Feehan, Christine - The Awakening

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Christine Feehan - The AwakeningThe Awakening
Christine Feehan
Chapter 1
The warm wind gently carried the message through the lush vegetation of the rain
forest, traveled high into the dense canopy that shrouded the jungle in mystery.
Wild honeybees built combs just beneath the crown, out of reach of most of the
animals. If they heard the wind whispering, they ignored the tales and went
about their business. Birds of every kind, parrots clothed in a riot of color,
helmeted hornbills and falcons, picked up the gossip and conveyed it swiftly on
bright wings, shrieking with delight throughout the forest. Noisy troops of
long-tailed macaques, gibbons, and leaf-eating monkeys heard and leapt from
branch to branch joyfully, shouting with anticipation. The orangutans moved
cautiously through the trees in search of ripe fruit, edible leaves, and
flowers, maintaining dignity in all the fuss. Before long, the news was
everywhere. There were few secrets in the community and everyone had been
waiting with concern.
He heard the news long before her scent reached him.
Brandt Talbot shrank into the heavy vegetation, his chest tight and his body
taut with sudden anticipation. She was here at long last. In his domain. Within
his grasp. It had been a long hunt to find her, nearly impossible, yet he had
managed it. He had deliberately lured her to his lair and she had come. He was
so close, he had to use iron self-control to keep from moving too quickly. He
couldn't spook her, couldn't tip his hand, allow her to realize for one moment
that the net was closing around her. It was essential to close every avenue,
drive her to the center of his domain, and cut off each escape route.
His strategy had been planned for years. He had had time to plan while he
searched the world for her, while he reviewed every document in his hunt for his
prey. When he was certain he had the right woman, the one woman, he put his plan
into action using his lawyer to draw her into the rain forest, into his
territory.
He moved swiftly through the thick fauna, silently but quickly, effortlessly
leaping over fallen trees as he made his way toward the outer edges of the
jungle. A rhinoceros grunted nearby. Deer scrambled in fear as they caught his
scent. Smaller animals scurried out of his way and birds fell quiet at his
approach. The monkeys retreated to the higher reaches of the canopy but they,
too, remained hushed, not daring to raise his ire as he passed beneath them.
This was his kingdom and he seldom flaunted his power, but every species was
aware interference would not be tolerated. Without his constant vigilance and
his continual care, their world would soon disappear. He watched over and
protected them and asked little in return. Now he demanded complete cooperation.
Death would come silently and swiftly to any who dared defy him.
Everything was different the moment Maggie Odessa set foot into the jungle. She
was different. She felt it. Where the heat on the coast had been oppressive,
stifling, within the forest that same heat seemed to envelop her in a strange
perfumed world. With each step that took her into the deeper interior, she
became more aware. More alert. As if awakening from a dream world. Her hearing
was much more acute. She could hear separate insects, identify the trilling
sounds of birds, the cries of monkeys. She heard the wind rustling in the
branches overhead and smaller animals scurrying among the leaves. It was
strange, yet exhilarating.
When Maggie had first learned of her inheritance, she had thought to sell it off
without seeing it, out of respect for her adoptive mother. Jayne Odessa had been
adamant that Maggie never enter the rain forest. Jayne had been frightened by
the very idea of it, repeatedly begging Maggie to promise that she would never
put herself at risk. Maggie loved her adoptive mother and didn't want to go
against her wishes, but after Jayne's death, a lawyer had contacted Maggie to
inform her that she was the daughter of a wealthy couple, naturalists who had
died violently when she was a child, and that she had inherited their estate
deep in the rain forests of Borneo. The temptation was too much to resist.
Despite the promises Maggie had made to her adoptive mother, she had journeyed
halfway around the world to look for her past.
Maggie had flown into the small airport and rendezvoused with the three men sent
by the lawyer to meet her. From there they'd traveled in a four-wheel-drive
utility vehicle for an hour before they left the main highway and took a series
of unpaved roads leading into deeper forest. It seemed as if they had bumped
over every rut and pit in the dirt road. Eventually they had parked the vehicle
to proceed on foot, a prospect Maggie hadn't been happy about. The humidity was
high and she knotted her khaki shirt around her backpack as they trekked into
deeper forest.
