Kya's King (Sanctuary)

by Becca Dale

  Strong arms circled her back in a solid, brotherly embrace. “Anything for you, little girl, you know that.”

  And she did. For the past six years, the refuge had been her home. Grant had become a surrogate father after the death of her beloved parents, and the men who worked for him had adopted her as a little sister. Only two other women worked in the entire complex: Harry’s wife, Lynn, and Grant’s secretary, Kate, but Hannah rarely saw either of them.

  Drawing a breath of cool night air deep in her lungs, she entered her cabin, confident that all would be well in the morning. No one and nothing would get past the watchful eye of her family. A delicious shudder ran through her as the thought triggered images of the dark lover who had come to her in the night. She touched the mark he’d left behind on her neck. She could not remember his features clearly, only impressions: long, dark hair, a strong jaw, and hypnotic green eyes. “He was a dream, Hannah, nothing but an incredibly hot dream.”

  If she told herself that often enough, she might even believe.

  Chapter Three—Saving Malachi

  A huge cat crouched at the edge of the trees. His hot stare swept across her hungrily. Her breath came in tiny gasps as she tried to calm herself. If she fled, he would see her as prey and pounce. If she remained still, he might allow her to live.

  Mine.

  The beast had not spoken, but she heard its whisper all the same—the voice of her dream lover, the man who had come to her only once but had changed her forever.

  Come to me, Kya.

  “What do you want from me?” She felt foolish asking the question. Surely, the command in her head could not have come from the cat. It was the remnant of an erotic fantasy, nothing more.

  Don’t trust him.

  “Who?”

  The panther growled low with warning. Emotion she could not pinpoint distorted his sharp features and her heart tightened. She had the ridiculous urge to run to him, to ease his distress and make him purr.

  The sleek animal faded farther into the trees. Clear, green eyes begged her to follow. Malachi. Had he escaped? He would not survive injured as he was. She started after him, calling his name, pleading with him to come back, but she could not move.

  She sat up in bed with a jerk, Malachi’s name on her lips. Tangled, sweat-soaked sheets trapped her in place. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, seeking clarity. “It was only a dream, Hannah.” Even as she said the words, she felt the lie. It had been as real as the sexual fantasy the week before. The powerful cat may not have entered her room physically, but he had been there none the less.

  The clock read three in the morning. She had to be at work in five hours, but she could not go back to sleep without confirming Malachi’s safety. Afraid he would smell her fear, she dashed through the shower. Hot water and Ivory soap destroyed the nightmare’s physical effects but did little to calm her rioting nerves. She slipped into a T-shirt and cutoffs before she sneaked from the rangers’ quarters and ran to the cat compound.

  Ryan lifted his hand in greeting as she passed the front gate. She waved to assure him she was alone but did not stop to talk.

  Malachi prowled his pen, on alert as always.

  “Hey there, big guy, I dreamed of you tonight. At least, I think it was you. What do you think of that?” She crept closer, careful not to get within reach of his huge paws. “Did you call me?”

  Hannah chuckled. “Grant would have me hauled out of here as a nut job if he heard me talk like that.” She sat down on the very edge of the safety zone, wiping her moist palms against her denim shorts. “I had to be sure you were safe.”

  The cat paced back and forth a few more times before he settled in front of her, stretching his long body on the hard concrete with a weary sigh. He had broken his wound open again, and blood trickled down his right front leg.

  “Oh, Malachi, what are we going to do with you?” The need to touch him through the bars sent her forward, though such an action could be suicide. “I wish I could help.”

  Malachi eased closer to the cage’s edge and reached out with his paw as if to comfort her. The image made Hannah smile.

  Help me.

  The voice from her dream floated from the cage. Malachi’s eyes held hers without wavering. Hannah looked around for someone playing tricks on her, but the night remained still, eerily quiet, as it had been every night since the big cat arrived. “Who’s out there?” No one answered her call. She strained to see beyond the dim circle of the yard light. Nothing moved.

  Help me, Hannah.

