The Jaguar Prince (20 page)

Ms. Crane beamed. “Going once, twice, sold to Freddie Danbury!”

“Well, I’ve done my duty for the night.”

Several more pieces were sold. Then another item was brought out. Ms. Crane whisked off the scarf. Callie sat straighter in her chair, drawing in a breath. It was a beautiful tawny statue of a jaguar, and it looked just like Sheba.

The bidding started. How much did she have in her savings?

“We have one thousand, one thousand five, are there any more bids? Going once.” Ms. Crane looked around the room. “Going twice.”

It was a shame. She would’ve really liked to have the jaguar. Her savings account was practically nil. Besides, she’d promised herself that she would never touch it for any reason, even if it meant eating tuna every day until she got her next paycheck.

But it was a really beautiful piece. She sighed, wishing for once in her life that the fairy tale was real.

Rogar raised his paddle. “One million dollars.”

T
here was a collective gasp from the crowd. Callie’s head whipped around, her mouth dropped open.

“Good show.” Freddie began to clap.

“Did I understand you correctly, Prince Valkyir?” Ms. Crane squeaked. She quickly cleared her throat without moving the microphone away. It sounded like a roll of thunder barreled across the room. “You bid one million dollars?”

“One million, yes. Is that acceptable? Callie seemed particularly fond of the little statue.”

“Oh, that’s…yes…wonderful. Well done!” She laid down her microphone, and clapped her hands. Everyone in the room joined in.

“This isn’t keeping a low profile,” Callie frantically whispered as she leaned over, keeping a smiled pasted on her face.

Ms. Crane marched over, and personally handed the jaguar to Callie.

“I will have someone deliver the money tomorrow, if that is acceptable?” Rogar told her.

Ms. Crane still seemed to be in a daze. “Yes, that will be fine.”

“I think I’ll just go and freshen up a bit,” Callie said as the people in the room settled back into their seats. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Sheesh, Rogar was going to give Ms. Crane a million in counterfeit money. If she ever discovered the ruse, Callie was sure to go to jail. This was definitely not good.

She went inside one of the stalls and closed the door, plopping down on the toilet seat. They shouldn’t have come. So what if they would’ve been snubbing the cream of society. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t snubbed her a zillion times or more.

She dropped her head down to her hands. She knew exactly why she’d wanted to come tonight—to get a little back. She wanted to be the one who came out on top for a change.

It had felt good, too. It probably shouldn’t have, but it did. Did that make her a bad person? Probably.

But she hadn’t known Rogar was going to bid a million dollars on the jaguar. She sighed deeply. It was a beautiful piece. A smile curved her lips. And he’d gotten it for her. He must’ve sensed how much she wanted it.

There was the little matter of buying it with fake money, but it really was the thought that counted.

She was as bad as him.

Maybe she could give it back and say they had changed their minds. That might work. She would probably have to grovel. Bleh, that left a sour taste in her mouth.

She stilled when some women came into the bathroom talking about the auction.

“Can you believe how much was bid on the little tiger figurine?”

It was a jaguar you idiot,
Callie thought to herself.

“Don’t you think he’s just the hottest guy in the room?” One of the women asked. Callie didn’t recognize her voice, but her words made her preen just a bit. Rogar was hot. And even better, he was all hers—for a little while.

“Soooo hot! He must love Callie a lot to spend that much on her.”

Pfftt. Of course he didn’t love her. Liked maybe, but certainly not love. Still, warm tingles swirled inside her stomach.

“I doubt it’s love. More like infatuation.”

Callie grimaced. She recognized that voice—Constance.

“I mean, really, he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim her as his fiancée,” Constance continued. “He’s a prince from a foreign country. What the hell does she know about polite society?”

“True,” one of the women chimed in. “Remember when she showed up the first time with DeeDee? I really doubt she’d ever had a manicure in her life.”

“And her bathing suit had to have come from Wal-Mart,” another giggled.

Callie knew they were right. Her suit had come from a discount store, and she had never had a manicure. She always did them herself because it was all she could afford.

“He’ll dump her,” Constance continued. “Just wait and see. She’s a little slut pretending to be something she’s not.”

They left the bathroom.

