Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Caine’s
low curse snapped Bella
into action.

“Go,” she pushed him toward home.

He snatched her arm, pulling him with her. “Stay close.” He
was sprinting so fast her boots barely touched the ground. Another snarl
sounded even closer, as loud as thunder.

“Don’t look back,” he shouted. “When I tell you to drop, do
it.”

“What are you going to do?”

But he was already swiveling around. “Drop!” He pushed her
down, bounding over her, spear raised.

Her heart slammed into her throat.

It had been terrifying the first time he’d taken on a
tigos
. Now that she cared for him, it was excruciating.

She held her breath, her feet frozen to the ground, her hands
outstretched as if she could hold him to her. The space was so narrow there was
no way he could use the same killing technique he’d employed before. And still,
man and beast ran at each other head on.

She opened her mouth to cry out his name—and then snapped it
shut. He couldn’t afford the distraction. His name emerged as a whispered plea
instead. Her hands dropped to her side.

In the next instant,
Caine
stunned
her by running up the side of the cliff in a gravity-defying acrobatic move
that she would have sworn was next to impossible. He hovered for a second above
the creature. Then, before gravity could win, launched himself forward—her cry
strangling in her throat—before flipping in midair to land on the animal’s
back, his legs locking around its thick neck.

On instinct, her eyes slammed shut. Then she forced them
wide, not wanting to take her eyes off him for an instant. As if the force of
her stare alone could keep him safe.

The creature reared back, trying to shake him off.

With a roar,
Caine
drove his spear
into its neck, but the hide was tougher than its belly. Blood trickled from the
wound, but it didn’t go down. Enraged, the creature swung its head, raking its
fang down
Caine’s
leg.

Nausea burned the back of her throat. Streaks of crimson appeared
all too vivid against
Caine’s
flesh.

“No.” Shaking off her stupor, she ran toward them, the gourd
clutched in her hand. It wasn’t much, but if she aimed it just right, it might
buy
Caine
a few critical seconds.

“Stay back,” he shouted, burying his spear in the
tigos
’ thick neck a second time.

She wouldn’t have listened, but another sound—one that
couldn’t be ignored—had her swiveling around.

From the other direction, closing in fast, was the
pythile
, drawn by the scent of blood. Its body so wide it
rubbed against both sides of the canyon path, its eyes glittering with hunger
as it locked on the bleeding man and creature.

Her mouth went dry.

Caine
was in trouble. Her, too.

Everything seemed to slow. The hammer of her heart against
her ribs. The shallow rasp of her breath. Even the undulating slither of the
pythile
as it thundered toward her.

She knew what she had to do.

Leaping frantically at the canyon wall, she searched for a
handhold. A crack. Anything she could use to heave herself up. Her nails
ripped. Sharp points tore at the pads of her fingers. But thanks to
Caine’s
training, she’d grown tougher. Stronger. Her
shoulder still might burn, the old ache from the crash suddenly coming back to
haunt her, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. She kept searching.

Almost screaming with relief when her fingers found a crevice
and she pulled herself upward. Her feet pedaled furiously against the rock wall
as she reached for another handhold. And another. And another. Refusing to look
down, refusing to contemplate failure.

Until the snake-like beast streaked passed, a rush of wind
against her calves, not even giving her perch a second look.
Success!

The second it was past, she let go. Exactly as planned.

Only instead of landing gracefully on her feet, she scraped
along the wall as she went down, each sharp rock taking its pound of flesh,
crash landing on one foot while the other buckled. An agonizing pain shot
through her ankle.

“No! What are you doing?” roared
Caine
.
“Get back up there.”

She really wished he’d worry for himself.

Hopping on her one good leg, she dug for the gourd in her
pocket, took a deep breath to steady herself, and hurled it as hard as she
could at the
pythile’s
retreating form.

The gourd pinged against the creature’s hide. But there was
no sound. No gash. Not even a damn scrape.
Turn,
you bastard, turn!

