Primal Calling (9 page)

“Serena. Chris said you saw our dancers last night?” She pulled out a chair and sat, gesturing for Serena to join her.

Serena nodded. “Arna and Chris took me. I loved the beating drums and watching the intricate traditional movements.”

“I remember the year Max danced with them.”

“Aanaga.”
Max leaned against the fridge, his arms still folded over his chest.

“Max dances?” Serena smirked at him. “I can't picture it.”

“My grandmother taught me when I was a kid,” he offered.

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that.” She was grinning at him, her white teeth flashing, her beautiful blue eyes twinkling.

“Why? What do you care about me as a kid?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I can't explain why, but you fascinate me.” The curve of her face was framed by the soft sweep of her long brunette curls falling past her shoulders. When she smiled and turned on the charm, her extraordinary beauty hit his psyche like an arrow to his chest. Throw in her unusual interest… He better
watch himself around her. She shouldn't have that kind of power over him.

“I'm going to bring in the firewood.” He turned and stalked off.

 

M
AX'S GRANDMOTHER WAS
a wonderful cook. Hot coffee, cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs. Serena sat and stared into her creamy coffee. Did she really even care about Shishmaref? Its story had been told, or she wouldn't have read about it in her research. An update might be interesting, but she still burned to know what had happened to Max the day of the crash. And flying with him somewhere would have given her a chance to ask some questions with a captive interviewee.

She still wanted to know why he blamed himself so much that he'd holed up in his cabin for months. Was it just the horrific experience of almost dying? Or survivor's guilt? Or had something else happened that fateful day?

She'd decided she wouldn't use his grandmother as a source. Not that she would willingly hurt Max with the story, but she was after the truth, whatever it turned out to be. And if the facts turned up something bad, she'd hate herself for using Max's sweet grandmother.

Not that the woman seemed prone to tell Serena anything useful.

“That should be enough firewood to last you the week,
Aanaga
.” Max dusted off his hands on his jeans as he stood from a crouch where he'd dropped the last armload of logs next to the fireplace.

Evelyn's house was basically a two-room cabin. The large front room was kitchen and dining on one side and a living room on the other, with a bedroom and bathroom in the back.

“You are a good man, grandson.” Evelyn patted his bearded cheek as he sat next to her.

“Only you think so,
Aanaga
.” He slid a glance at Serena.

When Max called his grandmother
Aanaga,
his voice softened. His whole demeanor changed when he spoke to her. “Maybe if you didn't work so hard to make everyone believe you were bad…” Serena challenged him.

“He has always been that way,” Evelyn said. “He set himself apart from the other children, never making friends. Always so angry.”

“You want more coffee,
Aanaga?
” Max interrupted her.

The carafe was closest to Serena, so she refilled Evelyn's mug.

“He would come home with a bloody nose or a black eye from fighting with bullies who called him half-breed, and I could do nothing.”

Suddenly feeling intrusive, Serena tried to change the subject. “I was hoping you would give me that recipe for moose stew.”

Evelyn pinned her with a sharp-eyed look. “You must not fight your destiny, Serena. The Searching One will find Max's wandering soul.”

“
Aanaga,
enough.” Max stood. “If you're going to keep talking like that, I'll take Serena home.” His face
was stone hard, and he glared at her as if this was somehow her fault, which was ridiculous—she was on his side on this. Even if she believed in destiny, she believed one made one's own fortune.

But, Serena
had
chosen to come here.

“Very well.” Evelyn bowed her head, as if in defeat. “I will be quiet.”

“Aanaga.”
Max drew her name out like a warning and his lips curved slightly in the semblance of a smile. “You don't fool me with that meek and humbled act.”

She raised her head and smiled at her grandson. “If I promise not to speak of the Searching One, will you repair my dripping bathroom faucet?”

Max crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at his grandmother. “I'll take a look. But I mean it.” He pointed an index finger at her, and then gave one last glare directed at them both. Muttering something about his toolbox in the truck, he strode out the front door.

Evelyn turned back to Serena. “Now that he's gone we can talk freely.”

“Um, maybe we shouldn't—”

The old lady waved a hand. “We only say what we must,
ii?
”

Serena hesitated. But she longed to hear more about Max. And not for any story. Surely he couldn't object if the information was for her ears alone.

Max slammed back in carrying a battered toolbox and walked down the hall.

“So, tell me how Max came to be a pilot.” Serena
refilled her own mug with coffee and settled in to hear about Max's father, the air force pilot down in Texas. Seems when Max contacted him after never hearing from the man for eighteen years, his dad paid for Max's college and flying lessons. “It was the hardest thing I ever did. Letting him go to Texas all alone.” Evelyn got to her feet and began stacking recently washed plates and utensils. Serena rose to help.

