Canyon Shadows

by Vonna Harper

  Feeling better, she headed for the house. Ona led the way, probably thinking about the couch and hoping her mistress would have a dish of ice cream so she could lick the bowl.

  Her aunt and uncle were why she’d returned to the county of her birth. If not for them, she probably would have never set foot in it again. Her only relatives had convinced her that the past was dead and gone, deeply buried. They, the couple who’d briefly taken her in following her father’s murder, wanted her back in their immediate lives. Their own children lived where jobs and spouses had taken them, and they had no one to spoil. Their loving, generous natures and underlying loneliness had helped convince her that she should be nearby in case they needed, among other things, someone with a strong back to do the grunt work they no longer could.

  A year and a half ago she’d taken them up on their suggestion that she look at the acreage with the 1960s ranch house on it that had gone into foreclosure. As her uncle had pointed out, zoning there would allow the dog training business she’d been dreaming about for years. The moment she’d seen it, she’d known they’d been right about the setting. A little research had assured her that she’d have no competition, since the nearest such facility was a hundred miles away. Presently financially strapped law enforcement couldn’t afford a canine unit, but that had been penciled into next year’s budget. Since she was qualified to handle the necessary training, both the county sheriff and city police chief had said they wanted to work with her. It was time to stop wishing and start doing. She might not have a twenty-year plan but the present was satisfying and exciting.

  And unnerving.

  The sun sank below the horizon as she reached her front porch. Already the air was cooling. Instead of going inside, she stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked in the direction where she’d half believed she’d seen sunlight glinting off a rifle—the same direction the shots had come from. Everything seemed so peaceful out there this evening, maybe deceptively so. Maybe she’d take Bruce and Tucker for a walk up there in the morning, look around a little. Let them do some sniffing.

  Then again, maybe not.

  “The hell you won’t!” she chided herself. “You have the backbone, now use it.”

  He was naked except for his Stetson. Taller than any man she’d ever seen, with shoulders that couldn’t pass through a door without him having to turn sideways. Wherever they were was dark. The air was a little cool and goose bumps rested on her skin, but maybe the air had nothing to do with it. Maybe waiting for the big man to lift her in his arms and carry her where he wanted her was responsible.

  Moments ago she’d been wearing her nightshirt, but it had melted or evaporated or faded away, something. She stood as naked as he was and aware of every inch of both their bodies.

  She didn’t know where he’d come from or how he’d found her.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  His laugh was full and unrestrained. She all but floated on the laughter, and when, without taking a step, he stood inches from her, she accepted his presence. Waited. “I’ll never let you go,” he muttered as he slowly ran his rough hands down her arms. His fingers both smoothed over her goose bumps and created new ones. Her body sang, screamed. Promised to fall apart.

  When he reached her wrists, he closed his fingers around them and drew her off balance toward him. His hold didn’t let up—kept her prisoner—until he placed her arms around his waist with her palms against the small of his back. His erection pressed against her middle.

  “You can’t get free,” he informed her. “Ever.”

  “Why not?” she asked the dominating stranger. Stranger?

  “Because this is what I want.”

  “What about what I want?”

  “I know everything you need.”

  “That’s impossible. No one—”

  “You’re imagining what fucking me would be like. Don’t lie, Shari. It’s the truth.”

  “Yes, it is,” she admitted. He was right. She couldn’t keep anything from him.

  Sighing, he released her wrists and draped his now heavy hands over her shoulders. She tried to move her arms but couldn’t. Had he cuffed her to him somehow, maybe glued her hands in place?

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Someplace safe.”

  “You promise?”

  “I’ll always be here, protecting you. Fucking you.”

  For a moment he wasn’t there, and she stood alone and lonely. Turned on. Then his body spoke to hers again, and she caught fire. Only this time they no longer stood face-to-face but were on their sides on a too-soft mattress. She was cradled against him with her hands between her legs and her fingers spreading her labial lips. One masculine hand cupped her buttocks while the other held her right breast. Something about their bodies was off, arms and legs in maybe impossible positions, but it didn’t matter because he was touching her where she needed to be touched and she was close to climaxing. Whether he experienced the same release wasn’t important. She was selfish, self-absorbed.

  Not caring how any of this had happened.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” he asked. His fingers dug into her ass and breast, and his words pulled her back from herself. “About what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives?”

  “Fuck. We’re going to fuck.”

  “Yes, we are. How and when and where I want.”

  “What about me?”

  Silent, he slid his fingers over her hot breast and closed his thumb and forefinger over her nipple. As he drew it away from her body, a sharp and incredible sensation knifed through her. Her juices drenched her fingers. Laughing, she slipped a forefinger as far as she could into her sex. Her other hand went to her mouth and she licked.

  “I want to be the one doing that.”

  Something wasn’t right about what he’d just said, the tone, maybe, or the words. Still, she imagined his cock replacing her finger inside her. That’s what fucking was, cock and cunt uniting. His body blanketing hers while she squirmed under him. Bucking off the mattress as she drove herself at him. His cock going so deep she tasted him.

