Her heart fluttered erratically. It didn't
make sense. She hadn't imagined running, going over the canyon
edge, falling, dying.
She looked at her rescuer and the wild
fluttering in her chest intensified. His gaze traveled over her,
heating her skin with its caress.
Her nipples tightened and his eyes darkened
with masculine appreciation. His nostrils flared as though he could
scent the sudden wetness of her sex.
She shielded her mound and her arousal from
his view with a hand. Gripped the material underneath her and
realized it was thick fur.
"No," he said, his fingers encircling her
wrist, stopping her from shifting to free the soft hide and wrap it
around herself. "I'll bathe you first."
Her breath caught in her throat. Her entire
body hummed at the words, at the possessive way he looked at her.
At the command in his voice.
He picked up the cup and once again held it
to her lips. "Drink this. It will help you gain strength,
Marisa."
She opened her mouth to ask how he knew her
name and he used her response to his advantage, tilted the cup and
left her no choice but to drink the contents or choke on it. She
swallowed, expecting something cold and bitter. Finding instead
something warm and thick and tasting of honey.
Almost immediately the heat of the drink
spread from her stomach to her sex and breasts and made her
whimper. She licked her lips and groaned as warmth spread there
too.
"You've drugged me," she whispered, her eyes
meeting his then going to his mouth, her upper body leaning
forward, following the direction of her gaze.
He laughed, a small husky sound. He hugged
her to him, brushed his lips across her temple. "You're feeling the
call of our spirits to one another. The drink was to aid you,
nothing more. I swear it."
His oath resonated like a struck drum. She
believed him, allowed herself to relax against hard muscle and hot
flesh, to soak in his strength and breathe in his scent.
He'd saved her life. She didn't know how,
but without him, she'd be dead.
Firm, possessive hands smoothed over her
back. They cupped her hips and pulled her more tightly against him,
creating a shiver of pleasure and making her breath catch as she
became aware of the erection his loincloth concealed.
The liquid heat in her stomach rippled and
turned into need sliding lower and plumping the lips of her sex. "I
don't even know your name."
"Ukiah."
"Ukiah," she said, and the sound of her
saying his name brought fierce joy.
Ukiah rubbed his cheek against Marisa's.
Until she opened her eyes and became aware of her surroundings he'd
tried to respect her privacy and not stare at her naked body where
it lay on several hides, he'd avoided touching her intimately but
now…
He tangled his fingers in her hair to keep
her from turning her face away. He settled his mouth on hers.
His. She was his.
He coaxed her lips into parting, rejoiced in
her willing surrender and the soft sound of acceptance she made.
His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasted her essence along with
the drink the Creator had provided and directed him to give her as
part of their covenant.
It wasn't his place to question the
Creator's choice of a wife for him and he had no desire to
challenge it. Marisa was beautiful. Exquisitely feminine. Her
breasts tipped with large dusky nipples, her pubic hair trimmed
into a small black triangle left to arrow downward toward a
delicate clit and bare, swollen folds.
She was lush and sweet, utterly desirable.
His. Given to him by the one who had called up the storm and drawn
the thunderbird into the air, then led him to where she lay dying,
her soul ready to flutter away.
He'd carried her to the cave and stripped
her of the wet clothing. He'd started a fire then began
the
sing
, offering up prayers and promises, agreeing to accept her
and care for her and teach her so that she would answer the call as
a thunderbird.
His heart soared as her tongue twined with
his and her arms wrapped around his neck and she clung to him. The
smoothness of her skin and scent of her arousal tempted him to lay
her back down on the furs and cover her with his body.
He ached for her as he'd never ached for
another woman. Wanted desperately to peel away the loincloth and
slide his cock into her, merging his body to hers.
He'd waited so long. He'd dreamed of having
a woman at his side, a lover and a companion. A mate who would fly
with him when the thunderbird was called to the sky, who would
winter with him when the snows came and celebrate with him when
spring kissed the land.
