by Evie Byrne
Finally, Wat settled down on his haunches—it only took five minutes or so—but when he lowered himself to the ground, he disappeared into his hooded parka, like a turtle into a shell. He became utterly still, just another inanimate feature in the landscape. Even his buckskin was washed white by moonlight. Ever so slowly, he dropped lower still, sinking into the snow until he became part of it. Until he vanished.
That was her cue. The rabbit was upslope of her. Wat was upslope of the rabbit. All she had to do was spook it into running toward Wat. After considering her options for a moment, she decided on a bold move.
Shouting, “Hey, Rabbit!” she burst from the trees, floundering through the snow.
It froze, apparently thinking, What the fuck?
“Yah!” she shouted, waving her arms at it. After all, cowboys said “yah” when they drove cattle. It should work for rabbits. It leapt straight up, turned midair, and sprinted toward Wat’s position. Wat exploded from hiding, frighteningly fast, shedding snow. Suddenly he was flying sideways, low and parallel to the ground, his arms outstretched…
In her excitement, Eva stumbled over another buried bush. A second rabbit exploded from cover. Without thinking she went after it, leaping high into the air. It dodged left, then right, its powerful legs flashing, but somehow she knew where it would go. She met it there. One moment she was midair—the next, she was planted face-first in the snow with a struggling, screaming ball of fur pinned beneath her.
Now what?
Wat was beside her. He grabbed the rabbit by the ears before it could fight free and drew his knife across its throat. “Go!” he said.
She clamped her mouth over the pulsing red jet. Her mind split in two. Her civilized self cowered in a corner while her primal self gorged on the hot, living blood. Life itself flowed into her, replenishing her starved cells. It was good. It was so fucking good.
She had just enough self-control to glance up and make sure Wat had his own rabbit—otherwise she’d have to share, and she really, really didn’t want to share. He was on his knees nearby, his face buried in the rabbit’s limp neck.
Sweet fresh grass. Musty dry burrows. The terror of the dark wings overhead. Rabbit thoughts. She blocked them, but could not block the wild spirit that flowed through her, setting her alight with life and joy and hope.
The rabbit’s heart stuttered. She stopped feeding, frightened. This was the point of no return, the bad place where a good vamp never, ever went. But in this world, under these cold stars, there was no stopping. Death made way for life. She sank her teeth deeper and sucked. The little heart stumbled, fluttered wildly, and settled into its final stillness. A great silence descended in her soul.
Still, she drank. She took every drop. The rabbit became limp and heavy. Tears of regret came, and still she sucked, rocking back and forth.
Wat said something she did not hear. Gently, he took the rabbit from her and laid it out next to his. A minute ago, they’d been swift and beautiful. Now they were bundles of inert, stained fur. He made a gesture over the bodies and said, “Thank you for the gift of this life, by which we sustain ours, until our time comes in turn.” His mouth was ringed with blood, his eyes fever-bright.
He dipped his thumb into the blood at her rabbit’s neck wound and swiped it between her eyes. “Bless this woman who is now a hunter.”
In a less formal voice, he said, “Is this the first time you’ve killed?”
“First time I’ve listened to a heart stop. I don’t remember the fox.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, suddenly a little queasy. “I’ve killed other vamps with my gun. I’ve given people to Alya for justice, knowing that it would mean their death. But I’ve never cried for any of them.”
Around her knees, little drops of blood beaded on the surface of the snow, bright as rubies. She rubbed her gloves clean, leaving a dusting of pink snow behind, and then brought a handful of snow to her mouth and scrubbed until her skin burned with cold. She left Wat’s thumb-mark in place.
“You hunt like a fox, you know. Like the vixen you are.” Granting her his rare, boyish grin, he made a diving gesture with his hand. “Leap high and strike from above. You’re damned fast. A natural.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Tell it to Ivar.”
He picked the two dead rabbits up by their hind legs and kicked away the telltale traces of blood in the snow. Her emotions steadied, and she began to appreciate the feeling of a full belly. Somewhat full. Truth was, she could eat two more rabbits.
