Well, fuck him. Who needs the bastard, anyway? Not me, that’s for sure! The angry thoughts rang hollow in her mind.
Slamming the bedroom door with a deafening crash behind her, Tamara stomped into the living room where she cranked up her small stereo system as loud as it would go. If anything had the ability to drown out the painful echoes of her anguished past in her head it was some loud, boot-stomping country music.
Banging around in the kitchen, she cut two large limes into wedges, setting the bowl down with a pronounced thunk on the small dining table. She grabbed a shot glass from one cabinet, along with a brand new bottle of Jose Cuervo tequila. Plopping down into an old chair, she cracked the seal with a firm twist of her wrist.
Never before did she remember being quite so pissed off. The son-of-a-bitch thought he’d stir up her emotions then leave her in the lurch. Well, she would tell him a thing or two. Right after she fortified herself with some liquid courage. Hell, maybe she’d drink thoughts of him right out of her mind and the desire for him right out of her body.
Yeah, right!
She was proud to notice only a slight shake in her hand as she poured the golden liquid into the glass. The anger raging through her blood stream made her feel super strong. For the briefest moment, she wondered if it were possible to break the thick shot glass in her punishing grip.
After licking a wet path across the fleshy pad between the base of her thumb and knuckle of her first finger, Tamara sprinkled a liberal coating of salt over the damp skin. She sucked off the salt, getting a slight jolt from the sensation it created. Picking up the glass, she raised it to her lips, tossed back her head, and let the fiery liquid sear a burning path down her throat.
Immediate fingers of heat, accompanied by a tingling sensation spread out from her chest and abdomen. Hell yeah! A good buzz was exactly what she needed. Popping a wedge of lime into her mouth, Tamara sucked hard on the bitter fruit, cutting some of the burn created by the alcohol.
Shot after shot, she repeated the process, singing along with the music blasting through her brain and shaking the little cabin. With each drink she became number to the burn of the tequila, more immune to the sting of Dakota’s rejection. The more she drank, the less her anger drove her to confront him, coming to the decision it was par for the course and didn’t matter.
With each shot, she toasted the bastard for his effective manner of stopping her from making a total fool out of herself. What the hell had made her think someone like Dakota Blackhawk cared about her, or that she gave a shit about him? The very idea was total lunacy. She was unlovable and had nothing to give to someone like him.
Someone pounded on the cabin door at one point, but she ignored the intrusion until whoever it was gave up and went away. Tamara lost track of how many shots she’d thrown back as she sang at the top of her lungs to the rowdy music. The last thing she remembered was cussing a certain man, and thinking about how fucked up it was that he was an Indian who liked to play cowboy. The whole thing was completely ass backwards if you asked her.
Too bad he didn’t want to play Cowgirl and Indian, or even Capture the Cowgirl with her. Either game would have been interesting.
When her head got too heavy for her neck to hold up, she let it drop to the table. Her bleary eyes shut and she slipped into a drunken, dead-to-the-world state of sleep.
??
He moved through the inky black night without creating even the slightest whisper of sound. The soft moccasins on his feet allowed him to move with the light-footed grace of a deer, his eyes not requiring much light to see the way. The silver rays cast by the small sliver of moon high in the sky cloaked him in darkness, while at the same time lighting his way.
Earlier, Dakota had sat in a meditative state, drinking in the sounds of the ranch until long after everyone had turned in for the night. The only noises to disturb the peaceful night now were those created by nocturnal creatures, and the pounding music, which continued to pour from the cabin.
His emotions had become conflicted while watching Brock approach the cabin and pound on the door for several long minutes. He was angry with the man for attempting to go to his princess, yet he was also grateful to witness the concern etched into the serious man’s features.
Leading the two horses to the back porch, Dakota dropped the reins, knowing both animals would stay close to where he’d left them. His hip ached as he climbed the stairs, but he would not let the minor inconvenience keep him from his plans. Healing his spirit mate was too important to be distracted by his own physical weakness.
Popping the simple lock on the back door was easy. Once inside, he moved in silence through the small space. When he reached the stereo, Dakota considered leaving the music playing, but dismissed the idea. If the music were still blaring in the morning it would draw attention and someone would come to investigate.
It took several moments for his hearing to return to normal after the abrupt cease to the excruciating, deafening noise. He almost sensed the entire ranch letting out a deep breath with the precipitous return to the normal peace and quiet.
Finding Tamara passed out at the kitchen table was not what he’d expected. Seeing his princess in such a state created an incredible pain within his heart. Had he not been convinced he was taking the right path with her before, he was now. She was in desperate need of his intervention. Tamara needed to spend some time with herself facing down the fears, anger and hurt she battled against daily, no matter how hard she would fight against doing so.
He spent a few minutes making it appear to the casual observer like she’d gone away on one of her spur of the moment trips. In the bedroom, he packed casual clothes along with the sturdiest looking pair of boots she had. In the bathroom, her tooth and hair brushes were added to the saddle bag then everything was loaded onto the palomino. He attached the mare’s reins to the back of Hunter’s saddle, knowing she would follow along without complaint.
