Spirits Shared (3 page)

She shivered. If the rock hadn't hit the
rear of the car, if it'd struck the driver's side door…

Lucky. They'd been lucky. They just needed a
little more luck.

She pulled out her cellphone. There was no
coverage.

That means I go to plan B.

She couldn't allow herself to think what
failure might mean. She
would
find help. Clay
would
be okay.

She took a deep breath and ran in the
direction of the turnoff to the sheriff's house. Each of her
heartbeats was a plea. And every slap of her tennis shoes against
the muddy, rocky road sounded that same plea.

Let me find help.

Let me find help.

Let me find help.

Her lungs burned and her sides ached by the
time she reached the totem poles. Passing between them, she had the
eerie impression that the land itself was aware of her presence.
And with that feeling came a fleeting sensation that in another
life she'd known when Thunderbirds flew and had lived in a world
where spirit guides existed.

Goose bumps rose on her arms. Clay's
imagined voice said,
Love your imagination, babe,
and she
swallowed against the added burn in her throat.

She stopped to catch her breath. Doubled
over, hands on her thighs.

"Please let him be okay. Please let me find
help," she whispered and a sudden strong wind surged past her, as
if catching her pleas and then carrying them swirling upward in a
funnel cloud of leaves and dirt.

She pulled her phone from the jacket pocket.
A single bar. And it was getting darker faster.

Swallowing against a rush of panic she
pushed herself back into a fast run. She had to keep going. That's
all she could do.

The rain returned in a fierce downpour. It
drove against her back as if she was the storm's target.

Lightning flashed with increasing frequency.
Thunder obliterated the pounding of her own heart.

A cluster of dark clouds twisted and roiled
and hurried across the sky in a beautiful, powerful display. She
ducked her head, the wind against her back felt like a hurrying
hand.

Her thoughts returned repeatedly to Clay.
She imagined him drowsy but okay. She imagined him slipping into a
coma. She imagined him bleeding internally, the blood pooling,
turning into something life-threatening and killing him before she
could get back with help.

She passed a stand of junipers and their
scent was Christmas with Clay.

Rain and tears nearly blinded her. The storm
deafened her. A white car with a bronze five-pointed star overlaid
with the word Sheriff swung around the curve in front of her and
her heart soared. Help. She'd found help.

The car braked, sliding into a stop and a
Native American man emerged from the cruiser wearing a brown
slicker with the Sheriff's Department logo. Her exhale was part
sob. Relief nearly sent her to her knees.

* * * * *

Chapter
Two

Mine
, Tekoa thought. The land had
called to his spirit and brought it back to his body when she'd
passed the totem poles. He'd known he'd find her on the road, but
now the pain and fear in her sob, the desperation in her eyes and
the engagement ring on her finger had his heart thundering in an
uncertain beat.

Every instinct demanded that he take her in
his arms but he forced himself into his role of sheriff. "What
happened?"

"A boulder hit the car. We went off the
road."

"Who was with you?"

"Clay."

"Your fiancé?"

Tears sheened her eyes. She nodded. "He's
hurt. He's at least got a concussion. But there could be internal
injuries."

Another sob like the one she'd first greeted
him with left her, and again he fought the urge to take her into
his arms. Already he burned with the desire to protect and comfort
and possess her.

He fisted his hand rather than curl it
around her arm, grabbing at any excuse to touch her. Nodding toward
the cruiser, he said, "Get in the front."

He slid into the driver's seat, uncertainty
and hope and worry for her turning Thunderbird spirit into a
tornado trapped inside a mortal body. She was his perfect
match.

As a man he wouldn't have known it, not with
the ring on her finger. But his spirit had passed over her in the
Thunderbird's form and recognized her as his mate.

One of his mates.

Let her be the first of two mates.

Her fear and anxiety burrowed into him. If
Clay wasn't also meant to be his mate, then the ring on her finger
said she would endure the grief and pain of losing someone she
loved.

That possibility made it a struggle not to
floor the gas pedal. Tekoa's heart beat too hard and too fast in a
too tight chest, sending ache into the hands gripping the steering
wheel. "What's your name?"

