Heart of the Storm

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I’m going to be your trainer on this mission, Dana. Grandmother has asked me to toughen you up, teach you how to defend yourself with and without weapons. I have five weeks to get you ready for that climb up the cliff to Rogan’s fortress. You must be stealthy, quiet, and energetically invisible, so no one there knows you are in their midst. Your job is to get that pipe back.”

  “I’ll get it done.” Dana winced inwardly. She didn’t sound terribly confident, did she?

  She saw Chase’s scowl deepen. There was such censure and disappointment in his face. Now, he was allowing her to see what he thought of her. And it felt damned uncomfortable.

  “I won’t coddle you during training,” Chase warned. He wanted to goad Dana, to see if she would handle his scalding warning or run. She had to consider seriously her vow to rescue the Storm Pipe. “Once you make the decision to train with me, you belong to me—body, mind and spirit.”

  Clenching her teeth, she sneered at him. “No man owns me. And you sure as hell aren’t going to, either.”

  For once her voice had some fangs in it. That was good. Chase knew, however, that anger would get Dana only so far. “I’m training you just like I was trained. Nothing more or less. Twenty-four hours a day, Ms. Thunder Eagle. For five relentless weeks. There will be no rest. No days off. Nothing is going to be easy. You’re soft and you come from the city. You’re completely deaf to your surroundings. Your eyes might be open, but you don’t see. And as for being trained, I wonder just how good you really are. You should have sensed me and you didn’t.” With a shake of his head, Chase added, “You’re a runner, I know. When things get tough, you stop trying to cope, and you run.”

  “I’ve stopped running,” Dana said, her voice uneven. “And I won’t run from this. I gave Grandmother my word.”

  “And will you give me your word?” He raised his brows and held her defiant gaze. “In our world, your word is your bond. You fulfill it or die trying. You know the story.”

  Yes, she did. Rubbing her chin, Dana said, “I give my word to you, as well. You are my trainer. I accept that. I’ll do my best. And I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Grandmother.”

  Smarting beneath the dark, questioning look in his eyes, Dana found Chase distasteful, threatening and overwhelming. What did she expect in a trainer? She sat there numbly, unable to answer the question. However, it wasn’t someone like this—so hard that he felt like a sledgehammer pounding against her bleeding, wounded heart.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Chase rose in one smooth, fluid motion, to tower over her. She grudgingly stared up at him, sensing his utter masculinity, and trying not to be affected by his hardened body. She took a gulp of her cooling sage tea.

  “Get up,” he ordered.

  Dana found she didn’t take orders well. Still, she remembered her vow to her grandmother—and to him. All this was part of retrieving the Storm Pipe for her people. Setting the mug aside, Dana unwound her legs and stood up, making damn sure she left plenty of space between them. Chase had an aura that throbbed with such vitality and energy she almost felt buffeted by it. Rubbing her hands on her thighs, she said, “What now?”

  “Strip off all your clothes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DANA’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. “What?” The word came out in a strangled tone of disbelief. Tensing, she knotted her hands.

  “I said strip.”

  Panic arced through Dana. “Dude, you’re certifiable. There’s no way I’m stripping for you or any other man,” she said, nailing him with a look of outrage.

  Chase seemed impervious to her reaction. His legs were spread apart, as if he were a boxer getting ready to fight—or perhaps ward off a coming attack. Yeah, she wanted to strike out at his implacable features and those slitted golden eyes.

  “Did you forget your vow so easily?” he taunted.

  “Standing naked in front of you wasn’t part of the bargain!” Dana snapped. She took two steps back, glancing around to make sure the door was open. She badly wanted to slip past this giant of a man and make a run for it.

  “Think again, Dana Thunder Eagle. A student has no rights. Only her teacher does.”

  Fingers folding into fists, Dana hissed, “No man owns me, mister. You sure as hell don’t, even if I am your student!” Her breathing chaotic, Dana felt the alarming threat course through her already tense body. She crouched a bit, as if waiting instinctively for this man to attack her. Would he rip her clothes off her? The look on his face told Dana that he could, and that frightened her. He’d unexpectedly attacked her out on the escarpment, and she felt equally afraid now.