His cock demanded he strip and enter her,
but he wanted to finish caring for her as he'd promised to do. He
wanted them to know each other better, to have their first joining
be more than an urgent, mindless rush toward physical release. He
wanted her to welcome him into her body as a soul mate, not simply
as the man who'd saved her life.
"I need to bathe you first."
"No, I need this more," she whispered
against his lips, her arms tightening around him as her tongue
forged into his mouth and she became the aggressor.
Marisa knew she was reacting to the
betrayal, to the wild run which had very nearly ended in her death.
A part of her mind argued that she should pull away from Ukiah and
put some distance between them. But that part of her seemed
powerless against the deep anguished cry of her soul, the clamor of
her body for his.
She'd never known need like this. She
trembled with it, felt consumed by it.
Still kissing, he eased her backward so she
was once again lying on luxurious fur. He straddled her, making her
whimper and arch in a futile attempt to rub her pelvis against
his.
She slid her hands down his sides, intending
to remove the loincloth, but he grabbed her wrists and held them to
the fur above her head.
"No," he said, lifting his mouth from hers,
the rich waves of black hair a curtain on either side of his
face.
Beads and bright feathers brushed against
her cheeks, overlaying the present with the past in a burst of deja
vu that made her think they'd been like this before, in another
lifetime.
His eyes widened as if experiencing the same
thing. He lowered his head and captured her bottom lip, sucking it
into his mouth.
Her breath caught on a moan. Need pulsed
between her legs.
His knees tightened against her hips to keep
her from arching high enough to rub against him. He altered his
grip, shifted so he could hold both of her wrists with one hand
while the other moved to her breast, cupping it, worshipping it
with his touch.
Please
, she silently begged.
Ghost drums sounded in Ukiah's mind as
ancient, long-dead ancestors joined their voices in a prayer for
fertility rather than a healing song. A thin sheen of sweat formed
on his chest and the need to take his mate intensified.
He slanted his mouth, penetrated hers with
his tongue. His testicles were heavy, full, his cock pulsing in
time to the mystical drum beat.
Images of other lives flew past with the
swiftness of a falcon. Whispered voices called him by names his
spirit had once answered to. And he, in turn, whispered the names
he'd once called Marisa.
The tempo of the ghost music increased.
Built and urged Ukiah to consummate the union. His chest filled
with echoes of a long ago emotion, the fierce pride of ownership
because she'd once been his captive, his war prize.
The drums and songs and whispered voices
blended, so tightly knit he could no longer separate the man known
as Ukiah from the ones who had come before or from the thunderbird
who knew this woman was its mate and wanted to stake its claim.
He freed her wrists and kissed downward,
reveling in the arch of her back, the offer of her nipple, the feel
of her hands in his hair and softly moaned,
Ukiah
.
His. She was his. Had always been his.
He circled a nipple with his tongue, licked
it into ripe, hard readiness, then kissed his way to her other
breast. "Please," she said, her desperate neediness matching his,
there in the sharp sting of fingers buried in his hair and tugging
as if she would pull him into her very being.
He bit and sucked. His hands roamed over her
breasts possessively exploring their fullness. He imagined them
hanging free beneath her like ancient symbols of fertility as he
took her on her hands and knees.
He kissed downward and buried his face
between her thighs, inhaling her, filling his lungs with her unique
scent. She whimpered and arched into him, a primitive plea for
pleasure and protection. A submissive yielding as if she too was
locked in a long ago role where she lived or died at his will.
Ukiah tilted his head so he could see her
face. He wanted to watch her expression as he took the first taste
of her, his tongue gliding along her lower lips, dipping into her
slick channel in a primal claiming.
Her skin glistened, her eyelashes were
delicate black crescents against taut skin. He wanted to command
that she look at him but he couldn't bring himself to leave her
silky, wet sex.
