Lunar Light by Penelope Fletcher
I scooted closer and he shifted back. I whimpered, okay I lie, I growled impatiently and scooted forward again. He was driving me crazy. I locked my legs tighter with a plan to simply impale myself on him, damn it to hell, but he caught on and stepped back, catching my ass as I slipped off the table. I was dripping wet and my cunt ached like a bruise. Becoming angry he would prolong the agony this way I bit his lip.
He hoisted me higher on his torso so he could reach my breasts and suckled them roughly, eyes closed, body tense. He laid his palm flat against me and slipped a thick finger inside me, thumb lazily stroking and flicking my nub. I couldn’t breathe; it felt so good I didn’t want to breathe. I gasped and moved against him, shifting in his grasp so I could roll my hips. My insides felt heavy, hot, and ready to burst. I gasped again, the sound guttural and moved faster to increase the pace. He bit my nipple and twisted his finger. Before I could say the words to warn him I was coming. The walls of my vagina spasmed and sucked his finger deeper. I clenched, my entire body shuddering under the force of my orgasm. My fingernails dug into his shoulders as wave after wave of tingly pleasure rolled over me. Rather than slide out he brought me to peak again by fisting a hand in my hair to pull my mouth down to his. Thrusting his tongue against mine he rubbed my clit. I arched my back and tore my mouth away from his. Wrapping my arms around his neck I scrunched my eyes shut, took a deep breath in through my mouth, and screamed into his ear. He rubbed himself against me then grunted – burying his head into my hair and breathing in deeply. There was a warm splash on my buttocks and my pussy clenched in response.
Spent, I let my head collapse onto his shoulder and held him tightly. Both our chests heaved, our bodies entwined and slick with sweat. His breath was raspy and his cheek rubbed against mine until he nudged my head up and kissed me, soft but with an undercurrent of urgency that had my heart rolling over in my chest.
I was bewildered when he eased me down onto my own two feet and turned me around. My chest rose steeply as I tried to drag in enough oxygen to jump-start my stalled brain. The room looked all sparkly and overly bright. Most wondrously was that I felt warm. Never did I feel heat and not want to run outside and roll in the snow until my body was a frosty and comfortable temperature. This almost felt good. Swallowing loudly I cleared my throat and trawled my hands through my hair, trying to comb it down knowing it would be all over the place. My legs wobbled and my nipples were stiff peaks. I wish I could say I was able to shake it off, but I hadn’t felt so good in years. My mouth prickled, a reminder of how he’d bruised them under his own.
“Clothes, sweetheart.” Luke patted my bottom like it was an old friend. “You were going to get me clothes.” He released me and walked to stand by the window.
I trembled on the spot, overcome with lust and want. The ache between my thighs suddenly spiked as I watched him walk by. I closed my eyes and counted slowly to ten. No, not good enough. I had to pinch myself, hard, before I dared look at him again.
“Someone is coming,” Luke said after a moment. “An old man. You have his nose.” He stopped talking and spared me a brief glance. I stared at him dumbly. “Clothes?” he repeated and pointed to the wardrobe.
“Clothes,” I mumbled and took my first stumbling steps over to the tall pine box in the corner. I pulled out the first two things I saw that would hopefully fit and not look too silly. I nodded once then his words penetrated the haze. “And the man is my Da.” Saying it out loud set off alarm bells in my mind and I snapped out of it, spun round panting. “Come away from the window!” I waved at him manically. “And if I asked you to hide would you?” I twisted round suddenly fidgety and panicked.
Where the hell did you hide a six-foot something man the size of a tank in an open plan, barely furnished cabin? Christ. Under the bed?
Taking in my flustered appearance, he studied me carefully. “I’m a guest in your home, of course I would.” I exhaled sharply in relief and pointed to the bed. It was our only option unless he wanted to try the wardrobe. I eyed it thoughtfully. “But he has already seen me, and wouldn’t it be odd if I did not say hello?”