The men seemed enormously strong and well prepared. They were well built, quiet
when they walked, intensely alert. She had been nervous at first, but once they
were walking along the trail in deeper jungle, everything seemed to change; she
felt as if she were coming home.
As she followed her guides, winding deeper into the darkened interior, she
became aware of the mechanics of her own body. Of her muscles, the way they
moved sleekly, easily, her strides almost rhythmic. She didn't stumble, she
didn't make unnecessary noise. Her feet seemed to find their own placement over
the uneven ground.
Maggie became aware of her own femininity. Small beads of moisture ran in the
valley between her breasts, sleek with sweat, her shirt plastered to her skin.
Her long, thick hair, her one call to glory, was heavy and hot against her neck
and down her back. She lifted the heavy mass, the simple act suddenly sensual,
lifting her breasts beneath the thin cotton tee, her nipples rasping gently on
the material. Maggie twisted her hair with the expertise of practice, fastening
the thick rope to her head with a jeweled stick.
Strange that the heat and primitive jungle should suddenly make her conscious of
her body. The way she moved, her hips gently swaying, almost an invitation, as
if she knew someone was watching, someone she wanted to entice. In her entire
life, she had never been a flirt or a tease, yet now the temptation was
overwhelming. It was as if she had come to life, here in this dark, overgrown
place with vines and leaves and every kind of plant imaginable.
Shorter trees vied for sunlight with the tall trees. They were draped with liana
vines and creeping plants of various shades of green. Wild orchids hung above
her head and rhododendrons climbed as high as some of the trees. Flowering
plants grew on the trees, stretching for the sunlight that managed to make its
way through the heavier canopy. Brightly colored lorikeets and other birds were
in constant motion. The raspy call of insects was a noisy hum that filled the
forest. The air was sweet with perfumed flowers that teased her senses. It was
an exotic, erotic setting where she knew she belonged.
Maggie tilted her head back with a small sigh, rubbing at the sweat on her
throat with the palm of her hand. Her lower body felt heavy and restless with
each step she took. Needy. Wanting. Her breasts were swollen and achy. Her hands
trembled. A strange elation swept through her. Life pulsed in her veins. An
awakening.
It was then she became aware of the men. Watching her. Hot eyes on the movements
of her body. The curve of her hips, the thrust of her breasts straining against
the fabric of her T-shirt. The rise and fall of her breath as she walked along
the narrow path. Ordinarily, knowing that she was being watched would have
embarrassed her, yet she felt wanton, almost an exhibitionist.
Maggie examined her feelings, and was shocked. She was aroused. Totally aroused.
She had always thought she was a bit on the asexual side. She never noticed men
the way her friends did, never really was attracted to them. They certainly
didn't find her attractive, yet now she not only was aware of her own sexuality
but was reveling in the fact that she was turning men on. She frowned, puzzling
over the unfamiliar feelings. It didn't feel right to her. She wasn't attracted
to the men, even as aroused as her body was. It wasn't the men. It was something
deep within her she couldn't comprehend.
She moved along the path, feeling eyes caressing her body, feeling the weight of
stares, hearing the heavier breathing of the men as she went deeper into the
darkened interior of the forest. The jungle seemed to close behind them, vines
and bushes spreading across the trail. The wind gusted, heavy enough to drop
leaves and small twigs onto the forest floor. Flower petals, vines, and even a
few smaller branches settled onto the ground so that it looked as if it hadn't
been disturbed in eons.
Her eyes were seeing details differently, much more sharply, catching movement
she shouldn't have been able to notice. It was exhilarating. Even her sense of
smell seemed enhanced. She was trying to avoid walking over a beautiful white
lacy plant that seemed to be everywhere. It gave off a pungent odor. "What is
this on the ground?" she ventured to ask.
"A type of fungi," one of the men answered gruffly. He had introduced himself
merely as Conner. "Insects love it. They end up spreading its spores
everywhere." He cleared his throat, glanced at the other men, then back at her.
"What do you do in the big city, miss?"
Maggie was startled that he asked her a question. None of the men had encouraged
much conversation. "I'm a veterinarian for exotic animals. I specialize in
felines."
