by Vonna Harper
“I’m doing what I have to. You’re my connection to the world. I must have that. Must keep you with me.”
Although she didn’t move, barely breathed, Mala felt a man’s hand cover hers, pull it off her belly and replace it with his own. Shivering, she asked herself the vital, stupid question: did she want this? Hell yes!
Impatient with clothing, he yanked off her shorts as if he had every right to do whatever he wanted with and to her and threw them on the floor. Her practical briefs no longer hugged her waist, but had been pulled half off her hips. She waited for them to join her shorts. Instead, a hand that felt like fine sandpaper slid under the fabric. In her mind—maybe only in her mind—she spread her legs. She felt so damn exposed, like a mare in heat waiting to be mounted.
Strong, short fingernails teased away her pubic hair and found willing flesh. His other hand settled over her hipbone and pressed her against the mattress. She arched her spine, but although she might have been able to break free, that was the last thing on her mind. In truth she wasn’t sure she still had a brain, not that it mattered. Forget self-restraint. Bring on an old-fashioned dose of sex. For an excruciating length of time, he simply held her prisoner while his nails tasted and tested the rounded bulge in front of her clit. She couldn’t think past the exploration. Wanted more.
He knew what he was doing. Oh damn, did he.
“Don’t…make me…” Don’t make me wait, please, she finished silently.
She heard laughter. A moment later the hand slid fully between her legs. He cupped her cunt and pressed. For maybe a half-second she was terrified of his bold possession, but what the hell. He wasn’t here in the flesh. Besides, whatever was going on was a thousand times better than masturbating.
Sometimes raking lightly, sometimes pressing with enough force that it bordered on the painful, he branded her now pulsating bud. He teased at the entrance to her passage as she broke out in a sweat, but although he must know how desperately she wanted it, he didn’t penetrate. Just the same, she felt herself rising, rising, growing and becoming hot. No, not just hot. On fire! It was happening so fast. So hard. So close to climax. So close!
“Fuck me,” she begged. “Damn you, do it!”
“No.”
“Damn you.”
“Not yet.”
“Yet? What—” Before she could continue, he caught her swollen bud between thumb and forefinger. Gasping, she arched toward him, nearly levitating off the bed. Just one more touch, please, just one and she’d be there. Gone!
“No! Please,” she gasped when suddenly, cruelly, he released her. “Don’t stop. Not now!”
“Soon. I promise.”
Still on fire, she threw herself into a sitting position and looked wildly around. She was wet between her legs. Throbbed. On the brink.
Brought to that place by a man who existed only in her mind. Who spoke and commanded and claimed in ways that defied description and both thrilled and terrified her. Like a drunk without a drink for too long, she couldn’t focus on anything except the next time. And there would be a next, damn it! Only, when he again clamped his hard, powerful hand over her cunt, he’d better be there in person.
There was a glow like hundreds of fireflies, except they formed a human outline.
More curious than afraid, Laird watched the approaching pinpricks of light. Not long ago he’d been determined to put the pieces of this crazy puzzle that had become his life together, but something, maybe the vegetation, had blunted the edges of his determination. He’d never call himself passive, but there was nothing wrong with accepting the status quo. Being more interested in what lay ahead of him than what he’d given up. He wanted to stand, but his muscles refused to obey his command. Although he knew he’d find nothing, he reached for the front jeans pocket which always held a small knife, but even if he still had it, what good was a short blade against fireflies?
“Thunder.”
For a half beat, the jungle silenced, leaving only the single, haunting word. It seemed to have come from the glowing outline, but he couldn’t be sure. The figure—did he dare call it that?—glided closer. If there was a face, the night kept it hidden from him. He saw long, lean limbs, wispy and yet real. The man, or whatever it was, didn’t appear to be wearing anything. If he had such things as feet, they didn’t seem to be touching the ground.
A shadow, a shade, a shape unlike anything he’d ever seen. Because his eyes weren’t telling him enough, Laird tried to smell whatever now hovered less than ten feet away, but the swamp-stench was too strong. Either that or this ghostly creature smelled exactly like his surroundings.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Night Hunter.”
Laird jerked back. At the same time, the “thing” called to him in a way more powerful than any woman ever had. Crouching, he waited out a distant panther’s scream. “What are you, Night Hunter? What—”
“Listen and learn, Thunder.”
Was this creature who wanted to be known as Night Hunter calling him Thunder? Before he could decide whether to ask, the big cat again filled the air with its primal cry. There was the remotest possibility that a panther lived this close to civilization, but in his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t the case.
“Is that what you want me to hear?” he asked. “The panther?”
“He rules this land. Has since the first People came here.”
“Not anymore.” Why was he arguing? “Thanks to man, his existence is in danger.”
“You are wrong.”
