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him had wanted to do from the moment he had met her.
But that wasn’t how he wanted their first time to be. She needed more than just a fuck on
the ground. She deserved more.
He broke their kiss, and her small cry of disappointment made him smile. “Not here,
sweetheart. Let me show you something first…”
“Silly boy. I want you now. How long are you going to tease me?” She grabbed his ears and
pulled him down once more to kiss her, her sleek little tongue darting into his parted lips and
causing a firestorm down his belly and into his crotch.
“No.” Centuries of self-control gave him the strength to gently push her back. He didn’t let
go completely though; he held her arms and drew her up. “First, we run. Run with me, Arlene. Let
me show you that there is more to our transformation than the need to eat flesh. Come.”
52
The Windigo
He pulled her along with him and soon she sprinted at his side, up through the trees, over
boulders, and glacier-cold streams. She laughed as they leapt a crevice, and then scrambled right
behind him up the side of an old rock fall. Her lithe body was even more agile than his, and soon
she was leaping from stone to stone ahead of him.
The moon had set and the stars were fading when they reached the high, alpine meadows of
the upper slopes. Under the violet-tinged sky they walked lightly over the soft grass, the blue lupine
brushing their legs and the patches of Indian paintbrush glowing pink in the dawn’s first blush. She
turned to smile at him, her hair dry now and flowing gold over her shoulders and her eyes the same
color as the wild lupine.
“I love it up here. Why does the air feel so good?”
“The thinner the air the better for us,” he answered, enjoying her wonder. “Keep going. I
have a place I want to show you.”
She nodded and brushed her fingers over the flowers. “Have you ever considered living in
Nepal? I feel wonderful up here…”
He laughed. “Actually yes. I probably could make a good living as a mountain climber,
guiding rich men up the slopes. But I…I guess I like the Cascades. These mountains are where I was
born, and I feel at home here.”
She rushed back to him and took his arm, smiling, her eyes sparkling. “Where are we going,
Peter? Tell me. You could just make love to me here, in the meadow. What could be better than
that?” She pressed against him, her breasts soft and her lips parted.
“Next time,” he said softly and reached up to touch a finger to her nose.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said, a sudden seriousness passing over her features.
Then she grinned and released him. “Race you…”
And she ran.
He gave a startled laugh and chased after her.
53
Cynthia Carole
CHAPTER NINE
Arlene caught her breath at the beauty of the high vale. She paused in her steps, and breath-
stealing awe replaced the exhilaration of her race up the mountain. The lake pooled in the steep
hollow, and the still water reflected with mirror perfection the juts of granite that thrust up into the
dawn-pink sky. A massive cliff of white took up the eastern edge—a glacier caught between the
peaks and from a cave in the ice, a stream meandered down through tumbled stones and emerald
grass.
“It’s beautiful,” she cried as the cold, high wind tugged at her hair and brought tears to her
eyes.
Cecile and werewolves seemed distant from her, as if they were all part of some other world.
It was as if she and Peter had come to a new land, one just for them.
Peter caught her hand in his. He smiled, his eyes pale and frosty silver, and her heart
thumped in her chest. Ah! He was beautiful, and a tickle of lust stirred below her belly button.
They skirted around the lake, and she found the thin air soothing. She sucked in each breath
and felt more alive and alert than she had since…well, since ever. She couldn’t think of a time, even
when she was wholly human, that her body had responded so well, moved so gracefully. She had the
energy of three cups of triple-shot lattes, without the caffeine jitters.
But I’m part demon now. What about my soul?
Her feet stumbled, and Peter glanced back at her. Turning her face to the wind, she searched
inside, trying to find a hole—something missing. Could one feel their soul?
Fish darted in the rock shadows near the shore of the lake, and she followed them with her
gaze. Wonder and love for the world still filled her, and it was those feelings that she had always
associated with her faith. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]