Myth-behavin'

Chapter One

He was a creature of myth, of legend. One that moved through dreams and nightmares to lay his touch on the minds of women as they slept. With his touch, he could bind them to him, heart and soul…even their bodies, if he truly wished. Until they lived and breathed just for him.

Until they could die for want of him.

But once—he’d been a man.

Azar hovered at the fringes of the woman’s mind as she slept, feeling something inside his black heart clench painfully.

He loved watching her—had been watching her for years, in human terms. It seemed like only seconds since he’d first seen her though. Yet, at the same time, it felt like he had been watching her, yearning for her, for centuries.

She reminded him of someone. Someone he’d loved…and lost.

Lost to another like himself. Back before he’d become…this.

Her features were gamine, almost elfin, her wide mouth parting on a soft sigh as she dreamed. He wanted to touch her, to lay his hands on her and join her in those dreams, touch her, fuck her,love her.

It had been eons since he’d made love.

Eons since he’d found a woman he truly wanted tolove , not just fuck. Somebody who had touched more than just his libido—and made him yearn for what he used to be.

Made him remember love.

Love. It wasn’t something he should be able to remember, much less want.

But then, Azar had never been a good demon.

And that was the crux of his problem.

Most demons relished their purpose, lived to cause pain and chaos. While Azar might crave the dark desires that came with being demon, he didn’twant them. He didn’t like them—over the past few centuries he had found himself growing more and more bored with even those things he had craved since he’d become what he was.

His ears detected the sudden change in her breathing pattern, the way her heart suddenly started to slam against her chest. Something in her dream had changed. Just as her eyes flew open and she jerked upright in bed, he faded, retreating to the demon realm below.

And brooding.

~~~~~

It was dark—she couldn’t see anything around her, but she could feel. His hands on her were both familiar and unknown and the way her skin came alive under his touch was unlike anything she had ever known.

His mouth covered hers and she moaned as he plunged his tongue inside, angling her neck back as he kissed her deeply.

She knew his taste—it was like she had been yearning for him for centuries. His thigh wedged between hers, parting her legs and she whimpered as the muscled length pressed against her mound.

The heat of his skin seemed to scald her, both painful and sweet at the same time. His mouth closed around one nipple, his teeth scoring the flesh lightly while his fingers trailed over her side, her hip, then cupped her sex. When two thick fingers sank inside her pussy, she cried out, climaxing just under that single touch.

“Sweet…” he purred against her flesh.

She moaned as he started to kiss his way down her torso and when he spread her thighs wider, lying between them, she felt her entire body tense with anticipation. His mouth covered her, and he opened her folds with his fingers. When he pushed his tongue inside her, Kerrigan fisted her hands in the sheet beneath her. Just when she could feel the gathering tension in her belly, the climax hovering just out of her reach, he shifted and focused on her clit, closing his teeth around the tight bud of flesh and sucking on it lightly.

Kerrigan buried her hands in his hair and arched up against him, screaming out when he moved yet again, leaving her throbbing, aching for his touch.

Her scream turned to a hungry moan as he covered her body with his, wedging his hips between her thighs and cupping her butt cheeks in his hands. With a growl that left her shivering, he pushed inside, burying his cock within her.

Reaching up, she closed her arms around him—but the second her hands touched his flesh, he changed into a living pillar of flame that burned and burned. Kerrigan screamed as the fire started to scorch her flesh.

And then…

~~~~~

Kerrigan Brody sat awake in her bed, her entire body trembling, her nipples stabbing into the fine cotton of the chemise she had worn to bed, her belly a hot ball of want, while her mind was blank with fear.

Dreaming again.

Ofhim . A man that she had never met, from a time long before she was born.

The dreams had tormented her most of her life—rising out of her subconscious when she least expected it. The night before prom—the image of his eyes even after she woke had lingered with her, and the echo of his voice had murmured to her,Wait for me …

She’d had big plans for that night, involving a hotel and her boyfriend Trey. Plans that had gone up in smoke as visions of a man with long black hair and grass green eyes haunted her. Trey had taken her home before midnight, and left with barely a word. There had been pain in his soft gray eyes, not just disappointment, but hurt. She had loved him—or so she had thought. And he had loved her, until she had started pushing him away in exchange for dreaming of a man who didn’t exist. Trey had broken up with her three weeks later.

Two days before her wedding. She’d awoken at three a.m., still feeling the faint ghost of his touch on her flesh as he’d pulled her against him and murmured,You’re mine …mine and no other’s.

She’d called off the wedding—and a month later, she had moved, leaving behind the familiar city of Chicago, to move to a small town in West Virginia, buried in the foothills of the Appalachians. The teaching job she’d accepted was at a much lower pay than what she’d made in Chicago, but the kids were…different. More like kids, than the miniature grownups she’d worked with at the inner-city schools of Chicago for the last five years.

So now, she had settled into small-town life in the old mountain city of Marlinton, teaching the small group of first graders, and up until now, she had felt content.

At peace. No haunting dreams, no painful unexplained yearnings. The dreams had haunted her for so long that she barely remembered a time when she hadn’t had them.

And now, they were coming again. But they had turned violent, often ending the way this one had. But sometimes—sometimes they were worse. Sometimes her dream lover turned into a monster while he was inside her.

Sometimes, she was trapped behind some boundary that kept her from reaching out, from touching, but not from seeing. And she could see it all—see as he fucked woman after woman, never once looking her way.

Those dreams were going to drive her insane.

The echo of a voice murmuring to her left her shivering in her bed. Even though it was early May, this high in the mountains, nights were still cool. Rising from the bed, she pulled the quilt around her shoulders and padded out of her room, her bare feet silent on the chilly wooden floors.

Half dazed, still more asleep than awake, she drifted through the house, finally curling up on the couch, thumbing the remote and staring blankly at the television.

Pictures of misty mountains and rolling fields of green bloomed on the screen. Mesmerized, she stared at the screen as the haunting sound of harp song filled the air.

Ireland…experience the majesty…experience the magic.

The human voice, rich with an Irish accent, startled her. Blinking, she reached up, rubbing her eyes, trying to wake up. So familiar.

Her heart ached as another image rolled onto the screen—a tumbled ruin—then faded away to be replaced by towering cliffs and the sound of waves crashing onto rocks.

Tromhad…

The word was foreign—she shouldn’t have been able to understand. She spoke Spanish fluently, but this… This was unlike any language she had ever heard.

But sheknew what it meant.

Come to me…

Reaching up, she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I’m going crazy,” she mumbled.Turn off the TV. Go to bed ,she told herself.

The strains of the harp called to her, though, and she didn’t turn off the TV. Instead, she found herself staring at it, mesmerized. The intrusion of the narrator’s voice as he invited the watchers to come experience Ireland for themselves irritated her. She wished he’d just shut up, even though his voice was low and pleasant.

All she wanted to do was stare at those misty mountains and green valleys as fog rolled through them. It reminded her, very distantly, of the land here in West Virginia. The land here had called to her. When she’d decided to move, she’d spent days poring over the internet, looking for some place that would feel like home.

She never found one, but something in West Virginia had called to her, had felt…almost familiar.

The sense of home she had been looking for, she felt now. Staring at a foreign country, a place she’d never seen, never thought much about. Her heart ached with longing as she stared, mesmerized, at the screen.

When the credits for the travel show finally rolled onto the screen, a sense of pain sliced through her.

And in the silence of the house, a voice murmured,Tromhad. Tair dachaidh …

* * * * *

She was sad, his pretty little pixie.

Watching her as she slept, he stared at her as she sighed desolately, the sound so full of pain and heartbreak, it made him hurt.

What bothers you so?

He didn’t speak to her. Didn’t try to travel across the fragile barrier that kept her dreams from him. He could—he could slide inside her dreams, touch his mind to hers, touch her body, whisper to her of how he longed for her.

And he could take her, worship that sweet body as he so wished to, until she screamed for him and cried out his name, and begged him to keep her with him for always.

She’d die for him—become a shade that he could keep with him forever, her mortal coil wasting away until she simply stopped breathing. Her body would die, but her soul would linger on. And on…and on, for as long as he wished her to. He could wrap her essence around him and hold her close to him from now until the world stopped spinning.

But he didn’t want that.

Oh, he wantedher —but he didn’t want her the way he had wanted other women. He wanted her the way he hadn’t wanted anyone else—not since he was a man, married to his sweet Caoilinn.

So instead, he just stared at her and yearned.

There was no logical reason why he didn’t go to her, fulfill that yearning. Except, if he did, once he touched her, the insidious magic that filled him would leave a mark on her. She’d weep for him, long for him—pine away.

All he had to do was wake her, and use the power of his gaze to make her call to him, make her reach for him. Once she reached for him, once she whispered of her longings, he could cross the dream barrier, completely, freely, and take her.

And at the same time—kill her.

He didn’t want that.

Damn it all straight to hell and back, but he didn’t want her dead. Didn’t want to see her become nothing more than a whisper of a woman—didn’t want to think of that warm, soft body turning cold in death.

Turning away from her, he drifted through the house, his form insubstantial. He could smell her, a soft, sweet female scent. Closing his eyes, he reveled in that scent, feeling the needs in his soul grow, a dark hunger ripping through him.

Go to her. The sly little voice rose up to taunt him as his need increased.Take her…mark her, make her yours.

The need to do just that was heavy on him—with a snarl, he shoved away the taunting, dark voices that had haunted him since his very first moments as an incubus.No .

He chose who he took. Some of his brethren couldn’t control their urges, their needs. Azar had always held his desires under a tight rein, choosing when and where he’d give in to them.

Perhaps it was because part of him still remembered what it was like to be human. The weakest touch of his humanity still lingered within his soul and he had more…sympathy, he supposed, for the mortals whom he was supposed to feed upon.

He chose with care—taking none who didn’t truly yearn for the oblivion he could bring.

He looked for those who were already dying just a little inside.

And while Kerrigan hurt in her heart, she wasn’t so desperately lonely that she yearned for death.

So he wouldn’t take her.

Turning away from the hall that would lead him back to her side, back to temptation, he paced restlessly in the small room. Things had changed so much. He once lived in a small home that he’d built with his own hands—it hadn’t been any larger than this one room. They’d been so happy…for a time.

The low table on the floor was covered with papers and pictures and books. He had loved stories when he had been human. Although he hadn’t been able to read, he’d love to listen to them, to tell them. Now stories were told from pages of written words and almost everybody could read. They could also watch stories as they played on small boxes with screens that would come to life with the press of a button.

His lady—yes, he thought of her as his, she had one of the story boxes.Television…it’s called television . Though he didn’t dwell within this world, the many times he’d touched his mind to another had gleaned him some knowledge of it. Too much knowledge, enough that it all jumbled together inside his head at times.

Curiosity burned inside him for a moment as he studied the television. He wondered what the flickering images would look like…how real could they possibly be?

Perhaps he could look, he mused, cocking his head and staring thoughtfully at the story box. Before he could act on his interest though, something else caught his eye.

Green…

Inexplicably, just the sight of that color made his heart tighten inside his chest. Moving closer, he knelt in front of the table, reaching out and moving aside one of the papers that covered most of that extraordinary green. As he touched the papers, his hand solidified, just long enough to let him move them and as his hand fell away, it turned back to the misty form that made up his body in this plane.

Home.

It wasn’t a thought that moved through his head, more it was just a feeling. He was staring at images of his home, the misty green lands where he’d been born all those centuries ago. The home he’d given up in exchange for vengeance upon the demon who had stolen away his woman.

Carefully, he touched the pads of his fingers to the glossy green picture, stroking it absently. The paper shifted, and he realized it wasn’t just a picture, but a book of some sort. Slowly, he turned one page. His entire body tensed with yearning as he found himself staring at the cliffs. The ocean crashed into them hundreds of feet below, so impossibly blue.

Home.

This had been his home. He and Caoilinn had lived on those cliffs, and he had hunted and farmed and roamed the land around them. Until—

Before the rest of that thought could form, a curtain fell closed in his mind.

He didn’t remember those last days. Not anymore. At first, they’d been bright and shining in his memory, taunting him, mocking him. But time passed, and the memories didn’t just fade—they disappeared. And now, even if he wanted to relive them, he could not.

Staring at the cliffs for a long moment, he found himself aching inside. A very real, very physical ache that encompassed his entire soul, black as it was. And then, he flexed his mind and within a second, he was gone, away from this house that reminded him of things he wanted. Back in the dark world of the demons, back in his own lair.

Alone.

* * * * *

Staring out the window of the airplane, Kerrigan waited for her first glimpse of Ireland. It had been three weeks since she had woken from a dream and lost herself in images of this impossibly green land. Three weeks that she had been haunted by dreams, even while awake, of her dream lover whispering to her,Come to me .Come home .

Finally, they broke through the thin layer of clouds and Kerrigan felt her heart stop in her throat at her first view of the land.

It was just as green as she’d imagined—so many varying shades of green. The sun shone down from above, peeking through the clouds and hitting the River Shannon below so that the water gleamed as bright as a diamond.

“Goin’ home, are ya?”

Kerrigan glanced over at the airline attendant, arching a brow at her. “Pardon?”

“Ah…you’re American. I’m sorry—it’s just the look I see on your face. The same look I’m told I have on my own when I’ve been away too long. Is this your first trip to Ireland?”

Kerrigan nodded, a slight smile on her face. “It looks so green.”

The attendant smiled, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. “It’s a lovely land—I’ve never seen its match, and I’ve traveled all over.”

“Is it hard to leave?” Kerrigan murmured, looking back out the window.

“Sometimes. But it’s worth it—just to come back home.” Flashing Kerrigan one last smile, she said, “I hope the land lives up to your expectation, miss. It’s truly a magical place.”

Those words echoed in Kerrigan’s head as she disembarked, while she moved through the small airport, listening to the music of the voices all around her.

It took nearly two hours to get her baggage and find the small pick-up area where she could catch a shuttle to get her rental car. By that time, she was exhausted and hungry, anxious to get out on the road and discoverwhat it was that called to her so strongly.

She hit the road, and for the first ten miles, Kerrigan cringed every time she passed one of the roundabouts, Ireland’s clever little version of an intersection. Once into it, she was paranoid she’d end up coming off the roundabout on the wrong side of the road.

But she made it out of Shannon without mishap, heading north, following the little beacon inside her gut that whispered to her.

Stupid. It was stupid to set foot in a foreign country without so much as planning her first night’s lodging. But she’d done that…and more. Not even setting a date for the return flight home.

Stupid.Stupid…but I had to…

Going home wasn’t something Kerrigan could do until she quieted the voice that murmured to her.

Until she found out whatever it was that was calling to her.

Chapter Two

Azar stayed away from her—for a whole bloody week.

But as the yearning in his soul grew stronger, he knew he’d break down and go see her again.

But when he finally crossed the barrier of dreams that separated his realm from the mortal world, she wasn’t there.

The house was totally silent, and dark. The only light blazing was the small one at the front door. Pacing through the house, he muttered, “Where are you?”

It was late—very late. If she was just out for the night…a snarl crossed his face. Out…with a lover? Some mortal man she let touch her sweet body?

Whirling around, he stared at the door, willing her to walk through it, even though if she did so at that very second, she’d see him. Just the misty form he usually traveled in while in the mortal realm, but still…she’d see.

At the moment, he didn’tcare . Hell, that was wrong. He did care. He wanted her to see him, wanted her to know he watched her, wanted her… And he’d be damned if he let some mortal touch her.

Mine. The word reverberated through his soul, strong and powerful and undeniable. He wanted her. Wanted her with a passion that all but blinded him to thought and reason.

“Where are you?” Azar demanded again, his voice louder, echoing through the silence of the house.

But there was no answer. Not that he’d expected one.

Narrowing his eyes, he murmured, “I’ll just find you myself.”

She couldn’t hide from him, not from an incubus that had watched her for as long as he had. He reached out and touched the dreaming minds of women throughout the world, and each one was unique. The feel of his little pixie’s mind affected him like none other he had ever touched. Even though he had never merged his thoughts with her, he’d known when he had found her. His mind had meshed with hers as though they were created from the same cloth, his mate. His mate…

Yearning filled him, flooding him to the very root of his soul.

Keeping his touch light, he reveled in the emotions he felt coming from her.

Full of longing, of need, of desire long unsatisfied.

Keeping his mind focused on hers, he drifted into the dream barrier, and traveled through it until he was with her once more.

But when he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the very last place he’d been expecting.

He was home…

* * * * *

The dreams were stronger here.

Whatever she had been expecting to find, hoping to find, it just wasn’t here. Part of her had hoped for peace—or something. But that hadn’t happened. The dreams came more often, more vividly, often lingering with her throughout the day.

Tossing on the bed, Kerrigan sobbed in her sleep as she struggled to find her lover…her husband. But he wasn’t there. Gone. Not there to comfort her in the night—and then he was…laying his hands on her body, touching her, loving her so sweetly. But then his hands hardened, turned cruel and demanding on her body and still she craved more.

But when she tried to look up into his face—it changed. From human…to not.

As she opened her mouth to scream, the thing atop her body started to laugh, and laugh…and laugh…

Kerrigan jerked awake with a start, sucking air into starving lungs. The dream loomed vividly in her mind and she pressed her hands against her eyes, trying to block out the images.

That thing—a monster, for certain. Not an ugly one, but a creature almost frightening in its beauty. Skin the color of soot, and eyes that were lidless and pure white—hair as red as flame that flowed around shoulders too wide, too massive to belong to a human.

Evil exuded from the thing, so real and so thick, it all but choked the air around them.

And it laughed as she screamed.

“Too real,” she muttered, shaking her head, fisting one hand in her hair and jerking on the short strands in an effort to clear the dream from her head. “Too real.”

Too disturbing. Like it had been more than a dream…memory.

The voice murmured inside her head and she surged up out of the bed, pacing the room. No.Not memory. That hadn’t happened. It hadn’t. Not to her. Not to anybody. That thing, whatever it had been, hadn’t been human. And if it wasn’t human, then it wasn’t real.

Stalking into the small bathroom, she closed the door, never once seeing the misty white form that hovered in the corner of her room.

* * * * *

He could feel her turmoil. Knew that it was somehow connected to the dream she’d been having as he slid along the paths between worlds to find her. But he didn’t know why she was so upset.

And right now, he was a little too dazed to try to find out why.

Staring out the window, he could see the pale silver light of the moon shining down on the ocean that was just yards away from the little house.

Home…

He hadn’t come here. Not once in the seven centuries since his mortal body had been consumed by the fires of his rage and he’d become an incubus.

With barely a thought, he slid from the house to the rocky beach, listening to the waves as they crashed onto the sand, smelling the scents of the ocean and wood smoke on the air—the scents of home.

It would have changed.

Logically, Azar knew that. But two thousand millennia could pass, and this place would still have that special thing that made ithome .

Slowly, he turned, wondering what he’d find behind him. A sprawling city like that land across the ocean? A place that never slept, even at night?

But all he saw was the house—much larger than it would have been when he was alive, but still…just one house. A smaller building to the side and when he focused, he could sense the life that buzzed within. Horses, he mused. Somehow, the thought of horses, such a simple thing, soothed some of the turmoil within his being.

Horses…sheep…the green of the fields, and the surf as it crashed into the cliffs below. This was still home, little did it matter that centuries had passed since he had walked this land.

Centuries, change, neither mattered.

But one thing, one thing that was different about Ireland did matter.

Shewas here. And he couldn’t fathom why.

Lifting his gaze, he focused on the window, watching as she moved to stand in front of it, the light from her back casting her into shadow. She wouldn’t be able to really see him, not as far away as he was. If she did, it would look like little more than a wisp of fog.

“What are you doing here, lady? Why did you come?”

* * * * *

A chill raced down her spine as she stood at the window, staring out into the darkness. The moon gilded everything with a faint sheen of silver and all was still.

But she’d heard something.

Not in the house, not from outside, but from within—insideher head.

More a questioning touch than anything, like somebody was studying.Why are you here? seemed to be the thought, but she heard no actual words.

“Kerrigan, you’re going crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head and turning away from the window.

But she spun back around, leaned forward, pressed her hand against the glass.There… But it was gone now.

No. Notit . He. He was gone now.

There had been a man standing there, and for the briefest moment, she had seen him. Tall, powerfully built with wide shoulders and lean, narrow hips, long muscled legs, a shirt of some kind that laced up over a powerful chest, and pants that looked like they’d been sewn together along the outer curve of his legs.

Hehad been standing there. And she’d seen him before.

In her dreams—the dreams that had led her here.

Turning away from the window once more, she fisted her hands in the short, choppy curls at her temples, pressing her knuckles into her skull. Pain threatened, but it did nothing to chase those thoughts out of her head. Nothing to clear the image of the man she knew she had seen.

* * * * *

“Tell me now, Kerrigan, how did ya sleep? Was the room to your likin’?” Mrs. Mary Callahan asked, smiling down at the American as she served her breakfast—rashers of bacon, mounds of fluffy scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, freshly baked bread.

Kerrigan surveyed the spread of food in front of her with a rueful smile. She’d told herself the first time she’d had an Irish breakfast that she couldn’t possibly eat it.

But she’d been wrong.

Turning her smile toward her hostess, she said quietly, “The room was lovely.”

Mary beamed proudly. “And ya slept well?”

Kerrigan shrugged, turning her attention to breakfast, as she tried to avoid the question. But the owner of the little B&B located just south of the cliffs of Moher was persistent if nothing else. “Thought I heard somebody movin’ ‘round a bit late last night. Trouble sleepin’ in a strange bed?”

Kerrigan scooped up a bite of egg and popped it in her mouth before she answered.Damn, but the lady can cook. Even if she is nosy, and not terribly subtle about it , Kerrigan thought with a wry smile before she shrugged and replied, “I slept okay for a little while. Something woke me up. Bad dream. Took a while for me to want to sleep again. I-I was looking out the window.” Her eyes dropped and she silently cursed herself.Damn it, shut up, Kerrigan. People are going to think you’re crazy .

“Aye, but it was a lovely full moon last night, wasn’t it?” Mary mused, her faded blue eyes growing thoughtful, a small smile on her lips.

Kerrigan hadn’t noticed the full moon at all. Just the faint silvery light it cast on the ground. All she had noticed was the man…a man she couldn’t have seen. She had turned away for barely a second—if she hadseen somebody, he wouldn’t have been able to move that fast.

“I must have been more tired than I thought. Or maybe the dream spooked me a little. But I thought I saw somebody out there—a man.”

Mary cocked a graying brow at Kerrigan, her lips pursing. “A man, eh? Well, now. You’re the only guest I have…’til tonight that is. A young couple on their honeymoon. And me husband—he died two years ago. Our boys, bless them, wanted something more than this small town. One moved to Dublin and the other, well, shocked me to my soul, but he moved toLondon . Working in a pub—honest enough work—but why couldn’t he work at a pub here in Ireland? We’ve fine pubs hereabouts.”

Kerrigan suppressed a smile and just shook her head. Soberly, she said, “People get the oddest notions in their heads.”

Mary nodded, a decisive nod, her ever-smiling mouth for once serious. “They do, at that. Now…a man, you say you saw. I don’t rightly know who that could have been. Not as late I heard ya movin’ last night.” A faraway look entered her eyes. “Don’t suppose it could behim .”

Kerrigan, in the midst of taking a sip of tea, paused, then slowly lowered her cup. “Him, who?” she asked warily. Something about the way her hostess’s manner had changed, how she had stilled, how even the sparkle in her eyes seemed to lessen made Kerrigan’s gut clench.

“Don’t rightly know exactly. The spirit of the cliffs—some call him Finn. Lived a long time ago, why, ‘round the time Saint Patrick came to Ireland. Though nobody knows precisely. He lived here, he did. They say in a small cottage that he built with his own hands, just beyond the tree line there. You can see signs of something that was there, but it’s long fallen to ruins. He was a warrior, I’ve heard. Fought, but not men. Fought things that were…dark. Monsters. Soulless creatures. Had a young bride, but he left her alone too long, and one of the monsters came to her, fooled her with a dark, evil magic into believing he was her own dear husband. He…he took her, you see. Did all sorts of things to her—made her love him. Made her want him. And then her husband came home—Finn saw his bride in bed with a monster. He knew what the thing was, you see. He had the sight, a way of seeing demons, and he knew even with the thing’s magic, what it was. Legend says his wife killed herself, and in his fury, Finn’s soul split from his body, and he became one of the dark things himself, a creature of fury and spite and rage. He killed the thing that had touched his wife, but he himself, part of him died, as well. The human part. But legend says he will come back…when he finds her again.”

Kerrigan sat spellbound, lost in the tale, and even when Mary had finished speaking, she continued to sit there, silent, staring straight ahead, while in her mind’s eyes, she saw them. Finn and his bride, who was young and lovely, but full of pain and self-loathing when she realized what she had done.

Suddenly Mary laughed, shaking her head. “My, what a fanciful thought that is, a man pining for six or seven centuries for a woman who didn’t love him enough to live—to forgive herself.”

Slowly, Kerrigan blinked and then she cocked her head, staring at Mary. “She must have hated herself, if that’s how it truly happened. If she loved her husband, she’d feel so guilty—like she should have known who was her man and who wasn’t.”

Mary shrugged negligently. “But if she loved him, truly loved him, she would have given him the chance to forgive her. For her to forgive herself, and not just blindly ended it. His rage was the greatest over losing her, you see. And with her gone, he had nothing left to bind him here.”

“What happened to him? You say he became a monster…what do you mean?”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t rightly know, lass. This is just legend—something a young man will tell his lady on a cold rainy night. Whether it happened or no, I don’t know. But…but they say he became a demon. He fought demons, killed them. That was his calling. And then he became one of them. Like the one that had taken his wife and made her crave the dark touch. Some folks say he became just a shade, a ghost of his former self. But most people say he became an incubus—a demon that thrives on the touch of human flesh, that craves a woman’s touch, and feeds from her as he has his way with her.”

* * * * *

Kerrigan wandered through the gift shop, chilled from walking so long on the cliffs.

She’d wandered along the paths for hours, but finally, as the sun slid behind some clouds, she’d grown too cold to stay outside in the wind. Now she just wandered aimlessly, looking at displays of thick, hand-knitted sweaters, and stands of CDs boasting both traditional and more eclectic music.

A rack of books caught her attention and she paused, reaching out to pick up the one she’d glimpsed from the corner of her eye.

Ancient Stories of Ireland: Tales of Myth, Magic and Wonder.

There was a vague rendering of a man on it, one who stood facing away, staring into a stand of trees. And right below it, in tiny print,The Spirit of the Cliffs . Without even opening the book, she carried it to the cashier and bought it, her fingers caressing the line of his back.

As soon as she was back in her room, she opened it and began to read. It was a more detailed version of the story Mary had told her, talking about the powerful warrior, again called Finn, who had traveled this part of Ireland in the late fourteenth century, fighting monsters, ghouls and dispensing with the occasional lost spirit.

According to the book, Finn had left his home one day and was gone for some time. It wasn’t unusual for him to have to leave and his wife carried on as she always had. At this point the details became sketchy, just saying that she missed him and awaited his return. When a man came to her home late one night, she had greeted him with open arms and love, never aware that he wasn’t her beloved husband.

He wasn’t there when she woke, but that wasn’t anything to concern her. After being gone for weeks, he usually spent a day or two hunting. He had come to her again after sunset.

But the next morning, a friend came visiting and commented on how pale she seemed, and asked if she had heard from Finn? She related that he had come back just a few nights ago, and he was out hunting at that very moment.

So weak, she looked. But she just laughed and commented on how Finn had kept her awake most of the night. And then she fell silent, thinking on her husband and yearning for his return. Yearning to the point that she didn’t eat a single bite that day. When he came to her that night, she clung to him almost desperately and when morning started to whisper at the horizon, she begged him not to leave her that day.

But he did.

And she never moved from the bed as she waited for his return that night. She never thought twice about how she’d begged for his touch in the night, although the book documented unusual marks on her body as mentioned by the unnamed, visiting friend. Marks at her wrists, on her arms.

Kerrigan felt drugged as she read the book, so lost in the story. She could see this woman in her mind, small of stature, pale, with red hair that fell to her waist, and bright blue eyes. She could see bruising at the woman’s wrists, and in her gut, she knew there was bruising on the woman’s thighs and ankles as well.

That night—the fourth night since he had come home—when he came to her, she barely had the energy to reach up to him. He loved her as he had since he had first returned, harsh and hungry. Kerrigan’s breathing kicked up and she could feel a hunger in her belly, something that shamed and thrilled her at the same time.

As Kerrigan read on, her body started to ache, her heart racing faster, her breathing hitching in her chest. Her sex felt hot, wet, and she ached inside, yearning for the touch the woman in the book received, a touch Kerrigan craved almost unto death.

Kerrigan could understand why this woman, so long gone, had fallen into such a state when her lover left her.

That night, though, the woman discovered the man she had been giving herself to wasn’t her husband.

Finn came home, late, as he often did, but he came inside his house to find his wife under another man. The book quoted that Finn saw beyond the demon’s illusion and saw the black-skinned creature that used his wife. His fury exploded through him and he drew the sword his father had given him, and smote the demon as it rolled away from his wife’s body. She came out of her daze in time to watch her husband skewer the demon and as the creature fell to its knees, Finn swung the blade and separated the head from the body.

Screams took her and she leaped up from the bed, running naked into the night, running, running—with Finn behind her. But fear and horror gave her wings, and she reached the cliffs before he caught up with her. He almost caught her, his fingers grazing the long ends of her hair, but she slipped away and flung herself from the cliffs, and he screamed out his denial as she fell to the rocky shore below.

Rage took him.

That was how the book described it. Rage took him, and his soul and body split, his body falling dead to the ground while his soul became a thing of fury, and in his rage, he opened his being up to the creatures that he had once preyed upon.

Little else was said about him and the tale ended with,And so still he lives, in the land of the demonic, surviving on the life and will of women, while he searches for the woman lost to him .

A shiver raced down her spine as she closed the book.

While he searches for the woman lost to him.That line evoked loneliness within her, yearning, and she sniffled. Startled, she realized she had been crying. Her face flushed as she reached up and wiped away the tears.

“Geez, Kerrigan,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Crying over something that probably didn’t even happen.”

Most legends and myths were little more than story—she knew that.

But in her gut, she couldn’t dispel a feeling that this was more than a story, more than myth. That it had truly happened.

Chapter Three

In his lair deep within the realm of demons, Azar brooded, staring at nothing as he tried to shake off the powerful emotions he had developed for this mortal. She occupied his every thought—and he was tired of it, he needed to focus on something other thanher .

But the past weeks—months—she had haunted him.

Why had she gone there?

There…So close to where he had once lived?

He didn’t want to think of that place. Of what had happened there. What he had lost. What he had become.

His memories of his final days as a mortal were vague, and the last memories of his love, his sweet Caoilinn were gone. Like staring into a black pit, any time he tried to remember, there was nothing there for him to see.

A cool wind blew through the chamber, bringing with it a faint scent that he recognized well. Closing his eyes, he briefly entertained the notion of leaving. Corsivo was the last person he wanted to speak with.

It was so much harder to ignore this quiet, ancient demon.

“If you’re going to leave, you’d best do it now.”

Opening his eyes, he stared into the opaque white eyes of the ancient incubus that had roamed the demon realm for millennia. “If I’d decided I wanted to, I would have already done so,” he said levelly.

Corsivo smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “So my task of bearding the lion is his den may actually work?”

Arching a brow at him, Azar shrugged. “Depends on what it is about.”

“I imagine you know already. Our realm thrives on the energy the demons bring into it.You thrive on it. And you haven’t fed in months. You’re weakening—and you don’t even see it.”

Azar just shrugged. “I have no interest in feeding,” he said, his tone bored.

“Hmmm. Is that so?” Corsivo studied Azar with shrewd eyes. “Somebody occupies your thoughts. I feel her very essence surrounding you—but you haven’t taken her.”

Azar rose, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Corsivo. “She isnone of your concern.”

Corsivo laughed. “She doesn’t interest me. You do. Why haven’t you taken her, if she is so heavy on your mind?”

Turning away, Azar just shook his head as he murmured, “I can’t explain it. I do not wish to see her fade away—I do not want her shade haunting me. I just… I want…” his voice trailed away and he was once more left staring at nothing as he tried to figure out exactly what it was he wanted.

“You are no longer human, Azar.”

A cold, bitter laugh escaped him and Azar cast Corsivo a dark look. “I needn’t be reminded of that. I know what I am…what I am not.”

“Then you know what you must do. Take her, purge yourself of her. And get on with what it is you were meant to do.”

Azar, wearily, dropped to the ground, hunkering on his heels as he brought her image to his mind. “Meant to do?” he queried softly. His long hair fell around his shoulders as he shook his head. “If this was what I was meant to do--I believe I’d find more pleasure in it.”

“And don’t you get pleasure from it?”

Azar scoffed. “My body takes pleasure in it. My soul aches for it. But part of me…part of me hates it. Part of me regrets what I lost. And that part is growing bigger with every passing moment.”

Corsivo fell silent and after a moment, Azar turned his head to stare at the one creature in this realm he considered a friend. The demon sighed and his pale face, his skin nearly the color of snow, went blank and unreadable. In a quiet voice, Corsivo said, “Do what it is you were meant to do—be who you were meant to be.”

He turned, then, and walked away from Azar. But right before he reached the door, he paused and without looking back, he said, “Sometimes we become something other than what we were meant to be, Azar. We walk the wrong road—but just because you chose the wrong road doesn’t mean you are condemned to walk it for always.”

* * * * *

Time passed.

Azar rarely kept track of things such as days or weeks anymore, but he supposed he had stayed away from her for close to a week. Surely that was long enough for her to return home—this was just one of those little trips mortals liked to take these days.

It had to be.

Watching her in his homeland was just too painful.

But so was staying away from her.

When he went to her again, following the magic that was her, she wasn’t where he wanted to find her. As he slid into her room like a wisp of wind, he found himself in the same room where he’d found her before.

In Ireland.

That was what his home was called now, had been for some time. Although they had called itEire a long time ago—it hadn’t been anything but home. Itstill felt like home.

Even more so with her there.

The window was open, a cool wind blowing through it, carrying the scents of the sea and faintly, he thought, he smelled the smoke of a turf fire.

Pain ripped through him as he breathed in those long-forgotten scents. And hunger raged inside him as he turned his eyes to the woman lying in the bed.

Kerrigan. That was her name. Although he kept from merging his mind with hers—a deep merging, the kind that would let him waken her, make her call out to him, summon him, bind herself to him—he had looked. A little bit—he hadn’t been able to resist finding out that one bit of information. Kerrigan…

She lay sprawled on her back, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow as she battled whatever it was that her dreams threw at her. Not pleasant dreams those—he could tell simply by the way the air hung around her, so tense, full of fear and anguish.

The urge to shift into his corporeal form and slide into that bed was maddening. To waken her and have her reach for him, so he could truly cross into this realm for a time. Long enough to lose himself in the sweet heaven of her body.

To touch her, kiss away whatever evil dreams plagued her thoughts. But his touch was an addictive poison—he wouldn’t condemn this woman to waste away, pining and yearning for a dream lover.

Turning away, he started to focus and will himself away from her, but then—he heard the faintest whisper from her lips.

He froze.

It came again.

Whirling around, he stared at her, shock spiraling through him. “Finn…please…I’m sorry!” she sobbed out, rolling onto her side, and huddling into a tight ball.

He sank to his knees, staring at the woman on the bed as she whispered it again.

His name.

“Finn…”

The man he had once been.

He wasn’t even aware of his hand moving until he felt the satin softness of her skin under his fingers. Azar tried to jerk his hand back, but it was too late. Already the vivid paintings of her dreams were inside his head—and he saw himself.

Not as he was now.

But as he had been before—mortal, with black hair that flowed to his shoulders, his face roughly cut, handsome enough he supposed, but not this unearthly beauty he now lived with. Tall for a man of that time, and strong, fast. He’d always been fast—that speed had saved him often. And smart as well. If he had used his head that last day, his heart, instead of his speed, maybe he wouldn’t have spent the past seven centuries alone.

In the dream, he stood in a doorway, staring into a room, watching as a man who was his own image covered the body of a woman.

That was his body in bed with the woman…but it wasn’t him. Like he was seeing in double vision, the man’s features faded from Finn’s to the dark inky features of the incubus Finn had killed in his rage.

He had seen this image before—but the woman lying below his double wasn’t Caoilinn. Instead of long, unruly strands of red-gold, the woman had a shining cap of short black hair. Instead of wide-set, dark blue eyes, the woman had almond-shaped, slanted eyes the deep gray color of fog.

It was Kerrigan.

And she was dreaming of his wife’s last moments, the moment right before he had come into his home and found his woman lying with a monster.

How could she know this? And it wasn’t just blurry images…no, it was invivid detail.

Azar moved closer, stretching out alongside Kerrigan, reaching up with one long-fingered hand to cup her face, delving deeper inside her mind.

There were memories there—memories of a life lived hundreds of years before she had been born. Azar’s mind was turbulent—how could she possibly have a memory of the day he had married Caoilinn? How could she know what their home, that small little cottage, had looked like? It had fallen into ruin so long ago, long before the people of Ireland had started recording tales on paper, instead of telling them aloud.

Still unaware of his touch, unaware of his presence, Kerrigan rolled onto her side, a sigh escaping her lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks, seeping from beneath her closed eyelids. The images in her mind fell apart, and one came to replace it. Azar sank into the dream as it took a tighter hold on her mind, and he closed his eyes as he remembered that moment, exactly as she dreamed it.

It had been the day he’d asked her to marry him. On the cliffs, where he’d made love to her for the first time, a rough blanket under her back, their clothes lying all around them.

As she had laughingly, tearfully saidyes , he’d linked his hand with hers and lifted it to his lips.Forever ,he had told her.

It hurt.

Azar tore himself away from her and flung himself back into the void between her world and his, crossing the dimensions and going home.

Bloody hell, it hurt.

Forever hadn’t even lasted five years.

* * * * *

Kerrigan awoke hearing a soft whisper in her mind. A deep voice, a man’s voice, murmuring to her,Forever .

“You lied to me,” she whispered, barely even aware of what she said.

But the sound of her voice seemed to clear the sleepy fog from her mind. Her eyes flew wide open as she sat up in the bed, staring into the gloom in front of her.

What in the hell?

The sun was already creeping up on the horizon as she climbed from bed. Moving to the window, she stared outside.

The dream circled around in her head and she rested her forehead against the cool pane of glass. “Who are you?” she murmured, her voice thick with tears.

But there was only silence. And as the night bled away into morning, she continued to stare outside.

Sometime later, she finally moved away from the window, moving into the bathroom in a daze, and showering.

She left the house without pausing for breakfast. Although she heard the innkeeper moving around in the kitchen, she didn’t want to talk to anybody. Didn’t want to watch those happy newlyweds, or listen to their hostess bustle around them. She didn’t want to eat, she didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to do anything, but go to the cliffs.

But about a mile before she reached them, she pulled off the road, parking the car on the short shoulder and climbing out. Staring to the south, away from the tower and the gift shops and the small town of Doolin, she started to walk.

She walked until she couldn’t hear the traffic from the road behind her, staring ahead at some unseen location. “Who are you?” she whispered again. “Why did you want me to come here?”

There was no answer but the breeze that riffled her hair, and the sound of the birds flying overhead.

Ahead, there was a small wooded copse and without blinking, she moved from the warmth of the meadow into the heavily shaded area under the trees. It didn’t look right.

Pausing, she rested a hand on the tree, her breath sawing painfully in and out of her lungs. No, it didn’t look right.

Closing her eyes, she clung to an image she had in her mind. The trees had been younger, and the land seemed more wild.

A house—no, smaller than that. A cottage. There was a cottage. Opening her eyes, she started walking again, walking through the trees that seemed strangely familiar, but not.

When she reached a small clearing, her heart sank to her feet.

The cottage—ithad been here. She could make out the faint rubble of two stone walls, but that was all. Nothing else was left.

But when she closed her eyes, she could see it as it had once been. A thatched roof, small, but it had been heaven to her.

And Finn.

In a tearful voice, Kerrigan whispered, “Damn it, Kerri, you’re going crazy.”

But it was so clear—she could see it. Could see herself, tending a fire while behind her, Finn skinned a buck.

Faintly, she could hear sheep—they’d raised a small herd of them and she had a craving for stew. Maybe tomorrow she could have Finn bring her one of the lambs—but when tomorrow came, he woke her and kissed her in the dim light before dawn, taking her hungrily, before he had whispered, “I must go.”

She had known he had to go—she accepted it, knew it was just a part of him, this dangerous job he did, one that very few knew about. He fought monsters—things most folk didn’t see, but that didn’t mean they weren’t real.

The cool damp ground had soaked through the knees of her pants. Kerrigan hadn’t even realized she had fallen to her knees until she realized how chilled she was. Focusing on the clearing in front of her, she tried to see what she knew was there, instead of what her heart was seeing.

She knew this place.

She’d been here before—in countless dreams.

Slowly, she pushed to her feet, swaying a little as a wave of dizziness came over her. Taking a slow, steadying breath, she forced herself to walk. Around the clearing, into the woods, away from this small place that had haunted her dreams.

When the trees broke ahead of her, she braced herself. Stepping outside of the trees was something she didn’t want to do. Something bad had happened here.

But what, she really didn’t know.

A cold sweat broke out on her body and her teeth started to chatter. Neither the warmth of the early morning sunshine, nor the thick wool sweater she wore could dispel the chill that had taken her.

Cold…scrunching her eyes shut, she turned away from the cliff. Just staring out over the water here made her dizzy, made her nauseated.

Kerrigan started to leave—she didn’t want to be here. But it was as though something had control over her body now as she turned back to the cliffs and stared out over the water so far below.

Pushing through the last bit of undergrowth, she cleared the tree line, just maybe ten feet from the edge of the cliff. Inching forward, she moved until she could see a little more. The water crashed into the rocks at the base of the cliff just a little north of where she stood at the sheer rock face.

Closer and closer until she could look down and see the surf pounding against the beach straight below her, so far down.

Heights had never bothered her, but staring over the lip of that cliff made her sweat, and nausea roiled in the pit of her belly. There was a roaring in her ears and black dots danced in front of her eyes.

Closing her eyes, she whirled away from the cliff. Stumbling away from that drop, she sucked in oxygen, sweat beading on her forehead. Falling to her knees, her hands slammed into the ground just before her face would have hit the dirt. As a wave of darkness reached for her, this time she didn’t even try to fight it back.

It came and took her, and she went willingly into the oblivion she thought waited for her.