The more he thought about it, Dakota decided Tamara being passed out was a blessing. This way she wouldn’t see where they were going, and therefore wouldn’t know how to find her way back to the ranch. He’d also be in for a lot less of a struggle with her in her current condition. Yes, this would all work well into his plans.
Now, to get them both settled onto Hunter’s saddle. With one arm below her knees and the other supporting her back, Dakota lifted his princess into his embrace with relative ease. She felt so slight and fragile in his arms, putting barely any additional strain on his hip.
He had to laugh at the idea of her being anything but strong. Tamara would never consider herself to be fragile. He was pretty certain she thought of herself as a fearsome fighter.
Getting the two of them settled onto Hunter’s broad back turned out to be easier than he’d anticipated. The porch put him at the perfect height to hoist his good leg over the saddle and sit right down. The soft creaking of his leather saddle was the only sound to disturb the quiet night.
Tamara stirred for a moment in his arms as he positioned her sideways across his lap, head resting against his chest. Speaking in a soothing monotone, Dakota whispered ancient words of comfort as they headed out into the night.
In her drunken sleep, Tamara snuggled close into the shelter of his body. Each gentle movement Hunter made created a friction between the curve of her hip and his now aching cock. No matter how he tried to position her, there was no way to prevent the sensual brush of her body against his.
The way she curled into his arms as she lay across his lap, fisting her small hand in his shirt, made his heart sing. In repose, her relaxed face appeared both young and angelic with her dark lashes fanned over flushed cheeks. He had no trouble picturing her as a beautiful child with pink cheeks, wearing her hair in pigtails.
It hurt him to think of all she had been through. He wished he’d been there to fight the battles with her, yet those very trials had made her the person he loved. And once her heart was healed, his princess would be a spirited mate able weathe
r any storm to cross their paths—a true life partner.
Dakota was quick to realize whenever he stopped talking to her, Tamara became restless, while with each word flowing from his lips, she settled into his embrace. It seemed her heart already knew him well. The realization sent his spirit soaring.
Looping the reins around the saddle horn, Dakota guided Hunter using only the slight pressure from his legs. He kept his left arm behind Tamara’s back, providing support. The fingers of his other hand traced every detail of her sweet face. He committed every angle, curve and line to memory. Had he been blessed with the ability to paint, he knew he’d be able to create an accurate portrait of her from the memories he was burning into his very soul.
As his fingers trailed a gentle path across her cheek, she turned toward his hand, attempting to maintain the soothing contact. She wiggled in his arms, pressing the soft, rounded curve of her hip against his erection with a firm pressure. Dakota groaned and settled himself in for what would be an excruciating ride.
Throughout their trek, he spoke to her, detailing his vision of their entwined lives. He allowed his fingers the liberty of tracing the delicate column of her neck, the sharp angle of her collarbone beneath the thin material of the shirt she wore, the fine muscles along her arms. He longed to release the inner beauty, which he knew would outshine even her exquisite outer loveliness. When she opened herself up to embrace life, he had no doubt she would outshine the sun.
Tamara whimpered as his fingers traced the soft skin along the inside of her arm. Feeling quite the cad for doing so, Dakota was unable resist exploring each gentle curve, hollow and graceful line of her lithe body. This woman was his very heart, his life, his spirit. He was determined to know every delectable inch of her.
His left arm lay curved behind her back, his hand resting over her hip in an awkward position. He allowed his hand to slide upward, palm cupping her firm breast. Even in her drunken sleep, she arched and rotated into his touch, pressing the small globe into his hand. When he felt her nipple begin to rise, Dakota teased the elongated nub between his thumb and finger.
His right hand was as busy learning the curves of her smooth legs. As his fingers neared the juncture of her thighs, his princess grabbed hold of his hand, pressing his palm against her pussy. Her hips bucked in an instinctive move as his hand stroked over her heated mound.
The scent of her arousal hit him like a physical blow, causing his aching cock to swell even further. He was amazed this was happening, and with her in a drunken stupor.
No. He was not going to take advantage of her.
With the intention of stopping before anything got started, Dakota tried to pull his hand away, but the wildcat grabbed his wrist with her other hand, fighting to hold him in place, moaning and whimpering while she rode his palm. The thin material of her shorts was not much of a barrier, and her intense heat filled his palm.
He didn’t have the willpower to fight this. She was so damn sexy he gave in, following her lead as she pulled on his wrist, guiding his fingers under the edge of her shorts and panties. He felt her breast swelling against his other hand as he tweaked her nipple. Her entire body became animated by sinuous motion as his hand inched closer and closer to her moist heat.
Questing fingers sliding over smooth, naked skin sent a jolt of heat surging through his blood stream. His fingers caressed every slick inch of her bare slit before parting wet, swollen folds. Tamara arched even higher into his palm as he brushed against her clitoris.
