Alphas in the Wild (13 page)

She jackknifed her body around and recaptured him in her mouth, taking him deep. He thrust into the steamy heat of her and forced himself to continue his thorough exploration of her legs with his mouth, getting to know every muscle, every nuance. He wanted to plunge his tongue into her musky center, but hoped she’d be so primed for him, she’d come almost as soon as he latched onto her clit.

Moira altered his plans when she dragged his mouth upward until it was inches from her hot core. He held off, just breathing on her as her hips writhed beneath him. In a single movement, he pushed two fingers inside her and closed his mouth over her clit, sucking hard. She dissolved around him in a flood of heat, crying his name. In her passion, she worked his cock harder with mouth and hands. All the magic in the world couldn’t stave off his orgasm, and it bubbled out of him in jets of white hot glory that didn’t shave much off his lust.

She drank him dry, and he pulled from her mouth. “Turn over.” His voice was rough with wanting her. “We’re not done.”

“I’ll never be done with you.” She grinned wantonly. “We waited too long for this.”

“Over, wench. On your knees.”

Her chest and face were splotched with a lovely rose color. When she flipped over, he saw that her back was too. Her sex gleamed wetly, surrounded by golden curls.

With a cry he barely recognized as his own voice, Tim surged forward, burying his still-hard cock in the scorching heat of her. Because he’d just come, he didn’t have to ride an edge of control. He drove into her hard and fast, wanting to make her his forever. She met him stroke for stroke, pushing back against him until the whole world was awash in sensation.

His cock swelled inside her, harder than it had ever been. He gripped her hips like a drowning man. When he felt the contractions of her climax around him, he let himself go, juddering into her until the world shimmered with power, and he realized sex was yet one more road to his magic.

He held her against him, kneeling behind her, until his cock softened and slid from her body. Then he lay next to her and gathered her into his arms. “If I’d known how good this would be, I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold off.”

She cradled his face in her hands. “No looking back. I’m just happy we have a life ahead of us. I still can’t quite believe it.”

“Me, either.” He kissed the tip of her nose and held her, glorying in the feel of her in his arms.

She shivered and pulled one end of the blanket over them. “Probably should get moving. I’d love to stay here forever and block the world out, but I’m hungry.”

“You being hungry is a very good thing. We should take advantage of it.” He sat and handed her clothes to her before gathering his own and putting them on. Getting to his feet, he offered her a hand and then bent to the task of folding the blankets. Moira tackled the tarp.

The cool breeze around them shifted to a harsh wind. Bushes and trees rattled, and stones rose in small vortices, creating glowing mandalas in the air. Tim scented power, and dropped the blankets. He wrapped his arms around Moira, who’d let go of the tarp.

Her eyes widened; her body stiffened in his arms. “What the hell is that? I thought Ryan was dead.”

“He is. Make no mistake about it. What you feel is magic, though. Native American, if I’m any judge.” He urged her toward the car. “I can handle whatever this is, but I need you to lock yourself in the car. Metal will shield you from—”

“There’s no need for that. I do not mean her harm.”

Singing Bear stepped from one of the shimmering mandalas. His silver-streaked black hair was braided into two thick plaits that fell to his waist. Form-fitting leather garments hugged his tall, spare form, and homemade boots laced to his knees. Deep lines accentuated his hawk-like nose and high cheekbones. A silver bracelet set with turquoise curled around one wrist.

Tim faced the apparition with his hands raised to summon power. He didn’t sense danger, but Ryan’s father might well want revenge for his son’s death. Tim picked his words carefully. “I recognize your energy from when I first met you. Why have you chosen to show yourself?”

“I think it’s all right. He always liked me.” Moira twisted away from Tim and addressed her next words to Singing Bear. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I’m sorry about what happened to—”

He waved her to silence. “Ryan is why I’m here. Indulge me for a moment, daughter-in-law. I owe you an apology.”

Tim waited, energy at the ready in case it was a ruse.

Singing Bear inclined his head Tim’s way. “Thank you for allowing me to speak. Your magic is more powerful than mine, and you could force me away.”

