by Rachel Lee
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her. Far from it. He was feeling an attachment grow, at least on his part, and if he had half a brain he’d bail before he messed up and brought her grief.
Because he didn’t trust himself anymore. No, he didn’t have PTSD, at least not bad PTSD, like so many of his fellow troops, but he did have it in spurts. And during those times he had a temper that rivaled Mount Vesuvius. Who needed that?
It was weird, too, to feel like he couldn’t trust himself. It had taken him some time to get past denial and admit that raging bull was him, and that it would keep on happening from time to time. No isolated incident.
Tugging him gently from his dour thoughts, Renee reached out and took his hand. He welcomed her touch, let it pull him back to the man he wanted to be, not the one he feared he might be.
He wanted to get up and walk around that mountain, looking for any evidence that someone else might be up there. It was dark, and the chances he’d find anything were zip, but the need for action was growing in him.
Still, it could wait till morning when light should help him considerably. He honestly didn’t want to leave Renee down here by herself while he wandered in the darkened woods. If somebody did have ill intent of some kind, she’d be unprotected. And the niggling feeling of being watched was strong again.
Someone out there was interested in something. More than interested. Renee kept calling her fascination with the fossil egg an obsession, but he felt the true obsession belonged to the unknown watcher. What was in it for him? If he wanted to steal some fossils, a few were almost ready to come out of the rock. Including the egg.
But that didn’t fit with the rockslide...unless they’d picked up a new groupie. He doubted that, though. There was ineptitude behind all this, from the noises in the night to the rockslide. Deliberate ineptitude, maybe?
That chanting from upslope had caused more discomfort among the team than anything so far. He couldn’t say he blamed them. Animals could make really uncomfortable sounds at night, but the idea of a group of people chanting somewhere up there in the dark?
Sinister horror movies were bound to come to mind.
Renee spoke. The chanting from up the mountain had nearly died away. “I wish my team could feel safe here. They ought to be able to. Digging fossils out of rock isn’t usually a death-defying task.” But despite her words, she glanced over her shoulder toward the mountain, toward the place from which the chanting had seemed to come.
“That mountain is huge,” she remarked a minute later. “Up close like this it’s impossible to tell. I mean, we’re sitting two thousand feet up its flank right now. It’s so deceptive, but I suspect the real problem is that our minds can’t really encompass something so huge.”
“You’re probably right. We keep cutting them down to size.” That stirred a memory for him. “A buddy of mine took his daughter to the shore, and out on this pier was a place you could feed pelicans. So his older child, a boy, wanted to feed the birds and my buddy gave him the necessary two bucks to get a few fish. Then he said to his daughter, ‘See Tommy feed the birdies?’” He laughed. “God, the way he told the story. His two-year-old daughter absolutely refused to believe the pelicans were birds. She kept saying ‘no birdie’ then pointing to some crows and saying very definitely, ‘birdie.’”
Renee started laughing. “So the pelicans were too big?”
“Too big for my buddy’s daughter, at any rate. At least that’s what he figured out must be going on, and I think he was right.”
“I agree with you,” Renee answered, still smiling. “What a great story. Well, I guess I’m having a pelican problem with this mountain. It’s so big it could be crawling with dozens of people and we’d never run into any of them. Reminding myself of that isn’t easy.”
“Maybe we should drive east one day soon so you can get a look at it from the foothills.”
“I’m not sure that would help,” she said wryly. “The farther we drove, the smaller the mountain would look.”
“True.” Then, unable to stop himself, he leaned toward her, ignoring the warning creak of the camp chair as he did so, and kissed her on her surprised mouth.
“You know, gorgeous, we’ve got the camp to ourselves tonight.”
She drew a long tremulous breath and he could hear the longing in it. “The watcher...”
“You’re still feeling him, too?” It was almost enough to flip his mood on a dime. But then he shoved the watcher away. “He can’t see through the tent.”
He was pleased to see the smile dawn on her face in the flickering firelight. He spared a glance at the fire, decided it had burned down enough to be safe in its ring for a while, then got up, still holding her hand.
She looked up at him, reading his face, he supposed, then rose to join him.
In an instant the entire night changed. The air grew thick with hunger; passion seemed to hum through the very earth. The whisper of wind in the trees sounded like an encouraging song.
His heart accelerated, shortening his breaths, as he led the way to Renee’s tent. He was through arguing with himself and trying to ignore the overwhelming need he felt for this woman.
He no longer cared about anything except these moments, now, with her, and that he make them the best moments possible. More, he wanted to stamp himself on her body, her mind, her heart. To make a place for himself in her life that reached beyond some fossils.
Given her obsessions and her career, he didn’t even know if that was possible, but he was past caring. If the next hours were all he had, he’d embrace them fully.
Because even as he unzipped her tent flap and let her enter first, he knew he was never going to forget this time with her.
* * *
Renee’s baggy work clothes gave way to a figure he’d only imagined before. The orange glow of the fire outside penetrated the tent just enough to paint her almost golden, like a goddess.
