Tiger's Curse

by Colleen Houck

  I followed him to Nilima’s room, where he opened her closet and pulled out a pair of golden sandals. They were a little big, but I laced them tight and they worked fine. Mr. Kadam offered me his arm.

  “Wait just a second. I forgot something.” I ran back to my room and grabbed my dupatta scarf, wrapping it around my shoulders.

  He smiled at me and offered his arm again. We walked outside to the front drive where I expected to see the Jeep, but parked there instead was a glossy platinum Rolls-Royce Phantom. He held the door open for me as I sank into a luxurious smoke-gray leather interior.

  “Whose car is this?” I asked, rubbing my hand across the polished dashboard.

  “Oh, this? This, is my car.” Mr. Kadam beamed with obvious love and pride for his vehicle. “Most cars in India are very small and economical. In fact, only about one percent of the population owns a car. When you compare automobiles of India to American vehicles . . .”

  He rattled off several more automobile facts before turning the key while I grinned and sank back in my seat listening with rapt attention.

  When he finally started the car, the engine didn’t roar to life, it purred. Very nice.

  “Kishan is on his way down, and Ren . . . has opted not to come.”

  “I see.”

  I should have been glad, but I was surprisingly disappointed. I knew it was better if we didn’t spend time together until this crush, or whatever it was, went away, and he was probably just honoring my wish to not see him, but there was still a part of me that wanted to be with him at least this one last time.

  I bit back my emotion and smiled at Mr. Kadam. “That’s okay. We’ll still have fun without him.”

  Kishan darted out the door. He wore a lightweight burgundy V-neck sweater over pressed khaki slacks. His hair had been trimmed to a shorter length and was cut in angled, choppy layers that had been styled to give him a dramatic fall-in-your-face Hollywood look. The thin sweater showed off his muscular build. He looked very handsome.

  He opened the back door to the car and hopped in. “Sorry I took so long.”

  He leaned up between the front seats. “Hey, Kelsey, did you miss—” He whistled. “Wow, Kelsey! You look amazing! I’m going to have to beat the other guys off with a stick!”

  I blushed. “Please. You won’t even be able to get near me what with the crowds of women that will be surrounding you.”

  He grinned at me and leaned back in his seat. “I’m glad Ren decided to back out. More of you for me that way.”

  “Hmm.” I turned around in my seat and buckled the seatbelt.

  We pulled up outside a nice restaurant with an outdoor wraparound porch, and Kishan rushed forward to open the door for me. He offered me his arm while smiling at me disarmingly. I laughed and took it, determined to enjoy my evening.

  We were seated at a table in the back of the place. The waitress came by, and I took the liberty of selecting cherry colas for me and Kishan. He seemed happy to let me make suggestions of food choices for him.

  We had a fun time looking through the menu together. He asked me what my favorite foods were and what he should try. He translated what the menu said, and I offered my opinions. Mr. Kadam ordered some herbal tea and sat quietly, sipping it as he listened to our discussion. After we ordered our food, we sat back and watched couples swaying on the dance floor.

  The music was soft and slow, timeless classics, but in a different language. I let melancholy sweep over me and fell quiet. When the food arrived, Kishan dug into it with relish and then happily finished mine when I gave up trying to eat. He seemed fascinated with everything— the people, the language, the music, and especially the food. He asked Mr. Kadam thousands of questions like “How do I pay?” “Where did the money come from?” “How much money do I give the server?”

  I listened and smiled, but my thoughts were far away. Once our plates were taken away we sipped refills of our drinks and watched the people around us.

  Mr. Kadam cleared his throat. “Miss Kelsey, may I have this dance?”

  He stood up and held out his arm. His eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling at me. I looked up at him with my own watery smile and thought about how much I would miss this kind man.

  “Of course you may, kind sir.”