Chapter Four

~~~~~

She awoke in a bed. It was dark—so dark. There should be some sort of light…shouldn’t there?

The scent of smoke was heavy in the air but it was chilly. Slowly, she sat up, bracing her hands behind her.

What’s going on?she thought. She was confused. Andcold . Very cold. And she didn’t know where in the hell she was.

Worse…for some reason, she couldn’t rememberwho she was.

Okay…think. It’s dark because…well, it’s night.Well, that was logical, but for some reason, she didn’t recall night ever being this dark, this all encompassing. There was always light in the house—wasn’t there?

House…home. Oh shit, where was home?Shoving that thought aside, she tried to focus on something else. Like figuring out where she was. It wasn’t home…she didn’t think.

There was no mattress beneath her—it was a bumpy, roughly made pallet of some kind.

But the blankets that covered her were warm—and there was a scent on them that made her belly clench with need. That need swept up, fogging her brain, blanking out all the whos, the whats, and the wheres. Lust and tenderness pooled in her belly, slowly warming her.

There was warmth coming from her left and when she reached out her hand, she touched hard, firm, male flesh. A hand closed over hers and then she gasped as that hand tugged her, bringing her body into close, complete contact with the man beside her.

“What is the matter, love? Can’t sleep?”

It wasn’t English. The thought had barely dawned in her mind as she replied in the same language, “A dream, I think. Something woke me.”

“You tremble, Caoilinn…let me warm you.”

Caoilinn…The name echoed through her mind.Is that me?

Her hands clenched into fists and she sank her teeth into her lip as she tried to think as he rubbed his hands in circles over her back.

But she couldn’t—thinking was impossible with his hands touching her, not while he murmured gently in her ear, his voice so strangely familiar. And the sound of that name on his lips.

Caoilinn…

His hands started to stroke up and down her back and the warmth of his touch seeped into her flesh, hitting her almost like a drug. Thinking was getting more difficult. And as he rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers, it became impossible.

And so unnecessary. Why in the hell should she think…when he was touching her, stroking his hands up and down her body through the rough fabric of her nightgown.Nightgown… That felt wrong. She didn’t wear nightgowns…did she?

Again, she tried to think, but she couldn’t. And as pleasure swarmed up and overwhelmed her, she finally gave up thinking.

His mouth, hot and wet, closed over the pointed tip of one nipple and she shrieked, arching up against him, her hands dipping greedily into his hair and holding him tight against her.

“My wife,” he murmured against her flesh. “It’s been nearly five years, Caoilinn, and I love you even more now than I did when I first saw you.”

Caoilinn…That name reverberated through her mind for one long moment. It felt like it was someone else who said, “Ah, Finn. Five wonderful years. I love you so much.”

She felt something inside her heart squeeze tight, like a fist had closed around it. Even though a part of her felt confused, that part faded, paling in comparison to the emotions that flooded her heart.

Need, love, hunger…the urge to touch him and feel him touch her overpowering her mind. Words, the need to talk, all faded away as he stripped away her gown, his body pressing against hers, hot and hard.

Against her neck, she felt the heat of his breath just before he lowered his mouth to skim over her flesh. “So sweet,” he murmured. “So soft. Mine forever, Caoilinn?”

She smiled in the darkness. “Yours forever,” she whispered.That was one thing that was clear to her. She washis ,just as he was hers. It was a knowledge that went down to her bones.

“Love me, Finn,” she whispered, hardly aware of her words, of her hands reaching for him.

He laughed huskily as he moved his body closer to her, wedding his hips to the cradle of her thighs. “Bloody hell, Caoilinn, that is all I do…love you. Little else matters to me in life…just you.”

The heated length of his cock brushed against the mound of her sex and she shuddered. His hand cupped her, his fingers pushing inside her. The tissues in her pussy clenched around him as he touched her and she cried out, arching up against him, her nails biting into the ridge of muscle atop his shoulders.

He fucked her with his fingers, working her closer and closer to the brink, and just as she felt the orgasm start to break through her, his hand fell away. She moaned at the loss of his touch and he chuckled softly before murmuring, “I want to be inside you as you come. I want to feel it.” Finn moved closer, pressing the fat head of his cock against her entrance.

Greedy, she lifted her hips, eager to feel him push inside her. Sliding her hands down his back, she cupped his hips, trying to urge him to move faster.

But he only resisted her movements, moving slowly as he fucked his way inside her. Just that was enough to take her flying to the edge and she came the first time before he had even worked half his length inside her. Screaming out at the pleasure of it, she clutched him to her, arching under his body as her body trembled and shuddered.

Finn groaned roughly, muttering, “That’s it, love…fuck me, you feel like heaven.” He shifted, pulling back just a little and slammed completely inside her while she continued to shudder with the climax.

At that hungry, rough thrust, she climaxed again, circling her hips against his, trying to ride that ridge of flesh inside her pussy.

Finn laughed roughly as he leaned into her, pinning her against the bed and using his weight to still her movements. “Slow down, love…”

“I can’t!” she wailed, sliding her hands up and digging her nails into his shoulders. As he withdrew again, she tried to wrap her legs around his hips, but he caught her thighs in his hands, holding her open.

“Always so hot, so ready for me,” he crooned against her lips as he started to push slowly back inside her.

“Finn, please!” she gasped out.

“If you insist,” he teased and he moved—a hard, deep thrust that lodged his cock completely inside her. With the head of his cock lodged against the mouth of her womb, he stilled and she sensed his eyes on her in the darkness.

Within her pussy, she could feel him, hard and wide, stretching her. His cock pulsed and she moaned at the sensation that little movement sent crashing through her.

He chuckled. “So impatient, Caoilinn.” He shifted above her and she whimpered. Bracing his hands beside her head, he rose above her, his weight centered on his palms…and his hips—that movement took him just a little bit deeper and she cried out, lifting her legs and hugging her thighs to his hips.

“I want you to scream for me.”

Scream? How can I scream when I can’t even breathe?she thought half-desperately. But as he started to move inside her, slow, shallow thrusts that did little more than fan the heat, she knew she’d scream. She’d beg, she’d plead—whatever it took just to have him closer.

“You’re too far away,” she whimpered, reaching up, tugging on his shoulders, trying to bring him closer to her.

“Am I now?” His head swooped down, his mouth covering hers for a quick kiss and she could feel the smile on his face. His hands caught hers and pinned them to the bed as he lowered his length to cover her completely. Trapped beneath him, unable to move, his heavy body crushing her into the bed, Caoilinn sobbed out his name as he started to move against her, harder, quicker. His cock filled her aching pussy with short, deep digs, and he shifted just a little, so that each time he thrust inside her, he brushed against the swollen bud of her clit.

It was too much. Throwing back her head, she screamed out his name as she exploded around him, cream pulsing from her, her pussy going into convulsions around his sex.

He swelled within her. She could feel him, so hard, so thick he damn near bruised her. His mouth covering hers, drinking down her screams and she lost herself in his kiss, greedily sucking his tongue inside her mouth and gorging on his taste as the climax battered her.

Finn pulled out and drove into her with one last, deep thrust and she felt the heat of his seed as he came inside her, his cock jerking and throbbing. He groaned her name against her mouth as he slowly sank down against her, his weight still pinning her to the bed, his head resting between her breasts.

“Bloody hell, I love you,” he whispered.

“Hmmm…love you, too,” she murmured just as exhaustion swept up and took her, taking her back into the warm arms of sleep.

~~~~~

This had never happened.

Azar was trapped in dreams.

Dreams were his weapon, he knew how to use them, how to manipulate them, how to do as he pleased within the dream realm.

But this time…he was trapped.

Oh, he knew he was dreaming. It was like he was split into two beings, the dream man, Finn—and Azar, the man he’d become.

It was his own dream—his own life. As it had once been. Lying on that rough, lumpy pallet that had served as his bed for so long. It had felt like sheer heaven when he’d had Caoilinn with him. He’d never felt how hard it was, never minded the lumps, so long as she was curled against his side.

But it wasn’t those peaceful, sweet nights sleeping together that he remembered right now. It was that last night that he had spent with her in his arms—waking to feel that urgency inside his gut, knowing he had to leave, had to hunt, had to fight. He’d been tracking demons, fighting them, since he’d been fifteen. His father had done it before him. And Finn’s son—

That thought, even in the misty world of dreams, sent a lance of pain through him. No son, no daughter, no children, no more nights spent with his woman.

Those thoughts faded away, though, and he was lost in the dream. He stood to the side, watching himself as he ran his hands over Caoilinn’s body, arching her up as he closed his mouth around the hard pebbled tips of her breasts. Her skin had always been like silk—except her hands. She worked hard, as hard as he, and the proof of that lay in her calloused, strong hands. But they had always felt divine as she touched him.

Firelight flickered off her body as he spread her thighs and thrust inside her. Still caught to the side, Azar felt his sex lengthen and swell as he relived the memory of how it had felt to be buried inside her, feeling her heart slam against his chest.

Time seemed to speed forward and he was caught, frozen as his other self got up and walked away from his wife. The sun rose, a friend came by and left, night fell. And then the door opened—he knew it wasn’t him standing in the doorway, but he saw what Caoilinn had seen. His skin crawled and rage and jealousy burned inside him as he watched this man, thisthing that wore his face, crawl into bed with his wife, waking her from her sleep with harsh, hungry hands.

Nausea roiled in his gut.

Soft whimpers escaped Caoilinn’s lips, and some of them were sounds of pain, not pleasure.

A hand struck flesh and Azar flinched—he knew the pleasurable pain that could come from a hand on soft, round flesh. But it was one he had learned as Azar—not one he’d ever wanted as Finn. Not anything he had ever wanted to share with his sweet wife.

It finally ended, leaving Azar standing there, sick and shaken. Time sped away again as the creature that wore his face left, leaving Caoilinn alone in the bed, trembling, gasping for air, soft sobbing sounds escaping her as she slid back into sleep.

The sunrise came, the day slid past in the blink of an eye, and there was a repeat of the night before. The incubus taking Caoilinn, using her roughly, but making her beg for more before she finally passed out even as the incubus continued to fuck her exhausted body.

The coming daylight showed bruises and ugly marks on her body and a face gone pale from lack of sleep. When the following night came, she was all but listless until the incubus touched her again. She roused, but even the whimpering cries she made sounded exhausted. She cried through all of the next day, never leaving the pallet, not to eat, not to dress, nothing.

In the pit of the heart that had been dead for so long, Azar felt anger stirring, a rage unlike any he had ever felt. And disgust…at himself. By all that was holy, he had done this…not to Caoilinn, although by leaving her night after night, he had left her vulnerable to the demons that walked the night.

But he had done this to other women—how many had he left broken and sobbing like this? Although he kept no shades around him, he had felt them as they passed by him on their way to the realms beyond life and death.

But the dream continued to play out before him and he had no time to dwell on his rage as the incubus came again.

Now, Caoilinn was little more than a shadow of the woman she’d been just days ago. Azar’s gut was tight and hot—he knew what was coming. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t free himself from that dream.

When a man burst through the door, Azar closed his eyes as Caoilinn turned her head and stared at him in shock. When she lifted her gaze to the creature touching her, she started to scream, horrified, terror-stricken, as the mask he wore fell away.

But it wasn’t the black-skinned demon that Finn had killed centuries ago.

No…it was Azar.

And the woman lying there screaming was Kerrigan.

~~~~~

When the dreams finally released him from his prison, he rose from his bed, brooding as he paced the empty confines of his lair.

Finn…That soft, sad little sigh still echoed through his mind.

How did she know of him?

More than that—the dreams—how could she possibly know of his life with Caoilinn?

Lost in thought, he built up the fire in one of his rooms and flung his body atop the rug spread in front of it, staring into the flickering flames, the heat doing nothing to warm the chill inside.

His own dreams were even worse, dark and evil—finally the mists that had clouded the last days of his mortal life had cleared and he remembered. All of it. Instead of comforting Caoilinn, he had lost himself in his rage—and she had flung herself from the cliffs.

By the time he had caught up with her, it was just in time to see her jump, her body falling onto the rocky beach so far below.

Her scream had lit the embers of rage still burning within him—and the dark creatures from the realm below had realized that their time had come to strike back at him.

They took him, feeding off his rage, feeding it back into him until he split in two, his mortal body dying. And from the fires of his death, the demon Azar had risen.

Turning his mind away from his bitter memories, he thought again of Caoilinn. Kerrigan. There was only one logical reason for Kerrigan to have the memories of a woman who had died long ago.

They were one. Caoilinn had come back. She was Kerrigan. Buried deep within her were the memories of their life together. The pleasure, and the pain. The horror.

She had nightmares of those last nights.

That brief touch on her mind, deeper than the touch he had used to bring himself to her, had shown him her torment. Was that what had unlocked the wall in his own mind that had kept his memories from him?

Sick at heart, he was totally unaware of anything beyond his own thoughts. Totally unaware of the approach of the demon Corsivo.

“You’re a sorry sight, indeed, Azar.”

At the deep, pealing tones of his voice, Azar looked up and met Corsivo’s gaze. “Go to hell,” he said flatly.

Corsivo chuckled. “Some might say we are already there, my friend.”

Glumly, Azar muttered, “That’s the bloody truth.”

The other demon chuckled. Dropping to the cushions that were tossed in front of the fire, he sprawled bonelessly, stretching his long body out before turning his gaze to Azar, pinning the younger demon with an intense, black stare. “Do you remember why you were called Azar?”

Flicking Corsivo a disinterested glance, he shrugged. “It means rage.”

A small smile danced on Corsivo’s lips. “Actually…it means regret. Azir means rage. Regret is a powerful emotion. A lonely one.”

Azar’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “A useless one.”

Corsivo shook his head. “No. Not here…not in our realm. Regret is actually one of the most powerful emotions we can harness. Even greater than rage. Regret, sorrow… If you feel them strongly enough, sometimes you can unwalk the path that led you here.”

“Paths can’t be unwalked.”

Corsivo shrugged. “Not in the mortal realm. But time moves differently here…and sometimes, it seems not to move at all.”

Azar scowled. Time moved slower here, yes, but it still moved. But he was right about one thing. Time had no meaning—nothing did. Not anymore.

Except her.

He didn’t see the slow smile curving Corsivo’s mouth. He did hear an odd note in the sly bastard’s voice, though, as he said, “And that is why time has no meaning…at least for the moment.”

But even as Azar turned his head to look at Corsivo, he was falling. Burning. Like being ripped in two. No…like two halves of one whole being forged back together, through the fires of rage and magic.

He blacked out long before he stopped falling.

And when he woke, he was lying in a field above the cliffs.

Home…

Chapter Five

Finn’s eyes felt heavy but he forced them open anyway. It was daylight, and he didn’t recall falling asleep by the bloody cliffs.

Shoving up off his back, he planted his hands beneath him, staring around him, bewildered.

Tears stung his eyes as he stared into the blue of the ocean far below. It seemed like centuries had passed since he’d seen his home. Centuries since he’d stared into that eternal blue, so like his sweet Caoilinn’s eyes.

Caoilinn…A heavy fear weighed on his heart as he thought of her. Damn it, where was his woman?

Shoving to his feet, he swayed a little, dizziness rushing up at him. “I will not fall flat on me face,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stumbled to the tree line and braced his palm against the rough bark of a young oak, waiting there for a minute.

The dizziness passed and he lifted his head, focusing on the dark depths of the forest in front of him. Home—and Caoilinn. He’d fall flat on his face, and crawl to her, if that was what it took. But he had to see her.Now.

The walk from the cliffs to their little cottage had never taken so long. His legs felt heavier with each passing step and he wanted desperately to sit a while and rest, maybe take a nap.

But the burning urge to see his woman was stronger.

As he got closer, he could hear her.

A slow smile curved his lips. She was singing.

The sweetest voice… As he came around the corner of the house, he saw her there, spreading out damp clothes over a low-hanging branch. She bent over the small heap on the ground, and hunger burned through him. Crossing the grass in silence, he came up behind her, catching her hips in his hands and jerking her back against him, so that her sleek little ass was pressed up against his aching cock.

She giggled as she slid him a look over her shoulder. “I thought you were going out hunting. You wanted some venison, did you not?”

Against her cheek, he growled, “I want you more, Caoilinn. Right here…right now.”

Her eyes widened, a soft shaky sigh of delight escaping her lips. “Here? In front of the house? Anybody could see Finn, if they just come walking up.”

He trailed his tongue over the smooth skin of her neck as he knelt down, using his grip on her hips to take her with him. “I care not. I want you, want to fuck you good and hard, and I want it now.”

He tore at the lacings of his trews, groaning as he freed his engorged cock, the ruddy flesh jerking as the cool air caressed it gently. He grabbed her skirts, shoving the kirtle and her long shift up until her ass was bared. Gripping his cock in one hand, he pushed against her, groaning as the slick grip of her pussy closed around his cock like a tight greedy fist.

“Why does it feel like it’s been forever since I touched you?” he groaned.

Caoilinn just whimpered, shoving back against him, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she planted her hands on the ground to steady herself better.

The driving hunger eased a little now that he was inside her. Smoothing his hands over the soft curves of her hips and ass, he settled into a slow, easy rhythm. But Caoilinn seemed to be the one starving now, trying to pump her hips back against him quick and hard.

Finn laughed hoarsely, leaning forward over her and using his weight to crush her into the ground. Catching her hands, he pinned them gently to the ground and murmured, “Not so fast. It seems like it’s been too long… I want this to last…and last.”

He lifted his weight off her, using one hand at the small of her back to keep her on the ground when she would have pushed back to her knees. Pulling out, he shifted his position, grasping one of her knees in his hand and straddling her other leg. With her pinned below him, one thigh caught between his, the other held in an iron grip, he pushed back inside and started to ride her, his head falling back as her pussy closed around him, slick, tight and greedy.

The pleasure ripped through him like a wild storm that blew in off the ocean, all-consuming, devastating. She sobbed out his name, her hands clawing at the grass beneath her.

Caoilinn exploded around him, screaming as her pussy convulsed around his cock. But Finn kept moving, filling her with slow, deep thrusts that changed to hard, fast digs as wildness overtook him. Falling forward, he planted his hands on the earth beside her head, staring into the bottomless blue depths of her gaze as she turned her face to look at him.

“I love you—I’ve never stopped,” he whispered, half-unaware of what he was saying. Just knowing that he had to say it. “Don’t leave me, Caoilinn…don’t ever leave me.”

A moan escaped her lips and Finn gritted his teeth as the muscles in her pussy flexed around his cock, milking his length. Tossing his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes, he pulled out and slammed inside her, almost brutal in his hunger now. “Say it! Say you’ll never leave me. Swear it, swear it on your love for me.”

“Never,” she whimpered, staring up at him with foggy eyes. “I’ll never leave you, Finn. I love you so much—” her words broke off and she began to keen, her eyes going glassy as she started to come again.

Finn didn’t want it to end, not yet. But he couldn’t hold back any longer. He climaxed inside her, and she spasmed around him, her pussy hugging and milking his cock, drawing out his release until he thought he’d die with the pleasure of it.

Dazed, exhausted, he collapsed, rolling his weight off her and pulling her into the curve of his body. Her hands, red, roughened from so many years of hard work, came up and closed around his arm, clutching him to her tightly.

He didn’t leave her that afternoon. And the damp laundry would have to be washed again, because it lay in a heap on the grass in front of the house all of the afternoon, and through the night.

Inside the small house, he laid her on the straw-stuffed pallet, wishing he had a bed of silks to lay her on instead. Stripping her clothes away, he tugged a blanket over her before rising to fetch water and a cloth. Cleaning away the bits of grass and small smears of dirt, he held her gaze as he washed her. Using a clean scrap of cloth, he spread her thighs and washed her there, folding it around his fingers and pushing the rag inside her, cleaning her as completely as he could. Flashing a roguish smile, he murmured, “I’m hungry.”

Her face flushed as he sprawled between her thighs and lowered his mouth to her sex. Her pebbled flesh, the hard little knot of sensitized skin, was his goal. Closing his mouth around it, he tugged it lightly with his teeth. She moaned his name and when he pushed two fingers inside her pussy, she bucked against him.

The sweet, hot cream of her need started to flow and he lapped it up, drinking it down hungrily and bringing her to climax over and over. When she was dazed and limp, he crawled up her body and pushed inside, gritting his teeth at the snug, swollen clasp of her sex. “I love you,” he muttered against her lips.

Her mouth opened under his and he plunged his tongue inside, using the same slow rhythm of his cock inside her pussy.

The need was sweeter this time, a little softer, but still there, still burning brightly. Just no longer quite so painful in its intensity. “I could never stop loving you,” he groaned just before he started to come, after she had come again, her lashes fluttering closed as she fell back limp against the pallet in exhaustion.

“I’ll never stop.” He whispered it again as he arched his back and spilled his seed deep inside her hot, wet depths.

Collapsing against her, he felt the darkness of exhaustion crowding his mind. With the last bit of his energy, he rolled onto his back, keeping her locked against him, his sex, still half-erect, buried inside her sleek sheath. With a satisfied sigh, he fell asleep.

Moments later, she joined him.

* * * * *

Caoilinn was already awake when he finally woke. Exhaustion still tugged at him—his body felt oddly achy, his muscles tight, like he had been sick, stuck in the sickbed for some time.

With a groan, he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Are you ill?”

A soft, cool hand brushed his shoulder and he looked up, smiling at Caoilinn in the dim room. “Just tired, love.” Ducking his head, he pressed a kiss to her hand before shoving himself to his feet. “Very tired.”

Caoilinn pressed herself against him from behind, her breasts flattening against his naked back. His hands covered hers and he sighed at the pleasure of such an innocent touch. “You’ve been working too hard lately, not taking enough time to rest, to eat right,” Caoilinn scolded gently.

Finn shrugged, trying to dismiss her words. That didn’t feel like what the problem was. He couldn’t quite understandwhat was wrong—it was just…odd. As though he had been sleeping for a long time and couldn’t quite get his body to function the way it should.

Or his mind.

The past few weeks seemed distant, like he was remembering something that had happened years ago, instead of just hours and days.

“Come on…I’ll make you breakfast. And no hunting today, nothing. You’ll just rest.”

Rolling his eyes, he drawled, “Is that so?”

Caoilinn’s hands fell away and she lightly swatted his hip as she walked around him, planting her slender body in front of him, her eyes narrowing as she glared pugnaciously up at him. “Yes, that’s right. You’ll rest, Finn, so help me, you’ll rest, or I hit you over that thick head and when you’re unconscious, you’ll rest then.”

Finn chuckled. Pressing a hand to his temple, he held up the other in a staying motion. “Yes, love. I’ll rest, I promise.” Scowling at her, he added, “The last thing I need is me head getting coshed. Aches enough as it is.”

* * * * *

It was damn near close to two weeks before he started feeling like himself. Before odd little bits of thought passed through his mind,Something has changed, something odd . But as time passed, he settled back into his life and stopped questioning those nagging little voices.

He left early that morning. Had to get some hunting done. Winter was still some time away, but his gut told him he’d have to leave Caoilinn soon, for a time. Often those voices spoke to him and as before, he just followed his instincts and went hunting.

Sometime soon, in a few days, he’d had to leave Caoilinn for a longer time. There would be something, some monster, something dark and evil out there and he’d have to see to it, to end it. But not today.

He came back with several rabbits slung over his shoulder. Once they were skinned, they would serve well enough to feed Caoilinn for a few days. And he wouldn’t be gone long this time, he knew.

How he knew these things, he didn’t know. But the voices that whispered,Be ready to be gone a while , orIt will just be a few days , had never led him astray.

It wasn’t even noon when he returned and he found Caoilinn in her garden, her kirtle tucked up between her thighs, baring her lower legs, dirt smudging her face and hands, her bare feet soiled. He left the rabbits inside and joined her in the garden, falling into a companionable, comfortable silence as they dug up potatoes and picked beans. Some of the other plants, those not ready for harvesting yet, were in need of water so after a time, he rose, grabbing the two sturdy buckets.

By the time he’d returned with water, Caoilinn had left the garden. From the scents drifting from the house, he figured she had already started cooking one of the plump little rabbits. His belly rumbled demandingly and he hurriedly watered the rest of the garden, leaving one bucket of water by the cottage to use later.

He came to a sudden halt inside the door, though, and all thought of his empty belly fled.

She had stripped away her dirty clothes and stood in a shallow tub, running a wet rag over her naked breasts.

Finn’s mouth watered as he watched a droplet of water roll down the satiny slope of one breast, catching on her nipple and hanging there for a long moment before falling to the tub beneath her. Licking his lips, he watched as another started down the same path, rolling down her breast. As this one caught on her nipple, he moved, crossing to her and grabbing her hips with hands still streaked by dirt from the garden.

She gasped, her eyes flying wide, as he lowered his head, catching the bead of water before it could fall. Groaning, he sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her against him as he suckled on her breast.

“Finn…you’re filthy,” she gasped weakly.

But when he raised his head to stare at her, he saw nothing but need shining in her eyes. “I don’t care…do you?” he whispered, running one hand up her inner thigh and cupping the heat of her sex in his hand. Pushing one finger inside the satin confines of her sheath, he gritted his teeth as she closed around him, hot and tight.

“No,” she breathed out, her eyes fluttering closed as he started to thrust his finger shallowly inside her.

Lifting her from the tub, he pivoted, spreading her out on the table before reaching for the lacings that held his trews closed. Tearing at the lacings, he groaned with relief as his cock sprang free, jutting out, full and aching. With his hands cupping her ass, he lifted her and pressed against her.

Caoilinn stared at him, her eyes wide. He held her gaze as he started to push inside. She was just barely wet, not completely ready for him. But he couldn’t wait. Using one hand to hold her still as he fucked his way inside her sex, he traced one finger around the bud of her clit. With slow, teasing circles, he stroked her. His hips withdrew and then he started to push inside her again. She was wetter already—the muscles in her thighs trembled, her eyes glassy as she stared up at him.

By the time he started to surge inside her a third time, she was dewy and her cream glistened on his cock as he pulled out. Hungry, demanding cries fell from her lips as she reached up for him. Finn evaded her hands, circling his hips against her and watching as a flush appeared on her breasts and spread upward.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me,” he muttered, leaning over her, planting one hand by her head. He used the other to lift her hips higher, slamming into her with short, hungry thrusts.

“I wouldn’t leave you…not for anything.”

“Swear it!” A black fear had rooted somewhere deep inside him and he felt as though he couldn’t bind her to him tightly enough. Words weren’t enough, actions weren’t enough—no matter how many times he touched her of late, no matter how many times he sank his cock inside her sweet body, no matter how many times she whispered she loved him as they fell asleep in each other’s arms—that fear still grew.

“Damn it, Finn, why in the hell would I leave you?” she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand. “You are my entire life.”

“And you are mine.” Slanting his lips across hers, he kissed her deeply, pushing his tongue inside her mouth. Her tongue slid across his as she slid her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest, the tight little buds of her nipples hot and hard as they pressed against him.

His cock throbbed, swelling inside her slick, satin-soft pussy. Sensation raced down his spine, tightening his balls. When she started to convulse around him, he tore his mouth away from hers, lifting his head as he bellowed her name.

As she came apart beneath him, her nails raked his skin, soft broken little moans fell from her lips, and he exploded inside her, his cock jerking viciously as he spilled his seed deep within her.

He sank to his knees in front of the table, and rested his head on her thigh as he sucked air into his starving lungs. She moaned weakly and he lifted his head to stare at her. A slow smile spread across his lips. “You’ll need to wash again,” he murmured, tracing his fingers over the smudges of dirt that stained her hips, breasts and thighs.

She started to chuckle. “Love, you made the mess…you can clean it up.”

* * * * *

Caoilinn’s dreams were as restless and dark that night as they had been for weeks. Full of images that didn’t always make sense, and so terrifying…

~~~~~

She was alone—and then suddenly, Finn was there, but as he laid his hands on her, he turned into a monster and his hands pinched and bruised as he touched her.

Then she was running, running through the woods while something chased after her. She couldn’t slow to see what it was—there was a pain in her chest that wouldn’t ease, that robbed her of breath, of thought.

The woods cleared ahead, the lip of the cliff looming in front of her. That burning, searing pain in her chest stabbed at her, and the water below beckoned, cool and blue. Thinking only to end the pain, she jumped. And as she was falling, the dream changed around her again.

To a room, large and grand, the bed like something a queen would sleep in, piled high with soft pillows and a thick blanket that shimmered like spun gold. A woman lay in it, sleeping. But she changed while she slept, her short black hair lengthening and turning to the bright red of Caoilinn’s, her body changing from round, voluptuous curves to the long lean lines that Caoilinn despaired would ever fill out.

In the corner, there was the shadow of a man, watching the woman in the bed. And he changed just as the woman did. His body was a warm, mellow gold color, almost gleaming, with hair the color of flame that fell nearly to the floor. He was tall, too tall to be a human man, with impossibly wide shoulders. As she stared at him, he shifted, his form shrinking down until he was the size of a large man, tall, powerfully built…his hair changing from that flame red to black, and his eyes going from solid, unblinking black to human eyes. Eyes the color of grass, just like Finn’s.

He turned his head and Caoilinn found him staring at her where she stood watching, hovering on the edges of this grand room. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

~~~~~

And she jerked awake with those words still echoing in her mind. Shaken, she rolled onto her side, cuddling against Finn.

His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep and as his arm came around her, she closed her eyes, sinking back into an uneasy sleep.

Finn’s dreams were evil, devil-wrought visions, surely.

He was lost in the woods around his home, woods he had known all his life.

Lost, searching for Caoilinn…

~~~~~

He could hear her, sobbing with passion, her voice rising as she screamed out his name.

And a man—he heard another man’s impassioned moans. The sound of a hand striking flesh.

The noises echoed in his ears, an ugly, hated sound, as he spun around, disoriented.

Finally, he drew his blade and just hacked away at the vines and branches that seemed to grow around him like a prison, barring his way. The vines and trees fell down dead under the stroke of his blade and as he strode from a dead forest, he found his house.

Storming inside, he screamed out Caoilinn’s name. He found her…in their bed. But she had changed, her long, slender form now a shorter, curvier one, her thick red hair now just a short black cap of tousled waves. Her eyes were a dark, mysterious gray and her mouth, full and red as sin, parted as she screamed. A man was between her thighs, fucking her hard, gripping her hips with hands that left dark, ugly bruises on her body.

“Caoilinn!”

Both turned to stare at him and the man rose from between her thighs, laughing softly. As he laughed, Finn saw through the mask he wore to the monster below and he swung out. As his sword connected with demon flesh, Caoilinn moved.

He was chasing after her then, into the woods that had suddenly sprung back to life. Branches slapped at him, and roots from the ground tried to rise up and trip him as he fought to catch Caoilinn. He found her, standing at the edges of the cliff. She changed before him, her hair growing out until it was the same deep red that he loved to wrap around his hands as he made love to her. Her skin, still bruised and red from the demon’s touch, seemed to ripple as her body changed, growing taller, the curves melting into her body until it was the long slender one he held against him as he slept at night.

Slowly, she backed away from him, staring at him with eyes that faded from gray to deep blue, sparkling with tears.

Reaching out his hand, he whispered, “Caoilinn—you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

As her body inched closer and closer to the cliffs, he took a step closer to her, pleading with her. “You promised!”

“I betrayed you!” she screamed, tears streaming from her eyes.

“If you do this, you’ll destroy me…”