As if hearing her prayers, the animal swung its head around.
Its nostrils twitching, keen to determine if what had happened signaled a
threat.

Wasting no time, she pulled the reflective arrowhead from her
pocket. She only had seconds before the
pythile
lost
interest and continued following the scent of blood straight to
Caine
.

Hands shaking, she tilted the mineral this way and that,
muttering to herself until—thankfully—it worked. The sun glinted off the
mineral, shining right into the creature’s
slitted
eyes.

It hissed and shook its head, a forked tongue the length of a
human leg flickering out.

“That’s right, big guy.” Voice trembling, she shook the
mineral back and forth as she limped backward up the trail. “Don’t you want to
follow me? Don’t you want to know what this is?”

Hissing, flicking its tongue, the
pythile
rippled after her. Its narrow red eyes blinked rapidly as it tried to dodge the
light.

Below her on the path, she could hear
Caine
shouting, but she couldn’t hear what. She had every confidence, though, that
with the
pythile
out of his way, he’d be able to
finish off the
tigos
in no time flat. In fact, she
was counting on it.

She’d gone a good twenty steps when she realized her
distraction tactic was coming to an end.

The hair at the back of her neck prickled. The
pythile
was growing bored. Or maybe it had simply adjusted
to the light. Whatever the case, its pupils, which had been big and wide at the
start, had narrowed to pinpricks, making its eyes an even creepier red. At the
same time, its tail twitched faster and faster.

She didn’t have to be a
pythile
expert to conclude it was shifting back into hunt mode.

With a shout, she took off running, her ankle protesting with
every frantic stride. Sweat dripped down the curve of her back. Stung her eyes.
Still, she didn’t stop. And she didn’t look back.

The cave was a shining beacon of hope less than fifty paces
away.

Caine
had another spear placed
right inside the door. If she could get it, there was a chance she could stab
the beast and help
Caine
. Or she would die fighting.

Either way, she wanted the chance to try.

The ground shook beneath her boots, proof the
pythile
was closing the gap.

And then it was so close its warm breath blasted against her
back. So close its wild, feral stench flooded her lungs.

Her hands curled into fists. Her eyes sank closed. She wasn’t
going to make it. All her plans….
Caine
….Her throat
grew tight.

Then suddenly, the
pythile
shrieked.

Bella flinched, her head swiveling around. In the settling
dust,
Caine
loomed right behind, his expression
fierce as he struck the
pythile’s
tail over and over
while the creature writhed in pain.

“Go,” he urged. “Get inside. Barricade the door.”

On autopilot, she scrambled forward. Her side screaming at
her, her ankle a constant pain. It seemed to take a million hours to cover the
last leg to the cave.

Then, thankfully, she was wrenching open the door, her gaze
searching frantically in the dark for the spear.

Her hand closed over smooth wood. Relief slammed through her.
Just hold on one more minute,
Caine
.

She turned to run outside.

Only to crash into an immoveable object.

Caine
. He stood in the doorway, his
chest heaving, his beautiful body covered in scratches and blood. But he was
alive.

Her spear clattered to the ground.

“Thank God. You did it. You saved us both.” She stared up at
him, too exhausted to move, too relieved to do anything but shoot him a crazy,
wide grin. “Though you have to admit that use of the arrowhead was pretty
ingenious for such short notice.” Just beyond his wide shoulder, outlined in
the open door, she could see the
pythile
lying still
in the dirt. “For a moment there, I really thought those bastards were going to
get us. I—”

“Where did you think you were going with that?” He cut her
off, his voice hard, his gaze locked on the spear at her feet.

Alarm whispered through her. Something wasn’t right.
Caine
wasn’t…right. His gaze was even harder than the first
time she’d laid eyes on him.

She backed up a few steps, her ankle throbbing. “I was coming
to help.”

“I told you to stay inside.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Just like I told you to stay on that cliff. Just like I told you to drop that
damn arrowhead and make a run for it.”

