Fantasy

by Christine Feehan

He bent his head to kiss the corner of her mouth, feeling he should be a candidate for sainthood or at the very least knighted. He took her hand and started off confidently in another direction. “I guess the village would be safe enough. We might find a person or two there.” He scowled as he said it.

  Maggie knew he was thinking about the mysterious James, hoping he wouldn’t be at the village. “I would hope so. I’d like that. I’ve wanted to see it.” She enjoyed walking beside him as he named plant species and pointed out animals and reptiles she might have missed. She became aware of how completely safe she felt with him. The forest was a dark place, mystical and even haunting, yet Brandt moved so quietly, so fluidly, with such complete assurance, she realized just how much a part of it he really was. “You took all those photographs hanging in the house, didn’t you? They’re very good.” There was raw admiration in her voice.

  He actually flushed. “You noticed those, did you? I hope you didn’t read any of that nonsense. I should have taken them down but I didn’t think about it.”

  “I liked the poetry.”

  He groaned. “It isn’t poetry. I just was trying to find something for titles but nothing fit.” His excuse sounded lame even to his own ears.

  Maggie reached out and touched his hair, tangling her fingers in the silky mass for just a moment because she couldn’t resist. “Are you a professional photographer?” He was so appealing in his embarrassment that she was reluctant to help him out but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “I freelance for National Geographic,” Brandt admitted reluctantly. “I write articles and do consultations for various governments. Along with my job here, I try to raise world awareness about the value of the forest.”

  Maggie stared at him in shocked amazement. How could she not have put it all together? “You’re the Brandt Talbot, the renowned leading expert on the rain forest? Doctor Brandt Talbot. I can’t believe I’m talking to you. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written!” Maggie found herself falling deeper under his spell. He loved what she loved. She heard it in his voice and read it in his articles. He couldn’t fake that kind of passion. “Tell me more about the species you say my parents were,” she encouraged, uncertain whether she could believe him or not. Her body seemed living proof of his revelations. Something was going on inside of her, something she seemed not to have control over, yet his explanation seemed beyond the realm of reality. She tried to keep an open mind. “Are there many of them left?”

  “Of us, Maggie—you’re one of us—and no, there are not many of us left. Our race has dwindled. We’ve been hunted and killed nearly to the point of extinction. It was partly our own fault. We don’t have the most noble history.” There was regret in his voice.

  “What happened?”

  “In the early days, some tribes worshiped us as deities. Some of our people became obsessed with power. Like any species, there are those among us who choose a life of common good and service, and those who want to reign, to conquer. We have our own diseases and our own problems. We’re passionate, a mixture of human and animal instincts that means good and bad from both sides.” He stopped walking. “The village is just ahead of us. Maggie, even today, some of our males are obsessed with power,” he cautioned her carefully.

  “Leopards don’t mate for life, Brandt. The females raise the cubs alone. Do the men walk away after sex?” She forced herself to ask the question without looking at him.

  He caught her to him, his arms steel bands. “No, Maggie. We are not leopards, not animals, nor are we human. Our species mate for life. It’s how it’s done. For nine lives. All of our lives. Over and over. You’re mine, I know you are, you’ve always belonged with me.”

  Relief and joy washed over her, so much so that she couldn’t respond. The thought that he might want her for all their years rather than just a mating made her happy in spite of the fact that she wasn’t altogether certain any of it was real. She let him hold her in silence while she looked around her, trying to see through the rain and trees. Sure enough, there were a couple of small structures woven into the trees and camouflaged by the wealth of plants growing in every conceivable manner. She shook her head. “This is the village? This is where everyone lives? All two buildings?” She was trying not to laugh. She had pictured something much different. A thriving busy hub, at least, like a native village.

  “We never live in the village. We simply meet here to enjoy company or get supplies. Homes are scattered in and around the trees. We make certain there are no trails and that we’re constantly vigilant, looking for signs of anyone near. The poachers destroyed the village the night your parents died, and since that time we’ve kept it quite small for protection.”

