by Vonna Harper
Throwing off concerns beyond his feline comprehension, he nuzzled Anaba’s neck. The younger Tocho nuzzled back, a slow and contented rumbling purr letting Hok’ee know that Anaba’s belly was full. The necessary communication over, they stood side by side for several minutes. When they resumed human form, he might ask Anaba what and how he’d killed. As for whether he’d ask Anaba if he’d sensed the female presence—
On the tail of a long purr, Anaba headed toward the rear of the cave, where he spent most of his nights. Left alone, Hok’ee started toward his own occasional nesting place, only to stop and face the cave’s opening. Although he breathed deeply, cautiously, he didn’t smell anything except the familiar canyon scents that drifted in. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there hadn’t been anything—
Walking silent and slow, he returned to the entrance. Restlessness built upon restlessness to tighten his muscles. He needed to become human again. That way he’d be able to think, to truly feel, to comprehend. But if he did, there’d be no sleeping tonight. Lifting his head, he screamed, then listened as the sound echoed off the canyon walls. Lonely. So lonely. Trapped.
What was that?
Pretending the unholy sound hadn’t scared the hell out of her would have been a lie, something Kai refused to do to herself. What passed for dinner was over, and she was near the campfire making notes on what she’d done and observed today. Saying he was having trouble getting a signal on his cell phone, Garrin had taken off for a nearby rise, flashlight in hand. Approaching blips of light let her know he was returning. He’d done the same thing last night, and hadn’t told her who he’d been talking to, not that she needed to know everything he was doing—did she? Just the same, with only the two of them here until other university personnel arrived, she’d hoped for more openness from him.
Well, as her dad had always said, ambition does strange things to a lot of people.
Another haunting howl brought her to her feet. Ice clamped hold of her spine. Beyond all logic, sexual energy warred with a case of nerves.
“What was that?” Garrin called out.
“Maybe a Chindi,” she blurted without thinking.
“A what?” He sounded closer, because he’d broken into a run?
“Never mind. I was trying to make a joke about Navajo spirits. Sorry.”
“I didn’t hear what you said.” She spotted his silhouette on the opposite side of the campfire from her. “Whatever it is serves as a reminder of why we brought weapons with us.”
A flash of memory distracted her from thoughts of the pistol she’d reluctantly strapped to her belt. She’d heard that sound, or one close to it, but where? Closing her eyes, she concentrated. Not a zoo, because she’d never gone to one; just thinking about the sight and emotions of caged animals appalled her. But she’d visited several wildlife preserves where she’d observed the inmates. Unknown to staff and other visitors, she’d tapped into what the creatures there thought and felt about their existence. So many impressions had come to her at once that the tumbling bits and pieces had exhausted her, making it nearly impossible to isolate a predominant impact.
A lion? No, but close. Several other big cats came to mind, but because this part of the country was home to cougars, she settled on that as the sound’s source. And yet cougar wasn’t quite right, either.
Why? Because there was another quality in the lingering howl, a humanity.
Although she tried to tell herself that her surroundings were getting to her, she remained less than convinced when she finally gave up and crawled into her tent, then slithered into her sleeping bag. Dressed in her father’s T-shirt and her own practical underpants, she searched for sleep.
Despite her best effort, however, she wound up on her back with her knees bent and legs spread, a practiced hand heading for her sex. The moment she made contact, her cunt muscles clenched, causing her to throw back her head and gasp. Wet heat streamed from her, the flood surprising and unnerving her. Determined to draw out the experience, she tried a barely-there touch, but the slightest brush of nail against labia simply added to the waterworks. Inner muscles tightened and relaxed, only to tighten and hold.
What was going on? Hot and heavy she could understand, but it had never happened like this without a member of the opposite sex doing his thing. How long had it been since she’d bonked or been bonked anyway? This build-up of untapped energy—holy cow!
