Tiger's Curse (49 page)

He pulled me under the shadow of a tree. I stood very still and quiet, afraid that if I spoke I’d say something I’d regret.

He cupped my chin and tilted my face up so he could look in my eyes. “Kelsey, there’s something I need to say to you, and I want you to be silent and listen.”

I nodded my head hesitantly.

“First, I want to let you know that I heard everything that you said to me the other night, and I’ve been giving your words some very serious thought. It’s important that you understand that.”

He shifted and picked up a lock of hair, tucked it behind my ear, and trailed his fingers down my cheek to my lips. He smiled sweetly at me, and I felt the little love plant bask in his smile and turn toward it as if it contained the nourishing rays of the sun. “Kelsey,” he brushed a hand through his hair, and his smile turned into a lopsided grin, “the fact is . . . I’m in love with you, and I have been for some time.”

I sucked in a deep breath.

He picked up my hand and played with my fingers. “I don’t want you to leave.” He began kissing my fingers while looking directly into my eyes. It was hypnotic. He took something out of his pocket. “I want to give you something.” He held out a golden chain covered with small tinkling bell charms. “It’s an anklet. They’re very popular here, and I got this one so we’d never have to search for a bell again.”

He crouched down, wrapped his hand around the back of my calf, and then slid his palm down to my ankle and attached the clasp. I swayed and barely stopped myself from falling over. He trailed his warm fingers lightly over the bells before standing up. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he squeezed, and pulled me closer.

“Kells . . .
please
.” He kissed my temple, my forehead, and my cheek. Between each kiss, he sweetly begged, “Please. Please. Please. Tell me you’ll stay with me.” When his lips brushed lightly against mine, he said, “I need you,” then crushed his lips against mine.

I felt my resolve crumbling. I wanted him, wanted him badly. I needed him too. I almost gave in. I almost told him that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be with him. That I didn’t think I was capable of leaving him. That he was more precious to me than anything. That I’d give up anything to be with him.

But then he pressed me close and spoke softly in my ear, “Please don’t leave me,
priya
. I don’t think I could survive without you.”

My eyes filled up with tears, and shiny wet drops spilled down my cheeks. I touched his face.

“Don’t you see, Ren? That’s exactly why I have to go. You need to know that you can survive without me. That there’s more to life than just me. You need to see this world that’s opened up to you and know that you have choices. I refuse to be your cage.

“I could capture you and keep you selfishly to indulge my own desires. Regardless of whether you’re willing or not, it would be wrong. I helped you so that you could be free. Free to see and do all of the things that you missed out on all these years.” My hand slipped from his cheek to his neck. “Should I put a collar on you? Chain you up so you spend your life connected to me out of a sense of obligation?” I shook my head.

I wept openly now. “I’m sorry, Ren, but I won’t do that to you. I can’t. Because . . . I love you too.”

I kissed him quickly one last time. Then, I gathered up my skirts and ran back to the restaurant. Mr. Kadam and Kishan saw me enter, looked at my face, and immediately rose to leave. Thankfully, the men were quiet on the way home while I cried softly and brushed the flowing tears away with the back of my hand. When we arrived, a sober Kishan briefly squeezed my shoulder, got out, and went into the house. I took a deep breath and told Mr. Kadam that I’d like to fly home in the morning.

He nodded silently, and I ran up to my room, closed the door, and fell onto my bed. I dissolved into a broken puddle of weeping despair. Eventually, sleep overcame me.

The next morning, I got up early, washed my face, and plaited my hair, tying the end with a red ribbon. I put on jeans, a T-shirt, and my tennis shoes, and I packed my things into a large bag. Reaching out a hand to touch the
sharara
dress, I decided that it held too many memories to bring with me, so I left it in the closet. I wrote a note for Mr. Kadam, which told him where the
gada
and the Fruit were and asked him to store them in the family vault and to let Nilima have my
sharara
dress.

I decided to take Fanindra with me. She felt like a friend to me now. Carefully placing her on top of my quilt, I picked up the delicate golden anklet that Ren had given me. The little bells tinkled as I brushed my finger across them. I had intended to leave it on the dresser, but I changed my mind at the last minute. It was probably a selfish thing to do, but I wanted it. I wanted to have something from him, a keepsake. I dropped it in my bag and zipped the bag closed.

