“Not yet. You don’t think like that. I know you.”
He turned from her as if she no longer existed and faced Utah with the prod in his hand. “Let’s see if I can make you roar, lion man.”
* * * *
Utah was barely holding in his screams as the guy named Harlan hit him over and over again. He’d thrown the electric cattle prod aside earlier in favor of the brute force of the police baton. The two yahoos on either side of him were wearing brass knuckles and taking cheap shots at him as well. Blood was trickling down his right side, washing the face of his lion tattoo in red.
Fuck, this hurt.
It didn’t help that Abby was in the cell across from him, screaming and crying. She cared.
God, he felt like the biggest heel in the world. He’d never realized she had a crush on him, and he should have. Why else would she keep coming to the bar night after night? The nachos weren’t that great, and neither was the ambience. It was a roughneck bar where most of the patrons rode Harleys like he did.
He blocked the pain from his mind, focusing on Abby instead. She was cute with her hair in disarray around her. It was longer and thicker than he’d figured, and damn, it’d felt good against his skin earlier when he’d awoken with her in his arms. So had her breasts, her nice full tits she hid so well beneath the big hoodies and sweatshirts she seemed fond of. And that ass had fit in his palms like it was meant for him. Abby had more secrets than just the crazy man trying to kill him. When they made it out of here, he’d make her spill.
He felt the sharp prick of a serrated blade and glanced down to see Harlan tracing the mouth of his lion with its edge.
Fuck, that hurt like a bitch.
“Maybe I need to focus on your spirit guide.” He sliced over Utah’s skin, and this time Utah couldn’t throttle the cry of pain.
Spirit guide? This guy was bat shit crazy.
“Give me one of the stun guns,” Harlan ordered, and one of his goons jumped to get it for him. “I want to hear you fucking roar,” Harlan screamed as he pushed the gun against the tattoo and sent another charge through Utah’s body.
Utah roared. He threw his head back against the wall and roared for all he was worth. If the fuckwad wanted a roar, he’d give him a fucking roar.
“We’re getting there.” The man sounded positively gleeful. “Give me the syringe! Give it to me now. Quickly!”#p#分页标题#e#
“No!” Abby screamed across from him. “You’ll kill him, Harlan. For God’s sake! You’ll kill him.”
Harlan turned back to Utah with a syringe full of something in his hand.
Utah thrashed as much as his bonds allowed. Fuck! What was the crazed man going to give him now? He didn’t want to leave Abby unprotected. What would they do to her? Would they torture her like they were him? He roared again, pulling uselessly at the chains.
“Yes! Yes!” Harlan exclaimed and drove the needle deep into Utah’s chest, pressing the plunger down until it was empty.
“Tah!” Abby screamed the nickname he preferred.
He felt a burning in his veins, and this time when he roared, he swore the room shook. He thought he saw a look of shock and terror on Abby’s face. Then everything went black.
Chapter Two
From the journal of Abby Lane
I finally convinced Professor Mueller to accept me into the group heading to Africa! I haven’t been this excited in so long! I wish my parents were here to share in my happiness. I miss them so much. But I refuse to be sad today, even here in my journal. I want to celebrate! I want to jump for joy.
Not only will this be my first anthropological trip, but I’m heading to Africa, the home of the legend that has held me enthralled since I came across it as a child, the paka watu. In my head, I know it is legend, the lore of ages past, people who become great cats can’t possibly exist. But my heart screams differently, and I feel compelled to keep searching as if there is a voice inside me crying out that this is my destiny, crying out I could be the key to waking them.
It is funny considering it was a lion who destroyed my life. Yet, still I love the lion and cast no blame on the species for the act of a lion who was so hurt and wounded, driven by the fear and fever that consumed and sought to kill him.
I will write more when I arrive. I am a last minute addition, and I must pack quickly! Somehow, I know this trip is fated, and that it will change my life!
* * * *
I’m here. Africa. And it is just as beautiful as I imagined. We work long days, but I love every moment. I’ve met some local bushmen, and they’ve invited me to visit. I plan to take them up on it, even though Professor Mueller has expressly forbidden any of us to wander off alone. I’m exhausted and falling asleep as I write this. Hopefully, I will have greater things to share soon.