She knew her mind was wandering, but that was okay. When Tokala lifted her out of the Jeep, cradling her like a child in his long arms, she was aware of Kohana at his shoulder, peering down at her to make sure she was all right.
“Just my ankle.” Her mouth felt full of marbles. “’S okay. Already feeling better. Second-mark . . . heal in no . . .” And she was somewhere else again.
She was distantly aware of taking some tea, but then she was put to bed. It took her a while to realize it wasn’t her upstairs bed. She was in Mal’s bed, under that beautiful twisting canopy. Had he told Kohana to put her there? Made it clear that she was providing his breakfast, and so he expected her to be there? It gave her all sorts of disquieting feelings she wasn’t up to examining. At the same time, the bed did its magic, filling her with a warm and delicious comfort that unfurled and stretched to all parts of her, soothing her nerves. As she burrowed down under the covers like a cub in a warm den, she wondered if the way Mal’s scent and the imagined heat of his body filled her senses was the bed’s magic, or his.
She was drifting over the island, wading through the waters, splashing with the children, laughing with them, then moving onward. She passed the new lions, Solomon and Signet. As if she were seeing the future, they were watching a pride of lionesses crossing an African plain. The two rehabilitated males would soon try to become the male leaders of that group. She was glad to see there were no cubs.
On her habitat orientation, Mal had said the more experienced males would run off young males, but they would kill babies outright, to bring the mother into heat and create their own offspring. If they came into the pride now, there need be no such fatalities. A peaceful takeover, welcomed by the females.
She wondered if the same applied to her and Mal. A peaceful takeover. As if her thoughts had drawn her to him, she found him then. He was with a group of cubs in the habitat area, past or present, she didn’t know. Leopards, three of them, probably a year old, and then a younger one, perhaps no more than a few months. She held her breath at how the older ones wrestled. They were rough, but if one got pinned and found it unpleasant, he’d let out a yowling protest that would make his siblings back off. For a moment, at least; then they were at it again.
They flung themselves exuberantly at Mal as well. She smiled over it, how he handled them with such firm strength, like an older leopard would. When he played with the younger one, he toned it down, yet still challenged the cub’s strength, teaching him to lunge, claw and bite. Unlike domestic house cats, where people encouraged them to sheathe their claws with their human playmates, he was teaching them what their mother would have.
She drifted back to Jeremiah and the others. He’d spoken. It had to be getting better, right? Was there hope at the end of this rainbow, or was this a rainbow at all? Maybe it was only the eye of a storm, a moment of peace before things got worse.
Her dreams took her into darkness, and she was afraid there. Afraid of the black loneliness, the scent of blood and fear, and anger. Screams, and Victor dragging her. Elisa struggled to get away from the memory, but it sucked her in. In this veiled world, she was a ghost doomed to endure the same act, again and again.
Her fear was Victor’s entertainment, a toy that made sounds if pressed certain ways. She would never forget that feeling, and she wanted to forget it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. He’d made her believe she was completely insignificant. There was no God, no devil, no real meaning to all of it. She was a dust mote, swept up in a pan with other dirt and tossed into the yard. Things were getting so very dark . . .
“Elisa.” Elisa. Come back to me. Come out of there.
Were there places one wasn’t supposed to go in the dreams offered by this bed? Shadowed, fearful places? Turning, she wasn’t sure what way to go, but in the end she followed his voice, crawling out of blood and death toward a room lit by candles. A concerned, strong face was poised over hers, his features familiar and yet new, different, something she could explore with her fingertips over and over and find them amazing. “Make me matter,” she whispered. “Bring me back. Make me forget.”
Mal bent, his hip pressing against her. Turning her face away, she gave him her throat, and when she felt his mouth and then his fangs, she wanted to weep and hold on to him. She did both, her fingers curled hard into his biceps as his arm slid beneath her, drew her close. He drank from her, letting her nourish him, give him life. As he did, she let those tears fall among the soft furs, the animal totems that protected his island.
“Am I supposed to be in your bed?” The words came out thick as she lifted a heavy, logy hand, tangled it in his hair as he continued to tease blood from her throat.
I told them to put you here, Elisa.
