Captive (26 page)

He grunted his agreement yet made no move to get up.

“I appreciate your haste, but what good will it do us if you turn into a Popsicle before we get there?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Why was everything with him a fight? She picked up his ratty, old backpack, rummaged through the thing until she found the tube, pulled it out and proceeded to rub thick, white balm over the slashes on his back.

He stiffened, whether from the cream’s sting or from her touch she wasn’t sure. She eased up on the pressure, trying hard to be like a feather over his wounds.

Max stared silently out toward the horizon.

She moved her fingers from his back to his ribs, gently working balm into his skin, imagining she could feel his hard body through her gloves.

For all that he angered her—and sometimes frightened her—she couldn’t help feeling drawn to him and drawn to the incessant man-versus-beast struggle in his soul. His moods were as unpredictable and enigmatic as the rest of him. And it enticed her damned curiosity.

What had his life on Hyborea been like? Where had he come from? Did he have a last name? Why wouldn’t he talk about home?

He said he’d forgotten that life, but she knew she never could. She gazed over the umiak’s side at the ground speeding past in a white blur and thought about home.

She envisioned her lake, calm and pristine, surrounded by lush trees. She could almost smell the pine, hear the geese honking overhead, and the lapping of water against the dock and the rowboat. Her memory floated up the winding dirt path to the log cabin’s porch. She could smell wood smoke wafting from its stone chimney. Or was that the forest fire she smelled? She imagined the flames shattering windows and surging up the walls consuming her cabin leaving nothing but charred remains in its destructive wake. She shook her head of the thought, and saw the frozen white blur again.

She moved to Max’s side and worked cream into the slashes on his chest. “Did I tell you everyone back home thinks I died—and remained dead—in a forest fire?” A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have had to clarify that.

He didn’t reply.

“It’s probably better that they do. At least they won’t have to worry over me.”

The sled scraped through the packed snow as the wolves bounded over the land. Rushing air filled the quiet void.

No matter how hard she tried to widen the path of communication, Max never walked down it unless it had to do with survival. Had she really expected this time to be any different? The guy was never going to open up.

So why did that bother her so much?

Even if Max didn’t want to get to know her, you’d think he’d want to get to know his child. But he would never be the type of guy to talk to his kid through the mom’s belly. Would he talk to his child after she gave birth in the refuge? Would he want a relationship with Superbaby then?

She hoped so. It hurt not knowing your biological father. She didn’t wish that pain for her child.

She capped the thermal cream, tucked the tube back into Max’s pack, and brushed a thumb across its threadbare patch.

What made a savage gladiator carry around a cartoon duck? If he’d so desperately wanted to forget his old life, why had he held on to it for fifteen years? Was he trying to punish himself?

“It was our mascot,” he said.

Startled, she dropped the pack. “What?”

“The Fighting Ducks. UO.”

“You went to the University of Oregon?”

He nodded.

“Small universe,” she said, and he cracked a half smile.

She liked when Max smiled. Even the half smiles that didn’t reach his eyes relaxed the hard angles of his face. Plus, it was usually a sign he was feeling more human than beast.

Max sighed long and heavy, like he didn’t want to tell her something, but had to. “My mom sewed it on.” He kept his eyes on the team. “I hated that dorky backpack. I wouldn’t be caught dead using it on campus.”

“It looks like it’s seen better days.”

“It’s never left my side since I’ve come to Hell.”

Addy wrapped the pelt back around his shoulders, trying to imagine what he might have been like fifteen years ago. What kind of person had he been? What had he liked to do? What had been his dreams?

“What was your major?” It seemed a safe question he might actually answer.

Max gave her a sideways glance and flashed a crooked, sexy breeding box smile that made her breath catch. “You mean besides girls?”

“Oh, big partier, huh?”

“Never during the season.”

“What did you play, football?”

“Decathlon. You know, track and field?”

She nodded. She could see him as a well-rounded athlete. “I bet you were good.”

