Beauty's Beast

by Jenna Kernan

Bright green light flashed and Blake lifted his arm across his eyes. When he lowered it Aldara stood before him in her first form. Silvery hair covered her muscular body that now stood eight feet tall. Spines raised up on her head and her pointed teeth glistened. She stared out at him with yellow eyes, daring him to look away.

  She garbled her words as if they were hard for her to form, but he understood her. “This is what I am.”

  With that Aldara vanished into a fast-moving cloud of mist.

  Blake ran to the place where she had last stood. Her scent remained. He breathed deep, trying to hold this tiny scrap of her essence. If he could have flown after her, he surely would have.

  * * *

  Samantha glided across the meadow shrouded by the descending mist. Wet grass swept her calves as she paused at the entrance of the conical tent fashioned like the tepees once used by their ancestors. The flap was open, an indication that Alon welcomed visitors. Had he hoped that she would come?

  “Alon?” she breathed his name like a sigh.

  He was at her side in an instant. The breeze lifted the tails of his open white shirt, and his snug jeans were unfastened at the waist.

  “You came,” he said. He took her by the shoulders and lowered his forehead to hers, resting like that for a moment as if too weary to hold himself without her there.

  At the touch she read his longing and his sorrow. Did he already anticipate the casualties that would come with the dawn?

  Nagi was delayed by his human army, who walked slowly overland. They would be here tomorrow. Alon would not give them time to rest.

  He guided her through the raised opening in the canvas tepee, past the symbols of green lightning someone had painted on the surface. He paused only to lower the ring of sticks that supported the flap, indicating that visitors were no longer welcome. They were alone and no one would disturb them.

  A single kerosene lantern hung from a peg, the wick turned low so to cast a golden light. Woven rugs, pillows, blankets and soft furs circled the interior.

  They stood with hands clasped in the center.

  She read his need, he read her longing. Samantha pressed her body to his.

  “I feared you would send me to my dad,” she said.

  “You are safer with us.”

  Samantha lifted one hand to his cheek and he pressed against her palm.

  “It’s dangerous for us to be together again.”

  “More dangerous than facing Nagi tomorrow?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Then let us have tonight.”

  She placed one hand on each of her opposite shoulders and lowered her head to concentrate. The energy pulsed and her cloak transformed to a single golden rope that circled her neck. The medicine wheel glinted between her breasts. He lifted the symbol of her Seer power and kissed the center of the cross.

  He gathered her gently in his arms. This meeting had none of the frantic fury or rush of their first joining. Instead he lingered, stroking her bare shoulders, caressing her neck as she used her fingernails to lightly rake his back. The groan that issued from his throat made her tingle in anticipation. He rubbed his muscular chest against the soft cushion of her breasts, and she closed her eyes at the sharp darts of delight. Need beat within her, building with each pulse of her heart.

  His sweet breath fanned her cheek as he dipped his head, capturing her earlobe between his teeth and sucking the soft, sensitive nub of flesh until her head dropped back and she shivered in pleasure.

  His tongue traced the shell of her ear and then darted inside. She pressed herself flat against him, savoring each hard edge as she rubbed her hips against the rigid evidence of his desire. His sharp teeth scored the arched column of her throat, and she moaned in longing. His hands slid down her back until he cupped her bottom, using his strong arms to bring her even tighter against him, and still it wasn’t close enough.

  Samantha lifted her hands, raked her fingers through the fine silk of his hair and tugged. Alon lifted his lips from her throat and stared into her eyes. His mouth glistened and his eyes glittered, the color changing from blue to green. The flush of his skin and the panting breaths aroused her until she quivered with anticipation. He was hers at last, and they had the entire night. After that, who could tell?

  One night, a thousand. She knew it would never be enough.

  His hands slid down the backs of her thighs until he had control of her. Then he lifted, spreading her legs to make room for him between them. For a moment she was high above him and his rough cheek was scoring the sensitive flesh of one breast, and then next he was lowering her inch by thrilling inch onto his erection. She stared at his wild green, unnatural, exciting eyes and knew that no moment would ever be so perfect.

