Primal Calling (7 page)

His nostrils flared and his jaw stiffened. Finally he met her gaze. “That reporter followed me home last night. She even hounded my grandmother.”

“I'm so sorry.”

He moved a step closer to her. “Sorry enough to go back to L.A. tomorrow and leave me alone?”

Holding her ground, she folded her arms over her chest. “No.” Her gaze traveled down past his faded sweatshirt to the bulge behind the zipper of his jeans.

His eyes flared in anger and his fists clenched as he closed the distance between them. “What's it going to take to get you to leave?”

She raised her chin to keep eye contact. Damned if she'd be the first to look away. But she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “I'll do whatever I have to do.”

“I—I just want to know what happened. I want the truth.”

“Do you? Or do you want the sensationalized version of the truth? Or maybe you just want this.” He swooped down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She brought her hands up to shove him away but clutched the front of his shirt instead. His lips should have been punishing, but for all his strength he didn't hurt her. His powerful intensity made her weak and shivery.

She wrenched her mouth away. “We should talk.”

“No.” Moving a hand from her shoulder to the back of her head, he took her mouth again, deep and hungry, sweeping his tongue in. With his free hand he dragged her coat off her shoulders and down her arms, and flung it behind him.

“Max,” she moaned and stumbled back, and he followed her, crushing her against the door.

His body melded with hers from chest to pelvis and his rough hands gripped her butt while he pushed his erection against her stomach. With a low growl he ripped off her thong, and fumbled with his button and zipper.

Serena clasped her hands around his neck and wrapped her thighs around his hips. He held her with one arm under her butt while he positioned his cock and surged inside her with a rough gasp.

His eyes were squeezed closed as he pumped into her again and again, then he opened them and looked deep into hers. In his dark eyes she saw raw need, yet at the same time, resentment for that need.

With the next thrust, he reached up and tugged the thin strap off her shoulder. It broke in his hand and her cami slid down, stopping at the tip of her nipple. He yanked it down the rest of the way, breaking the other strap until the cami settled around her waist. A rough groan escaped as he took her nipple into his mouth, suckled deep then laved it with his tongue.

Digging her fingers into the hair at his nape, she whimpered and moaned her pleasure. Just like the last time with him, her inhibitions were hijacked and her responses seemed supercharged, her clit so primed it wouldn't take much more to set her off. The combination of his masculine scent, the friction of his cock thrusting into her and his teeth tugging at her nipple…

“Faster.”

Capturing her other nipple in his mouth, he obeyed
and that was all it took. Her back arched away from him as she came in a spectacular blast of color and light. With a final thrust, he stiffened and mumbled something in Iñupiaq and then buried his nose in her throat. For a moment, she rubbed his back through his flannel shirt.

Sinking into a satisfied lethargy, her legs dropped to the floor and her knees gave way. Max scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed and laid her down. Limp and exhausted she couldn't move.

He stumbled into the bathroom and she heard the water running. When he returned, his jeans were zipped. He'd finger-combed his hair and wouldn't meet her gaze.

Finally he faced her. “I don't carry condoms. I didn't plan—I don't…sleep around.”

“Like I do, you mean?”

He shrugged. “You travel, you meet people…”

She shot up to a sitting position and pulled the sheet over her breasts. “Get out.”

“I didn't use protection. What if—”

“Don't worry. I'm on the pill. Now get out.”

His mouth set tight, he tugged open the door and disappeared.

Serena blinked in shock. And then blinked back tears. She must have lost her mind to have had sex with that brute—again. But when she was around him, his strength and passion stirred something primal inside her. That man could work his way to the core of her
without even trying. He could also take her core from passionate to furious in a matter of seconds.

And if he treated others that way who else would have a grudge against him?

Now, more than ever, she was determined to get to the truth.

A
FTER SHOWERING
and taking special care with her hair and makeup, Serena set out to face down the gossip that must be flying around after the article in the
North Slope News
. But when she came down the stairs, Arna was waiting at the bottom with her usual blank expression.