"Jessica. Jessica North."

"I'm Tekoa." They reached the totem poles
and the rain eased.

"Turn left," she said. "It's a little
further."

The sky darkened with storm and nightfall.
He sped up, driving as fast as he dared.

They rounded jutting rock and ahead of them
a man lay sprawled face-up in the road.

"Clay!" She unclasp her seatbelt and grabbed
the door handle.

Tekoa shackled her wrist, the contact enough
to fist and squeeze his heart. "Hold on."

He braked a few feet from Clay, released her
and shifted the cruiser into park.

She shoved the door open and scrambled out.
He joined her, kneeling next to Clay.

Blue eyes with uneven pupils opened.
"Jess?"

"I'm here. The sheriff's here. You're going
to be okay." She stroked Clay's cheek, love in her touch and gaze
and voice.

Tekoa leaned over Clay. "Do you hurt
anywhere?"

"Stomach hurts. Chest hurts. May have broken
some ribs."

"Anything else?"

"Head hurts. Puked a little while ago. Think
I have a concussion. Had one before." He closed his eyes and
shivered violently. "And cold. So cold."

"Let's get you to the car," Tekoa said.

Clay roused enough to help them get him on
his feet and then onto the back seat.

Tekoa retrieved a blanket from the trunk and
covered him, then tapped Clay's cheek. Slowly Clay opened eyes the
color of a summer sky.

Let him be my mate
, Tekoa thought.
"Stay conscious."

"Will try."

Returning to the driver's seat, Tekoa
shifted out of park. "There's a turnout up ahead."

"How far to the hospital?"

"Too far."

Her sound of distress arrowed into his heart
and this time he didn't stop himself from taking her hand.

He wanted to say,
It'll be okay. Clay
will be okay.
But they weren't of The People and she wouldn't
be comforted by his intention to do a sing.

He squeezed her hand, glanced away from the
road long enough to meet her eyes and will her to trust him.
"Downed trees and mudslides have the fastest route to the hospital
blocked. There are ways around but they'll add hours to the trip
and some of the roads are extremely rough. There's a good chance
that traveling over them will make him worse. My cabin's closer.
Right now it's better to get him there and out of his wet
clothes."

The curl of her fingers around his, the feel
of her engagement ring against his palm, wrapped his heart in bands
of heat and hope. "Okay," she said, twisting in her seat to monitor
Clay, the tug of her hand from his leaving aching bands of
longing.

They reached the turnout, did a U-turn and
headed toward his cabin.

Jessica was his. He didn't doubt his
spirit's recognition of a mate. But was Clay?

He'd know soon enough.

The rain lashed against the cruiser as if
urging him to hurry, hurry, hurry. And his hands tightened on the
steering wheel, his worry for Clay increasing.

There could be internal injuries. But he
hadn't lied to Jessica, he would never lie to her. The fastest
route to the hospital was blocked and the roads they'd have to
detour on were rough and jarring and might well be impassable.

If Clay wasn't also meant to be his mate, if
Clay couldn't be healed with a sing…

Tekoa's throat tightened. Phantom talons
gripped and pierced his heart.

The loss would be devastating to Jessica and
he wouldn't willingly see her hurt. He'd rather give her up than
claim her knowing that the only way he could was if Clay died.

Finally the cabin came into sight and
Jessica grabbed the door handle as if she'd jump out before he
stopped moving. His hand twitched on the steering wheel as he
suppressed the need to shackle her wrist.

They reached the cabin and he maneuvered the
cruiser as close to the front door as he could. He parked and
Jessica flung her door open, scrambled out of the car.

His heartbeats alternating between ache and
hope, Tekoa got out and opened the back door. Cold air and frigid
water blasted into the back and struck Clay's face.

His eyes opened. His teeth chattered.

With Clay's help, they got him out of the
cruiser and into the cabin.

"On the rug in front of the fireplace,"
Tekoa said.