The green in his eyes sparkled. “I was better than good. I was five points shy of an American record as a freshman. I was Olympic bound. Until—” The muscles in his jaw hardened before he went mute again and Gladiator Max returned. That seemed to be his intermediate state between man and beast.

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

“Do you know how long I’ve tried not to think about it?”

Addy stroked the pelt around his shoulders. “Fifteen years is a long time keeping your heart locked, Max.”

“You’ve no idea.”

“I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve had to endure on this planet. I’ll never know the extent of your suffering, but it’s time you stop torturing yourself.”

Max pulled the team to a halt.

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about home,” she said. “Yes, it’s painful, but isn’t it equally painful
not
thinking of it?”

“No.” He gathered his survival knife, a canteen, a bowl, and the food sack Yakone gave her to feed the wolves, and then jumped out.

Addy repressed the guilt that started welling inside for bringing up his old life. It wasn’t her fault Max’s past wasn’t left in the past. If he could only understand that no matter how much he tried running, his past would always keep pace with him, drafting off his shoulder and breathing down his neck. One day he’d have to stop running and face it.

Sound advice, Addy. Maybe you should follow it, too.

She shook off the thought. She had meant him, not her.

Her watch alarm sounded.

By the time Max climbed back in, Addy had taken her prenatal shot, reapplied thermal cream to certain cold areas, and rationed out some food. Max ate in silence as he drove the team.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she finished eating, “for everything you’ve lost, Max. For everything they’ve done to you. But you’re not alone. They stole my life, too.”

She moved to sit next to him again. “I had recently bought a log cabin on a secluded lake. It was perfect. It was my sanctuary. But one night, my life went up in flames. Literally. And though home is worlds away, it’s not gone. It’s in here.” She tapped her chest.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want it in my heart or my head.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a bogus point of reference. It’s not reality. This is. Earth was just a dream I woke up from. And there’s no sense discussing dreams.”

“But—”

“Hell, woman. No more talking.” He slapped the reins, pushing the wolves faster.

Chapter Thirty-four

Y
e just
had
to slit the man’s throat, didn’t ye?” Duncan called down from Ferly Mor’s arms. Regan remained at Ferly Mor’s heel while the Hyborean “talked” with the Tuniit chief standing on the other side of the ice cage.

“What’s the big fucking deal? He dies, they reawaken him. So what? Why the hell are we locked in here?”

“Quiet, lad. I’m trying to understand the Hyboreans.”

If that old fart weren’t in his master’s arms right now, he’d beat him to death. He clenched a fist and smacked it into his open palm imagining it was Duncan’s face.

They’d been so close. Only one day behind. And now they were trapped in a cage made of ice. The Tuniits had confiscated his weapons and Ferly Mor’s tech-ring. How long before they got their things back and could leave this techless wasteland?

If he didn’t capture and return Xanthrag’s special broodmare... He almost shuddered at the thought. But didn’t. Shuddering displayed weakness.

Minutes later, Ferly Mor placed Duncan on the snow-covered floor before flopping his large hairy body down as well. His legs sprawled out in front of him, and he leaned his back and head against the wall and closed his eyes. Failure and misery emanated from the Hyborean like a reawakened gladiator after losing a survival race.

Stupid Hyborean. If Xanthrag were here instead of Ferly Mor, they would have been freed by now.

Duncan hurried over to Regan, who asked, “Well? What did that Neanderthal say?”

“The Tuniits are primitive Hyboreans, to be sure. I think their ancestors’ spirits are angry at the evil Ferly Mor brought.”

Regan couldn’t help but laugh at that. He wasn’t evil. He was a warrior.

“Ferly Mor offered his healing skills, but they refused. They believe it to be dark magic. Can ye believe that? He could have easily reawakened the man.”

“Screw the guy. What about us?”

“The Tuniits will discuss our fate and return with a decision.”

“How long?”

Duncan shrugged. “I dinna ken, lad. We must have patience.”

“
Patience
is a fancy word for ‘wasting time.’ You sure you understood everything?”

