Squirming, she felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her buttocks and heard Jonah’s low groan. Then his hand was moving, caressing her stomach, her waist, and then traveled upward, kneading her breast. He found her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, pinching it lightly, and then rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, working it into an aching point. She gasped harshly, trying to remember to be quiet.
“Please, Jonah,” she pleaded softly.
His hand lowered to the band of her trousers, unbuttoning them with suspicious efficiency, but her thoughts scattered like fireflies at twilight when he shoved them over her hips and cupped her, dipping a finger into her wet and swollen cleft. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, her hips shifting to push his finger deeper.
He ground his arousal against her, his hand pressing tightly to hold her there and groaned in her ear, a deep and primal sound that sent shockwaves shooting along every nerve ending. She was sweating beneath her clothes, swaddled in the blankets, ready to burst into flames from both the heat of the fire, and Jonah’s large body spooned with hers from chest to ankles.
When he removed his hand, she whimpered at the loss of his erotic touch. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely.
She felt him fumbling with the fastening of his trousers, and then he was free, his heavy erection brushing hotly against her bare buttocks. In a low, gravelly voice, he said, “Lift your leg.” She eagerly complied and was rewarded as he slowly eased into her, filling the hollow ache with his thick length.
Jonah tried to stifle his groan as he entered her, but it escaped without his consent. She was so hot and tight and wet, he forgot they weren’t alone in the camp, that there were three Apache braves sleeping nearby. For now he didn’t care. For now he was focused completely on Cadence – her delicious curves, the floral scent of her dark curls as they tickled his nose, and the sweet sounds she made in her attempt to keep quiet.
She was irresistible.
And whether it was some odd condition, or spell, or whatever it was she might be experiencing – he didn’t care. For now, she was the woman in his arms, responding to his touch – and he wanted her with an intensity that would shatter his soul if he thought too much about it.
He withdrew slowly, hissing air through his teeth as he plunged back in, her inner muscles gripping him so firmly, he came dangerously close to spilling too soon. She tilted her hips back, allowing him to go deeper. Sweat dripped off his forehead, down his temples, his thrusts increasing in speed and power. He held her immobile, his hand on her hip, as he drove into her again and again, their panting breaths breaking the silence of the night air.
Cadence wanted to scream out her pleasure, the tension building in her core as Jonah thrust into her. His hand moved from her hip to the place between her legs, his fingers stroking the tiny nub of flesh, centering all sensation there. He pumped harder and faster, his fingers working their magic and suddenly she burst into a million pieces, her inner muscles flexing tightly around him, embracing him from within. He thrust one last time, impaling her deeply and held himself there, flooding her with his hot seed. He groaned, his manhood pulsing rhythmically with his release.
They lay there, breathing, sweating, still united, his arms holding her tight. Eventually, their breathing slowed, their bodies cooled, and the familiar sounds of the prairie night intruded. Cadence opened her eyes, looking across the camp at the lump that was either Ba'cho, or one of his brothers. He was several yards away and lay unmoving, but she couldn’t suppress her groan of mortification.
Jonah squeezed her lightly. “Don’t fret about it, Hellcat,” he said, correctly guessing her thoughts. “Ba'cho did say that this was accepted and natural in his culture. I’ve encountered native Indians before and it’s true – they’re a very open people when it comes to relationships and closeness. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“And yet I’m still embarrassed,” she said hoarsely. “How am I going to face them in the morning?” Damn this cursed curse! she thought bitterly. If only she knew whether Jonah really wanted her – for her – and not just because she was a ready and willing female. Was she being too hard on him? It was not his fault that she suffered the effects of an unusual cycle. She could only console herself that it wasn’t Ned Furley she was now bound to. Once Jonah found out the whole truth about her, would he stay with her, or would he be repulsed? She had a feeling she would soon find out.
“You will hold your head up and pretend nothing happened,” Jonah said.
It was a simple thing, but it was all she could do. “Just as Ba'cho and his brothers will pretend they hadn’t heard anything,” she said dryly.
Jonah chuckled. The motion caused him to slip from her, leaving her feeling desolate and empty. With a sigh, Cadence pulled up her trousers, the movements behind her telling her Jonah did the same. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her still-damp neck. “Go to sleep, Hellcat.”
Twelve
CADENCE HOWLED IN pain.
She lay on the ground, writhing like the snake that had bitten her. It had been a rattler, hidden behind some low rocks, striking with deadly precision. She hadn’t even heard its tell-tale warning until it was too late. The snake was dead, of course. Nah-kah-yen had killed it with his bare hands, exclaiming, “Yah-tats-an!” which Ba'cho had explained meant ‘now it is dead.’
The snake had sunk its fangs into her right thigh, just a few inches above her knee. They’d been traveling for hours and had finally stopped for a break.
This morning, everyone had gone about their business as though she and Jonah had not shared a scandalously public display of lovemaking. Her cheeks had been flaming ever since leaving camp. Every time she caught Ba'cho looking at her, they’d burned even hotter. He hadn’t said a word, but his dark eyes held a knowing glint that was hard to ignore. Nah-Kah-yen, and Too-ah-yay-say acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, to her relief.
