TRANSFORMATION
By
Amanda Steiger
© copyright December 2006, Amanda Steiger
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright December 2006
ISBN 1-58608-994-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
A full moon glowed whitely through the dark tangle of branches overhead. Wind whispered through the leaves.
Maggie pushed aside a branch as she trudged through the dense woods, wishing she had worn something with long sleeves. Her arms were covered with scratches. Her feet were sore, she was tired, hungry, cold and....
Maggie stopped herself before she could run through the entire mental litany of discomforts. Dwelling on it wouldn’t make her feel any better.
Stopping, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “Stacy! Brian!” for what must have been the twentieth time. As always, there was no reply.
Maggie lowered her hands and sighed. A few hours ago, walking just behind Stacy and Brian, she had stopped beside the trail to look at a paw-print in the mud. A paw-print as big as her hand. She’d studied it, wondering if it had been the work of practical jokesters. Surely there was nothing that big in this forest, was there? She’d intended to tell her companions what she’d found, but when she looked up, they had been nowhere in sight. They’d probably just kept walking, assuming she’d catch up.
Maggie had tried to follow their trail and gotten hopelessly lost. She’d spent the past few hours wandering, looking for something familiar, feeling out of her element and increasingly frightened. Maybe she should have just stayed put. Too late now.
She had no way to contact anyone, no idea where she was. Her heartbeat quickened. “Stacy!” she shouted again, almost screaming. “Brian! Where are you, damn it?”
Something rustled in the nearby underbrush, and she gasped. Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand over her racing heart. “Calm down,” she muttered to herself. The sound of her own voice made her feel a little better. “You’re in Wisconsin, not the African jungle. There aren’t any lions or tigers.”
Stacy had laughed when Maggie asked if there was anything dangerous in the forest. Stacy was always laughing at her silly fears. She supposed that was typical of big sisters, though ... and Stacy’s boyfriend, Brian, was the same way. They both had a talent for making Maggie feel much younger than her twenty-four years.
She started walking again ... and heard another rustle in the bushes, this one louder and closer. Her breath caught in her throat. Whatever it was, it sounded as big as a person. “Hello?” she called, her voice sounding very loud in the silence.
No response.
Maybe there weren’t any dangerous animals in these woods, but that didn’t mean there might not be dangerous people. She supposed a forest wasn’t the most likely place to run into a would-be murderer or rapist, but still....
Maggie’s gaze darted around, looking for something she could use as a weapon. She spotted a baseball-sized rock, with a sharp point, on the ground. Slowly, she reached down and picked it up, curling her fingers around it tightly. Her heart was in her throat, fluttering like a trapped bird.
A pair of eyes gleamed in the shadows ... then vanished.
Maggie swallowed hard. Her heartbeat filled her ears. “Who is it?” she called out sharply. “Who’s following me? Brian? Stacy? Is this some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not funny!”
Silence. Had she imagined it?
Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips as she stared into the shadows. Again, she saw the gleam of golden eyes in the moonlight, and a burst of adrenaline jolted her system like electricity. She hadn’t imagined it. The eyes were still there, looking straight at her. Maggie took a step back, breathing rapidly.
A dark form crept out of the shadows. It was a cougar, huge and sleek, its jaws open to reveal rows of gleaming white fangs. “Oh my God,” whispered Maggie.
The cat growled softly, licked its lips with a wet, pink tongue, and crouched. Muscles bunched under tawny fur as a long tail flicked back and forth.
She had seen housecats crouch like that when they were about to pounce on a toy, or a bit of string. Except now, she was the string ... and judging from the hungry look in those yellow eyes, it intended to do more than bat her around with a paw.
Maggie opened her mouth to scream, but before she could even draw a breath, the cougar’s paws cannoned into her, knocking her to the ground. Sharp teeth pierced her shoulder, and pain exploded through her. She’d never felt such intense pain. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Reacting through pure instinct, she lifted her free arm, her fingers still curled around the jagged rock, and smashed it into the cat’s face. The cougar leapt off her with a yowl and staggered sideways. One wide yellow eye stared at her. Blood darkened the other. The enormous jaws stretched wide as it screamed, a wounded, enraged sound. A cold jolt of fear shot through Maggie, and she struggled to her feet, panting. Warm blood flowed from her wounded shoulder, down her side. The shoulder throbbed with a deep, searing agony.
The cougar pounced, knocking her to the ground again, planting huge paws on her chest. She was pinned, gasping for breath beneath the cougar’s greater weight. Its yellow eye glared down at her, blazing. One paw raised high into the air, curved claws extended....
Then something huge and dark collided with the cat, knocking it aside, and the suffocating pressure on her chest was gone. Maggie tried to sit up, but a wave of pain and dizziness washed over her, and she sank to the ground, her vision fading to black. Before her consciousness slipped away, she caught a blurry glimpse of two feline shapes circling each other, ears pinned back, teeth bared. Then the blackness closed in around her, and she sank into a deep sea of nothingness.
