Taming The Cougar Page 3

  Still showing her what his hand was capable of, he surrendered his fierce grasp on reality. In his mind she was no longer simply a woman he’d run down and imprisoned. Instead, she became his willing partner, a woman who cared for him, who understood and accepted his complexity, who didn’t recoil in horror when faced with the truth of him.

  When he could no longer keep the beast at bay, she’d accept the change with gentle hands and mouth. She’d kiss his muzzle, run her fingers over his fangs, stroke his ears and powerful jaw, cradle paw and claws on her lap. Her naked lap.

  And when he rose up on his hind legs and hung his paws over her shoulders, his sex sliding between her legs from behind, she’d drop onto her hands and knees and offer herself, a human, to him, a Tocho.

  It would no longer be a dream.

  3

  Not bothering to look at her watch, Kai crawled out of bed. Despite the high-desert middle-of-the-night cold waiting beyond her tent, she stepped outside. After a moment, she reached back in for her slippers and jacket, and put them on.

  The moon was somewhere between a quarter and a third full. Back in civilization, it wouldn’t stand much of a chance against the never-ending artificial illumination, but here where only a handful of trees reached into the sky, the moon dominated. Instead of heading for the campfire with its faintly glowing coals, she sat on a rock.

  She was grateful for the moon’s quiet light. At the same time, she needed to see more of her surroundings. With most of the shadows chased away, maybe she’d have an easier time shaking off what had wakened her.

  Disturbing didn’t go far enough in describing her dream. Vivid was right-on, and yet it had been more than that. Mostly she’d run, her lungs hurting and her heart on fire. Something had followed hot on her heels; she just wished she could remember what that something was—or did she? She’d been beyond afraid, overwhelmed. In some regards it hadn’t been that different from the time she’d lost control on black ice on a mountain road, spinning in one circle after another, the trees coming closer and closer, knowing she was going to crash, everything happening in slow motion.

  Incapable of lying to herself, she faced facts. If she’d ever had a stronger physical reaction to a dream, she couldn’t recall. True, the nightmares following her father’s violent death had deeply shaken her, and still returned occasionally to shatter her attempts at sleep, but that was to be expected.

  But this?

  Trying to tell herself that communicating, or trying to communicate, with Sani’s wildlife had overloaded her system briefly satisfied her. Then the sensation of being watched overtook her. Who, or what, if anything, was responsible? And did she have anything to fear from—

  “Kai, you okay?”

  For the second time today, Garrin had stomped into the middle of her thoughts, not that she minded. “Just can’t sleep,” she said, looking around for him.

  Although she heard his whispered footsteps, he was twenty feet from her before she spotted him. He was wearing socks. Like her, he had on a jacket. Unlike her, his jeans covered his legs. Unable to do anything about her condition, she bent her knees and tucked them under her jacket.

  “What about you?” she asked as he sat on an adjacent rock. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “I’m certain you do. With everything you need to do before the others get here—”

  “That’s not the only thing. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but that scream we heard—it couldn’t be anything except a cougar. I just didn’t think one would come so close.”

  “That surprised me, too.”

  “We’re hardly in the middle of civilization, which means I need to adjust my thinking. Just because I don’t have to worry about getting mugged doesn’t mean I can drop my guard.” He paused. “Look, if you think my imagination’s gone over the top, let me know, but you’re someone who’s uniquely tuned into your surroundings. Do you ever get the feeling we aren’t here alone?”

  She hadn’t known him long, but Garrin had struck her as practical and pragmatic, the ultimate in revering logic, which was why she didn’t understand why he’d wanted to bring her onboard.

  “I’m sure we’re not alone. We could have attracted the attention of an owl or coyote, even the cougar we heard.”

  “That’s possible. But…”

  “Are you thinking it might not be an animal?”

  “I’m not sure. I was hoping you could—but wait, you have to touch something before your psychic ability kicks in.”

  “Unfortunately. Maybe it’s the Anasazi. For all we know, their ghosts could still be around.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure how to respond.” As she pondered whether ancient spirits might somehow still call Sani home, the sensation of being under something or someone’s scrutiny reawakened in her. Along with it came unexpected awareness of her body, particularly between her legs. What was her problem? Hadn’t she recently satisfied herself?

  “We’ll never know everything, will we?” she continued when he didn’t say anything. “I’ve been places, such as some of California’s missions, where I had no doubt that something remained of those who once lived there. One time I was in what I thought was a courtyard in one of the missions. A powerful sense of sorrow gripped me. Later I learned I’d been in a Native American graveyard.”

  “Maybe what you felt was tied into your—whatever it is?”

  Someday she’d have to give a name to her sight. “I can’t answer that.” Long accustomed to keeping emotional space between herself and the rest of the world, she went in search of a way to redirect the subject. “Do you really think we aren’t alone out here?”

  Even with the inadequate light, she was certain Garrin was mulling over her question. Why was it so hard for her to open up about what she’d been feeling? Was it because if she admitted she half-believed she was being watched, she might have to confess that the wondering was turning her on?

