Wolf’s Wind

by Vonna Harper

  “You know damn well what—”

  “Just trying to lighten the mood a bit.” With that, he plowed into her. Shoved back by his strength, she released his neck and braced her arms behind her. One, maybe two seconds later, she understood why he’d done what he had. She wasn’t just off balance. Now there wasn’t a thing she could do to escape him.

  Her feet had been dangling, but she found something, part of the under-bed drawers maybe, to anchor her toes against. That done, she lifted her buttocks a scant inch off the sleeping bag. By leaning back even more, she further opened herself to him, presented herself as the bitch in heat she’d become.

  Fuck me, fuck me, chanted through her. Taking the crude words as her battle cry, she clamped down on the male invasion. He groaned, then gathered his muscles and rammed into her. Her pussy walls wept and burned.

  With her now willing and weak, he lost no time reaching a crescendo of movement that tossed his hair and made the veins on the sides of his neck stand out. His groans became grunts, followed by animal sounds. Advance became retreat followed by advance, the pistoning movements coming faster than she could keep up with. Still she tightened and released her pussy muscles in response to his attack, while burying herself in her own rhythm.

  Fired by the rapidly approaching goal line, she threw off all caution. Sweat plastered her throat, and a fine trickle ran between her wildly gyrating breasts. Her inner thighs stuck to him. A slap-slapping sound stood as testament to his driving power as did his harsh breaths. She tried to focus on his expression, but her mind kept skittering away to concentrate on what was taking place within her body. She’d gone past the point of no return. Only the end remained—an end as wild and strong as it must be to ride an ocean wave.

  An ocean wave? There in the middle of the woods?

  Before she could decide how she might wed the two, she started to split apart. With no awareness beyond surviving and relishing the tearing, ripping sensation, she dived fully into the heat that was her explosion. She became a rag doll trapped in a wolf’s fangs and being tossed about. The shaking seemed to last forever, and yet, be over in a heartbeat. Between beginning and end, she lived a thousand lives, all of them centered around one thing—her climax.

  Oh God, yes, climaxing! Everything loose and hot and swirling, gasping and moaning at the same time.

  She was still shaking and being shaken when he abruptly pulled out. “What—”

  “Ah!” he groaned. “Ah, ah!”

  A wash of hot cum coated her belly. Some ran down her side. Lifting a too-heavy arm, she swirled her fingers in his gift and spread it over herself. Looming over her, he fairly howled. And when he had nothing left to give her, she placed a finger into her mouth and sucked.

  “I didn’t have a condom. That’s why I pulled out.”

  “It never occurred to—Thank you.”

  *

  When he’d climbed onto the narrow bed, Carlan had made room for him. She’d curled onto her side with her breasts and belly pressed to his and his arm serving as her pillow. Maybe he’d dozed off, because he didn’t remember anything until, muttering, she sat up.

  “What?” he managed.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  By the time she returned from the closet-size bathroom, he was sitting up, debating turning on a light against the gloom and telling himself there wasn’t a third presence in there. Faint water droplets on her belly told him she’d cleaned his cum off her. Doing so was a logical act by a logical woman. Still, he wondered if it might be symbolic of something larger, like a return to sanity, at least on her part.

  Instead of returning to him, she leaned against the bathroom door she’d just closed. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, prompting him to look around for her clothes.

  “It’s all right,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Kind of too late for modesty, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? Don’t you know—Why am I asking you for an explanation?” She sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. “Brett?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not—” Pressing a hand to her forehead, Carlan glanced at the floor, then up at him. “Maybe it doesn’t matter, but I want you to know I’m not that kind of a woman. I’ve never jumped in the sack with a stranger.”

  “We aren’t strangers.”

  “We haven’t seen each other for years.”

  My fault. You’ve been back for weeks. “What are you getting at?”

  “I don’t know.” She ran a hand over her eyes. “That’s it. I honestly don’t know.”

  Maybe he should have said the same thing. Instead, he stood and, after she stepped aside, went into the bathroom. By the time he returned, she’d dressed, all except for her shoes. Even with her hair sex-tangled, she’d become a mature woman, no longer the wild creature he’d fucked. Looking at her, he was hard-pressed to remember how their paths had crossed today.

  “You didn’t want to talk about it earlier,” he said, reaching for his briefs. “What about now? What brought you out on this damnable miserable day? Details, not just a few words.”

  “You want to hear—”

  “I think I need to.”

  She again fixed her gaze on the floor. “I didn’t have time before to come to The Gorge, what with everything I’ve been doing for my folks.”

  “I’m so sorry about that.” He slipped into his briefs and, feeling less vulnerable, picked up his wet jeans. “Did you need to see the spot where…”

  “Damn it, Brett, what does it matter.”

  She was right. Whatever her motivation, it wasn’t his business any more than his reason for not coming to see her earlier wasn’t hers. He might have believed his stupid argument, if not for her clenching and unclenching fingers. “Because you’re tied up in knots.”

  “Can you blame me?” Still avoiding his gaze, she stepped to the front door and gripped the knob. “My dad’s stroke on top of what happened to Skye has been pretty overwhelming.”

