Secrets of the Jaguar (Crimson Romance) (21 page)

The Zotz warriors had begun ascending the pyramid as the sun began to diminish, and Duncan noticed that once again, Michelle was making her way down the stairs, this time in jaguar form. Tzinacan noticed, too, and Duncan took advantage of the momentary distraction. Duncan misted his hand into Tzinacan’s chest and ripped out the ancient vampire’s heart. Tzinacan stopped short, whether from pain or shock Duncan did not know. Michelle stopped short on the pyramid as she watched the scene below.

Duncan looked at the still-beating heart in his hand as he stood over Tzinacan’s limp body on the stone of the sun. Standing like the fiercest warrior of all, his blood-soaked shirt clinging to his hard chest, Duncan squeezed his grip and Tzinacan’s heart became nothing more than blood-red rain onto the stone.

As the monument began filling with Tzinacan’s ancient blood, the Zozt fell in their places one by one. Not dead, but seemingly paralyzed. At that moment, sunlight exploded through the dense jungle canopy, frying the paralyzed Zotz warriors and rendering Tzinacan’s body into ashes at Duncan’s feet.

Michelle watched the scene unfold in jaguar form. The Zozt warriors froze in their places as they ascended toward her. And there Duncan stood, a bloody pulp in his hand, his dark hair matted by his own blood clinging to his face, framing frenzied black eyes.

Sunlight blinded her and for a moment she saw stars. When her vision finally cleared, Tzinacan and his warriors were nothing more than ash. From her high perch, she could see the designs on the Sun Stone illuminated by the crimson blood of her ancient tormentor. The vampire that killed her entire family was dead. Now that she wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of evil bat-warrior guys, Michelle shifted back into her human form.

Duncan misted to her side high on the pyramid and immediately wrapped his arms around her, his lips and tongue seeking hers in a smoldering embrace. Michelle hugged Duncan even tighter. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Duncan cupped Michelle’s cheek in his hand. “I love you so much, Michelle, I would die rather than live without you.” His eyes were no longer a dark storm, and Michelle took peace in the loving serenity reflected in his gaze. “Should I get your clothes or — ”

“No. Just take me to Moon Jaguar.”

Duncan tore his own shirt over his head and rolled up to slide it over her head. Blood stains permeated the fabric. “Michelle, I can’t promise he’ll … ”

“I know.” Michelle’s happiness quickly faded away. She had seen the damage Tzinacan had inflicted on Moon Jaguar. Duncan held her tightly and brought them to the jungle floor where he had left the elderly warrior.

• • •

Moon Jaguar was conscious, but barely. Blood stained the corners of his mouth. Michelle shuddered at the thought of what harm Tzinacan had done to her elderly friend’s body.

She held Moon Jaguar in her arms. “Vo`on. You fought bravely. Tzinacan is dead; he has been bled out on the stone.”

Moon Jaguar nodded his head, and smiled faintly at Michelle. “You have made your family proud,”
he told her. Now Moon Jaguar looked over at Duncan and spoke through the pain with admiration. “Mu choplikot.” Looking up at the jungle canopy, Moon Jaguar transformed into a jaguar one last time, and then began his eternal rest.

She looked at Duncan from beside Moon Jaguar’s resting form. “He said that you are good, Duncan.” And then she began to cry.

One year later …

“Careful, careful,” Michelle cautioned in Tzotzil. On all sides of her, local Mayans buzzed to and fro working hard under the hot sun to help Michelle excavate the large pyramid. Large hands wrapped around Michelle, squeezing her tightly.

“You’re the sexiest archaeologist of all time, my love. That Indiana Jones hat, mmmmm.” Duncan nibbled on Michelle’s ear playfully and turned her around to kiss her fully on the mouth.

Michelle giggled and pulled away as his hands slid down to fully appreciate what lay beneath her cargo shorts. “Duncan! Don’t encourage these guys.” Looking sheepishly around at the laborers, all grinning from ear to ear, Michelle shook her head at Duncan, also smiling devilishly, who only silenced her with another kiss.

“If anyone gets encouraged,” Duncan’s eyes filled with mischief, “they’ll have to deal with me.”

Michelle noticed a worker behind Duncan getting a little too shovel happy at an area of excavation. “Ahhh, careful, careful.” Michelle rushed past Duncan. “Take your time,” she cautioned the worker.