He was history. There was no way he’d stop now. Each breathless pant, moan and whimper drove him wild with the need to see her come apart in his arms. Hot cream soaked his fingers as he slid two of them into the tight clasp of her drenched pussy, pumping in and out, curving the tips to tease along her sweet spot. The heel of his hand stroked her clit with each movement. Each gasp and whimper from her pouty lips only served to increase his fervor.
Once his fingers were buried deep within her pussy, held in place by the tight squeeze of her thighs, his princess did the most unexpected thing. With both her hands now free, she reached out in an awkward attempt to unbutton his jeans. When she managed to slide down the zipper, the minx caught his cock in her hand as it sprang free. Her fingers felt like heaven wrapped around his hard shaft.
The positioning was cramped, and being on horseback made things difficult, but he wouldn’t let this chace to experience her touch pass him by. He shifted their bodies to make more room then settled back to enjoy the ride.
Dakota couldn’t take his eyes from the blissful expression on her sweet face as she pumped his shaft in the same rhythm he fingered her pussy. He burned the look into his mind—let it become imprinted on his very spirit. His greatest desire was to bring the magnificent look to her face as often as possible for the rest of their days.
As her orgasm drew near, Tamara pumped her fist faster, bucking her hips with wild abandon against his hand. The slick walls of her pussy clamped down like a warm vise on his fingers right before she began to convulse. But the most incredible pleasure was yet to be experienced.
At the moment she gave her body over to him, she threw back her head and cried out his name. Never had he heard such a sweet sound. His spirit soared high into the night sky as sizzling heat surged through his cock, hot streams of his seed arching over his abdomen as he transcended place and time, flying among the stars with the Great Spirit, greeting the legendary hunters of the past.
Her movements slowed then settled as they came back down to earth. Dakota reveled in the experience. He’d heard stories of the incredible heights spirit mates took each other to, but never imagined anything quite as wondrous as what he’d shared with his princess.
Now more than ever their path became crystal clear within his mind while his spirit basked in the glow of bonding with its true mate. There was no way he’d ever let her go. No matter how much she fought against their bond there was nothing she’d be able to do to push him away.
Chapter Six
The weirdest, disjointed visions poured through her mind, along with a piercing emotional sting. On some level, Tamara knew she was in a strange, dreamlike state, but was unable to direct the flow of the bizarre phenomenon as she was sometimes able to do with dreams. She also tried to wake up, but no matter how hard she tried all she could do was hang on for the ride.
Her life was laid out before her like an intricately woven fabric. Several gaping holes in the cloth marred the beauty, and she was certain the holes were the traumas which had shaped the person she’d become. With wisdom born from life’s experience, Tamara knew these were the very things that must be mended if she were ever to be happy and whole. To find where she belonged, she must repair the tapestry.
The vision shifted and she saw the pieces of a puzzle fitting into place to form a complete picture. The piece representing her hadn’t been lost at all, but instead fit perfectly with all the others. She knew if were it removed there would be a glaring hole in its place.
What she saw appeared to be enchanting and complete, but she was unable to get a clear glimpse of exactly what it was. Maybe it wasn’t time yet for her to see the whole picture. At least there was a space for her in the image, which stirred very unfamiliar feelings of belonging and relief she wasn’t sure how to deal with.
Typically, Tamara saw a younger, curvier version of herself in her dreams. This was the first dream she ever remembered seeing herself the way she actually was. The woman she looked upon was too thin, showing the signs of rough wear and tear. The results of a hard life lived on the edge. Seeing herself as she appeared to the real world told her the visions were significant. Maybe portentous of something major happening. Or maybe she was simply losing it.
Next she was in a room with several twin-sized beds. A tall, dark-haired guy she’d lusted after in the tenth grade was there with her. They were working in a companionable silence, making up the beds. For some reason she didn’t recall his name. While it had been very important to her at one time
, it seemed irrelevant now.
The vision changed again and she was lying on her side on one of the beds watching TV. The guy was behind her, head propped up on one bent arm to see over top of her shoulders. They weren’t touching in any way, just lying there watching images flicker across the screen.
The guy shifted his position and she felt the light pressure of his leg against hers. Tamara didn’t pull away, presuming it to be an innocent touch, but if he was testing the waters she was open to his attentions. She held still in anticipation for several moments before feeling his leg press closer, followed by a tentative rubbing against her calf. She rubbed back, more than ready to make time with the young hunk.
His hairy leg moved between hers, and he slid closer, spooning his front to her back. For a brief moment she felt panicked, wondering when she’d last shaved her legs. What the hell that was about, she had no idea. The feeling was gone almost as soon as she acknowledged it, along with the realization it really didn’t matter.
Once again the vision shifted and she was on her back, the guy lying draped over her, between her legs. He was tall, and had positioned himself so they were face to face, his abdomen pressing on her mons. They began to kiss and it was the strangest kiss she had ever experienced. He flattened out his tongue and kept up a rapid thrusting back and forth against hers. This particular caress would feel fabulous against her pussy lips, but was not doing anything for her mouth. Still, she wanted things to progress between them.
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