by Cash Cole
“Danny, it’s me. Sarah.”
The short man backed away, almost stumbling, clutching the rifle tighter. His face went ashen, and his eyes glittered madly. He frowned and shook his head slowly.
“I forgive you, Danny.”
Gibson guffawed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Forgive me for what, you crazy bastard?”
“I forgive you for snooping in my personal papers, for giving Ben the information you found in my briefcase.” Rance continued talking but stopped and remained stationary. “I forgive you for having me killed when I refused to give you what you wanted.” He pointed to the papers Jake held. “Those documents that would prove that the shape-shifters exist, that Doc had been treating them and following their medical histories all these years.”
“You have copies of these?” Vera asked.
Rance nodded. “I do—Sarah does. These are the originals, but the others are in a safety deposit box in town.” Rance smiled sadly. “I couldn’t betray my people, Danny. Not even for the money Ben offered me. And I won’t let you deceive them either.”
The madman before them chuckled. “Doesn’t look like you have much of a choice, does it?” But he looked at Rance closely. “How do you know about that? Did Sarah tell you?”
“You did. Just before you shot me.” Rance lifted his T-shirt and pointed, knowing he’d reveal something that even Jake wasn’t aware. “Right here.” He pulled off the top and bared his body, watching Danny’s eyes as they found their mark, the tell-tale scar dead center of Rance’s stomach. He touched the distinguishing blemish, outlining it with his fingertips. Rance had never had the damned thing until after his surgery—it had appeared like some supernatural road map, a visible sign of what had happened to his donor.
When the man before him gasped and staggered as if struck, Rance called upon Sarah’s spirit to help him put an end to the madness that had surrounded them both. “Sarah!” Rance screamed.
A whooshing sound next to him drew his attention briefly to Jake, whose body transformed in a bright, glittering mist from man to bird. The instant Danny’s eyes left Rance long enough to take in the eerie phenomena in the cave, Rance gathered all his strength, all his previous training, and landed a swift roundhouse kick to Danny’s jaw, the heel of his foot connecting with a sickening crack against his face.
The gun flew through the air, landing against a cavern wall, discharging random bullets. Vera and Rance ducked, as the phoenix attacked the man at the cave’s entrance.
Then a ferocious growl rent the air, and if the magical occurrences that had just taken place weren’t enough to shock Rance senseless, other animals, including a large black bear entered the cave, clawing and pawing at Gibson, dragging his flailing body into the open.
Vera clutched Rance’s hands. Shock reverberated through both their bodies, and they hugged one another as the animals, including the phoenix, stripped Danny Gibson of his clothes and his mind. They didn’t kill him, but they attacked him repeatedly, and by the time the rain started, he was already a raving lunatic, running through the woods half-dressed and babbling.
* * * *
Jake inhaled leisurely, attempting to calm his racing heart. He hadn’t morphed in so long that the adrenaline alone made him dizzy, and the realization that he’d been flying—actually climbing, diving, swooping like his spirit animal—was such a shock that for a few moments he’d completely forgotten about the other two in the cave. The only conscious thought he’d had was to attack the man who’d dared to raise a rifle to Rance.
He closed his eyes, still breathing deeply, slowly, relaxing his body and relishing the quickening metamorphosis from animal to man, feeling the tingling as his phalanges transformed from feather and bone to flesh and bone.
When Jake opened his eyes, Rance was the first person he saw, bending over him. Jake looked about. He’d slumped during the change, his body unused to the surreal conversion. “I’m okay,” he told him. “Are you?”
Rance nodded. Then he lifted his head and nodded towards the cave entrance. Danny Gibson had vanished, and in his place stood Jake’s cousins, Daniel and Hawk, along with three other Native men.
“Welcome back, bro.” The larger of the men stepped forward.
Jake held out a hand. “Yona? When did you get here?” He dug his heels in the earth as his cousin Daniel propelled him from his seat on the ground to a position of standing. Jake stretched his muscles, feeling the last of the alignments as his body completed its modification to human form.