She shook her head and turned away, murmuring softly, “I’ve already destroyed myself…” and she jumped, hurling her body into the blue sky, and falling…down…down…down…

~~~~~

His own voice woke him as he bellowed, “No!”

Jerking awake, he sat in the bed, Caoilinn lying close to him. “What is wrong?” she whispered, her voice thick and husky with sleep.

“Bad dream.” Lying back down, he pulled her against him with hands that trembled. Her heart beat against his chest as he pulled her atop him, clinging to her with desperation. “You will not ever leave me. You’ve promised.”

Her hands stroked up and down his sides as she cuddled against him, nodding wordlessly.

With her heart beating against his, he finally fell back into sleep.

* * * * *

For three more nights, the troublesome dreams haunted them both.

But on the fourth night, Finn slid into a deep, dreamless sleep, his tired body taking rest and preparing.

He should have known, by the ease with which he slept, that the time to leave was coming once more.

Evil was rising, and he had to answer that call.

The urging woke him early, before dawn.

Rolling onto his side with a sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing there was some way to shut off the power that flowed inside him.

The thing that made him stronger, faster…the thing that woke him in the night, whispering that evil was afoot, and he must answer the call.

The light in the room was dim, but he could see nearly as well as if the sun had filled the room. Night was no obstacle to Finn, never had been. He could see how Caoilinn’s lashes fanned out on her cheeks, her lips parted softly.

He rose in silence, hurriedly washing with water that had gone cool overnight. Donning his trews, he carried his boots into the other room and tugged them on in front of the dying embers of the fire. Lacing them up over his calves, he tugged a shirt from the pile of clothing that Caoilinn had been working on. It was still damp and his flesh chilled at the touch.

He started to slip away, hating to wake her, but he had to see her face, touch her one more time.

Finn didn’t want to leave.

In fact, the thought of it filled him with dread, closing a fist of terror around his heart.

But there were monsters out there…preying on his people. He was guardian here, like his father had been before him. He couldn’t neglect his calling.

Kneeling beside the bed, he reached out, trailing his fingers over her cheek. A smile curved her lips before she even opened her eyes. Her eyes were gentle, full of understanding as she looked up at him. “Time to go?” she asked sleepily.

He nodded. “Aye. Something in the north calls to me. I’ll be gone a few days, I imagine. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He could see the smile widen as she looked up at him. “I’m glad you did.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her gently before he murmured, “Sweet, sweet Caoilinn, I love you. Will you miss me?”

“Miss you? I miss you before you even leave me, Finn.”

Rolling onto her side, she cuddled around him, resting her cheek on his thigh. With the warmth of her breath so close to him, Finn closed his eyes as his cock started to swell, hunger biting at him.No time…

“I’ll stop by Seamas’—ask him or Darby to look in on you.”

Caoilinn shrugged, still smiling sleepily. “I’ll be fine, Finn.”

He just shrugged. “I’ll stop, just the same. I must go.”

Bending down, he kissed her gently. As her lips parted under his, his control shattered and he groaned, stretching out beside her and pulling her against him.

“Hungry, are you?” she purred as he cupped her in his hand. Caoilinn could feel herself waking as her body responded to his touch.

“For you, always.” He chuckled and the vibration of it against her flesh had her shivering. His tongue circled around the beaded crest of her nipple while his hands raced over her curves. She felt the long, hard length of his body against her and wondered at how good he felt. She never wanted to go without this, not ever.

Need flooded her with an intensity that was breath-stealing. Her mind was hazy with it and she couldn’t think beyond the need in her belly. Clutching at him, she arched against him, moaning as the hard, muscled length of his body covered hers.

“I can’t wait, not now,” Finn muttered as he shifted above her and covered her mouth with his. She shivered as he wedged her thighs apart with his knee and then he pressed against her, the blunt, rounded tip of his cock pressing against the wet folds of her pussy.

“Finn, hurry please!” she sobbed. Damn it, she had never been this hungry, this eager—never had a hunger burning inside her belly like it would burn her alive.

His laugh was rough, shaky and his body trembled against hers as he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed against her—she moaned as the head of his cock breached the tight folds of her vagina. He slid inside her, and she arched up, digging her fingers into the ridge of muscle along his shoulders.

“It hasn’t been that long since I touched you,” he groaned, burying his face against her neck. “Why does it seem like it’s been ages? Years? Longer?”

She understood…even though he had made love to her just the past evening, she felt starving for him, dying for him. Arching her hips up, she screamed as he buried his length inside her, the heavy weight of his balls falling forward, slapping against the seam of her ass.

The lumpy pallet underneath her shifted as he moved, bracing his weight on his hands as he started to pump against her, his hips plunging, then withdrawing as he took her. Caoilinn shuddered and screamed at his touch, her mind full of dark rainbows, her breath catching in her chest.

She could see now, barely, in the dim light of the room, his eyes gleaming in the shadows of his face, his mouth a hard, sexy curve. He shifted, bracing his weight on one hand as he reached down, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his chest. “Touch me,” he rasped.

Lifting her other hand, she slid both along his sides, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt before she reached the hem of it, sliding her hands under it, seeking out the heated flesh beneath.

His skin was smooth beneath her hands, like satin stretched over iron. He groaned as she scraped her nails over the flat circles of his nipples, and Caoilinn smiled. She loved making this big, strong man shudder—the man who killed monsters trembled at her touch.

His cock thrust through the tight, wet muscles of her pussy and she screamed at the glory of it. His weight came down atop her and she wrapped her arms around him, clutching at him eagerly as he started to thrust within her with harder, hungrier strokes.

“Come for me, sweet,” he growled.

As though he had ordered it with just those words, she exploded under him, screaming as her pussy clutched and spasmed around his thick cock. Her nails raked his flesh—she couldn’t breathe. Too much, too fast—

Darkness rushed up at her. He caught her in his arm as he sank against her, his cock jerking within the snug confines of her sheath. His head rested between her breasts and they both sucked air in with short, fast draws. “I love you,” he whispered.

The fog in her mind cleared just a little, a smile curving her lips.

“I love you, too. Come back to me…quick.”

* * * * *

Foreboding filled him as he mounted Lir. He didn’t want to leave. Hehad to leave. Already, he could hear the screams of the fallen and the fires of rage licked at his gut.

Kneeing Lir gently, he murmured, “Come on, old friend. We have to go.” The horse whickered softly in the still, gray morning as he trotted off, heading away from the cottage. He halted Lir, though, at the edge of the clearing, just before he took to the path that would lead him away from Caoilinn. For a long moment, he stared over his shoulder.

He’d never questioned his duty, not until now. But he didn’t want to leave her. His heart cried out to him, demanding that he return to his wife. But the strict code of honor, instilled in him from birth, and that voice that had commanded his entire life, told him he must.

To stay here would cost lives. Already, screams painted the night with ugly, black fear.

“I must go,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Caoilinn will be fine.” He’d stop by Seamus’, ask his friend to look in on his wife. Perhaps Darby could come and spend some time with her.

And Finn would hurry back.

Steeling his resolve, he straightened on Lir, and turned back to the path that lay before him. And before he could give in to the weakness that filled him, he signaled Lir and they were off, galloping down the forest path until they hit the cliffs.

It took more time than he wanted to stop by Doolin, but he had to speak with Seamus. After stopping for just a few minutes, he was back on his way, with Seamus’ promise that he’d check on the girl, and often, until Finn was back.

From there, Finn guided his horse north, praying he’d arrive before too much blood was spilled.

Boggarts had started preying the cliff-side villages of late—bloodthirsty savages. It had been a boggart that had led him to Caoilinn, just a little over five years ago.

Dunkirk had been plagued by them off and on for months, but the den of them had been fairly shy, stealing into town at night, taking food, raising hell and fear, but not really hurting anybody. But then a few young men had decided to rid the village of their pestilence—instead of waiting for men from Shannon to arrive and help.

The young men had killed the son of one of the boggarts, and the enraged creatures had returned with a vengeance. Slaughtering everything they could reach, and within a day, seventy-two people had died. Seventy-two, out of a village of less than three hundred.

He’d gotten there right as the lead boggart had attacked Caoilinn. The thing would have dragged her away, raped her and beaten her, hoping to plant his demon spawn in her belly. Then when the thing was born, it would have killed Caoilinn as it tore its way out of her womb.

It still gave him nightmares. He couldn’t let any woman suffer such a horrible fate. He had to go.

Finn kept telling himself that as he rode north. Overhead, the sky lightened, and eventually the sense of duty managed to still the voice of doubt inside his gut. Caoilinn would be fine.

Seamus and Darby would stop by—but Caoilinn would be fine, working on her small garden and storing food for the upcoming winter.

Yes…she’d be fine.

Chapter Six

Two days later

Caoilinn wasn’t fine.

Morose, she stood in the doorway, staring out at the trees. Usually, when Finn left, it didn’t trouble her to be alone. But today felt strange—the odd muffled feeling had retreated some, but everything was still confused, tumbling around in her head.

The images that had been so clear on the cliff were fading. A woman—another woman, with a different face—but even now, her image was becoming hazy, harder to see, harder to hold inside her head.

Drifting through the house, she tried to find something to do, something to occupy her mind. But she couldn’t.

She ached inside. It was loneliness, but it felt like more than that. It went deep, slicing through her heart and soul. Tears stung her eyes and she wanted to throw herself on the bed she shared with Finn and weep. Weep and howl and scream with the loneliness that burned inside her.

Damn it, what is wrong with me?she thought brokenly as a tear slipped free and trickled down her cheeks.

It wasn’t like Finn hadn’t ever left before. He had—and often. Always following those voices in his head, sometimes gone for days as he hunted and killed monsters.

Monsters…Caoilinn knew monsters. She had first met Finn because of a monster—when boggarts had been haunting her village just a little east of here. Finn had come riding into Dunkirk in the dark of the night, the horse beneath him as black as death, black as the boggarts that had been preying on the people of Dunkirk.

The man on the horse had looked like a devil. Or an avenging angel—with eyes that fairly glowed in the night and a strong and powerful his body. His sword had cut through the boggart as though it was made of water, and it fell down dead before it even realized the threat.

He’d saved her life. The boggart had dragged Caoilinn from her home. He’d thrown her father, Patrick across the cottage, so hard the impact burst the mud and wood walls.

The monster would have gone back for Patrick—Caoilinn knew that. She would have died, her father would have died.

Instead, Finn had saved them. And she’d fallen in love with him. Almost in the very instant he had lifted her from the ground, staring at her with eyes that danced between fury, relief and panic as he tried to treat her injuries. Not much that could be done for bruises, and that was all she’d gotten before Finn had come to her rescue.

He’d left, but he had returned a week later. And then again, more and more often, and Caoilinn had been shocked, delighted…dazed. Her father had told her one night, “That man, he wants you for his own. Ah, I didn’t plan on letting you go so soon.”

Finn and she had married a month later. And the past few years had been sweet and wonderful. For five years, she had lived with him, his wife, his love. She’d been certain of his love, certain of him—even when Finn had left, she had always known that he would come back.

But why did she feel so desperate today?

When night came, she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she could go to sleep, and stop pretending to work. Sleep, she could escape into sleep now.

Dreams chased her, broken dreams—that other woman’s face slipping in to taunt her. Who was she?

I’m Kerrigan… I’m you…

And then the woman’s face melted away and she saw Finn standing over her bed, staring down at her with hungry eyes. She started to smile, to reach for him, but then he opened his mouth and his teeth turned to long yellow fangs.

With her air wheezing in and out of her lungs, she came awake, sitting in bed, staring into the darkness. The fire had burned too low.

And she wasn’t alone.

Afraid to turn her head, she slid her gaze from side to side until she saw the dark form in the shadows.Finn… She almost reached for him, but something made her freeze, made her act as though she couldn’t see him. An image of the dream, her Finn standing there, and in his mouth had been wicked, yellowed teeth, sharp as a blade.

Part of her whispered,Don’t be such a child—’tis your man, reach for him .

But she couldn’t. There was another voice, one that was calm and steady, as it whispered,Not Finn…a monster wearing his face. Lie down, go back to sleep—he cannot touch you if you don’t welcome him .

That wasn’t true—a monster could do whatever he wished.

Not this one—for what he wishes is for you to want him.Lie down!

The voice in her mind was all but screaming at her now. Slowly, her entire body stiff and aching, she forced herself to relax, forced the tension to drain out of her body, still watching the shadow-man from the corner of her eye.

Don’t look at him!His eyes.His eyes can entrap you.

And as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized she could see something. She could see his eyes, two fiercely glowing orbs that seemed to change colors with very second.

Those weren’t her husband’s eyes—although the man had her husband’s broad shoulders, his lean hips, even the hair that spilled down to his shoulders appeared to be as dark as Finn’s.

But those eyes—monster’s eyes.

Caoilinn swallowed, terrified. His gaze locked with hers, for the briefest of moments and she knew he knew she had seen him. For a second, she felt the overwhelming power that rolled from him, battering at her mind like a wild gale off the ocean.

But as she stubbornly turned her back on the creature, his power seemed to ebb. Closing her eyes, she forced her breathing to level out and blanked her mind. It was damn near impossible. Pulling Finn’s image to mind, she focused on his face, the way he smelled, the warmth and strength of his body as he slept beside her.

There was a wind from outside, one that seemed to cut through the solid walls, chilling the room until her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs. And then, the thing was gone.

The wind died down and silence, peace, slid back through the room.

Unbelievably, sleep returned, and she knew nothing else.

* * * * *

She had just risen from bed after the second night since Finn had left.

And again…she had felt something in her home, watching her. Felt something,seen something.

Something that wore her husband’s face and his form.

She hadn’t slept.

Couldn’t sleep in the damn house. Any time she managed to slip into a fitful sleep, her dreams were haunted, full of Finn, full of images of that woman, the woman who continued to whisper,I’m you …And monsters. Full of monsters. Monsters she let touch her body. Monsters she let inside her body.

Right before Finn came upon them and exploded into fury.

Taking a blanket, she retreated to the cliffs, forgetting her aversion to them from a few days ago. She spread the blanket under the oak right at the edge of the tree line, remembering the first time Finn had brought her here. They’d made love. Right here.

Holding that memory in her mind, she lay down, and slid into sleep almost the moment she closed her eyes.

Rejuvenated by the nap, she returned home. There was the garden to attend to, and clothes to mend. Enough to do that she kept her mind occupied. It was easier. Darby came by, bringing some fish that her husband Seamas had caught, as well as some of her delicious stew.

They sat over the table, eating in companionable silence for some time but as they finished the food, Caoilinn felt Darby’s eyes scrutinizing her.

“You look pale,” the older woman said softly.

Caoilinn shrugged absently. “I did not sleep well,” she muttered, catching a bit of stew on a piece of bread and popping it in her mouth.

A frown darkened Darby’s head. “I can tell. Are you ill?”

Caoilinn shook her head. “I do not think so.” Pushing her emptied plate away from her, she propped her elbows on the table. “Just odd dreams of late.”

“Dreams. Oh, they can be bothersome,” Darby agreed. “But you can’t let them trouble you so. You need to rest, to eat. Can’t have you taking ill when your man is away. Why, Finn would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t take good care of you.”

Caoilinn laughed, propping her cheek on her hand. “I’m fine, Darby. I promise you.”

And she was. Even after Darby left, she hummed her way through her chores, straightening the small cottage, tending to the fish Darby had bought her, taking care of the garden. Keeping her mind occupied, she never once thought of those troubling dreams.

Until night fell.

Her mood darkened and her thoughts turned gloomy. She forced herself to eat, hearing the echo of Darby’s words in her head.Can’t have you taking ill … Eh, Finn would never let her hear the end of it if she didn’t take care of herself.

Her belly full of the last of Darby’s stew, she settled down in her bed with one of Finn’s shirts, keeping the tallow candle burning as she mended the rip under the arm.

His smell was on the cloth and just breathing it in made her feel better, a little warmer, a little less lonely.

But as the candle burned lower and the shadows grew, her fear from the past nights returned and she found herself staring into the dark edges of the room, searching for…something.

The thing that had watched her in the night.

Would it come again?

Resolutely, she blocked it from her mind. Finn had been gone three days nearly. He was rarely gone longer than that, at least not without sending word. He’d be home soon, and she’d feel his warmth and heat against her and everything would be fine.

Finishing the mending, she jabbed the needle into the spare thread and started to fold the shirt. But instead, she cuddled it against her cheek and lay down on the bed, curling around it, letting his scent surround her as she slid into sleep.

* * * * *

Finn left before the priests arrived but he couldn’t stay away from home any longer. He had to get to Caoilinn. The urgency that had woken him before had returned, but now it was focused on his wife. She was in danger.

Night had fallen as he raced along the cliffs, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just bent low over Lir’s neck and spoke to the stallion in a low croon, urging him to run faster, faster.

Not fast enough…

* * * * *

Caoilinn awoke from the troublesome dream, still caught in its web as she stretched. That other woman again. It was like Caoilinn was trapped in her body, staring at her reflection, seeingher …Kerrigan. Standing in a house that was far grander than anything she had ever seen, with light that came from everywhere. It was so bright, so clean, and the woman had soft, smooth hands, wore clothes that shimmered in the light, like the silks that Finn had told her of. But then, like water, the image would ripple and dissolve and fade away and when the surface smoothed, it was Caoilinn once more.

She was sad, that woman. Dreaming of a man…of Finn. Caoilinn should be jealous, another woman dreaming of her man, but it…well, she couldn’t explain it. That woman felt likeher . Like they were the same.

And then Finn’s voice.Come to me…come back…come back…

It had been that voice echoing in her ears as the dream had finally fallen apart and she had stretched out, arching her back, sighing.Finn… She could smell him. The scent surrounded her once more and with a smile, she turned her head, and saw him there, in the doorway.

Still half-asleep, but drunk on the smell of him, on the pleasure of having him back, she held out her arms to him.

Too late, she remembered the dreams from the nights past. But when the creature stepped closer and touched her, a fire filled her and she went into his arms willingly.

She had known almost the very instant that he touched her that something was wrong, very wrong. Finn had never touched her with anything but care—his need to see her pleasured was just as great as his own desire to be pleasured. But this…this creature…cared for little more than taking his own pleasure.

His teeth closed over the tip of one nipple, sinking into the soft flesh and biting down, the sensation gone past the point of pleasure, well into pain. But she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t push him away. Her throat felt frozen—the muscles in her arms felt useless.

She couldn’t stop him.

She didn’t want to.

As shame, terror and lust curdled in her belly, he closed a fist in her hair and used that grip to bring her to her knees, guiding her mouth to his cock. Pushing inside roughly, he started to pump his hips, pushing his cock in and out of her mouth with a quick, harsh rhythm. He gagged her, the head of his cock bruising the back of her throat with each thrust.

When he finally pulled back, silently urging her until she was flat on her back beneath him, tears streamed down her face from the repeated, deep digs of his cock inside her throat and she had to gasp for air.What is happening to me… But before she could even think enough to try to escape, he cupped her in his hand, two fingers shoving inside her slick passage.

She was wet. And need clawed and bit at her.

Keening, she lifted her hips up to meet his touch.

The muscles in her pussy clenched and spasmed around his fingers. When he moved to cover her body, she could think of nothing else but easing the hunger in her belly. His hips wedged between her thighs, the head of his cock brushing against her slick folds.

When a booming crash filled the room, the man above her stiffened and Caoilinn suddenly felt naked and exposed.What…?

His eyes suddenly gleamed in the dark. And they weren’t the warm, deep green of Finn’s eyes.

They were red. Like the fires of hell.

A scream built in her throat, and she shoved him away, cowering on the bed as she turned her head.

And her heart dropped like a leaden weight to the pit of her belly as she saw who was standing in the doorway.

Chapter Seven

Finn had raced all day to get here, riding Lir until the poor beast was lathered and exhausted. When he hit the clearing where they lived, he leaped from Lir and took off running for the cottage, not even slowing as he drew his blade.

The door slammed into the earthen wall. In the hearth, the embers of the fire glowed faintly. There was no light beyond that, but it was no deterrent to him. He could see clearly as he moved through the small cottage, although what he saw in the bedroom was enough to make him wish he was blind.

It was his every nightmare. No—it was worse. Even in his nightmares, he hadn’t imagined seeing his woman, his love, writhing beneath the body of another man.

But it took less than a heartbeat to realize that it was not a man. Though the illusion the creature wore was powerful, Finn saw through it to the incubus, the nightmare creature that lived beneath. It was a white-skinned demon, hair nearly as pale as its snow-white skin—and as Finn lifted his blade, preparing to strike, the thing pushed back onto his heels.

And lifted burning red eyes to stare at Finn.

In that very second, the veil that he hadn’t even realized was there splintered, and the man born as Finn, called Azar in the realm of the demons, remembered.

He remembered this exact moment, happening long ago, but it hadn’t been Corsivo. It had been a demon that had been known as Eclias—and Finn had killed that incubus with one stroke of his blade, unaware that Caoilinn had fled the cottage until she was already out the door.

She had jumped…and his rage had split his soul from his body, giving birth to the demon called Azar.

Seven hundred years he had walked the demon realms as an incubus, sliding into the mortal realm through the dreams of women, turning into the monster that he had once hunted.

It took only seconds for the memories to flash through his mind.

Lowering the blade, he closed his eyes. “Why are you making me relive this, Corsivo?”

There was a soft slithery sound and he opened his eyes to see Caoilinn sliding off the mattress, staring at Finn with horror and fear in her eyes. Finn moved to block her, but she froze even as he started to move toward her.

Literally froze, her eyes staring blankly ahead, her lips parted, even her chest didn’t move.

“You’re not reliving this, you areliving it,” the demon king murmured, rising from the bed. “Regret, Finn, ‘tis a powerful emotion among the demon kind. Not an emotion we are supposed to feel…and when we do, amazing things can happen.”

Corsivo moved toward Finn, pausing for one second to rest his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “You’ll not remember any of this, and none of your time as Azar. Time will realign as it should be, and you will once more be Finn, destroyer of demons, and you’ll have one chance to save your bride.”

Thousands of questions swarmed through his mind, but he couldn’t voice any of them. By the time his throat had loosened enough to speak, Corsivo was gone. And so was Finn’s memory of him.

Instead, he saw a black-skinned incubus covering the pale figure of his wife. A sense of déjà vu swept through him.Haven’t I done this before…? But as he stood there with his sword lifted high, he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of what he was doing.

Instead of killing the demon as his gut insisted he do, he sheathed his blade, and moved toward Caoilinn.

He never saw the demon wink out of sight as he caught her arm just as she tried to slip past him, tears streaming down her cheeks, sobs all but choking her.

“Caoilinn!”

She shook her head, staring at his chest, struggling against him. “Don’t touch me! I’m dirty—I let that thing touch me!”

Finn drew her against him. Rage ate a hole in his belly. Jealousy boiled inside him. But more…more. There was a passionate, gut-deep relief that she hadn’t slipped away from him.

“You are not dirty. ‘Tis a demon, and a demon’s magic he used. You couldn’t see beyond that.”

“Ishould have!” she screamed. “I should know my own husband.”

He eased her against his chest, ignoring her struggles. “You do know me—you knew the minute I entered that he wasn’t real. He’s a demon—he used magic on you—that isn’t your fault.”

“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against him.

“No.Never ,” he rasped, clutching her to him desperately. Fear ate a hole in his stomach. “You are mine—forever, remember? You promised me, Caoilinn. You promised you’d never leave me.”

She sobbed and it was as though her bones simply turned to water as she collapsed in his arms. “How could I have let that thing touch me? How can you stand to look at me?”

Finn murmured against her hair, “You are my own sweet Caoilinn. I’ve loved you for an eternity, and I’ll not let my anger cost me you.”

As sobs racked her body, he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed, lying on the bed with her cradled against him. “You’re my love, my only love…you are all to me,” he crooned against her temple.

Caoilinn felt cold inside, icy, as though she stood naked on the cliffs in the middle of a winter gale. The only heat was that of Finn’s body and she shivered in his arms, trying to squirm closer. She felt dirty inside—scarred, somehow.

“Take it away,” she begged, lifting her face and staring at Finn desperately. He couldn’t possibly forgive her as easily as that. She knew it in her belly. Her begging him to touch her was useless. How could he want to touch her after this? But she needed his touch, needed it to burn away that foul taint that seemed to cling to her.

His fingers threaded through her hair, gently arching her face to his. When his lips covered hers, she could have wept. His tongue licked at the seam of her lips, tracing the shape of her mouth before he gently pushed inside, tasting her deeply.

One hand slid down her neck, over her shoulder, down her torso until he could pull her lower body against him. His body, still clothed, pressed against her, the heat seeping into her bones, warming her chilled flesh.

She sobbed against his lips as his hand cupped her mound, his palm grinding lightly against her clit. Finn slid two fingers inside the tight, dew-slicked sheath of her pussy, pumping them slowly in and out until she was rocking against him and moaning eagerly.

He brought her to climax and she lay there quivering as he pushed back. Lifting heavy lashes, she watched as he tugged at the laces that held his breeches closed. His cock sprang free and she reached down, closing her fingers around his length. Pumping her wrist slowly, she stroked him up and down, staring up at him with wide, tear-damp eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and rough.

A smile canted his lips up. “I love you,” he murmured back as he closed his hand around her wrist, gently tugging her hand away. “Nothing will change that…nothing will take you from me.”

As he covered her body and pushed inside, Caoilinn wrapped her arms around him, linking her fingers at the back of his neck. Arching up, she took him deep inside her body, and half-sobbed, half-gasped out his name.

“Forever,” he murmured into her ear as he started to move against her.

“Forever,” she sighed.

He made love to her gently, pressing soft, easy kisses to the darkening bruises on her breasts. With every touch of his hand, a little bit of the nasty, dark taint seemed to lift, and by the time the powerful need for climax was unfurling inside her belly once more, she could think of nothing but Finn. His cock seemed to swell, throbbing inside her pussy as she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to keep him locked inside her.

Turning her head, she sought his mouth, catching his lower lip in her teeth and tugging gently. He groaned and started to fuck her harder, his fingers biting urgently into her flesh as he lifted her against him.

“Scream for me, Caoilinn,” he purred as her head fell back, her mouth open as she panted raggedly for air.

“Finn,” she moaned weakly.

He laughed as he lowered his head to her neck, licking a slow, lazy trail up the damp flesh, closing his teeth around her ear and biting gently. “That’s nice…but it’s not a scream.”

He pulled out and as he pushed inside her this time, he rotated his hips a little, stroking her deep inside. At the first thrust, her eyes flew open wide. At the second, she groaned, a harsh, rough sound. And with the third stroke, she was screaming, her nails raking his back as she thrashed and bucked underneath him.

He exploded inside her just as she started to come—she could feel the hot wet jet of his seed as he filled her. The contractions seized her womb and she stared up at him blindly as the orgasm ripped through her.

A few heartbeats passed with him locked inside her, his weight braced on his palms, his hips pressed snug against her as his cock jerked and pulsed.

Then he collapsed against her and as he rested his head between her breasts, her eyes closed.

Sleep came and took them and they slept wrapped in each other’s arms, not another word spoken of what had transpired that night.

And when morning came…their memories of the nights past were gone, as though they had never happened.

Epilogue

Mary Callahan stood in the doorway of the attic suite with a frown on her face. Why had she come here? She’d just cleaned it yesterday—and the honeymooning couple who would arrive today would be using the suite of rooms on the floor below.

There had been reservations—a young schoolteacher coming from America, but the day of her arrival had come and passed with no word.

Moving inside, Mary pursed her lips as she smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in the handmade quilt. With a soft sigh, she shrugged and started to turn and walk away.

But on the bedside table there was a book. A local one—she’d seen it before.

How odd, though. The cover… The cover didn’t seem right.

Picking it up, she stared at the sketch of the tower on the cliffs. Hadn’t there been a man on the cover? And it seemed…lighter. Thinner.

However had it gotten up here?

“Was this here yesterday?” she murmured, scratching her temple, puzzling over it.

“Hmm.” With a shrug of her shoulders, she muttered, “Maybe my mind truly has given up on me. The boys keep saying it has.”

Tucking the book under her arm, she bustled out of the room, closing the door snugly behind her.

If she had paused for just a moment to look back, she might have seen in the corner the image of a tall creature, his hair waving to his waist, his eyes as red as the fires of hell…and a smile as benign and peaceful as a saint’s.

Chapter One

Brazilian Rainforest Conservancy - 19 April 2083

Kaniwa sat down at the table, a sheaf of satellite photos and printouts in one hand and a grim expression on his face. Tawny knew exactly what he would say. She gazed into his troubled brown eyes. “I was right.” A statement, not a question. She’d plumbed Worldnet before she made that first call to the Brazilian conservancy, making sure actual data existed to back up her premonitions, but she hadn’t bothered to bring the files with her. She’d known that Kaniwa—former lover, longtime friend and the conservancy’s director—would only trust the results if he compiled the information himself.

Though she often had to go to great lengths to convince others of the fact, her sixth sense—at least, that’s what she called it to others, that extra presence inside her head—never failed her, so she’d gone into this certain what the outcome would be.

“What possessed you to connect all this?”

Tawny shrugged. “We’ve been friends a long time, Kani. You know about my hunches.”

He frowned. “Yeah, but I still don’t know how they work.”

“Join the club.” Leaning forward, Tawny pointed her chin toward the stack of documents. “How bad is it?”

He shook his head, eyes wide with worry and shadowed by fear. “The correlations are phenomenal. Faultwide quakes along the San Andreas began within twenty-four hours of the first satellite photo demonstrating the die-off.” He extracted a glossy picture from the pile of papers, sliding it over to her.

She’d seen it before, not only as a mental image, but through a backdoor into the conservancy’s datanet. However, she didn’t particularly want Kaniwa to know she’d hacked into their computer system, so she studied the photo as though seeing it for the first time.

It was a picture of the heart of what little remained of the Brazilian rainforest. Fifty years earlier, three-quarters of a million square miles of Brazilian rainforest still existed, and even that hadn’t seemed enough. Today, a mere ten thousand survived. Tawny stared at the tiny blotch of yellow in the center of the photograph. Now, even that was dying.

“From the inside out, Tawny. How the hell is this happening? Encroachment, die-offs, they usually occur at the fringes. What the hell have we missed?” The pain in his voice, so deep, brought a lump to her throat.

He’d been heading this project for thirty years, preserving the largest remaining bastion of wilderness in the hopes that one day they’d be able not only to preserve, but to expand the rainforest ecosystem. She glanced up as he scraped his fingers through the short, dark stubble covering his scalp. At sixty-three, he was just beginning to acquire a few silver curls among the black. The muscles beneath his gleaming mahogany skin bulged.

A brief flash of memory—

College. She and Kani standing in the quad as a light rain began to fall. He’d rubbed his head just that way, strong arms rippling. He was smiling, and reached out to pick her up, twirling round and round as the bottom fell out of the sky, his white tank top plastered to his dark chest by the rain. And then she was plastered against him, legs wrapped around his waist, her tongue dancing in his mouth as lightning laced the heavens.

Lovers at the time, but eventually they’d gone their separate ways. She headed to Washington, to be the voice for the World Conservation Coalition. Kani stayed on the front lines, doing all the things her machinations on the political front made possible, each in their own way fighting to preserve what little remained of the wild places.

Kani sighed. “I don’t know how to save it.”

Tawny shook off her reverie. What a time to become maudlin! Then again, maybe she could use the memory to convince Kaniwa to grant her favor. She’d come here for a purpose, and the man she needed to persuade sat directly across from her. She met his worried gaze. “Do you remember that day in the quad, when the storm was raging all around us?”

His features softened, a slow smile creasing his face, warming his eyes. “I’ll never forget it.”

“It was like the storm was connected to us. Tied to our heat, our passion. Remember?” Kaniwa nodded, reaching out a hand, and Tawny twined her fingers with his. “We couldn’t wait, didn’t care if anyone saw. Made love right there on the flagstones, with rain coming down so thick we could barely breathe.” She chuckled lightly. “Thank God no one did see us!” Her fingers tightened on his. “And when we climaxed, thunder made the earth shake, and then it was over.”

Kani nodded. “The clouds parted, and we were lying on our backs, staring up into a patch of blue, with just a light mist drifting down.” His eyes, so brown they were almost black, smoldered with such passion it took her breath away. “That’s the day I decided to marry you. I’ve never felt anything like it, before or since.”

“I have.”

He would have pulled away, but she held tight, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’m talking about the connection, Kani. To the earth. The elements.” She stared at a dark freckle at the base of his forefinger, remembering how startled she’d been to realize that Africans could freckle. She’d known intellectually, of course, but there had still been a thrill of discovery the first time they made love, when her eager gaze explored his body and found a dusting of sun’s kisses on his shoulders, his hands, and just above the coarse, kinky curls at his groin.

Tawny sighed, realizing that she was drifting again. This was one of the reasons she’d begun to avoid Kani. She loved him so much, and yet she couldn’t be with him in the way that he wanted, as a wife. Lately, just seeing him on the holophone left her aching for his touch. But they’d last made love five years earlier. At the time, Kani had declared that it would never happen again unless she married him, and it hadn’t. It was so frustrating, to love two beings so much, and yet to be unable to touch the one, or tell the other.

Yet now, she had to tell Kani the truth, or at least a portion of it. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I feel things like that all the time. Lately, the…attacks, premonitions, whatever you’d like to call them, have gotten worse.” She leaned toward him, hazel eyes locked on his, willing him to believe her. “For example, I got the jitters just before two o’clock on January tenth. Shook so bad I had to stop and sit on the floor in the hallway outside Senator Mattson’s office until the tremors went away. And…I saw what was happening, in my mind. Knew, even before I went in and found Shelly staring at the livestream on her comp screen, that quakes had destroyed half of California.”

Kani’s gaze narrowed, but his features revealed no hint of what he was feeling.

Tawny forged on. “The night of the Havana ice storm, I was in Florida, presenting an award to the Wetlands Preservation Committee for their success in cleaning up and protecting the remaining marsh. I froze up. My jaw locked, I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. I was paralyzed for fifteen minutes. I could feel the hailstones, Kani, like I was there. The paramedics thought I’d had a stroke, but the hospital couldn’t find anything wrong with me, except that I was exhibiting symptoms of hypothermia in ninety-degree weather. And what was I watching in the assessment room while I waited for them to release me? Streaming video of a hailstorm in Havana that occurred just about the time I had my attack, and an announcer explaining how this freak storm only lasted about fifteen minutes.” She shivered, and rubbed her arms. “And when that hurricane hit Maine? Another vision, and vertigo. So bad that I had to stay in bed for sixteen hours, which was exactly how long the hurricane lasted before it began to dissipate.” She squeezed his lean fingers. “I had dreams about all three incidents, weeks before they happened. I warned the Tectonics Advisory Board about the San Andreas, but none of their data backed me up. After reviewing a decade’s worth of seismic activity, they said there was no reason to suspect there would be a major upheaval along the fault line any time within the next eighteen months. And those asses at the International Weather Bureau actually laughed in my face when I told them a hurricane would make landfall in Maine. They said there was no way in hell a weather pattern like that could form at that time of year.”

Kani frowned, staring down at her hand, pale against his dark flesh. “That’s a heck of a lot to swallow, Tawny. Why are you telling me all this?”

She tapped the pile of papers in front of her. “There’s something at work here that’s outside the ordinary. Known data doesn’t account for any of what’s happening, but when you look at the big picture, you can see that it’s all connected. The crazy weather. The tectonic instabilities. The surge in die-offs. That marsh? Reduced by half in a matter of weeks after I presented the award, though they’d managed to keep it alive and even expand its borders a bit over the last fifteen years. It’s all dying, Kani. TAB, IWB, they didn’t want to hear me. Then, after I turned out to be right about Maine and California, I had to go underground, because the ISA decided some terrorist organization must be doing all this, and I had to somehow be involved. I don’t think they know I’m here, not yet, but there isn’t much time to do what has to be done, and I need your help.”

Kani pulled his hand away and rubbed at tired eyes. “I don’t see how I can help, Tawny.”

“You can believe me. I think I can fix this, but to do that I have to go into the forest, and I know I can’t get past the perimeter without your authorization.”

“You can hack our computer system, but you can’t get past the Sentritechs?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “How’d you know?”

“I know you, Tawny. How many times did I watch you hack when we were in college? I could tell from your expression when you saw it that the satellite photo was nothing new to you, and you haven’t even glanced at the other data, and there should be things there you have no access to.”

Tawny passed a hand over her eyes. At sixty-one in a day and age where average life expectancies had risen into the hundred and forties, she was just as energetic, youthful and fit as women in their thirties had been a century ago. Yet for the first time every one of her sixty-odd years weighed heavily on her. “All right, Kani. The truth is, I could get past your perimeter and you’d never know it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I couldn’t make myself do it without your permission.”

He closed his eyes briefly, nodding. “I’m glad, because that’s the one thing I couldn’t have forgiven.” He stood abruptly, staring down at the photos on the table. “You always knew when it would rain. Whether the summer would be hot or mild. The exact day any of a hundred different flowers would bloom. That afternoon on the quad, you told me a storm would come, and there was nothing but blue sky to be seen. The clouds rolled in so fast…it was almost like you called them.” He shook his head. “When we make love, that connection you speak of is there, just outside my reach. I can almost feel what you feel.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze challenging. “You say you love me. If that’s true, why wouldn’t you marry me?”

Tawny swallowed hard. “I do love you, Kani. It’s just that…things are complicated.”

“They don’t have to be. You could just tell me whatever it is you’re not saying.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. This was too much to ask.”

He studied her carefully for a long moment. “I’m not saying no, Tawny. I was raised in Africa by grandparents who still follow the old ways. I’ve seen a lot of things that science can’t explain. Had my own…visions. What exactly do you want?”

She got the distinct impression he was speaking of more than the forest. “I have to go in. I have to see what’s happening.”

“And what about us?”

He wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “I can’t make a permanent commitment, Kani. You know that.”

“Why?”

In the past, she would have put him off with a flippant answer. This time, she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. She owed him at least a portion of the truth. She took a deep breath. “There’s…someone else.”

“Finally.” His jaw tightened, lips coming together in a thin line. “How long? From the beginning?”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “Yes.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me? Does…he know?”

“Because I didn’t think you would share, and I-I’m selfish. I didn’t want to lose you. And yes, he knows. He’s known all along.”

“But he’s willing to share.”

He was baiting her, but his voice was calm. He seemed almost…satisfied. Knowing. And he kept emphasizing the word “he”. Did Kani have someone in mind? Hell, this was going even worse than she’d expected. How could she tell him that the other person wasn’t even human? Or for that matter, that she’d never even met him in person?

“I didn’t come here to fight, Kaniwa. There’s something more important at stake here. If you believe that sometimes I know things no one else does, then listen to me. If this forest dies, the world follows. I have to go in there.”

“You think you can save it.”

“I know I can, I just don’t know exactly how. Not yet. But I’ll figure it out once I get inside. Trust me.”

He laughed, and it was somehow sad. “Trust you.” He shook his head. “How can I trust you, when I look at you and I know that you’re still not telling me everything?”

Tawny’s temper flared. “I never lied to you. Never promised more than I could give. I told you exactly what kind of relationship I was willing to have, and my reasons are my own. To reveal or not, as I see fit. I never said we were exclusive. Hell, for that matter, neither did you. You’ve dated other women.”

He clenched his fists at that. “But I never loved anyone but you.”

Tawny didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if there was anything to say. Shit. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but she felt fairly certain she wouldn’t be coming out of those woods. She hadn’t wanted their last few days together to be like this.

When she didn’t speak, Kani shoved the mound of data scattered across the table into a pile and picked it up. “All right, Tawny. You can go in. But not without me. I’ll arrange for a chopper to drop us at the center.”

She stood and walked over to the bank of windows facing the edge of the forest some two hundred yards away, her mind racing. Relief and reluctance battled within her. If he went along, they’d have at least a few more days together, but would it be harder to do what Forrest wanted?

The familiar presence at the back of her mind whispered that it would be all right. He even seemed pleased.But you must walk in… Tawny nodded. “Thank you. But we can’t go in that way. We have to hike in.”

“For God’s sake, Tawny! Do you know how long it will take to hike to the interior? It’s four thousand miles or so to the edge of the browning.” He came up behind her, grasping her shoulder with one strong hand.

She turned and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his firm chest. “Please, Kani. Just trust me.”

He stiffened at first, and she thought he would pull away, but then he sighed. “Hell.” The hand not clutching papers came up, stroking her shoulder. “I guess I’m willing try just about anything at this point.” The tone of his voice said it wasn’t just the forest he was talking about.

Tawny closed her eyes, relaxing against him. “Thank you.”

He held her for a moment longer, then gently pushed her away. “If we’re hiking, I have to get things rolling. And as long as we’re going in, I’d like to take two of my team. Evan’s the best field man I’ve got, and Mai’s like you. Functions primarily on instinct, but her instincts are better than most people’s hard data. Between the four of us, maybe we can solve the problem, and if not, this might be our last chance to catalog what we’re losing.”

She started to protest, but the quiet observer in the back of her mind again radiated approval. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’ve already got a pack ready, so just tell me how I can help.”

Kani waved away her offer. “We’ll take care of it. I’d have you study the maps, but it wouldn’t help. We’ll have to navigate by GPS once we get below the canopy. I don’t suppose you have a particular route in mind?”

Tawny shook her head. “None other than heading straight in.”

“All right.” He turned and stepped over to the conference room door, pausing with his fingers on the handle. “We’ll head out in the morning, at first light.” He opened the door and disappeared into the hall.

* * * * *

Tawny made her way back to her room and once inside, flopped down on the bed. That hadn’t been pleasant, but at least they were going in.

The presence folded into the back of her mind stretched and unfurled. She could feel his excitement, yet sensed sorrow as well. “Your heart aches.”

She nodded, swallowing with difficulty past the lump in her throat. “I love him. I’m going to miss him.”

“You have not parted yet.”

“But we will.” Tawny shifted restlessly on the bed, pulling a pillow out from under the cover and fluffing it beneath her head. “I don’t want to talk now, Forrest.”

He hesitated, but then she felt his essence, his psychic presence, withdrawing into a tight, sheltered bundle in a dark corner of her mind. She sighed. Normally, she would have been comforted by him.

Ever since she could remember, he had been inside her—a calm, quiet presence within her head, a prickling kind of energy throughout her body. Her own private hotline to nature. When she was young, he communicated with her in dreams and visions only, but once she realized she was different, he’d begun conversing with her directly. Though she’d known instinctively that no one else would understand, she’d never questioned his presence. Never felt it was anything other than right.

She called him Forrest Green, giving him a name perhaps to try and make their relationship seem normal, though it was anything but. In ages past, he might have been called the Old Man of the Forest, the Green Man. As best she could understand, he was even more than ancient legends made him out to be. Not just the spirit of the forest, but the essence of earth itself. The Gaians had it right. The earth was alive—a living, breathing, thinking entity, though not quite in the same way as humans. Of course, the Gaian religions postulated a female earth, and that was so wrong. The earth was definitely male.

And therein lay the root of all her problems. The earth’s problems, for that matter. The earth lived in cycles, according to Forrest, and this cycle was coming to an end. There had to be a renewal, and though he wouldn’t tell her exactly how this renewal would come about, she had a strong hunch it involved something very similar to sex. A physical joining of the two of them.

Her nipples tingled at the thought. In the beginning, Forrest had been only a friend, a mentor, having connected with her because he sensed her innate love of the earth and all its myriad faces. At the time, he had let her know that he spoke to others as well, a chosen few, not knowing which one would turn out to be alpha to his omega.

In high school, Tawny had boyfriends, even had sex with a couple of them. Forrest wrapped himself away from her at those times, respecting her privacy. There was no love with them, however, only lust and curiosity. Then she met Kani at college, and everything changed.

She’d fallen in love with his strength, his courage, his lust for life, but before long, she realized that she had the same feeling for Forrest. Her admiration of his calm, his quiet support, his empathy, had grown into something precious. However, Forrest had never expressed any emotion other than a sort of mentor-protégé type fondness, so she kept her feelings hidden from him.

Until that day on the quad.

He warned her that the storm was coming, and when she made no move to go inside, enjoying her time with Kani too much to worry about a little rainstorm, Forrest hung around instead of withdrawing, trying to convince her it wasn’t going to be a little storm. The wind and rain blew in and Kani whirled her about, and her pussy throbbed and her heart sang, and Forrest was still there. Before he could hide them, his emotions swirled through her like a storm. Realization, love, disappointment, sorrow. He was going to leave her, removing his presence for good because she loved Kani.Forrest, wait! She had opened her mind, her heart, letting him see how much she loved them both, and as she and Kani made love on the stones, he watched and felt through her, and the sky boomed and the earth shook, and they both knew he had found his alpha.

Lying in bed later that evening, she and Forrest allowed their true feelings to mingle within her for the first time. She found that he had known how he felt for quite a while, had even gone so far as to withdraw his presence from the few others who still held promise. Waiting for her. Wanting her.

In vivid dreams he made love to her, green and growing things touching her in ways that left her aching with need. Yet, even in dreams, she could not get Kani out of her head. She could not conceal how the thought of losing him hurt. “Love him as well, then, for as long as you can,” Forrest had said. “Until the time has come for us to join.”

And she had, until Kani refused to see her anymore because she wouldn’t marry him.

