Primal Calling

by Jillian Burns

  Evidently word had spread fast from the party her first night here. They thought she was here for her TV show. Not a bad cover. And, actually, it might be possible to have some of this footage edited into the Iditarod piece. But if she ended up with a good story on Max, she’d be able to use what she filmed here for that.

  She kept filming the crowd and stopped, went back. It was Max, with a tiny, gray-haired Iñupiat woman’s hand clinging to the crook in his elbow. The old woman smiled at her and waved and drew Max’s attention to Serena. He scowled.

  Serena paused the recording, dropped the camera to her side and waved back to the old woman.

  She hadn’t seen or heard from Max since he’d rescued her from getting lost in the ice fog the other day. She tried to tell her brain to be objective, but just looking at him made her breathing shallow and her heart race. Even hidden behind the shaggy hair and beard he was a handsome man. But there was something more. Something in the depth of his dark brown eyes that called to her. In the way he looked at her. As if he wanted to shove everyone out of his way, grab her by the hair and yank her back to his cave.

  The old woman said something to him and Max leaned down to hear her, then shook his head and replied. His face softened as he spoke to her and when he straightened, he stared down the street.

  Well. She’d been dismissed.

  She lifted the camera and recorded the parade.

  After the parade wound down, the children dragged their sleds to the Middle Lagoon. A boy of about ten or eleven stood with his mother next to Serena. The Iñupiat boy tugged on Serena’s coat. “Am I going to be on television?”

  Serena bent down to talk to the boy. “Maybe. Do you want to be?” She glanced up just then and caught Max staring at the boy. His face revealed little, there was something about the intensity in his stare.

  Her camera down by her side, she saw Max’s gaze follow the boy as he raced his sled. Then, as if Max sensed her eyes on him, he glanced back at her. She looked away. He wouldn’t appreciate that she was watching him.

  Turning her attention to the children and their sleds, Serena cheered them on and recorded the last few minutes of the race. She wandered to the crafts tables in the gym and bought a beautiful whalebone carving of a white owl for her collection and a woven blanket in beautiful muted colors of the Arctic Sea. Dozens of townspeople approached her, asking who she was, and all seemed eager to be recorded.

  She asked as many as she could, without being too obvious, about Max and the plane crash. Some repeated the rumors about drugs and foul play, but admitted they only knew what they’d heard and had no proof or reason to believe it was true. A few tried to convince her he was an ex-con, but again, they had no proof. Several people told her to ask the shaman. The shaman could tell her everything she wanted to know.

  She made a mental note to ask Chris about making an appointment with the town’s shaman.

  Even more revealing to Serena was the way people treated Max. And how he reacted. Though all would nod respectfully to the old woman, they seemed to give him a wide berth, and some openly ignored him. And the way he froze people out with his cold, menacing glares it was no wonder people feared him.

  A few times throughout the day she felt a quiver of awareness. She’d look up to find his gaze on her and her stomach would jump. Once, it was the old woman with him who was staring at her.

  At the potluck dinner in the high school gym, she filled her plate with goose soup, cooked fruit and fry bread. She found the traditional Iñupiat cooking delicious. The couple of times she glanced his way, Max was pulling out a chair for the elderly lady and bringing her a plate of food. Her heart squeezed.

  Just when she’d convinced herself she could stay objective.

  When everyone moved outside for the blanket toss, she moved into position to film it with the crimson sky of the setting sun behind the circle of adults holding on to the edges of the patchwork of sealskins. The whaling captains and their wives climbed on first and the crowd pulled out on the blanket and tossed them high into the air. Once airborne, the wives threw candy to the surrounding children.

  Beyond the focus of the blanket toss, Max stood in the shadows, away from the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest. The Lone Wolf.

  His eyes met hers with a raised brow, staring her down. Daring her to approach him and say something.

  It was time to speak to him one more time about an interview.

  MAX SAW Serena drop the camera into her purse and move toward him. Her white teeth flashed as she smiled and nodded to the people along the way. The setting sun seemed to form a golden lining around her, casting her into silhouette for a moment.

  Her face was unreadable, but her eyes seemed to burn into his. The wind blew her long brunette hair across her face and she reached up to gather the strands and tuck them behind her ear. But her gaze never left his.

  His body responded. His muscles tensed, and his breathing sped up. He felt the same pull of attraction he’d felt every time he saw her. What was it about her? Her figure and legs were covered today with a bulky coat that fell halfway to her knees.

  But he knew her body beneath the coat. Knew her soft skin. He’d been inside her. His erection pulsed at the thought. He closed his eyes and then turned to make his escape.

  She followed him and placed her hand on his arm. “Max?”

  At her touch and nearness the tingle of awareness grew into full-scale desire. He stopped but didn’t face her.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Serena accused, and moved in front of him.

  “Don’t take it personally.” The noise level rose as the people called out for the newlyweds being tossed on the blanket to kiss.

  “Why? Because you avoid everyone?” Serena raised her voice over the volume of blanket-tossers. “I can’t help but take it personally.”

