The Awakening

by Christine Feehan

She dressed with care, as lightly as possible. The humidity was oppressive. Her hair was twisted into a neat French braid and pinned to the top of her head like a crown. It left her neck bare. She found her lace bra and matching panties, scraps of material she hoped wouldn't rub against her skin in the heavy cloying air. She was not making the same mistake twice, being caught without her bra in the middle of a tropical rainstorm.

  She had very little time to research her parents' history. She was determined to make every moment count. As she ran down the stairs, she prepared a mental list of questions for Brandt Talbot.

  Brandt stood up as she entered the kitchen, and every single word in her head melted away. Scattered. Dissipated so that she just stood in the doorway staring at him. He made her weak. Actually weak when she looked at him. Maggie feared if she tried to speak she might stammer. His effect was overpowering.

  He smiled at her, and a thousand butterfly wings brushed at the pit of her stomach. As he came toward her, he moved in absolute silence, not even his clothing daring to rustle. He took her breath away. Maggie had never been so susceptible to anyone before and it was exceedingly uncomfortable.

  She forced an answering smile. "Thank you for spending the night in the house with me. I really wouldn't have been so foolish as to try to take a walk around the grounds but it's nice to know someone was worried." Self-consciously she seated herself in the high-backed chair he held out for her. "I suppose you have the keys to the house?"

  "Yes, of course. I reside here most of the time. The forest has a way of reclaiming what belongs to it very quickly. The creeper vines wind beneath the eaves if I don't stay alert." He sat facing her at the end of the table.

  Maggie watched his strong fingers find a mango wedge and bring it to his mouth. Strong teeth bit down. Her entire body clenched in response. She forced herself to look away from him. "Can you tell me anything about my parents? I was adopted at the age of three and really don't remember anything at all."

  Brandt watched her expressive face, the conflicting emotions chasing across it. Maggie was fighting her attraction to him, determined to ignore it. She was much more potent up close. The chemistry between them sizzled and arced so that the very air around them was electric. "All of us in the forest know of your parents, Maggie," he said softly, watching her closely. The mango tasted sweet, the juice trickling down his throat like the finest wine, but it couldn't take her place. She would taste sweeter, more intoxicating.

  "Tell me then." She took a cautious sip of the juice and was instantly entranced. It was a nectar she couldn't identify, but her mouth absorbed her first sip as if parched for the taste. Embers smoldering in the pit of her stomach leapt to life, spread like a living flame through her bloodstream. The hand holding the glass trembled.

  Brandt leaned closer, his fingertips brushing back a tendril of hair as it escaped from her upswept crown. His touch lingered, sent flames dancing over her skin to match the building conflagration inside of her. "The taste is unique, isn't it?" His lean, strong fingers closed over hers, brought the glass to her lips. "Drink, Maggie, drink all of it." His voice was husky, seductive, a tantalizing invitation to a feast of pleasure.

  She wanted to resist. There was something in him that frightened her even as he attracted her. A power, the possessive way he touched her. Maggie was certain she was placing herself in his control, but the scent of the nectar enveloped her, tempted her. One strong hand was at her nape, his fingers curling around her neck, making her all too aware of his strength. He tilted the glass and the golden liquid slid down her throat. Fire blossomed in her, pooled low, and burned out of control.

  Panicked, Maggie jerked her head back, her green gaze meeting his. He was so much closer than she had thought, the heat of his body seeping into her. She couldn't look away, hypnotized as he brought the glass to his own mouth. His lips settled intimately over the exact spot where her lips had touched. He tilted the contents down his throat, all the while holding her gaze with his own.

  Her lungs burned for air. She watched his throat work, watched as he caught a drop of amber liquid on his fingertip and deliberately carried it to her mouth. Before she could stop herself, her tongue darted out, swirled along his finger, absorbing the taste of him along with the nectar. For one moment her mouth was tight around his finger, sucking on his flesh, her tongue dancing and teasing provocatively. Maggie could feel her body dampening, burning with sudden hunger. Her hips moved restlessly and she ached for relief.

