by Tess MacKall
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, then claimed her mouth, the kiss fast and erotic and so damn right.
She whimpered and clutched his lower back, pushing down. He rocked, her jeans abrading her clit, a swift rush of pleasure spreading through her folds. Sam ground against her, circular movements that brought her to orgasm, the suddenness of it snapping her eyes open. Her clit throbbed in time with her pulse and she took her mouth from his, sucking in a breath then crying out, the sound breaking on a gasp. He circled faster and her pleasure deepened with each gyration. She raked her nails up and down his back, lifting her head to the crook of his neck and grazing her teeth over his skin. He kissed the top of her head and slowed his movements as her orgasm receded, the aftershocks a beating sweep, her nerve endings recovering.
Grasping his upper arms, she reversed their positions and straddled his knees. Quickly, she freed his cock from his jeans, lowering her head, licking the tip. She wet the head with strong strokes then sank him into her mouth. Lucia pulled up, tongue flat to his shaft, lips tight. Sam groaned and clutched her hair, hips rising to meet her mouth’s descent. She sucked him in deep, repeating the up-and-down motion until his cock vein throbbed against her tongue. Tasting pre-cum, she bobbed harder, faster, wanting him to explode in her mouth. Circling a finger and thumb around his base, she worked his shaft, shifting one knee between his legs. With her free hand, she tugged one side of his waistband and Sam helped by lifting his ass and pushing down the other, exposing him to his thighs. She trailed her fingers over his balls, the fine hairs above tickling her skin. Lucia stroked the smooth ridge between his sac and asshole, eliciting a strained moan from Sam. She sucked up, lips encircling his corona before she plunged her mouth back down. His cock tip touched the back of her throat and a shot of cum spurted, the warm fluid coating the back of her tongue. His taste set her clit to throbbing and she swallowed, waiting for another ejaculation. It came, a third and fourth quickly following and she cupped his balls, thumb stroking his base as her other hand drew upward.
With a growl, Sam guided her away from his cock and positioned her beside him on the blanket. Propped on one elbow, a faint red tinge on his cheekbones, he studied her face, his gaze penetrating. Lucia’s breath caught and she stared back at him, the telltale throb of a second orgasm brewing inside her. With one fingertip, he traced the dip and swell of her collarbone, then drew it down to the valley between her breasts. The featherlight touch sent shivers through her and she lay panting in anticipation of what was to come. He trailed his fingertip lightly to her navel, circling it before he snapped open her jeans and unzipped her. His gaze still on her, he reached to take off her boots, then lifted her ass to ease down her panties and jeans. She pulled one leg out of the fabric and splayed her legs, wrenching her gaze from his face to look at his semihard cock.
Her cunt clenched and he positioned himself between her legs, dipping his head, breath hot on her folds. Lucia gripped the blanket in her fists and stared at the sky, waiting for the first touch. It came, soft yet firm, hot and wet, and her hips bucked involuntarily. His lips encircled her clit and he drew the nub inside, sucking gently, with an agonizingly slow rhythm. Tingles from her clit spread through her outer lips and her sheath contracted. Sam released her bud and licked down. He tongue-fucked her and she bent her legs, letting her knees drop to the blanket.
“Fuck!” she breathed, clenching her teeth and fisting the blanket tighter.
Sam withdrew his tongue, gliding it up to her clit. She gasped, willing him to fill her with his cock, knowing her orgasm would be a swirl of pleasure she could hardly bear. An intense throb ebbed and flowed, sending her head thrashing from side to side. On the brink of coming, she ground her teeth to ward it off and Sam took his mouth away. Her fingers splayed, she slapped the blanket, then brought her hands up to cup either side of his head.
Sam eased up onto his knees and fumbled inside a pocket of the backpack. He took out a condom and sheathed his cock. Looking down at her, his eyes smoldered with desire.
She jerked her hips. “Inside me. Please, get inside me now.”
