Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set (35 page)

“They weren't there to kill everyone,” Hanan said. “Their objective was to capture you.” He pulled up to a small cabin and brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt. “I wonder what Nalusa wants with you.”

Annie shivered at the mention of Nalusa facing Tombi again. He couldn't be lucky enough to escape with his life on two different occasions.

“He hopes to cut a deal or truce.” Tallulah scrambled out of the vehicle. “Either that or kill Tombi, thinking it will weaken all the hunters.”

Typical Tallulah. The facts were laid bare with no emotion. You'd never know Tombi was her twin, that they had once heard one another's heartbeat in the womb.

Tombi stepped out onto the ground with only a slight wobble. He shook off Chulah and Hanan's offer of assistance and carefully made his way up the porch steps, hand gripping the railing.

Annie fell in behind everyone, uncertain of her welcome. Too bad, she'd do what needed to be done. Tombi wasn't out of the woods yet, and she wasn't finished with her healing ritual. That was—if he allowed her to proceed. The thought that she still might not have his full trust slowed her steps and weighed on her chest.

Inside, the spaciousness of the cabin surprised Annie. She saw now that the cabin was a deep, rectangular shape. The open den was large, and huge windows on the back wall framed nature's artwork of oaks and pines. Custom bookcases lined the side walls, and, ignored by all, she wandered over to glance at the titles: Choctaw history, animal spirit guides and archaeology magazines. Interspersed among the books were arrowheads and bits of pottery. There were also a few corncob pipes and Native American flutes decorated with feathers. Her mind tickled with faint piping notes. Could she hear his ancestors from the past? Instead of the normal dread of her supernatural sense, the sound filled Annie with awe and appreciation.

She ambled to the opposite wall, ignoring the buzz of conversation from another room where the others had disappeared. In the center of the largest bookcase was a Native American headdress decorated with colorful beads and feathers and shells attached with leather cords. A feeling of pride and majesty settled on her with a formal solemnity.

There were also several framed pieces of art featuring elaborate, beaded necklaces and collars. The need to create art in even a simpler, more natural past existence revealed a deep-felt human desire to express beauty, one that touched Annie. She fancied she could hear the lighthearted, higher-pitched voices of women talking and laughing together, beautifying the life of their community.

Being here was like walking through a time portal in a museum. It felt warm and right, like a secret home, a feeling of belonging and acceptance.

Wishful thinking. She pictured her mother's home in North Georgia, a shotgun-style house that was always cold in winter and stifling hot in summer. Everything in it was worn and shoddy and contained a past history of carelessness—just like the family who lived in it. Careless and hot and cold with their love.

Mostly cold.

Instinctively, Annie wrapped her arms across her chest. She didn't ever have to go back there again. She was done trying to earn their love. If her mom could shake off Grandma Tia and wash her hands of her own mother and hometown, Annie could do the same.
It's the last time I'll let history repeat itself
, she vowed. Crazy Annie was in the past.

She strode down the oak floorboard, taking in more of Tombi's belongings. It was obvious he was a man who took pride in his heritage and loved family and friends. Near the end of the bookcase was a shelf of framed pictures. Square in the middle was a small, faded three-by-five photo of a man and woman holding a pair of toddlers in their arms. She picked it up and examined it closely. Tombi and Tallulah. Tombi regarded the camera with wide, solemn eyes, while Tallulah's mouth parted in a huge laughing grin, a chubby finger pointed at the photographer.

Times had sure changed. Annie carefully set it down and retraced her steps to the headdress. She lifted her hand and touched one of the white feathers, startled to hear the slight swish sound of a bird in flight.

“Don't touch that.”

Annie swirled around at the abrupt command, guiltily clutching her hands behind her back. “Sorry.”

“Do you need a lift home?” Tallulah asked, scowling.

The message was clear. She wasn't welcome. “I can walk.” Despite the heat in her cheeks, Annie lifted her chin and made for the front door.

“Suit yourself.”

Annie refused to look at Tallulah as she left the cabin and fled down the steps.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Tombi leaned on the door frame, swaying slightly. “I can't chase after you today. Come back.”

Of course. How could she have allowed Tallulah to so completely sidetrack her? Tombi needed her. She'd come to do a job, and it was only half-complete. The first whiff of rejection had lanced the sensitive sore in her heart, and she'd run away, mortified.

Again.

Annie straightened her shoulders and went to Tombi.

Tallulah stepped onto the porch beside her brother. “You sure you want her with us?”

Tombi shot her a warning look, and she backed to the door. “Your call,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Don't you have some hoodoo juice or herb tea or something for me to drink?”

