“My god, it’s huge. And beautiful.” Addison stared at the headdress. Daphne picked up the thing, holding it with both hands.
“It’s a bit heavy, but if you get it set on straight, it’s not so bad. I felt like the Queen for a bit, until I remembered where I was.”
Addison sat on the ground and Daphne set the headdress on her head. It was heavy, but, as Daphne said, once it settled on her head, it was perfectly balanced. Daphne helped her stand and she took a few steps, then turned.
“It’s not so bad. I do feel a bit regal.”
“There’s a cape as well.” Daphne picked up a folded piece of cloth, shook it out and held it for Addison. Once adjusted it fell behind her in a colorful cascade.
“Do you know what the markings mean?” Daphne glanced at Addison. “I didn’t have a chance to study them, obviously. One of the men helped me dress, and it was a pretty rushed affair.”
Addison looked over the twisting figures, the symbols along the edge. She shook her head. “I’d say it’s a fertility ritual, with the figures there, intertwined.”
Daphne led her through the jungle, back to the clearing, and the platform. Xavier was there, flanked by two fierce looking guards. Behind him in the jungle, there was movement.
“Those are the clan leaders, probably two dozen.” Daphne leaned close, whispering in Addison’s ear. “You’ll be anointed now, and blessed.”
As if hearing her words, Xavier stepped aside, and a tiny, wizened old man hobbled from behind him, leaning heavily on a cane. His shaved head glistened in the morning sun, and he was unadorned, except for a scarlet loin cloth. Behind him, a solitary boy walked, carrying a wooden box. The boy walked with care, eyes focused on the box, as if he was carrying a live and very dangerous animal inside.
“That’s the priest, and his acolyte, for lack of a better term. He carries the oils and the anointing wand.” Daphne placed a hand on Addison’s back. “Don’t be afraid. Like I said, they revere women, provided they believe you are worthy of the battle.”
“Silence!” Xavier’s voice rang out. The entire jungle went still; even the birds above stopped their chatter. He pointed a long finger at Daphne.
“Leave this circle, woman.”
Daphne gave a differential bow, then retreated to the far side of the clearing. She turned, gave a small wave to Addison, and disappeared into the jungle. For a moment Addison’s heart sank. Somehow she thought Daphne would be there with her.
“Come forward.” Xavier’s eyes were steely and cold, and they locked with hers. She took a faltering step forward, then another, her knees threatening to buckle. Above her she felt the headdress dip and shake, throwing off her balance. Behind Xavier she caught sight of men emerging from the jungle and she stopped. It was the clan leaders, and among them was Griffin. She stopped in her tracks.
She would not show weakness in front of this tyrant. If Griffin was willing to risk his life for her, she would stand tall and proud. She would be the mate Griffin needed. She would put a professional distance between her and Xavier, view him dispassionately, as if he were just a specimen under her microscope. With her head held high, she crossed the clearing toward Xavier with a steady gate.
“Stand there.” Xavier pointed to the platform. Addison did as she was told, climbing onto the platform. The priest was being helped onto the platform by the boy, who supported the old man’s weight, his arm under the man’s elbow. The boy and priest were still struggling to gain the platform, and she reached out, taking the old man’s arm. His skin felt like parchment and he weighed no more than a small child. She pulled him onto the platform beside her.
The old man shrieked as if he’d been burned. The boy pulled him violently away from Addison, almost toppling the old man in the process. Addison let go of the man as Xavier rushed toward the platform.
“Do not touch the priest!”
Addison held up her hands, stepping back. “I’m not. I’m not.” She expected Xavier to climb the platform, to pull her away, but he stopped at the edge, the guards a few steps behind him.
Xavier glared at her, before turning his eyes to the priest. He looked past the man to the boy.
“Is he unharmed?”
“He is fine.” The boy’s voice quavered and he kept his eyes lowered.
“Can the ritual continue? Has she defiled the priest with her touch?”
