by Devyn Quinn
Dakoda blinked. “I think you’re trying to say something profound there, but I can’t quite catch it.”
Jesse reached for a piece of jerky, tearing off a strip of the dry meat. “What I think I’m trying to say is I sometimes think preserving our heritage as shifters is a lot of hooey.”
Her brows rose. “Hooey? Is that some Indian term?”
He chewed thoughtfully. “No, but all this embracing our inner animal might be. I mean, come on. Preserving ancient rituals and traditions is one thing, but actually trying to live by them in a world that’s left mysticism and magic behind is crazy. There’s a reason our numbers are so thin, why we’re almost extinct.”
Dakoda’s throat tightened. She didn’t like the turn their conversation was taking. She’d already experienced more gloom and doom than she cared to. Adding another heap to their plates wouldn’t help matters one bit. “Why’s that?” she asked slowly.
Obviously losing his appetite, Jesse flicked the jerky aside. “Because we just don’t belong. What we do defies not only logic but also nature itself…” he paused, taking a breath. “And things that are deviant should die off.”
His words sent a cold shiver down her spine. Bile washed up the back of her throat, killing her appetite. “My God, Jesse. That’s no way to talk.”
He stared at her through an unblinking gaze, his stare fierce and boiling with resentment. “Why not? Assholes can’t hunt you if you’re dead. Why should we even fight to survive when all they do is treat us like freaks, to be captured and put in cages?” Reaching out, his fingers circled her wrist. “You know what they’re going to want us to do, Dakoda? Breed. That’s right. We’ll be put on display to entertain people’s most perverted fantasies. You’ll be the woman who fucks a cougar, an animal.” Grip tightening, he shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live that way. It would be better to be dead.”
Dakoda struggled to keep her arm in place, not jerk it away from his hold. Right now he was the only thing, the only person she had to hold on to. Keeping him focused and aware he wasn’t in this mess alone was her only chance of survival. If Jesse gave up and did something stupid to get himself killed, she’d be on her own. Contemplating the alternative turned her bowels to icy liquid.
She put her hand on top of his. “Getting yourself killed isn’t the answer, Jesse.”
His gaze drifted to the ceiling above their heads, supported by exposed beams. “Hanging would be slow,” he murmured, licking his lips. “But better than a cage.”
Catching the intention behind his glance, Dakoda tilted back her head. “Killing yourself won’t be any easier, Jesse.”
Jesse’s hand slipped away. His touch, so warm and reassuring, left a cold spot in its wake. Pushing away from the table, he stood up. His hands raked through his hair in frustration. “I can’t live in a cage,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “Being locked up in a cage won’t be living, even if I’m with you. If there’s a way out, I’ll take it.” Gaze turning inward, his words trailed off into silence.
Suicide. Just thinking about the word and its definition turned her blood to icy water. The idea of actually climbing up on a chair and then kicking it away, only to dangle helplessly as the oxygen was sucked from her lungs wasn’t the slightest bit appealing.
Dakoda grimaced. Considering their present situation, self-extermination would seem like the logical choice. What sane person wanted to live as a slave, a captive to someone else’s whims? Maybe it would be the best thing to do. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. For herself, it might not be so bad. But she didn’t want to have to watch Jesse die. He was part of an honorable and noble race, a man possessing not only intelligence but also an innate kindness that extended toward others around him.
Last night when she’d been on the edge, when she would have been the one ready to leap, he’d pulled her back from the abyss. Now it was her turn to do the same for him. Somehow they would find a way to keep each other going.
She looked at Jesse, trying to ignore the rush of heat pooling between her thighs at the sight of his lean body just barely covered by a breechclout and leather chaps. He stood still, the muscles in his arms cording as he contemplated his next move. She wanted his arms wrapped around her waist, his big palms settled on her ass as he pulled her hips toward his straining erection.
“Don’t think that way,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the grate of raw arousal in her tone.
He released a long sigh. “I can’t help it. I don’t want to face what’s waiting for us out there.” The barest trace of a bitter smile crossed his lips. “Makes me quite a hero, huh?”
