Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(91)

“Talk to us,” Owen said. “Get it out, little cat.”

She pulled herself back to reality. “Another guard came and joined him. Having fun, hitting her over and over. She was sobbing, curled up in a ball, and they wouldn’t stop.” Darcy spoke around the knot in her throat, blinking her burning eyes. “I…I couldn’t take it. I knew better, and I still tried to get them to stop.”

“Stop it, just stop!” Knocking one guard away. Standing between them and Margery. So angry. Hardly feeling the blows of the canes. “Leave her alone!”

“Of course, you tried to stop them.” Gawain wiped tears from her cheeks. “What did they do?”

Sickness curled in her belly, and she shook her head.

When she didn’t continue, Gawain’s voice held as much steely determination as Owen’s. “Give us the rest, Darcy.”

Her voice came out a whisper. “They beat me. Broke my arm. My ribs.” A crack. Horrendous pain. Blow after blow. “Then they kicked me to the ground and went back to Margery. With their fists. Their boots. One held my head up, made me watch. Said she was paying for my interference.”

“By the God,” Owen muttered.

Darcy swallowed. “They beat her until…until her arms and legs were broken, her ribs, her face. She stopped screaming, and they kept hitting her. I was begging and crying and…”

Snarling, Owen yanked her into his arms, and behind her, Gawain pressed closer, growling low and deep.

The sound of his anger shattered her barricades, and she started to cry. The ugly sobs surged from her depths, spilling out in painful sounds.

Eventually, she realized Owen’s embrace was crushing her ribs—and was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Gawain was stroking her hair in long slow strokes.

With a shuddering sigh, she laid her cheek on Owen’s wet chest. “I didn’t mean to…weep all over you.”

“Sounds like you had some stored up,” Gawain said. “Anything else in there?”

She pulled in a breath. “A couple of times after that, I acted before thinking, but at least I was the only one to get hurt. Eventually, I learned to restrain my reactions.”

“Control. I get it.” Owen kissed the top of her head. “Holding back won’t serve you well as a shifter. You’ll have to find a balance, cariad.”

Cariad. Gawain had called her that. And it was what Calum called Vicki. What did it mean?

“Time to wash your face and get a drink.” Gawain rose and pulled her to her feet. “I hear a stream over there.”

Wiping her face, she took a step. Her legs shook. All of her shook.

“Come.” Owen put an arm around her waist and held her steady as they followed Gawain to the trickling creek. The water was crystal clear with a bottom of rounded river stones.

Gawain stepped in and splashed his face and chest.

Holding onto Owen’s arm, Darcy put a toe in. The icy water bit her skin, and she yanked her foot back. “Are you crazy? It’s freezing.”

“Glacier water.” Owen grinned. “Go on. Be a brave kitten.”

She stiffened. “I’m not brave.”

“Yes, you are.” He studied her. “I’ve seen you fight”

The hellhound. “That was different.”

Gawain turned. “Different how?”

“There was only one of him and in Cold Creek. The Scythe…they terrify me.” She looked down, regretting her honesty, yet they needed to know how much of a coward she was. “When the Cosantir said the cahirs would rescue the females in Seattle—and that I didn’t have to go back—I…I almost cried with relief.”

Return to the prìosan. Just the thought formed a knot of fear in her chest.

“Easy, sweetling,” Gawain murmured.

“Being afraid doesn’t mean you’re not brave.” To her surprise, Owen leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Being brave means doing what you have to do in spite of the fear.”

She looked at him in surprise. The cahir didn’t despise her?

Jumping into the freezing stream, he melodramatically peered all around. “I don’t see any Scythe in here. Get in, tiny tinker.”

“You… You are so…” She glared at him, unable to believe he’d tease her about her fears. Yet the knot in her chest loosened.

“I am.” He grinned. “Get in.”

“Not in this lifetime. I’ll hold out for a hot shower when we get to the lodge.” Males really were insane, weren’t they?

Owen glanced at his brother. “Who could resist?”

She frowned. “Resist what?”

The two males bent down with cupped hands—and a wave of icy water drenched her. She shrieked. “You dumbasses. You stupid…” She couldn’t find words nasty enough.

“Excellent scream.” Gawain was grinning.

“Like a hawk. Very nice.” Owen eyed her as if he planned to yank her in.

She hastily backed up.

The male didn’t laugh often, but when he did, her heart actually danced. “We won’t splash you again. Promise.”

Gawain grinned and held out his cupped hands. “You need to drink, Darcy.”

They’d never lied to her…and she had screeched loud enough to wake the gnomes in the city. She advanced and sucked the water from Gawain’s hands. It was cold enough to make her teeth hurt.