Wild and Free

by Vella Munn

  Stan’s look indicated that the question didn’t deserve an answer. “Brownie’s mother,” Stan explained, “was Suzie. She and Bolinda were the orphans my wife and I raised when we first came here. Sometimes there’s over thirty of them lounging around the cabin on a hot day.”

  Calley turned toward Dean. His eyes were on the massive creatures. He was watching their every movement not with fear but with the open curiosity of a trained researcher. “It’s all right, isn’t it?” Calley whispered. “The nightmares are gone.”

  Dean pulled Calley against him. “How can I have a nightmare when you’re with me?”

  Long before Calley was ready to leave, their guide had returned, and Dean was trying to get Calley to climb into the kayak without saying goodbye one more time to the Siberian puppies. “Take care of them for me,” she pleaded with Stan. “They’re precious. Everything about your place is fantastic.”

  “I think you said that before,” Dean noted with a wink in Stan’s direction. After promising to come back for a visit next spring, Calley and Dean were on their way.

  They spent that night at the Alaskan Hotel; early the next morning Dean announced that they had one more place to visit before returning home. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where you’re taking me,” Calley pressed.

  “Be quiet and let me run things today,” Dean warned as they were getting into the rented car. They left Juneau and headed north, finally connecting with the Alaska highway system. Near noon they reached Skagway. “I’ll feed you pretty soon,” Dean explained as they entered the city limits. “But we have one stop to make first.”

  By now Calley had reconciled herself to the fact that Dean had gone to considerable lengths to make the trip as special as possible. When he insisted that they visit a jewelry shop, she eagerly agreed. Calley wandered through the store, fascinated by the displays of hand-carved totem poles, hematite and jade while Dean pulled the clerk aside. A few minutes later he joined her, with a small box in his hand. “A souvenir,” he explained. When she opened the box, she discovered three intricately carved grizzlies made out of stone. “Dean” was all she could manage to say in pure delight.

  “Do you like them?”

  “I love them.” She clung to him for strength. “How did you know you’d find that here?”

  “I didn’t.” Dean’s grin was as beguiling as a young boy’s. “I ordered it last month. I know the artist who did the carving.”

  “It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” she whispered.

  She paid little attention to where he took her for lunch. Calley was still in a romantic fog when they reached Whitehorse late in the day. She was struck by the bustle of the city that served as the capital of the Yukon but didn’t object when Dean left the city and took a well-maintained road that ended at an isolated but modern campground complete with a restaurant. Dean would take care of her tonight. That was all she needed to know.

  There seemed to be no end to the people Dean knew. Not only was the campground owner expecting them, but he explained that they were the only guests who wouldn’t have to stay in the campgrounds. “I keep a bungalow for my personal friends,” he told Calley. “You two let me know when you’re ready for dinner and I’ll have it brought to your room.”

  “Dean!” Calley exclaimed when he insisted on carrying her into the modern bedroom/living room combination behind the main building. “How many more surprises do you have in store for me?”

  “Two. The first you’ll discover later tonight. What would you like for dinner, milady?”

  Dean made a great display of reading the menu and then eliminating every suggestion Calley made until she let him make the final decision. They sat cross-legged on a queen-size bed and ate Alaskan crab with their fingers, large napkins tucked down their fronts. “This is decadent,” Calley said with a laugh. “I feel so pampered.”

  “That’s what I wanted.” The love pouring out of Dean’s eyes took her breath away. “I won’t get enough chances to pamper you.”

  “I don’t care,” she reassured him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”

  “Even if I wouldn’t let you take that puppy home with you?”

  Calley pretended to consider that possibility. “Bandit really was a sweetheart, wasn’t he?” she admitted. “Do you think we’ll see Stan again? I’d love to see how those puppies turned out.”

