The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  Panther was walking toward her.

  Unable to take her eyes off him, she watched the raw mesh of muscle and bone. So many of the Seminoles were thinner, more tired than they'd been when she first came to live with them, but hardship only seemed to make him stronger. Still, his eyes were deeper, darker these days, as if the weight of his responsibilities had drawn him into himself.

  He had been born to this unkind land, was more a part of it than the butterfly even. He put her in mind not just of his namesake, but an alligator as well. She'd studied alligators for hours until she knew that beneath their bulky bodies and long stillness lurked a creature made for survival. Panther had their hardness, their durability, their ability to accept.

  Still, there was much more than that to him.

  He'd decorated his body with intricate symbols made from various dyes for a meeting with Osceola and the other chiefs but had washed himself clean since returning.

  He had shown her how to embrace the wilderness; she knew that now. By the simple act of living, he'd taught her how to survive. More than survive. When he returned from a successful hunt, she sensed his pride and took a little of that for herself. When he slipped into Piahokee so he could watch the army, she sensed his courage and determination and some of that seeped into her. He said she'd saved his life, but he'd given her one.

  "You have been quiet too long," he said once he was standing over her. "I want to know your thoughts."

  Not all of them; I can't. "They don't matter, Panther. You have so many to be concerned about. I'm just one."

  "One." He held onto the word. "Tell me. You still do not want to be here, do you? It is because you fear Croon's presence."

  Her emotions went so far beyond that that sometimes she couldn't think about Croon at all. Panther was a large part of her thoughts, maybe all of them when it shouldn't be that way. "I understand," she whispered. He looked so big. She wanted him to sit and yet was afraid to have him any closer. "About how hard it was for you to leave here. When you tell Osceola why we can't stay, does he listen, or is being where his ancestors are buried all he talks about?"

  "He speaks of many things." Panther lowered himself to the ground. Although he made only a whisper of sound as he did so, it was enough to disturb the butterfly. Calida watched it until she could no longer see it before forcing herself to look at Panther again.

  Wild.

  Wild as his name.

  "You will do what you have to," she managed. "What is best for the Egret clan. Don't put me before them."

  "I cannot think of you first, Calida. I do not dare."

  But he wanted to. Why, she wanted to ask, but maybe she already knew. Something existed between them. Even when they barely saw each other for days, just the thought of him felt like the energy that precedes a storm. Sometimes, mostly at night, that energy rolled over her like a thunder-and-lightning-filled cloud. She'd told herself she was the only one who felt that way because it was somehow easier. If she thought he wanted her as much as she wanted him—

  No!

  "Summer is almost over," she said. Maybe no other conversation was safe. "It'll be easier once it isn't so hot."

  "I do not care." He looked around him, then suddenly sprang to his feet and held out his hand. "Walk with me. I am tired of doing nothing."

  He never did nothing. Still, his hand beckoned to her, and she didn't try to stop herself as she placed hers in it. He brought her effortlessly to her feet, held on a few seconds, then started toward the surrounding and sheltering trees. Shaking and scared and hungry in a way she barely understood, she followed him. She shouldn't do this! She couldn't walk away from him.

  He took a thin trail that led to a creek where the men often fished. Calida tried to make herself think about how good it had made her feel yesterday to know that all the men of the Egret clan were back together, but she was looking at Panther's back. Feeling him.

  He stopped beside a log whose top trailed in the water and created a tiny dam where fish could rest. Joining him at the edge of the bank, Calida stared down. There were three, maybe four fish here today. They weren't large enough to be worth spearing, but if a warrior was patient, a larger fish might come to feed on the smaller ones. That, she'd learned, was the way of the world. The stronger fed on the weak. And the army was so powerful.

  "Winter Rain says she thinks Gaitor is going to ask her to marry him," she said in a rush. "He has been bringing her gifts."

  "Is it what she wants?"

