Post by darkmaid on Nov 14, 2008 10:16:36 GMT -5
Deleted scene 1:
MaryAnn frowned at Solange. “I’m not sure this was such a great idea. You may like being out in the open, but I feel very exposed here. I think staying in the house was a much better idea. I’m heading back.”
She glanced down at her boots, covered with muck. No one was going to give her sympathy for ruining her favorite pair of boots, least of all jungle girl. She heaved a sigh. How in the world had she ended up in such a mess? Destiny. Her best friend. And where was she now? Probably snuggled up, safe and warm with her hunky man while MaryAnn slogged through a jungle filled with leeches, rabid leopards and the wild jungle chick.
“Out here I can smell them coming at us. We have more room to maneuver.”
MaryAnn slapped at mosquitoes, drew out her bug spray and lavishly and rather maliciously depressed the button to empty half the bottle around and over her. “Okay, look. You stay and smell them coming. I’m going to curl up with a good book in the comfort of a cushy chair.” She turned her back on Solange and started back along the muddy trail.
Why did everything in the rainforest have to be so wet? And the stupid rain fell endlessly. Bugs bit and snakes crawled and the wild jungle woman climbed trees and swung from the branches.
Jasmine fell into step beside her. “I think I’ll join you.”
“This is mutiny,” Solange said, following them. “Jasmine, what has gotten into you?”
Jasmine pressed her hand tightly against her stomach. “I don’t want to live in the forest anymore. I want to sleep in a bed and eat real food…”
MaryAnn swung around. “Real food? What does that mean? You don’t eat grubs do you?” She shuddered. “I’ve seen those survivor shows and let me just say, they’re all nuts.” Her gaze flicked to Solange. “Girl, it’s got to be said. You’ve got a few issues that need to be addressed. Your clothes are a fashion emergency. And your hair…” She shook her head. “We’re just not even going to go there.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Have you brushed it in the last two days?” MaryAnn countered.
“I haven’t exactly had time.”
“There you go. A woman always has time to brush her hair whether she’s in the jungle or not.” She looked rueful. “My hair grows in this kind of climate, but I haven’t given up.”
Solange opened her mouth and then closed it again, her tilted cat’s eyes looking a little disdainful, a haughty expression on her face. “I’m trying to keep us alive and you’re worried about clothes and hair?”
MaryAnn burst out laughing. “You’re very good at intimidating people, aren’t you? Is that how you keep everyone at a distance? I’m from the city, girlfriend, and I hang with some tough chicks. You’re just not that scary, Solange.”
Jasmine laughed. “Oh, she’s scary all right. She fights better than most men, and few people can go up against a male jaguar, even a female jaguar, but Solange can.”
Solange bared her teeth at MaryAnn.
“My best friend kills vampires,” MaryAnn pointed out. “She carries around weapons, goes through doors, turns into mist and generally is a major badass. Can I just say not impressed?”
A faint grin flirted with Solange’s mouth. “You really aren’t afraid of me, are you?”
“Nope.” MaryAnn flashed her an answering smile.
For the first time, Solange relaxed a little, pacing along side of her. “You’re so…girly. But even when I know you dislike the rainforest, you still go out in it and do whatever needs doing. I can’t quite figure you out.”
MaryAnn waved her hand to encompass their surroundings. “This is your jungle, and there are all sorts of dangerous things in it, but you know your way around and you feel very comfortable in it. My jungle is the city. I grew up there and I’m comfortable with the danger I find there. I counsel battered women and victims of crimes. That means I have to go into places that most people avoid. I sometimes have no choice but to try to help them get out before their killed. Isn’t that what you do? Your world may seem a little more primitive than mine, but only because the men in your world have fur and claws. Mine have guns and fists.”
“I never thought of it like that.” Solange brushed back strands of hair spilling around her face with the impatience of a woman who never paid attention to her looks. “I think of city women as being so prissy. They come to the edge of the rainforest and stand around in skimpy, inappropriate cloths so they can catch they eye of some idiot male. If I happen to be close by they grab their men and look at me as if I’m trying to steal from them. I don’t want a man.”
MaryAnn glanced at her sharply. There was pain in her voice—even hurt—that some of the women would treat her with suspicion when she risked her life on a daily basis to save women’s lives.
Jasmine moved closer to Solange, an unconscious sympathetic gesture. “I don’t want a man either.”