For the past six months, Michelle had been hard at work at the site where she and Duncan had fought for their lives. Since she had discovered the site, she named it Meztli Bolom, after her fallen kin. She was now hard at work to get her PhD working at the site, and every day she uncovered more about her origins and her ancestors who once lived in the region.

Not far from the pyramid, she and Duncan had also uncovered the thatch houses where her family may have lived. Several oil companies had contacted her to sponsor the dig long-term, but of course, Michelle had given them the metaphorical finger. The last thing the region needed was the presence of an oil or mining company. Instead, she used Duncan’s funds from his various real estate across the world. She wondered how long it would hold out because the university funding was pretty much nil, and archaeology was an expensive endeavor.

Still Michelle smiled in ecstasy. Life had been complete bliss lately. The loss of Moon Jaguar had been difficult, but the discovery of the site and Tzinacan’s vanquishment meant that life could begin again, and life with Duncan had been good. More than good. When they had returned to Alameda, Michelle felt right at home working part-time shifts at the coffee shop with Sparrow, who had quickly become a best friend.

Switching her focus from the excavation to where Duncan helped out carrying equipment, Michelle stood admiring her man. Duncan’s white shirt was damp with sweat from working under the hot Mexican sun and clung to his hard length of chest. His face was that of a dark warrior, but Michelle saw so much happiness there.

The past year had been spent making love and drinking blood. Michelle of course had insisted that he drink from her. And although as a were-jaguar she was immune to his venom to dull the pain, she had gotten use to his fangs penetrating her skin on those romantic occasions. Duncan was gentle with her, and now his fangs took Michelle to the edge of climax every time he drew her blood.

Michelle was getting slightly aroused when her phone rang. “Is this Ms. James?”

“Yes?” Michelle didn’t recognize the voice on her cell phone.

“Hi, I’m Rachel with
National Geographic.
We received your report and are incredibly excited about your discovery. We’d be honored to sponsor the dig and if possible, document the process in our magazine along the way.”

Michelle almost dropped the phone, but instead she managed to cling tightly, a death grip on the phone. “Of course. That … would be wonderful.”

Just then Michelle felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as Duncan literally swept her off her feet.

The representative sounded pleased. “Great, we’ll be in touch, keep up the good — ” But the phone connection severed as Duncan misted them to their place in Tulum.

“Time to celebrate, my love.” Duncan smiled proudly. “I’ll be right back.” He returned in just a couple moments with a chilled bottle of Cristal champagne and two glass flutes.

“Mmmmm.” Michelle’s eyes grew big as she relished in her moment of archaeological glory. “This is the best day ever.” Standing on the bed she finally had a couple inches on Duncan. Leaning her arms on his hard shoulders, Michelle smiled as she kissed Duncan.

After setting the champagne down on a nearby table, Duncan swept Michelle off her feet once more and set her gently on the ground. Then he knelt before her.

“Michelle James,” Duncan took her hand gently within his own as he stared lovingly up into her eyes. “Time was a burden before I met you. But now the thought of eternity seems much too short because I want to spend one hundred eternities with you. I want to be a homebody with you and make your breakfast every day of your life. I want to journey into the darkest, deepest tombs in the world with you, keeping you safe from the creepy crawlies of your profession. I hope you will let me be your everything. Please give me the honor of being your husband.”

Tears of joy formed in Michelle’s eyes as she watched Duncan take out a ring and slip it onto her finger. A stone centerpiece of Mayan jade was encircled in exquisite, clear diamonds along the band.

“I hope you don’t mind — I picked up the Mayan jade from one of the tombs. I wanted you to have a ring as unique as you are, and now you can always have a piece of your family with you. The diamond band and setting was my mother’s. I — ”

But Michelle silenced Duncan by kneeling with him and meeting his lips with her own. They both lost time as they fell into each other’s arms until finally, she said, “Yes!” And they fell back into each other, deeper, and deeper into love, until finally, ecstasy.

Jaye Shields holds a degree in Anthropology from San Francisco State University with an emphasis in archaeology. Her previous claims to fame include being a bass player for a grunge band called the Hymens, being mistaken for Britney Spears while in Tokyo, and commercial model. She insists the commercial still counts even though her lines were cut.

