"No, Kim and Tama live in the village. Most of the time if their people move, the entire village moves. They still have longhouses when they're traveling. Drake lives near a village for our people."
"Who are your people, Rio? Why don't you want to be close to them?"
"I've always been happier on my own. I don't mind a solitary life."
Rachael smiled and snuggled deeper into her pillow. "You aren't willing to tell me anything at all about yourself. Even in friendship there has to be give-and-take, trust between two people. We don't have that between us."
"Then what do we have?" Rio knew she was right, but he didn't want to hear her say it. He wanted things to be different, but if he told her the things she wanted to know there was no chance for them.
"I'm so tired, Rio," Rachael said softly. "Can we do this tomorrow? I can't seem to stay awake no matter how hard I try. I think you keep putting something into that drink you're always telling me is so healthy."
She wanted to drop it. He recognized the signs. He was adept at avoiding topics he didn't want to discuss. And what was the point?
Rio lay listening to her breathing, his body so hard he felt that just one more brush against her skin might be the last straw. He would shatter into a million pieces. Sleeping on the floor away from her wouldn't stop it. Cold showers didn't help. The house was too small for the two of them to share unless they were together, and sleeping in the bed next to her and not touching her was just plain impossible.
Intellectually he knew it was because she was close to the Han Vol Dan and she was affecting him with her ripe scent. He wanted to blame it on that, the age-old call of female to male, but in truth, he wanted her in so many other ways. She made him happy and he didn't even know why. He didn't care why. He wanted her in his home. At his side. With him. It was fairly simple as he saw it.
Women. They always managed to complicate the simplest issue. He sat up, careful not to disturb her. He would get no sleep if he didn't slip out into the night and run. The farther and faster the better.
Rachael hoped she was dreaming. It wasn't a frightening nightmare, but it was disturbing. Not so much the images, but the idea of it all. She could see herself, stretching her body, arching her back, in the throes of sexual need. Not just a wanting--a craving, an obsession. The need was so strong she could think of nothing but finding Rio. Being with Rio. Rio's hands touching her, stroking her body, driving into her with wild abandon. There was heat and fire and still she wasn't satisfied. She could see her body rippling with pleasure, her body sleek and moist. Rio rolled over, pulling her on top of him, and Rachael threw back her head, thrust her breasts in invitation as she rode him frantically. She turned her head to look back at the sleeping Rachael, her face contorting as fur rippled over her body.
Rachael shook her head, stirred drowsily, wriggled a little to find the warmth and reassurance of Rio's body. He wasn't there. She turned over, careful of her injured leg. She was definitely alone in the bed. The house was dark, not unusual, Rio never lit a lamp, preferring to pad around the house barefoot, in the nude. He seemed to have such an affinity with the night, preferring that time to any other. Nothing in the shadows affected him or frightened him. He never really seemed to sleep deeply. The few times she woke in the dark, he was already alert, the change in her breathing enough to awaken him.
She lifted her head and studied the room. The mosquito net hanging over the door swayed like a dancing ghost in the wind. The door was open. Rio had gone on one of his many midnight adventures. He always came back more relaxed, the tension gone from his body. He was usually covered in sweat and would walk softly over to the basin to wash. Rachael loved watching him. She should have felt guilty, a voyeur, but she didn't. She simply feasted her eyes on his body, watched the ripple of his roped muscles and appreciated the fact that he was so intensely male.
Something shoved at the mosquito netting. A large dark head thrust its way into the house. Rachael froze, her heart in her mouth. Fritz snarled, hissed and rose to back unsteadily toward Rachael. She reached out her hand to the little clouded leopard, touched the fur as he slunk beneath the bed, still hissing. Rachael didn't take her gaze from the huge, heavily muscled animal pushing his way through the flimsy mosquito net into the house.
The leopard was the largest wild animal she'd ever encountered. It was a male, weighing close to two hundred pounds, pure muscle, exotic black fur from its head to the tip of its tail, its eyes a vivid yellow-green. The leopard swung its head this way and that, peering around the room, ignoring the small snarling cat as if it was beneath its dignity. It stepped fully into the house, the tail switching from side to side. It rubbed its shoulder against the chair and sink, all the while staring at Rachael with far too much intelligence in its eyes.
