Tiger's Curse (31 page)

All the neurons were firing in my brain simultaneously and causing my system to go haywire and stop working. I had no idea kissing felt like this. Sensory overload.

At some point, Ren reluctantly let me down. He still supported my weight, which was good because I was ready to fall over. He cupped my cheek and ran a thumb slowly across my bottom lip. He stood close to me, keeping one arm wrapped around my waist. His other hand moved to my hair, and his fingers began to slowly twist the loose strands.

I had to blink my eyes a few times to clear my vision.

He laughed quietly. “Breathe, Kelsey.” He had a very self-satisfied, smug grin on his face, which, for some reason, got my ire up.

“You seem very happy with yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I
am
.”

I smirked back at him and said, “Well, you didn’t ask for permission.”

“Hmm, perhaps we should rectify that.” He trailed his fingers up my arm, swirling little circles as he went. “Kelsey?”

I watched his progress and mumbled, distracted, “Yes?”

He stepped closer. “Do I—”

“Hmm?” I wiggled slightly.

“Have your—”

He started nuzzling my neck then moved up to my ear. His lips tickled me as he whispered, and I felt him smile, “Permission—”

Goose bumps broke out on my arms and I trembled.

“To kiss you?”

I nodded weakly. Standing on my tiptoes, I slipped my arms around his neck showing him that I was definitely giving permission. He trailed kisses from my ear across to my cheek in achingly slow motion, grazing along a path of his choosing. He stopped, hovering just over my lips, and waited.

I knew what he was waiting for. I paused only a brief second before whispering faintly, “Yes.”

Smiling victoriously, he crushed me against his chest and kissed me again. This time, the kiss was bolder and playful. I ran my hands from his powerful shoulders, up to his neck, and pressed him close to me.

When he pulled away, his face brightened with an enthusiastic smile. He scooped me up and spun me around the room, laughing. When I was thoroughly dizzy, he sobered and touched his forehead to mine. Shyly, I reached out to touch his face, exploring the angles of his cheeks and lips with my fingertips. He leaned into my touch like the tiger did. I laughed softly and ran my hands up into his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, loving the silky feel of it.

I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t expect a first kiss to be so . . . life altering. In a few brief moments, the rule book of my universe had been rewritten. Suddenly I was a brand new person. I was as fragile as a newborn, and I worried that the deeper I allowed the relationship to progress, the worse it would be if Ren left.
What would become of us?
There was no way to know, and I realized what a breakable and delicate thing a heart was.
No wonder I’d kept mine locked away.

He was oblivious to my negative thoughts, and I tried to push them into the back of my mind and enjoy the moment with him. Setting me down, he briefly kissed me again and pressed soft kisses along my hairline and neck. Then, he gathered me into a warm embrace and just held me close. Stroking my hair while caressing my neck, he whispered soft words in his native language. After several moments, he sighed, kissed my cheek, and nudged me toward the bed.

“Get some sleep, Kelsey. We both need some.”

After one last caress on my cheek with the back of his fingers, he changed into his tiger form and lay down on the mat beside my bed. I climbed into bed, settled under my quilt, and leaned over to stroke his head.

Tucking my other arm under my cheek, I softly said, “Goodnight, Ren.”

He rubbed his head against my hand, leaned into it, and purred quietly. Then he put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

Mae West, a famous vaudeville actress, once said, “A man’s kiss is his signature.” I grinned to myself. If that was true, then Ren’s signature was the John Hancock of kisses.

The next morning, Ren was gone. I got dressed and knocked on Mr. Kadam’s door.

The door opened and he smiled at me. “Miss Kelsey! Did you sleep well?”

I couldn’t detect any sarcasm and guessed that Ren had chosen not to reveal his night escapade to Mr. Kadam.

“Yes, I slept just fine. A bit too long though. Sorry about that.”

He gestured dismissively, handing me a rice cake wrapped in banana leaf, some fruit, and a bottle of water. “Not to worry. We will go retrieve Ren and drive to Durga’s temple. There’s no rush.”

