Part 5 (1/2)

When she dragged him up, the place: where the teeth of the trap had dug into his leg bloomed with white hot pain, and every muscle in his body quivered with the effort to walk.

To his relief, she led him only a few yards farther into the cave, where she eased him down onto a narrow pallet.

He lay there breathing hard, watching Rinna while she leaned over him, examining the wounds; then she began to work on him, gently was.h.i.+ng his leg and examining where the jaws of the trap had gouged into his flesh. The touch of her hands could have been sensual, until she uncapped a bottle of what smelled like alcohol.

”I'm sorry. This is going to hurt,” she murmured.

When she drenched another rag with the pungent spirits and wiped his shoulder, he gritted his teeth to keep from gasping.

”It's all right to cry out,” she whispered.

He kept the scream clamped inside himself as she did the same for the leg.

She pressed her fingers to his forehead. ”You don't have a fever. That's good. Sleep will help you mend.”

The injuries continued to throb, and he thought that sleep would be impossible. Reaching out, he clasped her hand. ”Wait, who are you? You were in my mind, when I made the change, weren't you?”

She gave a small nod.

”You have to explain about that trap. And Falcone...”

At the mention of the man's name, her face contorted, and she pulled her hand away. ”Later.”

He realized he had asked the wrong question. d.a.m.n!

”Sleep,” she said again, brus.h.i.+ng the hair back from his brow as she whispered low, soothing words to him. He struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on her, but his lids grew heavy. It felt like she was sending him a hypnotic suggestion with her words and her voice and her touch. Or maybe she was just helping along a natural process.

Almost instantly, he dropped into blessed darkness.

At first, he was lost in oblivion. Then a dream grabbed him by the throat. A twisted version of reality.

He was running naked through the forest, pursued by men with ancient-looking body armor and leggings like aliens out of an old Star Trek episode. Lucky for him they had spears instead of ray guns.

The last time he'd seen them, it had been night. Now it was broad daylight, making him feel even more exposed.

He had no weapons, and he knew that if they caught him, he was a dead man. They would slash him to pieces with spears and knives. Or maybe they would drag him back to Falcone. He didn't know which was worse.

Falcone.

He imagined a giant of a man sitting on a carved stone throne. The figure was vaguely human. But he had devil's horns, cloven hoofs, and ma.s.sive hands that gripped the high armrests of his chair.

He had teeth like the grooves on a saw blade. And his hollow eye sockets glowed red. That frightening image as much as the men behind him kept Logan running.

His breath was coming in great gasps, and he knew he was reaching the end of his strength.

Then a voice called to him through the trees.

”Over here. Hurry.”

He saw a flash of white skin and dark hair. To his relief, Rinna stepped out from behind a tree. She was wearing a white gown like a Greek G.o.ddess. But she was flesh and blood. Swiftly she grabbed his hand, pulling him into the forest. They ran for their lives-first through the trees, then through a gauzy curtain into a dark cave.