SkinwalkersWoman (3 page)

And great hunger
.

That sent an erotic shiver through her. Unconsciously, she edged
away from the bed toward the window.

“Um…no. Should I be?” Her voice came out on a shivery
breath.

Shit. I sound like a total dweeb.

Where was that panache she usually put on when confronted
with things unusual and unsettling? She licked her lower lip nervously and
realized with a start that the cabin’s owner was so damn close she could feel
the heat of that big body rolling off him and mingling with hers.

How did he move so close without me seeing it?

Instinctively, she pushed her raised hands outward to stop
his forward movement and her palms rested flat on a soft flannel shirtfront
stretched over a set of abs that felt like hot granite. The contact sizzled up
her wrists and arms and zapped straight through her to give her a shocking jolt
to her long-dormant pussy.

Whoa! This is
so
not happening
.
Or is…?

Warm breath stirred her hair and she realized with surprise
that he was
sniffing
her, like an animal scenting prey.

Where the hell did that analogy come from?

She closed her eyes as the deep, delicious aroma of his
windblown hair and sun-freshened shirt mingled with sweet male sweat from the
ambient heat. Her mouth actually began to water.

He wasn’t touching her. The only contact between them was
her palms on his body. She frowned as her obviously horny inner voice told her
that this man wasn’t what he appeared to be. That he was enormously important
to her for some unknown reason. That if she wasn’t very careful, she would end
up climbing that hot body and forcing herself on him.

I can handle that.

Opening her eyes with a jerk, she exerted outward pressure
against all that heavy muscle.

A lot of good that did…

“I think I‘d better go and look for the cabin I rented.”

“There’s no other cabin. This is private land. Nobody but me
lives around here.”

She swallowed hard as those words sank in. “But that old man
rented me a
vacant
cabin…” Her protest died in her throat as he bent
closer to her.

His breath was hot against her temple as he whispered
huskily, “This is my cabin. Obviously it isn’t vacant. But you are in the right
place. He sent you here. To me.”

Chellie jerked away as if he’d just burned her, but his
large hands settled over hers where they rested on his body, preventing her
from escaping. “Damn it! I can’t believe such a sweet-looking old guy is
nothing but…but a
pimp
! I’m gonna strangle him!” She tugged
ineffectually against the solid grip he had on her hands, but she still wasn’t
frightened.

Duh! Hey, stupid…you
should
be frightened
.

This was as weird as hell. She should, by all rights, be panicking
and screaming, regardless of the fact that there wasn’t anyone within shouting
distance.

Why am I not freaking out?

Despite his refusal to let go of her hands, he made no move
to touch or molest her. His shadowed face was starkly beautiful once you got
past that scar. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window
highlighted a strong, aquiline profile, while slashed black brows gave him the
look of some handsome, wicked demon…and he had lips that looked as if they had
been carved perfectly from granite. She hated the fact that she could feel his
heart slamming hard against her palms, as if he were as aroused by the moment
as she was.

Oh shit…no fucking way!

“I—I need to leave. I’m not some dumb city bimbo looking for
a hot time in the Wild West. I came here to escape some major unpleasantness
and I’m not up for rustic romance in the backwoods.” When her tugging didn’t
result in him releasing her hands, she gasped, “Please let go of me.”

His lips tightened. His fingers loosened, slipping away from
hers in what amounted to a slow, languorous caress, sending a whole shitload of
hot, frenetic pulses of lust from his fingertips to her beaded nipples and on
down her body to pool between her thighs. It was her chance to hightail it out
of there. But instead of jerking her palms from his body, she slid one the rest
of the way up over those ripped abs to a heavy pectoral muscle, her hand coming
to rest over his tight little nipple. The sudden intake of his breath and the
completely sexy groan that escaped his throat made her want to touch far more
than just his chest.

What the hell was she thinking?

Am
I even thinking?

His voice sounded more like a growl than words as he leaned
closer and murmured beside her temple, “Just in case you weren’t aware, this
isn’t exactly the way to tell a man to go to hell.”