They crossed the room, lay Clay down on the
thick rug Tekoa's grandmother and great aunt had woven in the red,
white, black, yellow and blue that were the Thunderbird's
colors.

"He's pale," Jessica said, pressing her hand
to Clay's forehead, her voice tight. "And his breathing is more
labored."

"Get him out of his wet clothes while I get
the fire going."

Tekoa closed his hands, opened them,
fighting against covering the hand touched to Clay, against cupping
the back of her head and pulling her forward so he could kiss the
fear and worry away. He turned toward the fireplace and there were
two half-full cups balanced on the Thunderbird his brother Ukiah
had carved into the mantel.

Lightheadedness had Tekoa reaching, gripping
the smooth polished wood of the mantel's edge. Clay would be okay.
Not only would Clay be restored to health with the sing, but the
appearance of the cups containing the Creator's liquid blessing
meant Jessica and Clay would become of The People, that they'd be
able to fly as Thunderbirds.

Tekoa offered a silent song of thanks then
knelt and opened the fireplace grate. While his spirit had flown as
a Thunderbird, his human shell had rested on the rug where Clay
lay. When he'd been called back and flown over Jessica, he'd taken
only long enough to dress and bank the fire before racing from the
cabin.

The flames came readily to life while behind
him, the rustle of clothing marked Jessica's progress at stripping
Clay. He steeled himself against showing any reaction to Clay's
nakedness. They might be the lovers who would share his bed and his
life, but right now they were strangers who needed his help.

He turned and in a heartbeat was suffocated
by his clothing, bound too tight by his own skin. He hadn't allowed
himself to really see his mate, not when all Jessica's concern, all
their concern had needed to be on reaching and rescuing Clay, but
now…

His heart stuttered. Her vulnerability
called to him. Her blue eyes were the color of a warm, clear lake,
the color of a sky meant for endless soaring. Everything about her
was exquisite, soft and gentle and heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

He wanted to hold her and bury his face in
her hair. He wanted to take her mouth with his, to press kisses to
each inch of revealed skin. He wanted…

A blush stole into her cheeks. She looked
away and he cursed himself for what she must have seen in his face.
She was engaged and Clay lay between them in need of care.

Tekoa rose from his crouch in front of the
fireplace. "I'll take his clothes."

He reached for the dripping clothing. She
let go without meeting his eyes.

Damn
. The last thing he wanted was
for her to get spooked or think of him as some kind of predator.
Which was going to make what he needed to say next rate a
fifty-fifty chance of causing trouble.

She'd removed her shoes and socks and
jacket. Her light blue shirt looked dry but her jeans were soaked
and muddy. "You need to get out of anything wet."

Jessica nodded, her heart hammering away and
the pulse in her neck as good as a flashing neon sign broadcasting
her nervousness. He was right, but…

Get over yourself.
It's not like she
wasn't used to men looking.

Her shirt was long enough to cover her
panties, barely. Besides, the shirt and panties combined weren't
any more revealing than wearing a bikini and a cover-up at the
beach.

Tendrils of steam rose from her jeans. In a
little while the mud would become caked dirt.

She stood and Tekoa turned his head and
closed his eyes, not that she needed the privacy but she
appreciated it. Not that he was the only one guilty of looking.

He was probably thirty-five to Clay's
thirty-two and her twenty-seven, a little more rugged in appearance
than Clay, but every bit as beautiful, as masculine, as compelling.
His nose and chin and cheek bones begged to be traced with a
fingertip.

His skin was smooth like dark wood, the
expanse of his shoulders like a tree that had stood for hundreds of
years. And the way his torso tapered down to become abs she'd bet
were an eight pack, not a six pack, were an invitation to kiss
downward.

The fire popped and crackled and sparked,
catching the diamond in a flash of light and reminding her that she
had a man.
A man who wants to be with another man.

Her throat locked and her chest constricted.
Her eyes went to Clay and some of the tightness eased. He'd gained
color with the fire's warmth and he'd stopped shivering.

It was going to be okay. He was going to be
okay. Somehow they'd find a way to stay together and be okay.