  “I’m an academic,” he said. “I’m not accustomed to thinking any other way. That’s why I’m puzzled by tonight’s sensations. Maybe—quite possibly, the explanation is that I’m not used to being outside the academic setting. What do they call what I’ve become—a desk jockey?”

  “Good point.”

  “In contrast, I’m certain you’ve spent considerable time in the outdoors. All the work you’ve done for the National Park Service—and if everything I’ve heard about you is accurate, as I trust it is, in many respects you exist in a realm that’s anything but conventional.”

  He was right about that. “Maybe it is the Anasazi. Maybe Chindi.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

  According to historic Navajo belief, when a person died, a ghost or Chindi was released with the last dying breath. It was always an evil force determined to avenge some offense. Coming in contact with a Chindi was considered dangerous and caused sickness or misfortune. Naturally, the Navajo took every possible precaution to avoid contact with one, especially the worst of the worst, Skinwalker.

  “You asked. I simply offered up an explanation.”

  “That’s no explanation. It’s ignorant superstition.”

  Don’t dismiss what sustained a people for generations. “Perhaps, but we both sense something we can’t explain.”

  Garrin grunted.

  He was quick to dismiss ancient beliefs as superstition but saw nothing wrong with trying to use her gift to his advantage. Did the man really think he could have it both ways? “If I remember correctly,” she said, teasing him a bit, “Chindi are seen only after dark. They appear as a coyote, a spot of fire, whirlwind, mouse, owl, even human form, or an indefinite dark object.”

  “For crying—how do you know so much about them? It’s integral to my career, of course, but—”

  “My father,” she said softly. “He wanted the two of us to learn everything we could about the areas he was assigned to. In fact h
e wasn’t that far from here—Canyon De Chelly—when he died. It was his second assignment there, with a lot of years in between.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Distracted by memories of life between the ages of ten and twelve, when she’d accompanied her National Park Service-employee father as work took him into the heart of Navajo country, it took her a moment to turn the conversation back to emotionally safer ground. “Dad homeschooled me some of the time. I was an eager student, fascinated by my surroundings. I read everything I could get my hands on about the area’s geology. And the history, of course—the humans who lived there. I’m sure you know that sometimes Chindi are nothing more than sound.”

  “We aren’t getting sound tonight.”

  “No, we aren’t.” Just sensation.

  Neither of them spoke for the better part of a minute, then Garrin broke the silence. “With everything we archeologists and anthropologists know about ancient societies, there’s a lot we don’t have the answers to yet.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as where beliefs like those involving where Chindi come from. We can speculate. And if that speculation finds its way into papers and texts, eventually it becomes fact. Frankly, I’ve never believed in anything I couldn’t see, touch, or analyze.”

  “Then why did you seek me out?”

  Garrin shifted position, making her guess his butt wasn’t crazy about being up close and personal with a rock. In contrast, she half-believed she could sit here in relative comfort for the rest of the night—unless a Chindi came calling.

  “Simple. My investigation led me to conclude that you indeed have the unique skills you’re rumored to have, skills I believe will result in far greater knowledge about this area than would be possible otherwise.”

  She liked Garrin, respected him. He was determined to make the most of the rare opportunity Sani represented, even if it meant hiring an animal psychic. What did he care if his choice resulted in his being the brunt of his colleagues’ jokes, as long as she contributed significantly to knowledge about Sani.

  Garrin was asking her how she’d become aware of her special ability. Because she owed him more than the standard spiel, she explained that she and her father had long wondered if losing her mother at just two years old had opened a door, or valve, or something in her head, heart, and soul.

  “My father was wonderful about letting me express myself. He never questioned anything I told him about conversations I had, first with the family pets, and then with any and every living thing I got my hands on. I think if he’d discouraged me, I would have shut that door. At least I would have tried.”

  “So your father is why you’ve been working with the Park Service? You were following in his footsteps.”

  “Not exactly. He’s—he was a career employee, while all I’ve done is contract work.”

  “Park Service brass thinks highly of your talent. I’m surprised you left them for this.”

  She’d known Garrin would eventually ask for an explanation, she just hadn’t expected it tonight, with the night so close. “The money’s incredible.”

  “You’re also running the risk of notoriety I know you aren’t interested in. Depending on what we uncover here, the media could go crazy. You must have given your potential exposure a lot of thought.”

  She had, and if she hadn’t needed distance between herself and her father’s untimely death, she probably wouldn’t be here. Coming to trust and fully believe in her unique connection with the animal world had been a long process. Fortunately, her father had known who within the Park Service could be trusted to protect her. She had no problem sharing what she discovered about the animals that lived in various national parks with those entrusted with their safety. To her way of thinking, what was the point of having a gift if it wasn’t put to use. She just didn’t want her name on any text, or worse, handed to the media.