Of course it wasn’t. The sound caressed her aching libido.
Still he made no move to touch her. Proper upbringing fled. Modesty deserted
her. A hot, needy fog curled through her, as if she were being seduced by some
unseen thing. Her other hand slipped down over those marvelous abs to cup the
amazing erection he was sporting, her fingers gently squeezing as he actually
growled and practically body-slammed her roughly back against the wall beside
the window. It should have hurt but it only excited her more.

God, he feels fabulous.

Full frontal contact, yet he still didn’t grab at her. Her
hands were pinned between their bodies. Her breasts were crushed against that
utterly hot chest. Her mouth was pressed to the hollow of his throat, and
against her lips his pulse pounded out a rhythm of need that fed into her body
like a thread of electric current.

Boy, am I a major slut or what?

Women hadn’t been a regular part of his existence—not since
his mother had died and his little sister had married and moved away. He’d
hardened himself against the need for them and had become inured to the lack of
female companionship. Women just didn’t enter into his scheme of things.

The women of his tribe shunned him for what they thought he
was. They thought him evil. Wicked. They blamed him for every lost sheep. For
every lamed horse or flat tire. For every stillborn child or birth defect.
Hell. Probably for every corn and bunion and blister, as well as Grandpa’s
constipation. Wives’ tales and legends. Not one of them true.

It hadn’t been his choice to be born with the gift—yes,
gift, not curse—that allowed him to change his form to that of many living
creatures. To listen to the wind and know the way of things. To touch someone
and read their heart and soul. Still, he’d been treated like a pariah by those
he was sworn to protect.

Named for a Hebrew prophet instead of in the Apache way,
Ezekiel had learned from his mother that he must be strong. That few would love
him for what he was.
Tł'é'gona'áí Izdzán
had been called a shamed woman
among her people, having given birth to him without a husband and without
claiming any man as his father. Only Zeke knew what no one else knew—that his
mother had been taken by a
ch’iin,
a White Mountain demon
,
while
hunting pine cones in the hills. The
ch’iin
had taken her innocence and
had left her to wander in shock for days before she’d been found. She had borne
her child in silence rather than tell of her rape by the evil one. Her own
mother had turned away from her in disgust.

So much for motherly love.

She had hitched a ride with an old Navajo woman who had been
visiting her daughter in San Carlos and headed north to Chinle on the Navajo
Reservation. She’d managed to get a custodial job at the Indian Health Clinic
there for enough money to feed and shelter them. She’d never gone home again.

The kind owner of the trading post in Chinle had fallen in
love with the young woman and her fatherless baby and had asked her to marry
him. Three years later, Zeke’s sister Lily had been born. His mother had kept
her children, especially Zeke, far away from the Apache reservation. Like a
fierce she-wolf, she’d protected him from derision and shame. She’d taught him
to respect life and to respect all things. To care for all people, regardless
of color or belief. She’d taught him that being kind and humane was far more
important than allowing prejudice or superstition to rule him. Knowing that he
had been sired by something she considered evil incarnate, she’d feared for his
spirit and his future. And she had anxiously waited.

As he’d entered puberty, his mother had finally accepted the
fact that her son wasn’t your average, normal schoolboy, that Zeke was
beginning to exhibit extraordinary abilities deeply shrouded in myth and
legend. So she had taken him to the White Mountain reservation and begged the
ancient Apache medicine man in the hills there to bring her son into manhood
understanding his gifts. The old one had taken Zeke under his wing and taught
him to control and use his powers, for those powers were greatly misunderstood
by humanity…misunderstood and feared.

Joe had known that Zeke was a ’walker. But even
he
had been shocked that his young protégé could assume the shapes of creatures
other than owl, coyote or hare. It was unheard of for even a skinwalker to
command the spirits around him with such ease. Joe had surmised that perhaps
the boy had gained far more of his sire’s power than the demon itself had
dreamed possible. And that would endanger him throughout his life. The
ch’iin
would be angered at the power it had unknowingly given its offspring, would do
all it could to destroy the boy. And so the old one had created a special
medicine pouch containing sacred herbs and stones that would keep the evil one
away—a wolf tooth to protect the child, a small stone from the stomach of the
eagle for courage and speed—not realizing that he was guiding the child’s
binaideeł
to use the totems for his own needs.

