Night of the Hawk

by Vonna Harper

  She hurt for him.

  Then he stood and walked over to the door, and she stopped thinking and simply watched as he picked up her belongings. He stepped outside without looking back at her.

  That was why he’d tied her leg the way he had, she surmised. He’d been going to leave her for a while and didn’t want her getting away.

  Trying to stay on her side called for constantly tense muscles, and after a minute she rolled back onto her belly, her eyes locked on the door He’d abandoned her. Yes, surely he’d return and pull her even further into whatever existence he’d entered, but right now it was just her and her thoughts and helplessness.

  Without him she might die.

  Reminding herself that the motel owner would come to check on things before starvation set in, she tried to imagine what Hawk was doing, but instead of wondering about his destination, she thought about his long legs striding over the still damp path. He’d carry her belongings as if they weighed nothing, his mind maybe in neutral, maybe listening to whatever voices ruled him.

  What had he felt while he was tying her up? Had it simply been a job he needed to do, or had he been turned on because he could whatever he wanted to her? Maybe her helpless body free for the taking had been nearly as good as sex.

  Sex was part of the equation for her as well as him, wasn’t it? Yes, that would undoubtedly change once reality grabbed hold of her again, but for now she simply waited. Immobile and available, she waited for the man who’d captured her.

  He’d thrown himself at her last night. All right, there’d been equal amounts of throwing, but he’d left her with hot proof of his sexuality. No matter what spell he was under, he was still a man driven by hormones and nature.

  And he had free and total access to a woman.

  Heat born of her thoughts bloomed in her core. A moment of disbelief that his tying her up had turned her on faded, and in the aftermath she accepted where her mind and body had taken her.

  Being helpless was so incredibly different from freedom. Maybe that’s what was behind her not-so-random thoughts. Incapable of acknowledging her dangerous situation, she’d embraced her captivity as some kind of sexual fantasy.

  A sharp stab in her temples short-circuited those thoughts. By the time the pain had faded to a manageable level, she’d forgotten much of what had been going through her mind, and she was left with the smell of old carpet and her shoulders starting to ache. He’d better return soon.

  Please come back.

  10

  Though the motel wasn’t near the ocean, Mato could still smell the vast body of water; either that or the scent had become a core part of his makeup. The same was true for the sound the breeze made as it shook the tree branches, and the constantly changing mix of sunlight and clouds overhead. He didn’t simply live on the coast; this land had shaped him.

  Not just the land, he amended as the small rental cabin came into view. He concentrated on his surroundings while placing Smokey’s belongings in the back of his pickup because although his people would approve of what he was doing, they weren’t the only ones in Storm Bay. Now, however, there was nothing to stand between him and thoughts of Smokey Powers.

  And yet there was.

  Something was touching him—no, not touching so much as sharing the same body/mind space with him. He’d had this sensation countless times over the years, so it shouldn’t feel new, but in the past he’d simply and totally embraced what he believed were Hawk Spirit’s messages for him. Now, although he didn’t believe he’d ever oppose those messages, he was questioning them.

  Of course he was. He’d never kidnapped anyone before.

  The cabin seemed to loom ahead of him like something from a suspense movie, and if he could, he would have walked away. Instead, holding his breath, he climbed the two steps and opened the door. She was where he’d left her, an awkwardly placed woman in jeans and sweatshirt but no shoes with her hands roped to her waist and a leg hobbled, a gag saving him from her wrath and pleas.

  That helpless body also reminded him of the sex they’d shared.

  Taking her in, his half erection exploded until he was forced to adjust his jeans. The moment he did, he regretted it because she’d seen his every move and now knew he was far from some unthinking robot.

  Why had he done this to her? What forces had driven him to break the law?

  Granted, he was hardly the first member of his extended family to bow to demands that had nothing to do with modern civilization’s laws, but that didn’t make acceptance any easier. If anything, admitting he was following in his ancestors’ footsteps made those steps harder to take.

  Harder but inescapable.

  Was this how his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had felt as the weight of responsibility and loyalty had settled over them? Had they even tried to deny their heritage?

  The closer he came, the wider her eyes grew until he was reminded of a wary deer. He’d never looked at a doe or buck without being struck by their shining brown eyes. Smokey’s had flecks of blue in them, which served only to captivate him. Maybe if it hadn’t been so dark last night he would have already prepared himself for their impact.

  Your task. Don’t forget your task. Everything depends on your mastery of her.

  Shaking off his hatred of the insistent voice, he planted himself over her. He’d do what was required of him in order to keep certain secrets from the outside world. And what the male animal in him wanted, he added.

  The moment he acknowledged that he’d risk his freedom and self-respect for a return to last night’s fiery sex, he recoiled. Imprisoning her was one thing; raping her went against everything he stood for and believed in. And yet he couldn’t deny where the impulse was coming from—the beast inside.

  Overpowering the beast wasn’t going to be easy.

