Into the Heart 3: Into the Wild

by Caitlyn Willows

  True, though Cristían had been too wrapped up in his own quest to think about the religious significance to both their peoples—jaguar and mountain lion. Considering everything the jaguar had been through, it was hard for Cristían to believe in unseen gods anymore.

  One thing both clans had in common was the belief they were born of star dust. Jeremy's linking their ancestral origins with impact craters on Earth seemed to support that. Now he was trying to prove otherwise.

  “And you—” Barry thrust that scolding finger at him. Cristían fought the urge to snap it in two. “If they knew what you were doing. Good gods, Cristían, you're trying to clone Rose!”

  He bowed his head. Lupe braced her paws against Cristían's chest and butted her nose against his. He scooped her into his arms and let her cuddle him. He loved the feel of her soft fur between his fingers. It reminded him of Rose's when she shifted—soft, thick. Of the old days when their biggest worry was planning the next celebration of life.

  Barry dropped his hand on Cristían's shoulder. “I miss her too. You know that. But this is wrong, especially now that the rest of our people have moved on to new relationships.” He might as well have said leprosy; his tone implied it.

  Cristían shrugged off his touch and set Lupe on her feet. She sauntered over to see Jeremy. “I haven't moved on.”

  “Then what do you call Frieda?” He jerked his thumb toward the stairs that led up into the main house. “Much as I dislike our association with these shifters, I certainly don't want us all to come to blows over a love affair gone wrong. If she's only a diversion for you, end it now, before things get out of control.”

  Cristían squared his shoulders and faced the shorter man. “I can't. I need Frieda. If I'm successful, Rose will need a compatible host body. With her feline-shifter traits, Frieda fits that role to perfection.”

  Barry's eyes bugged out. “Gods of hell, Cristían! You're no better than a skinwalker!”

  Rage boiled up inside him. They'd fought that entity for years—an evil directly responsible for the genocide of Cristían's clan. There was no greater insult. Cristían's claws extended as his hands morphed into his black jaguar form. The clink of glass as Jeremy set his work aside cut through his anger. A moment later, he felt Jeremy's heat next to him. The intent was clear—Jeremy was making a stand with him, taking sides. Cristían refused to let his friend's blood spill over words, and fighting among themselves wasn't going to help matters. But Cristían wouldn't stand there and be insulted either.

  He willed himself to shift back to human and seated the form in place with a deep breath.

  “Get out,” he told Barry, jerking his chin toward the stairs. “While I'm still able to remember you loved Rose as much as the rest of us.”

  Barry's lip curled. “If you're planning to do this, you've already forgotten.” A crisp pivot carried him away. His soft soles tapped on the linoleum, then scuffed up the stairs. Barry's gaze was locked on his cell phone as he punched in numbers, most likely to tattle to Wyatt and Joaquin. The door at the top opened and banged shut.

  Blessed silence filled the lab. Cristían pulled in the strands of peace Jeremy and Lupe offered, shoved aside a sudden headache at the base of his skull, and returned to his experiment. Static arced from his fingers to the stainless steel table. Cristían muttered a curse and jerked his hand back. Slender bolts of electricity spread across the table and everything on it before it finally dissipated.

  “What the hell…” One stride brought Jeremy to his side. “That shouldn't have happened.”

  A loud pop cut in before Cristían could reply.

  He and Jeremy swung their gazes to the reenergized liquid at Jeremy's workstation. It swirled, sizzled, and grew with every millisecond. Pop turned to bang, and it doubled in size. Sparks shot upward, showering miniature fireworks everywhere. Some kissed the floor spill. The droplets came to life. Spiral bands spread out and began to rotate counterclockwise. Lupe growled and backed away, one foot at a time. Her fur shimmered where the solution had splashed her earlier. And the mass in the beaker continued to grow, to pulse in time with the bands on the floor and the remnants dampening Lupe's fur.

  Gods, what had they created? It looked like the thing was communicating with all its parts!

  “Uh-oh,” Jeremy muttered.

  Not something one wanted to hear in a lab.