Serena felt her face heat. How soundproof was her room? “I'm so sorry if Ma—Mr. Taggert's pounding, uh, on the door, disturbed everyone this morning.”

Arna just blinked. “I have a message for you.”

“Oh, okay.” Serena waited for Arna to hand her a note, but Arna didn't move. “What is it?”

“Evelyn invited you to lunch.”

“Oh, how nice.” She hesitated, wondering if she was supposed to remember Evelyn. “Um, who is Evelyn, again?”

“Evelyn is
tupilek
. Shaman.”

The shaman? Yes! Serena did a mental fist jab in the air. Now she wouldn't have to find out who it was and
make an appointment. But…why did the shaman want to see her?

“Am I…in trouble? Have I done something wrong?”

Arna frowned, looking puzzled. “No.”

Again Serena waited for Arna to elaborate. But all Serena got was a blank look. “Chris will take you, so you don't get lost this time,” Arna said, then turned and headed for the registration desk, her long braid swinging against her back like a pendulum as she walked.

“How did—” Serena called after her. “Never mind,” she muttered to herself. It didn't matter how Arna knew about her getting lost. Serena wasn't anxious to try her luck at driving in this overcast, foggy, weather. Yesterday's sunshine had been a rare occasion, according to several townspeople she'd talked with at the festival. Today, Barrow was again under thick clouds and high wind advisories.

She moved to the lobby, sank into one of the plaid wing chairs and picked up a magazine from the pine coffee table. So, she was going to meet an Iñupiat shaman. According to Arna, she hadn't offended anyone, so perhaps this Evelyn person just wanted to meet a quasi-celebrity? Several people yesterday had mentioned liking her show. Or maybe Evelyn was simply giving her an official welcome.

But Serena didn't think so.

Even shamans read the paper, right? She'd bet a paycheck this upcoming meeting had something to do with Max. Hadn't one of the rumors about him had to do with a shaman? Maybe he had appealed to her and she was
going to ask Serena to leave. Maybe the shaman had already warned people in Barrow to shun her.

Within ten minutes Chris came striding out from the kitchen carrying a box with several meals in foil pans. He stopped in front of Serena. “You ready to go?” His winning smile took her mind off her fears.

Nodding, Serena stood and donned her parka while Chris glanced back at his wife and they exchanged another of those looks. Arna's face transformed as he blew her a kiss.

She “caught it” in her hand like a lovesick teen and pressed it to her cheek.

Averting her gaze, Serena followed Chris out to his SUV.

“You make a lot of home deliveries?” she asked once they settled in and seat belts clicked.

Chris shook his head. “Only to Evelyn. She's a special lady.”

“How does someone become a shaman?”

Lips pursed, Chris closed one eye and cocked his head. “I'm not exactly sure, but I don't think one ‘becomes' a shaman so much as one just
is
. You could probably ask Evelyn.”

Good suggestion. Serena thought of a couple other questions about Max she'd ask if she got the chance.

Chris drove them toward the sea, past the downtown area. Through the fog, she thought she saw a whale jawbone standing on its end to form an arch on the shoreline. That wasn't something one saw on the beach in Malibu.

“So, you and Max, huh?” Chris asked.

“Oh, uh…we, we're not—” She hadn't stammered like this since her first public speaking assignment in junior high speech class. She took a deep breath and started over. “We're not together.”

“You seemed to be this morning.” Chris wiggled his blond eyebrows.

She closed her eyes and her face burned again. “I admit, we—”

“Don't get me wrong. Arna and I are glad you two are doing the mattress mambo.”

“What?” Her eyes flew open and she twisted in her seat to face him. “You are? I mean—”

“Sure. We think you're just what Max needs.” He took his attention off the road to smile at her.

Serena couldn't quite manage a reciprocal smile. Actually, they hadn't used a mattress yet. Wait a minute. Had she just thought “yet”? No. They hadn't and they weren't going to, either. A professional journalist certainly couldn't sleep with her subject.