Maggie had always been drawn to the wilds, studying and researching everything
she could find on rain forests, animals, and plants. She had worked hard to
become a veterinarian of exotic animals, hoping to practice in the wilderness,
but Jayne had been so unwavering, resolute in her determination to keep Maggie
close, she had eventually settled for working for the zoo. This had been her big
chance to go to the place she had always longed to see.
Maggie had dreams of the rain forest. She had never played with dolls like other
little girls, but with plastic animals, lions and leopards and tigers. All the
big cats. She had an affinity for them; she knew when they were in pain or upset
or depressed. Felines responded to her and she had quickly acquired a reputation
for her ability to heal and work with exotic cats.
The men exchanged a brief look she couldn't hope to interpret. For some reason
their reaction made her uneasy, but she persisted in attempting to converse now
that he'd given her an opening. "I read that there are rhinoceros and elephants
in this forest. Is that true?"
The man who called himself Joshua nodded abruptly, reached back, and took her
backpack out of her hand as if the weight of it was forcing them to slow down.
She didn't protest because he didn't so much as break stride. They were moving
fast now.
"You're certain of where you're going? There's really a small village where
there are people around? I don't want to be left all alone with no one to help
me if I get bitten by a snake or something." Was that her voice? Throaty? Husky?
It didn't sound like her.
"Yes, miss, there's a town and supplies." Conner's tone was guarded.
A ripple of unease went through her. She struggled to tame her voice, make it
once more her own. "Surely there's another way to get there without going on
foot? How do they bring in supplies?"
"Mules. And no, to reach your home and the village, you must walk."
"Is it always this dark in the forest?" Maggie persisted. What landmarks were
they navigating by? There were so many trees. Iron wood and sandal wood. Ebony
and teak. So many different kinds. There had been numerous fruit trees such as
coconut palms and mango and banana and orange along the outer perimeters. She
recognized the various types of trees, but couldn't tell what the men were using
to identify the actual trail. How could they tell where they were going or how
to get back? She was intrigued and a bit awed by their ability.
"The sunlight has little chance to penetrate the thick branches and leaves
above," came the answer. No one slowed the pace, no one even glanced at her.
Maggie could tell they didn't want to converse. It wasn't exactly as if they
were being rude to her, but she could tell when she addressed them directly that
they were uneasy. Maggie shrugged carelessly. She didn't need conversation. She
had always been comfortable with her own company, and there were so many
intriguing things in the forest. She caught a glimpse of a snake nearly as thick
as a man's arm. There was a tiny spot of spectacular color that turned out to be
a frog of some sort on a tree. And so many lizards she lost count. It should
have been immensely difficult to spot such creatures. They blended with the
foliage, yet somehow she could see them. Almost as if the jungle was changing
her in some way, improving her sight, her ability to hear and smell.
Sudden silence took hold of the forest. Insects ceased their endless hum. Birds
abruptly stopped their continuous calls. Even the monkeys ceased all chatter.
The stillness disturbed her, sent a chill cascading down her spine. A single
warning was shrieked high in the canopy, an alert of danger, and Maggie knew
instantly that it was danger to her. The hair on the back of her neck raised and
she nervously turned her head from side to side as she walked, her eyes
restlessly probing the thick foliage.
Her apprehension must have communicated itself to the guards. They tightened up
the distance between them, one dropping back behind her, urging her to move more
quickly through the forest.
Maggie's heart accelerated, her mouth went dry. She could feel her body begin to
tremble. Something moved in the deep foliage, large, heavily muscled, a shadow
in the shadows. Something paced along beside them. She couldn't really see it,
yet she did, the impression of a large predator, an animal stalking her
silently. She felt the weight of an intent, focused stare, the unblinking eyes
of something savage. Something fixated on her. Something wild.
"Are we safe?" She asked the question softly, moving closer to her guides.
"Of course we're safe, miss," the third man replied, a tall blond with dark,
brooding eyes. His gaze slid over her. "Nothing would attack so large a party."
The group wasn't that large. Four people tramping on a nonexistent path toward
an uncertain destination. She didn't feel all that safe. She had forgotten what
the third man's name was. It suddenly bothered her. Really bothered her. What if
something did attack them and the man tried to protect her and she didn't even
know who he was?