  “We’ll see Stan,” Dean said softly. “Sometimes I think he’ll live forever. Alaska needs men like him. You know—” Dean drew out the words. He slipped off the bed, taking his plate with him. After placing it on the dresser, he turned toward Calley. “I don’t think I want to talk about Stan anymore.”

  “Oh?” Calley started to tremble. Dean’s eyes were telling her what she wanted to see. “What would you like to do?”

  “I want to make love to my wife.”

  “And I want to make love to my husband.”

  With an effort Dean drew himself up straight. “But not here and not now,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  “More surprises?” she guessed.

  “You could say that. Unfortunately we have to wait until about eleven o’clock.”

  Slowly Calley got to her feet. When she turned toward him, her fingers were aimed at his ribs. “You really know how to torture a woman, don’t you?” she asked. “Well, what if I say no to that?” By reaching for the sensitive flesh under his arms, Calley was able to back him toward the bed.

  Dean gave a sigh of reluctant surrender that didn’t fool Calley. “I might not be ready for a repeat performance later,” he pointed out as he collapsed onto the bed, pulling Calley down with him.

  “Oh, I think you’ll manage.” Calley was on top, her legs straddling Dean’s strong body.

  They made love in the old bed and fell asleep to the sounds of vacationers outside. Calley had no idea what time it was when Dean shook her awake. She tried to bury herself under the blankets, but he pulled them off her. “You promised,” he said petulantly.

  “You’re a hard man, Dean Ramsey,” Calley said with a groan. Nevertheless, she dragged herself out of bed. She managed not to ask if he had taken leave of his senses when he helped her into a short terry bathrobe. “You want me to ask where we’re going in the middle of the night dressed like this, don’t you? Well, I’m not going to.”

  She didn’t have to. After stepping outside, Dean led her to the swimming pool she’d taken scant notice of earlier in the day. It was deserted now, steam rising around the short slide. “They keep this heated?” she wondered aloud. “Doesn’t that cost an awful lot?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Dean’s reply was noncommittal.

  Calley was eyeing the slide. It had been years since she’d attempted one of those. “Are you sure we’re going to have the place to ourselves?” she asked, mindful of her naked state under the robe.

  “Positive. Well, Mrs. Ramsey, who gets in first?”

  With a flourish she sincerely hoped no one but Dean would see, she threw off her robe and slid into the water. The moment she hit water, she knew this wasn’t any ordinary swimming pool.

  Naked, Dean joined her. He splashed water in her face before drawing her close to him under an Alaskan night sky. “What do you think?”

  Thinking with Dean’s wet body against hers was next to impossible. “What is it?” she managed to ask. “It’s too warm to be a heated pool.”

  Dean gave her a wet kiss. “This is a natural hot springs.”

  “In the Yukon?” If it weren’t for his expression, she would have thought he was putting her on. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. There are several in the Yukon.” Dean’s legs were wrapped around hers. The combination of that and his tone of voice were responsible for her disorganized thoughts. Life couldn’t be more perfect.

  “Remind me to honeymoon with you more often,” Calley whispered when they were standing in neck-deep water. “I like your ideas.”

  “Hmm. What if you come up wit
h the next idea?” Dean’s hands were making gentle inroads on what remained of Calley’s senses. She closed her eyes and lifted her head skyward as his search centered around her breasts.

  “Can’t you guess?” she managed to say. “I want you to make love to me here. In a hot springs in Alaska.”

  In the morning they said a reluctant goodbye to their hosts before heading toward the plane that took them back to Montana. Although Calley had been ready to begin the journey south as a married woman, there was no denying the sense of melancholy she carried with her as they made the short trip from the airport back to their house. As she told Dean, she’d left a part of her heart in Alaska.

  Dean was out of the car and around to open her door before she’d had time to move. “Come on, honey. Someone’s waiting for us,” he said.

  First Calley saw Steve. The Indian was sitting on the front porch, his body hunched forward as if waiting for them was the only thing he had to do. Then she saw the puppy in his arms.