  Max shook his head. “How do you figure that?”

  “Because…” She hesitated. “That night when we…you know—in the plane. I wondered if we could just start over.”

  As Serena spoke, the door of the gym opened and his grandmother’s head poked out.

  Seeing Serena, she smiled her toothless smile and clapped her hands. “I knew it.”

  Serena’s eyes widened as she swiveled to face his grandmother.

  Max closed his eyes. “No, Aanaga. There’s nothing to know.”

  “Ii.” She nodded, joyfully cackling. “I felt it as soon as I saw her.”

  “Felt what?” Serena asked.

  “Nothing.” He had to get his grandmother out of here.

  With a smug grin, she pointed a wrinkled finger at Serena just as Max rushed to put his arm around his grandmother’s shoulders and guide her away. “She is the one.” His grandmother spoke loudly. “No, Aanaga. It’s not what you think. We need to get home now.”

  But his grandmother dug in her heels and twisted in his arm. “I’m so glad you are finally here. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” She smiled and nodded her head, then looked back at him. “We can go now.” Shuffling away, she left with him, a smug smile playing on her lips.

  And Serena stared after them as if she’d just clicked another piece of the puzzle into the right spot.

  SERENA WOKE UP disoriented. She’d been dreaming she was back in L.A. in her condo, and she was making love to Max on a chaise lounge out on her balcony. Then she became aware as they made love that the old Iñupiat lady was watching them. Smiling and clapping her hands.

  Nooo…

  Rolling to her side, she curled into a fetal position, pulled the pillow over her face and moaned. Didn’t take Freud to analyze that dream.

  But it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. This wasn’t seventeenth century New England. She didn’t have to wear a scarlet letter on her clothes. It was just embarrassing for anyone to know her private business, that’s all.

  For the first time, she understood Max not wanting to talk with her about his past.

  She jumped as someone pounded on her door.


  “Serena. I want to talk to you.”

  Max? He sounded furious. Okay, more furious than usual. She scrambled out of bed and looked down at her thin cami and thong. But she had no robe, only her coat.

  Max pounded again. “Serena. Open the damn door.”

  “All right. I’m coming.” Jeez. On her way to the door, she grabbed her ski jacket and shoved her arms in the sleeves.

  The pounding started again just as she threw open the door.

  Max pushed past her and stalked into the room. “What the hell were you doing yesterday?” He shoved a newspaper under her nose.

  She blinked, took the paper from him, and scanned the front page.

  North Slope News

  Saturday, April 2

  Schedule for the Piuraagiaqta

  The weather prediction looks acceptable, with highs from 15 to 25F today, with possibly some snow, and winds rather normal at 10 to 15 MPH from the east. The schedule of festival events for today is as follows:

  1:00 p.m. Middle Lagoon; Harpoon throwing contest

  2:00 p.m Middle Lagoon; Whaling Crew Races

  3:00 p.m igloo building

  4:00 p.m snow machine races

  5:00 p.m Nigliq (Goose) calling contest

  6:00 p.m Barrow Dancers (Traditional Iñupiat Dancing)

  “I don’t get it.” She extended the paper back to him. “Is the schedule wrong because of me?”

  His scowl grew even more ominous. “Read below the fold.”

  TV Personality Visits Barrow—Investigates Plane Crash Mystery.

  By Tonya Sweeny

  Many who attended the Spring Festival yesterday may have noticed a celebrity in our midst. Serena Sandstone, star of the hit travel show Travel in Style, was seen around Barrow enjoying the celebrations. But, was she also here to look into a local man’s past? Our sources say she repeatedly solicited local citizens for information about Mr. Taggert’s plane crash three years ago. Speculation about a possible documentary ran wild.

  Mr. Taggert’s crash remains in litigation and he gave no comment when asked.

  Oh no. She’d been scooped by another journalist. Serena tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. Cautiously, she looked up from the newspaper to face Max.

  But his gaze wasn’t on her face. As his stare moved back up from her legs to her breasts, her nipples tightened under his intense scrutiny. And the sharp ache between her thighs made her breath catch. She grabbed the edges of her ski jacket and closed them around herself.

  His nostrils flared and his jaw stiffened. Finally he met her gaze. “That reporter followed me home last night. She even hounded my grandmother.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He moved a step closer to her. “Sorry enough to go back to L.A. tomorrow and leave me alone?”

  Holding her ground, she folded her arms over her chest. “No.” Her gaze traveled down past his faded sweatshirt to the bulge behind the zipper of his jeans.

  His eyes flared in anger and his fists clenched as he closed the distance between them. “What’s it going to take to get you to leave?”

  She raised her chin to keep eye contact. Damned if she’d be the first to look away. But she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  “I—I just want to know what happened. I want the truth.”

  “Do you? Or do you want the sensationalized version of the truth? Or maybe you just want this.” He swooped down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She brought her hands up to shove him away but clutched the front of his shirt instead. His lips should have been punishing, but for all his strength he didn’t hurt her. His powerful intensity made her weak and shivery.

  She wrenched her mouth away. “We should talk.”