The first time Zeke had tied an eagle feather he had found
into his hair and had shifted to fly off toward the distant spires of red
stone, old Joe had nearly had a conniption. The look on the old man’s face had
been comical. But the medicine man had gained great respect for him that day.

When Zeke’s apprenticeship had ended and the boy had become
a man and had begun to ache for a woman’s touch and presence, old Joe had told
him that he must find his
bił' nashneehí
. Must love and be loved, to
protect him from the anger of the evil ones. Must find someone who would accept
him with his unusual gifts. Someone who could love him.

Yeah. Sure!

Knowing that to be impossible, he’d given it a halfhearted
try once or twice, only to find that his own women ran from him and Anglo women
thought him ugly and terrifying. Especially after that tangle with a cougar
when he’d been in the form of a horse. He’d survived, but in spite of his
healing ability, the massive tissue damage had left a nasty scar. That scar had
been the last straw when it came to women.

Until now
.

This woman had seen his scarred face. Hadn’t paled or run.
Hadn’t given more than lip service to leaving. Had touched him in a way no
other had before her.

Is now driving me to distraction with her soft, slim
hands and her heady, arousing scent
.

He kept his hands firmly at his sides despite the desperate
need raging in him to touch her, to follow the curves of her lush body with his
palms and fingertips, to take those full, parted lips and do to her tempting
mouth what he wanted to do to her deliciously aroused pussy.

The knowledge that she was aroused excited him, that she was
receptive amazed him. That she was now pulling her shirt and sports bra off
over her head as her breasts spilled into his hands was almost enough to drive
him past reason.

Holy shit!

The lips that had been caressing his throat now slid gently
up the line of his scar to his mouth and, without another thought, he was lost
to her.

What the hell am I doing?

Chellie pressed her aching breasts against the thin cotton
of his shirtfront, grinding her pelvis against his raging groin like some horny
ho. She seemed to be flying on nymphomaniac autopilot. The earthy taste of his
skin made her want more. Her lips slid from his throat, up over the white scar
that forked wickedly across his throat and jaw like lightning, and homed in on
his mouth. But before she reached her objective, she was jerked from her feet,
her thighs were pulled around his lean hips and he was devouring her mouth like
a starving beast, his hot tongue plunging inside for a taste.

Oh my!

He tasted of pine, of sunlight, of hot man.

Her clit was centered over his hard cock and he was flexing
slowly against her wet center as he gave her exactly what she was craving—hot,
wicked and wild. Reality was a thing of the past as she twisted her tongue
around his, setting off a deep, rough growl that vibrated up from his chest to
fill her mouth as he slid both hands under her ass to pull her harder against
him.

When she managed to turn her mouth away and drag in several
deep breaths, she pressed her lips to his ear and whispered raggedly, “Please…I
need…I want…”

What the hell
do
I want? He must think I’m a total
skank!

And then he was shoving her slacks and boots off while he
held her against the rough wall. With her lace thong dangling from her ankle,
he lowered her gently to her feet and dropped slowly to his knees, his hot
breath tracing down over her trembling belly, her quivering navel, to her
aching core, his calloused thumbs spreading her nether lips for his mouth and
tongue. She gave a cry of rapture as she clutched his wind-blown black hair and
seemed to lose control of her legs. For a moment she thought she went
cross-eyed, the sensations were so amazing.

“I want this…” he growled thickly. “Need to taste this…” And
his hot tongue plunged deep into her weeping center, a groan of pure male
satisfaction almost making her come just at the rough, hot sound. He dragged
her right knee up over his shoulder and steadied her against the wall with both
hands on her ass, balancing her on her left foot as he tasted her with deep
sounds of pleasure that were as erotic as the feel of that tongue tracing the
ridges and valleys inside her cunt. Firm lips sucked at her labia as he
devoured her. Her swollen clit begged for his attention, and as if he read her
thoughts, he tugged it between his lips and sucked until she was almost wild
with sensation.

Holy shit! Yessss…this has to be a dream!