“All men are not like the ones you’ve run across,” MaryAnn said. “The danger of doing the kind of work you or I do, or even something such as law enforcement, is that you see only the really bad things in life and none of the good. You two need to take a break for a while.”
Solange held up her hand as they came to the edge of the forest just before reaching the house. She moved out on her own and MaryAnn couldn’t help but admire her. She was obviously a capable fighter. She moved in silence, her body flowing with easy grace. She looked catlike, and—it had to be said—unbelievably sexy and beautiful. She barely made a stir going through the tall grasses. As MaryAnn watched, Solange went down on all fours, shifting, fur sliding over powerful ropes of muscle. She padded on four paws and disappeared completely into the tall grass.
MaryAnn let her breath out, unaware until that moment that she’d been holding it. “Now that,” she said to Jasmine, “is intimidating.”
Deleted Scene 2:
MaryAnn sank down in the seat of the airplane, her heart so heavy she feared she would never be able to recover. Everyone slept. It mattered little that she knew they were Carpathian and during the day their bodies turned leaden, somehow their sleeping seemed all wrong when they should be mourning. They should be acting like Carpathians and trying to save Manolito De La Cruz. Hadn’t she heard they could call back the dead? That Carpathians were immortal? How could they bring his body home and act so normal?
Everything was wrong. She glanced forward at the others lying so still. It was eerily quiet inside the plane. She could hear the engine, but there was no music or conversation, nothing at all. Just MaryAnn and the coffin. She tried not to think about it, tried not to turn her head and look back and see that plain wooden box Manolito was in. His family had brought him home, but then, when most of them had gotten off the plane at their main residence, Riordan, his youngest brother and his lifemate Juliette, told her they were going to their estate in the rainforest where Jasmine, Juliette’s younger sister was staying. They wanted to ‘bring Manolito home to the forest’. Why wouldn’t they want to bury him close?
MaryAnn passed a hand over her face. She was a woman’s counselor and she’d come for a specific reason—to help Jasmine, but all she could think about was the man in the coffin. Truthfully, she hadn’t known him. She’d seen him once or twice and he’d nodded at her. Once, their eyes met. She’d felt that look all the way to her soul.
“Which is just plain stupid,” she whispered aloud. “I don’t know you.”
But she felt she knew him. The moment his gaze locked with hers she felt different. Beautiful. Excited. Hunted. Scared, Exhilarated. She felt as if she belonged. So many different emotions swirling inside of her. She hadn’t gone to the Carpathian Mountains looking for a man. It was the last thing on her mind, and in truth, if Manolito had approached her, she would have turned him down.
Her gaze was drawn to that wooden box again. Grief flowed through her like a river. There was no combating the emotion, not when it made no sense. With a little sigh she pushed herself up and slowly made her way back to the coffin, seating herself beside it, one hand sliding over the grainy wood. The gesture was more loving than she would have liked, much more intimate than she intended, but she couldn’t stop trying to touch him.
Why are haunting me? Why can’t I just forget about you? You’re a stranger to me, yet I feel as if a part of me is in that coffin with you.
But did she know him? Was she confused? She’d had a dream of him, an erotic dream of him pulling her into strong arms and holding her close, but instead of a beautiful setting, a dance floor, or even a bedroom, she was surrounded by a tiled bathroom. How stupid was that? She couldn’t even fantasize the way other women would.
How he got in the bathroom with her, she didn’t know. She went into the bathroom to get towels, she’d even taken them off the towel rack and pressed them to her face because they smelled of the fresh outdoors. Manolito was suddenly just there, materializing out of nowhere and robbing her of breath and sanity. He smelled so male. Looked so handsome. And maybe that had been the fantasy all along.
Men like Manolito De La Cruz didn’t look at women like MaryAnn Delaney. He had too much money, too much power and moved in completely different circles. She was well educated, but essentially, she knew the streets. He was elite. He was arrogant and impossible and everything she’d ever despised in a man, but when she looked at him, she could barely breathe or think.
It was no wonder she woke up with her heart pounding, certain he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his hard, heavily muscled body. He whispered in her arm, she couldn’t remember the words, only the intimate sound of his voice, so mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. His fingers trailed down her face, and his eyes—those gorgeous eyes—had drifted over her face with possession, his expression stamped with such intense desire her stomach muscles had bunched tight and she grew damp and hot between her legs.