She moved her hand very slowly, bringing it into the bed, sliding it under the pillow to find the reassuring metal of the gun. Curling her fingers around the grip she pulled it in slow motion toward her. Beneath the bed, Fritz snarled loudly. "Hush," she whispered, trying to keep her voice low so she didn't trigger the leopard into an attack.
To her amazement, the little cat went silent. The black leopard continued rubbing its body along the furniture, all the while staring at her. She lay still, unable to look away. As the animal approached her, Rachael forgot to bring the weapon up to aim. The animal didn't use a slow stalk, it simply padded over to her, rubbing the length of its body along the bed. It rubbed its head along her arm, the fur soft and unbelievably luxurious. Her breath caught in her throat. She had to fight an impulse to bury her fingers in the fur, to rub her face in the neck and shoulder of the animal.
The leopard began a slow systematic rub of her body with its head, chin and cheeks, rubbing down her shoulder and across her breasts. It stretched across the bed to rub her stomach and the junction between her legs, took its time rubbing over her good leg and, after sniffing her wounded leg, was careful as it rubbed its way back up her leg to her head.
The leopard's breath was warm against her skin as it nudged her shoulder, giving her the impression the animal wanted her to scratch it. The gun slipped from her hand to rest on the blanket and she sank her fingers into the thick fur. It was daring and nearly overwhelming, a wild and crazy impulse she couldn't control. She traced the darker shadow of rosettes buried in the dense black fur with her fingertips. Tentatively, she began to scratch the leopard's ears and neck, became bold enough to scratch along its broad chest. She could see several scars in the fur, indicating the cat had been in more than one fight, but the animal was a magnificent specimen of its kind. Muscles ran like steel beneath the fur, wrapped around the body in every direction. She should have been terrified at being in such close proximity, but the night took on a surreal quality.
Up so close she could see the whiskers were very long, and were on the upper lips, cheeks, chin, over the eyes and even on the inside of the leopard's forelegs. The hairs were embedded in the tissue with nerve endings that transmitted continual tangible information much like a radar system. During an attack, the leopard could extend the whiskers much like a net in front of the mouth to help it assess the prey's body position in order to administer a lethal bite. Rachael hoped the continual rubbing against her was a signal for her to scratch harder and not that the animal was becoming aggressive.
Fritz stuck his nose out from under the bed and her heart pounded in fear for the small wounded cat. The larger leopard merely touched noses, rubbed the top of the clouded leopard's head with his own. Then it stretched languidly, scraped the floor around the bed and repeated its rubbing over Rachael's body with its head before padding across the room to the kitchen area. It stood on its hind feet and raked its claws continually down the wall, leaving long, deep grooves in the wood. Exactly like the other grooves. It dropped back to the floor, turned its head to look at her once more with its focused stare, then, unhurried, padded out of the house into the darkness.
9
RACHAEL wiped the sweat from her eyes a
nd stared at the claw marks on the wall. She hadn't been dreaming. A huge leopard had been in the house, walking around as if it owned the place. It had looked at her with its eerie stare. The animal had rubbed up against the bed, against her skin, against her entire body, not once, but twice, against the furniture and had just stretched full length to rake its enormous claws down the kitchen wall, leaving behind telltale grooves embedded deep in the wood. She couldn't have imagined such a beast any more than she could imagine the claw marks.
"Just when you think it's safe to go back into the jungle," she whispered aloud, afraid if she spoke too loudly the cat would return. "Rio? Rio, where are you?"
The door was open to the night, the mosquito net blowing gently in the mild breeze. The rain was a soft fall in the distance. Rachael sat up, taking care not to jar her leg. She had more strength, but her leg was swollen and painful even with slight movement. Dragging on Rio's shirt, muttering as it snagged on her broken wrist, she threw back the cover. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter, the noise loud in the stillness of the night.
