Through the tunnel and out into the bright morning sunlight she raced, and then down the stream bed, hopping over the rocks until she splashed into the pristine pool of glacier melt.
After a few steps the shelf of stone dropped away and deep cobalt darkness opened up beneath her feet. She turned in the water as Peter walked in after her, and when he reached the deep rift, he dove with barely a ripple. The sun shone on the water with dancing gold reflections, and it was hard to see where the rock, sky, and lake met and which was which. Arlene laughed in pure joy and wonder. What an amazing day she was having—and to think, only hours before she had been lost in despair.
He tugged on her foot and she startled. “Why you!” She dove after him, surprised at how well she swam now. Her body cut through the cold water like a seal’s, and she chased the flickering deep shadows, wild brown trout fleeing her pursuit of Peter.
They played in the water, diving and meeting up to kiss and fondle, until the sun had moved in the sky and the shadows began to grow longer with the afternoon. At last, Peter pulled her to shore, caught in his arms, and they lay together under the bright blast of sunlight that warmed the rocks.
Peter lay beside her on his side, watching her with his eyes as dark and deep as the center of the lake. One of his hands rested on her ribcage, her skin aware and tingling beneath the pads of his tan fingers. She gazed into his eyes and smiled.
He leaned down and kissed her lightly, as soft as a butterfly. “When did I start needing you so much?”
She ran her hand down his sloped cheek in answer.
His gaze traveled across her naked body, and he moved his head down to lick at her breast. A jolt shot through her, and her lower body ached with a sudden, hot need. His teeth grazed her, and he took the nipple into his mouth. Time stood still for her. All she could think of was what his tongue was doing and the heightened sensations shaking her body.
“Peter!” Her need resonated in her voice.
He only chuckled deep in his throat and continued to torture her. His hand squeezed the other breast, fondling and rubbing, his thumb passing back and forth over the tight, little nub at the top. She nearly screamed.
Her hand went between his legs. Ah, two could play at this game. His staff was up and proud, and her hand slid around the thick head and moved down the base.
He nipped her lightly and moved on top of her, his muscles bulging and his biceps standing out and rippling. She opened her legs and dug her hands into his still-damp hair.
A cold wind stirred up the lake, and the water lapped at the edges. She relished the feel of the air moving across her naked body just before Peter plunged into her. He pushed to the hilt, filling her and making her gasp out loud.
He made love to her relentlessly, pushing into her until she was lost in a haze of passion. She gave herself to the climax, and it shook her all the way through her flesh and bones. Her moan of pleasure echoed over the vale.
When he came, she again felt that cold rush inside her womb and his body shuddered above her, until he rolled over, pulling her on top. He lay with his eyes closed and she snuggled into him, curling her legs together and holding him tight.
She must have drifted asleep, and the dreams that came were sensual and vague.
A loud sound awoke her. Rock clatter. A grunt. She opened her eyes to find that twilight had engulfed the vale in a grey shroud. Something moved beside her, and a massive rock—the size of a bowling ball—hit Peter on the forehead.
Arlene shoved the rock aside and moved over him with lightning speed. He lay still though, blood oozing out from a dent in his head…it didn’t look like anything a human would survive, but she told her racing heart that he wasn’t human. She looked up and into Cecile’s bright, golden eyes. The other woman laughed.
“Just let me have a bite, Baby Bear. It won’t hurt him. Well, not much.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arlene jumped to her bare feet, standing over Peter. Her blood rushed cold in her veins, and she found that she liked the charge of energy. Her skin tingled, and the colorless dusk filled with light and texture.
“Bitch. You won’t touch him while I’m alive,” she said. “Now back away, before you find out what you created.” Her lips curled upward, and she flexed her fingers.
Were her words an empty threat? She hoped not. Peter lay like the dead at her feet.
Cecile’s lip protruded into a pout, her lean, naked body shifting and her stance lowering. She shook back her brown-gold hair, and her eyes gleamed unnaturally. “Is that any way to talk to Mama Bear?” Her teeth sharpened between her red lips. “Are we to fight then?” she said in her heavy French accent. “I had so hoped us girls could get along.”
Taking a deep breath, Arlene sucked in the chill of the glacier-fed lake, the cold of the deep stone, the ice that still lingered on the slopes…and the glacier too. Its ancient ice fed her with a slow, but huge power, creeping up her heels to her knees. She nearly gasped from the influx and lost her fixed gaze on Cecile. What was she doing? She didn’t have a clue, but the power built anyway, growing, tingling to her fingertips. Sparks of white danced at the tips of her nails.
Cecile threw back her head and screamed—a sound of rage and pain. Bones moved, grew, flesh sprouted hair and her mass shifted up and up. She cried out but the wail warped into a deep, echoing growl, and within moments, a grizzly bear stood in her place, six feet of massive muscle and shaggy hair.
Something stirred in Arlene. Heat poured out of her heart, despite the chill that had overtaken her limbs. Around her, a silver aura formed and it roared. No, she roared. The world doubled before her eyes. She could see Cecile’s bear from two positions, one at her eye level, and the other from seven feet up. She raised massive, shaggy white paws, each holding curved black nails longer than her human fingers.