  “I think we need to get the hell out of here.” Jeremy scooped Lupe up in one arm. He grabbed his laptop in the other hand, leaving the cords behind while he kept one eye on the out-of-control experiment.

  Cristían did the same, shoving as many of the petri dishes as possible into the pockets of his lab coat and praying he could get them to safety without breaking them. Then he stacked the vials on the laptop. They were the last part of Rose he possessed. He clutched the vials and the computer to his chest and spun around for the stairs.

  Time slowed. Each step felt weighted. The roar built. Then the flash—gold, purple, beautiful. Breathtaking beauty, earsplitting noise, and then…nothing.

  Chapter Two

  Too many thoughts crowded into Jeremy's spinning head. He couldn't grab one long enough to analyze it.

  “Cristían?” His friend's name echoed in his mind, but he couldn't get a sound past his throat.

  Am I dead? Weight pressed on his chest, making breathing difficult. He stared up at the twisted remains of the suspended ceiling, mesmerized by the fact that there was still light. A blast like that should have taken out the electricity.

  Then he looked out the corner of his eye. The light was coming from outside the lab area. The other rooms in the huge basement seemed to be safe, though, and since the house hadn't caved in on them, that meant it stood as well. Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed.

  Then why couldn't he move?

  “Cristían?”

  Still no voice. The explosion must have deafened him. Everything felt muffled, like he was underwater. He could have screamed and not have heard it. Panic set in at the thought of being permanently deaf. He tamped it down. That might be the least of his problems.

  Why couldn't he catch a good breath? His skin crawled, and his heart raced a mile a minute. What the hell had he done? If he'd killed Cristían…

  His vision shimmered. Tears. Jeremy's fear lessened. He had to be alive. Dead people didn't cry, did they?

  “Cristían!”

  Definitely no sound. He would have felt the vibration in his throat. Damn it, why the hell couldn't he talk? Oh shit… Was he paralyzed? That's why he couldn't breathe, why his arms and legs and everything else felt like he was in a vise—squeezing, releasing. Tears trickled from his eyes and settled in his ringing ears.

  Stop it! He couldn't let panic overwhelm him. Paralyzed meant he wouldn't feel anything, and Jeremy could damn well feel. He just couldn't move, talk, or breathe.

  Trapped. Yes, I'm trapped under something. Not that it made him feel much better, but at least his fear ebbed. Barry would have heard the blast and gotten help. The hovering pain in the ass was finally good for something. All Jeremy needed to do was hang in there. Which would be a lot easier to accomplish if he knew Cristían was all right.

  He focused on moving his hand, trying to feel for obstructions. It felt four times heavier than normal. He couldn't get his fingers to work. Everything felt…squishy beneath his hand.

  Oh God, a body? Lupe? He'd had the cat cradled in one arm before the accident, his laptop in the other. There was no way either could have survived. Damn, he loved that cat.

  He forced his hand to move again. Pain sliced through his palm. He jerked away from the shards of glass. He could move! It'd be great if he could have heaved a sigh of relief to go along with that revelation.

  Jeremy slid his hand to his stomach, hoping he could find and remove whatever was on top of him. It was soft and warm. A body? Panic rushed in.

  Too light to be Cristían. Too heavy to be Lupe. He refused to entertain any possibility that it might be a part of Cristían
.

  Gut wound?

  No no no!

  Frowning, Jeremy focused his attention once more on moving his left hand. His fingers tingled with that pins-and-needles feeling, as if they'd been asleep. He waited for the feeling to subside. It grew instead, crawling up his arm, over his shoulders, and down the other side. His arms felt like they were swelling, compressing…like he was being squeezed by a giant. His vision shimmered again, golden this time, with not a tear in sight. Like a mist surrounded him. Or magic.

  Or the other side?

  Jeremy let the thought remain. It wasn't so bad after all. A part of him longed to escape his body, and he realized that's what was trying to break free. His soul wanted to soar. All he had to do was let go.

  Beautiful. So beautiful.

  Weight eased from his chest and torso. He could breathe now. A chill shuddered over him. He missed the warmth. Something brushed over his stomach. Hair. Soft, silky.

