Twelfth Moon (18 page)

Suddenly, every muscle in his body burned and tensed, as though he’d been zapped by lightening. It was over quickly, and except for the way Athos snorted and bobbed his head, he would have thought he’d imagined it. It was very strange.

He looked down at Cadence. She hadn’t stirred. He tightened his hold on her, feeling oddly comforted by her slight weight in his arms.

Thirteen

“
Mama!”
CADENCE SLOWLY OPENED her eyes. They were moist from crying in her dream. It had been a long time since she’d dreamt of that day – the day she’d found her father unconscious. He’d been bleeding from his head, her mother lying only a few feet away, her mangled leg caught in a trap.

Syrianna LaPorte had been shot in the heart. The macabre scene had told its own story. Syrianna had gotten herself snared by the trap during one of her runs through the forest as the panther. Her father had arrived to try and free her. Then the hunters had come, pulling her father away, thinking to save him. But he’d fought against them and had received a vicious blow to the head. Confronted with a desperate and enraged panther, the hunters, out of ignorance and fear, had shot her. And when her naked human body had been revealed, they had been even more terrified and ran away.

Cadence had sensed something terrible and had run through the forest as fast as her young panther legs could carry her. But she’d been too late. Her mother was already dead, her father blind, barely able to walk.

She’d had to put aside her youthful frivolities and girlish daydreams in order to care for her father and two younger sisters. There was a household to run and through trial and error, and with the help of their housekeeper, Mrs. Riley, and the cook, Mrs. Clemens, she’d succeeded.

Mrs. Riley and Mrs. Clemens had been with the family since before Cadence was born and knew their secrets. Both ladies were widows and childless. They had, more or less, adopted the LaPorte clan. They all lived together in the large – some would call shabby, but Cadence liked to fondly think of as gently worn – house on the outskirts of town. The house had been left to her father by his maternal grandmother as part of an inheritance. That inheritance had included a meager annuity that made it possible for all of them to live comfortably as long as they were frugal.

Through shear determination, along with experience forged by mistakes and hard lessons, Cadence ensured the survival and well-being of her family. Over the next twelve years she’d honed her skills in managing the household accounts, dealing with creditors, and spotting the many charlatans who attempted to cheat them.

While Jaelene was gentle and graceful and kind-hearted, Kara aimed her righteous passions toward the unjustly persecuted and downtrodden. Cadence was the steady, pragmatic one – the one who always had to keep a clear head.

Then there was Tommy. He lived deep in the bayou, but came to visit often. Cadence had quickly noticed the slowness of Tommy’s mind and had taken him under her wing. For a few coins to help his family, she would have him perform chores and simple repairs. As a result, Tommy adored Cadence. As they’d grown older and he’d gotten bigger, he’d often accompany her to the market. And even though he had a sweet and gentle nature, his size was usually enough to discourage any trouble. Cadence had always been grateful for Tommy’s presence on those trips. Too bad he hadn’t been with her the day she’d met Robert Kincaid.

Cadence slowly opened her eyes, finally rousing from her dream and the lingering memories it had engendered. Jonah was leaning over her, the sight of his handsome face filling her with a rush of deep love and affection. The feeling was so intense, her heart nearly beat from her chest. His silver-gray gaze openly revealed his concern, bringing with it a sense of the ironic. If Tommy had accompanied her that day, she doubted Robert Kincaid would have approached her. She would not have been raped and she would not have committed murder.

He quickly returned, holding a tin cup to her lips. Cadence sipped greedily, the cool water soothing her parched throat. When she was finished she handed the cup back to Jonah. “Are you well enough to travel?” he asked.

Cadence moved her leg, testing it. There was only a lingering soreness. “My leg is much better.” Then she realized she still wore her shirt and short pants, but her trousers were missing. She raised an eyebrow. “What happened to my pants?”

Cadence felt her pulse quicken, her skin heating up in response to his deep voice. He looked at her as though he would like to strip her bare and devour her. She shot a quick glance around the camp. Ba'cho and the others were busy packing away their bedrolls. Their lack of privacy was maddening. The full moon was waning, but not her attraction to Jonah, or her intense desire for him. The need to feel his body over hers, to have him fill the aching hollow that only he could relieve, was just as strong as it had been that first night of the full moon.

Her expression must have given away the direction of her thoughts, for Jonah said, “I’m afraid I can’t oblige you this morning, ma’am.” His silver eyes burned with a devilish fire. “But I reckon the minute I get you alone, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Is that a promise, Marshal?” Cadence hardly recognized the low, sultry sound of her own voice.

Jonah growled, his voice a deep rumble. “That’s a threat, sweetheart.” Rising from his crouched position at her side, he tossed her trousers onto the blanket across her stomach. “You better get dressed before I decide I don’t care whether or not we have an audience.”

Cadence snorted out a laugh as she caught sight of the large bulge in the front of his trousers. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her for a moment before he turned on his heel and headed for his horse. Grinning widely, she dragged the trousers under the blanket and began the awkward task of tugging them on.

Ba'cho brought his horse even with Jonah and Cadence as they left the camp. “You look much better, Ndołkah. The medicine I gave you has many healing properties.”

Jonah had settled her in front of him again, using the excuse that she was still weak, in order to keep her within the shelter of his arms.

“Thank you,” Cadence said, and then smiled mischievously. “It isn’t very often a girl has four strapping men to cluck over her like a mother hen.”

She may have been smiling, speaking the words in a light-hearted tone, but Jonah felt the tension in Cadence’s body. He had the feeling she was more gratified by their care than she let on – or would even admit to herself.

The rocky hills that had been in the distance for the last couple of days dwarfed them as they drew closer. They crossed a dry river bed, continuing into a narrow pass. The high rock walls rising on both sides blocked out the setting sun.