She didn’t wait for him to undress her, almost as if she were making a commitment to the experience ahead. He liked that. He liked it a whole lot. He waited, watching the last piece of clothing drop away until her pants puddled around her work boots.
For the moment he ignored that, instead drinking in her perfection. Small, rounded breasts, not too small but just right. Their curves drew him but he held himself still, taking in her swanlike neck, her strong shoulders and arms, all flowing downward to a tiny waist above smooth, flaring hips. And the secret thatch between her legs, calling to him.
Her legs, too, showed athleticism. This was a lady who used her body and he approved wholeheartedly.
Dropping to his knees, he knew he had to finish the job. He felt her hand grip his shoulder to steady herself as he reached for her boots, and the touch shot through him like lightning.
“Damn, you’re perfect,” he muttered as he struggled with laces—really, she double-knotted them?—and at last freed her from the weight of her boots. Then her trousers and undies, tossed carelessly into a canvas corner.
When she stood barefoot, he just wanted to start kissing her from her toes on up, but he felt her push his shoulder. “Your turn,” she said almost breathlessly. “Cope...”
How could he ignore that plea? He had nothing to offer to compare with what she had just shown him, but since he didn’t, he tossed his garments away as quickly as he could. Including the damn work boots.
Then, naked, he started to reach for her, to claim her. Too late.
She astonished him by dropping to her knees, gripping his buttocks tightly with both hands, and burying her face in his groin. Then, all she did was inhale, as if she wanted his scents to fill every corner of her.
Never had anyone done anything so sexy to him before. For a while he could only stand, letting her magic flow over him even as she seemed to be stealing the strength from his legs.
Then hunger could be denied n
o longer. Moving carefully, he released himself from her hold and urged her down on her sleeping bag. Propped on his elbows over her, he muttered, “You are a witch.”
A breathless laugh escaped her; then he began his journey of exploration, learning every inch of her with his hands, his tongue, his lips. She made soft sounds as his hands trailed over her but he was getting past the point of hearing much except the thudding of his heart, which reached right to his groin, making him feel heavy, hot and hard.
Every inch of her felt like satin, tasted like woman, but when his hand slipped between her thighs into that nest of curls, he felt warm moisture and felt her arch toward him.
Ah, man, he wanted to hold back, to put her on the pinnacle and keep her there until she could stay no longer, but his plans were becoming fuzzy, giving way to the deeper urges that held no thought except pleasure.
Then her hands skimmed his back, reaching down to his buttocks, trying to pull him closer.
Not yet...not yet...but the hammering in his blood took over, the pulse in his groin defeated every resolution, and he slid into her silken glove as if it had been made just for him.
* * *
Somewhere between pulling her own clothes off and feeling Cope’s hands and mouth on her, rational thought had completely deserted Renee. Her brain seemed to shut down, leaving room only for her heart to leap and hammer, and her nerves to tingle with yearning, for an ache to build between her legs until she needed pressure down there more than she had ever needed anything.
She forgot if she was breathing, didn’t hear the sounds that escaped her. The entire universe seemed to be whirling inside her toward an explosion of colliding stars. Want and need became the same thing and focused themselves on Cope.
All too soon the colliding stars joined in an explosion that turned the world white. Renee barely felt Cope shudder to his own completion as hers swept her away.
* * *
Cope had gone to get his own sleeping bag, and when he returned he zippered the two together. “Don’t move,” he said to Renee. “Enjoy the mood.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Enjoying myself. Relax.”
As if she were capable of anything else. Her limbs seemed to have turned to warm honey, and her mind and heart were still awash in the amazing experience they’d just enjoyed.
She watched him ease out of the tent for the second time, wearing only his jeans and untied boots. A touch of chilly air crept in behind him.
Weren’t men supposed to be sleepy after sex? she wondered dreamily. Of course, it wasn’t as if she had a whole bunch of experience. Maybe the guy who had fallen asleep on her had just been bored with her. He was her only sample, so how would she know?
Stretching languorously inside the warm sleeping bags, she then rolled onto her side and waited, her mind rummaging through her sex with Cope as if trying to engrave every moment in memory. She hugged herself with happiness and hoped there’d be more with Cope. He’d shown her places she’d never dreamed existed, but apart from the sex, she liked everything about him. So understated. So funny at times. Yet at moments she glimpsed the man who could be dangerous if he had to be. But so gentle and kind with her, and never crossing any of those invisible professional lines...until tonight. What a wonderful crossing it had been.
Eventually—it really wasn’t forever although it felt like it—he returned, leaning in to place a plate inside, then following with two mugs.
“Hot chocolate,” he said. “Or at least the instant stuff someone brought. And a plate of cookies. Chocolate chip, I think, but in the firelight I suppose they could be ants and not chips.”
She laughed. “I’m sure they’re chips. Besides, it’s impossible to go camping without ingesting a few gnats or ants.”
She pulled her arm out of the sleeping bag to take one of the cups he handed her.