His smile was crooked, and the unexpected humor lightened the weight in her chest. She lifted her purse. “In here. The tea won't taste any better than the last brew you drank, but it will draw out any poison or toxins in your system.”

Tombi held the door open, and she swept past him, back into the cool tranquility of his cabin.

Hanan, Tallulah and Chulah exited the kitchen, ready to leave.

“We'll check out who sent those texts,” Chulah promised. “Pisa's a cop and has access to phone records.”

Hanan fished the four-wheeler keys from his jean pockets. “And I'll notify everyone to meet here tomorrow. We'll figure out who sent it.”

Tallulah stood behind her brother and flashed Annie a slash mark at the throat.

Annie paled. “It wasn't me.”

Tombi faced his twin, hands on his hips. “What did you just do?”

“Nothing.” Tallulah lifted her chin and smiled sweetly, sweeping past everyone. “Let's go. We all have lots to do before the gathering.”

Annie watched them leave with relief. “Point me to the kitchen, and I'll make that tea.”

He nodded and made his way out of the room. His gate was stiff and unnaturally slow. Tombi was hurt more than he wanted anyone to know. “Why don't you lie on the couch, and I'll bring it to you when I'm finished.”

“I need to show you where everything is.”

Stubborn man. Annie followed behind him. The kitchen had gleaming walnut cabinets with a matching island at the center. “Did you make these?”

He nodded, sinking into a chair at the small table in the corner. “Pots and pans are in the cabinet below the oven.”

Quickly she set about brewing the tea. Outside the window, the sinking sun was a striking coral. She realized she was ravenous. “Are you hungry? What can I fix for supper?”

“Now that you mention it, I'm starving. You don't have to cook anything. I've got leftover spaghetti in the freezer.”

With his directions, Annie got dinner going. She served him the herbal tea and returned to the stove, warming the spaghetti and buttering French bread. She found a pitcher of iced tea in the fridge and set the table.

The cozy intimacy of the meal restored her good spirits, as well as the sight of Tombi's skin turning from its former ashy color to its normal cinnamon glow. They settled into a comfortable silence. At last, Tombi set down his fork and pushed back his chair. “I feel like a new man.” He held her eyes. “Thank you.”

The simple compliment had her own skin glowing. “I just warmed up leftovers.” She stood.

Tombi clamped his warm hand over her own. “You did more than that.”

She screwed up her courage. “There's something else I'd like to do. If you'll let me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

She so didn't want to do this. If only Grandma Tia were here, everything would be so much easier. Her grandma was the one with the real healing touch, the real magic. Her own attempts were weak, more hesitant. But she was on her own. She had to try. Annie took a deep breath, suppressing her inhibitions. If he refused or mocked her, at least she tried.

“I want to do a healing ritual.”

Tombi strummed his fingers on the table. “And what would your ritual entail? Because we have our own purification rituals. Unfortunately, I don't have days to seek solitude and stay in a steam tent to purify my blood.”

“I don't know that mine's as effective, but it's simpler and quicker. All that's involved is a prayer, lighting a candle and—” she stammered a heartbeat “—an anointing with healing oil.”

“Who gets this anointing? Me or the candle?” He was as still and tense as a crouching jaguar, eyes intent and assessing.

“You.” Annie cursed the burn in her cheeks. This was a sacred ritual, purely performed for medicinal and spiritual purposes.

Tombi slowly rose and came to her side, guiding her up by the elbow, until her body faced his, only inches apart. His aura melted into hers with the vibration of a base drum pounding in her ears and in her gut and in the womanly core between her thighs.

“Let's do it.”

The deep, hoarse words implied more than an anointing. Tombi cocked his head toward the door. “This way.”

Quickly, she grabbed her purse and followed him down a hall into a bedroom.

It was sparse and utilitarian. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, neatly made with green sheets and colorful Native American blankets folded at the foot. A matching wooden dresser and two nightstands. A brightly colored braided wool rug was in the center of the room. The windows were curtainless. Despite the barrenness of the room, Annie appreciated the minimalistic masculine atmosphere.

“We don't have to use your bedroom for the ritual.” She stood by the door, clutching her purse.

“I'm going to take a quick shower. Just relax and set up everything.”

Relax. Hah, fat chance. As soon as she was alone in the room, Annie walked to the dresser and pulled from her purse all she needed to arrange an altar. She placed a blue candle and a white candle on the table between a small, wooden statue of Black Hawk, a Native American spirit guide called upon in hoodoo as much as the saints.

The sounds of a water spray from the shower, and she pictured Tombi naked, the rivulets running down that silky black hair, onto his chest, down the lean abs and... Annie swallowed hard and returned to her task.