A bit late for that, wasn't it?

“You have to admit you're interested in more than just the aurora borealis.” He grinned.

Serena couldn't believe she was having this conversation with her hotel proprietor. A virtual stranger. But then, everything about Arna and Chris was…to put it nicely, eccentric. What kind of hotel owner got mixed up in his guest's personal business? There were plenty of quirky people in L.A., but it was an L.A. kind of weirdness. Being in Barrow was like staying in some
sort of alternate universe. Maybe it was the constant cloudiness. Maybe, after one lived here for a while one developed that seasonal affective disorder and it made one just slightly off.

Still, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or alienate a potential source of information. “So, why does Max need someone like me?”

“Max has been alone a long time.” Chris looked as if he wanted to say more.

Serena leaned toward him, her interest riveted. “Because of the plane crash?” she prodded.

He shook his head. “Arna warned me about my motormouth.”

“Anything you could tell me off the record?”

“Ah, we're here.” Chris pulled into a gravel driveway and shifted the gear into Park. “Can you take these in for me?” He reached into the backseat, grabbed the box of food and handed it to Serena. “Tell Evelyn I'll come in next time. Gotta get back for the lunch rush.”

Serena took the box and got out. “Thank you for the ride.” She closed the door and he reversed out onto the road. At the last minute, a thought occurred to her. “Wait.” She waved a hand and scrambled after him. “How am I going to—” but he drove off without seeing her “—get back?”

Turning around to face the tiny, wood-framed house, she drew in a fortifying breath, headed up the walkway and knocked. Before her knuckles had hit the door the third time, the door swung open.

Serena blinked. It was the lady she'd seen yesterday with Max.

The old woman stood there, scrutinizing Serena with an unfathomable expression. “Come. Come.” She waved her hand and stepped inside. “Max took me away before we could be introduced last night. I'm his grandmother, Evelyn.” Her gray hair fell past her waist in two braids on either side of her head, and her dark-skinned complexion held the lines of many, many years.

“I'm Serena.”

“I'm so glad you have finally come.” With that cryptic remark, the old woman ushered Serena into a tidy kitchen decorated with brightly colored ceramic teapots of all sizes and shapes. Wearing modern slacks and a sweater, Evelyn shuffled to the stove and lifted a teakettle off the burner. “Tea? It's my own special blend.”

“Sounds wonderful.” At Evelyn's direction, Serena settled into a chair at the kitchen table as the older lady poured tea into a mug, then handed it to Serena, along with a plastic bear filled with honey.

As Serena sipped the special brew, Evelyn poured herself a cup and sat next to her. “Now we talk.” She smiled and the creases around her eyes deepened. “I shall answer all your questions.” She leaned forward and patted Serena's hand. “And you shall answer mine.”

“You have questions for me?”

“Ii.”
The old lady nodded.

Serena suddenly recalled his words this morning. That the reporter had bothered his grandmother with
questions about Serena. Oh, no. “I'm sorry I caused you trouble.”

“No trouble. I wanted to talk with you. You have been asking questions about Max? Why are you so interested?” She sipped her tea, watching Serena over the rim of her teacup.

Serena drew in a deep breath. “I want to be a reporter and I heard a lot of rumors about him in Anchorage. I figured if even one of them was true, he'd be a fascinating man to write about.”

“So, you are not a reporter now?”

Serena shook her head. “No.”

The old lady pursed her lips and nodded in that cryptic way she had. “Now you may ask me a question.”

A dozen questions fought for supremacy in her mind, but what popped out was, “How did you become a shaman?”

Evelyn's brows lowered. She hesitated, and then drew in a deep breath. “I do not usually talk of this, but…”

She sat in silence, sipped her tea and then got up to refill their cups. “I had my first vision when I was fifteen. It was a time of great change for our people. During the war, the U.S. Navy built their arctic research lab here and many white men came. Not all were as accepting of different cultures as young people are today. The Iñupiat were sometimes belittled or discriminated against.” The old lady smiled, her eyes closed as she recalled events from long ago. “But I loved to dance the jitterbug.” She opened her eyes and found Serena's gaze on her. “I was too young to know I should not dance with a white man.
I was…attacked, then left out on the tundra to freeze. I wandered for two days. Then a
tornaq
appeared to me.”