  Fear edged its way into her thoughts. Unconsciously, she slid toward the big cat to protect him. Her hand brushed the back of his massive paw. Malachi did not move. She crawled a little closer. The putrid smell of infection drifted from his open sore. “Do you trust me, Malachi?”

  He lay still as she reached carefully through the bars and patted his neck gently. With a shaky laugh, she pulled her hand back, glad it remained on the end of her arm.

  “Maybe we should try this alone, you and I, huh?” She considered the insanity of the idea only a moment before she ran to the medical lab and gathered the necessary equipment. She had never treated an animal by herself but had assisted Harry often enough to feel confident in what she was doing.

  Within moments she stood outside Malachi’s cage once more. The cat lay as she had left him. On her knees, so as not to frighten him, Hannah inched across the safety line and sat next to the animal’s outstretched paw. She readied the antiseptic on a clean cloth and laid out bandages and antimicrobial solution. “Are you ready for this?” With a shaky smile, she gently patted his leg. “I hope so, because I’m not sure I am.” Her hand shook as she picked up the cloth. “Don’t eat me, okay?”

  Malachi made a sound much like a chuckle before he laid his head back, offering her free access to his wound.

  “Well, you’re cooperative tonight. Why can’t you act this way for Harry? He wouldn’t intentionally hurt you. Trust is a hard thing to give, though, isn’t it?” She kept a steady stream of soft words flowing around the cat as she cleansed the wound. “I need more light. I can’t see how bad the infection is. With luck the penicillin shots Harry has shoved through the bars have helped some.” Frustrated, she poured antiseptic directly on the open wound.

  Malachi snarled and leaped away.

  Expecting the cat to attack, Hannah scurried behind the safety line with a startled cry. He returned looking almost ashamed of his weakness and lay down again. After a few deep breaths to calm her thundering pulse, she crawled to him and stroked his head sympathetically. “You’ve been very patient, big guy. Trust me a little longer. I’m almost done.”

  She palpated around the wound with care, trying to determine if she had removed the puss she had seen earlier. When she pushed on the edge near the top of his shoulder, Malachi glared and tossed his head. The movement rippled through his shoulder and her hand touched a hard spot beneath the skin. “Is that the bullet?” She had to wiggle part way inside the cage to access the top portion of the open sore, but she could feel the slug’s distinct outline. It had worked its way nearly to the surface. The position offered her vulnerable throat to the big cat’s vicious fangs, but she could not leave the offending object there.

  “Will you let me take it out? It’ll hurt like hell, but you’ll feel better once it’s gone.”

  Malachi lay still. Only the tips of his ears twitched anxiously.

  “All right.” She blew out a steadying breath and prayed he wouldn’t lash out in his pain. “Here we go, big guy.” Hannah carefully worked her fingers beneath the bullet and pulled with steady pressure. Malachi growled. His shoulder muscles jumped beneath her hands, but he did not move otherwise. When the bullet broke loose, puss oozed from the wound in a red and white stream. Her stomach lurched. Fighting the urge to gag, Hannah pressed against the reddened flesh until the blood ran clear.

  “Oh, thank God.” She sat back with a sigh. “I think I got it all. At least I hope so.” Her hands sho
ok as she washed the infected area once more and spread salve on the wound. “I suppose this should be sewn shut so it doesn’t scar, but I can’t be sure it’s clean.” She spoke more to herself than the cat. Malachi wanted to feel better. He didn’t care if he had a scar. “You wouldn’t put up with me wielding a needle anyway, would you?”

  Applying a dressing proved difficult. Finally, Malachi rose and stood broadside. She wrapped the gauze around his shoulder and leg to keep the sterile pad in place. The big cat tipped his head and rubbed against her in gratitude. Tears burned her eyes as she carefully tied a knot to hold the bandage together. “There. Harry could have done a better job, but at least cleaning it should help.” Her hand glided across Malachi’s back. Long, sleek muscles rippled beneath his hide. Such raw power should have frightened her but didn’t. “Thank you for your trust, big guy.”

