Waking the Beast (5 page)

“You want me.” It was a statement, not a question, and she didn’t deny it.

“Not like this,” she said softly.

He slowly eased back from her, helping her as she unwrapped her legs and braced along the wall as if needing the support to find her own footing.

“Like this?” he questioned. He wanted to roar with rage at the loss of her. He needed her. Couldn’t she see how much he needed her?

“I may not be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever taken in your arms, but I’m most likely the smartest. And I know.”

It just pissed him off that she discounted herself that easily. She was the most beautiful, in all the ways that mattered. He’d just been too scared to admit it.

“You know what?” he asked when she shook her head and stepped away from the wall, tugging the robe closer together.

He thought she wouldn’t answer him as she scooped up the wet towel and stepped into the bathroom with it. But she faced him when she walked out. He could see the sadness in her eyes, and it nearly destroyed him.

“That I’m worth more than one quick night in a cheap motel,” she whispered, moving to the side of the bed and tugging back the covers. “I’ll give you the side closest to the door. The water’s hot if you want a shower.”

He felt the need to roar again, and it took all he had to throttle it back. He stood and watched as she pulled the covers over her body still wearing the robe. He turned toward the bathroom, hitting the button to turn the television off as he did. He heard her murmured “good night” as he fought the urge to slam the bathroom door shut behind him.

The first thing he saw were her panties and bra hanging on a towel rack to dry by the sink. He felt the rumble of displeasure in his chest as he pulled the cotton panties from the rod and brought them to his nose. He could still smell her on them. And God help him, those panties were the only thing keeping him from going back to join her on that bed and trying to seduce her.

He started the shower, tucking her panties in his pocket before sliding his jeans off. She was right. She deserved so much more than this. Soon, he’d show her just how much she meant to him. He had a lot to make up for.

Chapter Three

From the journal of Abby Lane

I’ve found him, or at least who I think is the right person. He’s certainly big enough to hide a lion inside. He’s almost six and half feet tall and so sexy he makes my teeth ache. I go to the bar where he works every night just so I can see him, be close to him. I stick out like a sore thumb, but I’m unable to deny my need just to be near him.

All those long nights of researching a genealogy not my own. The dead-ends and back tracking, sifting through even the smallest crumb of information has led me here to him. What would he say if I told him I know all about him? He’s been alone for so much of his life. I cried when I read about his parents’ deaths when he was just a child. And to know he went to live with a grandmother who’s now gone as well! Would he feel the same connection I do if he was aware of how much we have in common?

I almost lost it when I heard his friend call him Tah. Does he have any idea the power behind his nickname? Does he know he comes from the greatest Tau ever born? I want to tell him. I want to follow him home and make him listen to all I have to share. I’d give anything to talk to him and have him listen without looking at me like I’m crazy. But I don’t see that happening.

So I watch…and wait, as if I’ll know when the time is right to approach him, as if that time will ever exist.

They call him Tah, and only I know how true that name is.

* * * *

Abby was fuming the next morning after getting dressed. Utah might play the innocent, but she knew he was at fault. There was no one else here, and she damn sure hadn’t hidden her panties. But short of calling him out on it, what could she do other than sit here at the table across from him,
sans
panties, while they ate the breakfast he’d picked up.

He’d moved the chair back to the table this morning. He sat across from her eating and brooding. She’d been all but inside his skin when she woke up this morning, and he’d just held her close, letting her rub against his straining erection as if doing her a favor. Fucking arrogant prick. And now he had the audacity to act like it was her fault. He’d stolen the covers, leaving her no other option than to cuddle close to him. Wasn’t her fault if her robe came loose, and he chose to sleep nude.

Holy crap! He’d slept nude beside her.

“We need to talk.”

“I said I was sorry!” She all but yelled at him.

His teeth had been clenched when she finally woke up, and he’d told her to either fuck him or move off so he could go in the other room and take care of it himself. She’d jerked away as if she’d been burned. But damn, part of her had wanted to just let that hard cock fill her pussy.

And he’d gone to the bathroom and jerked off! What the hell! He had to have known she could hear him. He wasn’t exactly quiet about it. Then he came out all dressed and whistling. Whistling for God’s sake!

Oh, she’d stomped. She’d slammed the door. But she refused to take care of herself while he was out in the other room listening. So she’d reached for her clothes, only to notice her panties were missing. She’d dressed without them, only to slam the door open and find him gone. Gone! The bastard. He was only living because he came back with coffee as well as breakfast.

“You could have used me if you wanted to,” he reminded her, making her growl at him.

And he laughed. The man seriously had no sense of self-preservation.

“Did you take my panties?” She blurted the question out without meaning too.

He looked shocked as his eyes skimmed over her. Then with a lifted brow, he taunted, “Why, Abby, are you sitting across from me with no panties on?”

She blushed. She could feel her face flaming red with embarrassment. She wanted to hit him hard, and she wasn’t normally a violent person.

He shook his head at her and looked upset at her obvious discomfort. “I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

She nodded. It wasn’t lost on her though, that he hadn’t offered up the location of her missing panties.

“We do need to talk,” he said as he pushed his breakfast containers away. He ate a lot of food. “I need to know everything.” She could see him running his tongue over his teeth before he grimaced, keeping his lips closed as he glanced at her. “I really need to know.”

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Start with Harlan. Who exactly is he? And why did he take us?”

She sighed. She remembered a time when she’d wanted nothing more than Tah’s undivided attention, so she could tell him what she felt was the truth. But not like this. Not when he already had to be questioning her involvement. Soon, he’d question her sanity as well. And there was nothing she could do, but tell him.

“Harlan Jones is my dad’s cousin.”

“So he’s family?”

She shook her head adamantly in denial. “It takes more than blood to make family,” she repeated the words she’d always heard her mom tell her dad.