* * * *
Maggie awoke on a soft bed, in a small room with a window. Sunlight spilled into a golden puddle on the floor, and she could hear birds chirping. Aside from the window, the only light came from a small oil-lamp on the table beside her. She looked around, blinking, groggy and disoriented. Her shoulder ached. Slowly, she lifted her other arm to pull the covers aside and saw that someone had bandaged the wounds. The faintly bitter, herbal smell of medicinal salve hung in the air. She also saw that she was naked from the waist up, save for her thin, cotton bra.
“Awake, I see,” said a deep voice.
Maggie gasped, quickly pulling the covers over herself and clutching them tight against her chest. A tall, imposing figure of a man stood at the other end of the room, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He watched her closely, his expression unreadable, his eyes lost in shadow. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Where am I?”
He approached her bed, walking slowly, his eyes still focused on her.
Maggie sat up, the covers slipping away. The sudden movement sent pain ripping through her shoulder, and she gasped, clutching her arm.
Strong hands gripped her arms, pushing her back to the bed. She must have looked frightened, for he said, more quietly, “I’m not going to hurt you. Just lay still.”
She blinked. The man’s eyes were an odd, bright yellow-green, striking against his tanned skin. His hair--long and dark, with a slight wave--was pulled back into a loose tail. The hair was so beautiful that it might have looked girlish on another man, but there was nothing feminine about his face. His brows were thick and dark, his mouth firm, his jaw roughened with stubble.
“Where am I?” asked Maggie.
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“You’re in my cabin,” he said. “About a quarter-mile from the spot where you were attacked by that cougar. I brought you here and treated your wounds.” A slight smile softened the stern mouth. “And my name is Justin, by the way.” He released her arms. She could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering on her bare skin.
Maggie struggled to focus her mind. Confusion clouded her thoughts. “Why aren’t I in a hospital?” she asked.
“There was no way to call an ambulance,” he said.
“You don’t have any phones here?”
He shook his head. “The nearest one is in town.”
“You could have driven me....”
“I don’t have a car. Not here, anyway. If I’d tried to carry you, you would have died from blood loss before we got there.”
“Oh.”
His eyes looked deeply, steadily into hers. It was almost disconcerting, that gaze. Most people didn’t maintain direct eye contact for that long. “Are you in any pain?” he asked. His voice stirred something warm in her belly. It was deep and soft as velvet.
“I’m all right. I mean, it hurts, but not as badly as I would have thought.” Maggie looked around again. Wood walls. Wood floor. A bed, a table, a chair, and not much else. She swallowed, suddenly aware that her mouth and throat were painfully dry. “May I please have some water?” she asked.
He left the room and returned a minute later with a tin cup, which he handed to her. She took a long drink and sighed with relief. The water was like cool silk on her dry, aching throat. “So ... do you live here?” she asked.
“No.” He sat down in the wooden chair next to the bed. “I come here sometimes to get away from things.”
“What things?”
“Ringing phones, barking dogs, the smell of exhaust fumes. Civilization.” He stared off into space a moment. “This cabin belonged to my grandfather. I’m the only one who knows about it. I like that there’s somewhere I can go where no one can reach me.” He glanced at Maggie’s face, and a smile gentled his stern features once again. “I’m probably making myself sound like an antisocial psychopath, aren’t I?”
“No, not at all,” said Maggie, though it had occurred to her that if this guy was a psycho, the police would never find her in time. Hell, if he was a psycho, this cabin probably had bodies lined up under the floorboards like sardines. She swallowed, suddenly very aware that she was half-naked. Even under the covers, she felt very vulnerable, very exposed. “Can I have my shirt?”
“It’s in shreds,” he said. “Wait here. You can borrow one of mine.” He left the room again and returned with a long-sleeved, button-down shirt that’s original color had faded to a washed-out gray. It was almost identical to the one he wore. “Do you need help getting into it?” he asked.
“No, I think I’m all right,” she said, taking the shirt ... but when she lifted her arms to pull it on, she winced at the flare of pain in her shoulders.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said. His voice was very close to her ear. It seemed to caress her, sliding down her spine like a gentle finger. “Sit up,” he said. “I’ll give you a hand.”
Maggie sat up, her face flushed hotly. She glanced down, uncomfortably aware that the slight chill in the air had caused her nipples to harden. Her breasts were on the small side, but her nipples were rather large and prominent ... hence her preference for loose, baggy clothes.
His gaze grazed briefly across her breasts, but didn’t linger. He unbuttoned the shirt and helped her into it, sliding the sleeves over her arms, then buttoning it up again. She watched his long, tanned fingers working the buttons.
An image flashed through her head--those same fingers, caressing her stiff nipples through her bra, pinching them lightly, then rubbing circles around them with warm, firm thumbs.
She shook her head slightly, as if to clear the image away. What on Earth had triggered a thought like that? Well, all right, he was good-looking, but considering the situation--being wounded and stranded in the middle of the woods--sex should have been the last thing on her mind. But there was something about him. It wasn’t just his handsomeness. He exuded a primal sensuality that was difficult to ignore.
