BlackCougarCurse

by Tess MacKall

  If he hadn’t told Dad about the cougar, Dad wouldn’t be dead.

  When had she realized Jacob wasn’t the man for her? Who was she kidding? She knew exactly when it was, when clarity came and enlightenment stung her heart.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Learning of her father’s death, she had gone straight to Jacob’s, needing the comfort only a loved one could provide. Instead, he’d railed at her father’s “stupidity” for camping in a dangerous area. She knew now that it was because the camera had been buried with him.

  “But he didn’t know it was dangerous,” she’d said. Anger had roiled inside her and she’d bunched her hands, lifting her chin to look him square in the eye. “And is that all you can say? My father is dead, and you’re only bothered about his stupidity?”

  Jacob had stared at her. She saw him now as though he stood before her in Sam’s room. Narrowed, spiteful eyes, light wrinkles around his puckered lips, black hair mussed after he’d raked a hand through it.

  “Well, for God’s sake. How the fuck am I going to explain this?” He’d paced his living room, hand to his mouth, frown creasing his brow. His quick steps indicated either anger or worry and his shoes squeaked—those shiny patent leathers he favored so much.

  “Explain what?” Lucia had reached out as he passed, stopping him mid-stride, trying to gain his full attention.

  Jacob shrugged her off and continued pacing, his slacks whispering, gaze trained on the hardwood floor. “Never you mind.”

  The sense that something wasn’t right spread through her gut and sped her heart. “No. Tell me what you mean. Explain what?”

  He’d stopped abruptly, hands and jaw clenched, and glared at her. “If you must know, your father was employed by my boss to go and get pictures of that cougar. I organized it. I got him the job—one he’d never have gotten by himself. Me. And I was on commission. If he’d have brought evidence back that the cougar existed… Shit. I’d have been made! And your father, your stupid, stupid father, fucked it up. How the hell my boss is going to take this is anyone’s guess. No, scrub that. He’ll go fucking crazy, and I’ll be in the firing line. My boss isn’t someone you want to piss off, I can tell you.” He stopped beside the dining table and slammed his fist on it. “Jesus Christ! Of all the dumb things he could have done! Wouldn’t surprise me if you were that stupid too. It’s in the genes. Gotta be.” He faced her, a sneer on his lips, eyes blazing.

  Oh, God. Tell me I didn’t just hear that. Tell me he’s lying.

  Lucia stared at him, aghast that his only concern was money. Not that a man had died in pursuit of a damn photograph. Not that she, the woman he supposedly loved, was hurting, her insides hollowed out by grief, the hole that had formed there growing too big for her to understand or handle. How would she cope, never seeing her father again? How the hell did you survive without the one person who had been a constant all your life? No more hugs in strong arms that took all the pain away. No more soft laughter that eased the bad things in life if only for the moment it took to revel in that laugh. To remember how it had sounded when she was a child, and how hers had merged with his as he lifted her up high and told her she was his best girl. The best girl that ever lived.

  Tears had burned her eyes as she’d studied Jacob and she could stand there no more, his nasty grin and the bright pink spots on his cheeks too much to bear. She swung around and stumbled from his apartment, the journey to hers made without thought. Ignoring his calls had come easily, as had her decision to finish the job her father had started—without Jacob’s involvement.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  God, how that time had hurt. She’d never forgive Jacob, never, but thinking of him brought pain and the knowledge that at some point she’d have to fully face up to what he had done and said and accept it. Could she do that? And could she let another man inside her heart?

  No. I’m not sure I can.

  So why had she allowed Sam to know her intimately? How had she allowed it if Jacob’s ghost still lingered in her heart? Or did it mean Jacob’s importance was fading, that the love for him that had burned despite his attitude was now letting her move on with her life?

  Maybe. Or maybe I just needed…someone tonight.

