Something wasn't right about the night.

Dr. Kathleen Dawson could feel it deep in the marrow of her bones. The jungle was too quiet, the Indian helpers too agitated. She settled back on the log by the fire, her thoughts troubled. A nagging ache stiffened the muscles of her shoulders and neck.

Scanning the area, she shivered. The darkness beyond the camp reminded her of a black curtain, hiding menacing possibilities on the other side. Finally her gaze settled on Santo, sitting across from her, his bronzed face cast in the reddish glow from the fire. His features suddenly seemed sinister, fueling her vivid imagination.

"I love the rain forest during the day, but it certainly is a different story at night," Kathleen said in Spanish, talking to still her disquieting thoughts that were conjuring up all kinds of evil images out of the black of night.

"Stay close to the fire." Santo shifted uneasily from one leg to the other, his hands extended toward the flames, his gaze darting about as though he was trying to see through the dark.

"A tribe of headhunters could be lurking out there." Indicating the jungle beyond the fire with a wave of her hand, Kathleen forced a lightness into her voice, but her childhood fear of the night pushed to the foreground.

"Or the Jaguar Man. He likes the night."

"Jaguar Man?" She lifted her hand to rub across her knitted brow, feeling the wet sheen of the moisture laden air on her skin. "Wasn't that who your helpers were whispering about earlier?"

"Yes. They aren't happy. This place is too close to his territory. And it has begun to rain a lot earlier than it should. Not a good sign."

Kathleen straightened, alert at her Dalco guide's tone that held a warning and a touch of fear in it. "This Jaguar Man myth won't interfere with why we are here, will it?"

"Myth?"

"Of course, there's no such thing as a man who is a jaguar by day."

Standing, Santo glanced at his helpers. "They think so."

"Do you?"

He frowned. "I may now live in the capital and work for a big company like Dalco, but I was born in the jungle. It's hard to forget where you came from."

"Then you don't think it's a myth?"

Santo stared down at her, then looked toward his helpers. "They think he comes in the night to protect the jungle. It's his and he tolerates no trespassers touching his home."

Santo's whispered words flowed like the wind through the forest, bringing a chill to Kathleen while ripples of fear vibrated through her.

The Indian smiled, his gaze sliding away. "Do not worry. You are safe with us."

"Yeah," Kathleen mumbled as Santo walked away, apprehensive because his smile hadn't reached his eyes. "Then why do I feel like I'm being watched? That everything is out of my control?"

Hugging her arms to her, Kathleen tried to shake off the dread forging a strong hold on her. But her conversation with Santo only strengthened the ominous feeling something wasn't right about the night.

The rain had finally stopped an hour ago. She heard the dripping water rolling off the leaves above and splashing onto the forest floor below. She breathed in the clean, fresh smell after a downpour. Santo had assured her the canoes used to get her here were secured on the river. Everything should be all right, but deep inside of her she knew that wasn't true.

As she stared at the flames devouring the pieces of wood, she thought of her home in Texas and how very different Costa Sierra was from Dallas. She had once referred to her hometown as a jungle. But Dallas wasn't anything like this. She glanced at the wall of darkness and wished she were back in Dallas where everything was predictable and orderly. In her world of science logic and rationality ruled, not superstitious stories of a Jaguar Man who ruled the jungle, protecting it from outsiders at all costs.

"Well, Kathleen, you wanted to come to Costa Sierra. So now, you'd better make the best of it and go to sleep. Tomorrow will be another long day," she said out loud, comforted by the sound of her own voice in the eerie stillness. Standing, she rolled her shoulders to ease the stiffness and headed for her tent, leaving the flap open to let in the firelight, to feel nearer to the only other humans she had seen in over a day.

Her hammock swayed while she positioned herself in it, the canvas molding itself to her backside. Pulling the mosquito netting over her, she closed her eyes and drew in deep breaths of the dank, damp air. As she listened to the noise of the jungle, it sounded different, not like the evening before down river. Subdued, she thought, as if the animals and insects were waiting, silent in their vigil.

Waiting for what?

She surveyed the campsite through the flap in her tent. The Indians were settled in their hammocks, sleeping. The fire blazed and would for a few more hours if it didn't start raining again. She could see nothing beyond the mantle of darkness. The feeling, however, still persisted that her life was about to change.

For a long time Kathleen watched until her eyelids grew heavy and she yawned. "This is ridiculous." She had to get some sleep because tomorrow she would begin her search finally after traveling for days to this remote part of the rain forest.

With a sigh she settled in the hammock and tried to wipe her mind of all thoughts except counting backward from one thousand. The last number she remembered was nine hundred sixty as the blackness of sleep descended like the night in the jungle, quickly, silently.

He walked soundlessly through the campsite toward the tent and the hammock that held the woman, his every sense alert for any change in his surroundings. Nothing escaped him, not the slightest movement, not the slightest sound.

Yanking back the mosquito netting, he stared at the woman in the hammock, studying her features, serene in sleep. Her feminine scent blended with the other more powerful aromas of the jungle, pulling him closer. Her long auburn hair framed her delicately molded face, her skin creamy with a touch of rose in it.

Drawn to her despite his need not to be, he caressed a strand of hair away from her cheek, a tingling awareness of the woman invading him. Startled, he yanked his hand away. He hadn't touched a woman like this since---A tightness in his gut twisted painfully, prodding memories forward.

He forced his gaze away from the woman and around to inspect the campsite. The equipment she used was in a nearby tent. The Indians lay in their hammocks in another tent, oblivious to his coming, as he knew they would be. Returning his intense regard to her, he clenched his hands, determined to hold onto his control. She represented civilization, a world so far removed from his, a world forbidden to him now.

Shutting down all emotions, he withdrew a dart from his pouch and pierced the flesh of her neck. She jerked, trying to twist away. He clamped his hand over her mouth and held her still in her hammock until the sedative took effect, then he bent over and scooped her into his arms. With a supreme effort, he blocked out all feelings. With long, purposeful strides he headed out of the camp, her petite body nestled in his embrace.