Bloodhunter

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Bloodhunter

  Copyright © 2008 by Vonna Harper

  ISBN: 1-59998-900-X

  Edited by Linda Ingmanson

  Cover by Dawn Seewer

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Bloodhunter

  Vonna Harper

  Dedication

  To the ladies of Passionate Ink. We all speak the same language.

  Also to my mentor, Kate Douglas. It's your fault, kid.

  Chapter One

  Gripping her nearly-new and obscenely expensive digital camera with practiced hands, Dana Mallon zoomed in on the young gazelle. As she did, she allowed as how the 200mm lens she’d broken her bank buying had been worth it.

  She’d been waiting for the graceful creature with the luminescent eyes and slender legs to move out of the shadows for so long that her thighs ached from crouching, but her determination to get as many shots as possible of the youngster was going to be worth it. Most of the other gazelles were more interested in each other than her, but this one had a child’s curiosity about anything and everything, to say nothing of energy. Not only did the youngster keep trying to get the older gazelles to play with her instead of nosing under each others’ tails, she frequently jumped straight into the air, head thrown back in what Dana was convinced was an animal laugh. Fortunately, her camera was capable of taking five frames per second because otherwise she’d have nothing except blurs.

  “You’re a skit, you know that, don’t you?” she muttered. “Keep that up and you’ll make the cover.”

  Obviously impressed with her chance for fame, the creature suddenly raced toward a mound, leaping onto it with a smooth and controlled move that would put an Olympic gymnast to shame. Unfortunately, the animal was now too far away for more close-ups.

  “All right, go be shy on me.” As she straightened, Dana’s whisper turned into a groan. Shaking the cramps out of her calves briefly captured her attention, but once the pain subsided, she again studied her surroundings.

  The hundred-acre preserve was a wildlife lover’s dream thanks to the various natural areas ranging from high desert to African plains to a simulated rainforest. At present she was in a hilly oak and pine forest indigenous to gazelles and many other browsers. Concerned she might spook the high-strung creatures, she’d been hesitant about entering their turf, but Wildlands’ assistant director had assured her that they were used to humans. Except for Wildlands staff, said humans were confined to small, open buses that traveled along the many winding paths. Dana, however, had favored status.

  Resting the camera that had given her said favored status on her shoulder, she looked around for something else to train her lens on, but the gazelle herd was now even farther away. Besides, there was something edgy about their behavior that warned her to keep her distance.

  Spotting a small head poking up from a hole in the ground, she started tiptoeing in that direction. As she did, she continued to absorb her surroundings in ways she couldn’t explain, but came to her through her skin and nerve endings.

  Being out-of-doors always did this to her. With an endless sky overhead and dirt and rocks beneath her feet, she felt alive here as she never did inside. From early childhood, she’d been happiest in the elements. What did she care if she was the only child out on a stormy or breath-stealing hot day? No matter how carefully her mother dressed her for winter, she’d always shed her coat and boots. Houses were for sleeping in, sometimes. Otherwise, they didn’t have much purpose as far as she could see.

  These days she was a little more circumspect about the ways she embraced nature, but if she could be sure no one was around right now, she’d be tempted to yank off her cotton T-shirt and canvas shorts so she could feel the breeze on her skin. Hmm. It was fall, and although this afternoon was warm, there’d been frost on the ground at first light so why wasn’t she at least wearing long pants?

  Because she didn’t give a damn about creature comfort.

  The little rodent was playing peek-a-boo, prompting her to slow even more to keep from spooking it. Although “restless” should have been her middle name, she could be infinitely patient when it came to communing with nature. It was just having to abide by society's rules that drove her insane.

  “What do you say?” she asked the rodent. “How about coming all the way out and showing me your best side? Let me take a few poses, and you can go back to whatever you were doing.”

  The rodent—she guessed it was a ground squirrel—must have bought her offer, because it popped out, settled itself on its hind legs with its front legs tucked close to its body, and regarded her as if she was only marginally interesting. Dropping to her knees, Dana zoomed in on the elongated face, whiskers, impressive teeth and observant eyes.

  Oh yes, this was better than photographing clients’ pampered pets—much better!

  The ground held remnants of the heavy dew, adding a richness to the air’s earthy scent. As she pulled more of the smell into her, tears blurred her vision. Blinking repeatedly, she didn’t try to pretend she didn’t know what had caused them.

  Alone. Always alone.

  But reality was, she needed it that way. A parade of boyfriends in her teens and early twenties had taught her that she wasn’t ready to connect with a member of the opposite sex beyond the physical, to give up her private space. Maybe, like her father, she’d never reach that state.

  When the ground squirrel grew tired of posing and scampered off, she went back to taking in her surroundings. Being selected to handle the photography for Wildland’s informational booklet was a godsend, and if she pulled it off, it would lift her career a strong notch. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the land’s impact. Even now, despite her tired legs and rumbling belly, she was heading back to where she’d last seen the gazelle. They had something to tell or show her, something vital about primitive instinct.

