Soul Dancer (5 page)

The night air smelled of swamp water but was also fragranced by blooming, wild roses. The blossoms, in shades of pink and peach, were pretty, seemingly fragile, yet Kierra knew them to be sturdy—like the kattanee.

Eden got to her feet. The wind blew at stray strands of hair that had escaped the tight knot at the top of her head. “When you’re ready to leave Becutan, say the word and I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Okay.”
But that time will never come. I’d miss watching Jamar from a distance. I’d miss not seeing him when I have the rare chance.

Eden walked away, her steps as silent as the moonlight filtering around her. Kierra sank back against the caya tree, recalling Jamar’s tender expression as he caressed her cheek with his knuckles, remembering how his throbbing shaft had slid into her pussy. He’d fit her perfectly. In fact, she could still feel the ache between her legs where he’d made love to her.

“Jamar,” she whispered into the stillness of the night. “You’re my best dream come true. And the worst nightmare. I love you, and I’ll never stop, but we’re worlds apart, and we must keep it that way. We have no choice.”

* * * *

Well after midnight, Jamar watched from behind a distant tree as mother and daughter hugged each other. The moon danced in the fronds of the caya above him, and the lingering scent of wild roses drifted around him.

Eden had hawk-like eyes. She saw him before he stepped from behind the tree. She was as tall and beautiful as her daughter, though her eyes were careworn and not as bright as they had been.

She paused beside him and touched his upper arm with elegant grace. “She loves you,” she said softly, meeting his eyes squarely. “You can do for her what she can’t do for herself.” With that sage counsel, that said much but left more unsaid, she walked away.

Jamar watched as she blended into the darkness, her footsteps as quiet as the night air around them. Creeping shadow met creeping shadow. He’d have never known Eden was near if he hadn’t kept an eye on her. In the villa, he knew it was the way of the kattanee to tread softly, but out here in the swamp, he’d have thought they walked louder.

For several minutes, he observed Kierra. She did nothing more than sit quietly, her back resting against the caya tree. The moonlight slivered through the tree fronds and lit her hair. If this had been the first time he’d seen her, he’d have said she wore a halo, that she was an angel come to soothe his mind and touch his heart. Maybe, in a strange way, she was in his life for that very reason, yet what was he to make of it that he was a mistake, as she claimed?

Creeping quietly from the swamp and the towering caya trees, Jamar shook his head in denial. He and Kierra were no mistake. Not together. Despite their different skin colors, they’d been intended for each other, which only confirmed for him that he’d made the right decision earlier that evening.

The next morning after a sleepless night, Kierra tiptoed into Jamar’s rooms, hoping he wasn’t there. The antechamber was quiet, and after the perfunctory knock on his bedroom door, she walked in. Her heart was in her throat as she scanned the living area then the bed.

Relief flooded through her on realizing he was nowhere in sight. Setting the vacuum cleaner and her plastic box filled with cleaning supplies on the floor, she dared to look at the big bed where just yesterday, Jamar had made love to her. Did she detect the scent of musky sex in the air? Had Jamar brought another woman into his suite last night?

Her heart plummeted. He’d told her he loved her, yet he could bring another woman, probably a Jaquill, into his bed. She yanked a duster from her box. It wasn’t any of her business what he did. It never had been. She was a kattanee and was supposed to know her place. Then why did she hurt so much just thinking about Jamar being with another woman?

Because she loved him, that’s why. She ran the duster along one corner of a sunlit window with such vengeance she startled a spider in its web and it raced away. If only she could flee as freely as it had. That she had no choices bothered her more than it usually did. She worked from before morning light until the sun disappeared behind what the kattanee called Dead End Mountain. If any tried to flee servitude, they were usually found there, climbing its craggy rocks like mountain goats.

She didn’t hear Jamar silently walk up behind her. “I’d give a duke’s ransom to know what you’re thinking.”

Kierra jumped and dropped the duster. It fell with a soft thud at her feet. “Jamar,” she whispered, wondering how she must look to him. Her eyes must have been wild and her ragged dress was worn where her neck met the fabric at the collar and her hem was crooked.

On the other hand, he towered over her, and despite herself, his magnificent presence comforted her. His white shirt was open at the collar, revealing the dark skin underneath. His trousers hugged his thighs in a warm caress as she suddenly longed to do.

He threw his keys on the coffee table. The pair jingled as they hit the wood. He faced her, his expression, for once, unfathomable. “What were you thinking?”

This was an unfamiliar side of Jamar Reserved, coolly assessing her, unblinking. She licked her dry lips slowly, struggling to find the correct words and buy her some time. She could hardly tell him he looked different this morning. The sun angled across his body as if it were placing him on display for her eyes only. Broad shoulders, muscled chest, small waist, and lean thighs and oh goodness, but his engorged penis strained against the seam of his pants.

“I—” Lost in the pleasure of simply looking at him, she didn’t know what to say.

“Go on,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, and accentuating his lower body and the massive bulge below his belt.

“You’ve changed,” she said, disbelieving her own ears. How could she talk to him like this when she’d promised herself she’d keep her place?

“To what?” he demanded, his husky voice low and authoritative.

She averted her gaze from his erection. He wouldn’t have to say much more to her and she’d run to him and beg him to make love to her with every ounce of her being.

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaken by her thought.

“I see.” He uncrossed his arms and sat in one of the armchairs by the window. “Take your clothes off.”

The order frightened her. Jamar rarely commanded her to do anything. He’d always treated her more as an equal. “Why?”

“That’s not your place to ask why. Just do it.” His golden eyes were cold, almost hostile.

Kierra decided to disobey, a risky choice at best until she could size him up. What had changed him? “No, not until I know what you want.”

