“I want you.” His voice resonated in the night.
Celia laughed, “Cher, I believe you just had me.”
He snorted with mirth. “There’s no doubt that I did but I meant as my mate.”
Mate? Hell, they might’ve made the most fantastic, intense love she had ever known, but mate? The attraction between them was powerful, oui, but most men shied away from any idea of commitment. She must’ve heard wrong. Maybe he meant “date,” not “mate.” Celia trailed her hand down his bronze belly and stroked his side. “Don’t you mean ‘date’?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t have time nor the inclination for such frivolity. I don’t watch movies or go dancing or any such thing. I live, I fly, and I bring storms. It’s my destiny. But I’m tired of being alone. I’ve never had a mate but I want one. I want you.”
“You’ve lost me, Byrd.” Celia didn’t remember drinking but she must be intoxicated because what he said made little sense. “What do you mean you bring storms and it’s your destiny? You’re talking crazy.”
His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m blunt, I’m afraid. I don’t have human finesse or social skills. I thought you knew, Celia, or had at least guessed.”
Her afterglow was fast fading into alarm. “Guessed what?”
“Think about it.”
“About what?”
“Remember where I first saw you,” he said, his voice so kind and sweet she wanted to embrace it, to believe it, to understand. “I saw you at the pond when I flew over.”
“Yes, you’re a pilot.”
Byrd sighed. “I never told you that, Celia. You assumed it because it made sense but what I am defies logic. I’ve only attempted to tell five people over hundreds of years and no one believes me. I thought you would.”
Mon dieu, she wanted to, but unless she grasped whatever he wanted to tell her, she couldn’t. “I’m trying, Byrd.”
“Think.” His fingers played across her skin like a musician’s. “My name’s Byrd, right? You found a feather, right? You remember and you even thought about the possibility, then rejected it.”
Celia drew a hard breath and held it. Memory flooded her, the way she’d had a funny feeling when he told her his name and she’d connected it to the dark, sleek Thunderbird she thought she’d seen. Something about him was unlike any man she’d ever known, but the idea he might be a mythical being defied all logic. Yet, as she studied him, her eyes intent on his face and his body, Celia wondered. Snippets from literature she’d read about gods coming to earth in human form haunted her mind, Zeus among them. Angelique warned her about the Thunderbird, and others mentioned the creature as if they believed. But acknowledging existence seemed a long way from accepting she’d just made love with a Thunderbird.
After a long silence, she touched his face. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a Thunderbird? That they’re real?”
Byrd nodded. “I am the Thunderbird,” he said. His voice remained soft and gentle. “There’s just one and I’m immortal.”
She said nothing. What words would make sense? Her mind reeled from the impact of what he claimed. Celia touched him, his body, his solid man flesh. “Were you born what you are?” she asked. “Or were you a man?”
His dark eyes went blacker than a moonless night. “Once,” he said. “I was Lakota, a warrior. And I killed the Thunderbird in error. My pride as a hunter was my downfall and I became what I had killed.”
An urge to rise and flee or scream filled her, so intense she almost did both. But Celia tried to sort it out, to grasp what he said, even as she figured this had to be a weird dream. “If you’re immortal, how could you kill another Thunderbird?”
“The creatures weren’t always this way. It’s my punishment for my sin, to be the Thunderbird and to live forever.”
A thousand questions plagued her mind. “How long ago was this?”
Byrd shrugged, the gesture graceful even when reclining. “By your calendar, in the mid 1700s, 1750, I believe. In my real world, calendars don’t matter and mean nothing. There’s just time. Do you believe me, winuhca?”
Did she? Could she? She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to, Byrd, but it’s so far-fetched.”
He didn’t respond, just kept still. Then he sat up and stood. “I need to go,” he said.
Celia realized, whether she believed him or not, that she wanted him to stay. “Don’t,” she said. “I’m trying.”
He grinned, a warm expression that all but melted her heart. “I know, Celia, but I have to go. There are more storms to bring. I’ll return soon and when I do, you must know if you believe and if you will be my mate.”