There was a whispered conversation between the boy and the priest in the language she didn’t understand. After many minutes the priest pulled himself upright, apparently coming to a decision, glaring briefly at Addison before turning back to the boy. He spoke rapidly and the boy nodded, straightening to look at Xavier.
“The ritual may continue.”
Xavier heaved a palpable sigh. “Then do so.”
The boy stepped forward, and with gestures, directed Addison where to stand. “Do not touch anyone or anything, especially the priest.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “If the ritual is not followed exactly, it will not work. Do you understand? It will result in death, all our deaths.” He shot a glance at Xavier, and she understood the boy’s meaning.
Addison nodded, not trusting her voice. Xavier had a way of rattling her, no matter how hard her resolve, no matter how dispassionate she tried to be. The boy nodded to the priest, who nodded at Xavier.
“Then proceed.”
The priest stepped forward and the boy hurried to his side, carrying the box. The old man stopped abruptly and the boy slid to a halt beside Addison. He opened the box, turning his head as if he half-expected something to jump out and bite him. He set it gently on the floor, stepping away with obvious relief.
From lowered brows, the priest shot him a fierce look, before reaching into the box and withdrawing a small glass bottle, which was almost hidden in his gnarled hand.
The bottle caught Addison’s attention. Clearly it wasn’t made by the clan. It might have come from the villages, but when the man pulled off a metal cap attached by a chain, Addison gasped. It looked like cut crystal, and was clearly antique. She leaned forward for a closer look. In doing so, she caught a whiff of the old man. He smelled of incense and old blood, a disagreeable smell, and she made a face.
“Stand back! Can you not listen, woman?” Xavier rushed to the edge of the platform and she took a step back, expecting him to leap up and strike her. But he came to an abrupt stop, just short of the platform.
He didn’t touch the platform. Neither did the guards. The anthropologist in her rose again, and she thought the platform must be sacred, and Xavier’s touch would contaminate the ritual. So as long as she remained here, she was relatively safe. Ramos’ comments from earlier made sense now, that once the ritual started, Xavier would be unable to attack Griffin.
That would account for Daphne’s assertion she felt revered. She was, and Addison would be, as long as they were on the platform. They were put on the proverbial pedestal.
Addison couldn’t help herself from breathing in sharply, which garnered a glare from the priest. He’d opened several glass vials, setting them in the recesses of the box. Addison thought the box and glass vials might have belonged to a ship’s surgeon, holding tinctures or herbs. Wherever they came from, they were beautiful.
The priest had now withdrawn a brilliant red feather. He dipped it into one of the vials, the tip of the feather holding a single drop of oil. He motioned to the boy, who stepped forward.
“Please.” He held out one hand and she stepped forward. “Like this.” He took her hands, turning them palm up. The priest swooped in with his feather, tracing a line of oil across her palms.
She let the boy manipulate her, turning her as the priest continued dipping his feather into the oils, brushing it across various parts of her body, her head, and across her face, the tops of her breasts. Daphne had been right; the oils were intoxicating, the scents lush and deep. In a distant part of her mind she wondered if there was an aphrodisiac quality to the scent, not for her, but for the shifters.
&nb
sp; The boy finally turned her back to the front of the platform, picked up the box as if it were a live snake, and stepped away. The priest withdrew a small rattle from his loincloth and began shaking it, shuffling around her as he did. He began a chant, a low mumble of words she didn’t understand.
As he circled her, the clan leaders began emerging from the jungle, moving gracefully around the edge of the circle. Ramos had mentioned masks, but he hadn’t mentioned the rest of their costumes.
Each man wore an elaborate headdress, tall feathers shimmering and shaking in the sun. resembling hers, but far more resplendent. The masks were made of smaller black feathers, covering their eyes, coming to a peak over their noses. They wore scarlet loincloths, and nothing else. They started moving in a circle around the platform, slowly at first, all eyes focused on her.
The priest turned away from her, shaking his rattle over the men as they passed in front of him. Addison noted that Xavier was outside the circle, and as the priest’s voice rose, and he shook the rattle with more force, Xavier stepped back even further, until he was almost hidden in shadows of the jungle.