Callie sat there. They were right. Except about the slut part. And even if she went back to New Symtaria with Rogar, they wouldn’t be a couple or anything. He was a prince, and she wasn’t anything, except a pauper.

Just plain Callie Jordon. Even her name had been given to her by the woman who ran the orphanage. Maybe she had known red tape would keep Callie from being adopted, so it was better to go ahead and give her at least that.

But damn it, Constance had no right to put her down. She was a mean bitch who thought every one was beneath her. Poor Freddie had been taking her crap for years. Someone should put a stop to her behavior. Make her see what it’s like to feel embarrassed and out of place.

She gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists, imagining what it would feel like to punch her lights out. If she could she’d…

Callie gasped, doubling over and grabbing her middle. Oh, God, what was happening? She was dying. The food had been tainted. Maybe Constance had added poison to Callie’s. She wouldn’t put it past her.

Through a haze of pain, she felt something familiar. Oh, no, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. She hadn’t been thinking about an animal. Why was she shifting? Fog filled the stall. She drew in her arms and legs close to her body as the room began to go dark.

Slowly the deep ache inside her began to subside, and everything returned to normal. Well, except everything was dark. She blinked, then looked down at her feet. Only, she didn’t have any. Had something gone wrong? Maybe she’d lost her legs during the transition, and she’d have to drag herself out to Rogar…eww…with stumps where her legs used to be.

No, wait, there they were, except she was apparently standing on the toilet. Her legs were actually long…and skinny. She raised her arm.

Wings?

She was a bird. Bird wasn’t bad. It sure beat rhino, although the thought of squashing Constance had merit.

She experimented and flapped her wings, almost losing her balance. That was a close call. Okay, she needed to see what had happened. She wobbled, but made it to the top of the stall door, and bumped her head on the ceiling. What the hell? She perched there for a few moments while she regained her balance.

Better.

Now to get to the counter. She took a deep breath, then took off. It turned out to be more of a long jump, rather than bird in flight.

She stared at the mirror.

Oh, this was just freakin’ great. She couldn’t have shifted into a pretty little dove, or a cute parakeet? No, she was a pink flamingo with long spindly legs. She turned to the right and got a full side view. Her plumage was a soft pink and, in some places, deep red. She looked like a Vegas showgirl. Minus the sexy part.

Callie pranced down the counter, then turned, tail feathers ruffling. Not bad, for a novice.

The bathroom door opened and a very matronly woman ploughed inside. She took one look at Callie, and screamed as she fled. The door swung violently back and forth. Callie caught glimpses of the people at the tables watching the woman, their expressions a mixture of shock and surprise.

Not good! Everyone would be in the bathroom in just a few seconds. How the hell would she explain she’d shifted into a bird? No, not good! As the door swung out, she went the same direction.

Maybe this wasn’t good, either. Everyone stared at her. She was so not the life of the party. She looked at Rogar, who hurried to the French doors and opened them wide. Bless him.

She flapped her wings and took flight. Probably not as graceful as a real flamingo, but not too bad if she said so herself.

This was cool. The screams from the women, and some of the men, were rather annoying, but flying was cool. She flew over Constance and her bitches, then turned back. When she flew over the next time, Constance looked up.

Bombs away!

Constance screamed.

Making a poo deposit probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but that’s what birds did. She looked back once. Bull’s eye! Revenge was damned sweet.

The French doors were right in front of her. She swooped down and out. Flying was great! The wind rushed past her as she glided through the air. Maybe this was her guide. It felt good, right.

Hey, guide, are you there?

Silence.

Maybe not, but she could get used to this. She flapped her wings, closed her eyes, and became one with the night.

Splat!

Her eyes flew open.

Splat again!

Ugh, a swarm of bugs zipped past, but she could barely see them. She had bug guts splattered on her face. Oh, yuck!

She aimed in the general direction of the cabin. So much for flying. At least her beak hadn’t been open. She landed on the front porch, then began to meditate about her human side. It didn’t take nearly as long to change back, or to realize how chilly it was outside. The fog that always accompanied the change hadn’t made things any warmer. Shivering, she hurried to the backdoor, found the key under the flowerpot, and flung it open.

