Harvest Hunting (32 page)

That’s not me anymore,
I thought.
I left her behind a long time ago, but I’ve been carrying her baggage.
Memories of childhood—of taunts and feeling inferior—passed by, screaming
Windwalker! Windwalker!
at me. The ring of children trying to goad me into shifting into Tabby, the snide looks of our relatives . . .

You are no longer the frightened little girl. You are a strong, capable woman.
The rich, velvet voice washed over me, and I knew he spoke the truth.

Smiling, I pushed the memories aside like cobwebs. They were meaningless now. I’d conquered my childhood shyness.

As soon as I let go of that fear, the haunting visions of the werespiders, of Karvanak, of the demons crowded in. But I knew I could hold my own in a fight. As frightening as the creatures were, I knew I could face them and win—or at least take them down with me. I could stand up for myself; I didn’t need anyone else to fight my battles for me. This time, I chased them from my heart without coaxing, ordering them to depart.

Suddenly, the room was silent—the sound of scuttling feet gone—and a sliver of brilliance broke through the darkness, filling the dim corners of my heart as the inky void fell away.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. The room was lit, and there was nothing to be seen except an empty chamber with a bright light shimmering through it, and I was sitting on a bench in the center. As I let out my breath, I looked down and gasped. The tattoos on my arms had changed. The black shadow was more vivid, and the hints of burnished copper and rust shone within the leaves. My marks were growing stronger, and I guessed with every lesson, the tattoos would darken. Proud that I’d passed, content that I’d faced down the challenge and won, I glanced up to see a glimpse of a shadow in the corner.

“Delilah?” The voice echoed out of the shadows.

I know you. You have been with me before.
“You’re not Hi’ran, but you bear his energy. You’ve come to me several times now. Let me see who you are.” My pulse began to race, and my heart leapt into my throat. I needed to find out just who he was. I needed to meet him. There was something so familiar, and yet . . . so alien.

And then he stepped out of the corner of the room. His lips were the first feature I noticed. They curled into a bow, into the most delicate of smiles. I could tell he was a moment away from laughing, and that made the serene smile seem all the more intriguing. I stepped back, my gaze locked with his.

No . . . not Hi’ran. And yet—the autumn was there, in his aura, in his energy. I could see it, feel it, practically taste it, like candy corn and caramel apples and pot roast and pumpkin soup.

“
I know you
. . .” I whispered.

The man was tall, but not more than an inch taller than myself. He was muscled, from what I could tell, with a V waist and broad shoulders. His heritage and warm toffee skin suggested that he might be half-Japanese, half-black, but that in itself was impossible to tell, because I had no idea if he was human or not. Definitely not an FBH, though, because he emanated energy like a lighthouse.

His eyes were liquid—like glossy obsidian or flowing ink. They glowed, shimmering with a dappling of stars. A craggy set of scars marked one cheek and his forehead, but rather than mar his looks, they added to them. His hair was the color of honey, amber, and wheat, all streaked together in a shimmering array of high and low lights, and he wore it back in a ponytail.

“You are so beautiful,” I whispered, not caring if he heard me. He was the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid eyes on, scars and all.

He laughed then, and slid off the brown leather coat that hit him mid-calf. Beneath the rich-toned coat he was dressed in a pair of brown cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and around his neck, he wore a pendant of smoky rutilated quartz. He had on motorcycle boots, but there was something . . . and then I noticed.

Frost trickled off the heels.
Frost, like the frost of Hi’ran’s boots. And when the man gazed up at me, I caught a whiff of bonfires, of smoke, of the early tang of autumn hoarfrost.

Automatically, without a second thought, I stepped in front of him, Hi’ran’s words ringing in my head.
“Keep your eyes open, my sweet. Keep your mind open. Remember the curve of my lips, the scent of old leather and autumn carnivals, the frost that lingers on my breath. Listen for the song your Mark sings when I’m near.”

“You can’t . . . Could you be . . . ?” But I got no further, for the mark on my forehead started to sing, to play me one chord at a time, as the man reached out to take my hands. Awash in the current of flame that raced between us, I moved toward him, and he held out his arms.

“How . . . ? Who . . . ?”

“Shush . . . let it be what it is, Delilah. He’s my Master, too. And we’re both his chosen.” He pulled me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As I gazed into his eyes, I could see the ages long past, the eons gone by for this man—whoever and whatever he might be. I wanted to snuggle deep into his arms and rest, safe from the storms of my life.

He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. As his lips sought mine, I was able to think clearly enough just to ask, “What’s your name?”

His hands wandering along my thigh, his gaze fastened on my face, he whispered, “Shade. Just call me Shade.” And then his lips found mine, and everything in the world slid away except the power of his kiss.

I have no idea how long I stood there, kissing him, pressed against his chest and listening to his heart beat as hard as my own, but after what seemed like forever, his hands began to move, and they slid under my shirt, touching my flesh, and I recognized his touch. He’d kissed me before in shadow form, and I wanted more. I knew, in my heart, with him I could have what I never could have with Hi’ran. With Shade, I could have what I couldn’t find with Chase or with Zachary. Shade’s energy enveloped me like the haunting strains of a distant waltz, like a storm battering at my senses.

Pulling him down to the bench, I frantically began sliding his turtleneck up to reveal his chest—toned and strong, but also covered with the scars of time. He pulled the shirt off and, eyes luminous, gazed into my face.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Now, I want you now. I know you, I know you . . .” I could only repeat over and over the thoughts running through my head as I struggled to remove my clothing. He helped, sliding my shirt off as I struggled out of my jeans. I needed him, needed to quench my thirst, needed to be touched, to be loved, to be taken and thoroughly sated in a way I’d never felt before.