“But Max had to start a new life after his wife—”

“Aanaga!”

Serena jumped as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Max stood at the entry to the kitchen scowling.

His grandmother turned an innocent look on him. “I only promised not to speak of the Searching One. And I have not.”

He grunted. “I fixed the leak,
Aanaga
. Now it's time for me and Serena to leave.”

Despite feeling guilty, only one thing reverberated in Serena's brain.
Max had a wife.
Or at least, he'd had one at some point. She desperately wanted to know what had happened. But she sure couldn't ask him right now.

Evelyn held her hand. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

Serena looked to Max for an answer, but his face seemed to be frozen in a perpetual scowl. She turned back to Evelyn. “If I can.” Giving the old lady a quick hug and kiss on her weathered cheek, Serena picked up her purse and headed out to the truck.

Mickey followed on her heels, and Max behind him.
He motioned for the dog to jump into the truck bed, and then joined her in the cab. But instead of starting the engine, he sat a few seconds, then wiped a hand down his beard and scratched under his jaw. What was going on?

“You still want to get to Shishmaref, right?”

Serena had to switch gears in her mind. “Uh…sure.”

“I'll fly you there and back, no charge, if you leave Barrow after that.”

Talk about being blindsided. Wow, did that hurt. Her chest actually ached. It shouldn't feel personal, but it did.

“My grandmother has gotten the wrong idea about us. I don't want her hurt.”

“I think your grandmother is smarter than you give her credit for.”

“But you'll still go behind my back and squeeze information from her.”

“Squeeze? I tried to discourage her.”

“Yeah, right.”

Why did every conversation with this man end with her wanting to slug him? “Okay, let's say you're right and I'm a slimeball reporter sneakily gathering information on you for a story.”

He slanted her a look and she crossed her arms. “Okay, okay. I did do that in the beginning. My point is, I did some investigating and I've found no evidence of drug running, or murder, or even spying for Russia. And I just flat don't believe you've done any of those
things. So, it seems to me, telling your story would only exonerate you.”

“So, you
are
still trying to do a story on me.” His eyes glittered with anger.

“No. That's not what I meant. I was just making a point. You know what? Never mind. Fly me to Shishmaref tomorrow and then I'll leave Alaska forever, okay?”

“Good.”

“Good!” She crossed her arms and faced the window.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” It was so cold in the truck she could see her breath when she talked.

He drove her to the hotel in silence and then just before she got out, he said, “We'll leave for the airport at seven.”

She finally looked at him. “Fine.” And she slammed the door.

M
AX CHECKED
with the tower, and then taxied down the runway, preparing for takeoff. He'd flown supplies into Shishmaref on his way from Nome often enough to be familiar with the airport and the ground crew there.

Serena sat beside him, cold and silent. She hadn't spoken to him all morning.

After takeoff and banking to head south, he glanced her way.

She was leaning toward the window on her side, staring out, with her video camera in her lap. Guess she wasn't planning on speaking at all. Now, why the hell did that bother him? He set his jaw and concentrated on his instruments and the weather. At least Mickey seemed to have returned as his ally.

Serena gasped. “Are those moose? Oh, there are so many.” She lifted her camera and started filming.

So, now she was speaking to him? Max checked outside his window. “Caribou.”

“Oh.” She finally looked at him. “Is there any way you could fly lower and follow the herd for a sec?”

He almost snapped that he wasn't a tour guide, but, what the hell. He'd let her have this last day. Then he'd be rid of her. He radioed the Barrow tower and then reduced his altitude a couple hundred feet.

“Oh, they're magnificent.” She continued filming for a few minutes, then put down her camera and turned to him. “Thank you.”

He gave her a quick nod, uncomfortable with the warm gratitude in her voice. Why'd she have to make him feel like a heel all of a sudden? He had every right to want her gone.

“Oh, wow, are those seals?”

Sure enough, a large seal population was lying out along the rocky coastline. The plane was too high up to tell if they were the spotted or bearded variety.

This gave Max an idea. April in the Chukchi Sea… If she liked the caribou and seals, she'd love this. He took a minute to calculate his fuel consumption and figured he could just make it.

“You ever seen a pod of whales?”

She quickly faced him, her eyes alight with excitement. “No. Is it possible to see them from here?”

“Yep. 'Bout this time of year the bowhead are swimming north to their summer feeding grounds around Barrow. Mostly alone, but sometimes you can catch them in a pod.”

“Oh, Max, that would be so cool.” Her smile hit him right in the chest, just like when he'd first seen her in
Anchorage. It was enough to bring most men to their knees and he wasn't immune.

