She was in his arms without knowing how she got there. His flesh was warm, and she pressed her cheek against the muscle of his chest, feeling his heart quicken against her. His fingers traced a path down her arms, and around the soft curve of her lower back and played softly upon the top of her bare backside.
“You are exquisite, Katari,” he murmured. “I will strive very hard to be the gentleman you deserve.”
She placed her lips on his shoulder, lightly. “I want the man you already are, Nicholas. All of you.”
His mouth found hers swiftly, beginning an exploration of its contours with a soft intensity that stole her breath completely. It had been so long since she had felt his lips this way. She almost swooned with pleasure of it. When his fingers explored the curves of her breasts and touched lightly upon the tips of her aching nipples, she felt a rush of desire that sent burning warmth between her legs. She whimpered in response.
Nicholas drew her carefully down into the enveloping pelts. “I will move slowly with you, Katari. So you are ready, and there is no pain.”
“I am not afraid,” she whispered back.
Nicholas began a slow assault on her senses that took her to a place that she had never been. There was no concept of time, only of his hands and his mouth, touching, stroking, and teasing. Her legs quivered, and the wetness between her legs became almost frightening. Was it normal? When his fingers traced a path there, and found the tiny swollen core of her, she cried out in both pleasure and anguish. Her body wiggled as he explored her hidden regions, and she grew desperate for something elusive. Panting, she pulled at his shoulders, bringing his body down and into fuller connection with hers. The weight of him on her body was heavenly.
He took her wrists in both hands and held them out to both sides of her body. “You must be patient, Katari,” he whispered. “I have been a patient man, too. I must move slowly here and now.”
“But-“
His lips covered her complaint, and his tongue danced again with the tip of her own. Nicholas nibbled her along her neck, to the little hollow at the base of her throat, and across her collarbone. Then his tongue traced a path down over the globes over her breasts and to flick upon the rose-peaked nipples. Again, she moaned from the searing heat that matched the urgent pulse inside of her. When he suckled the tips into his mouth just as she remembered, her back bowed instinctively so that they thrust even further inside the heat.
Her wrists were pulled down to her hips, but still held firmly captive. “Be still, Katari,” came his whisper. His lips traced an agonized path down her belly, and the skin there trembled with each touch. She felt his hot breath against her woman’s parts, and her own breathing became more ragged. Did he intend to kiss her there?
Yes. His mouth slid down and into the little vee at the juncture of her thighs, she cried out with the sheer jolt of it. She could feel her own wetness and the play of his tongue as it laved the sensitive bud there. She began to tremble wildly, but the weight of his body held her still. Pressure built rapidly inside of her, and she was quickly spiraling, crashing, careening into waves of pleasure like none other. It controlled her completely – her sounds, her movements. When the spasms ceased, leaving her gasping and shuddering in total surprise at such an impact, Nicholas rose above her.
“Now, you are ready for me, Katari,” he stated simply. When he had pulled off his breeches, the length and thickness of his man’s parts amazed her. But she still desired to feel him bed her. Intensely. Her flesh ached with the want of him, and she was not frightened.
When he entered her body, using his fingers to gently part her opening and stroke the little bud there, she soon felt a stretching fullness that took her breath away. Nicholas paused slightly, allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of him. There was a hesitation, a small tugging ache, and then he slid into her body completely. Katari clutched the back of his shoulders reflexively, feeling the intricate play of the corded muscles there.
Katari could feel him moving ever deeper inside of her. The unfamiliar sensation was consuming, and she could not control the ragged gasping that escaped her mouth. As Nicholas began to stroke her walls with each smooth, even thrusts, the feeling of desire grew yet again. Her hips wriggled instinctively to find and match each motion. Nicholas’s mouth lowered to capture hers in another heated kiss.
“I love you, Kat,” he murmured. “I always have.” With his large hand, he touched the veil of her shimmering hair that spread across the pelts beneath them.
“I love you, Nicholas. Now, I am your Country Wife forever.”
He laughed, releasing her wrists and cupping her waist with his big hands, lifting her hips to meet his increasing thrusts. She felt the size of him surge within her and quivered. “You are more than a Country Wife ever could be, Katari. You are everything to me. You are my life.”
The change of the angle brought a new surge of feeling to her woman’s parts. Her wet warmth sheathed him, and he used one thumb to gently touch the core of her that was pulsing again with the pressure of need. Her pleasure spiraled upward anew and her head flew back to twist into the pelts, so soft against her cheek.
“Yes, Katari,” Nicholas urged. “Again.”
She drifted away into the bliss, no longer knowing a sense of time or place. Only their bodies. Only Nicholas. Only love.
Chapter 27
It was the onset of the bitter Wolf Moon. At such a time in early winter, the Minsi village expected biting winds and the abrupt addition of heavy snows to the forest floor. This year was very different. Even the elders of the tribe agreed that there had never been such a warm spell so late in the season. The afternoons were nearly balmy with the sun’s kiss, and caused a general air of raised spirits and lingering evenings around the fire pits. It was a blessing, a gift from the Creator.
