Scapulimancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 7) Page 3
With a medical professional’s detachment, he finished the task of tending to her bruises, ignoring the silkiness of her skin under his calloused fingers. Too long. He needed to go into town and get laid.
“All done.” He got up. “I’ll find you some clothes.”
She turned on her back, the towels two white strips that covered her naked parts like a censored picture. He swallowed and looked away, but she grabbed his wrist before he could move.
“Do that again,” she said.
“What?”
“This.” She guided his hand over her ribs. Where his fingers grazed her skin, she broke out in goose bumps. “That feels … so good.”
It was the drug, dammit.
“Not real,” was all he managed to force out before snatching his hand away.
She frowned. “Does it not feel good?”
He stared down at her. How could she even ask him that?
“Does it?” she insisted. “For you?”
“You know it does.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. No one has ever touched me like this.” She cupped her breasts over the towel.
More blood rushed to his head. He narrowed his eyes on the sight. Then her meaning hit him.
“You’re a virgin?”
“Not my fault,” she said. “The opportunity just hasn’t presented itself.”
He found that hard to believe. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“You’ve never had a man?”
“I like rhinos, too.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Am I bad? It’s just… I’m so … so…”
The drug was acting as an aphrodisiac. “Turned on?”
“Yes,” she whispered, lowering her lashes.
“Not real,” he said, turning away abruptly.
“Please, don’t go. I’m not going to hunt you for your horns. Promise.”
He wiped a hand over his face but sat down again. More for his sanity than her comfort, he pulled the throw from the headrest over her body.
“It’s less scary when I’m not alone,” she said.
He took his time to study her face. Long, dark lashes framed her slanted eyes. Her cheekbones were high and her nose straight. Her beauty was unconventional, different. Fresh. Like an invitation, her pinks lips parted. Fuck, she wasn’t herself. Her pupils were not one fraction less dilated. It may take hours for her to come down, especially if this was her first time. He shook his head at his lustful thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“Your eyes are so fucked.”
“I didn’t like the feeling before, but now it’s getting better. It’s better with you.”
“First time on mushrooms?”
“First time on anything.” She took his hand again. “Don’t go away, rhino man.”
He grinned, finding a vent for the pent-up sexual energy in the humor. “Try to rest.”
He stroked her soft skin, his thumb drawing circles he hoped were soothing in her palm. It seemed to work, because she fell asleep. He lifted himself quietly and arranged her hand on her stomach. She looked peaceful. The low after the high of the adrenalin would make her tired. It would be good if she could sleep off the drugs. He left her boots outside to dry and put her soiled clothes in the washing machine. He chopped more wood while he waited for the water in the geyser to heat. By the time he’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a khaki shirt, two hours had passed, and she was still out cold. Night had fallen. The crickets were already loud outside.
The washing machine was done so he draped her clothes over a clotheshorse in front of the fire and started chili con carne, minus the meat. Looked like he was stuck with the naked woman on his sofa for the night. Come first light, he’d drive her back to the bar for her Jeep, and then he’d hit town and look up Bella.
The food was nearly done when her voice sounded from the kitchen door. “Where are my clothes?”
He looked up. She stood in the frame, wrapped in the throw, one bare foot propped on the other. The glow of the fire made a halo behind her head and casted her body in a copper light. She looked like a bronze statue, a goddess poured from metal. So damn pretty and so damn naked. So damn fucked on drugs. Off-limits.
He turned his back on her and stirred the beans. “Your clothes are drying by the fire. I washed them. They’re pretty torn up, though.”
“It’s only a uniform. I’ve got more.”
“You should be careful where you flash your badge. This is woodcutter territory.” He motioned at the single chair by the table. “Dinner’s ready.”
She padded across the wooden floor and sat down, pulling the throw tighter around her body. There was an edge to her voice. “The badge makes me open prey?”
He poured two mugs of tea from the flask and placed one in front of her.
“Ignorance will get you killed.”
“I know how the cutters feel about the board, but I didn’t expect to be attacked in broad daylight.”
“Men have been killed in this valley for less.”
“Lucky for me then that not all the woodcutters here are killers.”
The tension went back into his body, tightening his shoulders. There were many killers around here, but he was the only convicted one.
“Why do you say that?” he asked harshly.
“You helped me, yet, you’re a woodcutter.”
“Why would you assume I’m a cutter?”
Her eyes moved to the calluses on his hands. “My dad was in forestry. I know a woodcutter’s hands when I see them.”
Her gaze penetrated him and looked right into his black, murderous heart. Few women could hold his eyes when he let his feelings show, especially when that feeling was dark, raw lust, but this female wouldn’t be stared down. She should know he was dangerous. She should turn those big innocent eyes away from the murk washed up in his soul, but they were like searchlights on his face, just like back at the bar.
