SkinwalkersWoman (2 page)

That was obviously what my ex found so attractive about
me.
Now that she thought about it, he had never seemed to find anything
else
attractive about her. He’d always been telling to her to stay out of the sun,
thinking that her natural coppery skin tone would “lighten up”.
No such
luck, buddy. It came with the original package
. He had even asked her to
try bleaching her nearly-black hair. And he’d wanted her to lose weight. That
should have made her realize that a brown-eyed, copper-skinned Amazon with dark
hair wasn’t his type. And now that she was listening to her sadly neglected
inner voice again, she could almost picture the woman he had fallen for in
London. Delicate. Petite. Golden hair. Rich.

Aw, stop it, okay?

She gave a growl of disgust.

Chellie was no delicate beauty and she carried an extra
ten—okay, closer to twenty—pounds of impossible-to-budge adipose tissue on her
fanny, hips and thighs, not to mention her over-generous breasts. At first Karl
had seemed to accept her as she was, and perhaps that had been the clincher.
How totally pathetic that made her feel right now. What a damn simpleton she
was.
Oh stop with the self-flagellation, girl. Get the bastard out of your
head.

As she swung the big vehicle along the rocky, rutted trail
toward her new temporary refuge, she swore at herself for allowing the disastrous
affair with Karl to go on for so long without calling it off. She had simply
decided that any relationship was better than no relationship at all. She
should have seen it coming. Like a Mack truck flying at her down a deserted
highway.

Like the leaping rabbit that popped in front of her wide
eyes an instant before she swerved to miss it. She screamed as the SUV slammed
through a deep hole at the side of the dirt road and she prayed that horrible
thunking
sound wasn’t because she had just broken the damn thing. Despite the groaning
and growling sounds and the slightly jerky steering, the car managed to make it
to the little flattened dirt area in front of the rental cabin.

And she sat there staring in horror.

Oh. My. God
.

Shutting off the faltering motor, she tossed her designer
sunglasses onto the passenger seat and slid out of the car to stare in dismay
at the sight of the log cabin standing before her.

What have I done?

Had she truly thought this would be a restful, wonderful
rustic vacation in the desert? Her eyes slid over the old-fashioned hand-pump
that stood in front of the cabin next to an ancient bathtub with claw feet.
This
must be the full bath
. At least in New York she’d had
running water
.
And a
toilet
. The outhouse she could just see to the far left of the
area was the last frigging straw.

Oh no, no, no!

With a fastidious shudder, she decided that she would much
rather turn right around and drive back to the nearest town. They’d had decent
motels, at least.
With indoor toilets.

When she saw that old man again, she was gonna give him a
piece of her mind. Damn if she hadn’t instantly trusted the guy. He had seemed
so honest and so nice. But then, con men came in all shapes and ages. She
should have realized when she’d paid him the pittance he’d asked that the place
would be a total disaster.
You get what you pay for…

But her friggin’
inner voice
had told her to trust
the old fart.

Deciding that a hasty retreat was far more appealing than
staying, she climbed back behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition,
resigned to admitting the complete failure of her endeavor. Her heart pounded
dully inside her chest as the SUV’s motor started jerkily, then died again,
refusing to start a second time.

“No, God…please…don’t let this be happening to me!” she
whispered, and tried again. As the motor grumbled and cranked, it began to get
less and less noisy, until it was just a series of sharp clicks…then nothing.

She swallowed hard. She knew that sound couldn’t be good. As
far as she could tell, there wasn’t a mechanic or parts store for at least
sixty miles. She had no idea what was under the dust-bathed hood of this huge
vehicle. Looking under there would do her no good, because she had no notion of
what to look for or how to fix it. And she wasn’t up to a long hike in a
hundred-plus-degree heat in freaking designer boots.

Not even in the fancy running shoes she’d packed.