She gasped when he pierced her with his
tongue, tightened her grip on his hair, her luscious breasts
flushing a deeper color. He thrust again, and the muscles of her
pussy clamped down, trying to draw him deeper even as she drowned
him in arousal.
The cadence of the ghost drumbeat demanded
that he thrust again, and again. His hips jerked in time to the
press and retreat of his tongue. His cock throbbed, rigid and
confined, making him as much of a captive as she was.
Her cries of pleasure filled the cave,
drifting upward and rolling through time like supernatural thunder
carrying a message, a scream of victory, a promise for the
future.
Ukiah spread her thighs further, bent her
knees and tilted her pelvis so that every inch of her was exposed,
open, his to lick and suck. To fuck with his tongue.
Her clit was swollen, as rigid as his cock,
its hood pulled back just as his foreskin was. "Please," Marisa
said, her voice hoarse, her back bowed as she tried to force him to
her clit. Her heart pounded so hard and fast that it made her think
of drums beating on a dark night, of ancient fertility rites and
gods so old they were no longer named.
"Please," she begged again. Her skin coated
with a sheen of sweat.
Ukiah licked and she convulsed with
pleasure, the icy-hot shards spearing through her, making her
buttocks clench and her breath so scarce that she felt lightheaded.
He closed his mouth around her clit and the tears came. Mixed with
whimpers and cries as he sucked, hard and fast and aggressive.
He pinned her to the fur. Held her down as
if she was his captive. The feathers and beads and silk of his hair
made him seem primitive, savage. The shadows on the wall danced
like some ancient people around a timeless campfire.
Over and over again he swirled his tongue
across her clit and sucked. His lips firm, demanding as they pushed
her higher and higher.
She came, shuddering and writhing. Ecstasy
rolled through her like a fierce storm and she rode the pleasure
until the last of it passed into short bursts of lightning and
distant rumbles, leaving her feeling cleansed, calm, like the earth
after a rain.
Ukiah's skin felt stretched tight. His cock
screamed for release, the foreskin pulled back and the tip wet.
He wanted to cover her, get inside her.
He fought that desire. Taking care of her
first had to come before his own needs.
His chest rose and fell in sharp pants. Only
gradually did his heart slow as the mystic drum beats and singing
faded.
He kissed his way up her body, cupped her
breasts and lingered to suck before once again claiming her mouth.
This time sharing the taste of her pleasure.
She wound her arms around his neck and that
simple gesture filled him with a contentment he'd never known.
He rose to his knees, lifted her into his
arms then stood. He carried her to the next cavern and crouched,
easing her into a small pool of heated water.
Her eyes widened with surprise. "There are
still volcanoes in this range," he said, though the water running
down the wall and into the shallow pool was heated at his command,
as was the cave.
It wasn't an ability he had in his mortal
form, only in this one. When he was both thunderbird and man, a
creation of belief and magic.
Ukiah reached for a crudely made bar of
soap. "I can do it," Marisa said, her voice husky, low, nearly
breathless.
"But
I
will do it." It was his right
and nothing she said would dissuade him.
A blush stole into her cheeks and remained
there. Her nipples beaded with the first touch of his soapy hands
to her skin.
His. She was his. Had always been his.
He smoothed his palms over her neck, her
shoulders, the slopes of her breasts, her arms. He stroked every
inch. Cleaned every inch. Claimed every inch.
* * * * *
Chapter
3
Ukiah's touch was possessive, caring, so
erotic that Marisa didn't want to ruin the moment with questions.
But unwanted, that final glimpse of Kaitlyn turned incredible heat
into piercing cold, and she shuddered.
"You're okay now," Ukiah said. "You're safe
now."
He brushed his lips across hers, settling
his mouth on hers. With the thrust of his tongue he drove back fear
and uncertainty. With the sweep of his hands, he obliterated future
and past. He turned icy shivers into tremors of heated need.
Her sex grew flushed and swollen. Her
nipples and clit became tight, hard knots.