“Hawk and I followed Gibson to the cave. You radioed from the boat. Remember?” Daniel frowned. “You sure you made it back in one piece?”
Jake laughed and held out an arm invitingly to Rance, encircling his waist. “Rance, this is Daniel, or Yona, meaning bear.”
Daniel’s large hands engulfed Rance’s. “Ah, you must be the brother of White Mother. Grandfather has spoken of you.”
Jake felt Rance shudder. He cleared his throat. “I recognize you from the marina.” Then he blinked and turned to Jake. “Am I the only one who was unaware of this white woman legend?”
“Doesn’t matter if you think it’s legend or fact,” Hawk said, stepping forward to hug Jake. He swung his gaze from cousin to cousin then focused on Rance. “If Wahui says it will be, it’s as if it’s already happened. You just accept.”
The men turned their attention to Vera, making sure she was unharmed. The older woman was obviously shaken. “He’ll be back,” she said.
“That one has lost his mind,” Hawk said. “If he comes back, it’ll be in a straight-jacket.” Then he sobered. “But he will talk, and that means an investigation.”
All of the men were silent for a moment before Daniel spoke.
“Did you get what you needed, Jake?”
Recalling the conversations he’d just had with Rance and Vera, Jake pointed to the papers that had fallen to the ground during his transformation. “Yeah. Not sure what to do now, though. Those papers got my sister killed.” He looked at Vera apologetically. “And Doc.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was their time. They had to go to make way for the new.” Vera glanced at Rance. “We will remember them always, and we will avenge their deaths.” Then she looked knowingly from one man to another. “But it’s all good. You take that information to Wahui. The old man will know what to do.”
Rance grasped Jake’s arm. “But…how did you…how did any of you know that I had a sister? I haven’t spoken to her in years, but I have one.”
Jake chuckled. “You have the balls to ask me a question like that? After what you’ve put me through the past couple of days?”
Hawk thumped Rance on the back. “It is what it is, man. Wahui saw you coming and told us of you.” Then he whacked Jake on the back. “Dumbass here just didn’t recognize you. But I did. You look just like the picture Sarah painted. Welcome home, bro’.”
Chapter Five
To think that losing his car had been the beginning of Rance’s adventure with the Cherokee he’d grown to love was mind-boggling. So much had happened. He’d been disoriented in the dark and sidetracked by the stormy night, and at that time, he still wasn’t used to sharing memories with his cornea donor. Now, however, he felt as if he’d known Sarah and her family for years.
He and Jake had handled the county sheriff’s questions with aplomb, but as Jake pointed out later, the sheriff was Native and hadn’t probed where he’d stir up tribal secrets that nobody else needed to know.
Danny Gibson was found half-naked and out of his mind deep in the Cherokee Hills, muttering nonsense. He’d been taken to a psychiatric hospital in Vinita until a judge could deem him fit for trial. Jake and his cousins murmured amongst themselves that Vinita would be housing the lunatic for the rest of his life.
Rance’s car was found on a muddy bank a couple of miles from where he’d thought he’d parked it. His mission had been accomplished, but after the dust had cleared and Jake’s questions answered to his satisfa
ction, he still had the uneasy feeling that there were too many open-ended discussions, that despite appearances, much was still left unsaid and undone. He and Jake hadn’t had time alone after the eerie happenings in the cave, because the cousins brought beer and had their own version of a pow-wow the two nights following Danny’s arrest. Everybody had either slept outdoors under the stars or had bunked on Jake’s boat for the two days, which hadn’t allowed space or time for the two of them to become intimate.
As for Sarah, once the situation surrounding her death was highlighted, it was as if she faded, like some misty memory, leaving a bittersweet hole where her presence had once filled him. Rance was glad, but at the same time he felt sad that he hadn’t known her better.
Haley had already invited him to stay with the O’Reilly clan until he wished to return to Las Vegas. Not a problem, considering Rance was reluctant to leave, but he had no good excuse for staying until Haley intervened the third evening when she invited Rance for dinner.
