His Captive Bride by Shelly Thacker

Author:Shelly Thacker [Thacker, Shelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval Romance, Fantasy, USA Today Bestselling Author
Publisher: Summit Avenue Books

Chapter 14

Hauk kicked the door shut behind him and carried Avril across his darkened vaningshus, pain stabbing his side in sharp bursts that made spots dance before his eyes. Every breath he gulped burned his lungs like fire, and a savage headache pounded between his temples with the force of Odin throwing angry thunderbolts. But he managed to reach the bed, lay her down gently before he sank onto the mattress beside her, gripping one of the bedposts to keep himself from lying down.

Grimacing, he gingerly probed his ribs, could not understand why or how he had awakened from the langvarig sovn trance before his injuries were fully healed.

But there was no time to question it. His heart pounding, he rose unsteadily to start a fire on the hearth. He had to care for Avril’s wounds before seeing to his own. He would recover.

She might not.

When the flames glowed bright enough for him to see in the night-blackened chamber, he returned to her side.

He could not tell how badly she was hurt, did not know if she had fainted from her injuries—or from shock. Quickly he worked the soaked, bloodied gown downward from her shoulders, tugging at the sodden laces. In truth, he felt grateful that she was unconscious at the moment. Not only because she would object to his disrobing her.

But because he did not look forward to persuading her that she had not witnessed what she had witnessed.

Anger crowded in on the pain that ravaged his senses. Anger at her—and at himself. He had had no choice, out in that freezing water, had not possessed strength enough to save her and himself. But the shock of seeing his miraculous recovery had been too much for her.

It was too soon to entrust her with the truth about Asgard and its people. She had been here only a few days. Had not yet had time to adjust. She was still determined to escape the island. To escape him.

So determined that she had taken an insane risk and almost gotten herself killed.

For that, he could only blame himself, he thought blackly, pulling her ruined garment down her body and tossing it to the floor. He never should have allowed her to leave his side. Not for a moment.

Seeing her flawless, pale skin in the firelight—now bruised and cut and bloodied—brought a sharp pain to his chest, far worse than the throbbing in his side and his head. It hit him like a battering ram, this brutal reminder of how fragile, how tenuous her life was.

How inevitable it was that he would lose her.

He turned away, his throat burning. Not only from the seawater he had swallowed, but from unwelcome emotions that choked him. Feelings he did not want to name.

Damn her for putting her life in danger.

He moved to a nearby trunk, dug out a thick linen towel, then sat beside her once more. Careful not to wake her, he gently brushed the soft fabric over her skin, trying to dry and warm her while he checked for broken bones.

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