They headed back to the cabin, replaying their hunt, speaking of hunting in general. They held hands. Wat’s thumb stroked the base of her thumb through her glove. At first she barely noticed. Then the steady rhythm of it made her remember his tongue, stroking elsewhere. Her knees went wobbly. An insistent pulse began throbbing between her legs.
“Uh, Wat?”
“Hmm?”
“Does hunting, ever…uh…make you horny?” It sounded crazy to say it aloud, almost sick.
“Gods, yes. Always. You’re—?”
“Very.”
His nostrils flared wide, and his voice dropped half an octave. “I thought maybe you were too upset—”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. This was had happened after the boar hunt. That crazy lust moment. That look in his eyes. It all made sense.
Grinning, he dropped the rabbits, shoved her against the nearest tree and stripped off his gloves. While she licked and bit at his bloodstained mouth, she struggled with the buttons on his pants. Their tongues tangled, blood-hot and tasting of copper. Their combined breaths fogged white and bright between them. He unzipped her coat and shoved her sweater up, baring her breasts to the night. For once she really didn’t care about the cold. He pressed them together, sank his teeth into one high crest. Her head fell back, scraped against rough bark. His tongue raked up her throat. At last she had his heavy cock in one hand. They were both panting, shaking, laughing like crazy people. He wrapped his hand around hers and showed her how he liked to be stroked. Their mouths met again. In seconds, he turned rigid. Pre-cum slicked his length. Kissing him frantically, she closed her hand hard around the throbbing pulse at the base. He jerked her zipper down.
Her pants proved difficult. He’d been right all along about them—they were too tight. She couldn’t open them far, couldn’t lift her legs if they were shoved down, couldn’t give him the right angle of approach, unless she stripped from the waist down, which no one wanted to do in cold like this.
By now, Wat was puffing hard through his nose. He pulled his knife and said through gritted teeth. “On your hands and knees.”
Oh, how she loved that tone. It was the same tone he’d used in the truck cab. It brought out her inner submissive. She dropped onto all fours, sinking in the snow to her elbows. In one quick stroke, he sliced open the back of her pants and with another cut through the crotch on her underwear. Icy air hit hot, needy flesh. She moaned, desperate. He grabbed her hips and plunged into her. The power of it forced a grunt from her throat, low and primal. The second thrust made her snarl. The third made her scream.
A flock of ravens broke from a nearby tree, a storm of wings and angry croaking. Wat laughed like he was drunk. “Scream again. Wake the forest.”
She gave him a look over her shoulder. “Make me.”
His expression went scary determined. “Oh, I will.”
So there she was, on her knees in the snow. Two feet away a pair of dead rabbits stared at her with glassy eyes. The remains of her expensive technical pants were flapping around her bare ass. And she’d never been so happy. Never been so wet. She could hear it, feel it in his easy slide, as his impressive cock filled her and rocked her forward. She was crying out with every stroke—and he was, too. No words, just formless sounds, rising. She lost track of the difference between his voice and hers. Lost track of where her body ended and his began. They were one. Thrust and counter-thrust. Need and repletion and still more need. A driving hunger that fed on itsel
f.
He roared and thrust faster. And faster. Until she vibrated. Until she wasn’t a body at all, but an electric current. Her orgasm started in her toes and ripped up her spine. She opened her throat and screamed, long and high and shrill. The sound shook the trees. It scattered the stars. Her eyes filled with visions of flashing black wings. Her arms and legs gave way. He fell on her and finished while she jerked beneath him like a rabbit caught on the fly.
A minute later he murmured, “Well, if anyone is out and about, they’ll sure find us now.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dawn came fast. Eva roasted herself in front of the fire while he sewed up her pants with the needle and sinew he kept in his rucksack. He thought that the finished product would make a nice fashion statement back in L.A. Her eyes drooped as the sun rose. She yawned again and again. He wasn’t sleepy at all.
“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she said. “Because when I wake up, we have to leave and then—”
“We don’t know what’s going to happen. Let’s not borrow trouble.”