Maggie glanced back. The trail had disappeared completely behind them. She
lifted her chin, another shiver finding its way through her body. Something
watched and waited to attack. Were they walking into an ambush? She didn't know
any of the men. She was trusting a lawyer she knew very little about. She'd
investigated him, of course, to ensure he was legitimate, but that didn't mean
she hadn't been deceived. Women disappeared every day.
"Miss Odessa?" It was the tall blond. "Don't look so frightened. Nothing is
going to happen to you."
She managed a small smile. His reassurance didn't take away her fear of the
unknown, but she was grateful he had noticed and had tried. "Thank you. The
forest went so quiet all of a sudden, and it feels so…" Dangerous. The word was
in her mind but she didn't want to speak it aloud, to give it life. Instead she
matched her stride to the blond's. "Please call me Maggie. I've never been very
formal. What's your name?"
He hesitated, glanced toward the left into the heavy foliage. "It's Donovan,
Miss… er… Maggie. Drake Donovan."
"Have you been to the village often?"
"I have a home there," he admitted. "We all have homes there."
Relief swept through her. She felt some of the tension leave her body. "That's
reassuring. I was beginning to think I had inherited a small hut in the middle
of the forest or maybe at the top of one of the trees." Her laughter was low.
Husky. Almost seductive.
Maggie blinked in shock. There it was again. She never sounded like that, yet
twice now her voice had become an invitation. She didn't want Drake Donovan to
think she was coming on to him. What in the world had gotten into her? Something
was happening to her, something she didn't like at all. She knew it was wrong,
everything about it felt wrong, yet her body was raging at her with an urgent,
primitive need.
From several yards away, Brandt feasted his eyes on her through the thick
foliage. She was everything and more than he had expected. She wasn't tall, but
he hadn't expected her to be. Her body was curvy, with lush breasts and hips, a
small waist, strong legs. Her hair was thick and luxurious, a wealth of red-gold
silk. Her brows were reddish, her eyes as green as the leaves on the trees. Her
mouth was, a sinful temptation.
It was oppressively hot and she was sweating, a dark vee down the front of her
shirt molding to her high, firm breasts. There was a damp line down her back,
drawing attention to the sweep of her spine, the curve of her hips. Her jeans
rode low on her hips, exposing an enticing expanse of skin and revealing a belly
button that he found exceedingly sexy. He longed to capture her right there,
drag her away from the other men, and claim what belonged to him. He had taken
far too long in finding her and the Han Vol Dan was nearly upon her. He could
tell. The others could tell. They tried not to look at what didn't belong to
them, but she was so naturally sensuous, so alluring and compelling, the men
were reacting with the same ragged hunger as he felt. Brandt felt bad for them.
They were doing him a favor, despite the danger to all of them from the
overpowering emotions. He had been tracking poachers when she had arrived, and
the men had gone to meet her in his stead, to bring her to him.
The rain began, great sheets of it, working to penetrate the heavier foliage
above them, sending the humidity up another notch. The downpour bathed the
forest in iridescent colors as the water blended with light to make prisms so
that rainbows washed across the vine-draped trees. The woman, his mate, Maggie
Odessa, turned her face up in delight. There was no grumbling, no squeals of
shock. She raised her hands over her head in silent tribute, allowing the water
to cascade over her face. She was rain-wet. The drops ran down her face, her
lashes. All Brandt could think of was that he needed to lap every drop from her
face. To taste her petal-soft skin with the life-giving water running over it.
He was suddenly thirsty, his throat parched. His body felt heavy and painful,
and a strange roaring started in his head.
Maggie's white T-shirt instantly soaked through in the sudden deluge, rendering
the material nearly transparent. Her breasts were outlined, full, intriguing, a
swell of lush, creamy flesh, her nipples darker and twin hard buds of
invitation. The richness of her exposed body drew his gaze like a magnet.
Beckoned him. Mesmerized him. His mouth went dry, and his heart hammered out an
urgent tattoo.
Drake glanced back at Maggie, his gaze lingering for a hot, tension-filled
moment on the sway of her breasts.
A warning rumbled deep in Brandt's throat. The growl was low, but in the silence
of the forest, it carried easily. He coughed, the peculiar, grunting cough of
his kind. A threat. A command. Drake went ramrod stiff, jerked his head around,
peered uneasily into the bushes.
Maggie's gaze followed Drake's to the thick vegetation. There was no mistaking
the sound of a large jungle cat.