  Gathering equal amounts of determination and obedience around him, he knelt and untied her ankle. Although he wanted to apologize and explain, he remained silent. Eventually, if everything went the way the spirit forces demanded, he’d be able to tell her the truth and she’d understand, but for that to happen, he had to remake her.

  Reminding himself that his people’s future left him no choice, he helped her to her feet. She smelled of soap and the woods that were as much a part of him as his own breath, and he might have made the mistake of telling her that if she hadn’t tried to twist away. Her defiance reminded him of the great difference between the two of them and the danger that difference represented. Gripping her hair, he propelled her toward the door. She resisted, but he pushed against the back of her neck until she was off balance. After that, she seemed to accept her fate. With him both forcing and guiding her, she stepped outside and then down the stairs. Looking at her bare feet, he cursed himself for not thinking of that, but the path was well packed and reasonably clear of debris. Besides, that she had to concentrate on her own footing seemed to fill her mind, for which he was grateful.

  He’d deliberately parked out of sight of the motel and had left the passenger side door open so he could quickly load her. She tried to plant her feet when she realized what he had in mind, but he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the seat. After hooking her seatbelt and locking the door, he hurried around to the driver’s side and climbed in. Though the key was in the ignition, he didn’t immediately start the engine.

  She was beside him, staring straight ahead, her body so tense he wondered if she might snap, leaning forward so her weight wouldn’t rest on her hands. He’d done it! Made her his possession.

  And now—

  The ride took forever and didn’t last nearly long enough. Although they traveled on the main highway for several miles, there were few vehicles out, and no one took note of a passenger with a gag in her mouth. Feeling utterly isolated, Smokey couldn’t help picturing the vegetation reaching out to swallow her. She’d simply disappear from the face of the earth. Her family, though accustomed to infrequent contact from her when she was on a story, would even
tually try to get in touch with her. Her editor wouldn’t wait that long to start leaving messages on her cell phone, and when she didn’t call back, he’d contact law enforcement.

  But what if what passed for local law enforcement protected Mato?

  The more she thought about it, the more she was forced to admit that such a scenario was not just possible but probable. During last night’s meeting, she’d been given undeniable proof that Mato Hawk was a major figure in the community. When he spoke, people listened. The area’s residents supported him. And they’d protect him.

  Maybe that’s why no one looked at Mato’s truck as they passed it; they already knew what he was doing.

  All right, she tried to chide herself, she was probably letting her imagination get the best of her. Surely an entire community wouldn’t condone kidnapping and whatever Mato intended to do with her.

  God, what were his plans?

  A chill washed over her, but she refused to let it drown her as she risked a look at her captor. His hands on the large steering wheel had been designed for manual labor. Physical work had carved his body, and she’d already seen how at home he was outdoors. His lungs knew the taste of pure air, and his eyes were accustomed to trees and mountains, not city streets. She couldn’t imagine him ever getting a manicure or having his hair styled. When he needed new clothes, he grabbed whatever fit him at an outdoors store, not at a mall. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never been in an upscale department store. He didn’t do the club scene and probably barely knew what the term meant.

  Where was he taking her, and why?

  By the time he turned off the highway, she had stopped asking the question and allowed lethargy to settle over her. Even knowing they were nearing their destination didn’t alarm her. She did, however, take note of her surroundings. The single-lane gravel road wove through the trees, making her wonder if whoever had built it had followed a deer trail. Maybe the goal had been to leave as many trees standing as possible. Certainly reaching one’s destination quickly hadn’t been the priority.

  After what she judged to be a half mile, they entered a small clearing. A maybe-two-thousand-square-foot log home was in the middle of it, a good-sized separate garage to the left. On the right was a shed filled with firewood. A man’s home, she concluded.

  Sensing a change in Mato’s demeanor, she looked at him for the second time since he’d hoisted her into the cab. Before, his features had been tense, as though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with his thoughts. Now, however, he appeared relaxed.

  Realizing that being home had this effect on him made her envious because although she enjoyed her place, she’d never seen it as a sanctuary.

  It might be his sanctuary, but it was about to become her prison.

  Wiped from the face of the Earth. Spirited to this small piece of civilization in the middle of a rain-fed wilderness. Alone with not just a man but with him.

  When, after pulling into the garage, he opened the passenger door, she wondered if he expected her to swivel toward him and maybe even step out on her own, but she couldn’t make herself move. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t! She hadn’t become Mato Hawk’s prisoner and responsibility and possession. She hadn’t!

  But she had, she was forced to acknowledge as he dragged her out of the cab. Acting instinctively, she tried to kick him only to have him easily avoid her foot. The moment she reached the ground, he hoisted her over his shoulder. His powerful arms locked around her legs. Afraid he’d let her fall if she resisted, she lay limp. He was so incredibly strong! His strength came from more than solid bone and work-carved muscles. There was a certain confidence about his body that made a mockery of her strength.