Born and raised in Seattle, Jaye got addicted to reading early on. Flight attendant by day, she spends much of her time in airports with a mischievous smile on her face, writing steamy love scenes and epic romances. Oh yes, and she’s in a committed love affair with her readers.
www.JayeShields.com

Twenty-three years later

Sparrow gritted her teeth and nestled her cheek against the leather chair of agony. The sensation of the sharp needle grinding against her skin never got easier. In fact, it seemed to get worse. The buzzing torture device left deep indentations in her flesh.

“Why do you do this to me?” Her voice was a whimper, and she cringed at her own cowardice. A pained cry escaped her lips. “I thought you loved me.”

The voice that replied back was a handsome tone dripping with a cocky quality. “You know you’ll thank me when it’s over.”

Sparrow looked back over her bloodied shoulder and assessed the villain. “Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.”

Turning her gaze forward once more, she tried to ignore the constant pinching of the tattoo being inked upon her skin. “You’re a sadist, you know? Who could do this to people for a living?” Her voice was teasing, but carried a desperate tone that implied she couldn’t take her mind off the pain.

“If I’m a sadist, then you’re a masochist, because you’ve got a back full of tattoos, darling. Beautiful ones, I might add. My favorite is still the swan.” The Mohawked tattoo artist traced a nimble finger along the outline of the bird resting majestically on her lower back. Slowly, he followed the line along the elegant neck of the swan up her spine.

“Paws off the goods, Murphy.” She glared into the mirror in front of her so that her long-time pal could get the message.

“You look so cute when you make that face.” Dark eyes stared at Sparrow’s reflection in the mirror.

Most guys, like Murphy, seemed to find it difficult to resist the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty she inherited from her mother.

“So why a peregrine falcon?”

“You’ve never questioned my taste before.” She avoided the question like an expert.

“That’s because all you have are majestic, feminine birds like sparrows, swans, warblers, and doves. Speaking of, you never did tell me where you got that sparrow done. That’s the only one I didn’t do.”

“I’ve had it for a while.”

“Yeah, I know.” But before Murphy could further question her, she let out a cry that echoed throughout the shop.

“Damn it, focus! I swear this is worse than ever.” Sparrow meant it but mostly went all drama-queen to change the subject. After all, how could she explain that the tattoo was a mystical enchantment gifted to her by her Wiccan aunts when she was born?

“Peregrine falcons are incredible predators that should be worshipped for their grace and ability. They’re like me. Small, but fierce.”

The tatted Murphy smiled, and swept his tongue over his lip piercing provocatively. “I know you are.”

“Oh, God, save it.” She nuzzled her face against the leather recliner once more.
Note to self: I should probably stop going to an ex-flame for tattoos.

“Ouch!” She wrinkled her nose at the painful tickle.

“You’re such a pansy. You didn’t make this much noise when we did your owl, and that one took quite some time.” Looking to a nearby tat tech, Murphy called out. “Hey, toss me a doughnut. We got a screamer.”

“You know I don’t buy that ‘sugar dulls the pain’ crap. Besides, don’t you remember? Last time, I nearly passed out walking through the door after you were done.”

“Of course I remember. That’s how you ended up in my bed. Gotta love those post-tat endorphins.” The look Murphy sent to Sparrow via the mirror was pure sex.

She let herself appreciate the sight of him. Murphy was an off-beat kind of sexy but was definitely still eye candy. But not her soul mate. “Anyways … ”

“All right, all right. Can’t a guy re-live his wonder days?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the man’s persistence. After seeing Tera with Sabin, she wanted the same thing. Her friend had never been with a man, and when she’d found Sabin, there’d been an instant connection. Not exactly love at first sight since Tera immediately tried to kick his ass, but definitely some sort of soul connection.

A Nelly Furtado ring-tone exploded from Sparrow’s phone. She reached into the pocket of her bright blue coat hanging on a nearby chair.

“Are you kidding me? You’re obsessed.” Murphy sent her a disapproving glance and shook his head at the familiar lyrics about flying birds.

“Birds are my shtick,” she exclaimed matter-of-factly. “I like the Sex Pistols, too, but I don’t need to put them on repeat.” Grinning, Sparrow knew she irked the punkster, who constantly either wore shredded t-shirts of the Clash or the Pistols.