Tiger's Quest (18 page)

He trailed kisses along the line of my jaw. “What about before them?”

“No. There was no one. You are my first . . . everything.”

He lifted his head and smiled his devastating smile. “I am exceptionally delighted and deliriously happy to hear you say that.” He gathered my hair over my shoulder and pressed kisses along the arch of my neck. “Just for the record, Kells, you’re my first everything too.”

I shivered. Sighing, he kissed me sweetly and snuggled me against his chest.

I played with the buttons on his shirt and spoke quietly, “You know, my mother talked with me about this right before she died. She and Dad really hoped that I would wait until marriage like they did.”

“For me, it was assumed. In my time, in my country, casual relationships didn’t exist.”

“Ah,” I teased, “so you think our relationship is casual?”

“No. Not for me, it isn’t.” He tilted his head and watched my expression carefully, “What about you?”

“Me neither.”

“That’s good to know.” He reached over, grabbed my blanket, and tucked it around us.

“Ren?”

“Hmm?”

“What would you say if I said I
wanted
to wait, you know, until.”

A smile lit his handsome face. “Until . . .
what?
”

I bit my lip nervously. “Until . . .
you know.
”

He grinned even wider. “Is this a proposal? Do you want Mr. Kadam’s phone number so you can ask for his approval?”

I snorted, “You wish, Romeo! But seriously, Ren, if I wanted to wait, would it . . .
bother
you?”

He put his hands on both sides of my face, looked into my eyes, and said simply, “I would wait for you forever, Kelsey.”

I sighed. “You always say the right thing.”

I was enjoying snuggling with him when a dormant thought popped in my head that made me sit up. “Wait a minute! Your first everything, huh? That’s not
exactly
true, is it? Mr. Kadam once told me that he broke into the Queen’s Bath in Hampi, which was a rite of passage for young men. Didn’t
you
accompany him to Hampi on several occasions?”

Ren froze. “Well,
technically speaking
—”

I smiled and raised an eyebrow mockingly. “
Yes
, Ren? My
love?
You were saying?”

“I was saying that, technically speaking, yes, Kadam, Kishan, and I broke in. But, we only made it to the front door, and everyone was sleeping. We didn’t see a thing.”

I poked him in the chest. “Are you telling me the truth, Lancelot?”

“I am absolutely, 100 percent, telling you the truth.”

“So, if I ask Kishan tomorrow, he will corroborate your story?”

“Of course he will.” He mumbled quietly, “And if he doesn’t, I’ll punch him in the face.”

“I heard that. You better be telling me the truth, Ren, and you will
not
punch Kishan in the face.”

“I’m just teasing you, Kells. I
promise
. I have never looked at anyone but you since the day you first read to me by my circus cage. You’re a swan among swallows.”

“Nice line, but I think you should consult your field guide again.”

He frowned at me and ignored my comment. “As far as Kishan goes, he deserves to be punched for eating my cookies anyway.”

“I’ll make you more tomorrow, so don’t give him grief over that.”

I laughed until he effectively shut me up with his lips.

The next day over Ren’s third omelet and Kishan’s fourth, Ren announced he wanted to take up wushu again. Kishan clapped his hands together, showing he couldn’t wait to clobber Ren.

The brothers rented a small studio where we could be alone, so he and Ren could tutor me. They didn’t teach me any fancy moves or forms, but instead gave me a crash course in Disabling Your Opponent 101. We all thought it best if I learn some defensive moves with the possibility of Lokesh hanging about, as well as who-knows-what lurking ahead of us on the next quest. We all stretched for a few minutes, and then Ren began his lessons using Kishan as a test subject.

“Lesson one. If your attacker is running toward you, bend your knees and wait for him to get closer. Then, grab his arm, swing yourself around him, and lock your arms around his throat. If he’s a big guy, then pull up into the top of his throat under the jaw.”

Kishan ran at Ren and attacked from behind. Then it was my turn. Ren ran toward me, and I grabbed his arm and jumped on his back. I threw my arms around his neck in a brief stranglehold but then pecked him on the cheek before hopping down.

“Good. Lesson two. If the attacker knows more martial arts than you do, don’t fight him. Just try to disable him. Go for the stomach or the groin, and punch or kick as hard as you can.”