  Unable to see anything except his back, she concentrated on his footsteps. The sodden ground muffled the sound of his boots, but her sensory system recorded the act every time he moved a leg. His arms encompassed her thighs as if hugging her—only, no hug had ever dominated her like this. Thank goodness for her jeans; if he’d been touching her bare skin, she might have lost her mind.

  There was only one step to the porch leading to the front door. She was wondering if he’d have to dig into his pocket for his key, when he let go of her with one hand and twisted the knob. Then he brought both of them over the threshold.

  She was in his place.

  A sudden tremor had her gnawing at her gag, but if she was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit she was feeling more than simple fear. This was home to the most amazing man to ever touch her life. He’d hauled her out of her world and was depositing her in his.

  And she didn’t know why.

  Step one completed, Mato forced himself to acknowledge that she was here—in the house he’d built with timbers from his land.

  Because he’d never so much as considered putting up curtains, daylight illuminated his living room. At the moment, he was standing just inside and facing the large rock fireplace he’d built from stones he’d hauled down a mountain; his prisoner’s weight pressed down on his shoulder blade, and his home accepted her presence.

  On the log walls, the framed photographs he’d taken over the years helped to ground him. There was the small elk herd he’d come across one spring morning, the angry ground squirrel chastising him from the safety of an overhead tree branch, the hours-old fawn all but hidden by the mountain of leaves its mother had left it in, the bear with her half-grown cub fishing at a riverbank, the hawk staring down at something only the predator could see.

  Those creatures had one thing in common: they were all wild.

  Like him.

  He had stoked the wood stove before leaving, but with the sun’s impact growing, he didn’t anticipate having to keep it going. Good, because he had other things to do. Things he’d never done before.

  Setting the woman down, he backed up so he could study her. Her name no longer concerned him, and although he had a great deal more to learn about what had brought her to this part of the state, that would wait. Right now he existed for one purpose, to follow Hawk Spirit’s commands. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do to her was for one goal—to put an end to the danger she represented. Secrets would be kept.

  Staring openly at her, he centered himself. His spirit had told him that the key to defusing her threat without killing her lay in her weakness as a woman. Last night she’d welcomed him, a stranger, into her body because primitive need had overruled her intelligence. That’s what Spirit had ordered him to build on.

  By the time he was done with her, she’d exist for no other purpose. His pleasure would become her only goal and reason for living. She’d forget everything else, and there’d be no need to end her life.

  Although he’d slipped into a mental space fashioned by powerful forces, acknowledging the task those forces had given him shook him, and the reasoning human part of him doubted and questioned. Yes, he’d kidnapped and brought her here, but those had been physical tasks. Now he had to start altering her very mind, something no human being had the right to do to another.

  Let her go. Before it’s too late, let her go.

  Not taking his eyes off her, he fought the urgent message he’d just given himself. The command had come from a small portion of his brain that hadn’t yet surrendered to his Spirit’s will, and he didn’t know what to do with it or even how to react. Neither did he know how to handle her impact on his senses.

  Much as the wilderness’s forces demanded he see her as less than human, he couldn’t, not yet. She was a woman, slightly built but independent, intelligent, and sexy. Just thinking about taking her breasts in his hands made them ache. He wanted her breath warming his crotch, wanted her on her belly with her knees bent and her ass welcoming him in. Even before that union was completed, he’d slide a finger deep into her pussy. Or he might tease her labia, playfully slap her buttocks, even tickle the bottom of her feet.

  She’d wiggle and laugh, push back against him, lift her head, and howl in delight.

  Take her. Break her down. Remak
e her as your possession. Because if you don’t, you’ll have to kill her.

  As the command spread throughout him, his rebellion blacked out, and the humanity that made him deeply appreciative of the creatures who’d allowed him to photograph them slipped off into a place he couldn’t find. Something as old as the land he loved had taken control of his mind, and he no longer heard the warning to free her. Hawk Spirit spoke to him of loyalty and duty, and he saw not a woman capable of caring for him as a fellow human being but clay that needed to be molded into something compliant and safe.

  There was only one other option.

  11

  Something fundamental had changed about Mato, Smokey acknowledged as she tried to back away from him. Only a few seconds ago, he’d looked at her with a man’s eyes. She’d felt the heat of his sexuality and had responded to it, wanted his body around hers. Being his prisoner had made it easier to lose herself in the fantasy of repeating what they’d done last night, and she’d imagined them tearing at each other’s clothes in their frenzied need to fuck.

  Now, however, he was coming after her.

  Risking a quick look behind her, she took note of a large leather couch and, next to it, an overstuffed chair and matching ottoman. If she wasn’t careful, she’d run into them. Mincing more than walking, she continued her doomed retreat. With each step she ridiculed herself for thinking she could get away from him, but because her only alternative was to wait for the beast man to overtake her, she kept moving.

  He smiled—not a man’s smile but something primitive and possessive. Holding out his arms as if taunting her with possibilities, he matched her pace. She hated his mockery and considered stopping so she could land a foot where it would do her the most good. Kicking him in the balls would only enrage him, but for a few seconds she’d be the victor. It might be worth the consequences.