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Ramon Osceola blended with
the shadows of the bald cypress towering over his head.
The tree stood tall on the large hummock of land surrounded
by swamp in the only place left he could call home.
He stared out across the wide expanse of open water,
the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention.
The roar of an airboat propeller disturbed the usual
stillness of the swamp, growing louder as the vehicle
skimmed the surface of the algae-covered waters. The
sound was headed his direction.
Access to his place was limited
to land or air with no roads or bridges venturing this
deep into the Big Cypress Swamp of Florida. Which suited
him just fine. His special issues required space from
other humans and the hammock of land in the swamps afforded
a place where he could guard his solitude, as well as
his life. Thank the gods the conservationists had saved
the swamps from encroaching growth and development.
They had even reestablished flow of waters to encourage
the return of natural plants and animals to the area.
Making his utter seclusion possible. He lived off the
land and water, his sustenance that of his Seminole
ancestors-fish from the water, plants and roots from
the land.
He'd inherited the tiny island
from his father and rebuilt it to be habitable after
his discharge from the Army Special Forces. He'd distanced
himself as much as any man could into total solitude.
The occasional swamp tour guide ventured in looking
for fresh routes to sell to eager tourists searching
for the giant alligators and exceptional wildlife found
nowhere else in the United States.
Inhaling the musty scent of decayed leaves and stagnant
water, he much preferred the natural odors of death
and rebirth of vegetation than the stench of sewage
and trash of the city life. Especially the acrid smell
of alcohol and disinfectant prevalent in hospitals and
clinical laboratories like the one in which he'd been
held captive for who knew how long. Even the thought
of that place set his heart racing and he needed to
take several deep breaths before regaining control.
But the airboat hadn't changed
direction, and the noise grew closer. The operator ran
it at full throttle--too fast for the twisting waterways
leading to his remote house and too fast for swamp tourists.
A whop-whop-whop sound joined the whine of the fan-powered
boat.
Instinctively, Ramon tensed. The sound of helicopters-he'd
heard them often enough when he deployed as a Special
Forces soldier to the war in Iran. Before his capture.
Before his alteration. Before his life had changed forever.
The helicopter appeared over
the tops of the tallest bald cypress trees at the same
time as the airboat rounded the corner of the jut of
land blocking the view into his little hideaway. The
back end of the craft slipped sideways before it straightened
and shot forward.
From his vantage point beneath
the cypress tree two hundred yards from his house, the
animal in Ramon sensed danger and fought to unleash.
The aircraft lean and black, an exact copy of hundreds
of others in the military arsenal. The only difference
being, this chopper didn't have the usual markings and
it was operating in attack mode on the home front.
Clamping down hard on his
back teeth, Ramon struggled to maintain his humanity
in the face of a relentless metamorphosis.
He'd tried on numerous occasions
to control the transformation only to fail, waking up
naked in the oddest places. Thus his retreat to the
Big Cypress Swamp. If he were to change out here, who
would notice? He needed his humanity to face this kind
of danger and he concentrated on the airboat and its
occupant.
The driver's long blond hair
whipped around in the wind. A woman? Not the norm for
the swamp, and she was hell bent on wrecking if she
didn't slow down soon. For that matter, she headed straight
for the house he'd built on the little island in the
swamp.
As the airboat plowed through
the lagoon's open water, its speed climbing to insane
levels, the helicopter dropped low and a side door slid
open, the snout of a machine gun pointing out.
Ramon pushed away from the tree trunk, and almost stepped
out into the open to shout a warning to the driver,
until he realized the sound wouldn't carry over the
blast of the propeller jettisoning the watercraft closer.
All he could do was watch as the gunner unloaded a rapid
burst of bullets at the boat.
The woman at the helm cried
out and jerked the steering grip away from the chopper,
the rudders responding a little too well. The boat leaned
on its side in the water and then straightened, moving
in a zigzagging motion to avoid being peppered by the
gunner overhead.
When the helicopter crowded
closer, the woman wrenched her steering grip too hard.
The front of the airboat lifted from the surface of
the lagoon and the entire craft launched into the air,
spiraling three-hundred-sixty degrees. The woman's body
was thrown from her seat on the boat, landing hard on
the algae-covered surface.
Heart hammering against his
chest, Ramon watched helplessly as the empty craft hit
the water upside down, the back cage and propeller separating
from the boat, flying through the air in pieces. When
the prop hit the water, it broke in two and finally
sank beneath the murky depths.