Growling with impatience, Tawny tugged the pillow up over her head. There was no sense in rehashing all of this now. Soon, she and Forrest would meet at last, and they would join, and the earth would be renewed. Was losing one of the loves of her life such a huge price to pay, when she would still have the other, and save the earth to boot?

Her head found the sacrifice worth it, but her heart did not agree.

* * * * *

A soft knock at the door woke her. Tawny rubbed bleary eyes and glanced at the digital clock next to the bed. Nearly midnight. Surprised she’d slept so long, she struggled out of the bed and walked over to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kani’s deep voice.

She pressed a hand to the lightplate near the doorjamb, filling the room with a muted golden glow, then tugged open the door.

He stood there, heartstoppingly handsome in a white tank top, his dark mahogany skin appearing almost ebon by contrast. A thick stubble covered his chin and jawline. Likely he hadn’t shaved since early that morning. “We have to talk.”

Tawny rested a hand on the doorframe, leaning her forehead against it. “Kani, I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to do this out here. May I come in?”

She straightened, waving him past, and the heat of his skin against hers as their shoulders brushed was almost more than she could bear. She shivered with the need to be held by him. Shoving the door shut with her foot, she wrapped her arms around her middle to still the tremors.

Kani rubbed at his scalp, running his hand back and forth through his short, coarse curls. “I never thought I would say this, but…sharing you with someone sure as hell beats not having you at all.”

Tawny stared at him openmouthed.

“I’ve been miserable these last five years, Tawny. I can’t get you out of my head. Seeing you again…” His molasses eyes caught hers. “Suspecting you were seeing someone else, but not knowing for sure…I think that’s what was so bad. Now that I know, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I can share you, if that’s what it takes to bring you back into my life.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Kani—” A bubbling growl interrupted—her stomach rumbling loudly.

They stood for a moment in shocked silence, then burst out laughing, relaxing in each other’s presence for the first time since her plane had landed that morning.

“I guess I’m going to have to feed you.” Kani smiled down at her.

“Well, it has been about eighteen hours since I ate those peanuts on the flight over.” Thousands of years of human ingenuity, and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a more creative in-flight snack.

He held out his hand. “Come to my room. I’ll cook for you.”

She placed her hand in his, then leaned against him impulsively. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. She glanced up, grinning mischievously. “If you take care of the main course…” She wiggled her hips, gratified when he shivered. “I’ll provide dessert.”

His mouth covered hers, and she drank in the taste of him. When he finally pulled away and started to lead her out, she hesitated. “Kani? Are you sure about this?”

Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her tousled, tawny curls. He inhaled deeply, then drew back and kissed her forehead. “I’m sure.”

As he led her down the corridor to his room, she had several moments to reflect on the irony of finally having him on her own terms, just before she was about to disappear for good.

* * * * *

Tawny leaned back, arching as she stretched her arms above her head. “You always were a better cook than I.”

Kani grinned as he scraped the tiniest remainder of portobello mushrooms, lemon-pepper crusted asparagus, and cauliflower au gratin—all grown hydroponically right there at the compound—into the compost chute. “I think I have to agree. Charcoal is not an essential part of our diets—at least not in large quantities.” He was referring to the fact that even in a time of smart ovens and self-cook meals, she could manage to burn just about anything.

“Everything set for tomorrow?” She stood and walked over to the large windows facing the forest. She couldn’t see anything, since it was after midnight, but she could feel Forrest out there, waiting.

Kani joined her. “All set.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.

She turned and hugged him, resting her cheek on his chest. He stroked her back, rubbing his unshaven stubble against her hair. “We’ll find a way to save it.”

She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t tell him that she knew it would be saved, but she’d lose him in the process. Instead, she tugged his shirt from his pants, ran her hands up underneath. She wanted to feel his heart beating beneath her palm, his hot seed invading her womb. Her fingers traced the ridges of his spine, smoothed his shoulder blades. He raised his arms, and she pulled the shirt off, resting her hands against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

He pushed the straps of her top aside, tugging her shirt down to expose her breasts. With a contented sigh, Tawny leaned back, watching as his mouth came down to cradle her nipple with its warmth.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You taste even better than I remember.”

Tawny kissed the corner of his lips as he suckled. He opened his mouth, his tongue dancing with hers, guiding hers, until both of them teased the tip of her ripe nipple. Desire undulated through her belly, birthing an urgent throb between her legs. She moaned, and Kani drew back, cradling her breast in one strong hand, tilting the peak so that she could cover it, suckling while he watched.

He shivered and pressed against her, his cock hard against her hip. Tawny shoved him away abruptly, pulling her shirt off, releasing the catch of her loose skirt so that it fell to the floor. She ran her hands over the curves of her body, swaying her hips, stopping to milk her nipples, knowing Kani loved to watch a woman touch herself.

He groaned, running a hand over the bulge at his crotch. Tawny sauntered closer, unzipping the tight-fitting pants, peeling them down until his engorged cock sprang free. She backed away and sat on the floor, spreading her legs wide, parting her labia with one hand. She teased her wet slit with the fingers of the other, watching Kani’s breath quicken, his hand caressing his cock.

“Touch me, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve so missed your touch.”

He stepped out of the pants, dropping into a crouch. He reminded her of a leopard, muscles rippling beneath his dark skin as he crawled over to her. Watching her face, he paused at her crotch, tracing the edges of her weeping lips with his tongue. He licked her fingers, his tongue wrapping around them, tasting her juices. She started to pull away, but Kani, his molasses eyes dark with desire, caught her wrist. He pressed two of her fingers together and guided them into her pussy, letting his tongue slide along the slit between them. Tawny moaned, pumping them in and out. Slowly at first, but then faster as his excitement—and her own—grew. His tongue joined her fingers, pressing deeper and deeper into her pussy, and she gasped.

“Yes, Kani. God, yes!” He inhaled sharply, burying his tongue, lapping like a thirsty feline. She shuddered, pressing her fingers into her G-spot, whimpering and bucking as corkscrews of ecstasy burst through her pelvis. “Oh yes!”

A surge of juices filled her pussy, and Kani pulled her fingers away, burrowing into her, licking and sucking. Raging desire burned in her belly. “Kaniwa, Kaniwa,” she murmured. “My love.”

He raised his head, but slipped a finger inside to continue pleasuring her. Tawny squirmed as he found her G-spot, playing it expertly as he moved close, his lips hovering over hers. The scent of her on his breath sent a thrill spiraling down to her pussy as he looked into her eyes. “Say that again.”

Tawny caressed his cheek. “My love.”

His lips covered hers, and she lost herself in his kiss as he slipped another, and yet another, finger inside her. She moaned, bucking frantically as his fingers twisted inside her. Reaching for his other hand, she guided it to her breast. He pinched the nipple tight, causing her to arch and yelp with pleasure.

His tongue delved deep, reacquainting itself with every nook and cranny of her mouth. His fingers slipped free of her pussy and she whimpered, but then his thumb filled her, and a finger slick with her juices slipped between her cheeks to toy with the tight pucker of her anus. “Oh yes,” she breathed into his kiss, reaching down, parting her cheeks and holding them wide while his finger delved just inside the tight rim. “Oh God, yes.”

He teased her, tongue flicking shallowly in and out of her mouth as his fingertip flicked shallowly in and out of her tight canal. “Please, Kani, please.”

He chuckled, a deep basso rumble that thrilled her to the core, pushing the finger just a little deeper. “What do you want me to do, Tawny?”

“Oh God.” Tawny groaned, wriggling her hips, trying to drive him into her but failing. “You know what I want.”

He grinned, his teeth white as pearls in his mahogany face. “I know, but I want to hear you say it.”

Tawny grasped his head, the stubble of his hair rough against her palms. She’d missed her African leopard. Her lover, her friend. So demanding, and virtually insatiable. He liked to watch, liked to listen. Touching herself, talking dirty, begging—it drove him crazy. With the proper incentive, he could please her all night long. Right now, not knowing how much longer they might have together, that was exactly what she needed. Looking him in the eye, she said, “Fuck me, Kani. Fuck me in the ass the way you used to. The way I like it.”

Passion blazed in the depths of those tiger-eyes and without a word he grasped her hips and flipped her over. Tawny arched like a cat, rounding her back, cheek against the floor, waiting for that first sweet penetration.

He worked his thumb inside her, twisting and turning, pressing against the rim, relaxing it, loosening it. Tawny bucked, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, forcing her to stop. “No, no, little hellcat. Slow and easy now.”

She whimpered, but subsided. A sultry warmth invaded her pelvis, spreading through her belly. Electric shocks of pleasure tightened her pussy, her anus, as his thumb probed her gently. She wanted to buck and squeeze, to drive him deeper, but forced herself to remain still, and each pleasant shiver came longer and more intense than the last.

“That’s it, hellcat,” he whispered. “Let it build.”

He slipped two fingers into her pussy, then inched them into her ass, replacing his thumb. He parted them slightly, stretching, stretching, then fucked her with them, sliding in slow and easy, holding her tight when she would have rocked, forcing her to wait, winding the spiral of need inside her tighter and tighter.

Each time her pussy or ass spasmed, he stopped until it subsided, holding her back from the edge, until finally she begged him. “Oh God, Kani. Please. Please! I have to have you. I can’t take this any longer!”

His fingers disappeared, and his cock plunged into her pussy so fast and unexpectedly that she gasped. He thrust once, twice, coating himself with her juices, and then his strong hands parted her cheeks. The tip of his cock pressed against her anus and she held her breath, praying he wouldn’t do it slow.

He didn’t disappoint her. His cock pierced her, fast and hard, a twister of pain and pleasure funneling into her core. She cried out and rocked back against him, eager and desperate, aching for release.

His left hand grasped her waist tight, while his right hand slipped between their thighs, his fingers sliding into her pussy so that he cradled himself inside her, one finger palpating her G-spot while the other two caressed his cock.

“Oh Kani, yes!” She pushed back, reveling in the feel of his thick cock packing her tight. Her pussy and ass convulsed as a wave of unbridled lust pulsed through her. “God, yes!” She pounded back against him, driving him deep. “Yes!” She arched, her body tightening around him.

He stiffened and froze, his fingers massaging his cock through her tissues as his hot seed spilled into her. Tawny gasped, body racked with pleasure as she spasmed uncontrollably.

They tumbled to the floor afterward. Tawny snuggled tight in the crook of his arm, her cheek resting against his shoulder. “I needed that.”

Kani pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So did I.” He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure he should say what came next. “There…hasn’t been anyone for me since the last time.”

She actually could tell him the same, because she and Forrest hadn’t physically touched each other, ever. But it would still be a lie, because Forrest made love to her in dreams, and her body responded. Besides, she’d told Kani there was another, and he wouldn’t understand how there could be no physical contact between them, so she said nothing.

She expected him to pull away, but he seemed not to mind her silence. She let her eyes travel the length of his naked body. Coated by a thin layer of perspiration, Kaniwa’s skin gleamed darkly in the subdued lighting. Tawny recalled her parent’s shock when she first brought him home, just two months after starting college. Even in 2040, there were certain echelons of white society that hadn’t quite accepted that all humans were the same deep down inside…just a string of code in a double helix. His charm, wit and intelligence had won them over in record time, however. In the end, they’d been more disappointed than anyone when she’d refused to marry him.

God, he was still built. Thighs like tree trunks, stomach lean and hard. She ached to wrap her body around him again. Her gaze came to rest on his eyes. Molasses-dark yet flecked with green and gold, they expressed the same need.

She wanted to answer the passion in those depths, but there was something she needed to take care of first. With a deep sigh, she sat up. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Kani’s eyes narrowed. “More surprises?”

Swallowing hard, Tawny looked away. “I just want you to know that while we’re out there, I might act a little strange.”

In one smooth movement accompanied by a faint whisper of sound he was sitting up, his hands on hers, drawing them away from her arms. She shivered briefly in a slight draft, chilled by their mingled sweat evaporating from her shoulders. Kani clasped her hands in his. “Strange, how?”

Words she’d kept bottled up for decades came pouring out. “The Gaia folks have it right, Kani. Earth is a living, breathing organism, interacting with and manipulating its environment and…it speaks to me. The visions, the premonitions, they come to me from the essence of the earth.” She shook her head, dismayed at the sting of tears in her eyes. “God, I know this sounds crazy.”

Kani said nothing, waiting patiently for her to finish.

“It’s just…I lose myself in that essence sometimes. And the closer I get to the forest, the stronger that connection becomes. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t get panicked if I seem odd. You can’t abort this expedition, Kani, no matter what. You have to believe that if we fail in this, there’s no other hope.”

He nodded, though she’d expected an argument, or at the very least a spate of questions. “All right.”

Tawny tilted her head, bewildered. “You believe me?”

“I told you this afternoon that when we made love I sensed things. I’ve always known you were different. Hell, when we first met, that was a big part of the attraction. I myself have had experiences that can’t be explained by science.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Tawny, whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

She smiled, knowing there were tears in her eyes and hoping he would know they were tears of joy and not sorrow. “We always have been, haven’t we?”

Kani nodded. “Always will be, Tawny. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She tilted her head, rubbing her cheek across the rough knuckles at her shoulder. She kissed his thumb and stood, holding out her hand. “Come here.”

She led him into the shower, turning him to face the wall. Sensors immediately keyed to their presence and water fell from the ceiling like a soft rain. She held her hands beneath the soap dispenser, allowing a mound of thick, rich foam to pile up in both palms. Kani sighed as she started massaging his shoulders, then the tight muscles in the back of his neck.

She kneaded her way down his spine then worked the small of his back. He leaned forward, crossing his arms against the wall, resting his forehead against them. Tawny obtained a fresh supply of lather, then knelt in the tub and began rubbing her way from his ankles to his buttocks. Grinning, she squeezed each cheek firmly. Kani uttered a soft moan, parting his legs. Tawny stroked her middle finger between his cheeks, allowing the tip to tease the tight pucker midway for just a moment before continuing on. Kani spread his legs further, gasping as she reached between his thighs and cupped his balls. Reaching even further, she found the head of his ripe cock and drew the nails of the three middle fingers along its length.

Kani shuddered. “God, Tawny. That feels so good.”

Tawny grasped his shoulders and turned him to face her. She soaped her hands again, massaged his firm pecs, his tight abs. Those abs spasmed as she lathered the hair at his groin, careful not to touch his burgeoning erection. He groaned.

She stood, wrapping her fingers around his cock. Kani opened his eyes. She drowned in his chocolate gaze as she stroked his thick, hot shaft.

He smiled slowly, mischievously. Reaching out, he punched a button and soft jets sprayed out from the side walls at nine-inch intervals. Tawny watched Kani grasp the bulb of one of these jets, drawing it out of the wall.

The dome of the jet capped an approximately eight-inch stainless steel rod, which in turn connected to a flexible hose. Tawny moaned, tightening her grip on his cock as he reached down and grasped her right leg, guiding her foot up onto a narrow shelf about knee height.

He punched the button again, and the force of the jet intensified. Tawny squirmed with pleasure as the water pulsed against her clit. “Oh yes.”

He wrapped his free arm around her, steadying her while he directed the spray against her tender clit and around the edges of her pussy. Tawny whimpered, hands twisting and turning, milking his cock. Her cunt spasmed, and she moaned. “Please, Kani. Please.”

He caught her hands in his and grinned. Reaching out, he thumbed the pressure control once more, slowing the water to a gentle trickle. “You do it, Tawny. I want to watch.” He backed away and knelt before her, eyes level with her exposed pussy.

Shivering with need, Tawny took the silver rod from his grasp and the warm, soothing flow to bubble between her legs. “Oh God!”

Kani’s fingers stroked her thighs. “Put it inside, Tawny. I want to see how deep you can take it.”

Steadying herself with one hand on his shoulder, she brought the silver dome closer and closer to her throbbing pussy.

Inside her mind, Forrest had been remarkably quiet, but he stirred now, and Tawny felt his desire rising like a tide. This happened more and more frequently when she and Kani were together. Her love for Kani seemed to draw him out, as well.

Kani kissed her knee, resting his cheek against her upraised thigh, gaze glued to her crotch. “Now, Tawny,” he whispered.

Eagerly, she thrust the silver head between her lips. The width of the dome was shocking at first, almost painful, but her pussy spasmed deliciously as liquid warmth flowed inside her, slow and silky as honey, and she moaned. Forrest unfurled completely, his excitement rushing in her veins as she rocked her hips gently, then more insistently, thrusting the rod deeper and deeper.

“That’s it,” Kani whispered. “That’s it. Take it all.”

She watched his lust-darkened eyes, saw him lick his lips, his chest jumping with the rapidness of his breathing. Inside, she felt her Green Man’s desire as well. His ghost touch made her nipples tingle, and the throbbing in her pussy intensified. Arching, she pushed the surrogate cock as far into her pussy as it would go, water effervescing against her womb, and screamed in delight as delicious waves of ecstasy rippled from her abdomen outward.

Kani’s mouth closed on her clit, his lips milking it roughly.

“Oh God!” Tawny shivered, spasming over and over. Together, she and Forrest burned with ecstasy as the climax went on and on.

Gently, Kani loosened her grip on the water jet, tugging it from her pussy. She dropped to her knees and moved close, pressing into him as her orgasm finally began to fade. She kissed his chest, nibbled his nipples, pressing her belly hard against his erection.

“Fuck me, baby.” She nipped the tip of one of erect peak, felt him shudder. “Fuck me now.”

His hands gripped her shoulders, turned her around. Tawny crouched on the tiles, parting her legs. He entered her suddenly, fiercely. She clung to the ledge as her swollen lips tightened around him. “Yes, Kani!”

His lean fingers grabbed her buttocks, parting her cheeks. She thought he was going to fuck her in the ass again, and the thrill sent a mini-orgasm fluttering through her, but then she gasped in excited anticipation as she felt him position the smooth curve of the silver rod between her cheeks. “Oh God, Kani.” Trickling warmth teased her sensitive rim.

“You like that?” His voice rumbled with humor, lust.

“Yes. Oh yes.” She reached back and parted her cheeks even farther. “Please, Kani. Just a little to the left, and down.”

“There?” He settled the tip of the dome against her anus.

“Yes,” Tawny sobbed, ass spasming as the warm stream cascaded gently around her throbbing rim. “Yes!”

Forrest’s essence expanded forcefully within her until she was filled with him, the tips of every nerve tingling. He drank in her sensations, magnified them, until every slight touch sent fiery sparks of pleasure flying along her nerve endings. “Oh God.”

Kani thrust again and again, reaching around her waist to finger her clit with one hand, holding the silver jet steady with the other. She rocked back into him frantically.

Abruptly, Forrest lost control as he never had before. Tawny gasped as his power surged. In a fraction of a moment, the water became a living thing, solidifying into slender tendrils that explored her anus, teasing the opening, then slithered eagerly just inside the tight pucker and undulated rhythmically in time with Kani’s frantic thrusts. Tawny screamed, shuddering uncontrollably as her entire body spasmed, trapped in the throes of an orgasm unlike any she had ever experienced. “Yes, Gaia, yes!”

Kani roared, tossing the silver jet aside and grasping both her hips as he buried himself inside her, filling her pussy with his essence.

When it was over, they were both too weak to stand. Tawny stayed on her knees, arms shaking as she tried to catch her breath. Forrest’s presence had dwindled to a self-satisfied golden glow within her.

Kani leaned against the wall, then slid down it, sitting cross-legged on the shower floor. “Holy shit.”

Tawny laughed, but it was high-pitched, slightly hysterical. Kani reached up and pressed his hand against the shower door, and the water shut off, the door gliding silently open. He stood and held out a hand to her. She grasped it, pulling herself up onto legs that wobbled like gelatin, following him into the bedroom. He collapsed back onto the bed, pulling her down with him. They cradled each other for a long time without speaking.

But Kani wasn’t one to let what they’d just experienced pass without comment. “That was incredible.” He tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, Tawny?” he asked quietly.

For a moment, she seriously considered telling him the whole truth. Inside her mind, even Forrest seemed inclined to agree. But what if he thought she was crazy? A lifetime of holding back kept her silent. She straddled his legs, drawing her fingers along his limp cock. He began to stiffen immediately, surprising them both. “I love you, Kani. Thank you for being the kind, wonderful man that you are.” She wanted to say that she would never forget him, but then he would know something was wrong.

He opened his mouth as though to question her further. Leaning down, she planted a kiss on the tip of his cock.

He shuddered. Already, he was rock-hard again. She rose up, pressing a finger to his lips as she surrounded his engorged head with her weeping pussy. He groaned wordlessly, closing his eyes.

Chapter Two

“You know Evan and Mai.”

Tawny nodded. “It’s good to see you both again.” Five years ago, they’d been recent college graduates, seemingly overwhelmed by meeting the famous Tawny Blackwood. Now, they stared at her with expressions much less awed, even skeptical.

“We’re really going in there?” Evan, tall and gangly, ran a hand through tousled, sandy blond curls.

“We have to. It’s the only way left to try and figure out what’s going on.”

Short, slender Mai, Kani’s Vietnamese protégé, shrugged, her black hair a straight, shining curtain that barely brushed her shoulders. “It’s just that people in this facility have spent the last thirty years keeping everyone out.”

Kani picked up the stuffed pack at his feet and shrugged the straps over his shoulders, settling its bulk against his back. “Sometimes, intuition is better than science. Since the instruments aren’t telling us what we need to know, the only thing to do is to go in and have a look for ourselves. The party is small, and you two were chosen with the idea of minimal impact in mind.”

Actually, Tawny had thought he would pick older, more experienced conservationists for that reason, but she held her tongue. She trusted Kani to know his people, and there were good reasons to choose team members who were both competent and yet young enough not to question his authority too vigorously.

Mai and Evan perked up visibly under his praise, and Evan squared his shoulders. “Right, then. Let’s get this party started.” He uttered the last phrase with a melodic beat, and Tawny thought she recognized the words from an old, old song from the early 2000s that had enjoyed a brief revival lately.

Mai grinned, obviously appreciating the reference, and fell into step behind him. Kani rolled his eyes, but smiled indulgently and followed suit. Tawny brought up the rear.

At the edge of the tree line, Evan paused, looking up at the majestic palms with an intense reverence. “Okay, folks. It’s into the green now, so keep your hands and feet inside the car, and don’t feed the animals.”

In other circumstances, Tawny might have found Evan’s jollity annoying, but today she appreciated the distraction. Listening to him, she was almost able to forget the nervous sensation of toads playing leapfrog in her stomach.

About a mile into the jungle, the canopy was thick enough to drown them in a smoky twilight. Evan and Kani pulled a couple of lightsticks from their packs, producing a muted green illumination.

As they hiked, Forrest was unusually silent within her. Now that the actual meeting was near, he seemed nervous, uncertain. Tawny found that worrisome, but wasn’t sure what to do about it, so she decided to let him make the next move.

Four hours later, Evan called a halt. He’d picked the spot carefully—a small clearing with a fallen trunk long enough to seat all four of them. They removed their packs and set them on the leaf-strewn ground, careful to avoid crushing any plants emerging from the natural mulch. Kani produced four micromeals from his bundle. Seating themselves on the trunk, they munched, not necessarily enthusiastically, their meals-in-a-bar.

Tawny had a better idea now why Kani had chosen to make Evan the trailblazer. His keen eyes missed nothing, and even though he was near fanatical about making sure they avoided damaging any growing thing, he’d set an amazingly steady pace and to her surprise they were making excellent progress. She silently mouthed a thank-you to the geneticists who had tweaked her code before she was born. Even as little as fifty years ago, there was no way someone her age could have undertaken such a rigorous hike, but thanks to the wonders of science and forty-five minutes in the gym every day of her adult life, she wasn’t even winded.

Evan and Mai sat together near one end of the trunk, conversing in low tones about a rare fungi they’d spotted on the way in. She and Kani sat at the other end. When she’d finished eating, she scooted a bit closer to him. “I’m worried.”

Kani frowned. “Why?”

“I haven’t felt a thing yet. I expected…I don’t know, something, to happen right away.”

Kani squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Don’t push. Just…empty your mind. Let it all go. See what happens.”

His casual acceptance of the supernatural amazed her anew.

Evan’s loud voice interrupted their conversation. “You guys ready to go?”

Like guilty children, she and Kani sprang apart. “Sure.” Grabbing their packs, they resumed their places. Evan checked the GPS integrated into his watch, then forged ahead.

Despite the random, sudden twistings and turnings Evan led them on, Tawny found that their trek took on a hypnotic sense of rhythm. As they walked, she felt her mind emptying as Kani had suggested, becoming a sea of calm.

As they worked their way deeper and deeper into the forest, Evan began halting frequently to check their position. During one such stop, Tawny felt an odd rushing in her veins. For a moment, she couldn’t place it, then realized there was a stream nearby. “Do you hear that?”

The others looked at her oddly. “Hear what?”

Confused, she glanced in the direction of the sound. “Water. I think there’s a stream nearby.”

Mai and Evan shared a glance. “I don’t hear a thing,” Evan said. “Except the insects, and the leaves whispering.”

Kani watched her, his expression veiled.

“Auditory hallucinations.” Evan pointed to the water extractor attached to her belt. “You probably need to drink more often.”

Grateful for this way out of a slightly awkward situation, Tawny grabbed the bulbous unit and brought it to her lips, taking a long draught of water extracted from the air and purified by the system. The sound of rushing water persisted. But it wasn’t a sound, really. It was a hurried tempo in her veins, more a feeling than a sound. She slipped the bulb back into its strap and smiled. “You’re right. That’s better.”

Evan smiled vaguely, eyes already on the way ahead, and started off again.

As they trudged on, Tawny willfully descended into that place of foggy calm again. Radiating a sudden sense of decision, Forrest stirred. She felt his shields go down, every one, and encountered a power so vast she couldn’t even begin to fathom it. For the first time, she realized how very careful Forrest had been with her, shielding her from the enormity of his existence. Slowly, the full power of his vast consciousness seeped into her—an immense web of knowledge and life unfurling within her body. One by one, foreign sensations impinged on her perceptions. She sensed the rapid beat of an amphibian heart, the wary regard of primate eyes hidden deep in the canopy above them. Rotting leaves sighed beneath her feet, returning thankfully to the loam that had sustained their branches. A sapling sprang free of its hull, stretching toward a narrow sunbeam that found its way through the canopy—

Inundated by the myriad impressions, Tawny dropped to her knees, holding her head in her hands.

Kani glanced back, then turned. “Hold up, guys.” He stood above her, looking worried but seeming afraid to touch her. “Tawny? You all right?”

Forrest withdrew reluctantly, as though he found it difficult to release her now that he had connected with her completely. The cacophony of life faded to a faint whisper.

Tawny grabbed her water bottle with shaking hands and took a deep drink. “Headache. The heat’s getting to me, I think.”

“Maybe we should go back.” Evan towered above them, blond hair plastered to his head by sweat.

“No.” Tawny looked up, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. It won’t happen again.”

Evan still wasn’t sure, but glanced at Kani. When his boss nodded, he sighed. “Okay, but I think at the next appropriate spot, we should stop for the night.”

“Sounds good.” Kani helped her to stand, and they continued.

It was another hour before Evan found a clearing of sufficient size to camp in overnight.

Even Mai, who seemed to have inexhaustible stamina, sighed gratefully as she eased herself onto the spongy, decaying fronds that covered the ground. “How many days are we going to have to do this?”

“To make it to the center, it would take—” Evan frowned, staring at his watch. He punched a couple of buttons, tapped the face, then glanced up at the tiny patch of star-spangled night sky visible through a small gap in the canopy. “That’s strange.”

Kani and Tawny shared a glance.

“What is it?” Kani walked over to stand near Evan.

“According to this, we’re four hundred and sixty miles into the interior, but that’s impossible. I checked earlier, and we’d only gone a little over fourteen.”

“Something wrong with the watch, I guess.” Kani glanced at it over Evan’s shoulder. “Maybe the moisture’s getting to it. Are we still oriented correctly?”

Evan shrugged. “According to this, but I’d be afraid to trust it, since we know it’s malfunctioning.”

Kani nodded and began rummaging in his backpack. “Which is why I always bring a backup for the more sensitive electronics.” He handed Evan a compass. “Here you go. Use this tomorrow.”

Evan’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, we’re still going on? But…we won’t have any idea how far we’ve gone, what our true rate of progress is. We could end up stranded out here without provisions.”

Kani shook his head. “I brought enough food to last us two months. A month in, a month out. At the thirty day mark, we turn back, regardless of whether or not we’ve gotten any answers.” He looked at Tawny as though expecting an argument, but she said nothing. “You’re keeping track of the days, right?”

“I am now.” Evan pulled a notepad from his pocket and made a notation on the first page.

“Okay. Let’s grab a bite to eat, then we’ll set up the fields.”

Kani passed out their meals. Tawny pulled the tab on hers, waiting while the small square warmed in her hand. Peeling back the cover, she savored the aroma of steak, mashed potatoes and green beans—all synthetic, of course, but she knew from dining on the real thing during childhood that the imitations were near perfect.

They ate in silence. Once her meal was gone, Tawny pulled another tab, and the outer packaging disintegrated into a puff of waste organics no different from the loam beneath the rotting fronds surrounding them.

“You know, I haven’t seen a thing yet that looks sickly, but…” Mai chewed her lower lip as everyone’s gaze fell on her. She waved a hand as though brushing aside her thoughts. “Never mind.”

“No, Mai.” Tawny leaned forward, focused intently on the young woman. “Tell us.”

“It’s silly, I know, but…even though I can’t see anything ‘off’, something feels wrong.”

Kani nodded. After a moment, so did Evan. “Yeah, I feel it, too.” The young man wrapped his long arms around gangly legs, resting his chin on his knees. He glanced at the other three. “Like the forest is tired…or…” He shook his head. “It’s driving me crazy, that feeling. I know you guys experience stuff like that all the time. Intuition, whatever. But I’ve never really been that kind of person. Everything I’ve ever accomplished has been a result of scientific observation, not some sort of sixth sense.”

Mai rested a dainty hand on one of his arms. “Don’t knock it, Evan. You’ve accomplished some pretty amazing things.”

Even in the muted green glow of the lightsticks, they could see the warm flush rising in his cheeks. He shrugged and muttered something under his breath.

Mai shook her head. “Come on, Evan. We’re all adults. I don’t think Kani, for one, will be surprised when we bunk together tonight.”

Tawny hid a smile as Evan flushed even darker, looking as though he’d like to crawl into some hole and hide. She had observed their attraction, but hadn’t been sure whether it was something they’d acted on yet. Apparently, they had. “Don’t mind us,” she assured them.

Evan groaned. Mai laughed and held out her hand. “Come on, bashful. I’ll set up the field.” He allowed himself to be led several steps away, to the far side of the clearing. Mai tugged a small blue globe from her pocket and set it on the ground. The air shimmered and an opaque dome sprang up around them. Impervious to sound, as well as insects, snakes, and other nasties, the fields were climate-controlled and would protect them throughout the night.

“I guess that’s our cue to retire, as well.” Kani produced his own field generator and the protective shield rose up around them.

The interior of the field’s surface displayed the comforting illusion of an old-fashioned tent. Field generators were a fairly new technology, not quite a decade old, and research had proven that people adapted to technological advances better if confronted with at least the appearance of familiar trappings. Tent motifs came standard with the units, though owners could now download customized interiors. Moderately young by today’s standards, she and Kani were still old enough to appreciate this reminder of childhood camping trips. Tawny wondered idly if Evan and Mai used the default, or if they’d chosen one of the more modern virtual digiscapes that seemed to be the new rage.

Kani wasn’t inclined to give her much time for reflection. “What do you think of the GPS coordinates?”

It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting, so she had to think for a moment before answering. “I think we really are further in than we seem.”

“How?”

“There were moments today when I felt…displaced. Outside of time, or maybe space. I don’t know how else to explain it. I think if we asked Mai, she will have felt it as well. What about you?”

Kani nodded. “Yeah.” He rubbed at the stubble already dusting his chin again, a sure sign he was agitated. “I’m not sure Evan’s going to be able to assimilate things like this too well. He’s very much a nuts and bolts man.” He sighed and fastened a piercing gaze on her. “By the way, what happened back there?”

She waited for some indication as to what she should say, but Forrest lay quiet and hidden inside her. “If we’d ever perfected mental telepathy, it would be something like what I felt, I think.” She sat cross-legged on the floor. “It was as though the forest were inside me. Not physically, of course, but…energetically. Is that a word that makes sense?”

“As much as any of this does, I guess.” Kani sat across from her, knees touching hers. “Did…it…hurt you?”

“No, there was just too much information, too fast.” She hugged herself, running her hands briskly up and down arms suddenly covered in goose bumps. “I can’t possibly describe it in any way that would convey the enormity.”

She looked up and saw an unexpected emotion in Kani’s dark eyes before he glanced away. Anticipation. As though he expected to have the same experience.

Puzzled, she waited for him to say something. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, she sighed and stretched out on the ground. “We’d better get some sleep.”

Kani lay down beside her, draping his arm around her waist. Tawny scooted back against him, so that her body followed the contours of his. As Kani’s breathing slowed, she stared blindly at the “tent” wall.

Sensing their repose, the field’s twilight illumination dimmed. Tawny had no idea how long she stared, slipping into a gray fog of nothing, before the first tug pulled her back to awareness.

She stood, careful not to disturb Kaniwa, whispering a quiet command for the light to stay dimmed. At the “tent flap” she drew her finger in a vertical line along the illusionary zipper, and the field parted, resealing immediately after she stepped through.

She had no difficulty seeing in the dark, which somehow didn’t surprise her. Out of habit, she looked inward with her mind’s eye, seeking Forrest’s presence. She almost cried out when she discovered he was gone. She might still have done so, but the tugging sensation returned. Feeling as though she had a rope tied around her waist, drawing her onward, she made her way through the dark forest.

After what seemed like hours she stepped into a large clearing, larger than anything they’d encountered thus far. The ground, covered in moss rather than decomposing leaves, glowed phosphorescent at her feet. Near the center of the clearing, a pool gleamed in the moonlight, which didn’t make any sense because the moon shouldn’t be visible in this quadrant of the sky. She glanced up at the hole in the canopy, and saw only stars. Warily, she crossed over to the pool.

It wasn’t moonlight reflecting in the tarn. Tawny settled cross-legged to the ground in front of it, fascinated by the fanciful fish darting through its depths, glowing like mother-of-pearl.

“We meet at last.” A deep voice rustled in her ear. Quivering, viney tendrils wrapped themselves around her shoulders, her waist.

She tilted her head, and looked into moss-green, glowing eyes in a vine-carved face topped by silvery leaves. Her pulse quickened. “Forrest Green.”

“Or Jack-in-the-Green, or Old Man of the Forest, or Ulgan, or Gaia. Man has given me many names.”

Tawny studied the face above her, awed and a bit frightened.

A soft, flexible vine caressed her cheek and warmth flooded her groin at the gentle touch. “Do not be afraid.” Leaves rustled as he tilted his head, a barklike hand reaching out to touch her hair. “I have waited so long to touch you.”

Tawny’s nipples tightened. She sighed, leaning back into his embrace. Like Kani, and despite his appearance, being held in his arms felt right. “So have I.” She caressed the limbs encircling her waist.

Forrest breathed in sharply. A bold tendril snaked inside her shirt, sliding across her bra.

Tawny reached up and tugged her buttons loose, letting her shirt gape. She slipped her breasts from their cups.

The vine wrapped around one swollen nipple, squeezing gently.

She moaned, arching into his touch.

More vines exploded from beneath and behind her. Thorns caught in the fabric of her shirt, her pants, ripping them away, yet not a single one harmed her body. Slowly, gently, Forrest lowered her to the ground.

Her pale skin gleamed emerald in the moss-glow. Forrest stared into her eyes. She shivered as the tips of a hundred velvety vine-fingers stroked her flesh.

“I have watched you from afar. Loved you.” His voice took on the murmur of leaves blowing in the wind. “May I touch you, Tawny? May I take you?” He knelt over her, his rough lips brushing her earlobe, her neck.

Fiery desire licked through her veins. Her nipples throbbed as eager tendrils teased their tips. Her abdomen quivered as one thick vine stroked the inside of her thigh. “Oh please, yes.” She parted her legs, baring her pussy.

Forrest stiffened above her. At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. He seemed to be melting, but then she realized he was shifting, taking on human form. His skin became soft and supple, yet patterned in gray and white like the bark of a birch. The leaf-covered branches atop his head became silky green hair. Tawny reached up to touch it, and it slipped through her fingers like the very fine grass of a wild meadow. His eyes were the blue of sky reflected in a clear mountain pool.

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed.

His laugh chattered like a brook over a rocky bed. “No. You are.” His hands stroked her shoulders, caressed the curve of her breasts, traced the flare of her thighs.

“Please, please,” she begged, spreading her legs even further. “Touch me.”

He knelt between her legs, his glittering eyes seeming to expand at the sight of her swollen lips. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally registered the enormous erection jutting from between his legs.

His fingers stroked her bush, and he smiled when she shivered. He leaned over, burying his nose in the dark triangle above her clit, inhaling deeply. Tawny moaned and wriggled. His tongue darted out, teasing the tiny mound gently at first, then more and more firmly as her ecstatic whimpers urged him on.

She desperately wanted his tongue inside her. “Please, Forrest. Please lick my pussy.”

He groaned, a loud rumble like thunder. His tongue crept along her slit, stopping to wriggle back and forth between her swollen lips.

“God, yes!” Tawny arched, fingers digging into their mossy bed.

He reached into her mind, even as his tongue slid deeper and deeper. “Oh God!” Her lips stretched tight around him. In her mind’s eye, he showed her how he made his tongue grow to fill her. “Oh yes. Yes.” She moaned and bucked as his tongue lunged into her again and again. “Forrest, yes!” She arched into his thrusts, over and over, until at last a primal pleasure coursed through every bone in her body. “Yes!”

Her climax seemed to last forever, but at last she lay, spent and sated, on the mossy carpet. “Was that it?” Her voice shook, and she took a moment to steady herself before speaking again. “Is the earth renewed now?”

Forrest chuckled. “No, wild one. It is not yet time for the Joining.”

“Mmmm. I think I’m glad. You’ve been inside me for so long I know your heart and soul as well as I know my own.” She turned her head to stare into his depthless blue eyes. “I’d like to know your body that well. I’d like to have you inside me, over and over, all night long.” Her voice was thick with desire.

He smiled, his teeth white as stars and nearly as dazzling. “Your wish is my command, beloved.”

He kissed her, exploring her mouth with his silky tongue as she explored his. Her hands wandered, following the contours of his shoulders. He gasped, eyes wide with wonder as she teased his nipples into taut little peaks and sent shivers the length of his taut, muscular body. He seemed surprised.

“Didn’t you know how it would feel?”

He shook his head. “I know what Kaniwa’s touch does for you, and mine. I did not know how it would make me feel.”

“How does it feel?”

“Mmmm. It makes me tingle.”

Tawny trailed kisses from his lips down to one jutting peak. “Really? What else?” She covered his nipple with her mouth.

Forrest gasped. “Oh! It makes my loins ache.”

She suckled urgently, flicking her tongue across the tip of his nipple all the while.

“Tawny, Tawny.” His hands grasped her hair, fingers tangled in her tresses.

She let go and planted fervent kisses on the ridges of his ribs, working her way down to the mosslike hairs at his groin. Forrest moaned and writhed. Tawny traced the outline of his long cock on his abdomen, as close as she could get without actually touching it. His hands tightened on her head and he groaned.

“Do you like that?”

He thrust his hips desperately, but she pulled back. “Please,” he groaned. “Please.”

Watching him, she delicately traced the ridge of his cock with her tongue. The hot flesh tightened beneath her touch, a drop of pre-ejaculate gleaming in the phantom moonlight.

Raw hunger twisted in her belly. “I want to taste you.” He gasped as her lips hovered above his engorged head, and then she took him in her mouth.

The cry he uttered was not in any language that she knew. It was the rush of the ocean, the grumble of a volcano, vibrating deep in her bones. She pressed her lips tight against his thick shaft, swirling her tongue around his bulging head. Inarticulate grunts made music for her ears as he thrust urgently. She twisted her hands around the lower part of his cock. Taking him as deep as she could, she sucked.

“Yes. Yes!” He was pumping furiously now, desperately.

She rubbed his shaft rapidly, up and down, her fingers tightening, tightening—

A roar like wind ripping down a canyon filled the air. Trees shivered around the clearing. Forrest arched and froze, and Tawny buried him in her throat, sucking fiercely. The roar intensified. Her hair whipped round her face. Just when she thought she would have to cover her ears to protect them from the sound, his cock pulsed in her mouth.

Sweet nectar ran down her throat, filling her tummy with a golden glow as the wind subsided to a gentle breeze that caressed her nakedness. Tawny whimpered, swallowing every drop greedily as her pussy buzzed with need.

His consciousness still twined with hers, he sensed her desire. Two of his thick fingers slipped between her weeping lips. Tawny bucked and drank as her pussy spasmed again and again, pleasure heating her body until finally his seed was exhausted and they both fell back to stare up into the night sky.

“I never dreamed it would be like this.”

It amazed Tawny that he could be such a vast intellect and yet be so clueless when it came to certain things. She rolled over onto her tummy and smiled at him. “I always dreamt it would be like this.”

He smiled and drew her down into his arms.

She lay with her cheek against his chest, listening to the countless heartbeats of beasts and humanity drumming beneath his ribs. “You’re a god, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I did not create the world, which human religions generally attribute to their gods. I became the world. That is all I know.”

“And the renewal? How does that work?”

“When it is time, I will know.”

“And…why me? How do you know I’m the right one?”

His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her soft curls. “I know because life is love, and I love you. I am the seed, you are the vessel. Together, we will renew the cycle, and life will go on.”

“Will I…become like you?” She raised her head a little, to see his face in the pale green glow.

His expression changed, becoming closed, the way his thoughts used to fold and hibernate inside her. She felt his mind disengaging from hers, carefully, deliberating. “We will both be different.”

She could tell he wasn’t going to say anything more. Not yet. A lifetime of him inside her head afforded an astonishing amount of empathy, and she sensed that he was afraid to tell her exactly what would happen. He still was not sure of her.

She shivered. “I-I’m scared.”

Forrest stroked her hair gently. “Sleep, my wild one. Sleep, and don’t worry. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Tawny shook her head, pushing her concerns aside. “Oh no you don’t.” She threw one leg across his, pressing her swollen lips against his thigh. “You promised to be inside me, all night long.”

With the harsh cry of a falcon, Forrest was suddenly above her, straddling her.

She drew her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. “That’s right.” Drowning in his deep blue eyes, she reached between them and guided him into her, pussy already spasming. “Fuck me, Green Man.” She grasped his head, drawing him down until her lips brushed his earlobe as she spoke. “Again, and again, and again.”

He kept his promise, until the grey fingers of dawn crept into the clearing.

Chapter Three

A light touch tickled her brow, and Tawny grunted, swatting the offending insect away. The tickle came again, and she forced her eyes open. Forrest squatted beside her, a palm frond in his hand. He teased the tip of her nose with its feathery edge and grinned. She shook her head as she brushed the frond aside. “So even men millions of years old are just boys at heart. That’s reassuring, in a way.”

Forrest settled the branch on the mossy carpet. “Billions.” He met her gaze, the look in his azure eyes as unfathomable as the deep blue sea.

“Okay. That’s…that’s not.” She’d been joking, but he wasn’t, and the fact that this wasn’t a game or a delusion hit her with such force she couldn’t breathe. She stared at the perfectly proportioned, seemingly young man before her and experienced disorientation so severe his head began to spin around her. Tawny closed her eyes, taking desperate, gasping breaths and fighting nausea. When she opened them again, the world remained blessedly still, though the sense of unreality remained. She was talking to a living myth, possibly the archetype of countless deities revered over the ages. He appeared so human, and yet so alien. Young and vital, and yet in his eyes she glimpsed the weight of ages, and a profound fatigue.

She reached out and stroked the birch-patterned skin of one arm. Soft as hers, yet stretched taut over firm, bulging muscles. Were they really muscles, or were they ancient limbs, scarred bark hidden away under a thin veneer of false humanity? And if they were, did it matter? Could she really love a man—a creature—like Forrest?

He caught her hand in his. The trees surrounding them rustled, soft echoes of her name carried in their whispers. He would let her go, she realized. If she chose to leave now, he would allow it, though it endangered everything that existed. Deep down inside, they were very much alike, yearning for love and life, experiencing hope, fear, vulnerability. She had reached out to him so many times over the years for comfort, for knowledge, for support. She tried to imagine living without his gentle humor, his calm concern, his constant presence, and couldn’t. She pulled him to her.

His lips, pale green and soft as moss, grazed hers lightly. “Come with me. Come see your home.” She allowed him to raise her to her feet and followed him into the forest.

He held her hand, and she felt him seeping into her. As they glided between the stout trunks of a thick stand of Patauá palms, she sensed the life surging around her. She stepped in a puddle, and had a sudden vision of a manatee, ponderous and slow, moving like a nymph in dark waters. Her hand brushed a trunk as they passed, and her perspective shifted again. Abruptly, she towered above the forest floor. Her graceful, feathery leaves spread out, fingering the wind. She tugged Forrest to a halt and grasped the nearest trunk, closing her eyes. His hand tightened on hers. The uppermost reaches of the palm swayed, and she swayed with them. Sap quickened in her veins, and her limbs hung heavy with the satisfying weight of globular clusters of dark purple fruit. She opened her eyes and found Forrest smiling at her.

She let go and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s wonderful!”

He nodded and knelt, drawing her down to her knees. Her nipples brushed his chest, and abruptly, their nakedness impinged on her awareness. She drew back.

Forrest cocked his head. “What is it?”

She shrugged and looked away, her cheeks flushed with heat. “I-I just realized we’re still naked.”

He chuckled, a sound like a clear stream bubbling over pebble-strewn banks. “Do you not want me to see your body? It seems late for that.”

Her face burned like fire, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “It’s not that. What about bites and scratches and bugs? We can’t just go gallivanting around the forest naked.”

“Yes, we can.” He swiveled around to squat behind her. Embracing her from behind, his hands cupped hers, bearing them down to the ground. His hard body pressed against her back as he dug their fingers into the rich loam beneath fallen palm fronds.

Tawny quivered, pricked by hundreds of thousands of tiny feet as an army of ants crawled over the earth that became her flesh. The roots of ancient trees kneaded her shoulders, while snakes curled around her calves and beetles burrowed between her toes. Gasping, she pulled her hands away and stood abruptly, swatting at her bare flesh.

Forrest sat unnaturally still, watching. Tawny stopped and looked down at herself. There were no ants, no snakes, no beetles. Just her skin, marked by a couple of red streaks where she’d slapped at the ghostly invaders. She hugged herself, shivering. “That was awful.”

He looked down at his hands, the fingers dark with dirt. “That is me.” She could barely hear him. “I am the forest, the earth. All of it. Even the disgusting creatures that hide in the muck, the spider that eats her mate. That is me. And you, if we join.”

Tawny took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice shook. “I didn’t realize…” But she should have. She’d felt these things before, through him, but never so intensely. What would it be like to sense everything around her, all the time, not filtered for her as he’d done in the past, but raw and intimate? She rubbed her arms, for comfort more than warmth. “Can you shut it out?”