Sam reached back and clasped one of her calves, bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. Her stomach clenched with excitement and she let out a small whimper. He placed her other leg on the opposite side and Lucia shuffled downward so she could settle the underside of her knees over his rounded shoulders. Sam slid his hands beneath her ass and speared her pussy with his cock. He held her there as he pumped, short sharp thrusts, maintaining eye contact as though breaking it would sever their special connection.
Unable to stop the spasms racking her body as a fresh wave of pleasure hit, she closed her eyes, head spinning. Her senses took everything in—the scent of her juices mixing with that of the creek, the intoxicating burn of pleasure spearing her pussy, the cool air nipping at her sweat-slicked skin—and she keened, abdomen jolting in time with his jerks.
Her clit overly sensitive now from his abrading thatch, she reveled in the spikes of sensation. Her juices still glistened on his lips and chin. She longed for him to kiss her, to crush his lips to hers so she could taste herself and smell the heady scent his loving had created. How quickly she had been reduced to a smoldering, wanton woman. He had only to look at her, to touch her, and she was his.
He pushed into her—harder, shunting thrusts and she gripped his wrists. Desire for him grew, shocking her with its intensity.
Oh God, I love him, but I don’t know how this happened so quickly.
“Faster,” she gasped, nails digging into the soft skin of his wrist. “Fuck me faster.”
Sam picked up speed, closing his eyes as his cock swelled a little more and his veins pulsated against her internal wall. He was close, she knew, but so was she. She stopped holding off and let the burn glide through her, taking her to heights she never knew existed until she’d met Sam. Pulse thundering in her ears, she watched his eyes bunch tight and his mouth open to release a strangled groan. The sight and sound aroused her further, her cunt contracting with uncontrollable spasms, her heels bumping against his back.
“Ah!” Sam breathed, grunting with each jerk of his hips.
Lucia joined him, stuttered noises coming out of her. She closed her eyes, loving the swirling waves of ecstasy undulating from her core to her clit to her lower belly. The sound of her ass slapping against him heightened the thrill. She hissed air out between clamped teeth, riding the tides of lust that flowed then ebbed into a pulsing throb. Sam slowed, his cock beating a post-ejaculation rhythm. When she opened her eyes, she found him gazing down at her. He smiled and eased her legs from his shoulders. Lowering her ass to the blanket, keeping himself inside her, he braced his hands on either side of her body and covered her with his. His cock still throbbed, matching the beat of her clit, and his breaths whispered across her cheek. Sam peppered kisses along her jawline to her lips. He claimed her mouth, tongue probing deep. Lucia tasted the traces of her juices, lifting her hands to bury them in his hair and keep him close. Their joining had been exquisite once again and she marveled at how two people could experience such wonderful sex when they hardly knew one another.
Sam broke their kiss, murmuring, “We must talk soon.”
Lucia nodded.
“There are things at work here that you’re not aware of. Things that will explain everything. Like how we’ve only just met yet I feel as I do.” Sam kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips.
What did he mean? Did he have information she didn’t or was he just speaking theoretically, musing that a higher force or something else had guided them together? Fate? Destiny?
“I don’t understand this.” She traced his lips with her fingertip. “And if I’m honest I don’t want to try. Taking each moment as it comes…it works for me. I don’t care whether we’ve just met. Something is there.” She stared up at him, the smile on his face warming her.
“What others think isn’t part of the equation, is it?”
“No. With you I feel safe. Lik
e I’m meant to be here.”
Chapter Seven
“We must go now,” Sam said. “To see White Owl. Didanawisgi.”
“Who’s that? And why do we have to see this White Owl?” Lucia tightened her hold on Sam’s hand as she stepped over the fallen tree limb in her path.
“Didanawisgi. It means ‘medicine man’. And you will understand why we must see him when we get there.”
“Well, I’m all up for soaking in a bit of local culture, but… Care to clue me in as to why I have to see him?”
Sam kept her hand in his as they walked. Everything about her, touching her, talking to her—it had all become so natural to him. The day with her had passed so easily. That small amount of doubt that she was his promised one had lessened to almost nothing. Lucia was his.
He halted and turned to her. “Each of us has lived before, Lucia. Your soul has been on this earth many times. He can help you remember this.”