  He slid inside her gently, her body stretching to take inch after inch. She wanted to throw her head back and cry out in pleasure. She wanted to fall upon him in a hot, needy rush. But she kept her eyes locked on his as he drew her down until her bottom pressed tight to his hips.

  Only then did she arch, using her legs to clamp onto him and pull him even deeper. He sucked in a breath and dropped to his knees. The jolt drove him still deeper and the fall brought her upright, clinging to his shoulders.

  He chuckled and nestled his face between her breasts as he took her to her back. He withdrew and then paused, arms stiff, hands flanking her head, the veins of his arms and at his neck blue and pulsing beneath his pale skin. He wanted to move. She knew it.

  Samantha opened her legs to him.

  “Come on, then.”

  He drove forward but stopped there to kiss her hard and fast, his tongue darting into her mouth, thrusting against hers and leaving her gasping for breath. She lifted her hips and bucked, but he pressed her down with his weight and took one dark nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking until she tossed her head from side to side and made a kind of mewling sound deep in her throat.

  Her orgasm built like a slow fire until it roared through her, burning her to ash. Alon drew back and closed his eyes as the waves of sensation pulsed down every nerve, and she knew he felt it, too.

  She expected him to take her hard and fast, but he withdrew and dropped between her legs, holding her twin cheeks in each hand. He kissed and licked.

  “So sweet,” he murmured. “I love to taste you.”

  Her limbs were weak and trembling. She could not resist this new sensual assault, but she was so tired. Alon used his clever tongue. He flicked and circled the sensitive nub at her cleft until she was lifting her hips and bucking against his mouth. She was so close, so...

  Samantha screamed his name as her pleasure broke. She arched and moaned as the waves spun out from her core.

  She fell back, panting and quivering, her muscles spent. Her mind reeling. And then she felt him sliding into her again.

  Now he would take his pleasure and she would feel it. He’d be fast, he’d be rough, just like she wanted.

  Only he wasn’t. He was slow, his hips undulating in a leisurely assault.

  “Faster,” she ordered.

  His deliberate slide and draw remained unchanged.

  She glanced up at him to find a devilish smile on his face, and she knew he would not be hurried.

  Samantha groaned her frustration. She wanted...wanted. Oh, the tingling delight that came with each lovely, lingering glide. Her body rolled and surged in counterstroke to each measured thrust. Her body quickened again and she gasped with surprise and delight.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Come for me again.”

  She moved faster and this time he relented, matching her frantic pace. She felt his release as a powerful, bursting wave of pleasure. An instant later the rippling contractions coursed through her.

  They fell together onto the soft furs in a tangle of damp limbs. For several moments she drifted in the glow of her receding pleasure, breathing heavily, content and replete.

  “Oh, Alon. That was perfect,” she whispered, her eyes drifting closed.

 
“Yes. Perfect.”

  She felt his emotions again. Not just the sensations he experienced, but something new. She recognized his longing to keep her safe and the fear that he could not. His dread cut through him, bright and sharp as a knife blade. She stroked his shoulder and arm, offering silent reassurance. Gradually his restless mind calmed and he drifted to sleep.

  Slumber then stole over her, and when she roused it was to the feel of Alon’s erection, smooth and hard against her hip. She rolled on top of him, kissed his chest and stroked his pale skin as the dance began again. They would not waste a moment of this night, not when it might be their last.

  Afterward, in their sanctuary, Alon held her close against his side. She nestled there in calm contentment, one leg thrown across his muscular thighs. She pressed her cheek upon his strong chest and felt the calm assurance of his steady heartbeat. Outside the world rested, still and dark.

  From somewhere beyond the curtain of their shelter, the first lark began to sing.

  Alon tensed.

  Chapter 17

  Samantha stood beside Alon in the gray gloom that preceded the dawn. Behind them the Ghost Children awaited Alon’s order to attack.

