He shifted restlessly on the bed. An insect buzzed like a miniature chain saw. Hopefully it was outside the tent.
He didn’t want to think about the strange things happening to his body, and he sure as hell needed to put Sara Parker out of his mind if he wanted to be in a fit state for the game drive in a couple of hours. So he thought about the tasks he had lined up to do and the fact that here he was in the same game park where his parents had spent their honeymoon thirty-six years before.
* * * * *
Sara had no recollection of leaving his tent and stumbling down the steps. She found herself outside, leaning against the trunk of a flowering flame tree, breathless and moist with sweat. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the warm bark, fighting to regain control.
Her pulse drummed a wild rhythm in her throat, against her ribs and low down in her belly. The urge to throw off her clothes and pull Jack Wilding on top of her on the bed had almost overwhelmed her.
So, why hadn’t she done it?
Because she wasn’t merely an animal that mated when the urge became too strong?
Because she retained enough human genes to want to know something about the male with whom she planned to copulate?
Planned to copulate…
Be honest about it, that’s what you’re going to do. He’s here for longer than most. Four days and four nights. You need him. No, you have to have him, because if it’s not him it will be Daudi or Tricky Dickie.
And he wouldn’t be hard to take. In fact, he was a gorgeous hunk of man. Tall, well built, broad-shouldered. And he wanted her. She’d noticed his erection, hard and strong, and how he’d tried to hide it. The memory brought a flood of moisture between her legs.
The sound of rapid footsteps made her open her eyes. Dickie was striding toward her, a scowl on his heavy features.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Someone said you were in a guest tent.” He didn’t need to add that was against the rules.
“I was just making sure Dr. Wilding was comfortable,” she said. “Did you want something?”
“The dining room is a mess. Tables left uncleared after lunch— I’m getting John back to fix it.”
“I told him to leave one table and that I would clear it. I’m sorry, it slipped my mind. I’ll do it now.” She pushed herself away from the tree.
She started back in the direction of the main lodge. Dickie followed close behind. “A professional image,” he muttered. “We have a reputation for attention to detail…”
Closing her ears to his babble, she strode across the paved area to the table the Italian couple had left. Quickly she stacked the empty cups and brushed crumbs from the linen. It was no big deal. Why was Dickie so uptight?
She glanced up and saw Fisi, the pilot, sitting near the door to the dining room, two beers on the table in front of him. He lifted a hand in casual greeting and she nodded. She wondered if he knew that his name meant “hyena” in Swahili. Probably not. Just a coincidence like her own name. Parker was sufficiently like “paka”, which meant cat. Inside jokes for shape shifters, she thought wryly.
Dickie joined the pilot at the table and picked up one of the beers. Soon the two men were deep in conversation, their heads together. She wondered what they had to say to each other that was so engrossing.
As the idle thought flickered through her mind, she felt an ominous tingle in her hands and feet. She glanced down in horror. Her right hand that held the stack of dirty cups and saucers was shrinking, becoming rounded. Her nails had passed the tips of her fingers and were turning in—
A change!
For a moment she panicked, then got hold of her careening thoughts. She had always been able to control her shift. No reason why she couldn’t still do it. But despite bringing all her powers of concentration to bear, the quiver in her limbs told her the process continued unabated.
She had only a few seconds until it became obvious to others something was happening to her. Ten full minutes before a lioness stood in the center of the paved dining area.
The crockery slipped from her paw and tumbled onto the table. A cup slid to the floor and broke.
Dickie looked up with a frown and started to say something. Ignoring his raised voice, Serah turned and fled through the kitchens and toward the bush.
She pushed her way through the startled cooks, fighting to stay on her two legs, thrust herself through the swing doors and dove into the thick brush that marked the perimeter of the lodge. There was a spot she often used when she shifted. It was well-screened from prying eyes and few people ventured there. The staff preferred the paved areas and it was off-limits to guests.
The sharp ends of the branches stabbed at her, scratching her half-formed muzzle and ears as she moved fast. With relief she dropped to all fours and slid on her belly under the shelter of a thorn bush, wriggling out of her clothes.
She lay there for a long moment while the shift completed and her heart ceased its wild racing.
Her mad dash from the lodge would require some explanation, but she could handle that. Her real fear was that if she had lost control of her change from Sara to Serah, would she be able to shift back to her human form?
She had known she was in danger. The incident at the pool and her lust for meat had been her first warnings. But she had thought she still had time. She didn’t pretend to understand why mating was the necessary ingredient to keep her genes in balance. There was no point in wondering and railing against the facts. If she was successful in shifting back, she would find a way to get Jack Wilding into her bed. That shouldn’t be difficult.
The operative phrase was “if she succeeded in shifting back”.
She lay hidden in the bushes for hours. A shift always lasted for a minimum of three hours, and despite her anxiety she dared not try to shorten the time. Without understanding how or why it worked as it did, she had always figured her body was like a battery that needed time to recharge.