  Eyes still closed, Lucia swiped the tears away, her pillow cold and damp from those that had fallen. The lump in her throat subsided and she told herself to forget about Jacob, forget every damn thing about him. He hadn’t loved her, not really and, thinking about it now, she knew deep down he’d chosen her for a reason. She and her father were photographers. He’d orchestrated this all along, and the realization gave her the strength to douse the final vestiges of any love she felt for him.

  No more. She’d press on with her life, seek the cougar and then go home, putting this episode in her life firmly behind her.

  Weary, Lucia relaxed, tension bleeding out of her. Images of herself and her father came to mind, of the time he’d taken her on horseback through the meadow, the buttercups bright, petals shining in the sunlight. She could practically feel the horse canter beneath her, the muscles brushing against her thighs, and saw her father urging her to catch up, his smile wide, eyes twinkling.

  “I’ll do this for you,” she whispered. “I’ll find the cougar.”

  * * * * *

  On the back porch, Sam breathed in the crisp night air. A mere human would have been chilled, but he rarely got cold. There were things he’d accepted about himself long ago. Mostly things that could not be explained other than attributing them to the part of him that belonged to the cougar. The symbiotic relationship had served him well all this time, but tonight he found himself wondering about his newfound control.

  Sam would much prefer crawling into bed and sleeping next to a very sexy woman, but he sensed that danger lurked. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His cougar urged him to run—to find that danger and kill it. He thought he could stop the change at will now if he wanted to, keep the cat hidden. He shook his head, pondering why it seemed dominion had been relinquished to him.

  Until now, communication with his cougar had been rare and he’d never given it much thought. Until tonight. Little things had occurred before, such as his animal side warning him of a snake or some other creature in search of prey, but nothing as monumental as forgoing its prowling time. Sam had always wondered if the cougar realized what was happening when the shift took place—if it realized it shared a consciousness with a man. But this night there had been no doubt. The cat was very much aware of Sam, just as Sam had always been aware of its presence. Some sort of dialogue had taken place between them. After all these years, Sam could talk to it. And he was sure Lucia had been the catalyst.

  If she was his mate, he might be able to read her thoughts just as he could the cougar’s. He needed to open himself to her more fully. But it would be an invasion of her privacy, wouldn’t it? He mulled this over for a moment. If he only read them when he had to, if danger presented itself and he needed to know how she was dealing with it… Yes, he’d read them then.

  He assumed Lucia was here for the truth surrounding the death of her father. The locals had been unable to recover his body and that had to hurt Lucia. Sam knew exactly where her father’s body was, the cougar having sensed its location. Figuring she’d want to see the site of his death, Sam worried, knowing he didn’t want to reveal to her the exact place where he rested. Unearthing the body at this point would only cause her more grief. And he couldn’t chance the questions that would surely follow once he revealed where the body was.

  “Damn it to hell,” he swore softly into the darkness.

  There was a lot more to worry about right now than the location of her father’s body, however. On its brief ramble tonight, the cougar had sensed more than the danger the mudslide had posed to Lucia and that knowledge now belonged to Sam. The man who’d killed Lucia’s father was back. The cat had wanted to go after the killer. Instead, it had shifted so Sam was able to save Lucia. He couldn’t allow the cougar to attack the ma
n. That would bring the authorities down on their heads and focus attention on them.

  Anger rose inside him and he curled his hands into fists. He wanted to find the bastard and deal with him himself. There were a whole lot of places a body could get lost in the mountains. It was his responsibility as caretaker of the place of blue smoke to mete out punishment on this stranger, and the son of a bitch had it coming. But he couldn’t invite public scrutiny.

  Sam had been in his cougar form and witnessed the killer and Lucia’s father fighting. The younger man had been too strong for Chavez and, sensing the evil that had emanated from the man, he’d attacked as the cougar, but the killer had stabbed him. The instinct to survive had forced his cougar to run, and it took days for him to heal. Had the wound been an inch farther over, it would have pierced his heart.

