SkinwalkersWoman (9 page)

She winced as she used the horse for balance and scrambled
back up onto the rock, hoping the animal wouldn’t bolt when she was halfway on.
But it stood quietly as she swung her leg over and settled onto the powerful
back and wrapped her legs around its girth. She grabbed a handful of mane and
sat for a moment, wondering how to make it go where she wanted it to go. It
shook its head, turned to look back at her with one large, dark eye, then
gently turned in the direction she’d come from and slowly and carefully picked
its way back toward the cabin as if it knew where she wanted to go.

A soft sob of relief broke from her and she lay forward to
wrap her arms around the satiny neck, pressing her cheek against the silken
mane. “Whatever you are, thank you…”

Zeke had never once considered that changing into a horse
could be a source of pleasure for him, but feeling her soft body draped around
him, her legs wrapping his ribs and her arms caressing his neck made him see
the possibilities of his equine form. Usually he only used his horse to drive
the mustangs away from the dangerous presence of men with rifles and trucks.
He’d never had anyone on his back. But the feel of her perched there, trusting
him to take her where he would, sent a thrill of power through him. This could
get to be a pleasant pastime.

He wished that she was secure enough to ride him at a
gallop, but he couldn’t risk her falling off. He moved slowly, making sure he
didn’t jostle her into sliding off his back. Even with his long legs, it took
almost two hours to get back to the cabin, and when she slid stiffly to the
ground and released his neck, he watched her hobble up the steps to the porch
before he bolted instantly for the rocks where he had left his clothes.

He dragged on his jeans and shirt, shoved his feet into his
soft boots and jogged rapidly back to the cabin. She had already gone inside
and was lying in a ball on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, sound
asleep. The hours in the hot sun and the long, painful walk had been more than
she could handle.

He bent to gently pull off her bloody shoes, then filled the
wash basin with water and cleaned her feet. He rubbed some aloe salve over the
skin that was so damaged, then tugged off her dusty jeans, catching his breath
as he realized that she was commando. His cock rose to salute her but he forced
his thoughts back into line as he finished undressing her and tucking her into
bed.

It had been his desperate, crazy need for her that had
driven her to run away. He knew that Joe was right. She might want him, but she
must feel in control. He needed to consider her needs more than his own. He
knew she would wake up starving. She would want a bath. And very likely, she
would want answers. He would have to be prepared to meet all her needs.

The dream tore her from bone-weary sleep as she felt
something
trying to reach out to her. She came upright with a scream and stared
around her in the dark. Calloused hands drew her gently back against his body
once more and she gasped and clung to him as she twisted to try to crawl under
his skin. “Something tried to touch me…” she panted between sobs as he pulled
her in to his chest and whispered soft words she couldn’t understand in her
ear. The sound of his deep voice lulled her as he adjusted her naked body
across his lap and wrapped the scratchy blanket about her. She reached up and
clung to his naked shoulders and buried her face against his powerful chest.
“Hold me…please…” Her words were muffled, but her fear was loud and clear.

The
ch‘iin
hadn’t been able to claim her with his
body touching hers and his arms wrapped around her, but it had tried to enter
her weary mind. The moment he had sensed it, he had commanded that it leave
her. It had struggled against his power but had vanished after only a moment of
struggle. He closed his eyes and filtered through her dreams, cleansing them of
the filthy touch of evil that so desperately wanted her. And he fought his need
to open her thighs and bury himself in her hot depths.

He held her close, rocking gently. “It can’t touch you. If
you will let me, I will protect you always. Open your heart to me, Little Dove,
and let me inside. Give me your love.”

The words, spoken in Apache and almost too softly for her to
hear, lulled her back into sleep, where her dreams were now filled with images
of a huge wolf, a magnificent eagle and a sleek black horse. In her dreams,
they spoke to her. But when she woke to brilliant morning sunlight hours later,
she couldn’t recall anything that they’d said to her. All she could remember
was the feeling of arms cradling her, and a heart beating steadily against her
cheek as she’d slept.

She stretched and sneaked a glance behind her to see if she
was alone in the narrow bed. He wasn’t there this morning, and she missed the
feel of his body wrapped around hers. Dragging the scratchy blanket up to cover
her naked breasts, she shoved up onto her elbows and yawned. Then she recalled
the horse that had carried her back, and her bloodied feet. She wiggled her
toes, expecting soreness or downright pain, but felt nothing but a bit of
stiffness. She blinked around at the interior of the cabin and inhaled the
delicious smells of coffee and hash browns. Something smelled like bacon, but
since he didn’t have a fridge, she figured it was wishful thinking on her part.

She rolled up onto the edge of the bed and shoved her hair
out of her face.

“Good morning.” His deep voice gave her a little thrill as
it trickled over her senses.

