was safe. But it was a lie.

“They’re coming,” Liam shouted.

The other wolves had found the break that allowed them to climb, and now they raced, slipping and sliding on the shale as they snaked between the boulders below, focused only on their prey. Tiarnan pulled himself to the next ledge where Liam waited and then reached down for Shealy, swinging her up with one powerful motion. The sharp rocks cut Shealy’s feet when she landed, but she didn’t pause as she scrambled behind the boy and the man as they climbed, fearing if she lagged they would leave her behind.

The wolves chased with speed and efficiency, gaining in numbers, gaining in distance until their snarls and yips felt like a hot breath bearing down on Shealy. And then suddenly Liam was on his belly at the very top, looking down for Tiarnan, who hoisted Shealy onto the plateau before following.

They stopped for just a moment, the sound of their harsh breathing rising over the cacophony of the chasing pack. Ahead the rough terrain stretched flat for four or five hundred feet and then abruptly dropped to the churning sea. She could hear the crash and roar, smell the salt and brine. From behind them, the wolves continued their relentless pursuit, snaking across the crag as they climbed.

“Keep moving,” Tiarnan said, and both Liam and Shealy did as they were told, sprinting across the flattened peak. Shealy’s lungs burned and her muscles quivered by the time they reached the rim on the other side.

When she’d spoken her brave words about preferring the sea to the carnage of the wolves, she hadn’t been standing over the churning waves, the roiling surf that slammed against rocks and sand, the certain death that such a fall would bring. She looked down at her bloodied legs, at the angry bite on her calf, the gnawed flesh of her ankle. Behind them, the wolves were gaining. They had seconds. Maybe less.

“We jump for there,” Tiarnan said, pointing down to a surging tide pool between the stones. “The water looks deeper. I don’t see any rocks.”

Nor did she, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, just below the surface. The three exchanged one silent glance, a good-bye. Good luck. Shealy didn’t know what it was. The anguish in Tiarnan’s eyes, though, was a living thing with jaws as great as those of the wolves. He shook his head, as if in resignation.

“Me first this time,” Liam said, and without hesitation, he leapt over the side.

Tiarnan reached for him as his body flew off the edge, as if he might stop what was about to happen. Of course he couldn’t. No one could. A fierce gust rose like a hand from nowhere and grabbed the boy, shoving him off course before slamming him into the wall and then bouncing him from one massive boulder to another. Tiarnan’s shout of agony echoed off every surface, stealing the breath from Shealy’s lungs. He threw himself after his brother, and the weight and mass of him took him straight down like a bag of stone. Shealy couldn’t watch, couldn’t bear to see what happened.

The wolves had breached the edge of the plateau and raced at her, bodies stretched long and flat as they covered the distance in seconds. With no time to think of what she did, Shealy lunged from the ledge. One wolf followed her into the nothingness of the fall, snapping its jaws as she plummeted, squealing as it realized what it had done. Shealy’s scream was locked in her chest with her terror as she sailed down and down and down. She heard a sickening thud as the wolf rappelled off something hard and jutting, braced herself to do the same. But in the end, all she felt was the stabbing cold of icy water. All she knew was the darkness of its depths.