  Rubbing the spot on his chest where the blade had sunk deeply into his flesh, Sam bared his teeth and snarled. He tensed, every muscle bunching. For a few seconds he gripped the porch railing to steady himself. A fine mist of rain blanketed his naked body, adding to the sensations that skipped over his skin. Stepping off the porch, he moved toward the edge of the woods, fearful Lucia might wake up and see the transformation. Crouched low to the ground, he bowed his head and prepared to become the cougar.

  A burning sensation ripped through his arms and into his torso. The wind picked up and in the distance the turtle-shell rattle sounded. White mist poured through the trees and plumed upward. All around him images of his ancestors spoke to him, a chaotic jumble of words and thoughts assailing him at once. Understanding flowed within him and he lifted his head, his mouth open to let the spirits in.

  The life force of his ancestors streaked through him, touching every place inside him. Bones crunched, fusing for the change. A rope of blinding light hurled toward him and entered his body. Knotted with energy, he levitated, rising from the forest floor slowly. Growing in intensity, the clatter of the turtle-shell rattler resounded, its mystical rhythm orchestrating the shift.

  Rendering to starlike particles, Sam’s form shot into the heavens, twisting and turning as his consciousness deepened and became one with the cougar’s. Bursting with knowledge, he tumbled back to earth and landed on all fours.

  The scent of the killer was strong on the wind, and the black cougar took off running.

  Sam smelled what the cougar smelled, aware that he was now in charge, that he and the cougar were no longer separate but one complete being. Understanding swelled within his soul. The will of the cougar had been released to him. Lucia had to be the reason. She had to be his mate.

  Legs stretched, paws pounding the ground, he followed the scent over rocks and through crevices. An owl hooted and the whippoorwill gave warning. Sam stopped, nostrils flared, and sniffed the air. The owl and whippoorwill knew, just like all the creatures here in the Shaconaque. Someone had trespassed into their sanctuary.

  An evil presence that needed to be banished forever.

  Claws digging into the sodden earth, Sam growled and sprinted in the direction of that evil. Farther into the forest he prowled, his need to find the killer dominating his every thought.

  He leaped over the edge of the ravine, then crisscrossed between trees and bushes. Closer he came, closer to the man who wanted to destroy him. Near enough now to smell smoke from a campfire, Sam dug deeper with his paws, kicking up mud and debris. There, in a small clearing not far from the mudslide area but on high enough ground to have kept him safe, sat the stranger.

  Circling the camp, Sam spotted metal glinting at the man’s side. A gun. He reined in the urge to attack, to bite and claw until justice had been served. The chorus of the whippoorwill and owl sounded in the distance, urging Sam to action. But he couldn’t. He could not afford to be wounded—to waste days on healing. And the attack would only bring out the hunters to search for a killer cat. Who would protect the Shaconaque then?

  Who would protect Lucia?

  While it was true he was immortal, he was not completely immune to pain and suffering. And his last run-in with this son of a bitch had left him crippled for days. He’d awakened on a ledge, weak from loss of blood and half starved.

  Sam’s feral whine slurred from his throat. The bastard jumped from where he sat and pointed his gun in Sam’s direction. Hidden by the trees and the shadowy night, Sam knew there wasn’t a chance the man saw him, yet he fired at the ridge where Sam crouched, forcing him to retreat. It was then Sam realized he could only fight the killer as a man. He would need not only his knowledge of the mountains, but his gun as well. And it would be a showdown to the death.

  For now he needed to get back to Lucia and make sure she stayed safe. The killer had come back for a reason and Sam didn’t doubt for a second that reason was her. He must have followed her here. But what could Lucia have that the killer needed? And why hadn’t he approached her the way he had her father? Maybe he thought she knew something and was waiting for her to reveal it.

  But what?

  * * * * *

  That hushed part of night where everything stilled had finally arrived. Moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated Lucia’s sleeping form. She slept on her side, breathing nice and steady, hair fanned out on the pillow. Sam pulled the quilt over her bare shoulders and watched her sleep.