“A
tornaq?
” Serena had forgotten her tea.

“A spirit,” Evelyn said. “He foretold my safe return to my family, and I've had visions ever since. I had a vision of you last night.”

“Of me?”

“
Ii.
Yes. In my vision you are the snowy owl, hunted by Iñupiat, yet despite the danger, you fly out every night, calling out, searching for your mate.”

The hairs on the back of Serena's neck stood up and her skin chilled with goose bumps.

An owl? What were the odds?

“This vision means something to you?”

Serena focused on the old woman again. “No, not at all. I collect owls, though.” She forced a smile. “Isn't that a coincidence?”

The shaman stared at Serena. “No coincidence.” Her lips pursed. “You are as stubborn as my grandson. When Maximilian closed himself off from everyone I must pretend a heart attack to make him come to me.”

Serena's mouth dropped open. “You didn't.”

“Ii.”
Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint.

“I bet he was furious when he got here.” Serena could easily imagine his wrath.

Evelyn shrugged. “I did what I must. Just as I do now.”

Finally, here was someone who would tell her about Max's plane crash. “What happened to him after that
crash? Why did he stay holed up in his cabin all that time?”

Just as Evelyn opened her mouth to speak Serena held up her hand. “I should warn you I'd like to do a story on this crash, but I won't print a word without your permission.” Much as it pained her to promise that, her information had to be acquired legitimately.

One side of Evelyn's mouth crooked up in a perceptive smile. “I know, dear. But nothing is what you think it is. The owl and the wolf must each choose their path.”

What? That kind of thing wasn't going to be very helpful. Maybe the old woman wasn't quite as reliable a source for information as she thought. But it wouldn't hurt to ask the questions.

“So, can you tell me what happened? Does Max know what caused the plane to crash? And what happened afterward that made him a recluse?”

With a troubled look, Evelyn drew another deep breath. “The trouble was in the air—”

The front door opened.
“Aanaga?”
Seconds later Max strode through the kitchen doorway carrying a brown paper sack full of groceries, Mickey at his side. Max stopped short, stared at her and blinked. Mickey had no such compunction. The dog barked, raced to Serena and lifted his two front paws onto her lap to lick her face.

Max's expression quickly changed to confusion. “What are you doing here? Down, Mickey!”

The dog whined and slinked between Serena's feet as she tried to explain. “I was—”

“This is low, even for you.” He tossed the groceries onto the counter, closed the distance between them and seized her arm. “I won't have you harassing my grandmother. If I have to haul you bodily onto a plane, I'll—”

“Ernetuar!”
The shaman got slowly to her feet and shuffled over to place a palm on Max's chest. “Grandson. I invited her.”

“You what?” His attention on his grandmother now, he released Serena's arm.

“Max, she is
ivabiaqtuq uumifa!
” Max's grandmother glanced back at Serena, her face full of joy, her smile glowing.

All color drained from Max's face at his grandmother's words. He looked over at Serena, his mouth set. “No.”

“Ii.”

“I'm what?” Whatever Evelyn had called her didn't sound good. “What is
iva-bee-ak-tuke ooh-mee-fah?
”

“No, Grandmother, you're wrong.”

Evelyn shook her head. “I am not wrong.”

She might as well have asked a wall for all the notice Max and his grandmother were taking of her. “Can someone please tell me what's going on?”

They both turned their attention to her, Evelyn grinning, Max glowering.

“My grandmother says you are the Searching One. The one whom her spirit guides foretold.”

The old shaman nodded and laughed. It was more of a cackle, really, like one of Macbeth's witches stirring toil and trouble.

And Serena still had no idea what they were talking about.