Callie went straight to the bathroom and washed her face, nausea welling inside her. This was really, really gross. As soon as she felt clean, she ran to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweats. Her body was one big goose bump. Before she finished dressing, she heard the Hummer pull up. She quickly jerked on a pair of thick socks before hurrying to the front door. She opened it as Rogar came up the steps, taking them two at a time.

“You made it home,” he said. The worried creases on his forehead faded. “Why did you shift?” He closed the door behind him as he came inside. “Were you in danger?”

“I didn’t mean to shift. It…just happened.” Oh, God, what if she shifted at work or when her landlady came over for the rent?

“You look ill,” he said, and led her toward the sofa.

“I feel ill. Rogar, I didn’t try to shift.”

“What happened?”

She grimaced when she began to think about it. “Constance showed up. She was being her usual bitchy self and began telling her friends how low class I am. I got angry.”

He relaxed. “Ah, that explains it. When a Symtarian becomes very emotional, they will often shift to an animal form. Their guide, if they’ve connected. With men, it’s usually after very passionate sex.”

Like Rogar did after they made love. She didn’t know why that should please her, but it did. Well, except she had to dive for the nearest door before he finished the change.

She was still a little confused, though. “Why now? This never happened before.”

“Because you’re becoming more in sync with your animal guide. The more you shift, the closer you’ll get to her.”

“I haven’t found her, but I thought I heard her talking to me tonight.”

“That’s good. You only have to trust that she will lead you in the right direction.”

“But what if she’s wrong? Does that ever happen?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But they’re better able to observe our actions. They’re not directly connected, so they can see with a better perspective than we can. Sometimes we want to listen with our heart, rather than our heads.”

That made sense. Sort of.

“But wouldn’t that work both ways?”

“I often tell Balam if I think he’s wrong.”

“Does he listen?”

Rogar laughed. A deep resonating sound that sent shivers of pleasure over her. She realized again just how hard it was going to be to let him go.

“I don’t think Balam ever listens to me, but he is a good friend.”

“And you’re not afraid he’ll…uh…hurt one of your friends?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You’re sure he wouldn’t harm anyone?”

“Yes. Very sure. Would you like to meet him?”

For a brief second, excitement flittered through her. Of course she wanted to meet him. Her dream was to work around the big cats. They were magnificent animals. But to be up close and personal?

“Balam wants to meet you,” he urged.

She narrowed her eyes. “If he eats me, I swear I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Everything will be fine. Remember, Balam is also a part of me, just as your guide is a part of you.”

She nodded, then took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. Her nerves stretched taut when he began to change. As always, a thick fog rolled in. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t stay in the same room as a jaguar. She started to get up.

Trust Rogar. Balam won’t harm you.

Callie stilled, tears filling her eyes, because she finally recognized the voice from her childhood. “You’re my guide.” She felt as though she had found an old friend.

The fog cleared. There was a deep, guttural purr beside her. She flinched. Then swallowed hard as she stared into the dark eyes of the black jaguar.

“Hello…uh…Balam.” Her voice squeaked. She only hoped he didn’t think she was a mouse.

When Balam came to his feet on the seat beside her, she shifted away. As though that would make any difference. If he wanted, he could be on her in a heartbeat, mighty jaws clamping down on her head. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and trying to dispel that image from her mind.

The big cat moved closer. Callie stayed perfectly still. Balam smelled her hair, her shoulder. Was he deciding if she would make a good meal? This was not good. Why had she let Rogar talk her into meeting his guide? Why had…

A big tongue licked up the side of her face. Oh, great, he was tasting her.

But then he laid down, his head across her lap, and turned on his back. Before she could wonder what he was going to do next, one humongous paw reached up and caressed her face.

She hadn’t expected that. She looked into the jag’s eyes and saw something there she hadn’t previously seen: kindness, gentleness.

Tentatively, she stroked his fur. He closed his eyes and purred. Then it dawned on her. She was petting a jaguar. Hell, a jaguar was lying in her lap. Sure, he was really heavy, but this was cool.

They probably sat there for hours, with her gently stroking his fur. Sometimes it seemed they were silently communicating. Not only was she getting to know Rogar’s guide, but maybe in an odd sort of way, her own.

She must have dozed as the hour grew late, because the next thing she knew, Balam was moving. She yawned and opened her eyes, then glanced down. But it was no longer Balam, Rogar had returned.