Drake tossed her the backpack. "Put on something, anything, to cover yourself."
His voice was clipped, almost hostile.
Her eyes widened in amazement. "Didn't you hear that?" She held the pack in
front of her, shielding her breasts from their view, shocked that the men seemed
more concerned with her body than with the danger approaching them. "You had to
have heard that. A leopard, and close, we should get out of here."
"Yes. That is a leopard, Miss Odessa. And running doesn't do a bit of good if
they've decided to make a meal of you." Keeping his back to her, Drake shoved
his hand through his wet hair. "Just put on something else and we'll be fine."
"Leopards like naked women?" Maggie quipped as she hastily pulled on her khaki
overshirt. If she didn't make light of the situation, she might panic.
"Absolutely. First choice every time—you might want to remember that," Drake
said, his voice tinged with humor. "Are you decent?"
Maggie buttoned the khaki shirt right over the soaking wet tee. The air was
thick, the scent from so many flowers almost cloying in the oppressive humidity.
Her socks were wet, her feet becoming uncomfortable. "Yes, I'm decent. Are we
even close yet?" She didn't want to complain but she suddenly felt irritable and
annoyed with everything and everyone.
Drake didn't turn around to check. "It's a bit farther. Do you need to rest?"
She was very aware of her escorts watching the heavy foliage warily. Her breath
caught in her throat. She could have sworn she saw the tip of a black tail
twitching in the bushes a few yards from where she stood, but when she blinked,
there were only the darker shadows and endless ferns. As hard as she tried, she
could see nothing in the deeper forest, but the impression of danger remained
acute.
"I'd rather keep going," she admitted. She felt very out of sorts. One moment
she wanted to entice the men to her, the next she wanted to snarl and rake at
them, hiss and spit at them to go away from her.
"Let's continue then." Drake signaled and they were once more on the move. The
three men were carrying guns slung carelessly across their backs. Each of them
had a knife strapped to his waist. None of them had touched the weapons, not
even when the large cat had made its presence nearby known.
The pace the men set was grueling. She was tired, wet, sticky, and far too hot,
and most of all, her feet hurt. Her hiking boots were good ones, but not as
broken in as she would have liked. She knew there were blisters forming on her
heels. She was growing hungrier by the moment, but
Maggie wasn't about to complain. She sensed the men weren't pushing her to be
cruel or to test her endurance, but for some other reason that had to do with
safety. She complied as best she could, hurrying along the trail in the
sweltering heat, wondering why the jungle felt so close and where the trail had
disappeared.
Chapter 2
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The house was surprisingly large, a great three-story structure set back in the
middle of a thick stand of trees with a wide verandah that circled the entire
building. Balconies on the second and third stories were intricately carved—a
skilled artisan had etched the most beautiful jungle cats into the wood. It was
nearly impossible to see through the branches intertwined around the house. Each
balcony had at least one branch touching or nearly touching the rail to form a
bridge into the network of trees, a highway high above the ground. Vines curled
around the trees and hung in long, thick ropes.
Maggie studied the way the house appeared to be a part of the jungle. The wood
was natural, blending into the trunks of the trees. An abundance of orchids and
rhododendrons cascaded with at least thirty other species of plants and flowers
from the trees and walls of the house.
The rain fell steadily, drenching the plants and trees. The rain was warm yet
Maggie found herself shivering.
She turned up her face to watch the individual drops fall to earth, threads of
silver gleaming in the sky.
"Maggie, night conies fast in the forest. Wild animals prowl around. Let's get
you settled in the house," Drake advised.
Dry clothes would be more than welcome. Or, the thought came unbidden, no
clothes at all. Briefly she closed her eyes against that stranger inside of her,
a part of her that the jungle was slowly awakening. She was uncomfortable with
that side of herself, a sensual, uninhibited woman who wanted to be the object
of a man's desire. She wanted to tempt. To entice. To seduce. But not these men.
She didn't know whom she was looking for, she only knew her body had come to
savage life and was making intimate demands she had no way of coping with.
Maggie took a deep, calming breath and forced herself to look around her, to
concentrate on other things beside the edgy need crawling through her body.
"Maggie?" Drake prompted again.
