by Jenna Kernan
“Give me time, little rabbit. I have lived alone with my secrets so long.”
This time she did not scowl at his intrusion into her mind, but only smiled.
“I’m good with secrets.”
“All women are good with them, good with sharing them.” He stroked her cheek.
For the first time in her life, she felt the urge to put her faith in someone other than herself.
This wasn’t her father. This man would not abandon her.
“I will stay as long as you have need of me.”
She lifted a hand and stroked his smooth cheek, her gratitude growing with her desire.
He drew back. “You need shelter. This valley has a landing strip and several hunting cabins. We’ll go there.”
She recalled belatedly that she wore only a thin cocktail dress and running shoes.
He did not set her down, but instead lifted her easily as he carried her with tireless strides.
“I saw things in the whirlwind,” she said.
“What things?”
“Dark shapes. They swooped near us, but I could not make them out.”
“The Thunderbirds and the Thunderhorses.”
She knew of them. The Thunderbirds made the lightning by opening their eyes. The flapping of their wings and the great horses’ beating hooves caused the thunder. “They’re real?”
“Very. Watch as we travel and see what few humans have witnessed. I call them in emergencies and they carry me. It is only by their good graces that I can fly.”
“I couldn’t get enough air. It’s so cold.”
“You did better. We traveled much farther before you fainted.”
Not very reassuring, she thought.
Before them stood a small cabin constructed of plywood and two-by-fours. The square structure sat on raised on blocks cut from a large log. The exterior walls were painted kelly green, and the porch beams, formed from the nearby pines, were painted barn-red. Sebastian did not pause as he opened the door and stooped to cross the threshold.
He made a full circle in the room, before deciding to deposit her upon the bed. The room was cold and damp, so she drew her feet beneath her. He draped his heavy cloak around her shoulders. The weight of the garment practically pinned her to the spot. His scent and heat reassured her as she nestled deep into the fur.
He closed the door and went to work setting a fire. A full wood box, tinder and a lighter made the job easy for someone as experienced as Sebastian. Soon the little rectangular stove crackled to life and he swung the door shut, lowering the latch.
As the chill left the air, Michaela stood to explore her new surroundings. The floor was icy beneath the soles of her feet.
She glanced back at the bed she had vacated, noting it was no more than a large raised platform of plywood, covered with a piece of five-inch-thick foam. There was a sleeping bag, rolled at the foot, but no bedding and only one thin pillow. The wood-burning stove, set up on a rectangle of red bricks, lay centered on the wall across from the entrance. The firewood lay far enough away not to catch a stray spark. Above the stove, an empty clothesline crisscrossed the ceiling. Four mismatched wooden clothespins clung tenaciously to one strand. Two captain’s chairs lay open before the stove, showing worn tan canvas of questionable strength.
The adjoining wall featured a long plywood counter holding a variety of jars and containers. Above this surface lay shelves filled with foodstuffs, pots and pans. Before the counter sat a small drop-leaf table with a green-and-white-checkered tablecloth of plastic that sported several cigarette burns. At the center a candle stub rested in a clean tuna can flanked by paper cylinders of salt and pepper sprinkled with a pattern of vegetables.
She retrieved the knapsack Sebastian had tossed near the table and hung her clothing on the line above the stove. Finally she set her boots on the brick hearth. Then she headed for the kitchen and went to work. After a few minutes she had unearthed vegetable shortening, pasta, a can of tomato sauce, biscuit mix, canned beans, coffee, tea, sugar and cans of peaches and fruit cocktail. A feast!
Sebastian ventured out to fill a cooler from a nearby spring and she collected plates and silverware, then opened the canned goods, which were frozen solid and required thawing on the stove. But the cast-iron stove took the chill from the room. She was warm for the first time since arrival.
He returned to find she had created a pasta dinner complete with biscuits, vegetables and a peach cobbler, thanks to the brown sugar she discovered.
She didn’t know which shocked her more, the speed with which Sebastian ate his dinner or the quantity of food he ate.
“Shall I make some more pasta?”
“Is there more?”
She cooked him a pound of elbow macaroni and he ate that with oil and a healthy pile of grated Parmesan cheese.
“How do you stay so thin?” she asked.
He raised a beefy arm and flexed. “I am not thin.”
He wasn’t. He was broad and strong and heavily muscled. No wonder he had the appetite of a sumo wrestler.
At last, Sebastian pushed away his dinner plate and sighed in contentment. “That was good.”
She smiled at the Spartan praise.
“This from a man who says he will eat anything.”
“That’s true. But this tasted very good. Sweet and spicy things and things that are soft and chewy.”
What an odd description. “You need to eat out more often.”
“Mostly I eat what I find or kill.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes from widening at that.
“I only kill what I can eat,” he assured her.
“You’re a hunter, then.”
He thought for a moment and then met her eyes with a glowing fire that made her stomach flutter and her blood course.
“Yes,” he said.
She found her voice trembled at the intensity of his stare.
