Fantasy

by Christine Feehan

  The glass reflected back her image as a mirror might. The strange heaviness was on her again, a burning that pooled low and wicked in her body, throbbing and demanding relief. It was even stronger than the last time, as if a wave of sexual hunger gripped her, settled in her, demanded satisfaction. Maggie leaned closer to peer into the glass, inspecting her body. Her skin was unmarred, smooth and inviting.

  Separated only by a thin pane of glass, Brandt’s breath stilled in his body. She was so enticing with her innocent eyes and sultry mouth. Her body was made to be touched, to be enjoyed. Made for him. His heart thundered out a savage beat and his body shuddered with anticipation.

  He could almost feel the texture of her skin, soft and inviting. He knew the way their bodies would come together in frantic heat, in a firestorm of passion and hunger. When she moved, her body was a seductive invitation, her full breasts drawing his heated gaze. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin so that she glistened like the petals of a flower after a rain. He locked his muscles to keep from leaping through the window and lapping at every inch of exposed skin. He wanted to suckle her lush breasts, feel her fiery heat surround him. He wanted to be buried deep inside of her. He had so many plans, each more erotic than the last, and looking at her, he vowed to have her in every way possible. Drawn by the sight of her body unveiled to him, he pressed closer, his eyes gleaming gold in the dark.

  Strangely, Maggie felt eyes on her, watching her. The impression was so strong she stepped even closer to the window. She doubted if any human would be out standing on the balcony in the deluge, especially with a panther near. Yet the feeling persisted that her lover had arrived and he waited for her. Wanted her. Was desperate for her. The feeling was strong, overwhelming, as if she could feel his savage hunger beating at her in her mind. His eyes were caressing every inch of her body.

  Her hands moved up her narrow rib cage on the path she wanted him to take. She cupped the weight of her breasts in her hands, an offering, a blatant temptation. She needed to feel him touching her, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks. Maggie’s skin was hot and flushed, her body aching for release. When she moved, it was a sensual flow of muscles and curves, her hands following the lines of her body, drawing attention to the fiery triangle of curls at the junction of her legs.

  Her thighs felt smooth, her hips rounded. She ached for her lover to find her, to come to her, to touch her skin and find every secret place on her body. Her long hair fell around her like a silken cloak, strands sliding over her breasts and back as she moved, caressing her breasts and buttocks. The sensation caused her body to clench tightly in reaction, her blood to thicken and her breath to grow labored.

  Maggie placed her hands on the glass pane. She wanted. She hungered. For whom she didn’t know, but the feeling was strong in her. And it wasn’t sweet or pleasant. The erotic images dancing in her head were rough and consuming, not of a gentle, considerate lover, but one taking her in a wild frenzy of lust, of elemental, savage desire.

  The pictures in her head bewildered her and she turned away from the window. Maggie padded barefoot to the shower, hoping to wash away the strange ideas in her head. The strange sensations in her body. She wasn’t at all prepared for the way the tropical forest affected her, and she just wanted it to go away.

  The water was cool on her skin. Maggie closed her eyes and savored the feel of it, the way it seemed to absorb into her tissues and pores. She was exhausted, wanting only to sleep, yet the fever in her blood was strong. A force of nature. She leaned against the wall of the shower and allowed the water to cascade over her breasts, massaging the terrible ache. If she belonged in this wild, primitive setting, did it mean the reaction of her body would never go away? Maggie patted her body dry, leaving some of the cooling water to dry beneath the fans.

  She lay on the bed in the dark, listening to the rain. Outside her window the wind blew, and unfamiliar sounds of the jungle penetrated the walls of the house. She lay still with her heart beating in tune to the rain. She could feel the sheet beneath her skin. She found herself rubbing her body along the material, wanting to feel every inch of her skin touching it. She rolled seductively, stretched, came up on her hands and knees to push her bottom up in the air. All the while she throbbed and burned and nothing she did gave her relief.