Carefully, she set out a stick of incense and a vial of sand from the Gulf Coast. She dressed the candles with Van Van oil and lit them with unsteady fingers, the tiny flame dancing between her fingers. Again she struck another match and applied it to the tip of the sage incense stick until it turned ashen, and curls of smoke saturated the air. She inhaled the pungent herbal scent and focused on the coming ritual.

Don't think about his naked body. Don't think about his wet flesh being lathered by soap. Don't think...
As if.

She could think of nothing else. Sighing, she withdrew the last ritual item from her purse, a small glass bottle of healing oil. How would she be able to rub it across his chest without molding herself into his arms and kissing the strong plane of his jawline? From there she would be a hairbreadth from his lips, from his chest...and then she would be lost.

Well, it wouldn't be a crime if they made love. They were both single, consenting adults. Annie couldn't deny how drawn she was to his power and strength. Only—she wasn't the kind of woman who had casual sex. Oh, she wished she was. Very much. But for her, it went so much deeper.

Annie sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. What did she really want? Her body yearned to feel Tombi inside her; it had been so long since a man had touched her. And emotionally, she had to admit, she was equally drawn to Tombi. The problem was she had no clue how he felt about her. He wanted her body, that was plain. And he wanted to use her gift to fight Nalusa. He was kind in trying to shield her from his sister and the other hunters' mistrust.

But did he love her?

The question drew her up sharp. Equally important, did she love him? If she didn't, she was close. So very close.

The shower spray ceased, and Annie paced, fighting a desire to flee the room and return home. The urge was strong. She went to the dresser, picked up her purse and flung it over her shoulder.

“Annie.” Tombi lounged by the bathroom door, wearing only a white towel knotted at his hips. His long hair was sleek and plastered back from his temples, making his already severe face look harsher, more intense. “Running away again?”

CHAPTER 11

S
he was doing it again. Running. Over the years, it had become her go-to method for dealing with difficulty, ingrained since that disastrous kindergarten class with the unbearable, discordant triangle music.
You need to stop running away
, Grandma Tia had warned.
Stand up fo' yerself, girl
.

Grandma Tia was right. Tombi was right. She was sick of the cowardly acts.

No more.

Slowly, Annie pulled the purse strap from her shoulder and set it on the dresser. “I'm not leaving. I came here to do a job, and I intend to do it.”

Tombi nodded. “Glad to hear that.” He sniffed the air and pointed to the altar. “I smell sage. We burn it, too, for cleansing. Tell me how the rest of this works.”

The matter-of-fact voice dispelled some of Annie's nervousness. He wasn't mocking her beliefs. “Sure. We traditionally use blue-and-white candles...” She inhaled sharply as he drew next to her. She smelled soap and some secret pheromone that was unique to him. And so utterly sexy and irresistible.

Tombi picked up the carved statue and examined it, frowning. “What's this?”

Would he take offense? “It's a statue of Black Hawk, an old war chief and spiritual guide we petition for help in battle. In this case, the battle is for your health. I'm worried that when the wisps attacked you, you inhaled some of their form or absorbed it through your skin. The earlier prayer to the saints helped in the emergency, and the fig-tree-bark tea helped revive your strength, but to really get rid of any lingering toxins, I think this ritual is needed. It's what I know Grandma Tia would recommend.”

“Your recommendation is good enough for me.” He put the statue back on the dresser. “Anything else?” Amusement lit his eyes. “I seem to remember you mentioning an oil rub.”

Annie strove to keep her face and voice controlled and smooth. “If you'll sit on the edge of the bed, I'll get to work. I'll invoke Black Hawk in my thoughts while I rub your chest, above your heart, with healing oil.”

“Time for the oil massage?” He gave a slow, sexy smile. “I like your witchy ways.”

Annie pointed to the bed. “Just sit. And please don't talk while I rub you, because I'll be silently invoking Black Hawk while I do it.”

Surprisingly, Tombi obeyed without a word. He sat on the bed and winked. “I'm ready. Actually, I'm a little tired, so I'll lie down instead of sit.”

He swung his legs up on the mattress, and Annie blushed at the part in the towel that exposed him for a second.

Did he mean to do that? Sure he did. She should be angry. But instead, her thighs tightened in response. This would be the hardest ritual she'd ever performed. Annie licked her dry lips and went to the dresser again and retrieved the bottle of healing oil, spreading a generous amount in her palm. She rubbed her hands together, releasing the purifying medicinal smell of eucalyptus, allspice, myrrh and thyme.