  Time blinked again. When it came back into focus, she was on her back with her legs widely spread and her arms tight around this man’s neck. He crouched over her like a predator and gazed down as if trying to decide whether to immediately kill her, his prey, or play with her. Had he captured her? Was that why she was under him? Fear licked at her only to die when he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Aching for the kiss, she arched her back so her breasts stroked his chest. Her body started to melt.

  “Damn you,” he growled. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “I’m already there. Waiting for you.”

  “No doubts then?”

  Unwilling to tell him that doubt blanketed every inch of her, and she might run if she could, she lifted her head and opened her mouth, hoping he’d kiss her again. Instead, he rocked back and lowered himself onto her. Maybe she offered her pussy to him; maybe he simply took it. Whichever it was didn’t matter as he filled her, stretching her too-sensitive inner tissues. He claimed her by ramming his cock deep and full inside her. He didn’t ask permission, gave her no time to adjust and prepare. The flesh-to-flesh insertion complete, he braced his upper body on his arms. Awed by the powerful force over her, she stroked his shoulders.

  “They don’t dare come now.”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “There’s just the two of us. No one else. Only one thing to be done.”

  Once again he put her in mind of a predator as he repeatedly propelled himself at her. Her spine burned with each explosion of masculine muscles. She was sliding along the bottom sheet but didn’t care. She’d wear her abrasions proudly. Display proof of their violent sex to the world.

  Much as she wanted to match his savage movement, her strength paled in comparis
on. Surely he couldn’t keep up this pace. Surely, in a few moments, he’d be forced to stop slamming himself at her. In the meantime she wrapped herself around the attack and floated on top of the climax hovering just beneath the surface. The moment she let her guard down, it would overwhelm her, something she needed in every fiber of her being.

  But not yet. Hold on to the promise, the anticipation. Claw at his arm and tighten her sex muscles around him. Pant and sweat. Burn.

  “I have you. Have you,” he chanted. Body arched and chest heaving, he drove his cock even deeper. Reamed her. “You’re mine.”

  “No, I’m not. I—”

  “Don’t speak. Just experience.”

  She was. Surely he knew that? At the same time couldn’t he guess she didn’t want to be told she belonged to him?

  The questions stopped her in mid-float. Her climax was just out there and challenging her to reel it in. Determined to ride just ahead of it a little longer, she tightened her sex around him until she trembled with the effort. There, now who was in control? Whose muscles outstripped everything else?

  “Shit!” He raked his teeth over her forehead, dampening it and making it sting.

  Straining, she clenched him even tighter. “What’s the problem?” she got out. “Can’t take some of your own medicine?”

  “This isn’t a contest.” Smiling, he resumed thrusting.

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. They’d darkened, making her think of a cave where things were said and done in private, where civilization had been stripped away and humans became animals.

  Yes, that’s what she’d become. As much a predator as he was.

  He’d found her somehow, stripped off her clothes, laid her down under him. Still, that didn’t mean he possessed her, because as long as he was inside her, she was his world. He’d gone too far. Only one thing would satisfy him.

  Release.

  “Hit me again!” Heat circled her breasts, and the air going into her lungs burned. “I want—damn it, you know what I want.”

  “To be fucked.”

  There was that word again, larger and stronger than before. It both frightened and thrilled her. She couldn’t tell which emotion dominated, but it didn’t matter. Only the burning slide of flesh against flesh did.

  The promise of a climax returned full force. A starved and determined beast fully commanded her, ruled every inch of her being. Letting go of the arm she’d been gripping, she raked her nails over his chest.

  “Damn it!” Still hammering into her, he shook himself. “Damn you.”

  “Don’t swear, damn it. Just don’t!”

  Everything froze. Neither of them moved, and yet she knew he was gathering himself. He was turning into a tornado, a man ruled by lust and need. In the next second or maybe the one after that he’d skewer her as she’d never been skewered. She’d scream and fly apart. Nothing—

  Bam!

  The sudden sound rocketed through her, freezing her in mid-movement. A whimper tried to force its way up her throat, but she fought it.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” her lover commanded. “This first.”

  Before she could ask what he was talking about, he rolled on to his side, taking her with him. His legs sandwiched hers. His cock remained tight, hard, and full inside her. As he pummeled her, she clung to his neck. Sweat rolled off her. Her ears buzzed.

  Bam!

  No, she wasn’t going to listen to that. Sex came first. Fucking was everything. Increasing her hold, she arched her pelvis, muscles threatening to explode.

  Thrust after thrust after thrust. Her skin, bones, nerves, and muscles flowing together. Teeth clenches and eyes closed. Gasping for breath.

  Finding the mountain. Climbing up it. Leaping off into space. Body shrieking and singing.

  Hearing nothing else.

  8

  Shari surged upright. Her fingers dug into the sheet tangled around her waist. Sweat stained her body, and her lungs burned. Desperate for air, she sucked in night-cool oxygen. The sensual and too realistic dream clung to her breasts, belly, buttocks, and pussy, and yet much as she wanted to savor it, she had to fight it off and try to make sense of what had awakened her.

  She was alone. Maco wasn’t part of what had taken place in her bed in the middle of the night.

