Soul of the Wildcat (10 page)

Waylon Barnett sneered. “You make any wrong moves and it won't be you who pays.” His crazed stare swung toward Dakoda. The gun followed, pointed straight toward the center of her chest. “I'll take her out so goddamned fast your head will spin.”

Though a low growl of dissent rolled up from his throat, Jesse backed off. He shifted back into human form. “Leave her alone.”

Releasing a satisfied grunt, Barnett tucked his weapon away. “Well, isn't it just sweet of you to want to protect that nice piece of poon. Your new owners will be thrilled you're getting along so well.” He made a crude gesture for sexual intercourse with his hands. “They're just lookin' forward to some little baby cougars.”

Baby cougars?
Dakoda licked dry lips. Oh man. Birth control definitely hadn't been on her mind last night when she'd made love to Jesse. Having someone to hold her, touch her, soothe away her fears had taken precedence over the consequences.

But reality was filtering back in with the cold light of dawn, and with it the sinking feeling that was sure to twist her stomach into thousands of knots.

Since she wasn't sexually active, Dakoda hadn't kept up a steady regime of birth control. She'd let her prescription lapse, preferring instead to use an over-the-counter method, when and if needed. She hadn't needed any in quite a while. Now her lapse was coming back to bite her in the ass. At twenty-six years of age, she was right on the cusp of a woman's peak age of fertility. Last night she and Jesse had made love several times, and he hadn't withdrawn once before ejaculation. Caught up in the moment, it had felt like the right thing to do.

Wrong!
The single word slammed into her mind like a sledgehammer powering into concrete.

Head dropping, Dakoda's hands slipped to her face. All her blood seemed to be draining away, leaving her with a sudden unwelcome chill.
I can't have his baby
, she thought wildly.
Not in this kind of situation
. She could hardly imagine her child being born a captive in someone's private zoo.

The thought was too terrible to even contemplate.

“This can't be happening…” she murmured, more to herself than for the benefit of other ears.

Waylon Barnett snorted, breaking through her misery. “The buyer is comin' this afternoon.” Slipping off a backpack he wore, he tossed it at Jesse. “There's something for you to wear. Make sure you have it on. They want to see a real Indian, and by God, you're going to be native out the ass.”

Unwilling to take any more orders, Jesse let the pack drop. “And if I don't?” he rumbled.

The outlaw bared his broken, stained grin. He fingered the butt of the gun resting at his hip. “Then I'll shoot you and fuck her,” he smirked. “As many times as I want.”

J
esse Clawfoot curled his lip at the scrap of leather he held out in front of him. “Oh, God, you have to be kidding me.” He moaned. “No sane Indian has dressed like this for centuries.”

Having managed to get herself dressed, Dakoda sat at the table, digging through the smaller cooler the outlaws had left for their breakfast. What she found inside wasn't promising, but it would fill their stomachs. “What is it?”

Dangling it between thumb and forefinger, Jesse sneered. “Believe it or not, it's a fucking breechclout.” Another disgusted huff escaped him.

Dakoda had no idea what he was talking about. “How do you wear it?” Stomach rumbling, she picked out a few foil-wrapped items. Inside she found a half loaf of dark crusty bread, a hunk of hard cheese, strips of beef jerky. More of the trail mix had been tossed in as an afterthought. A half dozen small bottles of water finished the stock of supplies.

She picked up a piece of the jerky, attempting to gnaw through the dried strip of meat. Was it bear, or perhaps venison? Tough as shoe leather, it had a decent enough taste. Someone had taken the time to season and spice it just right with a tangy sauce. Chewing the tough strip, she washed it down with a swig of water. “So are you going to put it on or go naked?”

“I'd rather wear fur.” Despite his reluctance, Jesse put the breechclout on. Pulling it up between his legs, he secured it at the waist with thongs.

As he struggled with the unfamiliar clothing, a vision flashed across Dakoda's mind-screen, the lust-driven sensual power of his cock sinking into her…

Her clit twitched against the tight rub of her slacks against her crotch. Suddenly her clothing felt too tight, constricting. If asked, she'd gladly whip them off in a second. Her uniform was filthy, dirty, stained with remnants of Greg's blood and her own sour sweat. Always a stickler for fresh underwear, she hated wearing yesterday's panties. At least she'd gotten to bathe a little—if washing in a wooden bucket full of cold water could be called bathing.

She hurriedly cleared her throat. “Doesn't look so bad.”

