Jungle Rapture Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 M.A. Jewell

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-263-9

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  With love for my husband, Jim, and sons, Jason and Craig, who have had faith in me since I first said, “I think I'll write a book.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Special thanks to Sally J. Walker (editor/author), who graciously mentors beginning writers, as well as published, in her critique group, The Nebraska Writers Workshop. My writing roots are here.

  Another thank you to Jules Dixon (author) and the writers in the Omaha Romance Critique and Writing Group. Jules encouraged me and lent her professional eye to bring this book into being.

  When I type “by M. A. Jewell” I always want to add “et al” since so many people help make it happen. You know who you are. Thank you.

  JUNGLE RAPTURE

  The Jaguar Queens, 1

  M.A. Jewell

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Tears blurred Kelsi Gorman's view of David's body, face down in the mud, only feet from her in the tight Amazon clearing. His camera pack rested against his side with a strap still looped over one shoulder. She was too terrified to mourn, as her grief-numbing dread consumed her.

  A few yards to the south, a limp, muddied jaguar appeared just as dead. Wire cable stretched taut from a rust-colored front paw to a tree-embedded anchor about knee high. Jungle-floor sludge painted over her rosettes.

  Kelsi almost wished the poachers had tranquilized her, too. Twine scored her wrists secured behind a tree trunk. Her hidden hands trembled with mounting panic as she picked at the knotted hemp.

  A twenty-something Brazilian with coffee-toned skin stepped toward her, his pungent body odor preceding him. He stood nose to nose to her five-foot-seven height. Dark eyes scanned her body. Kelsi turned from his scrutiny and swallowed against the stench.

  His steel rifle barrel lifted her chin. He turned a questioning look to his partner. Kelsi stilled. This was it. She strained to catch meaning in their Portuguese. "Carlos? Green eyes … sell … Manaus. Good money."

  Sexual enslavement terrified her, but also ignited hope. Stay alive. Traffickers dealt in drugs, exotic animals, and human cargo—and Brazil was a hotbed for all three. These poachers would be connected to the slave trade. An escape into Manaus, the capital of Amazonas, seemed possible, unlike here, surrounded by savage rainforest.

  Stocky, with close-cropped, graying hair, and equally fragrant, Carlos appeared in charge. His hands stilled on a portable cage he assembled. "Too old, Julio! White … United States!"

  Bile rose to Kelsi's throat. She tilted her head and widened her eyes, willing the older man to find her marketable, a challenge, since her shoulder-length, chestnut hair stuck to her face in damp clumps. Nor did her sweat-ringed shirt and baggy pants show her figure to any advantage.

  Disgust plain on his face, Carlos berated his partner, gesturing to David's body. They spoke too fast for Kelsi's elementary Portuguese. But apparently, Julio had erred when he killed her photographer.

  If they didn't sell her… Kelsi's blood ran cold.

  Finally, Carlos leveled a black-eyed glare at Julio. "Police … kill her."

  Julio sent Kelsi a startled look. For an instant, she thought he'd refuse. A defeated expression lined his face before he pulled his gaze away.

  Heart pounding a staccato beat, she pushed back at the eruption that clawed inside her chest. Not now! Panic-filled eyes would give her away. If the poachers realized she understood them, she'd lose her only advantage. She jerked her gaze to the tangled foliage behind them.

  Deafening bird racket burst from the canopy high above. As the pandemonium died down, a cough came from the undergrowth. The poachers froze. Both men leapt to the center of the space and stood back to back. Carlos lifted a tranquilizer rifle against his shoulder, loaded a dart, and slammed the bolt into firing position. Julio mirrored him with his own lethal weapon.

  They turned in sync, scanning the green morass. Kelsi shuddered when the business end of Julio's loaded rifle passed over her. Behind the two men, giant spade-shaped leaves pulsed as a shadow moved between them. Her heart jumped under her sternum. Maybe the cowardly guide she'd hired had returned. She dared to hope for a rescue.