Ba'cho led them through a long cave. Its black mouth was hidden so well among the many cracks and crevices it would have been missed without prior knowledge of its existence. There was just enough room for the horses to walk single-file. The cave opened up on the other side into a lush, green valley awash in the reds and oranges of the sinking sun.

They moved along a trail that curved around a gently sloping hill, and then out into an open meadow. It was dark by the time they entered the village. A dozen teepees came into view, and when they arrived, people smiled and shouted out greetings in their strange language. More came out of their teepees, joining the others as they walked along with the four horses.

Cadence tried not to gape at them. The women were beautiful, the men as tall and handsome as Ba'cho and his brothers. But something wasn’t right – she could sense it. When they came to a stop in front of a large teepee, everyone grew quiet. Cadence glanced behind them, past Jonah’s shoulder, to see that Ba'cho’s people had formed a circle around them.

She watched as an old woman emerged from the teepee. The woman was stooped with age, her white hair braided in two long plaits down the front. In one gnarled hand, she gripped a wooden staff that was twice as tall as her. The entire staff was decorated with intricately carved symbols. Her sharp gaze took in the crowd gathered in front of her teepee before fixing with dark intensity on Cadence.

Cadence shivered, grateful for Jonah’s protective presence at her back, his strong arms giving her a sense of safety. The silence, and the way the woman studied her, had an ominous feel to it.

Still, no one spoke as Ba'cho slid from his horse and approached the old woman. The old woman’s gaze switched to him as he lowered himself to his knees before her. She placed her hand on his cheek, saying something to him in their language. Ba'cho replied, his tone respectful. Cadence may not have been able to understand their words, but it was obvious by Ba'cho’s manner that the ancient woman was very much revered and respected.

Ba'cho then rose, turning toward Cadence and Jonah. “Nuest-chee-shee. Come here,” he said, gesturing for them to dismount and approach him and the old woman. Nah-Kah-yen and Too-ah-yay-say also dismounted, standing quietly by their horses.

Jonah stayed slightly behind Cadence, his warm hand at her back lending her reassurance as they walked toward Ba'cho and the old woman. When Cadence was standing in front of the woman, Ba'cho said, “This is Grandmother. She would like to look upon you.”

Grandmother looked at Cadence for a long moment. She began to chant, the foreign words coming out in a rhythmic inflection that would start out soft and low, ending with a hard emphasis every so often. Her free hand fluttered in front of Cadence’s face, to each side of her body, and then back up again.

Abruptly, the chanting ended and the old woman barked an order. From behind her, Ba'cho’s hands clamped around Cadence’s upper arms. She hadn’t even been aware of his presence. Nah-Kah-yen, Too-ah-yay-say, and another brave moved forward, grabbing Jonah. They pulled his arms behind his back, forcing him away through an opening in the crowd.

“What are you doing!” Cadence cried, fighting against Ba'cho’s iron grip. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t free herself.

They were practically dragging Jonah now, his struggles ineffective against the three Apache braves. She could hear Jonah’s snarled curses and threats, but he was ignored with stony silence. Ba'cho began moving, urging her forward while he still held her arms. She jerked her body, twisting her arms in an attempt to escape Ba'cho’s grasp. Everything she tried was ineffectual. He said nothing as he pushed her along. Everyone followed as they continued through the village, past several tall teepees, until Cadence saw the huge bonfire ahead, its flames shooting high above their heads.

Then she saw the thick wooden post near the fire’s base and realized that was where they were taking Jonah. Cadence was filled with bitter anger at Ba'cho’s betrayal. “Why are you doing this?” Ba'cho still said nothing as fury and rage at her helplessness surged through her blood. “Stop this! Let him go!”

Jonah was still fighting. He took a swing, his fist making contact with Nah-Kah-yen’s jaw, sending him to his knees. The other two braves subdued Jonah, forcing his arms back so they could tie him to the post. There was a wild look in his steely eyes that promised terrible retribution if he were ever to free himself.

Cadence was familiar with that look – that feeling.

She experienced it now.

Ba'cho was at her back, so he didn’t see her eyes begin to glow. He didn’t know that inside, her body was humming, her blood was simmering, her lungs were expanding in preparation for the change. She was going to transform into the panther. Her mate was in danger. She was losing control. Her fear and anger at what they were doing to Jonah was overruling any rational thought she might have left.

They were going to burn Jonah alive!

Cadence screamed. “
Noooo!
” It ended in an unearthly roar that froze everyone in their places. In a flash she was the panther. Ba'cho’s hands no longer had the strength to hold her. Her clothes shredded off her body and all at once she could detect each person’s scent. She could smell the bloody carcass of a deer hanging from a tree on the other side of the village. She was able to see, hear, and smell the night animals that scurried in the dark, beyond the village’s perimeter.

She exhilarated in being the panther again, embraced the freedom – the power.

She roared, baring her sharp teeth, threatening anyone who thought to stop her. Muscle and sinew bunched, coiled, packed with energy, and she sprang, leaping through the air to land in front of Jonah. The braves backed away, giving her room.

She paced back and forth in front of Jonah, hissing in warning, her lips curled in a snarl, her keen vision taking in the crowd of people. With a quick glance, she spotted Ba'cho, Nah-Kah-yen, and Too-ah-yay-say standing off to one side. The air had gone still. The only sound came from her deep, guttural growls, and the snap and crackle of the fire.

She turned toward Jonah. Rising up on her hind legs, she placed her front paws on his chest. She was as tall as he was. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide with disbelief – and fear. It filled her with sadness, but it couldn’t have been helped – they were going to torture and kill him. She had to show that he belonged to her – that he was her mate and she would protect him.