  Where were his lab coat and T-shirt? As soon as that thought occurred, small hands pushed both items farther up his torso. A hot tongue rasped over his ribs. Jeremy tried to move. His body refused to cooperate.

  More licks followed the path of each rib and stroked his nipples. His cock recognized the action long before his brain kicked in. He was being loved. And damn, it felt good! God, it'd been a year since he'd had sex. He'd been too absorbed with work and uncovering the mysteries of the world to nurture a relationship. Too focused on actually using the intelligence he'd been born with, rather than squander it. Too thankful at the second chance the universe had granted him to waste it chasing sex.

  And God, how he'd missed it! Jeremy didn't realize it until this moment. The touch of another, sweet and caring. He hadn't lied to Barry—his hand had been more than sufficient. How could he have been so foolish to think he didn't need human contact? He'd gone from one extreme to the other—lazy, woman-chasing bum to reclusive genius. Until Cristían, he hadn't developed any friendships, and he'd had no real ones before. No one wanted an irresponsible asshole for a friend, and women wanted him only for the size of his cock. So had more than a few men. All had the same goal—to see if his dick was really as big as rumor claimed and if it could fit in their bodies. The answer to both was a resounding yes! and Jeremy had no problem pounding it in wherever and whenever they wanted.

  It was a sad way to live. Jeremy was glad he'd finally seen the light and changed his ways. If he lost Cristían and that little cat…

  “Cristían!”

  Jeremy tried to call out again. The attempt choked off as a tongue dived under the waistband of his jeans. His cock lengthened, searching for the source of heaven. Long hair tickled over his stomach; his muscles rippled under the caress. Those small hands again—a woman's hands—curled into the waistband and tugged. When they went no farther than his hip bones, she stopped.

  He managed to stare down his nose. Her long hair was a riot of color—black and red, with some white thrown in. Quizzical sage green eyes stared at his swollen crotch.

  A human Lupe? Impossible! Now Jeremy knew he was hallucinating. That was the only logical explanation. Hurt from the explosion, paralyzed, clearly in shock, hovering on the brink of life and death, and he'd conjured up a hot nude woman who looked like the human version of Lupe. If he were on his way out, heading for the great beyond, the other side, whatever, well then, he was going to enjoy this last fantasy before he went.

  The woman—Lupe—drew back and pressed her hand against his cock. Again and again and again. Like he was a fucking pop-up toy. The pressure was killing him. He would have given just about anything to be able to move, to get the zipper down and shove his cock down her throat.

  Not content with her sweet torture, Lupe knelt between his thighs, pressed both hands to his crotch, and kneaded him. She was driving him insane.

  Jeremy snarled. The sound frightened him as much as it did her. She jerked up, head cocked, her fingers poised like claws over his erection. The threat wilted his hard-on, but not for long.

  She quickly discovered his zipper. She flicked the tab a couple of times, then pinched it between thumb and forefinger and pulled.

  He felt every tooth release, and his cock surged into the gap it created. A gap she explored with the tip of her finger. He tried to thrust into the touch… Nothing. He still couldn't move. He was hers to do with as she pleased, and he wished she'd do it now, because he was loving every second. She jammed her hands under the fly button and tugged. Its release earned her smile. She hooked her nails into the waistband again and dragged his clothing down. His cock sprang into blessed freedom. Lupe jumped, her eyes wide and locked on his penis. Then she laughed.

  The sound seemed to surprise her as much as Jeremy's snarl did him. She lifted one hand to her mouth but stopped short to stare at her fingers.

  “I'm…different.” Puzzlement masked her heart-shaped face; then wonder filled her eyes. Fingers fluttered to her lips. “I can speak.” She laughed again and pressed her fingers against her throat. “Speak, speak, speak.” More laughter.

  She stretched her hands in front of her and slowly turned them to study her palms. Her wide-eyed gaze drifted down her arms and to her small, pert breasts. She cupped them, flicking her fingers over the hard nipples.

  Jeremy managed a sigh. He'd once bragged to a woman that he'd die with a hard-on. Little did he realize…

  “I like these.” Her broad smile chased the confusion away. “It feels so good to touch them.”