Her hand went to the neckline of her shirt. He slid his fingers there, and she let him, let him touch her skin, the feel of his touch unlike anything she’d ever dreamt of. He traced her collarbone with the pads of his fingers and then slid the buttons open on her blouse. Her breath hitched in her throat, stilled in her lungs. She didn’t move, didn’t want to move or stop him. Her breasts felt swollen and achy and her nipples hardened to tight buds.
He bent his head slowly towards hers, all that black hair tumbling around his head like a waterfall of silk. She’d never liked long hair on men, but his was so different, she longed to tunnel her fingers through it, but she couldn’t seem to move. His face, as it came closer was all angles and planes, his mouth sensual, his lashes long.
Her heart leapt as he kissed the corner of her mouth, nibbled along her chin and blazed a trail of kisses down her throat. His tongue swirled over her pulse there, but he moved on, kissing along the swell of her breast. She never once tried to stop him, or to move away. And when he cradled her close, she felt protected, not afraid.
His tongue teased and swirled, and her womb clenched. She wanted to give herself to this man. She’d never even been formally introduced, yet she was totally enthralled with him. She felt the scrape of his teeth and found it totally erotic. Arousal spread from her breasts to her belly and centered in most feminine core. He bit down and the pain gave way to instant pleasure, a flood of sensation spreading through her like wildfire.
She felt his erection, hot and hard pressed tightly against her, and then his tongue swiped over her breast and he buttoned her shirt, leaning down to kiss each eyelid. When she opened her eyes, his shirt was open and he traced a line across his heart with a sharp fingernail. His palm cupped the back of her head and he pressed her to him.
MaryAnn tried to wake up from her dream, a little shocked that she found taking his blood so erotic, but she knew Carpathians exchanged blood all the time and somehow, in her fantasy, it didn’t seem such a terrible thing to do.
She ran her hand along the coffin, the mark on her breast burning with the same intensity as the tears in her eyes. “You left me,” she whispered. “You left me and I’m completely alone.”
Deleted Scene 3:
MaryAnn, what are you doing? Wolves don’t climb trees.” Manolito stood on the forest floor, hands on his hips, looking up at the rainforest canopy.
A wolf padded the branch highway, picking her way delicately through leaves and twigs, placing every paw with care. Birds shrieked, rising into the air, until they nearly blotted out the moon, furious that the unknown creature had disturbed their roosting place. Monkeys screamed foul things and threw sticks and leaves at the birds as they followed the wolf through the trees.
The ground is wet, MaryAnn sniffed. Up here the canopy protects my coat and my paws don’t have to get muddy. There’s also less chance of some crawly thing getting into my fur.
Manolito tried not to laugh. Whether she was in human or wolf form, his woman was going to be a fashion statement. “You’re got the entire forest in an uproar. The rainforest is home to thousands of birds and I think you’ve got them all upset.”
The female wolf sniffed indignantly and raised her muzzle toward the sky, baring her teeth at the flapping, agitated birds. They’re so noisy anyway.
There were a good twenty species screeching, the noise so loud somewhere a jaguar coughed increasing the frantic cries. Beneath the network of roots, in the flowing river, a lazy crocodile floated closer to shore.
“If you don’t come back down here, I’ll have to come up there after you.”
The wolf turned her head, eyes gleaming. Is that supposed to be a threat? She flicked her fluffy tail at him and with one paw brushed twigs and leaves off a branch. The leaves fell in a shower around his head.
Muscles bunched in his stomach. She was teasing him. He almost didn’t know what to do. He ran across the forest floor, leaping over several rotting trunks and ferns, angling his point of attack to intercept her as she ran along the canopy highway. He jumped high, caught a branch and swung up, going hand over hand, deliberately showing off his strength.
He heard her soft laughter brushing against his mind. Monkeys screeched and a heavy boar crashed in the brush. The wolf in the trees raced ahead, using the thicker branches above his head to try to outrun him.
Neither noticed nor scented the jaguar, absolutely motionless, crouched in the tree limbs far above, watching the wolf with bright, hate-filled eyes. Around the thick, muscular neck was a belt with a small pack. One paw contorted, claws elongating into fingers so that he could undo his pack and put it carefully into the crook of the branches. His movements were patient and slow, careful, behind the heavy screen of leaves, not to draw attention with motion.