  "Yes. I'm sure—yes. She smiles when she talks about him. He makes her feel safe; she told me that."

  "I pray he will always keep her safe," Panther said.

  They both knew how little control any of them had over their lives. She didn't want to talk about that. "She's been lonely for a long time. She didn't want anyone to know how hard it has been for her."

  "She told you that?" Panther sat on the log. She joined him but kept far enough away that she couldn't feel his body heat.

  "Two nights ago. Gaitor was gone. He hadn't said anything, but she was sure he wanted to see where the army was."

  "Yes."

  Panther was watching the pool. She wondered how he could concentrate on that when her thoughts were like leaves caught in a storm-wind. "She—she talked about when her mother died. Winter Rain was a small child, but not so young that she doesn't remember. It was hard for her, very hard."

  "Her mother was sick for a long time."

  Although Panther wasn't looking at her, Calida nodded. "Winter Rain wanted to do things for her but didn't know what. She—for a long time, she believed her mother would have lived if she'd brought her the right things to eat, given her more water." Panther. She would think about Panther and not—not...

  "I did not know that," he said. "I was learning to be a war chief in those days."

  Learning to be a war chief. What did that mean? She risked a glance at him and found that his profile was all angles, rocklike. "I didn't know there was such a place as Florida when Winter Rain lost her mother. I was a child myself. Innocent."

  "And then Reddin Croon bought you and your mother."

  "Yes."

  "That time is behind you, Calida. Winter Rain survived her mother's death. You are surviving yours. And he cannot touch you here."

  Couldn't he? In ways Panther didn't understand, in ways Calida could barely bring herself to acknowledge, Reddin Croon was still part of her existence. Dragging her gaze off Panther, she tried to concentrate on the fish until the water blurred.

  "I—I want Winter Rain and Gaitor to be happy. To know peace."

  "Peace. I cannot give them that."

  He held himself responsible for their future? No wonder he had been so somber these days. "Don't make that your burden, Panther. You're tastanagee. You're not Breath Giver."

  "Breath Giver's spirit should be stronger within me. If I had his wisdom, I would know what the Seminoles must do."

  "No. No." She'd grabbed his hand. Now that she held it, she couldn't let go. "Don't do this to yourself. Please. If the President can't put an end to this war—if Osceola can't either—it isn't your responsibility."

  "Isn't it, Calida? My heart is filled with a great weight. There is only one way for that to change."

  For a long time now she'd thought she understood what went on inside him, but she hadn't known the depths. Her head pounded, and tears pressed against the back of her eyes. Like him, her heart was heavy, only, for her, it had little to do with concerns for the living. The dead—those who had never known life.

  "And maybe that burden will never lift," she finally thought to say.

  "I know."

  Panther sounded both tortured and resigned. Still, when, finally, he looked over at her, she saw only a hint of pain in his eyes. The rest of the message—

  He was thinking of her. Aware of her.

  Run!

  "The first time I saw you, I was filled with anger and fear," he said. "I hated being helpless. You freed me. That was all that
mattered, that I was free. But since that day, you have been part of my life."

  He could talk about his fears. Why couldn't she do the same? "My mother died free because of you," she whispered. "I—thank you. My gratitude—"

  "Only gratitude?"

  No. Don't you know that? A storm raged inside her. She wanted to jump to her feet and run from it, from him, but distance wouldn't make any difference.

  Not wanting him to touch her but needing it too much, she sat with her body as tight as a drawn bowstring.

  "Only gratitude, Calida?" Panther pressed.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "The truth."

  The truth! Sweet Jesus! "Don't do this to me. Please."

  "If not now, when?" He hadn't taken his eyes off her. They cut into her like a just-sharpened knife, and yet she wasn't bleeding. Instead—instead she felt more alive than she did even when a storm raged around her and thunder and lightning seemed like they were exploding inside her. She felt buffeted by him. Whipped and whirled and thrown about.