“Aye. The closer I am to Ferly Mor, the more precisely I can interpret his emotions and thoughts.”

“And what of my broodmare? How long before she hits open seas?”

“Traveling that distance by wolf-drawn sleigh? I’d say about twelve days. Providing she survives the birth.” His last words came out soft, tentative.

She’d better survive the birth. If she died, Xanthrag would torture Regan for not tracking her down in time.

Goddamn bitch would cause his ultimortem.

Chapter Thirty-five

F
or three days Max brooded in silence, only speaking occasionally when it was time to eat, rest, or stand guard while the other slept. And then it was just a few words.

At least she had Superbaby to keep her company and to remind her she wasn’t completely alone in this world. The baby flip-flopped and kicked her and stretched her thermal suit, reminding her of the movie
Alien
. As if she needed any more reminders of those.

It was an active little sucker, she’d give it that. Was it a boy or a girl? Would its hair be strawberry-blonde like hers or dark like Max’s? What color would its eyes be?

Of course, she was in no hurry to find out. For as much joy she received from the baby inside her, thoughts of the baby outside her were terrifying.

How would she know what to do when it came? She didn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby. She grew up a tomboy and preferred climbing trees and catching frogs to playing house or dress-up. She’d never even diapered a doll.

Her baby moved. She stroked a little hard bump she assumed was the head. How did this little miracle growing inside her simultaneously delight and frighten her so much? The only thing worse than being scared for her baby and their uncertain future was not being able to share those feelings with anyone. Max didn’t even want to talk about himself. Why would he want to talk about the baby and her fears?

Though technically not alone, loneliness tore her heart, and she ached deeply in the fiber of her soul.

She knew of only one other person who had felt this same way. Mom. And in that instant she felt closer to her mother than she’d ever had.

Only Mom had isolated herself. She had allowed her loneliness to consume her and damage her relationships. Why couldn’t her mother have admitted she needed someone? That she’d needed love. That she’d deserved love.

Why had it been so hard for Mom to tell her only child that she loved her?

That was one mistake Addy would never repeat. Every day for the rest of her life, she’d tell Superbaby how much she loved her...or him. A lump formed in her throat. She closed her eyes, concentrated on her breathing, refused to shed more tears over her mother.

What good would that do, anyway? Mom was gone. She’d never see her again or hear the three words she had prayed for since she had been a little girl. The only thing in her power now was forgiveness.

It was time to face her past and forgive.

Still with eyes closed, she turned inward, blocking the sound of the howling wind outside the tent, blocking the wolves’ pounding steps and the sleigh scraping the ice. All thoughts receded until her mind’s eye had one clear image.

Her mother.

Wearing her mountain rescue uniform. Standing on her back porch under a starry night, staring into the woodland behind her home, her long blonde hair swaying in a summer breeze. She was holding Zira, scratching the cat’s ears, kissing the top of her furry head. Mom never had a problem giving her love to animals. People, on the other hand, were another matter.

I know you were scared, Mom,
Addy said in her mind.
I know you did the best you could. I forgive you.

Out of nowhere, Addy heard a reply,
No one is a planet unto herself.

Her eyes flew open. Her heart palpitated. She had hoped meditating about forgiving her mother would result in a little peace of mind and spirit. She’d never imagined it would have resulted in her subconscious doling out advice.

But it was right. She needed Max.

And whether he admitted it or not, he needed her, too.

Addy left the tent to sit next to Max on the driver’s bench. His eyes were shining this morning. The lines beneath his bearded face were smooth, amiable. He appeared to be in a good mood—a human mood—and she wondered if it was due to the bright and clear day or the gentle wind at their backs.

“I want to show you something.” She took his left hand. He didn’t resist when she placed it on her belly.

“It moved.” There was no mistaking the awe in his voice or the heaviness of his gloved hand as he pressed it firmly against her. “It moved again.”

“I think it has the hiccups.”

“Get out of town. Babies get hiccups in there?”