The Windigo
Page 7
“Next time,” he said softly and reached up to touch a finger to her nose.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said, a sudden seriousness passing over her features. Then she grinned and released him. “Race you…”
And she ran.
He gave a startled laugh and chased after her.
CHAPTER NINE
Arlene caught her breath at the beauty of the high vale. She paused in her steps, and breath-stealing awe replaced the exhilaration of her race up the mountain. The lake pooled in the steep hollow, and the still water reflected with mirror perfection the juts of granite that thrust up into the dawn-pink sky. A massive cliff of white took up the eastern edge—a glacier caught between the peaks and from a cave in the ice, a stream meandered down through tumbled stones and emerald grass.
“It’s beautiful,” she cried as the cold, high wind tugged at her hair and brought tears to her eyes.
Cecile and werewolves seemed distant from her, as if they were all part of some other world. It was as if she and Peter had come to a new land, one just for them.
Peter caught her hand in his. He smiled, his eyes pale and frosty silver, and her heart thumped in her chest. Ah! He was beautiful, and a tickle of lust stirred below her belly button.
They skirted around the lake, and she found the thin air soothing. She sucked in each breath and felt more alive and alert than she had since…well, since ever. She couldn’t think of a time, even when she was wholly human, that her body had responded so well, moved so gracefully. And she had the energy of three cups of triple-shot lattes, without the caffeine jitters.
But I’m part demon now. What about my soul?
Her feet stumbled, and Peter glanced back at her. Turning her face to the wind, she searched inside, trying to find a hole—something missing. Could one feel their soul?
Fish darted in the rock shadows near the shore of the lake, and she followed them with her gaze. Wonder and love for the world still filled her, and it was those feelings that she had always associated with her faith.
Though perhaps a bit of hunger stirred as well. She moved her hand to her belly and looked over at Peter. He watched her with raised eyebrows, but was silent and patient. She took up his hand again and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Whatever the state of her soul, she would deal with it as she got used to her new self.
Only one dark thought bothered her. What if she had been the one to kill those hikers?
She squeezed Peter’s hand. He believed her innocent, and she would trust him. For now.
The soft grass that grew to the shore of the lake cushioned her bare feet, and she could feel the soil beneath, the loam of the earth—the tiny life forms living there sending up pulses through her soles. Wind whipped down out of the crevices of the glacier, bringing with it the perfume of ice and minerals, of thin air and rocky pinnacles. She let it wrap its cold hands around her face like a lover and tug at her torn tee shirt and loose shorts.
Peter’s hair lifted like a streaming, black banner, and her eyes devoured the muscles that moved on his bare back and how his khaki pants clung to his narrow hips.
The ice cave loomed in front of them, tall enough for Peter to walk in without ducking. As the cold walls enclosed them, the trickling of the water over the stones grew louder and the air grew still. Blue and silver light filled the tunnel, threading through with sparkling shimmers and diamond glitter. A few more steps and the walls opened up to a huge cavern inside the ice. Cave was the wrong word, this was a cathedral.
Arlene’s feet stopped, and her mouth opened but no words came. She had never seen any place more stunning.
The light fell through the high, buttressed ceiling, and danced over the ice columns and palisades with silvery reflections and gleaming rainbow sparkles that bedazzled her eyes. It was huge…palatial…and when Peter looked back at her, she saw pride and joy. “You built this place,” she said, her voice in that whisper one saved for the sacred.
“I did,” he answered and put his arm around her. “Come further.” He guided her along, up a ramp of ice and over a narrow, delicate bridge.
“It’s like Superman’s secret hideout,” she said, her lips easing into a smile.
He glanced over at her. “Really? Superman, huh? Well, I do wish I could fly. Imagine how the air feels at thirty thousand feet…”
They stopped at the exact center of the cavern, and beam of light shone on his long, black hair and gold-tan face. He tugged her against him, and she snuggled there, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. He gazed down at her, tall and stately. Need and hunger uncoiled inside her in a warm glow. She reached up and slid her fingers over his sculpted cheeks and up into his hair. The long, black silk filled her hands and fell sensuously down her wrists and forearms.
He gazed at her with hooded eyes, a silvery sheen now ringing his pupils. “I want you, Arlene.” His voice resonated deep and velvety.
She exhaled, trembling, as if she was seventeen again and experiencing her first time. Of course, this was much better.
“I want you, too.” Heat came to her cheeks, but she met his eyes. Could she read his face? His expression seemed tender, soft. She wanted to memorize this moment. It was for them alone, and nothing else in the world existed.
His hand moved to her shoulder and caught up the fabric of her damp and torn tee shirt. The pads of his fingers were hard and rough and made her tingle where they touched her. He slid his hand beneath the shirt and over her shoulder, tugging gently and pulling downward. A slight rip, and her shoulder and breast were exposed. Still moving, his hand caressed down her arm, and it took with it the tatters of her tee shirt, until her chest was completely exposed. She was left in her loose sleeping shorts and panties.
