Native Wolf (27 page)

He eased her head back down on the rock and threaded his fingers through hers. Then he resumed kissing and licking his way over the curve of her breast until he enclosed one aching peak in his mouth.

She gasped in pleasure and clenched his fingers between hers as he sucked at her, drawing all her lust to a fine point before he released her to make his way to her other breast.

After he slaked his thirst there, he drifted back to her stomach and lower, lifting an inquiring brow above dark, smoky eyes.
“Medindin ‘ung?”

Did she want this? She could read his intent in his smoldering gaze. Oh yes, she wanted it. She blushed and nodded.

The anticipation was sweet agony. He seemed to know it, emitting a soft chuckle as he moved lower, flicking his tongue out in teasing hints of what was to come.

This time she cried out in sheer bliss and squeezed his fingers until she thought she would crack his knuckles. But he continued until her need grew and intensified, until she simultaneously swelled with longing and ached with profound emptiness.

Chase sensed it was time.

As he abandoned his play to kiss his way back up to her neck, her brow creased with an impatient frown. He smiled.
“Whina,”
he whispered, “Wait for me.”

Shuddering with restraint, he slowly covered her body with his. He stilled for a moment, reveling in the amazing sensation of skin against skin. Her yielding breasts pillowed his chest. Her belly, warmed by the sun, seemed to melt with his. The sprinkle of dark golden hair at the union of her thighs tangled with his own black curls. He nuzzled the place beneath her ear, where her heart’s fierce throbbing matched his own pulse.

Then, with a silent prayer that he wouldn’t hurt this woman he loved, he eased forward and, with excruciating patience, sheathed himself inside her.

Claire sighed in sensual wonder. He felt so right within her, so perfect, as if this was always meant to be. And she felt powerful and vulnerable all at once—capable of commanding him, yet completely at his mercy. It was a heady sensation.

The mist kissed her brow, and the sunlight warmed her face. At one with Chase and with nature, she longed to stay in this magical place forever, to revel in sweet completion.

When she dared to open her eyes and gaze up at him, what she beheld in his face aroused her even more. His eyes were squeezed shut in an impassioned mixture of pleasure and pain. His lips were compressed into a single line, and a determined furrow marked his brow.

And then, almost as if he felt her gaze, he slowly opened his eyes.

They burned with a dark fire that took her breath away. Yet, as he continued to stare down at her, a softness flickered within that fire. Held within his lust was adoration. He cared for her.

“Dinch’at?”
he said. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and smiled, and then wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him closer in welcome. She felt her heart melting as his love surrounded her like a downy quilt.

Chase exhaled in relief. The warmth of Claire’s body enveloping him was exquisite. And there was something more. He felt as if he'd come home, as if he'd completed a circle. This was his path. This was his destiny.

Even the elements had come together to bless this union—the moist air surrounding them, the rocky earth beneath them, the sun’s fire warming them, the refreshing water misting their joined bodies.

There was no doubt. This was meant to be. He was where he belonged.

Claire squirmed beneath him, eager to begin the dance. He feared he wouldn’t last long. The sensation, not just of their bodies, but of their spirits connected, overwhelmed him.

He carefully withdrew from her, and then entered again, and she made a soft moan of pleasure. Again and again he eased into her welcoming warmth, trying to be as gentle as possible. Though he yearned to careen toward release and thrust forward in a triumphant finish, he bit back the urge.

An instant before he lost the battle over his desires, she thankfully found her relief. She pressed against him, squeezing him with her thighs, and it was as if she squeezed the very seed from him. His hips pounded in tandem with his heart. Brilliant light arced through his vision like sparks from an anvil, and his essence pumped from him like a crucible overflowing.

Afterward, he couldn't speak. There were no words, not even in the Hupa tongue, to describe the singular union he felt. Instead, he silently cradled the wondrous woman who'd brought him such rapture, cupping her cheek, stroking her hair, kissing her shoulder, shielding her from the outside world with his body.

Claire felt as if she were floating on a cloud, conveyed across the heavens on wings of angels. Never had she felt such tranquility. Never had she felt so spent. Never had she loved so fiercely or so well.

She squeezed his hands again. As surely as their bodies were entwined, their spirits were joined. The bond between them was unbreakable now. The circle they’d made was infinite. Their union was complete.

Gradually, her breathing lengthened and the world came back to her. She heard the rumbling thunder and whispering rush of the water. The pool winked at her with a hundred daylight stars. She smelled the moss and damp earth along the banks of the pool. A sparrow chirped in the branches above, and a faint breath of wind rustled the young leaves. A single wisp of cloud drifted across the brilliant blue sky while the stark rock baked in the spring sun.

But all the small miracles of nature couldn’t match the joy she felt in Chase’s arms. And when she felt him stir inside her again, she answered eagerly.

All day long, they reveled—making love, splashing in the pool, sitting in the sun, making love again. As mad as it seemed, she grew accustomed to being naked with him. It felt like they were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. And with each passing moment, she felt stronger in her love for Chase, surer of their destiny together.

It was only when the sun dipped below the trees and she shivered in the darkening shade that she realized how late it had become. She supposed it didn’t matter. She was in no hurry to leave. In fact, she wasn’t even sure where they would go. But she didn’t care, as long as she could be with Chase.

“Are you cold?” he murmured, wrapping his shirt around her and brushing the hair back from her brow.

“A little.”

“Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Hmm. I saw a tasty-looking water snake around here earlier.”

She grimaced, and he chuckled.

His jeans weren’t quite dry, but he slipped into them anyway. “I’ll build a fire.”