Annie eased on the bed beside him and placed both her hands on his bare chest. At Tombi's dark look of desire, she closed her eyes, fighting the draw of attraction. The heat of contact was intensified by the slippery oil. Annie rubbed clockwise over his heart, determined to do her duty.

Inwardly chanting the familiar words of the petition eased her nervousness, and a deep calm settled through her body. A drowsing numbness crept into her fingers and palms, spreading upward, tingling unpleasantly.

So this was how Grandma Tia must have felt when she'd absorbed the toxins from Tombi after he'd been bitten by Nalusa in snake form, only it had to have been much more dangerous and intense.

It is done
.
All is well
. The thought whispered through her consciousness, and she withdrew her hands and placed them in her lap.

Thank you, Black Hawk
. She took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes, catching Tombi's frowning stare.

“Are you all right?” he asked, rising up on an elbow. “You look funny.”

“I'm fine. Only a little tired.”

“Damn.” Tombi scooted over and patted the mattress. “Lie down and rest.”

“Good idea.” Lethargy weighted her bones, and she sank down on the bed. “Just a little nap,” she murmured.

A large calloused hand gently brushed the hair from her face. “Are you going to be okay? I couldn't stand it if something happened to you.”

He cared. Annie smiled with a secret happiness and curled her knees into her chest. “I'm fine. Just hold me for a little while.”

A warm, strong arm planted on the side of her hip. Nice. Passion warred against drowsiness. Sleep won. At last, she became aware that the pressure of his hands against her had vanished. Annie opened her eyes. “Where are you going?”

Darkness had settled in the room, and in the candle glow she watched as Tombi picked up the glass bottle of healing oil and returned to her side.

“Time for me to return the favor. Looks like you need this stuff.”

“I'm okay.” Black Hawk had reassured her on that point.

“Maybe. But this couldn't hurt.” He emptied a dollop of oil into his palms and rubbed them together before sinking into the mattress beside her.

Annie's heart thudded with anticipation at the dark intent in Tombi's obsidian eyes. With great deliberation, he placed his hands on either side of the nape of her neck and rubbed the tight pressure points where skull joined spine. She rolled onto her back and sighed at the pain/pleasure cocktail as he worked his fingers and loosened the tight knots of tension.

The caress lowered to her shoulders, and Annie closed her eyes, relaxing into sensation. Bliss. If only this moment could last forever. A tug at the neckline of her T-shirt snagged her attention.

“This needs to come off,” Tombi rasped.

She offered no resistance as he pulled her shirt over her head. One deft movement, and he'd unsnapped her bra and removed it, as well. Annie quickly pulled the bedsheet over her exposed breasts.

Tombi didn't remark on it, but resumed his ministrations on the curve of her shoulders. The oil glided like the liquid, healing caress of warm water. It spread from her shoulder to her collarbone and inched farther down to the round swells of her breasts. Her nipples tightened underneath the cotton sheet, and the friction made her core ache. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to break the magic spell of passion.

A tug of the sheet, and she was exposed. Annie instinctively crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What's wrong?” Tombi asked.

“N-nothing,” she lied.

Evan's face filled her mind. She didn't want to think of him, didn't want to remember the feel of his rough hands and the quick thrust of his lovemaking. Or his jeer when it was over, complaining that she was frigid and should be grateful that he put up with her crazy ass.

“Relax,” Tombi commanded. He reached across her and poured more oil into his palms.

Right
. Relax. She calmed her quick, shallow breathing and concentrated on the cozy candle flames flickering on the walls and ceiling and the uplifting scent of the herbal oil.

Heated hands settled back on her breasts. “Am I supposed to say something special for healing?” he asked.

“Not necessary,” she squeaked.

One hand palmed the skin above her heart on her left breast. “I'll pray to my own spirit guides,” he murmured.

Peace engulfed Annie like a balm, soothing her skittish mind. Tombi's hands roamed lower, cupping her and teasing her nipples. She moaned and arched into his touch.

“You're so beautiful,” Tombi breathed, his hot breath suddenly against her lips. “I love your body.”

Surprise and relief bubbled inside. Annie kissed him, wanting to feel his lips, his mouth, his tongue. He kissed her back, settling his weight on top of her, pressing his erection against the apex of her thighs.
More, deeper, quicker
. Annie wiggled impatiently beneath him, inhibitions be damned.

Tombi rolled to his side and cradled her body against his own. The sexual tension between them grew and he pulled off what remained of her clothes. His mouth suckled her breasts and one hand lowered until his fingers probed the opening of her womanhood, and he inserted a finger.

Yes
. She moved against it, delighting in the ripples of pleasure spreading all through her body, like a pebble dropped in smooth water.

Tombi moaned. “So damn sexy.”