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on escaping the hot prison wrapped around her before she lost her ever loving mind. Mentally reaching out, she brought a familiar image front and center. The man looming over her was faceless except for dark-as-hell eyes, but his body—six-and-a-half feet of wrapped and ready muscle, a cock large enough for her to get stuck on, and so long she’d feel it in her throat, his arms outstretched and only inches from her. Demanding she give as good as she was about to get.
Beyond caring whether Garrin heard, she whimpered and plunged two fingers into her hole. She bucked, whimpered again, fingers assaulting. Almost before she acknowledged what she’d done, she came. Silent, maybe. Hard, yes. Fulfilling, no.
Stalking. Muscles meshing. Nostrils flared. Night slipping away as the sun bloomed in the distance.
He moved from one ridge to another, leaping if he had no choice, but choosing to repeatedly climb and descend. Although he was barefoot, thick calluses protected him. He hadn’t bothered with clothing, and his deep tan allowed him to sink into the background. As for whether his prey knew she was being followed—
It didn’t matter. He’d capture her. Nothing she might do would change the outcome.
Patient despite the hunger that had started him on this journey, he kept pace with the woman walking below him. Her pace told him she was comfortable on her feet, and the way she continually scanned her surroundings spoke of an intense awareness. Whenever she looked in his direction, he froze, watched, breathed, waited.
They had this part of the world to themselves, so if he’d wanted, he could have already charged and grabbed, possessed. Instead of giving into impulse, he taught himself patience while taking his measure of the lean, long-legged woman.
She was different somehow from the few he’d fucked since his half-life began, unaware of her femininity, at peace with her body, her mind going places he couldn’t comprehend. She was a seeker, a student, looking not just for answers but questions as well, restless.
That’s why he was here today, to expose her restlessness and tap into it, to see if it mirrored his.
And if they had nothing in common?
It didn’t matter. He was male, she female.
A heaviness grew throughout him. He couldn’t expel all the oxygen he brought in, which meant her scent remained in him. The longer he looked at her, the stronger his belief that she was here for a reason, his reason.
Instead of giving into fantasies of what he intended to do to her once she was his, he let his mind slip off into a place designed by the past. He might not know much about that life, but he knew he’d once been an ordinary man, educated and intelligent, ambitious, even driven. In that place and time, women had been both intriguing and disposable. Nothing had mattered more than his designs for his life, plans and goals, not that he could remember what they were. The one thing he did know was that his death had been violent.
Steeling himself against the never-ending impact of what had ended his former life, he grabbed his cock and shook it. The distraction worked. And when his self-imposed assault was over, he turned his focus back to the woman. She’d added to the distance between them while faint images had swirled around him like smoke. Picking up his pace, he sprang from one boulder to another. Now instead of hugging the ground so she couldn’t see him, he stepped into shadow. She stopped and, with her hand over her throat, looked in his direction.
Her contemplative gaze confused him. Her eyes, big and deep and compelling, took him into her, but not far enough. She was thinking thoughts he couldn’t comprehend, feeling things—
Her, naked. B
eneath him.
Again propelled by what had driven him all day, he started down the slope. The rocks clinging to the hillside threatened to break loose, but he couldn’t make himself slow down. Restraint became little more than a thin veil. A simple gust of wind would rip it from him and turn him animal.
He wanted to be animal, wanted her in his grip, fighting uselessly, giving him a reason to impose his greater strength on her. He’d force her down, envelope her, show her who her master was.
He moved faster and faster, gravity and the steep slope taking him as if he was nothing more than a leaf in a raging river. Although he struggled to remain upright, he wound up on his ass, still sliding, rocks tumbling around him, the dust he’d created swirling out like a wave.
She screamed.
Dismissing his body’s limitations, he stood and concentrated on her. She was looking at him and yet she wasn’t, making him wonder if she was seeing his human form or Cougar. Her hand was still at her throat, her feet lost within the practical hiking boots, the wind pressing her shirt to her trim body. Then something kicked him off his feet, and once more he started tumbling over and over.