With an angry snarl at her stupidity, she dragged out her
phone and climbed up onto the luggage rack of the SUV once more. She twisted
from side to side but not one single, tiny bar appeared. She swore loudly and
angrily, then turned on the GPS and slowly pressed 9-1-1. Even in areas without
a signal, the emergency GPS might allow someone to find her. A passing plane.
An alien spaceship. Maybe even a passing eagle?

Damn…I wish.

Climbing back down onto the gravel and dust, she heaved a
deep sigh of resignation and trudged over to climb the unpainted wooden steps
to the wide porch that spanned the entire front of the place. When she got her
hands on that old man, she was going to strangle him. But for now, all she
could do was see how bad the situation was and make the best of it. At least
until help arrived.
If it ever does.

After all, she had dragged along a supply of canned goods
and some cases of bottled water, and could manage to make it through a night or
two until someone picked up the GPS signal. Hopefully. She wouldn’t starve to
death. And she certainly wouldn’t freeze. She irritably ran the back of one
hand over her perspiring brow.

The door opened without being obstinate.
No rusty hinges
here.
The expected smells of disuse were absent. She stepped inside the
surprisingly tidy cabin and crossed the bare wooden floor. Glancing around, she
moved to the only window and tugged aside the sun-faded curtain. The window
glass was clean. In fact, everything seemed to be clean. The open door and the
window gave the only illumination to the interior of the utilitarian single
room. It looked to be about fifteen feet by fifteen feet. She checked the
inside edge of the door for a light switch. Nope. Great. Her gaze slid to the
vintage sconces on two of the rough log walls.
Oil lamps? You have got to be
shitting me!

But then, there had been no electrical wires or poles
anywhere along the rutted road she’d been following.
Obtuse, much?
Any
sane woman would have noticed this fact. But then, shouldn’t there be a
generator, at least? This wasn’t exactly the Stone Age…or was it?

She bit her lower lip and turned full circle to survey the
cabin she had rented. The floors were swept and canned goods and spices lined
the open-fronted shelves along the wall. A pair of free-standing hurricane
lanterns stood on one of the heavy shelves. No fridge. Good thing she hadn’t
brought perishables. She winced at the sight of what passed for a sink, staring
disbelievingly at a small hand pump standing over a galvanized bucket that had
been counter-sunk into a large wooden cabinet of sorts. An old-fashioned iron
woodstove stood in the corner just beyond a small table with two chairs, and on
the other wall stood a narrow bed…cot…whatever. The furniture all stood along
the walls, leaving the center area—all eight or so feet of it—open.

Well…she had expected rustic.

But I got totally ancient.

Chellie moved methodically around the small space. The stove
was cold, but a half-f coffeepot sat on the stovetop extension, which was
supported by a metal leg of sorts. The coffee smelled strong but not as if it’d
been there for months. It looked as if someone had very recently been in the
cabin.

Or is living here.

Oh shit!

Was there another cabin out here besides the one she’d
rented? Obviously this one was already occupied.

Her heart tripped nervously. She swallowed the tightness in
her throat as she moved across the room to the old chest of drawers that stood
against the far wall, a foot or so from the tiny “bed”. Tugging open one of the
drawers, she groaned at the sight of men’s jeans, a couple of folded flannel
shirts, a couple of T-shirts, socks and underwear. She lifted a pair of soft,
well-worn cotton boxer briefs between thumb and forefinger and fought not to
throw a tantrum. This place was most definitely occupied. “I fucking don’t
believe this! What more can possibly go wrong today?” she said to no one in
particular.

A tingling sensation ran along her spine.

A low chuckle behind her made her stiffen.

“Usually complete strangers don’t just walk in and start
checking out my skivvies…but you, I don’t mind.” The rough, deep voice came
from the direction of the open door at her back and she jerked around with a
startled cry to face the intruder.

Intruder?