It was him who surrendered by looking away first. To make up an excuse for breaking their eye contact, he fetched the rocking chair from the back porch and dragged it closer to the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Tell you what?”
“They drugged my food. You could’ve warned me. When the obnoxious barman asked you, you said there was nothing wrong with the gravy.”
“There was nothing wrong with my gravy. Maybe I didn’t know they’d spiked your food because I was too busy guarding your ass in the bathroom to notice. Or maybe I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” he bit out.
“Sorry.” She looked at the mug between her hands. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Who are those men?”
“The Theron cousins. Thinus’s dad owns the game farm on the east side of the valley.” He heard the edginess in his own voice that was always present when he brought up the subject of the land.
She sipped the tea, watching him from the rim of the cup. Her pupils weren’t back to their normal size, yet.
“How do you feel?” he asked in a softer tone.
“More like myself, but still a bit strange.”
“The mushrooms take a good few hours to work out of your system.” He placed the orange juice in front of her. “Drink that. It’ll help.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “What are you doing in Knysna?”
“Government sent me to investigate the destruction of the forest. The yellowwood is near extinct.”
Yellowwood was worth a fortune, more than the price of gold. Chopping down a yellowwood could land a man in prison with a fine that would cripple him for life, but the bandits weren’t going to get themselves caught, not while they were willing to kill for the wood. He agreed with protecting the forest, but he didn’t see how she was supposed to enforce it, this measly, twenty-five year-old, inexperienced, beautiful, unprotected woman–alone.
“They won’t have a choice with the new law.”
“What new law?” He placed the food on the table.
“We’re putting up fences. That way, the trees and elephants are protected. Entering the reserve will be trespassing.”
“The farmers aren’t going to be happy. Neither will the locals. They believe the forest belongs to them. Some of the Xhosas still hunt rabbits and gather mushrooms and berries in the forest to feed their tribe. If you take away their access to the forest, you’re taking away the only means they have of feeding themselves.”
“The forest belongs to nobody but the animals. As long as people destroy it, we have to deny them the privilege of enjoying it. As for the Xhosas, we’ve already worked out a plan.”
“If you think you’re going to find them jobs around here, think again. There’s not enough work going around to employ half of the town.”
“I know what the unemployment rate is. I’m not ignorant. It’s not work we’re going to offer. We’re going to give them land to farm.”
“A land reclaim?”
Government had started a project a few years ago to return land to the native tribes, but the handover process lacked training, and the tribes didn’t own tractors or farming implements, the result being a decrease in production and a national food shortage.
“Yes, it will pass as a reclaim.”
He couldn’t think of any land near the forest that was suited for agriculture. “And government has already laid out the borderlines?”
“Of course.”
“Where is this new border going to run?”
“From the river to the caves.”
He gripped the chair back until his knuckles turned white. Over his dead body.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“That land belongs to me. It’s mine, at least what’s left of it, and nobody is laying a fucking finger on it.”
Chapter Three
Of course the land was his. When Wayne had introduced himself, Sara had to have realized somewhere in the back of her mind, but she’d been too occupied with being drugged and having taken a fall.
“You’ll be compensated,” she said.
He gripped the chair even tighter. Any second now, the wood was going to splinter.
“With a bag of potatoes?” he bit out. “Because that’s what the money you pay out for land reclaims is worth.”
“It’s the only way to save the elephants.”
“That land,” he pointed in some general direction, “belonged to my father, and his father’s father, and his father before him.”
“Before them, it belonged to no one. The Xhosas lived here, but they never claimed the land as their own. To them, it had always belonged to everyone, until the European settlers came along.”
“You think you’ll load guilt on me with a history lesson, little girl?” He let go of the chair with a shove, setting it rocking. “My forefathers died for that land. Their blood is in that soil. I’ve lost enough in my life. I’m not losing more.”
“Wayne—”
“Eat the food. It’s vegetarian.” With that, he stomped away, leaving his bowl untouched.
She rested her head in her hands and dragged her fingers through her hair. It was her first land reclaim, but she’d always known it would be hard for the parties involved. Surely, he had to see reason. For now, instinct told her he was best left alone, so she did as he’d suggested and ate the beans.
Her bowl empty, she rinsed it in the sink filled with soapy water. When there was still no sign of him, she went back to the lounge. He sat in front of the fire, staring into the flames.
“I have a responsibility to the elephants,” she said softly.
He got up, went into the room and returned with a heap of clothes that he thrust into her hands. “Put that on. I’m not going to argue with a naked woman in my lounge.”
She got dressed in the bathroom. He’d given her a pair of his boxer shorts, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. The fabric smelled of him, of cedar and pine. It was the intoxicating scent she’d noticed in the truck, when he’d driven her to his cabin. She’d also noticed his hard body and the size of his enormous hands as he’d taken care of the cuts on her skin. Her body had taken notice of him in ways it had never noticed a man. Moisture had pooled between her legs and her breasts had tingled when he’d run his fingertips over her sides, but he was a stranger and she was drugged. Worse, he was the owner of the land she had to reclaim. Best not to notice his outdoorsy, addictive smell, or his big, callused hands.
