Christine Feehan - Dark Secret

She watched the horse dance nervously, its eyes red-rimmed and suspicious. Paul already had the saddle on him. Colby had always believed in going for the meanest horse first and Paul was obviously following her philosophy to the letter.

"You have him?" Colby looked at the animal, at the way it was throwing its head, the way the eyes were regarding her with wicked intent. She tried a soft whisper, her mind seeking to soothe the animal, but it shook off her usual calming effect.

"I've got him," Paul reassured her.

Taking a deep breath, she swung into the saddle. The moment her weight eased into the leather, the animal exploded wildly, violently, head plunging, rear rising, shrieking angrily. It went stiff-legged, rising high and slamming to the ground with bone-jarring strength, whirling like a demon possessed. Without being fully set, Colby had no chance to keep her seat. She was launched like a missile, her slender body slamming into the hitching post. She crumpled and landed in the dirt facedown.

"Colby, look out!" Paul's hoarse cry sent her instinctively rolling toward the safety of the fence, hands up to protect her head. The ground shook under the pounding hooves as the animal reared and struck at her repeatedly. One slashing hoof struck her right thigh as she made her escape.

Instantly there was the echo of two cries in her mind. Rafael. His voice was a soothing balm and worth any price. He was alive. And Nicolas, reprimanding her yet again.

Her entire leg was numb. She lay still, staring up at the dusky sky, trying to get control of her racing heart and rapid breathing. Although it was late afternoon, she could feel the last of the sun's rays burning on her skin and her body still felt sluggish and drained. She should have waited another half hour or so before attempting her work.

"God, Colby." Actual tears were in Paul's eyes as he flung himself down beside her. "You're bleeding bad-tell me what to do. I don't know what to do."

Colby pushed herself very gingerly up on one elbow to stare at the ugly gash soaking her leg with blood. She swore softly, fighting off nausea. "I'm going to live, Paulo, but it's going to need stitches." She clamped the edges of the wound together, forced herself to press hard. "Go get a couple of towels and a tray of ice. You'll have to drive the truck into town. Call ahead and tell Doc Kennedy to wait in his office-I don't want to go to the hospital and run up another bill." She bit the words out between her teeth. Her leg had gone from numb to a burning torture.

Paul ran for the house. Colby's face was so pale she looked like a ghost. He would never forget, as long as he lived, the sight of her small slender body so fragile in the dust under the huge, maddened animal, the sickening sound of a hoof meeting flesh. He tore open the refrigerator, caught up the towels and the truck keys, made the hurried, breathless call, and was back at Colby's side in minutes.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked anxiously as he watched her apply the ice to the wound. In all her injuries, Paul had never seen so much blood on his sister. It was bright red and Colby was pressing very hard, her teeth biting deep into her lower lip.

She managed a lopsided grin, pushing at the hair tumbling around her dirt-streaked face. The action left a smear of blood on her temple. "You'll need to help me, Paulo, my leg's kind of numb from the shock of the blow." She was gritting her teeth, wishing it had stayed numb, but it was better than telling him she was going to pass out from the pain and blood loss. "Bring the truck close and I'll be able to get in."

Colby. Her name came out of nowhere, soft and beautiful, wrapping her up in safe arms. Tears burned in her eyes at the caress of Rafael's voice in her mind. She ached for him. Missed him so much. Just hearing his voice made her feel complete.

I'm okay. You still sound tired. Are you supposed to be waking yet? Rafael sounded far away and it was an obvious effort to reach her. It made Colby feel treasured that he would try. She knew his wounds weren't fully healed and that his hunger raged in him, but he reached for her anyway. She hated the melting sensation, when she was so angry with him for causing her problems. She didn't want to need to hear his voice or feel his touch. And she didn't want to think of the violence he was capable of.

I cannot come to you for another hour. Show me what you have done. I feel the pain in you. It is severe enough that you woke me from my slumber.

She took a deep breath and made herself look at the horrendous gash in her thigh, lifting her hand and the towel of ice away from her skin. She heard his gasp of alarm and immediately covered the wound. Paul is taking me to the doctor in town. No big deal. A couple of stitches.

I will come to you as soon as I am able.

She lay back because it took too much energy to do anything else, turning her head to observe the horse. He was trembling, pawing the powdery earth, still fighting the saddle, his body dark with sweat. As soon as the truck pulled up next to her and Paul jumped out, Colby indicated the animal. "Look at him, Paul, something's wrong with him. He just isn't acting normal."

"He's a killer," Paul snapped, glaring at the horse, totally out of character for Paul with animals. "Someone ought to put him down."

"He's drugged, Paul. Look at him again; he doesn't know what's going on."

"Who cares, Colby? Forget the damn horse, let's get you to the doctor."

"Not yet. Go call Dr. Wesley, tell him we're leaving and to bring some help with him, he'll need it. I want the horse taken care of."

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm supposed to call the vet while you lie there bleeding all over the place?" Paul protested, concern in his eyes.

"Paul," There was infinite weariness in Colby's voice.

Reluctantly Paul obeyed, relating the details hurriedly to the astonished veterinarian. It seemed an eternity before Paul was able to half-lift Colby into the truck. Shaking and rattling, the old pickup truck sped toward town.

Colby yelped more than once while the doctor cleaned, stitched, and bandaged the gash in her thigh. She endured lectures from her doctor and a nurse wielding a syringe and felt she could recite the dangers of tetanus by the time they were finished. The cut was deep and the wound had swollen considerably; she would be uncomfortable, but she'd had worse injuries.

With Paul's support she limped back to the truck, ruefully looking down at her dirty, bloodstained, and torn jeans. She knew her face was streaked with dirt, her hair falling in a jumbled mess down her back. She glanced at her brother. "Have you ever noticed how wonderful I always manage to look?" she asked him with a poor attempt at a smile. She nodded toward the sleek Porsche parked down the street.

Paul followed her gaze, recognized the woman disappearing into a small, pricey boutique. He looked from the perfection of Louise to his sister, staring for a moment. Beneath the dirt and blood, there was something extraordinary, something he had never really seen before. "You're so much prettier than her, Colby, there's no comparison. Really, there's not."

Colby found herself smiling in spite of the ragged way she was feeling. "You're some brother, you know that? I'm going to lie here and rest while you go get my prescriptions for me and I'll contemplate how perfectly wonderful you are."

"I'll move us a little closer," he said, reaching for the keys.

"You're not moving me anywhere near that shop-the pharmacy is next door to her perfect little Porsche. You could use the exercise."

"The ultimate sacrifice," Paul groaned. "Cowboys aren't supposed to walk anywhere." He pocketed the little slips of paper and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. "You're looking a little green around the gills under all that dirt, Colby. Are you sure you're all right and I can leave you?"