Mayan Lover by Wendy S. Hales

didn’t know. Please forgive me, señorita.”
She’d heard the same words from him earlier.
    Gwen took off the mask and stepped down. “Jorge.
You were used and manipulated by someone who seemed like such a nice
guy.” She, more than anyone, could sympathize.
    Jorge nodded rapidly. “Ci’. I called
the police.”
    Pity for Jorge consumed her. “I forgive
you. The trick will be learning to forgive yourself.” Horror
dawned on Jorge’s face. “Commissioner, I don’t want
this man charged. He’s a victim, just like me. Drop the
charges, and I assure you I won’t pursue damages against
anyone.”
    Just like that the handcuffs were removed. Jorge
knelt at her feet. It reminded her of Arka. Gwen set her hand to the
top of the balding head. “Promise me you will do everything in
your power to help battered women. Dedicate your life to it.”
    “I promise,” Jorge pledged. He
thanked her, apologized again, and ran back toward the bar.
    It was dawn before
they were allowed to leave. Gwen had never been so exhausted in her
life. The small butterfly bandages where her black and blue throat
had been nicked by the knife stung, and she had a pounding headache.
Every muscle in her body ached from oxygen deprivation. And to top it
off, Arka hadn’t spoken a word to her. Did she disgust him now?
Not that she would blame him. In addition to the other things Maggie
knew about, she must have told the police about finding Gwen tied up,
naked, raped and beaten by her husband two years ago. And Maggie
didn’t know about everything, only her therapist did.
    The deluge of rain on the car was the only
sound. They had ridden in complete silence. Arka had taken the
passenger seat, and Gwen’s head rested in Maggie’s lap.
Not once had he looked back at her. She could see his jaw clench and
unclench, and his movements when they hit ruts were stiff and
unnatural. Was he thinking about how rough she’d demanded he
make love to her under the falls? Did he wonder if her penchant for
hard sex was responsible for John turning into a monster? She’d
been haunted by the same thoughts since the first time John had
raised his fist to her. It was part of the reason she’d stayed
with him so long … she felt responsible for encouraging him to
be more aggressive in bed. Maggie’s fingers brushing in her
hair lulled her thoughts enough so she could doze off. Arka was
absent from her dreams. She felt empty, hollow inside.

Chapter
Nine

    Hearing the man call Gwen his ‘wife’
had stunned Arka. If he had reacted faster he could have spared her
injury. The new scrapes on her hands and knees, the bruises and small
cut at her throat, even the fear-filled tremor in her voice, were the
result of Arka’s failure to act quicker. Once he realized
killing the man was the only way to protect Gwen, Arka had done what
was necessary in as humane and painless a manner as he knew.
    After hearing Maggie ‘s account of the
history between Gwen and her ex -husband, Arka wished he could
resurrect the animal and kill him again. Make him suffer and endure a
few moments of violent subjugation. Only a man without honor would
raise a fist to a woman. The level of violence Gwen had suffered
through twisted to a knot of impotent rage in his chest.
    Arka was surprised and grateful when Gwen didn’t
rouse from her sleep while he carried her into her trailer and left
her with Maggie. She still felt small and delicate in his arms, but
his view of her had changed. He looked into her angelic face and saw
the fortitude of a survivor. She embodied the strength of a true
goddess. He laid her on her bed and she snuggled into a pillow with a
gentle purr. With his thumb he traced the soft contour of her jaw
line.
    He forced his eyes from her to Maggie, who
lifted the outer edge of her lips in a grim, knowing expression.
“She’s tougher that you know, Arka. It’ll be okay.
This wasn’t her first rodeo … thank you for making it
her last.” He didn’t understand all