  Opening one of the drawers under his bed, he pulled out a dry pair of jeans. “He’s pretty much paralyzed on one side, isn’t he?” In much worse shape than I am.

  She looked at him, and her gaze dropped to his leg, then back to his face. “And confused and depressed. Mom’s blood pressure isn’t good, and she’s having trouble with her hips. Unfortunately, her insurance won’t cover replacement.” The way she held on to the knob, he wondered if she’d collapse without its support. “Sometimes, when things go bad, they really go bad. I haven’t checked out every possibility yet, but I don’t see them being able to stay in their place.”

  Carlan’s parents lived in a small, two-story house that had to be eighty years old. The last time he’d driven by it, Brett had noticed the roof needed replacing. There was no handicap ramp, but even if there was, the bedrooms were upstairs, which was far from ideal for a man who had to struggle to walk and a woman in just about the same shape. “Could you put in one of those electric lift things?”

  “I thought about it, but the house needs so much work. Either that or a bulldozer. And they’re nowhere near medical facilities.”

  Remembering the hours it had taken for an ambulance to reach him after his leg had been smashed, he couldn’t argue. “So, you’re thinking you’ll have to move them into the valley? How do they feel about it?”

  A shadow stole over her features. She didn’t look older so much as deeply tired, overwhelmed maybe. “They’re resisting. At the same time, they’re leaning on me to make all the decisions.” Again, she pressed a hand over her eyes. “Role reversal in spades. No wonder I jumped at the chance for a little roll in the hay today. I do appreciate the, what should I call it, change of pace?”

  He couldn’t fault her for trying to lighten the conversation. Still, that wouldn’t solve anything. After jamming his legs into his jeans and hauling them up and over his hips, he started toward her. If she asked what he
had in mind, he wasn’t sure he could answer.

  “The storm’s letting up,” she blurted. Twisting the knob, she opened the door. “I need to get back. My parents—”

  A gust of cold and sodden air charged into the trailer. She’d already turned from him and stared at their rain-washed surroundings. Suddenly, her spine stiffened.

  Joining her, Brett bumped his hip against hers, prompting her to make room for him in the entrance. With every second, his chest lost more heat. Her bare feet must already be numb.

  This time, only one wolf was visible, standing between the closest trees and the trailer. It stared at them. Droplets from what remained of the rain slid off its sides and muzzle.

  This is between Carlan and me, the wolf said. Don’t try to stop her.

  “Brett?” Carlan whispered.

  Although he longed to clutch her to him, something held him back. “What?”

  “The wolf’s eyes…”

  “What about them?” Her tension was a living thing. Maybe a touch from him would bring her back to reality, but he didn’t want to distract her. Besides, he’d been warned to step aside.

  “They’re Skye’s.”

  “We’re too far from it for you to say that.”

  “I know what I know!” While he stood in the entryway, trying to wrap his mind around what she was doing, she stepped barefoot onto the top step. She wasn’t shivering so much as trembling, which reminded him of her response while she’d climaxed, but what was happening to her right now had nothing to do with sex.

  Staring at her, he half believed he was going to lose her, the wolf’s control over her was that powerful. She swayed, leaning forward at times only to rock back, as if trying to break free of something. Much as he longed to drag her back, he sensed only she could fight this battle.

  “Don’t hurt her,” he told the creature that defied description. “Whatever happens, leave her intact.”

  What do you know about having it all together?

  “You had no right!” Carlan screamed before he could respond. Every bit of her being was intent on the wolf now stalking toward her. “No goddamn right, letting yourself get killed! I needed you, bro. I needed you back when the river took you, and I need you even more now!”

  I’m here.

  Chapter 8

  FOR too long, Carlan couldn’t do anything, except stare at the magnificent and frightening creature with her brother’s rich brown eyes. In ways that went beyond comprehension, she knew she’d been waiting for this from the moment she’d learned of Skye’s death. What he was doing in this animal form was beyond her comprehension, but she could no more deny it than she could think about putting on shoes.

  I’ve been waiting for you, came the now-familiar voice in her mind—her dead brother’s voice.

  “Why?”

  Because you deserve it.

  “You’re damned right, I do. I hate you!” she yelled. “Absolutely hate you! How you could be so damnably stupid to—What did you think you were, invincible? Well, you weren’t, were you? And it cost you your life.”

  I’m sorry.

  “Are you apologizing?” she demanded. “No, I don’t want to hear it! You didn’t have to—Damn it, you knew better!”

  Yes, I did.

  “Then why—”

  A moment of inattention, a wrong decision. That’s part of what I’m sorry about and that I don’t have a better explanation.

  “The witnesses said you were showing off for the woman you were with by jumping from lava to lava. You lost your footing and landed in the river. The…the last time anyone saw you alive, you were caught in the current and heading for The Gorge. My God, Skye, you grew up around the river. If anyone should know how dangerous—”

  It was late summer, and the water level was as low as it gets. The lava was exposed and dry. I had a walking stick to help balance myself. I figured I was safe.