  “I think feminism is dead, sister.” Despite his goading taunt, Chase admired her guts. Dana was right—no man owned a woman. In the old days before the white man’s arrival, women had been equal partners to men, and most tribes were matriarchal by tradition.

  Lifting her chin, Dana held his flat, assessing stare. “I’m a person and I’ll be respected as one. I have to learn certain things from you, but that doesn’t give you the right to humiliate me.” Gulping, Dana tried to force her breathing into a steadier rhythm.

  It was impossible. She felt Chase, sensed his aura and his intent. He wasn’t going to let her get away with this. He was going to strip her, of all things!

  If Dana hadn’t been so shocked by his demand, she might have been able to intuitively pick up some of his hidden intentions toward her. Right now, she just felt a stream of power aimed at her. Chase was going to have his way or else.

  Backing away, she moved toward the door. Tears flooded her eyes. Modesty was a part of Dana’s life. She was a private person, not one to give up anything about herself. No way would she bare her body before this animal!

  “Going to cry?” Chase asked. “Going to run like you always do?”

  Fury and terror sizzled through Dana. She halted midway to the open door, where the blazing desert light flooded into the hogan. Turning toward him, she snarled, “I’m not going to cry and I’m not running.”

  The first was the truth, the second a lie. Chase surely realized that, too, and hopelessness flooded her. She stood uncertainly, flexing her hands. Her feet, meanwhile, itched to dash out the door and down the canyon to her grandmother’s hogan, for protection from this monster who wanted her soul.

  “Running has been a way of life for you,” Chase growled. Seeing the fear in her face, the way her body was tensed and ready for flight, he said, “And you stopped yourself from going out that door.” He pointed in that direction. “That’s good. You might be afraid, but you’re not running now.”

  Blinking, Dana felt herself becoming emotionally unstrung. One moment, Chase was hard as a steel blade cutting through her. The next, there was praise, even warmth, emanating toward her. She felt them now, like an invisible blanket wrapping around her. Instantly, her fear dissolved. The desire to run abated.

  Amazed, she straightened and forced her shoulders back. Could she believe Chase had a soul and heart, after all? Searching his hooded, assessing eyes, she decided that he was sincere. Confused, she rasped, “I don’t know why you’re asking this, your reasons for doing so. And I’m not buying it.”

  “A warrioress doesn’t question her orders.”

  Anger sparked through Dana. “Then just what the hell would a warrioress do in this situation?”

  “Strip. She is a woman who is proud of her body, proud that she is female. There is nothing she wants to hide, because she knows how strong and confident she is. Her body is the vehicle that carries her spirit in this lifetime. She treats it and herself with respect and honor.”

  Chase’s voice was dark and coaxing. Like a reverberation of thunder in the distance, his words seemed to flow from far away until they touched her heart. Carefully studying the look in his eyes, Dana felt his truthfulness. She could find nothing sexual about his statement, nor did she feel it. If she had, she’d have been out that door in a heartbeat.

  Chase was her teacher, but what was he
trying to teach her? Confusion warred with Dana’s natural modesty. She had never stood naked in front of a stranger. It went against her grain in a violent way.

  Her thoughts churning, she realized she knew little about this man. Was he playing mind games with her? To bend her to his will?

  She thought again of Grandma Agnes. Her grandmother would never leave her in the hands of someone who would harm her. That realization suddenly broke the paralyzing fear that bound Dana. Finding her voice, she said, “I…never thought of myself in those terms.”

  “White women are trained to be ashamed of their body. You aren’t white. You’re Indian. Be proud of your lineage. Praise your body by bathing in the warming rays of Father Sun during the day and in the cooling, healing light of the moon at night.”

  Chase saw Dana waver, unsure. “Why do I have to undress before you?” she asked.

  “I want to look at you.”

  Heat stung Dana’s cheeks, and her gaze shifted. But then she gathered up her dissolving courage. “Why?”