I’d have been less upset if he’d slapped me in the face.
I rushed to the window and truth be told my Da was standing on the steps of my cabin, wrinkled face ruddy from the cold wind and blank with shock. His shoulder length gray hair whipped around his face in scraggly ropes, held back by a stained dark green bandanna. He was wrapped up in a thick wool coat, thermal trousers and hiking boots. Dry spittle flecked his pinched lips and his eyes were milky, the lights in them a long time dead. His shoulders were hunched but hinted at a man who had been tall and proud in his youth, as did the length of his legs and width of his chest. Coiled around one shoulder was a link of metal chains.
This told me two things. That the body of the girl I’d killed yesterday had been found and reported to the Rangers, as I had not had a chance to bury her remains. And, that he’d found out and come to restrain me. He leaned heavily on his walking stick and clutched a plain wood rosary in his gloved hand. I saw his lips move and knew he was reciting his Hail Mary.
My eyes slipped closed briefly. I would pay for this and pay dearly.
Luke leaned in and nuzzled my neck. Flushing, I pushed his head away and didn’t bother to explain why when he cocked his head at me questioningly. Thrusting the only clothes I’d found that might be big enough at him, I darted out the door, slamming it behind me; giving a clear signal he was not to follow me.
My Da was already limping away through the snow back to his own cabin three miles downriver.
“Wait,” I cried, rushing down the steps and running to catch him up. I skidded to a stop in front of him, still only dressed in the sweater and barefoot. I didn’t feel the cold, but I was self-conscious about my lack of dress. I crossed my arms over my stomach and hung my head, stammered to find an explanation. “What are you doing–”
The first strike caught me unawares. The end of the stick whipped across my face, and my head snapped round more in shock than with the force of the blow.
As I stumbled, my hand flying to my face, another blow lashed across my back. I hissed but remained standing. Another crack of smooth wood on skin sounded in my ears before the searing pain ripped down the back of my thigh. I shrieked and curved inward on myself, protecting my head. Another lick of pain high on my shoulder and my knees gave out.
Face down in the snow I braced myself for the next lash of pain, but there was nothing. A strange gurgling sound had me turning my head, slowly; still hesitant in case another blow was waiting.
Luke, naked and furious held my Da by the throat. He was high off the ground and wriggled like a worm on a hook. His stick was abandoned on the floor beneath him as he clawed at the man’s hands around his neck. Thin streaks of red were splattered across the snow – streaks of my blood. Luke’s eyes caught fire and his cheeks collapsed on themselves. His skin took on a silvery blue hue and I recognized the look of hunger that passed over his face.
His stomach growled loudly.
I lurched up, wiping snow from the side of my face and ignored the sting. “Put him down,” I ordered, injecting a hard bite of steel into my voice. His head whipped round and his face blazed with anger. I met his coldly defiant stare with my own. “I told you to put him down.” I kept voice level despite the flaring pain radiating down my body.
He didn’t understand. This wasn’t his battle and he had no right to lay a finger on my parent. He’d stepped over a line then taken a further step by daring to consider making my Da his next meal. I’d seen the tell-tale flicker across his expression, you see, the look that announced a human as food and fair game.
Blood tricked down my back and from the slash on my face. It ran onto my lips and I licked them thoughtlessly.
Luke watched me with cool detachment until my body’s rigid stance broke, and I swayed on the spot. He dropped my old man on his ass and caught me before I hit the floor. His arm connected with the lashes on my back, and
My Da held up his rosary so the silver cross was visible, swinging in front of his face. He mumbled his prayer and I caught the words ‘devil spawn’ and ‘fiery pit’.
I bit back a sigh. It would take weeks to build the trust back between us. Our relationship was dysfunctional and abusive at best. But he was my father, and my mother had loved him, and I had loved her. That was all that mattered to me. I would go and see him – without Luke – as soon as I could. Though I didn’t want him hurt by Luke’s hand, for now I didn’t want to look at him. I would feel the need to explain myself and I doubted he would understand why I should apologize to the man who had literally beaten me bloody. Usually I could predict when my Da was going to lash out and get out of the way, or shield my body with my arms, but today the force of his anger had taken me by surprise. I was still muddled from my encounter with Luke and the stark difference had been too much for my mind to process in time.