Something beyond his comprehension was happening all right. His thigh muscles burned from the effort of remaining at the ready, but he didn’t dare relax his guard. Now, when he was exhausted and it was too dark to risk walking on ground that might shred his feet, he felt a powerful need to follow Night Hunter.
But where? Why?
“What do you mean, wrong?” he finally thought to ask.
“Soon.” Night Hunter’s voice became a seductive whisper luring him from the woman he’d been trying to reach since losing control of his motorcycle and world. “Soon you will understand. And take your rightful place with your people.”
“My place? What…”
Night Hunter shimmered. It was as if his body, or what passed for his body, had begun to dance with the wind. “As chief of the Seminole.”
Gasping for breath, Mala shot upright. After what she’d been through today, she couldn’t believe she’d dozed off. She now felt as if she was sharing her body and mind with someone else. Thank heavens the lamp was still on because if it hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure she’d remember who and what she was. She concentrated on making herself as receptive as possible to whatever message Laird Jaeger might be trying to send, but nothing reached her.
Nothing. The word was a mockery of everything she’d done and tried to do today. Everything he’d done to her.
Sliding her legs off the bed, she started to stand when something occurred to her. Feeling like a fool for not having thought of it before, she reached for the Fort Lauderdale phone book. A study of the directory revealed no Laird Jaeger or anyone remotely resembling that name. Undaunted, she dialed information and asked if there were any Jaegers listed in Naples. There were three, including a fishing boat rental place called Jaeger Boats. Armed with the two residential numbers in addition to the boat business, she started making calls. To her growing alarm, no one answered.
“Are they out looking for you?” she asked. Caught in the image of a frantic family, she prowled to the window and looked down at a well-lighted swimming pool filled with children despite the late hour. The normal sounds should soothe her and keep her rooted in the real world, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond what Laird Jaeger must be going through, if he wasn’t dead.
He wasn’t. She was certain of that.
“I’m here.” Her voice was the barest whisper. “Waiting for you. Whatever you want or need, I’ll give it to you.” She parted her lips and sucked two fingers int
o her warm, moist opening. The thought of what could happen when they met in the flesh sent a streak of electricity through her.
He was alone again because Night Hunter had been absorbed by the jungle. Laird listened to primal sounds brought into awful clarity because there was nothing else to concentrate on. Night Hunter existed. What or who he was, Laird couldn’t say, but he’d been visited by something with intelligence that had sought him out for purposes not yet revealed.
His feet were less tender than they’d been when he began his barefoot journey. He had no doubt that if he remained out here much longer, he could fashion a weapon out of wood and vine and other materials and bring down the game he needed to stay alive. He’d reach deep inside himself to that place where the skills of his ancestors remained for that.
Ancestors? He wasn’t Indian.
Something was climbing over his instep. He flicked it away and went about gathering the leaves and other softened things he’d need for sleeping. Once he’d layered the ground with his find, he stretched out and stared until he found a thin tunnel to the sky not obscured by trees.
There were a few stars about, distant and cold, yet comforting. He wondered if that cat or one of its relatives would sense the helpless human being come after an easy meal, but he had no more apprehension about a panther than he did about living on a boat even when he anchored far from land.
He was safe here because Night Hunter had so willed it. And because a part of him he’d just begun to fathom had long waited for this night.
Suddenly restless, he flattened a hand over his chest. He was aware, not just of the strong line of ribs beneath his flesh, but his heart tucked safely within its shelter. He’d heard the word lonely analyzed and struggled against by everyone he’d come in contact with, but the emotion had always seemed abstract and unimportant to him.
Now, alone in a place that perceived humans as unwelcome intruders, he should be cowering. But what he felt wasn’t isolation and abject solitude so much as a longing for something never before realized. That and power that went beyond muscle and bone.
It was easy to remember what she looked like. It had started as a game, a stupid man ignoring the downpour because he’d glimpsed a beautiful young woman driving alone. But after the first time he looked into her eyes, it had stopped being a game. Wanting more than those too-big eyes and the dark waterfall of hair, he’d allowed her to pass and then overtaken her again.
He’d sensed her futile search for him on the tail of the vast energy it had taken to send her a message. He’d never believed in fate, psychic connection, or whatever they called it, but something had happened between them today that might have to last for as long as he survived in this harsh and honest place.
“Don’t ignore me. Don’t even try.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw her standing alone in a darkened room. She had several fingers in her mouth and was running her tongue over them, a look of sexual excitement in her half-closed eyes. Her other hand rested between her legs, a forefinger reaching deep inside her. Moaning, she jerked her hips back and forth.
“That will do, for now,” he told her. “But when I take you, you will scream. Dance on my cock. Maybe, someday you will understand why I must do this.”
Four in the morning, a time of quiet and rest, of recharging oneself for what the day might bring. Instead of trying to reclaim sleep, Mala sat in the unfamiliar bed. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around her bare knees and rocked gently.