"You're certain this was my parents' home?" she inquired, staring in awe at the
craftsmanship. The way the house blended into the trees, vines, and flowers made
it virtually impossible to spot unless she was staring directly at it or knew
exactly where to look for it. It had been cleverly designed to appear a part of
the jungle itself.
"It's been in your family for generations," Drake said.
In the waning light it was difficult to see, but it appeared as if there were
several flat areas running the length of the roof, almost like paths. The room
was steeply pitched and with jutting dormers and matching mini balconies. "Is
there an attic?" The house was already three stories. It seemed incredible that
it could have a full-length attic but the large windows indicated otherwise.
"And what are those flat spots on the roof?"
Drake hesitated, then shrugged casually as he unlocked the front door. "The roof
is flat in spaces to accommodate easy travel if it has to be used as an escape
route. There's a basement with a tunnel, too. And yes, there's an attic."
Maggie stood at the threshold, watching Drake's face closely. "Why would I need
an escape route? Who or what would I be escaping from?"
"You don't have to worry. We'll all watch out for you. The house was designed
well over a hundred years ago and is meticulously maintained. Over the years its
been modernized but all the original features designed for escape were kept."
She blinked rapidly, her hand going protectively to her throat. He was lying to
her. It was in the sound of his voice. Her new, acute hearing picked up the
strain, a sudden tension in him. His gaze slid away from hers for just a moment,
touched on the forest long enough for her to have certain knowledge of his
deceit. Uneasiness washed over her, through her.
Maggie took a tentative step inside, feeling as if she were being lured by the
unique beauty and eccentricity of the house. By the secrecy of her past. She had
such little knowledge of her parents. They were shrouded in mystery, and the
idea of learning about them was far too great a temptation to resist. She
remembered very little, vague impressions only. Angry shouting, the flash of
torches, arms holding her tightly. The sound of a heart beating frantically. The
feel of fur against her skin. Sometimes the memories seemed the thing of
nightmares; other times she remembered eyes looking down at her with such love,
such pride, that her heart wanted to burst.
Standing in the middle of the front room, she looked uncertainly at Drake as
Conner and Joshua paced through every room in the house, ensuring there were no
stray animals hiding. "Are you certain the village is close?" Before she had
wanted to be alone, to rest and recover from the long journey. She was truly
exhausted, having traveled for hours and definitely suffering jet lag, yet now
she was afraid to be left alone in the large house.
"Just through those trees," he assured her. "The house has indoor plumbing and
we set up a small power plant on the river. Most of the time we have
electricity, but once in a while it goes off. If that happens, don't panic;
there are emergency candles and flashlights in the cupboards. The house has been
stocked, so you should have everything you need."
She looked around at the well-kept house. There was no dust, no mold. In spite
of the humidity, everything appeared highly polished. "Is someone living here?"
Drake shrugged. "Brandt Talbot has been the caretaker for years. If you need
anything, you can ask him where to find it. He's had the run of the house, but
he's going to be staying in the village. I'm certain he'll help you with
anything."
Something in the way he said the caretaker's name got her immediate attention.
She glanced up at him as a frisson of fear chased through her body. Brandt
Talbot. Who was the man that Drake had said his name so softly? Drake had
sounded wary and his eyes had shifted restlessly to the heavy foliage outside
the house.
The other men left her luggage in the front room, lifted a brief hand, and
hurried away, Drake followed them at a much slower pace. He paused at the door,
looking back at her. "You keep the bars on the doors and windows, and don't go
walking around at night outside the house," he cautioned. "The animals around
here are wild." His sudden smile removed all traces of grimness from his face,
leaving him looking friendly. "Everyone has been looking forward to meeting you.
You'll get to know us all quickly enough."
Maggie stood uncertainly on the shadowed porch of her parents' ancestral home
and watched him go with a sinking heart. It was everything yet nothing like she
had expected, a place of mystery and shadows that awoke something primitive and
wild and very sensual deep within her.
Leaves rustled high in the trees above her head, and she glanced up. Something
moved, something large but very silent. She continued to stare into the thick
foliage, straining to make out a shape, a shadow. Anything that might make the
leaves flutter in the night air against the wind. Was it a large snake? A python
perhaps—they grew to enormous sizes.
She felt a dark premonition of danger, of something dangerous hunting her.