I headed back to my room and set down my breakfast. Slowly gathering a few personal items, I placed them in my small travel bag. I frequently caught myself daydreaming. I’d look in the mirror and touch my arm, my hair, and my lips, while remembering Ren’s kisses. I had to constantly shake myself and refocus. What should have taken me ten minutes took an hour and a half.

At the top of my bag, I placed my journal and my quilt. I zipped my bag shut, and then went in search of Mr. Kadam. He was waiting for me in the Jeep looking over maps. He smiled at me and seemed in good cheer, even though I’d made him wait so long.

We picked up Ren, who leapt out of the trees like a playful cub. When he reached the Jeep, I leaned out to pet him, and he reared up on his hind legs to nuzzle my hand and lick my arm through the open window. He hopped in the back seat, and Mr. Kadam got us back on the road.

Carefully following the map routes, he pulled off on a dirt road that led through the jungle, finally stopping at Durga’s stone temple.

m
r. Kadam instructed us to wait in the car while he checked the temple for visitors. Ren nudged his head between the seats and butted my shoulder until I turned around.

“You’d better keep your head down. Someone may see you if you’re not more careful,” I said with a laugh.

The white tiger made a noise.

“I know. I missed you too.”

After about five minutes, a young American couple exited the temple and drove off, and Mr. Kadam returned.

I hopped out and opened the door for Ren, who started brushing up against my legs like a giant house cat waiting to be fed. I laughed.

“Ren! You’re going to knock me over.” I kept my hand on his neck, and he contented himself with that.

Mr. Kadam chuckled, and said, “You two go ahead and check out the temple while I keep watch for more visitors.”

The path to the temple was lined with smooth terracotta-colored stones. The temple itself was the same terracotta color mixed with striations of soft sepia, spicy pink, and pale oyster. Trees and flowers had been planted around the temple grounds, and various walking paths led off from the main entrance.

We climbed the short stone steps that led to the opening. The entry was open to the air and displayed tall carved pillars that supported the access way. The threshold was just high enough for a person of average height to walk through. On either side of the opening were amazingly detailed carvings of Indian gods and goddesses.

A notice, written in several languages, warned that we should remove our shoes. The floor was dusty, so I took off my socks too, and stuffed them into my tennis shoes.

Once inside, the ceiling expanded into a high dome carved with intricate images of flowers, elephants, monkeys, the sun, and gods and goddesses at play. The rock floor was rectangular, and four tall decorative columns connected by ornamental arches stood at each corner. The pillars showed carvings of people in various stages of life and occupations in the act of worshipping Durga. A likeness of the goddess was found at the top of each post.

The temple was literally carved out of a rocky hill. A series of stairs led up from the main floor in three directions. I picked the archway on the right and climbed the steps. The area beyond had been damaged. Crumbled, broken rocks were scattered all over the floor. I couldn’t imagine from the state of the space what it might have been used for.

The next area housed a stone altar of sorts. A small broken statue, now unidentifiable, rested on top. Everything was coated with thick sepia powder. Particles of it twinkled and hung the air like pixie dust. Beams of light descended from cracks in the dome and spotlighted the floor with narrow rays. I couldn’t hear Ren but every move I made echoed through the empty temple.

The air outside was stifling, but inside, the temple was merely warm and even cool in some places, as if each step brought me to a different climate. I glanced at the floor and saw my footprints and Ren’s paw prints and made a mental note to sweep the floor before we left. We wouldn’t want people to think a tiger was prowling the grounds.

After searching the area and finding nothing of consequence, we entered the archway on the left, and I gasped in amazement. A hollowed-out recess in the rock sheltered a beautiful stone statue of Durga. She wore a towering headpiece and had all eight arms arrayed around her torso like peacock feathers. She clutched various weapons, one of which was raised in defense. I looked closer and saw that it was the
gada
, the club. Curled around her legs was Damon, Durga’s tiger. His large claws were extended from a heavy paw and aimed at the throat of an enemy boar.

“I guess she had a tiger to protect her too, huh, Ren?”