“It makes you someone who is human,” she countered quietly.
He shrugged. “According to some people, the red man is nowhere near human. Nothing but a damn savage.” His words were tinged with recognizable traces of angry self-loathing. “Fuck. In this day and age, we still can’t get past the old stereotypes of being godless savages.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true and you know it.”
Simmering with a thousand different emotions, Jesse’s gaze bore down on her like a block of concrete. “Do I?” he bit back coldly.
Trembling hard, Dakoda rose from her chair. Her legs shook, barely able to support her weight. Walking over to him, she grabbed him by the shoulders, craning up on the tips of her toes so she could look into his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”
He shook his head. “Last night feels like it never existed,” he stated in a flat, dull tone.
Dakoda shook her head. “It did…. and it still does.” Her hands rose to his broad shoulders, fingers digging in deep. “You told me if we hang on to each other, we might be able to survive.” She pressed her body closer to his, leaving nary an inch between them. “Well, I’m hanging on, Jesse. I’m hanging on for dear life and praying for the best. I’m not ready to let you go, and I’m damn sure not going to stand by and let you kill yourself. I don’t care what you freaking Indians say when your backs are against the wall. Today is not a good day to die.”
Craning higher, Dakoda pressed her mouth against his, holding nothing back as she kissed him with all the fervor and craving rolling through her body.
Just as she’d imagined, Dakoda felt Jesse’s hands slide around her hips, catching her rear and lifting her against his hips. Her nipples rose into hard little peaks seconds before he crushed her against his chest.
Taking control, his tongue pressed deeper into her mouth, exploring and then conquering every moist crevice. Dakoda’s senses whirled at the absolute erotic intensity driving his response. Her body relaxed as relief drizzled in.
Their kiss broke briefly. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth. “Too damn good to be true.”
Dakoda nipped his lower lip between her teeth, suckling gently. He moaned in pleasure at her teasing nibble. “I could say the same about you.” Together less than a day, they’d already forged a bond delving past the physical and into an entirely different level. She could handle the stresses of captivity as long as she had Jesse. Without him, she would have already fallen to pieces in more ways than one.
Releasing a soft moan, Jesse bent slightly and lifted her body against his. Arms circling his neck, Dakoda wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. Their mouths came back together as he pressed her against the wall of the cell, using it as a brace to better hold her weight in place. His cock was like an iron bar, pressing directly against the crotch of her slacks.
Dakoda felt the crotch of her panties grow moister, her sex preparing for the entry of his shaft.
Working a hand between their bodies, Jesse dug under the layers of her uniform. “Damn, you’re wearing too much clothing.” Finding her bra, he dragged one cup down off her breast. One erect nipple popped free, aching and swollen. Releasing a growl deep in his throat, he tugged and pulled at the hard little tip. “I want you naked.”
Suddenly a clamo
r of men entering the cell shattered the temporary lull. Letting her go, Jesse rounded on the intruder, a snarl rolling past his lips.
“Well, looks like they’re going to be able to perform just fine for our buyer,” Willie Barnett chuckled with wicked amusement, rattling the chains he held in one hand. The chains that would attach to the collars both she and Jesse wore. “Time to meet your new owner.”
12
Dakoda had imagined the outlaws would be living in squalor not far above that of the cell she and Jesse had been imprisoned in, so she wasn’t surprised when confronted with the reality.
The cabins the men occupied were plain and simply constructed, hearkening back to the days when the first white settlers had began to invade the mountains in search of gold. Water was still drawn from hand-powered pumps and electricity was nonexistent. Most of the lamps inside were older standbys, filled with highly flammable kerosene.
The operation was a lot less sophisticated than Dakoda had imagined. The outlaws clearly worked to keep a very low profile, doing nothing that would attract attention to their activities. By keeping it simple, they could pack up and vanish without a trace. It didn’t take a professional to guess poaching generated a profit. Animal products, such as hide, ivory, horn, teeth, and bone, were sold to dealers who make clothes, jewelry, and other trinkets. In other countries, animals had religious value and were used as totems and in witchcraft. Many animals were killed for ceremonial purposes.
