Dakoda lay on her side, staring at the wall. Legs drawn up to her chest, she hugged them tightly, attempting to bring a sense of warmth back into her body. It wasn’t working. She was cold. So cold she doubted she’d ever get warm again.
Jesse pressed closer to her, attempting to add his body heat to hers. Hand settling on her shoulder, he bent close to her ear. “I’m sorry about what happened,” he murmured. “It was terrible, I know.”
Hearing his words, Dakoda squeezed her eyes shut. “That was humiliating,” she grated through clenched teeth. Though the images hovered at the edge of her mind, she refused to pull them out of the shadows and look. It was bad enough they’d been forced to strip naked for inspection. Worse still was being fondled like a piece of merchandise, her nude body invaded by an unwelcome hand. But the coup de grace had been Kamai’s demand that she and Jesse have sex—with Jesse in cougar form.
Bestiality. The word floated up from the dark morass bubbling in her skull, bringing with it a distinctly sour, sewer-like odor. She reeled at the thought of such a twisted and perverted thing happening between herself and an animal. Even if the animal was Jesse, it was still, well, wrong on so many levels.
And anyone who’d suggest such a thing was a sick psycho. Anyone who’d want to watch, sicker still.
There are a lot of sick people in this world, she thought. And she’d had the bad luck to run into all of them in the same place at the same time.
Dakoda opened her eyes, staring at the blank wall in front of her. They were back in the cell. Still prisoners, only their status had changed. The FOR SALE signs hanging around their necks had been changed. Sold. Kamai had purchased them both, paying over a million dollars to acquire his valuable prizes.
A storm rolling in from the north had prevented their immediate departure. Outside the cell, thunder rolled, breaking up the sound of rain beating against the roof. Flashes of lightning emanated through the spaces in the front wall, viciously striking the earth with an electrifying lash. It was night fit for neither man nor beast. Everyone was forced to hole up and wait out the worst.
Unwrapping her body, Dakoda stretched out and rolled over. “It’s okay.” She sighed in an attempt to relieve her inner tension. “Nothing happened.” She looked into Jesse’s face, tense and drawn with worry. “Thank you for not doing it.”
Palm settling against her cheek, Jesse’s agonized gaze found hers. “I really didn’t have much of a choice,” he breathed, brushing her mouth with his. “There was no way I could perform like a circus animal, on command.”
“You sure did piss them off.”
Jesse frowned. “Got my ass whipped for it, too.”
Dakoda grimaced, remembering the sound of Kamai’s crop coming down hard across Jesse’s exposed flesh. “How’s your back?”
Jesse flexed his shoulders. “Not so bad. I’ll survive. I won’t like it, but I’ll survive.”
She looked at him with admiration. Throughout his beating, Jesse had refused to cry out, forcing himself to silence as lash after brutal lash sliced into his skin. He’d borne the punishment of a disobedient animal with pride, refusing to be cowed by the cruel hand of control. “Kamai didn’t appreciate your defiance.”
Jesse glowered a moment. “It still didn’t stop him from buying us,” he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “We’re still not any better off than we were. Once he gets us out of the country, we’re goners. Never to be seen or heard from again.”
Dakoda propped herself up on one elbow. “It happens all the time, though.”
Jesse shot her a frown. “You know, it’s hard to believe people can still be bought and sold like cattle in this day and age. What’s even harder to believe is that it’s happening to me.”
She considered his words. “Earlier you said three men from your tribe had disappeared.”
He nodded. “Yeah, vanished. Without a trace.”
“Kamai mentioned he had seen one of the shifters, belonging to a Saudi prince, I think he said.”
His frown returned, doubly fierce. “So what’s your point? They’re still gone, still captives.”
Dakoda pressed a hand on his chest. The thud-thud of his heart beat wildly beneath her palm. “It means they are still alive. And if they’re still alive, help can be sent.”
Considering her words, he nodded reluctantly. “We still have to get out of here ourselves,” he reminded her. “Seeing as we’re between the rock and the hard place, that’s unlikely to happen anytime soon.”
She had to agree. “Right now the odds are definitely against us.”
“Speaking of being hard and being against something…” Jesse snuggled closer until his partially clad body connected with her fully clothed one. “I have to admit I’m glad I’m not alone. I hate to say it, but it helps having somebody to hold on to. If that sounds stupid or selfish, I’m sorry.”