  "I'm an American! U.S. Army Rangers will come for me!" She shouted nonsense to distract the two men. Unless the no-good jungle expert returned, she and the poachers were the only humans within fifty miles.

  Carlos gave her a dismissive glance, but appeared satisfied nothing lurked outside the clearing. Julio ignored her and paced to the immobile cat.

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered to David. Tears streamed her face.

  She'd lured him to his death with promises of publication in the National Geographic. An article on a black jaguar, rumored to be the size of a saber-toothed tiger, had meant so much to her. Now, she'd join David.

  Carlos strode to the man’s body and pulled it to its side. No longer flaccid, the corpse turned board-like. Various sized ants traveled his skin, already doing Mother Nature's work. Nausea churned her stomach. If rigor mortis had set in, she'd been tied up for at least two hours.

  After taking their wallets from their backpacks, Carlos grabbed the camera and used his machete to cut the strap from David's neck. He fumbled the memory card from its slot then dropped the high-end Canon into the mud.

  Images of the two poachers charging the thrashing jaguar had earned David a bullet to the chest.

  "Idiota." Carlos spat at the ground. With a booted foot, he shoved David back into the muck. The wet slurp broke something inside her.

  "You disgusting pig! Don't touch him!" Angry sobs punctuated her outburst. Without sparing her a glance, Carlos joined Julio near the unconscious jaguar.

  Kelsi scanned her surroundings with new determination. Trees, a couple feet apart, reached skyward in a palisade-style cage while congested vines and ferns defended the ground beneath. All home to myriad toxic plants and venomous creatures. Beyond the jungle gauntlet—a three-day hike to the north—lay the only route to civilization, a caiman-infested river. Escape would be short-lived, but she had to try.

  A few feet away, Carlos propped his machete against a stump. "Cage … jaguar."

  Kelsi plotted her moves to escape her bonds. She’d grab the blade, decapitate Julio, and run Carlos through mid-body. The men struggled to load the cat into the kennel. Both laid their guns down to use their hands. Her best shot at freedom had materialized.

  With all her might, she jerked her left arm once, then twice to no avail.

  Carlos and Julio turned toward her as one. Julio retrieved his rifle as he rose. Time to pay for her long-odds wager. Black seeped into her vision. Tears obscured her executioner's face. "Please, Julio. Don't."

  He didn't meet her eyes. The squish of his mired steps halted at her side. Metal grated as the rifle's bolt slid back. A round clicked into the chamber. Cool steel pressed to her temple.

  "Our Father, who…" Her shaky words trailed away.

  Chapter Two

  Slender green spikes of tall grass quivered in the stagnant air.

  A silent shadow launched to wrap around Julio fro
m behind. Kelsi's scream burned her throat. The black monster dwarfed the poacher, collapsing him to all fours at her feet. Claws sank into his torso and raked bloody seams through his shirt. Julio shrieked, flailing at the enormous jaguar on his back.

  The mountain of straining muscle rocked into her, slamming her lower body into the tree behind her. She choked down another wail of terror. Noisy prey attracted cats, like the squealing Julio. Again, adrenaline lit that unseen fuse to the living maelstrom inside her. She smothered the panic-driven reaction.

  Focused on taking the next silent breath, she forced herself to watch the vicious attack, rooting both for and against the jaguar. The powerful beast fought for a lethal hold on Julio's head or neck.

  Seemingly fearless, Carlos closed in a few steps and took aim. As he fired his dart, a second, louder report sounded from under the cat. If a bullet found the jaguar, it didn't show. A metal-caged syringe hung from his flank. Any sedative would need several minutes to work. Carlos likely used the only weapon he possessed.

  A wet crunch of skull split the air. Screams cut off, Julio collapsed beneath the jaguar in a limp heap. Relief and horror combined at the sound of her executioner's end.

  "Não, Julio!" wailed Carlos. He stopped short at the sight of his dead comrade, then lifted his gaze to the beast. Only then, it seemed, did Carlos note the feline's enormous bulk. Fear replaced aggression in his widened eyes. The big cat zeroed in on the older man. Low to the ground, the gigantic jaguar stalked toward the poacher.