  He patted my hand on his arm and led me to the dance floor. He was a very good dancer. I’d only danced with high school boys at dances before, and they usually just moved in a circle until the song was over. It was nothing interesting or exciting, but dancing with Mr. Kadam was much more exhilarating. He led me all around the dance floor spinning me in circles that made my skirt fan out. I laughed and enjoyed my time with him. He twirled me out and then brought me back deftly each time. His skill made me feel like I was a good dancer.

  When the song was over, we walked back to the table. Mr. Kadam acted as if he was old and winded, but I was actually the one breathing hard. Kishan was thumping the floor impatiently with his foot, and as soon as we returned, he immediately stood up, grabbed my hands, and led me back out to the dance floor.

  This time, the song was faster. Kishan seemed to be a quick-study as he carefully watched and copied the moves of the other dancers on the floor. He had good rhythm, but he was trying too hard to look natural. We had a good time, though, and I laughed through the entire song.

  The next song was a slow love song, and I started to walk back to our table, but Kishan grabbed my hand and said, “Wait a minute, Kelsey. I want to try this.”

  He watched another couple near us for a few seconds; then, he placed my arms around his neck while he encircled my waist with his. He kept his eyes on the other couples for only a few more seconds and then looked at me with a rakish smile.

  “I can definitely see the benefit of this kind of dancing.” He pulled me a bit closer and mumbled, “Yes. This is very nice.”

  I sighed and let my thoughts drift for a moment. A sound suddenly vibrated through my body. A deep rumble. No. A soft growl. Barely heard over the music. I looked up at Kishan, wondering if he’d heard it too, but he was staring at something over my head.

  A quiet but indomitable voice behind me said, “I believe this is my dance.”

  It was Ren. I could feel his presence. The warmth of him seeped into my back, and I quivered all over like spring leaves in a warm breeze.

  Kishan narrowed his eyes and said, “I believe it is the lady’s choice.”

  Kishan looked down at me. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I simply nodded and removed my arms from his neck. Kishan glared at his replacement and stalked angrily off the dance floor.

  Ren stepped in front of me, took my hands gently in his, and placed them around his neck, bringing my face up achingly close to his. Then he slid his hands slowly and deliberately over my bare arms and down my sides, until they encircled my waist. He traced little circles on my exposed lower back with his fingers, squeezed my waist, and drew my body up tightly against him.

  He guided me expertly through the slow dance. He didn’t say anything, at least not with words, but he was still sending lots of signals. He pressed his forehead against mine and leaned down to nuzzle my ear. He buried his face in my hair and lifted his hand to stroke down the length of it. His fingers played along my bare arm and at my waist.

  When the song ended, it took both of us a minute to recover our senses and remember where we were. He traced the curve of my bottom lip with his finger then reached up to take my hand from around his neck and led me outside to the porch.

  I thought he would stop there, but he headed down the stairs and guided me to a wooded area with stone benches. The moon made his skin glow. He was wearing a white shirt with dark slacks. The white made me think of him as the tiger.

  He pulled me under the shadow of a tree. I stood very still and quiet, afraid that if I spoke I’d say something I’d regret.

  He cupped my chin and tilted my face up so he could look in my eyes. “Kelsey, there’s something I need to say to you, and I want you to be s
ilent and listen.”

  I nodded my head hesitantly.

  “First, I want to let you know that I heard everything that you said to me the other night, and I’ve been giving your words some very serious thought. It’s important that you understand that.”

  He shifted and picked up a lock of hair, tucked it behind my ear, and trailed his fingers down my cheek to my lips. He smiled sweetly at me, and I felt the little love plant bask in his smile and turn toward it as if it contained the nourishing rays of the sun. “Kelsey,” he brushed a hand through his hair, and his smile turned into a lopsided grin, “the fact is . . . I’m in love with you, and I have been for some time.”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  He picked up my hand and played with my fingers. “I don’t want you to leave.” He began kissing my fingers while looking directly into my eyes. It was hypnotic. He took something out of his pocket. “I want to give you something.” He held out a golden chain covered with small tinkling bell charms. “It’s an anklet. They’re very popular here, and I got this one so we’d never have to search for a bell again.”