When Opichi’s labor began unexpectedly that evening, no one was prepared for the news. By Jenna’s figures, it was much too soon. No birth lodge had been readied, nor attendants prepared for the event. Petant and Nicholas carried a moaning Opichi to the little hut in the forest meadow that Nicholas had constructed for their marriage celebration, many moons ago. After that, Jenna quickly shooed the men away to worry in solitude.
Katari was deeply afraid for her friend, although Jenna covered her concerns calmly, so as not to upset the young and frightened mother. They soon had a fire burning merrily, the wash rags were boiled, and fresh pelts were at the ready for the infant. Her mother’s gentle voice was soothing as she murmured instructions, coaxing and guiding Opichi through the fiercely gripping contractions of birth. The delivery itself came easily for Opichi, for the baby was small and easy to push out into the world. The Robin did not make a sound.
But neither did her newborn child. He slipped from her body both woefully small and blue. Katari rubbed him briskly with warmed pelts while Jenna rapped the bottoms of his feet with little thwacks of her thumb and index finger. He remained limp and his flesh was much too cool.
“Katari, put your hands on him,” Jenna demanded firmly. “Now. Quickly.” Katari was dismayed to find them shaking, but she did as her mother instructed without hesitation.
“Let it come, daughter.”
With dread, she knew that her mother asked of her the trance. Her stomach twisted as a tingling warmth ran down her legs and into her toes, and nausea rolled through her on a giant, rippling wave. The infant’s skin was so very cold against her palms that it felt like the sting of a black wasp. It was wrong, all wrong. She knew an alarming sense of failure as Opichi’s anguished sobs rose in the background of her conscious.
“Mingan,” Katari managed to whisper through the grey mist that choked her eyesight. She heard the distinct swoosh of a doorflap and her mother’s voice rang out into the night.
~~~~~
Brown equine ears pinned sideways spoke of discontent, or at the very least, utter boredom. It was obvious that ponies did not enjoy journeys as much as she did. A long and irritated tail swished through the ai
r, flicking at some non-existent fly. It was springtime in the mountains, and not yet the season of pestering insects at all. The air was clear, sweet-smelling, and full of promise.
“Manunksu simply will not be pleased with himself or with others,” Katari sniffed in disdain. “He is a miserable being.”
Nicholas chuckled. “Perhaps you should try to change his name.”
Katari could not deny the logic in his statement. Naming a beast of burden ‘One Who Is Angry’ was not likely the best way to ensure a docile nature. “It was my brother’s choice,” she added, smiling at the sudden memory that it evoked. Years ago, she had vowed to tame the stubborn and un-ridable animal in front of her friends, tugging the reins from the previous rider who had just been tossed into the dirt of the corral. She had not heeded the horse’s warnings, such as the grinding of its teeth and the rolling of its eyes.
When Katari had moved in to mount the obstinate animal, her brother caught wind of the dare. Grey Wolf stepped in between his sister and the pony, just as it had snapped his tail and kicked out a hoof in anger. Manunksu had barely missed her brother’s vital man-parts. His bruise lasted weeks.
“How long will it be, Nicholas?”
He sighed dramatically. “You have asked me that three times already today, Kat. Are you trying to pester me?”
“I am merely excited,” she admitted, reaching back to pat the sleek pile of animal furs that were bundled high upon her pony’s rump. They covered the back of Nicholas’s mount, and also the hindquarters of the third animal that trailed behind on a tether. The product of her husband’s skill over the winter months, when the pelts were at their thickest, was a sight to behold.
Nicholas reached over and flicked the tail of her braid against the curve of her neck, as he always loved to do. “You just cannot wait to buy your trinkets, can you?”
“Well…that, and to learn more of the White Medicine. It is books I crave, Nicholas!”
His eyes shone back at her with both amusement and pride. “You have become a more avid reader than I am,” he announced. “I did not think it possible.”
“Perhaps, I will find another copy of Antony and Cleopatra,” she mused hopefully. “I never knew what became of them after…” Her voice trailed away.
“You burned up the ending?” he finished with raised eyebrows.
She huffed. “I did not know that White Lynx would do such a boldly offensive thing.”
“He had lost you. I may have reacted similarly.”
Katari stared at him. “You would not have!” she responded in disbelief. “In fact, what you did do was to simply ride away.”
His shoulders slumped at her accusation. “Mon Dieu,” he sighed.
“But, I am like a burr in your side,” she added heatedly. “Katari of the Minsi cannot be dislodged very easily!”
“I surely hope not. Katari of the Minsi continues to amaze me with her many talents, every day.”
Katari thought back to the birth of tiny Benoît, her friend Opichi’s son, who’s name meant ‘blessed’ in the French tongue. He had grown heartily since he first began to suckle, and with mounting enthusiasm. One day, he might even reach the formidable size of his father.