  A low growl washed over the dream’s remnants; she broke free of fantasy. Even as she concentrated on keeping her fingers from cramping, she acknowledged that the growl was real and had come from Ona. According to the bedside clock, it was three a.m. The nearly full moon sent a soft mist of light in through the window. Usually she loved watching the moon in all its phases. Tonight, however, she wished it had given way to daylight.

  “What is it, lady?” she asked when Ona growled again. Straining to see, she made out the gentle dog’s standing form near the bedroom door. What was that phrase, something about the hairs on the back of a person’s neck standing up? Whoever had come up with the phrase had been spot-on. Not only did her hairs tingle, she was suddenly and deeply cold.

  Bam.

  Chunks of her dream attacked her seemingly from all directions. She half believed she’d really climaxed while sleeping, but with the sharp sound reverberating through her, she couldn’t concentrate on what her body was trying to tell her.

  She’d been asleep, she told herself. Not only hadn’t there been a night-lover, she hadn’t heard a shot. There was no need to call 911.

  “Come here.” Trying to deny her shaky tone, she patted the mattress, hoping to get Ona’s attention.

  Ona looked back at her but didn’t leave her post. Damn that closed door. Why had she gotten into the habit of shutting herself off from the rest of the house when she was sleeping?

  She’d locked the front and back doors and for once hadn’t left any windows open. Unfortunately two of the old windows didn’t fasten and anyone with a wire-cutting tool could make short work of the screens. Was that what Ona had heard? Maybe she’d slept until the intruder had gotten inside.

  Intruder?

  Who?

  Unless Ona had reacted to her vivid and probably noisy dream.

  Yes, she assured herself, that’s what it was. Ona had heard her crying out, gasping and snorting while coming. No wonder the old dog was agitated.

  Unless that wasn’t it.

  Her stomach cramped, but much as she needed to go to the bathroom, she couldn’t handle the idea of getting up and making herself even more vulnerable—if there was indeed a reason to feel that way. At least, in contrast to her dream, she had on her nightshirt, so when the intruder burst through her door, she wouldn’t be naked.

  She needed a revolver like Maco’s. Full of bullets capable of blasting away the bedroom door.

  Stop it! Any more thoughts like that and she’d panic.

  “What are you hearing?” She wasn’t sure she’d spoken loud enough for Ona to notice. “How many of the bastards are out there?”

  Ona’s teeth were bared. What did the dog’s silence mean? One thing she couldn’t deny, if the dog had been reacting to her mistress’s vocal dream, she wouldn’t be looking at the door.

  “Tell me what it is, please.” Pulling courage from deep inside, she got out of bed and tiptoed over to Ona. Again the dog acknowledged her but only briefly.

  What are you hearing? Because she didn’t want to make it any harder for the dog to do her job, she kept her question to herself.

  Why hadn’t she agreed to Maco’s suggestion about bringing the guard dogs inside? If she had, would she have already opened the door and given the attack order? Most likely she wouldn’t have closed the door in the first place.

  Wait! What if Maco had come after all and Ona had heard his vehicle?

  Although that possibility made no sense—he wouldn’t have risked agitating the dogs and scaring her by sneaking up on her—she’d love nothing better than to find him standing in the living room waiting for her.

  “Sorry if I woke you,” he’d say. “Well, seeing how you look, I g
uess I’m not sorry. Lovely nightgown you’re almost wearing. Any chance you want to get rid of it?”

  Another growl galvanized her. Her mind went into overdrive until only survival mattered. Tiptoeing, she eased over to the nightstand and slowly opened the drawer. The penlight she kept in there felt small and too light to inflict any harm, but thankfully it cast an intense if narrow light when she turned it on.

  “Okay,” she muttered more to herself than to Ona, “let’s see what’s out there.”

  Halfway to the door she pondered calling 911 instead of playing the macho role. As appealing as the option seemed, several things held her back. For one, the kenneled dogs weren’t barking. Second, it would take an officer a while to get here. Third and maybe most important, she didn’t want word about this to get to Maco, at least not yet.

  She wasn’t a chicken! She wasn’t her mother! Running from shadows would never be her way! Being uneasy was understandable given what had happened the other day, but that’s as far as it would go. She’d stand strong.

  Even as she debated going to the bathroom first, she reached the door to the living room. Ona didn’t move out of the way. In fact, the dog wasn’t acknowledging her existence. Instead of trying to leg butt Ona away from the door, she reached over the mutt and turned the knob. As she started to open it, it creaked.

  There’d been a similar sound the horrid night Heather Stevens’s world had imploded. Another door, another place, a nightmare.

  “Stop it!” she hissed. No way was she going to get sucked into the past! Still, she couldn’t make herself move while her heart pounded painfully. Finally, because she’d been down this road before, she yanked herself back from the edge.

  “Time to get this over with,” she told herself. Her eyes burning from trying not to blink, she aimed the beam at the dark living room. What had been furniture a few hours ago had become indistinct shadows. Much as she hated doing so, she nudged Ona with her leg to get the dog to walk ahead of her.