She thought he would rip them away as well, but instead his hands moved up her bare back and over her shoulder blades. He pulled her closer and dipped his head down to kiss the skin covering her collarbone. Light, gentle kisses moved up her neck, and his tongue darted out to taste her. She tilted her head and felt the pulse beat hard in her neck. Between her legs, an ache began that made her push her hips against him.
He stepped back. The muscles on his chest were a sculptor’s dream, rippled and tight, the skin gleaming golden and hairless.
She stopped him when he reached for his pants. “Let me,” she said softly. She pressed her small hands against his chest and ran them down, over the bumpy ripples of his stomach. She leaned forward, surprised by her own boldness, and licked one of his nipples. His hands tightened on her shoulders, and she grinned playfully up at him. His pupils now danced with silver light. She ran her tongue down his chest, kissing and sucking as she lowered herself to her knees.
The stained pants he wore had to go. She could smell the deer blood on them, and despite how this heightened her hunger, she wanted him bare and exposed. With no difficulty, she ripped open his pants and freed him from the confines of the khaki cotton. His boxers, soft and black, went down as well, and she ran her hands down his legs, feeling every muscle jump beneath her firm massage.
“Arlene, you are going to drive me mad…” he muttered, and she smiled up at him.
“That’s the plan.” She let her gaze fall on his upright staff. Good grief!
“Are you sure that will fit inside me?” she asked, widening her eyes in mock distress. He laughed.
“Don’t worry.” He lifted her up and kissed her again, their naked flesh rubbing against each other. She wrapped her legs around him, and he carried her a few steps to a curved ledge with filigree rising behind it. He laid her down on the hard ice, and she wiggled her bottom as he stood between her legs. Was he going to take her now? She was more than ready.
But he wasn’t done yet with foreplay. He knelt down and began by kissing the inside of her calf. He ran his tongue on the taut skin behind her knee, and she jerked as sensation jolted up her leg. Her eyes closed as he traveled up to her thigh, nibbling as he went, running the edge of his teeth along her sensit
ive skin.
And then he was kissing her on her most sensitive spot, and she couldn’t think, she could only feel. Her hips bucked against him, and his hands gripped her to hold her steady. His tongue dove into her cleft and played with the hard nub of her clit. She nearly screamed with passion.
At last though, he rose above her, looming like a great shadow. A curtain of his black hair fell to one side, tickling her shoulder. He nuzzled her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, his tongue dancing over it as she shuddered and wiggled beneath him. She could feel the head of his staff pressing against her, but he didn’t penetrate. Not yet. She took his erection in her hand and began to pull on it, the flesh like velvet-coated steel in her fingers. He growled and possessed her lips in a kiss that was no longer gentle or soft. Now he consumed her. His tongue didn’t ask for entry—it stormed the gates and went deep into her mouth.
One of his hands moved between her legs and his long fingers explored her opening. He slid one finger inside her tight sheath, and she gasped against his kiss. Another finger nudged the opening, and then both set up a rhythm that dove deep into her body.
He pressed down on her now, heavy and dominating. She clutched her hands into his hair and pulled him down even more, taking his kiss and demanding with her own. She wrapped her legs around him as his fingers pulled free, and at last, his massive staff slid inside her. She stretched around it, and almost panicked. He filled her to capacity and yet there was more of him. He pushed further and further and she moaned, but there was no pain. Her body slipped around his like a tight glove.
When she thought she could take no more, he pushed that last inch, and she groaned.
“I wanted to do this from the moment I saw you,” he said as he stilled. She had to catch her breath. She had never felt so stretched and yet so satisfied.
She shook her head. “I didn’t think you wanted me…”
He chuckled deep in his throat. “What do you think now?” He began to move, and she clenched her inner muscles, making his eyes lose their focus. He inhaled sharply and drove deep. She could hear the wet sound of the lovemaking as her body accepted his. Thrusting into her, he pressed his mouth against hers once more and now neither of them was gentle. He possessed her, claiming her with every inch of his massive body. His tongue filled her mouth while his cock filled her sheath.
It seemed to go on forever. He pushed into her again and again, deeper and deeper, and she climbed towers of pleasure. The hard ice at her back should have hurt her, but it didn’t. Instead, she relished the burn of the cold and the shining blue-silver ceiling overhead. She tightened her legs, riding the waves of his lovemaking, the pounding thrusts that took her to pinnacles she had dreamed existed.
And then, at last, she peaked. She cried out, her voice echoing against the ceiling of glacier ice.
Pleasure washed over her, shuddering and powerful. She never came like this. Lights twirled before he eyes and her entire body clenched in waves.
Then he pumped inside her, pushing deep, and she could feel the release of his seed. Had she ever felt such a thing before? A cold gush of ice into her womb…and yet it wasn’t uncomfortable or unnatural.
She relished it.
CHAPTER TEN
Arlene snuggled up against Peter, contentment washing over her in waves.
He rolled over, pulling her with him, until she lay on top of him while his arms held her tight. Their silence lingered soft and sweet around them, like a blanket, and his hand caressed down her back. When he finally spoke, his voice rumbled beneath the ear she had pressed to his chest.