Jesse grunted. “Covers my ass at least.” He put on the rest of the costume, which consisted of a pair of leather chaps and beaded moccasins. “I feel stupid,” he grumbled.

Dakoda swallowed thickly, attempting to get those very images out of her head. Yes, he definitely looked better without any clothes on, but going around bare-assed and exposed wasn't practical. The more she looked at his beautiful body, the more she wanted another taste of the pleasures she knew he could easily deliver.

She bit off another mouthful of jerky. It was tough, but tasty. “Too bad you can't figure out how to shift and still have clothes on when you return to human form.”

Jesse walked over to join her. “Anything decent?” he asked, sniffing around the food. “I'm more than half starved.”

Dakoda indicated the jerky. “That's not bad.”

He crinkled his nose. “Please, have mercy on my stomach. You'd think these assholes could go into town more often for supplies.”

She nodded. “Riiiight. Considering they have warrants out in Connelly Springs, sure, going to town to buy supplies would make a lot of sense. These guys don't stick their necks out very often, and when they do you can bet it's one of their inbred relatives doing the shopping. I imagine they live off the land as much as possible.”

Jesse reached for the bread, tearing off a piece. A chunk of cheese followed. Smashing the two together in a sort of sandwich, he shoved it into his mouth. “Tastes like shit,” he mumbled, washing it down with a swig of water. “Be better if it was pizza with a nice pitcher of cold beer.”

Dakoda cocked a brow. “I've been slavering for a burger and fries, myself.”

Jesse swallowed down another bite. “You know, the only hard thing about returning to live the wild life is you have to leave the modern one behind. I mean, yeah, my ancestors lived on this land, hunted in these mountains, and made their lives here. I know we Indians got our collective asses kicked and then some, but, what the hell, the world goes on, you know. Civilization goes on—and it's a nice place to be, the twenty-first century.”

Dakoda blinked. “I think you're trying to say something profound there, but I can't quite catch it.”

Jesse reached for a piece of jerky, tearing off a strip of the dry meat. “What I think I'm trying to say is I sometimes think preserving our heritage as shifters is a lot of hooey.”

Her brows rose. “Hooey? Is that some Indian term?”

He chewed thoughtfully. “No, but all this embracing our inner animal might be. I mean, come on. Preserving ancient rituals and traditions is one thing, but actually trying to live by them in a world that's left mysticism and magic behind is crazy. There's a reason our numbers are so thin, why we're almost extinct.”

Dakoda's throat tightened. She didn't like the turn their conversation was taking. She'd already experienced more gloom and doom than she cared to. Adding another heap to their plates wouldn't help matters one bit. “Why's that?” she asked slowly.

Obviously losing his appetite, Jesse flicked the jerky aside. “Because we just don't belong. What we do defies not only logic but also nature itself…” he paused, taking a breath. “And things that are deviant should die off.”

His words sent a cold shiver down her spine. Bile washed up the back of her throat, killing her appetite. “My God, Jesse. That's no way to talk.”

He stared at her through an unblinking gaze, his stare fierce and boiling with resentment. “Why not? Assholes can't hunt you if you're dead. Why should we even fight to survive when all they do is treat us like freaks, to be captured and put in cages?” Reaching out, his fingers circled her wrist. “You know what they're going to want us to do, Dakoda? Breed. That's right. We'll be put on display to entertain people's most perverted fantasies. You'll be the woman who fucks a cougar, an animal.” Grip tightening, he shook his head. “I don't know about you, but I don't want to live that way. It would be better to be dead.”

Dakoda struggled to keep her arm in place, not jerk it away from his hold. Right now he was the only thing, the only person she had to hold on to. Keeping him focused and aware he wasn't in this mess alone was her only chance of survival. If Jesse gave up and did something stupid to get himself killed, she'd be on her own. Contemplating the alternative turned her bowels to icy liquid.

She put her hand on top of his. “Getting yourself killed isn't the answer, Jesse.”

His gaze drifted to the ceiling above their heads, supported by exposed beams. “Hanging would be slow,” he murmured, licking his lips. “But better than a cage.”

Catching the intention behind his glance, Dakoda tilted back her head. “Killing yourself won't be any easier, Jesse.”

Jesse's hand slipped away. His touch, so warm and reassuring, left a cold spot in its wake. Pushing away from the table, he stood up. His hands raked through his hair in frustration. “I can't live in a cage,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “Being locked up in a cage won't be living, even if I'm with you. If there's a way out, I'll take it.” Gaze turning inward, his words trailed off into silence.