Stalking her. Watching her intently with a fixed, focused stare. Defensively she
put a hand to her throat as if warding off the strangling bite of a leopard.
Maggie took a cautious step backward, toward the safety of the house, her gaze
never leaving the tree above her head.
The wind plucked at the trees, stirred and shifted the leaves. Her heart slammed
hard against her chest as she found herself falling into the hypnotic gaze of a
large animal. She had always been fascinated with large cats, but every
encounter had been in a controlled environment. This leopard, a rare black
panther, was free, wild, and on the hunt. The stare was terrifying, unnerving.
Power and intelligence shone in those unblinking golden eyes. Maggie couldn't
look away, caught in the gripping intensity of the focused stare. She knew from
her vast experience with exotic cats that the leopard was one of the most
cunning and intelligent predators in the forest.
A single sound escaped her, a soft moan of alarm. Her tongue darted out, traced
her suddenly dry lips. Maggie knew better than to run—she didn't want to trigger
an attack. She took another step backward, felt for the door. All the while her
gaze was locked with the panther's. The cat never looked away from her, a hunter
beyond measure, a fast, efficient killer that was concentrated on prey. She was
the prey. She recognized danger when she saw it.
He could hear her heartbeat, the fast acceleration that signaled intense fear.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide as she stared deep into his. When her small
tongue touched her lush bottom lip, he nearly fell out of the tree. He could
almost read her thoughts. She believed he was hunting her, stalking her. She
believed he was hungry. And he was. He wanted, needed to devour her. Just not in
the way she thought.
She backed inside the house, slammed the door shut solidly. He heard the bar
slide into place. Brandt remained very still, his heart hammering out his joy.
She was his now. It was only a matter of time. The intensity of his need for her
shocked him. The instinctual drive for a mate went far beyond anything he had
ever experienced.
The night was falling. His time. It belonged to him, to his kind. He listened to
the whispers as his world stirred to life. He heard the softest calls, knew
every creature, every insect. Knew who belonged and who did not. There was a
natural rhythm to life and he was in the midst of a change. Disturbing,
disquieting, but he was determined to exert his discipline and handle it as he
did all things, with iron control.
He shifted, roped muscles rippling beneath the thick fur as he padded in silence
along the heavy branch, intent on following her progress as she moved from room
to room. He couldn't take his eyes from her, drinking in the sight of her,
torturing his body, his senses, with her. She moved him as nothing ever had. She
stole his breath and aroused his body to such a fever pitch of excitement he
found himself enthralled.
Nothing stood between them but his honor. His code. Nothing. No time or
distance. He had resolved that issue with his cunning intelligence. He lifted
his head and forced his body to take in air, to read the night, to know he was
in control in the midst of the upheaval. His body was different. Heavy with
need, throbbing, aching. Every sense was alive. Every cell needed. Hungered. His
head roared and ached, an uncomfortable state for one of power and discipline.
Maggie leaned against the door for a long time. She had been crazy to come here
to this far-off place with danger at every turn. Her heart was racing and her
blood rushed madly through her body. Yet a small smile touched her mouth in
spite of the adrenaline pumping through her. She couldn't remember feeling so
alive before. She wasn't even certain she had been afraid, she was so excited.
It was as if she had been walking through life asleep to all the possibilities.
Now, here, in the primitive jungle, every sense was enhanced and on fire.
She stepped away from the door, looked up at the ceiling with its fans and wide
beams. This house suited her with its wide-open spaces and interesting carvings.
She began to walk through it, confident that there were no animals in her home.
It was exhilarating to feel as if she had closed out all danger and left it on
the other side of the door. She picked up her packs and began an inspection of
the downstairs. The rooms were large and each had the same high ceiling and
sparse furniture, all made with a hard, dark wood. Curiously, in two of the
bedrooms she discovered claw marks, as if some very large cat had marked the
wall up near the ceiling. Maggie stared at the marks, puzzled by how they had
been put there.
In the large kitchen she found a note on the small refrigerator penned in a
masculine scrawl explaining how the lights worked and where to find everything
she might need for the first night in her family home. There was a bowl of fresh
fruit left for her and she gratefully ate a juicy mango, her parched throat
savoring the sweetness. She touched the large, looping letters of the note in a
silent thanks with a caressing fingertip, strangely drawn to the handwriting.
