Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rowen lost track of time and everything around her as she hurried to stanch the flow of blood from the man’s wounds.
She focused on his leg first since the injury was dangerously close to an artery.
She had become adept with a needle and thread out of necessity, since her cousins constantly got into some form of mischief or another.
They had hidden many an injury from their moms.
Not once had she thought she would ever call upon those skills to save the life of a man in London, though.
She tied off the last knot and sat up. After a quick check to ensure that he still breathed, she got to work on the wound along his left side.
She winced once she got a look at the long slice that ran from just under his arm and curved downward toward his waist.
The cut was almost a foot long and much deeper than she had thought.
It hadn’t bled as freely as his leg, so she hadn’t paid it as much attention.
Rowen moved his arm so she could get a better view of the laceration.
After she’d cleaned it, she got to work stitching it.
Her hands were steady, the spacing even, as she worked as quickly as she dared.
Only when she finished and secured the last piece of tape did she inspect the rest of him for more injuries.
Thankfully, there were none. She sat back on her haunches and closed her eyes, allowing herself a breather.
There wasn’t time for rest yet, however.
There was still too much to do. She rubbed the back of her wrist across her forehead to push away some strands of hair before getting to her feet.
The man had lost a lot of blood, and she had done all she could without any herbs or being a Healer.
The rest was up to him. But she could get him comfortable in the meantime.
She removed his expensive shoes, now scuffed and splattered with blood, and set them aside.
Then she gently finished cutting his clothes so she could toss them aside.
Once she found a towel, she wet it and began to clean the blood from his body.
She started at his neck, the cloth moving softly down his muscular chest and the light dusting of dark hair.
His skin was a warm brown that contrasted nicely with the silver-gray eyes she had glimpsed.
It was a mix that she imagined made people look twice, then stare.
She was certainly intrigued. Now she understood what had made Ella so giddy.
Rowen followed the path of her hands down his flat stomach and ripped abs.
Her gaze lingered for a moment before she moved the cloth to his shoulders, rippling with sinew.
Dark markings on his upper right arm caught her attention.
She leaned forward to get a better look at the complex and elaborate tattoo of a large triskele that started at his shoulder and unfurled into a band of Celtic knotwork that twisted down his powerful biceps.
The knotwork wasn’t clean. In fact, it was flawed in appearance, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was a maze that looped in on itself.
Interwoven in the knotwork were ogham runes.
She recognized the ones for shadow, mist, and misdirection.
At his elbow was a warding sigil she didn’t recognize.
She smoothed the cloth down his right arm, finding more details the longer she stared at the tattoo.
Curious, she carefully moved his left arm and saw that it was also tattooed.
This design was different. Centered at his shoulder was a Celtic hound in mid-leap, with its mouth closed.
She knew it represented silent guardianship and fierce loyalty.
The detail in the design was staggering, but flowing from the hound was a band of interlocking shields that ran down his arm to the elbow, each marked with a spiral sun motif.
Nestled within the spirals were knot-formed sigils, resembling closed eyes.
Lastly, there was a binding knot wrapped around that elbow.
Rowen had seen many Druid tats, but this was unlike anything she had ever come across before. There was meaning in each design. She knew some. Others, she didn’t. But she wanted to know. Hopefully, he would live and be able to tell her.
She wrung out the cloth in clean water and went back to her task, stopping along the waist of his boxers before shifting to his legs.
They were corded with thick muscles, matching the rest of his impressive body.
This was a man in his prime, but someone within the London Druids had wanted him dead.
They hadn’t used magic, though. Which surprised her.
All too soon, she’d finished her task. She was about to move away when she paused and looked at his face.
His black hair was trimmed close on the sides and back.
The top portion was slightly longer, allowing the wavy strands to fall attractively.
People might have looked twice at his build and coloring, but it was his face that truly captivated.
He had the kind of jaw sculpted by gods and envied by mortals—sharp, uncompromising.
Utterly commanding. His lips were full and sensual, the sort that might have looked too soft on another man.
But on him? They hinted at danger and decadence in equal measure.
Deep furrows lined his brow, carved by years of intensity, while thick, midnight-dark brows slashed above his eyes like twin blades.
Her breath caught. He wasn’t just handsome. He was arresting. Had the kind of splendor that could stop time and defy reason. And a face that made a person forget their name and purpose…everything but him.
She shook herself out of her stare and tenderly wiped his face, wishing his eyes would open so she could look closer at their color. The eyes told the story of a person’s soul, and if one dared to look deeply enough, they could see the many lifetimes the individual had lived.
When she was done, Rowen covered him with a blanket.
He was resting now, and the blood flow had been stanched.
It gave him a fighting chance. Now, all she could do was wait.
She got to her feet and opened the mini fridge to find bottles of water, juice, and even a few beers.
She grabbed some water and downed it quickly to soothe her parched throat.
The adrenaline was wearing off. Soon, she would want to sleep, but she still had a couple of things to see to first. She dug the key fob to the Aston Martin out of the man’s discarded pants pocket, grabbed a roll of paper towels and a garbage bag, and lifted the rolling door enough that she could bend at the waist to get out.
She shut it partway and made her way to the side of the storage, noticing there was a place to park.
It would be better to completely hide the flashy car, but at least it wouldn’t be sitting in front of his unit in case someone came looking for him.
The moment she opened the vehicle door, the sharp, metallic stench of blood hit her: hot, coppery, and suffocating.
She cleaned up as much as she could, but there was so much of it.
She had no idea how the man was still alive with the sheer amount of blood she was getting up.
Most of it had soaked into the carpet and floormat, but there was still quite a bit along the door and even more on the seat.
It began to sprinkle as she knelt on the concrete and scrubbed harder and faster, worry about the stranger living through the next few hours weighing heavily on her.
She had thrown caution to the wind and helped him, despite not knowing anything about him.
He could be a killer. He could be…well, anything.
And she had helped him. What would she do if he died?
Just leave him there? She shook her head, unable to answer that.
The security light above her caught on something along the passenger door.
She peered closer, moving her head until she spotted it again.
There! It was some type of marking that was difficult to see in the night.
She ran the pad of her finger over it to feel the roughened section of distinct ridges and grooves.
She shifted the door so the light caught on it just right and was able to see the protection ward clearly.
This, like the tattoos, had been done with purpose. The stranger must have known he was in danger to go to such extremes. She took another look along the outside edge of the door and found two more—one she recognized as a cloaking ward.
Now that she had found them, it was easy for her to uncover the others scattered throughout the vehicle, all in places most would never look or notice.
Some were similar to those she knew, but different enough that she wasn’t sure of their meaning.
They could be more protection wards or sigils to hide him.
Her dress was soaked by the time she climbed into the driver’s seat to move the car around to the side of the building in an effort to hide it.
She had to back up and adjust a few times to get the vehicle just where she wanted it.
Then, she braved the rapidly increasing rain shower to race back to the storage door.
As she ducked inside, she glanced at the frame and found more wards.
They covered the entire side, from floor to ceiling.
A look over her shoulder confirmed that others were on the opposite side.