by Jade Carr
Yes. "Certain things I already know," he said, so hopefully she wouldn't realize how close she'd come to reaching him in that deep and vulnerable place. "Like this." He touched his cock.
When she shifted her weight, there was a restlessness to the movement. "Why did we meet?" she whispered. "How did life become so damn complicated?"
He left his cock alone because he needed their last minutes to be about more than sex. "All the time I was leading the herd here, I fought what I was doing. The first time I saw this land, I abandoned the others and ran until I couldn't any more, until I had to turn around. If I'd been able to break free of the drive to leave Nevada, you and would have never met."
"There wouldn't be any mustangs here. My cousin wouldn't have captured Red, and—"
"Red is my daughter. My first child."
Terena swayed. "Your… I should have known."
"How? I never said anything."
She pressed her fingers against her temple. His body again pulsed with a need that went beyond his cock's demands, and that terrified him. No female should have such control over him.
"It's too much for me to absorb," she said.
Before he could decide whether to admit he felt the same way, she continued.
"The only thing a stallion does is supply the sperm, but it's different for you because you're also human. You had to try to find out what happened to her after Ahote captured her."
"Because I love her."
"Yes." She increased the pressure on her forehead. "Of course you do."
Pain forged lines on her temple. He could handle her discomfort. He'd compare what she was feeling to his throbbing shoulder and demand she not look to him for sympathy. Then the setting sun caught the moisture in her eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
"You don't understand?" She swiped at her tears. "It was what you just said."
"What did I say?"
Hugging her middle in a way that had become familiar, she rocked. "That you love your daughter."
"I feel the same way about all my children. I'd do anything to protect them."
"Neither of my parents gave a damn about me." She kicked at a dirt clog, breaking it apart.
He wondered if she expected him to hug her, but that was the last thing he dared or wanted to do. She represented turmoil and a harsh reminder of what the human world held in store for him.
"That's right." In contrast to her flaming cheeks, her voice was without emotion. "Neither my mother or father wanted me in their lives. I wouldn't know my old man if he ran over me. He's white, did I tell you that? You know what that makes me—a half-breed." She barked a short laugh. "Kind of like you, someone with a foot in two worlds and not fitting into either one. Maybe that's why you, Hah-Tee, and I…"
"We didn't finish what we'd begun."
"No, and I might spend the rest of my life regretting that. Wanting both of you." Her arms dropped to her sides, and her fingers twitched.
"What about your mother?" he asked, needing to change the subject. "Do you see her?"
"Occasionally. Amend that—I rarely see her, and when I do, we don't know what to say."
Leave. Find the herd. Spend the night surrounded by them.
"Where is she?"
"You really care? No, don't answer that." Her gaze drifted lower to settle on his erection. "I want to tell you some things. What you do with them is up to you."
"All right."
The way she frowned, he wondered if she hadn't expected him to say that. Why did human emotions and relationships have to be so complicated?
"Do you need to sit down?" she asked. "Maybe you're—"
"Tell me." Get it over.
Looking everywhere but into his eyes, she did. Her mother, Kele, had been sixteen when she met a motorcycle rider who was traveling through the reservation. According to Aunt Lenmana, her younger sister had always been restless. Kele hated living in what she called a crumbling disaster. She'd run away several times but without money, she'd had to return. That changed when she climbed onto the back of a motorcycle.
"My mother's family didn't know she was pregnant until she showed up on their doorstep. She didn't say much about my father, but a few weeks after I was born, he came looking for her. He didn't want to stay on the reservation—as a white, I'm sure he felt like an outsider."
"And your grandparents probably didn't welcome him."
"No, they didn't. Long story short, Kele and Robert took off again, leaving me behind. My mother told her family it would just be until they'd found jobs and a place to live. But…"
"Go on."
"Aunt Lenmana isn't sure how many times Kele returned and left, returned and took off again. Sometimes she took me with her, most times not. Sometimes Kele was alone. Sometimes the sperm donor accompanied her."
Calling her mother by her first name told Nokoni a lot. A mare and foal needed to immediately bond if the foal stood a chance of surviving. It wasn't the same for humans, but certainly Terena wished she'd had a mother. He wanted it for her.
"My parents split up for good about the time I turned five." Terena's tone was flat. "Kele stayed home a good six months after that. Then she met another man and again hit the road."
"I'm sorry."
Her head snapped up. She looked surprised to see him there. "Don't be. After my grandparents got sick, my aunt and uncle took me in. I had something Kele didn't, a family. There's something else we don't have in common—I love this land."
"But you left it."
"And now I'm back where, right now, everything's a damn mess."
"Because of me." The woman was complex and complicated, dangerous.
"That's part of it." As she stroked the fronts of her thighs, her attention returned to his cock. He smelled her arousal.
"Don't mind me," she said. "That damnable body of yours—Hah-Tee's too—does crazy things to me. But you need to leave."
"Yes."
"Go into the wilderness where you belong and—"
"Do I belong?" He didn't know where this rage came from let alone how to stop it. "Do any of the mustangs?" He thumped his chest then clenched his teeth against his protesting shoulder. "Hah-Tee and I don't know why we exist, so don't expect us to understand what compelled us to come here."
