Primal Touch

by Amber Jacobs

  Tightening his grip on her hair, he pushed Ashley in front of him and forced their way deeper into the jungle. Wincing in pain, Ashley whispered a silent prayer to any deities who cared to listen, asking them to keep Leandra safe.

  Leandra grew concerned after waiting for Ashley by the river in vain for almost an hour. Confused, she stealthily made her way to her friend’s camp, thinking perhaps she had been delayed by her companions, but there was no sign of trouble or concern among the others. A feeling of disquiet ran like a chill up her spine. Something was wrong.

  Returning to the river, she searched the ground for tracks, and found them fresh and clear in the mud left by the recent rainfall. Her eyes widened when she found a second set of footprints, made by heavy army boots, large enough to fit a man. Leandra lifted her head and sniffed. The air still carried the scent of sweat and steel.

  She followed the tracks swiftly, her entire posture and demeanor switching instantly to that of the jungle predator as she slipped through the shadows. It took her only a few moments to find further evidence that something terrible had happened. Pinned to the trunk of a tree by a slender hunting dagger was a torn scrap of cloth. Snatching the material down, Leandra brought it to her nose and breathed in Ashley’s familiar scent. A low rumble sounded deep in Leandra’s chest as she realized what had happened.

  Bait.

  The poacher had discerned a weakness and was now intent on exploiting it by using Ashley to lure her into the open.

  For a moment, pure rage filled her senses, making her want to just charge in and slash to pieces the man who had dared to threaten Ashley. But Leandra hadn’t survived so long out here without learning the merits of restraint. She took a calming breath and focused her energy into a tight, controlled ball, thinking carefully how best to execute an effective rescue. Tigers hunted their prey with stealth and cunning. If they charged too soon, their quarry would bolt; too late, and they might miss their opportunity. Leandra had spent years watching and learning from the great jungle cats. They had taught her control—and infinite patience.

  The two sets of tracks were easy to follow. Leandra moved cautiously, not wanting to stumble into an ambush and ruin any chance of rescuing Ashley. When the trail turned back toward the river, it became clear what her adversary was thinking. As the trees thinned and gave way to the stony ground that preceded the water’s edge, Leandra saw she had judged correctly. Crouching down in the shadows, her body held tense against the soaked earth, she studied the man standing a hundred feet away on the same rocky outcropping she herself had sat by just yesterday.

  The man stood, alert and watchful, his rifle held in the crook of his arm and ready to use. His other hand was wrapped tightly in Ashley’s blonde hair, and from the wince that pulled at her pretty face now and again, it was clear to Leandra that he wasn’t being gentle. The poacher held Ashley at arm’s length, facing the edge of the precipice. His intent was easily deduced. If Leandra attempted any kind of frontal assault, he had only to give Ashley a quick shove and she would fall into the rocky waters below.

  Leandra assessed the situation swiftly, studying the surrounding jungle to determine how she might use the natural environment to her advantage. She had already rejected a direct confrontation. The ground between her and the man was open, completely bereft of any kind of cover. He would have all the time in the world to take aim with his rifle and shoot her down, no matter how swiftly she ran or how well she dodged. Stealth would avail her little, which was obviously why he had chosen this place. Undeterred, she shifted her attention to the precipice itself, smiling as a plan formed in her mind.

  The edge of the drop was sheer, but below, the jungle encroached right down to the water’s edge. Leandra moved wraithlike along the edge of the tree line, circling her quarry’s position until she had worked her way to the base of the cliff. Looking up, she was pleased to see that the rock wall before her provided numerous cracks and outcroppings that would make acceptable handholds. The poacher was paying no attention to what lay behind him, obviously dismissing the cliff as unclimbable. Leandra realized this was another reason he had chosen this particular location. He thought to force a frontal assault by reducing the range of directions from which she could attack.

  Leandra’s smile became a feral grin; he was underestimating her abilities again, and she intended to take advantage of that mistake.