The screaming monkeys and crying birds along with the fragrance of flowers drowned out everything hearing and scent anyway. The silly monkeys continued to follow the wolf and the jaguar resisted the urge to leap on them and shred them. His head hurt, the strange buzzing refusing to go away. He even had tried tearing at his head with his own claws to rid himself of the noise, but now he had a better target.
Manolito had eyes only for MaryAnn. He raced through the trees, hand over hand, swinging from one branch to the next, a good hundred feet beneath her, using branches and vines to propel himself through the canopy maze. MaryAnn’s soft laughter teased his senses.
As the wolf passed beneath it, the large cat sprang, the heavy body smashing down, claws ripping and teeth clamping on the wolf’s scrawny head, biting down, going for a kill with a powerful skull bite.
Mist! Manolito ruthlessly took over MaryAnn’s mind, pouring the image into her brain, holding it even as he began the shifting process for her.
The wolf dissolved beneath the jaguar, so that the cat fell heavily through the branches, slamming hard against several limbs before it was able to get a purchase with its claws.
Fury at himself burst through him, even as he shifted, leaping up the branches of the trees to get to the intruder. Manolito was shocked that the cat had escaped his observation. He realized just how emotions and the presence of a lifemate could be distracting enough to get them both killed.
The jaguar whirled around, teeth bared. The two heavy bodies met with a tremendous crash. Limbs cracked and splintered, raining down on the forest floor. Monkeys went crazy, hurling everything they could get their hands on at the two rolling cats. Sounds of the battle mixed with the cacophony of birds and wildlife protesting the interruption of the night.
MaryAnn found herself on the forest floor, looking up at the raking, snarling cats, shocked that their peaceful play had been shattered so brutally and so fast. In this forest, violence was an accepted way of life. Life really was about kill or be killed. Manolito and his brothers had lived their entire life with that creed.
A part of her screamed this wasn’t her way of life and never would be. She wanted to go home. She let out her breath, stood up, and prepared to do whatever was necessary for Manolito’s survival, because no matter where they were, he, was her way of life.
This deleited scenes are only in the members section on christine feehan`s website
MaryAnn frowned at Solange. “I’m not sure this was such a great idea. You may like being out in the open, but I feel very exposed here. I think staying in the house was a much better idea. I’m heading back.”
She glanced down at her boots, covered with muck. No one was going to give her sympathy for ruining her favorite pair of boots, least of all jungle girl. She heaved a sigh. How in the world had she ended up in such a mess? Destiny. Her best friend. And where was she now? Probably snuggled up, safe and warm with her hunky man while MaryAnn slogged through a jungle filled with leeches, rabid leopards and the wild jungle chick.
“Out here I can smell them coming at us. We have more room to maneuver.”
MaryAnn slapped at mosquitoes, drew out her bug spray and lavishly and rather maliciously depressed the button to empty half the bottle around and over her. “Okay, look. You stay and smell them coming. I’m going to curl up with a good book in the comfort of a cushy chair.” She turned her back on Solange and started back along the muddy trail.
Why did everything in the rainforest have to be so wet? And the stupid rain fell endlessly. Bugs bit and snakes crawled and the wild jungle woman climbed trees and swung from the branches.
Jasmine fell into step beside her. “I think I’ll join you.”
“This is mutiny,” Solange said, following them. “Jasmine, what has gotten into you?”
Jasmine pressed her hand tightly against her stomach. “I don’t want to live in the forest anymore. I want to sleep in a bed and eat real food…”
MaryAnn swung around. “Real food? What does that mean? You don’t eat grubs do you?” She shuddered. “I’ve seen those survivor shows and let me just say, they’re all nuts.” Her gaze flicked to Solange. “Girl, it’s got to be said. You’ve got a few issues that need to be addressed. Your clothes are a fashion emergency. And your hair…” She shook her head. “We’re just not even going to go there.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Have you brushed it in the last two days?” MaryAnn countered.
“I haven’t exactly had time.”
“There you go. A woman always has time to brush her hair whether she’s in the jungle or not.” She looked rueful. “My hair grows in this kind of climate, but I haven’t given up.”
