Twelfth Moon (4 page)

Hell and damnation
.

Once a year, all the women of her family entered a state of heightened awareness – an intense urge to mate. Usually, she would retreat to their cabin in the woods to ride out the cycle in safe solitude. To be near a man – a male not of her choosing during this time would be disastrous!

If she were to mate with a man while in her heightened state, she would become bonded to him for life. She would want no other and couldn’t be separated from him for more than twenty four hours without dire consequences.

No males were ever known to possess the ability to shift – only the females, and they always took the form of a large panther. Like her, Cadence’s mother had been a sleek, black panther. Cadence’s two younger sisters, Jaelene and Kara, were also panthers, except that Jaelene was a rare golden panther.

Since the precocious age of five, under the tutelage of her mother, Cadence had learned how to live with the gift, how to control it, and how to hide it. For centuries, the story had been told, passed down to each generation. Countless times, Cadence and her sisters had listened with rapt attention as their mother recited the tale of how they came to be the way they were, her voice soft and hypnotic.

The very first woman to gain the gift was said to be a young gypsy girl. Her small band of people had stopped for the night on land owned by a powerful lord. In exchange for permission to stay in the woods that night, the gypsies agreed to perform at the lord’s court. The moment the nobleman set his eyes upon the beautiful girl, it was obvious he would stop at nothing to have her.

When the lord made an offer for the girl, the gypsies refused. The girl possessed strong psychic powers, as did her mother and grandmother. They were very valuable among their people, revered and respected. But the lord was angered by their refusal and sent his men to abduct the girl.

The girl’s mother and grandmother placed a shape-shifting spell on her to aid in her escape. Even from far away in the lord’s chamber, the girl felt the magic conjured by her mother and grandmother. Combined with her own magical strength, it created a very powerful triad spell.

When the lord tried to rape her, she changed into a beautiful black panther, ripped out his throat, and escaped into the woods. She roamed for days, but she was finally able to change back into her human form. When she found her way back to the camp of her people, she discovered that everyone had been murdered in retaliation for the nobleman’s death.

Without her mother or grandmother, the girl was unable to remove the spell. And so every daughter born thereafter inherited the gift.

It was frightening how similar Cadence’s experience was to her ancestor’s.

And there was an unexpected twist to the spell cast so long ago. Twelfth Moon. It was the cycle of mating, meant to ensure a lasting, loving and passionate union between her and the man she chooses.

Jonah Kincaid was the last man in the world she would have chosen to be bound to for a lifetime.

She watched him move about the camp, her nostrils flaring as his scent drifted to her on the light morning breeze. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, cursing this blasted…
curse
.

Sensing his gaze on her, she snapped her eyes open.

For the barest moment, it almost seemed as if he read her mind. His scowl, however, told her he did no such thing. He thought she was a boy, so that would be absurd. Just the same, her breath caught at how truly, menacingly handsome he was.

She began to make comparisons between him and his brother. Jonah’s hair was dark, almost black, like his brother’s, but not neatly cropped, like Robert’s had been. Jonah’s was long and shaggy, reaching past his collar, making him look wild, uncontrollable, and dangerous.

Robert’s eyes had been pale-blue. Jonah’s were darker, like deep, rich-toned pewter. And his face was more mature, more rugged than his brother’s. Although his expression was impassive, Cadence could sense a history behind his sharp gaze.

Jonah wasn’t tortured by inner demons like his brother had been, but she could feel his constant struggle between the urge to act on impulse, and doing what was good and right.

As they silently stared at one another, Jonah’s anguish and hurt over his brother’s death radiated into her, seeping into her soul. She was gradually consumed by deep sorrow. It merged with her own feelings of guilt, making her head pound and her vision blur.

His voice broke the tether that seemed to bind them together. “You just going to sit there all day, or are you going to get moving?”

Her rumbling stomach reminded Cadence that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Her throat worked as she struggled to speak. “Is there anything to eat?”

Jonah gave an impatient nod toward the fire. “There’s coffee. I’ll get you some jerky. That’s all I’ve got until I can hunt down something better.”

Cadence yearned for a chance to shift into the Pantera, so she could run free and hunt once again. She always felt so wild and alive when she was in her transformed state, so in tune with the universe, like she belonged to something larger. She didn’t feel in tune with anything as a human, except for when she could sense another’s inner secrets, and that wasn’t always a treat.

Instead, she rolled her blankets as she’d seen Jonah do, set them aside, and poured coffee into the tin cup he’d used to give her water.

It was the first time she noticed there was no rope around her ankle.

She could run.

She could turn into the panther and escape. But Cadence knew he would follow, knew with the same certainty that she knew her own name he would pursue her relentlessly until he caught her again. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing these past weeks? Now that he had her, he wouldn’t let her go. Besides, she was too tired and sore to attempt it.

The coffee tasted burnt and the jerky was hard enough to crack a few teeth, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. Her neck still felt as though someone had twisted her head around in a three hundred and sixty degree circle. Her throat ached, as did most of her muscles, but other than that, she was alive. For now, that was good enough.

Jonah packed everything in the saddlebags, and then walked up to her carrying a length of rope. “Hold out your hands.”

Her gaze lifted to his face. “You don’t have to tie me,” she said low, not wanting to be bound again. “I won’t run.” The skin on her wrists was still painful and raw.

“I can’t take the chance, kid.” He brought out an extra bandana. “Come on, then, hold ’em out.”