He finished buttoning the shirt and straightened, stepping back.
Maggie was a small woman, and he was a fairly large man. His shirt hung from her frame in baggy folds, and the sleeves hid all but her fingers. Still, she was covered, at least. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t mention it.” He smiled, showing a hint of white teeth, and Maggie’s eyes widened.
His canine teeth were unusually sharp. Almost like fangs.
Don’t be stupid, she thought. It was her imagination, making her jumpy again. She was seeing things, surely.
“Something wrong?” asked Justin.
“No,” she said quickly, fingering a button on her sleeve. “No, I’m fine.”
“I think you’re a little nervous,” he said. “I suppose I can’t blame you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’re in an isolated cabin in the forest with a strange man. And you’re injured. No one knows you’re here. I think anyone in your situation would be nervous.”
Maggie sat still and silent, not daring to breathe.
“But I meant what I said,” he continued. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll hike out to town today and contact the authorities and a hospital, so you can get that wound looked at properly.”
Maggie exhaled softly. “I’ll come with you,” she said.
“No. You shouldn’t move from bed yet. If you put too much strain on your body, your shoulder will start bleeding again. Do you have anyone looking for you?”
Maggie nodded. “I was with my sister and her boyfriend. We got separated while we were hiking.”
“Do you want me to call them, too? I’m sure they’ll be relieved to know you’re all right.”
“Yes, please.” She pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket. “Here’s the number of Stacy’s cell-phone.”
He took it and stood, so that she was at eye-level with his groin. She couldn’t help noticing that his jeans were rather tight, and that the package they displayed was quite impressive. He was, to put it less delicately, hung like an ox.
Maggie looked quickly away. What on Earth was wrong with her?
“You’re probably hungry,” he said. “I’ll bring you something to eat before I go, though I’m afraid there’s not much to choose from. Mostly canned foods.”
“I could eat anything right now,” she said, truthfully. She hadn’t realized it until that moment, but she was starving.
He nodded. “Give me a moment.” He left the room, moving with an odd, gliding grace. It wasn’t the way most people walked. It was more like the lazy stroll of a big cat. Maybe she just had cats on the brain.
Maggie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt as if she’d stumbled into a movie, or something. Getting attacked by hungry cougars and rescued by strange but remarkably handsome men was just not something that happened in real life, or at least, not in her dull little life.
She touched her shoulder lightly and winced. The pain was real enough, though not nearly as bad as it should have been. Unless she moved the shoulder, it was only a dull ache, like a bruise. That was another odd thing, now that she thought about it. The wound had been excruciating when she lost consciousness, and it hadn’t been that long ago. Had he given her painkillers when she was asleep? But why would he have such powerful painkillers laying around the house?
Justin returned carrying a plate. There was a small heap of sliced peaches from a can, strips of jerky, and a stack of wheat crackers. He set it on a table.
“Thank you,” said Maggie. She picked up a cracker and nibbled the edge. She had been ravenous a moment ago, but now, she found, her stomach was so filled with fluttery nervousness that her appetite had fled. Justin sat, watching her with greenish yellow eyes. Those eyes seemed unusually bright in the dim light of the room, as
if they absorbed the meager light from the oil lamp and held it in their depths. Like a cat’s.
Maggie swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. Her gaze traveled lower. The first few buttons of his shirt had been left undone, exposing a bit of his chest and a few curls of short, dark hair. Even with his clothes on, it was obvious from his lean, muscular build that he kept himself in shape. His scent--a warm, male scent--tickled her nostrils. She couldn’t remember every being so aware of someone’s smell before. She realized that her heart was beating quickly. Her entire body felt unusually sensitive, every nerve alive and tingling. It was surreal, like being in a dream.
She looked at his long hands, resting on his thighs. His left sleeve had bunched up around his elbow, leaving part of his forearm exposed. It was bandaged, strips of linen wrapped around the arm. Blood had soaked through in spots and dried to a dull, rusty brown. “What happened?” she asked.
He glanced down at the arm. “It’s nothing. I slipped and cut myself when I was chopping firewood.”
“Oh.” The answer didn’t ring true. Her brow furrowed. Memories flickered in her brain, like light gleaming through fog. It seemed suddenly, somehow important to remember exactly what had happened before she passed out. “When you found me--was there one cat, or two?”
“Just the one,” he said. “I heard some strange noises outside, so I grabbed my rifle and came to see what was going on. I saw the cat on top of you. I didn’t want to shoot it--I was afraid of hitting you accidentally--so I fired into the air, and the cougar ran off.”
“Really?”
He smiled with one corner of his mouth. “What’s so unbelievable about that? You didn’t think I fought it off with my bare hands, did you?”
“No, it’s just ... I could have sworn there was another cat. Right before I lost consciousness, I saw it attack the first one.”
“Well, I only saw one,” said Justin. His expression was calm, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, his posture, that had not been there a few minutes ago. He stood. “I should be going. I’m sure your sister is worried sick about you by now.”
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