And though she tried to suppress it—of the look in Aryck’s eyes. The heat of his hands on her, making her feel beautiful, feminine, wanted.
Remembering it made her skin flush and her breasts swell with the phantom touch of his lips and fingers on her nipples. It made desire pool in her belly and threaten to slide lower, between her legs.
Knowing her companions would scent her arousal gave Rebekka the strength to push the memories back. Coming into sight of the pride’s home helped erect a barrier against their return.
It’s better this way, she silently repeated, forcing herself to give this world she would most likely never visit again her full attention.
Where the Jaguars lived in cabins and the Wolves lived in a tentlike village made of animal hides, the Lions lived in low adobe buildings built against sloping canyon walls. None of them had wooden doors or shutters, but all had roofs laden with rubble and supporting the growth of scrub, so from above it wouldn’t be obvious they were dwellings.
Lions lounged on the roofs, sunning themselves and watching with interest. More than one cub crouched above a doorway as if preparing to spring on an unwitting playmate or sibling when curiosity drew them outside.
Eucalyptus trees added shelter without eliminating the openness of the area in front of and between the dwellings. The scent of the trees filled the air.
“This way,” Levi said, guiding her toward a building where at least thirty Lions gathered, almost all of them in animal form.
She felt his tension where his palm touched her shirt. It pulsed from him to her in a steady beat echoing with pain. And as they reached the pride members, Rebekka knew its source.
Levi didn’t exist for them. They looked through him, their movements orchestrated so even as they cleared a pathway to the doorway, there was no acknowledgment of his presence.
Her heart ached and guilt washed over her. She’d been so consumed with her own pain as they traveled, she hadn’t noticed that of the Lions, only Cyrin interacted with Levi.
Two men stepped to the doorway opening, blocking it with wide-leg stances and crossed arms. The Lion to the left radiated curiosity while his companion seethed with distrust and disapproval. It was the latter who said, “Only the healer may enter.”
Twenty-three
LEVI’S hand fell away from her back. “I’ll wait for you here.”
She glanced down at Caius. He crowded against her side, unconsciously seeking security. His attention focused on several cubs.
They tussled in lion form, engaged in a mock battle for possession of a dead rabbit. As she watched, one of them snatched it up and bounded close to where they stood, dropping the carcass with a quick look to Caius before grabbing it back and leaping away, only to be tackled by his companions.
Rebekka laughed and ruffled Caius’s hair. “That looked like an invitation. Go play.”
He clung for a moment longer before shimmying out of his clothing and shifting, then cautiously approached the Lions. After some hissing and puffed fur, he was soon rolling and leaping and tumbling.
With a last look at Levi, Rebekka entered the dwelling. There was no furniture, though there were several thick piles of fur scattered around the small room. Given how few of the Lions she’d seen in human form, and considering the open nature of the dwellings, Rebekka guessed that unlike the Wolves and Jaguars, the pride spent most of its time wearing fur.
A young woman appeared and motioned Rebekka forward, leading her deeper into the building. The lighting grew more diffused, coming from the rooms with window and door openings and filtering into those farther away from the outside.
Though they weren’t lit, Rebekka noted squat candles placed on metal sconces set high in the walls. The woman signaled they’d reached their destination by repositioning the furs, pulling them so there were three abreast facing a lone pile, then gesturing to the isolated seat and saying, “Sit. The grand matriarch comes.”
Rebekka removed the journal from her pocket and sat cross-legged with it on her lap. The young Lion female left.
Several minutes passed before Rebekka heard the sound of slow, shuffling footsteps. Instinct and the tenets of courtesy demanded she stand, but her rational mind urged her to remain in a nonthreatening position and not inadvertently issue a challenge.
The grand matriarch entered, a stooped, white-haired elder flanked by a woman of Phaedra’s age and a man Rebekka immediately guessed was a shaman. His hair was worn in dreads, resembling a mane around a face bearing swirling designs branded deeply into it, so even when he shifted form he would be recognizable.
Like Caius, his eyes were blue. But unlike the Tiger cub’s, the shaman’s were sightless.
All three Lions were draped in loose deer hides of varying lengths, giving Rebekka the impression they’d covered their nakedness at the last minute and as an afterthought.
Slowly the grand matriarch lowered herself to the pile of furs in the center. When she was settled, the shaman and older female took up positions on either side of her.
“Word of your deeds has spread throughout the Were lands,” the grand matriarch said. “It stirred my interest and since I had cause to invite you here, I indulged my curiosity. You deserve Pride thanks for returning Cyrin to us. I have heard it said you showed great courage and risked your life on his account.”
It took only the memory of Levi’s pain pulsing through her as he was shunned to make Rebekka speak out on his behalf. “If anyone deserves thanks, it’s Levi. Cyrin would be dead if Levi hadn’t chosen a human form so he could stay in Oakland and work to free his brother.”
The grand matriarch waved the words aside with a pale hand. “Since you are owed Pride thanks, I will speak to you on this matter. We mourn the loss of the one you praise. But we no longer say his name out loud for fear of drawing evil fortune to ourselves. He is dead to all except his pride family, and in two days’ time, after they have performed certain rites, even they will no longer see him.
“If he lingers among us beyond that time, he will be seen as a malevolent spirit bent on causing harm to the Pride. He will be hunted, and the physical body holding him to the land killed by those who have apprenticed themselves to Hotah, our shaman. The world of the dead is Hotah’s to navigate. Upon Cyrin’s return, he approached the ancestors, hoping because of the way Cyrin’s brother lost his life among us, it could be restored through purification and judgment. They spoke plainly on the matter.”
The grand matriarch paused and, with a slight tilt of her head, indicated the woman next to her. “The ancestors said that for Magena’s grandson, whose soul has already been sundered and cast from the shadowlands, only death of the body will come if he presents himself to them.”
Even though Rebekka expected as much, hearing the words added to the sense of inevitability she felt bearing down on her. If Levi was to be made whole, she had to become a healer like the ones Annalise Wainwright spoke of, which, in the end, meant she would have to do her demon father’s bidding.
Her hands tightened on the journal, and feeling the leather beneath her palms reminded her of earlier thoughts, and her plan to return to Oakland without going back to the Jaguar lands or seeing Aryck again. It took only moments to tell the Lions of her promise to Phaedra and to convey the value of the information contained in the long-dead Jaguar’s recordings. The grand matriarch was nodding her approval even before Rebekka asked if she could remain long enough to speak to the healer and pass on what she hadn’t yet shared with Phaedra.
“Magena is our healer,” the grand matriarch said, naming Levi’s grandmother. “Go with her. You will be welcome in her pride home.”
Rebekka relaxed her grip on the journal. At least for the next two days, Levi would be welcome as well.