Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Nadirah lost consciousness, and Phoenix did his best to not panic.
He couldn’t determine what had bitten her, meaning he had no idea whether the venom would prove deadly or not.
It didn’t help he lacked a cell signal, so he couldn’t do an internet search or call for aid.
Should he scoop her up and hike her back to the entrance of the park?
A glance at the sweat beading on her brow had him thinking maybe not a good idea. The trip itself might do her in. So, what could he do to help?
He eyed the swollen and red flesh at her ankle.
The wound at least no longer oozed blood, but it didn’t look good either.
Had he sucked out enough poison? What could he do to alleviate her symptoms?
He didn’t need to touch her to sense the radiating heat as her body fought off whatever coursed through her veins.
Feeling helpless, he did the only thing he could think of.
He soaked his shirt in water and placed the cool damp cloth on her fevered brow.
When the chills invaded and she began to shiver, he spooned her body and let her absorb some of his heat.
He spent the night tending and worrying, especially since she didn’t wake when the sun rose.
Eventually the trembling stopped, but she remained unresponsive as the fever resumed, her skin burning to the touch.
He returned to the river with his tepid shirt and leaned forward to slosh it, disturbing the fronds of the plants growing by the riverbank.
He smelled and heard nothing amiss, yet instinct had him suddenly rearing, just in time, as a crocodile lunged from the murky water, its jaws coming mere inches from chomping his flesh.
Phoenix scrambled backwards and stared, waiting to see if it would emerge.
To his relief, the beast remained in the sluggish-moving river, but the close encounter acted as a reminder that this wasn’t Canada, where the most savage thing you had to worry about in the water was a muskrat or a Canadian goose.
Each time Phoenix had to rewet his shirt, he paid close attention, lest the croc lie in wait.
He did many trips back and forth, as her fever quickly sucked the coolness from the cloth.
Twice, he spotted the ridged back and snout of the croc, eyes above water, watching.
It didn’t come near, but he remained wary.
At nightfall, to his immense relief, Nadirah opened her eyes and turned her head side to side, her eyes clouded in confusion. She spoke but in Malaysian, leading him to say in English, “Welcome back.”
Her gaze focused on him, and she rasped out, “Water.”
He grabbed the bottle from his pack and propped her up for a drink. She swallowed thirstily before sighing and closing her eyes.
He lay her down gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Like something nasty bit me,” her wry reply. “How long was I out?”
“All day. You had a pretty intense fever,” he stated as he pulled the folded fabric from her neck where he’d applied it last.
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
“As if I could do anything less. It’s my fault you’re out here.”
“And my fault I’ve delayed your quest.”
“Fuck the ruins. You’re more important.” Answers could wait. Her health and wellbeing were more important at the moment.
“How’s my ankle look?”
He glanced and did his best to not grimace. The puffy flesh worried, but worse? The oozing pus that indicated a possible infection. “Not great.”
She propped her arms to partially sit and peek for herself. “I don’t suppose you brought some antiseptic?”
“No.” He hadn’t, but he suddenly remembered what Nadirah had said about a tiger’s saliva. “This is going to sound weird, but what if I licked it?”
Her brow arched. “Sounds gross.”
“I meant as a tiger, because of what you said about the spit.”
Her expression turned thoughtful. “You know, that might actually help. But how will you change?”
Good question. He didn’t have a gun to shoot himself or a container door to slam on a limb. What could he do to cause a severe enough injury that he shifted?
His gaze went to the river. “Hold on a second, I have an idea.” A foolish and painful one that hopefully wouldn’t cost him a limb.
“What are you planning?” she asked as he headed for the edge of the water.
“Something possibly dumb, so you might want to look away,” he stated as he began yanking down his shorts.
“And miss the striptease?” she said with a laugh.
The comment startled, and he glanced over his shoulder at her to see her round mouth and her cheeks red—but not from a fever.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
His lips curved. “While I would usually encourage you to keep ogling, what I’m going to do isn’t going to be pretty.”
Her brow furrowed. “Phoenix, the tops of the weeds are moving. You should probably get away from the edge. Could be a crocodile.”
“Good. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go chasing it.”
He faced forward and saw it slithering close, the wave of the fronds giving away its position.
Deep breath in. Another breath out. He crouched and waited, a tempting morsel the croc couldn’t resist. It lunged, and he had only a second to bring his arm up and get it caught between those razor-sharp teeth.
Holy pain! A nasty crunching sound had him wincing as bone cracked.
The agony didn’t last long as the shift took him, quickly transforming him and startling the croc into releasing his arm and retreating out of reach. He’d turned to return to Nadirah when she yelled.
“Behind you!”
Apparently, the hungry reptile saw a new yummy snack and decided to heave itself onto the shore, its short legs tunneling it toward Phoenix faster than expected.
Before the croc could grab hold and ruin his transformation, Phoenix attacked first, his powerful jaws clamping around its head.
His tight grip allowed him to heave it from the ground, and he shook his head side to side, feeling his teeth crunching but not quite penetrating the tough scales.
Good, because now would not be the time to lose his tiger because he’d managed to draw blood.
