Masters 01 Master of the Mountain (25 page)

Outside, Logan checked at the sun, his gut tightening with fear. “Got less than an hour.”

Jake grunted an answer, then walked over to the west edge of the clearing to check for tracks. Logan did the same on the east side. At the road, he found tiny tracks with shallow indentations. Sneakers on little feet. “Over here.” He followed the shoe marks first, then the muddy streaks leading to the east trail.

“Nice that we've got a place to start,” Jake said, following Logan into the forest. “God help us if we didn't have that.”

Logan didn't bother to answer but broke into a jog.
Little rebel, what the fuck were you thinking?
But he knew. She'd thought only of the dog, not her own safety.

When Thor's ears perked forward, Rebecca sat up. “What?” She tilted her head and then could hear it too: a shrill sound from higher up. Another. Someone was blowing a whistle.

Oh God. Thank you, God
. A sob wrenched out of her as tears overflowed her eyes. Now with hopes of rescue, she could admit how terrified she'd been.

She rubbed the wetness off her cheeks.
No wussy behavior
. It was probably Logan. After taking a slow breath, she firmed up her voice. “Here!” she yelled. “We're here.”

She could see someone up high, about where she'd left the trail. A second later, Logan came down the incline in a graceful slide, Jake shortly after. They followed the path she'd broken through the streamside brush.

They stalked up to the stream, two powerful men, like two more animals that belonged here in the forest. Logan stopped at the edge of the stream for only a second before crossing on the same stones she'd used, so fast and coordinated she wanted to hit him. Jake moved just as fast.

Shoulder to shoulder, they scowled down at her.

“I hurt my ankle,” she said meekly, wanting only to fling herself into Logan's arms. “And Thor hurt his foot. He got trapped in there.” She pointed at the pile of river wrack.

Logan didn't speak as he knelt beside her. His eyes were cold, the muscles of his jaw rigid, and she realized he was furious. Boiling-over and ready-to-yell furious. He stared at her and then inhaled, and his anger disappeared. How did he do that? Have so much control over his emotions?

“Come here,” he said softly and pulled her into his arms. Oh God. His scent surrounded her, and his arms wrapped her in security. She laid her cheek against his muscular chest and tried really, really hard not to cry. She didn't succeed very well.

“Shhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “You're safe, sweetheart.” A growl entered his voice. “For now.”

After a minute, she got herself under control and reluctantly pushed back. No time to be a baby.

Logan wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, his gaze intense. Then he gave her a nod and turned his attention to her ankle. When he rolled up the leg of her jeans, she saw how her left ankle swelled over her sneaker.

“There's a mess,” he muttered. “The shoe stays on for now, but I'm going to wrap it for extra bracing.” He pulled Ace wrap out of his pack and started to strap up her ankle.

She gritted her teeth at the wave of pain, digging her fingers into the sparse grass to keep from yelling. Or bawling. Logan's gaze flickered over her face, her hands, but he didn't stop.

When he finally secured the end of the elastic wrap, and the pain decreased to a tolerable throbbing, Rebecca pulled in a breath.

Logan squeezed her shoulder. “Brave girl,” he murmured, before rising. “Thor okay?” he asked Jake.

“Paw's ripped up some, but it'll heal.” Jake grinned at Rebecca. “Nice bandaging material, Red.”

Logan glanced at the bloodstained chemise still wrapped around Thor's paw and snorted a laugh.

“Looks like we'd better go straight west till we cut the old Bear Trail and use the Cedar Tree crossing,” Jake said.

Logan eyed the stream. “Agreed.” He grasped Rebecca under her arms and hauled her up.

Pain stabbed through her ankle, but she managed to turn her scream into a hiss.

Logan's hands closed on her upper arms, steadying her. He pulled her arm over his shoulders. “You're going to use me and Jake as if we're crutches. If the going gets too rough or you can't manage, then I'll carry you.”

Carry her? She looked at him in horror. She'd die before that happened. Besides, she wasn't the only injured one here. “I'll be fine. You should carry Thor.”

Logan's eyes softened, and he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You're just a marshmallow inside, aren't you?” He glanced at the dog. “He has four legs; missing one will barely slow him down.”

Jake took his place on her other side. Between the two of them, she felt like a midget, and he apparently caught her thought. “Okay, short stuff, grab on, and let's do this before it's too dark to see.”