Suicide. Just thinking about the word and its definition turned her blood to icy water. The idea of actually climbing up on a chair and then kicking it away, only to dangle helplessly as the oxygen was sucked from her lungs wasn't the slightest bit appealing.

Dakoda grimaced. Considering their present situation, self-extermination would seem like the logical choice. What sane person wanted to live as a slave, a captive to someone else's whims? Maybe it would be the best thing to do. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she imagined. For herself, it might not be so bad. But she didn't want to have to watch Jesse die. He was part of an honorable and noble race, a man possessing not only intelligence but also an innate kindness that extended toward others around him.

Last night when she'd been on the edge, when she would have been the one ready to leap, he'd pulled her back from the abyss. Now it was her turn to do the same for him. Somehow they would find a way to keep each other going.

She looked at Jesse, trying to ignore the rush of heat pooling between her thighs at the sight of his lean body just barely covered by a breechclout and leather chaps. He stood still, the muscles in his arms cording as he contemplated his next move. She wanted his arms wrapped around her waist, his big palms settled on her ass as he pulled her hips toward his straining erection.

“Don't think that way,” she said, hoping he wouldn't notice the grate of raw arousal in her tone.

He released a long sigh. “I can't help it. I don't want to face what's waiting for us out there.” The barest trace of a bitter smile crossed his lips. “Makes me quite a hero, huh?”

“It makes you someone who is human,” she countered quietly.

He shrugged. “According to some people, the red man is nowhere near human. Nothing but a damn savage.” His words were tinged with recognizable traces of angry self-loathing. “Fuck. In this day and age, we still can't get past the old stereotypes of being godless savages.”

She shook her head. “That's not true and you know it.”

Simmering with a thousand different emotions, Jesse's gaze bore down on her like a block of concrete. “Do I?” he bit back coldly.

Trembling hard, Dakoda rose from her chair. Her legs shook, barely able to support her weight. Walking over to him, she grabbed him by the shoulders, craning up on the tips of her toes so she could look into his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”

He shook his head. “Last night feels like it never existed,” he stated in a flat, dull tone.

Dakoda shook her head. “It did…. and it still does.” Her hands rose to his broad shoulders, fingers digging in deep. “You told me if we hang on to each other, we might be able to survive.” She pressed her body closer to his, leaving nary an inch between them. “Well, I'm hanging on, Jesse. I'm hanging on for dear life and praying for the best. I'm not ready to let you go, and I'm damn sure not going to stand by and let you kill yourself. I don't care what you freaking Indians say when your backs are against the wall. Today is
not
a good day to die.”

Craning higher, Dakoda pressed her mouth against his, holding nothing back as she kissed him with all the fervor and craving rolling through her body.

Just as she'd imagined, Dakoda felt Jesse's hands slide around her hips, catching her rear and lifting her against his hips. Her nipples rose into hard little peaks seconds before he crushed her against his chest.

Taking control, his tongue pressed deeper into her mouth, exploring and then conquering every moist crevice. Dakoda's senses whirled at the absolute erotic intensity driving his response. Her body relaxed as relief drizzled in.

Their kiss broke briefly. “You're incredible,” he murmured against her mouth. “Too damn good to be true.”

Dakoda nipped his lower lip between her teeth, suckling gently. He moaned in pleasure at her teasing nibble. “I could say the same about you.” Together less than a day, they'd already forged a bond delving past the physical and into an entirely different level. She could handle the stresses of captivity as long as she had Jesse. Without him, she would have already fallen to pieces in more ways than one.

Releasing a soft moan, Jesse bent slightly and lifted her body against his. Arms circling his neck, Dakoda wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. Their mouths came back together as he pressed her against the wall of the cell, using it as a brace to better hold her weight in place. His cock was like an iron bar, pressing directly against the crotch of her slacks.

Dakoda felt the crotch of her panties grow moister, her sex preparing for the entry of his shaft.

Working a hand between their bodies, Jesse dug under the layers of her uniform. “Damn, you're wearing too much clothing.” Finding her bra, he dragged one cup down off her breast. One erect nipple popped free, aching and swollen. Releasing a growl deep in his throat, he tugged and pulled at the hard little tip. “I want you naked.”

Suddenly a clamor of men entering the cell shattered the temporary lull. Letting her go, Jesse rounded on the intruder, a snarl rolling past his lips.

“Well, looks like they're going to be able to perform just fine for our buyer,” Willie Barnett chuckled with wicked amusement, rattling the chains he held in one hand. The chains that would attach to the collars both she and Jesse wore. “Time to meet your new owner.”