Heroes In Uniform (290 page)

He drew his dagger and mounted the bed, swiftly straddling her hips. His hand clamped over her mouth.

Her eyes flew open. Her scream, unable to escape, died in her throat. Deliberately, he lowered the knife to the neckline of her nightgown. Her breasts heaved against the fabric, her eyes shone wild above his hand.

Suddenly, recognition lit them with cautious relief as she searched behind the spirit markings for the man she knew. He leaned his face directly above hers. Thick, obsidian-black tendrils of his hair grazed her translucent cheek. He felt her fists slowly relax and he lifted his hand from her panting mouth. Her fingers uncoiled, the soft pads of her fingertips resting tentatively on the bunched muscles of his shoulders. He gazed intently into her eyes, until her fear ebbed gradually into desire. Under him, her warm body yielded.

Swallowing, he lowered his gaze to her gown. Tracing down the front of her gown with the blade of his razor-sharp dagger, he sliced off each tiny button as he went. As each one popped from its mooring, her body gave an almost imperceptible start. He pulled the parted bodice from her breasts. With his blackened fingers, he drew four long, parallel lines from her neck down her chest, ending at the tips of her breasts.

Marking her as his.

Her eyes squeezed shut. With thumb and forefinger, he grasped a nipple and gently rolled it until it hardened. She gasped, and arched her body under him, throwing back her head. Slowly, her eyes opened and her gaze fastened on him.

Reaching down, he pulled up her nightgown and slit the bottom part open, exposing the full length of her shivering body.

He sat up, rising to his knees, holding the dagger in his hand, devouring the sight of her. A low guttural sound rumbled deep in his chest. He heard the catch of breath in her throat, and then a whisper of a sigh. She gazed trustingly up at him. Pausing briefly to touch her heart, her hands then sank limply to the bed.

At that moment, Blue Wolf knew this woman was his. That she longed for him to fulfill his purpose there.

His hand tightened around the bone-handled dagger and he lifted it high in the air. Deftly, he flipped it, catching the blade between his fingers. Then he offered her the knife, handle first.

Confused, her eyes sought his. Wordlessly, he compelled her to take the dagger. Accepting it tentatively, her hand trembled. Her gaze dropped to his blatant arousal straining against the soft leather of his loincloth. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He watched the point of the dagger slip under the leather strap holding his loincloth...and sever it. A tiny rivulet of blood ran down his hip onto his thigh.

Wedging a knee between her knees, he lowered his slick nakedness down over her. Hungrily, he sought her mouth. He growled when her lips parted to admit his eager tongue. He thrust it deep into her. Lathing her, consuming her, marking her with the taste of him. Barely aware of the dagger falling to the floor.

His hands caressed her body as he kissed her, kneading, stroking, driving her wild. Finally he could wait no longer.

“Spread your legs for me, little pup. Spread them wide, for tonight I want to fill you and not come out till we have both heard the thunder.”

Her arms slid around his neck and her legs parted to receive him, bending and lifting high onto his back. His long, thick cock stood firm, like the fire-hardened shaft of a spear, ready for the thrust, poised to pierce her to the core of her being.

“You have laid down for me,” he said. “Now, pretty woman, you will give up to me.”

And he plunged into her.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-Five

With a shiver, Maggie rose from her bed, stretched, and yawned, looking out over the awakening wilderness. She sniffed, smelling an unfamiliar scent in the air. Or was it on her skin?

Before she could decide, the lake behind Cooper's camp snagged her attention. Or rather, a rippling wake that glittered like a jeweler's display case in the early morning sunlight as it slowly spread across the water.

The telescope next to her elbow reeled her in like a minnow on a line. She couldn't resist watching Cooper swim again this morning. He was too beautiful.

In the bright light of a new day, her inexplicable encounter with him last night took on the aura of smoky illusion. She must have imagined the helpless feeling of him invading her innermost thoughts, taking over her mind. He’d called it smoking her. But such things were not possible. Hypnotism? Maybe. But her money was on it being some kind of stress-induced hallucination.

She gazed down at him swimming through the water. He might be dangerous to her heart and well-being, but his body was certainly a work of art, fashioned by the hand of God himself.

She made her morning coffee, still following his movements through the telescope as he stroked across the lake, his hair streaming behind him like a dark cloud. His powerful arms reached out, first to the right, then to the left, as if to catch an invisible fleeing victim.

She was mesmerized.

He stopped to tread water, dipping his head backward and bringing it back up. The sun behind him turned the water that streamed down his face and hair to molten quicksilver.

“
Mmmm
,” she murmured in approval. Her breath caught as he rose up from the surface with a splash. Through the telescope, she could see goose flesh appear on the vast planes of his sculpted chest. His nipples were hard and dark on an upper body as sleek and smooth as a bronze statue.

He started walking slowly toward shore, his naked body emerging gradually from the water. On his hip was a small cut, which his hand brushed at unconsciously. She moved the scope’s focus down his torso, to the arrow of shadow that appeared in the water below his tapered waist. She sent up a silent prayer the statue wasn't wearing a fig leaf.

“Come on, cowboy, don't wimp out on me now,” she whispered into the scope. “Come to Mama.”