  Slowly, wary of any sound or scent that might signal she’d been mistaken in her assumptions, Leandra crept from the jungle cover and slipped into the knee-deep waters. The hiss of the nearby waterfall effectively masked any noise, and after tucking the claws into the hem of her skirt, she reached for the first handhold. Tugging a few times to ensure the rock wasn’t loose, she hoisted herself upwards, testing for and finding a solid foothold before reaching for another grip, higher up.

  The climb was difficult, but not nearly as impossible as the poacher apparently had assumed. Leandra’s fingers were toughened from years of constant struggle against her environment, but they were aching by the time she neared the top of the precipice. Thick vines twisted across the rock face here and there, at times providing a helpful grip, but more often proving an obstacle to her ascent. Spray from the fall made sections of the rock slippery with green moss, forcing a more difficult hunt to find purchase. Still, Leandra kept her mind focused on the task at hand, determined not to let Ashley be harmed.

  When she drew closer to the top of the precipice, she could make out words from above, and she smiled when she heard the angry tone of her friend. Leandra finally gained the lip of the cliff and secured solid footholds which would enable her to spring quickly up and onto level ground. Holding herself as close to the sheer rock wall as possible, she waited, listening for the perfect moment to strike.

  At the top of the cliff above the river, unaware of the striped figure steadily drawing nearer, Ashley glared at the man pulling her hair. “You’re a dead man, you know,” she said coldly. “I’ve seen what she does to guys like you. It’s not pretty.”

  The poacher gave her hair an extra twist. “I respect her abilities, girly, and I’m not taking any chances this time.” He surveyed the broad stretch of open rock that lay before them, barren and devoid of shelter. “If she wants you back, she’ll have to give herself up sooner or later.”

  Ashley snorted derisively and pulled at the hand that gripped her—not because she hoped to escape, just to demonstrate her defiance. She was conscious of the drop behind her, already having judged her chances of surviving a fall as about fifty-fifty. If she hit a submerged rock, it was all over, but if she was lucky enough to land in a deeper patch of water, she’d almost certainly be okay. Still, she wasn’t too keen on testing the odds just yet. “What makes you think she’ll care that you’ve got me?”

  “I saw the way she reacted the last time you were in danger,” he said, glancing at her smugly. “She dropped everything and ran to protect you. I’ve seen hunting dogs do that to protect their masters. It’s the same thing. She’s got an animal’s loyalty, and I’m gonna use it to put her down.”

  Ashley couldn’t help but smile inwardly at that assessment, knowing it to be true. She will protect me, she thought. Just like when Grady grabbed me. She’ll save me even it means risking her own life to do it.

  “Why?” she demanded out loud. “What do you care about her? Why not just leave her alone?”

  Again, he eyed her smugly. “I think you know why. It’s the same reason you’re out here in this godforsaken jungle.” He glanced pointedly to the camera still strapped about Ashley’s neck. “White gold. We’re both here to shoot it, just in slightly different ways.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek. “Believe it or not, we’re a lot alike, you and I. The only difference is, you carry a camera and I carry a gun.”

  “We’re nothing alike!” Ashley spat. “And you can forget about the white tiger. It doesn’t exist.”

  “W
hat?”

  Ashley smirked triumphantly, pleased at the sudden change in her captor’s attitude. “That’s right. It’s just some bullshit rumor. A tourist got a look at Leandra and thought she was a white tiger.” She laughed at his angry surprise, not caring that his hand gripped tighter at her hair. If she was going to die, the least she could do was protect Shar-Ranjana. “Even if you kill Leandra, you’ll be walking out of here empty-handed, and probably with every ranger in the park hot on your trail.”

  The poacher glared at her furiously for a long moment, weighing her words, and she was elated to see the plain frustration written all over his face. But then his frustration dissolved as he latched onto something more interesting. “Leandra? That’s her name, is it? Leandra?”

  Ashley’s smile faltered uncertainly, and she wished she hadn’t let that slip. For some reason, just sharing Leandra’s name with this man seemed like a betrayal of trust. Her lips tightened stubbornly, but her captor yanked hard on her hair, his eyes threatening worse. Ashley gasped in pain, clawing futilely at the hand that gripped her. “Yes.”