“Why do you owe me an apology?” Moira asked. “I never blamed you for Ryan’s screw-ups.”

“You don’t understand.” Singing Bear’s form wavered, and then solidified again. “Your friend will, though, since he is a magic man in his own right. Power marks you, brands you, if you will. It takes a strong vessel to hold power and not be seduced by it. Controlled by it.” He cast a glance Tim’s way as if asking for help.

Tim nodded. “It’s the same with my order. Those who have weak characters don’t do well. Power drives them mad. We try to weed those out at the front end of things. Easier for everybody that way.”

“Exactly.” Singing Bear made a hand sign of assent. “It pains me to admit, but Ryan was weak. I knew his spirit was too fragile to wield power, but he was my only son, so I kept hoping something would change. In truth, I never should have let him anywhere near anything magical.”

He latched his dark gaze onto Moira. “That, white woman, is what I am sorry for. I hoped you might change Ryan. Give him the strength he lacked.” Emotion played over his stark features. “I encouraged the marriage—even though it was outside our bloodlines. Not for you, but for my son.”

Singing Bear turned away. “I knew what Ryan was. I should have warned you, but I was selfish and held my peace. I have far-seeing dreams. I ignored them all—until the one that told me your life was in danger. Then I acted. I thank the Great Ones I was not too late.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Moira said in a pain-filled voice. “You did your best by Ryan. I saw you try to help him so many times—”

“Stop! Don’t make excuses for me. I used you. I hoped your strength of character would rub off on my son and somehow save him.” The old Native American bowed until his head almost touched the ground before straightening. “For that, I am most humbly sorry.”

“We appreciate the effort it took for you to come to us—” Tim began, cognizant of the other man’s pain, and wanting to mitigate it.

“I’m not done,” Singing Bear cut in. “My next words are for you, Druid. When I understood Ryan had returned that night in the wilderness—still intent on killing Moira—I hurried back, but another Druid stopped me. Assured me you had things under control.”

Tim nodded. “That would’ve been Liam. He was worried about me, yet knew my time to wield destructive magic had finally arrived.”

Singing Bear paused, his features scrunched in embarrassment and resignation. “It was providential you were there because you finished what I didn’t have the heart for. Ryan needed to move on. He was too damaged to remain in this life. Perhaps when his journey begins anew, his spirit will grow straighter.”

“I hope that too,” Tim said, all too aware of how broken hopes and dreams could scar a life.

“For the two of you,” the shaman spread his arms wide, “I offer my blessings for a long and fruitful life together. It isn’t much, but I want you to know I bear you no ill will. Quite the opposite.”

Tears streaked Moira’s face. “If you were here, I’d hug you.”

“Thank you, daughter. You were a far better wife than my son deserved.”

The air turned incandescent around them, bathing the glade where they stood with every color of the rainbow. Tim wrapped his arms around Moira from behind and held her until the colors faded.

“He’s quite a man,” Tim said. “To be that candid and blunt about your own blood is rare.”

“He gave us a clean slate.” Moira’s eyes sheened with fresh tears.

Tim nodded. “That he did. To be forgiven by the one who has every right to hate me and to curse me through this world and all the ones beyond, is enormous. It truly does offer us a fresh beginning—even beyond the one we’ll create for ourselves.” He tightened his hold on Moira and snugged her against him. She turned in his arms and hugged him back.

“You killed for me. I’ll never forget that.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.

“That I did. And I’d do it again to keep you safe and by my side forever.”

“Forever,” she echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.” He linked a hand beneath one of her arms and guided her back to their car. “Now let’s see about that dinner.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” She bent and picked up the tarp, and he retrieved the blankets.

Once the things were back in the car, he tipped her chin up with an index finger. “I love you, Moira. You bless my life with your presence.”

“I love you too, Tim. I always have. I should’ve known better than to—”

He laid a hand over her mouth. “No looking back. After Singing Bear’s words, we truly don’t have to.”

“You got it. Can we plan our wedding over dinner?”

