Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(87)

Tears filled her eyes. “What if they killed him? Took him prisoner?” She grabbed the ruff on Gawain’s neck and shook the loose skin. “He needs us.”

A world without Owen. No, never. Her knees buckled, and she dropped. “Please, Gawain.”

Gawain didn’t leap forward to save his brother. Instead, his ears pricked up to listen and then he shifted. “Owen was detected, aye. I don’t hear anything else—not shouting, not weapons firing.” He paused and prompted gently, “Do you?”

He wanted her to sit here when Owen was in trouble? The cahir could be lying on the ground, shot, bleeding to death.

But…Gawain was right. Firearms would make noise, wouldn’t they? Turning her head, she listened.

The blatting noise had gone silent. There was no shouting or shooting. No one screaming. No vehicles. The forest was silent—even the normal noise of the wildlife had stilled as the animals hunkered down in place.

“We’ll wait, sweetling.” Gawain pulled her close, and she laid her head on his chest, listening to the faster beat of his heart. He was worried, too. She rubbed her cheek against his bare skin, wanting to tell him how much it meant to her to be held.

How much he meant to her.

A few minutes later, Owen loped down the trail…and her heart swelled as if unable to contain all she felt. By all the Gods, she was in trouble, so much trouble. The words that must not be said fought to escape. I love you.

No, this would never work. Not ever.

*

Three hours later, cup in hand, Gawain sat beside the fire, watching a salamander flirting with the campfire flames.

Last night, they’d zipped all the sleeping bags together to make one large bed and slept on top of it in animal form. Tonight, after they’d discussed Owen’s findings, Darcy had been mostly silent, but the strained look on her face showed her emotions had been clawed to shreds. She’d crawled inside the sleeping bag bed and eventually fell asleep.

His heart ached at the pain she’d suffered.

Owen laid another log on the fire and glanced at Darcy. “I expected her to cry when she found out the camp is empty.”

“She doesn’t give in to how she feels.” Gawain shook his head. “Not unless she’s protecting someone as she was with us last night. Even then, she’s—”

“Controlled,” Owen said. “She was furious at Mother, but her voice was clear and low. She didn’t hit or throw anything.”

Gawain drank some of the hot chocolate they’d made from Tynan’s provisions. “She’s had a miserable month. Escaping from those bastards, having her first shift, being dumped in a new culture.”

“First Gathering. Being hunted. Feeling guilty because she’s free and her family isn’t.” Owen turned to look at Gawain, and his jaw clenched. “Like how I was free when you were trapped with our mother in Pine Knoll.”

Yep, Gawain knew his littermate would feel the guilt. “It wasn’t all bad. I didn’t live with her, and there were long quiet periods when she had a male. And I got to work with the finest master blacksmith west of the Rockies, whereas you had to find yourself a new master carver to finish your apprenticeship. Lose the guilt, brawd.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll take some time.” Owen took the hot chocolate from Gawain and sipped. “Did you leave a female back there?”

“No one serious. I had my share of lovers, but”—Gawain gave him a level look—“I always figured we’d share a mate.”

Owen froze.

“Assuming you ever get over your unreasoning dislike of females.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” His brother’s retort lacked the force of conviction. Owen was changing—as did everyone who lived—and Darcy had a great deal to do with those changes.

No matter what Owen said, Gawain held a great deal of hope for the future. He tipped his head back. The waning moon wouldn’t rise until later, and the stars hung low in the coal-black bowl of sky. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

Owen poked at the fire, sending up sparks, and the salamander gave a pleased twirl. “Back to Cold Creek to report on the camp. I saw personal belongings in the dormitory. They’ll be returning.”

Then we’ll have them. “Any lessons for Darcy tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how to go about it. You know, cubs take only a couple of days to get used to four legs. So why is she still so clumsy?” Owen glanced over at her, frowned, and rose.

Gawain turned and jumped to his feet.

Asleep, she was thrashing in the sleeping bag. As growing horror filled her face, her hands and feet trembled like a wolf pup dreaming of being chased by a grizzly. “No. No, don’t.” Her voice was a whisper. Tears leaked from under her closed lids. “I’m sorry. Please, no.”

Owen started to reach out and stopped. “Should—”

“Yeah, brawd. We wake her.” Gawain went down on one knee and closed his hand over her delicate shoulder. He kept his voice low and calming. “Darcy. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, sweetling.”

“No. Please. Don’t hurt her any more. It was my—”

The panic in her voice made his anger rise. Gawain shook her gently.

Owen took her hands. His rough voice held a dominance that had never faltered despite their mother’s abuse. “Darcy. Wake up. Now.”