  She was in his care now, and with everything he held holy he would protect her. Stealthy steps took him over to the sideboard. Removing his .357 from a drawer, he tapped it against his palm, swinging the cylinder open to reveal the chambers loaded to the max. Satisfied he was prepared to deal with the threat that loomed over them, he left the gun out just in case, then silently made his way from the room.

  Sam entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He showered quickly and dried off. While every part of him seemed to be on high alert, he was tired and wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest for a while.

  He picked up a brush and dealt with the mass of wet hair. His gaze strayed to the door and he saw images of Lucia’s beautiful breasts and plump nipples in his mouth as he sucked on them. Fuck it. A quickie up against a damn door sure as hell hadn’t been enough. Not to mention the fact that he’d come like a virginal schoolboy. An aching nut sac and a hard cock would keep him up all night. But was that the only reason he wanted to crawl into bed next to her?

  No, it was a hell of a lot more than sex. In all his years, Sam had never once felt possessive. It wasn’t a part of his nature. The mountain had taught him many things, but one lesson that stood out among all the rest was that no one, animal or human, belonged to another. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about Lucia as being his—meant for him and him alone. Unable to stand it another second, he flung the brush to the vanity, snatched open the bathroom door and strode down the hall to the bedroom.

  Her soft, even breaths came to him. His cock jerked. He had to have her, but he’d go slowly this time, taste every part of her. Inhaling deeply, he caught her scent. The rise and fall of his chest quickened with lust and a low growl rolled upward from his throat.

  “Sam?” Her sleepy voice called to him.

  He didn’t answer, instead lifting the quilt to join her. He turned on his side, his bare skin touching hers, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was so warm and he wanted her so much. In a raspy whisper he said, “Tell me no.”

  She trailed her fingers along his cheek. “Not possible.”

  Shuddering, he pulled back the quilt and covered her body with his. He looked into her moonlit eyes, seeing everything he’d ever dared dream. Lucia was the answer to his loneliness. But could she love him—half man, half beast?

  Raising her head a fraction, she curled one hand around his neck and brought her other hand to rest on his chest, right over his pounding heart. “This feels…” She blinked, shaking her head.

  “Like it was meant to be?” he finished, hoping her thoughts were the same as his.

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded slightly. Just as unsure and surprised as he, he figured. For an inst
ant he thought about leaving her. Because surely it wasn’t this simple—the spirits delivering her to him and everything in his world becoming perfect. There would be trials to face. They would need to prove themselves worthy of this gift.

  His fear mixed with his overwhelming desire for her. Not fear for himself, fear for her. She was strong, that he already knew. But he wanted to spare her any pain. And the truth—his truth—could tear her apart. Her breath had become shallow and she moved beneath him. An insistent throb in his cock pushed the doubt from his mind. All that mattered in this moment was his insatiable need for her.

  With his tongue, he traced her full mouth, then sucked in her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out, seeking his, and they came together in an all-consuming kiss. Every muscle in Sam’s body grew tight with anticipation. His rampant heartbeat matched the pulsing in his cock. Hard, getting harder, his cock ached for her and his sac burned with the need for release. But he would endure the torture and go slowly. Show her how it could be between them.

  Sam dragged his mouth from hers and planted kisses beneath her chin and down the center of her chest, through the valley between her luscious breasts. He rubbed his cheek against her curving mounds, delaying the desire to taste her erect nipples. Sweet, they would be oh so sweet. An involuntary groan came from him as she relaxed, lying back on the pillow. Her eyes were closed and a little smile formed on her lips. She had given him her body to do with as he pleased.

  Unable to wait another second, he swirled his tongue around one nipple, scooping it into his mouth to suckle. He scraped his teeth over the distended bud gently and she rewarded him by arching to offer him more. As he suckled one of the hard tips he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing. She arched again, moaning loudly. He trailed his tongue to the other breast and nibbled as he tweaked the first with his fingers. She was too beautiful for words.