The house was quiet. Silently, I walked down the stairs and passed the peacock room where I found Mr. Kadam sitting and waiting for me. He took my bag and walked with me out to the car, then he opened my door, and I slid in to the seat and buckled my seatbelt. Starting the car, he circled the stone driveway slowly. I turned to take one last look at the beautiful place that felt like home. As we started down the tree-lined road, I watched the house until the trees blocked my view.

Just then, a deafening, heartrending roar shook the trees. I turned in my seat and faced the desolate road ahead.

t
he immaculately dressed man stood at his penthouse office window. He gazed upon the city lights far below and clenched his fist.

He lived in a city of twenty-nine million people, the most densely populated city in the world, but the generations rose and fell like so many waves upon the beach, and he stood alone, a rocky, unmovable sentinel, letting the waves of humanity pass him by, hardly noticing them at all.

How do you find one small person in a city of millions, let alone a world of billions?

After all these centuries, the other pieces of the Damon Amulet had resurfaced—and with it, a girl. He hadn’t felt this surge of energy in a long, long time.

A quiet chime announced his returning assistant who entered and bowed. He stood and said only three words, the words his employer had been longing to hear from the moment he had seen the vision and caught a glimpse of an old foe and a mysterious girl.

“We found her.”

I’d like to thank my early reading group. My family—Kathy, Bill, Wendy, Jerry, Heidi, Linda, Shara, Tonnie, Megan, Jared, and Suki. And my friends—Rachelle, Cindy, Josh, Nancy, and Linda.

Hand claps for Jared and Suki who helped me brainstorm cover designs for the
Tiger
series books and for also organizing my author photos and the website.

Special thanks for my editor from India, Sudha Seshadri. Her enthusiasm and guidance in the language and culture of India was invaluable. She patiently and kindly advised me, going above and beyond the duties of an editor. I’m sure I would have offended many people without her. If there are any discrepancies, cultural or linguistic, they are entirely my own, and I apologize in advance for anything aberrant. Rest assured, it was not my intention. My hope is that I’ve shown India’s people and culture respect, and have depicted the beauty of their land and the rich mythology of their people in an appropriate way.

I am always appreciative of my husband, who went through countless edits. He waded through pages of meager novice scribbling and helped shape my first book into what it is today. His enthusiasm kept me writing. Even though he’s lived on sandwiches and leftovers for a year he’s never complained and brags about his author wife to anyone willing to lend an ear and even to some who won’t.

Thanks to my friend Linda who gave me great feedback on every chapter. Many of the paragraphs in
Tiger’s Curse
are thanks to her requests for more detailed information. Her tireless support and excitement kept me motivated to write every day and I always look forward to talking about my tigers with her.

Thanks to my sister Linda who is my confidant, hair stylist, personal chef, housekeeper, and cookie baker. Without her, there would be no double chocolate chip peanut butter cookies. She kept my household running so I could write my first book. When she moved away I was crushed and overwhelmed. There’s no replacement for her. Everyone should have such a sister . . . such a friend.

I would also like to express my gratitude to Tina Anderson, the Manager of the Polk County Fairgrounds and to my editors—Rhadamanthus, Gail Cato, Mary Hern, and especially Cindy Loh. Cheers for my agent Alex Glass, who gently coaxed me through my post-traumatic-rejection-letter syndrome as well as patiently explained all the business parts of the writing industry, and thanks for all the help from his team at Trident Media.

Thank you to all the people at Booksurge who got my self-published version on the market. I’d like to give my undying gratitude to Judi Powers and all the people at Sterling who joined Team Tiger with a level of excitement that was entirely unexpected. I feel extremely humbled and grateful that they were willing to give my tigers and this new author a chance.

Thanks to Raffi Kryszek who was the first in the mainstream world of books and movies to embrace my story. He’s a fellow Trekkie with a wide grin that never leaves his face, whose energy for my series, and tigers in general, matches and perhaps surpasses my own. And thanks to his eleven-year-old niece who gave him the book in the first place.

Extra special hugs for my nieces and nephews who lent me their names—Michael, Matthew, Sarah, Rebecca, Sammy, Joshua, M. Cathleen, D. Andrew, and Madison. I promise I’ll work the rest of you in later.

COLLEEN
HOUCK’s debut novel,
Tiger’s Curse
, has already achieved popular digital success and was named a finalist for the 2010 Next Generation Indie Book Award in YA Fiction as a self-published eBook.
Tiger’s Curse
is the first volume in her multi-book Tiger Saga. Colleen lives in Salem, Oregon, with her husband and a white stuffed tiger.

To find out more,

visit
www.tigerscursebook.com