  Brandt watched as she was caught in the throes of the sexual heat of their race. She was the most sensuous creature he had ever seen. His body was on fire, painful, as she moved against the sheets. He watched her fingers move over skin that belonged to him. Touch places that were made for him. A snarl escaped, a low moan of hunger. The lust, the need was so strong he no longer cared about honor, about the future. He would have her tonight. Now. There would be no waiting.

  And then she buried her face in the pillow and wept as if her heart were breaking. The sound stopped him cold. He stared at her, seeing her easily in the dark, and felt her fears, her loneliness. Felt her confusion and humiliation for things she couldn’t hope to control or understand. He hadn’t thought what changing her life so drastically would do to her, only what it would do for him. He crouched on the balcony and listened while she cried herself to sleep. Unexpectedly, his heart nearly shattered.

  3

  Maggie dreamt of a man’s soothing voice. Of comforting arms. Of fur sliding sensuously next to her skin. Over her skin. Of padding through the darkened forest on four legs, not two. Of behaving outrageously, seductively, rolling and crouching to entice a male to her. She dreamt of torches flashing and the sound of gunshots. She dreamt of a man with a scent that filled her with longing.

  She woke in late afternoon, her body sprawled naked, tangled in the sheet, with the memories of strange, disjointed dreams etched clearly in her mind. She became aware of sensation first, then sound. The raucous calls of birds. The hum of insects. The chattering of monkeys. The rain.

  It was already humid and the fans were whirling to provide a semblance of relief from the sultry air. She turned her head toward the window and was surprised to find mosquito netting surrounding her bed. She reached out idly, not quite all the way awake, and pulled the netting to one side. She found herself blinking up at the most compelling, mesmerizing eyes she’d ever seen. Molten gold. Liquid. Hypnotic.

  Her heart jumped and then began to pound out a rhythm of joy. Her small teeth bit into her lower lip. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came in a rush. He was the most physically intimidating man she had ever seen. She lay paralyzed, unable to move. She could only stare at him helplessly, shock mixing with a strange excitement.

  Brandt pushed the netting into the corner, his gaze sliding possessively over her body. The sheet was tangled around her, revealing more than it hid. Her silken hair spilled around the pillow, a spun reddish-gold that matched the thatched curls peeking at him from the shadow between her legs. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his mouth. “I wanted to make certain you were all right. It occurred to me it wasn’t safe leaving you alone in an unfamiliar house in the middle of a rain forest, so I stayed to protect you. I’m Brandt Talbot.” One rounded breast was tantalizing him, drawing his heated gaze no matter how much he tried to impose discipline on himself.

  Maggie felt the brush of flames from the burning intensity of his eyes as he looked at her body. With a small gasp of alarm, she sat up, dragging the sheet over her. “Good heavens, I don’t have any clothes on!”

  His perfectly sculpted mouth curved gently into a small smile. “I noticed.”

  “Well, don’t notice.” Holding the sheet up to her neck with one hand, she imperiously pointed toward the door with the other. He was the most alluring man she had ever seen. His hair was long and thick, jet-black, shiny enough to make her want to run her hands through it. Given the way she had been feeling the night before, she wasn’t altogether certain it was safe for him to be in her bedroom. Especially when she was naked. “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs in the kitchen.”

  His smile widened into a melting grin. “I b
rought you up food.” He pulled a silver tray from atop the dresser and placed it on the bed. “I don’t mind your state of…er…undress. It livens up the place.”

  She blushed, color creeping up her neck. There was fruit on the tray, a glass of cold juice, a mug of hot tea, and a colorful orchid. The flower was fresh. Exquisite. What kind of man would think to bring her something so beautiful on her first awakening in the rain forest? She stared from the tray to his masculine good looks. The man was all muscle, rippling biceps and wide shoulders. His eyes were mesmerizing, a burning intensity Maggie was lost in the moment their gazes met. She had never seen eyes like his before on a man. His eyes belonged on a creature of the jungle, a hunter, focused and intent on prey. Yet he had thought to bring her a flower on a silver tray of food.