I’m a bear too?
Cecile roared her challenge, the terrible sound echoing against the slopes of granite. Arlene, still caught in her strange double vision, snarled. She raced the few steps to Cecile, and yet, still stood over Peter. How was this possible? The bear, which was also her, was immense with silver-white fur bathed in its own radiance.
She felt Cecile’s inch long claws dig into her side and her jaws snapping at her shoulder. Terrible growls reverberated off the rock. Hunger and madness rose in her once more, like a fog filling her head.
She closed her human eyes, and now wholly rode inside the bear. Her claws shone black and massive and she outweighed Cecile by two hundred pounds. But she wasn’t an experienced fighter, and she found herself wrestling with instincts she neither understood nor knew how to control. The two animals fell from each other and Cecile began to circle. If a bear could smile, that was what she was doing.
* * * *
Peter awoke to a blinding headache and deep, echoing growls. He rolled over, holding his skull and found himself beside Arlene. But she didn’t move. She stood as still as concrete, her eyes closed and her body stiff. He rose, staggering a bit, and saw the bears—one huge and silver, the other smaller, but only in comparison, and brown-gold. The moonlight lit both with silver highlights, and their eyes flashed. They fought viciously, rending claws and huge teeth gleaming and snapping at one another. Crimson streaked down the white bear’s side.
He summoned the cold, his blood cooling, slowing, his heart stuttering with the change and the color leaching from his skin.
“No, Peter. Not yet,” a voice said from beside him.
For one moment, it seemed he was alone, but then he wasn’t. Henri stood beside him, as still as marble and seeming as lifeless. He still wore the black tee shirt and his hands were tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. A silver ring gleamed from his thumb.
Peter shook his head. “I have to help her.”
“Let her find her power.” Henri’s face animated enough for a ghostly smile that didn’t reach his pale eyes. “Or do you mean to keep her a baby forever, clinging to you for self-preservation?”
“So,
you no longer think she killed those hikers?”
Henri shrugged. “I need to get closer to know for sure. One of them did. I can smell the musky scent in the air…but let us give Arlene the chance to avenge her human death. That’s something that not all of us—who are different—are allowed.”
Something in his tone bespoke of ancient and yet familiar sorrow. But Peter didn’t have the time or the inclination to worry over one of the undead. His gaze riveted on the two bears, and Arlene’s immobile white form. Her usually gold hair blew in the wind with a platinum glow, her skin shone with frost, and out from her feet the ground froze. The grass crackled and the lakeshore grew opaque with ice. Light danced around her like an aura. The bear roared, charging.
Cecile dodged the onslaught and threw herself at the side of her bigger opponent. The two humongous beasts rolled on the ground. Peter’s gut twisted. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her fighting for her life. Power surged through him even as Henri caught his arm. He didn’t care. He couldn’t let anything happen to Arlene.
“Get out of my way, Corpse. I won’t let that bitch hurt her.”
“Give her a chance,” Henri murmured. “She’s learning.”
The brown bear caught hold of the white by the neck, and blood sprayed the rocks. Peter snarled and raised his arms, skin as white as ice and nails as black as midnight. Winter and death rose in him; the coldest storm, the longest night, the breath of arctic wind. He would bring these things and more down on Cecile.
But Arlene snapped her human arms together first, and the world turned white with the blast of ice that roared out of her and pummeled the two bears. The white bear threw the grizzly to one side and brought a massive paw down on its head, pinning it. She roared in triumph up at the sky. Snow whirled about the vale despite the cloudless night, and the wind howled through the crags and crevices as if in echo to her cry.
Beneath her paw, Cecile shrunk. Smaller and smaller while the white bear grew diaphanous—more spirit than flesh. Until the vision disappeared, blown away like mist, leaving only torn ground and black, frozen blood sprayed on the rocks.
Arlene made a sound that echoed with victory. It wasn’t human.
Peter stared, and he saw the madness in her eyes. She ran at the slumped, broken form of Cecile.
The hunger was on her.
He jumped after her. He had to catch her before she ate human flesh. Even Cecile’s. One taste, and he knew the madness would never leave her. Like his brother.
She flung herself at Cecile, and he tackled her, their bodies rolling away over the sharp stones. She hissed and fought him. He struggled to keep hold of her slick, little body. God, she was fierce.
“No! You can’t. Arlene, come back to me. Arlene!”
She whipped her head from side to side, growling and crying. Her eyes held no reason. No sanity.
He held her as tightly as he could. If he slipped…
Would he be able to stop her? Could he kill her as he had killed his brother?
No! If he did nothing else for all of his long life, he prayed to keep his hold on her. Nothing else mattered. It would be the same as allowing her to die. He thought of that bright smile she had given him in the cave just hours ago, and he held her for all he was worth.
And then she was free. Somehow she slipped from his arms, and his fingers missed his grab for her leg.
She fell on her knees by Cecile, and he knew he would never reach her in time.
The vampire moved, but even he would be too late.
Arlene’s mouth opened, exposing a row of long, sharp canines…
And suddenly she threw herself back. She crawled away, sobbing.