Solange opened her mouth and then closed it again, her tilted cat’s eyes looking a little disdainful, a haughty expression on her face. “I’m trying to keep us alive and you’re worried about clothes and hair?”
MaryAnn burst out laughing. “You’re very good at intimidating people, aren’t you? Is that how you keep everyone at a distance? I’m from the city, girlfriend, and I hang with some tough chicks. You’re just not that scary, Solange.”
Jasmine laughed. “Oh, she’s scary all right. She fights better than most men, and few people can go up against a male jaguar, even a female jaguar, but Solange can.”
Solange bared her teeth at MaryAnn.
“My best friend kills vampires,” MaryAnn pointed out. “She carries around weapons, goes through doors, turns into mist and generally is a major badass. Can I just say not impressed?”
A faint grin flirted with Solange’s mouth. “You really aren’t afraid of me, are you?”
“Nope.” MaryAnn flashed her an answering smile.
For the first time, Solange relaxed a little, pacing along side of her. “You’re so…girly. But even when I know you dislike the rainforest, you still go out in it and do whatever needs doing. I can’t quite figure you out.”
MaryAnn waved her hand to encompass their surroundings. “This is your jungle, and there are all sorts of dangerous things in it, but you know your way around and you feel very comfortable in it. My jungle is the city. I grew up there and I’m comfortable with the danger I find there. I counsel battered women and victims of crimes. That means I have to go into places that most people avoid. I sometimes have no choice but to try to help them get out before their killed. Isn’t that what you do? Your world may seem a little more primitive than mine, but only because the men in your world have fur and claws. Mine have guns and fists.”
“I never thought of it like that.” Solange brushed back strands of hair spilling around her face with the impatience of a woman who never paid attention to her looks. “I think of city women as being so prissy. They come to the edge of the rainforest and stand around in skimpy, inappropriate cloths so they can catch they eye of some idiot male. If I happen to be close by they grab their men and look at me as if I’m trying to steal from them. I don’t want a man.”
MaryAnn glanced at her sharply. There was pain in her voice—even hurt—that some of the women would treat her with suspicion when she risked her life on a daily basis to save women’s lives.
Jasmine moved closer to Solange, an unconscious sympathetic gesture. “I don’t want a man either.”
“All men are not like the ones you’ve run across,” MaryAnn said. “The danger of doing the kind of work you or I do, or even something such as law enforcement, is that you see only the really bad things in life and none of the good. You two need to take a break for a while.”
Solange held up her hand as they came to the edge of the forest just before reaching the house. She moved out on her own and MaryAnn couldn’t help but admire her. She was obviously a capable fighter. She moved in silence, her body flowing with easy grace. She looked catlike, and—it had to be said—unbelievably sexy and beautiful. She barely made a stir going through the tall grasses. As MaryAnn watched, Solange went down on all fours, shifting, fur sliding over powerful ropes of muscle. She padded on four paws and disappeared completely into the tall grass.
MaryAnn let her breath out, unaware until that moment that she’d been holding it. “Now that,” she said to Jasmine, “is intimidating.”
Deleted Scene 2:
MaryAnn sank down in the seat of the airplane, her heart so heavy she feared she would never be able to recover. Everyone slept. It mattered little that she knew they were Carpathian and during the day their bodies turned leaden, somehow their sleeping seemed all wrong when they should be mourning. They should be acting like Carpathians and trying to save Manolito De La Cruz. Hadn’t she heard they could call back the dead? That Carpathians were immortal? How could they bring his body home and act so normal?
Everything was wrong. She glanced forward at the others lying so still. It was eerily quiet inside the plane. She could hear the engine, but there was no music or conversation, nothing at all. Just MaryAnn and the coffin. She tried not to think about it, tried not to turn her head and look back and see that plain wooden box Manolito was in. His family had brought him home, but then, when most of them had gotten off the plane at their main residence, Riordan, his youngest brother and his lifemate Juliette, told her they were going to their estate in the rainforest where Jasmine, Juliette’s younger sister was staying. They wanted to ‘bring Manolito home to the forest’. Why wouldn’t they want to bury him close?
MaryAnn passed a hand over her face. She was a woman’s counselor and she’d come for a specific reason—to help Jasmine, but all she could think about was the man in the coffin. Truthfully, she hadn’t known him. She’d seen him once or twice and he’d nodded at her. Once, their eyes met. She’d felt that look all the way to her soul.