  She glanced at Alon, tall and imposing in his most lethal shape. He looked every inch the leader of his people. His fierce expression and the tension radiating from him sent a shiver down her spine. She was glad she would not face him in battle.

  To the right in the wooded area by the river lay the army of Ghost Children who had been coerced into the service of Nagi.

  Nagi was immortal. He could not be defeated, yet somehow, they must do just that.

  To the east the sky brightened. It would not be long now. Across the open field the army of Skinwalkers assembled beside their new allies. To the left, before the hastily dug earthwork barriers, Blake and his Spirit Children waited. Nagi had the low ground. But he did not seem to care—perhaps because of his superior numbers. Samantha knew she, Blake and her mother could defeat the possessed humans by dispossessing the ghosts. It would be up to the others to keep the Seers alive so they could do their job.

  How many of those below hidden in the woods would join their cause if given the chance? How many fought only because their backs were to the wall?

  Waiting was torture. The worst that could happen unfolded like scenes in her mind. She did not believe that her brother would order his people to attack Alon. But she was not certain about her dad. He hated the Naginoka and was eager to kill as many as possible.

  She felt responsible for them all, because it was she who convinced Alon, and Alon who convinced the others to fight.

  The burden of responsibility pressed down on her. If Alon felt uncertain, he did not show it. She mirrored his calm, knowing it was a thin facade.

  Behind them the sun broke, gilding the leaves of the cottonwood as it crested the hill behind the Spirit Children. Still the Ghost Children lay in shadow as they had lived their whole life. Today they stepped into the light and into history.

  A flash of white light ignited beside Samantha as Bess flashed into her raven form and burst into the sky. She called her farewell, a cry that perfectly relayed the sorrow of the day. Samantha rested both hands high on her chest and drew a deep breath, feeling the energy surge through her body as she changed to her animal form, rising to nine feet. She looked at Alon, now anxious for the signal to fight.

  It would have been wiser for their enemy to wait for the Skinwalkers and Spirit Children to advance, forcing them to leave the hillside, rather than trying to take the high ground. But instead, Nagi’s forces spilled from the wooded grove, charging uphill toward Blake and Sebastian’s position. She could see both now, a huge bear standing before her brother, who was still in his human form. Blake stepped out from her dad’s shadow to stand in the light, but did not change to his bear form. Instead he held his medicine wheel loosely at his side, ready to perform his work as a Seer expelling ghosts to the Way of Souls.

  There beside them, low to the ground, Samantha saw Nicholas Chien, a wolf shifter and the leader of a pack of Skinwalker wolves. Beside that a pride of mountain lions waited the signal to attack.

  His wife, Jessie, had done her work through the night with the other Dream Walkers, visiting the sleeping Ghost Children of Nagi’s army, planting the seeds of descent against Nagi. Hawks, eagles, owls and even swans burst into the air, their beating wings carrying them skyward.

  The Spirit Children stood upon the hill. Though their powers were impressive, Samantha considered them of little use in combat. The time for words had passed. Truth Seekers, Peacemakers and Clairvoyants would be needed afterward, if any survived. Still they stood with guns and swords like a ragtag postapocalyptic army of misfits, ready to do whatever they could. Samantha remembered her dad’s words. If Alon fought, he would be treated no differently from the enemy. Would her father really follow through with that threat?

  Her stomach twisted as anxiety roiled like acid.

  Samantha looked at Alon, knowing that Nagi’s forces would rip the Spirit Children apart like wolves through a litter of newborn kittens if they gained the hilltop.

  The Naginoka howled as they ran, their speed a wonder and a terror to behold. All about them, Alon’s Ghost Children grew restless. What was Alon waiting for?

  “They won’t be able to tell us from them,” he muttered. “To them, we all look the same.”

  She glanced back at the faces of the Ghost Children. Some looked eager but the expressions of many held apprehension. They did not look the same to her.

  The wolves and lions surged down the hill, followed by a herd of buffalo. Samantha knew Tuff Jackson was leading them. Dust rose into the air in clouds behind the herd.