Eyes closed, she mentally skimmed over lush foliage until she half believed she could see what rested at the base of the palmettos. She smiled at images of raccoons, deer, turtles, bright green frogs and exquisitely beautiful birds, but those creatures commanded only a small corner of her mind. Laird Jaeger was out there somewhere.
As thoughts of alligators and panthers and snakes replaced those of gentle deer and white-feathered birds, she scrambled out of bed. Her nightgown was supposed to be knee-length, but she must have thrashed about so that it was now wound about her waist. Either that or her phantom not-quite-lover was responsible.
Determined not to let carnal need control her again, she yanked on jogging shorts and tucked her nightgown into the waistband. Then she grabbed her purse and stepped into the empty hall. She didn’t encounter anyone in the parking lot, a good thing because how could she explain what she was doing?
I lost a man earlier today. And now I’m going out on a moonless night to see if I can find him.
Right!
After starting her car, she headed west. By the time she reached Alligator Alley, the first hint of day had begun. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t deny or ignore the need humming between her legs. She turned on her radio and flipped through stations, but there was no news of a missing man.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered, the hollow promise in time with the sound her tires made. A few people were already on the road. None had any hint that something terrifying and unexplainable had happened out here yesterday.
It still wasn’t light enough that she could get by without headlights by the time she pulled off the road, and she could only pray Laird had survived his pitch-black night. She killed the engine, but instead of getting out, she leaned forward against the steering wheel. If only she could kill, or at least ignore, the weight of unfilled sexual need.
Stop feeling as if she was in heat.
Through the open window, she caught smells and sounds that must have taken over Laird’s every thought. While she was driving, she’d half convinced herself she’d find him waiting for her. She’d invite him into her car. Eyes locked with hers, his strong hand gripping her arm, he’d tell her how he’d escaped and how he wouldn’t have been able to do it if it hadn’t been for her. How he intended to reward her.
She’d admit he’d found his way into her dreams, and she’d wakened early because she’d known the time to get him had arrived. They’d shake their heads and then—
And then he’d take her in his arms and explain he’d survived so he could have her. Then he’d strip off her clothes and…
He wasn’t here.
Fear surged through her, and she pounded her fist against the steering wheel. “This can’t be happening! It can’t!”
But it had. That reality propelled her out of the car. It wasn’t until she was standing on warm, slithering sand that she realized she’d left the motel room without her shoes.
He didn’t have any either. She knew that as clearly as she’d ever known anything.
“What happened to them?” she managed. A truck rumbled past, pushing hot air against her.
“I don’t know.”
Weak with relief, she sagged against her car’s fender. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do? I tried—the police didn’t believe me. Why can’t you come to me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there—”
“I’m not alone.”
“You aren’t?”
“Night Hunter.”
“Who or what is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Thank God. I couldn’t sleep,” she babbled. “I kept thinking—I tried to call everyone in Naples with your name, but no one was home. Are they relatives?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“What’s your name?”
“My—Mala Bey.”
“Talk to me, Mala Bey.”
Barely aware of what she was saying, she told him she was twenty-nine and lived near Naples, that she worked as a medical secretary but had been on her way to Fort Lauderdale because her best friend had shown her jewelry to a dealer and now, after years of working and learning and planning, she might finally be able to make a living doing what she most wanted. She left a great deal unsaid and yet told him what she wanted out of life, things that didn’t matter to a man trapped in
something neither of them understood.
“Are you married, Mala Bey?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I came close. He was so damn considerate it drove me crazy. Always asking what I wanted. Trying to please.”
“In bed?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not that way.”
“I know. You take.”
“I do what I have to.”
“Is that what it is? You get a kick out of—possessing me?”
“It’s working, then?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“It is. Good.”
“All right!” she snapped. “You’ve gotten to me. Is that what you want to hear? I took two cold showers last night. I’ve never had to do that before in my life, but fat lot of good it did me. Before I’d even dried off—let me tell you something. If you could harvest and bottle up whatever the hell sexual stimulant you hit me with, you’d be rich. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Excited, if you must know, but also overwhelmed.”
In the few minutes she’d been here, the sun had taken control of its domain. There was no end to the shades and hues of green. The artist in her made note of the subtle differences, but she hadn’t come back here to store up impressions that found their way into her work.
She’d driven here barefoot because she’d had no choice. Because Laird Jaeger needed her.
Maybe as much as her turned-on body needed him.
Chapter Four
“You said something to me last night.” Mala shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “About our—finding each other being fate.”
Laird didn’t answer, leaving her to ask if she’d really expected him to. While “talking” to him, she’d left the relative security of her car and walked to the edge of the Everglades. The vegetation’s hold on her emotions felt almost as strong as Laird’s hold did. Focused as she was on why she’d come here, she barely hesitated before pushing aside tall grass and branches and stepping into the rich-smelling growth. The Everglades’ lushness infused her with strength. At the same time she feared it.