He leaned forward. “Recently, I have been hunting a soft little rabbit.”
Her molten reaction to this made her spring to her feet. She had made this mistake already, and he had hurt her with his flight. She had had the brush-off before, but never with such blatancy. And now he acted as if he hadn’t dropped her like yesterday’s news the moment he recalled what they had done.
She met his gaze. It had been wonderful.
No, Michaela. Not again. You don’t even know what he is. He’s not human, that’s certain, making him…what? An extraterrestrial? Yeah, right. An E.T. who knows Lakota folklore and travels with Thunderbirds.
She scooped up the dinner plates and took them to the stove, where she used the pot of warm water and a wet cloth to clean them. There was no food to discard, because Sebastian had eaten everything but the tin cans.
This was better. She didn’t have to look at him. Instead, she focused on scouring the forks and spoons. His gaze was still on her. She could feel it as strongly as the heat from the woodstove.
Finally, there was no more delaying. She turned to face him, meeting the feral gaze and feeling her heart beat in her throat. He wanted her, hunted her, and there would be no escape.
The thought thrilled her, and she felt herself shiver with desire to have him once more.
“Shouldn’t we go?” she asked.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “It is too late to arrive. It would be rude.”
“Oh.” She pushed her hair away from her face.
“Come here,” he ordered.
Chapter 15
S ome part of her was still uncertain, still resisting this attraction that roared between them. If Michaela could keep him from knowing how much she truly wanted him, she might keep him from bedding her again.
That meant she could not let him touch her.
“You want me, Michaela. I know it.”
She tried for a bluff. “I don’t.”
“Then why are your face and neck pink? Why are your lips already swollen, and why is your heart pounding there at your throat? Did you know I
can smell your arousal?”
She backed away.
“Come here.”
She took another step away, bumping the bed platform and folding onto the sheet of foam.
He rose and lifted the cloak from her shoulders. She did not know how he did it, but one moment he stood before her dressed in jeans and flannel, holding the cloak, and the next instant he stood gloriously naked before her except for his necklace. She gasped at the feast he presented her eyes.
His broad, muscular chest called for her to stroke it. Her gaze swept him, and her fingers itched to touch his golden skin. She glanced lower at his narrow hips and the thatch of hair surrounding his stellar erection. She felt herself flood with anticipation.
He was right to summon her. She couldn’t keep herself from wanting what he offered, even knowing that he would hurt her again when this was finished.
He spread his arms in welcome, drawing her close, stroking her back. He reached for the hem of her dress. She raised her arms, but was not quite sure the dress was drawn away over her head. She only knew it was gone. She glanced to the ground but did not see it there. How had he done that?
“You’re not wearing the pink lace.”
She returned her attention to Sebastian. “No, that was wet.”
“I’m glad I did not know it. I could not have concentrated.”
“You know it now.”
“Hmm,” he said, stooping to clasp her bottom and draw her forward, controlling her, and moving her so he could kiss and lick his way down the sensitive flesh of her belly. His hands moved lower until his fingers found their way between her legs, stroking the sensitive flesh of her cleft.
She gasped and arched. He held her fast as she swayed, rocked by the inner storm.
His fingers delved within her as she leaned against his mouth. His tongue flicked out—the eye of her maelstrom.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, pressing hard against his questing mouth.
He kissed and fondled her until her knees buckled, but he held her there for his ministrations, helpless and wanting, as he brought her to the summit. There, the swirling flood of pleasure released. She cried out his name as her body went limp, yet still she wanted him inside her, wanted it more than anything she had ever wanted in her life.
He lifted her, cradled her and guided her open body over his. She was past ready to accept him. He stood and thrust into her, holding her with a strength that no longer surprised her. His steady hands clasped her hips, drawing her nearly to the limits of his length and then pulling her forward until their hips collided.
She looped her arms about his neck, but as his rhythm grew more insistent she relaxed her hold and let her body arch away, increasing the depth and pleasure of each stroke. She had never experienced lovemaking like this, never trusted a man to hold her this way.
His strokes grew faster and she relished each one. The realization that he traveled to the edge of his control but waited for her brought her to a second release. Her throaty moan undid him, for he pulled her tight, until their hips locked and held fast as he poured his seed into her wet passage. She relished the pulsing throb, feeling her own body rippling to bring him still deeper inside.
He moved his hands to her back and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and stretched out against her side, dragging the great fur cape over them like a blanket, encasing them in a warm nest. He turned her to her side and drew her back against him, bringing her bottom and back tight to his chest. One hand splayed against her breast, relaxed and warm.
They rested in the cabin, motionless as their breathing returned to normal.
Michaela wondered when they could do that again.
“Soon,” he said, and closed his eyes.
She smiled and nestled close to him, feeling safe and loved. He had given her a great gift. He guarded her from those creatures who stalked her and she put her faith in him. If anyone could stop Nagi, it was Sebastian.
When she next came aware, the room was dark, but something moved beside her. Sebastian. She recognized his scent, his touch, the great broad comforting mass of him. She smiled as she realized what had awakened her.