“Which is just plain stupid,” she whispered aloud. “I don’t know you.”
But she felt she knew him. The moment his gaze locked with hers she felt different. Beautiful. Excited. Hunted. Scared, Exhilarated. She felt as if she belonged. So many different emotions swirling inside of her. She hadn’t gone to the Carpathian Mountains looking for a man. It was the last thing on her mind, and in truth, if Manolito had approached her, she would have turned him down.
Her gaze was drawn to that wooden box again. Grief flowed through her like a river. There was no combating the emotion, not when it made no sense. With a little sigh she pushed herself up and slowly made her way back to the coffin, seating herself beside it, one hand sliding over the grainy wood. The gesture was more loving than she would have liked, much more intimate than she intended, but she couldn’t stop trying to touch him.
Why are haunting me? Why can’t I just forget about you? You’re a stranger to me, yet I feel as if a part of me is in that coffin with you.
But did she know him? Was she confused? She’d had a dream of him, an erotic dream of him pulling her into strong arms and holding her close, but instead of a beautiful setting, a dance floor, or even a bedroom, she was surrounded by a tiled bathroom. How stupid was that? She couldn’t even fantasize the way other women would.
How he got in the bathroom with her, she didn’t know. She went into the bathroom to get towels, she’d even taken them off the towel rack and pressed them to her face because they smelled of the fresh outdoors. Manolito was suddenly just there, materializing out of nowhere and robbing her of breath and sanity. He smelled so male. Looked so handsome. And maybe that had been the fantasy all along.
Men like Manolito De La Cruz didn’t look at women like MaryAnn Delaney. He had too much money, too much power and moved in completely different circles. She was well educated, but essentially, she knew the streets. He was elite. He was arrogant and impossible and everything she’d ever despised in a man, but when she looked at him, she could barely breathe or think.
It was no wonder she woke up with her heart pounding, certain he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his hard, heavily muscled body. He whispered in her arm, she couldn’t remember the words, only the intimate sound of his voice, so mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. His fingers trailed down her face, and his eyes—those gorgeous eyes—had drifted over her face with possession, his expression stamped with such intense desire her stomach muscles had bunched tight and she grew damp and hot between her legs.
Her hand went to the neckline of her shirt. He slid his fingers there, and she let him, let him touch her skin, the feel of his touch unlike anything she’d ever dreamt of. He traced her collarbone with the pads of his fingers and then slid the buttons open on her blouse. Her breath hitched in her throat, stilled in her lungs. She didn’t move, didn’t want to move or stop him. Her breasts felt swollen and achy and her nipples hardened to tight buds.
He bent his head slowly towards hers, all that black hair tumbling around his head like a waterfall of silk. She’d never liked long hair on men, but his was so different, she longed to tunnel her fingers through it, but she couldn’t seem to move. His face, as it came closer was all angles and planes, his mouth sensual, his lashes long.
Her heart leapt as he kissed the corner of her mouth, nibbled along her chin and blazed a trail of kisses down her throat. His tongue swirled over her pulse there, but he moved on, kissing along the swell of her breast. She never once tried to stop him, or to move away. And when he cradled her close, she felt protected, not afraid.
His tongue teased and swirled, and her womb clenched. She wanted to give herself to this man. She’d never even been formally introduced, yet she was totally enthralled with him. She felt the scrape of his teeth and found it totally erotic. Arousal spread from her breasts to her belly and centered in most feminine core. He bit down and the pain gave way to instant pleasure, a flood of sensation spreading through her like wildfire.
She felt his erection, hot and hard pressed tightly against her, and then his tongue swiped over her breast and he buttoned her shirt, leaning down to kiss each eyelid. When she opened her eyes, his shirt was open and he traced a line across his heart with a sharp fingernail. His palm cupped the back of her head and he pressed her to him.
MaryAnn tried to wake up from her dream, a little shocked that she found taking his blood so erotic, but she knew Carpathians exchanged blood all the time and somehow, in her fantasy, it didn’t seem such a terrible thing to do.
She ran her hand along the coffin, the mark on her breast burning with the same intensity as the tears in her eyes. “You left me,” she whispered. “You left me and I’m completely alone.”
Deleted Scene 3:
MaryAnn, what are you doing? Wolves don’t climb trees.” Manolito stood on the forest floor, hands on his hips, looking up at the rainforest canopy.