  Hannah stayed with her patient until he settled down. Once his breathing grew even with sleep, she returned the remaining supplies to the medicine cabinet and threw the soiled cloths in the garbage. She slipped back into her room two hours after she’d left. Her alarm would go off in two more, but the cool sheets called to her, coaxing her to relax a few minutes after the stress of tending a wounded animal without sedation. With an exhausted sigh, she crawled onto the mattress and stared at the wooden slates in the ceiling. She could have died, should have perhaps for being so foolish.

  “No one in her right mind approaches a wild animal, especially a wounded one, Hannah.”

  The personal lecture could not wipe the smile from her face nor erase the feeling of accomplishment as she closed her eyes. An amazing creature had allowed her to touch him without repercussions.

  Malachi trusted her. How could she ask for more?

  Chapter Four—Darrack Jensen

  Hannah sat up with a start. Someone banged on her door. Disorientated, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. The night before must have been a dream. Surely she wasn’t stupid enough to approach a wounded wildcat, no matter how much she wanted him to get better.

  The pounding resumed.

  “I’m coming!” She rolled out of bed and grabbed for her robe before realizing she still wore her shorts and T-shirt. Confused, she hung the housecoat back on its hook then hurried across the room. “Sorry, I was getting dressed.”

  She opened the door without looking to see who was on the other side. The stranger from the night before greeted her with a lopsided smile. On any other man it might have been disarming or at least sort of cute, but cold arrogance rolled off him in waves and destroyed the illusion of charm. “What do you want?”

  “Dr. Ferris said I might find you here. It seems you were right. If I am to help the wounded cat, I need to go through you. Hannah, is it?”

  The idea that she should know him nagged. “It’s Ranger Hall, and I have no intention of allowing you anywhere near Malachi. You might as well pack up and return to whatever rock you crawled from under.”

  For a fleeting second something evil flashed in his eyes before he blinked. It disappeared. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Ranger Hall. I didn’t mean to upset you last night.” He held out his hand with another sideways smile. “I’m Dr. Jensen, the cat specialist. Dr. Ferris told you I was coming, remember? Call me Darrack.” His gaze shifted to the side when she ignored his outstretched hand.

  “Grant said you weren’t coming until Friday. It’s only Tuesday.” Suspicion overrode her trusting nature. Why hadn’t he identified himself before?

  “Did you want me to come back at the end of the week? It sounded like the situation was urgent. Was I wrong?”

  Of course she wanted a professional to look at Malachi. Attributing her distrust to the dream’s warning, she pasted on a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Come on, I’ll introduce you around.”

  It was noon before Hannah admitted she had deliberately kept Jensen from Malachi’s enclosure. She could not shake her distrust of the man. She had finally run out of things to show him other than the cat compound when Dr. Ferris entered the break room.

  “Dr. Jensen! I’m glad I caught you.” Grant grabbed the other vet’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “The work you did on Malachi last night seems to have done the trick. He’s up and about today with barely a limp. I’ve never seen such a drastic change in an animal.” With Jensen’s confused expression, the older man stopped his enthusiastic rant. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “I did nothing except look at the panther.”

  “Then who did?”

  “Perhaps Ranger Hall has an idea of what happened. She visited the cat with me late last night.”

  “Hannah?”

  What could she say? If she explained that Malachi had asked for her help or that she had worked on the cat while breaking every safety procedure, she would lose her job. There would be no way around it. “Malachi didn’t seem any different when I left him.” Not a lie exactly.

  Jensen scowled. “I highly doubt someone came in and randomly treated one of the animals. There has to be more to it than that.”

  Hannah shrugged with a grin. “Maybe a ghost did it.”

  Grant chuckled. “Somehow I doubt that, Hannah. More likely a werewolf.”

  Jake Nester, the tall slender young man who cleaned the small animal cages, laughed as he passed them on the way to the pop cooler. “Maybe it was Big Foot.”

  More people began to filter in for lunch. As they heard the story, each offered another theory from werelions to space aliens. During the discussion, Hannah slipped out the back door and ran toward Malachi’s pen. She entered the compound as the cat charged the cage, teeth bared. His displeased roar echoed off the brick enclosure. Startled, Hannah screamed and jumped away, colliding with a solid chest. Strong arms circled her waist from behind.