With a little sigh, Rachael fished around for it, reaching with her fingertips, trying to spare her leg until she was forced to move. There was no sound, but she felt the impact of his eyes. At once she could breathe easier. Rachael looked up to find Rio's wide shoulders filling the doorway. She was used to the fact that he rarely wore clothes in the house. That his body was as hard as a rock. That there was something dangerous and different about him she couldn't quite put her finger on. But she would never get over the sure power of his eyes.
"Aside from the fact that you left the door open and a leopard decided to visit, you have to stop taking these midnight strolls. Hasn't anyone ever told you the forest can be dangerous at night?" Rachael curled her fingers into the blanket, making a fist, wishing she could jam it in her mouth and shut up for a change. Could she sound any more ridiculous lecturing him about the dangers of the forest when he knew far better than she? It was just that she'd been so afraid and the relief of having him back safe and unharmed was overpowering.
Rio sauntered fully into the room, totally nude but as confident as if he were wearing a three-piece suit. "I'm not about to let anything happen to you, Rachael. I should have closed the door when you were alone in the house, but I was right outside." His gaze moved over her face, a moody, edgy examination. "Were you trying to get out of bed?"
She forced a soft laugh. "Rachael to the rescue. I was going to put the leopard in a choke hold if it attacked you."
He stared at her for a long moment before a slow smile spread across his face. Her heart did a funny little flip.
"What a thought, Rachael. I have this visual of you wrestling with a leopard and it's enough to turn my hair gray."
She loved his hair. Shaggy and untamed but shiny clean, like silk. "Rio, put some clothes on. Honestly, you're making life very difficult for me."
"Because I'm always in a state of arousal around you?" His words were low, velvet soft. The impact was physical. Her body simply dissolved into liquid heat.
She couldn't help but see him--unashamed, natural, alone. He looked so alone standing there like a Greek god, a statue of the perfect male, with roped muscles and penetrating eyes and a sinful mouth. She wanted to be feeling absolute lust. Nothing else, just good old-fashioned lust. A fling that would burn hot and burn out leaving only ashes and good wishes and freedom behind. It didn't help that she'd been dreaming strange, passionate dreams about making wild love with him.
How did she know she could drive him mad by simply running her fingertips up his thigh? How did she know his eyes would change, gleam like bright emeralds, hot and bright, consuming her with desire? She had seen tears in his eyes. She had heard his voice husky with passion. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, to free herself from the strange memories that were hers...yet not hers.
"While I'll admit you're more than tempting, and distracting, I'm not in shape to feel very sexy, Rio." It was a blatant lie. Rachael had never felt sexier in her life. She sighed heavily. "It scares me when you go off like that. I'm really afraid something might happen to you. It's not like I'm in any shape to go charging to the rescue."
Rio could only stare in silence. Her admission made him feel helpless and vulnerable. No one worried about him. No one cared that much if he made it back to his house at night. He fully expected to die in a fight someday and he doubted if more than a handful of men would mourn his passing, and that would be a brief salute to his marksman abilities. Rachael looked at him with the world shining in her eyes. A gift. A treasure. And he was certain she was completely unaware of it.
"I'm sorry I frightened you, Rachael," he murmured softly and shut the door on the night--closed the door on his freedom. "I had some things to think about. I went for a run."
"Yes, well, while you were gone, we had a little visit from your friendly neighborhood leopard. Fortunately it was on its best behavior so I didn't shoot it. You may notice I'm choosing humor and bravado rather than classic hysteria. Although I thought long and hard about the hysteria."
He could feel the grin forming. It started in his gut and spread warmth through his body. "I appreciate the sacrifice. I'm not certain what I'd do with hysteria. It may be beyond my coping abilities."
"I seriously doubt anything is beyond your coping abilities. Did I upset you earlier? Is that why you couldn't sleep?"
