Chapter Three
Rykaur gripped his head and slowly sat up. It took him a moment to realize he was on the floor of his tent. Without his clothes.
A green blanket covered his legs, and his boots were nearby, resting next to his jeans.
His skull throbbed in pain, but not as much as his injured pride.
The last memory he had was of the fiery-haired prostitute touching his chest.
Rolling to his knees, he grabbed his boots and jeans and pushed to his feet.
The fact that his clothing had been removed told Rykaur that something untoward had happened. Had he copulated with the prostitute?
He dressed slowly, mindful of his aching head, all the while searching for details of what had taken place inside his tent.
His gaze landed on the shelf next to his cot. The small bag he’d placed there was missing.
So, Allie took the stones, he guessed, angry that he’d allowed himself to be deceived. But why had he been undressed? Had he taken her and simply didn’t remember?
He dropped his weight onto his cot and rested his face in his hands. His tongue felt thick and his mouth dry.
“May I come in?”
Rykaur’s head shot up so fast he had to grit his teeth against the pain the movement caused. He slowly got to his feet. “You dare to come back here?”
As beautiful as he thought her to be, Rykaur wanted nothing more than to throw Allie from his tent.
She took a step back in obvious fear, her arm extending in front of her. “I wanted to return these to you.”
Rykaur’s gaze touched on the small leather bag dangling from her fingers before settling on her pale gray eyes. “What sort of thief returns what they have taken?”
“I’m not a thief,” she softly responded, moving deeper into his tent. “And my name isn’t Allie, it’s Mary.”
Rykaur watched in suspicion as she placed the stones on the shelf next to his cot and then turned to face him. That was when he noticed the bruise on her cheek and a split at the corner of her full lips. “Who beat you?”
Something flickered in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
Unsure of why he felt compelled to know, Rykaur persisted. “Ted tells me that you have a man who sells you to the Marines. A man named Pimp. Did he do that to your face?”
Mary shook her head. “There is no man named Pimp. A pimp is an owner of sorts. I have no owner.”
Rykaur let that sink in. “If there is no pimp, then who did that to your face?”
“You did.”
Rykaur’s stomach dropped, his mind rebelling against her words. “I did this to you?”
She gave a sharp nod and looked away.
“I do not know what to say. In all my twenty-nine years, I have never harmed a female before.”
He reached up and gently cupped her chin, turning her face to the side. Her left cheek had a bruise from the cheekbone to the split at the corner of her mouth.
Unable to wrap his mind around what he’d done, Rykaur swallowed back the nausea rising in his throat. “I am sorry, Allie. Please allow me to tend your injuries.”
“Mary. My name is Mary.”
She’d told him that already. “My apologies, Mary.” He gestured toward the cot. “Come. Sit.”
Once she was seated, Rykaur grabbed the first-aid kit on top of the shelf next to his cot and set it next to her.
It pained him more than anything to see the extent of her injuries. He’d done that to her. He’d harmed a female.
Shame washed through him on a tide of emotion that momentarily choked him.
Rykaur cleared his throat and opened the first-aid kit. “I am going to apply some medicine to your lip that will hopefully alleviate some of your pain along with the swelling.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Mary whispered, her eyes downcast. “After all, I did steal from you.”
Shocked that she would say such a thing, Rykaur dipped his finger beneath her chin and lifted, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You think that makes what I did all right?”
She shrugged, drawing Rykaur’s attention to the soft, pale skin of her collarbone. The top she wore had thin straps that laced up over her shoulders, leaving them bared to his gaze.
He quickly looked away, more shame washing through him that he’d been ogling her while she sat before him injured. Injuries that he was responsible for.
Rykaur slid his fingers up her face to gently probe the bruised area around her cheekbone.
She winced, jerking back from his touch.
“There is a possibility you have a fracture. I will take you to our healer. Stay here while I retrieve an ATV for the trip.”
“Really,” Mary interjected when he moved toward the tent flap. “None of this is necessary. I only came here to return what I had taken, not looking for pity.”
Rykaur ignored her and jerked back the tent flap. He stopped before stepping outside, keeping his back to her. “You may keep the stones, Mary. I have plenty more.”
“Thank you,” she softly murmured. “Do you have a name?”
With a nod, he glanced over his shoulder. “Rykaur.”
“I’ll go with you to your healer, Rykaur. But I need to grab some things first. I won’t be gone but thirty minutes.”
Rykaur studied her expression for signs of deceit but found none. “I can take you where you need to go. You have only to wait a moment.”
“I’d rather walk,” Mary refuted, rising to her feet. “It helps me to think.”
“You do not live far from here?”
Mary shook her head. “I really appreciate you taking me to your healer. But unless it’s a broken limb or something that needs stitching, neither a healer nor a doctor will be much good.”
Something in her voice triggered an alarm in his brain. “You have had broken bones before?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she eluded, snatching up the bag of stones and striding forward to push past him. “I’ll be back soon.”
Rykaur watched her go, curiosity warring with his self-loathing. There was more to the young, fiery-haired prostitute than he’d been told. Of that, he was certain.
She is not my concern, he silently told himself, marching off in the direction of the ATV’s. He’d given her the stones, and he would get Zaureth to heal the damage to her face. After that, he would put her far from his mind.