Her eyes widened, narrowed, widened again. "You mentioned that before. You really don't know…"
He'd said too much. Revealed something even more personal than she just had. Tearing his gaze off the woman who'd turned him upside down, he spun on his heels. He felt Terena's gaze on his back and sensed her unspoken questions. Her pity, maybe.
To hell with her and her incredible but dangerous body. Her human mind.
Chapter 22
The kiva wasn't as cool as the motel he'd recently been at, but after spending most of the day outdoors, Hah-Tee sighed in relief as he climbed down the wooden ladder. He didn't need to look around to know Nokoni was already there.
"How are they?" Nokoni asked.
"Fine. You're right. Why spend so much time looking for water when there's enough near the cattle?"
"No Hopi were around to chase you off?"
Nokoni was simply curious. There was no reason to think he was being criticized. "None. What's that?" He indicated a horse-like figure near where Nokoni reclined on a mattress.
"I'm not sure. I found it near the kiva this morning."
"Someone left it for us." His stomach rumbled, prompting him to go to a box with some dried meat and fruits in it. "Same as this."
"The box was near the horse figure and this." Nokoni held up a book. "It has a lot of pictures and not many words."
They'd seen books before, of course, but thinking of everything that was part of the human world made his head ache.
Nokoni turned pages, then dropped the book. "I wish I could read."
Hah-Tee didn't. Eventually, that would be important but fortunately not for several years. The meat was salty, but the more he ate of it, the more he enjoyed the taste. Taki
ng a handful of it and some dried banana slices, he settled himself on the other sleeping-bag-covered mattress.
In contrast to his nudity, Nokoni wore jeans. It had been winter when they'd discovered the kiva. Back then, they'd had nothing to wear when they'd shifted into men, so they'd appreciated being able to get out of the elements. However, fearful of being trapped underground, they hadn't stayed long in the then-empty space.
A few days later, Nokoni had returned and taken a nap in the kiva. Not long after, he'd done the same. The next time they'd come in human form, they discovered that someone—or more than one someone—had left behind two single mattresses with sleeping bags on them. Even more puzzling was the pile of men's clothing.
Chewing, Hah-Tee relived the stormy afternoon when Nokoni told him to try on the clothes. For the first time in his life, something man made touched his body. He hadn't known how to describe what the jeans felt like, but the flannel shirt and jacket were warm. Comfortable.
"They are trying to tell us something." He indicated the book. "Are you serious about wanting to read?"
He readied himself for a retort. Instead, Nokoni flopped back on the mattress and stared at the opening above them. "Did you mate today?"
"No."
"No mare was in heat?"
He'd rather talk about the Hopi, who doubtlessly were responsible for providing them with food and supplies. "Two mares would have accepted me," he said, "including the one whose colt was nearly captured the other day."
"He isn't just her colt. He's my son."
My son. What would that feel like? "I thought so."
"Why didn't you take her?"
The first two days following Nokoni's wounding, the older shifter had done little except sleep in here. He'd run a fever, and his wound had looked inflamed. Hah-Tee had spent his limited human time pondering what, if anything, he could do to help Nokoni. When he'd spotted a couple of Hopi men on horseback not far from the kiva, he'd thought they intended to drop off food and water as they'd done in the past. Wanting to express his gratitude, he'd trotted to where they could see him. The pair had acknowledged him by pointing at something one of them held. Then he'd dropped it, and they'd ridden away. Inside a small bag, he'd found some individually wrapped pills and drawings of a man with a bloody arm swallowing the pills. Less than a day after he'd taken the first one, Nokoni's fever had broken.
Hah-Tee stood and paced from one end of the kiva to the other then returned to his bed. "I want to fuck," he admitted. "But do I dare?"
"What do you mean?"
Not long ago, he wouldn't have given this a thought, but nearly a week of herd responsibility had opened his eyes to a certain reality.
"It's the land." He sat down. "There's so little food and water here, maybe not enough for more than the herd we have now."
Nokoni pushed himself to a sitting position. "Go on."
"I want colts and fillies, sons and daughters, but not if that means they're in danger of starving."
Nokoni scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're ready to fight your stallion nature?"
"I don't want to." He fingered his cock. "But that's better than watching my children die."
"You're talking like a man, not a stallion."
He loved what he'd been born to, loved being a swift and powerful mustang. His muscles contracted and relaxed as if reminding him of his dual nature.
"Yes," he admitted. "I am."
"But is it what you want?"
No! "It's what has to be."
"I've been waiting to see if you'd come to that conclusion."
Hah-Tee met the other shifter's gaze. "Is that why you stayed in here, so I would understand what leadership is about?"
"In part." Nokoni thumped the bed. "Unfortunately, being wounded has given me too much time to think."
"Thinking is hard."
"But necessary. So you believe that unless the food and water supply increases, there shouldn't be any more herd members?"
He nodded. "How long have you been waiting for me to come to that conclusion?"
"Not long. I didn't want to have this conversation, but hearing it from your lips—"
"Life can't be simple, can it? No matter how much we want to eat, have sex, and gallop, it can't be like that."
