by Candi Fox
Two hours later, they finally departed the train. Her lady bits were more than a little sore, yet she didn’t mind. She loved feeling him deep inside her.
This must be why her parents were always sneaking off for alone time. A smile spread across her face as she laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, no wonder they were always sneaking off. It might seem gross, yet if her parents were still enjoying sex decades later, perhaps so would she. He released her hand, putting his arm around her shoulders, before pulling her closer.
Jack must have spared no expense. Not only did the conveyance wait for them, they were the only passengers. She made a mental note to make him a baked goods basket to put with his thank you note.
“What put that smile on your face?”
“You mostly, my parents, and Jack. I’ll make him a care basket to go along with the thank you note.”
“Good idea. You’re going to make a great sheriff’s wife. Much like a preacher’s wife, you’ll be called on to care for the flock in one way or another.”
“I’m more than happy to do so.”
He leaned over, kissing her cheek. “One of the many reasons I care about you.”
Care? Was it possible Cord didn’t love her? Admittedly until yesterday she hadn’t fully realized the depth of her emotions towards her husband. Even after the ceremony, but last night changed everything. His tenderness touched her deeply.
She reached up gingerly touching the shoulder of her dress. Underneath the soft fabrics lay the mark he made on her skin. Lions eyes snaring hers just before he bit down on her shoulder.
The pain, though immense, couldn’t stand against the immediate flood of pleasure that washed her entire being. Last night may have been her first experience with petite morte, unless you counted the dream with wolf; yet she instinctively knew when Cord marked her as his mate. Her body shook with pleasure until she thought she’d come apart.
Eyes rolled back in her head as the muscles contracted from the orgasm. Then something even more incredible happened. A spark of magick opened a door and created a tether between them.
A bond formed between them, one that went beyond the boundaries of the physical. She searched her memory for the word. Metaphysical. That’s exactly the experience she had. The union beyond physical.
“Did my mother speak with you before the wedding?”
“She did. I’m not surprised by your unearthly powers. My cat’s drawn to you, has been since the night we met.”
“Your cat’s drawn to otherworldly things?”
“He senses otherworldly things, but he’s only drawn to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He’s completely smitten with you.”
“Is that why he... you bit me?”
She heard him chuckle.
“We bit you to mark you as our mate. Anyone in the shifter world, and many in the otherworldly community, know what a mark means.”
“You don’t have a mark.”
“We can change that darlin’,” he whispered huskily.
“Here? In broad daylight?”
“Yes, right here in broad daylight.”
Cord
He pulled her onto his lap, her back against his chest. Deft fingers undoing the buttons down the back of her dress. He slid the garment down her shoulders.
The thin cotton shift was soft beneath his fingers as he ran them over the mating mark. She shivered, a small moan escaping her lips. Her under bust corset gave him easy access to her hardening nipples.
One breast in each hand, he lazily rubbed his thumb over them. Circling her areola before lightly pinching each nipple. Emma moaned, arching her back; he took the opportunity to kiss down her neck. One hand lifted her skirt. He found her ties undoing them before he snaked his hand inside her drawers, finding her folds slick with juices.
“You’re wet for me.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
He slid one finger deep inside her, she moaned, bucking her hips into his hand. Cord slid one long finger in and out of her wetness, the other hand still attentive to her breasts.
Suddenly shots rang out. He scooted Emma off his lap and into the seat next to him drawing his gun. Listening for approaching riders, he drew a second gun.
“Do you know how to shoot?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to help the driver.” He handed her a gun. “Extra bullets in my bag.”
Kissing her fiercely before he shimmied out the stagecoach window and crawled to the back of the coach, he was thankful no luggage rested on the back.
The sound of rifle fire nearby let him know the coach’s guard returned fire. Looking around, he spotted three riders. Two of them shot up into the air to try and get the stage to pull over while another rode faster to try and get beside the coach.
“Hup, hup.” The driver snapped the reins urging the horses faster. A bullet whizzed by his head, missing him by less than an inch.
A shot from inside the coach rang out, surprising Cord; the bullet hit home and the rider in the lead fell off his horses. Wounded or dead, he didn’t know which.
The other two returned shots furiously. Both he and the guard returned fire, able to take out the other two would-be robbers. Once the bandits were thwarted, the stagecoach pulled over.
Cord hopped down, heading straight for the coach doors.
“Emma are you all right?”
“I think I’m all right, but I’ve been hit.”
“What?!”
He threw the door open, climbing up inside. Her dress hung loose about her shoulders; he hadn’t had time to redo the buttons.
Blood flowed scarlet against her pale pink dress. Cord examined the wound in her left shoulder. The bullet just missed her mating mark.
“Em. I’m going to have to take the bullet out; we are hours from town.”
“I know.”
“Everyone all right back here? Thanks for your help, Sheriff.” The driver called back.
“Emma is wounded, and she took down the first rider.”