“My brother saved him, you know,” Katari admitted, biting the inside of her cheek as she pondered the memory. After the birth, she had been in the grip of sheer panic, caught half between the trance and awakening until Grey Wolf had arrived in the birthing lodge. When her twin had joined her, placing his large hand over her small one, the babe had drawn a first and shuddering breath. Benoît’s resulting cries when his color and warmth had returned were deafening. And, once Benoît had found his mighty voice, there had hardly been a quiet moment in the village.
“I believe that your twin lends you the strength and courage to face what may frighten you,” Nicholas added.
Katari wasn’t so sure. Although she certainly possessed healing skills, she had begun to suspect that her brother’s gift far surpassed hers. Perhaps he even walked the realm of Shaman. If so, Grey Wolf had not yet recognized his path in life. Katari knew there would be an adventure in her brother’s destiny, as well as her own.
“Whatever the case may be, the babe is now healthy, the winter months proved fruitful, and we are on our way to trade New Amsterdam, as husband and wife,” she contemplated.
“It is named New York, now,” he corrected. “It may be quite different than before.”
Katari shook her head. “It cannot be any less amazing than what it was last spring. I am sure to discover more works from many word-weavers.”
Nicholas nodded. “There are better stories than Antony and Cleopatra. With much happier endings.”
“Really?” Katari marveled at the thought of so many stories, so many adventures, both real and imagined. “I cannot wait, Nicholas. How much longer?”
Nicholas reined in his mount, and halted her. “This may take forever, Katari.” He bent forward, and met her lips in a lingering kiss that melted away her insides.
Katari opened her eyes, and lifted her hand so that it touched upon his chest, and his familiar scar. The pulse of lifeblood was strong within her husband. They were very well matched, indeed.
“Then, let us hurry, husband,” she murmured against the heat of his mouth. “I cannot wait very long for forever.”
THE END
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If you missed the adventurous tale of Jenna and Running Wolf, and how their very unusual love came to be, pick up a copy of SAVAGE FOREST, the original book in the Savage Romance Series, today!
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Are you looking for sneak peek at what happens when Katari’s story ends and her twin brother Grey Wolf begins his own personal quest? You will see some familiar characters – and some very interesting new ones in the third part of the series, SAVAGE SOUL, due out in January, 2015.
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Read a sample of Savage Forest – Book One of the Savage Series. It follows the tale of how Jenna and Running Wolf’s tumultuous love came to be.
Sample Chapter:
Chapter 1
Running Wolf blinked through an eerie mist. His heart was now thudding like a small boy’s. Right before his eyes, a spirit weaved noiselessly through the fog-shrouded hemlocks.
He stiffened his spine and chose to firmly hold his place, still and silent within the thick rhododendron. He was a warrior, and would not show fear. Not even for a spirit.
Quietly, he drew his bow in the chance that the creature was an evil one. He remembered his Grandmother’s tales, the ones that left him trembling in his lodge-bunk. But now, he was no boy. He was a man who ranked well above other braves, but for his brother. He was the son of a chief.
Running Wolf filled his lungs with long slow breaths of humid and fern-laden air. Could he even destroy such a creature with a warrior’s bow, should it be bent on evil-doing? This was far beyond his realm of experience.
A wood warbler trilled in the distance and quiet soon followed again in its wake. Still, he waited. His heart-rate slowed, and he was pleased with his mental control.
He observed that this Manëtu, this Native forest spirit before his very eyes, was quite obviously…female. Her hair was thick and long, plaited down a feminine back and swinging gently with each silent step. Most astonishingly, it was the same hue as autumn corn at harvest, although braided in the Wabanaki, or Lenni Lenape fashion. Surely, this was no ordinary Manëtu. Without doubt, she held great power.
His eyes widened when the Manëtu wrinkled her nose and then scratched at it, as if trying to stem a sneeze. It was then that Running Wolf came to realize his utter folly. His ears grew hot and red with swift
embarrassment.
He had been very wrong in his assumption. This female ‘spirit’ was merely one of the Whites who belonged to the growing Dutch Fort that sprawled along the Great River, not far to the south of this pine-laden hollow. She was not mystical, or holy, or venerable - at all. She was an intruder…what was her intent?
Running Wolf chewed his lip for a moment, keenly observing her. This particular woman was clothed like no White female he had ever seen from the settlement. He had certainly looked at them closely when his group had entered the colony for trade, two days prior.
In fact, everything about her was different from those women. Her hips and legs were encased by a man’s breeches. She covered her breasts with a rough, brown tunic. Her tousled hair knew no prim bonnet, and tendrils escaped the fat, gold braid to frame her face.
Most surprising was the fact that she held a musket firmly in her grip. What was she doing with a man’s weapon? When she crouched to listen intently, peering carefully into the underbrush, Running Wolf finally understood. This woman was hunting. In the thickening, hemlock mist. By herself. He nearly snorted in scornful disbelief.
There was a movement at his side as his older brother joined him. “She is different from the others, is she not?” Crow Beaver questioned in a whisper. The devilish glint in his eyes gave extra meaning to his words. Crow Beaver found this White to be attractive. Hesitantly, Running Wolf nodded and returned his gaze to the slender female form some twenty strides ahead. She was different, he would agree with that.
Savage Journey Page 25