  He crouched down, wrapped his hand around the back of my calf, and then slid his palm down to my ankle and attached the clasp. I swayed and barely stopped myself from falling over. He trailed his warm fingers lightly over the bells before standing up. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he squeezed, and pulled me closer.

  “Kells . . . please.” He kissed my temple, my forehead, and my cheek. Between each kiss, he sweetly begged, “Please. Please. Please. Tell me you’ll stay with me.” When his lips brushed lightly against mine, he said, “I need you,” then crushed his lips against mine.

  I felt my resolve crumbling. I wanted him, wanted him badly. I needed him too. I almost gave in. I almost told him that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be with him. That I didn’t think I was capable of leaving him. That he was more precious to me than anything. That I’d give up anything to be with him.

  But then he pressed me close and spoke softly in my ear, “Please don’t leave me, priya. I don’t think I could survive without you.”

  My eyes filled up with tears, and shiny wet drops spilled down my cheeks. I touched his face.

  “Don’t you see, Ren? That’s exactly why I have to go. You need to know that you can survive without me. That there’s more to life than just me. You need to see this world that’s opened up to you and know that you have choices. I refuse to be your cage.

  “I could capture you and keep you selfishly to indulge my own desires. Regardless of whether you’re willing or not, it would be wrong. I helped you so that you could be free. Free to see and do all of the things that you missed out on all these years.” My hand slipped from his cheek to his neck. “Should I put a collar on you? Chain you up so you spend your life connected to me out of a sense of obligation?” I shook my head.

  I wept openly now. “I’m sorry, Ren, but I won’t do that to you. I can’t. Because . . . I love you too.”

  I kissed him quickly one last time. Then, I gathered up my skirts and ran back to the restaurant. Mr. Kadam and Kishan saw me enter, looked at my face, and immediately rose to leave. Thankfully, the men were quiet on the way home while I cried softly and brushed the flowing tears away with the back of my hand. When we arrived, a sober Kishan briefly squeezed my shoulder, got out, and went into the house. I took a deep breath and told Mr. Kadam that I’d like to fly home in the morning.

  He nodded silently, and I ran up to my room, closed the door, and fell onto my bed. I dissolved into a broken puddle of weeping despair. Eventually, sleep overcame me.

  The next morning, I got up early, washed my face, and plaited my hair, tying the end with a red ribbon. I put on jeans, a T-shirt, and my tennis shoes, and I packed my things into a large bag. Reaching out a hand to touch the sharara dress, I decided that it held too many memories to bring with me, so I left it in the closet. I wrote a note for Mr. Kadam, which told him where the gada and the Fruit were and asked him to store them in the family vault and to let Nilima have my sharara dress.

  I decided to take Fanindra with me. She felt like a friend to me now. Carefully placing her on top of my quilt, I picked up the delicate golden anklet that Ren had given me. The little bells tinkled as I brushed my finger across them. I had intended to leave it on the dresser, but I changed my mind at the last minute. It was probably a selfish thing to do, but I wanted it. I wanted to have something from him, a keepsake. I dropped it in my bag and zipped the bag closed.

  The house was quiet. Silently, I walked down the stairs and passed the peacock room where I found Mr. Kadam sitting and waiting for me. He took my bag and walked with me out to the car, then he opened my door, and I slid in to the seat and buckled my seatbelt. Starting the car, he circled the stone driveway slowly. I turned to take one last look at the beautiful place that felt like home. As we started down the tree-lined road, I watched the house until the trees blocked my view.

  Just then, a deafening, heartrending roar shook the trees. I turned in my seat and faced the desolate road ahead.

  EPILOGUE

  shadow

  the immaculately dressed man stood at his penthouse office window. He gazed upon the city lights far below and clenched his fist.

  He lived in a city of twenty-nine million people, the most densely populated city in the world, but the generations rose and fell like so many waves upon the beach, and he stood alone, a rocky, unmovable sentinel, letting the waves of humanity pass him by, hardly noticing them at all.

  How do you find one small person in a city of millions, let alone a world of billions?