His confession echoed exactly what she’d been thinking.
Dakoda searched his gaze with hers. Her breasts pillowed against his chest, nipples instantly rising to hard little beads inside her snug bra. Heat bloomed between her thighs as she remembered the feel of his cock sliding into her eager depths. “It’s not stupid,” she said softly. “As much as I hate what’s happening, I’m glad you’re with me. I think I would have fallen apart and lost my mind if you hadn’t been here.”
His thumb brushed her lips. “You’re strong, Dakoda. A lot stronger than I am.”
Her brows rose in disbelief. She didn’t feel a bit strong or capable. She felt weak and scared and stupid. Having Jesse to hold on to had been like having a life preserver to cling to. “Oh?”
Jesse’s throat worked with emotion. “If it had just been me, on my own, I’d have killed myself for sure.” His palm left her cheek. Fingers slipping to the nape of her neck, he adjusted her head to a more pleasing angle. “As it is, you’ve given me a lot of other things to think about. Nice things…,” he murmured, sliding into a slow, wet kiss.
Oh, God, this was what she’d been needing…
Dakoda’s lips parted beneath his, eagerly welcoming the first invasive caress of his tongue against hers. Though in human form, Jesse tasted even more wild and feral than she remembered, like the untamed wilderness at midnight. The musk emanating from his bronzed skin was a richer, darker odor. The scent teased her nose, arousing her all over again.
God, how was it his slightest touch could turn her into a maniac, ravenous for sex? Every inch of his strong, burly frame pressed against hers, reminding her all over again of the delights of body-to-body contact.
The pressure of need built between them when his hand settled on her ass, dragging her hips closer to his. The brief breechclout he wore barely managed to cover his straining penis. All it would take is a tug at the thin leather ties to get it off. Then he’d have nothing on.
Nothing at all.
The plunk of a big fat drop of water jolted them apart.
Wiping his wet face, Jesse cursed. “Hey, what the hell?”
Cold droplets hit Dakoda on the face. Blinking up at the ceiling above their heads, she saw the beginnings of seepage. The damp planks were swollen and sagging from the deluge outside.
Wiping her face, she sat up. “Terrific. Just want I wanted to do, sleep in a wet bunk.” As if it already wasn’t miserable and cramped enough in the small cell. “Just one more thing to add to the discomfort,” she added, scooting out from under the splats of water.
Jesse abruptly slid off the bunk. “It might be our way out,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Look.” He pointed. “See that?”
Dakoda tipped her head back, following his gesture. The ceiling had sprung a few more leaks, bringing in a steady stream of water. Anticipation zinged across her nerves. Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t the oncoming train after all. “I see it.”
Jesse headed toward the worst of the leaks, one near the table. “A solid roof doesn’t leak.” Climbing up on the table, he circled one of the exposed beams with his hands, then hefted himself up so he could examine the source closer. “The wood’s got some rot in it,” he reported with a note of satisfaction.
Realizing the implications, Dakoda scrambled off the bunk. “Is it rotted enough we can dig it out?” she asked excitedly. Now that a glimmer of hope had presented itself, she felt a surge of energy through her veins, a much-needed burst of adrenaline to clear her head and sharpen her senses.
This is our chance, she told herself.
Jesse was working more quickly now, trying to wiggle his fingers between the narrow planks so he could get a hold. “Damn.”
“What?” Dakoda moved up behind him, climbing onto one of the chairs to bring herself closer to the ceiling. She reached up, pressing the tips of her fingers against the damp wood. It gave a little. She pressed harder. “I can feel it giving way.”
Jesse’s hands dropped. “It’s wet enough, but the rot hasn’t gone all the way through. I need something sharp to gouge with, like a knife of something.”
Dakoda pressed her feet against the chair and flattened her palms against the ceiling. “Nothing sharp,” she grunted. “We’ll just have to try brute force.”
Jesse shook his head. “I’m a lot stronger than you, and I can’t push through.”
Suddenly Dakoda could feel it, the powerful blast of defeat slamming into her, reeking with despair and negativity. It’s no use, it whispered in her ear. Greg had no chance. What makes you think you deserve one?