  Brandt inhaled sharply, caught the enticing scent of her invitation. It nearly drove him crazy. He was half-mad for her already. The sensation of her mouth, hot and moist, tight around his finger, made him as hard as a rock. It was an easy enough step for his body to know what it would feel like to have his mate give the same attention to his heavy erection. His hand tightened possessively around her neck, he bent his head closer.

  Maggie abruptly pulled away, nearly tumbling out of the chair as she hastily backed away from him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Tears burned in her throat, glittered in her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Please go." She had never, at any time in her life, ever acted in such a manner. And Brandt Talbot was a complete stranger. No matter how much his scent and looks attracted her, no matter how right he felt, he was a stranger.

  "Maggie, you don't understand." Brandt stood also, stalking her across the expanse of the kitchen. His body was compact, muscular, and he reminded her of a great jungle cat, ropes of rippling muscles, power and coordination.

  She retreated until the counter brought her up short. "I don't want to understand. I want you to go. Something's wrong with me." There was a fever in her blood, her mind was in chaos. Images of writhing on the floor with Talbot were etched in her brain. She could hardly think clearly. Her body betrayed her, her breasts aching and tender. In her deepest, most feminine core she burned for him. "Just go. Please just go." She honestly didn't know which of them was in more danger.

  He put a hand on either side of her body, trapping her between his hard frame and the counter. "I know what's wrong with you, Maggie. Let me help you."

  Her fingers actually curled into a claw. She raised her arm, going for his eyes even as her brain screamed a protest. Brandt was fast, whipping his head to one side, shackling her wrist tightly. Maggie closed her eyes, terrified of reprisal. Although his grip was like a vise, he wasn't hurting her.

  "Maggie, what is happening to you is very natural. This is your home, where you belong. Can't you feel it?"

  She shook her head, dragged in a lungful of air to regain a semblance of control. She wanted to go home, far from the influence of the jungle, of the heat. "I don't know what's happening, but if this is the way this place affects me, I don't want to be here."

  He was suffocating, reason gone, the world spinning madly. Brandt battled his savage nature, the fierce primitive need and hunger as elemental as time. She was frightened, unaware of her legacy. He needed to remember that at all times. Maggie couldn't get away from him, it was too late for her. He had to court her, persuade her gently, coax her into accepting her inevitable fate. The urgent demands of his body could not be allowed to destroy the fragile thread between them.

  "Maggie." He used his voice shamelessly, a blend of temptation and heat. "The forest is calling to you, that's all it is. Nothing else. You haven't done anything wrong. You haven't offended me. I don't want you to be afraid of me. Are you? Have I frightened you in some way?"

  She was more afraid of herself than she was of him. She shook her head, unwilling to speak, the masculine scent of him nearly overwhelming.

  "You want to know about your parents, don't you, and all the work they did with endangered species? They were legends in their own way with the progress they made." Brandt felt the tension began to slowly dissolve in her body. "Let me tell you about your parents, because, believe me, they were two very extraordinary people. Did you know that they protected the animals here? That without them, poachers would have succeeded in killing off the sun b
ear? That's only one of their triumphs. They made it their life's work to protect rare endangered animals. Your mother was much like you, with a smile that could light up a room. Your father was a strong man, a leader. He lived here, in this house, and he took over his father's job of protecting the rain forest. Each year it has gotten more difficult. Poachers are bold and they have tremendous firepower."

  As he felt the apprehension drain from her, Brandt slowly released her, turned away from the danger the close proximity of her body presented. Her breasts were heaving with every breath she drew in, dragging his gaze to the firm, tempting mounds he longed to touch. He had feasted his gaze on her body, knew the swelling curves were a creamy invitation to sheer soft satin. Her heat fired his blood, and the scent of her aroused him to a painful need, his jeans stretched taut, his body in rebellion against the dictates of his brain.

  Maggie's hand trembled as she gripped the counter to support her rubbery legs. She wanted to hear every word he had to say with regard to her parents. "What do you mean, without my parents poachers would have succeeded in killing off the sun bear?" She made every effort to sound normal. She knew he had to think she was psychotic, one moment trying to seduce him, the next clawing at him.