The rattling came to an abrupt halt, the old man’s words trailing off to a deep mumble. Then the boy helped him down, and he disappeared from her view and her thoughts.
The men were still circling the platform, and now that the priest had left, their pace picked up, their feet stamping the ground in a slow rhythmic cadence. It was hypnotic, and she found herself lost in the colors of the feathers, the flash of dark eyes behind the masks, their skin already slicked with sweat beneath the midday sun.
Addison realized her heart was beating in time with the sound of the men’s feet hitting the ground. It wasn’t an accident, she was certain. It was becoming harder and harder to control her emotions, knowing that these men were there because of her, and what this ritual symbolized.
Belatedly, she thought of Griffin. He was one of those men now dancing in front of her. She shook her head. There was something in the oils; it was making her fuzzy-headed and that was the last thing she wanted.
She focused on each man as he passed in front of her. They were moving faster now, spinning as they danced, moving with a fluid intensity, muscles flexing, skin shining in the sun. Their headdresses shook, the feathers dipping and dancing, catching the light. It was a show of strength, of endurance, of keeping pace with the next man.
The men were breathing faster, and she could hear them. Then the wind shifted and she caught their rich, powerful, and deeply masculine scent, and whether it was the oils or not, she was suddenly and completely aroused.
She realized the men were changing their dance, their moves becoming more deliberate, footfalls slowing. The dance was becoming something else, not a show of strength, but a show for her. For an insane moment, she remembered her cousin’s bachelorette party and the male stripper who had been hired. Daphne was right; rubbish did pop into your head at the oddest times.
The men were moving in a slow circle now, knees bent, thigh muscles taut, hips rocking in a not-so-subtle way. It was arousing and it was having the desired effect on her. And, she thought, on the men.
The dance had reached a fever pitch, the men swaying seductively, their upper bodies slick with sweat, hips thrusting forward. It was blatant, sexual, erotic. And she was enthralled by them.
Something caught her attention, the movement of one of the dancers subtly different from the rest, and strangely familiar. She focused on him and it hit her: it was Griffin. She gasped, began to smile, and then remembered Ramos’s warning.
Her eyes locked with his and he gave her the slightest nod. She had no way of knowing if he’d been part of the circle all along, or if he’d slipped in after the ritual started. But it didn’t matter. He was here.
It took all her willpower, but before she gave his presence away, she pulled her eyes from his, looking at any other man. In the passing circle she thought she recognized Ramos’s lean form, and possibly Kade’s cocky strut. But there were too many men and she lost track of them.
Griffin was out of her line of sight and she tried counting the men, guessing when he’d be in front of her again. But before she could find him, the boy and the priest broke through the circle to stand in front of her. He shouted and the men froze, straightening slowly, eyes locked on the small man.
She didn’t understand the words, but she knew what he’d commanded. The men began removing headdresses, tossing them aside. Loin cloths began dropping, and it was clear the men were just as affected by the dance as she was. None of them showed the least bit of embarrassment, standing naked before her, their arousal very obvious.
Beyond the circle, she saw Xavier step forward, guards hesitating behind him. He wore a dark scowl, and she knew he must have seen Griffin, but the ritual was still in progress and he was helpless to do anything.
The priest shouted another command, and then sliced his way out of the circle, the boy practically carrying him. He disappeared into the jungle, and Addison decided his duties for the day were finished.
Her attention went back to the men. They stood for a moment, eyes on her, and then in unison they began to shift into jaguar form.
It had been dark when she’d watched Griffin shift, but she recalled the fluidity with which he changed. Now, watching this group, she was mesmerized again as the men shifted. But it was too many for her to focus on any one man. It was a kaleidoscope of skin melting into fur, a tangle of arms and legs resolving into front and back legs, claws and fangs.
She found herself ringed by a group of jet-black jaguars, slowly circling her, eyes locked with hers. Frantically, she sought out those piercing green eyes belonging to Griffin, but she couldn’t find him.