Just a few hours in this strangers company had made me weaker. I had begun to see myself as a woman rather than a monster to be controlled.
Posture radiating displeasure; Luke frowned down on him, inky eyes glittering with repressed anger. “You know what I am,” he said coldly. “You will not be here when I am done caring for her.” He paused. “I would not kill you, she seems not to want that, but I would make it so you couldn’t use your legs or arms again.” And that was all he had to say on the matter. He walked on silently, not looking back, expecting my Da to high tail it back the way he came.
A glance over Luke’s shoulder showed that was exactly what he was doing. Guilt for the old man had me stiffening. What if he was hurt? He had a dodgy knee and Luke hadn’t exactly dropped him with care. What if he had a heart attack halfway back his cabin, or fell over and froze to death in the snow because he was trying to get home and get safe?
Stomping up the front steps, Luke kicked my slightly ajar front door open and kicked it closed behind him. His rigid posture and stony face told me all I needed to know about his mood. Later, I would deal with my Da later. Luke needed my attention now. I placed my hand on his cheek, for the moment I felt cherished and protected. Loved. What a grand and comforting illusion it was.
He marched across the cabin straight over to the bed. The shock of what had happened wearing off I began to feel embarrassed, and used my hair as veil between him and me.
Luke was a stranger to me and would not be able to appreciate why I was the way I was with my Da. To him it would look like I’d let a human strike me when he had no right. Luke, like all Wendigo’s apart from myself, were Clan raised. Females were worshiped and exonerated above all. Striking one carried a death sentence, this I remembered as my mother carried guilt for a life taken in her honor. But he needed to understand that it was different for me.
I peeked up and saw his jaw was rigid with tension.
In honesty I was proud of and impressed by him. To show such restraint was a testament to how seriously he was taking his self appointed charge of me. It was ridiculous of course. I may have been more helpless as a human, but I was not a total invalid.
My Da and I had always had a rocky relationship and his physical blows were just a reflection of the torment he felt inside. He hit me because he had no other way to express the rage he felt for what I’d done. No matter how many years past she was never coming back and it was my fault. Of course he would lash out, what else could he do? Cuddle his monster daughter? Express love for the creature that flaunted the evil that had stolen his love from him?
Not that it was any of Luke’s damned business how I related to my father, but I still felt the need to explain.
“He didn’t mean it,” I said through my teeth. “He was upset.”
Luke threw me on the bed. I bounced once and winced before he brought his hands down on my shoulder and leg to stop me leaving the mattress again. His hand clasped my chin and his thumb brushed the skin under my cut.
“I don’t think it will scar,” he murmured, ignoring me completely.
I tugged my head from his grasp. “The next time I shift the wounds will be gone. I can manage taking it easy for a month or so.”
Saying nothing in response he flipped me round and pushed my jumper high up on my back. He ran a finger over the lower gash and I squirmed, the sting mildly uncomfortable. His finger trailed down to dip into the cleft in my lower back and stopped there. I wiggled and was besieged by the feel of his thighs pressed into the bed beside mine. He shifted, leaned back, and kissed the scratch on my thigh before flipping me back round, ignoring me when I winced. The bed gave under his heavy weight as he settled properly on the bed beside me.
“Your next shift won’t happen tonight?” He sounded confused, not angry. “The moon is still full.”
Leaning up on my elbows, I shook my hair so it fell over my shoulders and streamed down my back.
“I know that,’ I replied shortly. “I’ve already taken a life – one a month that is my limit. No more. Lashes heal but you can’t bring the dead back to life. I’m not stupid; I know sometimes you have to kill to stay safe, hiding is a part of who we are, but those who look for trouble deserve to find it. It’s taking the life of innocence I have a problem with.’” I sucked in a deep breath and felt a twinge in my back. I exhaled sharply. “Would you get me a glass of water?”
