[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
over at Peter. He watched her with raised eyebrows, but was silent and patient. She took up his hand
again and nodded. “Let’s go.”
54
The Windigo
Whatever the state of her soul, she would deal with it as she got used to her new self.
Only one dark thought bothered her. What if she had been the one to kill those hikers?
She squeezed Peter’s hand. He believed her innocent, and she would trust him. For now.
The soft grass that grew to the shore of the lake cushioned her bare feet, and she could feel
the soil beneath, the loam of the earth—the tiny life forms living there sending up pulses through
her soles. Wind whipped down out of the crevices of the glacier, bringing with it the perfume of ice
and minerals, of thin air and rocky pinnacles. She let it wrap its cold hands around her face like a
lover and tug at her torn t-shirt and loose shorts.
Peter’s hair lifted like a streaming, black banner, and her eyes devoured the muscles that
moved on his bare back and how his khaki pants clung to his narrow hips.
The ice cave loomed in front of them, tall enough for Peter to walk in without ducking. As
the cold walls enclosed them, the trickling of the water over the stones grew louder and the air grew
still. Blue and silver light filled the tunnel, threading through with sparkling shimmers and diamond
glitter. A few more steps and the walls opened up to a huge cavern inside the ice. Cave was the wrong
word, this was a cathedral.
Arlene’s feet stopped, and her mouth opened but no words came. She had never seen any
place more stunning.
The light fell through the high, buttressed ceiling, and danced over the ice columns and
palisades with silvery reflections and gleaming rainbow sparkles that bedazzled her eyes. It was
huge…palatial…and when Peter looked back at her, she saw pride and joy. “You built this place,”
she said, her voice in that whisper one saved for the sacred.
“I did,” he answered and put his arm around her. “Come further.” He guided her along, up a
ramp of ice and over a narrow, delicate bridge.
“It’s like Superman’s secret hideout,” she said, her lips easing into a smile.
He glanced over at her. “Really? Superman, huh? Well, I do wish I could fly. Imagine how
the air feels at thirty thousand feet…”
They stopped at the exact center of the cavern, and beam of light shone on his long, black
hair and gold-tan face. He tugged her against him, and she snuggled there, pressing her breasts
against his hard chest. He gazed down at her, tall and stately. Need and hunger uncoiled inside her in
a warm glow. She reached up and slid her fingers over his sculpted cheeks and up into his hair. The
long, black silk filled her hands and fell sensuously down her wrists and forearms.
55
Cynthia Carole
He gazed at her with hooded eyes, a silvery sheen now ringing his pupils. “I want you,
Arlene.” His voice resonated deep and velvety.
She exhaled, trembling, as if she was seventeen again and experiencing her first time. Of
course, this was much better.
“I want you, too.” Heat came to her cheeks, but she met his eyes. Could she read his face?
His expression seemed tender, soft. She wanted to memorize this moment. It was for them alone,
and nothing else in the world existed.
His hand moved to her shoulder and caught up the fabric of her damp and torn t-shirt. The
pads of his fingers were hard and rough and made her tingle where they touched her. He slid his
hand beneath the shirt and over her shoulder, tugging gently and pulling downward. A slight rip, and
her shoulder and breast were exposed. Still moving, his hand caressed down her arm, and it took
with it the tatters of her t-shirt, until her chest was completely exposed. She was left in her loose
sleeping shorts and panties.
She thought he would rip them away as well, but instead his hands moved up her bare back
and over her shoulder blades. He pulled her closer and dipped his head down to kiss the skin
covering her collarbone. Light, gentle kisses moved up her neck, and his tongue darted out to taste
her. She tilted her head and felt the pulse beat hard in her neck. Between her legs, an ache began that
made her push her hips against him.
He stepped back. The muscles on his chest were a sculptor’s dream, rippled and tight, the
skin gleaming golden and hairless.
She stopped him when he reached for his pants. “Let me,” she said softly. She pressed her
small hands against his chest and ran them down, over the bumpy ripples of his stomach. She leaned [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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over at Peter. He watched her with raised eyebrows, but was silent and patient. She took up his hand
again and nodded. “Let’s go.”