“Until we have joined, I can continue to shield you, if that’s what you wish. After…” He seemed to fumble for words. “The world, the life, it will all be you.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He smiled, but disappointment and concern darkened his eyes to the color of a blue-gray, storm-racked sea. “That is why we are here. So that you can see. So that you will be prepared for the transformation.”

Tawny hugged herself tight. She wished Kani were there. He would love this. Embrace it with every fiber of his being. His courage and strength had sustained them both through years of fighting bureaucracies all over the world. If he were here, she would be able to handle it.

Forrest stood, walking toward her, his mind probing at the edges of her thoughts. She closed her eyes and let him in, let him see everything she was feeling.

His arms cradled her. “Kaniwa.” His hot breath caressed her ear.

Tawny rested her check on his chest for just a moment, then leaned back and looked up. “I love you, Forrest, I do. But I also love Kani. We’ve been partners in so much since the first time we met. There was an instant connection between us.”

“I know.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem bothered at all, in fact. “I was there, remember?”

“I can’t do this.” Her voice cracked, a hoarse whisper. “It’s like you and he are missing pieces of me. I’m reckless, optimistic, instinctive. You’re calm, nurturing, protective. Kani is strength, determination, confidence. When I’m with either of you, I’m more than I am alone. But without him, I don’t have what it takes to do this.”

“It’s all right.” He tossed his head and a cool breeze swept her tangled curls back from her face. He looked into her eyes, and a vision formed. She and Kani and Forrest, together in the clearing, lying on the verdant moss, tangled in one another’s limbs.

She gasped. “What? No!”

Forrest nodded, but she pulled away. “No. I-I don’t believe it. The three of us?”

“Alpha, Omega, Gamma. There can be no beginning and no end, without something between.”

She stared at him, openmouthed. The look in his eyes, the way he held himself… ”You knew this all along, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I did not know if either of you were ready to face that truth.”

“It won’t work.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Tawny rubbed the nape of her neck, where tension gathered in a tight knot.

A gentle wind rippled around her, caressing her breasts, her thighs. She met Forrest’s gaze and tumbled into the deep, blue pools that were his eyes.

“Isn’t it what you want?” He stepped close again. Her nipples just touched his firm chest. “Haven’t you dreamed of having both of us?”

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat even as the fiery rush of desire invaded her groin. “It was just a dream,” she breathed.

“No. It was a promise.” His hands traced the curve of her hips. “He is part of this, Tawny. The Joining will not be complete without him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wasn’t sure he was the one, until now.”

“What am I supposed to do? Go to him and say, ‘Hey, you know that other guy I was telling you about? Well, he’s the spirit of the earth and he needs to fuck both of us to save the planet.’ You think he’s going to buy that? I’m not even sure I do!”

Forrest paused, and she felt his senses reaching out, threading through the forest. In a moment, he nodded. “He already knows, Tawny. He senses more than you realize, and he has been afraid just like you. But now, he is ready.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why is it so hard to believe? This has always been the way. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Birth, Life and Death. The Trinity is in all things.” His gaze narrowed, his mind probing hers. “What is so… Ah. I see.”

Tawny lowered her gaze and turned her face away.

“Deep down inside, a part of you does think this is some sort of delusion.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Nodded once.

“If Kani comes, it will be real.”

“Yes!” She jerked away.

“Why is that so frightening? I thought you understood. I thought you wanted this!”

“I want to save the earth, and…I want to be with you, but…I never really acknowledged what would happen. Losing my humanity.” She looked at her tanned limbs, unmarred by their passage through the forest. She wasn’t sweating, she’d lost her self-consciousness regarding their nakedness. She sensed him shielding her, and yet the furor of life still buzzed faintly in her ears. Already, she was changing. “I will lose it, won’t I?” She thought of being something vast and powerful and…other. “I don’t want to be—” She buried her face in her hands.

“What?”

She could barely hear her own response. “A monster.”

Like a sonic boom, his pain rolled over her, and then his presence in her mind disintegrated.

“Forrest.” She looked up. He was gone. She cast frantically about, seeking him with her eyes and her mind, but it was as though he’d never been. Her own words echoed in her head. Monster. She’d called him a monster. She knew better. Knew his soul. Knew he was good and kind and loving. “I didn’t mean it!”

Her words fell flat in the still air. Glancing around, she noticed how dark it had become. She moved between the graceful trunks until she reached the clearing and glanced up through a break in the canopy to see stars gleaming in a black velvet sky. The sense of time slippage hit her hard. She sat down in the moss, tucking her head between her legs, taking slow breaths until her dizziness passed.

Raising her head, she tried to get her bearings. She had to find Kani, but she had no idea where she was in relationship to their camp of the night before, or any notion of how far they might have gotten today. If it had even been one day. If Forrest could manipulate time, the last twenty-four hours night might really have been weeks. The others might even have headed back to the conservancy when she turned up missing.

But no. Kani wouldn’t leave without her. She felt ashamed when she realized that she hadn’t even given a passing thought to how frantic he would have been all day.

Standing, she peered into the forest all around. With a start, she realized that she could make out dim shapes. Even with the moss’s faint phosphorescent glow, even with the stars overhead, she shouldn’t have been able to see so well. She moved cautiously beneath the canopy. Even here, with the green glow gone and the stars’ light blocked by the interwoven leaves above, she could see.

Moving swiftly, she glided effortlessly through the forest. Instinct drew her onward until she stepped into another small clearing and saw the opaque gray domes of two field generators. Apparently, Kani and the others had decided to stay in the same clearing, probably in the hopes that if she’d gotten lost, she would be able to find them again. She moved toward the one that had been hers and Kani’s, touching the surface and drawing her finger downward.

The field parted and she slipped inside. Kani lay on his side, still dressed, snoring lightly. Whispering a soft command to keep the interior illumination from responding to her presence, she knelt beside him.

His familiar profile stood out against the pale gray “floor” of the field. Completely climate-controlled, there was no need for blankets, and the field’s contour-response system made sleeping on the ground more comfortable than sleeping in most beds. He looked rested, even content. She’d expected him to be up, pacing, worried about her. Puzzled, she reached out and touched his arm lightly.

He woke immediately, the whites of his eyes gleaming in her unnaturally keen night sight. Smiling drowsily, he reached out and patted her thigh. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

Tawny frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Kani propped himself up, rubbed his eyes. He stared at her for a moment, then grinned as he noticed her nakedness. “Sorry. I didn’t realize what you wanted at first, it’s too damn dark. Increase illumination twenty percent.”

The interior filled with dim yellow light. Kani lay back and began unfastening his pants.

“Kani, what the hell are you doing?”

He hesitated, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement. “I thought you wanted—”

“I’ve been missing all day! Aren’t you going to ask me what happened? Where I’ve been?”

He rubbed his hand over the curly stubble on his head. “Missing all day? What are you talking about?”

“Wait a minute.” Tawny sat down, hard. “He did it again. Only backwards.”

Kani sat up. “What’s backwards?”

“Time.”

He raised his eyebrows, wide-awake now. “Time?”

Tawny stood and began pacing. “It’s Forrest. When we were hiking, he played with time, slowed it down so that we went farther. Or maybe he played with distance…I don’t know. Then he sped time up, or…maybe created a pocket of time separate from ours.”

Kani caught her hand as she walked past him. “What are you talking about? Who’s Forrest?”

She sighed and sat down again. “You won’t believe me.”

Kani rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezed gently. “Try me.”

She looked into his serious brown eyes. “The other guy.”

He watched her carefully, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he massaged her shoulders. “Come on, Tawny. It’s all right, you can tell me.”

She sighed. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but…the other guy is…the forest. But, not really just the forest. The forest is the center, but he’s…shit. I’m listening to myself, and even I don’t believe it. He’s Gaia, Kani. Only more along the lines of the Green Man.”

“And he’s dying.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but it was true. “Yes.”

“And there’s a way to save him. Or to create a new one from the ashes of the old.”

Tawny stared. “How do you know?”

“It’s in our legends.” He seemed to be looking past her, watching something she couldn’t see. “The circle of life. Everything dies. As one cycle ends, a new one begins. My tribe has sensed the end drawing near for three generations.” He focused on her again, his gaze sharp, shrewd. “So. You left. You’ve been with him, but you came back.”

She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “He says I’m Alpha to his Omega. Beginning to his End. But now he’s also saying that you are—”

“Gamma. The things in between.” He didn’t even sound surprised.

Tawny shoved him. Hard.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I can see it, Kani—you knew this was coming. You knew you were a part of this! Why did you keep me in the dark?”

Kani shook his head. “I wasn’t keeping you in the dark, Tawny. In the beginning, I didn’t understand this any better than you. I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

Tawny buried her face in her hands. “I’m so confused.”

“That day on the quad, I connected with him. Through you. After that, I would sense him sometimes, at the edges of my awareness. Watching me. I knew he was separate, and yet somehow still part of you. I kept waiting for you to tell me what was going on, to…invite me in, but you never said anything. I wasn’t sure what my role was. I don’t think he was, either. And then tonight, I had this dream.” His voice thickened with emotion. “Would it be so bad, Tawny? Loving both of us?”

“Why didn’t you say something at the conservancy? I almost told you, but you let me think you were jealous of another man!”

“What was I supposed to do? Youalmost told me, but you didn’t. You still weren’t being totally honest with me. I wasn’t sure how to react. I thought if I went along with the charade, maybe you’d break down and tell me the truth.”

She remembered the odd emphasis in his voice, when he kept saying “he” during their discussion, and the way she had felt he knew something. She rubbed her throbbing temples with trembling fingers. “I don’t know what to do. This is all happening so fast. First him, all leaves and twigs and bark, though he changed into a human form before we—” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “And then he showed me what it was going to feel like, to join with him, and he wasn’t shielding at all this time, and it was too much. And then he tells me about you, after I’d thought all this time that I was going to lose you. I told him…I said he was a monster.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“No,” she whispered. “He’s good and kind and gentle. I love him the same way I love you. I was just frightened, and…surprised and angry. And I needed you there, Kani. You weren’t there!”

He grasped her hands. “Come on.” He stood and stepped toward the door, tugging at her when she would have remained seated. “Come with me, Tawny.” He murmured a command, and the field generator winked out, exposing them to the night.

She stood reluctantly. Kani let go of her hands and moved toward the trees, his stride eager, purposeful. At the clearing’s edge, he turned back, his teeth gleaming white as he grinned at her. “I’ll race you.” In a flash, he was gone.

Tawny started running. Flying between the trees without thought, without hesitation, she chased her lover. Within seconds, she experienced the strange sensation of displacement that signaled Forrest was messing with time or place, or both. Moments later, she and Kani burst into the moss-carpeted clearing surrounding the tarn almost at the same moment.

Kani grinned and twirled in the impossible moonlight. “Isn’t it fantastic? I’m not even breathing hard.”

She hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it, but neither was she.

Kani knelt by the moonlit pool, watching the glowing fish swoop and swirl, creating tiny eddies in the water’s depths. “What are they? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Tawny walked over and sat beside him. “I don’t know.” She looked around. “I’m not even sure where this place is. There’s moonlight, but no moon. And this moss. Only two species remain that phosphoresce, and they’re both cave dwellers requiring cool temperatures.”

Kani’s dark eyes met hers. “Stop trying to analyze this, Tawny.” He scooped his hand in the water and held it out, allowing a narrow stream to dribble over her thighs. The droplets left trails of pearly luminescence on her skin. “Don’t you understand yet? Thereis magic in the world. All we’ve ever cared about, besides each other, is the earth. Now we have a chance to be part of it. To save it, the way we’ve always wanted. And if we’re changed in the process, will that be so bad?”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” She leaned forward, grasping his forearm for emphasis. “You don’t know how it feels, Kani. We might not be monsters, but…we’ll lose ourselves.”

He tugged his arm, pulling her to him until their lips nearly touched. “I’ve already lost myself, Tawny. To you.”

Their lips met, and he lay back on the moss, carrying her with him. His flesh whispered against hers, soft as silk. At some point during their run he’d lost his clothes, and she hadn’t even realized he was naked. She pressed her body against his, parting her mouth, meeting his tongue with hers. His arms tightened around her waist, the hard length of his cock trapped between them. Tawny moaned, wriggling, electric spears of fierce desire piercing her core as his firm shaft rubbed against her swollen clit.

“Tawny.” He planted tender kisses along her jawline, then nibbled her earlobe. Pressed tight against him, her nipples pulsed with need.

“Kani!” She sat up, straddling him. Catching his hands, she brought them up to cup her breasts. He watched her in the moonlight as he captured their swollen peaks between his thumbs and forefingers, squeezing gently. She made an impatient sound, covering his fingers with hers, pinching them tight. He drew them out, milking her nipples roughly, stretching the peaks until pleasure spiraled through her and she arched, exclaimed in delight. Her pussy clenched, and she rubbed her clit against his cock over and over as she climaxed.

Kani’s strong hands wrapped around her waist. He rose up, flipping her over onto her back, parting her legs roughly and burying his cock between her weeping lips in one swift, urgent move. Tawny gasped, a fresh wave of desire washing through her as her pussy spasmed around his thick shaft.

He leaned back, towering over her, withdrawing his cock so that just the tip remained inside her. “Call him,” he whispered.

She drew in a sharp breath. “Are you sure?”

He stroked into her, slowly, deliciously. “Are you?” He leaned close, his chocolate eyes dark as midnight. “Are you ready to accept our role in this? What we are? What we’ll become?”

Tawny moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist. Just as she’d known, he was her strength, her courage. With him there, all things seemed possible, and he was more than willing, even eager, to make the dream a reality. There was only one thing missing. “Yes.”

She closed her eyes, searching for Forrest with her mind, finding nothing. “He’s not answering.”

Kani drove himself deep inside her. “Oh!” Tawny arched, channeling the pleasure, the need, into her call. “Forrest,” she whispered aloud, and a wind seemed to lift the word from her lips, carrying it away among the trees.

Kani slid out slowly, pausing, listening. Tawny strained her ears, her mind, alert for any hint of the entity that was Forrest Green. Again, nothing. She opened her eyes and shook her head.

Kani’s arms tensed, muscles bulging as he inched his thick shaft inside her again. Tawny’s gaze followed the curve of moonlight along his biceps, past the fine black hair on his forearm reflecting moonlight like a raven’s wing, to where his hands dug into the loam.

A fleeting vision of Forrest, kneeling before her, staring at hands dark with rich earth, tumbled through her mind. Tawny grasped the mossy ground, working her fingers beneath the thick mat, and closed her eyes again, willing the forest to speak to her again. “Please.”

The clearing shuddered beneath them, like a giant shrugging its shoulder. “Please, Forrest.” Tawny felt him at the edges of her awareness. “I was wrong. I can do this.” She pressed her cheek to the ground, letting her tears wet the earth. “Come back.”

The earth trembled again. And again. Kani looked up and froze, and Tawny twisted beneath him, craning her neck to see what was coming.

He towered above them, even above the trees surrounding the clearing, trees that were over forty meters tall. His legs were the entwined trunks of oak, palm, birch and more, held together by muscles and ligaments of tuberosa, mandevilla, and sonata vines. He squatted, fixing Tawny with his eyes like lakes, angry whirlpools swirling in their depths. “You wanted a monster.” His voice grated in their ears like tectonic plates grinding together.

Tawny shook her head. “Please, Forrest. I didn’t mean it.” She pushed Kani away and struggled to her knees, turning to face him. “I love you.” She reached out to him, pleading. “So much was happening so quickly. All this time, I’ve been preparing myself to lose Kani, and then you say we’re three. It was a shock. And the sensations, what you showed me, what I felt…I wasn’t prepared. It was overwhelming.” She looked into his eyes. “But I’m ready now. I am.”

He turned away, and she thought he was refusing. She started to go to him, but Kani restrained her with a hand on her shoulder. A rumbling like a tornado began. She and Kani covered their ears and ducked their heads, waiting for a storm that never came. In seconds, the sound was gone. The wind whipping around them settled, and when they risked a glance, the white of Forrest’s birch-patterned back glowed palely in the moonlight like the stripes of a zebra.

Tawny stood on rubbery legs and approached him. He turned just before she touched his back. She waited awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

Chapter Four

Kani strode to her side. Forrest’s gaze flickered, taking him in from head to toe. “Kaniwa.”

Kani nodded. “We finally meet. You have an advantage, though. I don’t know what to call you.”

“Tawny calls me Forrest Green.”

Kani laughed. “Original.”

She frowned. “Hey, I was just a kid when I named him.”

The two of them grinned at her, and the tension eased. Kani reached out, touching Forrest’s arm. The Green Man raised his eyebrows.

Kani shrugged. “I wondered if it felt like bark. It doesn’t.”

Forrest smiled. “You are different from what I expected, as well.”

Kani tilted his head. “How so?”

“You are…more bold.” Forrest’s eyes strayed, resting briefly on Kani’s erection. “And…I did not expect to find you so attractive.”

Tawny’s cheeks burned, listening to them, but Kani seemed completely at ease. “It’s a pleasant surprise for me, too, but not completely unexpected. I mean, you’ve been watching me for a long time.” He stepped closer, looking Forrest in the eyes, their cocks nearly touching. “I’ve felt your presence often, and there was always something more there than mere curiosity.”

Forrest nodded. He held out a hand, one to each of them. Kani grasped his without hesitating. Tawny waited a moment, then did the same. “Come. Let us get to know one another better.”

He led them to the tarn, then let go and glanced at them each in turn, mischievously, before arching gracefully and plunging into the shallow pool. She and Kani stared into the rippling waters after he disappeared. They shared a glance, and Kani shrugged, then dove in after him. Tawny took several deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves, then plunged in as well.

She came up in the middle of a vast, warm lake. The tiny phosphorescent fish they’d seen in the tarn were present as well, only they were the size of dolphins, their airy fins brushing her legs lightly as they capered among the three. Forrest beckoned, and then plunged beneath the surface.

He set a brisk pace, swimming swift and deep. Tawny realized belatedly that she hadn’t taken a breath before diving, but it didn’t seem to matter. She breathed easily, floating amid colorful fish, darting between giant reef fingers that stretched for the surface. Kani swam circles around them, his face full of joy and wonder, so open and accepting that it took her breath away. Why was it that she, who had lived with Forrest in her head all her life, with the knowledge that some day they would be joined and transformed, had so much more difficulty dealing with all this?

Below her, Kani swam a circle around Forrest, letting his hand brush the Green Man’s cock as he passed. Quick as a snake, Forrest’s hand whipped out, capturing Kani’s arm and pulling him close, and then they were stroking each other, wonder and pleasure evident in every line of their bodies. She should have been shocked, but instead, desire kindled in her belly. She belonged down there, with them. Letting go of all doubt, she kicked mightily, swooping down and brushing past them.

She glanced back. The two shared a look. As one, they began stroking powerfully to overtake her.

Grinning, she darted toward a forest of purple and blue-green kelp.

She’d always been a good swimmer, and she slipped quickly between the brilliant streamers. Before long, she was in the heart of the growth. She slowed and looked behind, trying to locate her lovers.

A velvety frond caressed her leg as she slid by. A shiver of need rippled through her. She curved between another pair, a silken strand just brushing her nipples, and a shudder racked her body as near-overwhelming desire coursed through her veins. She looked for a way out, but the fronds seemed to have closed about her. She had no choice but to swim directly into them.

Glossy ribbons swirled around her. One wrapped around her arm, another her leg. A broad purple frond snaked around her waist. Tawny wriggled in their grasp. Prickles of carnal longing seeped into her very pores everywhere that the kelp touched her. She moaned, closing her eyes, relaxing as more and more of the seductive strands wrapped around her body. “Forrest.”

A silky ribbon caressed her buttocks, then slipped between her legs. “Mmm.” Tawny parted her thighs, wanting the erotic touch where she needed it most. She opened her eyes.

Forrest floated beneath her. His torso remained as before, gray and white patterned skin, his form decidedly male and particularly well-endowed. But his arms and legs were the kelp, holding her hostage.

One particularly active frond teased the lips of her pussy, and Tawny wriggled, spreading her legs wider, meeting his gaze squarely. The feathery frond slipped inside her and she arched, gasping as the velvety softness stroked her folds, prickles of need spreading from her pussy to the tips of her fingers.

Strong arms embraced her from behind. Kani’s tongue traced the curve of her ear. He caught her fleshy lobe between his teeth, nibbling gently.

“Oh God.” Tawny arched, wishing the flexible frond inside her would harden, desperate for release. “Fuck me. Please, Forrest,” she whispered.

He shook his head, grinning as she writhed. Kani’s hands worked her shoulders, then walked their way down her spine. He kneaded her buttocks, while Forrest nipped the tips of her nipples hungrily. “Oh God. Please,” she moaned.

Kani parted her cheeks and she quivered in anticipation. He held them wide, and her pussy clenched as a slick tendril pressed inside her anus. She froze, experiencing a sensation of such pure bliss, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. She could only stare into Forrest’s lust-darkened eyes as the tendril undulated inside her, deeper and deeper, sending wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through her.

She finally found her voice, her muscles, and arched, crying “Forrest! Oh God, yes!”

She bucked and writhed, racked with pleasure, and yet the ultimate release evaded her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Forrest’s frond-fingers tightened on her body and he buried his cock in her throbbing, hungry pussy. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Oh yes.”

The fabulous frond slithered from between her buttocks and she groaned in disappointment, but then Kani was penetrating her ass with two fingers. Twisting, turning, they stretched her deliciously. “Yes, Kani!”

Pressing down, he trapped her folds against the thick shaft buried in her pussy. Forrest’s eyes widened, looking over her shoulder as Kani began to stroke him slowly through the intervening tissue. He gasped and arched, and Tawny spasmed as her G-spot rubbed against his rock-hard cock.

Kani’s fingers danced in her ass, stroking faster and faster. Forrest pumped his hips, slamming into her, matching Kani’s rhythm. Tawny writhed and squirmed between them, rocked by mini-orgasms, uttering inarticulate cries.

Kani’s fingers disappeared, and Tawny whimpered, but then his cock eased inside her. Tawny laughed and gasped as he inched deeper and deeper, until his entire length was buried inside her. They both began stroking in and out, fast and eager.

Tawny braced herself against Forrest’s firm chest, rocking back to meet them thrust for thrust, crying out incoherently as her pussy and ass spasmed uncontrollably. Their cocks swelled inside her, and she screamed their names, bucking frantically.

Forrest’s kelp-arms wrapped tight around her and Kani both, molding the three of them against each other as he and Kani shuddered. Tawny’s body drank greedily as heat flooded her pussy and anus, the release of their essences filling her body with a languorous warmth.

When it was over, they hung there for quite some time, suspended in the warm waters, rocked gently by the current. Eventually, Forrest sighed and the fronds withdrew, resolving once more into arms and legs.

He stretched contentedly, catching Tawny’s eye. “That’s how it can be.” His gaze sought and found Kani’s. “Even better than I knew.”

Tawny hugged him. Kani joined them and, arms interlaced, the three floated slowly to the lake’s surface.

They disengaged, drifting idly with the current. Tawny stared at unfamiliar constellations in a purple-black sky. “Was that it?” she finally asked. “The Joining?”

Forrest brushed his fingers over the scales of a glowing fish. “No.”

“When will it happen?”

He sighed. “It can happen now, if we wish.” He turned abruptly and began stroking for shore.

She and Kani shared a puzzled glance, then followed in his wake. When they reached the bank of pearl-white sand, he sat there cross-legged, letting streamers of the bright grains drift out between his fingers to dust his thighs.

“What’s wrong?” She sat beside him, resting a hand on his knee.

“Each time the world is renewed, I am changed, and yet there is still that in me that is from the original, the first Green Man.” He let the sand drain away. “I am as old as the earth, and though the cycles are long, and there have been many rebirths, I remember them all. They are all different, as the world is different, and the beings that live in each cycle change. Yet, this is the first time that I have regretted that the Joining must come.”

She and Kani started at the same time. “Regret it?”

“Yes. Because we will be together, forever, but it will never feel like this again…the way these bodies make us feel. It will be something different. Beautiful, but subtle. Calm.” He grinned ruefully. “I will miss the intensity. The…desperation. I find myself wanting to postpone the Joining.” He sighed. “But we can not wait much longer. As the forest wanes, so does my strength. We must join soon, or the cycle will end forever, and the earth and all its denizens, including me, shall return to dust.”

“Then we’ll have to make the most of the time we have left.” Tawny let her fingers flutter along his inner thigh. He drew in a sharp breath, meeting her gaze with eyes dark and stormy with passion. She cupped his balls, kneading them gently, watching his cock quiver and expand. She leaned in and kissed him, teasing his lips apart, delicately exploring teeth sharp as quartz with her tongue. He moaned and sank back against the sand. She caressed his long, hard cock, teasing the tip, capturing translucent pre-ejaculate on the tips of her fingers and bringing it to her lips, to suck off as he watched, his breath quickening.

Kani knelt in the sand between his legs, kneading his calves, then his thighs. Tawny turned so that her hips were by Forrest’s shoulders and lowered her head, covering one of his nipples with her mouth while she watched Kani’s hand close around his cock, experiencing a heady rush as Forrest whimpered and bucked beneath them. They were making love to a legend, possibly a god, and he was quivering, begging for their touch. Her pussy and nipples tingled with desire. She nibbled her way across his ribs, over his belly. She caught Forrest’s gaze and parted her legs, sliding her fingers into her raw pussy. He turned his head, grasping her thigh, pulling her close. He watched her slick fingers sliding in and out, and the heat in his eyes made her tremble. Tugging at her leg, he guided her hips up and over him. She gasped as his tongue harvested her juices.

Kani bent over and captured the dome of his ripe head in his mouth. Forrest groaned and thrust urgently, nipping Tawny’s tender lips all the while, sucking the sensitive flesh. She whimpered, reaching between her legs to fondle her clit urgently.

Kani let Forrest go for a moment, kissing her, his tongue dancing in her mouth.

Forrest slid back between her legs, rising into a crouch behind her. They both looked at him questioningly. “I want to take you the way he did.” Forrest slipped his fingers between her cheeks, testing the tight pucker. “I want to feel his cock against mine, inside you.”

Tawny grinned, licking her lips. “Mmm, yes.”

Kani lay back against the sand. She straddled him on her hands and knees, lowering her head to rest against his chest.

He reached out, his strong hands wrapping each cheek, pulling them apart as Forrest positioned himself behind her.

She kept forgetting that Forrest could alter his physique. His cock slipped inside her with such ease that she uttered a mewl of disappointment. But then it wriggled, rippling inside her like a vine, expanding to fill her, and she tightened herself around him. “Oh God, yes.”

The pressure of Kani’s hands on her buttocks guided them both down, until his thick cock nestled between her swollen lips. It felt so good, but she wanted them deep, wanted to feel them pounding against each other. “Oh please. Please. Fuck me again, both of you.”

Kani groaned, thrusting himself deep inside her. Tawny closed her eyes in concentration, tightening her muscles, squeezing both thick cocks as tightly as she could manage.

Forrest growled, thrusting aggressively, driving himself deeper and deeper.

“Oh yes. Yes!” The walls of her anus throbbed with pain and pleasure, her pussy sucked Kani’s cock anxiously. “That’s it. Fuck me!”

Forrest buried his fingers in the sand beneath them. Kani released her cheeks, grasping Forrest’s forearms to brace them both. They thrust eagerly, faster and faster, heating her body between them. Their cocks massaged her, capturing the intervening tissue and driving her higher and higher. “Oh God! Oh God. Yes. Yes!”

All three of them stiffened, trapped at the edge of a tumble into ecstasy, and then her pelvis clenched, and their cocks fountained in unison, and the three of them slipped over, whimpering and bucking frantically as wave after wave of pleasure washed over them.

Afterward, they lay on the sand holding hands and talking.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Forrest murmured.

“About what?” Tawny drew lazy circles on his abdomen with her forefinger.

“How it will be when we are joined. In its own way, this is just as intense as the rest, only…even more fulfilling.”

She rested her cheek on his chest. “Yes, it is.”

A soft touch startled her, and she glanced at her shoulder to find a gorgeous blue and pale green butterfly balanced there. Another soft prickle tickled her leg, and another her hip. She and Kani stared in wide-eyed wonder as a waterfall of butterflies cascaded from the sky, dressing the three of them in soft colors. Forrest pulled the two of them close, and kissed their lips. The butterflies rose in a cloud around them, and the only sounds after that were the soft sounds of pleasure as they made love, a rainbow of color dancing around them, delicate wings brushing their skin as they explored one another’s bodies once again.

Chapter Five

They spent the remainder of that day and the next in that timeless place, darting among the waves, playing on the sandy beach. They made love endlessly, reveling in each other’s bodies, at times becoming so weak and spent that they could hardly move. And yet they all felt the time approaching, felt the earth’s need growing hourly, until it could no longer be ignored and Forrest finally said, “It is time.”

Tawny and Kani sighed deeply, then nodded agreement. Forrest took them by the hand, stepping into the line of trees surrounding the beach.

The next step landed them at the mossy edge of the tarn. In their absence, the water had grown stagnant, the moss pale yellow and sickly. Tawny drew in a sharp breath as she absorbed the change. “We’re not too late?”

Forrest shook his head, but strode purposefully toward the palms. “No, but we must hurry.”

Tawny walked between them, and it seemed to her that each of their strides ate up hundreds of miles. Before long, they were standing at the edge of the browning, staring at the massive tree in the center of the forest.

The wood had petrified and the yellow leaves shone like amber in the setting sun. It was beautiful, but in the stark manner of a cemetery in winter.

The Green Man led them across the barren stretch of earth surrounding the tree. As he walked, he transformed, vines and branches replacing his limbs, leaves sprouting from his head. The contrast between his verdant form and the ravaged landscape was so striking, Tawny and Kani paused, fixing the image in their minds.

Forrest reached the tree and turned, beckoning urgently. They hurried on, not resting again until they stood beside him, staring up at the towering monolith.

This close to him, Tawny noticed that he was not as green and healthy as he had appeared from a distance. The leaves on his head were spotted with blight and mildew, yellowing at the edges. The clear pools of his eyes were murky, hazed, the bark peeling back from his arms.

She and Kani exchanged a concerned glance. “Hurry,” she whispered.

Forrest nodded. “We must space ourselves around the tree, the three apexes of a triangle.” She and Kani both nodded. “When I say, you must simply embrace the tree.” They nodded again, and then the three separated reluctantly.

Instinct guided them to the three locations, and Forrest’s voice range out like thunder. “Now!”

Tawny stepped forward and hugged the tree.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the earth shook beneath her feet. The sky grew dark with roiling clouds. “Don’t let go!” Forrest warned. Tawny shivered and clung tightly to the bark. Rain began falling in sheets. She blinked repeatedly to clear her eyes, and thought she was hallucinating when it seemed the rain leached the color from the bark, making it run over her arms in dark rivulets.

But it wasn’t an optical illusion. It was something else. Tawny gasped as her skin rippled. Instinctively, she tried to pull away from the tree, but something held her fast. She realized with horror that rootlike appendages were burrowing their way beneath her skin. She screamed, in fear more than pain, for she felt nothing, and heard Kani’s answering distress from very far away. She closed her eyes and felt herself changing. Her skin hardened, thickening into bark. Vines encircled her body, leaves sprouted painfully from her head.

Yes, it hurt now, and she opened her mouth, screaming wordlessly as every cell in her body seemed to expand past the breaking point. At the limit of her tolerance, just when she was sure she would lose consciousness and never awaken, the Joining began.

Kani and Forrest wrapped around her, their trunks twining with hers. Every place where their bark touched, she felt the sensation of soft, smooth flesh pressed tight against hers. Their limbs joined, fingers elongating, sprouting the leaves of every tree under the sun, while their toes lengthened, tunneling into the earth beneath them.

“I love you!” Their whispers echoed in her head, and she answered them in kind, arching, reaching for the sky. They grew together, the three of them, tangled inextricably, and at the boundaries of every joining, experienced exquisite pleasure. They gasped, in wonder and fulfillment, and their hot breath roared out across the earth.

Tawny watched as people and animals raised their heads, smelling the scent of rich loam, the promise of rain, and the blooms of plants long dead in the warm, damp wind.

Near the edge of the forest, two humans stopped, gazing back toward the center. For a moment, they thought they saw the faces of their missing friends, drawn large in the upper branches of a phantom tree that towered above the clouds. Then the clouds roiled, billowing out from the center, and the two ran, sprinting across the perimeter into the shelter of the conservancy just before the sky opened up.

The heartbeats of every living thing quickened with hope as the pregnant wind billowed across the land.

Her consciousness ebbed and flowed, danced and melded with that of her lovers’. She guided them in and out, leading them in a dance of love and life, and it was as if they were human again, for they felt the soft silk of each other’s skin, the burgeoning heat of their climax. When it came, the earth shivered, and fire filled the heart of the world tree. Tawny rejoiced as Life quickened in her loins. With a mighty groan, the world tree split, and Forrest was reborn.

He danced around them, separate yet still inextricably joined, and everywhere his feet touched, life sprouted green in his wake.

In Kansas, a grass that had not grown in fifty years pushed through the dirt of a dry, cracked plain.

In Montreal, a sapling sprang up from the stump of a dead pine.

In the arid desert of China, rain fell for the first time in sixty years.

In England, an embryo quickened in the womb of the last remaining ewe.

And in Texas, a cloud of butterflies of a species never before seen rose up and rode the damp wind, and the breach in the world tree sealed itself.

* * * * *

Scientists still grapple with theories to explain all that happened. Why the world spiraled into doom so quickly. How balance was restored and the earth renewed, seemingly on a single stormy day when a pregnant wind blew. Supercells and saturation models figure prominently in these scenarios, along with the idea that the uncanny wind delved into places so protected from modern man that the seeds of plants and animals ancient and even unknown were carried to sites where they could live again.

But those that dwell near the wild places whisper tales of Jack-in-the-Green when they gather around their natural gas stoves of a winter’s night. Stories of a Green Man who dances across the world, leaving a trail of new growth in his wake.

And in the heart of South America, where rampant growth forces the cities to retreat and the jungle once again rules, the natives speak of voices in the trees and laughter on the wind, and advise all to step lightly, for they are walking on the skin of the earth. Elders recite in hushed voices the story of a tree at the top of the world, and of three who dwell within one another—hearts, minds and bodies joined as one.

On stormy nights, two who once started a journey into the heart of the forest watch the skies above the jungle, and hold each other close when they see the phantom tree with the faces of their friends rising above the clouds. Caressing the woman’s stomach, bulging with child, they pledge that their family will nurture the legend down through the ages, so that when the time comes again, there will be those who believe. Those who know that to save the places where the wild things grow, one must be willing to go forever into the green.

And the world tree smiles at them.

And it is good.

The End

Chapter One

Isabel O’Shaughnessy leaned over the side of the boat for a better look at the dolphins racing the ferry across the deep blue water of the Canal de Chacao to the island of Chiloé.

The dolphins leapt from the water in graceful bounds before slicing cleanly into the depths again. One even seemed to grin at her as it led the pack. Shading her eyes against the bright sunlight, Isabel dutifully snapped another photo of the frolicsome beings, then of the island ahead.

It was picturesque, postcard scenic, and she should be head-swiveling like any tourist, but tell the truth, she’d rather be somewhere else. She’d added four days to her schedule to come to Chiloé. That was as much time as she’d been able to wangle from her boss, the head of the trade delegation meeting in Santiago with representatives from several South American and Asian nations. Now that the official meetings were over, and with a free weekend as a reward, the others in her group were exploring wineries and hot nightspots and here she was, alone and resentful, on her way to pay a duty call on her mother’s older sister Graciela, nicknamed Chela.

Someone she didn’t know and doubted she could talk to.

Her mother had insisted she make this trip. “You’re going to be in Chile. You can’t not go to Chiloé, Izzy. Chela would never forgive me if you didn’t go see her. She’s yourtía , the only family left there.”

“But I barely remember her,“ Isabel had protested. She had a vague memory of a woman dressed in black and weeping as they waved from a departing ship. Her mother had left Chile years ago, gone to the US and ventured back only once on a visit when Isabel was a child. Carmen O’Shaughnessy hadn’t forgotten her roots, though. She talked often of Chile, her life there and of her once large family. Isabel sympathized with her mother’s longing for her home, but she didn’t remember much about it.

“She won’t have forgotten you,” she’d said, echoing Isabel’s thoughts.

A pelican swooping low caught her attention as the ferry slowed as it neared the dock. Isabel gathered her purse and camera and went below. Sitting in her rental car waiting to disembark, she studied the map of the island. It was large, elongated north to south and divided down the center by a line of mountains. The western side braved the Pacific while the eastern side faced the mainland across a gulf, the Golfo de Corcovado. The main highway ran along the eastern slope. There were roads from it to many small seaports and villages on the gulf. Only a few roads crossed the mountains to the wilder western side, where a national park occupied much of the rugged coastline.

Once she was ashore, she was to drive south down the main highway to the city of Castro, then on to the village of Queilen, her family’s home. Her mother often got misty-eyed as she described her hometown, the sights over the gulf to the snow-capped volcanoes on the mainland, the many islands that made up the archipelago of Chiloé, and the abundant seafood. Isabel sighed again. If seeing her aunt made her mother happy, she’d do it. And after all, there were new sights to explore. She’d promised her mother a lot of photos.

The ferry slowed and docked. When the vehicles in front of her began to move forward, Isabel followed an ancient truck belching diesel smoke into the salty air. They moved onto the pier and away from the docks.

Once on the highway, Isabel turned the radio on and found a station playing folk music. She didn’t catch the words, but the rhythm had her tapping her fingers on the wheel. She lowered her window and breathed in the clean, fresh air. Now and then she glimpsed the water and brightly painted fishing boats, sailboats and ferries. She passed numerous small farms and waved at a small boy perched bareback on a horse. Peering up at the dark green forested hills dominating the skyline, she watched a wall of fog creep over the tops of the hills, obscuring their shapes and giving them a mysterious, otherworldly aspect. Who knew what lay hidden behind the mist? She laughed out loud, amused at her imagination creating drama where there was none.

The car devoured the miles, passing through several towns of various sizes, before she saw the signs for Queilen. The guidebook described it as a scenic fishing village located on an estuary ending in a long curving spit of sand fronting the Gulf of Corcovado. The guidebook went on to praise the scenery and the beaches that attracted swimmers and water sports. Isabel knew she wouldn’t have time for any of that. Suddenly, she wished she had more time to explore the island instead of a weekend visit.

Arriving in Queilen, Isabel slowed and glanced at her directions. Chela’s house was away from the center of the village, and a few streets up from the bay. Isabel found the street and came to stop in front of a narrow, two-story house with a bright red metal roof. She gaped at the wooden shingles painted a pale yellow on the first floor, and a vivid chartreuse on the overhanging second story. The door, opening directly onto the street, and window trim were orange.

By the time she’d parked and opened the trunk to remove her suitcases, the front door opened and a slender woman dashed across the sidewalk. “Isabel?”

“TíaChela?” Isabel blinked. This was her aunt? Enclosed in a hug, with kisses first to one cheek and then the other, Isabel affirmed that yes, she was Isabel and she’d had a good trip and no, she wasn’t hungry, thank you.

Chela released her, but kept hold of her hands and stood back to look at her. Isabel looked back. Somehow she’d visualized her aunt as the stereotypical stout older woman in black she’d seen everywhere in Santiago but her mother’s sister was not at all as she’d imagined her.Tía Chela did wear black, but not a shapeless dress as she’d envisioned. Instead, she had on trim black trousers, a formfitting black sweater and long, dangling lapis lazuli earrings. Her hair, black except for the striking wings of silver at her temples, was gathered at her nape, leaving the planes of her face starkly attractive. She had to be near sixty, but she looked years younger. Isabel had the fleeting thought that she hoped she’d be as intriguing when she reached her aunt’s age. Isabel let the flow of Spanish wash over her, pleased that she understood most of her aunt’s rapid speech.

Chela grabbed her carryon suitcase and with her hand on Isabel’s arm, guided her through the orange door into a small tiled foyer. Isabel’s first impression was of welcome and warmth. Second came the awareness of paintings on the walls, Mapuche woven hangings and wooden art displayed on shelves and tables. Isabel turned, taking in the collections. She noted a grouping of wooden figures and picked one up.

It took her a moment to realize that the carving represented a squat troll, with legs disappearing into the tree trunk that supported it. With contorted features to match its deformed body, it was hideous, a disturbing contrast to the beauty of the pale, yellowish wood.

Before she could put it down, Chela rushed over and took it from her. “Don’t bother yourself with that. It’s justEl Trauco .” She placed the figurine on a shelf, tucking it behind another carving, so that all that remained visible was the head and facial features, including the troll’s eyes. They were deeply carved under the protruding shelf of the troll’s brow, making the figurine’s face look human and strangely compelling.

Isabel couldn’t hide a grimace. She turned away, then unable to resist, glanced back at the carved figurine. The troll seemed to be staring at her. Isabel moved away from the shelf, deliberately turning her back to the carving. She looked away, then quickly back. The eyes still focused on her, following her as she moved deeper into the room.

With a shudder, Isabel told herself the eerie sensation was a credit to the artist, yet she couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. She made herself study the paintings. All were island scenes, flamboyant fishing boats in the harbor, tree-studded hills almost floating on fog, birds in flights, and in one, a slender, naked woman walking into the misty sea with a man at her heels. Isabel realized that all the scenes had to be of Chiloé, and wondered if that woman was her aunt. She flicked a glance at the older woman.

Chela was watching her, her head tilted slightly, as if waiting for comment. They exchanged glances. Isabel was caught by the intent, expectant look in her aunt’s eyes. Was she supposed to ask about the naked woman?

Chela said nothing. Then, breaking their gaze, she lifted Isabel’s carryon. “Let me show you where you’ll sleep.”

Isabel grabbed the other case and followed her aunt up a steep staircase. At the top of the stairs, she looked back. Unerringly, her gaze found the statue ofEl Trauco . Once again, the troll seemed to be looking right at her. She shivered. How could a piece of wood no bigger than her hand give her the willies?

“Isabel?”

She moved onto a landing leading into a short hall with three doors. Chela opened one and gestured Isabel into the room. Isabel entered and looked around. Windows open wide to the view over the harbor brought in a slight breeze tinged with salt. A brightly woven blanket topped the bed and a pristine white pillowcase covered the single pillow. It was simple and attractive.

Isabel set down her luggage as Chela bustled about, opening the closet door and then gesturing at the bathroom across the hall. She peered at Isabel’s face. “Why don’t you take asiesta ,chica ? I’ll call you if you sleep too long.”

Suddenly, it was all Isabel could do to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t been aware of being exhausted, but as soon as Chela suggested it, she yearned for a nap. As her aunt left the room, she kicked off her shoes, lay down and pulled the blanket over her. The bed was narrower than she liked, but the pillow was soft and the breeze softer still. She dozed.

* * * * *

The forest was dim and cool. Tree branches overhead reached high into the sky and competed to twine about each other, shutting out the sunlight. The contorted, pale trunks were mossy as was the ground under her feet. The sharp, needle-like leaves on the trees drooped, parting for her as she moved effortlessly among the twisted trees, aware of the deep silence surrounding her. Even her breathing was hushed as she became aware of the stillness. No birds sang.

She pressed on, drawn by some compulsion to explore the hidden depths of the forest. Gradually, as she became aware of the hairs lifting on her nape, Isabel paused. Her skin prickled. Someone was watching her. She hesitated, holding her breath, then feigning casualness, turned in a slow circle as if observing the forest. No one was there, yet the sense of being watched continued. She examined the trees so closely entwined the branches formed an impenetrable barrier, but saw no living thing. Yet, something held her attention, compelling her forward. She took a few steps and stopped.

It had to be her imagination. She wasn’t a child to be frightened by goblins or ogres deterring her from exploring the depths of the forest.

Still, the feeling persisted. She wasn’t alone. She turned again, scanning the trees. There! The slightest movement, a shiver of leaves, caught her eye. There was someone there, something hidden.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice shaky.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She cried out.

* * * * *

“Isabel? Are you all right?”

Isabel forced her eyes open. Chela bent over the bed, her expression concerned, her hand extended. “You called?”

“Oh.” Isabel’s mouth was dry. She swallowed and sat up. “I must have been dreaming.” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, just a little unsteady. Her head reeled with the lingering images from her dream.

Chela reached out to support her but stepped back when Isabel shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Chela looked closely at her, then nodded. “Come downstairs, then. We’ll have a cup of tea. Somemanzanilla , I think.”

When her aunt left the room Isabel rummaged through her suitcase. She changed her clothes, putting on a comfortable pair of jeans and a light sweater. Downstairs, Chela was curled up in an armchair, waiting for her. She’d placed a teapot, cups and saucers and a plate of cookies on the coffee table before her. Gesturing Isabel to a seat, she smiled. “You look better.”

Isabel sank into a corner of the couch. “I feel better.”

Chela poured tea and passed her a cup. Lifting it to her face, Isabel inhaled the fragrance, familiar and comforting. “I recognize this. Chamomile tea. My mother makes it, too.”

“Of course. It is good for the nerves.”

Isabel took a sip, letting the warmth and fragrance of the tea seep into her. She relaxed and sank deeper into the cushions. It seemed so normal, so everyday, sharing a cup of tea with her hostess, even though Chela kept glancing at her with sharp, assessing looks, as if summing her up. That was natural, she supposed, since they hadn’t seen each other since she was a child. No doubt her aunt looked for traces of her mother in her. She had her mother’s dark coloring and fine bone structure, but her height and build she’d inherited from her tall, lanky father. Still, there was something more in the way her aunt gazed at her. For all her warm and welcoming manner, her aunt seemed uncertain.

Almost wary, though her words were welcoming. “It’s good to have you here,chica . It’s been a long time.Tanto tiempo .”

“I barely remember the last time.”

“You were just a child. How old are you now,chica ?”

“Twenty-seven,Tía .” Isabel expected some comment about how much she’d changed, but Chela frowned. “In those clothes, you look like a girl, no more than fifteen.”

Isabel restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Her slight figure was the bane of her existence. It was always a struggle to get people to think beyond her small-breasted, almost undeveloped figure and acknowledge her full-fledged brain instead. “These are casual clothes,Tía . For work, I dress differently.”