  “That makes sense, but it seems a sad way to live.”

  “We have our own community and not all of our people reside in the rain forest. Some have chosen to live on the outskirts. We change at will, with the exception of the Han Vol Dan. The first time shifting occurs is uncomfortable and can’t be controlled. It’s best to have someone with you to talk you through it.”

  “So children don’t shift shape. Only adults?”

  He nodded. “And we don’t know what triggers it in each individual. Some are earlier shifters than others.” Brandt slipped his arms around her shoulders, needing to touch her, to have her close. He was feeling edgy and combative, knowing the other males were in close proximity. His friends, he reminded himself. Men he trusted. Men who had saved his life a dozen times, as he had saved theirs. They knew Maggie was his mate. They would be just as uncomfortable around her as he would be with them there until he had bound Maggie to him.

  And then there was James. Brandt and the others had scented him in the forest, watching Maggie’s arrival. Twice Brandt had smelled his spoor near the house. Brandt didn’t trust James and didn’t want the man anywhere near Maggie. Their species had too much animal influence, so much so that they had to fight their very natures at times. They reacted like territorial males until the bonds were fully established. It was dangerous for all of them.

  Maggie felt the fine tremor running through his body. “What is it?” She slid her arm around his waist, something she might not ordinarily have done, but he seemed to need her. There was a strange kind of power in having a strong man need her so much, to have him so intent on his pursuit of her. “You’re uncomfortable with our being here. I can feel it, Brandt.”

  He pulled her back into the shelter of the trees and turned her into his arms, brought her body tightly against his so that she could feel his every muscle imprinted on her. His scent enveloped her. Brandt leaned down to nuzzle her hair aside so he could find her shoulder with his mouth. Teeth scraped back and forth gently over her bare skin. “I want you.” He whispered it softly against her ear, his warm breath teasing her senses. “I want you so badly I can’t think sometimes.”

  Her entire body answered his whispered confession. Clenching. Pulsing with heat. With hunger. With anticipation.

  His lips drifted up her throat, his teeth tugged tenderly on her chin, skimmed along her cheek to find the corner of her mouth. His tongue stroked. Lingered. Traced her lips until she opened for him. At once she was lost. His mouth was a mystery of intrigue, of masculine expertise and hot promises. His tongue swept inside, swept her away from her inhibitions. From sanity. From any clear thought.

  Her arms crept up around his neck. Locked there, held him to her while she moved against him, a slow rubbing of her body against his. Arousing him further. Savoring the way his body hardened in response. All the while their mouths were welded together. His hands moved over her, shaped her breasts, memorized the curve of her hips, slid possessively over her buttocks. Kneaded. Massaged. Stroked.

  His mouth became hotter and silkier, his tongue danced, dueled with hers. He trailed kisses over her chin, her throat, leaving tiny flames behind. His mouth settled over her breasts, suckling right through the thin cotton of her shirt.

  Maggie cried out, cradled his head, arcing into him w
hile her body nearly drowned in a tidal wave of desire. Nothing had prepared her for the heat, for the hunger.

  “Let’s go away from here,” he whispered, “right now, Maggie. Come with me away from here. I need you so much right now.”

  She nodded, needing him, needing him to stop the terrible ache, to fill the emptiness. “I’ve never done this before, Brandt,” Maggie admitted, wanting him to go slow, to let her catch up to his obvious experience.

  His entire body went rigid. His golden eyes blazed at her with a mixture of consternation and hunger. “Are you untouched, Maggie?” There was shock in his voice.

  She stiffened immediately, drew away from him. “Not anymore.” Her chin went up with a hint of defiance. “I’d have to say you changed that.”