“Absolutely,
mo ghrá
. Absolutely. In truth, it’s a good idea to have what we want firmly in hand before Liam takes off with the bit in his teeth.”

“The more I hear about him, the more I can’t wait to get to know him better.”

Tim winked. “I’m sure he feels the same way. You were his prime competition. He thought he could wait you out—but he didn’t count on what I wanted.”

Her smile faded, replaced by a solemn expression. “Thanks for never giving up on us.”

Love flooded him and cracked his heart wide open. “No thanks needed. Now let’s see about that dinner.”

“You’re on.” She sprinted around to her car door and got inside.

Tim stood for a moment watching the clean lines of her body as she moved. After mouthing a silent prayer to the gods for reuniting them, he joined Moira and nosed the car back to the highway.

The End

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I
f you enjoyed this peek into the High Sierra, keep reading for a story that will take you deep into myth, magic, and Andean mountain gods out for blood. Mountain stories cut close to home for me. I’ve spent many a day, week, month, and year with a pack on my back. It’s why I can write stories about living in the backcountry. I’ve been there. Done that. And captured my very own alpha while I was at it.

Andean Myth Paranormal Romance

By

Ann Gimpel

Tumble off reality’s edge into myth, magic, and mountain gods out for blood

B
ook Description:

Tina made a pact with the devil seven years ago. It’s time to pay the piper—or die.

Independent to the nth degree, Tina meets everything in her life head-on—except love. When an almost-forgotten pact with the devil returns to haunt her, Tina throws a trip to the Andes together to face her nemesis. Better to die on her feet than wait for him to make good on his threats.

Craig never understood why Tina walked out of his life years before. He’s never loved anyone like he loved her. His mountain guide service takes up all his time, but he’s never forgotten her. When his back’s been up against the wall, he’s invited her to fill in as expedition doctor, but beyond that, he’s kept his distance. Having his heart stomped on once was quite enough.

Caught between misgivings and need, Tina signs on as team doctor for one of Craig’s climbing trips to the Andes. Though he was the love of her life, she pushed him away years before to keep him safe. Even if he doesn’t love her anymore, there’s still no one she’d rather have by her side in the mountains. And if she’s going to die, she wants to make things right between them.

A
heavy weight jammed Tina McKenzie against her mattress. The pressure doubled and then tripled. Her eyes snapped open, but her bedroom was inky black, and she couldn’t see a thing. Breathing became a struggle. Her physician-trained brain panicked. She writhed against an invisible mass on top of her.

It pushed back.

A burned odor with overtones of death and rot invaded her nostrils. It smelled like the cadaver lab but without formalin. Insidious cold seeped into her bones. Whatever held her down was freezing her from the inside out. Her heart stuttered. Breath clogged in her throat, unable to move past her squashed larynx. How long could she live without oxygen before she sustained brain damage? A few minutes at best. Her mind shied away from what was happening. The thing in her bedroom wasn’t human. It couldn’t be; it wasn’t breathing.

Shit. I’m going to die here.

In full panic mode, she thrashed against her unseen assailant, but she couldn’t budge it more than an inch or so. No point wasting energy screaming. She lived so remotely, no one would hear. She tried to raise her arms, but they were pinned against her sides. A flickering white haze fractured her vision.

People don’t die in dreams.

Nice try. I’m not dreaming,
another inner voice chimed in.

“No, you are not dreaming.”
A guttural voice sounded deep in her mind.

Accented, it reminded her of... Understanding slammed home and left her reeling. It wasn’t possible. Shivers cascaded down her body. Her blood turned to ice.

“Good,”
the voice continued, silky smooth, almost like a macabre caress.
“You remember me.”

“What?” she sputtered, “You can read my thoughts?”

“Of course.”
He chuckled, but the sound was ominous.
“You made me a promise. I gave you seven years. They’ve nearly expired. Consider yourself fortunate I was kind enough to remind you.”

“Y-you tracked me down?” Her teeth chattered.

The chuckle morphed into a laugh.
“I have always known where to find you. Did you delude yourself you were invisible here in the United States? Blood for blood, doctor. You owe me.”