  “We’ve got to quit meeting like this. People will talk.”

  She twisted away from Jensen’s embrace with a glare. “Don’t touch me.”

  He laughed. “I’m not the one who started it. You threw yourself at me.”

  “Just get away from me.” Suddenly, it came to her where she had seen him. Apart from his dark eyes, he looked exactly like her dream lover. She had fantasized about him before she met him. The idea sent goose bumps shimmying up her arms. He could not be the man from her dream. Her lover could not be this repulsive, arrogant creep who made her skin crawl in the light of day.

  He stepped closer to trail a fingertip down her cheek.

  Hannah pushed him back as disgust shuddered through her.

  Anger curled his cruel smile. “Why shove me away? We fit so well together. We should try it sometime when you’re not screaming. Of course that isn’t always a bad thing. You could scream your pleasure for me anytime, Ranger Hall.”

  Malachi threw himself against the steel bars and Hannah jumped. His fierce growl exposed deadly fangs. Adrenaline surged through her and her heart skipped despite her confidence the cat wouldn’t harm her. “You need to stop touching me. Malachi doesn’t share well.”

  Jensen edged closer, his black eyes no more than slits. “I don’t care what some cat in a cage does.”

  “I do. You’re upsetting him, so go.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re going to let a dumb animal control you?”

  “No. That’s why I asked you to leave.”

  “Funny.” Jensen glared at the cat. “That animal needs to be put down rather than released. He’s obviously a man-hater. No one can change that.” Pointing at Malachi, he smiled. “You’ve signed your death warrant, pussycat.”

  As soon as Jensen left, Malachi settled down. He had opened his wound and blood soaked the bandage.

  “Oh, Malachi, what have you done?” Hannah didn’t dare get close to him in his agitated state. Instead, she dropped to her knees on the safety line. “I don’t think Grant will believe Jensen, but he might. How could you be so foolish?”

  Malachi snarled, obviously angry that she didn’t understand the reason behind his
rage.

  Hannah sat with the cat, waiting to hear his death knell. Malachi eventually settled down. He lay pressed to the bars, his huge head on his paws. His steady green gaze never left her. Slowly, she slid closer. If Grant came she would be fired, yet she could not allow people to think Malachi dangerous. When she reached the cage, she laid her hand on the panther’s enormous head and stroked his ears until he purred.

  “I love you, too, beautiful boy.”

  “Hannah, move away from the bars.”

  Grant’s urgent whisper brought Malachi to his feet with a low warning snarl. Hannah rose and turned toward her boss but did not leave the cage. Half the staff, including Jensen, stood behind him. “Malachi won’t hurt me.”

  Harry stepped forward, his usually animated features a mask of calm. “You don’t know that Hannah. If he feels threatened, you can’t predict how he’ll act. Please come here.”

  Malachi paced the small cage, his movements more agitated the closer Jensen came to his enclosure. Hannah dropped a hand behind her to stroke his back each time he passed. “I know the rules, Harry, but Malachi isn’t violent. For some reason he hates Dr. Jensen. Since I’m not too fond of the man myself right now, I can’t blame the cat.”

  Jensen stepped forward, deliberately agitating the panther. “How do you explain that no one could get near enough to tend his wound?”

  “No one tried without a sedative. Malachi apparently had no problem accepting help. He didn’t want to be out of control.”

  “Did he tell you that?” Jensen laughed. “What else did he say? We’d all like to hear.”

  She pressed her fingers deeper into Malachi’s fur, seeking calm in his solid strength. The big cat licked her knuckles with a soothing kiss. “He claims you’re a pompous asshole. I think you’re just an arrogant man with a little dick.”

  Grant stepped forward. “Enough, Hannah. Dr. Jensen is a respected professional in his field. He knows more about cats than the rest of us together. Harry would never have contacted him otherwise. As much as we dislike the idea, we need to listen to him. Now, please come here.”