The croc thrashed, trying to get loose, but Phoenix didn’t let go, not until the reptile went limp. Not dead but defeated.
He dropped the croc, and they locked gazes, the baleful yellow glare meeting his don’t-fuck-with-me one. The beast thought better of tangling with him and slithered back into the water.
Victory! He turned and trotted to Nadirah, who remained wide-eyed.
“I can’t believe you almost got eaten by a croc,” she exclaimed.
He snuffled. As if.
“It will probably come back.”
That would be a mistake.
He sniffed at Nadirah’s ankle. The sweetish scent of wrong had his tongue automatically flicking, bathing the wounded area with large wet swipes. He’d expected the taste to bother him, but his feline side didn’t seem to care and laved the wounded area copiously until Nadirah laughed.
“I think that’s enough.”
He glanced at her.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
The only reply he could offer? A shrug before he settled alongside, head on his paws, watching the river in case the croc chose revenge.
Nadirah lay down, her head pillowed on his flank.
She slept, but without the tremors and chills of before.
The fever appeared to have broken, and when she woke from her nap, she rummaged for food.
She offered him some, but he shook his head and instead waded into the river for a fresh-caught fish.
Might as well save their supplies. Besides, his tiger enjoyed the raw meal.
So weird how the blood of it didn’t trigger the change.
He licked Nadirah’s wound again a few hours later. By morning, her ankle looked much better, and she even got up and walked around a little bit. When she wandered to the riverbank, he remained close by to protect.
They spent that day mostly resting, with him licking her wound at intervals, pleased that it already appeared much better.
During that time, she spoke to him, despite the fact he couldn’t reply.
Telling stories about her childhood, giving him a glimpse of the woman.
While he already found her attractive—and couldn’t get enough of her scent—he also found himself liking her as a person.
She had a sharp wit and obviously didn’t lack for bravery, given her dangerous choice in jobs.
He knew from his research on tigers that, while the felines didn’t actively hunt people, mishaps did happen, especially with those in captivity.
That night, she curled against him, unbothered by his beastly shape, probably one of the few people who accepted and didn’t fear. It felt nice to not feel like a freak.
In the morning, she declared herself ready to continue their journey and began packing their things.
He cocked his head in question.
“I’m fine, and we can’t camp here forever. We’ll run out of food. Not to mention, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave the jungle and find a real bed for the night.”
He snorted.
“Yes, you make a comfy pillow, but your cat snores.”
He reared indignantly, and she giggled. The best sound in the world.
“I’ll be fine.”
The issue came when she went to grab both packs. Oh hell no. He nosed a bag, and she glanced at him, chewing her lower lip.
“You want to carry it?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think I can loosen the straps enough to get it around your body.”
He grumbled.
Her lips pursed. “They’re not that heavy. I’ll be fine.”
His teeth clamped onto a bag and tugged.
She sighed. “If you insist.”
She allowed him to carry a bag in his mouth, not ideal, but better than having her toting it. They set off on foot, with her handling the compass, but soon he didn’t need her pointing it to see if they remained on track.
The scent of men came to him. He could even hear the murmur of voices. They were close to something.
When Nadirah whispered, “I think we’re almost there,” he dropped the bag. Nadirah sat down on it and whispered, “What now?”
Now he’d scout. How to convey that? Anyone watching would have ogled in disbelief as he waggled his paw at her and then stamped it on the ground before tapping himself and pointing in the direction where he scented people.
“You want me to stay here?” she properly interpreted, and he nodded.
“Be careful.”
He planned to, because it wasn’t just his life on the line.
The dense jungle provided plenty of camouflage as he crept close to the voices. He couldn’t understand a word they said but didn’t imagine it involved him. No one knew they were coming.
He selected a tree with sturdy limbs and climbed it, using it as a bridge to the next one, bringing him closer and closer to the edge of a clearing, where he spotted canvas tents and crates. A few all-terrain vehicles were parked. That would have been handy, rather than walking.
He spent the next hour watching. Counting.
Six guards, armed with rifles. All male and, given their demeanor, possibly military trained.
There was also an older gent with spectacles, stocky with his hair cut short.
Given he sat typing on a laptop, he must be the archeologist. Of the group, only two appeared Malaysian, and all spoke English.
Strange, as he would have expected a historic site to be using locals only.
Late afternoon, Phoenix returned to Nadirah, relieved to find her safe. Leaving her alone hadn’t been ideal, but neither did he want her walking into a possible volatile situation.
At the sight of him, she smiled. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder.”
Being unable to tell her what he’d seen led him to trotting into the jungle, not far because he found a squirrel almost right away. A crunch of its body led to a mouthful of blood, which he began spitting out soon as he changed.
Phoenix returned to Nadirah naked, thinking nothing of it until he noticed her gaze fixed on his body. A body that reacted and brought a blush. She turned her head and held out his bag.
“How did the scouting go?” she asked as he dressed.
“Good. Seven people in total. They’ve got a camp set up.”
“Meaning they don’t leave at night.” She frowned. “How will we get inside the ruin?”
“Very carefully.”
Because he wasn’t entirely sure those guns would be used only on predators.