“What can we do to help?”
“I’ll need some clean rags, and alcohol.”
Chapter 45
Emma
The driver came back with a clean shirt and a bottle of hooch. Cord handed the bottle to her.
“Drink, you’ll need it.”
She took a few sips to condition her pallet to the fiery substance before taking two long pulls from the bottle. Satisfied, Cord took the bottle from her, setting it on the bench.
Pulling out a wicked looking knife, he gently cut the cloth away from the wound before pouring a generous amount of the hooch on the blade.
“I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”
“Here miss, this might help.”
She looked up to find the driver passing in a piece of sturdy leather. Cord took it, handing it to her. She put it between her teeth.
She bit down on the leather to keep from crying out as the alcohol began to clean the wound. Emma continued to bite down as Cord worked on getting the bullet out of her shoulder.
Great drops of perspiration beaded on her forehead from the pain she endured.
“I’m sorry, baby, it’s deeper than I thought.”
She nodded her head in understanding, wanting to keep the leather in her mouth. Her teeth tightly clamped around it were the only things keeping her from screaming out. Her jaw would undoubtedly be sore later.
Emma didn’t want Cord to know how badly his probing the wound hurt. She’d done everything in her power not to pass out. The pain was unlike anything she experienced before. Burning pain dancing along her skin like a swarm of red ants. On her seventh birthday she accidentally got into a nest of them. Her skin was marked with tiny angry bites for weeks. She spiked a fever for three days.
Her father, worried she wouldn’t recover, paid the local witch doctor to heal her. In and out of consciousness, she didn’t remember much of the next four days or what the witch doctor did to save her.
He made a thick pink paste that he rubbed on all the bites. The immediate relief allowed her to fall into a deep sleep.
As Cord began to try and remove the bullet again, Emma’s mind slipped into her catalog of herbs and what she could use to prevent infection. If only she knew more about the local herbs. Perhaps her husband would know. If Wolf were here, he’d know what to do.
At some point the pain became too much to bear, and she blissfully welcomed the darkness as it wrapped its arms around her.
Cord
He knew something was wrong the moment he saw the wound. Not wanting to alarm his wife, he kept the information to himself.
His hands were covered with her blood; he still hadn’t found the bullet. The damn thing seemed to slip deeper every time he neared it. He’d removed at least a dozen bullets from deputies or posse members. Nothing like this had happened before. He would need to get Wolf. The medicine man knew more than anyone else when it came to otherworldly magick.
He looked down at his wounded bride. Black spider web like markings were streaking from the wound and spreading. Carefully he patched up the wound making sure to staunch the flow of blood, then he bundled her up so no one else could see her skin if they looked in.
“Driver, head on and take it slow for now.”
The coach took off with a rattling lurch. The driver kept the team to half speed. Cord wrapped his wife up in his arms, cradling her on his lap.
He closed his eyes, reaching down to the tether that tied him to his blood brother.
“Wolf. I need you, brother.”
He waited for a response, when none came, he tried again.
“Brother, our mate is dying.”
“Where?”
Cord visualized the Hot Springs area. He rode through there a few months ago. The city burned to the ground during the war a few years ago, but the spirit of the townsfolk didn’t burn it with. Residents began to rebuild, immediately finding outside investors.
With two hotels and three bath houses, people from all around still came to the springs for cures they couldn’t find anywhere else.
He hoped and prayed his mate would find a cure there.
Chapter 46
Wolf
He sat alone; legs crossed in front of Chief White Crow. Earlier the Chief ordered everyone else to leave the lodge. The village just moved into its summer home. Most of the tribe slept in teepees. The chief and his family had permanent dwellings at each home site.
The elders had a lodge large enough to house them comfortably. As the tribe’s medicine man, he too had a lodge, only he preferred to live out in the teepee. He felt closer to nature, closer to the stars with just a layer of buckskin between him and the elements.
“Tell me of the prophecy. How can I prepare the people?”
Wolf unfolded the map handing it to the Chief. “Our people must be here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “By harvest’s end. Send runners to all the tribes. We must gather in the sacred place to be protected from the demon’s wrath.”
“You are sure that your dove is the woman that fulfills the prophecy?”
“I am. I have spent many hours reaching out to the spirits.”
“Wolf, I need you, brother.”
“I, too, have spoken with the spirits. They told me you would lead us into the fifth world.”
“Forgive me, White Crow, but my blood brother has called.”
“Answer.”
Wolf shut his eyes, slowing down his heartbeat and easily entering a trancelike state. He waited for his brother to reach out again.
“Brother, our mate is dying.”
“Where?”
He concentrated on his brother’s thoughts; they were on their way to the hot springs.
“We need Nik as well.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Getting worse by the minute.”
“I’ll be there.”
He blinked, clearing his head. The eyes of the chief looking at him intently.
“She’s in grave danger.”