Shutting out the nagging voices, she growled an obscene curse and went on pummeling at the damp planks above her head. “You’re not trying hard enough!” she snapped. “I don’t want to be sold into fucking slavery, no matter how nice the cage might be.” Bending her fingers, she dug her nails into the wood. A few small pieces of debris scattered across her face. She wiped them away with an angry hand. “If only I had some goddamned claws.”
A light instantly went off between them.
Dakoda’s hands dropped. “Jesse—” she started to say.
Smacking his hand against his forehead, he cut her off. “I can’t believe I am that damn stupid,” he groaned. “I’m right on it.” Before she could blink, he’d shifted into his alternate form. A huge, tawny cougar sat on the table in the place he’d occupied.
She smiled. “Good going.” At last, hope was beginning to become something more than a dim, half-imagined sentiment.
Jesse cautiously stretched upward, balancing on his hind legs. One huge paw settled on a beam for support. His free paw flexed, unsheathing a beautiful set of razor-sharp claws. Aiming toward the weakest point in the planks, he began to hollow out the rotted gut of the plank.
It was slow work.
Layer after layer fell away until a Frisbee-sized hole had been gouged through the ceiling.
Dakoda hissed out a breath of anticipation. “Bigger,” she said, stroking a hand down the cougar’s damp fur. “It needs to be big enough for us to crawl through.”
The cougar abruptly vanished. Jesse held his hand in front of him, bloodied and torn by the sharp shards. “Sorry,” he gasped, grimacing through the pain. “I needed a break.” A little sigh broke through his lips. “Give me a minute and I’ll try with my other hand.”
Dakoda nodded. “Okay.” Then she winced, realizing that he only had two good hands to work with and one was now out of commission. She glanced up at the hole he’d gouged in the ceiling. Nowhere near big enough to get through. “It’s rotted, but not enough. At this rate it’ll take all damn night.”
Jesse disagreed. “It’s the best shot we’ve had so far.” He flexed the fingers of his good hand. “I’ll dig until the skin peels away if I have to.”
Before she knew what he was doing, Jesse shifted again. Releasing a roar that ripped through her ears, he flung himself at the ceiling. Digging both paws in, he used the leverage of his weight and hind legs to tear away more wood. Larger chunks snapped away, bringing in a torrent of rain.
Bigger. The hole was a little bigger.
Losing his grip on the slippery wood, Jesse fell hard, smashing against the tabletop with a body-shuddering thud.
“Careful,” Dakoda warned, pushing the single word out between her tightly clenched teeth. Anticipation tightened her throat, sped up her heart beat. The tension was eating her up inside. “Don’t hurt yourself, Jesse.”
The cougar ignored her cautions.
Rolling back onto his feet, Jesse’s sleek feline form took a second lunge toward at the ceiling. Unleashing another bone-shattering shriek echoing the reverberations of the thunder outside, his claws ripped through the wood like tornadoes eating up a city. More pieces of soggy timber disintegrated under his brutal assault, peeling away layer after layer. Seconds ticked away, spinning into long, jarring minutes.
Fists clenched as she watched the big cat at work, Dakoda could almost taste freedom. Escape would be the icing on the cake.
The hole expanded. Though it wasn’t the biggest opening, it was wide enough to squeeze a cat through.
Dakoda clapped her hands with delight. Or a very slender woman. “I think we’re on our way!” she shouted.
“What the hell do you think you doin’?” A voice savage with anger hollered behind them.
Startled by the intrusion, Dakoda whirled. Moving too fast to keep her balance, she stumbled against the back of the chair. Her ankle twisted out from under her. “Shit!” she cursed as a hot spear of pain tore up her left leg.
Losing her footing, she crashed to the bare ground with a bone-jarring crunch. The impact crushed the air from her lungs. For a moment she lay in a heap, dazed by the fall.
Before Dakoda could even focus her gaze, Rusty barged into the cell. He leveled his shotgun directly toward Jesse. “You’d better climb down from there, boy,” he warned, brandishing the dangerous weapon like a shield between himself and the captives.
Dakoda glanced up in time to catch a glimpse of the cougar crouching low on top of the table. His ears were pinned flat, and Jesse’s tail whipped back and forth like a kite in a high wind. Amber eyes lit with hate; an ominous growl rolled past sharp fangs.