He shook his head from side to side, as his lips drew together in a thin and frightening, line. “Kierra Vonne, I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. Take your clothes off.”

So she wouldn’t get a straightforward reply. Overnight, he’d distanced himself from her and become a true Jaquill who didn’t hesitate to order a kattanee to do his bidding without regard to their feelings. Not only had Jamar become the type of man the kattanee hated, but he’d left her without choices. There was no sense in arguing. She could do nothing less than obey, but she wouldn’t go down quietly.

Though she kept her gaze downcast, she knew her eyes would have flashed angry, spurious fire if she’d allowed herself the luxury of looking at him. Not caring anymore what happened to her, even the bossman beating her, she yanked apart the fabric at her breasts and rent it down to her hem. Disheartened and raging at the fates that had stacked the cards against her, she pulled out of her sleeves and stepped out of the dress before she jerked out of her bra and her panties. Her clothes lay on the floor in a small heap. Pressing her lips together and preparing for the worst, she slowly straightened to her full height. Yet she didn’t look at Jamar, afraid of the coolness she’d find in those gold eyes she’d once cared for so much.

Long seconds ticked by. She’d had no choice she kept telling herself, but as she repeated her mantra, something strange happened. She began to want Jamar with an intensity that defied logic and bordered on obsessive insanity. Kierra couldn’t hide the physical evidence of her arousal. Her nipples tightened into rigid pebbles, her skin broke out in vivid goose bumps, and if Jamar had been inclined to check, he’d have seen the juices weeping from her pussy.

“Come here and kneel at my feet.”

The preemptory order made her skin tingle and her face flame, but she couldn’t find the words to argue with him. Why did he want her so close? To torment her? To appease some sense of twisted humor?

With leaden feet, she trudged toward him. When she saw his polished shoes in her blurred vision, she sank to her knees, waiting, her heart thrumming.

She sensed him lean forward in his seat and held her breath. She’d have done anything for him once upon a time. Why had he changed so abruptly? Would she ever find out?

Jamar set his hands on Kierra’s tense shoulders. She was trembling violently from head to foot.

Slowly, gently, he edged his hands around to her back. Her pale skin was as smooth as lustrous satin. She still didn’t look at him and her chest rose and fell with the tiniest of breaths. Angered with himself at playing with her just to see how much she hated Becutan, he slipped out the elastic that held her hair in a tight constricting knot at the top of her head. He yearned to see her hair down, cascading over her shoulders and partially covering her aureoles.

He sucked in a shaky breath as her hair fell in silky waves around her shoulders and to her waist. “Your mother and Absar are right,” he whispered, willing himself to warm up from the devastating hell he’d found himself in. “If I want to save your soul, I need to take you far away from here.”

Finally, she raised her head, her mouth caught in a small ‘O’ shape, her cobalt eyes evaluating him. “You can’t save my soul,” she muttered.

“I can save both yours and mine,” he said without hesitation. Lifting her onto his lap and noting her shocked surprise, he bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth.

He was gratified that she arched her back and thrust her breasts closer to his face. The scent of her fresh-washed skin drove him wilder with high-pitched longing. She moaned from deep within her throat. His erection throbbed so painfully, he almost melted into her arms to beg for sweet mercy, but he knew none would be forthcoming. His mind buzzed with the realization that by ordering her to undress for him, he’d gone too far.

Lifting his head, he examined her face. Her eyelids were closed tightly, and her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks. A single tear squeezed from the corner of her right eye. Jamar yearned to wipe it away with his finger and raised his hand.

Kierra blinked, and her gaze pierced him accusingly. Her lips visibly trembled and her cheeks were so pale he thought she’d faint in his arms. “Why did you treat me like your enemy?”

“I wanted you to make a choice,” he replied laboriously, picking his words with care. He’d frightened her enough and didn’t want to chase her away again. Before this, he hadn’t recognized that Kierra was so fragile emotionally.

Her eyebrows arched upward in question.

Jamar ran his tongue around the inside of his cheeks. Was he doing the right thing by explaining to her why he’d asked her to strip? In the end, would it matter if she understood?

Yes, it mattered a lot, he decided quickly. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. “I wanted you to fight me, not to give in.” His vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. “As I hoped you would, you did fight me.” He gave her a thin smile. “By angrily ripping your clothes off.”

She shook her head.

“I love you so much; I can’t leave you here when I go.” Should he say more, or would he endanger her life if he did?

“Go where?” Her hand strayed to his shaft straining at his trousers. She seemed more interested in his penis than in her situation.

“I’m taking you to Praadar,” he said, announced with a tinge of relief.

Bewildered, her eyes shifted to his, although her warm fingers rested on the tip of his cock. “You can’t,” she murmured, her voice wooden.

Jamar waved away her objection. “I understand what will happen if we’re caught.” He didn’t dare say she’d die and he’d end up in prison for aiding and abetting a kattanee. “But I have several guarantees we won’t be, so you can rest assured we’ll get to Praadar safely.”

Her eyelids shuttered her gaze. When she looked at him again, all she said was, “Make love to me, Jamar. Make love to me.”

“Why are you so surprised?” Kierra’s hand wandered from Jamar’s cock to his belt. She loved him, even though he was a dreamer and believed he could change first Manitee-a then the Becutan people.

He hugged her, resting his head against her breasts. “After what I just did, I didn’t think you’d want me again.”

“You’re simply trying to find out who you really are in the crazy world.” She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. The metal teeth rasped against each other. His cock sprang free, proud and erect. The mushroom-tipped cap glistened with a few drops of pre-cum. The sunlight caused them to sparkle, as if they were an omen, but Kierra couldn’t tell whether it was of bad or good.