Skin stretched and changed,
hairs springing from follicles covering his body in
a thick black pelt. Pain shot through every nerve ending
as his bones shifted and contracted. Before long, he
couldn't stand on two feet and dropped to all fours,
fighting to retain his human thoughts and reasoning,
a challenge he met through each transition. Anger pushed
the transformation through his blood. Anger at the relentless
and merciless pursuit of the woman fighting to stay
alive on the airboat, only to be thrown violently from
her vehicle. The helicopter pilot didn't demand she
stop over a loudspeaker, the crew didn't fire warning
shots to get her attention. They wanted to kill her.
Cops, judge and jury all wrapped in one package. What
the hell was going on? Who was she? And why was the
military helicopter chasing her? Was she a drug runner
or a convicted felon? No matter what she'd done, she
deserved a chance to defend herself.
As his transformation neared
completion, he shook free of his clothing. Then his
haunches bunched, and he leaped through the underbrush,
following the lay of the land until he was as close
as he could get to rescue the woman without going into
the water.
Overhead, the helicopter circled the airboat and finally
flew off toward the house another hundred yards away.
A missile left the underbelly
of the aircraft and flew straight into the house he'd
spent the past two months remodeling. When the weapon
touched the cedar exterior, it exploded in a blast large
enough to rock the earth beneath Ramon's paws. The sound
echoed against the tall stands of cypress.
Apparently the guys flying
the chopper didn't think a rocket explosion was enough,
they pumped several hundred rounds into the remains
of Ramon's home. Had anyone been inside, they would
have been dead by the time the helicopter took to the
sky and made a wide, sweeping turn.
Instinct propelled him into
action. Roman leaped into the lagoon and dog-paddled
to the woman facedown in the water. He slid his head
under her until she rested across his back, her face
rising above the surface. Then he applied his paws to
swimming with all his might to the shore farthest away
from the destruction. He wanted to get her to the safety
and anonymity of the shoreline before the crew of the
helicopter returned to finish her off. And if he didn't
resuscitate her soon, she'd suffer irreparable brain
damage. As he struggled to balance her body on his back
and paddle to shore, the rage that somehow seemed to
control him burned inside.
The house in the swamps had
been his sanctuary, his escape from the harsh world.
And now that was gone too. After losing his humanity,
he'd come to the only home he knew to lick his wounds
and hide in the swamps away from prying eyes and heartless
scientists who would want to poke and prod the freak.
Sinking his teeth into her
shirt, he lifted her and dragged her in the shadows
of the banks until she was completely out of the water
and invisible to the helicopter circling over the demolished
airboat.
The helicopter wasn't the only danger to contend with.
Ramon's gaze darted around, searching for the alligators
known to frequent the lagoon. He had to get her up and
moving to keep her from becoming an afternoon snack.
Out of the water, he walked
up her back pressing his front paws into her, pushing
the liquid from her lungs, the blades of the helicopter
whipping the vegetation into his face.
He ignored the sound of the
killing machine and concentrated on shifting into his
natural form. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to
change back into a man, human frustration warring with
animal instinct to run deeper into the woods. To save
this woman, he had to be a man to help her. Still pushing
against her back, he stared down at his paws as they
stretched and extended. Excruciating pain ripped through
his muscles and joints as his body lengthened and expanded,
the fur retracting into his skin until long slim fingers
lay against the woman's shoulders.
When the transformation was
complete, he straddled her buttocks and leaned into
his effort to expel all the swamp water she'd inhaled.
As he pushed against her back, he studied what he could
see of her body and the side of her face turned toward
him.
She was petite, possibly only
five-feet tall with nicely rounded hips and a narrow
waist. The bit of her face he could see was pale, the
skin smooth and creamy where not covered in mud and
algae.
His hands slid up the side of her ribcage, urging the
water up from her lungs. As his fingers curled around
her, he could feel the swell of her breasts beneath
her damp clothing. Ramon groaned, his cock resting in
the indentation of her ass. The transformation back
to his human form always left him horny as hell. At
that exact moment, he didn't care what woman, as long
as he had a slick pussy to slide his engorged cock into.
He alternated between disgust at where his thoughts
were headed and desire for the woman lying beneath him-a
woman whose eyes had yet to open.
Would her eyes be the color
of cornflowers in the spring to match the long blond
hair he'd seen blowing in the wind before she'd been
tossed from the boat? Her hair lay in dark wet strands
plastered to the back of her head, and she was as still
as death. He pushed harder, and she finally responded,
water gushing out of her lungs.
As he worked over her, he
prayed to the gods that rescuing her wasn't another
mistake on his part. Why had she been racing through
the swamps as if being chased by the devil himself?
And why had she found her way into his lagoon? Was she
from the government? Or worse. Blood ran cold in his
veins and his hands hesitated in their work as dark
thoughts raced through his mind. Was she one of the
sadistic bastards from Hell Hospital? If she proved
to be a threat, he'd have no other choice but to kill
her.
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