“Oh,” she said in a dull tone. “More of that religion of yours that isn’t a religion.”
He smiled and took her other hand, clasping them both to his chest. “You will come to understand. You know there is more to us. You’ve said so. It’s important that you remember your past lives.”
Curiosity and something akin to fear stared back at him from her eyes. “I don’t believe in that type of thing, Sam. It’s for…for…”
“Crazy people?”
“You’re not crazy. So no. It’s just that—”
“If you can’t see it or touch it then it’s not real?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“When you have lived in these mountains for a while, you get a sense of things that aren’t so obvious. It’s the way of my people to listen to the mountains. To listen to the spirits.”
“I know you think this is all real, Sam, but… I’m not a believer and never will be. Things like that just aren’t possible.”
“You feel something more than the physical when we make love, Lucia. I know you do. All I ask is that you give this a chance.”
She nodded, but Sam knew she agreed only to pacify him. Soon, she’d discover that the spirits couldn’t be so easily appeased. Her destiny was linked with his and she couldn’t hide from it. It might be hard for her to swallow at first, but she’d come around. Wouldn’t she? A person couldn’t walk away from their destiny, could they?
The trail opened into a clearing and Sam smelled wood smoke. In the center of the clearing sat White Owl facing a campfire, his face weathered and worn from the ravages of time. Sam had no idea how old he was, but he’d always been there. His face was wrinkled, his hands gnarled, his hair gray and his eyes—those dark, penetrating eyes, so clear and sharp—told of his wisdom.
And White Owl had always been alone.
Silver Hawk had taken Sam to see the ancient medicine man after his first shift to his cougar. After that, Sam visited White Owl often. According to Silver Hawk, “Only White Owl can teach you what you need to know.” Sam had listened and learned. There had been times when it had been hard for him to believe the old man’s words, but with every day that passed, Sam’s awareness of who and what he was had grown. And his duty to follow the path the spirits had set for him had gone unquestioned. Even during those dark and lonely nights when he’d wished for more, he’d accepted his fate.
Lucia’s presence here this night meant the end of one life and the beginning of another.
She tightened her grip on his hand and stood slightly behind him. Sam glanced at her, sensing her fear. Squeezing her hand, he smiled and continued to the circle.
Speaking in his native Tsalagi, Sam greeted the old man. “O si yo, White Owl. It has been a while since I’ve visited with you.”
White Owl didn’t return the greeting. Instead, he lifted his head to look directly at Lucia. “She has come.”
Sam let go of Lucia’s hand and dropped to his knees before the fire. “Then I’m right. She is the one.”
White Owl turned his attention to Sam. “You will learn much this night, Black Cougar. The truth will be yours.”
Sam tensed. What more could there possibly be for him to learn? The truth? What truth? And he’d forgotten White Owl called him Black Cougar. Had Lucia noticed? Yes, she was his promised mate, but how much did free will figure into all this? How would she react to finding out he was the black cougar? He heard her voice behind him.
“You’re named for the black cougar, Sam?”
Sam studied White Owl’s face. Did he plan to let Lucia see everything tonight? Looking back at her, Sam held out his hand. She took it and kneeled next to him.
He started to answer her question but the sound of the turtle-shell rattle stopped him. White Owl chanted, his hoarse wail floating on the air. All around them the dark night seemed to come alive. Wind shook the tree leaves and the smoke from the fire billowed upward, veiling the stars. Chilled air vanquished the warmth of the flames, and Lucia shuddered.
Pulling her close, Sam draped his arm across her shoulder and whispered, “Just listen.”
The old Didanawisgi continued his mystical serenade. Sam and Lucia sat in silence and waited. Gray smoke swirled, rendering to a white mist, twisting and circling the clearing. Next to him, Lucia gasped at the sight. Popping and crackling, the fire grew more intense, but the cold air also swelled. Lucia rubbed her arms and stared at Sam, her eyes questioning.
Sam placed a finger to his lips, gesturing toward the fire with a tilt of his head. The sound of voices erupted from the flames and Lucia tried to pull from Sam’s grasp, but he held her tightly against him, preventing her escape. She needed to know, to see who she was—who Sam was. And Sam needed to learn whatever was left for him to know.