  “Advance and intercept,” he called to his followers.

  Samantha charged with Alon guarding his flank.

  The vanguard of the Skinwalkers raced down the hill, meeting Nagi’s army head-on. Wolves circled the outskirts, looking to hamstring an opponent or rip into an exposed neck, but the Ghost Children’s quills protected from such an attack. The buffalo plowed through the center, swinging their massive heads like wrecking balls, knocking their foes to the ground and trampling them with sharp hooves.

  Samantha saw her dad rear up on hind legs, fourteen feet of muscle and power. He roared and met his foes, using his long, curved claws to slash deep as he took his opponents to the ground. Ghostlings fell before him.

  Blake led the Niyanoka on the hill, directing the firing at the Ghostlings, who charged directly into the bullets. None reached the hill.

  She bellowed and charged, unwilling to watch as the horde attacked her mother, father and brother. She was glad for the chance to stand between them and Nagi.

  All about her the Ghost Children locked in individual battles. Blood sprayed across the grass and she charged on.

  The blue smoke from the gunpowder hung in the air, casting the hilltop in a haze. Here in the field dust burned her eyes and stole her view of the field.

  The buffalo ran through the middle of Nagi’s forces like bulldozers, skewering those not quick enough to evade their horns. And the wolves were there, taking advantage of the panicked flight.

  She heard the growl of the pumas, now just to her left. Samantha reared up to deflect the attack aimed at Alon. The lion veered away, choosing another target with supple grace.

  In her momentary distraction, one of the enemies leaped and she braced, but Alon met the strike meant for her with one slashing blow of his claws. Her enemy fell, gouged across the face and neck. Blood sprayed from the great artery at his throat, but Samantha had no time to linger as she and Alon each met a new attacker.

  Two drove into her at once, taking her to her back. Samantha lifted her rear feet, trying to disembowel the Ghostling on top of her before he could sink his claws into her chest.

  * * *

  Blake ordered the riflemen to shoot over the combatants at the reinforcements surging from the woods. Just the Ghostlings. The possessed huma
ns were for him and for his mother. But the bullets did not stop them. They just kept coming.

  From his vantage point on the hilltop he could see his father fighting paw to claw with Nagi’s forces. His heart nearly stopped as his father fell, but a huge buffalo knocked away his attacker.

  “Tuff Jackson,” he murmured, sure he was right. “I’d bet my life on it.”

  Above them, hawks, eagles and ravens soared in circles, some darting away to return and report what they observed.

  He could barely see now through the gun smoke and dust. The acrid scent of gunpowder burned his nostrils.

  Beside him, a raven landed.

  “Alon’s fighting to your left. Tell your men not to fire at Ghost Children there unless they advance to the hill. Alon knows to stay below that mark unless you are overrun.”

  “How do you know Alon?” he asked the raven.

  “I’m his mother. And I changed your diapers, Blake Proud, so do as I say.”

  “Bess?” he asked. But she had already taken to the air again. Alon had brought an army, despite Blake’s instructions not to do so. Without Alon, Blake knew the Spirit Children’s position would already be overrun. Now he had to keep his forces from killing the wrong Halflings.

  “Cease fire!” he said.

  The guns fell silent.

  “To the left! Fire if they break through the Skinwalkers. Sharpshooters! Aim only for the ones actually engaging the Skinwalkers. And only if you have a clear shot.”

  This was more dangerous, for his sharpshooters might accidentally kill the Skinwalkers.

  “He’s sending humans now,” called someone from the line. “To the west.”

  Blake swung his binoculars right and saw the humans, dressed in rags, hair a tangled nest of sticks and debris, as if they had walked for days and slept on the ground. Even through the smoke, he could see the telltale yellow eyes of possession.

  “Mother!” he called.

  Michaela was there beside him in an instant. Though his senior by more than two decades, she looked as if she might be his younger sister, for like all Niyanoka, she aged very slowly. If they survived the day, they might both enjoy another two hundred years.