"No."
Nokoni stood and positioned himself so he could see the sky. "You have become a man. You'll soon be ready."
To take over as herd stud, Hah-Tee mentally finished. Pride filled him along with an acceptance of the weight on his shoulders.
"Do you miss her?" he asked. "Wish things were different?"
After a moment, Nokoni shook his head. "I'm a half-breed in a land I didn't choose. I don't know what she needs. Or what I do."
Nokoni had never admitted something so personal. How could he do anything less? "She wants both of us."
"Fucking isn't enough."
His mouth dried, but whether from the meat or the pressure of thinking—and feeling—he wasn't sure. Maybe he wouldn't stay here after all. He'd return to the herd, where he'd listen to the never-ending wind and his hooves striking packed earth. He'd learn how to control the driving need to rear onto a mare's back and push his cock home. As long as he moved as a stallion, he wouldn't care about the woman called Terena.
He'd gotten to his feet but hadn't started toward Nokoni when the other shifter tensed. "Shod hooves, coming this way."
There were times when summer's heat made Terena desperate. She'd imagined herself trapped under the sun, alone and unable to move. Her uncle, Ahote, and Yamka were with her, so she shouldn't be thinking such things, but no one was speaking, and that didn't help.
She hadn't been to the old, unused kiva near the Awatovi ruins since childhood and might not have been able to find it on her own. Her uncle's explanation that the elders had decided to turn it into a home for the shifters had surprised her, but she hadn't asked for details.
At the thought of telling Nokoni and Hah-Tee what they deserved to know, goose bumps broke out all over her. Anticipation warred with the fear she'd been battling since early morning. She wanted to see them. At the same time, she wanted nothing more to do with the two who'd complicated her life to the core. She'd stand before Nokoni and beg him to put aside his anger long enough to listen. Maybe the information would change how he felt about what she represented. Maybe it wouldn't be enough.
Nokoni had walked away from her last week, rejected her. Doubtless Hah-Tee felt the same way.
"You're thinking too much," Uncle Shuman said. "I see it in your eyes."
It had been winter, and she'd been eighteen the last time she'd been to what had once been the easternmost Hopi village. Despite the cold, she and Ahote had ridden here because they'd needed something to do. She'd been impressed by the water—ice that time of year—that lay trapped in the cliff catchments. They'd tried to skate in their boots but had kept falling. Besides, the wind had dug clear through to their bones, and they'd changed their minds about trying to find what, if anything, remained of Awatovi.
Ahote, who'd been riding behind her, caught up. "I saved his life. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"
"Ask him."
"Me? I thought you had my back."
"I do," she said, then reconsidered. Was it possible to be so close to someone she couldn't see their flaws? She certainly knew more than she wanted to about her cousin. Maybe she was trying to distance herself from him so she could concentrate on the shifters.
The nights had been the worst, sleepless hours and a body in tatters. Needing both men with a ferocity she'd never thought possible. Silently begging them to forget everything that had happened and finish what they'd begun.
One roll in the hay, two men and her, that's all she'd ever ask for.
Like hell.
Muttering something she didn't catch, Ahote started to pull back, only to point. "Dad, is that it?"
At the question, her uncle stared at Ahote. "Yes, son, it is."
Her throat tightened. As
soon as she had a handle on her emotions, she'd look where her cousin had indicated. Right now, however, she needed to savor what had been revealed in a few words. Ahote had a long ways to go, fences to mend, and judgment to face, but he was thinking like a son. That meant the world to his father—and to her.
Yamka, who'd been leading the group, reined in his horse. "Shifters, are you there?" he called out.
The wind chased away the question. Terena waited for Yamka to repeat himself. Instead, her Hopi friend looped the reins around the saddle horn and dismounted. Lacking the courage to join him, she watched as he walked over to what she now recognized as the top of a wooden ladder. He crouched at what she assumed was the kiva's edge.
"Don't be afraid," Uncle Shuman told her. "That's never been your way."
"Things change. I've changed."
Yamka stood and took a couple of backward steps. Hah-Tee, wearing only jeans, climbed out followed by Nokoni who was dressed the same way. Nokoni's unwrapped wound looked nearly healed. Both men took in the newcomers, then stared at her. No matter how many times she'd conjured up memories of what they looked like, mental images couldn't compare to reality. They weren't just sexy. Every inch of their perfect male bodies held her enthralled. A nod from either one and she'd surrender her body, heart, and mind to them.
Even if that destroyed her.
"We've come," Uncle Shuman said as she struggled to pull free of their impact, "because there are things you need to know."
Nokoni nodded but didn't take his attention off her. "Thank you for giving us this." He pointed at the kiva opening.
"And the food and water," Hah-Tee added. "We're grateful."
Yamka grunted. "We thought you would. Not much around here for a couple of men to eat. So, are you ready for this?"
Chapter 23
This kiva was slightly larger than most. The newer ones had been built using modern construction material while this space showed its age. She pictured long-dead Hopi using primitive tools to create the rock floor, walls, and roof. The shifters sat on one bed while she, her uncle, and Yamka were on the other. Ahote leaned against a wall opposite Nokoni and Hah-Tee.