Then – the snake.
She had been scouting for a place to relieve herself in privacy. She was tired, not paying attention, her panther senses not as alert as they should have been. As she’d picked her way through a rocky patch of ground that seemed to continue on to the ends of the earth, the snake had struck.
She still felt sorry for it, even though she was in misery. It had been killed for only doing what its instincts had told it to do. She’d startled it, barely giving it a chance to rattle a warning to stay away. It had been frightened, lashing out to protect itself. The animal in her understood. She knew what it was like to strike out in self-defense.
It was her own fault for being so careless. Just the same, it hurt like hell. She could feel the poison working its way into her veins. Somebody had to do something – fast.
She stared with torture-filled eyes up at the four shadowed faces looking down at her. Jonah, Ba'cho, Nah-Kah-yen, and Too-ah-yay-say formed a circle around her, kneeling in the dirt. Beyond the dark silhouettes of their heads and broad shoulders, she could see blue sky. One of those heads – she thought maybe it was Jonah’s – blocked out the piercing, white-hot sun. But every time he moved just slightly, she was blinded by the bright light.
Her throat felt dry and scratchy. “Do something,” she croaked. She was thirsty. And hot.
Strong hands held her still. “Cadence, sweetheart.” It was Jonah’s voice. “Don’t move around so much. Staying still will slow the venom from getting into your system.”
Suddenly she was sitting upright, her back resting against the hard chest of one of the braves. She moaned, feeling dizzy and nauseated. “My lips are tingling,” she rasped.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Jonah said, “but we have to keep the bite wound below your heart.”
“W-why?” Cadence asked weakly. How did he know all this?
Jonah didn’t answer her, but spoke to the others. “It was a young snake,” she heard him say. “They don’t have as much control of the amount of venom they inject as the older ones do.”
Suck out the poison?
Someone was pulling off her trousers. She tried to fight them, but her hands were gently restrained. Large, warm, capable hands held her leg firmly. Somehow, she knew it was Jonah and relaxed. She could depend on Jonah – he would take care of her.
Then it felt as though she’d been stabbed in the leg with a red-hot poker.
She screamed.
The pain was so much like what Robert Kincaid had done – burning the imprint of his ring into her flesh. She fought the instinct to turn into the panther and protect herself – just like the rattler had done. She panted heavily, concentrating, pushing it back, mentally forming a tight ball, keeping it inside. Finally it receded, leaving behind only mild anger. It was something her mother had taught her so she wouldn’t be ruled by the beast.
When Jonah made the cut in Cadence’s leg, he’d had to grit his teeth. The area around the bite marks had already begun to bruise and swell. “Be still, sweetheart,” he crooned. “I had to make a small cut to get out the poison, okay?”
She growled low, deep in her throat. His gaze shot to her face. Her lips were curled back, her white teeth bared in a snarl. His heart thumped. There, in the bold light of day, her eyes flashed bright green as she stared unseeing. She looked wild – feral – panting like an injured animal. Then she closed her eyes, appeared to be trying to calm herself, regulating her breathing. When she opened them again, the odd glow was gone, leaving the familiar, dark mossy color he remembered – except they were glazed with pain.
He glanced at Ba'cho, and then at each of his brothers. They had to have seen her eyes – heard the sound she’d made, but none of them seemed to have noticed.
Turning his attention back to Cadence, Jonah quickly leaned over and put his mouth over the cut he’d made just above her knee. He started sucking out the blood and poison, spitting it out, and then repeating the procedure. After doing this several times, his lips began to feel numb.
“Do not swallow any of it,” Ba'cho said.
Jonah grunted and spit.
When he could no longer taste the poison, a distinct flavor in contrast to the metallic tang of blood, Jonah stopped and straightened. He swayed dizzily, catching himself with a hand in the hot dirt. Nah-Kah-yen steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Jonah spit again just to be sure.
Ba'cho was bandaging Cadence’s leg. Apparently they’d been busy preparing strips of cloth while he was sucking out the poison.
Cadence’s breathing had slowed to a more normal rhythm, her eyes large in her pale face as she silently watched Jonah. Ba'cho finished wrapping her leg, slipped her trousers back up, fastening them with brotherly detachment. Jonah appreciated the brave’s lack of male interest in Cadence’s bare legs. Thankfully she was still wearing the short pants, which at least hid her more provocative charms. If the man had shown any interest in her at all, Jonah would have beaten him into the ground.
There it was again – that fierce sense of possession and gut-wrenching jealousy that slammed him like a bull in a blind rage. And it had only gotten worse since they’d been as close as any two people could get. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In moments he had his composure under control enough to scoop Cadence into his arms. He headed for his horse. “So, a hanging wasn’t enough, you had to go and get yourself bitten by a rattler?” He grimaced at the shaky sound of his voice. She offered him a weak smile, proving her remarkable resilience, once again.
Nah-Kah-yen and Too-ah-yay-say were already mounted, waiting patiently.
Cadence felt weak and tired and her leg throbbed. Jonah had saved her life - again. She thought about how she’d taken care of herself, as well as her sisters for so long, and then Jonah had come along. He had saved her from hanging, even though it was so he could drag her back to New Orleans for another one. He’d saved her from Ned Furley, and now he’d put himself in jeopardy to remove the poison from the snake bite.