“We’re having a family get-together tomorrow night,” she told Rance that evening. “You’ve been staying in that motel too long. You’re to bring your belongings with you when you show up tomorrow. Say about five? You can stay in Sarah’s old bedroom.” She slid Jake a wary glance. “Unless you find more comfortable quarters.” Haley thumped a basket of corn muffins in front of him next to his drink before going back to the kitchen.
“Subtle, isn’t she?” Jake joked.
Rance refused to comment. The proverbial ball was pretty much in his court now. He’d thrown himself at Jake the first night they’d met, and he’d more or less been thunderstruck ever since. Haley had seen to it that Rance came out to the marina every day. One moment, it would be to show him more of Sarah’s drawings. Another, it’d be to have him sample a dish Haley was thinking of adding to the marina restaurant’s menu. Each time he visited, Rance thought surely Jake would want to talk in private, to at least be alone with him. The chemistry they’d had was undeniable, so why was Jake so damned aloof?
Rance shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Waiting on Jake to make the first move was like sitting in the dentist’s office. He knew he’d feel better afterwards, but the initial trauma of just having to be there had him climbing the proverbial walls.
“So what type of function is this?” he finally asked. When Jake didn’t respond, Rance amended, “Tomorrow night? Family?”
Jake buttered a muffin and set it before Rance then got one for himself. “Monthly catfish fry. Just a bunch of cousins, aunts, uncles and a few friends. We do this during the full moon.”
Rance couldn’t repress a snort. “You meet according to the almanac timetables? Not vampires, are you?”
“Maybe.” Jake bit into the bread, licking a crumb from his bottom lip then grinning at Rance when he caught him watching.
Asshole. Rance reached for his drink. He had already embarrassed himself more than once. He felt vulnerable, unsure of himself, totally ill at ease. If he had to remain in Jake’s presence with him silently scrutinizing him and without the Native revealing anything, he’d go crazy.
Jake’s hand snaked across the table to capture Rance’s arm as he moved to leave. “Slow down, okay?” He eyed the rucksack next to Rance. “And when are you gonna dump that shit? Is there someplace you have to be?”
“What am I doing here, Jake? I mean now?” Rance swept the restaurant with a glance. “There’s nobody watching, nobody who can hear us, so tell me—why should I stay?”
“Because you want to?” Jake asked.
“Don’t answer me with a question, damn it. What do you want from me?”
“Remember when I said that once this was over, you and I needed to sort out what’s between us?” Jake released Rance’s arm and traveled to his hand grasping the bag. He turned Rance’s hand over and traced his wrist with his thumb.
Rance felt his pulse jump and his throat go dry. It pissed him off that Jake could get his blood thrumming with such a simple gesture. “Yeah?”
Jake took a long drink of the iced tea before him and scooted his chair back. “Let’s go talk.”
Jake stood and reached for the knapsack, slinging it over his shoulder. Rance looked at him, perplexed. Okay. Now what?
“I’ll be on the boat if you need me,” Jake called to Haley on their way out the door.
Rance felt as if he’d taken that short walk from inside the marina restaurant to the top deck of Jake’s boat many times, even though it had only been two or three. Everything just felt natural, right.
Neither of them talked during the next several minutes. Jake went through the ritual of clearing the marina and heading for the south part of Lake Tenkiller as if he’d been boating since he was a babe, and Rance took in the scenery, the smells and sights as if it might be his last time.
Was this what it would be like with Jake, should he stay? Never knowing where he stood, whether Jake would see him as the guy who’d stolen part of his sister from him or if he saw him as simply a lunatic who had shown up like a drowned rat?
Rance scoffed inwardly. He’d be a fine one to talk. Maybe he was a little loony, what with the cellular memory connection to Sarah, but what of Jake and his Native American beliefs? Not to mention the fact that he and his full blood cousins could change species at the blink of an eye?
Rance became so lost in thought that he didn’t hear Jake come up behind him. He wasn’t even aware he was there until he felt his warm breath against his neck.
“Now,” Jake murmured against his ear. “It’s time.”