Turning the steering wheel, he banked to the west, heading out over the Chukchi to look for any signs of a bowhead. Visibility was good, with the sun struggling through the clouds every once in a while. If there were any around here, chances were good they'd see them.

After a few miles with no sighting, he banked just a bit farther west and got lucky. He heard Serena gasp about the same time he spotted them.

“Oh, Max.”

Three bowheads surfaced and then slipped back into the sea, their tails flipping into the dark water.

“Oh, they're so beautiful. I don't even care that I didn't get them recorded. That was amazing.” She put her hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Max.”

He shrugged. “Keep your camera ready. We might see more.”

Her enthusiasm was so infectious he couldn't help but feel the thrill of seeing the huge creatures himself. Searching the still icy waters below for more bowhead, he was eventually rewarded. Two large heads breached the water and splashed back down, as if showing off for Serena's camera.

After they disappeared back into the depths of the sea, he watched Serena lower her camera to her lap and meet his gaze. She didn't say a word, but this time her silence didn't bother him. Everything she felt was right there on her face, and in her eyes. Amazement.
Gratitude. Awe. And something more. Something he'd acknowledged as fact but never felt in his heart.

It was spring in the Arctic. He'd lived most of his thirty-two years here. He'd seen polar bear cubs emerge from their dens, the arctic fox raise her pups and wild-flowers bloom on the tundra. He'd seen the majesty of mountains, and the glory of the northern lights. But just now, on a deep, visceral level, he felt something he'd never appreciated. The earth's capacity for rebirth.

And a human's, too?

A lump formed in his throat and he fought hard to push down the emotion. Good thing he wore his sunglasses.

For the rest of the trip he concentrated on making it to Shishmaref and landing safely. When he was feeling this good, usually something in life came along and knocked him down. But not today, if he had anything to say about it.

Landing was tricky. The only runway was located on part of the island that wasn't much wider than the landing strip itself.

After he touched down smooth as glass, he taxied to the only hangar and then got out to tie down the plane and see about refueling.

Serena disappeared inside. She didn't even say goodbye.

What did he care? But for some reason, he felt…alone. Which was stupid. He was always alone. Alone worked for him.

She reappeared, walking toward him, smiling, her
hair blowing behind her. The sun came out from behind the clouds at that moment and turned her hair into burnished copper.

A foot away from him, she stopped. “I have an appointment to speak with someone from the village council, but not until one. Want to get some lunch?”

The emotions he'd managed to push down earlier came back. Damn. If he wasn't careful she'd have him believing a beautiful, intelligent woman could be interested in him. Next thing you know he'd be sucked into her fantasy world where wrongs could be righted and guys like him got a second chance. Then as soon he started believing in the dream, she'd move on to her next assignment.

“No, you go ahead.” He tipped his head toward the gas pump. “I need to get more fuel.”

“You need to eat, too.” She smiled at him expectantly.

“I've got Mickey. I'll grab something out of the vending machine.”

Her smile faded. She pulled up her hood, spun on her heel and walked away.

Max gritted his teeth and swallowed. Tore his gaze away and called to his dog. While the plane refueled he ate some crackers and drank a stale cup of coffee, then fed Mickey some beef jerky.

The rest of the day passed slowly. He played checkers with an old air force vet in the hangar's office, tried to nap a little in an ancient metal chair, watched a couple
planes take off and land. The village of three hundred wasn't a bustling metropolis.

He wondered what Serena was doing and whether she had learned anything new to write about or found anyone who would talk to her about relocating an entire village before it slipped into the sea forever. Max could see high waves crashing over the eroding land from where he stood. But unless you were the one losing a community that had been around hundreds of years, who cared?

Evidently Serena did.

About half an hour before they were supposed to leave, he checked all the weather reports and ran a preflight check on his plane. There were a couple of storms predicted on route for later this evening, but they should be past them before they hit, and even if they caught the tail end of one, it was nothing he hadn't flown in before. He sure as hell didn't want to stay here tonight.

When Serena didn't show up at their agreed-upon time, he started pacing the hangar.

He was about to call out a search party when she showed up at the hangar forty-five minutes late. “I said to be back by five.” He held up his left wrist with his cheapo watch on it.

“I know, I'm sorry.” She jogged through the hangar to the plane. “I totally got caught up in filming this house that's falling off a cliff, and then the mayor invited me to dinner.”

Making sure she heard his disgusted sigh as he climbed into his Cessna 206 behind Mickey, he shoved
his Ray-Bans on and started the engine. “If the runway had gotten icy, we'd have had a hell of a time taking off.”

“You could do it. You took off from a frozen lake, remember?” She smiled at him.

“I bet you were a cheerleader in school, weren't you?”

She pulled a face. “And you were probably voted most likely to pronounce the glass half-empty.”