  Maggie looked hastily away from his eyes before she was lost forever in their mysterious depths. Lost forever in the contrast between predator and poet.

  “I don’t think this place needs livening up,” she murmured, trying not to gape at him. There was no way she was going to try to eat fruit stark naked in bed with him staring at her with his sinful eyes. He was robbing her of speech. Of breath. Of good sense. Her entire body came alive with him in the room. It wasn’t safe. That was all there was to it. “Really, you just wait downstairs and I’ll be right down.”

  His gaze moved over her. Hot. Possessive. She held her breath. His look alone could send her body into meltdown.

  His white teeth flashed briefly, leaving her with the impression of a predator as his smile faded. “I’ll be waiting, Maggie,” he said quietly as he left the room. His voice was low, compelling. A tone that seemed to seep through her pores to heat her blood. He had a voice, a body, eyes, and a mouth that were too sensually sinful, and she was afraid of succumbing to his blatant sex appeal in her present state. Fortunately, he had sounded a bit too aggressive. Too arrogant. There was something proprietary in his tone that set her teeth on edge. It was almost as if he had rubbed her fur the wrong way.

  Maggie laughed aloud at the analogy. She was in the forest a day, but already she was embracing the wildlife. She tossed back the sheet and hurried to the bathroom. Brandt Talbot had the keys to every door in her house. The bar on the front door hadn’t even slowed him down. She should be grateful to the man for being so concerned about her. He had slept in the house with her.

  Had he come to her room in the middle of the night? Had he crept into her dreams with his amazing voice? She tried to reach for the elusive memories but all she could really think about was the way she had been on fire, the way she had needed to be touched, to be stroked. Had he seen her like that? The idea made her burn inside and out.

  She stared at herself in the mirror, wanting to see if she looked as different as she felt. For the first time she noticed how incredibly large her green eyes were. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks in the light of day, protecting her eyes from the bright glare of daylight, although there was little sun. She stared, wondering at the illumination of her vivid green eyes as she spread toothpaste onto her brush. Her heart stopped, slamming hard in her chest, as she exposed her small white teeth. Sharpened canines gleamed at her, a wicked addition to her delicate looks.

  Maggie covered her mouth, frightened, of the strange illusion. It had to be an illusion. Very slowly she took her hand away and stared at her exposed teeth. They were perfectly straight. Perfectly normal. She was losing her mind. Maybe Jayne had been right and she didn’t belong in such a primitive setting. She had loved the thought of it for so long, maybe she was just too susceptible. On the other hand, it was the only time in her life she would be able to learn about her parents. She had never been a timid woman, or a nervous one. She had no fear of traveling on her own. She was well versed in martial arts and had confidence in herself in a tight situation, although here, in the wild forest, she felt so different, so unlike Maggie Odessa. Yet it wasn’t in her to run.

  She dressed with care, as lightly as possible. The humidity was oppressive. Her hair was twisted into a neat French braid and pinned to the top of her head like a crown. It left her neck bare. She found her lace bra and matching panties, scraps of material she hoped wouldn’t rub against her skin in the heavy cloying air. She was not making the same mistake twice, being caught without her bra in the middle of a tropical rainstorm.

  She had very little time to research her parents’ history. She was determined to make every moment count. As she ran down the stairs, she prepared a mental list of questions for Brandt Talbot.

  Brandt stood up as she entered the kitchen, and every single word in her head melted away. Scattered. Dissipated so that she just stood in the doorway staring at him. He made her weak. Actually weak when she looked at him. Maggie feared if she tried to speak she might stammer. His effect was overpowering.

  He smiled at her, and a thousand butterfly wings brushed at the pit of her stomach. As he came toward her, he moved in absolute silence, not even his clothing daring to rustle. He took her breath away. Maggie had never been so susceptible to anyone before and it was exceedingly uncomfortable.