  Sensing a too-familiar headache coming on, she gave an exaggerated yawn. “You’re right. I gave your offer a lot of thought. I was going to say no until you sent me the video of Sani. To think there’s a chunk of turf here in the United States that’s basically gone unexplored and unexploited—it’s incredibly exciting.”

  “So it was Sani, and not the salary that tipped the scales?”

  “Garrin, yesterday I held an old badger skull, and saw the Navajo arrow at the moment it struck him. What if…”

  “If what?”

  Maybe Garrin already knew what she was about to say, and that was why he sounded so intense. “Maybe someday I’ll pick up the skeleton of a creature killed by the Anasazi. What if…I see the truly ancient man or woman responsible for the killing? Be given insight into the way they lived, like no one else ever has.”

  Something warm brushed the back of her hand. She started, then relaxed when she realized Garrin had touched her. He’d leaned forward without her noticing, his larger size both comforting and disconcerting.

  “Tell me something, Kai. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Just maybe?”

  “I don’t know. I just pray I’ll learn the answer—that the centuries can be gaped.”

  “Why do you think I wanted you here?”

  Don’t say that! I don’t know how to handle it. “You’re asking a hell of a lot of me.”

  “Am I?”

  Unwilling to take the conversation any deeper, she stood and tried another yawn. After saying something utterly forgettable about needing her beauty rest, she headed back to her tent. She had no doubt that he was staring at her.

  What she didn’t realize was that he continued to study her tent long after she’d disappeared, or that his hands were so tightly clenched, his nails dug into his palms.

  Fall asleep, damn it. What’s so frickin’ hard about shutting off your mind?

  A spider had gotten into the tent and was making its way along a side seam. Although Kai couldn’t see it, she sensed the spider’s single-mindedness. One thing she’d learned about nature’s living organisms, the majority operated according to preprogrammed mechanisms. The spider wasn’t thinking about what it was doing. Rather, it crawled because nothing had told it not to. It would remain on the move until it came in contact with something that switched a trigger in its rudimentary system. Maybe the trigger would tell it to create a web, although it might head toward her, or the heat she gave off.

  Losing interest in something that had little to tell her, she replayed what she and Garrin had talked about. Although they’d cleared the air somewhat, the conversation had left her with an uneasy feeling. She just wished she understood why she felt the way she did. Facing her gift was one thing, especially when it might lead to greater understanding of an extinct culture. Knowing someone hoped to capitalize on what she learned was another.

  Thoroughly tired of her self-absorbed thoughts, she tried to make peace with tomorrow’s agenda. The rest of those the university had selected for the initial exploration would be here next week. In the meantime, Garrin was insisting that the two of them cover as much territory as possible. Instead of thoroughly examining the land near where the kiva had been found, she and Garrin were to do a quick and dirty search. She suspected he’d prefer not to let her out of his sight, but with the others breathing down his neck, so to speak, he didn’t have much choice. What she most objected to was his insistence that she document her every move and finding, and share her notes with him.

  What she hadn’t put down was anything about the indescribable sensations that sometimes washed over her.

  Too tired to throw up any defenses, she sank into sensation. It didn’t matter that she was alone, her body didn’t feel alone. Quite the contrary, she’d almost swear she was sharing the confining space with something or someone, a creature or human with the ability to slip under her skin. The initial inroad made, he spread his impact throughout her. Her quick, hard climax—had she really been solely responsible? Usually self-satisfaction took time and effort, but tonight—
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  Hunger, that’s what it all boiled down to—and energy. Even with her muscles worn down and the blood in her veins slowed, she was once again in the grip of something wildly alive. Granted, her body remained motionless. But the rest of her was under siege, alive, aching.

  Slipping, sliding, oozing, reality weakening. Grateful for what she hoped was sleep, she opened her mind and welcomed the nothingness.

  Then something touched her.

  4

  Hissing like the animal she’d become, she waited. Her hair fell in wild tangles around her face and down her naked back. Limp strands draped over her exposed breasts. Weary beyond belief, she acknowledged the ropes that prevented her from doing anything about her hair or about taking her from this place of waiting.

  How she’d gotten here mattered only a little. Cotton clung to her elbows, forcing her arms behind her, her breasts out. More rope circled her belly. Knotted in back, it also circled her wrists and forced her tethered hands against her ass. Yet more rope tightly caressed her thighs and ankles and kept her in a kneeling position. Immobile. That’s what she was, imprisoned not just by her bonds, but by whoever had done this to her.

  She was utterly and completely naked, forced into a position of servitude. Instead of railing against her captivity, she embraced it. Her captor, whoever he was, desired her body. Otherwise he would have killed her.

  With nothing to do except wait and experience, she closed her eyes. Behind her lids, she continued to see herself as her captor surely would when he returned from wherever he’d gone. Kneeling, arms wrenched back, breasts hard and hot. Thighs modestly together, or they would be if she could cover them. As long as these ropes remained in place, he couldn’t get to her sex, but he could and would do what he wanted with her.

  And she wouldn’t try to stop him.