What these men had stumbled on to was far more valuable, a thing so precious and rare as to almost be priceless.
No doubt they could demand any price—and probably get it.
Dakoda swallowed her fear as she and Jesse were ushered past the outer rooms and into some sort of private inner sanctum. A short Asian man wearing an expensive suit waited for their arrival. Well groomed and manicured, he appeared to be in his late forties. By the look of him, he hadn’t done a hard day’s work in his life. Head tilted at a haughty angle, he carried a crop, the kind used in horse riding. His smile was straight, and shiny white. Ratlike beady eyes observed everything.
A shiver scurried down her spine. The showroom, she thought, casting a glance around the sparsely furnished area. This is where they sell the merchandise. Another shiver followed on the heels of the first. And we’re the product.
Taken from their cell, they’d been led like dogs across the compound. No chance to run, or fight back. Rusty’s rifle was trained on their backs with every step they took. He was ordered to shoot first and ask questions later.
Still dressed in the breechclout and leggings he’d ridiculed earlier, Jesse Clawfoot stood stiff and straight. He was doing his best imitation of the silent, stone-faced Indian, saying nothing as he stared off into space. By the look in his eyes, he was a million miles away, far removed from the humiliating proceedings.
Suppressing her anger, Dakota wished she felt as calm and composed. Her trembling knees barely held her weight, threatening collapse at any moment. Tension knotted her guts.
The Asian man smiled. “They are both very nice.” He cocked a brow. “Authentic?” He spoke in an abrupt clipped way, his words bitten off into small, precise chunks.
Willie Barnett nodded. “The male is one hundred percent Cherokee, Mister Kamai. Just like your buyer requested.”
The man identified as Kamai spoke. “And her? She is native as well?”
Willie Barnett chuckled. Walking over, he caught Dakota’s chin, wrenching her head to a better angle. “Look at the skin color an’ the cast of her face. She’s got a little mutt in her, but most of it’s Indian.” He showed her the way he would some inanimate object, accentuating her positive points while downplaying the negative.
Kamai made a quick gesture with his crop. “My buyer wants pure blood,” he said, his accented voice sharp.
Willie Barnett shook his head. “Do you know how scarce women are in these mountains? Layin’ hands on any stray female, Indian or not, is a lucky break.” He chuckled obscenely. “You can be happy, though. They seem to like each other a lot. Since we got ’em together, they’ve been fuckin’ like, well, wild cats. That’s as good a breedin’ pair as you’re goin’ to get.”
Dakoda felt heat creep into her cheeks. Having her sex life set out in front of a bunch of strangers made her feel filthy, degraded. Their captors were discussing her and Jesse as though they were little more than animals, incapable of understanding or thinking for themselves.
Her hold on self-control snapped. “Don’t you get that we’re human beings?” She rattled the chain attached to the collar around her neck. “I’m a goddamned ranger, or can’t you tell that by the fucking uniform I’m wearing?”
Willie Barnett’s hand immediately shot out, clouting her soundly. “I warned you about talkin’,” he snarled. “Unless he asks you to speak, you don’t say one goddamned word.”
Dakoda’s senses reeled as multicolored stars jetted behind her eyes. Skin burning hot, she tasted blood from the lip he’d split.
Hands clenching into fists, Jesse stepped up. “Keep your fucking hands off her,” he snarled viciously.
Barnett easily delivered a second strike, punching Jesse in the solar plexus. “And you keep your goddamned place, animal,” he barked back.
Choking out a gasp, Jesse’s face hardened. He didn’t budge an inch, even though the hit must have been painful. Face twisted with rage, he stood face-to-face with the outlaw. “Don’t ever turn your back on me.” His voice was deadly and low, the kind you didn’t want to ignore. “If I ever get the chance, I’ll gut you like a fish.”