Chela pursed her lips and nodded, as if unconvinced. “You must tell me about the work that brought you to Chile.”

“We’ve been in Santiago, meeting with delegates from some of the other Latin American countries and those from Asia.”

“You must be very important, then.”

“Oh no. I’m only a member of the team.”

“What is it you do?”

“I’m a financial analyst.” When Chela looked blank, Isabel continued, “I crunch the numbers.”

Chela still looked confused.

“I work with money,Tía . Budgets, spending allocations. If the delegates negotiate agreements or contracts, then I prepare a summary of costs and profits.”

“Ah.” Chela nodded. Isabel knew she hadn’t explained very clearly, but her aunt didn’t press her for more. Isabel didn’t mind. To anyone who didn’t like the work, it was mind-numbingly boring.

Her aunt gazed at her, studying her face and figure. After a moment, she muttered, “I’m sure it won’t matter.”

“What won’t matter?”

Instead of answering, Chela asked about the delegation.

“Well, there’s my boss, of course. He does the negotiating, meetings, the visible things. There are many others on his staff but I work most closely with the translators, the economists and trade analysts, and the security officers. And a bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard! For you?” Chela’s eyes widened. “Is that necessary?”

“Just to be on the safe side.”

“He didn’t come with you?”

Isabel paused. She’d wanted him to. “There was no need. This isn’t official.”

Chela considered her. “There is a change in your voice when you mention the bodyguard. You have feelings for him?”

Isabel gaped. How could her aunt know that? Sure, she had feelings for the ex-Marine, but it did no good to let them out. Getting involved with someone she worked with only led to trouble. Neither of them could afford the distraction of a relationship. Still…

“It must be difficult working with a man you can’t have.”

Isabel stared at her aunt. “I can’t believe you guessed all that.”

Chela waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Young people working together—it’s only natural.”

Maybe so, but there seemed to be more to the expression on her aunt’s face. Of course. There was a simple explanation. She’d mentioned her attraction to her mother, who must have passed it on. “I’m surprised my mother mentioned it to you.”

“She didn’t betray your confidence.”

Isabel relaxed.

“What do you do when you are not working?”

“It keeps me busy. We travel a lot.”

“But surely you have time to yourself?”

Isabel shifted in the chair. Her aunt’s questions felt like an inquisition. “I read. Play fantasy computer games.”

Her aunt’s brow furrowed. “Qué?”

Isabel explained.

Her aunt looked incredulous. “There is enough evil in the world without playing at it on a machine.”

Well, that was a conversation stopper. Isabel sipped her tea as a small uncomfortable silence grew and took root. They each looked away from the other. Isabel studied the furnishings but kept her eyes averted from the shelf with the wooden carvings.

At last, Chela spoke. “Did you sleep well?” she asked. “Do you often cry in your sleep?”

Isabel’s gaze snapped to her aunt. “I had a strange dream,” she admitted, surprising herself. There was something about Chela that brooked no avoiding the truth.

“Ah?” Chela passed the cookies, her eyes intent on Isabel.

Taking one, Isabel gathered her thoughts. “I was in a forest, all alone, but I thought someone, or something, was watching me.” She shivered as she recalled her uneasiness and the baffling urge to explore.

Chela stiffened. “Did you see who it was?”

“No, but I felt something touch me. I think I called out—that’s what you must have heard.”

Nodding, her aunt probed, “And you woke without seeing who was there?”

“Yes.”

“Just a dream.” Chela sipped her tea, watching Isabel closely. “It’s not surprising. Chiloé is known as a magical place. No wonder you had a dream, but it’s nothing.” She shrugged.

“It felt so real…”

“No te preocupes. Nothing to worry about.”

Isabel considered her aunt’s brisk words. The reassurance didn’t match the lingering concern on her face, or the way her fingers trembled as Chela placed the cup on its saucer with a clink.

Taking the tea tray back into the kitchen with her, Chela stayed to lift the lid from a large pot. The aroma drifted and caught Isabel’s attention. She joined her aunt and inhaled deeply. “That’s wonderful. What is it?”

“It’s only a soup.” Chela stirred broth. “Cazuela. Chicken and vegetables.” She replaced the lid. “It won’t be ready for an hour. We have time for a walk.”

“Sounds good.”

Chela wrapped a black woolen shawl around her shoulders while Isabel ran upstairs for a heavier sweater. Together, they left the house and walked down the sloping street to the bay. They passed boldly colored buildings, shops and homes as well as wooden buildings left untended for years. Isabel gazed at a shop painted purple, another a soothing lavender and one a turquoise so bright it hurt her eyes. At the waterfront, they turned right and walked along a road following the curve of the bay.

Stone steps led from the sidewalk to the sand. Chela led the way without looking around, but Isabel studied the colorful fishing boats beached on the sand, the screeching seagulls rising into the air at their approach and descending after they’d passed.

Isabel lingered to gaze across the water at the snow-covered mountains on the mainland. They were even more stunning than her mother had described. She should have brought her camera. Next time.

Chela waited for her, and as she joined her aunt, they continued farther along the beach away from town. A weathered dock extended precariously out into the bay where fishing boats floated at anchor, but Isabel’s attention was drawn to the steep slope of the tree-covered hills beyond the village. The woods were dark, seemingly impenetrable. She couldn’t take her gaze away from the treetops smudging the sky.

Chela coughed. Isabel reluctantly looked back and noticed how intently her aunt stared at her. Far from relaxing Chela, the walk seemed to intensify whatever was bothering her.

Turning to stare out over the water, Chela muttered something that sounded almost like a prayer. Seen in profile, her aunt’s face looked strained, the muscles taut around her mouth as her voice rose and fell. Chela closed her eyes and lifted her face to the hazy, darkening sky above them. Isabel looked up, too, but saw nothing unusual in the pelicans circling overhead, then dive-bombing into the sea for a meal. She looked back, saw her aunt’s lips still moving, though she now spoke so softly Isabel couldn’t hear her words.

Suddenly, Chela lifted a clenched fist into the air and shook it. Her voice turned loud and harsh, almost threatening. Isabel took a step back, putting space between them. What had she gotten herself into? Isabel counted the hours until she could leave on Monday morning. It seemed a long time away.

Chela opened her eyes, blinked and glanced around her, focusing on her whereabouts. A cold breeze off the water ruffled the silvered hair at her temples. She lowered her arm, adjusted the shawl around her shoulders and inhaled deeply.

Isabel waited, not sure if she should say something, but then Chela smiled and took her arm as if nothing had happened. They retraced their steps along the beach as the air turned cooler. Mist gathered around the rooftops on the slope above them and drifted in slow coils across the sand. As the day darkened, Isabel understood why the villagers liked such vibrant colors as a relief from the gray sky and encroaching fog.

Isabel shivered.

Chela tucked her shawl more closely around her shoulders. “Are you cold,chica ?”

It seemed like such a prosaic question after her strange behavior on the beach. Isabel wondered if she should ask what that was all about, but since her aunt didn’t seem concerned, it seemed more tactful to ignore her aunt’s actions. “A little,” she answered.

They returned to Chela’s home, walking quickly uphill through the uneven streets as the mist lowered and dewed their faces. Isabel’s shivers intensified. Once inside her house, Chela turned on lamps and drew the curtains together. She added a log to a small metal stove and lit the kindling. When flames licked at the wood, she shook the sawdust off her hands with a brisk motion. Isabel held her hands out to the burgeoning heat. Her skin warmed but her aunt’s mysterious behavior still had her uneasy.

Refusing Isabel’s help, Chela went back and forth to the kitchen as she set the table in an alcove off the living room. Standing back to observe her handiwork, Chela straightened a blue and white placemat at each place, then opened a bottle of wine. She brought in a soup tureen and ladled fragrant broth, chicken, an ear of corn, potato and a chunk of squash into their bowls.

Called to the table, Isabel sat and watched Chela pour a deep, rich red wine into her glass. They toasted each other.

“Are you finished in Santiago now?”

Isabel nodded. “My boss is preparing his reports. We’ll go back to the States in a few days.”

“And then?”

Isabel shrugged. “Wherever is next.”

“And you’ll see yourmamita ?”

“If I can. She’ll want to know everything.”

Chela cut her potato into small sections. “Carmen is well, then?”

“Physically, yes. But…”

“She won’t accept her loss. It is natural after your papa died.”

Isabel nodded.

Chela leaned across the table, “Yourmamita , she must do this thing for herself.”

“Yes.” Isabel knew that. She also knew that her mother had used her self-imposed exile as a veneer of martyrdom. She’d cultivated a frail, ill-used image of herself, and Patrick O’Shaughnessy, gifted psychiatrist that he was, had been content to foster it, even to shelter her from reality. If succoring his wife meant distancing themselves from their daughter, he’d allowed it to happen.

No longer hungry, Isabel set down her spoon. “That was delicious,Tía . Thank you.”

Chela accepted the compliment with a pleased smile. Her face clear now of whatever had bothered her, she sat back at the table. She looked relaxed, as if she’d never shaken her fist at the sky. “What shall we do while you are here?”

Isabel thought of her guidebook. “I’d like to see more of the island. Can we take a drive tomorrow? I promised Mom I’d take lots of pictures.”

“Of course. We’ll go to Castro, see the churches and have aChilote dinner.”

“A what?”

“Chilote. It means something typical of the island.”

When Isabel offered to help with cleanup, Chela shooed her out of the kitchen. Isabel wandered into the living room. The closed curtains shut out both the view and rain falling softly on the metal roof. The fire warmed her as Isabel roamed the room examining more closely her aunt’s collection of textiles and pottery. Gradually, she became aware of someone watching her.

She turned, expecting to see Chela, but she was in the kitchen, washing dishes at the sink. Isabel scanned the windows, but the curtains were still tightly drawn. There was no one in the room with her, but the sensation of being watched didn’t go away. She remembered her eerie dream of being alone in the forest with something hidden observing her. The anxiety she’d felt in her dream returned, making the nerves along her spine contract. She tried to shake it off and was turning to search the room again when she noticed the wooden figurine her aunt had hidden behind another.

It wasn’t hidden any longer. It was at the front of the shelf, and as Isabel moved closer, she could swear the deeply set eyes followed her. She moved to one side. The figure seemed to follow her movement. She moved to the other side. Again it seemed that the eyes followed her. She tried to shrug off her unease, telling herself that the artist was talented, able to make the eyes of the wooden carving seem so alive, so aware.

Steeling herself, she picked up the figurine, turning it this way and that. The figure was still hideous, but now she noted something she hadn’t seen before Chela had snatched the figurine away to hide it. For all the repugnant features, the troll-like figure had an implausible sweet expression to its eyes. And an engaging grin? How could that be? She must be imagining things. She turned the figurine over and over in her hands. The pale-grained wood warmed in her hands, smooth and strangely alive.

“Isabel.”

She turned just as her aunt reached out for the figurine. Isabel moved it out of reach. “What is this?”

Chela flicked a quick glance at the troll. “It’s nothing.” She reached for it again.

Isabel stepped back, her glance flicking at the carving. Far from appearing malevolent, the troll now exuded an enticing allure. She blinked. When she looked again, the carving seemed to smile seductively at her. She faced her aunt. “Why don’t you want me to see it?”

Chela’s face closed. She turned away. Her shoulders were stiff, tucked high against her neck.

“What is it,Tía ?” Isabel persisted. “What are you afraid of?”

Chela turned around then. “I’m not afraid.”

To Isabel, her aunt’s voice sounded brittle. “Yes,” she insisted. “I know the signs.”

Chela’s shoulders dropped. “I’m not afraid,” she repeated. “At least, not for me.”

“What then?”

“For you,chica .”

Isabel almost laughed. She bit back her amusement at the look in her aunt’s eyes. They looked haunted, deep and dark against her pallor. What could make her react this way? Isabel spoke firmly, “You have to tell me.”

Chela dropped into a chair. She lifted a hand and covered her eyes. She massaged her forehead as if rubbing away a headache. Finally, she sighed and dropped her hand. “You must not go into the forest. Not ever.”

“Why?’

“El Trauco.”

“Who?”

Chela gestured at the wooden figurine in Isabel’s hands. “Him. El Trauco.” She shot a glance at Isabel, who couldn’t hide her expression. “You think I’m crazy? An old woman afraid of spirits and monsters?”

Isabel thought exactly that, but she tempered her words. “Maybe if you explained?”

Reaching up to grab Isabel’s free hand, Chela drew her closer. “You must believe me!”

Isabel knelt at her aunt’s side, their hands still clasped together. Chela’s fingers trembled as they closed more tightly around her own. In her other hand, the figurine seemed to throb as if it was indeed a warm living thing. She lifted the little figure. “If this scares you, why do you have it in your house?”

“That doesn’t scare me,” her aunt scoffed. “It’s the real one.”

“Real?” She flicked a glance at the carving. The eyes now seemed lifeless, the wood cool to the touch. “How could anything like this be real?”

Chela released Isabel’s hand. “I see you will not be satisfied until you know. Very well.” Sighing, she collapsed deeper into her chair. “El Traucolives in the forest. Onlychiquillas , virginal young girls, see him. When he sees one he wants, he hits thetique tree with his stone axe, one, two, three times.” She demonstrated by hitting the side of her hand against the arm of the chair. “Uno, dos, tres.”

Isabel hid a smile. A fairy tale, then. Yet, for all the times her mother had talked about her island home, she’d never mentioned this particular legend.

“He seduces them with a sweet smile,” Chela murmured. “The girls fall asleep, and when they wake, their clothes all disarranged,El Trauco is gone. They go home, sure they dreamed, but in nine months,un bebé .” Chela cradled her arms, rocking an invisible baby. The look on her face was so tender, so lost, Isabel felt her sorrow.

A suspicion formed in her mind. “This happened to someone you know?” she whispered.

Chela seemed to freeze, then she nodded. Tears gathered, then slid down her cheeks. “To me,” she whispered.

Isabel sat back on her haunches. So, she was right. Her mother talked of her homeland, her family, and longed to see them again, but she’d never mentioned her eldest sister’s pregnancy. Even with the age gap between them, surely she must have heard about Chela’s baby. “What happened to your baby?”

For a moment, Isabel thought her aunt wouldn’t answer. She seemed to withdraw into herself, her features shuttered. Then, as if she couldn’t help it, Chela’s face crumpled. “Se murío. He died,” she cried. “I saw him only once before he was taken from me.”

No wonder her aunt disliked thattrauco thing. It reminded her too much of her youthful indiscretion and its tragic aftermath. “I’m so sorry you lost your baby. It must have been very difficult for you.”

“Sí, butMama understood. It was not my fault.” She turned her gaze on Isabel. “She knew whatEl Trauco was like.”

Isabel nodded. How much easier it must be to blame an unwanted pregnancy on some mythical forest creature. That way, no questions asked and no stain on a young girl’s reputation. Still… “Doesn’t anyone try to stopEl Trauco ?”

“He is too strong,” Chela whispered. “He can take you in his hands and throw you high in the air. He can twist your arms and legs like the trees. If he is angry, he can kill you with a glance. Or make you die in a year.”

Isabel tried to keep her expression impassive, but the mention of contorted trees startled her. She bit her lower lip and focused on her aunt’s face. “Did you have more children?”

Chela’s face grew dark. “I never married.”

“Why not? Surely men must have wanted you.”

Chela waved that away. “I didn’t want them. Not after what had happened.”

“That is so sad.”

“Sad?” Chela’s mouth tightened. “Maybe. It was my decision.”

Isabel opened her mouth, then closed it. Choices had been different when her aunt was a girl. Maybe she’d allowed the trauma of an unmarried pregnancy and the death of her son to dictate the rest of her life, but how sad to have a child and lose it to death. She sniffed.

Chela plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and offered it to her. “It was long ago.”

“But you never had other children to love.” Isabel wiped her eyes. “Or a husband’s love.”

“It is too late to worry about those things. For me anyway. But you, you must not go in the forest.”

“Thattrauco must be powerful to still be nabbing young girls.”

“You must take care!” Chela admonished. “So many girls…”

Isabel hesitated. Her aunt was really upset. “You don’t have to worry about me,Tía . Even if I go into the forest, thetrauco won’t be interested in me.” When Chela looked confused, Isabel added, “After all, I’m not a virgin any more.”

Chela didn’t look reassured. “But you look like one. Like a child, still.”

Isabel nodded. She knew her physical faults. At her age, she doubted she’d grow any curves. She was who she was. She couldn’t think of anything else to comfort her aunt, and said only, “I’ll be careful.”

* * * * *

The forest was cool and dim. Tall trees with pale trunks, almost a faded yellow in the gloom, surrounded her. Their intertwined low branches sagged to the ground, a stark contrast to the opaque mist coating their tops. The accumulation of leaves and forest debris under her feet created a dense carpet of mulch that muffled her footsteps.

Isabel paused to listen. No birds sang. No animals darted through the underbrush. She continued cautiously studying the woods about her as she followed the irresistible force beckoning her deeper into the forest. A shiver trickled down her neck, over her shoulder blades and rippled down her spine. There was a tension in the air, almost palpable, a waiting silence.

She entered a glade, a small, almost perfect enclosure formed by trees and a thicket of dense underbrush. Above her head, the trees reached blindly into a fog-shrouded sky. Slowly, she turned in a circle, studying the trees surrounding her, the leaves motionless as if they too waited.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

She whirled around. No one, but she sensed she wasn’t alone. Somewhere above her, behind her, she heard breathing. She peeked over her shoulder. No one there! The breathing changed, moved. She slid her gaze to the right. Nothing. She slid her gaze to the left, fearful now, almost panting, not sure the sound of harsh breathing she heard was coming from her or from someone—something else. She peeked. And saw.

There, almost hidden by a heavily leafed branch.

There!

The diminutive figure of a man, his body misshapen, contorted, his head too big for his torso. The rough bark clothes covering his body made a perfect camouflage against the trunk and branches of the tree. He stared at her from his concealment, showing nothing but his face.

Ugly, ugly, ugly!

His face looked squashed, as though something had flattened the top of his head under his conical cap, pushing out his forehead, deforming his oversized ears and making a bulbous caricature of his nose. His lips were thick and broad, parted as he breathed. His eyes appeared deeply set, dark and compelling as he held his gaze with his own.

Isabel recoiled. Her own breath came hot and heavy, creating a mist in the forest turned suddenly icy-cold. She tried a step back and found she couldn’t move. Looking down, she couldn’t see her feet in the mist swirling around her ankles and slowly rising to her knees. All she could see was the stumps of her legs disappearing into the white cloud. She opened her mouth to scream and nothing came out but more mist, heavier now, wreathing around her head.

The mist became fog. Quiet, threatening fog. It condensed then parted briefly, allowing her glimpses of stout trees and dense underbrush closing in on her. She couldn’t move!

She tried to calm herself, to breathe more slowly. She tightened her lips to stop the fog coming out of her mouth, but that didn’t help. The fog thickened about her. Huge noisy sobs shook her body. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, but she couldn’t raise her hand to wipe them away. She was petrified and immobilized.

Suddenly, the fog in front of her receded, creating a small porthole almost at her eye level And through that small opening, she saw the face of the troll. Ugly, misshapen, the grotesque face of nightmares and fairy tales and totally mesmerizing. She couldn’t take her eyes away. The face came nearer, nearer still until all she saw in the circle of fog was the troll’s eyes. They were deep, almost obscured by the shelf of his brow. They were black, intent and narrowed as they observed her. Isabel stared back, captivated by them.

They allowed her no escape.

As she watched, the intent look deepened, and changed. Now Isabel couldn’t believe the warmth and tenderness coming from that homely face. Sweetness poured from his gaze. Sweetness and a growing look of appreciation. Sensual and sweet, how could that be?

Drawn by troll’s gaze, Isabel leaned forward, one hand raised to it. And gradually, so slowly she was barely aware of it happening, her fear disappeared. In its place, yearning flickered to life, then gaining strength, burst into flame. Her throat thickened as her legs grew weak. Desire bloomed deep within her as her breasts grew swollen and her nipples hardened. Her breath came quick and hard as she moistened in anticipation.

The mist vanished. For an instant, she was aware of the troll, completely revealed to her, a diminutive, distorted figure standing somehow without feet, perched on a branch that brought him to her eye level.

The next instant, she was awake, her breath coming fast and hard, tears still burning her cheeks.

* * * * *

Isabel shuddered. She’d dreamed about heroes and battles several times after an intense electronic game but she’d never experienced anything like this. She recognized the troll in her dream. It was an uglier, frightful manifestation of the figurine inTía Chela’s living room, but how had she absorbed him into her dreams? Twice now, and this last one, despite his appearance, weaving an erotic spell around her. She could see the tender look in the troll’s eyes just as clearly in her darkened room as she could in her dream. She touched her breasts and felt her nipples hard and pushing against her nightgown which was bunched around her waist. Her thighs felt damp, and when she checked, found the unmistakable evidence of her own arousal. Her skin felt hot, too tight around her bones.

She sat up in bed and pushed the covers off. Her bedroom was cool, condensation forming on the inside of the window. She’d left the curtains partly open. So that explained the fog in her dream, but where did that sensual appeal come from?

Desire tantalized her, drew her, beckoned her. She dropped back against the single pillow, restless and unsatisfied. Dreaming about sex was one thing, something that happened frequently since she and the Marine had decided to ignore the attraction between them. She could understand frustrated dreams. Dreaming about sex with a troll was something else. If she had to dream, why not sex with an inventive human lover who could satisfy each and every craving?

Hard muscular arms encircled her. Slowly, she roused from sleep as he pulled her close into his warmth. She nestled into his arms, cuddling her bottom against his taut belly. Between her thighs, his cock grew and lengthened, probing her pussy as his fingers gently plucked her clit. She sighed and inched closer. He blew a warm breath on her neck, then his lips found the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. She relaxed against him, knowing what came next.

And it did. He slipped a knee between hers, opening her legs and slid his cock into her waiting pussy with ease. Aah…he knew just how to touch her. His fingers busy with her clit, his cock lazily thrusting, slowly building her arousal.

But she didn’t want slow. She wanted hard and fast, deep and deeper still. She shrugged him off and rolled over to come up on her hands and knees. He followed, kneeling behind her, spreading her thighs and butt cheeks wide as he thrust into her from behind. She loved this, loved resting on her bent arms, her butt high in the air. Loved feeling him bend forward to touch her breasts, tweak her nipples and finger her clit. Loved how the touch of his groin against the responsive rim of her anus made her shiver with delicious sensations.

She moved back on him, coaxing his cock deeper. He took the hint, and increased his pace. He released her, then pulled her back on him. He let her slide away, then drove into her with such force he all but touched her heart. She gasped. He grunted as he thrust, again and again, each time deeper, each time faster, giving her no time to catch her breath. His own breathing resounded in the dimly lit room, harsh and frantic.

Isabel felt him pound against her butt. She felt him sliding into her. She felt him caress the walls of her pussy and grew dizzy with the heat building deep inside. She turned her head to smile at him, to tell him without words how good he made her feel. She saw his shoulders, broad and sturdy, the muscles of his chest clenching with effort, and the tendons in his neck straining as he pummeled into her. But his face was hidden in the shadows, only a hint of jaw visible.

It didn’t matter. She’d tell him later, when this frenzied buildup escalated into release, when he’d helped her come as he always did. He pummeled into her, driving her forward until her head bumped the headboard. She loved it, loved every thing he did to her, loved his unspoken command to come, come, come…

Chapter Two

Isabel woke to the sound of birds squawking and circling over the water as they hunted for breakfast. She stretched, watching a watery dawn lighten the patch of sky she could see from her bed. Quietly, she rose and rummaged through her suitcase for her robe and slippers, then tiptoed down the stairs.

In the kitchen, she found the table set for breakfast, but the house was still. She made herself coffee and lifted the cup, then placed it untasted on the table. She moistened her dry lips and swallowed convulsively. The feeble light coming through the kitchen window reminded her of the dim forest in her dreams. She shivered, trying hard to make sense of the puzzling way she’d behaved since she stepped through her aunt’s door. Mysterious warnings about the forest. Erotic dreams about homely trolls leaving her hungry and wanting. And then, out of nowhere, a dream lover who’d satisfied those wants and left her body craving more. She couldn’t shrug off the still vivid sensations nor the weird desire to throw common sense aside and rush into the forest.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” The overhead light came on, flooding the kitchen with light.

Isabel started.Tía Chela stood in the doorway, her arms laden with a basket of fruit and a long loaf of bread.

“I thought you were still asleep.”

Chela put her bundles down and took off a raincoat, then unwound a black scarf around her neck. “I went to thepanadería .” She held up the loaf. “Do you still likepan francés ?”

Isabel shook off her uneasiness.

In no time, they had sections of oranges and chunks of the crusty bread spread with butter andmembrillo jam, devouring them with coffee. Comfort spread through Isabel as memories of breakfasts like these surfaced from her childhood. At last, replete, she drained her coffee and sat back. It was time to talk to her aunt about family secrets, but she couldn’t disturb this moment of contentment with unhappy memories or questions. For sure she couldn’t talk about her strange, carnal dream that wouldn’t let her be.

Chela smiled at her. “Now, should we get ready to go out?”

Soon, they were in Isabel’s rental car, the wipers busy with a light rain, and headed for Castro, the thriving city and seaport facing the mainland. At Chela’s direction, Isabel drove along the embarcadero, looking at the fishing boats and sailboats bobbing at anchor, then parked near an area where old-fashioned farm equipment caught her eye. The rain had stopped, leaving the air smelling clean and fresh with a strong salty tang.

Chela pointed out several landmarks, including the town market perched on wooden pilings to compensate for the rise and fall of the tides. Everywhere they looked, buildings were covered in the woodenalerce shingles becoming familiar to her. The design and shape of the shingles was common, but they sported all the colors Isabel could name, and some she couldn’t. The combination of wood, sky and water directed the architecture and Isabel found herself charmed.

She looked up the hill to the yellow twin spires and angular cupola of the cathedral dominating the skyline, then turned to gaze out over the water. Remembering her mother’s request, she snapped several photos. She also remembered her middle of the night determination to investigate the reason for her strange, compelling dream.

Offshore islands, sea birds, sandy beaches and brightly painted fishing boats were all well and good, but she wanted the forest. She wanted to walk among tall trees and peer behind branches. All she wanted was to satisfy the compulsion to explore the woods, to see for herself that there was no such thing as a troll luring women for sex. She paused, staring out over the bay, her common sense debating with an almost irresistible draw from the forest.

Chela noted her inattentiveness. “Qué te pasa, chica?”

Isabel lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “Could we come back another time,Tía ? I’d like to drive to the other side of the island. See the ocean and the forest.”

“There is nothing for you there.”

Isabel felt guilty, as though her aunt could see past her skin and deep inside her. She tried not to squirm under Chela’s repressive gaze. “I like the ocean.”

“It is cold. You can’t swim in the water.”

“I don’t need to swim. Just to see the waves.” And the forest on the way there, she added silently.

“You can see water here.” Chela pointed to the dark blue waters of the gulf. “There are waves.”

Isabel glanced at the gulf, then at the lowering clouds overhead. “Please,Tía . I’d like to see as much of Chiloé as I can.Mamita will ask,” she added, inwardly wincing at blatantly using her mother for her own means.

Chela studied her face. At last, her aunt made a moue and shrugged. “If you like.”

They returned to the car, and as Chela directed the way out of Castro to the highway over the mountains, Isabel’s excitement grew. It might be a wild goose chase and amount to nothing, but at least she was doing something. She recalled the sensation of the troll staring at her, luring her closer with that sweet, magnetic gaze. She wanted to press the accelerator down, to speed, hurry, hurry, hurry!

She’d never felt this way before, never felt like she was rushing to meet a lover. She’d never been this importunate—and all over a mythic creature that wasn’t even real.

She needed her head examined. It scared her, this willingness to throw good sense aside for myth and nonsense. This was no fantasy game with oppressed protagonists battling dark forces to save the earth. She wasn’t a child to be drawn into a world of make-believe. And yet inexplicably, here she was, eager to see the troll’s forest haunts, to find out for herself if it was only her imagination, or…

Isabel drove quickly, taking the mountain curves with zest. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her aunt hanging on to the passenger door, her face white and pinched. Chela’s eyes were scrunched closed.

“Sorry,Tía . I’ll slow down.” The road worsened as it climbed up the mountain. Ruts and rough spots pitted the surface, and as the turns and curves became more severe, the trees seemed to sweep their branches down to obscure the way. It almost seemed ludicrous, that now she was impatient to see the forest and confront the troll, the forest itself hindered her way.

A few more curves and Isabel noticed a wide spot off the road. It wasn’t marked as such, but it appeared to be a viewpoint. She eased off the pavement and parked. Ignoring a light rain, she got out of the car.

She stood at the edge of a steep incline, the tops of the trees below her coming almost to eye level. Beyond her, treetops looking like ghostly dark islands floating on a misty sea, stretched to the rise of another set of hills on the horizon.

Chela got out of the car and joined her. In silence, they surveyed the expanse of forest. Isabel edged closer to a group of trees whose limbs twisted and entwined about each other, forming a wild wall of pale branch and pointed needles. Experimentally, she touched one, and yelped at the prickly sting.

So this much was true!Isabel raised her camera and took several close-up shots of the woods, then turned for panoramic views across the valley. Her skin turned clammy as the rain soaked through her sweater.

Chela inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I think we’d better go back.”

“I’d like to see the ocean. Is it much farther?”

Chela wrapped her arms around her middle, as if warding off cold. She bit her lip. “Not much. Another hill, then it’s down.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t been here in years.”

Isabel studied her aunt’s face. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pinched closed as she drew a scarf over her head. She noted that her aunt kept her gaze on the ground.

She looked at the forest behind her, ahead of her. She was so close, maybe just minutes away from finding out why she felt driven to be here. She could ask her aunt to wait in the car while she investigated on foot. She turned to Chela to ask and saw her expression. Contrition swept away her curiosity. This was silly. Now that her imagination had wakened, it was getting the best of her. “Let’s go back, then.”

Chela smiled. With an air of relief, she quickly returned to the car. Isabel followed, sure she was doing the right thing, but she couldn’t avoid the lingering feeling that she was leaving something undone.

Chela talked on the way down the mountain, telling Isabel of life on the island, how the early residents had been isolated for so long from the rest of the world, how they’d made their living from the sea and the ships that carried their lumber to the world. She talked of customs and traditions, of an earthquake and a following wave that had devoured portions of the waterfront.

Isabel listened but she thought her aunt’s conversation was forced. She seemed to be trying to dissuade her from thinking aboutEl Trauco . If so, she wasn’t successful. Chela’s attitude whetted her curiosity.

“The guide books say that Chiloé is a land of myth and legends. Is that true?” Isabel asked.

Chela nodded. “There are many. Some are very sad.”

Isabel took the next turn with care, then flicked a glance at her aunt. “Tell me.”

Chela stilled, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “Bueno. There isPincoya , the goddess of sea and ocean. Sometimes she will help shipwrecked sailors. Fishermen see her on the rocks combing her long red hair. She is beautiful and controls the fishing. She dances naked on the sand, and if she faces the water while she dances, there will be a good catch. If she faces the land, there will be no fish. If she goes away, she can be brought back by witch’s magic.”

“Magic?” Isabel echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Sí.”

Isabel glanced at her aunt. Chela’s face was turned away from her, but her shoulders were stiff. “And only men see her?” she prompted.

“Perhaps. I myself have never seen her,” Chela admitted with a wry tone. Isabel thought of her aunt’s painting of a naked woman walking into the sea and wondered.

They left the deep forest behind, driving through the narrow valleys, small villages and tiny fishing hamlets. Chela pointed out a number of wooden churches. She explained that they had been built years before by Jesuit and Franciscan missionaries who had tried to convert the local tribes to Catholicism but had instead wound up adapting and adopting some of the local rituals into their own. The churches were distinctive, narrow, tall structures with the woodenalerce shingles Isabel recognized as a Chiloé trademark. In spite of Isabel’s expectations, they didn’t stop to tour any.

Later in the afternoon, they were back in Castro, and her aunt was determined to show her more sights. Chela led her to an estuary where more rickety-looking shacks perched on stilts sunk into the water. “Those arepalafitos ,” she explained. “I lived in one as a child, but I wouldn’t want to now. Sometimes, when the water is high, I felt like we floated on the tide, butMama worried.” She sighed. “Then it was an adventure.”

With the camera to her eye, Isabel nodded. Thepalafitos appeared unsteady, as if the first high tide would sweep them away. Yet, the wooden shingles on roofs and walls looked sturdy, worn as if they’d withstood years of rain and water. Chela inhaled, then blew out her breath as if she’d made a decision. She took Isabel’s elbow and all but tugged her up a steep street past more rainbow-hued houses to the plaza. With Isabel still huffing from the climb, they crossed the green, and entered the cathedral.

In spite of her mother’s background and beliefs, Isabel practiced no religion, yet she knew the rites and rituals. She noted that Chela didn’t dip her finger into the basin of holy water by the entrance, nor did she cross herself in the traditional Catholic custom.

Instead, she drew her down the central nave and pointed out architectural features and the use of local woods, now stained dark by time and usage. She spoke at length about the wood vaulting while Isabel wondered how people could attend and participate in the activities of all these churches and still believe in legends like the troll.

When her aunt settled into a pew to wait, Isabel wandered down the center nave, her eyes drawn to the stained glass window above her head. It resembled a daisy, with a golden yellow center surrounded by translucent white glass panels. The window brought in enough light to illuminate the wooden carvings and religious statues. Isabel studied them, then moved along the walls, looking at the side altars and the religious art adorning the church.

She moved closer to one panel, intrigued by the grain of the wood. On closer inspection, it appeared that the whorls resembled a face, and as she peered at it, it took on the shape and characteristics ofEl Trauco . She blinked, then looked closer. The eyes were dark splotches, drawing her attention. As she watched, entranced, the expression of the face became very clear, very intent, as if there really was a sentient being staring back at her. Then the expression softened, blurring a bit as it took on tenderness. It seemed to smile right at her. Startled, she couldn’t control a gasp. Without thinking, she raised the camera, focused and took a picture. She wasn’t sure what she’d see, if anything, when she looked at the picture, but she had to try. Maybe she’d have some evidence that she wasn’t imagining this.

As if reading her mind, the image winked. The smile grew broader, more inviting. Isabel felt herself leaning forward, her hand outstretched to the wood.

No!

She yanked her hand back and hastily turned away from the semblance ofEl Trauco . She felt stifled, smothered, unable to breathe in the close, incense-scented air. Stumbling, she hurried to the nearest door, then rushed outside, gasping for breath. She found herself on an arcaded walk bordering the churchyard. It had started to rain harder while they were inside the church, and now she moved out of the shelter of the arcade and into the downpour.

She lifted her face to the fresh, cold rain, letting it wash away the likeness in her mind. Her belly churned. In moments, the rain soaked through her clothes and chilled her skin, but still she stood there, unable to reconcile the reality of the ancient church and her imagination.

“Chica, what are you doing?” Chela hurried out of the church and rushed over to her. “You’ll catch cold. Let’s go.” She took her arm and tugged, propelling her out of the churchyard.

Isabel hung back, then abruptly, feeling cold to her bones, she unlocked the car and got in. She turned on the engine, then the heater. As the car warmed, Isabel sat in the driver’s seat, still stunned and unbelieving. She couldn’t have seen the troll’s image in the panel, yet she couldn’t blank out that knowing wink, the look on that face or the gentle expression in the eyes. Gentle, yet implacable, irresistibly drawing her closer, closer.

She closed her eyes, shutting out that unexplainable image and her even more inexplicable response. Even out here, safe within the car, she felt the puissance luring her back to the image. Back to the forest.

She shivered.

“Let’s go home,chica . You have to get out of those wet clothes.”

Isabel opened her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m drying out already.” She was aware of the heat now as the cold lost its grip on her senses. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

Chela lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “As you wish. Do you want to continue?”

She wanted to find out why she was seeing the troll face in church. She wanted to know why she was seeing him at all. Her stomach clenched as she struggled with her visions. Things like this just didn’t happen. She gripped the wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

“Isabel?Qué te pasa ?”

Isabel forced her fingers to relax. She put the car in gear. “I’m fine. Where should we go now?”

Chela directed her away from the cathedral. Isabel glanced back at the rearview mirror as the view of the bright yellow exterior of the church receded in the rain. It must have been a twist of light that made her see a grotesque figure perched on a spire…

Oh, not again!

Chela pointed at the offshore islands barely visible through the rain. “If the weather was better, you could rent a kayak and see the birds.”

Isabel silently thanked her aunt for the change in subject. “Aren’t there penguins? I remember seeing some.”

Chela nodded. “Si. You were only a girl, but they fascinated you. You wanted to take one home as arecuerdo , a souvenir.”

“To keep in the bathtub,” Isabel recalled how upset she’d been. Even though she’d cajoled, cried and coaxed, she’d never managed to convince her parents that either a sibling or a pet was in order. She’d been unable to explain her craving for something to love her for herself.

Later, sitting over a cozy table in a popular restaurant, Chela lifted her glass of wine in a toast. “To your future.”

Isabel clinked glasses with her aunt. “Thanks.” She grew pensive, thinking of the days ahead. When she left here, she had another day in Santiago and then she’d board the plane for home. And once back to work, all this would be just a memory. But one she could share, when she told her mother what she’d been doing. WouldMamita be interested and share whatever knowledge she had, or would she shrug this off as fanciful imaginings?

Isabel sipped her wine and put her glass back on the snowy tablecloth. At her aunt’s urging, she’d ordered acuranto , the restaurant’s version of the seafood and meat dish cooked by heated stones in an outdoor pit. She’d been uncertain, but with every spoonful of the flavorful broth and succulent seafood, she relaxed and enjoyed her meal.

So many of the things her mother mentioned, the possessions she’d brought with her and now treasured, and the photographs took on a new, dearer meaning as Isabel glanced around the restaurant, admiring the handcrafted art and carvings decorating the walls. She hadn’t fully appreciated how much her mother must miss her home and her heritage.

“Tell me more about the legends,” she prompted her aunt.

Chela hesitated, then set down her knife and fork. “I told you aboutPincoya . Well, there is also theviuda . It is certain that she likes only men. She wears black, like a widow in mourning, and she walks barefoot on the road, alone at night. When she sees a man she likes, she takes him by the shoulder and breathes on him. Her breath is magic, you see. It entrances him. She takes him to hercasita , where she forces him to satisfy her. You understand?”

Isabel nodded. Like the other tales her aunt had recounted, this one too had a dash of magic and sexual enticement.

“At dawn, she takes them far away. The men are like drunkards, slow to regain their reason, but she does no harm to them. Unless…”

“What?”

“Unless they refuse or are not bewitched. Then she strangles them.”

“I guess men have to be careful living here.” Isabel said. “But then, it’s only fair. IfEl Trauco seduces the women, then theviuda can have at the men.”

Chela frowned. “You must not laugh at them. There are many secret things here.”

“Like what?”

Chela looked away, then whispered, “Invunche…” She swallowed hard. “He is a baby stolen at birth and hidden away in the witches’ cave. He guards the cave. He eats human flesh and is so terrible to look at, if someone looks at him, they are frozen forever. He has only three legs and if he leaves the cave, it’s because the witches carry him between them as they fly.”

A chill ran down Isabel’s back. “All this talk of witches—”

“You don’t believe in them?”

Isabel shrugged. “You said the islanders were isolated for many years. It’s only natural that they would make up stories to account for things they didn’t understand.”

Chela’s eyes flashed. “The witches of Chiloé are very powerful. Evil. You must do bad things first before they will allow you to become one.”

“Witches aren’t born as witches?”

“Oh no. You decide. First you must want very much to become abruja , a witch. You must wash away your baptism in a waterfall for forty days. You must kill a loved one and make a pact with the Devil. You sign that pact with your own blood. Then thedemonio takes your soul and you study the black arts.”

“Some people practice Wicca. Benign witchcraft.”

Chela waved Isabel’s comment away. “Chilotewitches can turn themselves into birds or animals as they choose. They put people or animals into a trance. They even change the tides. They change things. They are enemies to good people. If they cast a spell on you they make you sick or kill you, even from far away.”

“Nonsense.” Isabel tried to make her voice firm and rational, but a part of her accepted that her aunt believed in her convictions. If she let herself be swayed by tales of magic and witchcraft, it could explain so much. Isabel’s fingers trembled as she lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed the rest of her wine.

Chela noticed. “Come, let us talk of happier things.” She poured more wine into their glasses as the waiter took away their plates and brought their dessert. “I’ve been talking too much. You must tell me of your plans when you return home.”

“I’m not sure where we’ll go next.”

“And about your young man?”

Memories of her sexual fantasy and her dream lover made Isabel’s skin burn. She bit back her longings. “He’s not mine,Tía . And there is nothing there.”

“But don’t you want to be in love, to marry and have children?”

After a moment, Isabel said, “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You must think of it. Yourmamita had a good marriage. Isn’t that an example?”

Not really. If she had children, she’d want both their parents actively involved in raising them. She’d make sure they knew that they were wanted and loved for themselves.

Surprising her once again, Chela murmured, “Your papa was well-known. Your mother wrote of his practice. So many patients.” Chela’s face turned pensive. “So little time for her. Or you.” Chela smiled in sympathy. “I hoped that after your papa died, that yourmamita would come home again.”

“She talked about it, but so much of her life was there, with Dad, that she didn’t want to leave him.”

“She loved him.”

Isabel’s eyes moistened. “She loved him very much. And he loved her.” In spite of his long hours away, Isabel knew that to her father, his wife and his daughter were the center of his life. Well, at least her mother was. Sometimes she’d felt forgotten in their absorption with each other. She sipped her wine again, her eyes downcast. A feeling of not belonging settled on her. For a moment, she felt like a child again. Loved, but not always wanted. She swallowed.

It was just the wine making her teary and sentimental. It had nothing to do with the raisins in her rice pudding that kept shifting around to form a face. No matter how she pushed them apart with her spoon, even burying them under the rice, the raisins flowed into the suggestion of two dark eyes and a smile.

She wouldn’t be drawn.

She pushed her dessert away from her and resolutely turned to stare out the window at the water. It was dark, but light spilling from many windows onto the waters of the bay picked up the colors of fishing boats and the lighted boats out in the channel. Puddles along the shore reflected some of the neon flashes of signs along the embarcadero. It looked so normal yet underneath, dark currents flowed.

As she gazed out the window, from the corner of her eye she noticed a quiver in the shadows. At first, she wondered what a child was doing there alone at this time of night, then she realized it was no child. She couldn’t see his face, but the deformed torso and muscular arms identified him. She bit back a gasp and turned her head away from the window. She began to shake, her fingers trembling so hard she hid them in her lap. She’d go crazy at this rate, seeing the troll everywhere she went.

With a nervous look at her niece, Chela finished her coffee, paid the bill and led the way to the car. She took the keys from Isabel’s shaking hand and drove back to Queilen in silence. Now and then she flicked a questioning glance at Isabel, who slumped in the passenger seat with her eyes almost closed. She felt drowsy, almost drugged by good food and heady wine yet her mind reeled with the improbable and fanciful visions of seeing the troll no matter where she went. She had to be making it up, seeing illusions, but why?

She’d never been a fanciful child nor had imaginary friends. She’d never dreamed much, or if she had, she’d forgotten them on waking. Being here on Chiloé was making her see things that weren’t there. It was making her doubt her own sanity. She kept her eyes closed, fighting dizziness, as she looked back on what had happened to her since arriving on the island.

Nothing strange until she’d met her aunt, seen the wooden figurine and taken a nap to dream about the troll. She recalled each incident, realizing as she did that every instance occurred when she was with her aunt, or in her aunt’s house. Her aunt had talked of witches. Talked knowingly and with sincerity. She’d said everyone knew of witches and their dark craft, but was there more to it?

* * * * *

The forest was cool and dim. Through the blanketing mist came the muffled whacks of a woodchopper at work. Rhythmic blows of stone against wood. Isabel slowed her pace, head turning from side to side to discover the source of the noise.

Above her head, leaves rustled as tree branches swayed in the wind. What wind? There was no wind flowing through the forest. The air was still and moist, heavily laden with water that dripped down on her bare head and arms. She wasn’t chilled though, and she shook off the water as she moved quietly through the woods. Her footfalls made no noise on the bed of mosses and decaying leaves. Her breathing quickened as she neared the woodchopper.

She hesitated, then as the chopping noises got louder, she parted the thick foliage of bushes and peered through. There was no one there! The noise had stopped, but she heard breathing behind her.

Slowly, dreading what she would find, she turned her head. At first, she saw nothing but trees and fog. Then, so slowly she thought at first she was imagining it, a shape began to form on a tree stump.

First, the vague humanistic form of a torso, then short arms, deformed legs that disappeared into mist, and then, at last, the head and face. She held her breath as the features solidified.

There! The same heavy brow, the piercing dark eyes intent on hers, bulbous nose and thick lips. She recoiled, stumbling away from the repulsive little beast. How could such a creature ever have intrigued her? How could she have even, in her wildest, weirdest dreams, ever have fantasized having sex with him?

He snatched the conical cap from his head and swept her a low bow, saluting her. As he straightened, he held the cap to his chest and smiled. The smile began as a mere twitch of those thick lips, a mocking mimicry of a greeting, but as it widened, it slowly transformed into a genuine, warm, welcoming smile. His gaze softened, losing fierceness as it became tender, beckoning. Seductive.

Without volition, she moved forward, her feet gliding over the forest floor without a sound. Held by his gaze, she felt her body responding to some ancient call. She felt fluid, warm, feminine.

Suddenly, without warning, a wooden club appeared in one hand. He raised it over his head, and crashed it down on the nearest tree trunk.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

As though stunned by the blows, Isabel felt her knees give way.

The tree shattered. Pieces of the trunk fell around her, missing her as leaves rained over her head and shoulders, then over her body as she crumpled to the ground. The mosses softened her fall and made a soft cushion for her body.

She tried to get up, but her limbs had lost all their strength. She fell back, aware of the troll coming closer, closer.

She felt his breath on her face, then his hands on her throat. She screamed, but no sound came forth. She lifted her hands to push him away but they were as heavy as leaden weights. She tried again, and once more, until exhaustion robbed her of her last strength.

She lay limply, now unable to move at all, only to feel, as he explored the curves of her body. As though she had no will of her own, she lay compliant on the forest floor as he removed her clothing. His fingers were rough, callused, as was the palm of his hand as he drew it over her rib cage and down her belly. She tried to draw her thighs together, but with the stroke of his finger, they opened for him.

She braced herself, preparing for pain. Instead, with the tip of his finger, he traced the curve of her mound, dipped beneath her curls and unerringly found her plump outer lips. How could he do this to her? She flinched, not against pain, but struggling against the tender touch of his hand as he pleasured her.