Um…looks like
I’m
the intruder…

The words “tall, dark and incredibly rugged” flashed through
her mind as she nearly tripped backward onto the narrow bed and barely saved
herself from further humiliation by staggering sideways before regaining her
balance.
Girl, you are in deep shit…

He rose from the old Navajo rug that had cushioned his bare
ass from the rough sandstone floor of the sweat lodge and stretched the muscles
that had grown stiff from his night-long meditation. He had seen the
ch’iin
again. The demon was closer than it had ever been before. Something must have
drawn it out of hiding. The evil one seldom showed its shadow to anyone who
could withstand it. It preyed on the weak and frightened. Preyed on innocence.

He had seen trouble coming, but it was nothing he couldn’t
handle. But it had been the final vision that had caught him totally off guard.
Night-dark eyes meeting his and thick black hair spread over his bed…

Not likely
. He pressed his stiffening dick gently
down, trying to ignore its awakened state. A piss might help, but he doubted
that this one came from needing to urinate.

The medicine dreams never lied.
At least, they’ve never
lied before
. It was probably an omen, not what it appeared. It had been
many years since he’d almost had a wet dream, and it would be bad timing to
start having them now. He flung open the leather flap and drew a lungful of the
crisp pre-dawn air, bending to exit the dark, overheated lodge.

He had spent the last two days on the high sandstone plateau
in his search for answers. Answers about the strange restlessness that had
roiled around inside him for months now. His spirit was usually so calm that he
figured he was close to dead. And what answers had the spirits given him to his
questions? His voice was rough from lack of use as he laughed aloud. In the
swirling mists of steam and sage smoke, they had sent him an image of a naked
woman.
And what a woman…
Maybe old Joe was right. Maybe the restlessness
that plagued him had less to do with his weary spirit and more to do with his
horny body.

“I ask you for direction and you send me a porno movie?” He
shook his head and lifted his arms wide to greet the rising sun. “Are you
playing tricks with me now, Great One? Have I come to the end of my use to you?
Are you telling me that my days of celibacy and dedication to your cause will
soon end?”
I doubt that, but I can always hope
.

He closed his eyes and turned to greet the North wind. It
cooled his overheated flesh but had little effect on the painful erection his
dream had gifted him with. “Even you cannot cool my need? Are you all ganging
up on me?”

As he turned to the west and considered the high spires of
the wind towers of the Old Ones, he smiled tightly. “You conspire against me as
well, my friends?”

The moaning of the morning wind through the sandstone
formations seemed to mock him as he turned last to the South wind and shook his
damp hair back from his perspiration-wet face. “Then let it be so. It has been
a long and lonely journey. But I seriously doubt the woman in my dream would
look twice at one like me.” No woman had ever seen him as a man.

Only as a thing to be afraid of. To run and hide from.

He relieved himself in the latrine he had created by digging
out a crevice in the sandstone and filling it with earth and crushed sage. He
walked to the battered canteen hanging on the side pole of the lodge and took a
deep drink, then poured a cooling trickle over his sweat-streaked face. He
rolled up the sides of the lodge and put out the small fire that he’d used to
heat the rocks. Reaching for the small medicine pouch that contained his animal
totems, he tied it snugly about his throat to avoid losing it in flight…then he
crouched and freed his eagle form.

In seconds he was airborne, stretching his wings wide to
catch the updrafts from the valley below. He flew in a wide circle, making sure
that the land was safe from intruders, still bothered by the visions in his
medicine dream. As his circle took him back toward the little cabin he had
built long ago to provide shelter for his man form, he sensed that this day
would bring something unexpected. Something important.

He caught sight of a jackrabbit leaping through the sage
brush far off to the west and thought of his pinched stomach. Thoughts of women
and demons vanished as he made an arrow of his body and plummeted earthward to
snatch his breakfast. He filled his belly and changed to his man form to bathe
in the narrow creek that trickled from his little reservoir. Cooled and
refreshed, he took to the air once more. He did his best thinking with the wind
in his feathers and the sun on his back.

He spent many hours in flight, circling the sacred valleys
and pinnacles until the need for food and rest once again drew him from his
thoughts and made him swing south toward his cabin. Raw meat was fine for his
eagle, but his man form had a craving for a can of hot chili and a mug of cold
coffee. There were a few things that drew him back to his man form, and Texas
red chili was one of them.