  Aileen, the woman who’d been with Skye on that nightmare day, had told authorities she hadn’t objected because Skye had insisted he knew what he was doing. It had been a perfect day, warm and calm, with other people around, some of them venturing into the river’s shallow edges. At that spot, the ground was nearly level, which meant there wasn’t much of a current.

  Only Skye had headed toward the middle, where the water was deepest and swiftest.

  And only Skye had leaned on a dried tree branch while stepping from one chunk of lava to the next, only to have the branch break.

  “You thought you were safe?” Carlan gave a short, deprecating laugh. “Guess you were wrong.”

  As wrong as it gets.

  She was talking to a wolf, and yet she wasn’t, communicating with her brother—only that couldn’t be, because he was dead. Maybe everything was taking place in her imagination, her sick and wounded mind.

  I know what you’re thinking, that I don’t exist anymore.

  On the verge of hitting Skye with more of her anger and grief, Carlan shook her head. Her body reminded her that Brett watched from his trailer and listened to her side of the so-called conversation, but she couldn’t tear her gaze off the Skye-eyed predator long enough to look back at the man she’d just had sex with. To ask if he could hear Skye as well.

  “I don’t know what you mean by exist,” she said. “Nothing that’s happened today makes sense.”

  I felt the same way when I first realized what form I’m in now. The body I took for granted is gone, but my mind is still alive—for how long, I don’t know. Sis, I never meant to hurt you or our folks. Please believe that.

  “Do you know what happened to them?”

  Dad’s stroke and the arthritis in Mom’s hips and you having to quit your job and move back home to care for them—if that’s what you mean, then yes. I can’t leave the forest, Carlan. I try, but something keeps me here with the rest of my kind. The wolves. Still, I’m aware of what’s happening to those I love. It’s been hell for Aileen.

  “She and I spoke briefly at your funeral. Bro, I needed to hear you say you love us.”

  You doubted that?

  “No, not really. It’s just—I lost my big brother, my buddy, the bane of my existence. Our parents lost their son, the child who was going to carry on their name. A woman you must have cared about had to watch you die.”

  Yes.

  “How does that make you feel?”

  How do you think?

  “Horrible,” she whispered. “Full of regret and loss.”

  You do know me.

  “Do you think—Is this,” she drew an imaginary line around Skye’s wolf body, “your punishment?”

  I’m not sure about punishment. All I know is I want to do everything I can to try to make amends.

  “How?”

  Ask Jake and Sarah. They wouldn’t have found each other without us.

  “My God,” Brett blurted. “That’s why the wolves—”

  Why we were part of what happened between Jake and Sarah last winter, yes.

  Remembering what Brett had said about wolves being in the woods during the storm that had brought Jake and Sarah together, she again looked back at him. Naked from the waist up, he extended a hand toward her but remained where he was.

  “We?” she said to Skye. “You were part of the pack?”

  They’re part of me. Even now, they’re watching and listening. Sis, introducing Jake to the right woman was part of my attempt to make up for my stupidity. I knew Jake all my life. He was good to our folks.

  “Yes, he was.” Carlan chewed on her lip, thinking. “Skye, you forced me to come to The Gorge to relive your accident. How does that make things right for me?”

  Only you know whether you’re better now than you were this morning.

  “You’re asking too much of me,” she snapped, even as her body handed her hot memories of the time she’d spent with Brett.

  Carlan, I didn’t want this for any of you.

  “I know you didn’t,” she s
aid, meaning it. “Not any more than you wanted to die.”

  Am I dead, really?

  Her brother sounded lost and confused, a boy again. Not thinking what she was doing, she stepped forward, reached out, and touched the space between the wolf’s eyes. A low rumble rolled out of the predator.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, putting distance between them again. “I don’t know much about reincarnation. But you’re being robbed of the peace that comes with death, aren’t you?”

  It doesn’t matter. You’re what concerns me. Are you going to be all right?

  “Carlan?” Brett said from his spot in the doorway. “You’re freezing.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She was still staring into her brother’s eyes, at the man trapped in a wolf’s body, when Brett joined her and slipped a jacket over her shoulders. Her feet had lost feeling, not that it mattered.

  “My brother’s in there,” she whispered. “That’s not a wolf, not really.”

  “I know.”

  “You could hear—”

  “Everything both of you said, yes.” He wrapped an arm around her but didn’t pull her against him. The wolf that was her brother acknowledged Brett with a nod. “He wants you to heal emotionally. That’s what this is all about.”

  “Is it really that simple?”

  Brett didn’t answer, prompting her to press her fingers against his thigh. He drew in a deep breath. “What?” she asked. More silence followed.

  Tell her.

  “Tell me what?” she asked Brett in response to Skye’s wordless command.

  “Today’s about you,” Brett muttered. “Not me.”

  You’re wrong.

  “Stop it!” Brett exclaimed, startling her.

  Leaning away, she stared at this man she’d given her body to. “Stop what? And what is Skye saying you’re wrong about?”

  Instead of answering, Brett released her and stepped back. Although the distance between them frightened her, she forced herself to remain where she was. Hands rammed into his pockets and goose bumps on his chest, Brett started to walk away from her and the wolf, only to turn and face the predator head-on.