  "With deforestation, plantations, and poachers encroaching every day, the sun bear, like many other animals, are in a tremendous decline and have been for a number of years. Your parents recognized the immediacy of concern."

  "Why are poachers after the sun bear?" She was genuinely interested. Maggie had worked hard to learn about endangered wildlife, drawn to the cause from the first time she had seen a large cat.

  "Several reasons. It is the smallest of all bears and is marketed as a pet. The largest it gets is about a hundred forty pounds, very small for a bear. And the bear is beautiful with a crescent-shaped yellow or white mark across its chest. lt's really the only true bear living in our rain forest, and we don't want to lose it."

  "My parents were game wardens? Is that what you do?" Somehow the idea of Brandt being a game warden was even more appealing. She persisted in seeing him as a hunter, yet in truth he was a protector of the creatures in the forest and a poet at heart.

  He nodded. "All of us in the village have dedicated our lives to the preservation of the forest and the trees, plants, and animals dwelling in it. Your parents had two particular animals they fought to preserve, and eventually it killed them."

  Her heart beat into the silence. "What killed them?"

  "Poachers, of course. Your parents were too successful at what they did. Parts of the sun bear are worth a fortune." Brandt sat at the table and picked up his mug of tea, wanting to set her at ease.

  "Parts?" Her eyebrows shot up. She frowned at him, rubbing at her arms. She was itching again. That strange, uncomfortable feeling of something moving beneath her skin was back. "Poachers sell off parts of the bear? Is that what you're telling me?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. The gallbladder is especially popular for medicine. And in some places the conversion of forest habitat to plantations of oil palm have put an even larger price on their heads. Because the bears don't have their natural foods, they feed on the heart of the oil palm and destroy the trees. Naturally the plantation owners pay money to have the bears hunted and destroyed." Brandt watched her closely, following the movement of her hands as her palms rubbed back and forth along her arms.

  "That's horrible."

  "Leopards are disappearing as well." His voice was fierce now. "We cannot allow the leopards to become extinct. Already the numbers are dwindling at an alarming rate. Once these species are lost to us, we cannot recover them. We owe it to them, to ourselves, and to our children to preserve these animals."

  Maggie nodded. "I've certainly done research in the area of saving habitats and I know the necessity, Brandt, but if it killed my parents all those years ago, I would think the danger would be even greater now."

  "Danger doesn't matter. We accept that as part of our lives. We are the keepers of the forest. It's our duty and it has always been our privilege. Your parents understood that, and their parents before them." His golden eyes moved over her, a brooding perusal. "There are only a few of us, Maggie, carrying on what your parents worked so hard for. It's your legacy." Noting her distress, he stood up slowly so as not to startle her. "What's wrong?"

  "My skin itches." She bit her lower lip. "Do you think I could have picked up some kind of parasite? It's strange, like something's moving inside of me, running under my skin." She was watching his face closely and saw the fleeting, cunning expression in his eyes. He knew. He was looking at her innocently, but he knew much more than he was letting on. She tilted her chin at him in challenge.

  "You know what it is, don't you, Brandt? You know what's happening to me." She moved around the counter, putting it between them, the only way she felt safe.

  "Are you afraid of me, Maggie?" he asked quietly.

  His tone chilled her to the bone. It was the second time he had asked her that. The silence in the house beat between them. Outside the walls, the forest was humming with life. "Should I be?"

  "No," he denied quickly, his molten gaze burning intensely, searing her. Branding her. "Never be afraid of me. I'm sworn to protect you. Above all others, above the forest and the animals in the forest. Never be afraid of me, Maggie."

  "Why? Why are you sworn to protect me, Brandt?" His very intensity frightened her. No matter how hard he tried to look civilized, she saw the hunter in him. She saw the predator. He could camouflage his savage nature for brief periods of time, but not from her, not when they were alone together. She felt edgy and irritated. Why would she know him? Why would she see through him? The ground seemed to be shifting out from under her feet.