* * * * *

By the time they reached the lodge, Logan was drenched with sweat, and Becca white-faced with pain. No complaints from the city girl, though. Every time he asked if she hurt, she'd say, “
I'm fine
.” As a man, he appreciated her stoic bravery. As a Dom, he wanted the truth, but halfway down a mountain near sunset didn't seem the time for a lecture on honesty. Instead, he monitored her carefully, and when the tendons on her neck stood out, her lips tightened to a thin line, or her breathing turned shallow, he'd ignore her protests and have Jake put her up on his back.

The only other times she spoke on the trip down were to express concern for him and Jake. And the dog.

Thor, being Thor, led the way down, despite his hurt paw, and the white tip of his tail made a beacon in the darkness of the forest. Still in front at the end of the trail, he trotted onto the lodge porch and waited for someone to open the door.

“Probably wants supper now, the bastard,” Jake grumbled.

Rebecca stopped just inside the door. “He needs to have his foot taken care of. I—”

Logan shook his head.
Marshmallow heart
. He and Jake had seen the trail in the mud of the streambed, the marks left by her hands and knees showing she'd crawled to Thor after she'd injured herself. He scooped her into his arms. “Jake can handle Thor.”

He carried her upstairs, leaving Jake to reassure the swingers she was all right.

Despite her halfhearted protests, he stripped her of her clothing and put her into a steamy shower, joining her a second later. Seeing her there, feeling her naked body against him, eased the last remnants of worry inside him.

Fuck, but she'd scared the shit out of him.

Soaping up her body only deepened his anger. Vivid scratches stood out on the delicate skin of her arms. Another red line marred her cheek. She was so fragile and soft, and she could have died so easily.

When he tried to dry her off, she shook her head and pulled the towel out of his hands. “I can do it, Logan. My ankle's hurt, not anything else.”

He almost growled at her then, but the fury inside him would have to wait for a more appropriate time. He yanked on jeans and a T-shirt. After tossing more pillows on the bed, he hunted up water and medicine, then prepared an ice bag.

For the comfort of his modest sub, he searched her suitcase for a nightgown and handed it into the bathroom. “Let me know when you're ready to come out.”

A second later, she appeared in the door, her injured foot touching the floor slightly.

He carried her to the bed. Her fragrant body felt appallingly breakable in his arms, and he wanted to hold her. To take her. To beat her ass. He set her on the edge of the bed, handed her a couple of ibuprofens and a glass of water. “Take these, and I'll see how much damage you've done.”

She swallowed the pain pills. “I think it's just sprained. It hurts less now.”

“Uh-huh.” Since he'd unwrapped the ankle in the shower, it had doubled in size. He palpated the bones carefully. He could see the way she bit back her groans. How her hands fisted in the covers. Fuck, he hated hurting her. A man protects his woman, and he'd done a lame-ass job. He should have told her more of the dangers, should have insisted she come with him to town. Should never have left her alone. He sighed and released her foot. “Without an x-ray, I can't say for sure, but looks like just a sprain. Lie back.”

He strapped her ankle tightly enough to keep some of the swelling down but not cut off circulation, then elevated her leg on a couple of pillows.

She studied his handiwork. “You're pretty good at that. It looks almost pretty.”

“Sports, military, wilderness training. I've had a lot of practice.” He picked up the pillowcase that he'd filled with plastic bags of ice and draped it over and around her ankle.

A staccato rap sounded on the door, and without waiting for a response, Jake strolled in.

Logan scowled. “You ever consider I might be busy?”

“Later, I'm sure, but you won't jump her ass when she's hurting.” The glint in Jake's eyes showed he knew what Logan planned to do to that pretty ass. “Here's some soup. It'll probably go down better than anything else right now.” He handed Rebecca a steaming mug and a plate of toast. Buttered, even.

One of the most popular Doms in the area, Jake could be hard as nails, but for a hurt female, he turned as soft as the butter on that toast.

“Thank you, Jake,” Rebecca said, taking a sip of the soup and giving a sigh of enjoyment.

“My pleasure.” He nodded at Logan and left, his boots thudding loudly on the stairs.

Logan turned and looked at Becca. Foot up and iced, water on the nightstand, food in hand. Pink colored her cheeks again, and the lines of pain had eased around her mouth and eyes. As his fear for her died, the urge to yell at her grew. He needed to leave and let her rest. For a bit. “Foot feel better?” he asked, just to check.

She wiggled her ankle slightly. “Just some throbbing now. I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning.”

“You'll stay off your feet for a couple of days. And we'll get it x-rayed tomorrow if it still hurts at all.” He could take her down the mountain in the morning, have it checked out. “Finish your food and take a nap. One of us will be downstairs, so if you need something, you yell. Don't get up.”