54
The Windigo
Whatever the state of her soul, she would deal with it as she got used to her new self.
Only one dark thought bothered her. What if she had been the one to kill those hikers?
She squeezed Peter’s hand. He believed her innocent, and she would trust him. For now.
The soft grass that grew to the shore of the lake cushioned her bare feet, and she could feel
the soil beneath, the loam of the earth—the tiny life forms living there sending up pulses through
her soles. Wind whipped down out of the crevices of the glacier, bringing with it the perfume of ice
and minerals, of thin air and rocky pinnacles. She let it wrap its cold hands around her face like a
lover and tug at her torn t-shirt and loose shorts.
Peter’s hair lifted like a streaming, black banner, and her eyes devoured the muscles that
moved on his bare back and how his khaki pants clung to his narrow hips.
The ice cave loomed in front of them, tall enough for Peter to walk in without ducking. As
the cold walls enclosed them, the trickling of the water over the stones grew louder and the air grew
still. Blue and silver light filled the tunnel, threading through with sparkling shimmers and diamond
glitter. A few more steps and the walls opened up to a huge cavern inside the ice. Cave was the wrong
word, this was a cathedral.
Arlene’s feet stopped, and her mouth opened but no words came. She had never seen any
place more stunning.
The light fell through the high, buttressed ceiling, and danced over the ice columns and
palisades with silvery reflections and gleaming rainbow sparkles that bedazzled her eyes. It was
huge…palatial…and when Peter looked back at her, she saw pride and joy. “You built this place,”
she said, her voice in that whisper one saved for the sacred.
“I did,” he answered and put his arm around her. “Come further.” He guided her along, up a
ramp of ice and over a narrow, delicate bridge.
“It’s like Superman’s secret hideout,” she said, her lips easing into a smile.
He glanced over at her. “Really? Superman, huh? Well, I do wish I could fly. Imagine how
the air feels at thirty thousand feet…”
They stopped at the exact center of the cavern, and beam of light shone on his long, black
hair and gold-tan face. He tugged her against him, and she snuggled there, pressing her breasts
against his hard chest. He gazed down at her, tall and stately. Need and hunger uncoiled inside her in
a warm glow. She reached up and slid her fingers over his sculpted cheeks and up into his hair. The
long, black silk filled her hands and fell sensuously down her wrists and forearms.
55
Cynthia Carole
He gazed at her with hooded eyes, a silvery sheen now ringing his pupils. “I want you,
Arlene.” His voice resonated deep and velvety.
She exhaled, trembling, as if she was seventeen again and experiencing her first time. Of
course, this was much better.
“I want you, too.” Heat came to her cheeks, but she met his eyes. Could she read his face?
His expression seemed tender, soft. She wanted to memorize this moment. It was for them alone,
and nothing else in the world existed.
His hand moved to her shoulder and caught up the fabric of her damp and torn t-shirt. The
pads of his fingers were hard and rough and made her tingle where they touched her. He slid his
hand beneath the shirt and over her shoulder, tugging gently and pulling downward. A slight rip, and
her shoulder and breast were exposed. Still moving, his hand caressed down her arm, and it took
with it the tatters of her t-shirt, until her chest was completely exposed. She was left in her loose
sleeping shorts and panties.
She thought he would rip them away as well, but instead his hands moved up her bare back
and over her shoulder blades. He pulled her closer and dipped his head down to kiss the skin
covering her collarbone. Light, gentle kisses moved up her neck, and his tongue darted out to taste
her. She tilted her head and felt the pulse beat hard in her neck. Between her legs, an ache began that
made her push her hips against him.
He stepped back. The muscles on his chest were a sculptor’s dream, rippled and tight, the
skin gleaming golden and hairless.
She stopped him when he reached for his pants. “Let me,” she said softly. She pressed her
small hands against his chest and ran them down, over the bumpy ripples of his stomach. She leaned [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]