All sense of time and place vanished beneath the onslaught
of his mouth and tongue. Chellie arched and screamed with a mind-blowing
orgasm, her hands cupping his jaw as he sucked hungrily on her clit before
plunging his tongue deep again. Her cries seemed to goad him on. She should be
begging him to stop. She had never been able to handle more than a few minutes
of having her pussy eaten, but instead of feeling over-stimulated and sated,
she tipped her pelvis up to his hungry mouth and begged for more.

Karl’s insipid memory was in the distant past. Sweet Lord,
but there was no comparison between her ex and this amazingly hot stranger. And
this man seemed to want her desperately—
as she was.

Never had he imagined that any woman would be so completely
responsive to his touch. So completely wanton in her need for him. Her cries of
delight and pleasure almost brought him to climax just hearing them, but he
wanted this to end with him inside her. He wanted his first time with a woman
to be amazing for them both. Taking her with his tongue had been pure instinct.
Taking her with his aching cock might not be quite so easy. Doing it with a
real woman was as scary as hell.

He had been warned that sex sometimes hurt a woman. That she
had to be made ready before he penetrated her body. Gods knew
he
was so
fucking ready that he felt as if he wouldn’t last for even one good, hard push
inside her, but he wanted at least that much. His shaking knees gave and he
sank back onto his heels, staring up at her deliciously swollen pink sex,
glistening with her juices, as he tore open his fly and released his aching,
rigid shaft. He caressed her trembling thighs and watched her eyes close with
pleasure.

“Come here.” His command was barely a rasp. He slid his
hands around her trembling thighs and gently pulled her to stand with her legs
on each side of his own.

He watched in mesmerized thrall as she arched away from the
wall and sank slowly to sit astride his lap until her hot, wet opening took in
his painfully hard shaft. As her breasts cradled his face and the wide, flat
head of his cock found and entered her channel, he groaned with the beauty of
sinking to his balls in her sweet, hot flesh. So tight…so wet…so amazing.

Hell yes…

Her little cry of shocked pleasure was enough to make him
even harder as she sank down his full length until her pussy lips pressed wet
and swollen against his body. He could feel his cock tip nudging against her
womb and he stared into her eyes as she gasped and bit her lower lip. He
watched as she tore the buttons from his shirt and he shrugged it back and off
his shoulders to let her run her sweet hands over his body. “God, you’re
beautiful,” she whispered shakily. And then she began to move. His soul
disconnected from his body and his spirit floated to somewhere above them as it
watched him become a man.

Her breasts bounced as she rode him with little gasps and
cries. He bent and caught a succulent brown nipple in his mouth, drawing on it
deep and hard as she clutched his head and held him to her. “Oh God! Oh that
feels so damn good! Harder. Please.” Her husky voice drove him to repeat the
attention to her other nipple, tugging it deep and hard into his mouth as she
writhed and bounced on his cock like a madwoman.

My dream…

His head spun at the incredible feeling of being sheathed
tightly inside her as she rode him, but it was just not enough. He desperately
needed to thrust. He needed to slam himself deep into her sweet body, to take
control of their joining.

With a groan of pleasure, he clamped his arms tightly about
her lush body and rose unsteadily to his feet, her legs locked around him as he
turned to his narrow bed and lowered her to the lumpy mattress. He braced his
feet against the metal footrail of the bed and locked his arms around her, most
of his weight on his elbows, thrusting with powerful surges that tingled from
the base of his spine to his toes.

Her shuddering scream and her suddenly clenching channel
goaded him on as he exploded with his own climax. He felt as if he was dying as
he came hot and hard, each pleasure-filled spurt adding to the incredible
experience. And still she milked him with every slow, deep thrust of his cock
into her. He lay there, forcing oxygen in and out of aching lungs, not wanting
to move.

I must be fucking dreaming…

When reality brought his soul back to his body and he
realized that he was still buried balls-deep inside the gasping, shuddering
woman beneath him, he opened his eyes and stared down into chocolate depths
that appeared as shocked as he felt. He swallowed hard, unable to say a damn word.
What words could tell her how much she had given him? What words would she want
to hear? Having no experience, he simply lowered his face and dragged his lips
slowly over her mouth and watched her eyes close once more as she inhaled
deeply and wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders.