Dream Stalker Read online

  The bear cried and then lurched to his feet. He seemed in a hurry to go and Sebastian could not blame him.

  Why had the ghost left the bear before Sebastian had killed it? He had witnessed possessions before. A ghost only abandoned a body when forced to do so by a powerful healer or by death. But this was no ordinary ghost—it was the ruler of all. So why had the Spirit been unable to possess him? Was it even possible for a Superior Spirit to possess an Inanoka? Sebastian puzzled over this until he heard a whimper, like a wolf pup crying for its mother. He faced the woman. What about her had drawn the notice of the great Nagi?

  Chapter 2

  T he woman cradled her arm as if it was broken, Sebastian noticed. A mane of thick black hair fell over her face and narrow shoulder, veiling the wound from him.

  She lifted her chin, sending her black hair cascading back like a waterfall of silken threads. Her face was wet with sweat and tears. Still, it was a striking face, with dark lashes that fanned high cheekbones. Her wide, curved mouth was open and she panted with labored breath. Her cinnamon skin and angular features told him she was a member of the first people. Did she know the old ways?

  She still clenched a necklace in her injured hand, her grip so tight that her knuckles grew white. A cross or star, likely, he thought as he inched closer, suddenly curious.

  His instincts told him to be wary of this one for Nagi wanted her, and he only pursued evil souls. Outwardly, she looked like any innocent creature attacked in the circle of life. But humans were masters of deception.

  He sniffed, using the keen senses that never left him, even when he took human form. He smelled blueberries first and then the tang of fear and acrid scent of pain and something else, something new. How badly was she injured?

  He crept closer still, telling himself with each step that she was none of his concern. But he was curious, always curious. She did not look like most human females he had seen. She was better constructed—lovely, even—in her pain. He paused and squatted before her, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.

  He drew a breath as she focused her strange green eyes upon him. They were as radiant as a birch leaf shimmering in the sunlight. Her dark sooty lashes fanned her cheeks as she blinked up at him. She seemed stunned speechless from the attack. Her whining ceased at his approach, but tears continued to course down her pale face. They trickled over her jaw and down the long column of her neck. Sebastian studied the pulse at her throat and noted that it beat too fast.

  Still she gripped her necklace. He placed a hand over hers, realizing too late that it was a mistake. She released the pendant and gripped his arm with more strength than he would have thought possible. Her actions sent a shot of animal awareness straight to his core. He stared at her anxious face and then to the amulet swinging against her chest. His eyes widened as he noted the bear effigy.

  Sebastian stared at the carved fetish. This was her talisman? Was she one who sought to emulate the powers that were his, one of the Clan of the Bear?

  “Why do you wear this?”

  “I’m of the Bear Clan,” she said.

  He didn’t know if it was her imploring green eyes or the sight of his likeness around her neck that beckoned. But he answered, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks.

  He glanced toward the tree line that marked the divide between his world and hers. He sniffed the air, but he smelled no one. Cocking his head, he listened for some sound from the old woman who lived in the cabin just beyond the ridge of spruce. Surely this small female did not venture in his wilderness guarded only by this stone pendant?

  He should go. The rustling sound brought him around again, but he saw only a whiskey jay hopping through the underbrush. He considered following. The female released his arm.

  She made a feeble attempt to draw away the tattered clothing covering her wound. Her pathetic struggle touched him, and he sat beside her. He would wait with her until her people came. In human form, he should not frighten her with his presence, and he could at least protect her from other predators. His gaze narrowed as he wondered if the ghost would have the nerve to return.

  Likely he would, but not while Sebastian stood watch. It was unusual for Nagi to leave his realm of shadows, but not unheard-of. But to attack a living being—it was an abomination.

  Her panting brought his attention back to her.

  “It is gone?” she asked.

  He nodded. “For now.”

  Her eyes widened at this and he realized his qualified answer did not reassure. He could not lie to her. “If it hunts you, it will return in one form or another.”

  Her brow wrinkled and her gaze no longer seemed focused. Was she dying? That thought brought him to his haunches beside her. If she died, the ghost would have her, and he would be damned if he would let that miserable low-flying cloud be the victor.

  He knew what needed to be done, but he dreaded it. He disliked walking among them since a woman as small and weak as this one had shamed him. His cheeks burned at the memory, but he shook it off. She had done him a favor. He preferred the order of nature to the chaos of the world of men. All that woman had done was set him on his true path.

  He gazed down at the wounded female, vowing not to be diverted by this one.

  He frowned as she glanced around. The sunrise burned away the mist, chasing it back and increasing his line of sight. The lawn before the little cabin was discernible through the spruce. He steeled himself to cross the invisible line. He would carry her that far. Then he would close her wounds, mend her bones and be gone.

  “I’ll bring you back to your world.”

  She opened her eyes at this. “My world?”

  Sebastian was so accustomed to hauling heavy loads that he was appalled, when he lifted the female, at her frailty and near weightlessness. She stared at him as he carried her, mesmerized him with her bewitching eyes. Something twitched inside him, some unfamiliar pull, almost as if she, this weak human, posed him some threat. But what could she do to him? The idea was laughable.

  He drew her close to his chest and wondered if all females fit so well to their male counterparts. The unfamiliar tug increased and he reconsidered her power. There was definitely something here, for he had picked her up instead of leaving her where he found her and now he did not want to put her down.

  “I cannot stay,” he said, more to himself than to her.

  The sooner he was rid of her, the better. She made him think strange thoughts—rousing, lustful thoughts. He wondered what lay beneath the artificial trappings that humans insisted on wearing and how would she look in the sunlight, robed as Wakan Tanka intended?

  The thought caused a rippling excitement that so surprised him, he nearly dropped her. Only then did he recall that humans did not mate in season, but at any time or place. That meant the males were always in rut. No wonder he was having such crazed thoughts.

  He walked in the skin of a man and was now subject to all his cravings. He shook his head in disgust, but the action did not serve to clear his mind. It only made him more aware of his tingling skin and the growing urge to stroke this woman.

  She placed a hand upon his bare chest. He glared, angry at her for making him wonder what it would feel like to mate with her.

  “Do not touch me like that,” he cautioned.

  Her hand slid away, but the impression still burned.

  Sebastian had to stifle the feral growl that rose in his throat. The female had been through enough without being attacked a second time. It was then that he recalled he wore only a cloak. Was that why they wore the fabric, as a shield from this touch of skin on skin?

  He mimicked her clothing. With a single stroke of the claw fastened at his neck, he changed his cloak into a pair of tight blue denim pants and a similar open shirt.

  He glanced at her tattered shirt. Where was the blood? Sebastian paused in his stride as he recalled the sight of the bear attacking her. He had gripped her by the shoulder and shaken her as a fox shakes a grouse to break its neck. Why, the
n, was there no blood?

  Something was wrong.

  He lowered her to the ground beneath the canopy of green branches. She did not struggle as he propped her against a fallen log and swept back the hair that covered her injuries. His eyes widened with horror as he saw the yellow gleam emanating from the raw, open gash.

  “Spirit Wound,” he whispered.

  From far off came the low rumble of a truck with a hole in its muffler. The rusty pickup appeared on the dirt drive and rumbled slowly up to the cabin. The motor quit. Sebastian crept to the clumps of bright pink fireweed for a closer look.

  He spied an older man standing beside the vehicle. The male stared at the bag of birdseed propped beside the folded stepladder; finally he lifted his gaze to the woods beyond. Sebastian ducked.

  When he checked again, the man had turned toward the house, calling a greeting, but a moment later he was running down the steps.

  “Michaela!”

  Sebastian looked at the woman, but she stared straight ahead as if beyond hearing. Had the ghost taken her soul?

  No—the body could not survive without that. She was in some trance. He had seen this unnatural stillness in animals caught in the sight of a predator from which there would be no escape. At such times the prey might stand still with eyes wide-open as death took them. But death would not take this little one.

  “Where are you?” called the man.

  Sebastian froze in indecision. If she had suffered an ordinary wound, he could leave her where the old man would find her. But a Spirit Wound—no human could heal such an injury.

  To leave her was to reveal the gap between their worlds, something he had sworn to protect.

  Great Mystery, what to do?

  Sebastian dragged a hand through his thick hair. He could take her away to die where she would not be found, but if he did, the miserable ghost would have her.

  He ground his teeth together, hating his other choice, hating the thought of bringing a human into his world. She would not understand it or him and he would have to remain in human form to treat her, having to suffer these conflicting emotions and crazy ideas. Already she caused him strange sensations whenever they touched. Certainly these longings would only intensify when she roused.

  For reasons he did not understand, Nagi pursued this woman. Sebastian knew she had no chance without him. Sebastian crawled back to the woman and gathered her in his arms. Again he felt the savage, gripping urge to protect her. Undoubtedly this was another shortcoming of humans, some innate need to defend the female. He understood instincts and he acted upon them, lifting her into his arms as he crept through the cover of the forest. Traveling fast, he sought the wild places where man could not follow.

  Chapter 3

  T he birdsong reached her, and then a gentle wind brushed her cheek. Michaela blinked her eyes open to find herself propped up against a log in a grassy area. Before her, an unfamiliar stream burbled. The place seemed the picture of serenity. Why, then, were the hairs on her neck rising?

  Where was she? Disjointed images of bears and yellow-eyed monsters flashed, like lightning, through her mind.

  Michaela’s gaze darted about, searching for some familiar landmark. Instead, she found the cause of her disquiet. He watched from the shadowy grove of spruce to her left, as if intentionally shielding himself from view. He squatted on his haunches like a satyr, staring with intent, predatory eyes.

  His thick brown hair hung loose, brushing his wide shoulders and further cloaking his features. He did not smile, but rather looked warily at her. His tanned skin glowed a deep golden hue, a shade darker than hers. She had never met him, for she certainly would have remembered such a man. His long nose and slightly angled eyes reminded her of the Lakota, the tribe of her mother. Her tribe, as well, though she had never taken part in tribal politics or ceremony.

  He stood slowly, growing with her apprehension. He must be nearly seven feet tall, a giant of a man. He seemed invincible. Powerful enough to frighten off the ghostly eyed black bear without drawing a weapon. Yes, she recalled him now, standing fearlessly before the vaporous specter that stalked her. He had shouted at the monster and it had hissed an unintelligible reply. How was that possible?

  Every part of him was larger than life, from his fierce expression to his powerful restraint. He stood completely still, radiating danger as a furnace radiates heat. The intensity of his stare touched off whirlwinds of awareness in her.

  He stepped from the shadows, revealing himself, and her sense of vulnerability grew. Handsome did not begin to describe his features. Sexy, oh, yes, with a full erotic mouth and square jaw, the perfect complement to his thick dark hair.

  She looked up at her savior. This man, this man who was too beautiful to be a man, had rescued her from the yellow-eyed demon. He did not dissolve as the dark shadow had done, but continued forward.

  He paused before her, motionless. The menacing air surrounding him made her tremble.

  She dropped her gaze, unable to meet the invasion of his stare. It was then that she noticed the necklace he wore. The simple leather cord held an irregular lump of turquoise the size and color of a robin’s egg. Fixed beside the stone was a wicked three-inch bear claw encased in sterling silver. The uniqueness of the piece was not lost on her. Most lapidaries polished such valuable stones to more fully reveal the luster. Instead, the maker had chosen not to interfere with the perfection of nature.

  The silence stretched and she dared glance at his face once more.

  He seemed to be deciding her fate. She sensed his indecision.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  His brow furrowed, and she drew back. “Have you returned to your senses, little rabbit?”

  “What happened?”

  “What did you see happen?”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her memory lay broken like shattered pieces of glass. Her doctors had a name for this, something like “psychic break,” the separation of the mind from the grim reality of the body. But if she had suffered another brain injury, how could she recall the bear attack in such minute detail? The bear’s charge replayed in her mind. She saw it from beyond herself. The beast tore her flesh and shook her like a rag doll. A second bear, the grizzly, charging the first.

  She spoke without opening her eyes. “I was attacked.”

  He squatted at her side, his voice coming soft and commanding. “Yes?”

  “There was another bear, a bigger one.”

  He chuckled, though she could not fathom what was funny. She opened her eyes and found him reaching out. The urge to pull back and the desire to lean forward clashed within her, and so she did nothing at all as he stroked her cheek with his big, callused hand. At his touch, an unexpected sense of calm filled her, as if he had some special power to soothe.

  She nearly closed her eyes to savor the contact, but instead she narrowed them on him. Where had he come from?

  The deep gravelly quality of his voice made her insides jump as if he stroked her. “What else?” he coaxed.

  His hand settled on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

  She closed her eyes to concentrate, thinking back. What she had seen next had no logical explanation.

  Her eyes snapped open. “What are you?”

  He withdrew his hand. With it went the comfort she had gained from his touch. He clenched his fists, flexing the bulky muscles of his chest. The rock-hard wall of muscle served as a silent reminder of his physical superiority, and she forced herself not to cower as he stood menacingly over her like a raised dagger. She lifted her chin with an air of defiance that did not reach her quaking innards. He stalked away.

  Michaela glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings, more afraid of being alone than facing this brooding man. “Don’t go.”

  He paused, his back to her and his posture rigid. Standing there in the forest’s dappled light, he looked completely uncivilized. Gradually, he turned until she could see his face in profile.

  “You d
on’t know what you ask.”

  She didn’t, but she sensed he understood. She could see it in his troubled eyes, both the wisdom and the power.

  “You saw it.” Somehow she was certain that he had, and if he had, it meant the specter was not some creation of her mind. She clutched at that hope. Her doctors said her problems began and ended in her injured brain. But twice now she had seen the monster while awake—she was awake now, wasn’t she? Dr. Kent hadn’t believed her. But this man knew otherwise.

  He strode back to her like some wild beast, turning her hope to alarm. Her breath caught at the sight of his grace and primal beauty. He stood without presumption and with an aura of supremacy that captivated her. She had never seen a man like him. He crouched beside her with a dangerous confidence that unsettled her. Then he glanced around the deserted clearing, perhaps searching for signs of the nightmare that haunted her. His nostrils flared as he scented the air, as if he could sense things invisible to her.

  From this distance, she could see that his deep brown irises were ringed with gold. As she watched, his pupils dilated, adding to her gut impression that he was not what he seemed. He was dangerous, but was he more dangerous than her ghostly attacker?

  “Can you protect me from it?”

  He did not deny her peril as the doctors had done, nor did he diminish her fears. Instead, he fixed her with a commanding stare.

  “Perhaps.”

  Michaela’s voice grew hushed; she was afraid her nightmare might find her again. “What is it?”

  His crouched position and the way he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand reminded her of a cat cleaning his whiskers, and his golden eyes glowed unnaturally bright. She fought the urge to shrink back.

  “You don’t belong here.” His voice held a distinctive note of resentment as if she had trespassed on his territory.

  He grasped a lock of her hair, rubbing it slowly between his thumb and forefinger as if measuring its worth. His hooded, feral expression made her tremble. But she was not sure her reaction stemmed entirely from fear this time. His glance flashed to hers and held. Her breath caught.