She checked to make sure that she was covered before she
scooted to the edge of the bed. “Is it still morning? Or is it closer to noon?
I feel as if I slept for hours and hours.” She yawned as she rose and
transferred her butt from the little bed to the chair as she reached for the
mug of hot coffee that was set on the table. “Bless you. I needed this
desperately.” She sipped gingerly and barely suppressed a groan of pleasure.
She made no attempt to wrap the blanket around her, just held it against her
chest as she sipped the rich black brew.

“There’s fried potatoes, red beans and salt pork. It’s
saltier than bacon, but you can get used to it.”

His voice soothed her in some deep part of her spirit. She
lifted her eyes and said, “Did you do something to my feet? I thought they
would fall off yesterday.”

“Old Apache remedy,” he grunted, handing her a plate filled
with food. “How do they feel this morning?”

Shoveling a huge bite of food into her mouth, she chewed and
moaned before answering him.

So good!

“As if they weren’t all blistered and bloody yesterday.” She
swallowed and took another big bite. Then she lifted her gaze to his and said,
“You said you didn’t own a horse.”

“I don’t.” His face remained impassive.

“And I’ll bet you don’t own a wolf-dog either?”

“Nope.”

“You said you would come after me if I ran off. But you
didn’t.” The statement was contemplative…quiet.

“I didn’t?” His voice dipped deeper and she blinked.

After a long pause, she took another big bite. After chewing
and swallowing, she murmured hesitantly, “Not unless you can turn into a
wolf…or a horse…” When he didn’t respond and simply sipped his coffee, she
inhaled shakily, her eyes still locked with those almost black ones. The
sensation that she was closer to the truth than she realized crept up on her,
and her heart started pounding so hard that she thought she might faint.

“Please tell me exactly what I’ve been having crazy monkey
sex with, Zeke. Are you human? Or are you some sort of werewolf? I never really
believed in that stuff, but there’s something about your eyes…about that wolf’s
eyes…”

“I’m human. Just like any other man,” he breathed, his lips
tight.

“Except that…you can turn into other things…?”

“If the need arises.” His eyes probed hers, and she sensed
that her response was important to him.

“Myths….” she whispered hoarsely.

“And legends…” he replied softly, his eyes moving slowly
over her pale face. The soft words sank in slowly, like water pouring through
sand. Her belly tightened but she didn’t feel panic as they watched each other.

“That
was
…you?”

“Only part of me, Little Dove. You are looking at me now.
You were with a man when we made love.”

She inhaled shakily, feeling a bit lightheaded as she let
the information take hold. Watching him sip his coffee, she took a swallow of
hers, holding the cup with numb fingers, then allowed a rough laugh to burst
from her tight throat. “This has to be a wild dream I’m having…doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“So you are a werewolf…um…werehorse?” She bit her lower lip.
She winced at how dumb that sounded, even to her.

It’s a dream…it has to be…this isn’t possible.

“My people call me a skinwalker. I was born after my mother
was raped by a demon. I can assume the shape of any animal I need to be. You
needed a ride back to the cabin. My wolf couldn’t carry you. I was a little bit
afraid you couldn’t ride a horse.” He spoke matter-of-factly, sipping again at
his mug of coffee. “When I change skins, I don’t have clothes to put on. I
didn’t think you would be okay with having a naked man carting you back home.”
He looked totally relaxed but she could sense the tension in him as he waited
for her to freak out on him.

Freak out? That sounded about right. But when she had looked
into that wolf’s eyes, something had clicked on inside her brain. Something
weird that made it totally impossible for her to freak out over the things he
had just told her. Thoughts whizzed through her head too fast to catch—images
of things she had never before seen. Her inner voice whispered in her mind,
things she barely caught…some she couldn’t understand. Words reverberated
inside her head. The floaty feeling returned as she struggled to know what all
this meant, but panic was not a part of it.

Needing to normalize things, she shoved a spoonful of food
into her mouth and chewed without really tasting it. It was an automatic thing.
The big, hot, sexy man standing across the small room had just told her he was
a skinwalker—
a shapeshifter—and she believed him.
Her eyes slipped over
that massive, delicious body and she could believe he had been that huge black
horse. She had seen his eyes in the gaze of a wild wolf. The scar on his face
had been on the wolf, and the horse. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back
and she remembered that she was stark naked except for the blanket she clutched
with one hand over her breasts.

“I need to get dressed,” she breathed numbly as she tugged
the blanket higher. Her lack of screaming and running made him seem to relax.
His wide shoulders dropped a bit and he released his breath as if he’d been
holding it.

“I filled the tub outside. It’s pretty warm by now, sitting
in the sun. A bath would ease those aches and soothe your feet.” He downed the
last of his coffee and she watched his throat move as he swallowed. Then he
gestured at the bloodstained cross-trainers and hole-riddled socks that stood
just inside the door. “You can’t wear those anymore. The blood will attract
predators. I’ll make you a pair of mocs that will be comfortable and will
protect your feet outside. I’ll bury those out beyond the track. I’ll make you
a pair of high boots while I’m at it.” His tone was calm, soothing, as if he
wanted to ease any fears she might have that he was angry about her running off
on him.