  “Leandra?” The poacher looked toward the jungle, his eyes lost in thought. “Leandra Thornton?”

  Before Ashley even had time to think about refusing to answer, a striped form leapt from out of nowhere and crouched for a split second at the very edge of the precipice. The poacher sensed the movement and swung around, bringing his rifle to bear. Ashley gave a startled cry—half joyous, half afraid—as Leandra darted forward with the speed of a striking cobra and grabbed for the barrel of the gun, yanking it skyward. There was another blur of movement as she lashed out with her free hand, and Ashley heard a grunt of pain from the poacher as his weapon flew over the cliff. At almost precisely the same instant, Leandra twisted to the side and landed a vicious kick to her adversary’s ribcage, and his grip on Ashley’s hair loosened. Before she knew it, Leandra had pulled Ashley protectively behind her and out of harm’s way.

  The man recovered quickly, however, pulling a second knife from a sheath and brandishing it. He couldn’t see when Leandra’s hands disappeared behind her back, reappearing a second later gripping her claws. With her hands clenched into fists, the bone claws extended between her fingers, their edges rough but wickedly sharp.

  Knowing she would likely be more of a distraction than an aid in this fight, Ashley retreated a few paces from the edge of the precipice, as Leandra squared off against her opponent. She stayed close, however, ready to jump in if an opportunity presented itself.

  Leandra studied the man before her more carefully. “You know who I am, huh?” She smirked. “I thought most people would have forgotten by now.”

  “Not likely,” the man returned. “I used to hear stories about you all the time. In fact, there was a time I was actually looking forward to meeting you. But then you went and pulled a Houdini, disappearing off the face of the Earth.” He brandished the knife to warn her back, studying her with greater interest now. “Everyone always wondered what happened to you.”

  “Well, now you know.” Leandra paced along the edge of the cliff, balancing gracefully, without a thought to the drop behind her.

  “I’m surprised no one managed to put it together,” he continued. “You vanish, and then a year later the ‘Indian Menace’ starts picking us off, one by one. Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  Blue eyes narrowed. “I just gave everyone what they deserved,” she said softly, a low growl rumbling deep in her chest. “But you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but…” She raised a dark brow.

  The poacher smiled thinly. “My name is Corbin. Jack Corbin.”

  Leandra burrowed through the names that had lain, unused, in the deepest parts of her memory. After a moment, she found the right one. “I know that name,” she said. “You’re the man who led the expedition into Garamba Park about six years ago—the one who almost wiped out the white rhinos there.” The man bowed slightly in acknowledgement. Leandra’s growl grew louder. “You’re a butcher,” she stated coldly.

  “No more so than you were,” Jack sneered.

  “Perhaps.” Leandra couldn’t refute her own actions, but her determination to repent escalated. “But now I hunt the hunters. And you know what?” She grinned, showing sharp canines. “I’m better at this than I ever was at poaching.”

  The steel blade flickered in the sun’s feeble rays. “We’ll see.”

  The two circled, eyes locked together, watching for signs of weakness or intent to strike. Finally, Jack feinted high with his knife, drawing Leandra forward before aiming a strike at her right shoulder. Leandra had anticipated that her opponent would attempt to hit her there, trying to earn himself a swift victory. She easily twisted to the side, dodged back, then leapt forward, her claws snapping out in twin arcs. Jack retreated momentarily, then pushed in again. He slashed repeatedly, keeping Leandra from making a move and forcing her to the very edge of the cliff face. She was unbothered by her precarious position and paced along the precipice with the agility of a tightrope walker. Jack snarled and pressed the attack, trying to force her over, but Leandra ducked and rolled out of the way, skillfully avoiding the silver flash of steel.