Back in the living area, she found him pacing the small space.
She remained at the far end of the room. “I’m fine, now. You can take me back to my Jeep.”
He stopped to look at her. “The road to Wilderness is dangerous at night. Besides, you’re still fucked.”
“I feel okay.”
“You’ll go back in the morning.”
He said it in a way that told her in no uncertain terms the subject was closed for discussion. Sensing it was pointless to argue, she kept her mouth shut. Anyway, she did still feel a bit weird, as if her body belonged to someone else.
He crossed the floor and stopped so close she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
“I will fight.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”
His face was beautiful in a rough kind of way. Dark hair fell over his forehead with a wisp of a curl over his ears and on his neck. He needed a haircut. Eyes the color of charcoal stared at her with hard determination. The lines around his mouth and eyes were etched deep, but those were the kind carved from worry and labor, not from age. He couldn’t be older than thirty. Stubble darkened the strong line of his jaw. Those full lips had to be soft—
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked, his black diamond eyes harsh.
She gave a soft sigh. “I heard you.”
“Good. Then you can’t say you haven’t been warned.”
“I wish you’d just listen to our proposal.”
A faint smile twisted his lips, but there was no humor in the gesture. His answer was to move around her as if she was nothing but an inconvenient obstacle. He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a blanket and pillow.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He dumped the pillow and blanket on the sofa. “We leave at first light.”
“You mean you’re not offering me the bed?” she said with humor, trying to relieve some of the nasty tension stifling the air in the room.
Apparently, humor wasn’t going to work for him, because he turned on her with a wicked glare. “If I offer you my bed, little girl, it’ll be with me in it.”
For a moment, she stopped breathing. The image of him in his bed–naked–doing God only knew what to her had her knees go weak. She almost didn’t have enough reason left in her lust-befuddled brain to reprimand him.
“I’m not a little girl.”
“In my eyes, you are.”
“Just because I’m a virgin—”
“It’s got nothing to do with that. It’s how you swayed into a woodcutters’s bar with a SAN vest like there’s no care in the world, and then took off, alone, into the forest.”
“The Theron mongrels had no right to attack me.”
“Agreed. But clever girls don’t ask for trouble, either.”
Stuff him. She could do this job. That was why she was here—to prove it. It wasn’t her fault she grew up protected in the countryside.
“Since when is trust a negative trait?” she said. “I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt before I make premature judgments.”
His laugh was bitter. “Then you’re a fool.”
He’d called her naïve and dumb, and now he was accusing her of being a fool.
“I liked you better with horns,” she said. “You were much nicer as a rhino.”
<
br /> “I guess if you want me nice you better eat mushrooms.”
“I may just have to do that.”
“Go ahead, but don’t expect me to rescue your drugged ass again.”
“I can rescue my own damn ass.”
“Didn’t look like it when you were surrounded by snakes.”
Indignation made her cheeks burn. “If you’re going to make fun of me, you’ll make me regret I ever told you that.”
“I have a long day ahead.” He added snidely, “Seeing that I have to leave early for the municipality to contest a land reclaim, I’m going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”
Suggest, suggest. He was always suggesting she did this and that, but in reality he was telling her what to do.
She glanced at the sofa. She was used to camping and had slept in a lot of places, including in trees and under the stars, surrounded by wild animals, but none seemed more dangerous than his sofa.
An unfriendly grin tugged at his lips. “If you change your mind, you’re welcome to join me in bed.”
The irrational, impulsive part of her, that part that couldn’t walk away from a dare and hated having her pride dented, made her say, “I think I just may.”
It was worth it just for the expression that came over his face. Yep, he lost a bit of his cool as he stared at her, those devilish black eyes flooded with uncertainty, his lips parted in shock. And then cold calculation replaced the surprise, making her victory short-lived.
“Fine, Sara.” He lowered his head, putting them almost at eye level. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a gentleman, because it’ll be another one of your over-trusting misassumptions.”
Oh, if she were a worse person, she would’ve slapped him. Her dad had taught her a woman lifted her hand to a man as little as a man lifted his hand to a woman. Violence was a no go in her manner of behavior, but damn, her palm itched. Now she was faced with a dilemma, because Wayne regarded her with a lifted brow, waiting for her to make her move. If she went to the sofa, she’d admit defeat. He’d have grounds for calling her a coward and a bluffer. If she went to his bed, she’d have to be willing to go all the way, pushing the dare into unknown, naked territory. His evil grin told her he already saw his triumph. If it wasn’t for that, she might have been reasonable, but now she had to prove him wrong.