Her eyes slid down his long, muscular legs to the fringed
leather ankle boots he wore, and she blinked. “You made those?”

“Not many shoe stores out here, and I only get into town
about twice a year now. My mother used to make them for my sister and me. I
just finished curing a bullhide for soles, and it won’t take long.” He bent to
reach under the sink cabinet and brought out a wooden crate overflowing with
bits and pieces of leather and fur. “Go and take your bath. I don’t have any
towels, so just let the sun dry you. I won’t watch.”

He removed the plates from the table and put down the box.
Then he turned and walked out the open door, coming back about two minutes
later with a bigger piece of thick leather that looked heavy and stiff. Getting
up with the blanket clutched around her, she hobbled over to the open suitcase
that lay on the floor at the foot of the bed and rummaged in it for clean
clothes.

She grabbed a bathrobe and tugged it on inside the blanket
before dropping the scratchy old thing on the bed. She limped just slightly
because her feet were still sore, but she wasn’t in terrible pain as she’d
figured she would be. She lifted one foot and gingerly rubbed the red skin, amazed
that the blisters were almost gone. She started for the door but he caught her
elbow, then crouched down and lifted one foot to examine it.

She clutched the bathrobe around her thighs, not wanting to
flash him. He grunted softly as he moved his fingers over her foot, then he set
a piece of leather on the floor and gently pressed her foot onto it. “Put
weight on it.”

Realizing that he was measuring her foot for the moccasins
he planned to make, she obeyed, leaning over to watch as he quickly traced her
foot with a bit of an old pencil. He repeated the process with her other foot,
then sat back on his heels, his hands lingering on her ankles. “Your feet will
heal quickly but it will be painful to walk very far for a day or two. Use the
salve I put out by the tub. Wear your socks until I can get these finished.”
His eyes darkened as he traced his hand up her calf to the hem of her thin
robe, and she felt a tremor of awareness run along her nerves. “Go and bathe
before I decide to take you right here on the floor and forget that you don’t
want me to fuck you.”

His hand dropped, and she whirled to head for the open door,
clutching her clothes to her chest with shaky hands.

A flush of heat filled her cheeks as she almost ran down the
steps to the sun-warmed dirt that felt oddly comforting on her sore feet. Gah!
He certainly had a one-track mind.

As if
you
don’t, right?

He had quite considerately set a narrow sawhorse-type bench
beside the tub, and she saw that there was a bar of soap and a threadbare
washcloth, and he had also left a small jar of the salve he had used on her
feet the night before while she’d been zonked out. Wondering how she was going
to get in and out of the tub without dragging dirt with her, she glanced around
and realized that there was a flat rock like shale set beside the tub, and she
brushed off her feet, dropped her robe over the bench and stepped into the old
tub, thrilled to find that the water was tepid rather than as cold as ice. The
sun seemed to shimmer off the surface as she sank into the water, which only
came up to the top her hips. She realized that more water would be a terrible
waste, and accepted that she would be highly visible to him if she didn’t get
her butt in gear and get out shortly.

Feeling exposed and a bit embarrassed, she ignored her
feelings and grabbed the washcloth and the well-used bar of soap and scrubbed
every inch she could reach as she sat in the tub, before she bent forward and
dipped her head into the water. Using the bar of soap, she lathered her hands
and scrubbed her hair as best she could, knowing that there would be no way to
rinse all the soap out even if she wasted a couple bottles of the water that
he’d stashed under the sink. But at least she would feel cleaner.

Glancing self-consciously toward the open door, she rose to
her knees in the tub and washed her bottom thoroughly before reaching for the
pump handle so that she could rinse her hair.

“It’ll be ice cold—this will be better.” She gasped at the
sound of his voice, reaching to cover her pussy with one hand as she
automatically covered her breasts with the other arm. It was stupid, because
he’d seen every inch of her by now, but it was habit.

Looking up at him as he stood beside the tub, she noticed
that he was holding the big water bucket that usually hung under the eaves of
the porch. “Close your eyes and lean your head back.”

Grudgingly obeying, she let go of the last shred of her
modesty, and a moment later, tepid water flowed over her head and down her
soapy body, rinsing her clean. She ran her fingers through her hair to get as
much soap out as possible, and was surprised when he lifted a second bucket and
continued to rinse her off. Grateful that he considered her comfort as
important as the precious water, she wrung her hair out and rose from her
knees, facing him as he lowered the second bucket to the ground. Watching those
dark eyes following the drops of water down her shoulders to her breasts and
lower, she shivered and fought to keep her hands at her sides. There was no
reason to be afraid of him. No reason at all to hide her body from him.