  She’d stopped and was again testing the wind’s scent when cool fingers ran down her spine. Instantly alert, she froze. She’d been assured that there were no meat-eaters in this compound, but something—

  A second cold crawling sensation, this one even more intense, caused her to grip her camera with both hands just in case she needed to use it as a weapon. A new smell had been added to the mix of grass and dirt that was elemental and raw. Dangerous somehow.

  More intrigued than afraid, she stood on her toes with her legs spread for balance. One of the things that had fascinated her about the gazelles was their innate caution, even distrust of their surroundings. They were prey, fuel for predators, so staying alert was essential if they were to live. While watching them earlier, she’d pondered which she was. She still didn’t have the answer, but had been content to explore the emotions of hunted and hunter to see where she might fit.

  She was being watched. The pressure at the base of her spine and her deep, measured breaths told her that. Most likely, the unseen eyes belonged to a gazelle or another benign resident of this compound, but maybe,
maybe something else—

  A burning sensation on her right hip nearly made her cry out. Shifting the camera to her left hand, she pressed her fingers against flesh and bone. In her mind’s eye she saw the tattoo she’d had placed there while in her mid teens, but why should it suddenly feel raw?

  New heat, this time nipping sharply at her spine, distracted her. Still on her toes, she started turning. She’d completed about half of the circuit when she noted a high cyclone fence beyond a thicket. The longer she looked at the fence, the more convinced she became that whatever was on the other side was responsible for her body’s warning.

  Slow, cautious and determined, she started toward the fence. With each step, her conviction about the source of the unseen stare increased, but that wasn’t all. The heat in her back and on her hip was spreading out, or more accurately, down. It rolled over her hips and buttocks and was sliding between her thighs, igniting not just her legs, but her pussy as well.

  What was this? Danger was sexy?

  Maybe, but danger had never affected her like this and now was hardly the time for a reminder of how long it had been since she’d had more than her toys inside her hungry cunt.

  Her lips became numb, and she had to work at getting enough air into her lungs. Last year an apartment she’d given up on trying to live in had been broken into as she was moving out. When she’d seen that splintered front door, she sure as hell hadn’t walked in like a heroine in a thriller movie. Instead, heeding the warning that had come through loud and clear, she’d locked herself in her car until the cops arrived. In other words, unless basic intelligence had deserted her, she was still walking toward the fence because on some level she knew she wasn’t going to get her throat ripped open.

  Good thing since there wasn’t anything sexy about bleeding to death.

  Closer. One silent step at a time. Camera ready for either taking shots or to use as a weapon. Heart beating like a hard rock drum. Veins and arteries filled with heat. Wet heat soaking her panties and distracting the hell out of her and her tattoo all but on fire. Alive. Oh damn yes, alive!

  She became Jane looking for Tarzan with the wilderness skimming over, around and through her, everything immediate and pure. Anyone with a survival instinct to her soul would be turning tail and running, but not her because she needed to be doing this one thing as maybe she’d never needed anything else.

  There. She was now an arm’s length from the strong, tall fence, leaning forward at the waist and squinting against the sun.

  Eyes! Looking back at her. Warning. Challenging and seducing.

  Instead of fleeing, she stared open-mouthed at the feline predator staring back at her. The large head with its massive jaws was supported by powerful shoulders and thick legs, the color predominantly brownish-yellow with dark rosette markings all over. The beast’s paws were broad and large and deceptively soft looking, the claws made for climbing and killing. Although it faced her, the big cat’s rear end was at an angle, giving her a clear view of the long, thick tail. What was it the assistant director had told her, that cats’ large tails acted to balance their weight.

  But what truly seized her attention were its eyes—probing and intense, an iridescent yellow with shiny black pupils. The ears weren’t particularly large, but the teeth, oh god, the teeth! Through the parted mouth, she clearly saw fangs designed for ripping and tearing, for bringing death.

  The high, strong fence is between us. He can’t reach me.

  Why she’d determined that this was a male she couldn’t say—except maybe that explained why she felt as if she was in heat. What was this, a human female being seduced by a male four-legged hunter? Kinky.

  The cat hadn’t moved, and by her reckoning he was no more than twenty feet away, shadows from the nearby low trees making him appear truly part of his surroundings. She lifted her camera and ran off shot after shot, relieved because the shutter was soundless.

  A jaguar.

  A fresh fire-wave ran through her, and she struggled to keep from sinking to the ground. A jaguar.

  Most people probably couldn’t distinguish between them and other predators, particularly leopards which were also marked with spots, but long ago she’d learned that jaguars had small black dots within the rosettes and were larger than leopards.