  He had inadvertently hurt her. Brandt shackled her wrist, brought her resisting body back to him. “I’m sorry, Maggie, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know exactly what you meant. You wish I were experienced. I’m so dreadfully sorry, but I’m not. I’ve never found a man I loved that much or was so attracted to that I wanted to have a physical relationship.” She was furious. Furious. She was not about to defend her morals to Brandt Talbot. She turned away from him, away from his pathetic little village.

  Brandt knew Maggie wanted to be angry with him. He was certain she was telling herself she was angry with him, but her eyes were shiny and if tears spilled over he would have to kiss every drop from her face. Deliberately he dragged her hand to his chest and held it against him, ignoring her halfhearted struggles.

  “How could you think I would want another man to put his hands on you? To touch you?” His arms circled her body, held her to him while he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “The last thing I would ever want would be for you to believe, even for a moment, that you cared for another man enough to want him to make love to you.” He kissed her temple. “I was only concerned for you. You should have told me immediately. What you’re feeling, I’m also feeling. I could have lost control. I must take great care with you.” He held her to him, waited for the tension to drain out of her. He was beginning to know her. She might flash at him, but she got over things quickly.

  Maggie tilted her head back to look up at him. Instantly she knew she’d made a mistake. His eyes were dark, liquid, melting her, tugging at her heartstrings. She shook her head, knowing it was too late. The hurt, the anger was slipping away while her insides turned to mush. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and forced her hungry stare away from his hypnotic eyes.

  “Take me to the village. I want to see what it’s like.” She needed a space from him, breathing room. She needed a semblance of normalcy and a reprieve from the continual sexual assault on her senses.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking thoughtful. “All right, we’ll go, but just remember I’m as on edge as a male leopard when a female is…”

  She whipped her head around, glared at him, provoked beyond endurance. “Don’t you dare say I’m in heat. I am not in heat!” She flushed a bright scarlet, stepped away from the temptation of his masculine body. “What a thought!” Though she’d been thinking it herself. She had all the signs of a feline in heat, but Brandt saying the words aloud was humiliating. Suddenly her eyes widened and her hand went to her throat. “Wait a minute. Are you implying I can conceive? Is that it? I’m ovulating and I want to have sex because I can conceive?”

  She backed hastily away from him as if he might contaminate her. When he started to follow her she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You stay right over there, away from me. Far away from me.”

  He was grinning at her and Maggie found herself staring at his mouth, fascinated. Intrigued. Her mouth curved in an answering smile in spite of her intentions to be serious. “It isn’t funny. Stay over there where I know I’m perfectly safe and explain this to me. Do…” What in the world did they call themselves? “Do leopard-people only have sex when the female ovulates?”

  Brandt burst out laughing. “You’re looking disappointed, Maggie, which I’m thankful for. No, we are a highly sexual race and lovemaking is frequent. But, yes, when our mate nears the time of ovulation, the need becomes much more intense. Sex can be rough. That’s why I was concerned with your being a virgin, not because it displeased me.” His gaze was hot as it moved over her. Possessive. “We’ll get around it.”

  “We won’t need to get around it! You aren’t coming near me! I’m not getting pregnant. I’m not! So you can just stop looking at me like that. Unless you have a box full of protection, you can forget it.” She felt wild, upset, needy. Raging hormones out of control. She felt sorry for every female cat she had ever come into contact with. “Weren’t you even going to tell me?”

  “Eventually. I’m taking things slow, letting you get used to the idea of what you are. It carries a certain responsibility with it.” He shrugged his wide shoulders, and she nearly groaned at the way his muscles rippled enticingly.

  “I’ll say.” She glared at him when she wanted to fling herself at him and beg him to rip her clothes off. The village was the only safe place. They needed people, not privacy, not an exotic rain forest with its flowers and trees and steamy assault on the senses. “Get away from me, Brandt. I’m feeling extremely catlike toward you just about now, and raking my claws down your face seems a good idea.” Raking her claws down his body would be better. Over his back. Clinging to him. The image the words evoked sent her body pulsing with need.