“I’m an animal-eater now. I can tell them that, try to explain that it’s not…but I don’t think it will help. It just means that your ways are contagious.” She cocked her head up at him. “Or that I’ve gone crazy. Either way, it’s bad.”
“Our path is before us. We just have to walk it.” He managed to sound more certain than he felt. Fox told him she was the key. The key for him, perhaps. The key to feelings of joy he’d never known, but all that would be short-lived if something didn’t change. It was hard to keep faith when no answers were appearing.
Echoing his thoughts, she said, “I wish I had faith in something. Like you. All I can think of is how things can go wrong, how easy it is to destroy, how hard it is to rebuild.”
“Shh.” He put down his sewing and lay with her spooned against his body, facing the fire. “Close your eyes.”
She gave in to sleep fast, like a child. He stared into the flames, listening to her soft, even breathing. The gods were tricky. Their paths were crooked. They left clues, but no answers. A few days ago, Eva had thought his people were barbarians. Now she was a hunter. Could the others change their minds so easily, or was Eva just finding her own path? Would she follow it? Or would she return to Los Angeles and forget all of this? Forget him?
The sun crept up the bowl of the sky. Though he could not see the sun—they’d blocked the smoke hole for Eva’s comfort—he felt its slow progress deep in his gut. He imagined the land illuminated, the snow sparkling in the tree tops. He dozed uneasily.
Until the roar of an engine woke him. A snowmobile.
The answer?
He jumped up and pulled on his boots.
Eva stirred, looked around blearily. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s out there. I’m going to try to flag them down.”
“You can’t! It’s daylight!” Her voice was urgent, her eyes wild.
I can. Barely. Please don’t let me fry. “Tell me, right now, are you a Hand or are you my vixen?”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“The Hand has to close her eyes and go back to sleep. Do this if you love me.”
“What?”
He kissed her and ran.
Outside it was a clear, bright day, as often happened after a storm. Too bright. And uncomfortably late. His hood shaded his face, every part of his body was covered, but already his skin was tingling. This had to be quick. He ran around the side of the cabin and, squinting against the sun, spotted the snowmobile in the distance.
“Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms and jumping up and down. “Hey!”
The rider would never hear him, likely never even look his direction. All his instincts demanded he give up and go back inside, but he couldn’t. A sled was his best chance at getting home fast. It took all his will to run away from the cabin, from safety, from darkness, out toward the dazzling open meadow where the snowmobile looped in circles.
“Over here!”
The sled slowed. He held his breath, not even hoping, because that might jinx it. The snowmobile circled wide and headed straight toward him.
Thank you. Thank you.
He waved his arms once more to be sure, and the rider, a big man, lifted one glove to signal he saw him. Wat let out a long breath. Then, instead of running to meet the man, he retreated into the long, cool wedge of shadow that lay along the north side of the cabin and waited there. The shade soothed his skin like cool water.
The snowmobile pulled up just on the far side of the shadow, and the driver, puffy and anonymous in his padded suit, cut the engine.
“Wat, is that you? I don’t know anyone else who dresses like a damned Eskimo.”
Wat held his hand up to his eyes, trying to focus. The sun reflecting on the man’s goggles blinded him—then the man took off the goggles. He made out a broad pink face, little blue eyes and a mustache like a bottlebrush. “Jake? Jake Grimstad? I can’t believe it.”
Jake bought about half of the village’s jerky, marked it up, and distributed it in tourist traps. He lived in a big spread outside of Moose Junction.
“What the hell are you doing out here? You all right?”
“No. Yes!” Wat laughed, drunk with relief. “Am I ever glad to see you.” He knew he should step forward and take Jake’s hand, knew he looked odd cowering against the cabin, but he couldn’t help it. The shade was buying him time. “My truck overturned. I sheltered from the storm here with my…lady.”
Jake chuckled. “You been keeping each other warm?”
“Já, well, you know.” Wat rubbed the back of his neck, trying to repress visions of him and Eva rutting the snow. “Keeping warm” didn’t quite cover it. He didn’t know if he’d survive another session like that one, yet he desperately wanted to find out. “But I think it’s time to take her home.”