He might as well tell me to learn to fly while he’s away. “I have so many questions,” she blurted out. “If you’re immortal, how can I be your mate? Where would we live? Would I still be a woman or a bird? What would I do while you’re out, uh, doing whatever you do?”
Byrd leaned over and stroked her face, his expression tender. “I have the power to make my mate immortal too. In fact, if we come together two more times, you will be, regardless. Three times is the charm when you’re fucking a Thunderbird. You would be a winged creature when we fly and take your woman form when we aren’t. My home is in Lakota country, in the Black Hills, far beyond civilization. It’s a cave but large and well-appointed. It’s comfortable and you could stay or come with me.”
I’m crazy to even consider any of this. “Do you live there as a man or bird? Is it a nest?”
He laughed and shook his head. “It’s not a nest, dearest Celia. I assume my human form there. Come watch me go and you’ll believe.”
Outside, the night sky had cleared. Stars spangled and sparkled against the darkness. A last quarter moon gleamed among them, bone white. Byrd kissed her, brief and fierce, and then, still naked, he walked about fifteen feet away from her. He bowed his head and she thought he might’ve mumbled something too low to hear. Then he turned to his left and began to make circles. His feet moved in an elaborate dance and as she watched, feathers began to replace his skin. He grew larger, taller, and broader. Wings erupted from his back, below his shoulders, and his features shifted. His nose became a beak and then he rose into the sky. He flapped his wings and flew away with speed, leaving Celia alone in the night.
Chapter Five
She stood, rooted in place, hands cupping her mouth in sheer disbelief, but she’d seen it and could not deny it. Byrd, the dark and sexy stranger who’d kissed her and then made love to her with powerful passion, had just shape-shifted into a huge bird. He’d become what he’d said he was—the Thunderbird. Her mind balked but her heart soared after him into the heavens and believed the impossible.
Celia stared into the sky for a long time, then turned and went inside. The lovely ranch house seemed foreign and strange, confining in a way it hadn’t before. All the expensive furnishings, the space, the unfamiliar surroundings mocked her. She didn’t belong here, she thought, she was a little Cajun swamp rat, more gator than Western thoroughbred. If she’d stayed in Louisiana where she belonged, she wouldn’t be dealing with Thunderbirds and strange things. For a moment, she imagined floating through the swamps in a pirogue, with the Spanish moss hanging ghost-like from the cypress trees and the water moccasins arrowing their way through the dark water. She could almost smell the unmistakable aroma of the bayous. But she’d left it long ago, for the town and a different life. Coming here was supposed to be a new beginning but she’d never imagined anything so different or mystical.
She couldn’t relax or sleep. For the first hour, she roamed the house with a wild animal’s prowl, unable to think. Then she sat down and wept with frustration. God help her, she had no clue what to do. Celia tried to imagine chatting about her dilemma with Angie but she couldn’t. They’d never get past the starting point. Her cousin might believe the Thunderbird existed but somehow Celia thought she would balk at the notion she’d made love with the creature. Angie would likely laugh
at the idea that the Thunderbird wanted her as his mate, too. Speculation about something supernatural was one thing. Offering advice on whether or not to commit to a legend was another.
Her mother couldn’t help. She’d think Celia was crazy and so would any of the friends she could call. Dealing with whatever had happened and making a decision rested on her shoulders, no one else’s. After watching Byrd morph into a huge feathered creature, Celia found she couldn’t deny the reality, strange and surreal as it was. If she accepted he was the Thunderbird, however, it remained a stretch to becoming his mate. A thousand questions came to mind, things she had no way to answer. Byrd could, but he wanted her to make her choice by the time he returned.
Could I visit my family? What the hell would I tell them? Could I fly? Flying appealed to her. Celia enjoyed air travel and to be out in the sky with clouds wafting past seemed like an ultimate pleasure. She’d enjoy it, even love it. Maybe she loved him. Byrd. Crazy to even contemplate after one kiss, one round of mind-blowing sex. I don’t even know him, not really. But she did, in an unconventional way. His scent lingered in her nose, her skin still tingled where he’d touched her, and her twat was sore. They’d eaten gumbo together, too, she remembered, and he’d talked about himself a little. No, Byrd hadn’t revealed yet that he was the Thunderbird, but he’d shared some personal things.