“With any luck it’s still hot, so don’t burn your mouth. If you do you won’t be able to taste the ant chip cookies.”
Moving carefully, he slid into the sleeping bag attached to hers, then placed the plate between them and reached for his own cup.
“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Now we can hug or talk, or whatever pleases you.”
“You please me,” she answered forthrightly. “That was wonderful beyond words. And eventually I’d like a repeat.” When had she become so bold?
“You can bet on it,” he answered warmly. “We gotta keep sending the kids to town at night.”
A quiet laugh dribbled out of her again, but died quickly. “They were scared, Cope.”
“That awful scream was bad enough,” he answered, “but that chanting? Ghosts anyone? And I don’t believe in them.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” She sipped cocoa, feeling suddenly chilled. By the mention of ghosts? “It’s eerie, but there’s got to be a natural explanation. Maybe Gray Cloud is on a vision quest up there, and maybe he’s not alone.”
“I thought vision quests were solitary.”
“Like I actually know? I’ve heard there are different ways of doing them, though. Customs vary, I guess.”
“Well, I have to admit I wish he were around,” Cope said presently. “I’d like to ask him about these sounds. I suspect he knows these mountains better than anyone.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. From what my cousin tells me, he takes being the guardian very seriously.”
“Gray Cloud doesn’t strike me as the kind to take important matters lightly. You said your cousin met him when she was researching the wolves up there?”
“Yeah. She’s a wildlife biologist, and she’d heard rumors of a wolf pack on Thunder Mountain. You know they introduced wolves to Yellowstone?”
“I remember.”
“Well, this was a long distance from there. She was hoping to find out if they were a migration from Yellowstone or from south somewhere. Mexican gray wolves have been steadily moving this way, too. Anyhow, she wanted to get a bead on whether there were wolves, if so how many, was it a viable pack...and if they needed protection.”
“Okay.”
“Mercy said that when she initially met Gray Cloud, he really didn’t want her on the mountain. He warned her it was sacred, that the mountain was alive and she could get into trouble...”
“Whoa,” he said. “How did she take that about the mountain being alive?”
“She didn’t believe it. At least not at first. I think she believes it now, though.”
“It would be easy to do, especially right now. And the wolves?”
“Oh, they exist up there. She found a den with pups just in time to save them. Someone was trying to get rid of them all. People have funny ideas about wolves. Funny odd, not funny ha-ha.”
“I got that.” He fell silent. “We hate them but I’m not sure why. They tend to be shy, they avoid people, and if they take livestock it tends to be something sickly...or a very bad winter.”
“The fear runs deep. I’ve never done any research into the subject, but I seem to remember people didn’t always live in fear of wolves.”
“I think you’re talking about European peoples.”
She laughed. “I guess so. I don’t think most Native Americans considered them a problem, but then I’m getting out of my area here. I’ll just leave it that Gray Cloud wanted to protect them, and he wasn’t sure my cousin’s research wouldn’t expose them to trouble.”
“Did it?”
Her answer was dry. “By the time Mercy found them, they were already in trouble.”
He held a cookie out for her, encouraging her to take a nibble. She bit into it, then tried to lick the crumbs from her lips.
“You can do that forever, and I’ll watch,” he said. “How many wolves are up there?”
“Nobody’s sure. They aren’t seen often, and Gray Cloud’s people don’t want any
of them collared with tracking devices. They apparently need quite a wide range, though, so there may only be one or two packs up there, and whether those packs are small or large is anyone’s guess.”
“You have an interesting family,” he remarked, then let the subject go, allowing them to finish their cocoa and eat the cookies.
The nights still grew chilly, but not as cold as they had at first. Nevertheless, Renee found it a treat to cuddle in the joined sleeping bags with Cope. Not only did he hold her comfortably, but he was practically a furnace, heating the interior of their cave pretty much by himself. Her fingers and toes no longer felt cold at all, nor did his hands when they began to roam her again, a silent invitation she was more than ready to accept.
Curling into him, as new as the experience was, still felt utterly natural to her, as if it were a place made just for her. His hands ignited fires all over her, causing her heart to accelerate, her breaths to shorten, her entire body to bow toward him.
And when she reached out with her own hungry hands, she heard him draw sharp breaths and felt a deep shudder run through him. How powerful it made her feel when her touches drew a deep groan from him.
In those minutes he was hers. She felt it all the way to her soul. Hers. As she was his. The sense of belonging was almost as overwhelming as the desire that flowed hotly through her, at once weakening her and strengthening her.
Dimly she realized that this night was changing her forever. She would never see or feel the same again. And she was loving it.
They were both damp with passion and breathing heavily when he lifted her over him. As her legs spread, ready to receive him, she felt the ache of needing to be filled, the ache of needing to become one.
Then he slid into her, holding her close, rocking her with a gentleness that almost frustrated her until the rhythm took over and swept her away on the rising tide of excitement.
Then at last galaxies exploded around them, surrounding them in a cocoon of heat and light.
When she collapsed on him, his shudder and groan hurled her over the top once more.