  “Students don’t ask questions. They do as they’re instructed. If I decide you should know, then I’ll tell you—afterward. Trust me.”

  Trust. A lump settled in her throat. Chase was so pulverizingly male as he stood there, his copper skin and the firm muscles beneath outlined in the dim light of the hogan. Trust him? She eyed him for a long moment, mulling over his words and gauging the look in his eyes.

  Dana realized obliquely that, as a grade school teacher, one of the first things she strived to establish with children in her class was trust in her. Only, she didn’t ask them to strip. No, her methods were far more subtle.

  Chase wanted the ultimate sign of trust. This was an awful way to test her. If she was to beg him to take back the order, he’d laugh at that sign of her weakness. A warrioress never showed weakness, Dana supposed, even if she felt it.

  A slight breeze entered the hogan and sluggishly stirred the heated air. Finally, she made a decision.

  “All right, if I have to strip, so do you. It’s all or nothing,” she challenged.

  A tight grin stretched across his mouth, as if he liked her unexpected boldness. “Fair enough,” he rumbled.

  Fear arced through Dana. She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so easily—or at all. She watched as his scarred hand moved to the metal button at the waistband of his Levi’s. Gulping against her constricted throat, Dana realized her bluff hadn’t worked.

  Her fingers shook as she placed them around the first mother of pearl button on her blouse. Furrowing her brows, she tried to concentrate on why she was doing this. It was for her grandmother. For her people. And the Blue Heron Society. Dana told herself there was no finer calling than to help her people—and the world—survive something as evil as Rogan Fast Horse.

  Button by button, her blouse opened, until finally, her white silk camisole was exposed. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to feel Chase’s imperious gaze burning into her flesh. Dana refused to look up at him. Leaning down, she untied her boots and pulled them off. The wiry wool of the handwoven rug where she stood tickled her feet.

  Chase watched as Dana undressed, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. She slowly pulled her blouse off her shoulders and dropped it. Then she tugged at the waistband of her jeans and reluctantly eased them downward. The material fell away, revealing her long, curved thighs. She was, indeed, all leg. Well-developed legs that held the promise of great endurance.

  “You ride a horse?”

  Dana’s head snapped upward at his quiet question. She nearly fell over, one foot barely out of her jeans. Steadying herself, she got rid of them. “Yes.” Right now, she wore only silk boxer panties and the camisole. Crossing her arms defensively across her breasts, she tried to steady her breathing. Never had Dana felt more painfully vulnerable.

  Chase had gotten rid of his Levi’s. Gulping, she tried to keep her gaze away from his naked body. But it was impossible. He wore nothing beneath his jeans.

  Oh, Great Spirit! The black hair around his maleness accentuated his potency as a man. Dana’s eyes scanned down his hard thighs to his knotted calves and wide, broad feet. A strangled breath churned in her tight throat as she forced her gaze back up to his unreadable face.

  She didn’t find laughter in his eyes. That was good. Right now, in her nearly naked state, she couldn’t stand to be made fun of by this man. And he seemed completely oblivious to his own nakedness.

  “How often do you ride?” Chase demanded.

  “Three times a week. More,” Dana said, “if I get the chance.”

  “Your thighs show it. That’s good. Keep stripping.”

  Chagrined, she tensed as he rasped out the order. Why was Chase doing this to her? To humiliate or humble her? To make her admit he was master and she was truly his slave? All the possible answers grated against her feminist mentality.

  Clenching her teeth, Dana jerked off the camisole and flung it aside. Off came the silk boxers. Glaring, she lifted her chin, hating Chase. The breath was sucked out of her. His eyes weren’t hard or merciless any longer as he studied her in the thick, tense silence. Then he nodded briskly, his gaze like fire scorching her naked flesh.

  Dana tried to inspect him just as he was her. The rugged planes of Chase’s body gleamed like polished copper. Each set of well-developed muscles flowed smoothly into the next. Her gaze flitted across his barrel chest, devoid of hair, to the corrugated ridges of his abdomen. Trying to avoid eyeing his obvious maleness hanging between his hard thighs, she gulped convulsively. His masculinity was daunting. Threatening. And calling to her.