It didn’t make any sense but she wanted him. Celia admitted she liked the idea of being immortal and becoming Byrd’s mate. But as soon as she had the thought, she wanted to backtrack and change her mind. Indecision led to anxiety. Her head ached, her stomach knotted, and her nose snuffed up tight. To clear her head and relax, Celia headed for the pond. Morning sunlight dappled the water with bright rays and after a gander at the sky, which was clear, she settled down to think. Although she hadn’t eaten yet, she wasn’t hungry and she sat beside the pond until after noon.
On her way back to the house, Chuck motored past riding a tractor and waved. She lifted her hand in greeting but picked up the pace. Right now, she’d rather not have a conversation. After a bowl of warmed-up gumbo, Celia booted her computer. She researched everything she could find about the Thunderbird, every piece of lore and legend. Then she made a list of pros and cons. By evening, Celia had her mind made up. She wanted to be with Byrd, more than she’d ever wanted anything, no matter how wild a notion or unreasonable. Or she did if she could still visit her family on occasion. She wouldn’t give them up, not even for Byrd.
Celia laughed at her own thoughts. Here she was, a woman who’d sworn off men and love, the entire romance thing, ready to become the mate of a creature from legend. She couldn’t find a less conventional relationship if she tried, however, so she would go through with it.
Although, she wondered who would house-sit after she left until she realized Chuck was on-site. The housekeeper was scheduled to come in. Angie didn’t really need me— she just did me a favor.
Decision made, she had nothing to do but wait until the skies darkened, a storm threatened, and Byrd returned. After the night he came, then left in a flurry of wings, the weather faired off and remained dry. Celia began to watch the Weather Channel like a fan girl, tracking severe weather and storms across the nation, even around the globe. She wondered if he flew ahead of the thunder and lightning.
One sunny day after another passed, each drier than the next. The cloudless sky loomed overhead, blue and bright. Celia wondered when he’d come back and as the days blended together into a week, then more, she began to think she’d hallucinated the entire thing. She knew better, though, and began to prepare how she’d announce this to her family.
She had few possessions to worry about, no home of her own, and no job. The lack would make the transition simpler. I suppose I’ll tell them I met a man and we’re together, that we’re heading off to his home in the Black Hills. If it’s remote, then there’s no cell service so they’ll have to wait to hear from me.
Most days she spent outside on the wide porch or down by the pond. Chuck stopped by several times to ask if Celia needed anything but she always smiled and told him she didn’t. Sleep eluded Celia and she spent many hours beneath the stars, hoping for a line of clouds to advance. After eleven days, she woke with a sense of prickling electricity in the air. A quick check of the Weather Channel revealed a rapidly growing squall line coming out of the Texas Panhandle and headed her way. She flipped to one of the Tulsa television stations for a more localized report.
“Well, folks, looks like our sunny days are about to change,” the weathercaster drawled.
“Storms are already firing along and behind this frontal boundary to our west. It should start to affect our area by noon or one o’clock this afternoon. Look for heavy downpours, frequent cloud-to-ground lightning, wind gusts up to 60 miles per hour, and ongoing thunderstorms across the viewing area.”
Anticipation sent shivers down her spine. He’s coming, she thought, with growing excitement, Byrd’s coming. She experienced the same kind of giddy joy she always had before a big date and she prepared in the same way. Celia showered, washed her hair and styled it, and spent an hour wondering what to wear. None of the casual clothes she’d brought seemed suitable, although she couldn’t say why so she raided Angie’s closet. The close fitting black silk flapper style evening dress Celia chose glittered with an array of crystals, sequins, and feathers. The dark feathers cinched the deal and once she put it on, it fit tight and well. Her shoulders emerged beneath the thin spaghetti straps and just enough bosoms showed to be sexy. She posed before her cousin’s triple mirror and preened. The dress worked magic and changed her from a Louisiana gal to a world class beauty, something she’d never claimed to be. He’ll like it very much. I know he will. She applied her makeup with care but kept it minimal. Natural seemed better but she applied a floral scent she borrowed from Angelique’s dressing table.