Shade said nothing more, but slipped off his boots and his pants. He was golden in his color, reminding me of warm sugar toffee, of a vanilla latte, and I slid my hands down his sides, running them shamelessly around to cup his butt. His muscles were oh, so firm, and he was ready, so ready for me. I wanted to taste him, looked at his cock with hunger, but my fangs reminded me of failed attempts before. My heritage had given me non-retractable fangs, just enough to hurt someone if I made a wrong move.

However, Shade seemed to pick up on my desire. “It’s all right. If you want to, I would love it—you can’t hurt me as easily as you can a human. Trust me,” he whispered.

It was my turn to ask, “Are you sure?”

He nodded, and I knelt in front of him, cautiously licking his erection, the tip of my tongue running up its length to tickle the head. One fang caught a bit of the flesh, but he didn’t even wince, and, emboldened, I gave a long, coiling lick around the head of his penis, pressing my lips to the top. I couldn’t fully take him in my mouth—it would leave fang marks all the way down—but I sucked lightly with my lips, pursing them around him, enjoying the feel and light, salty taste of him on my tongue.

He moaned and motioned me up. I slid up his body, pressing my breasts against his skin as I did so, feeling his cock press against my groin and stomach.

Shade laid me on the bench and leaned over me, taking one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking, as his fingers trailed down my abs, down to my thatch, where he slid them inside me, kissing me deeply as he did so. His tongue caught on my fangs, but he gently moved it away and continued to probe my mouth, even as he fingered me into a sudden, jolting orgasm that I wasn’t ready for. Spiraling, I let out a cry, sharp and jagged, as he moved between my legs and slowly, inch by inch, slid inside me.

Shade was wide and hard, and I felt every inch of him as he entered me. He set up a delicious movement, the friction driving me crazy as he matched his rhythm to mine, and then thought fell away as I looked into his eyes and spun out of control, falling over the cliff into a bliss I’d never felt before. My panther and Tabby both were sailing with me, and for the very first time, all of my selves responded as Shade tore me outside of myself, filled me full with sparkling joy, and set me free from any lingering doubts I had about myself as a woman.

 

 

Some time later—I have no idea how long—he reluctantly broke away. “You must return home now,” he said, kissing my neck gently. “I don’t want you to go, but you can’t remain in Haseofon for too long while you are still in body. I can come and go as I please, because of my nature, but you must return to your bed.” He cocked his head in a peculiar way that made me want to laugh.

“I thought I was here in spirit.”

“No, my dear, your body is here, too, in a way. It has been since you entered this chamber. You are bilocating, in two places at once. It’s difficult to maintain, though, and the thread is wearing thin.”

“But . . . will I see you again?” I couldn’t bear to walk away. Not now, not after I’d just found him. A piece of me had broken away during our lovemaking, and it was with him. And I held a piece of his heart in my own.

“I promise you, my love, I will meet you soon in your world. Keep watch for me.” He helped me dress, stopping to kiss me time and again.

My head fuzzy from the rush of emotion and desire, I stared into his eyes. He was different—oh, so different—from both Chase and Zachary. Shade met my eyes, calm, cool, unwavering. And in his gaze, I saw no backpedaling, no hesitation. And in that moment, I understood.

“You are the
one
. . . he will use you to . . .”

“Hush, go now.” He pressed his fingers to my lips, and I pressed my nose to his neck, inhaling deeply the scents of pumpkins and apples and spiced rum and woodsmoke.

Our roots ran deep into the same core. Beyond Were and—whatever Shade was—we were bound by the same master, by the same Elemental Lord. We walked the same energy, we understood the thrill of the flame and the pungent odor of freshly tilled harvest soil.

“I choose . . . to take the chance,” I whispered. “Come to me soon.”

“I will. Until then . . .” He pressed a box into my hand. “This is to remember me by.”

I blinked, trying to hold my eyes open, but the room began to spin, and he vanished before I could say another word. I started to look at what he’d given me, but Greta was suddenly at my side, lowering me to the bench. She leaned down and breathed a kiss into my mouth, and everything began to fade. I struggled, not wanting to leave yet, but then I let go and surrendered my will. To her, to Shade, to Hi’ran. To my destiny.

 

 

“Delilah? Delilah, wake up.” Iris shook me awake, and I blinked against the light flooding from the overhead fixture on the ceiling.

I struggled awake, wiping my hand across my eyes. “Is it . . . seven o’clock already?”

“Seven thirty. I let you sleep a little longer. Both you and Camille needed it. You were dead to the world when I tried to wake you up half an hour ago. Now, come on, get dressed.”

I scrambled out of bed, wondering how much of the dream had been real and how much had been wish fulfillment. As I finished fastening my bra and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, Iris made my bed for me.

After a moment, she said, “Delilah—what’s this?”

I turned to see she was holding . . .
the box Shade had given me
. No, not a dream at all. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. Open it, would you?”

She did, gasping as she flipped the top open. “Look,” she said hoarsely.

I finished tucking in my shirt and fed a leather belt through the loops on my jeans, buckling it as I walked back to the bed. The box contained a ring. It was gold, with a faceted smoky quartz. I slowly took the ring out of the box and rested the intricately etched band in the palm of my hand.