“Go.”
Wolf sprang to his feet hurrying to his teepee. His sister followed on his heel.
“Where are you going? What did the Chief say?” Aponi asked.
Instead of answering her, he kept walking. Throwing open the flap he quickly stepped inside.
“Nik, we must go. Our mate is in danger.”
A loud screech drew his attention back to his sister.
“That white woman is not your mate. Anamosa should be your mate.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders to get her attention before leaning down until his face was mere inches from hers.
“My mate is the chosen one. If you don’t like it, take it up with the elders, or better yet, the spirits. Now move aside and let my brother and I go save our mate.”
She looked at him, surprise and a little fear showing in her dark eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Later, Aponi.”
Nik already gathered his belongings and stepped outside to give him and his sister time to talk.
“We don’t have much time. Come with me to the field. I have an idea.”
Wolf led them to an open field, through the hip deep prairie grass and into its center.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I want to call the storm riders and ask them to take us to the hot springs.”
“Not something Nikolas Frank would know how to do, but you’re not Nik.”
Wolf looked at the man’s eyes, waiting for him to show some sign of emotion. Relief filtered through the other man’s eyes, surprising him.
“It’s a long story. I’m here to help Emma and Cord.”
“You’re from the future.”
He watched Nik nod his head.
“It’s mentioned in the prophecy.”
“I’d like to read it after we take care of Emma.”
“Yes, we have much to share. Call the storm.”
Chandler
He had a feeling from the moment he met Wolf the man would be able to see right through him. The first time they met, in this time period, he led the pack of shadow wolves away from Emma.
One of them tore into his back before a large silver wolf grabbed it by the throat, ripping it out. The act gave him time to shift into a giant boar, helping his savior defeat the pack.
After the wolves were vanquished, both men shifted back to human form. Both men sized the other up before exchanging stories. Wolf knew Cord, he promised to find Emma and get her to safety. Chandler headed back toward the fort to meet up with the posse.
When he saw Wolf again in the clinic, he knew the man would have questions. There’d been no judgment in the shaman’s eyes when he “confronted” him about his identity.
He stepped forward, raising his arms to the sky.
“Thor, my brother, I beseech thee to send a storm through the sky that I might save my mate.”
Closing his eyes, he drew on the power of nature feeling the energy he fed it into his desires. Soon, dark storm clouds began to form to the West of them.
He pictured black clouds rolling in with heavy rain and winds. Lightening began to streak across the sky.
“Here they come, brother. Call them down.”
“How did you know?” His voice raised against the ferocity of the wind.
“Later, my brother.”
“By the blood of my ancestors, I call down the storm riders.”
He pulled a blade from the waistband of his pants, slicing his palm before allowing the blood to drop on the ground.
The black clouds swirled, and ghostly looking riders appeared at the lead. Each becoming more solid and fierce looking as they came down to earth.
Thunder boomed, lightning struck a tree at the edge of the field, and the rain pounded down mercilessly.
The front rider approached landing on the ground. The horse he sat upon looked like carved ebony. It’s hooves like dark black glass. Lightning crackled through its mane.
When the rider spoke, his voice boomed like thunder rolling across the wide plain.
“Who has summoned me?”
He stepped closer to the rider. “I, Arkyn Magnus, son of Signe Magnus, Maiden to Odin. Head of the Hel Squad.”
“They sent more men to the Nilfheim than Valhalla. Your mother’s up for general. Did you know that, boy?”
“A well-deserved honor. I have every faith she will soon fill the position.”
“Only for the son of such as she will I grant thee a boon this day. What is it you ask of Ulfric Balder?”
“Ulfric, well met, leader of the Storm Riders. I am honored by your presence. My brother and I need to save our mate. She’s at the hot springs and has been mortally wounded.”
“Then come astride and join my band. Aric, you’ll let the shaman ride behind you.”
Chandler took Ulfric’s extended hand, hopping on the back of the biggest equine he ever saw. They made the draft horses he saw at state fairs look small.
The moment he settled in Ulfric gave the command. Seconds later they were air born climbing higher than he flew in bird form. The silent storm followed them as they ripped across the sky.
Lightning crackled around them, wisps of electricity flowing down his loose hair. He must have looked like a mad science experiment with bits of blue electricity running through his locks.
Immense amounts of chaotic energy roiled around them as the storm swept across the landscape behind them, leaving nothing untouched in its wake.
Magick came with a price. The wild landscape paid much of the immediate price, but he couldn’t swear no homes or towns were injured in the ensuing storm.
Three hundred miles away from where they started, they landed in a field approximately two miles away from the town. A little more than an hour had elapsed. He’d do the math in his head later.
“Thank you, Ulfric. I owe you a boon for this favor.”
The bigger man shook his head. He offered his hand again for balance as Chandler dismounted.
“You owe me nothing, brother. One day we will share a drink in Valhalla.”