This night had been written. And so it would be.
* * * * *
Lucia stared at the fire, her eyes glazing, vision tunneling. A tiny image wavered in the flames but she couldn’t make out what it was. It grew, revealing the face of an Indian woman until it filled her sightline. The woman appeared about to give birth and another female kneeled by her side. Their lips moved, their voices filling Lucia’s head.
“When my son comes, you must take him to the place beyond the hidden waterfall and find my mother’s brother.” The woman with child heaved in a breath. “Give him my son. Beg him to care for him as his own.”
Her friend promised to grant those wishes and placed her hands between the other woman’s legs. She gripped the emerging head and a baby boy, a tangle of arms and legs, cried out. The scene touched Lucia’s core and enlightenment breezed through her.
That baby is Sam, I know it…
The woman severed the umbilical cord and swaddled the baby in her skirt. She left the tent, streaking across the ground and disappearing through a stand of trees. As though she were there, Lucia followed, the smell of damp earth so real, the twigs crackling underfoot so vivid. The woman walked on, the child’s cries muffled, until she broke through the tree line. Lucia caught up and stared. A jagged rock protruded a little way ahead and the melody of trickling water filled the air. The woman rounded the base. Trailing her, Lucia quickly made her way down an archway cut out of the stone, the noise of the water growing louder. Lucia stared in wonder at a waterfall cascading into a small pool on the other end. The woman moved at a fast pace, treading carefully along a ledge and disappearing behind the liquid curtain. Afraid she’d lose her, Lucia ran, finding herself in a large cave lit by torches. To the rear a fire raged and beside it a man sat cross-legged, an Indian, his long black hair tied in a plait at his nape. He looked up at the baby’s whimpers and stood, fists bunched at his sides.
“Indulala, is this the child of my sister’s daughter?”
The woman nodded and unfurled her skirt, cradling the baby in her arms. “Yes, Silver Hawk. Lavani asked that I bring him to you and beg you to care for him as your own, to keep him safe from Manohar.”
Silver Hawk frowned and stepped forward. “Lavani has gone to the spirit world?”
&nb
sp; Indulala bowed her head and whispered, “Yes.”
“By Manohar’s need for vengeance and White Owl’s hand. Taking the life of the blue-eye was not enough. So be it. They must both live with the consequences.” He scrubbed his chin and closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to focus on the child.
“What do you mean?” Indulala asked.
“Manohar will walk the mountains all the days of his life without love. White Owl used the Dark Spirits to curse Lavani’s child, and in exchange, White Owl will remain at the foot of the Shaconaque, The Great Blue Ridge, until Lavani’s son meets his mate.” He released a ragged sigh. “This he could only do if another a-gi-ya, a woman with child, touched Lavani’s son upon his first breath.”
Indulala held the baby in one arm and rubbed her abdomen with her free hand, fear clouding her expression.
Silver Hawk nodded. “And so it is written. You will bear this child’s mate. We may only ask that the spirits bring their souls together soon.” Silver Hawk stepped closer and held out his arms, receiving the baby with tenderness. He stared down, eyes filling with tears. “You are special, little one. I promise to keep you safe.”
* * * * *
The scene faded, replaced by White Owl, alone, chanting beside a fire. Though he spoke in a foreign tongue, Lucia understood him. He lamented cursing himself, having to curse the baby, only agreeing because Manohar was his grandson. His pain came through with his words and he stared at the flames.
“The spirits have come to speak,” he whispered in shock.
Lucia couldn’t see anything in the fire, but it appeared White Owl could. He gaped at the red-and-orange flames and placed his hands on his chest. A ragged sigh burst out of him and he shook his head, eyes wide.
“No. No! This cannot be!” White Owl said. “Do not give Indulala a daughter only to take her away in childhood. Please, let Lavani’s son be with his mate. To wait for her rebirth is a punishment the child does not deserve. He will bear the sins of Manohar and walk the mountains without love.” The flames jostled, undulating as though a being directed their movements. Sparks flew out at White Owl and he jerked back.