She turned the note over and over, brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent.
She could actually smell him. Brandt Talbot, the man who had written the note,
had lived in the house.
He was everywhere. His scent. He seemed to envelop her with his presence. Once
she was aware of him, she realized his touch was everywhere. He lived in the
house. The polished wood and gleaming tiles had to have been his doing. The
artwork, which appealed to her, had to be his.
The stairs were wide and curved in a sweeping circle up to the next level.
Incredible photos of every wild creature imaginable hung on the walls going up
the stairs. The photographs were rare treasures. The photographer had captured
the very essence of wildlife, unusual action shots and beautiful pictures of
plants, close-ups that depicted the dewy petals. She leaned closer, already
knowing who had taken the photographs. In the corner of each picture was a
four-line poem. Reading the words made her feel as if she had accidentally
connected intimately with the poet. Each poem had been written in a looping
masculine scrawl. The sentiments were thoughtful, beautiful, romantic even. It
couldn't have been written by anyone else. Brandt Talbot had the soul of a poet.
He was an unusual man and she was already intrigued.
She inhaled again as she climbed the stairs, drawing the scent of him deep into
her lungs. He seemed to belong. Here in the house. Deep inside of her where she
breathed. The mysterious Brandt Talbot with his incredible photography skills
and his love of wood and wildlife and beautiful words. He seemed familiar, a man
who shared her favorite things.
Weariness was making her droop. Maggie became aware of how uncomfortable her
skin was, wet and sticky, as she made her way up to the second story. She found
a bedroom at the end of the hallway that was to her liking. The bed was made up
invitingly, the fans were already circulating air, and there was a spacious
private bath off the room.
She put her packs on the dresser, silently claiming the room as her own. Above
the bed, up in the corner, she saw the claw marks etched deeply into the wood
and she shivered. Her gaze remained there as she tossed the khaki shirt aside
and peeled off the wet T-shirt. It was a relief to have the soaked material away
from her tender skin.
Maggie stood in the center of the room wearing only her low-riding jeans, and
she sighed with relief. Wet clothes clinging to her skin called up a strange
sensation, almost as if something lying dormant beneath her skin stirred for a
moment, tried to break through her pores, then subsided, leaving her itchy and
tender and very irritable. She stretched her sore muscles, lifted her hands to
take down her hair, shaking it loose so she could wash the heavy mass in the
shower.
Her boots came off next, then her socks. It was heaven to be barefoot, her soles
cool on the floorboards. Much more comfortable, she took the time to look around
the large room. The second-story bedroom was spacious with wide beams and little
furniture. The bed was huge with four intricately carved posters rising halfway
to the ceiling. Several fans whirled above her head, providing a welcome breeze
in the room. Her gaze touched once more on the strange claw marks, slid away,
then returned as if drawn by some unseen force.
She crossed the room to stare up at them, finally climbed up on the bed and
stretched to touch them with her fingertips. She traced each mark. The wood was
shredded; the claws had dug in deep. Was it from a long-ago pet kept in the
house? Something wild that had marked its territory?
The moment the unbidden thought came to her, she shivered, the marks taking on
life, burning her fingertips so that she pulled her hand quickly away from the
wall. Surprised, she glanced at her seared fingers but found them without a
blemish. Maggie put her fingers in her mouth, soothing the sensitive nerve
endings with her tongue.
She wandered across the room to the windows. The panes in the room seemed
overlarge, big enough to climb through should she need to do so. Each room had
similar size windows with the inevitable balcony around them. A grid of bars
shielded each window, making her very aware she was in a wild setting.
Maggie stood at the window, staring out into the night. Into the rain and the
forest. She could see the leaves waving and dancing in the trees as the wind
increased in strength. Bone tired, she began to slowly peel away her jeans, wet
from the tropical rain and sticking to her. She wanted a shower and then to lie
摘要：

ChristineFeehan-TheAwakeningTheAwakeningChristineFeehanChapter1Thewarmwindgentlycarriedthemessagethroughthelushvegetationoftherainforest,traveledhighintothedensecanopythatshroudedthejungleinmystery.Wildhoneybeesbuiltcombsjustbeneaththecrown,outofreachofmostoftheanimals.Iftheyheardthewindwhispering,t...

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