  And looked so hot, he was ready to die a semihappy man. What sane man wouldn't want to breathe his last watching a woman play with her tits? Even an imaginary woman. Right now she was real enough for him.

  “You like it too, don't you?” Still tugging one nipple, she reached over and tweaked his.

  Jeremy growled, the sound rough and raw in his throat. She leaned closer, her long hair tickling his chest. She flicked her tongue around each nipple, then lapped downward to where his dick wept with anticipation.

  Wiggling between his thighs, she tucked her small breasts against his balls, tripling his agony, and licked the precum away. A year without sex, without any touch save that of his hand, played havoc with Jeremy's control. He listened as she smacked her lips and approved his taste with a soft mmm.

  The pins and needles were back, this time all over his body, tingling, burning, arrowing down to his aching balls. His body undulated from deep inside. Not like he rode the tide, but as if he were the ocean. He closed his eyes against the golden mist. Clenched his jaw when her breath washed over his cock. Jeremy felt her warm lips before they touched him. His cock jerked when she suckled at the base. His balls crawled deep into his body.

  Goddamn, my toes hurt!

  That's what happens when a guy goes so long without sex, an inner voice taunted.

  Jeremy wasn't laughing. It hurt—everything hurt—and yet felt so damn good at the same time. She worked her lips with hot nibbles up to the tip of his cock. His orgasm pooled behind each one. She paused at the crown. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Pain…pleasure.

  Her mouth closed over him. Fire. Ecstasy.

  Jeremy screamed with the force of his orgasm. No…yowled. Everything inside him poured out. Power…strength…fear…panic.

  His eyes flashed open to see that golden mist. The woman backed away, her eyes wide more from curiosity than fear. All he wanted was to drag her back and pound his cock into her. His feet hurt so much. His arms and legs felt crushed. This was it. This was death.

  So unfair, when he'd finally found a real life. God, he was going to miss Cristían. And the real Lupe too. Where were they?

  Let them be okay.

  He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable as another wave of pain overcame him.

  Chapter Three

  A blanket of shimmering stars swaddled Cristían. He was safe and protected, neither warm nor cold—perfect. Who knew death could be so beautiful? But where was the out-of-body experience? There was no feeling of separation from his
body. No watching the scene from the ceiling before fading into the ether world.

  Jeremy…Lupe…

  The force consuming him washed his concern away. Cristían was no longer of the body but of the mind. A void opened at his crown, black and endless. Fear swooped in.

  Skinwalker.

  The word conjured realities born of a million nightmares. An entity that could and did steal the souls and bodies of his people. Would the void clear and Cristían find himself standing in the underground cave with the skeletons of his clan littered before him? Had his clan's final battle with the skinwalkers a year ago extracted one last victim—himself?

  An image of the cenote invaded his head. Cristían couldn't tell if it was real or imagined. A ceiling curved high overhead. An arch above, with holes eroded through from millennia of rain and nature's destruction, let the sunshine beam down into a vast pool of crystal blue water. Crevices in the wall filled the pool, trickling down water like a garden fountain. Pools of water were stair-stepped higher and lower; water so clear, he could see to the rocky bottom ten feet below. Magnificent didn't come close to describing it. How anything so beautiful could house something so evil…

  Cristían shivered against a chill and asked for salvation. The image clicked off. Fear swept away, leaving nothing. All that he was had been wiped clean. A blank slate.

  His essence slipped into the void and hovered at the edge. A new portal expanded before him, deep dark violet, and blossomed into a vast cloud. More peace fell over Cristían—unconditional love and the understanding that went with it. He'd found a home he never realized existed, and he never wanted to leave.

  A gold cloud drifted into the violet. It coalesced into a denser ball and started to spin, until it resembled a small galaxy orbiting a tight, oval path. A path that drew closer to him with every pass. When it reached the edge, the ball plunged through the portal. Cristían saw the gold cloud swell into white light behind his eyes. Petals formed and unfurled. More white light spilled out, radiating with the force of a thousand supernovas.