Too long a stretch of time passed before the ride ended. Despite the punishment he’d just gone through, his skin wasn’t cut. He wouldn’t bruise. There were no broken bones, no sprains.
He’d landed against a bush, legs tangled in some branches, and more of them digging into his chest. Scooting back on his ass, he freed himself and stood. The sun sent heat to stroke his skin and remind him of his nudity. From where he was, he couldn’t see her and didn’t think she could see him, but she soon would, and when she did—
“Hello? Are you all right? Hello.”
A strong feminine voice, not frightened, yet. He wanted to tell her there’d been no damage done, but he hadn’t used his human voice for so long he wasn’t sure he remembered how. Besides, he wasn’t here to talk.
Dismissing the dirt and debris clinging to him, he cocked his head. Her breathing had picked up, rhythm gone and anxiety deepening it. He didn’t want her afraid, and yet he did, because the emotion made her vulnerable. He’d feed off that vulnerability and turn it to his advantage, weaken her.
Because if he didn’t, she’d never stay with him.
Suppressing a growl, he took off in the direction his ears had alerted him to. He cursed himself for being clumsy, but hadn’t he warned himself not to tackle that slope? He’d ignored the whispered caution because the beast in him had been so strong.
There. Her skin close, warm and soft. He started to pant, only to force himself to stop, to listen and feel. Becoming Cougar would make things easier. That way he’d approach her as an animal, a predator. Her reaction and response wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t care. But he knew what she’d do if she saw the powerful jaw and massive teeth. She’d run screaming from him.
Did he want that, or something else? A gentleness, quiet moments and touches, standing with their arms around each other, her breath sighing over his chest.
Made uneasy by the question, he dug his nails into his palms until pain made him stop. His awareness now centered around the self-inflicted pain, he increased his speed. The action seemed to make his heart swell, to give it something to concentrate on. And the harder his heart beat, the more the sound consumed him. He was back to stalking, to closing in on his prey. As for what he’d do after he spotted her—
There she was, standing still as the dead, with an outstretched arm and something in her hand. Not slowing, he focused, but even when there was no doubt she was holding a chipmunk, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Canyon rodents were fearful and illusive creatures who slipped away the moment they spotted something they didn’t trust, and they trusted nothing. He thought this creature would be injured or even dead. Instead, its whiskers twitched, and it seemed to be kneading the thumb with its front paws. Dismissing the tiny animal, he turned his attention to the woman. Her eyes were alight with something soft and gentle, that something crawling deep inside him, slowing his stride. The woman had inclined her head toward the chipmunk, and her mouth was moving, almost as if she was talking to it. Beyond all reason, the chipmunk seemed to be doing the same thing.
Then, as if it had been struck by lightning, the rodent leaped off the woman’s hand and onto the ground. An instant later, it had disappeared.
“Wait!” she called out. “Come back, please.”
Her emotion, more than what she’d said, settled around him. He felt both trapped and liberated by it, as if he’d been handed an unexpected piece of her. He was trying to decide what to do with the gift when she turned and looked at him.
Slow and undeniable realization changed her soft smile into intensity, and then alarm. She didn’t speak or increase the distance between them. He, whose existence depended on his physical body, envied her single-mindedness. Every atom in her being was focused on him. He’d become her world, her everything.
Just as she’d become his.
“What do you want?” she said after a length of time.
He’d opened his mouth before acknowledging that he didn’t want to talk to her. She was female, and he male. Nothing else mattered. Reminding himself that she was indeed looking at a man and not a predator, he started walking toward her. Her gaze trailed down him in acknowledgment of his nudity, and he wondered what the female in her thought of what she was seeing. Was her pussy responding, her nipples tightening, need pushing past caution?
“What do you want?” she repeated. She stretched her leg behind her in preparation for flight.
With the move, something switched inside him. The man faded, and the animal roared into life. Even in human form, predator blood flowed through him as he crouched and sprang. His cock surged.