Kishan attacked again and started a complicated martial arts assault. I recognized a jump kick to the face with his knee bent and a roundhouse, but he also did a lot of complicated moves I’d never seen done before. Ren kept backing away, moving out of Kishan’s range until he found an opening and punched Kishan hard in the stomach. Kishan got up right away and came back at him again. This time, he fought harder and threw Ren to the ground, which was when Ren punched upward, stopping just shy of debilitating his brother.

“If you have to pick one or the other, choose the groin. It’s much more effective. Lesson three. Go for the sweet spots. These are the eyes, the Adam’s apple, the ears, the temple, and the nose. For the eyes—gouge with two fingers, like this. For the ears—use both hands and thump against both ears at once, as hard as you can. Everything else is a flat-handed, hard chop.”

Ren demonstrated each one then asked me to practice on him again. He wanted me to actually hurt him because he wanted it to be realistic. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Kishan growled and got up, pushing Ren out of the way. “She’s never going to learn like this. She needs to feel a real attack.”

“No, you’re too rough. You’ll hurt her.”

“What do you think
they’ll
do to her?”

I put my arm on Ren’s. “He’s right. It’s okay. Let him try.”

Ren reluctantly agreed to stand back against the wall.

I stood nervously with my back to Kishan, waiting for the attack. He came up behind me, grabbed my arm hard, and twisted me around. His hands went around my throat; he was strangling me. I heard a vicious growl before Kishan was thrown against the far wall. Ren stood in front of me tenderly touching the red fingerprints on my throat.

He yelled at Kishan, “I told you! You’re too rough! She’s going to have bruises on her neck!”

“It needs to be rough to be realistic. She needs to be ready.”

“Ren, I’m okay. Let him try again. I need to prepare myself so I can think clearly in an attack. You might need me to save you someday.”

He stroked my neck softly and looked at me, undecided. Eventually, he nodded and moved out of the way again.

Kishan ran to the other side and hollered back, “Don’t think. Just react.”

I turned away to wait for the attack. Kishan was quiet. I listened hard for his footsteps but heard nothing. All of a sudden, his arms were wrapped tightly around me from behind, and he was dragging me. He was too strong. He was choking me. I wiggled, wrestled, and stomped against his feet, all to no avail.

Desperate, I sucked in a breath and popped my head up against his chin. It hurt. Bad. But, he loosened his grip enough that I slipped out of his grasp and to the floor. Then, I stood up suddenly, rammed my shoulder into his groin, and punched him as hard as I could in the stomach.

Kishan fell to the floor, rolling over. Ren barked a loud laugh and thumped his brother on the back before returning to me. “You asked for it!
Don’t think. Just react.
Oh, man! I wish I had a camera!”

I was shaking from my effort. I did it, but I seriously didn’t think I could handle more than one opponent. How would I be able to protect Ren if I could barely hold my own? “Is Kishan going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. Just give him a minute.”

Ren was thrilled with my small victory. Kishan stood up grimacing. “That was good, Kelsey. If I was a normal man, I would have been down for at least twenty minutes.”

I felt a little dizzy. “Uh, guys? Can we stop for today? My head is spinning. I think I need some aspirin. Remember, I don’t recover as quickly as you two.”

Ren sobered, felt my head, and found a big lump forming. He insisted on carrying me to the car, even though I could walk perfectly well. When we got home, he settled me on the couch, punched Kishan hard in the gut just to make a point, and went to the kitchen to get a bag full of ice for my head.

As we practiced for the next two weeks, I started to feel confident that I could maintain my composure during an attack. Kishan and Ren also started taking turns circling the grounds at night, making sure that nobody could slip in to surprise us.

I stowed an emergency backpack under the front seat of Kishan’s black
GMC
truck with clothes and other items I would need in a hurry. I put my quilt, traveling papers, the ruby earrings, and Fanindra in the bag. Ren and Kishan filled it with money from several different countries and added a bag of clothing for themselves as well. They parked the truck about a mile down the main road and covered it with branches to camouflage it.

I always wore my amulet and Ren’s locket bracelet, but I was worried about my ribbon box. If we had to leave town quickly, I didn’t want anything to happen to it. Ren suggested that we mail a package to Mr. Kadam for safekeeping. We shipped my ribbon box and several other irreplaceable personal items to India.