He was ready for her once more. She felt the hard pressure of him against her thigh and shifted to press her belly to his groin.
“Can’t a girl get some sleep around here?” She wrapped her fingers about his erection. His gasp gave her a smile of pure female satisfaction.
“What you do to me,” he said, his voice husky.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” She licked her fingers, and then dragged them over the underside of his rigid flesh.
He groaned and pressed against her hand as his arousal twitched at the contact. Before she could stroke him again, he had her on her back.
She was going to protest, just to tease him, but her words died on her lips as she saw his eyes glittering in the dark. They glowed like a cat’s at night. The words died on her lips as she took in the strange sight.
He positioned himself above her.
“No more word games, not when I feel your desire as strongly as my own.”
She cast aside her uncertainty and inhaled at the rush of anticipation that came as she lifted herself to accept him. He dove forward with a force that pressed her deep into the foam mattress. He thrust with a speed that thrilled her, but raised the doubt that he could last long enough for her to find her pleasure.
“Never doubt it,” he growled, and thrust. He released her hips to stroke her most sensitive flesh, driving her mad. She lifted herself, splaying her legs up over his shoulders to give him access to all of her.
She recognized the building desire, the urge to move, and at the same time to pause to relish the pleasure. It was coming now, no stopping it. The wave of fulfillment broke, crashing through her middle, rolling outward until it curled her toes. She cried his name in one long rushing release.
He drove into her slick passage, pushing forward as she lifted, bringing him to the base of her womb. He felt it. She could tell by the moment’s hesitation. But there was no stopping as his body shuddered. He arched, sending his seed to her in a hot gush.
Her legs slid to his hips and he fell forward, collecting her as he rolled until she lay splayed across him like some living blanket. She had never felt more satisfied. He held her in the quiet room as the last of her pleasure began to ebb.
His timing was spectacular.
“Thanks,” he muttered, as if speech now was a great hardship.
She smiled. A possibility came to her along with a thrill at the thought.
“Can you feel my emotions, too?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Did you feel my—”
“Yes.”
Oh, my, he had experienced what she had. That realization made her hot all over again. He had shared her release and experienced his own.
“Triggering my own,” he corrected.
She lifted a tired arm and stroked his head and back, reaching all the way to his wonderful, taut ass. Then she did it again.
“That was wonderful,” she whispered.
He turned his face toward hers and she kissed his lips.
“I never knew females had such shattering experiences.”
“Is yours so different?”
“It is—” he hesitated “—more focused. Like the difference between a thunderstorm and a lightning strike. Both have power in a different way.”
She smiled and lowered her head to the cushion of his biceps. Contentment seeped around her like warm sand. He relaxed and dozed. Michaela nestled close to him, but her mind turned back to his glowing eyes. Her own popped open. The strangeness of him grew until her heart pounded with uncertainty.
Not a man.
Her fears rushed back, sweeping her along like a rudderless raft in a raging torrent. What terrible secrets did he hide? If she knew, she would leave him. That was what he told her, but nothing could be worse than the possibilities that were now threatening to overtake her. It was a different kind of madn
ess, this dread. She was hunted by Nagi but had kept herself from his possession. Not so with Sebastian. He had possessed her, body and soul.
What had she done?
She felt physically sick. He could heal with a touch, and he could fly, call animals to do his bidding, and at night his eyes glowed like an animal’s. She searched her mind for answers, recalling the Lakota myth. What if he was Iktomi, the prankster, or worse, Tuku Skanskan himself? The master of chaos could cause great sorrow to people. What kind of a monster had she given herself to?
She glanced at him and saw those unnatural eyes focused on her.
Sebastian glared down at her. “Monster?”
She lifted both hands to her throat as if choking. Her mouth dropped open, and he saw the same look of terror she had given him when he came to her as an animal. The same look his mother and wife had given long ago. Her glance darted from left to right, and she searched for a means to escape him. How could he blame her, when she had, at last, come to the right conclusion?
Her face flushed, and he could see it in the near dark, his eyes working far better than a human’s.
“Sebastian?”
What was she thinking now, as she panted and quaked? Her expression was earnest and her eyes wide, offering hope. He reached, trying to reestablish their physical connection. At that level, he always understood her, but the fear made her eyes white and wide as she retreated to the wall, hands outstretched to ward him off.
He couldn’t stomach it, to be the cause of such horror.
He grabbed for her, and she jumped away with surprising agility and lashed out. It was nothing to him, a tap, but he could see that the blow was her best effort to repulse him, as she was repulsed by him.
How could he blame her for feeling what he had long felt for himself?
He rose from the bed they had shared, backing away to give her the space she needed to face him. Seeing her tremble and knowing he was the cause tore at him like crows on a carcass.
“Sebastian, you must tell me what you are.”
He shook his head, denying what he knew must come. She was frightened of the unknown. But that was preferable to seeing him turn. To show her was to lose her forever.