“There’s a good spot across the stream where we can camp for the night,” she told him. “I’ll take you there.”

She took his hand—so strong and perfect in hers—and led him across the creek to the far bank. They hiked up the hillside until they emerged in a small, flat clearing among the pines.

Much later, after the sun had gone down, they dined on baked camas bulb cakes, scrambled quail eggs with pine nuts, and miner’s lettuce. Claire thought she’d never had such a happy feast.

The moon rose, and the firelight licked at their faces as they held hands, gazing into the orange flames.

“Do you think the circle has been completed now?” she ventured.

One corner of his mouth curved up. “Many times over.”

In feigned shock, she gave his shoulder a chiding punch, then murmured, “I think your grandmother must be happy.”

“Her spirit will find its way home now.”

Claire stared down at their joined hands. “And what about us? Will we find our way home?”

He was silent for so long that she began to worry that he might not answer her or that, if he did, it would be with something she didn’t want to hear.

At last he spoke. “We’ve found our way to each other. For now, that’s enough.”

She nodded and leaned against him.

They made tender love one last time under the stars before the embers died. In the sweet aftermath, as they snuggled together on a lush bed of grass, he folded his arms around her.

“Niwhdin,
Claire Parker,” he whispered in her ear.

“What does that mean?”

“I love you.”

Her already throbbing heart swelled, and she let out a sigh of contentment. “
Niwhdin,
Chase Wolf,” she told him. “Forever.”

Forever. The future might be unclear. The way forward might be full of challenges. Where they would go…what they would do…she couldn’t be certain. But with Chase by her side, Claire knew she could face whatever hardships came and that, very soon, their story would have the perfect happily ever after.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Samuel Parker had always been an early riser, not so much because ranch work required it, but because he liked looking at the world before it fully awoke. He’d forgotten how pretty the ridge was in springtime. The air was chill, the trees were quiet, and the flighty sky changed colors like a woman making up her mind about what to wear.

Silently hiking up the ridge now by the gray-pink light the dawn had decided upon, he paused and turned to look out over the canyon. From his high vantage point at the brink of the pool, the distant forest on the opposite ridge, crowded with pine and fir, looked hazy blue. Fine morning mist settled over the lush basin below, painting the meadow like milk glazing a bowl.

The last time he’d come to this place, Margaret had been alive and their daughter had been a little girl. How had so much time passed? Claire was a young woman now. He only prayed she’d live to be an
old
woman.

Ahead of him, Frank waited impatiently. He wouldn’t call out—stealth was their strategy now—but Samuel could tell by the eager glint in his eyes that they were close to their quarry.

The muddy tracks leading from the waterfall were recent. Frank waved two fingers, beckoning Samuel to follow him through the pines while the sun began to illuminate the forest in tiny patches.

They hiked uphill from the pool, passing through a thicket of deerbrush to emerge in a clearing guarded by pines. Through the dipping branches of the largest tree, among the ubiquitous red-brown of dust and rock and mulch, Samuel spied a patch of grass and something blue. At first, he didn’t know what he was seeing—maybe a lost saddle blanket or a discarded cloth sack. It partially covered some pale mound, and whatever lay underneath was as tangled and blanched as the roots of a fresh-fallen tree. He squinted his eyes, then widened them as the sun suddenly cast a damning finger of light on a lock of golden hair.

He staggered, and the rifle dropped from his fingers. His gut sank as if a mule had kicked him, stealing his breath, battering his heart.

His little girl. His little girl lay there. As still as death. As still as her mother when...

Frank hissed out an oath, breaking into his thoughts. To Samuel’s immense relief, the shape beneath the blanket stirred at the sound.

That relief yanked Samuel’s lungs back where they belonged, but his belly was still as churned up as butter, and he clenched his trembling jaw to hold back tears of gratitude.

Then he spied the second head, one topped with hair as black as midnight. He froze, first with astonishment, then with horror, then with rage. And while he was circling that corral of emotions, he let Frank get away from him.

Not afflicted by a father’s paralysis, Frank had no qualms about taking matters into his own hands.

“You godforsaken son of a bitch!” Frank snarled.

The familiar voice jolted Claire to wide-eyed awareness. She gasped, and in that one breath, realized where she was, how she was dressed, or rather
not
dressed, whose arm cradled her with casual intimacy, and who stood not a dozen feet beyond her approaching fiancé, quivering with fury.

Chase’s arm was violently wrenched from around her waist, jerking aside the shirt covering her as well, which left her naked. She shrieked and caught a fleeting look of lurid hunger and rage in Frank’s gaze.

He raised his rifle now, aiming it with unflinching malice at Chase, helpless on his back beside her. In another moment, he’d fire.

"No!" she cried. “No, Frank! Don’t!"

There was a depraved gleam in Frank’s gaze, and his lips pulled back in a sneer as he cocked the hammer of the gun.

“No!” she screamed.

She reached out toward Chase to protect him. But when she would have thrown herself over him to intercept the bullet, Chase thrust out a hand and pushed her roughly away. His mouth was grim, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

The rebuke hurt her heart more than her body. For a moment, she lay there, stunned. Frank would shoot him now. Frank would shoot and kill Chase Wolf.

"Let him up, Frank," her father growled, trudging forward.

Samuel was quaking with suppressed anger, but, to Claire’s relief, his eyes had none of the bloodlust that transfixed Frank. He shrugged off his canvas coat and draped it over her.

"Let him up, I said." He knocked Frank’s rifle barrel aside with his own.

Claire bit her lip. Frank’s enthusiasm was thwarted for only a moment before the barbarous glimmer returned to his eyes.