Cadence complied, realizing he meant to wrap the bandana around her wrists first. Even in his anger, he showed mercy.

A flash of gold caught her eye. He was wearing a ring identical to Robert’s, on his last finger, just as Robert had. Cadence gasped, fighting the impulse to reach for the chain tucked beneath her shirt, where Robert’s ring had joined her locket.

“I won’t hurt you.” His words seemed grudgingly spoken, as though he was unwilling to reveal any kind of weakness. He’d obviously mistaken her gasp for an anticipation of pain.

Cadence wasn’t sure how to respond. She cleared her throat. “Just do it and get it over with.”

He gave a clipped nod and proceeded with tight-lipped efficiency.

As she watched him work, Cadence recalled what Jaelene had said about her vision. At the time, it had all been so confusing. Jaelene had said the man in her vision wasn’t the same one who’d hurt her that night…which would have been Robert.

It must have been Jonah Jaelene had seen.

Jonah was her destiny.

Good Lord! It couldn’t be. Cadence sure didn’t want it to be. They were on their way back to New Orleans so he could see that she hanged for the murder of his brother. As far as she could see, that was Jonah’s only part in her destiny.

Should she give him the ring? It seemed only right. But in a strange way, Cadence felt that she’d earned it, like a token a warrior might keep from a battle fought and won. It also served as a reminder to be wary, ever vigilant against those who would cause her harm. She wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

He finished and pulled her forward, tying the other end of the rope to the pommel of his saddle.

“Get on the horse.” Jonah nodded toward the spare mount he’d brought with them from town. He was glad he’d thought of it, as he didn’t much feel like riding double with his brother’s murderer breathing down the back of his neck. “If you try to run away, you’ll find yourself on your ass, in the dust.”

He watched as the kid stepped up to the horse, reaching for the saddle horn. Grabbing hold, he stuck his foot high up in the stirrup and tried to pull himself up. The horse skittered sideways, making the kid skip along on one foot. He murmured softly, using words Jonah didn’t recognize, but it seemed to calm the animal.

After watching the kid make several inept attempts to mount, however, Jonah cursed, and swiftly grabbed him about the waist, hoisting him into the saddle. “Christ, kid, don’t you know how to get on a horse?” he snapped, feeling ornery. Without really understanding why, he was thinking of the kid and his injuries, taking his condition into consideration.

Jonah mounted Athos, and they set out at an easy, steady pace. They were heading east, across the southwestern plains, a long, hazy ridge of mountains at their backs. The July sun burned hot and bright into their faces before it even reached its zenith. It would take them several days to reach the small, but growing town of San Antonio, where he could replenish his supplies.

“Don’t do me any favors,
Marshal
,” the kid said, looking straight ahead. “And my name is Cade.”

“Fine, suit yourself,
Cade
,” Jonah shot back, annoyed by the kid’s lack of gratitude.

They rode on in silence. The hours passed slowly, each minute marked by the infinitesimal progress of the sun trekking along its familiar path. Above them the sky stretched endlessly in a crisp blue.

They made several stops to rest the horses and drink from Jonah’s dented silver canteen. Cadence imagined it must have been with him through some wild times, and wondered what the story was behind those dents. He looked like a man with stories – lots of them.

Every time they stopped, Jonah would untie her hands, giving her brief moments of relief from the tight binding. The bandana helped a little, keeping the rough fibers of the rope from making direct contact with her raw skin.

It was evident, in the way he treated her with that kind of consideration, that he was a man who believed in fairness, even though he knew she’d killed his brother. It said a lot about him, as a U.S. Marshal, and as a human being. She admired his devotion to a set code of ethics, no matter how personally involved he was.

Robert, on the other hand, had been cruel and self-indulgent, had seemed to take pleasure inflicting pain on another. Maybe he hadn’t always been that way, but unfortunately, it had been her only experience with him.

But then Jonah was not a man to cross. The look in those quicksilver eyes of his told their own story – of deeds done and of choices made, unavoidable in his line of work. His expression showed that he’d hardened himself against any tender emotion, yet he allowed her a reprieve from the rigors of the trail, and the discomfort of her bindings.

They rode on, the sun now at their backs, suspended low on the horizon like a huge red-orange ball. Cadence figured they’d soon be stopping for the night, and looked forward to the opportunity to be on solid ground again for more than a few minutes.

Her muscles ached from constantly adjusting to the rocking motion of the horse. Since she’d done most of her traveling at night, as the Pantera, she’d had no need of a horse, and wasn’t used to long hours in the saddle. In addition to her other ailments, her thighs and bottom felt bruised and tender.

“Why did you do it?”

The sound of Jonah’s deep voice was startling after all that silence. Cadence didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure how to answer his question without giving herself away. Would it be so terrible if he were to discover his prisoner was actually a woman? She didn’t know yet if she could trust him, although her instincts told her he wouldn’t behave as his brother had. And there was the bothersome detail about her cycle. Then again, if she was forced to continue her charade as a boy, it might help keep her increasing awareness of him at bay.

Four

Jesus
. COULD HIS BROTHER HAVE been into boys? As far as Jonah knew, Robert had always been attracted to beautiful women, and with his exceptional good looks, he’d never had a problem attracting them.

Jonah had been aware of his brother’s cruel tendencies, his need to control and punish those weaker than him, which usually happened to be women. Had his tastes twisted enough to include young boys? Not sure if he really wanted to know, Jonah decided to ask anyway. “What do you mean?”