Peter lifted her into his arms, relief bringing tears to his eyes that froze on his cheeks.
He kissed her face, her eyelids, and her trembling lips. He had thought everything lost, and yet somehow she had found the strength.
For how long he sat holding her, he didn’t know, but at last Cecile moved, curling into a ball.
Henri picked his way across the ice-covered rocks until he reached her. Peter hated the pity that welled in his heart. He wanted her to be dead, if only so that he would never have to worry over her again. But…he had vowed to never kill. The vampire stood over the vanquished shifter. At last, he raised his pale face to the moon. The snow clung to his black shirt. “I will take her to Seattle.” He crouched and lifted some of the long, tangled strands of hair, sniffing. “And here is the musk I followed. I don’t think she intended to kill those hikers. They startled her sleeping place…” He spoke more to himself then to Peter.
Despite his pity, Peter clenched his jaw. “You mean she will live. Will she become part of your Mistress’s menagerie?” The thought sickened him for many reasons.
Henri gave a bleak smile. “I doubt it. The penalty for killing humans is death. At least, if one does not have permission.” Henri’s expression became somewhat ironic. He shrugged. “I expect you will not hear from the shifter again. But if I were you, Peter, I would stay away from Seattle for a time. My Mistress is not yet interested in you—but that could change and I would not recommend her…her acquaintance. Take that as a friendly warning. All right?”
Peter nodded, well warned. He held Arlene tighter to his chest. “Do you need help?”
“No.” Henri lifted Cecile like she weighed nothing and threw her over one shoulder. Her long hair streamed down his back. He faded, disappearing from even Peter’s keen sight.
“Is it over?” Arlene asked against his shoulder.
He peered into her drawn face and nodded. “I think so, my love. I think so.”
EPILOGUE
Arlene picked up her suitcase and took one last look around her bedroom. She had grown up in this house, come of age here, even helped pay the mortgage after her parents moved to Sun City. She had never thought of anywhere else as home.
The white curtains, the coverlet, and same old vanity—all were remnants of her childhood. Why hadn’t she ever changed them? Ah, well, now everything was different. For one thing, the bed was broken. She shook her head. Well, she hardly needed it now.
“Are you sure about this?” Isabel asked from the doorway, her eyes misty and red-rimmed. She sniffed. “I never thought you’d give up everything to be with a man.”
Arlene laughed. “Good grief! I’m not even human anymore, Izzy. I can’t stay here. I need to be high—where the air is thin. You can’t imagine how it feels. And yes, I would give up everything for him. He’d give up everything for me. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. Right?”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous. I love you, Arlene. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll see you soon. Peter is going to take me on a tour of Alaska. I’m going to see the top of Mt. McKinley.”
“And you’ll be back for Creed and Deanna’s wedding,” Isabel asked, smiling despite her tears. “I’ll see you in October.”
“Of course. I’m a bridesmaid, aren’t I?” She lifted her bag—still amazed at her own strength—and went and hugged her sister with her free arm. “Please don’t cry anymore, Izzy. I’ll see you in the fall.”
“And you love him? He’ll take care of you?” Isabel gripped her arm and peered anxiously into her face.
“I love him, and I’ll take care of him too.” She kissed her sister on the cheek.
“Don’t be lonely, Sis. Find someone. Go out more. There’s more to life than making candles and soaps.”
“Says my sister, the were-bear windigo.” Isabel wiped at her cheeks. “Take care!”
“I will,” she answered before hurrying down the stairs and out the front door. The warm late summer air enfolded around her and the sun streamed through the maples and pines that surrounded the yard.
Peter waited on the gravel driveway, his long, black hair neatly tied back from his face and his lean body clad in jeans and a dark tank that exposed his swoon-worthy muscles. He wore black shades and flashed a white grin. “I still don’t know why you need t
he suitcase. Who needs clothes?”
She laughed. “Two words, Baby. Lace panties.”
He kissed her hard on the mouth, taking her breath away and sending her pulse racing. “Okay, I can live with the suitcase. My beautiful girl. My love,” he said as he pulled back. He gazed down at her, and she smiled.
“My love,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
“Then I’ll be sure to say it often.” His face grew serious, his eyes silver-gleaming and shot with light. “I love you, Arlene.”
Her heart filled with a happiness she had never known. Tears of joy came to her eyes as she pressed her lips to his. “And I love you, Peter. I love you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I wrote my first story when I was in the fourth grade—it involved talking animals, a dark forest, and of course, romance. A hundred and fifty handwritten pages later, I knew I was in love with telling stories.
When I’m not chasing after my three kids, walking my dog, or being condescended to by our cat (who believes he is feline royalty), I am chasing after my muses. They always involve strong men and women finding love and passion against the odds. Whether they are ruthless warriors or noble vampires, runaway princesses or powerful witches—I hope my characters resonate with my readers and bring them a well-deserved escape. One thing you can count on, I will always provide a happy ending.
Find out my latest book news at www.CynthiaCarole.com
Also Available at Purple Sword by Cynthia Carole
The Warlord’s Price
The Alpha, A Cedarville Novella
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