“Mm-hmm.” Rance settled into the comfort of his arms, feeling Jake’s chest muscles swell against his back as they looked over the lake where he’d navigated. “What did you have in mind?”
Jake’s hands slipped from Rance’s shoulders to his cock and stroked him through his jeans. “I think you know the answer to that.”
Rance turned, facing him, and Jake’s hands continued their slow exploration, drifting to Rance’s hips, cupping his ass and pulling him into his hard heat. “Is this because you think I’ll introduce you and your clan to my sister—who hasn’t spoken to me for months, by the way? So she can be the mother to a new generation of Native American shape-shifters?”
Jake smacked his ass. “What does my sister think?”
Rance tried to step back, but Jake held him in place.
“I haven’t felt Sarah in at least two days, and you’re about to piss me off if you think I’m going to chart the rest of my life based on—”
Jake silenced him with a slow, wet, deep kiss. “Rance Maxmillian Clarke, what I feel for you has nothing to do with tribal politics, brotherly affection or the advice I’ve been receiving from my cousins and my mother, not to mention Vera Rogers, who has taken quite a liking to you.”
Rance waited, blood racing. “So what do you feel?”
Jake set his jaw, and instead of the flip answer Rance expected, his Indian softened, his handsome features showing more emotion than Rance had seen on them. Their eyes locked unwaveringly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything, so I’m not sure what to say right now.”
“The truth would be appreciated,” Rance said, swallowing his pride. He’d known from the moment he set eyes on Jake that rainy night on his boat how he felt about him. And it wasn’t because of any Native American superstition or legend, and it wasn’t because of gratitude for Sarah’s sacrifice.
“I want you.” Jake opened his mouth to say more, but the words never followed.
Rance waited, albeit, impatiently. He had no intentions of helping Jake, but when it appeared Jake was at a loss, Rance couldn’t resist teasing. However, a fair amount of panic prompted the sarcasm. “Okay, is this a craving, like for candy or soda, or do you have some viral sort of want that requires you have sex to cure it? Define want, please.” Rance stiffened his back. “I need to know.”
Jake slowly grinned. “Is this need a craving, like for…?”
Rance socked him on the arm.
“I flew over a thousand miles, gave up my home, any prospects for a job, my comfort zone. The least you can do is level with me. What does want mean to you?”
Jake drew his face to within a breath of Rance’s, and the dark look in his eyes sent bottle rockets from Rance’s scalp to the soles of his feet. It spoke volumes, more than anything Jake could have uttered, but Rance’s derision seemed to be the impetus Jake needed to air his thoughts. Jake shrugged. “There is no cure. It’s a terminal case.”
Jake threaded his fingers through Rance’s hair and dragged his lips slowly across his, his tongue running along Rance’s lower lip, tasting, sucking, drawing him. This kiss was slow and deliberate, the ultimate panacea Rance craved.
Rance growled and gave back with all his heart, his very soul. It didn’t matter how they’d met or that they’d both lost so much. Jake might not be able to speak the words. Hell, neither could he. But Jake cared for him—Rance knew it—and they could build on that.
Jake kissed his face, his cheeks, his lips, whispering something in Cherokee over and over. Breathlessly, Rance asked what he was saying.
“A-gi-ga-u.”
Rance repeated it. “Ah-gee-gah-ooh? What does it mean?”
Jake grinned, saying it in both Cherokee and English. “Beloved, beloved, beloved.”
Rance sighed. “Jake, damn it. Do you want me or not?”
At that, Jake laughed, but before Rance could take exception and pick a fight with him over his lack of clarity, Jake dragged him below deck, kicked open a half-closed door and shoved Rance unceremoniously onto a king-sized. Then he jumped after him, pinning him to the comforter. Rance looked sideways at Jake’s bulging forceps as their fingers laced. Jake drew their hands downward until Rance let go and fastened his fingers to Jake’s belt.
“So you do have a bed.”
Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Well, first time we fucked was on the deck, and the only kissing we’ve done was outdoors. I was beginning to wonder if you even had a bed.”