She heard the vehicles start up for the afternoon game drive. Dickie would have had to sort the guests into their safari vans, answer all the questions about time and safety and remind them all that no one was to set foot outside the vehicle. He would be in a foul mood.
She tried to think about her plans for seducing Jack Wilding, but it was hard to concentrate. Usually in her lioness form, she was able to retain all her human reasoning powers, enhanced by the instincts and reactions of a big cat. But now her brain was foggy, her thoughts disjointed, and she became distracted by the scents around her. She smelled a gazelle close by and a low growl rumbled in her throat. Her tail twitched uncontrollably and she brought her hind legs under her belly in a stalking posture, settling her shoulders so she could spring.
“No!” The last remnants of her human mind screamed the prohibition.
She had no way of knowing exactly how much time had passed, but she knew with terrible certainty that she could wait no longer.
She had to shift back.
She concentrated with every ounce of human power still in her and willed herself to become Sara once again.
It took longer than usual, and when she eventually lay under the thorn bush in the shape of a woman, her skin was drenched with sweat. Her limbs felt weak and powerless and her head throbbed with a dull ache.
She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing to calm her racing pulse and regain some energy. After a few minutes she began to dress.
Suddenly she tensed. Voices and footsteps drew closer.
She curled into a ball under her sheltering bush and prayed they would come no nearer. Serah’s coloring was excellent protection against even a searching glance, but Sara was clothed in a white blouse, and her pale skin would shine like a beacon.
She crouched uncomfortably, ignoring one of the thorns pressing cruelly against her shoulder, making her breathing as shallow as she could so as not to create any movement.
“This is the best place.” The voice was so lo
w she had to strain to make out the words.
Dickie! Who on earth was he talking to? Did he have some mad project to clear the bush or something?
At first she didn’t recognize the other man who answered, but then realized it was Fisi, the pilot.
“I’ll slip through and meet them after midnight,” he said.
Meet who? Why?
“Here’s the cash,” Dickie said. “Tell them we’re interested in the young ones as well as the ivory. There’s a zoo needing a couple of babies.”
“No problem.”
“If they get ivory tonight, then I’ll see it’s loaded on the plane before you take off. Small elephants will need a bit more planning. Tell them to hide them well.”
The two men began to move away still chatting.
Despite her discomfort, Sara remained motionless as their voices faded. She had the answers she needed about who was behind the poaching. She also understood why Dickie had insisted there were no poachers and forbade her to seek information.
He had the pilot to ferry out the ivory, hacked away in bloody stumps from mature animals. And it wouldn’t be hard to hide the babies in a corral in the bush until an unscrupulous trucker arrived to take them away.
Her mind raced. She had to make sure she regained the full power of her human genes before midnight. To do that she had to mate with a human male. Then at midnight she would shift to slink out behind Fisi and stalk him to his rendezvous with the poachers.
And then what? Somehow she would stop their game. No matter what it took.
Chapter Three
There was still a slight tremor in her limbs as she crawled out from under the thorn bush and picked her way cautiously back to her own tent. She made herself concentrate on human tasks, hoping desperately to prevent any moment of inattention that could cause a shift.
First she composed a text message on her mobile to the private number of her contact at the Wildlife Service. Could he send rangers to the reserve as soon as possible after first light tomorrow? She might have something for him.
Transmission was always uncertain in the bush and as she stowed her phone she uttered a fervent prayer that the reception today was strong enough for the message to go through. If she carried out her plan, she had to have human backup in place.
The information about the poachers had lifted her spirits, and the water cascading from the shower held no fear for her. Gradually she gained confidence that all would be well for at least a few hours.
She brushed her hair and left it hanging loose, fastened back by a clip of Malindi beadwork. She would pick out the yellow and red of the beads in a wrap skirt of African fabric and a top, cut low to show the slight swell of her breasts.
On her last trip to Nairobi she’d bought a thong and a matching lacy scrap of a bra that she’d never taken from its wrapping. She slipped them on. The bra lifted her breasts and the thong pressed snugly between her legs. Making a half turn, she looked over her shoulder at the cheeks of her buttocks. She laid her hands flat and cupped them. Her sensitive skin quivered at the touch of her own hands.
The delicious, tortuous ache crept upward from her belly. She removed her hands from her ass to stroke each of her breasts in turn, touching the dark shadow of her nipples through the lace, relishing the shudder that went through her. Moisture began to seep from her vagina and the thong pressed more tightly against her vulva as the flesh swelled and her clit began to throb.
She watched her snaking hips in the mirror as her hands moved over her body. Her breath quickened and a flush stained her cheekbones. She unhooked the bra and let her breasts swing free, pinching the nipples again and feeling the jolt down into her pussy.
Eyes half-closed, she tilted back her head as she continued to watch while she pleasured herself. When her throbbing pussy could stand no more, she hooked her thumbs into the thong and slid it down her thighs, revealing the damp curls around her opening.