“I saw you playing with the cubs.” She closed her eyes, tightening her grip as he slid his hand down to her breast, stroking and kneading in a soothing way, those capable hands. She stilled, remembering. Her fingers found the leg he had crooked on the bed. He’d changed trousers, of course, because if he’d continued with his duties, he wouldn’t want the other cats spooked or agitated by the scent of his blood. But she remembered the swipe of that big cat’s paw, how Mal had twisted beneath the lion, contorting to break the hold, get on top.
He’d saved her. She’d been terrified, seeing him go down under hundreds of pounds of muscled feline flesh. Yes, unless the lion had somehow ripped off his head, Mal couldn’t be killed, but if he’d been forced to unconsciousness and dragged off, beyond where she and Tokala could find him in time, Thai might have eaten him. She expected having his heart and other internal organs digested might be as effective as a stake. And she would have lost another man who made her feel . . . significant.
“If you give the pants to me, I’ll sew them.” Her voice had that detestable tremor again, no help for it. “Thank you for saving my life.”
Shhh, girl. Just hush and feel.
Her eyes closed tighter, two men overlapping in her mind at the endearment that linked the past with the present. You weren’t supposed to think about one man while you were with another, but this didn’t really seem like that. She wasn’t preferring one over the other. It was as if one was a continuation of the other, a strangeness she couldn’t really explain.
When his lips moved on her neck, his fangs retracting, it shuddered through her body like he’d withdrawn from her after a more carnal penetration. As he straightened, his hand slipped to her hip. She’d been too tired or Kohana had been too respectful, so she was still wearing her trousers. His touch skirted that area the pants delineated so precisely. Some of the churchgoers in Perth thought a decent woman didn’t wear pants, probably for that reason. Of course, it delineated that same part of men, but good girls didn’t look at that. She’d challenge any of those wowsers not to look at what Mal had to offer in his daks, though.
He blinked at her. “Wowsers?”
“People who . . . Prudes?”
He nodded. “It’s a unique thing, to be in your mind and not understand half of what you’re saying.”
“A bad thing?”
A smile touched his lips as his hand continued to wander, down over her knees, giving her a tickle that made her squirm. The smile faded as he watched the way her body moved. “No. Not a bad thing. Your fledglings are safely back in their enclosures and Jeremiah is fine.”
“They did well, didn’t they? Did . . . I?”
He regarded her, his face settling into those more remote lines she knew too well. She was chattel to him, but she also knew if he told her he wasn’t going to take her back to see them for a while, she might not be able to hold it all in. Seeing them tonight, being part of what happened, had meant so much to her that almost being mauled by a lion couldn’t overshadow it.
“Elisa.” He looked toward the wall, obviously pushing back a sigh. She waited, her hands closing into tense balls. One rested by her side, but the other had naturally followed the line of his biceps to his thigh when he straightened. It now waited there, a closed knot reflecting her bated emotions.
“Starting tomorrow, a staff member will take you to the fledglings’ area for a couple hours each night. You’ll interact with them there, and provide me information on how our outings seem to be impacting their behavior with you. I will continue taking them out in small groups every other night, and we’ll reassess in two weeks. All right?”
She nodded, a quick jerk. Rising, he pulled the covers over her more securely. “Sleep now. You need more rest.”
“Aren’t you going to stay?” Lord, what was she doing? And what must he think of her for even implying such a forward thing? She straightened then, sliding out the other side of the bed before he could stop her. It was reassuring to find the ankle was tender but able to bear weight as she snatched up the sneakers Kohana had left for her there. “This is your bed, sir. Nice as it was to give you breakfast, I’ll sleep upstairs so I won’t be a bother. And thank you. I’ll be a big help to you, I will . . .”
Whoa. She’d forgotten she’d just fed him. The room spun alarmingly as she straightened with the shoes in her hand. But in the next blink, she was against his chest, hands curled in the fabric of his shirt, his hands steadying her. “Wow, you move fast.” She blinked, trying to focus. “Like with that lion. Is he okay? Was the dream true?”
That she’d asked after the lion seemed to surprise him, but he nodded when she dropped her head back on her shoulders to look at him. “Good. Wasn’t his fault that I looked like good eating. Doing all that limping.” She frowned, thinking. “That’s what Kohana meant, when he said he can’t work on the open preserve anymore. Because of his limp. I kept wondering, because he’s so strong and capable.”
“Yes. It’s why birds sometimes fake having a broken wing to draw a cat from a nest. A predator can’t resist something that seems weak or injured, particularly when they’re seeking a meal. And it’s why anything that is less than what it needs to be rarely survives in the wild.”