Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh

His throat hurt suddenly and he couldn’t work out why, until one of his men jerked his arm and he realised that he’d been shouting. Screaming even. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the carnage; he couldn’t move until he’d seen her.

As the rest of the horses cleared the scene he saw Mason struggle to her feet as Rebel did the same. But the horse couldn’t make it off the ground. People were rushing towards them from the edges of the fencing. She reached out to the horse, but Danyl was sure he could see the whites of Rebel’s eyes from here.

He turned to exit the box, but one of his men stood in his way.

‘You can’t go out there,’ the man said.

Fury roared to life; he felt it sting and scar his skin and his throat.

‘Get out of my way.’

‘No,’ the man said, as he morphed into an immoveable mountain.

Danyl went to push him out of the way, but he dodged Danyl’s arms.

‘You can’t go—it’s too dangerous.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said, trying to push past him, when an arm reached out to hold him. Danyl struggled against the restraining force, inflaming his anger. He struck out at the men, uncaring of his blows or where they landed, but his personal guard were too good. One wrapped his arms tight around Danyl’s torso, and curses and shouts did nothing to remove the hold.

‘I order you to let me go.’

Silence met his command, and finally he swung round so that he could at least see back to the racecourse. An ambulance had appeared near the scene and he could see Mason arguing with someone, standing between the man and Rebel. He thought he saw Harry arrive and pull her gently out of the way. He was so distracted, focusing on Mason, that when he heard the shot his heart, his breath...it all stopped.

Mason collapsed and for a moment he thought that the bullet had struck her. All his senses focused on her, and he could have sworn he heard her cries. The sound cut through him like a knife and he all but collapsed in the arms of the men holding him back.

He struggled once more, ineffectually, desperate to reach her.

‘You can see her later, just not now.’

‘Dammit, get out of my way.’

‘No, sir. This is for your own good. This is for the good of Ter’harn. You can’t be seen with her just yet. And certainly not in this way.’

‘She needs me! I am your boss—let me go.’

‘No, you’re not, sir. Not yet. Your father is.’

* * *

Danyl paced the length of the apartment. He’d spoken to Mason on the phone briefly while she was at the hospital being checked out. She had a fractured ulna, but aside from the damage to her forearm she was incredibly unharmed. But it wasn’t her physical hurts that concerned him. She had been almost monosyllabic, and quite clearly still in shock. Devastated by the loss of Rebel, a horse she’d grown to love over the last few months.

Danyl had sent Michaels to retrieve her from the hospital, his treacherous head of security still preventing him from going to her, and he couldn’t rest until he’d seen her.

Michaels opened the door to the apartment and Danyl rushed to where Mason hovered, her shoulders hunched, one arm holding the other, a white cast covering the wrist up to the elbow. She looked so small, as if she was trying to make herself even smaller, as if she was still reliving the fall from Rebel and protecting herself from invisible dangers.

He took her into his arms and she all but collapsed. Huge great sobs wracked her thin frame, and she shuddered and shook in his arms. He picked her up; the lightness of her body had once delighted him but now he only saw its vulnerabilities, its weakness.

He took her straight into the bathroom and put her on the seat while he started the taps running in the bath. He took her chin in his hand and gently lifted her gaze to his.

‘They...they took blood samples.’

‘I’m sure they just wanted to cover their bases with Rebel.’

‘My blood samples.’

Danyl frowned.

Shock and confusion were setting in and she began to shake. He pressed a glass of red wine into her hands. If he’d had brandy he would have given her that, but she just shook her head and didn’t stop. As if she was rejecting more than the wine, more than the pain and bruises he could see coming up in the spaces not hidden by her clothes.