She bit back a moan.

In moments, he was on her, in her. Somewhere deep inside she thought she should try again to resist him. Push him off. Cry out, something. Instead, she welcomed the touch of his callused hands, the strength of his diminutive body as he thrust into her.

Once, twice, three times!

Now she cried out, the long, lingering cry of a sated woman.

* * * * *

Isabel woke with a start. Her body was drenched with sweat. She’d thrown off the covers, and as she lay panting, she realized she sprawled with her legs spread wide open and her nightgown pushed up above her waist. Her body felt bruised, used.

Oh no!

Chapter Three

Isabel stood by the window looking out to the bay. Rain sheeted down the pane, obscuring the view of the harbor and the little islands. No birds flew. None hopped along the sand looking for their breakfast. A sole fishing boat, its colors muted by the gray skies, moved slowly into the gulf.

It was a day to stay indoors curled up by the fire. It was a day to spend with her aunt since she was leaving tomorrow morning. She should have woken rested and content, her body still lax and soft after sex. Instead, she was nervy, full of restless energy. She had so many questions to ask, but all she wanted to do was get away to investigate.

She needed to act.

There had to be some explanation for the erotic dreams and the eerie sensation of being pulled this way and that by some hideous, three-foot figment of her imagination.

If she didn’t do anything about her dreams and visions, she’d always wonder about them. She’d always wonder if her aunt had cast some spell on her. She shook her head. Spells, indeed. That would mean calling her aunt a witch. The very idea was ludicrous. Somehow the mystique of Chiloé island had sunk into her subconscious mind and she reacted by producing dreams. Vivid, sensuous and erotic, but dreams. Nothing but dreams.

But some said dreams did mirror the reality of everyday life.

Tomorrow, when she got on the ferry and returned to the mainland, then she’d know if these weird illusions continued to happen, or if they were centered on Chiloé, centered around her aunt. But she didn’t want to wait to find out, not one more day, not one more night.

She couldn’t face another night like the last.

“I want to drive to the coast today,Tía ,” she said without turning. With her gaze still on the wet sky, she heard her aunt join her at the window.

“It’s very wet.” Chela gestured at the window. “We can visit museums, or perhaps you’d like to go to Ancud?”

“No.” Isabel softened her tone. “I’d like to go for a drive. To the ocean. I know you don’t like the drive, so I’ll go alone.”

“Nochica , no!”

“Who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again to see that part of my mother’s homeland?” She winced internally as she pulled the family strings, but she had to get to the forest. She had to enter the raw, untamed forest, not the national park that stretched from mountaintop to the Pacific.

IfEl Trauco was really urging her to come to him, then she’d make it easier on herself to find him. She should be frightened, spooked out by deliberately seeking out the troll, but she wasn’t. She felt eager, exhilarated even, by the possibility of facing down her visions.

And if there was nothing to the troll story, then she’d have to confront her aunt about her part in these weird happenings. She wasn’t looking forward to that, but she had to know before she left the island.

Chela put her hand on Isabel’s arm, turning her. She studied Isabel’s face, her dark eyes intent on hers. “Why do you want to do this thing?”

Isabel hesitated, then compelled by the truth, confessed, “I want to findEl Trauco .”

Chela recoiled. “Dios mio.”

“I have to find out why I’ve been dreaming about him. Or why I’m seeing his face everywhere we go.”

Chela slumped onto a couch. She covered her eyes with her hand and whispered, “After all I’ve told you, you want to find that…that thing?”

Was this real emotion? Isabel wasn’t sure, but she sat beside her aunt. “I have to know,Tía .”

Chela slowly shook her head from side to side. “No,chica , don’t do this. You will regret it.”

“I have to find out for myself. It’s like something is pulling me,” she admitted.

Chela’s hand flew to her mouth. She muttered something in Spanish, too fast for Isabel to understand, then said clearly. “I forbid it.”

Isabel bit her lip. It had been a very long time since anyone had forbidden her to do anything. She had no intention of obeying her aunt. Still, she was a guest in her house and Chela did seem very worried.

“I’ll be very careful,” she promised. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

On the way out the door, Isabel looked back. Chela sat hunched over, rocking back and forth as she moaned. Drawn by the grief in her aunt’s behavior, Isabel hesitated. Even as part of her acknowledged her impetuous and uncharacteristic behavior and she knew she should stay and alleviate Chela’s concerns, part of her urged her out the door and up the mountain.

Go or stay?

Stay, said her reason and her sympathetic heart.

Come, come, come…

* * * * *

The forest was cool and dim. Isabel parked the car as far off the road as she could, got out and locked the door. She paused, looking around her and getting her bearings. She couldn’t see a trail into the woods, but looking more closely at the trees and foliage, she detected a few broken twigs on the lower branches of a tree. They were bent back, their leaves crushed as though someone had brushed them aside on their way past.

She pushed them back too, following the barely there path, carefully avoiding the sharp needles of the bent and twisted branches. Water dripped on her face and head as the entered the forest, chilling her. The cold should have brought her to her senses, she realized absently, but instead she forged her way deeper into the forest.

The farther she got from the road, the quieter the air. No birds flew. No bushes rustled. The layers of leaves and moss under her feet muffled the sound of her footsteps. Her breathing grew faster as she made her way deeper and deeper into the mist floating through the trees.

The mist thickened into fog blanketing her surroundings until she felt like she walked through a dreamland of strange, shapeshifting forms that emerged and receded into the mist with every step she took.

Then, suddenly, startling her, came the thick sound of stone against wood.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

He was near! Her pulse raced. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. It was hard to breathe in the suffocating fog. Those breaths she managed rasped against her throat.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The second set of blows forced her to her knees. Cushioned by the spongy layer of moss and leaves, she wasn’t hurt, but she felt the sound of them resounding against her temples as though the blows landed on her head. She was weak, trembling and frightened.

She put out a hand to balance herself as she got to her feet. Instead of the rough tree bark she expected, she felt warmth as callused fingers grasped hers. She gasped and turned her head quickly.

There, smiling at her from his perch on a low branch, the troll grasped her fingers more firmly, and instead of helping her to her feet, pushed her back until she lay flat on her back. Moisture seeped through her clothes but she ignored it. All her senses focused on the troll who reared over her.

His eyes bored into hers, stunning her with his intentions. She knew exactly what was to happen. He was set on ravishing her as he’d done in her sleep, and she felt as helpless to prevent it as she had been then. But did she want to stop it? She should, she knew. Every sensible bone in her body cautioned her, telling her to jump up and get out of that forest as fast as she could.

She’d already satisfied her curiosity. There really was a repulsive little man living wild in the forest. There was nothing to keep her there.

Ah, but…

Already her body responded to the thought of his touch. Her nipples pebbled in anticipation. Her breath caught in her suddenly dry throat. She licked her dry lips, noting that the troll mirrored the movement of her tongue with his own. His tongue was thick and fleshy and she shivered as she imagined the feel of it on her body.

She no longer felt the cold. Heat from the troll’s deformed body warmed her as an answering heat welled up from deep inside her. In answer, her legs parted as her hips lifted in age-old invitation.

The troll smiled.

Suddenly, without her knowing how it happened, her jeans and sweater vanished. Her underwear disappeared. She was dimly aware that the troll shed his bark-like shirt and trousers but she hadn’t seen him move. She felt him move over her, but didn’t feel contact with his body. With one part of her mind, she recalled her dream in which she’d felt his rough, callused touch as he removed her clothes and stroked her bare body. She couldn’t feel it now and yet…

Her body responded. Her nipples pebbled and grew hard in the cool air, and then she forgot the forest surrounding her as heat and need coiled in her deepest recesses. Her breasts ached for a caress, and instantly, she sighed with pleasure as an unseen embrace satisfied her need. Satisfied one need and created another, more deeply felt ache. Her legs widened, offering her most intimate places, her pussy, to the troll. He made a noise deep in his throat and though Isabel strained to see and touch him, she couldn’t feel his body. And yet, her pussy clenched, then opened, accepting an unseen cock into her body. She felt the pressure, then the friction as hot flesh invaded her. Thrust after thrust of a thick, long cock surged into her. Her back arched. Her hips lifted, taking him deeper. A great warm gush flooded her thighs as she came to orgasm, her hips working in conjunction with her lover, her mouth filled with screams of delight.

In an instant, it was over. Her head fell back, her cries fading, pleasure slowly ebbing. Her head reeled with the impossibility of what had just happened. How had the troll made love—no, it wasn’t making love! How had the troll had sex with her?

She looked for him.

She was alone, her clothes back on, but in disarray. She was chilled to the bone. Now she felt each and every stone and twig under her body. Her bottom hurt where he’d pressed her into the ground. She sat up, bones creaking. A huge sense of disappointment washed over her. She’d proved something to herself all right. Erotic dreams were one thing. Reality was different.

“Well, whoever saidEl Trauco was a great lover was sadly mistaken.” She cleared leaves from her hair. “What a crock.”

She got to her feet and adjusted her bra. She pulled her sweater down and brushed the remainder of the leaves and moss from her jeans. “That’s what I get for silly dreams.”

“Be silent!”

Isabel recoiled. She whirled and faced the troll perched on a branch above her head. He looked as he had before, his bark clothing covering his short body, but now there was no tenderness in his gaze.

“You dare to mock me?” he roared. His eyes stared into hers.

“And why not?” she retorted. “What kind of trick is that to pull on me?”

“I satisfied you, did I not?” His voice sounded rusty, unused.

“How do I know?” She planted her fists on her hips and glared back at him. “How do I know that you really made love to me? That it wasn’t a trick?”

He gave her a knowing smile. “You’ll find out.”

“Of sure,” she mocked. “I’m pregnant from a myth. Ha ha.”

“You are an insolent girl.”

“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.” She turned to leave the forest. “You goofed.”

“Goofed? What is that?”

Over her shoulder, she tossed her explanation. “I’m not a virginalchiquilla . You made a mistake.”

A hard hand clamped her shoulder and whirled her around. She stared into his furious eyes. His lips were clenched shut so hard they looked white. How had he gotten from that tree branch to here so fast, without making any noise?

And then, how did he manage to be at her eye level without anything to stand on?

Before her eyes, his face changed yet again. He smiled. It was a fierce stretching of his lips to begin with, then slowly, deliberately, it turned soft, tender and tantalizing her.

She tried to look away, but he held her unwilling gaze with his own, forcing her to stare as deeply into his eyes as he stared into hers. “I don’t make mistakes,” he whispered, his voice low and more sibilant than the breeze whispering among the treetops.

“Prove it,” she dared in a whisper of her own. To her ears, her voice sounded sultry, inviting.

His lips quirked in a surprisingly mischievous grin. Then before her eyes, disbelieving, fascinated eyes, he began to change. His face lengthened, losing that squat, squashed shape. His mouth transformed into a straight, broad slash with a full lower lip. His nose lost the bulbous form and became straight and strong. His forehead smoothed out, losing the shelf over his brow.

Isabel’s mouth dropped. She gaped as the transformations continued. The conical hat dropped from his head and his black hair turned lustrous and straight. His ears retreated. And with the change in his face and head, came corresponding changes to his torso.

The bark clothing vanished. Naked, his chest expanded, his shoulders straightened as he held them back proudly. His torso was smooth, hairless and gleaming like lovingly polished wood. His belly flattened between trim hips. Transfixed, Isabel gaped at his thigh muscles elongating and firming. Yet the greatest change of all happened when his stumps grew strong and long into well-formed and muscled legs. Feet appeared and he stood on his own without a wobble, without a word.

He stared at her, gauging her reaction to his transformation as she realized that he now stood taller than she. Stronger than she. More powerful than she.

She swallowed as she looked up and up, past the newly chiseled chin to the new lines of his face. She drew in her breath as she recognized the curve of chin. This was the unseen lover who had come to her in her dreams. She began to shake, her body tensing as goose bumps pebbled her skin. She took an involuntary step back, as if putting space between them could change his new shape. This was not happening! But even in the dim light of the forest, there was no doubt. Before her stood a definitely masculine man, well-muscled and naked. She trembled. Her body knew him well.

He smiled at her stupefaction.

“If you can look like this, why disguise yourself as a…as a…”

“Troll?” he supplied.

She moistened her lips and nodded. “Why do you do it?”

“It is my nature.”

She shook her head to clear it. This had to be another dream, weird and unbelievable. It had to be, but the mist was as cold and penetrating as the droplets of water creeping down her back.

As real as the lingering ache between her thighs.

Coming to the forest was a mistake. Instead of clearing up one mystery, she’d compounded her confusion by imagining a handsome type right out of a fairy tale. Next she’d be imagining a fairy-tale prince. In disgust, Isabel shook her head again.

She turned to leave.

The troll made no move to stop her. The mist about her thickened, slowing her pace as she picked her way by stretching out her hands and feeling for tree trunks and other obstacles.

She knew he followed her. She could hear him breathing behind her. Turning her head to shoo him away, she bumped her head hard against a low branch. Twigs and leaves scratched her cheeks. “Ouch!”

She lifted her hand to rub the bump swelling on her temple. When she felt a trickle of moisture, she brought her fingers closer to her face. Blood!

She turned to confront him. “Why didn’t you warn me about that tree?”

He shrugged. “Would you have believed me? You haven’t believed anything else I’ve said.”

She rolled her eyes. The slight motion made her head ache. “How do I get out of the forest?”

He hesitated, then put out his hand. “Come.”

She eyed his extended hand with suspicion. “I don’t trust you.”

“You believed in me enough to come find me. You can believe enough to leave me.”

He twitched his fingers.

Cautiously, she put her hand in his. His fingers, rough and callused and very warm, closed about hers. He tugged and she moved forward.

He turned then and led her back the way they had come. He walked surely and confidently, as though the mist now turning into a heavy, dense fog held no barrier. As if his nude body felt no cold. In moments they passed the spot where she had lain with him. Isabel averted her eyes from the outlines of her body in the crushed leaves.

The troll chuckled.

She pulled her hand out of his. “If you’re going to laugh at me—”

“You act like a virgin. No, not a virgin. Like an old maid, a spinster, asoltera .” He said the last word in a sneer. “Are you ashamed of your womanliness?”

“Of course not!”

He grabbed her hand and tucked it into his arm. His skin felt warm and smooth, hairless as polished wood. “Come.”

They moved deeper into the forest. Even with the encompassing fog obscuring the trees, she knew that she hadn’t passed this way, “Where are you taking me?”

“Be silent.”

Strangely, now that they were walking, she felt no hesitation. No fear, no uneasiness. Her only concern was the passing time. If she didn’t return before dark,Tía Chela would be extremely worried. And then that concern dissipated as the troll guided her into his world.

From one moment to the next, from a dense, chill fog blocking all light and muffling sound, they passed as through a doorway into a glade filled with sunshine. Sunbeams filtered through the leafy branches high overhead to cascade in waves of golden light. He advanced from the shadow of the trees into a swath of light. Sunlight glistened over his naked body with the patina of burnished wood. Her mouth grew dry as she stared at him. When his smile grew sweeter, more seductive, it took a force of will to drop her gaze.

At her feet, wildflowers grew in rampant, colorful swathes across the glade. Bird song filled the warm air. Stunned, she looked up and up, past the treetops swaying in a light breeze to the luminescent blue sky. Her headache was gone.

She breathed in, drawing the clean, fragrant scent of forest and wildflowers deep into her lungs. “How? Where are we?”

“You will see,” he promised.

Silently, in awe, she took her hand from his and wandered into the light. Warmth bathed her. She rolled her shoulders back, soaking in the sunbeams, then bent to pluck a flower.

Instantly he was at her side, his hand over hers, pulling it back from the stem. “No.”

She nodded then knelt to smell the flower. Slightly sharp, intensely sweet. She inhaled deeply, then rose to her feet. How could such an enchanted place exist?

He took her by the hand again, and led her out of the glade. She looked back over her shoulder in regret, wishing she could stay longer. He guided her steps to a path, almost invisible in the dappled light. Tree branches parted before they touched him, but caught on her sweater and jeans. As the path narrowed, he dropped her hand to move ahead of her, leading the way up a steep slope. Ahead of her, beyond his strongly muscled torso, she could see more sky expanding in darker blue hues. They dropped into a valley where a stream gurgled over rocks and gathered in limpid pools. He knelt and gathered water in his palm, offering it to her.

Aware only now of a great thirst, she knelt beside him and drank from his hand. The water was cool against her lips, refreshing in her mouth and soothing to her throat. She drank, then lapped delicately at the remaining drops. Her tongue flicked against his palm.

He chuckled, then filled his palm anew and offered it to her. Again, she drank, taking what she needed from him. When she was done, he filled his palm for himself.

At last, thirst sated, they rose. He jumped across the stream, then held out his arms to her. Without hesitation, she jumped across and landed in his waiting arms. He held her close for a moment, then released her. Again he guided her toward the path up the other side of the valley. This path was very narrow and rocky. As she climbed behind him, carefully placing her feet where his had been, she dislodged pebbles and larger stones. They skittered down the hillside. He turned to make sure she was still behind him and when she saw the concerned look on his face, her pulse leaped.

He scanned her, then smiled that slow, sweet smile. Her pulse thudded. She swallowed and tore her gaze from his. This was no place to be sexually excited by him, to wonder if the actual feel of his hands on her would be as exiting as her dreams. If the touch of his mouth to hers would make her crave more. With an effort, she made herself watch her feet rather than his bare butt as they returned to their climb.

It seemed only moments later that they reached the top, but when Isabel turned to look back at the way they had come, she gasped. It was a very long way down.

The troll took her shoulders and turned her to look in the opposite direction. There was the ocean before them, vast and stretching out to the horizon in undulating bands of blues and greens. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she gazed into a lowering sunset etching the sky in a palette of rose and orange. She heard breakers and when she looked down, leaning slightly over the edge, she saw the pale expanse of a deserted beach below her. He pulled her away from the brink, nestling her into his chest. She took a deep breath to steady herself as the beat of his heart resounded against her back. She could have stayed just where she was watching the sea and the sky, but the troll broke the connection between them.

“Vaya,” he said and pointed to a path descending to the beach. An incoming tide swept the sand clean and dashed against a rock formation with great resounding crashes but she felt no fear for her safety.

Instead, she headed down the path as fast as she could, running where possible, other times jumping over rocks and branches in a hurry to reach the endless blue Pacific. As she neared the beach, the wind freshened, blowing salt and spray at her. She licked her lips, tasting brine and the allure of faraway places.

The allure was there, but she wanted none of it. The sea now bound her world on one side and on the other, the upward slant of tree and rocky slope. Here was all she needed. She didn’t question her contentment. It was enough that it was there.

She bounded down the last few feet into the sand. It sank under her feet, dry and ancient. Running closer to the water, she felt the sand grow firmer until she ran on hard-packed sand, skirting the incoming tide tossing foam-flecked waves at her.

Isabel laughed, her joy rising from deep within her. The wind carried away her laughter, but not her pleasure. In moments, the troll ran at her side, keeping effortless pace with her. Her stride lengthened as she ran freely and at ease. Ran longer and farther than ever before.

Saying nothing, the troll ran beside her until both reached a barrier of rocks. Isabel eased up, then sat on a low rock and panted. She’d never run this way, head up, breathing deep, feeling the stretch of muscles working together without strain, every bit celebrating her body. She felt tired, but in a good, fulfilling way.

The troll sank into the sand at her feet. She looked down, aware of him suddenly as a man. His chest heaved as hers did, but his was broad and well-developed. His arms were heavily muscled, the biceps even at rest were powerful. Her gaze rested on his hands, broad through the palm, with long, capable fingers. Surprising her, his nails were closely trimmed and clean. They were not the hands of a woodsman.

She flicked a glance at his feet. They were long, with a high arch and long toes with nails also trimmed. Sand drying on his feet covered a few scars and scratches. Feet?

How could he have hurt his feet?

She stared at him, her look intensifying as she compared his present state to his troll being. From having stumps below his knees that disappeared into the wood he perched on or into the mist, how could he now have feet that looked like he’d gone barefoot enough to nick and mar them?

His legs were as well-muscled as his arms. His calves swelled and flowed into his knee joints, then swelled again into sturdy thighs. And between them, in the juncture of his groin, his penis lay at rest, flaccid against his leg. As she watched, it straightened, then grew long and taut.

Heat rose within her once again.

It confused her. She could understand the physical attraction. He was a handsome male specimen and he’d already satisfied her sexually. Her body responded naturally to his.

But how could she explain the charm, the almost unnatural suspension of her native intelligence? No reasoning human could accept without question or disbelief that an ugly, deformed figment of myth and legend could transform itself into a perfect embodiment of manly perfection.

So, as long as this lasted, she’d be happy to suspend her disbelief.

Chapter Four

Without a word, Isabel slipped off the rock and knelt in the sand beside him. Placing a hand on his arm, she felt the muscles beneath the skin tense, harden and then shift as he moved. He eased her back into the sand, warm and soft beneath her back, then lay over her.

His weight was welcome, heavy yet comforting. She lifted her eyes and gazed into his. They were black, dark as the hair on his head, yet bright with light. As she watched, the pupils expanded, dilating as they focused on her.

His hands roamed her body. Her clothing vanished. The rough skin of his palms caressed her softer skin as his fingers plucked at her nipples and in an instant, she was ready for him. More than ready. She was on fire, crazed, moaning and demanding satisfaction. Her hips tilted, inviting him. He wasted no time entering and taking her. To her surprise, he didn’t draw back and renew his thrust. Instead, while she held her breath, he snuggled hard against her groin and rocked slightly, up and over her mound. When she felt him touch that extra-sensitive spot within her, Isabel couldn’t hold back a pleasured cry. He grinned, then his eyes closed and his mouth closed tight as he concentrated on drawing out every sensation. With his pelvis slowly rocking them, he demanded her complete attention.

He had it. She sucked in air and released it in a shuddering sigh. He drew in her breath and returned it with a heated gust as he shifted his body, moving back from her to come up on his knees. Moaning at the loss of his rock-hard rod, she clutched at his shoulders, her fingernails raking his skin, urging him back into her. A grunt was his only response as he straightened her legs on either side of his hips and, with a tight grip on her thighs, pulled her back onto him, thrusting deep, her pussy lips bunching against his cock. With the pressure on her mound, his hot flesh pulsing against her inner walls, Isabel forgot her complaints. He held himself hard against her, his cock grinding into her, as he moved in a slow rotation with her.

She dissolved in a wash of pleasure. She was so close!

He didn’t let her come. Instead, he moved again, slipping an arm under one leg at her knee and coaxed it up to rest on his shoulder. Cool air drifted over her exposed pussy, making her whimper with frustration as her release edged away. She stiffened, her gaze flicking up to his face. He grimaced, his mouth showing the strain of holding back, then he smiled, that sweet seductive smile. Oh, that smile! Isabel’s belly tautened, as she raised her other leg. His smile grew broader as he lifted it the rest of the way. With both legs hooked over his shoulders, her bottom up and supported by his hands, her clit and pussy fully exposed to him, she waited, barely breathing and when he glanced down, his expression intent and possessive, she grasped his spread thighs and hung on.

Thetrauco’ s hand clasped her by the hips, and holding her still, he eased into her. The first thrusts were exploratory, testing her, then when he saw that she could take him fully and deeply, he let loose, lunging faster, harder, deeper. Barely noticing the dusk, Isabel clung to him, feeling the sand grate beneath spine and shoulders her as he plunged into her, the force of his thrusts pushing her deeper into the sand. Hips arching, inner muscles gripping him fiercely, fingers biting into his thigh muscles, she glanced up, saw his head flung back, his eyes closed as with one huge effort, he propelled them both into wild, orgasmic pleasure. Hot seed spurted down into her, the force of his ejaculation rocketing through her body even as she convulsed under him. Shaking, he shoved her legs off his shoulders and collapsed, halfway on her, head resting on her heaving chest, one trembling hand cupping her breast. Their rapid breaths met, intermingled and seared her lungs.

Isabel lay with her eyes partially open. The sky turned a resplendent orange, then faded into a dusky purple. She held him close as his body relaxed and cooled. Stroking his back in slow sweeps, feeling the strength of bone and muscle, she couldn’t remember when she had experienced such contentment. Idly, in the back of her mind, something teased her. There was something she had to do, something urgent, but she couldn’t think what. It was enough to do just to be here quietly with him. Her lover. She switched her gaze to him and whispered, “What’s your name?”

“Mi nombre?” He rolled off her and sat up, resting his elbows on bent knees as he stared out at the darkening sea. Isabel couldn’t resist and stroked his back and bare butt. Muscles clenched and hardened under her hand but he didn’t shake off her hand. Isabel continued to caress him until, some minutes later, he turned his head. There was just enough light to see the puzzlement on his face. His brow furrowed. “I don’t have a name.”

Isabel blinked. “What am I supposed to call you?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like?”

“Well, I can’t call youTrauco ! You’re not a troll anymore.”

“Am I not?” He turned back to face the sea. “I am what I am.”

Puzzling over his response, Isabel sat up and studied the sea, trying to see what caught his attention but all she saw was the sky turning colors, steeping itself in hues of blue until it hovered in a deep indigo, before settling into an unbroken blackness of sky and sea. A faint star appeared, as if testing the waters, then was joined by another, another and another until the sky was filled with stars. Isabel stared, entranced.

Her lover stood. “Come,” he ordered and extended his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He brushed the sand from their bodies, turning her to whisk the sand from her shoulders and bottom. His hands lingered in the furrow between her cheeks. When her breath caught, he rimmed her anus with a fingertip, eyes narrowing as he watched her response to him.

Her breath lodging hot and heavy in her throat, Isabel tensed, unable to resist his demanding hands. His torso was hot against her spine and the tightening of his belly muscles at the contact made her squirm and rub her ass against his groin. His erection came instantaneously, pleasing her. It felt so good, what he was doing to her, his hands exploring her more intimately than she’d ever dreamed possible. Impossible to hide her response from him, she accepted each stroke down her belly, each scrape of his nail over her tight nipples. He tweaked one and murmured with satisfaction as her back arched. The quick pinch was more than she could stand, making her cry out with the pleasurable bite of pain. With each rise and fall of her breasts, with each shortened breath, her body responded to him. His fingers inched between her legs, flicking sand away from her recesses and stroking her nether lips. She closed her eyes, waiting for his fingers, waiting for him to thrust them into her aching pussy. He drew back and ignoring her protests, he pulled her into the sea.

She yelped as cold water rose above her ankles, then her knees. He lifted her in his arms and seeming not to feel the frigid water, strode deeper into the water. She lifted her legs clear and hung on. When the water was over his waist, and lapping at her bottom, she crawled up his chest.

He grunted and dropped her.

She splashed into the water and fell deep. The water closed over her head, blacking out the sky. She lost her sense of direction as she tumbled to the ocean floor, then clawed her way to the surface. Salt clogged her throat and stung her eyes. She came up sputtering, calling him names, but he grasped her by the shoulders and drew her to him. His mouth on hers was hard. His lips cushioned hers slightly, but she felt his hunger and forgot everything but the taste of him as he invaded and stole her mouth.

She opened to him, giving him what he wanted. His tongue roamed over the surface of her teeth, probed deep and tangled with hers. She closed her arms around his shoulders and clung tight. Deep within her, the need to possess and be possessed grew and overcame everything but his tongue filling her mouth and the ravenous ache between her thighs.

With a noise deep in his throat, he pulled her legs around his waist. Cold water rushed between them as her flesh met his, and then he was in her, hard and hot, thrusting deep and deeper still. Her head fell back, exposing her throat. He bent his head and nipped at the sensitive skin. She shivered, with cold, with heat, with desire.

He lay her back on the surface of the sea and like the incoming, relentless tide, surged into her. Holding on to him only with her legs and the inner walls of her pussy she watched the dark sky between slitted eyes and let feeling wash over her.

He was tireless, pumping into her as his hands worked her breasts. She felt her nipples, engorged and hot, harden under his plucking fingers. He pulled her closer, pulled her up until his mouth closed over one nipple. His teeth gripped it, nipping it. Pain then a pleasure so fierce she forgot his biting teeth swept through her. Her body crested, then convulsed in a shattering orgasm.

Immediately, she felt him stiffen, then his release shook his body. Only his hands grasping her hips held her above water. When he loosed her, he still shook, but as she floated away and struggled to stand upright, she heard his hoarse breaths and realized he was as moved as she. Splashing her way back to him, she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him. Even with their passion ebbing she didn’t want to be apart from him, away from the heat and strength of his body. He embraced her and for long moments, they said nothing, did nothing but support each other until their breathing evened out. At last, their strength returning, they made it back to shore. She collapsed onto her knees. He bent over her, one hand resting on his knee, the other on her shoulder. They stayed like that, a light breeze drying them, until he stood upright and helped her to her feet.

“Venga,” he commanded once more. With her hand in his, he tugged her along the shore, starshine illuminating their way. They walked for some time in silence, the only sound the ebb and flow of the sea. Gradually, as they rounded a rocky promontory, a light along the shore caught her attention. As they neared it, it became brighter, and she recognized flames of a bonfire on the beach.

How? Who had made the fire? She turned her head, studying the beach around them, then looked up along the cliffs above their heads. She saw no one.

Thetrauco didn’t seem to think anything amiss. With relish, he approached the fire and warmed his hands. She stood beside him, mimicking his action, but she didn’t really need to. The night air was calm and warm. She felt no cold.

He gestured for her to sit on a piece of driftwood. She did and watched as he lifted several fronds beyond the fire. She’d noticed them, thinking them just debris on the sand, but now she realized that they had been placed in order, one overlapping the other, to make a covering for the pit he uncovered.

A tantalizing aroma filled the air. She sniffed, aware of growing hunger pangs and left her seat on the driftwood to join him. He reached down deep into the pit and brought up several leaf-wrapped bundles. He unwrapped each, revealing potatoes and other vegetables, next a variety of seafood, clams, mussels, then a whole chicken. This was acuranto , cooked traditionally in a pit.

The fragrance of the steamed food drifted around her head as she stared stupefied. Where had all this bounty come from? Where were all the people to eat this much food? Again she studied their surroundings and again saw no one but themselves.

He caught her eye and grinned as he placed portions of food on carved wooden platters and offered her one. She took it and gingerly, careful of the heat from the steaming food, she lifted an ear of corn to her mouth, took a cautious nibble, and then, as the sweet flavor registered, she took a larger bite.

He settled beside her and they ate, using their fingers instead of utensils. She savored every bite, tearing the meat from the chicken with gusto, eating the clams he pried loose from the shell for her. She felt a dribble of juice on her chin, but he wiped it for her before she could.

At last replete, she set down her platter and licked her fingers. He watched every movement of her tongue as she sucked the juices from her fingers, then licked her lips.

He offered her a flask. “Chicha?”

She took it and tried an experimental sip. The flavor, somewhat like hard cider, flooded her mouth. She swallowed, feeling warmth trickle down her throat and fill her belly. She sipped again and returned the flask to him. He drank deeply.

When it was clear that he would eat no more, she took the platters and washed them in the sea while he looked on with an approving smile. She took care with the platters, making sure that the sea took back the remnants of their meal. As she washed, she noted the intricate carvings in the rims of the platters and smiled. Her troll was an accomplished woodsman. When she returned to the bonfire, her mouth dropped in surprise. All traces of their food were gone, the pit vanished. She turned, getting her bearings. “Where…?”

“No te preocupes.” He rose in one quick, lithe motion and held out his hand.

Almost absently, she took it as she still gazed about her in wonder. The dry sand under her bare feet was warm and smooth and when she looked down she noted that it was swept clean, as if a wave had cleansed it and washed away all their tracks.

“How…?”

He took her hand. In three paces, they were once again in the deep forest. Isabel blinked, then breathed in the fragrance of pine and fresh growth. Around them, the forest was dark and still. Above her, stars winked at her. The troll placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her.

In the darkness of the glade, she could dimly see the outlines of a small building nestled in a grove of trees. As she watched, light began to glow from a window. She blinked and stared, sure it wasn’t there a moment ago. In amazement, she took a few steps toward the building then stopped. She looked over her shoulder to see the troll behind her. He gestured her on.

She turned back to the building. It looked familiar, but she knew she’d never seen it before. She pushed a small gate aside and stood inside a white picket fence as she observed her surroundings. The whitewashed building was small, with a thatched roof, a door invitingly open and two leaded windows overlooking the blooming garden. Climbing roses adorned the stuccoed walls and, from the chimney, wisps of smoke weaved a fragrant pattern into the night sky. She looked it over carefully. Of course! A storybook cottage, identical to the ones in countless fairy-tale illustrations. She shook her head to clear her vision, but when she looked again, the cottage was still there.

Isabel propped her hands on her hips and confronted the troll. “What’s going on? How are you doing this?”

He shrugged. “It just happens.”

“Oh sure. You are hungry and food appears. You need shelter and a cottage straight from Grimm pops up—”

“Quien es Grimm?” His brow creased even as his eyes narrowed. “Is he your lover?”

“My lover?” she echoed. “No. He and his brother wrote fairy tales.” As the situation struck her, she laughed. Talk about fairy tales! “I don’t believe any of this. I’m still dreaming.”

He approached her and ran his finger tip around her nipple. “Does this feel like a dream?”

She’d forgotten she was naked. In surprise, she glanced down to see her nipple responding to his touch. Already accustomed to it, she noted, judging by how quickly it peaked.

“Iam your lover,” he stated. “Tu amante.”

She raised her eyes to his. He stared at her intently, his focus not on her breast but on her face. He seemed to be waiting for her to agree to his peremptory claim.

She could not deny him. She nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded.

She nodded again. “You are my lover.Mi amante .”

“Bueno.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her, nudging her into the cottage. She had a quick glimpse of flowers blooming in a rampant swathe of fragrance as they crossed a curving brick pathway to the open door. He pushed it fully open and ushered her in.

Isabel halted just steps inside the door. The flagstone floor was cool under her feet. Across the room, a small fire flickered on a hearth. She moved closer and held her hands to the warmth. Suspended over the flames, an iron pot held bubbling water. Shelves on either stove of the fireplace held crockery and an assortment of wooden figurines. Isabel recognized the diminutive likenesses ofEl Trauco and shot him a glance. He grinned. In the light from the fire, his features half in shadow, he looked nothing like his troll self. Isabel knew none of this could be happening, but some part of her believed. And accepted.

She glanced at the wooden table with a bench on either side where a teapot and two cups waited. She lifted the lid of the teapot and smelled the distinctive aroma of fresh chamomile. Smiling, she glanced into an alcove and saw a wide bed, the sheets turned down. “Somebody thinks of everything,” she murmured.

Her clothes hung from a peg. She touched them, noting with amazement that they’d been washed and dried. The scent of lavender clung to her underwear. Isabel turned to him, a question on her lips.

He shook his head and moved past her to lift the pot off the flame. He poured some of the steaming water in a basin, then added cold water from a bucket, testing the temperature as he did so. When he was satisfied, he motioned for her to join him.

From a shelf near the fireplace, he took a large sponge. He dipped it into the water, then squeezed most of the water out. When she approached, he produced a tub for her to stand in, and when she stepped into it, he began to bathe her.

At first, she protested, but when he shushed her, and continued to minister to her, she relaxed. He poured water over her head and using herb-scented soap, washed and rinsed it. Next he soaped every inch of her, washing away the dried salt, and rinsed her carefully. She stood quietly, turning as he directed, closing her eyes when he rinsed her head. The herbal scent drifted in the fire-warmed air.

When he was satisfied, he lifted her out of the tub and dried her with a soft cloth. He tended to her with care, slowly drying under her arms, between her legs, her throat and breasts. She inhaled the scent of salt and sea mixed with the herbs and felt content. Closing her eyes, she bent her head for him to dry it, too.

He dropped the towel and began to comb her hair. She opened her eyes and saw him using a wooden comb, the teeth slender and sanded smooth. It felt so good to have him run the comb through her hair, follow that with a stroke of his hand. His hand drifted lower, caressing her nape, then down her spine. She shuddered as he cupped the cheeks of her bottom and ran a finger between them.

The comb fell from his fingers as he led her to the bed, and pulling back the top sheet, tucked her into them. He drew a fur throw over her and stood back. “Wait for me,” he ordered and left the cottage.

Isabel burrowed under the covers, then too warm, she pushed them back. Running her hand over the soft fur, she realized somewhere in the back of her mind that she should be incensed over the natural fur, but now, with the softness caressing her skin and her body warm and lax, she could do nothing but wait for him as instructed.

He returned in a few moments, shaking water from his head. He closed the door behind him, took a minute to bank the fire and then dried himself. She watched, entranced with the play of muscle and sinew as he plied the towel over his body. Water drops beaded and dripped down his chest to disappear into the thatch of dark hair at his groin. He glanced up and noted her rapt gaze.

His cock tightened visibly. She licked suddenly dry lips and pushed back the covers. “Come to bed,amante .”

With two quick strides, he joined her. He slid in next to her, the iciness of his body making her shiver. Taking her in his arms, he pulled her close. She ignored the fading chill as her body heat warmed him, and cuddled closer to him. Flicking out her tongue, tasting his flesh and relishing the fresh, clean flavor of his skin, Isabel realized he’d been bathing in fresh water. Why hadn’t he warmed water for himself? She puzzled over that, then lost the thought when he cupped one breast and played with her nipple. Her belly contracted and the little hairs on her body quivered as pleasure sang through her veins.

He lifted her arm and nuzzled at her armpit, then licked his way down and across her belly. She waited, breathlessly, for his tongue to trace the slight curvature of her mound and find her clit, but as if he knew how much she wanted it, he lifted his head to watch her expression as his hands roved over her, learning the texture of her skin and soft, warm places. Nerve endings quivered in anticipation, then absorbed every nuance of heat and warm male flesh, relishing the rough touch of his callused fingers and trembling with delight when they stroked her intimate recesses.

Again he drew back, provoking her and teasing her into a fever of anticipation. She knew and loved the heated rush as her pussy opened and her inner muscles rubbed together. Isabel reached for him and took his cock into her hand. She clasped her fingers about him and squeezed, grinning at his gasp. Then she held him still, feeling him expand and grow even more turgid in her clasp. She felt his pulse, felt him straining against her palm and glanced down. The head of his satin-sheathed cock protruded from her fist, an irresistible temptation. She licked her lips, then him.

Just a tiny little flicker of her tongue.

Just enough to make him jump in her hand.

Just enough to make a tiny pearlescent bead appear.

Isabel opened her lips and sucked him in. He moaned, deep in his throat. Slowly, taking her time to explore each hot curve, each beat of his pulse, she rimmed the head of his cock, then lapped up the bead.

He groaned. She pulled him in with her tongue, and explored the underside of the crown, that quivering head of hot flesh. Changing her grip, she slid her fingernails along the shaft, teasing him with light scratches and soft, slow strokes.

His hand gripped her shoulder as she took him deeper into her mouth, diving down his cock until she could almost swallow him whole. He cried out as his hold on her shoulder grew punishing. She might have bruises later, but now, she couldn’t care less. All she wanted to do was give him every bit of pleasure she could. She swirled her tongue over his heated skin and lightly cupped his balls. With a fingertip, she stroked him through the extra-sensitive sac and felt euphoric when his balls drew up. His breath exploded an instant before he gushed in climax, shooting into her mouth and down her throat. As she withdrew, he continued to come in spurts, his cum splashing her breasts and shoulders.

Her laughter was joyful, excited and triumphant.

He lay supine, gasping for breath, his eyes almost closed. His cock rested against one muscular thigh. “Why do you laugh?”

She bent to lick his navel. “You make me happy.”

“Bueno.”

While he remained on the bed, his body at ease, she rose and warmed water. She found a soft cloth and cleaned herself, then warmed more water and brought it to the bed. Seeing his chest rise and fall slowly as he dozed, she perched on the mattress beside him and examined him visually, studying the planes of his chest and the way his torso dipped into his trim waist and lean hips. Her gaze lingered at his groin, at the length of his rod and the fullness of his balls almost hidden below the heavy weight of his cock. Her throat went dry as she remembered how deep he’d been in her. Hard to think of that already impressive cock growing bigger and filling her so completely without wanting him again. And again. Slowly, she dragged her gaze away from his genitals and back up his chest to his well-developed pectorals and biceps before rising to his face. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a more manly arrangement of cheek and temple, hard planes and those tempting surprisingly soft lips.

He was almost too perfect in face and body. If she were putting together an imaginary fairy-tale prince, he would be the model. She shook her head. She’d think about fairy tales and make-believe happy endings another time.

She had him now.

Isabel dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and carefully washed his almost flaccid cock and lowered balls. He stirred, then sleepily opened one eye to watch her cleansing him. His cock stirred and hardened, growing stiff in her hand. She licked her lower lip and delicately traced the vein swelling under her touch. In an instant, he was fully erect and hot.

His eyes were half-open, hot with desire, rapt on her hand now clutching his cock. He flicked her a glance, then smiled. The sweetness she’d seen there before was back, but only for an instant, before his lips firmed. His eyes swept down her body, noting how her nipples pebbled and tiny droplets of moisture dotted the tops of her breasts.

With a harsh sound deep in his throat, he sat up and pushed her down on the bed. The bowl of water dropped from her hand and broke on the flagstone floor. Water splashed her ankles before he reached down and lifted them, spreading her legs on either side of his.

She laughed as the tip of his engorged cock teased the inside of her parted thighs. He pulled her closer still, arranging her until she sat between his knees with her legs canted over his hips, her knees pressing against his tufted armpits. Torso to torso, face to face, he snagged her with one arm around her neck and pressed his mouth to hers.

Isabel opened immediately to him, inviting in his tongue even as her swollen pussy lips parted for the tip of his cock. He ran his tongue around her lips, then burrowed in with all the surety of a man claiming his property. She held nothing back. His tongue was as hard and as insistent as his cock probing her below.

Where did his stamina come from?

And then she didn’t care where it came from, only how long it lasted. He slowly, oh-so slowly, entered her. She felt him as a gradual pressure, a slide, a delight. When, moments that seemed like forever later, he was fully embedded in her, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he rocked them both, side to side, back and forth.

Her breasts grew hard and swollen as her pussy clamped around him. The heat grew and blossomed from their entwined bodies, rising up to mist them, glue them together. Their torsos strained together, their mouths fused and still he held them joined as one.

She moaned and her breath became his.

He clasped her tighter and his strength became hers.

At last, unable to hold out one instant longer, he pulled back and thrust. She held him tight, her pussy muscles working hard as he surged into her again and again, and even as hard as she gripped him, milking his cock for every sensation, her orgasm hovered just beyond reach.

His head fell back. She panted.

Thetrauco lifted his head and commanded her with a heated, silent demand.Come, come, come.

Obeying him in this as in all else, her pussy clenched him tight, then spasmed as her lips lifted and she pulled him into her, her body contorting and bowing in his arms as her orgasm claimed her.

He breathed hard, breathed for them both as her release exhausted her, but then he could wait no longer and came himself, his cum searing her, spurting high into her and finding home.

They collapsed into each other’s arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, he rested his on her temple. Their breaths scalded the other as sweat rolled down their backs. Still they clung, unwilling to let go of the passion, of the need.

Isabel’s thoughts were still scattered and fragmented, but gradually, as her muscles relaxed, she unclenched her grip on the troll’s shoulders and sagged to the side. He followed her down to the mattress, torsos separating, but legs and genitals still entwined. His chest rose and fell like a jackhammer.

Her attention focused on their positions. She closed her eyes and concentrated. No, she wasn’t imagining it. He was still hard within her. Still deeply seated. Her pussy twitched. His cock pulsed in response.

She moved her head to find him staring at her. He wore a broad, self-satisfied smile. By all reasoning, he should be exhausted, craving rest and sleep, and yet he looked like he’d just begun.

She shook her head.

As if he knew what she was denying, he smiled and muttered, “Si.”

“Impossible.”

His smile grew wider, more seductive and entrancing. She closed her eyes to hide from temptation, straightened her legs and pulled away from him. He slid out of her, making her moan and immediately miss his heated cock. He allowed her to slide only so far before he put a hand on her waist to stop her retreat.

She rolled onto her side, her body lax and sated, craving sleep.

She didn’t get it.

The troll rolled her over on her belly and ignoring her protests, drew up her hips until her bottom was in the air with her face down in the bedding. She moved her head so she could breathe and tried to lower her belly to the bed. “I can’t.”

“Sí. Sí puedes,” he countered. “I am youramante .”

With one strong arm under her, propping her up, he fitted his groin to her bottom. When she felt the heat and hardness against her butt cheeks, she moaned, her stomach hollow with need. He was hard against her, still hot and a force not to be denied. She whimpered as his cock nuzzled her ass, tensing in fear as she thought he might want to butt-fuck her, then relaxing as he probed lower. The tip of his cock teased her clit, stroking lightly as unbelievably, her swollen lips parted to allow his access.

He grunted with satisfaction, but didn’t immediately enter her. He freed her waist now that she propped herself up on her elbows, and traced her belly down to her mound and lightly flicked his fingertip against her clit.

Isabel started as fierce delight and hunger swept through her. Her pussy, already wet and filled with his seed and her own juices, tightened in anticipation. She could feel her inner muscles clenching and trembled. When he didn’t take her, she looked back over her shoulder.

He held himself rigid. His face was shuttered, his eyes almost shut. His lips worked as if he were speaking, but he made no sound. He looked like a man in pain. Or a man hungry for release. She pushed back against him, her butt snug against his belly. The hairs nesting his prick tickled her as she slid her bottom against him.

He gulped in air, then expelled it with a rush. It gusted over her back, making her tremble. She felt him tremble, as if fighting an unseen force, then felt his fingers deep within her, scooping her juices. He pulled back and used them to lubricate his cock and her anus. She knew and tried to scoot away but he grabbed her hips and slowly, more gently than she thought possible, worked the head of his cock into her anus.

Need disappeared in a flash. She flinched and cried out. “No, not like this!”