  4

  The silence stretched between them until Maggie wanted to scream. She could feel the turmoil raging deep within her, almost as if something wild were struggling for control. She was aware of so many things. The spacious room, the total isolation. The fact that few people knew where she was. Maggie was alone in the rain forest with a man whose sheer power overwhelmed her.

  Brandt took a single step toward her. She reacted without thought, without plan, springing in a swift leap to the tabletop across the room. She landed in a crouch on all fours. Lightly. Silently. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl. The pins holding her hair scattered to the floor, spilling her heavy braid down her back. It took a few moments for reality to sink in, for Maggie to realize what she had done.

  A soft moan of despair escaped as she surveyed the distance from the counter to the table where she was crouched. It was impossible to have jumped the area in a single leap. It wasn't humanly possible.

  "Maggie." He said her name. That was all. His voice was soothing. Gentle. Tender even. He knew what was happening to her--she could see the knowledge in the molten gold of his eyes.

  "Get out now." She bit the words out at him, shaking with fear, with terror. She jumped from the table and raced out of the room, up the stairs to the bedroom. She was leaving, as quickly as possible. There had to have been something in the nectar, something to bring about the change in her. Whatever it was, she was going back to safety. Away from the jungle and far, far away from Brandt Talbot.

  Maggie dragged her backpack out from the under the bed and began to stuff her things into it. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped her clothes on the floor before she could get them into the pack. When she raised her eyes, he was standing there. Looming over her. His thighs were like oak trees, strong columns of power.

  He reached out and took the pack from her hands, casually tossed it aside. "How do you think you can find your way without a guide, Maggie?" He touched her face with his fingertips, trailed a caress down her collarbone, then lower to the neckline of her shirt. It felt like a stroke of heat, of flame.

  "People know where I am," she told him, her green gaze locked in combat with his golden one. "The lawyer . . ."

  He shook his head. "Is one of us; he works for me. The momen
t you set foot in the forest, letters--brilliant forgeries I might add--were sent to your work to give notice, and to your apartment. Your things were packed up, some stored and others shipped. No one expects your return; they believe you are staying in your new estate after all."

  "I'm a prisoner here? Why? What could you possibly want with me?" Maggie struggled for control. She needed to be calm, to breathe air and think. Brandt Talbot was enormously strong and he had the advantage of knowing the forest. She was as good as his captive. Yet even knowing that information, she couldn't deny the chemistry arcing between them, sizzling and alive and potent beyond imagination.

  He was close to her. So close she could smell him, feel the heat of his body right through her clothes. So close her breasts were only a scant inch or two from his chest. His fingers wrapped around her throat, his thumb tipping her head back. "This is your home, Maggie. You belong here. You were born here in this forest. And you belong to me." His hand slipped from her throat, slid over her tank top to cup the fullness of her breast. His thumb caressed her nipple through the cotton and the lace.

  The breath slammed out of her lungs. Flames shot through her body, from her breast to her deepest core. The strange roaring was back in her head. Need was on her. Not some gentle emotion, not a pleasant feeling, but a raging tidal wave of hunger, of craving. She wanted his hand to tighten, to knead and massage. His mouth to close over her aching flesh, to devour her.

  Both hands flat on his chest, she shoved him away as hard as she could. "You drugged me. The nectar. You put something in the drink to make me like this."

  As hard as she shoved him, his body barely rocked in response. "Listen to me, Maggie. I haven't lied to you. I won't lie to you. You're close to the change, that's what's wrong. It took me so long to find you, and you're ready for me. Your body needs mine. Let me help you." He still cupped the weight of her breast in his palm. Intimately. Possessively. His hand slid lower, over her rib cage, over her slender, tucked-in waist, to rest on the curve of her hip.

  "What the hell does that mean?" Her green eyes glared at him. He couldn't help but notice the way she was breathing, starved for air. Frightened. Resolute. Courageous. Maggie was determined to fight him even in such distress, yet she didn't jerk away from his touch and she didn't become hysterical. His admiration for her grew.