With delicate fingers, she parted her lower lips and widened her stance. She thought of Jack Wilding, his long legs and strong shoulders. Her thumb found the little bud of her clit and she pushed two fingers inside her eager pussy. Her hands and her hips fell into a natural rhythm, bringing her quickly to the brink.
God, how she wanted this!
Once in a while her fertile period coincided with Serah’s heat cycle and this was one of the months. Lion urges and human lust made a powerful combination.
Her deprived flesh responded hungrily and she brought herself to climax, then fell breathless on her bed.
That had felt so good. Much better than most of the times she lay alone in bed and sought release. Her need was great, but the thought of Jack had added a delicious spice. If imagining him could do this, she looked forward to the real thing…
Just before dusk the safari vans returned and she heard the chatter of the tourists as they compared notes on what they had seen and boasted about the shots they had recorded on their cameras.
Sara finished dressing and made her way to the bar to find Jack.
* * * * *
The bar was dim and cool, the ceiling fans whirring softly now the power was back on. She heard the muffled thump of the generator out by the storage buildings. A few early diners were already sipping cold pre-dinner drinks.
For a moment she couldn’t see him, then made out his shape at a table in the corner. As if he knew she was there, he picked up a small box of matches and struck one. The flame swelled as he lit the candle on the table and then settled to a soft glow. The light played around the planes of his face, flickering over his mouth, emphasizing the strong lines of his jaw. She drew in her breath as the muscles in her belly tightened. She could imagine tracing the curve of his lips with the tip of her tongue, could already feel the pressure of his lips on hers.
He’d put on a blue shirt and jeans. She thought of the blue feather in Ngina’s pouch. He put the matches down and looked directly at her, his eyes drinking her in.
His gaze locked on hers, and she took a step forward as if pulled to him by an invisible thread. Oblivious to the other people in the room, she walked toward him, toward her destiny.
She moved slowly, relishing his eyes on her, swaying her hips in invitation. He didn’t blink, didn’t take his eyes from her as he scanned her body. She could recognize desire when she saw it. As she drew closer she saw a nerve twitch in his jaw, and he rose from his chair. She looked up to meet his eyes.
They were a deep brown, and in their depths she saw the candle flame glittering like a flicker of lightning in a dark sky.
She moistened her lips and stood still, waiting. Her breasts ached with longing and the moisture from her arousal spread around her thighs. She could hardly breathe, for fear of betraying herself right there in public.
“Have you come for dinner?” His voice was low and she detected a slight tremor.
“No. I’ve come for you.”
She waited a split second for the flicker of understanding, then turned on her heel, her bright skirt swirling around her legs, and without a backward glance strode from the room.
She heard the scrape of his chair as he followed her.
Outside the building the warm night enveloped them like a soft shawl. She led the way to deep shadow under a flowering jacaranda whose purple blossoms shone like pale ghosts of themselves in the darkness. Their fragrance floated like incense in the air. Music came faintly from the dining area and an insect chirped in the hedge.
She turned to face him.
He took one step closer and then their arms were around each other, hands clawing desperately at their clothing, mouths seeking to cling and devour.
Jack found the opening of her wrap skirt and his hands slid up her legs, reaching the damp thong. A groan burst from his throat and he renewed his attack on her mouth. Her arms snaked around his neck, holding on tight, caressing the softness of his hair under her seeking fingers. His tongue probed between her lips and she opened her mouth for him.
She was wet, dri
pping cream from between her legs and she heard her own tiny moans of pleasure and need as she molded her body to his.
A low wall marked the edge of the walkway and he lifted her hips to lodge her ass on it. His hands pushed at her legs to spread them wider.
People could pass by. A tourist wanting dinner, Dickie checking on the staff, one of the askaris doing his watchman rounds…
She didn’t care.
His hands cupped the cheeks of her ass and she lifted for him while he ripped the thong from her. His fingers probed between her pussy lips and he slid his thumb inside her.
Oh, God, she thought she would explode there and then.
She felt his smile against her mouth and he withdrew his thumb. He was teasing her, making her wait and beg.
He released her mouth. “What do you want me to do?” he murmured against her cheek.
She leaned against him, boneless, a quivering mass of desire, no thought in her head but of her need for his hard cock driven into her as far as it would go. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Fuck me hard.”
“I intend to do that, my sweet. But there’s something I need first.”
He hooked a finger in the strap of her camisole top and stroked the curve of her breasts, dipping into the hollow between, catching the fabric of her bra.
“You’re going to have to wait while I—” With a quick movement he ripped the silky top from her, exposing her throbbing breasts.
One hand still between her legs, he bent his head and took her nipple between his teeth. Gently he sucked it into his mouth then traced the outline of her areola with the tip of his tongue.
Fire and ice flowed through her from her engorged pussy to her tingling breasts. She pulled his shirt from his pants and slid her hands upward to touch his nipples. They were hard, like miniatures of her own.
Heat Page 3