  "I do not know how much time is left to us, Calida," he said. "To the Egret clan, or the Seminoles. Maybe all we have is today."

  Today. "That—that's why Gaitor and Winter Rain are reaching for each other, isn't it? Because—"

  "This moment is not about them. We are together, you and I."

  The storm was getting darker, heavier, more deadly. More exciting. She should tell him she wanted to go back to the others where she could again—maybe—feel safe, but he was right. There might not be a tomorrow for them.

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "What is in your heart."

  She couldn't do that, could never do that. And yet remaining silent might be even worse. "I'm not afraid of you."

  "You once were?"

  "I don't know. I was so terrified of Reddin Croon that I didn't know there was any other way to feel. From the moment he became my master, he didn't allow me to be around any other man, not even another slave."

  Panther didn't move or speak, and she felt compelled to continue, or maybe the truth was, she couldn't stop herself.

  "My mother—she believed I needed to know the truth about how I came to be. There was no..." She'd almost said the word love but couldn't around Panther. "My father took my mother whenever he wanted her. However he wanted her. She never forgot that, and when she was no longer with him, she swore she'd never let another man touch her, not even another slave. She always told me—she told me that nothing mattered more than not belonging to a man. Being free in that way."

  "You grew up believing her words?"

  "Yes."

  "Only, her words were a lie for you because your master owned your body."

  She shouldn't have started talking about this, wanted nothing to do with honesty after all. But she'd come here with Panther because he was that important to her and maybe—maybe there'd be less pain if she released some things she thought she'd hold inside for the rest of her life.

  "I hated him. Hated and feared him. He made me feel trapped. I couldn't talk to my mother, to anyone." The storm brought to life by Panther's presence continued to rage around her, but coldness had seeped into her bones and made it impossible for her to feel his energy, his presence even. "I was like a wild animal with ropes around its neck. But an animal fights. I knew he'd kill me if I tried. There was nothing—nothing I could do."

  "And when you saw what he had done to me, you knew how I felt."

  She would think about him, only him. That way she would survive. How had she forgotten that? "Holding that knife in my hand made me feel strong for the first time in my life," she admitted. "Cutting you free—it was as if I'd defied him." She could smile at that, smile and sense again the power that had surged through her at that moment. "He couldn't have you! I'd denied him that."

  Something slammed into her even before she'd finished speaking. Desperate to understand the emotion, she reached for Panther. His heat seared her fingertips, and she jerked back.

  "Do not."

  "Do not what?"

  "Hide from me. From yourself."

  She didn't want to. Suddenly powerfully. Not understanding what was going on inside her, she straightened and kept her eyes steady on him.

  "I did not want to feel this way," Panther said. "A tastanagee who buries himself in a woman is weak in battle."

  Panther would never be weak. Didn't he—He wanted to bury himself inside her? She started shaking.

  "Listen to me. Listen and think only of today. The past is dead. Buried."

  I want to believe. Oh, how I want to believe.

  He ran his knuckles over her cheek and chin, down over her throat. "I am not Reddin Croon," he said.

  "I—know."

  "Your head does. But does your body?"

  He hadn't asked about her heart. It didn't matter because she wouldn't have been able to answer him anyway. "I'm afraid."

  "Of me?"

  "No," she told him although being near him made her feel as if she was walking into a hurricane.

  "Of what then?"

  How could she answer him? How could she face herself? But she'd already told him so much; this shouldn't be impossible. "I—I know what it can be like between two people. Gaitor loved his wife. Winter Rain's parents loved each other. But..."

  "But you are not them."

  Reddin Croon called all Indians savages, and before she'd come to live with the Seminoles, she'd believed the same thing. She never would again. "I want—" She closed her eyes and spoke from behind the shadows she'd created. "I want what they had, but my body doesn't trust. I—I'm afraid to try."

  "I do not believe you."