  "Demonio!" Pure terror etched the Brazilian's face.

  Guilty she felt no sympathy, Kelsi prayed the cat would chase the poacher down. Clutching his empty tranq rifle, Carlos yelled and waved his arms as he back-pedaled with measured steps. Clearly, he knew how to handle a jaguar attack. Kelsi silently urged the cat to follow him out. Given enough time, she'd free herself.

  The animal halted, his eyes tracking Carlos's retreat until the poacher disappeared into the jungle. Slivers of sunlight painted the jag's black coat bronze. Obsidian rosettes decorated the metallic sheen. Rounded ears flicked before he turned to pad through the soupy mire to the comatose, rust-colored female.

  Kelsi tensed. If she stayed quiet, maybe the cat would overlook her. The black jaguar nudged the female’s slack jaw with his muzzle, moving her pink tongue in the watery mud. He uttered a mournful cry.

  In a dangerous lapse, the poachers had left the unconscious cat's eyes open. Her corneas could sustain permanent damage. They'd used a locking snare, too, the rat bastards. She'd lose her leg if not released soon.

  The female's territory must overlap the big male's. They might've even mated at some point. Kelsi's heart went out to the beast, helpless to free his girl.

  "I'll cut her loose if I can, big guy," Kelsi whispered.

  The jaguar paced to sniff David's corpse. If the beast consumed her friend, she'd dissolve into a psychotic puddle. Her stealth plan evaporated along with her sympathy. "Shoo! Go away! Get lunch somewhere else."

  At her shout, he lifted his wide, black head. Startling blue eyes, with a disturbing intelligence, met hers. Surprise cut through her fear. His eyes should be amber! Kelsi snapped her gaze to his shoulder to avoid a challenging stare. She studied him—definitely a him. A scar parted the dense fur from his right ear to his jaw. Who could've gotten a lick in on you?

  She'd found the rumored black jaguar. She guessed him to be forty inches tall at the shoulder and nearly eight feet long, nose to rump. Impossible. Definitely some genetic anomalies here. Back home in Nebraska, she worked with the big cats at the Omaha zoo. Their largest male was six feet long and three hundred thirty-one pounds. You could throw a saddle on this beast.

  He padded the few steps to her and halted. Kelsi's pulse thudded in her ears. With him so close, she could smell him. Not like the musky girl-cat at all, but fresh and green like leaky vines newly cut by a machete.

  He settled to his haunches at her feet, twitching his tail. The jaguar lowered his head to her boots and walked his nose up her inner pant leg. Muscles in her arms and legs quivered with fear-induced adrenaline. Whiskers twitched at each point of interest. Kelsi's nerve faltered, and she muffled a scream through pursed lips.

  He studied her then bumped his forehead against her abdomen. The gentle head butt, a common jaguar greeting behavior, somehow assured her he wouldn't attack.

  "Okay, big guy. Show's over. Go home." She managed to keep her voice steady.

  He answered her with a snarled cough then lifted to his haunches. Perched like a house kitty ready to bat a toy, he looked down at her. He's only playing with his food. When he rested muddy paw pads on her shoulders, a ragged gasp seared her throat.

  Kelsi squeezed her eyes shut against impending death. A beat later, the great cat rubbed his muzzle hard against her left cheek, then her right. She forced deep breaths to stave off a complete meltdown.

  His greenhouse scent was stronger up close. Oddly, his essence quieted the psychic volcano inside. Breath puffed warm against her damp skin. She dredged up the courage to look at him. Fathomless blue held her captive. And something else…

  The cat reared back and launched vertically. His belly rocketed past her, and then he raced up the tree. Each lunge rattled her teeth until he leapt to another tree altogether. Kelsi slumped against her bindings, the only thing holding her upright.