I positioned myself directly in front of the statue, and Ren sat next to me. As we examined her, I asked him, “What do you think Mr. Kadam expects we will find here? More answers? How do we get her blessing?”

I paced back and forth in front of the statue while investigating the walls, poking my fingers gingerly into crevices. I was looking for something out of the ordinary—but being a stranger in a strange land, I wasn’t quite sure what that might be. After a half hour, my hands were smudged, cobwebby, and coated with terracotta dust. What was worse was that I’d gotten nowhere. I wiped my hands on my jeans and plopped down onto the stone steps.

“I give up. I just don’t know what we should be looking for.”

Ren came over and rested his head on my knee. I stroked his soft back.

“What are we going to do next? Should we keep looking or head back to the Jeep?”

I glanced at the supporting column next to me. It showed a carving of people worshipping Durga. On this one, there were two women and one man who were offering food. I thought they must be farmers because there were different types of fields and orchards dominating the rest of the post. Herds of domestic animals and farming tools were also carved into the scene. The man carried a bunch of grain slung over his shoulder. One of the women carried a basket of fruit, and the other woman had something small in her hand.

I got up to take a closer look. “Hey, Ren, what do you think that is in her hand?”

I jumped. The prince’s warm hand took mine and squeezed it lightly.

I scolded, “You really should warn me before you change form, you know.”

Ren laughed and traced the carving with his finger. “I’m not sure. It looks kind of like a bell.”

I traced the carving with my finger and muttered, “What if we made an offering to Durga like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we offered something. Like fruit. And then rang a bell?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. Anything’s worth a try.”

We headed back to the Jeep and told Mr. Kadam our idea. He seemed enthusiastic about making an attempt.

“Excellent idea, Miss Kelsey! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”

He dug through our lunch and pulled out an apple and a banana.

“As for a bell, I did not think to bring one with me, but I believe that in many of these old temples a bell was installed. The disciples rang them when guests arrived, when worshipping, and to call others to a meal. Why not search the shrine for such a bell. Perhaps you will find one, and we will not have to drive back into town to buy one.”

Taking the apple and the banana, I said, “I sure hope this works, and she blesses us because I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I hope you’re not expecting too much. Please don’t get your hopes up, Mr. Kadam, because you’re bound to be disappointed.”

He reassured me that he could never be disappointed in me and shooed us on our way.

Back inside the temple, Ren searched the altar area while I started digging through the rubble in the other room.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard, “Kelsey, over here! I found it!”

I quickly joined Ren who showed me a narrow wall at the edge of the room that couldn’t be seen from the doorway of the temple. Shallow stone shelves had been carved out like tiny alcoves. On the top shelf, far above my reach but still within Ren’s, sat a tiny rusty bronze bell covered in cobwebs and dust. It had a little ring at the top so it could hang from a hook.

Ren took it off the shelf and used his shirt to clean it. Wiping off the grime and powdery rust, he shook it, and it emitted an airy tinkling sound. He grinned and offered his hand, walking with me back to the statue of Durga.

“I think you should be the one to make the offering, Kells.” He brushed his hair away from his eyes. “You
are
the favored one of Durga, after all.”

I grimaced. “Perhaps, but you forget that
I’m
a foreigner, and
you
are a prince of India. Surely, you know what you’re doing more than I do.”

He shrugged. “I was never a Durga worshipper. I don’t really know the process.”

“What did or do you worship?”

“I participated in the rituals and holidays of my people, but my parents wanted Kishan and me to decide for ourselves what we believed. They had a great tolerance for different religious ideology because they were from two different cultures. What about you?”

“I haven’t gone to church since my parents died.”

He squeezed my hand and proposed, “Perhaps we both need to find a path to faith. I do believe there’s something more than just us, a good power in the universe that guides all things.”

“How do you stay so optimistic when you’ve been stuck as a tiger for centuries?”

He swiped a spot of dust from my nose with the tip of his finger. “My current level of optimism is a relatively new acquisition. Come on.”