Ignoring her gibe, he taxied the plane down the run way, talking to the tower and, once he got cleared, took off.

For the first half hour, he listened while she talked about the village of Shishmaref and the people there. When he spotted dark clouds ahead he radioed the tower in Wainwright and decided to try to go around the storm front. The amount of fuel limited how far they could go, but he banked to the east and, though it cost them half an hour, they got around it and were back on route. His shoulders relaxed and he drew a relieved breath.

He checked the wings. No ice.

They had flown another ten minutes in a companionable silence when a huge front of dark clouds rolled in off the Chukchi Sea directly in their path.

The second front. But it was much bigger.

He pushed down the beginnings of panic and checked his fuel.

A potent gust of wind lifted and bounced the plane around like a child playing with a toy. Serena looked
over at him with a worried expression. “Are we going to go around this storm too?”

He shook his head. “Not enough fuel.” He shoved his sunglasses on top of his head as they entered a dark, thick cloud. “There's going to be some turbulence, and it's important you stay calm.”

She frowned at him. “I'm not scared, Max. I trust you.”

He blinked, realizing he'd expected her to panic like his buddy had that day of the crash.

The plane continued to bounce around and she didn't move or say a word. In fact, when Mickey whined, Serena reached down and rubbed his head and ears and made soothing noises.

Then sleet hit the windshield. For the next forty minutes, it took every ounce of attention and control Max had to keep the plane steady through the storm. The Cessna was jolted and buffeted every which way so badly, Serena would have been thrown out of her seat if she hadn't been strapped in. But, though she may have gone a little white around the mouth, she never succumbed to hysteria, or cried, or even complained.

Max watched in awe as she comforted Mickey, and once, she touched his arm and asked if he was getting tired.

“I wish I could be more help,” she said, and bit her bottom lip. As if this was somehow her fault. Most people would be blaming him for getting them into this.

Finally he was able to radio Wiley Post-Will Rogers Memorial Airport and get his bearings. As he lowered
altitude to get out of the clouds, their ride smoothed somewhat and the Barrow runway lights came into sight. The landing was rough, but considering it was still sleeting, he was lucky he didn't slide off the runway and crash. When he finally taxied into the hangar and shut off the engine, his hands ached from gripping the yoke so tight.

“You did it!” Serena reached across the seat and threw her arms around him, smiling as if he'd won a gold medal. She kissed him on the cheek, then pulled back and planted one on his mouth. When she would have stopped, he gripped her shoulders and took control, slanting his mouth over hers with possessive intent.

“Max.” She whispered against his lips. “Take me to your house. I want to be with you tonight.”

She didn't have to ask him twice. He threw open his door, called to Mickey, then went around to help her out. When she would have jumped down on her own, he gripped her waist with both hands and lifted her down and into his arms, kissing her again so she wouldn't change her mind. She trembled in his arms, making soft encouraging noises as he kissed down her throat.

He could barely breathe, couldn't think. He only knew he had to have her now.

Once in his truck she slid over so Mick could ride in the cab, then pressed herself as close to him as she could and kissed along his neck, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing down to his collarbone. Her hands played with his hair and caressed his nape. He could barely watch the road with her practically climbing in his lap.

And he soaked it up like a starving mongrel.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they stumbled into his house and back to his bedroom, shutting the door and leaving Mickey to fend for himself. Max silently vowed he'd make it up to his faithful companion later. But right now he was busy pulling off Serena's sweater, and yanking off her boots and jeans until all she wore was a black lacy bra and thong.

She fumbled with his zipper and once she had it down she sank to her knees, pulled out his cock and took him into her mouth.

Biting back a curse word, he gripped the sides of her head, plunging his fingers into her hair as she sucked him hard and swirled her tongue around the tip. “Serena,” he groaned.

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “I got so turned-on watching you fly that plane. So in control, so strong.”

Emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He grasped her shoulders, pulled her to her feet and poured what he couldn't say into his kiss.
You're beautiful, and brave, and generous. You make me see the world differently. Better.

Still kissing her, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. He pulled off his boots and socks and she started to unhook her bra.

“No.” He stopped her. He wanted to remember her lying here in her tiny scraps of black lace. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and he probably
never would again. Her lips wet and swollen, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath, and her flat stomach quivering.

“What are you thinking when you look at me like that?” she asked.

“I'm thinking…I want to remember you like this forever.”

She smiled. “Oh, Max.”

He shucked his jeans and underwear, and then crawled onto the bed to lie beside her. Lifting a hand, he ran the back of a finger under the lacy edge of her bra and sprinkled kisses wherever his finger went, then traced the finger up and slowly pulled a strap down and kissed her shoulder and the side of her neck.