He ignored her and pushed a little more of his cock into her. She tensed, every muscle in her body stiffening and going cold.

“No!” she shouted and drummed her fist on the mattress.

He paused. “No?”

“No,” she answered, a little calmer now that he was motionless behind her.

He pulled out and while he still knelt behind her, she scooted forward and rolled away from him. She turned to face him, her butt burning.

“No quieres?”

She shook her head. He shrugged and reached for a moist cloth to clean himself. While he was occupied, she started to rise from the bed, but with one quick hand, he dropped the cloth, snagged her and had her flat on her back and under him. She looked up apprehensively, but he smiled, that sweet seductive smile she couldn’t resist. He came down over her, his chest hard against her tender breasts. He kissed the side of her neck then found the sensitive spot under her ear. He tongued that, nipping softly at her flesh when she murmured her pleasure and tilted her head for him. Warmth trickled through her as her body came alive again for him.

When she sighed and softened, he kissed down her neck and dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat. She put her arms around him and held him tight. He eased her grip and licked his way between her breasts before devoting himself to one and then the other. She forgot her earlier discomfort and fear to grip his buttocks and pull him closer.

His cock grew harder against her and when he moved over her, nudging her thighs wider apart with his knee, she reached up and grabbed his shoulders. She drew him into her, gasping at his entry, then exhaling with pleasure as he surged and thrust into her.

Dream or reality, he gave her the utmost pleasure. And she found out a bit later that contrary to other men, his stamina was endless. Over and over again, he brought her to the extreme, shared her orgasms and as soon as they had caught their breaths, was ready to claim her again.

At last, with dawn tingeing the windows pink, she sobbed, “No more.No más .”

He shuddered, gasping, and fell back, rolling to his side and allowing her to fill her lungs with the fresh, fragrant air coming through an open window. She was heated, sweaty and exhausted, and thoroughly sated. She’d never felt so good, so feminine, so loved.

She lay sprawled next to the troll, arms, thighs and feet touching. Gradually she became aware of his legs and remembered him as he had been. It seemed impossible that this strong masculine human next to her could be the ugly, stunted troll that had haunted her dreams and visions.

“Um…trauco—I can’t call you that! You must have a name.”

He stretched. “Give me one, then.”

“Later…”

* * * * *

Isabel came slowly awake. Bright sunlight bathed the flagstone floor and shone on her face. She blinked, clearing her eyes of sleep, then threw back the covers. Her entire body protested. She ached in places she didn’t know she could ache. Stretching, she couldn’t hold back a groan.

“You’re awake.”

She turned to his voice. He stood in the doorway, sunlight behind him obscuring his features. The light outlined his shape, a long shadow on the floor. Tall, strong and extremely masculine, with his shoulders almost touching the doorframe, he made her aware of her aches all over again.

And then she didn’t care. Heat rose within her as she lifted her arms in invitation. In three steps, he was across the room and sliding into her embrace. “I missed you,” she whispered against his lips.

He flicked his tongue against her lips. She opened and sucked it in, relishing the taste and the way he claimed her mouth. His body, warm and scented from the sun, moved against her warm flesh. She drew him closer, absorbing his heat. He blanketed her with his body, shutting out the light from the doorway and window. He kissed her, a long, slow delicious penetration of her mouth and senses.

At last, desperate for breath, she jerked her head and broke the connection. She drew in long gulps of air, making her chest rise with each inhalation. That drew his attention and he slid down to fasten his mouth around her breast. Suckling on one, he caressed the other and plucked at her nipple until it rose to attention. His kisses became nibbles, then tiny nips at her breasts, one after the other. Instead of pain, she felt her breath catch and heat boil in her veins. The pull at her breasts echoed deep within her loins and she felt herself moisten and prepare for his entry. Her hips moved, lifted and invited him in.

He declined her invitation in favor of kissing his way down her torso, circling her navel with his hot tongue, then burrowing through her curls to find her clit.

She moaned at the first quick flick of his tongue, then cried out when he began a leisurely exploration of her pussy. With slow strokes, he ran his tongue up one side of her swollen lips, then down the other. Teasing her with each lap, he circled her clit without touching it.

“Ah please, please…”

He lifted his head. “I am not pleasing you,amante ?”

She grabbed his ears and forced his head down. He chuckled, the gusts of his laughter blowing warm against her heated pussy. He pursed his lips and kissed the tip of her clit, then drew it into his mouth. She groaned in pleasure.

He inserted his hand between them, and holding her open with his fingers, he dug deeply with his tongue. She felt him pushing into her, and widened herself as much as she could but it wasn’t enough.

His tongue wasn’t enough. Even his thumb on her clit wasn’t enough.

She wanted his cock.

He knew what she wanted and denied her while she writhed and pleaded with him. In moments, her body contorted as the spasms hit her hard. She came so long and so hard that when the tremors faded she could hardly breathe.

He sat back on his haunches, a pleased expression lighting his eyes. He flipped her onto her belly and lifted her hips until she rested on her forearms, her head nestled into the pillow and her bottom raised to him.

He ran his hands over her bottom cheeks, traced the valley between until he found her pussy moistened with her own juices. He moved behind her, fitting himself snugly to her butt. With the tip of his cock, he echoed his earlier journey, then without warning, surged into her.

She gasped with the force of his penetration. In seconds, as he withdrew and thrust forward again, her cries turned to moans, then pleas for more. His stamina and strength propelled him without hesitation, as he hurled them both beyond physical limitations.

She’d wanted his cock and she got it. Deeper than ever, more powerful, tireless, his cock pushed deep in her and demanded all she had. He took her without mercy, pushing both their bodies beyond endurance. And still, he demanded more.

His body stiffening behind her was her only warning. His hands gripped her hips hard as his contractions intensified and his full-bodied release plummeted into her, provoking her own orgasm.

She collapsed under his weight. He lay heavily on top of her, his firm cock still embedded. She felt his post-orgasmic tremors with satisfaction before he pulled out and fell behind her. His hands still on her hips, he pulled her into his embrace. Nestled together, they drew in exhausted breaths, hearts still racing. As one, they closed their eyes to rest.

Some time later, the sun shifting woke her with light in her eyes. She stretched, dislodging his hands from her body, and slid from the bed, leaving him still asleep. She stretched again, easing her muscles and still dazed with sleep, moved to the doorway. In the garden, flowers bloomed in a riotous cornucopia of color and fragrance. The roses curling around the doorway were full, red and sweet. She inhaled deeply of her favorite fragrance, then moved out into the sun.

Its warmth caressed her body. As her body roused to light and warmth, her mind stirred. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be making love with a troll turned fairy-tale prince.

As if she’d summoned him, he came up behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. She wrapped her hands over his. He nuzzled her hair and she sank back against him.

“Tienes hambre?”

She hadn’t been aware of hunger until he asked, but in response, her stomach growled. She felt his chuckle against her back before he released her.

He took her hand. “Venga.”

Without hesitation, she let him lead her back into the cottage. On the table, bread, cheese, honey and tea waited for them. She stopped. “How do you do this?”

He shrugged.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“Las brujas.”

The witches! She recoiled. She stumbled back away from him. He read the horror on her face and reached for her. “No te preocupes. They won’t hurt you while you are with me.”

“No, no, I can’t.”

He flicked his fingers and it all disappeared. The breakfast on the table, the bed still warm from their naked bodies, the cottage and garden, it all vanished.

They stood in a glade. Around them, trees swayed in the breeze, then stilled. Birdsong fell silent. Isabel shivered as a mist floated overhead then slowly drifted down around them.

Stunned by the change, Isabel stared. “How does this happen?”

“Why do you care?”

She flicked her gaze around the glade growing colder by the second. “Why do you do it?”

“It is my nature.”

He waited, watching her as she surveyed the changes. When her arms clasped her middle, searching for warmth, he asked, “Do you want it the way it was?”

She nodded.

“You must say it.”

“I want it the way it was.”

Instantaneously, all was restored. The breakfast on the table, the bed, now freshened and made, a kettle steaming on the hearth, all was as it had been moments ago. Isabel bit back a gasp.

He took the kettle and poured hot water into the teapot. He took her elbow and led her to the table, then pressed her down onto a bench. Slicing bread and cheese, he portioned it out onto wood plates, then poured tea into mugs. He stirred honey into the cups and handed her one.

She took it, still wordlessly trying to accept the magic. He gestured her to drink, and when she obediently sipped, he began eating his breakfast. She watched him, calmly eating cheese and bread with enjoyment. She lifted a morsel of cheese to her mouth and tasted it.

She’d never had anything so good. Hungrily, she ate more, and then tried the bread. It too was flavorful and in moments, she ate with as much enjoyment as he. The tea was nectar. She drank several cups and at last, replete, pushed her plate away from her.

He stood.

She raised her eyes to his, then let her gaze fall over his body. Under her study, his body tightened. His shoulders and torso were delightful to touch, his belly flat and so responsive to her fingers. She felt heat rise in her belly to match his engorging cock.

He glanced at the bed, then back at her. She took a step or two toward the bed, but he came around the table and intercepted her. Shaking his head, he led her to the door.

They walked through the perfumed garden, then through the gate onto the broad, sandy beach. She blinked, then accepted the abrupt transition from forest to seacoast. He took her hand and ran with her across the beach to the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

He tugged her into the water and when she found it as warm as bathwater, she dived in and rolled over in the waves. He dove in next to her and for a long time they romped and played in the water. They splashed and dunked each other, then played a game of tag. His laugh at first sounded rusty and unused, but the more he laughed, the easier it became. Isabel delighted in deliberately provoking it by diving under the waves, coming in under his legs, or behind him and playing with his cock and balls. She’d never felt this free and easy before, enjoying juvenile games with all the abandon of a child with no thought of time or responsibility. Salt stung her eyes and throat, but she refused to heed it until he hoisted her over his shoulder and made for shore.

He deposited her on the beach, still laughing and protesting, and took her complaints into his mouth as he kissed her. His lips were salty yet she licked them clean, then pressed kisses down his chin, his neck, delaying at the pulse at his throat, then scattering kisses over his chest and belly.

She circled his navel with his tongue, licked out the brine, and then unerringly found his cock waiting for her. She took a breath and then licked delicately at the head, before opening her mouth and sucking him in as deeply as she could manage. He groaned in ecstasy as she caressed his cock from head to root with her tongue and her mouth. She gave him her utmost attention, paying heed to the ultra-sensitive spot under the head, swirling her tongue around the cap and swallowing his release.

She sucked him clean, then licked her lips clean.

He lay on the sand, body sprawled, his cock now at rest. One arm shaded his eyes, the other lifted to bring her close to him. She crawled up his body and cuddled.

“Mateo,” she murmured as she rested her head on his broad shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“That’s your name. Mateo.”

“Si quieres. If you want.”

“Síquiero. Te quiero.” And as the whisper fell from her lips, she knew it was true.

She loved Mateo.

Chapter Five

Isabel woke, cramped and chilled. She lay sprawled, her arms flung over her head, her legs spread wide. Cool, damp air drifted over her bare thighs. She wiggled her fingers and felt slick moss under her hands. Opening her eyes, she blinked, then focused on tree limbs half obscured by mist floating through the branches.

She was back in the forest! Where was Mateo? She turned her head, scanning the dense brush for him. She sat up, wincing at the ache in her back and the soreness between her legs. Her jeans and panties hung from one ankle. She pulled them up and saw the bruises on her hips. She distinctly remembered Mateo grasping her as he plunged into her in the sand as wave after wave washed their bare feet.

There was no sand on her body. Her clothes were mussed, but still smelled as fresh as the day she’d put them on. How had she gotten from the beach to the forest?

Isabel got slowly to her feet and adjusted her sweater over her bare breasts. She pulled down the sleeves, noting idly that her watch had disappeared. She brushed the leaves from her back and ran her hands through her hair.

“Mateo?” Her voice sounded rusty and yet muffled.

Overhead, no leaves rustled. No birds sang.

She cleared her throat and called again. And again.

There was no answer.

She turned this way and that, unsure of her location or where she should go. Isabel hesitated, then began walking. Her steps were uncertain as she searched for the path Mateo had taken when he led her from the forest to his place on the beach. She pushed branches out of the way, scanned the ground, but if the way was there, she couldn’t find it.

She sank onto a log and tried to get her bearings. If he’d wanted her to find her way back to him, he would have left a marker, anything to show her the way.

The truth was obvious.

He had returned her to the forest and abandoned her.

Her heart heavy, she turned back, retracing her way back to where she’d awoken, then tried again.

This time, she found a path lightly marked with the signs she’d noted on her way into the forest. Broken branches and slurred footprints in the mossy carpet led her back to her parked car. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and with a sob caught in her throat, she unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel.

She inserted the key into the ignition with shaking fingers, but didn’t start the car. Instead, she crumpled over the wheel as an overwhelming sadness overtook her. She sobbed.

Gradually, her tears ebbed. The desolation remained, but now an increasing sense of urgency spread through her. What time was it? She scanned the sky. Fog wreathed the treetops. Dusk wasn’t far away. She turned the key in the ignition and checked the clock.

Oh my god,Tía Chela must be worried sick!

How long had she been gone? She hadn’t counted the days with Mateo. Morning sunshine and evening sunset had painted their passing, but how many were there? She’d missed her connections. She should have been in Santiago days ago.

She retrieved her purse under the seat and dug out her cell phone. She flipped it open and cried out in frustration when there was no signal.

Isabel wiped her face on her sleeve and started the car. She sped down the mountain road as fast as she dared, taking the corners much too fast and muttering curses at slower drivers.

Once on the main road, she tried her cell phone again. This time, there was a connection, but the phone in her aunt’s home rang and rang. Oh God, where could she be? Visions ofTía Chela out searching for her had Isabel fighting back tears.

Her heart raced as she neared Quielen and turned onto her aunt’s street. She braked sharply and came to a stop in front of her aunt’s gaily painted house.

Panting, she threw open the car door just as Chela appeared at the end of the street. Isabel ran to meet her.

“There you are,chica . Did you have a nice drive?”

Isabel skidded to a stop. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” She paused, getting her breathing under control. “I tried to call but I couldn’t get through.”

“I was at the fish market.” She hefted the basket she carried. “We’ll havemerluza , insalsa verde , I think.”

Isabel stared at the contents of the basket and then at her aunt. She’d been gone for days and Chela didn’t seem to care. After her protests about Isabel going to the forest, this indifference?

“Come, let’s have tea.”

“Tea?” Isabel echoed. Why wasn’t Chela scolding or fussing over her absence?

Chela gestured to her house, and in a daze, Isabel walked with her. Chela unlocked the door and entered her home with Isabel at her heels. She closed the door behind her, locking out the rain and cold, and entered the cozy, warm living room where a small fire welcomed her.

Isabel shook her head. This couldn’t be. Following Chela into the kitchen where her aunt calmly filled a kettle and placed it on the stove, then took mugs from the cupboard.

“Tía,” Isabel began. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. You must have been very worried, but I am back now and I have to get to Santiago right away.” She reached for her purse and scrabbled for her cell phone. “I have to let my boss know where I am.”

“Right away,chica ? But you said tomorrow morning?”

Isabel’s brow furrowed. “Tomorrow? No that’s too late!”

“Why the change in plans? What’s happened?”

“My boss must be wondering what happened to me.” Her voice turned frantic. “All this time I’ve been gone!”

Chela gave her a curious look. “All this time? You were only gone three hours.”

“Three—but that can’t be.” Phone forgotten, Isabel sank into a chair. “I was there for days!”

The kettle whistled. Chela poured boiling water into the mugs and dropped in tea bags. She placed one in front of Isabel and pushed the sugar bowl to her. “Why do you say that? You were gone only hours.” She pointed at the clock. “See?”

Isabel rested her elbows on the table and lowered her forehead to her hands. There had to be an explanation but if there was, she couldn’t find it. Her mind was a blank, a whirling image of fog and mist blanketing all thought.

She struggled to understand what had happened. She knew she’d been gone for longer than three hours. It took half that time to get to the forest. There was no way she could make the round trip, spend time with Mateo and be back in three hours!

And she knew that she had been with him. Her breasts felt swollen, and the tiny bites on her nipples ached. Her thighs bore the marks of his hands as he’d held her open for his possession, and just thinking about Mateo made her body ripple with excitement.

It was no dream.

As if he touched her again, she felt his palm sliding across her skin.

She floated in a forest pool, with her eyes closed to the sunlight filtering through the green canopy overhead. The pool wasn’t deep, no more than waist high for him, but a favorite place to bathe and relax.

Now, her head rested on his shoulder as he stood behind her, his feet planted securely on the bottom of the clear pool. His hands roamed over her breasts and plucked at her nipples.

She smiled. There was something there for him to cup now. What nature hadn’t given her, days and nights of making love with Mateo had swollen her breasts. She lifted a hand to feel the change in one globe. It was definitely bigger.

His hand closed over hers. Together, they caressed her breast. Her breath came faster, making her body shiver and cause ripples in the pond. He pushed her, making the ripples expand, as he swung her in the water, bringing her back against him. This time, he held her ankles and eased them past his waist, bringing her pussy to rest against his belly.

She wrapped her legs around him, holding him close, as the hair on his groin tickled her thighs. She moved against him, caressing them both with her clit against his flat belly. The water slid in cool waves between them.

He murmured something deep in his throat and loosened her grip on him enough to push her back and then bring her forward. In one motion, he impaled her.

She gasped as the heat of his cock contrasted with the cool water, then filled her beyond noticing anything except the strength and length of him. He grabbed her hips and propelled her back and forth on his cock. Slowly at first, drawing out each slide into her, every teasing withdrawal, he took her. Claimed her.

When he felt the first contractions shake her body, his tempo increased. Faster and faster, water sloshing over her, he worked his hips, thrusting into her fiercely. Over and over, he pushed deep into her, working her as hard as he worked himself, until at last, in simultaneous implosion, they reached orgasm together. He shuddered and loosened his hold on her hips. Her legs lost their strength and released their grip on his torso. They sank slowly to the bottom of the pool, until she stood trembling in his arms. He held her, sinking under the water himself, until both floated, stunned and lax.

In no time at all, he was hard again and pulsed against her belly. He turned her in his arms and held her against him. His cock delved between her butt cheeks. She knew what he wanted, and with no fear or trepidation, led him out of the water and went down on all fours on a bed of moss. With her butt presented to him, she heard him make a noise of approval as he knelt behind her. With their bodies still wet, he held her butt cheeks apart and nuzzled his way down the crevice between them. Her nipples pebbled and hardened. Heat singed her as his tongue rimmed her bud and probed delicately into her anus. She exhaled as he slid into her. No pain, no tension, nothing but delight as each of the sensitive nerve endings quivered and sent pleasure cascading through her veins.

He worked himself into her, caressing a cheek with one hand, his other burrowing down her front to find her clit and her pussy. One finger, then two and three penetrated her waiting pussy. With concerted motions, he finger-fucked as he claimed her ass for his own. She reveled in his possession, rocking on his cock, sucking in his fingers, absorbing him into her body, into her very self.

She felt her orgasm building, the crescendo of heat and need, and with every pore of her body, craved release. When it came, when she felt him shake and go rigid behind her, his balls drawing up, then the huge thrust and force of his orgasm. Her own followed, a deep convulsive release that had her crying out his name.

“Isabel?”

Isabel started and raised her head. It took her a moment to realize she was not in a forest glade with Mateo. An immense sense of loss sank through her as she took stock of her surroundings. Her aunt bent over her, eyes concerned.

“You moaned. Are you sick?Qué te pasa, chica ?”

Isabel moistened her dry lips as she glanced around. Her gaze focused on her aunt’s kitchen, the cup her aunt held out to her and she blinked in confusion. She was here all right, but just moments ago, she’d been making love with Mateo.

How could this happen?

She took the cup and held it to her mouth. The soothing herbal aroma of chamomile rose from the tea. She sipped, then took a longer drink of the now-cool brew. Refreshed, she lowered the cup to the table.

“What happened?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You frightened me.” Her voice changed. “What did you do, Isabel?”

“Do?”

“Where did you go,chica ?”

“Go?”

“Don’t be foolish! What happened just now?”

Isabel blinked. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was here, the next…”

“Yes?”

Isabel shook her head. Whatever had just happened, she couldn’t explain it. And even if she could explain it, she wasn’t going to share that moment of exquisite lovemaking with anyone. Fairy tale or not, it was all she had of Mateo and she intended to keep it all to herself.

Chapter Six

The ferry eased into the dock. Isabel watched the last dolphins race back into deeper waters and glanced at her mother. Carmen was entranced, watching everything, her head turning to observe the fishing boats unloading their catch, lifting to watch the seagulls swarming overhead, then back to Isabel, a wide smile on her face. “I’ve missed this!”

Isabel smiled back. In spite of the rain and the low clouds, her spirits were high. She adjusted the carrier she wore under her weatherproof jacket. “So have I.”

They returned to their rental car and took their place in line, Isabel at the wheel. Without hesitation, she drove off the ferry and retraced the drive she’d made over a year ago. This time she drove leisurely, knowing the way and taking time to enjoy the scenery.

The forested hills bisecting Chiloé rose green and dark against the overcast sky. Rain misted the air, creating pockets of fog that obscured their view, then cleared to reveal a postcard scene of trees and sky. On the other side of the highway, the land opened to the gulf where colorful fishing boats lay at anchor or trolled the fishing grounds. Isabel opened her window and breathed deeply. The scent of pine and salt flavored the air. She felt a sense of homecoming, of being part of this land of myth and legend.

Carmen looked this way and that as they drove through Castro. “It’s grown so much. So many new buildings.”

Isabel smiled, and took a detour through some of the older sections of town. Carmen smiled and pointed out sights she remembered. “That’s the church I went to. And look, the school is still there, but it’s so much bigger now.”

Isabel nodded. Her sense of homecoming enhanced by her mother’s reminiscences, she drove on. As they neared Queilen, Carmen all but bounced in her seat. Signs of progress caught her attention here too, but places and things were as she remembered.

With satisfaction, she turned to Isabel. “We’re almost there.”

“Yes.” Isabel’s excitement caught in her throat. She glanced over her shoulder at the backseat. “Very soon now.”

She found Chela’s street and parked in front of the gaily painted house. As before, the door opened and her aunt came running out. Dressed in her usual black, with only a little more white showing at her temples, she cried out when she saw her sister. “Carmen,tanto tiempo !”

The women embraced, muttering endearments and kissed each other on both cheeks. Carmen wiped tears from her eyes, and hugged Chela again.

Isabel waited her turn, and whenTía Chela finally released her mother, she moved forward for a welcomingabrazo herself. Her aunt seemed a little more slender, a little more fragile, but the life in her face denied any weakness.

Isabel bent into the backseat of the car and straightened with an infant in her arms. She turned to her aunt. “This is my son, Tía .”

“Dios mio!” Chela clasped both hands to her heart. She exhaled mightily. “Tu hijo?”

“Mi hijo,” Isabel confirmed. “He’s called Matthew.”

Chela glanced at Carmen. “You never wrote me about this.”

Carmen lifted a shoulder. “Izzy asked me not to. She wanted to surprise you.”

“Qué sorpresa!” Chela inhaled deeply as she studied Isabel. “Come in, we must talk.”

Carmen took Matthew into her arms as Isabel retrieved their luggage. They followed Chela into her house and as before, Isabel noted the paintings on the wall, the Mapuche textiles and the collections of wooden carvings.

She glanced once at the deformed carving ofEl Trauco and then averted her eyes, but not before Chela noted her look. She quizzed Isabel silently with one lifted eyebrow.

Isabel nodded.

Chela blanched. She hurried to close the front door, shutting out the gloomy day. Isabel took Matthew from Carmen to allow her mother to see Chela’s home. Cuddling her son, she held him close to her breast as she watched her mother and Chela.

Her mother seemed totally at ease, but Chela kept flicking glances at Isabel and Matthew. Her smile seemed forced as she showed Carmen her home, ushered her to a guestroom. Isabel took the one she had used before, and set up Matthew’s portable crib beside the single bed. She changed him, cuddled him and went downstairs to find her mother and aunt talking over Chela’s ever present cups of tea.

“Here you are,chica ,” Chela murmured. “Sit, sit.” She waited until Isabel sat with her son on her lap. “Now, tell me about thisbebé .”She held her arms out for him.

Isabel hesitated, then handed her son to Chela who settled him on her lap and murmured endearments as she studied the child. “He is a very beautiful baby.” She ran her palm over Matthew’s dark head, then ran a finger tenderly down his cheek. “How old is he?”

“Three months.”

“It is a good thing he looks like you,” Chela added with a meaningful glance at Isabel.

“Do you think so?”

Chela turned her gaze to Carmen. “Do you know the father?”

Carmen blinked. “No. Isabel doesn’t talk much about him.”

“I am not surprised.” She waited, as if expecting Isabel to say something. When she didn’t, she looked hard at her. “When are you going to tell her?”

Isabel stood abruptly. “When the time is right.” She took Matthew from her aunt, left the room and returned shortly, dressed to go out. Matthew wore a bright red rain jacket and tiny athletic shoes. “I’m going to take Matthew for a ride.”

With her cup partway lifted to her mouth Chela gasped. Her tea splashed from the cup. “Isabel, no!”

“Si, Tía. I must.”

* * * * *

Isabel parked the car in the same spot as before. This time, however, she knew exactly what she was here to do. She slid her purse under the front seat, then opened the rear door and slid Matthew out of his car seat. She drew the hood of his little jacket over his head and locked the car.

Carrying her son, Isabel ventured into the forest. Again, as before, she followed the slight signs of a trail. Broken twigs and footmarks in the layers of leaves and moss underfoot led her unerringly deeper into the woods.

She paused several times to get her bearings, then pushed on, protecting her son from bushes and low branches. When she came to the clearing, she stopped and looked around. Low mist wreathed the treetops and muffled the sound of her breathing.

She listened intently. No leaves rustled. No birds sang. In the silence, she picked up a fallen branch. Clasping her son securely in one arm, she raised the branch and struck the nearest tree trunk.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

She stopped and listened. The forest was dim and cool. Silent. No animals moved in the underbrush.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

She struck harder this time.

Again she listened. She heard nothing but the sound of her breathing coming fast and hard. Matthew’s face was turned up to hers. His dark eyes were wide, his pink-lipped mouth parted in surprise, but as if he understood the importance, he was quiet.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Isabel dropped the branch. Her hand stung from the force of her blows. She waited, all senses focused on the forest. A moment passed, then another and became minutes.

“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered. She cuddled Matthew and whispered, “I’m sorry.” She turned to leave.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Isabel paused. The sound of stone against wood surrounded her. With quickening spirits, she turned in a circle, trying to locate the origin, but mist grew thicker and enclosed her.

Where was he?

She stopped moving and held still, listening and watching.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The sound was louder. Nearer.

She peered through the fog, trying to spot him. She took two steps, then three deeper into the forest.

There! Perched on a branch, his stunted figure half-hidden by fog,El Trauco observed her with a surly expression. “Why do you disturb me?”

She blanched at his tone yet she couldn’t let it stop her. She moved forward and lifted Matthew in her arms. “I brought your son.”

El Trauconarrowed his eyes and peered through the gloom. “Mi hijo?”

“His name is Matthew.Mateo .” She took a deep breath. “It means Gift of God.”

He waved that comment away.

“He is a gift to me,” she said fiercely. “A gift from you.”

She didn’t see him move, but one moment he was in the tree, the next on a branch at her eye level. “Why do you tell me this?”

“I brought him to meet his father.” She held Matthew a bit higher, so that he could see the troll. Strangely, Matthew didn’t cry out at the figure before him. He seemed intent, his eyes focused on the dark eyes of his father.

The troll stared back, then shifted his gaze to Isabel. “I have many sons.”

Isabel lowered Matthew onto the curve of her hip. “And how many have you met?”

El Traucoshrugged. “It is not necessary to know them.”

“It is,” she protested. “A son needs his father.”

“Your son—” he pointed at the perfectly formed baby, “—needs a father like me?” He pointed at his chest.

Isabel nodded. “You are not always like this. You can change.”

“Why should I?”

“To be with us.”

He made a dismissive gesture.

“We were happy together.” She looked at him intently, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We could be again.”

“That was then.”

“It could be again.”

“No.” He turned his shoulder to her.

“Wait!” She gripped his elbow “I have to know… Are you… I mean, did you seduce my aunt?”

He shook off her hand. “Quizás. Who is your aunt?”

She recounted her aunt’s story. Mateo shook his head. “Un otro.”

“Someone else?” she asked incredulously. “How manytraucos are there?”

“Who knows? Me, someone before me, and someone before that. Who knows how many before?”

She blinked. Then blinked again. “How does that happen?”

He shrugged, as if it was no concern to him. “Las brujas.” He took a lingering look at Matthew then began to move away again.

Isabel’s stomach clenched. She grabbed his arm again. “I have another question!”

He frowned at her. “What is it?”

She approached him, looking deep into his dark eyes. “Did you make me pregnant on purpose?”

“It is what I do.”

That hurt. Somewhere deep inside she’d harbored the belief that the time they’d shared together was something special, as meaningful to him as it was to her. Had been for her. “When?”

He lifted one shoulder. “What does it matter?”

“Was it before the beach? Or after?”

“It makes no difference. I did it.”

“It matters to me,” she persisted. “I need to know.”

He expelled a harsh breath. “In the forest.” His gaze softened. “The first time, before I knew you.”

“According to the legend,” she whispered. “All right. But why did you keep me in the forest? Show yourself to me? Take me to the beach?”

He lifted his palms to halt her question. She thought he wasn’t going to answer her until with a long, steady look at her, he admitted, “I wanted to.”

Isabel’s heart began to beat very hard. “You wanted me?”

“Es lo mismo.”

“No,” she protested. “It’s not the same! Why me and not some other woman?”

He shrugged and turned his back on her. He moved away from her, somehow moving through the spiked leaves until she thought he’d vanish among the branches above her head.

She stumbled after him and grabbed his thigh. “Don’t leave me!”

He stopped still. She felt the muscles under her hand tense, then tremble. He took a deep breath. She waited, holding her own breath.

At last, he faced her. “No one’s ever said that to me.” His tone was wondering, confused. The look on his face puzzled her. A mixture of astonishment, and anger and lurking deep in his dark eyes, a glimmer of hope.

“Said what?”

“Don’t leave me. No one has ever asked me to stay.Nadie. Nunca .”

“I’m asking you,” she whispered, saddened by the plaintive, disbelieving tone to his voice. “Your son needs his father.”

“Any man would do.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “Your son needs you.I need you.” She touched his face, running her finger over the prominent bulge of his brow, over his temple and down his cheek to his chin. She hesitated, then ran it across his fleshy lips.

Under her touch, a smile began and turned once more into the beguiling, tenderly sweet smile she remembered so well. “You need me?”

“Yes.” She said it simply, with no doubt at all.

His smile grew until it reached his eyes and the glimmer brightened, spreading as it transformed his face into the handsome one she loved. The change spread through his body. Before her eyes, he straightened, grew taller and strong, sturdy legs replaced his stumps. He rose before her, the powerful, masculine figure she remembered.

“Mateo,” she breathed. “I missed you.”

He made a noise in his throat, something that could mean anything. He came a little closer and peered at the baby. Isabel pushed back Matthew’s hood so Mateo could see his son better.

“See? He has your black hair. Your eyes. He looks like you, his father. He is perfect.”

Mateo touched his son’s foot in its miniature athletic shoe.

Isabel nodded. “His feet are fine.” She slipped off the shoe, then removed a red-and white-striped sock, and displayed a delicately formed foot and five diminutive toes. “Perfect.”

Mateo’s gaze roamed over his son. As she followed his gaze, Isabel undressed her son. Soon he shivered naked in her arms. Mateo frowned. With a flick of his fingers, the mist disappeared. Sunshine poured through the treetops and flooded the small grove with warmth.

Matthew gurgled and waved his arms.

As if unable to resist, Mateo traced the tiny arm from shoulder to elbow, then to Matthew’s wrist and across his palm to his fingers. Immediately, Matthew grasped his finger.

Mateo chuckled. Leaves on the trees shivered and lifted themselves to the sunlight. All around, birdsong cascaded through the forest. Isabel heard small animals scurrying through the undergrowth as the forest came alive.

She blinked hard, trying to stem tears. One slid down her cheek. Mateo stemmed it with his other hand and before Isabel could blink again, they were standing on the sandy beach, with warm waves lapping at her feet.

The light reflecting off the water almost blinded her. She shook her head. “How?”

“Does it matter?”

Mateo took his son from her arms. He lifted one sturdy little leg, examining it closely. He played with his son’s feet, then lifted him high over his head as if displaying his world to his son.

Matthew gurgled and clutched at his father’s hair. Mateo lowered him and dipped his toes in the water. When Matthew laughed, he walked into the water, suddenly naked, and immersed his son into the Pacific.

Shading her eyes with her hand, Isabel stood on the shore and watched father and son become acquainted. Mateo cradled the child and sank beneath the water. Both came up gasping and spitting water. He wiped water from his son’s face, then gathered him to his chest.

Isabel dropped to her knees. The water splashed her thighs and soaked into her shoes. Uncaring, her heart full, she waited. At last, Mateo strode through the waves to stand above her. She lifted her eyes, gaze traveling up his well-muscled calves, to thighs, taut belly and broad shoulders. Her breath hitched in her throat.

With his son in his arms, he was all man, perfect.

He stretched his free hand to her. Clasping it, she let him lift her to her feet. He turned them away from the water. As before, his cottage beckoned, a welcoming haven.

They walked to it, hand and hand. Mateo swung the gate open. Isabel entered the garden, pausing to enjoy the fragrance of the climbing roses, a bright profusion against the whitewashed walls of the cottage. An intricately carved cradle rested in the shade of a tree. He placed Matthew in it, then nudged it gently to rock. In moments, the baby’s eyes closed and with a smile on his lips, Matthew slept.

Mateo turned to Isabel.

She glanced at her sleeping baby and satisfied herself that he was safe and secure, then turned to Mateo. “I missed you,” she repeated as he took her arm and with a slow caress from elbow to wrist, he led her into the cottage.

She turned in a circle, taking in the place that had sheltered her once before. As then, it was storybook accurate, from the kettle on the hob, the loaf of bread, fragrant from the brick oven and the wide bed covered with a fur throw and feather pillows.

He touched her shoulder and her clothes dropped to the flagstone floor. She kicked off her shoes and sank to the bed. He came down beside her, lying on his side, head resting on her shoulder as his hands roamed her body.

He relearned the curves of her shoulders and torso, taking the time to smooth his hands over her belly, not quite as flat as it had been, and pressing his face into the softness. She ran her hand over his head, fingers combing through his dark hair, fresh and damp from the sea.

Gently, with the tip of one finger, he traced the slope of her breasts and rimmed a nipple until it peaked to his satisfaction. He slid down to take it in his mouth. With his tongue sliding over her, then his teeth nipping at her nipple, Isabel couldn’t hold back. Her body quivered as her arms came around him, holding him close.

He lapped at her breasts, taking sustenance from her. She gave it willingly, binding him closely to her. The pull at her breasts echoed the yearning of her body. Her thighs parted, inviting him to enter.

He accepted, swinging over her. Belly to belly, they stared into each other’s eyes as he raised his hips, and with unerring sureness, entered her in one slow, powerful surge. Isabel took a rough breath, then opened herself further. Mateo pulled back, eyes still on hers as if claiming her, and repeated the thrust. She gripped his shoulders, fingers pressing deep into his skin even as her head fell back and exposed her neck to him.

He dropped his head, resting his forehead against her chin as he slowed his motions, prolonging each thrust into her, resting deep for a moment, then pulling out slowly, to wait an instant before pushing deep again.

Isabel shuddered. With each motion of his hips, her breath hitched and released in a moan. Her moans turned to gasps and cries when he stopped, then changed pace with quick flicks of his hips, pushing in and retreating in an unceasing pattern.

“Mateo!”

His breathing turned harsh as he increased his pace. His mouth was strained, his forehead furrowed, yet he kept her gaze captured with his own as he compelled her body.

“No más,” she cried, but still he pleasured her until the pleasure erupted. She shuddered, again and again, until delight ebbed and awareness that he continued to thrust into her.

“Now?” she whispered. “Come now.”

With his eyes locked on hers, his body spasmed and stiffened. She felt him strain, then his release and the explosive burst of cum shooting high into her. At last, his eyelids drifted shut and as he collapsed beside her, he groaned.

Isabel fought her drowsiness. This was too precious a moment to lose to sleep. With Mateo in her arms, her baby asleep in his cradle, she savored each moment. No matter what happened next, at least she’d have this time.

She ran her hands down Mateo’s back, caressing him with her fingertips. He murmured something in his sleep, then rolled over. When she woke sometime later, Mateo was gone. In his place, Matthew rooted at her breast.

She suckled him, feeling anew the incredibly close bond between herself and her son when she fed him. One tiny fist kneaded her breast and she closed her eyes as the pull on her nipple echoed remnants of the delight she’d felt with Mateo.

Sensing his presence, she opened her eyes and saw Mateo seated on a bench at the table, his eyes intent on her son. His mouth mimicked the sucking motions of his son. Isabel watched entranced. She shifted Matthew slightly and with her free hand, beckoned Mateo.

He shook his head.

She gestured again.

This time, reluctantly, he took the two steps necessary to reach the bed. He sat gingerly, careful not to crowd her. Isabel smiled, took his hand and placed it on her son’s head, then slid it to her free breast.

Mateo’s eyes widened as her milk moistened his palm. He lifted his hand, turned it over and stared at the moisture. He raised his palm to his face, sniffed the milk, then with the tip of his tongue, tasted it.

She nodded encouragingly.

With his eyes intent on hers, he licked his palm clean, then touched her free breast again. Matthew at her breast suckled fiercely, then his tiny lips loosened and released her nipple. He dozed. Isabel felt complete, her world bound by father and son.

Mateo at her side gazed down at his son, secure and content. “What do you want of me?”

Isabel took a deep breath. “I want you to stay with me. With us.”

“You stay in the forest with me.”

“I could,” she admitted. It would be so easy to live where everything she needed, food and shelter, sunlight and stars, was provided for her. Where Mateo loved her with devotion and stamina. “I love it here with you. In your world. But,” she paused, looking for the right words and settling for the simplest. “I want you to come with me. Live in my world.”

“I can’t.”

He stood abruptly and moved toward the door.

“Don’t go!”

He spoke without looking at her. “You ask too much of me.”

His voice was harsh and dismissive, yet Isabel persisted. “I want you to live with us. Be a father to your son. And—” she moistened her dry lips before she could continue, “—be my husband.Mi amante .”

“You can come here whenever you want,” he offered, still without looking at her. “You can bring the boy. I can see him then.”

“That’s not enough.”

“You ask too much!”

“I don’t ask enough!”

He turned then, his face a mix of anger and resentment. “I live here.Here ,” he stressed, gesturing the cottage, the forest glade outside the door. “If I leave I don’t know what I will be.”

“You mean you don’t know if you stay as you are?”

“It is my nature to beEl Trauco ,” he said gruffly.

“We could try it and see,” she offered.

His eyes narrowed as he considered the suggestion. “You mean leave the forest?”

She nodded. “Try it as far as the road. As you are now. If that works, we can do more.”

He waved that off. “Las brujaswon’t let me.”

“Why not?”

“They supply me with all this.”

“And in turn?”

“They take one of my sons.”

“Invunche,” she breathed, horrified at the deal he’d made with the witches. “You allow that?”

His face was grim. “They take.”

“Then you must stop it! You must come with me.”

“You think they’d allow it?”

“I saw you in Castro. You were in mytía ’s house, weren’t you?”

“That was foolishness.”

“If you could do that, why can’t you leave?”

“You saw me asEl Trauco . That was nothing.”

“Mateo, at least try.”

He sat at the table, his long legs stretched to the side. Leaning his head on one elbow on the table, he gazed at her. She looked back, trying to fathom his thinking.

“Do you want the witches to continue stealing your sons?” she dared ask.

He shook his head.

“What if they try to steal Matthew?” she whispered with a worried glance at her sleeping son.

He looked fierce. “I will not allow it.”

She hurried to the bed and picked Matthew up. She cradled him in her arms. “We must take him far away from here.”

“You take him back where you came from.”

“Not without you,” she countered. “Together.”

He looked torn. His gaze wandered the interior of the cottage. He stood and went to the doorway, where he stood and surveyed the garden and the forest beyond.

Isabel stayed where she was, silent and watchful. The garden fragrances drifted in the open door and surrounded her with sweetness. Now that she knew the origin of all the magic around Mateo, she struggled not to be seduced by the aroma of roses.

Matthew stirred in her arms. She cuddled and murmured him until he slept again. She went to Mateo and stood at his back. “Go out, walk with me.”

He reached back for her hand and brought her to his side. He made room for them both in the doorway. She stood beside him with Matthew making a third and wished there were someone to snap a photograph of them so at least she’d have this family picture.

It might be all she’d have of him. If she couldn’t find the words to persuade him, it would be too late. She had to leave soon, to take Matthew back to her world. She couldn’t risk his safety here, not with witches taking Mateo’s sons for their own evil, malevolent purposes.

She nudged Mateo. “Come on.”

He resisted, digging his toes into the doorway. He refused to look at her.

Isabel bit her lip. Glanced up at his face turned away from her. “Are you scared?”

His shoulders tightened. “No.”

But he was. She knew it. She was frightened, too.

“We can do it together,” she coaxed.

“No.”

There was no brooking that tone. She sighed. Her own shoulders drooping, she moved past him into the garden, then through the gate in the white picket fence. “Walk me to my car, then.”

She though he wasn’t going to move, then he took a small step forward. And another. When he reached her, he took her arm and propelled them both through the glade. She glanced over her shoulder, saying goodbye to the cottage where they’d been so happy. She knew she’d never see it again.

As she watched, the cottage shivered, then the edges blurred and it faded away. She watched it until it was completely gone, the forest looking untouched and still where the cottage had been.

At Mateo’s urging, she began walking. Each step out of the forest was a rejection. She closed her throat to the tears that burned. The woods were cool and dim, and as they neared the place where she’d left the car, the mist descended, blocking out the sunlight and wetting her skin. She let her tears fall.

Mateo stopped. She stumbled to a stop beside him. Matthew mewled in her arms and she comforted him as she recognized the small lay-by where she’d parked her rental car. She dug the keys out of her pocket and unlocked it. Shifting her son in her arms, she opened the rear passenger door and started to secure Matthew in the car seat.

“Wait,” Mateo murmured.

She turned.

He held out his arms for the baby. She undid the car seat restraints and placed their son in his father’s arms, making no effort to hide her sorrow. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Porqué lloras, Isabel?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she admitted. She cupped his cheeks in her palms and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

Separated by their son, Isabel couldn’t get as close as she wished. Mateo’s lips were cool and closed to her. She lingered, pleasing herself with a last kiss until slowly, so slowly it wasn’t sure it was happening, his lips softened and parted.

The next instant, he took over the kiss. He deepened it, a harsh groan surging from his chest. He tore his mouth away. “No lo aguanto más. I can’t bear it!”

He placed his son in her arms and strode quickly away. She watched him go, until his tall, muscular form disappeared into the mist. She sighed, blinked back tears and put Matthew into the car.

She went around and opened the driver’s door. A slip of paper fluttered to the ground. Absently she picked it up and started to toss it back into the car to dispose of later. Something, a sliver of color, caught her eye. She looked again.

A snapshot of herself, Matthew and Mateo standing in the cottage doorway. Their expressions grim, they faced opposite directions. It wasn’t the family portrait she’d wished for, but it was all she had. She slid in behind the wheel, the photo clutched in her hand. Pain rocketed through her.

She bent over the wheel, her sobs loud and painful. She cried until she heard Matthew crying too. She sniffed and wiped her face then reached back and patted her son’s knee. Comforting him gave her strength. “We’ll be all right, just the two of us.”

Her eyes still smarting, she drove out of the mountains through a fierce rainstorm. Lightning flashes pierced the sky and thunder rolled heavily through the mountains. Wind hurled rain at the car. The windshield wipers could barely clear the rain before more obscured her view of the road. Trees splintered and fell across the road. She had to brake sharply to miss one that nearly fell on her car before rolling off the side of the road. She sat for a moment, getting her breath back while the storm raged around her. Rain crashed against the car. Lightning splintered the darkness. Matthew began to cry. She turned to him, soothing him with soft words even though fear clogged her throat. Branches and leaves cascaded around the car. When Matthew’s sobs subsided, Isabel inched her way around the larger debris. The drive to Queilen seemed endless.

Chela’s bright house was welcoming, but Isabel dreaded entering it. Matthew now slept in his car seat, his little mouth making sucking noises. He’d wake up ravenous in a moment, but until then, she could use a moment to compose herself before facing her mother and aunt.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. Heavy rain drummed on the roof of the car. With the windows steaming, she felt enclosed, shut off from the future she’d hoped for.

She heard a knock on the window. She forced her eyes open, sure it was either her mother or her aunt checking on her. She glanced through the window and saw an undistinguishable dark form through the condensation. She rolled the window down enough to see and peered into the rain.

It couldn’t be!

But it was. Mateo stood next to her car. He was wet, his black hair dripping rain onto his face. His shoulders hunched as he bent to see in the car.

Isabel rolled the window up and pushed open the door. Stumbling out into the rainwater gurgling in the gutter, she barely noticed the cold water flooding her shoes.

He lifted her out of the street and wrapped his arms around her.

“What…how did you get here?” she cried.

“Las brujas.”

“Matthew?” she breathed.

“He is safe. They won’t try to steal him now.”

“Are you sure? How?”

“I made a bargain.”

She clutched at him. “I won’t let them take you back!”

“They don’t want me. Not after I told them you and Matthew were more important to me.”

“What did they do to you?” Fear made her voice quaver.

“They were angry.”

“The storm? That was the witches?”

“Si. But I refused them.”

“They let you go?”

He hesitated. She was sure she hid something from her. “I can never go back,” he said at last, a faltering, sorrowful note to his voice. “They took everything from me.”

“Everything?”

“Food, shelter. All my powers.”

“Everything but us,” she whispered, afraid that he wouldn’t consider it enough.

He kissed her wet temples, her cheeks, her lips. She knew he tasted her tears and opened her mouth to him.

He claimed it as surely as he’d ever claimed her body. They stood on the sidewalk, arms clasped around each other as the kiss deepened. At last, gasping for breath, she pulled back. He dropped his arms. A smile began, tentative at first, then widening into a huge grin. With it, the rain stopped.

Mateo spread his hands. “I have nothing to offer you. Do you still want me?”

She threw her arms around him again. “Oh yes, yes, yes!”

“Then, here I am.”

“You’ll come with me? Stay with me.”

The light in his eyes delighted her. “With you. With my son.Our son.”

The skies cleared. The air warmed with the bright sunlight cascading around them.

Her heart was so full she could hardly bear it. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure.” He laughed, a joyous sound that surrounded her with love. “Me liberaste. You freed me.”

The End