  Jack was breathing hard after only a few minutes of fighting, but he was pleased to note that the tiger-woman was panting slightly too. The jungle humidity sapped strength quickly, and Jack knew it was best to finish things as soon as possible. He hadn’t wanted to take on the formidable woman in hand-to-hand combat, but again his plans had been disrupted. Knowing he needed to neutralize Leandra’s advantage of speed, Jack rushed the dark-haired woman and grappled for her arms. Leandra snarled as she saw what he intended, but couldn’t move aside in time to avoid being trapped against the drop behind her. Jack grabbed each of her wrists and tried to push her backward, but Leandra resisted. Bone claws raked against the poacher’s arms, but Jack ignored the pain, sensing victory. With every muscle in his forearms and neck straining to press his momentary advantage, he edged them closer to the brink of the precipice. Leandra growled and fought to hold her ground.

  “I may not get my white tiger,” Jack grunted, “but at least I’ll be able to say I killed the Indian Menace.”

  Leandra hissed, baring pearly white teeth, the muscles in her shoulder burning as they absorbed ever more strain. “Better men than you have thought the same thing,” she snarled.

  Ashley watched breathlessly, as Leandra fought against Corbin. Feeling helpless standing on the sidelines, she scanned around for a weapon of some sort and spied a short length of branch lying among the stones. Not in any position to be picky, she grabbed it and held it like she would a baseball bat.

  Studying the two wary combatants, Ashley immediately recognized that Leandra was far swifter and more agile than her enemy, and probably matched the burly poacher in terms of strength and endurance. Still, Jack Corbin had only to land a single hit to the weakened muscles in Leandra’s shoulder, and victory would most likely be his. Ashley knew the odds were uncertain, and she was prepared to defend her friend should she be needed.

  Watching the two wrestle for control, Ashley wondered if this was the right time to jump in. Jack was focused entirely on his struggle; she could sneak up behind him and club him on the back of the head. But just as she started creeping forward to help her friend, Leandra made her move.

  The end was almost blindingly fast. Leandra twisted her arm and managed to slip free from Corbin’s grasp. A moment was all she needed. With a primal roar of triumph, she lashed out with her claws, raking them in a savage uppercut across Jack Corbin’s face. Shocked, Jack lost his control. Before he could recover, Leandra spun them both around and used her shoulder to deliver a hard push to Jack’s chest. The poacher swore furiously for a second, his anger making him slow to realize that his feet were teetering over a long drop. He wavered a moment on the edge, still gripping Leandra with one hand. With a strangled cry, he toppled from his pe
rch…

  …taking Leandra with him.

  “No!” Time slowed to a crawl. Ashley stared, horrified, as Jack used the last of his strength to drag Leandra over the edge after him. She saw a look of momentary panic and concern flash through Leandra’s wide eyes. Ashley’s legs froze, ignoring for a heartbeat all her orders to move forward. By the time she rushed to help, Leandra had fallen, disappearing over the ledge without a sound.

  “No! Leandra!” Ashley dashed to the edge of the cliff, tears already streaming down her face. For a moment, the fear was overwhelming and she couldn’t even process the terrible events. This couldn’t happen! Not now…not ever! Ashley threw herself down on the rocky ground and peered into the churning waters below. Through her blurred vision, she saw no sign of either Jack or Leandra. A sob was wrenched from the depths of her being, and she felt a burning pain fill her heart. The crushing reality of the situation broke over her, and the hope that this was all some terrible nightmare vanished.

  In that moment, the jungle seemed silent for the first time since she’d arrived.

  Then, like a miracle, a familiar raspy voice called up from below. “Ashley?”

  Ashley’s eyes shot open, tears forgotten. “Leandra?”

  A barely audible grunt. “Can you give me a hand? I’ve hurt my stupid leg.”

  Ashley made a noise that was half sob, half cry, and peered over the edge again. There, dangling from one of the thick vines that wrapped across the face of the cliff, was Leandra. Her face was sweaty and creased into a grimace of pain, but she was alive.

  “Hang on, Leandra! I’ll get something to throw down.” Ashley scrambled away, wiping her face and feeling such a sense of relief flood through her body that it made her physically weak. She looked around, half in a daze, and her eyes latched onto a thick, rope-like vine hanging not far away. She grabbed it and tore it free from its roots with desperate strength. Dragging the length back with her to the edge, she tied one end around her body, tossed the other end down toward Leandra, and planted her feet firmly. “Can you climb up?”