  “Oh, Dean! Oh!” She hurried forward and dropped to her knees in front of Steve. The black-and-white bundle wriggled toward her, a soft pink tongue caressing her face. “Bandit,” she breathed. “How did you get him here?”

  Dean stood over her, smiling like a proud father on Christmas morning. “That’s a long story. Do you like him?”

  “Like him?” Calley lifted the puppy in her arms and rose to her feet in a single movement. She didn’t care that Steve was witness to her happy tears. She fell into Dean’s arms, the puppy cradled between them. “I love him. I love you.”

  About the Author

  Vella Munn claims she has only one pseudonym—Mom. Originally from California, she resides in Oregon with her husband and two sons. Before turning to writing full-time, Vella penned more than fifty articles and a nonfiction book. She also worked as a reporter and a social worker.

  Look for these titles by Vonna Harper

  Now Available:

  Bloodhunter

  Predator

  Night Hunter

  Shifters’ Storm

  Studs

  Desire is their only connection. Love may be his only salvation…

  Night Hunter

  © 2011 Vonna Harper

  Locals call the highway Alligator Alley. Emerging jeweler Mala Bey sees it as a storm-tossed road to a bright future. When a black-clad motorcyclist pulls alongside, thrilling her with dark eyes that promise raw, wild sex, her system goes into overload. Moments later, the stranger loses control and crashes into the Everglades.

  Horrified, Mala desperately searches for the compelling man, but it’s as if the thick vegetation swallowed him whole. Yet she hears his voice calling for her—only his voice.

  Caught in a portal filled with disembodied voices calling him backward in time, Laird Jaeger clings to his only lifeline to the present—the woman with gray-green eyes. A mystical thread connects their thoughts as ancient forces drag him deeper into a nightmare, farther back into a past only his Seminole blood remembers.

  A mysterious, panther-like creature guides Jaeger toward a past life as Thunder, the ancient tribe’s one hope of survival. Even as the past wraps tendrils around his soul, his and Mala’s connection endures. Its power is enough burn a fiery path of desire through time, but their growing love may not be strong enough to break destiny’s spell.

  Warning: Sex in the Everglades. Lots of hot sex with no bugs. Or snakes. But some rather judgmental Seminoles.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Night Hunter:

  The air conditioning wasn’t working in the Fort Lauderdale motel room, but Mala was barely aware of the sticky heat. After placing the case containing her jewelry on the small table, she kicked off her sandals and collapsed on the bed.

  She lay staring at the speckled ceiling, her thoughts going places her tired body couldn’t. She’d spent what was left of daylight prowling Alligator Alley. Hugging the side of the road had done nothing to sway her conviction that she had been right about where she’d directed Todd and his fellow patrolmen to look.

  Not that being sure had changed anything, she admitted as she became aware of the blinking telephone light. Because she’d told Sandy where she’d be staying, it had to be her friend trying to get in touch with her. The past five years had been a journey to where she was tonight career-wise, and yet it no longer mattered because a stranger on a motorcycle had become more important. Had penetrated her in frightening, exciting ways.

  Still—

  On the tail of a sigh, she sat up and dialed the motel operator who informed her that Sandy had left three messages asking—insisting—she get in touch with her immediately.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Sandy demanded before Mala had time to do more than say hello.

  “It’s a long story. I’m sorry. I know you were worried.”

  “Yeah, I was, old kid. But that isn’t the half of it. Ralph called asking if the three of us could get together for dinner tonight instead of waiting to meet in his office tomorrow. Naturally I said yes, and then when I couldn’t get hold of you, I had to cancel. I don’t know what he’s going to think. Hopefully chalk it up to artistic temperament. I just hope he won’t decide you’re undependable.”

  Ralph Korn of Southeast Jewelry Unlimited had long dealt with independent crafts people. He wouldn’t be successful if he hadn’t developed an instinct about those who could be depended on. Sandy would have done her best to make things right, but they deserved an explanation. The apology she could handle. As for the explanation—

  “Where were you?” Sandy demanded.

