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Authors: Susan Krinard

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them for what they are. I would not accept that the beast in myself was still capable of

influencing me. Now that it is out of the shadows, it can have no power."

And the best way to make sure it remained powerless was to take immediate action. The day

was young, Tomás was gone, and she'd been given the freedom to explore this mysterious

canyon.

"Come, Esperanza" she said. "I believe we both could benefit by a breath of fresh air."

And, indeed, she felt that benefit as soon as she stepped out into the sunny plaza. Like so many

others she'd experienced in the West, this morning was drenched with sunlight, the colors crisp

and radiant, promised warmth tempered by a light breeze that carried the scent of water from

the stream.

The stream ran the length of the canyon and provided an easy landmark to guide her. If she

turned north, deeper into the canyon, she'd find the steep and winding path by which she and

Esperanza had been brought here—too close to the houses and undoubtedly watched. But

southward the canyon was uninhabited. Her best chance for finding an exit lay in that direction.

She quickly discovered the faint streamside trail worn among the green spring growth that

thrived along the watercourse. Here the thirsty trees known as cottonwoods arched high

overhead, shading smaller shrubs that competed for moisture and light. Tall pines and slender

birches made homes for countless birds, and where the dryer wall of the canyon sloped up to

the mesa, wildflowers found purchase between the rocks. It was a miniature Eden surrounded

by wasteland, and she could begin to understand why ancient peoples had chosen this place for

their home.

Taking Esperanza by the hand, she started along the trail. At first it paralleled the steam,

winding in and out of the cool wood. Then it began to climb along the hillside, becoming little

more than an animal track. Esperanza, agile as a mountain goat on her bare feet, forgot caution

and bounded ahead.

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There was still no sign of a path directly up to the top of the mesa. Though not as steep as the

opposite cliff, this side of the canyon was treacherous with loose rock.

Any werewolf could have managed it.

Rowena clenched her jaw and forged on. The canyon walls gradually came closer and closer

together, rising high and steep to either side in narrows that forced the stream into a tight,

sunken channel.

The delicate melody of flowing water changed to a more urgent drumming. Esperanza was out

of sight beyond the next bend of the trail. Rowena hurried to catch up and slid to a stop at the

sight of what the girl had found.

Glittering threads of water spilled over a sudden drop in the stream's course, forming a small

but glorious waterfall. At its base twenty feet below, the fall had worn out a shallow pool that

held the stream for a instant's stillness before releasing it again on its eastward course.

Esperanza smiled with real excitement and pointed at the fall.

"I see it," Rowena said. "It is lovely." But reaching the fall would require a bit of a scramble,

even for a barefoot girl.

Esperanza didn't seem to mind. Before Rowena could recommend caution, she was halfway

down the slope, sending a hail of pebbles into the water below. She slipped out of sight, and

then reappeared at the edge of the pool.

Rowena watched with a stab of envy as the girl perched on a flat stone and plunged her feet

into the water. She kicked up a froth of wavelets, smiling and waving to Rowena high above.

The place could not have been more perfectly designed for a restful, private bath. No hasty

washing with a basin and old cloth, or worrying over privacy. An intruder would be seen before

he got too close, even if one had the inclination to wander so far from the village.

It was sorely tempting. Esperanza slipped out of her skirt and jumped into the water clad solely

in her camisa, ducking under and popping up again. All the scene lacked was the sound of joyful

laughter.

Esperanza's unselfconscious happiness brought a tightness to Rowena's throat. Surely, by

standing aloof, she would put a pall on this brief moment of pleasure. Esperanza deserved

better.

Hitching up her skirt and petticoat, Rowena slipped and slid her way down to the water's edge.

Only when she reached the pool did she realize that she'd lost the heel of one of her boots

among the rocks above. With a hiss of disgust she unbuttoned the boots and tossed them

aside. She wriggled her stockinged toes experimentally.

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There was certainly no harm in wetting her feet. She folded Esperanza's abandoned skirt and

sat on the flat rock beside it. Esperanza came up for air again, sleek as an otter. The youthful

curves of her body were clearly visible through the wet cotton of her blouse.

Rowena averted her eyes. She had a corset; even if she took off her blouse, she'd be at least

partially covered. If she dared go so far.

She removed her stockings and eased her feet into the pool—ankle-deep, then to mid-calf. The

water was cold, but not icy. She closed her eyes to savor the delightful sensation.

Something snatched at her toes. She yelped, only to see Esperanza darting away like a

mischievous water sprite. There must have been magic in the air, for Rowena found herself

responding in kind. She cupped her hands and sent a cascade of water pelting down on

Esperanza's head.

That was the beginning of the game. It proceeded rapidly from light splashing to thorough

soaking, and between one moment and the next Rowena found herself to her hips in the pool,

laughing helplessly. The corset was already as good as ruined; she saw little reason for further

restraint and bobbed down until she was completely submerged. Esperanza blinked owlishly

under the surface, releasing a stream of bubbles from puffed cheeks.

They took turns standing under the soft shower of the fall. Rowena tilted up her face to drink

the pure water. It ran in rivulets over her arched neck, between her breasts, along her hips like

caressing fingers. The weight of it tugged at her petticoats until she had no choice but to

wriggle free and toss the garment up on the rocks. Even the thin skirt felt heavy. The corset was

quite unbearable.