  No wonder she’d had such a visceral reaction. After all—

  Not a jaguar, but a man, naked and dark, tall, strong, eyes like midnight lightning, standing proud and challenging with his swollen cock reaching for her.

  An intense, almost painful burning on her hip stopped her insane thoughts. Although she risked agitating the jaguar, she pressed her hand as hard as she could against her tattoo. The big cat followed her every move, his eyes seeming to reach beyond her shorts and panties to the flesh beneath.

  This concentrated fire was too much. No matter how firmly she told herself it was natural for someone to react to the sight of a rare and beautiful creature, she knew it was more than that. The way the jaguar kept staring at her contributed to her reaction; that along with the barely-controlled power beneath that magnificent coat. She’d give anything to have her father here, to ask him if he understood her fascination.

  “You’re incredible,” she risked whispering. “Magical.”

  A low rumble rolled out of the jaguar’s deep chest. Then, before she could ask it if it was trying to communicate with her, it crouched and leaped, not toward her, but at a right angle. A second gliding bound took it into the wilderness and out of sight.

  No! Come back! I need—

  Chapter Two

  “No wonder you have that wide-eyed look. The big cats cause a strong reaction in most people. Sorry. I should have let you know how close you were to their compound.”

  “Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t have missed that experience for the world.” Dana wiped sweaty palms on her shorts.

  Rose More, assistant director, patted the seat beside her in the modified golf cart she was driving. Rose had shown up soon after the jaguar had taken off, making Dana wonder if the barely perceptible sound of the cart had been responsible for its sudden departure. Still, wasn’t the jaguar used to the humans who took care of, and most importantly, fed him? Darn it! For someone who thought she knew something about jaguars, she had a lot of questions needing answers. Fortunately, she was talking to a person who could supply said answers—once she’d figured out how to get the right words out.

  Dana guessed Rose to be in her late forties or early fifties, although her deep tan and the lines carved by extended periods in the sun made accuracy impossible, not that it mattered. Rose wasn’t particularly tall, but her broad shoulders, wide hips and impressive breasts gave her substance. She was, Dana had decided the moment she’d met her, up to the task of handling the preserve’s daily functioning. Obviously, Rose considered keeping an eye on the freelance photographer she’d hired to be part of her responsibilities.

  After finding nearly enough room for her own less expansive hips on the seat, Dana stowed her camera behind her. “Where are we going?”

  “Out of here for a while to give the inmates a little privacy. We’ve been keeping close tabs on the browsers now that it’s fall. Breeding season, you know.”

  Dana hadn’t thought about that, and with her mind still on the big cat, she said nothing. Breeding season? Did that explain her powerful reaction to the beautiful killing machine?

  Rose got the cart rolling again, then pointed at a hawk perched on a tree top. “The local hawks and owls couldn’t be happier to have us here. All this natural vegetation in addition to the tons of food we bring in, to say nothing of the mice and other rodents who have taken advantage of it, make for easy pickings for predator birds.”

  “It’s not the same for the big cats, is it?” Dana ventured. “I mean, they aren’t allowed to hunt the gazelle or other grazers here, are they?”

  “Hardly. Not that they wouldn’t like to. How much do you want to know about where their meat comes from?”

  “
Not much. I’m happy with a certain amount of ignorance.”

  Rose laughed. “In that case, I’ll play along. I hope you don’t mind, but I think it’s better if you limit the time you spend near any animals that are in rut. Even the truly gentle creatures get a little nuts when they’re breeding. You probably noticed that they weren’t doing much eating.”

  “There was a lot of ass sniffing going on.”

  Another laugh caused Rose’s impressive breasts to jiggle. “Along with a fair amount of chasing and nipping and kicking, sniffing is their version of foreplay. We don’t want to distract them from moving on to the real thing.”

  “Do you want any pictures of matings? I have an even more powerful telephoto lens than this one, but maybe that’s too graphic for the booklet.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. I guess it depends on what you get.” Rose winked. “Could be interesting. A lot of people might want to come so they can watch the inmates getting it on, or we could sell the dirty pictures on the Internet. There’s a bit of the voyeur in all of us.”

  Dana was quiet for the better part of a minute. As remarkable as the encounter with the jaguar had been, she prided herself on being a professional. With that and an undeniable reluctance to mention her carnal reaction to the big cat in mind, she asked Rose how she might get close enough to mating animals for a decent shot.

  Rose winked again. As she did, her settled, almost matronly features became mischievous, even excited. “Believe me, modesty isn’t going to be something we have to work around. Fucking turns animals blind, deaf, and stupid—just like humans.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t let the way I talk get to you. It becomes an occupational hazard when you spend your life observing and being concerned about animals’ bodily functions.”

  “That’s all right. I wasn’t embarrassed, just not prepared for such a direct explanation. And I’m glad you said what you did because now I know to look at things here with new eyes; specifically, a greater awareness of those bodily functions.”