Page 20 of Tiger's Dream
“I mean to fix your hair.”
Lifting her chin haughtily in the air, she answered, “No.”
“It needs to be done, Ana.”
She shook her head and backed farther away from me.
My senses sharpened and something in me shifted. I felt a sudden impulse to hunt. A growl rumbled through my chest as I stalked closer. When her back hit the wall, I narrowed my gaze on her slim neck and took another step, transfixed by the pulse that jumped wildly at my approach.
Reaching out a hand to touch her hair, I asked, “Are you frightened of me, Ana?”
She swallowed, then raised her eyes. It wasn’t fear I saw there, but there was something else, something…vulnerable. As quickly as I recognized it, she blinked and her beautiful green eyes glittered with defiance.
“I am not afraid of you, black tiger.”
I mocked her gently, “No. You are just afraid of having your hair brushed.”
With a hiss, she shoved me away and sat down. “I am afraid of nothing,” she said as she handed me her hairbrush.
Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, I pressed my lips to her ear and said, “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, Goddess.”
Anamika waved her hand in the air like a queen dismissing a minion and I chuckled. She sat stiffly as I drew the brush through her long, dark hair. The sensation was soothing and made me think of my mother.
When I was a young boy, I liked to brush my mother’s hair. It was our little secret, she’d say. After I’d started training with Kadam, I took my mother’s brush and hid it. A few days later, she sent for me and asked if I’d taken it. Scowling as only an eight-year-old boy can, I proceeded to tell her that a warrior as formidable as I was to become would lose all credibility, his reputation would be ruined, if it was discovered that he liked to brush women’s hair.
My mother, in reply, asked if a woman could brush a man’s hair. “Of course!” I’d answered. She bent toward me, her nose almost touching mine, and said, “Then perhaps I can brush your hair instead.”
She took the brush as I willingly laid my head in her lap, and as she ran it through my hair, we spoke of my childish musings. As the years passed, I’d developed a habit of laying my head in my mother’s lap. I’d share all my worries and concerns and then listen to her wise counsel.
When I first set eyes on Yesubai, I remembered noticing her long, long hair. As I got to know her, I decided it was entirely appropriate for a husband to brush his wife’s hair when in the privacy of their chambers. I’d been planning to give her a set of beautiful brushes as a wedding present. Then she died and I was cursed to live as a tiger.
My mother tried to bridge the gap that had grown between us after I became a tiger, but I was determined to be miserable. She’d put her arms around me or stroke my tiger back, but I always stalked away. I missed the closeness between us but didn’t know how to fix what I was or undo what I’d done. Being the tiger was the punishment I got for falling in love with Ren’s girl.
Then Kelsey came. Her embrace healed me. Her touch made me forget. Gave me hope of a future that now seemed to be swept away forever. I had laid my head in Kelsey’s lap. Asked her to be my wife. I was finally going to become the man I always wanted to be. But the tiger wouldn’t let me go. Once again, the curse threatened to undo me because I’d fallen for Ren’s girl.
As if sensing my thoughts, Anamika asked, “Did you brush her hair?”
I knew right away the “her” she was referring to. Still, I asked, “Kelsey?”
She nodded. I stilled and thought about my once fiancée. I swallowed thickly before answering, “No. I never did.”
“Perhaps you should have,” she teased lightly. “You have good hands.”
Gathering her hair, I twisted it into a loop and fastened it at the nape of her neck with a leather tie. Satisfied, I nudged her from the chair. “I am fairly adept at massages as well,” I said with a sad smile.
Anamika turned, trying to figure out the button on her jacket. “What’s a massage?” she asked as she wrapped the Rope of Fire around her waist like a belt and tied the Divine Scarf around her neck.
Stretching out fingers to help her with her button, I answered, “I’ll show you later.”
Anamika fingered the button of my suit jacket, stroked the silk tie, and then touched the amulet hanging around my neck.
Offering my arm, I asked, “Shall we?”
She stared at my arm with a puzzled expression. “Shall we what?”
I took her hand, curved her fingers over my arm, and said, “Shall we go?”
Staring at her fingers as if they were no longer attached to her body, she nodded mutely.