“You see, it isn’t all bad to be what we are.”
She raised her head to peer at his beautiful, exotic face. How distant he had always seemed, but not now. “Are we really demons?” She hadn’t wanted to ask that question, but it slipped out. Talk about a mood-breaker. She winced afterwards but didn’t take it back. She had questions, and he had answers. And didn’t she deserve to know just what the heck she was now?
He sat up, shifting her to his lap and still holding her tight. His expression grew less relaxed, and she saw the tension in his jaw. “We can be demonic. It is said that the first windigo was a human who ate the flesh of a snow demon.”
“How did it happen to you?” she asked quietly, unsure if he would tell her. His arms tightened for a moment but then he sighed.
“I was a man grown, but I was visiting my father and younger brother. My mother had passed on to the spirit land—and my father was lost without her. She had been the strength of our family. He wandered, hunting and trapping, and my brother talked non-stop about traveling east, back to Quebec, to find his paternal grandparents and relatives. He thought he could be a white man and wanted to see their villages.” He gave a sad smile and shook his head. His eyes though, when he glanced at her, were haunted. She took his hand off her stomach and held it tight between her own.
“Don’t tell me if this hurts you—” He was such a strong man—it was hard to see the pain in his expression.
“No, I should. This is something you should hear.” His fingers closed around hers, but his eyes drifted up, toward the ceiling.
“My brother and I were in the cabin, and it was deep winter. My father was overdue by a week—he had gone to check his traps. We had not yet worried over him though, but that night, we heard him calling from the woods. He called us by name. I remember it was snowing, and the isolated snowflakes drifted out of the sky like the first few scouts exploring a new land.”
He shuddered. “When we came upon them, the creature stood behind my father. He was like nothing I had seen—tall and stretched out with bones like hard angles, and a skull with sunken eyes. Just the glitter of silver emerged from those black sockets.”
“Was it…the same as us?”
“Older and more pure-blooded, I think. The more demon flesh that is consumed the more power one gets. This one had taken more than a bite. He had consumed his maker in full… “ His lips pressed tight together and he gave a small shake. “That is another gruesome tale for a different time.”
She thought maybe she could skip that one.
“My father controlled us with our names, and fed us his own flesh. I remember how red his blood was. The older one just watched, muttering to itself. We were to be its tribe, you see. It wanted a family of sorts.” His eyes met her briefly. “Of course, it was mad.”
She longed to comfort him, but didn’t have the words. Her jaw tightened, and her throat barely swallowed.
“At first, we were all lost to hunger, and we ate from the bounty of the wilderness. There was a great deal of bounty in those days—elk, wolf, bear, cougar—we ate them all and our new power thrilled us. We became like wild things, naked and feral, sleeping in rocky caves and drinking from streams. I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually my father and brother killed a hunter from one of the valley tribes. They ate him.” His voice fell. “I managed to hold myself back. But I wanted to join them. I wanted... The call of blood was so strong and the older one, he laughed. He said we were ready.”
“No!”
“Yes. He wanted us to clean out the villages from the mountains to the sea. He wanted nothing left of humans. I argued, but they ignored me. And the day they went forward, they used their combined power to hold me back. I struggled… I fought for hours. At last, I broke their hold and I ran after them… ”
He covered his face with his hands. “Too late,” came his voice, low and brutal with remembered grief. “The first village my father had led them too, was my mother’s. My aunts. My cousins. I came too late to save any of them. My brother…” He shook his head, and lifted his hands. Tears welled in his eyes. They froze as they leaked and sparkled like diamonds.
“What did you do?” she whispered, her heart in her throat. What anguish he must have felt. She couldn’t imagine. And yet she had almost killed her beloved sister. Would she have then gone on into Cedarville? She knew how powerfully the madness had gripped her.
She buried her head against his chest and held him so tight she feared she might break him. “I’m so sorry. So sorry, Peter! What a horrible story.”
“I’m sorry to tell it. I should have waited—”
“No. I’m glad you told me.” Though part of her wasn’t glad. Her imagination filled in the details he left out. To have to kill his own brother! Tears blurred her eyes. “But what about the old one?”
He sighed. “That took longer. We hunted each other for years…decades. But at least during that time he held off from his plans of genocide. Instead, I kept him busy. We tracked each other north and played cat and mouse games all the way to the wastelands of the endless snow. At last, I caught him after killing a herd of elk—he must have eaten ten. He was at his lowest ebb of power, belly distended, a pool of blood around him on the ice. And he was tired. Tired of living, I think.”
The silence settled between them, and she let that stillness take away the last echo of his terrible words. Then she shook herself like a dog shedding water and climbed to her feet. “Come on,” she offered her hand. “Come swimming with me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Swimming?”
She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Please. Let’s not think anymore this morning. Plenty of time for that later and my head needs a break.”
He nodded, some of the shadows of grief leaving his expression.
“Last one in is a rotten egg!” She gave him another quick kiss before turning on her heel and running. She heard him chase her, a laugh bursting from his surprised mouth.