Barnett’s hand shot toward his hip. Drawing the knife sheathed there, he pressed the sharp blade against Jesse’s bare abdomen. Handcuffed and chained, Jesse didn’t have a chance. “We’ll see who guts who.”
Jesse’s expression was as cold and set as granite. “Do it now, and do it fast.”
Dakoda’s blood pressure sank faster than a thousand-pound weight in quicksand. If Jesse’s plan was to get himself killed, he was doing a damn good job of accomplishing his goal. Apparently staying alive and staying together wasn’t part of his plan, after all.
Dakoda wasn’t ready to die. Not today, anyway.
She also wasn’t willing to stand by and stay silent. Sucking the blood off her busted lip, she spat, sending a wad of phlegm toward Barnett. “Kill us and you kill the sale,” she snarled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Barnett backed off. “If it was just you an’ me,” he said, sheathing his knife. “I’d go ahead an’ take you out.” A laugh bubbled from his lips. “But seein’ as you’re worth cold, hard cash, I guess I’ll have to restrain myself. No use killin’ the goose just because the gander’s in a flap.”
Observing it all, Kamai suddenly laughed. “They’ve got fight. I like that.” He gestured with his crop again. “Let me see more of her.”
Barnett turned to Dakoda. “Strip,” he ordered, removing her cuffs.
Dakoda’s jaw dropped. “You mean as in naked?” she gasped out. There was no time to consider she’d broken the rules again. Hand cocking back, Willie Barnett delivered another fast, roundhouse slap. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered. “Now!”
Her senses were rocked to the core; a multitude of sparks flew behind her eyes again. She should have known her protest would earn her another hit. That didn’t make it any less painful, or any less degrading.
Barnett grinned at her discomfort. “If you don’t get them off.” He patted the Bowie knife like a trusted friend. “I’ll cut them off. You won’t have a shred left on by time I get finished.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She cut a quick glance to Jesse. Gaze skittering away from hers, he slowly nodded. The meaning behind his gesture was clear. Cooperate.
But bending for the sake of survival was not breaking.
Sliding off her jacket, Dakoda lifted a hand to the top of her shirt. She fought to keep her hand from trembling, to make her fingers work at her command as she unbuttoned. W
hat the hell? She had nothing these men hadn’t seen before. Resisting the order would only make it worse for her and Jesse.
Discarding her shirt, she kicked out of her boots, then stripped off her slacks. Her bra and panties were all she had left on.
“Everything,” Kamai ordered, sensing her hesitation.
Dakoda forced herself not to blink when she unhooked her bra, letting it fall away from her breasts. Without bending, she dropped her panties down her legs, then stepped out of them. All she had on was the skin she’d been born in.
Willie Barnett’s eyes widened with appreciation. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Oh, that’s one nice-lookin’ piece of pussy,” he leered, rubbing the front of his grimy jeans. “I might still give her a fuck or two before I sell her off.”
Dakoda tensed. Her heart pounded in long, jarring beats against her rib cage. She’d scratch out the bastard’s eyes before he’d lay another hand on her, even if it meant she’d be put down like a rabid dog in her tracks. Throat thickening with emotion, an unwelcome thought crept into her mind. Maybe Jesse was right….
Kamai immediately shot the poacher a contemptuous smile. Displeasure slit his beady eyes. “You fuck her, you keep her,” he sneered. The Asian’s own intrusive gaze slid over Dakoda’s skin like razors. “I want no contamination of the bloodline. If I’m going to buy them for my employer, I don’t want to have to abort your bastard child first.”
Mouth dry as sand, Dakoda breathed a sigh of relief. She’d already had her go-round with Barnett once. The thought of his big piglike body pressed on top of hers made her want to puke.
Barnett backed off. “The only one that’s been fuckin’ her is that tomcat,” he reaffirmed.
Kamai rose from his chair like an emperor over his subjects. Crop in hand, he circled Dakoda, examining her from all angles. As he walked, he ran the tip of his crop over her skin, skimming her curves.