The sun was tilting into the horizon and far below, in the
windswept grass, the sunlight gleamed off chrome on the trail to his place, and
he floated on the updrafts for a few moments, not quite believing his eyes.

The sight of a tall, voluptuous woman standing on the dusty
black SUV’s luggage rack piqued his curiosity as he hovered above. She moved
from the rack to the hood as he watched. He let out a sharp cry and his heart
beat faster as she jerked her gaze up to him. Time seemed to stop as he hovered
there, unable to fly away. Something flickered to life in his breast. He could
sense her thoughts. Shock replaced the amazement and he shook off the feeling
of déjà vu.

She thinks I’m beautiful.

He circled high, then dipped off to the west to head for the
low sandstone cave where he kept a spare set of clothes. He was used to seeing
tourists up closer to Arches or Canyon Lands or as far south as the Valley of
the Sun, but no one ever came onto his property uninvited. He kept it hidden
with small magics. The fact that she had wandered so far from the state road
told him that she’d known where she was headed. She’d appeared to be
looking
for his cabin. That could only mean that the old man had sent her. The old
medicine man was always trying to hook him up. Thought Zeke needed a woman. But
that was a lost cause and someday Joe might accept that fact. No woman wanted a
big, hulking, viciously scarred man.

Who just happens to be a ’walker—something considered
unnatural and inhuman.

The cave was untouched since his last visit. Usually he would
just fly to the cabin and return to his man form there, but with a stranger
close by he had to be more circumspect. Didn’t want to scare the shit out of a
guest.
Even an uninvited one
.

He returned to his man form in the mouth of the small cave.
The roof was too low for him to stand up straight, so he dressed quickly,
dumping a homesteading scorpion from one of his boot mocs before tugging it on.
He dragged his fingers through his heavy black hair, pulling it back from his
face to tie it with a leather thong. He touched the medicine pouch at his
throat, thanking the eagle spirit for his wings and speed. He covered the
cave’s entrance once again before he broke into an easy, ground-swallowing run
back toward his place.

It wasn’t a long way to his cabin. Normally he preferred to
run naked, but he didn’t suppose a
Łigai Izdzán
would feel comfortable
if a strange man appeared out of nowhere stark naked. He didn’t want to send
the nice Anglo woman screaming back to her car. If anything, his looks would do
that without adding his intimidating nudity.

As he approached the cabin, he could see the big Caddy SUV
parked in the long grass. He could smell the acrid stench of burnt oil and hot
metal. He could smell his visitor’s barely-there floral perfume, and her sweet
female sweat. He caught a tantalizing whiff of her warm skin, the mint
toothpaste she’d used that morning…and the frustration that bled off her in
waves. She was not a happy camper. He moved silently as he stepped onto the
porch. The soft soles of his mocs made no sound. The door was ajar and he
gently shoved it wider, leaning against the worn frame as his eyes slid
appreciatively over the curvy woman who was rifling through his old chest of
drawers, her slim hands holding up a pair of his well-worn boxers. He barely
held back a groan. If the thought of a woman in his place hadn’t already given
him the hard-on from hell, the sight of her fondling his shorts definitely
would have.

Zeke
Itsá
Łigai had lived alone out here for
a damn long time. It felt unreal to see a woman standing here. His cock rose to
greet her. He clenched his teeth to keep from groaning at the pain it gave him.
His old, worn jeans suddenly seemed way too fucking tight.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat but his long-unused
voice still seemed to be someone else’s when he spoke. She jerked upright and
whirled so quickly that those long, coltish legs got all tangled up and she
nearly tumbled onto his bed. The mental image of her sprawled across his bed
left him even harder.

His dream
.
Definitely not Anglo
.

He noted those wide, chocolate-brown eyes and the delicious
blush that suffused her sun-kissed cheeks, coming up from the neckline of her
sweat-damp shirt.
Native American. Not Navajo or Zuni. Certainly not Apache.
More likely Northern Plains. Maybe Cheyenne. Maybe Sioux
. But it didn’t
matter. She was so far out of his league, it seriously sucked. Just his luck to
find a woman in his place and know she wasn’t one he could ever hope to have.