“I don’t doubt you, son. I could hole up in my fish house for weeks, but ask my wife to go a day without her venti-grande-mocha-frappa-whatever-the-fuck, and all hell breaks loose.” He dismounted.
Wat realized Jake wanted to go in and meet Eva. Wanted to socialize. Help me gods. He tugged hood down as far as it would go and headed into the sun, toward the cabin door. Solar fire crackled over his jaw, lips, and cheeks. The fox and two rabbits hung off the eaves. If Jake asked how he’d taken them, Wat decided to say he’d set snares. But Jake didn’t ask. Wat darted in front of him and opened the door.
“Honey? You decent? I’ve brought someone…” The door faced east, unfortunately. Eva wasn’t going to like the light spill when the door opened. But he suspected she was already pretty mad. If he was alone, he’d open the door just enough to edge through, but Jake was a big man. He pushed the door open wide.
Wat, first through the door, saw Eva dodge into the darkest corner of the cabin with a speed and fluidity which would have frightened Jake. Fortunately, Jake didn’t see it. What he saw was Eva crouched in the shadows, her black eyes glittering and wary. Wat winced, remembering how paranoid her kind became during the day. For some reason she'd ditched her clothes and covered herself with a blanket. He shut the door, plunging the cabin into near-darkness again, the low fire the only illumination. His light-dazzled eyes struggled to adjust.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, there, miss.” Jake said, holding out his hands like people tended to do around spooked animals—which only served to spook them more.
“Eva, this is Jake. A friend. Jake, Eva.”
Eva focused on Wat and some of the wariness left her eyes. In a blink, her expression shifted from suspicious to flat and impassive. Her stone face. She hadn’t worn it in a while—and he hadn’t missed it. In another blink, she produced a friendly expression, shaded with both embarrassment and coyness, using it to disguise the face of stone. It would fool Jake. It might even have fooled Wat a couple of days ago. But now he knew her waking and sleeping, laughing and crying. He knew her blood. The coy face was a disguise, as was the stone face. What worried him was what la
y behind it.
She stood, took one slinking, slow step toward Jake, and smiled. “Did I hear a snowmobile outside, Jake?” The voice she used could render any male a stuttering idiot. A human didn’t have a chance against her. “Is it yours?”
She’d have Jake enslaved in seconds. Wat hurried to her side, put his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed. Hard.
Eva squeaked and released her mental hold on Jake. Jake didn’t notice any of this, but for the first time, he was able to turn from her and look around the cabin. There wasn’t much to see but the dug-up floor. Wat realized it looked an awful lot like a double-wide grave. Like they’d eaten their traveling companions during the storm and buried them there.
“What’s this?”
“Made a coal bed to keep us warm. Saw it on TV,” he added for good measure. In fact, he only remembered Jake talking about such programs.
Jake nodded sagely. “Seen that one. I goddamn love those survival shows.”
“So, what’s going on here—honey?” Eva asked, digging her nails into his wrist, trying to make him break his hold on her shoulder.
Jake slapped his gut with both hands and laughed. “Jake to the rescue! That’s what’s what, my fair damsel. I’ll just hop you over to my truck, and we’ll have you home in no time.”
“Oh, that would be fantastic.” Eva looked up at Wat and grinned maniacally.
Wat imagined Eva bursting into flames on the back of Jake’s snowmobile, Jake himself immolating in turn as his snow gear ignited, and then the sled’s gas tank exploding in a giant ball of fire.
“Thing is, Jake, the road to my place won’t be plowed for days,” Wat said. “If we went back to town with you, we’d just be stuck there. What we’d really like to do is go home. Could I borrow your sled? It’s asking a lot, I know.”
Jake considered, stroking his mustache. Under Wat’s arm, Eva’s body vibrated with tension. No doubt she was planning to take the snowmobile by any means necessary, but Wat owed Jake his respect and consideration. He’d known the human for a long time. Jake loved his toys and didn’t share them easily, but Wat trusted his basic generosity. Still, every moment Jake hesitated, the sun strengthened.