“And leave you to fight them alone? Not likely.”

His nostrils flared. “So you thought you’d die instead?”

“I was hoping it would be neither of us.”

That only seemed to make him madder. “Hoping? Hope doesn’t
get you anything but dead on this fucking planet.” He slammed the door closed.
She got the distinct impression he wasn’t so much shutting everything else out
as locking her in.

She took a few more steps back. “But that didn’t happen.” She
spoke in the same coaxing tone she’d used with the
pythile
.
“I’m okay. You’re okay. We both survived.”

“It’s not okay.” He started toward her, his hands fisting by
his side. For the first time since he’d told her his name, she felt wary around
the man who’d become her protector. “I’m supposed to keep you safe. I’m
supposed to keep you alive….You want to know who Gwen was?”

Dread washed over Bella. She nodded anyway.

“She was my wife.” Pain twisted his features into a mask of
anguish. “And I couldn’t keep her alive. She was stubborn and stupid and she
didn’t listen to me, and she died. Murdered by a corrupt bastard because she
refused to heed my warnings. Now she’s nothing but dirt while I pay penance in
a hell that doesn’t even require an afterlife.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bella’s voice was little more than a whisper.

It was as if he didn’t hear her. As if old demons had taken
hold and drowned out anything else.

“I’m not going to let the same thing happen with you.” He
jerked a strap used for tanning meat from the table, wrapping it around one
fist before pulling it taut. “I thought we settled this last time, but I guess
not. I guess you need to have it driven home. I guess I’ve been too soft and
let things go too far. While you’re here with me, you’re going to obey me.
You’re going to get it through your pretty, stubborn head that this is a
dictatorship. That I rule and you follow.” The strap cracked ominously in his
hands. “You may hate me when we’re through, but if that’s what it takes to keep
you alive, so be it.”

“No.” She backpedaled faster, bumping into a stool before righting
herself. “You’re not thinking clearly. Whatever you’re planning on doing with
that won’t solve anything.”

He kicked the stool out of his way. “It will keep you safe.”

She sprinted for the door. He caught her easily, his arm a
tight band around her waist as he carried her kicking and screaming to the bed.

She landed in the middle in a tangle of limbs. She tried to
use one of his fighting moves, but he subdued her easily, flipping her onto her
stomach, grabbing hold of her wrists with one hand. The rough edge of the
blanket pressed into her cheek. His knee a heavy weight against her spine, not
hurting her, but holding her down just the same.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

“At least you’ll be alive.” He jerked her pants down her
hips, leaving her ass bare. Her skin prickled.

She turned her face away, bracing for the pain. “I never knew
you were a coward, but I’m glad to learn it now.”

He stilled above her. “I’m no coward.”

“You don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing?” She tugged
against his grip. No give. “Five amazing days together, and now, when you think
the end is near, you’re back to pushing me away so you don’t have to feel
anything at all. So you don’t have to risk caring for anyone else that might
leave you or die.” She bit back a sob. “It’s almost as if you’re begging me to
hate you so things can go back to the way they were.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his hold
weakened.

She seized the opportunity, bucking him off her back and
spinning over. He loomed above, his sweat-slicked chest heaving, his gaze heavy
with uncertainty, the strap dangling useless in one fist.

“You want me to hate you. You want me to leave you here.” She
stared up at him. “All this time, you wouldn’t consider even the possibility of
a way to convince Command Council to commute your sentence and get you off this
hellhole and I thought…I thought maybe it was because you weren’t sure about
me. Weren’t sure you trusted me to stand up for you as you’ve done for me. But
now I see that was all wrong. The problem isn’t me. And it isn’t Dragath25.
It’s you. You’re afraid. Afraid to care too deeply or hope too intensely for
better than this miserable existence.” She fumbled with her clothes. “I don’t
know what happened with your wife, but I’d rather die a thousand times over
than spend whatever time I have left with someone who’s too afraid to take a
chance and really live.”