Rusty took a threatening step closer. “Get down, Jesse!” he warned furiously. “Else I’m gonna blast you to hell and then some.”
Unwilling to heed the warning, Jesse crouched lower. A high shrill roar exploded from his throat. His eyes glinted with furious intent. This time he wasn’t going to back down.
Even if it cost him his life.
Dragging herself into a sitting position, Dakoda felt another white-hot bolt of pain shoot up her leg. Damn. She’d given her ankle a good twist. For all she knew, she’d broken the bone. Still, this wasn’t the time to be thinking of herself. Having been pushed to the edge, Jesse obviously wasn’t in any frame of mind to obey Rusty’s warnings. He’d taken enough from the poachers.
Dakoda’s heart thudded in long, sonorous beats. Oh, God, she doubted she could bear the sight of Jesse lying at her feet, shot to pieces. It couldn’t possibly happen again.
Today isn’t a good day to die, she thought wildly.
Dakoda threw up a pleading hand. “Don’t!” she gritted, her voice rough with panic as she fought to help control the situation. One wrong move could end in tragedy.
Rusty sneered. “Better do what she says, Jesse. You might not be worth nothin’ dead, but we can catch another just as easy as we got you.”
Jesse immediately shifted. Naked, he continued to crouch on top of the table. “Stay away from my people,” he snarled.
Rusty grinned. “Not while they’re makin’ us a whole hell of a lot of money.”
Dakoda tried to appeal to the man’s sense of reason. “For God’s sake, they’re human beings.”
Rusty’s smile morphed from unpleasantly arctic to a gut-twisting chill. “The red man ain’t got no soul,” he snapped. “That’s why they’re still like animals. And beasts like ’em were meant by God to be hunted and killed by man.” As if to second his words, a rolling crack of thunder splintered the ferocious storm.
Who could reasonably argue with such insanity?
“He’ll mind,” she promised. “We both will.”
Holding his gun with one hand, Rusty dug in the pocket of his heavy overcoat. He pulled out a set of handcuffs, then tossed them toward Jesse. “You put those on, nice and slow. Keep your hands where I can see them. Once you’re hobbled, I’m gonna chain you up. Shift or not, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Jesse caught the cuffs. Glaring with rebellion, he snapped them around his wrists. “Fuck you.”
The grate of metal on metal tore through Dakoda’s heart. Escape had been close.
Rusty laughed and shot Dakoda a lecherous look. “After I get you all nice and hog-tied, the only one getting a fuckin’ is her. I bet she’s got one sweet poon, and I intend to get a little taste of it before sendin’ her off with that slant-eyed prick.”
Dakoda’s stomach twisted. Tiny hot prickles of disgust skittered across her skin. That definitely isn’t going to happen! Saying a quick prayer, she braced herself. She had an instant to make up her mind. Continue to be a victim, or start taking some names and kicking some serious ass.
Anger ratcheted through her. Ass-kicking won.
Acting more on instinct than rational thought, her booted foot shot out toward the toppled chair. Catching it between the slats, she used every ounce of strength she possessed to kick it toward the outlaw.
Her aim was true.
The chair sped toward Rusty’s legs, catching him squarely behind the knees.
Struck suddenly from behind, Rusty stumbled forward, fighting to keep his balance—and his hold on the shotgun.
Seeing his chance, Jesse’s shoulders flexed, muscle and sinew drawing into action as he launched himself from the table. Blasting forward in a powerful leap, he drove his full weight toward the outlaw. He hit hard, powering Rusty straight into the ground.
Flailing helplessly, Rusty landed hard on his back. He cried out, tobacco-stained lips peeling away from his teeth as he struggled to buck out from under Jesse’s brawny weight. He tried to lever the shotgun across Jesse’s throat. “Get the fuck off me!” he roared, his eyes blazing like coals from the deepest pit of hell.
Forcing the shotgun away from his neck, Jesse’s shoulders flexed with exertion. Holding it tight, he twisted it back on its owner. “No way,” he gritted, fighting against the strength of a desperate man. Having suffered enough abuse, he was equally as desperate.
Rusty fought harder, bucking like a bronco set loose on fiery ground. “You’re gonna regret this, you son of a bitch.”
