Kim Harrison - Hotter Than Hell

She swallowed hard. “Thank you, but no. I prefer to travel alone.”

For a moment his pale eyes flashed with something that might have been anger. Then he touched the brim of his hat again and gave a slight, ironic bow.

“As you wish.” He leaned toward Kelpie’s ear and whispered words Cat couldn’t hear. Kelpie nickered and nibbled at the stranger’s sleeve as he withdrew.

“ Adiós ,” he said, fading into the night the same way he had come. “We shall meet again, señorita .”

The silence was absolute. Even the wind had stilled. Cat pressed her hand to her chest, trying to quiet her racing heart. Remembering the man’s advice, she turned Kelpie around and started in the opposite direction. Two hours later she saw the lights of the ranch house. Turk ran out to meet her.

“Miss Cat! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It’s Kelpie who’s hurt.”

Immediately Turk lifted the gelding’s leg. “Don’t look too bad.” He glanced up at Cat. “I’ll take care of Kelpie. You’d better get yourself into the house. Pilar’s worried sick over you.”

Cat gladly obeyed. Her mouth was dry as a desert, and she felt more than a little weak at the knees. The housekeeper greeted her with relief and good-natured scolding, which Cat accepted as her just due. She drank the cocoa Pilar set down in front of her and meekly retreated to the guest room.

No bed, no matter how luxurious, had ever looked so welcome. Cat stripped out of her dusty clothes, threw them across a chair, and climbed naked between the sheets. The plain cotton felt incredibly soft against her skin. Every movement awakened strong sensations, as if her nerves had been lit on fire. Her imagination conjured up vivid images of the stranger, spawning pictures of sleek muscle and a strong, angular face.

A face that looked at her out of the darkness, eyes burning with unreserved lust.

Cat tried to close her eyes, fighting the images and the reaction of her body. Finally exhaustion claimed her, and she slid gratefully into sleep.

She had never seen men like these before.

They came boldly into the village, sitting on great beasts with long necks and sweeping tails, the metal on their heads and chests gleaming in the sun. They smiled as they leaped from the backs of their mounts, speaking a tongue she had never heard.

The village headman welcomed them with courtesy and care, for he, too, had no knowledge of this tribe of pale-skinned warriors with their sharp-edged weapons. It was best to be safe until more was known about them.

For her, it was enough to know that a new excitement had come to the village. She watched the men with fascination as they removed the leather chairs from the great beasts’ backs and brushed the creatures’ coats until they gleamed. She stared in fascination as they shed their heavy clothing to reveal skin that surely had never been touched by the sun. She spied on the elders as they spoke with the strangers, and always her gaze was drawn to one among the foreign warriors.

He was tall compared to the villagers, though his hair was as black as that of the people. The shape of his face was different, but she found it handsome in its own way. His eyes drew her most, for they were the color of the first light of dawn.

One day he caught her watching him, though she had done her best not to let him see. He spoke to her in his stranger’s tongue, gently and with admiration in those pale eyes. Sometimes his companions seemed crude and loud, but he was not. She began to teach him the peoples’ language. He was a swift learner, and at last he began to speak the words she had longed to hear.

Too soon it was time for him and his companions to leave the village, to rejoin their tribe. She could not wait for him to return and for the marriage to take place. When he asked her to come with him into the forest, she went eagerly, knowing that what they were about to do would change her life forever….

Cat woke to the glory of an orgasm.

At first she wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. She’d almost forgotten what it was like; Neal hadn’t bothered to satisfy her in years. But she felt between her thighs and her fingers came away wet.

Panic sent her heart into overdrive. She sprang up and stood in the center of the room, searching every corner.

He wasn’t there. How could he be? He had been a dream, in a time and place that had seemed alien and yet utterly familiar.

A dream who had walked out of the shadows and into reality.

Cat sank into the chair and began to laugh. There was no reason for the levity except that she felt more than a little loco, and laughter seemed the best medicine for her ailment.

“Señora?”

Pilar was knocking on the door, undoubtedly alarmed by the racket. Cat put on her thick chenille robe and opened the door.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” she said. “I’m all right. I just had a crazy dream.”

The older woman’s brown eyes were skeptical. “You should rest today, Señora Catalina. I will make you a good breakfast…”

“I’m not very hungry. I’ll take a little fruit, if you have any.”

“Si.” Pilar continued to regard Cat in a way that made her feel like a naughty little girl. “You say nothing happened to you last night?”

“Nothing.” Nothing that really mattered, anyway. “I think I’ll go for another ride this morning.”

Pilar sighed and walked back toward the kitchen. Cat showered, dressed in jeans and denim shirt, and grabbed a slice of melon and an apple on her way out the door. Turk wasn’t in the stables. Cat leaned on the corral fence, wondering if she ought to try saddling one of the horses herself. She’d done it a few times when she’d gone to riding camp as a teenager, but that had been a lifetime ago.

As she kicked at the dirt and debated her course of action, she looked up and saw the black horse.

He…and she had no doubt that it was indeed a “he”…stood outside the fence on the opposite side of the corral, unburdened by either saddle or bridle. His coat was a true black, not burned brown like so many dark horses. His mane was a luxurious ebon wave that fell almost to the bottom of his neck, and his tail was held high as a flag. A white star in the shape of a cross blazed his face.

Cat shivered, remembering how a horse exactly like this one had haunted her childhood dreams. He had been so far away then, impossible to catch. Now he stood no more than twenty yards distant, and his eyes—his strangely pale eyes—gazed at her with uncanny intensity.

She never knew why she did what she did then. Without a moment’s thought, she circled the corral and approached the horse, walking slowly and carefully. She still had the apple in her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the smooth, polished surface and pulled it out.

The stallion watched her come with elegant ears swiveled forward and nostrils flared. He arched his neck and shifted from foot to foot as if to display his strength and elegance. Cat felt no fear at all. She offered the apple in her extended hand.

He took it with remarkable gentleness, his lips sliding across her fingertips.

“You’re a beautiful boy,” she said, patting his silky neck. “Where did you come from?”

The stallion finished the apple, watching her all the while. He made a low, coaxing sound deep in his throat.

“You must be valuable,” she said. “Maybe I should go ask Turk who—”

The stallion reared, ears flat. Cat stepped back, suddenly aware of his sharp hooves and sheer size. It was almost as if he’d understood her.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The stallion danced, tossing his head and eying Cat with suspicion. After a moment he approached her again, stretching his neck and nibbling her shoulder.