Rio crossed to the basin as he always did after his nightly disappearances, his muscles flowing like water as he moved through the house without a whisper of sound. He remembered to light a candle, knowing she liked the scent of it. The flame flickered and set shadows dancing on the wall. "I thought a lot about what you said, that I wasn't willing to tell you about myself. Maybe you were right. I love the way you look at me. I haven't ever had anyone look at me the way that you do. It's hard to think of giving that up, or taking a chance of never seeing it again because you won't look at me the same way after I talk to you about who and what I really am."
She always did the unexpected. Rachael laughed softly. "And you must have forgotten who you're talking to, Rio. The woman with the million-dollar price on her head. Has it occurred to you, I'm a pariah in society?"
"I know exactly whom I'm talking to," he said.
Rachael stretched her leg out in front of her, careful not to jar it. She had to use both hands, even the broken one, in order to ease her leg fully off the bed. Blood rushed, causing pins and needles to add to the throbbing pain. That immediately drew his attention. Rio half turned, a small frown on his face. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Just stretching. I thought you could make me one of those drinks. I'm getting addicted to them. What do you put in them, anyway? Just for future reference, you understand." She straightened her shirt, pulled at the tails to try to cover her bare thighs. The edges were gaping open over her breasts and she awkwardly tried to button it with one hand.
Rio dragged on a pair of jeans before crossing over to the bed. "The drink is made from fruit nectar and whatever fruit I happen to harvest that morning." He hunkered down beside her and reached for the edges of the shirt--his shirt. It looked completely different on her. His knuckles brushed her full breasts. He could feel warmth and velvet-soft flesh. His knuckles lingered, deliberately rubbed gently. He hadn't planned to take advantage, it just happened. He couldn't resist the temptation. He looked up at her face, his fingers curled around the edges of his shirt.
Rachael was instantly trapped in the vivid intensity of his gaze. She fell, tumbled, dropped into his gaze. Leaned into him in invitation. His mouth took possession of hers, a fusing together, wild and tumultuous, neither quite in control. His fingers moved between her breasts, sliding the button aside to allow his hands to cup the soft weight. She gasped, arched into his palm, pushed closer, her body every bit as sensitive as in her catlike dream. She needed his touch, ached for it, dreamed of it. Was familiar with it. His mouth was pure male, driving every thought from her head so that she simply wound h
er arms around his neck and held him to her.
His lips blazed a trail of fire from her mouth to her chin. His teeth nibbled, moved lower to her throat, his tongue swirling along her skin just to taste her. Rachael cried out when his mouth settled over her breast, when his fingers tangled in her hair, when he spread a blazing fire through her body.
"Why did you have to put your jeans on this one time?" Rachael complained, her voice breathless. "Just this once, wouldn't it be all right to forget everything and just be together?" The ache and the need were raw. She heard it and knew he did too.
"Damn it, Rachael." His tongue swirled over her taut nipple. He rested his forehead against her sternum, his breath warm on her breasts. "Did you have to make me think? If I take advantage of you while you're injured and you can't walk away, how are you going to feel tomorrow when you have to hear everything I have to say?"
His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs stroking, his mouth hot and moist and filled with passion as he suckled, just one more time. His body was so full and painful he moaned, an involuntary protest against the tight material covering his erection.
Rachael tugged at his zipper, thankful he wasn't wearing his button-fly jeans. "Take them off, Rio."
He reluctantly left the haven of her breasts to stand so he could drag off the jeans and kick them aside. He was standing between her legs, and Rachael simply leaned into him, her hands cupping his testicles and her mouth sliding over his erection. Hot silk surrounded him, gripped him, her tongue dancing and teasing. The rush hit him like a fireball, nearly blew out the top of his head. She was doing something with her fingertips, stroking and caressing until he thought he'd go out of his mind. He heard a sound escaping his throat, something between a growl and a groan, but he couldn't stop it.
"Rachael, sestrilla, you're killing me." He didn't want her to stop, but if she didn't he was going to disgrace himself. There would be no chance to satisfy her. He put his hands on her shoulders to press her back. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right." Even as he said it, even as he meant it, her tongue was doing a dancing foray over the head of his penis, teasing and driving him out of his skull. The breath slammed out of his lungs and he fisted his hands in her hair, his hips thrusting helplessly.