Dinah McCall - The Warrior

It was time to rest, and to hope that tonight would be a night without dreams. But after the excitement of the day and the fresh hope that his quest would soon be over, it was too much to ask.

She looked up from the cooking fire, smiling at his approach. Her smile widened when she saw the haunch of deer meat he carried on his shoulder.

“I have made your favorite,” White Fawn said.

Night Walker inhaled appreciatively as he laid the deer haunch aside and squatted down beside his woman to peer into the cooking pot. The ground maize had been cooked to a thick porridge consistency, and flavored with strips of pemmican and fresh berries.

Night Walker dipped the stirring stick into the pot, then tasted it.

“More berries,” he said.

White Fawn laughed out loud. “You always say that,” she said as she thrust her hand into a basket beside the fire and scattered another handful of small black berries into the pot.

When Night Walker cupped the back of her head, she leaned into his touch.

“I would lie with you,” he said softly.

An ache spread through White Fawn’s belly as she saw the look in Night Walker’s eyes.

“And I with you,” she answered.

Night Walker set the pot beside the fire and threw a blanket over the meat to keep off the flies, then followed his woman into their hut. He pulled the flap over the doorway, shutting them in and the rest of the village out.

With one pull, the skins he wore tied around his waist fell at his feet.

White Fawn was already naked. Without taking her eyes from his face, she lay down on the furs that were their bed and waited for him to join her.

When he did, he made no pretense as to his intentions.

He lay beside her, then rose up on one elbow and slid his hand between her thighs, gently nudging her legs apart.

White Fawn’s heart was already beating fast, anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

In one swoop, he was inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down, burying him deep. When he began to move, she met him thrust for thrust, and for a while, time stood still.

The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the passion-induced sweat from White Fawn’s body. Her tight, wet heat pulled at Night Walker with every thrust. She was everything beautiful to him, his own personal aphrodisiac. He would never get enough—could never get enough—of the woman who held his heart.

Slowly, slowly, the rhythm of their lovemaking became less steady, more frantic, harder and harder, until it burst within. White Fawn held him as he spilled his seed into her so-far-fruitless womb, then wept quiet, happy tears as he collapsed on top of her with a soft, satisfied moan.

John jerked, then sat up abruptly, searching the shadowed corners of his room for the woman he’d been making love to. His shoulders slumped as he wiped a shaky hand across his face and crawled out of bed.

He didn’t think about his guest as he walked naked through the house, quietly disarmed the security system and strode outside. The cool air felt good against his heated skin as he made his way down the backside of the bluff to the water below.

The steady ebb and flow of the ocean pulled at his senses like a drug as he walked into the surf. The water was cold—so cold—but he didn’t care. He needed the shock of it to wash away the dream—which was, if he’d ever stopped to analyze himself, ironic. While remembering their love and what he’d lost was often too painful, it was the memory of what had happened to her that kept him focused and sane.

When he was knee-deep in the ocean, he dove headfirst into the next wave and began to swim, fighting the current because it was the only enemy at hand. He swam until his muscles burned and his legs felt like jelly. Only then did he stop. Treading water, he turned to look toward shore. From this distance, his house was barely the size of a child’s building block, but the anger was gone. All that was left was a bone-deep weariness.

Without thinking, he began the long journey back, one stroke at a time.

Dawn was imminent on the horizon as he came out of the surf, his head down, his shoulders slumped. His steps dragged as he began the climb up the bluff.

Alicia woke up suddenly, her heart thumping, her eyes wide with fright. For a second she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there. Then her gaze centered on a dream catcher hanging on the wall opposite her bed, and a face slid into her mind.

John Nightwalker.

She rubbed her face with her hands, then swung her legs off the bed and stood, stretching slowly as she made her way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out just as the digital readout on the clock flicked over to ten minutes after six. The bed looked inviting, but there were too many unknowns in her life for her to be able to go back to sleep.

She needed to get to the authorities as soon as possible. The quicker she put a stop to her father’s dealings with terrorists, the sooner she would be safe. Once everyone knew, it would serve no purpose to keep her quiet. Nothing else would stop him. She’d grown up seeing his ruthlessness firsthand. Her mother had been the one who’d taught her what it meant to love. Her father’s lessons in life consisted of disappointments and lies. But her mother had been dead for years now, and Alicia was a woman long grown and strong. And she swore that determination—the one trait she’d inherited from her father—was going to prove to be the one that took him down.

Her suitcase was open on the floor. She thought about getting dressed, but it was nearing daybreak, and the idea of watching the sun come up on the horizon to signal the beginning of a new day was too enticing to miss. She noticed that the alarm system had been turned off, so she felt no concern as she hurried downstairs, then out the French doors to the terrace beyond. She walked to the edge, then out onto the grass and headed to the edge of the bluff.

A sea breeze instantly caught the hem of her nightgown and threaded it between her legs as she braced herself against the railing. The view was everything she’d expected and more. Already the line between dark and dawn was fading fast. In the east, there was an aura of pink and orange playing at visibility. Just another minute or two, and the sun in all its glory would be evident.

Alicia found herself watching intently, trying to guess the exact moment of its appearance, and because she was so focused on the sky, she didn’t see the man swimming in the water below. But then the sun broke, and all of a sudden the day was there. She smiled slowly in appreciation and was about to turn back when she saw him, waist deep and emerging from the ocean as steadily as the sun had appeared from below the horizon.

The first thought that crossed her mind was awe. The second was lust.

He’d been a commanding figure in clothes. Naked, he was magnificent. Even from this distance, the copper perfection of his body was impossible to ignore. Muscles everywhere they should be, wet and glistening in the new light of a new day. Then she looked past the obvious to the way his head was hanging, and the slight but weary slump of his body. He walked across the sand as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and something told her that had nothing to do with a strenuous workout.

A lump rose in her throat. Then he paused. When she saw him cover his face with his hands, her vision blurred. She could feel his sadness from here. But why? She thought of the way he’d spoken about his wife, and her heart ached. She’d never known love like that.

It wasn’t until John dropped his hands and looked up the bluff toward his house that Alicia realized he could see her. Now she was stuck. If she moved suddenly, he would think she was ashamed to be caught spying on him. So she did the only other thing she could; she waved and called down, “The sunrise was beautiful!” Then she waved once more and walked back into the house and up to her room.