  He saw it in her expression, inhaled her beckoning scent. Male satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

  Maggie rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. “For heaven’s sake, do we have litters? Cubs? Inquiring minds want to know.” She couldn’t stand still, she couldn’t think clearly. Another wave of need was rushing through her body like a fireball.

  Brandt’s gaze narrowed, focused on her completely. He simply reached out and caught her hand. “Neither one of us is in any shape to go visiting, Maggie. You’re going to have to trust me to know what to do.”

  Night was falling fast as it often did in the rain forest. She felt tired and muggy and her clothes felt uncomfortable against her skin. She could tell she was getting edgy, wanting to rake at Brandt. The best thing was to be alone, somewhere quiet and soothing.

  6

  Maggie woke unbearably hot, a soft cry of protest on her lips. She heard the echo of the haunting sound as she lay in the dark room with her heart beating too fast and her mind racing. The room was pitch black, yet her vision was remarkably good. Instead of reassuring her, the fact left her curling her fingers in the sheets. Her body had awakened her with urgent need, burning for relief so that she couldn’t control her restless shifting.

  It was only then that she thought to inhale. At once she went still, her stomach flipping and hot liquid heat surging through her body in instant invitation. She smelled fruit and the musky scent of a male. Her male. Brandt. She would know that masculine scent anywhere, a blend of outdoor and spice. She knew immediately he was as aroused as she was.

  Maggie moistened her lips. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking at you.” The words were soft, seductive. Truthful. His voice came from the chair positioned in the deepest corner opposite from her. “Watching over you.”

  She smiled in the dark. “Do I need watching over?” The thought of his eyes on her, intense and burning, was a powerful aphrodisiac. She moved along the sheets, trying to get comfortable when every nerve ending was alive and sizzling with awareness.

  “You were moaning in your sleep. The sound tore me up.” Brandt was sprawled out in the chair, his long legs stretched in front of him, his eyes devouring her. He had positioned the chair at the best advantage to watch her. She was so beautiful, so real, lying on his bed, all lush curves and gleaming skin. He ached to hold her. To lap his tongue along her throat and in the deep valley between her breasts, to swirl it in that intriguing little belly button he had such difficulty tearing his gaze from.

  She
belonged in the house. Here with him. The sight and sound of her, the scent of her completed him. He had to clear his throat of the unexpected lump clogging it so he could speak. “There’s fruit on the tray there if you’re thirsty or hungry. It was hot so I brought ice in the small insulated bucket.”

  Maggie sat up, pushed at the hair tumbling around her face. “You’re always taking care of me, Brandt. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you.” She was thirsty and hot, her throat parched.

  Brandt watched as she reached a slender, bare arm through the mosquito netting and lifted a piece of mango to her lips. She tilted her head slightly, exposing the long column of her throat, smooth and vulnerable, to him. Her lips parted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of her small teeth, her tongue, before she took the fruit into her mouth. His entire body clenched when she sucked the juice from her fingers. Her tongue darted out to catch the last drop of juice on her lower lip. His hand dropped to his thick, hard arousal pulsing with hunger and urgent demand. A single sound escaped him.

  Maggie’s head went up. “Do you want to share with me?”

  Her voice sent jackhammers tripping in his head. He thought he would burst from his skin. “Look at me, Maggie,” he commanded gruffly.

  “You’re in the shadows. I can’t see you.”

  “Yes, you can. Use your eyesight. Look at me and tell me if you want me sharing with you.” There was a moody, edgy feel to his voice, one that sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  She pushed the mosquito netting aside and leaned forward, picking up another piece of mango as she did so. It took a moment to make him out, as still as he was in the chair. He seemed to become part of whatever his background was, a highly developed camouflage. Maggie could see him then, his powerful body draped on the chair. Entirely naked. Starkly aroused. He made no attempt to hide the pulsing staff thrusting upward from between his legs. He sat there, motionless, his brooding gaze on her, simply awaiting her decision.