Celia added a pair of heels and checked her reflection. Mon dieu! He’ll be impressed for sure.
By the time she’d finished dressing, distant thunder growled and she grinned. Celia stepped outside and studied the western sky. Heavy, dark clouds advanced with speed and lightning flared within their mass. On impulse, she slipped off the heels and ran barefoot down to the pond. The heat gathered, thick and close, and a static electricity all but sizzled in the air.
When the winds shifted and the first raindrops pattered down on the dry dust and burnt grass, Celia dashed to the porch. She sat down on the steps and put on the shoes, then waited.
Wild lightning erupted across the heavens and the clouds opened to drench the countryside with showers. Thunder boomed and crashed with so much power the windows behind her in the house rattled in their frames. A jagged fork of lightning split the sky and thunder rolled at the same time. Celia stared upward in awe and saw him. The huge bird banked and swooped low until he passed just above her. As he went by, she saw the lightning fire spark from his eyes and join the display. The rich, clean scent of new rain filled her nose and she caught the sharper smell of ozone. It crackled in the air around her, potent with possibility.
Hail mixed with the rain clattered and fell with force. The winds picked up until the trees bent over so far it appeared they had waists. Branches snapped and leaves flew in the fury of the storm. Enough rain fell to drain from the gutters to the ground in a gurgling rush. Some of the gusts blew beneath the eaves of the house and made a wicked, moaning noise somewhere between a whine and a scream.
She sensed the overwhelming power in the storm and responded with a pagan delight. Celia wanted to dance in the rain and sing. She ached to be part of the weather and to tap into the energy surrounding her. The full fury of the thunderstorm broke and she heard the rush of the Thunderbird’s wings. Celia thought of Byrd and her pussy warmed, wet and willing. The storm evoked her desire and she ached for him. Her nipples hardened and prickled with want and she reached down to finger her mound for relief from the growing tension. She teased her pussy as the storm lessened and stopped when she saw
a dark shape descend from the sky.
As the rain slackened, a huge bird landed in the yard. His wingspan stretched out from the edge of the porch where she could touch it if she wanted and sloped on the other side down toward the pond. The bird’s dark feathers glistened with water and shimmered. Its head turned toward her and she gasped with wonder as the eyes shifted to become Byrd’s dark ones. His features emerged from the creature’s face and he swirled around in a graceful dance as he assumed his man form. Celia ran to meet him and he opened his arms to catch her, hold her. She noticed feathers still sprouting on each arm, each one changing into fine, black hairs as she watched. Byrd smelled of the rain, of earth, and wind. “You came back after all ,” she said, almost sobbing in her delight. “You’re here.”
Byrd’s sigh reminded her of the sound of wind through the trees. “I told you that I would, winuhca,” he said. “And I did.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” she told him.
He nodded. “Since you’re here, looking very beautiful, wearing feathers,” he said, “I guess you have.”
“I do. I did.” Her words sounded like a vow, so she added, “I believe and I will be your mate, if you still want me.”
His eyes met hers and pierced her soul. “Yes, Celia. Then there are things to do and things you must learn.”
She wanted loving, not a lesson, but when she raised her head to protest, Byrd kissed her. Celia forgot about anything else. His lips molded against hers, pliable as clay, hot as the month of August, and sweeter than pralines. Byrd’s mouth warmed hers with more spice than a good gumbo or étouffé and evoked every carnal passion lurking within her body. He nibbled at her and she responded with urgent kisses delivered on his mouth, his cheeks, and down his throat. Celia shuddered as ripples of delight spread outward and through her, down to her feet.
Byrd's Desire Page 4
