Page 20

A fter the improvised bowl was refilled from the pouring rain, Darius retracted his now soaking wet, injured hand and brought it toward his mouth.

Damn, that hurt. In addition to a few small puncture marks, the area surrounding the bite mark was already starting to bruise. At least it was his non-dominant hand.

He took slow gulps, making sure he didn’t drink too quickly and give himself cramps. That was the last thing he needed on top of everything else that had gone FUBAR.

Not knowing if his team could hear him, Darius still tried to give them an update through his watch’s transmitter.

As soon as the worst of the storm was over, he and Tahira would head out.

He hated making her trudge through the rain, mud, and underbrush, but the faster he got them to the orphanage, the better he’d feel.

She was going to need treatment—at some point he was going to have to tell her what happened back in the bedroom he’d found her in.

She would need to be treated for any possible STDs and be given a morning-after pill in case of pregnancy.

When Darius had found the cave over five hours ago, he’d been able to dress Tahira and make her as comfortable as possible.

He doubted she’d ever slept on the ground in her life.

After shaking the rain off his parka, he’d turned it inside out and tucked it under her head.

While the tarp had given them some protection against the cold, damp earth, he’d spooned in behind her, using his body heat, her jacket, and the blanket to keep her warm.

While he’d doubted any members of the cartels were in the woods looking for them, he’d remained awake while Tahira had slept, watching over her.

While the storm raged overhead, he’d worried about how much of the drugs she’d been given were still coursing through her system and when she’d wake up.

Then he worried about what she’d remember after her mind cleared.

He still couldn’t shake the image of her abused body lying on that bastard’s bed.

He would give anything to go back in time to a point when he could’ve saved her before it had been too late.

His hands clenched, and once again he wished he could kill Secada for a second time for what the bastard had done to the innocent woman.

A billion joules of energy crackled across the sky, illuminating the night, followed by several more streaking bolts that impacted the trees and ground less than a quarter mile away from their shelter.

The corresponding cracks of thunder were close to deafening.

Standing under the overhang at the cave’s entrance, Darius marveled at the strength of the tempest Mother Nature had summoned.

Ever since he was a kid, he’d loved thunderstorms, while his younger brother and sister had hated them.

He recalled how, when Levi and Barrie had been eight and six, respectively, he’d tried to convince them it was just God bowling, but they never fell for it.

As the thunder dwindled away, a noise behind Darius had him turning his head to listen over the downpour. “Princess?”

A sharp cry pierced the air, and Darius drew his sidearm as he ran toward Tahira.

Rounding the boulder, he stopped short when he saw she was alone—alone and crumbled into a ball where she remained squatting.

Her long, black hair hung down over her face, which she’d covered with her hands, but they couldn’t muffle her wails of despair.

The curdling stench of vomit, combined with urine, reached his nose.

There was only one thing that would cause this kind of reaction from her—she’d remembered.

How much, he didn’t know, but she’d remembered enough to know she’d been raped.

Holstering his gun, Darius crouched down. Wary of how she would respond, he kept some distance between them and didn’t reach out to touch her. “Princess?” he said softly.

She didn’t answer him. Instead she rocked back and forth, sobbing and keening.

The sweatpants were down past her knees, but between her position, her arms crossed over her lower abdomen, and the dimness of their surroundings, Darius couldn’t see anything that would embarrass her.

However, another flash of lightening showed the bloody streaks on her thighs.

Damn it. He wished he’d had time to clean her up, but it hadn’t been a priority at the time.

He raised his voice a little louder but kept his tone soothing, as if speaking to a spooked horse. “Tahira? Sweetheart, are you in pain?”

A violent nod of her head morphed into a shake.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Her only response was to cry harder. Each tear that raced down her cheek carved another bit of regret into his soul.

Although, by the time he’d found out Secada had taken her, it had already been too late, Darius still felt as if he’d failed her.

He’d sworn to protect her and fell short of his goal, something he’d never forgive himself for.

Slowly reaching out, he gently brushed her hair back over her left shoulder. “Tahira, I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happened. I just want to comfort you, if you’ll let me. May I hold you? Can I help you stand so you can pull up your pants? I won’t look. I just want to help.”