  Instead of refuting what Panther had said, she struggled to remain safe and silent in darkness, but he was making it impossible. Turning his hand around, he tested her with his fingertips. When his fingers dipped below her dress's loose neckline, she started trembling again. He could kill; she'd seen him wrench the life from animals the Seminoles needed. Those same hands could be gentle. So gentle.

  Alive.

  Calida felt feverish. She needed to be cooled by the violent wind that accompanies a storm. She wanted to walk into the middle of it.

  Panther was the storm.

  Unable to hide within herself after all, she opened her eyes a slit. He sat so close that he was little more than a hazy outline. This way she could make him a dream figure in her mind, could reach for shadow and mist, feel flesh and muscle and bone. Not think. Simply react.

  When he touched her breast for the first time, she nearly slapped his hand away. Feeling her nails bite into her palms, she realized how hard she had to fight to kill her instinctive reaction.

  Reddin Croon had done that to her. Made her hate being touched.

  But he wasn't here today. Panther was.

  Panther, who had carried her, more dead than alive, to his village and given her shelter. A place to be.

  "Do not think of him."

  "I won't. I promise I won't."

  Still, for long and agonizing minutes she couldn't completely thrust her former master from her mind. Other women reached for the men they trusted, but what came easily to them was one hard-fought battle after another for her. She wouldn't feel as if she was being torn apart if she ran from Panther. She'd stop shaking, put an end to the explosions taking place inside her if he didn't have his hands on her.

  But she wanted them. Needed them. And because she did, she faced each battle and rode the waves.

  He didn't speak, and she was grateful for the silence that allowed her to concentrate on what was happening inside her, to cling to each moment, each gentle or insistent touch, to battle against yesterday's memories.

  She was winning. Panther was making that possible.

  He'd removed her loose blouse without her knowing how he'd done it. Now he leaned toward her and blew his hot breath over her shoulders and breasts, touching and yet not touching. He slid off the log and brought her down with him. She was off balance and
had to brace her hands against the ground behind her. Smiling, he again leaned into her, painting every inch of exposed flesh first with his breath and then with his mouth and tongue.

  The storms energy coiled in her belly. She couldn't think how to stop the sensation, or if she wanted it to end, and it grew. She had barely touched him, had no idea what a man wanted from a woman, knew he deserved more than what she was giving him.

  Her back ached from the unnatural position, and she grabbed him around the neck with one hand to straighten herself. Her naked breasts pushed against his chest, pressed and tightened and expanded. He slid an arm around her waist and took over the monumental task of sitting upright for both of them. Before she could think to thank him, he covered her breast with his free hand. His manhood probed against his loincloth, and for a heartbeat she couldn't think of anything except how Reddin Croon used her to satisfy his need. Then, as if he knew what she was thinking, Panther slid his hand from her breast to her chin and tipped her head upward. Holding her gently, he touched her mouth with his.

  "I will not hurt you," he whispered. "Believe me. I will not hurt you."

  He gave her strength. Ignited her. The fire burning in her belly and breast consumed all fear and allowed her to walk out of the past. This man had given her shelter and a place to belong. He'd held her mother while she died. She could give him—give him her body.

  Her mind.

  Arms laced around his neck now, she drew him in through her pores. They seemed to share the same air, the same flesh even. Her heart beat like that of a captured bird, but she wouldn't think about that. Would concentrate on flames and thunder and lightning and him.

  Gentle and yet insistent, he laid her out on the ground. He slipped her skirt down over her hips without asking permission, but then she'd given it by lifting her hips. He'd never seen her naked before, had he? Maybe at first when she'd been unconscious—

  It didn't matter.

  He did it all. Everything. Traced her body with his fingers. Held her eyes with his. Climbed into her thoughts until nothing remained except him. Stole Piahokee's heat and replaced it with his. Took her hand, first flattening it over his chest, then his waist, his belly. His eyes asked if she was ready for more. Terrified, she shook her head. Then, still terrified, she opened her mouth to say yes, but she couldn't speak. She should have already known that.