Jesse’s naked body shimmered with sweat as he strained to keep the upper hand against the outlaw. “I don’t think so,” he grunted. Gathering every ounce of strength, he twisted the shotgun out of the outlaw’s grip. Hobbled by the limitations of his cuffed wrists, he somehow managed to hang on to the rifle’s barrel.
A snarl rolled from Jesse’s lips. “Let’s see how you like the feel of this.” Cocking the shotgun over his shoulder, he swung hard. His aim was dead-on. The stock made an instant connection with Rusty’s temple. The sound of bone crunching against wood was sickening.
Rusty’s head lolled to the side, and a moan rolled from his slack lips. Blood oozed from the gaping tear in his forehead.
The abrupt shift into motionlessness stunned. The fight was over almost as fast as it had begun. The storm still howled, cutting the cell off from the rest of the outlaws’ compound.
Breathing hard, Jesse slowly backed away from the downed man. Chest rising and falling from his effort, he looked around wildly for another source of danger.
Dakoda relaxed. Rusty’s mistake was readily apparent. He’d come alone, believing a shotgun was enough to handle two angry, desperate people. “I think that’s it,” she ventured.
Jesse turned his head, gaze settling on her. “Are you okay? You fell pretty hard.”
Dragging herself off the floor, Dakoda nodded. “That fall was the best damn thing that’s happened to us so far,” she said, making light of her clumsiness. She winced when she tried to put her weight on her injured limb.
Jesse hurried toward her, offering a strong shoulder. “You’re hurt.”
Sliding a hand around his neck, Dakota gritted her teeth. “I twisted my freaking ankle.” She shifted her weight back on to the leg, persisting through the twinges, ignoring the discomfort. Now wasn’t the time to be hobbled by a bum leg. “I’m fine.” She glanced down at the unconscious man. “But he’s not.”
Taking in the damage he’d inflicted, the rifle slipped from Jesse’s limp fingers. “Shit,” he gasped between breaths. “He’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Dakoda limped over to the outlaw. He reeked of wet tobacco and unwashed skin. It took all the willpower in her not to puke. “There’s not enough soap and water in the world to get this man clean,” she muttered, breathing through her mouth to lessen the stink. The idea of his hands on her exposed flesh made her skin crawl. She’d sooner jump into a river of boiling acid than endure a single touch of his nasty hands.
Jesse hovered. “Did I kill him?” The barest trace of regret laced his voice.
Dakoda glanced up at him. “You did what you had to,” she said softly. At the time of the struggle, it had been kill or be killed and he’d acted on the impulse of the moment. Survival was an inborn instinct, but that didn’t make taking the life of another human being any easier.
Using her training in CPR, she quickly checked for a pulse and heartbeat. “He’s alive.” She eyed the cracked stock of the shotgun. “He’s going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.”
A sigh of relief broke from Jesse’s lips. “I’ve never killed a man before…” His gaze drifted toward the rifle. He started to reach for it. “But in this instance I think I could.”
Dakoda caught his wrist. She felt the tension, the anger boiling beneath his flesh. Nerves stretched taut, he was a mass of writhing emotions. “I won’t say he doesn’t deserve killing,” she said slowly. “But we’re not the ones to judge whether or not he gets it.”
Jesse’s gaze met hers. “I guess you’re right,” he allowed after a long pause.
As much as she didn’t want to lay hands on the unconscious man, Dakoda set to riffling through his pockets. “The law will take care of him,” she said, digging through the trash the outlaw had squirreled away. She found a small set of keys hiding between a pocketknife and a can of snuff. “And the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get some help and make it happen.” She dangled the keys. “Give me your hands. No telling how long it will be before they miss him.”
The cuffs dropped away from Jesse’s wrists. “We need to make tracks.” Grabbing the discarded loincloth, he shoved his feet into the moccasins.
Snatching her own jacket off the bunk, Dakoda looked him over. “That’s not enough for you to be wearing out on a night like this.”
“I haven’t got much choice.” Jesse eyed Rusty’s clothes, visually measuring the man’s build against his own. “You think—” he started to ask, prodding the unconscious man with a foot.
A smirk spread across Dakoda’s lips. Despite the stink, Rusty’s clothing was better than having nothing. “I think he deserves to be left naked—” She dangled the cuffs. “And hog-tied.”