Keeping the mood light was difficult, because we all felt that something bad was coming our way. Kishan joined us now for movie nights and usually ate all the kettle corn, which annoyed Ren. We stayed home most nights and I cooked. Kishan easily ate twice as much as Ren, who ate
a lot
. The Safeway delivery guy probably thought we were running a bed and breakfast with the amount of food we had delivered each week.

One Saturday in March, I suggested a trip to Tillamook and the beach. The weather was supposed to be unseasonably warm and sunny. The likelihood of it actually being that way and staying that way was minimal, but the beaches of Oregon were beautiful, even in the rain. The minute I promised chocolate peanut butter ice cream, Ren became very supportive of the idea.

We packed ingredients for s’mores and a change of clothes in the back of the Hummer. I drove to Lincoln City and then turned right on Highway 101, which ran along the Oregon coast. It was a pretty drive, and both tigers stuck their noses up to smell the ocean when I cracked the windows. Later, I pulled in to the Tillamook Cheese Factory Visitor’s Center and parked in the spot farthest away from the crowds.

“Meet you guys inside.”

I slipped on a light jacket. Despite the warm weather forecast, the sky was a little overcast, with sunshine peeking through the gray clouds only occasionally. It was a bit windy, but rain didn’t seem likely until later that evening. I walked into the store and browsed through the variety of cheeses on display.

Ren slid his fingers through mine. He wore an ice blue hooded sweater with some kind of Asian dragon pattern running from shoulder to shoulder.

I reached up to trace a dragon. “Where did you get this?”

He shrugged. “Off the Internet. I’ve become an expert Internet shopper.”

“Hmm. I like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “
Do
you?”

“Yep,” I sighed, “Hmm . . . we’d better keep you away from the ice cream.”

He looked offended. “
Why
would you keep me away from the ice cream?”

“Because you’re hot enough to melt it, and then Kishan would cry. The ice cream girls are checking you out already.”

“Well, perhaps you failed to notice the young gentleman behind the counter. He was very disgruntled when I walked over here.”

“You’re lying.”

“No . . . I’m not.”

I peeked at the guy behind the register. He
was
watching us. “He probably just wants to make sure we aren’t tasting too many free samples.”

“I don’t think so, Kelsey.”

We wandered to the ice cream counter where I inhaled the scent of freshly made waffle-cones. Kishan ordered a triple cone with blueberry cheesecake, chocolate orange, and root-beer-float flavors.

“That’s an interesting combo, Kishan.”

He grinned at me over his giant cone and took a huge bite of root-beer-float ice cream. Ren was up next, but he seemed to be having trouble.

“I’m torn.”

“Between what?”

“Chocolate peanut butter and peaches and cream.”

“You love chocolate peanut butter. It should be an easy choice.”

“Ah, true,” he leaned down to whisper, “but I love peaches and cream more.”

He kissed me on the cheek and ordered a double scoop of peaches and cream.

I ordered a double with chocolate peanut butter on the bottom and my favorite, Tillamook mudslide, on top and promised him he could eat the second half of my cone. I added a large square of chocolate peanut butter fudge to the order then paid the bill.

From there, it was just a short drive to the beach. Because it was overcast and still fairly cool, the beach was deserted. It was just the three of us, the seagulls, and the roar of the cold ocean.

The nippy rock-blue water crested, spilled over the pumice-gray sand, and sprayed the large black rocks. This was the ocean of the Northwest: beautiful, cool, and dark. Very different from the beaches of southern California or Florida. Far out on the water, a fishing boat drifted slowly by.

Ren spread out a large blanket and started building a fire. He soon had a crackling blaze going and joined me on the blanket. We ate, laughed, and talked about various styles of martial arts: karate, wushu, ninjutsu, kendo, aikido, Shaolin, Muay Thai, Tae Kwon Do, and Kempo.

Ren and Kishan argued about which form to use in which situation. Eventually they stopped, and Ren invited me to walk along the beach with him. We kicked off our shoes, held hands, and let the cold water lap over our bare feet as we walked all the way to the black rocks, about a half a mile away.