Again, he said nothing in response to my comments on shifting as he stood and crossed the wooden planks to the small kitchenette on the opposite side of the cabin. My home felt smaller with him in it. He was so big and dominated the space he occupied. I watched the play of muscle across his back that tapered down into lean hips and firm buttocks that bounced nicely. His thighs were thick and roped with muscle and his calves were huge. He even had nice feet. The Algonquian people had beautiful skin tone, but his was incredible, enhanced by the sun whereas my own often looked ashy when I’d been in the heat of the sun’s rays for too long. Similarly, his skin tone was not warm, but cool. It was an odd effect on the eye that one could pass off as a ray of light landing funny on his body. His hair curled about the nape of his thick neck, around his ears, and shifted slightly with each step.
He opened all the cupboards until he found a tumbler and turned the faucet. I was fascinated. Each movement he made was bold and confident, even something as simple as fetching a glass of water. He held himself with a poise and grace I’d often glimpsed in myself when I’d managed to abstain for a month.
I made a noise low in my throat when he turned. The front was better than the back. His chest just went on and on, as did his torso. Some men had a stumpy midriff and long legs to make up the height, but he was proportioned beautifully. Liquid gushed between my legs and the blush in my cheeks was a dead giveaway to the level he affected me. His abdominal ridges were like canyons and the thick bands of muscles that connected his hip to his awe inspiring groin had me thinking of how he’d made me come just by touching me. The idea of him deep inside me, thrusting into me as I sucked on his long tongue would be….
He offered the water to me, dark eyes glinting. His nostrils flared when he came a step closer and his face took on a look of arrogant pride. I pressed my knees together, well aware that my body was still going haywire, and snatched the perspiring glass from him.
“Put some clothes on,” I snapped. “I’m sick at the sight of you.”
He snorted and scooped up the abandoned tee shirt from before. It fit. Kind of. Then his chest heaved in a sigh as he stepped into the knee-length plaid kilt. The wool garment was pleated at the front and dark green. He jerked and pulled an inch long pin out from the front, eyed it curiously. He slanted a look at me but I averted my gaze, suddenly finding the bedspread fascinating. When I looked back he clutched the ends of the kilt in both hands
My irritation instantly became humor, and I hid a smile by swallowing gulps of water.
I wouldn’t talk to him about what had happened with my Da. He could push all he wanted, but I would not say a word. Already he was too close, too involved. I would keep him at arm’s length because it would hurt too much when the end came. I had to be honest with myself. Luke would never choose to stay here in the middle of nowhere with me – half starving himself to minimize the loss of human life. It didn’t make sense, and life was never that fair.
But then he couldn’t be allowed to leave either. Simply hoping he would never return to his Clan and tell them what he’d found was too risky. Information on the whereabouts of a female Wendigo at breeding age would be priceless. He was an outcast, separated from his kind, and no doubt would want to go back to that world and all its comforts and security.
Then there were the ones that hunted him.
Luke’s days were numbered. He just hadn’t realized it yet.
Chapter 5
Luke
Slipping off the bed she thrust the empty glass into my hand. I narrowed my eyes at her and watched as she lithely walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of blue jeans. She caught my eye and flushed the sexiest shade of pink before turning her back to put them on. In a flash the denim hugged her legs and cradled her ass lovingly. She bent over and wiggled her feet into a pair of well-worn boots and I audibly groaned. She would kill me.
I didn’t understand what was going on entirely. I only had a snippet of the story, but whatever it was it was not good. Evangeline had let that old man beat on her and make her feel less than she was. Just looking at her you could see she’d lost some of her sparkle.
My Wendigo growled inside me and I mimicked the sound in my throat. I should’ve ripped his head off his shoulders, but I’d hesitated, seeing how she’d reacted toward him.