  “No.” Moving a hand from her shoulder to the back of her head, he took her mouth again, deep and hungry, sweeping his tongue in. With his free hand he dragged her coat off her shoulders and down her arms, and flung it behind him.

  “Max,” she moaned and stumbled back, and he followed her, crushing her against the door.

  His body melded with hers from chest to pelvis and his rough hands gripped her butt while he pushed his erection against her stomach. With a low growl he ripped off her thong, and fumbled with his button and zipper.

  Serena clasped her hands around his neck and wrapped her thighs around his hips. He held her with one arm under her butt while he positioned his cock and surged inside her with a rough gasp.

  His eyes were squeezed closed as he pumped into her again and again, then he opened them and looked deep into hers. In his dark eyes she saw raw need, yet at the same time, resentment for that need.

  With the next thrust, he reached up and tugged the thin strap off her shoulder. It broke in his hand and her cami slid down, stopping at the tip of her nipple. He yanked it down the rest of the way, breaking the other strap until the cami settled around her waist. A rough groan escaped as he took her nipple into his mouth, suckled deep then laved it with his tongue.

  Digging her fingers into the hair at his nape, she whimpered and moaned her pleasure. Just like the last time with him, her inhibitions were hijacked and her responses seemed supercharged, her clit so primed it wouldn’t take much more to set her off. The combination of his masculine scent, the friction of his cock thrusting into her and his teeth tugging at her nipple…

  “Faster.”

  Capturing her other nipple in his mouth, he obeyed and that was all it took. Her back arched away from him as she came in a spectacular blast of color and light. With a final thrust, he stiffened and mumbled something in Iñupiaq and then buried his nose in her throat. For a moment, she rubbed his back through his flannel shirt.

  Sinking into a satisfied lethargy, her legs dropped to the floor and her knees gave way. Max scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed and laid her down. Limp and exhausted she couldn’t move.

  He stumbled into the bathroom and she heard the water running. When he returned, his jeans were zipped. He’d finger-combed his hair and wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  Finally he faced her. “I don’t carry condoms. I didn’t plan—I don’t…sleep around.”

  “Like I do, you mean?”

  He shrugged. “You travel, you meet people…”

  She shot up to a sitting position and pulled the sheet over her breasts. “Get out.”

  “I didn’t use protection. What if—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m on the pill. Now get out.”

  His mouth set tight, he tugged open the door and disappeared.

  Serena blinked in shock. And then blinked back tears. She must have lost her mind to have had sex with that brute—again. But when she was around him, his strength and passion stirred something primal inside her. That man could work his way to the core of her without even trying. He could also take her core from passionate to furious in a matter of seconds.

  And if he treated others that way who else would have a grudge against him?

  Now, more than ever, she was determined to get to the truth.

  7

  AFTER SHOWERING and taking special care with her hair and makeup, Serena set out to face down the gossip that must be flying around after the article in the North Slope News. But when she came down the stairs, Arna was waiting at the bottom with her usual blank expression.

  Serena felt her face heat. How soundproof was her room? “I’m so sorry if Ma—Mr. Taggert’s pounding, uh, on the door, disturbed everyone this morning.”

  Arna just blinked. “I have a message for you.”

  “Oh, okay.” Serena waited for Arna to hand her a note, but Arna didn’t move. “What is it?”

  “Evelyn invited you to lunch.”

  “Oh, how nice.” She hesitated, wondering if she was supposed to remember Evelyn. “Um, who is Evelyn, again?”

  “Evelyn is tupilek. Shaman.”

  The shaman? Yes! Serena di
d a mental fist jab in the air. Now she wouldn’t have to find out who it was and make an appointment. But…why did the shaman want to see her?

  “Am I…in trouble? Have I done something wrong?”

  Arna frowned, looking puzzled. “No.”

  Again Serena waited for Arna to elaborate. But all Serena got was a blank look. “Chris will take you, so you don’t get lost this time,” Arna said, then turned and headed for the registration desk, her long braid swinging against her back like a pendulum as she walked.

  “How did—” Serena called after her. “Never mind,” she muttered to herself. It didn’t matter how Arna knew about her getting lost. Serena wasn’t anxious to try her luck at driving in this overcast, foggy, weather. Yesterday’s sunshine had been a rare occasion, according to several townspeople she’d talked with at the festival. Today, Barrow was again under thick clouds and high wind advisories.

  She moved to the lobby, sank into one of the plaid wing chairs and picked up a magazine from the pine coffee table. So, she was going to meet an Iñupiat shaman. According to Arna, she hadn’t offended anyone, so perhaps this Evelyn person just wanted to meet a quasi-celebrity? Several people yesterday had mentioned liking her show. Or maybe Evelyn was simply giving her an official welcome.

  But Serena didn’t think so.

  Even shamans read the paper, right? She’d bet a paycheck this upcoming meeting had something to do with Max. Hadn’t one of the rumors about him had to do with a shaman? Maybe he had appealed to her and she was going to ask Serena to leave. Maybe the shaman had already warned people in Barrow to shun her.