Silent, she whirled and ran. Then, even before she’d reached full speed, she stopped and faced him, her attacker. Her uplifted arms were reflex, as was her open mouth. Her eyes said a thousand things, and nothing.
Equally silent, he clamped his hands around her middle, lifted her off her feet, and threw her over his shoulder. Despite her wild struggles, he kept her against him, one arm wrapped around her middle, the other immobilizing her legs. Her long hair grazed his shoulder blade, quieting the flames that threatened to consume him. Instead of screaming, she gave off short panting sounds that said she hadn’t come to grips with what was happening to her.
Shock, surely she was in shock. And disbelieving.
He should take advantage of her mental state, so that by the time she’d regained her wits, she’d be completely under his control. But because he wasn’t sure how that was accomplished, he continued to stand on widespread legs while her heat seeped into him. She weighed less than he’d anticipated, but maybe the truth was, the animal in him made a lie of her substance. She repeatedly tried to rear up so her upper body was off him, but after a few moments, she collapsed again, treating him to the press of breasts and long fingers futilely raking his skin.
He needed this, had been waiting for this—maybe forever.
At length, she stopped trying to scratch him and beat her fists against his buttocks. Each blow resonated in his crotch. His breathing quickened, deepened, and although she tried to kick him when he released her legs, he couldn’t stop himself from stroking her buttocks through the denim.
“No, no, no,” she chanted, her words garbled by her upside-down position. Mindless to the risk of falling, she twisted about.
After increasing his hold on her waist, he went back to patting and stroking. Then he swatted her ass. Yelping, she struggled to rake her boots over his thigh. At first he ignored her attempts, but then something snagged his flesh. Pain entered his consciousness and triggered the crouching beast within.
“Don’t!” he bellowed, reinforcing his command with a blow to her ass that reverberated throughout her.
Screaming, she clawed and kicked. Instead of trying to twist free, she snagged his shoulder blade with her mouth and bit down.
More blows, eac
h harder than the last, shook her off him. Determined to teach her not to bite him again, he continued to spank her, altering ass cheeks as he did. He had no doubt he was reddening her flesh, an image that tightened his groin. He loved the rhythm he’d found, relished in her frantic but useless attempts to escape her punishment. She cried out repeatedly, twisting and kicking, raking his buttocks until sweat coated her body and sealed them together.
“You do not fight me, ever. Do you understand? Because if you do, I will punish you. And go on punishing until you’ve learned your lessons.”
“Let me go, please, let me go. Oh, God, someone, please, someone. No, no!”
She was weakening. Although she continued to fight his control and punishment, strength was slipping from her muscles. The more she weakened, the easier it was for him to remember that he was human, at least partially. Although he continued his lesson, he no longer simply spanked her. When he wasn’t reminding her of what he was capable of, he ran his hand down her thighs, caressing and controlling at the same time. She went limp when he did that, sighing and maybe sobbing, sweating anew. Relishing and learning from her submission, he gradually changed direction until he only occasionally punished. The rest of the time he learned the feel and warmth of a woman’s legs, and dreamed of when her clothing was no longer between them.
His attempt to slide his thumb along her crack frustrated him and fed his hatred of the denim. If only he had a knife.
Changing tactics, he moved his restraining hand up from her waist. Assured that his hold around her spine would keep her from falling, he slid his free hand under her blouse. His first taste of the sleek smooth flesh made his temples pulse. If she moved, he’d be forced to forgo this exploration, but other than trembling, she lay limp and accessible. Sweat coated her skin in places, not that he minded. In fact, this proof of her reaction to becoming his captive gave rise to thoughts of how far he could take her.
Maybe, eventually, she’d want to stay with him.
Shaking off what had to be an insane man’s fantasy, he slid palm and fingers over flesh he had no right to. In contrast to his earlier punishment, he stroked, gifted. He could be gentle, somehow. She would grow to love it, somehow.