Tah nodded. “True. Family are the people you choose.”

“Harlan was jealous of my parents. I heard him whine to my dad several times about how mom was just trying to stir trouble up, to turn dad against him.”

“And your dad let Harlan talk like that?”

She looked up in surprise. She’d never thought of it like that, but obviously Tah had, and he looked pissed about it.

“He loved my mom.” Why she felt the need to defend them was beyond her, but she did.

“Go on, baby,” Tah urged her.

She cleared her throat. It always threw her when he used one of those pet words on her, words most men saved for the women they were with. Baby. Honey. Sweetheart. She wanted to be all those things to him.

“That’s it. That’s who he is and how he knows me.”

“I’ll let it go for now, but I know there’s more to it than that. Now tell me about all this lion talk and why he kidnapped us. I heard him talking to you when he thought I was out. I might not have been able to control my movement yet, but my hearing was fine. He followed you to Africa? When did you go to Africa? And why?”

“Two years ago. I went with a college group for an anthropological dig.”

“You studied anthropology?”

She nodded. “I’ve always been fascinated by cultures, especially the myths and lores they keep.”

“So tell me about it.”

This was it. This was when he would look at her as if she were a crazy woman. This was where everything would change.

She took a deep breath before charging in. “I grew up around cats, big cats. My parents were both vets who worked with exotic animals. They were called in many times to rescue large cats people took as pets and then realized they couldn’t take care of them. We’d pick the animals up, nurse them back to health if they were sick, and make arrangements for placement of them.”

“Return them to the wild?”

She shook her head. “Not usually. Zoo placement if we could find one who had room. Mom had contacts in Asia and Africa, and sometimes we’d send one to a wildlife preserve. Sometimes,” she swallowed as a tear spilled down her cheek, “sometimes they were too broken, and there was no choice but to put them down.” She wiped the tear away.

“Where are your parents, Abby?” He asked the question as if he already knew the answer. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

“They died when I was a child.” Her hand rubbed under her right breast even as visions tried to slam into her memory. Blood. Screams. Pain.

“Abby?” His hand touched hers, snapping her out of the past.

“I went to live with my grandmother. She was a great woman.”

He watched her for several long moments, and she prayed he wouldn’t push her. She didn’t want to talk about her parents right now. Not right now.

“So tell me about this love of cats.”

She felt relief flood her system at his acceptance.

“Myths, legends, cats, and Africa. What do they all have in common?” he asked.

“The
paka watu
,” she whispered the words, watching to see if there was any reaction from him. Was that a spark of yellow in his eyes? Or had she only imagined it?

“
Paka watu
?” he asked.

“It means cat people.”

“Cat people, huh?” He looked amused.

“It’s also the basis of an African legend about a tribe of people gifted by the Creator with spirit guides. Cats. And they shared their bodies with these cats, switching between human and animal as needed.”

“What happened to them?”

“How do you know something happened to them?”

“It only makes sense. Myths and legends rarely end in happily ever after.”

“They were attacked by hunters. Many were killed, and the remaining alpha lion knew that in order to save his pride, they would have to put their animals to sleep and learn to hide. They’d no longer be able to embrace the strength of their great spirit guides or even stay together as a pride.”

“That’s sad.”

She nodded in agreement. “But it was the only way he could save the surviving members of the pride.”

“What happened? Were they ever seen again?”

She shook her head. “They disappeared, each going a separate way and blending in. The animals were quieted and as time passed and one generation replaced the last, their spirits were often forgotten.”

She met his eyes and saw something there. Emotion? Sorrow? Utah felt something whether he was willing to admit it or not.

“Let me guess. Somehow you think I’m the descendent of this alpha lion.” He laughed at the look on her face. “I’m more than just a great body, Abby. I’ve got a brain up here too.”

He looked disappointed in her, and it made her feel horribly shallow. It was hard to sit in judgment on him for stereotyping her when she had been doing the same to him. Damn him for calling her out on it. That wasn’t very nice.

“I think you’re the descendent of the pride leader,” she answered him softly. “While I was in Africa, the bushmen gave me a name supposedly whispered on the wind. It wasn’t easy, but with help, I was able to research the descendent line. So many names and possibilities to weed through. I went with instinct and followed it to the possibility of you or one other. I chose you.”

“What made me the lucky one?” he asked with a soft smile.

“There’s the mark of the lion on you.”

“My tattoo?” He laughed. “I found it when I was flipping through a book.” He shrugged it off as if that was nothing.

“How many tattoos were in the book?” she asked him.

He shook his head and sighed. “A lot,” he admitted.

“But you chose that one because the lion means something to you. He’s your totem, your
roho mwongozo
.”

“My what?”

“Spirit guide. Plus, there’s your name.”

“Utah?”

“The one your friend’s call you. Tah. Do you know what Tau means in Southern Africa?”

He shook his head.

“Lion. The tattoo, your name, and…” She stood up and paced the room. “God, this is going to sound crazy, but what does it really matter at this point. I saw you, and I felt pulled toward you.”

“That’s attraction, Abby.”

“No. Well, yes. But no.”

He laughed. “Which is it? Don’t spare my ego.”

“What woman wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

“Don’t do that. I might not be as smart as you, but I know I deserve more than that.”

She paused. “You’re right, Tah. I’m sorry. I’m very attracted to you. But it’s more than that. I watched you and couldn’t stop. It felt like I was waiting for something, some sign from you. I couldn’t force myself away.”

“I felt the same way.”

“What?”

“I know you thought I ignored you. I did a good job of making you feel that way. But I was always aware of you. I told Logan and Reno I’d kick their asses if they hit on you.”

“I doubt you had to worry about that.” Reno was the friend who’d made the comment about her devouring Tah with her eyes.