  After all these centuries, the other pieces of the Damon Amulet had resurfaced—and with it, a girl. He hadn’t felt this surge of energy in a long, long time.

  A quiet chime announced his returning assistant who entered and bowed. He stood and said only three words, the words his employer had been longing to hear from the moment he had seen the vision and caught a glimpse of an old foe and a mysterious girl.

  “We found her.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank my early reading group. My family—Kathy, Bill, Wendy, Jerry, Heidi, Linda, Shara, Tonnie, Megan, Jared, and Suki. And my friends—Rachelle, Cindy, Josh, Nancy, and Linda.

  Hand claps for Jared and Suki who helped me brainstorm cover designs for the Tiger series books and for also organizing my author photos and the website.

  Special thanks for my editor from India, Sudha Seshadri. Her enthusiasm and guidance in the language and culture of India was invaluable. She patiently and kindly advised me, going above and beyond the duties of an editor. I’m sure I would have offended many people without her. If there are any discrepancies, cultural or linguistic, they are entirely my own, and I apologize in advance for anything aberrant. Rest assured, it was not my intention. My hope is that I’ve shown India’s people and culture respect, and have depicted the beauty of their land and the rich mythology of their people in an appropriate way.

  I am always appreciative of my husband, who went through countless edits. He waded through pages of meager novice scribbling and helped shape my first book into what it is today. His enthusiasm kept me writing. Even though he’s lived on sandwiches and leftovers for a year he’s never complained and brags about his author wife to anyone willing to lend an ear and even to some who won’t.

  Thanks to my friend Linda who gave me great feedback on every chapter. Many of the paragraphs in Tiger’s Curse are thanks to her requests for more detailed information. Her tireless support and excitement kept me motivated to write every day and I always look forward to talking about my tigers with her.

  Thanks to my sister Linda who is my confidant, hair stylist, personal chef, housekeeper, and cookie baker. Without her, there would be no double chocolate chip peanut butter cookies. She kept my household running so I could write my first book. When she moved away I was crushed and overwhelmed. There’s no replacement for her. Everyone should have such a sist
er . . . such a friend.

  I would also like to express my gratitude to Tina Anderson, the Manager of the Polk County Fairgrounds and to my editors—Rhadamanthus, Gail Cato, Mary Hern, and especially Cindy Loh. Cheers for my agent Alex Glass, who gently coaxed me through my post-traumatic-rejection-letter syndrome as well as patiently explained all the business parts of the writing industry, and thanks for all the help from his team at Trident Media.

  Thank you to all the people at Booksurge who got my self-published version on the market. I’d like to give my undying gratitude to Judi Powers and all the people at Sterling who joined Team Tiger with a level of excitement that was entirely unexpected. I feel extremely humbled and grateful that they were willing to give my tigers and this new author a chance.

  Thanks to Raffi Kryszek who was the first in the mainstream world of books and movies to embrace my story. He’s a fellow Trekkie with a wide grin that never leaves his face, whose energy for my series, and tigers in general, matches and perhaps surpasses my own. And thanks to his eleven-year-old niece who gave him the book in the first place.

  Extra special hugs for my nieces and nephews who lent me their names—Michael, Matthew, Sarah, Rebecca, Sammy, Joshua, M. Cathleen, D. Andrew, and Madison. I promise I’ll work the rest of you in later.

  Will Kelsey be reunited with her beloved Ren?

  Or will she discover a new love?

  Will Ren and Kishan be freed from

  the tiger’s curse once and for all?

  Their true destiny awaits

  as the Tiger Saga continues with . . .

  SNEAK

  PEEK!

  tiger’s quest

  June 2011

  PROLOGUE

  going home

  i clung to the leather seat and felt my heart fall as the private plane ascended into the sky, streaking away from India. If I took off my seatbelt, I was sure I would sink right through the floor and drop thousands of feet, freefalling down to the jungles below. Only then would I feel right again. I had left my heart in India. I could feel it missing. All that was left of me was a hollowed-out shell, numb and empty.