Turning her back, she removed the blouse and then the corset, tugging at waterlogged laces.

Esperanza came to her rescue. With a sigh of relief, Rowena laid it on the rock and put the wet

blouse back on over the chemise. Two thin layers were as revealing as one, but she couldn't

bring herself to care. The water, the sunshine, the setting were too enchanting for such

mundane concerns.

The water had another unexpected effect. As she half floated on her back, her skirt billowing

about her, she was intensely reminded of the parts of her body she'd tried to ignore since

Tomás had made her all too aware of them. She felt the way her nipples tightened like bold

sun-worshipers yearning for the warmth high above. She shivered as hidden currents slipped

under her skirt, between her thighs, seeking and stroking until she ached.

Drowsing, she imagined that the water took form. Human form, potently male. The currents

and ripples became questing fingers bent on taking unheard-of liberties with her person.

And she didn't resist. She let those hands have their way. Tomás's hands. The erotic waking

dreams returned with redoubled vividness, but this time she forgot to be outraged or afraid.

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There was a Tightness to it in this enchanting place, this oasis in the desert. Only Esperanza

witnessed her languid sensuality, and the girl couldn't guess what went on in her imagination.

Imagination had the power to transform her into the wanton of her visions. But she maintained

control. She allowed the slow wave of excitement to build from the tips of her bare toes to the

crown of her head, breathing more quickly as the new and rousing awareness centered at the

apex of her thighs.

Yes. This had happened with the real Tomás, when she'd had no warning. It was quite

incredible, but there was no reason that she could not master it like any other impulse. With a

little concentration she could pull herself away from the brink and make her body bow to her

will. All she had to do was open her eyes…

She opened them. The dark brown wolf stood on the flat rock, watching her. Esperanza was

submerged to her neck in the water under the fall, transfixed by some overwhelming emotion.

The wolf crouched as if he would leap into the pool. His form blurred and melted into mist,

pulsing with its own internal light.

When the mist dispelled it was Tomás who stood on the rock. Tomás, sleek and naked, smooth

muscles sliding under tanned skin.

He'd Changed once before in her presence. Then, she'd looked away. But the tantalizing spell of

warmth and water refused to disperse. She stared at him, half dazed. How handsome he was.

How elegant in his lines, like a fine classical statue.

Statues were not quite so… anatomically detailed. She hunted vaguely for a better word. Not

detailed—defined. Not like this. Not so pointedly.

She giggled. The pulling, tickling sensation between her legs grew stronger. How odd. A part of

her wondered how she'd come to feel as if she'd consumed several large glasses of Quentin's

favorite brandy.

The other part didn't care.

Tomás slid one leg into the water. She observed the progress of his descent with fascination.

The water lapped caressingly about the athletic line of his calf. His other leg joined the first,

until he stood thigh-deep in the pool.

The interesting point where the water ended made the rest of his body all the more noticeable.

Especially the undeniably male portion of him. She looked up at his face.

Hunger. It was naked in his eyes. It matched the quivering, expectant, on-the-brink feeling that

claimed her body. Brazen images crystallized in her mind. Two bodies, made to fit together like

interlocking pieces of a puzzle. Wet skin upon wet skin. Water above and beneath and all

around, like the most luxurious bed.

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Fingers caressing. Lips parting. Soft cries. Pleasure.

Pleasure. The muscles in her stomach contracted. He would give her pleasure such as she'd

never known, unimaginable sweetness and ecstasy.

All she had to do was give in, and he would do the rest.

She smiled and opened her arms.

Twelve

Tomás had never been one to question his good fortune. The invitation was plain in Rowena's

eyes. How this miraculous moment had come about he couldn't begin to guess and didn't

intend to try.

He'd followed her and Esperanza to the falls without any expectation that she would succumb

so swiftly to the lure of this hidden sanctuary. The tiny pool was one of his favorite places in the

cañon; if she'd used her werewolf senses, she would have known that at once and been on her

guard.

But she had not. Indeed, she'd behaved with gratifying impetuosity from the second she'd set

foot in the water. Esperanza was partially responsible: She, too, had lost her fear and became

the playful child she must once have been. She had led the way.

And Rowena followed willingly. From his vantage point high above, Tomás watched her splash

about and laugh as if she hadn't a care in the world. Corset and petticoat had come off in a

matter of minutes, leaving her in light cotton that clung like a second skin and left little to the

imagination.

He stayed out of sight, savoring the shape of her full, unbound breasts, the proud thrust of her

nipples, the outlines of her thighs, with a frustration balanced between pain and delight. The

musky perfume of her body, enhanced by the water, made him reel like a drunkard. In his

imagination she was readying herself for him. In his thoughts, like so many times in the past,

she was giving up the fight.

Several delicious moments passed before he realized that not everything was in his

imagination. The games were over, Esperanza had retreated to one end of the pool, and

Rowena was floating on her back, legs parted, like a lascivious river goddess invoking the sun's

caresses.

Tomás was no stranger to lust. Rowena roused it in him every time she came near. But what

he'd felt the other times was a mere shadow of what possessed him then.

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She didn't touch herself. He was quite sure she didn't know how. But he could picture the water

BOOK: Once A Wolf
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