8. Chapter 8
The next morning, after a quick breakfast, we traveled again. Ghan-Zahr offered to carry me, but I declined, confident that my new boots would do just fine. I replaced them this morning after taking them off for the night. I had lain awake on the nest of furs for a long time, hoping and dreading Ghan-Zahr's return, but he never did.
Now I walked with Carl, his hands still bound behind his back. Here and there, I grabbed his elbow to support him when we came upon an embankment or had to climb over a boulder, which were strewn about as if some giant kid had gotten bored with their Legos.
"Are you all right? They didn't… violate you, did they?" Carl asked.
"No. I'm all right"," I assured him, thankful for his concern despite his worse situation than mine.
"Any idea where they're taking us?" I asked, just to have a conversation, hoping to endear myself to him enough to get some real answers later. In my mind, I was already working on a story, putting pins into all the little holes and unanswered questions.
When I woke up gasping for breath after a nightmare this morning, it took me a good amount of time to regain my bearings. Fear had finally caught up with me.
Strangely, the moment I pulled all my courage together and stepped outside, and my eyes landed on Ghan-Zahr, all fear and unease fell off me. When he saw me, he walked over instantly.
"Are you mated?" he asked brusquely and in English, confusing me.
I shook my head, even more confused, when he grunted and nodded. Not looking too happy, he walked away while his men offered me food and water.
This little scene had repeated in my head all morning until Carl struck up a conversation. Thankful for the distraction, I tried everything to keep it going.
"He hasn't said anything. He accused me of killing all his women," Carl confided.
"Why? How would you have done that?"
He shrugged, looking as lost as I felt.
Was that why Ghan-Zahr took me? Because all his women had been killed? And what did that even mean? His as in Ghan-Zahr's women or all the women on Vandruk? My reporter mind began working through this new information and did what it did best: analyze all the information I had so far. It would have been easier with a tablet or laptop, but actually, this old-school thinking it through wasn't that bad.
I tried to distance myself and be objective about the idea of Ghan-Zahr's women. It was hard not to experience a trace of jealousy, no matter how misdirected. When I entered Tzar-Than into the equation, however, I tended to think that Ghan-Zahr had spoken about all Vandruk women. I had no idea how that would be possible or how it could be Carl's fault, but setting that aside for later mulling over, with Tzar-Than having demanded women, followed by another khadahr later on, it would be safe to conclude that yes, Ghan-Zahr had meant all women.
So this was an act of revenge?
That sounded right to me.
Which brought my train of thought back to the brides and that right away led me to think about Doctor Wayland. I wished she had followed through and given me whatever it was she had contacted me for.
I wondered where she was now.
"Have you heard anything from the other women?" I asked Carl again like I had at his office, sensing then and now that he was withholding information.
I didn't like his hesitation, and I didn't like the way his face closed off, knowing his next words would be a lie. "Just what I already told you."
I stopped, pulling on his arm, forcing him to stop as well, which caught the attention of our abductors.
"We are both captives here. If we want to get out of this alive, you need to be straight with me."
His eyes remained cold. "I am."
"Suit yourself," I hissed, walking away from him, passing Ghan-Zahr, who looked questioningly at me. I would have loved to stomp off in a huff, but the truth of the matter was that I had no idea where we were going besides toward the mountains.
"Lead on," I ordered Ghan-Zahr.
His head tilted to the right in one big question mark, but he remained quiet as he waved his hand forward, pointing at the mountains.
My boots were well-padded, light, and soft. I didn't feel any of the tiny pebbles underneath my feet at all. They might have been primitive and crude, but for this terrain, they were the best footwear I could have asked for.
For a while, I stewed in silence, looking back over my shoulder every so often to make sure the others were still following me and that I was on the right track. I didn't know how much time had passed, but after a while, I fell back a few feet until Ghan-Zahr and I were walking side by side.
"Water?" I asked.
He handed me his flask, and I took a few sips before handing it back.
"What happened to the other women?" I finally asked.
"I not know," he replied in English. "I not know Khadahr Tzar-Than and Khadahr Dzur-Khan asked for them."
Interesting, if I believed him. Which, strangely, I did.
"I need to find out," I said, meaning it. I did want to find out what happened to them. It gave me a purpose for being here and made me feel not like a victim of a random kidnapping.
"Tzar-Than know. Tzar-Than will be at Temple."
"Is that where we're going?"
"Sa."
Well, at least I found out something. I chanced another look at him, and gathering my courage, I asked the question that had been burning in me since he took me. "What do you want with me?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. I walked a few more steps before I realized he had stopped. His strange, deep, dark, green eyes took me in with an unreadable expression. "I not know."
Laughter bubbled up in my throat. "You don't know?" The laughter was a mix of amusement, anger, and disbelief. I threw my hands in the air and yelled at the sky. "He doesn't know."
"You are… carama," he said, still staring at me like he wanted to eat me, making my breath hitch.
"What does that mean?" I asked, stepping closer.
His face puckered in concentration as he searched for the word. "Beautiful."
I had heard that word so many times that it had lost most of its appeal to me. I was more than beautiful. I was smart, determined, a hard worker, a good friend, and a good investigator. Nobody ever commented on those attributes unless it was during a job evaluation. The words coming from him offended me even more.
"Is that why you took me, because I'm beautiful?"
His hand reached forward to caress my face. "Carama."
I liked the sound of the Vandruk word but hated its meaning, and I despised Ghan-Zahr for taking me because I was pretty even more.
I slapped his hand away.
He stared at me in disbelief.
The others had passed us when we first stopped and were now a few paces ahead of us. Nervously, I stepped from foot to foot, unsure what he would do, but also very aware that there was nobody here who would come to my aid if I screamed for help.
Stupid, stupid, stupid , I berated myself. He just wanted to touch your face.
He narrowed one of his eyes and raised his hand a second time to touch my face.
Taking a deep, steadying breath for strength, I slapped it away again. Staring him down.
Quicker than should be possible for a man of his size, his hand seized my waist, pulling me against his chest. His other hand grabbed a hold of my hair, pulling my head back so I was forced to look up at him. There was a message in his eyes, but I couldn't read it right before his lips crashed down on mine. His kiss was hard and demanding. His tongue probed against my lips, and it took some willpower to keep mine closed. In all honesty, his move was hot. Everything about him was hot. Being pressed against his warm chest did things to me… it would have been easy to give in to the butterflies in my stomach and the weakening of my knees, but… there was definitely a message here, and the sooner he learned that no meant no, the better.
I had been proposed and cornered too many times not to have taken self-defense classes. The simplest, easiest move seemed the most appropriate at this moment. I brought my knee up, hard, right into his balls. Surprised and with a whelp, he let go of me, clutching his jewels with an expression of excruciating pain but also surprise and a bit wounded. He was wounded that I would hurt him?
I should have left it at that. I really should have.
I didn't, though.
My instructors had pounded in me not to stop. Either run or finish him off . Well, running seemed counterproductive since I had no clue where to go, so I chose the second option. I interlaced my hands and brought them down hard on top of his head while he was bent over from the pain.
He didn't go down like he was supposed to, and I lost my nerve to hit him again. With a scream, I began to run blindly back the way we came. My heart hammered in my chest the moment my legs moved as adrenaline kicked in, and my fight or flight response reverted full force to flight. I didn't care where I would go. All I knew was that I needed to get away.