  Challenged by the fact that she could feel her nipples hardening beneath his merciless gaze, Dana closed her eyes. When would this humiliation be over? Every second seemed to drag on like a slug crossing a dry rock.

  She heard him move. Or had she? Lashes flying open, she felt her breath hitch.

  Chase had stepped to within a few feet of her. Had she heard him, or just sensed the energy change because his powerful aura had touched and integrated with hers? With her heart pounding like that of a snared rabbit, Dana forced her arms to remain at her sides and not cover her breasts. Distrust warred with terror as Chase approached her, his gaze critical and assessing.

  As she focused on his body, Dana felt dizzied by his presence so close to her. She could actually feel the heat coming off Chase’s naked form. He seemed a wild animal, barely touched by civilization. The scars on his body were many and some made Dana’s stomach knot. These weren’t all sun dance scars. What had caused them, then? She noticed how some were pink and shiny, and so relatively new compared to the puckered sun dance scars.

  Chase cocked his head, perusing Dana as if he were looking at a horse, and checking for conformation as well as possible faults. He spotted a scar on her right shoulder.

  “What happened here?” he demanded, pointing to it.

  Dana stiffened as his callused fingertip lightly brushed the area. She saw disgust leap into his eyes. Gulping, she whispered, “When I was twenty, I fell off my horse. I smashed against a barbed wire fence with my shoulder before I hit the ground.”

  Scowling, Chase kneaded the area with his hands, feeling her muscles and assessing any potential problems.

  “Stand still and relax,” he ordered when she tensed even more.

  Chase was so close. So male. Dana could smell the musky odor of his body sweat, as well as the scents of juniper and desert sand. Each time his fingers ran along the sheath of her shoulder muscles, wild tingles radiated outward. To her dismay, her nipples grew taut and erect. What must he think? Dana felt heat spreading rapidly up her neck and consuming her face.

  “Muscle damage from it?” Chase demanded.

  “W-what?”

  Chase saw her nipples grow hard, ripe crowns in the broad crescents of her breasts. He savagely destroyed the sensual response that flowed unexpectedly through his body. She was too skinny for his tastes, he told himself. All skin and bone. He liked women with more flesh and roundness.


  She looked dumbstruck, so he repeated his question. “Did you receive muscle damage when you hit that barbed wire fence? What did the doctor say? Do you have full range of motion with this arm?”

  The moment he lifted his hands from the scar, Dana whispered unsteadily, “I—never went to a doctor the first six months.”

  Staring at the curved, ragged scar, he kept his investigation impersonal for her sake—and his. “It doesn’t look like anyone sewed you up, that’s for sure. The corners are still showing the tears. Why didn’t you see a doctor about this?”

  How badly Dana wanted to step away from Chase’s overwhelming masculine presence. It was impossible. “I—uh—I didn’t have money at the time. I was going to college. I couldn’t afford a doctor. I went home and put iodine on it and just let it heal up on its own for six months.”

  “A warrioress, regardless of the situation she finds herself in, can think clearly. What would you do if I was Rogan Fast Horse? He’d strip and rape you, Dana. And then he’d kill you. Would you behave like this? Stuttering and stammering? Or would you be thinking on your feet? Looking for the first opportunity to escape his hold on you?”

  Chase’s harsh voice snapped Dana out of her confusion and fear. He had done nothing so far to indicate he was going to make sexual advances. Blinking, she stared up at him. “I’d want to be thinking…not be like this, of course.”

  His mouth twitched. “You show weakness around Rogan and it will get you nowhere but deep into trouble. Now, tell me more about this shoulder.”

  Dana couldn’t believe she was standing two feet away from Chase discussing her old injury. They were naked, and strangers to one another. Yet Chase acted as if being here was the most natural thing in the world.

  Lifting her hand, she touched her aching brow and tried to focus. “There was a lot of damage. I remember the doctor looking at it later. The surgeon said the muscles were shortened because I didn’t go to the emergency room right away and get the operation I needed. He said it was too late to correct it with surgery.”