  “What?” she asked, then struggled to correct herself. “You don’t have time for the whole story. Besides, if I get going, I’ll sound like an idiot.” Or sex-starved, which I am. “I’ll try to make sense of it in the morning. The meeting’s still set for then, right?”

  “Yes. You’re not going to blow it. You’ve worked too damn hard, and you’re incredibly talented. You deserve this break. All right. Enough of the morale booster and lecture. I’m serious, though. The competition’s intense. I’m thinking we need to get together before early tomorrow. What if…”

  Mala tuned her friend out, paying just enough attention that if Sandy asked another question, hopefully she’d be able to field it, but knowing Sandy, it would be a long time before she ran down. Her friend was right. Tomorrow could be a major turning point in her life, and she should be wired. She had been until the storm and the man.

  Laird Jaeger.

  What had it been, mind control? More like body control along with something that stirred her as she’d never been before.

  Still holding on to the receiver, she turned on the lamp, then reached for her case and opened it. Light spilled over compartments filled with necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, all created from her trademark abalone and silver. She’d been making jewelry inspired by sunsets and sunrises, dew on leaves, pristine beaches and white-flecked waves since she was in high school, experimenting and refining until these pieces and hundreds of others like them became an extension of herself. Now, in part because of Sandy’s connections, she had the opportunity to become a full-time jewelry maker.

  “Sandy,” she said finally. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

  After hanging up, she stared at the samples of her work Ralph Korn would be looking at tomorrow, but then her vision blurred, and she lay back down on the thin coverlet. Sandy had called her dependable, but she wasn’t. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have left Laird Jaeger alone.

  Laird Jaeger.

  She felt, not exactly a presence, but something settle beside her. Whatever it was felt like pinpricks along the length of her backbone, heightened awareness at the base of her spine most of all, growing warmth in her pelvic region. With her eyes resolutely closed, she surrendered to whatever it was.

  “You’re mine. You have to be.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Whatever is happening, I will not go through it alone.”

  “What can I
do? I failed to—”

  “This was meant to be.”

  “The accident?”

  “No accident. Fate.”

  Fate. The warmth in her belly and beyond increased, demanded attention. Moaning, she turned onto her side and pressed her hand hard against her stomach. Already her breasts felt too swollen for her bra.

  “I’m doing what I have to. You’re my connection to the world. I must have that. Must keep you with me.”

  Although she didn’t move, barely breathed, Mala felt a man’s hand cover hers, pull it off her belly and replace it with his own. Shivering, she asked herself the vital, stupid question: did she want this? Hell yes!

  Impatient with clothing, he yanked off her shorts as if he had every right to do whatever he wanted with and to her and threw them on the floor. Her practical briefs no longer hugged her waist, but had been pulled half off her hips. She waited for them to join her shorts. Instead, a hand that felt like fine sandpaper slid under the fabric. In her mind—maybe only in her mind—she spread her legs. She felt so damn exposed, like a mare in heat waiting to be mounted.

  Strong, short fingernails teased away her pubic hair and found willing flesh. His other hand settled over her hipbone and pressed her against the mattress. She arched her spine, but although she might have been able to break free, that was the last thing on her mind. In truth she wasn’t sure she still had a brain, not that it mattered. Forget self-restraint. Bring on an old-fashioned dose of sex. For an excruciating length of time, he simply held her prisoner while his nails tasted and tested the rounded bulge in front of her clit. She couldn’t think past the exploration. Wanted more.

  He knew what he was doing. Oh damn, did he.

  “Don’t…make me…” Don’t make me wait, please, she finished silently.

  She heard laughter. A moment later the hand slid fully between her legs. He cupped her cunt and pressed. For maybe a half-second she was terrified of his bold possession, but what the hell. He wasn’t here in the flesh. Besides, whatever was going on was a thousand times better than masturbating.