Twelfth Moon (17 page)

The snake had sunk its fangs into her right thigh, just a few inches above her knee. They’d been traveling for hours and had finally stopped for a break.

This morning, everyone had gone about their business as though she and Jonah had not shared a scandalously public display of lovemaking. Her cheeks had been flaming ever since leaving camp. Every time she caught Ba'cho looking at her, they’d burned even hotter. He hadn’t said a word, but his dark eyes held a knowing glint that was hard to ignore. Nah-Kah-yen, and Too-ah-yay-say acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, to her relief.

Then – the snake.

She had been scouting for a place to relieve herself in privacy. She was tired, not paying attention, her panther senses not as alert as they should have been. As she’d picked her way through a rocky patch of ground that seemed to continue on to the ends of the earth, the snake had struck.

She still felt sorry for it, even though she was in misery. It had been killed for only doing what its instincts had told it to do. She’d startled it, barely giving it a chance to rattle a warning to stay away. It had been frightened, lashing out to protect itself. The animal in her understood. She knew what it was like to strike out in self-defense.

It was her own fault for being so careless. Just the same, it hurt like hell. She could feel the poison working its way into her veins. Somebody had to do something – fast.

She stared with torture-filled eyes up at the four shadowed faces looking down at her. Jonah, Ba'cho, Nah-Kah-yen, and Too-ah-yay-say formed a circle around her, kneeling in the dirt. Beyond the dark silhouettes of their heads and broad shoulders, she could see blue sky. One of those heads – she thought maybe it was Jonah’s – blocked out the piercing, white-hot sun. But every time he moved just slightly, she was blinded by the bright light.

Her throat felt dry and scratchy. “Do something,” she croaked. She was thirsty. And hot.

Strong hands held her still. “Cadence, sweetheart.” It was Jonah’s voice. “Don’t move around so much. Staying still will slow the venom from getting into your system.”

Suddenly she was sitting upright, her back resting against the hard chest of one of the braves. She moaned, feeling dizzy and nauseated. “My lips are tingling,” she rasped.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Jonah said, “but we have to keep the bite wound below your heart.”

“W-why?” Cadence asked weakly.
How did he know all this?

Jonah didn’t answer her, but spoke to the others. “It was a young snake,” she heard him say. “They don’t have as much control of the amount of venom they inject as the older ones do.”

“You must suck out the poison,” one of the braves said. Ba'cho?

Suck out the poison?

Someone was pulling off her trousers. She tried to fight them, but her hands were gently restrained. Large, warm, capable hands held her leg firmly. Somehow, she knew it was Jonah and relaxed. She could depend on Jonah – he would take care of her.

Then it felt as though she’d been stabbed in the leg with a red-hot poker.

She screamed.

The pain was so much like what Robert Kincaid had done – burning the imprint of his ring into her flesh. She fought the instinct to turn into the panther and protect herself – just like the rattler had done. She panted heavily, concentrating, pushing it back, mentally forming a tight ball, keeping it inside. Finally it receded, leaving behind only mild anger. It was something her mother had taught her so she wouldn’t be ruled by the beast.

When Jonah made the cut in Cadence’s leg, he’d had to grit his teeth. The area around the bite marks had already begun to bruise and swell. “Be still, sweetheart,” he crooned. “I had to make a small cut to get out the poison, okay?”

She growled low, deep in her throat. His gaze shot to her face. Her lips were curled back, her white teeth bared in a snarl. His heart thumped. There, in the bold light of day, her eyes flashed bright green as she stared unseeing. She looked wild –
feral
– panting like an injured animal. Then she closed her eyes, appeared to be trying to calm herself, regulating her breathing. When she opened them again, the odd glow was gone, leaving the familiar, dark mossy color he remembered – except they were glazed with pain.

He glanced at Ba'cho, and then at each of his brothers. They had to have seen her eyes – heard the sound she’d made, but none of them seemed to have noticed.

Turning his attention back to Cadence, Jonah quickly leaned over and put his mouth over the cut he’d made just above her knee. He started sucking out the blood and poison, spitting it out, and then repeating the procedure. After doing this several times, his lips began to feel numb.

“Do not swallow any of it,” Ba'cho said.

Jonah grunted and spit.

When he could no longer taste the poison, a distinct flavor in contrast to the metallic tang of blood, Jonah stopped and straightened. He swayed dizzily, catching himself with a hand in the hot dirt. Nah-Kah-yen steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Jonah spit again just to be sure.

Ba'cho was bandaging Cadence’s leg. Apparently they’d been busy preparing strips of cloth while he was sucking out the poison.

Cadence’s breathing had slowed to a more normal rhythm, her eyes large in her pale face as she silently watched Jonah. Ba'cho finished wrapping her leg, slipped her trousers back up, fastening them with brotherly detachment. Jonah appreciated the brave’s lack of male interest in Cadence’s bare legs. Thankfully she was still wearing the short pants, which at least hid her more provocative charms. If the man had shown any interest in her at all, Jonah would have beaten him into the ground.

There it was again – that fierce sense of possession and gut-wrenching jealousy that slammed him like a bull in a blind rage. And it had only gotten worse since they’d been as close as any two people could get. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In moments he had his composure under control enough to scoop Cadence into his arms. He headed for his horse. “So, a hanging wasn’t enough, you had to go and get yourself bitten by a rattler?” He grimaced at the shaky sound of his voice. She offered him a weak smile, proving her remarkable resilience, once again.

Nah-Kah-yen and Too-ah-yay-say were already mounted, waiting patiently.