A wolf padded the branch highway, picking her way delicately through leaves and twigs, placing every paw with care. Birds shrieked, rising into the air, until they nearly blotted out the moon, furious that the unknown creature had disturbed their roosting place. Monkeys screamed foul things and threw sticks and leaves at the birds as they followed the wolf through the trees.
The ground is wet, MaryAnn sniffed. Up here the canopy protects my coat and my paws don’t have to get muddy. There’s also less chance of some crawly thing getting into my fur.
Manolito tried not to laugh. Whether she was in human or wolf form, his woman was going to be a fashion statement. “You’re got the entire forest in an uproar. The rainforest is home to thousands of birds and I think you’ve got them all upset.”
The female wolf sniffed indignantly and raised her muzzle toward the sky, baring her teeth at the flapping, agitated birds. They’re so noisy anyway.
There were a good twenty species screeching, the noise so loud somewhere a jaguar coughed increasing the frantic cries. Beneath the network of roots, in the flowing river, a lazy crocodile floated closer to shore.
“If you don’t come back down here, I’ll have to come up there after you.”
The wolf turned her head, eyes gleaming. Is that supposed to be a threat? She flicked her fluffy tail at him and with one paw brushed twigs and leaves off a branch. The leaves fell in a shower around his head.
Muscles bunched in his stomach. She was teasing him. He almost didn’t know what to do. He ran across the forest floor, leaping over several rotting trunks and ferns, angling his point of attack to intercept her as she ran along the canopy highway. He jumped high, caught a branch and swung up, going hand over hand, deliberately showing off his strength.
He heard her soft laughter brushing against his mind. Monkeys screeched and a heavy boar crashed in the brush. The wolf in the trees raced ahead, using the thicker branches above his head to try to outrun him.
Neither noticed nor scented the jaguar, absolutely motionless, crouched in the tree limbs far above, watching the wolf with bright, hate-filled eyes. Around the thick, muscular neck was a belt with a small pack. One paw contorted, claws elongating into fingers so that he could undo his pack and put it carefully into the crook of the branches. His movements were patient and slow, careful, behind the heavy screen of leaves, not to draw attention with motion.
The screaming monkeys and crying birds along with the fragrance of flowers drowned out everything hearing and scent anyway. The silly monkeys continued to follow the wolf and the jaguar resisted the urge to leap on them and shred them. His head hurt, the strange buzzing refusing to go away. He even had tried tearing at his head with his own claws to rid himself of the noise, but now he had a better target.
Manolito had eyes only for MaryAnn. He raced through the trees, hand over hand, swinging from one branch to the next, a good hundred feet beneath her, using branches and vines to propel himself through the canopy maze. MaryAnn’s soft laughter teased his senses.
As the wolf passed beneath it, the large cat sprang, the heavy body smashing down, claws ripping and teeth clamping on the wolf’s scrawny head, biting down, going for a kill with a powerful skull bite.
Mist! Manolito ruthlessly took over MaryAnn’s mind, pouring the image into her brain, holding it even as he began the shifting process for her.
The wolf dissolved beneath the jaguar, so that the cat fell heavily through the branches, slamming hard against several limbs before it was able to get a purchase with its claws.
Fury at himself burst through him, even as he shifted, leaping up the branches of the trees to get to the intruder. Manolito was shocked that the cat had escaped his observation. He realized just how emotions and the presence of a lifemate could be distracting enough to get them both killed.
The jaguar whirled around, teeth bared. The two heavy bodies met with a tremendous crash. Limbs cracked and splintered, raining down on the forest floor. Monkeys went crazy, hurling everything they could get their hands on at the two rolling cats. Sounds of the battle mixed with the cacophony of birds and wildlife protesting the interruption of the night.
MaryAnn found herself on the forest floor, looking up at the raking, snarling cats, shocked that their peaceful play had been shattered so brutally and so fast. In this forest, violence was an accepted way of life. Life really was about kill or be killed. Manolito and his brothers had lived their entire life with that creed.
A part of her screamed this wasn’t her way of life and never would be. She wanted to go home. She let out her breath, stood up, and prepared to do whatever was necessary for Manolito’s survival, because no matter where they were, he, was her way of life.
This deleited scenes are only in the members section on christine feehan`s website