She grasped his arm as if it were a lifeline to keep her from drowning in despair.

Sobbing, she used her other hand to wipe her nose.

When he was certain she was ready, Darius stood and slowly helped her up.

Her body trembled as he held her shoulders in support while she pulled the sweatpants back over her slender hips.

As soon as she was decent, she leaned into him, threw her arms around his neck, and bawled.

Not knowing what else he could do, Darius tucked his arm under her knees and picked her up.

She clung to him as he carried her back to their makeshift bed.

Using the wall for support, he lowered himself to the tarp, settling her onto his lap and holding her close.

“Shh. You’re safe, Princess, and that bastard will never hurt you or anyone else ever again. Shh.”

Pulling back just far enough to lift her gaze to his face, she stared at him in horror. “Y-You kn-know what ... what ...” While searching for whatever words she was looking for, she hiccuped.

God, he hated this. Unwelcome tears pooled in his own eyes as his heart broke for her. His throat grew thick, and he had to force his words past it. “I was too late. I’m so sorry ...” She wasn’t the only one trying to find the right thing to say. “I—”

“You saw—”

He shook his head, not knowing exactly what she was referring to—it could be either the rape itself or her nude body.

Compassionately, he answered for both. “It was over before I got there. I covered you and then grabbed these clothes, so I could get you out of there. I had to hurry. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean you up.

” Yeah, he was leaving out a lot of information there, but there was stuff she didn’t need to know just yet.

Later, after she calmed down, if she wanted more details, he’d tell her as best he could with as little gore as possible.

“Oh, my God! It is true. He—he r-raped me, right? The—the blood?” Before he could answer, she threw her head back and wailed, balling up the front of his shirt with her fists. “Please tell me it is not true! Darius, please!”

Her begging twisted his gut into knots. As much as he wished he could say it never happened, he couldn’t lie to her.

His hand ran up and down her back, trying to soothe her.

“I’m sorry, Tahira. I’m so sorry. But it’s over.

When we get you back to the States, we’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out and—”

“No! You do not understand!” She pushed against his chest—not to get away from him but to emphasize her words. “My life is over—”

“It’s not—”

“It is! I—I can never marry now.” Letting go of his shirt, she buried her face in her hands and cried harder. “I can never marry!”

Confusion washed over him as her words tumbled through his mind.

Why would she think she could never get married?

He’d never known anyone who’d been raped—at least, to his knowledge—and wasn’t certain if this was a normal reaction so soon after the assault.

Pain, grief, disbelief, anger, embarrassment—those emotions he’d expected.

But why it would affect her ability to marry was lost on him. “Yes, you can—”

“No!” Dropping her hands to her lap, she took a deep, ragged breath before continuing.

“You do not understand our culture, Darius. I will no longer be a—a v-virgin on my wedding night. In—in my country, women can be publicly ostracized by their husbands if they are not pure on their wedding night. I will bring shame to—to my family. To my crown. I will be shunned by our people.”

He was dumbfounded. How could someone blame her, or anyone else for that matter, for being raped?

Darius would never understand that whole “she asked for it because of the way she was dressed” or similar bullshit explanation.

And any man who was lucky enough to win Tahira’s heart would be nothing but a fucking bastard if he announced to the world she wasn’t a virgin on their wedding night. “But it wasn’t your fault, Tahira.”

“It does not matter, Darius. To many, it will not matter if it was my fault or not. I will be shamed either way.”

Resting her forehead on his shoulder, she sobbed.

His T-shirt absorbed her hot tears, which scorched his skin.

Darius tightened his arm around her waist and just held her, unable to find any other words to console her.

Somehow, after ten or fifteen minutes had passed, she’d cried herself to sleep—although the adrenaline crash and the drugs still in her system had probably helped.

Darius left her on his lap until pins and needles ran down his legs.

Moving slowly, he lowered her to the tarp and tucked his parka under her head again.

He covered her with her jacket before stretching out behind her and pulling the blanket over both of them.

Spooning her, he gave her what little comfort and warmth he could.

He just wished there was something else he could do to help ease her pain.