  Chapter Three

  Jaime Salazar peered down through the branches at the luscious woman staked out like poacher bait. Her scent, akin to the white tree orchids, nearly had him caterwauling like a back-alley tom. He always controlled his jaguar instincts—until today. He couldn’t even blame the tranquilizer for his lack of self-control. The drug had no effect on him. He pulled the nearly forgotten dart from his flank.

  Cristo! I marked her. Mated until death. From this day on, only the woman tied below would arouse him. Scent glands at the base of his whiskers still throbbed for release.

  Logic urged him to shift to human and cut her free. Cat instinct demanded he claim her as mate. With claws extended, Jaime leapt to a sturdy branch to put another tree top between them. First, above all else, he needed to ensure her safety. He was much more lethal as a jaguar.

  A biped-cache of clothing was only a kilometer away. Unfortunately, the poacher could return and finish her off. I should've killed him. A naked man coming to her aid, likely aroused, would only terrify her. A human introduction would have to wait. He circled back to the clearing.

  Cinnamon's acrid, panicked scent came to him. Fortunately, the old girl, a friend of sorts, lay insensible. At her terrified cries, Jaime violated the small territory he protected for her inside his own broad jungle domain. She was too old to maintain a holding. Her fight had cost her a fang, and at least two claws had been ripped from her toes. He'd release her before she woke up.

  A few meters away, the green-eyed angel's scent signaled terrified human girl. Up close, his nose found a delicious, jaguar-shifter queen. Addictive, sexy, hot feline. Only a few male jag shifters remained, and until today, no females. How she could exist, from the United States no less, made him doubt his sanity.

  All those years ago, Papai's advice had been true. "Son, don't worry. If you ever find a female, you'll know. And she won't need to be in cat form either."

  Still secured to the tree, the lady had made progress. Her determined chatter relieved him. "Just a little more. Yes! Ouch. Damn, that hurt."

  Blood-soaked twine dangled from her wrist. She grumbled curses at the dead poacher as she bent over to untie her ankles. "Criminitly! What is this stuff?"

  Jaime didn’t know the name, but tribesmen cut fiber strips from the plant. The pliable strands knotted strong and tight. His need to ease her struggle almost overwhelmed his resolve to stay hidden. A snarl from Cinnamon pulled his attention.

  Damn. The dart must've failed. She should be down for two more hours.

  "I'm coming, sweetie!" The girl redoubled her efforts at freedom.

  She intends to release Cinnamon!<
br />
  Jaime kept an eye on the woman while he traversed branches to a position over the trapped jaguar. Cinnamon lifted her head and blinked. Another fight with the snare would kill her. Even if he had to expose himself to his soon-to-be mate, Jaime would shift to free her.

  The woman, stretched out over the mire, reached for a nearby machete and nabbed it with two fingers. Silently, Jaime urged her on. Wobbly on three legs, Cinnamon tugged at her paw and screamed. Soon, she'd fight full throttle.

  "Whoa, girl. I'm coming."

  Standing, the woman used the blade's tip on the knots until her ankle bindings fell away. She rushed to Julio's corpse. Jaime wouldn't feign regret over the dead human. Protecting his mate had been just cause, and Cinnamon's torture deserved justice, too.

  "They've got to be here." She rifled through Julio's pockets and pulled out wire-cutters, then stepped slowly to the jaguar. "It's okay, kitty-kitty."

  Cinnamon lifted a predatory stare. With a throaty growl, she gathered her hind legs under her. And Jaime's mate kept coming.

  He gauged his leap to subdue the jaguar. The woman hummed a soothing low tone, but why? About two feet from Cinnamon's kill zone, she dropped to all fours and locked eyes with the cat. Meu Dios! She showed such confidence with Cinnamon, yet she'd been terrified of him. Of course, crushing a man’s skull under her nose might've given her pause.

  Cinnamon settled to the ground, while the snare held her left paw aloft. Amazing! Still humming the single note, the brave girl closed in and laid a hand on Cinnamon's free foreleg. Almost placid, the jaguar broke eye contact to look at the human's touch.

  Jaime stilled in wonder. Cinnamon must detect the inner jag, too.