Xavier stepped forward, scanning the group, brows drawn down into a dark frown. The shifters moved restlessly, their energy barely contained. Hisses and snarls broke out among them and Addison knew they were poised to fight.
“Start the ritual.” Xavier’s voice carried across the clearing. Addison looked up, catching the man’s eyes. This wasn’t the ritual; this was Xavier’s test of the men. No wonder the priest had left.
The jaguars broke the circle, pairs and groups moving apart, forming and reforming. It was an intricate dance, but a dangerous one. Addison spun, looking for Griffin, and Kade.
She spotted them on the far side of the clearing, the other shifters giving them a wide berth. They circled each other like boxers, sizing up the other, coiled and tense, ready to lunge. Griffin was leaner, longer, taller, but Kade probably outweighed him. He was stocky, low to the ground, broad chested.
Griffin made the first move, dropping low, snarling as he tore at Kade’s belly with a swipe of his paw. The other jaguar jumped, twisted, spun away from Griffin. Kade turned, claws slicing into Griffin’s shoulder. Addison cried out as Griffin stumbled.
But he recovered quickly, teeth bared, growling, tail held low and lashing the ground. Addison saw blood glistening on his dark pelt and she wondered how deep the gashes were. There was no limp, but she knew he had to be in pain.
Kade pressed forward, crouched low and even Addison knew he was going to strike. But even so, he was lightning fast. Griffin rolled away, coming quickly to his feet.
But Kade had misjudged, or didn’t believe he could miss, and his momentum carried him past Griffin, his front legs scrabbling on the ground, kicking up grass and dirt.
Griffin was right there, jumping, landing on Kade’s back, driving his chest into the ground. Kade struggled but Griffin held him down, jaws snapping above the downed jaguar.
The snap and crunch of teeth meeting bone sent a shiver through Addison. Griffin had his jaws clamped onto the back of Kade’s neck.
Kade snarled, his head twisting around, snapping futilely at Griffin. Griffin twisted his head, and the snarl turned into a scream.
Even pinned, with Griffin on him, fangs sunk deep into his flesh, Kade struggled against the pain and weight, pushing up on his front legs. Griffin struggled to remain in
control, but it was clear the jaguar was gaining his feet.
At the last moment Griffin jumped off, springing away, landing light on his feet. The jaguars locked eyes as Kade drew ragged breaths, head hanging, mouth open. Addison saw a thin trail of blood running from his mouth, dripping onto the dirt.
They resumed circling each other, Griffin limping visibly. The blood had seeped down his leg, and each footstep left a bloody print on the ground.
Addison glanced away at the rest of the jaguars. By comparison they seemed passive, circling each other gingerly, eyes watching not each other but Kade and Griffin. She wished she could find Ramos, but it was impossible.
A ferocious growl began behind her and she spun around in time to watch Griffin throw himself at Kade. Kade rolled away and as he did, his front leg gave way, and his vulnerable underbelly was exposed.
Griffin seemed to alter his course mid-jump, claws tearing at Kade’s flesh, his jaws clamped onto Kade’s throat. Kade snarled, the sound dissolving into a gurgle as Griffin bore down on him.
Addison saw how deep the gashes were across Kade’s stomach, three deep rents exposing muscle and viscera. The wounds were fatal, no doubt, but he still struggled against Griffin.
But the grip on his throat was suffocating him, and he began struggling uncontrollably, legs thrashing uselessly in the air. Griffin pushed Kade further onto his back. Kade’s struggles grew weaker, stiffening suddenly. With a final jerk, he went still.
Griffin held on for a few minutes, gradually letting go of Kade’s limp body. He stepped back, panting, watching Kade. Then he turned, looked at Addison and let loose a cry that told the gathering he’d defeated his challenger.
Xavier strode forward to the edge of the circle, glaring at the jaguars who had stopped fighting. Griffin advanced toward Xavier, tail held low, lips pulled back in a snarl.
“You were banished. This ritual has been defiled. It does not stand.” He swept his arm over the gathering. “You will fight, until one emerges.”
On The Move Page 3