“You really think so?” she asked, seeking reassurance.

He took one of her hands and placed it on his erection. “There's your answer.”

Her fingers curled over his long length, and she stroked him up and down, luxuriating in the smooth flesh. She did this to him, turned him on.

“I want you,” she whispered, emboldened by the evidence of his desire.

His mouth lowered over a nipple. “There's no rush.”

His tongue flicked her sensitive bud and need shot through her like an electrical shock. Annie gasped. “I don't want to wait.”

Damn. Why did she say anything? Evan would have been annoyed; he'd taught her to shut up and go along with his tempo and desire.

Tombi raised his head and stared at her. “If you're sure that's what you want?”

His weight again pressed against her as he rolled on top. His eyes scorched her, the planes of his face were harsher and fiercer than she'd ever seen, even at that first encounter in the swamp. The candlelight behind him highlighted the golden undertone of his olive skin, and his long black hair hung loose about his broad shoulders.

She'd never been so sure about anything in her life. “Yes. Now.”
Hurry
.

He took his sweet time, teasing his length along the wet folds of her core. Annie arched her hips, and he entered in one deep plunge, filling and stretching her completely. Her breath caught.

“You okay?”

She moved against him in answer.

Still, Tombi proceeded ever so slowly, deliberately, heightening the tension until Annie wanted to scream with passion. The ebb and flow of his advances were as powerful and deep as an ocean's tide. It consumed her, became the epicenter of her world.

“Please,” she whispered brokenly.

He thrust deeper, quicker, and their bodies worked in harmony, a dance of desire as old as mankind. Annie was swept up in a thunder of need. Her muscles tightened, and release came, sending her free-falling back to reality. She sank into the mattress, exhausted and stunned. It had never been this way. Ever. She almost wanted to weep for the old Annie who had never climaxed, who'd always been told she was cold, who'd always been just a girlfriend of convenience.

* * *

What had he done?

Tombi stood at the window and surveyed the waning moon. The next time the celestial orb revealed its peak would be at the appearance of the Full Corn Moon. A time that had been a critical one for his ancestors as they harvested their maze and other crops for the barren winter ahead.

And he knew that in the weeks leading up to Full Corn Moon, he was preparing for a final battle. The bite from Nalusa, a betrayer revealing information that almost decimated the hunting band, and the gathering power and boundaries of Nalusa and the wisps convinced him that the scales had tipped in Nalusa's favor.

And the Old Shadow well knew it.

Nalusa would strike against them once and for all; Tombi could feel it in every cell of his body. He had only one hope at turning the tide in his favor.

He glanced back at the bed, where Annie lay sleeping. The white bedsheet was bunched up near the slight curve of her hip, leaving her shapely breasts exposed. Her hair fell against the linen in dark waves. She looked so womanly—yet still so young. A woman-child, a healer, a witch, a sound sorcerer—all wrapped up into one extraordinary person who didn't realize how incredible she really was.

Especially in bed.

His blood heated as he remembered Annie's shy but passionate response during their lovemaking. And he frowned as he recalled the drowsy happiness in her eyes afterward, the tender way she brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed his temples.

He couldn't allow himself to fall into her tender mercies, and he hoped she would be a sensible, modern woman about what had taken place between them tonight. He needed her gift of hearing, not her love. An unfamiliar, uncomfortable tug pulled at his conscience—had he used her tonight to further his own cause and get her cooperation in the fight against the shadows?

Tombi hoped he wasn't that kind of man.

As if hearing his unsavory thoughts, Annie thrashed against the sheets and bolted upright. Her eyes were wide and wild, and she clutched the sheet up to her neck.

“What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

“I'm not sure.” Her brows knitted. “I heard a flapping noise. Like a large bird did a flyby near my head.”

“Must be your animal spirit guide trying to get your attention.”

“A bird?”

He laughed at the disappointment in her voice. “Nothing wrong with that. Makes perfect sense, actually. Birds are messengers, just as you have been with Bo.”

“I suppose. Secretly, I was hoping it would be a cat. A long, lean jaguar or panther.”

“Cats that eat birds for breakfast, huh? Think of it this way—in our culture some of the most revered guides are eagles. They represent freedom, strength and victory.”

“I could use some of that. Especially victory. How will I know for sure if the eagle is my guide? How do I communicate with it?”

“Watch when you're outside for a particular bird, or if feathers of a particular bird appear. If you keep looking, it will make itself known.”

But he'd lost Annie's attention. Her gaze kept drawing up and down his body. “You're already dressed,” she noted, picking at the sheet bunched in her hands. “Don't you want to...you know...come back to bed?”