Cadence felt weak and tired and her leg throbbed. Jonah had saved her life - again. She thought about how she’d taken care of herself, as well as her sisters for so long, and then Jonah had come along. He had saved her from hanging, even though it was so he could drag her back to New Orleans for another one. He’d saved her from Ned Furley, and now he’d put himself in jeopardy to remove the poison from the snake bite.

That in itself was significant. She vaguely remembered a tale told by her mother about the transfer of blood. At the time she’d thought it was only a myth – but what if the tale was true? Jonah may never forgive her.

She was in awe of these four large, masculine men who had tended to her, hovering over her as though she were a treasured child. But it was Jonah who had done what was necessary – who now cradled her in his strong arms. Her eyes filled with tears. The whole ordeal had weakened not only her body, but her emotions as well.

She was in love with Jonah Kincaid.

If only she felt more confident that he could love her back. She sensed in him a deeper sentiment than merely physical desire for her. Perhaps it could grow into love.

Jonah hesitated, not wanting to relinquish her into this handsome Apache’s arms. Unfortunately, he couldn’t mount his horse while he was holding her. He needed Ba'cho’s help. Grudgingly, he handed her over, slid into the saddle, and then held out his hands, ready to receive her back.

Ba'cho lifted her up and Jonah settled her in his lap. “I have medicine for her. It will make her sleep, and when we stop for the night, it will ease her moon-fever.”

Yes, how
do
you know all this,
Cadence mused.

“I will be back with the medicine,” Ba'cho said, still laughing. The man, Jonah, had to either be a fool, or he refused to acknowledge the truth. Ba'cho had seen Ndołkah’s eyes. It’s what happened when backed into a corner – or in pain. It had been a beautiful sight – not Ndołkah’s pain, but the wildness within her, revealed through the windows of her soul. She was one who lived with one foot in the Spirit World.

He remembered what it was like.

A shadow of sadness fell upon him, but he quickly pushed it away. Now was not the time to dwell on what has been, but what he hoped would be a better future for his people.

He rummaged in the bag he always carried with him. It contained medicines and spices for cooking, as well as his sacred stones. He grinned, remembering the look on Jonah’s face when Ndołkah’s pretty legs were bared for everyone to see. She was a beautiful woman. Ba'cho couldn’t help but think about last night – her cries of passion. Soon, he would share such passion with her golden sister.

Jonah was a fortunate man. His fierce possessiveness should give him a clue as to his feelings – what was in his heart. But Ba'cho sensed it would not be an easy thing – for Ndołkah or Jonah. He returned and handed Jonah a piece of brown root. “Have her chew this and swallow it,” he instructed.

“You sure it’s okay?” Jonah asked cautiously.

“It is oh-kay,” Ba'cho said. “It will not harm her, only help.” He walked away and mounted his horse.

As they moved out, Jonah placed the small piece of root between Cadence’s lips. “Chew and swallow,” he ordered. She quietly did as she was told and soon drifted off to sleep.

They traveled for several hours before stopping to make camp. Jonah had spent those hours contemplating Cadence. It was no use denying the intense attraction he felt toward her, or the crazy-wild satisfaction he experienced while buried deep inside her. But he was troubled by the strange light he’d seen in her eyes, not once, but three times. He knew she was no ordinary woman. No ordinary woman would claim to be under a spell that compels her to mate during the full moon. That by itself was ludicrous.

But then he’d witnessed it himself – the desperation – the passion – the uncontrollable draw to lose his soul to her. From the moment he’d taken that shot, severing the hanging rope, and thereby saving her life –
his
life had changed. His quest for revenge had taken a bizarre turn, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the better – or for the worse.

She was still wanted for murder. There was nothing he could do to change that fact. One thing he
could
do is walk away – let her go back to her family and forget about her – forget why he’d tracked her in the first place. But she’d gotten under his skin, past defenses he’d thought were wrought in iron. With stunning ease, she’d slipped through the hardened exterior he’d cultivated out of necessity in order to survive the horrors of war and death and treachery. And now, he didn’t know if he would be able give her up.

He understood why she’d done what she had, and in any other case he would have had no problem, but could he marry the woman who’d murdered his brother?

He hadn’t thought of marrying – not ever again, anyway. Not after Beth Ann. After her, there’d never been anyone special enough to consider it. Was Cadence the one? Did he love her? He wasn’t quite ready to contemplate that possibility. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of the emotion. Maybe Beth Ann had seen that in him and had followed her heart in the end.

He did care for Cadence…that much he’d admit. There was the sense that she belonged to him, combined with an unhealthy dose of jealousy every time another man looked at her or touched her.

But what about his family?

The last time he’d seen his parents and little sister, Samantha, had been for Robert’s funeral. Before that, it had been over a year since he’d visited home. Life as a U.S. Marshal had kept him busy on the trail, pursuing wanted men – or one impudent little boy who turned out to be a beautiful seductress.

He missed his family – was eager to go home. But how would he explain Cadence to them?
May I introduce Miss Cadence LaPorte, of New Orleans, who also happens to be Robert’s murderer?
He winced at that thought. Never mind how
he
felt about it, they would be horrified.

For now, he had no answers. His main concern was to make sure Cadence recovered from the snake bite. He glanced down at her. Her color looked good, her cheeks tinged with a healthy pink, and her breathing appeared strong and steady. She didn’t seem to have a fever.

His heart lurched with an unexpected rush of tenderness, leaving him reeling from the experience. He felt a restless need to make it to the Apache village, finish whatever business Ba'cho had on his mind, and then hightail it to New Orleans. Maybe by the time they reach their destination, a solution would present itself.