That in itself was significant. She vaguely remembered a tale told by her mother about the transfer of blood. At the time she’d thought it was only a myth – but what if the tale was true? Jonah may never forgive her.
She was in awe of these four large, masculine men who had tended to her, hovering over her as though she were a treasured child. But it was Jonah who had done what was necessary – who now cradled her in his strong arms. Her eyes filled with tears. The whole ordeal had weakened not only her body, but her emotions as well.
She was in love with Jonah Kincaid.
If only she felt more confident that he could love her back. She sensed in him a deeper sentiment than merely physical desire for her. Perhaps it could grow into love.
“Are you all right?” Jonah asked her, his concern evident in his expression, as well as the tone of his voice.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, not wanting to reveal her thoughts.
“You don’t look fine. You’re crying.”
“I’m in pain and overly tired, is all.” Truth.
Jonah noticed that Ba'cho had followed him. “Give her to me and I will hand her up to you,” Ba'cho said.
Jonah hesitated, not wanting to relinquish her into this handsome Apache’s arms. Unfortunately, he couldn’t mount his horse while he was holding her. He needed Ba'cho’s help. Grudgingly, he handed her over, slid into the saddle, and then held out his hands, ready to receive her back.
Ba'cho lifted her up and Jonah settled her in his lap. “I have medicine for her. It will make her sleep, and when we stop for the night, it will ease her moon-fever.”
“You know about that?” Jonah asked in surprise.
“Our people know of her kind.”
“Her kind?”
“The Spirits have blessed the women of her family with special gifts.”
“How do you know all this?”
Yes, how do you know all this, Cadence mused.
“Our fates are intertwined,” was Ba'cho’s reply.
“Your fates are – Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Jonah snapped. “Why does everyone here always speak in riddles?”
Ba'cho laughed. “Soon, you will understand.”
Jonah made a sound of disgust. “There you go again – another riddle.”
“I will be back with the medicine,” Ba'cho said, still laughing. The man, Jonah, had to either be a fool, or he refused to acknowledge the truth. Ba'cho had seen Ndołkah’s eyes. It’s what happened when backed into a corner – or in pain. It had been a beautiful sight – not Ndołkah’s pain, but the wildness within her, revealed through the windows of her soul. She was one who lived with one foot in the Spirit World.
He remembered what it was like.
A shadow of sadness fell upon him, but he quickly pushed it away. Now was not the time to dwell on what has been, but what he hoped would be a better future for his people.
He rummaged in the bag he always carried with him. It contained medicines and spices for cooking, as well as his sacred stones. He grinned, remembering the look on Jonah’s face when Ndołkah’s pretty legs were bared for everyone to see. She was a beautiful woman. Ba'cho couldn’t help but think about last night – her cries of passion. Soon, he would share such passion with her golden sister.
Jonah was a fortunate man. His fierce possessiveness should give him a clue as to his feelings – what was in his heart. But Ba'cho sensed it would not be an easy thing – for Ndołkah or Jonah. He returned and handed Jonah a piece of brown root. “Have her chew this and swallow it,” he instructed.
“You sure it’s okay?” Jonah asked cautiously.
“It is oh-kay,” Ba'cho said. “It will not harm her, only help.” He walked away and mounted his horse.
As they moved out, Jonah placed the small piece of root between Cadence’s lips. “Chew and swallow,” he ordered. She quietly did as she was told and soon drifted off to sleep.
They traveled for several hours before stopping to make camp. Jonah had spent thos
e hours contemplating Cadence. It was no use denying the intense attraction he felt toward her, or the crazy-wild satisfaction he experienced while buried deep inside her. But he was troubled by the strange light he’d seen in her eyes, not once, but three times. He knew she was no ordinary woman. No ordinary woman would claim to be under a spell that compels her to mate during the full moon. That by itself was ludicrous.
But then he’d witnessed it himself – the desperation – the passion – the uncontrollable draw to lose his soul to her. From the moment he’d taken that shot, severing the hanging rope, and thereby saving her life – his life had changed. His quest for revenge had taken a bizarre turn, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the better – or for the worse.
She was still wanted for murder. There was nothing he could do to change that fact. One thing he could do is walk away – let her go back to her family and forget about her – forget why he’d tracked her in the first place. But she’d gotten under his skin, past defenses he’d thought were wrought in iron. With stunning ease, she’d slipped through the hardened exterior he’d cultivated out of necessity in order to survive the horrors of war and death and treachery. And now, he didn’t know if he would be able give her up.
But what could he offer her?
An illicit affair?
Marriage?
He understood why she’d done what she had, and in any other case he would have had no problem, but could he marry the woman who’d murdered his brother?
He hadn’t thought of marrying – not ever again, anyway. Not after Beth Ann. After her, there’d never been anyone special enough to consider it. Was Cadence the one? Did he love her? He wasn’t quite ready to contemplate that possibility. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of the emotion. Maybe Beth Ann had seen that in him and had followed her heart in the end.
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