  She forced an answering smile. “Thank you for spending the night in the house with me. I really wouldn’t have been so foolish as to try to take a walk around the grounds but it’s nice to know someone was worried.” Self-consciously she seated herself in the high-backed chair he held out for her. “I suppose you have the keys to the house?”

  “Yes, of course. I reside here most of the time. The forest has a way of reclaiming what belongs to it very quickly. The creeper vines wind beneath the eaves if I don’t stay alert.” He sat facing her at the end of the table.

  Maggie watched his strong fingers find a mango wedge and bring it to his mouth. Strong teeth bit down. Her entire body clenched in response. She forced herself to look away from him. “Can you tell me anything about my parents? I was adopted at the age of three and really don’t remember anything at all.”

  Brandt watched her expressive face, the conflicting emotions chasing across it. Maggie was fighting her attraction to him, determined to ignore it. She was much more potent up close. The chemistry between them sizzled and arced so that the very air around them was electric. “All of us in the forest know of your parents, Maggie,” he said softly, watching her closely. The mango tasted sweet, the juice trickling down his throat like the finest wine, but it couldn’t take her place. She would taste sweeter, more intoxicating.

  “Tell me then.” She took a cautious sip of the juice and was instantly entranced. It was a nectar she couldn’t identify, but her mouth absorbed her first sip as if parched for the taste. Embers smoldering in the pit of her stomach leapt to life, spread like a living flame through her bloodstream. The hand holding the glass trembled.

  Brandt leaned closer, his fingertips brushing back a tendril of hair as it escaped from her upswept crown. His touch lingered, sent flames dancing over her skin to match the building conflagration inside of her. “The taste is unique, isn’t it?” His lean, strong fingers closed over hers, brought the glass to her lips. “Drink, Maggie, drink all of it.” His voice was husky, seductive, a tantalizing invitation to a feast of pleasure.

  She wanted to resist. There was something in him that frightened her even as he attracted her. A power, the possessive way he touched her. Maggie was certain she was placing herself in his control, but the scent of the nectar enveloped her, tempted her. One strong hand was at her nape, his fingers curling around her neck, making her all too aware of his strength. He tilted the glass and the golden liquid slid down her throat. Fire blossomed in her, pooled low, and burned out of control.

  Panicked, Maggie jerked her head back, her green gaze meeting his. He was so much closer than she had thought, the heat of his body seeping into her. She couldn’t look away, hypnotized as he brought the glass to his own mouth. His lips settled intimately over the exact spot where her lips had touched. He tilted the contents down his throat, all the while holding her gaze with his own.

  Her lungs burned for a
ir. She watched his throat work, watched as he caught a drop of amber liquid on his fingertip and deliberately carried it to her mouth. Before she could stop herself, her tongue darted out, swirled along his finger, absorbing the taste of him along with the nectar. For one moment her mouth was tight around his finger, sucking on his flesh, her tongue dancing and teasing provocatively. Maggie could feel her body dampening, burning with sudden hunger. Her hips moved restlessly and she ached for relief.

  Brandt inhaled sharply, caught the enticing scent of her invitation. It nearly drove him crazy. He was half-mad for her already. The sensation of her mouth, hot and moist, tight around his finger, made him as hard as a rock. It was an easy enough step for his body to know what it would feel like to have his mate give the same attention to his heavy erection. His hand tightened possessively around her neck, he bent his head closer.

  Maggie abruptly pulled away, nearly tumbling out of the chair as she hastily backed away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Tears burned in her throat, glittered in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please go.” She had never, at any time in her life, ever acted in such a manner. And Brandt Talbot was a complete stranger. No matter how much his scent and looks attracted her, no matter how right he felt, he was a stranger.

  “Maggie, you don’t understand.” Brandt stood also, stalking her across the expanse of the kitchen. His body was compact, muscular, and he reminded her of a great jungle cat, ropes of rippling muscles, power and coordination.