Yet…

His mouth watered for a taste of that soft, perfect skin. He
slowly eased his body away from the door frame and watched her lift her hands
to her cheeks as if to cool them. But it wasn’t fear in her eyes. It was
something else entirely. And those eyes lit a fire deep in his belly.

“Oh God. You live here?” Her voice was a rich contralto with
a refined accent. He nodded, taking a slow step through the open door before
easing it closed, leaving the interior of his cabin in semi-darkness. He could
sense the hectic emotions rising in her. The heat of her racing pulse. The warm
scent of her hair. The heady, sweet musk of her body. He inhaled deeply. Panic
and arousal warred inside her for supremacy.
Arousal.
Something he had
never before scented on a woman who had looked at him.

Surprisingly, she seemed to like what she saw, but she was
afraid as well. Now that was his normal effect on women. Usually the fear won.
And when that happened, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t good with women.
He wanted to ask why she had come. He couldn’t make his words come out right as
those beautiful eyes moved rapidly down his body and back to his face. He
calmed his instincts, because they didn’t make sense—his instincts told him she
was there for him.

That she was his.

His body felt hot and it seemed like he was about to bust
open into a million pieces. Joe
must
have sent her to him. The old
medicine man had been bugging the shit out of him for years to open his mind
and heart and seek his other half.

He almost laughed at that idea. There was no other half for
him.He’d never once been with a woman. Women were scared shitless of
him. He’d learned his place in the world long ago. He’d learned that there was
no woman who would accept him…
could
accept him, or what he was. He had
figured that he was destined to use his hand and his desperate imagination for
eternity.

Zeke rarely went into town. He saw many women, but the sight
of his ravaged face combined with his massive, menacing body was often enough
to terrify them into running in the opposite direction. He had learned to
accept the feeling of rejection long ago.

And those of his tribe avoided him like the plague.

He closed his eyes and listened to the swift beat of her
heart.

Arousal.

His body responded to the sound.

Arousal is good
.

Arousal he could handle. He saw her spread before him in his
mind.

Her delicious, warm voice interrupted his lustful thoughts.

“I—I’m sure there’s just been some silly mistake.” Her slim
hands were in front of her, palms out, as she spoke. As if that would prevent
him from reaching out and dragging her into his arms. Obviously she sensed his
preoccupation with those gorgeous tits…

“The old man told me the cabin was empty. I—I must have
found the wrong cabin. I would leave right now, but I’m afraid my rented car
won’t start. Do you have a car? Can you jump the battery for me?” Her words
were breathy and agitated, but there was something else there. He lifted his
eyes from her breasts and met her wide gaze. Damn, but he’d love to jump
something
of hers. He ignored her question. He didn’t want her to leave. The fucking car
could stay right where it was.

“You aren’t afraid of me?” His voice sounded rough, even to
himself. If she stayed much longer, he might not be able to resist her, as
deliciously sweet as she smelled.

Chellie drew in a deep breath.
OMG!
The mouthwatering
smell of rich red earth and fresh air and sage and some sort of heady herb
filled her nostrils. Was that him? She should be terrified but she was actually
aroused by the way he’d closed the cabin door and now stood there, as if waiting
to pounce.

Am I fucking crazy or what?

The aura surrounding the man was pure sex, pure male…pure
danger. If she had any sense at all, she would be diving head-first out the
damn window. But she could not, for the life of her, move.

So much for sense.

In the dark interior of the cabin, lit now only by the
late-afternoon sun slanting through the window, his face was half in shadow,
but she had seen enough as he had stood in the doorway to know that he had a
wicked scar on the shadowed side of his cheek and jaw. She truly ought to be
terrified of the man, but something stopped her from feeling afraid. His aura
was confusing—intriguing. She sensed great power dammed up inside.