Her coffee mug crashed to the floor, splintering in a thousand pieces as her fondest wishes were answered.

“Oh. My. God.”

Her body reacted to the sight of his powerful virility with a shock of raw desire that shot from her breasts down to her aching center. “Oh, baby,” she groaned. “What you do to me.”

She took a step back, aghast with herself, and landed right in the puddle of coffee and sharp, broken porcelain. “
Ow!
”

By the time she had shaken the shards off her foot and resumed her spying, he had reached the shore and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“
Damn
,” she murmured as he ducked under the flap of his tent and disappeared.

Deserting the telescope, she checked her foot for slivers, then hunted through her dresser for something clean to wear. She really would have to do laundry soon. As she pulled out her last pair of clean panties, she scolded herself about her obsession with Blue Wolf Cooper.

What was it about the man that made her forget all the reasons she needed to avoid him, and simply want to fall into the man's arms?

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-Six

Coop launched his towel out of the tent like a missile, where it exploded in a cloud of dust and pine needles.

He winced.
Really?
That kind of childish behavior would get him nowhere.

He had hoped the long, arduous session of swimming laps across the lake would erase the effects, both physical and mental, of last night's dreams.

It hadn't.

He had only to relax his mind just a bit, and the images flooded back. Visions of things he was mortified had originated in his own head. The violence of his erotic dreams disturbed him. He could only attribute the power of the sexual fantasies to the strength of his frustrations over the case.

He hadn't had a night like that since...since never. Holy fucking hell, he'd never even
done
some of the things he had dreamed he did with the woman in the tower.

With Maggie
.

So much for his brilliant idea of asking the Owner for help with the poachers.

Jesus
. He reached up and yanked his leather pouch from its place above his sleeping bag.
Taawpwaataakan, indeed.

Bullshit
.

Dreaming of making love to a woman was supposed to mean success in hunting caribou. His grandfather always said that caribou love to be killed, coming to the hunter's arrow like a bride to her new husband. Well, if Coop's dreams were any indication, he'd be killing a whole damned herd of caribou.

And as far as he knew, there wasn't a caribou within a thousand miles of the Trinity.

Shit
. Admit it. This was yet another in his long string of failures in the mystical realm of the old ways. Last night, he’d merely had an amazing series of vivid—and somewhat embarrassing, for a man of his age—sexually explicit dreams.

He squirmed in frustration.
Damn, he was horny
. This was ridiculous. After a night like last night, he should be totally spent. If anything, the opposite was true. The dreams had only served to focus and magnify the deep, very real attraction he felt for Maggie Johansen. An attraction he wished like hell would just go away.

But this morning, he could think of nothing else.

He had to see her
.

He didn’t know if he could look her in the eye, but he had to see her, right now, or go crazy.

He glared down at his unrelenting woody and muttered an oath as he pulled on his boxer briefs. He reached for jeans and a T-shirt, and yanked them on. As usual, he sat in the opening of his tent and combed his wet hair.

Glaring up at the tower and shifting in supreme discomfort, he watched for those weird flashes of light. He had seen them again today while he was swimming, but now they'd disappeared.

Taking ten deep breaths, he let each one out slowly in an attempt to get his rebellious body back under control. There was much more at stake here than his raging libido.

Luckily, all he would need to lose these feelings of desire was to talk to the woman. After five minutes, he would undoubtedly be so angry with her that he’d forget all about the hot, silky feel of her inner thighs, the warm, womanly scent of her breasts, the sultry, honeyed taste of her secret places...

He groaned, and fell back on his sleeping bag, staring up at the roof of the tent in agony.

Finally, he picked up the leather pouch he had tossed aside. Sitting up, he opened it and carefully poured the contents onto his sleeping bag. He sifted through the objects until he found what he was looking for—a thin leather necklace with a bear claw suspended from it. His cousin Bernie had given him the charm one summer many years ago. The claw was from the first bear Bernie had ever killed. There was great strength in the necklace.

Coop slipped it over his head and arranged the claw under his T-shirt, next to his skin.

Strength was just what he needed today.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-Seven

Maggie's skin felt wonderfully smooth, but it had a strange, clinging scent. She had no clue what it was, but something about it reminded her of last night’s dreams.

It was the weirdest thing.

Cooper had haunted her again last night. All night.
Of course
.

Thankfully, she had been herself in the dreams this time, not a caribou or another animal. But that didn’t mean the dreams were normal. Hell, no.

Dressed as the same warrior as the night before, Blue Wolf had tracked her endlessly through the forest, following her every move, never catching up but always right behind her.

All at once, she saw a bear standing in a meadow, beckoning her.

Unafraid, she ran to it, and the huge bear embraced her in a paternal hug.

Just when she thought she was safe from the warrior, it picked her up in its great, furry arms and offered her over to the man. “Give yourself up to him, little pup,” the bear said as Blue Wolf accepted her. “He needs you.”

She clutched at the bear's fur, fighting to stay in its safe embrace, but the warrior was stronger. He gathered her up, pulling her tight against his chest. The bear lumbered gracefully away.

Blue Wolf looked down into her eyes. “Accept it. It is done.” He held her fast as she struggled to escape. “The Owner has joined us.”

She did not like the sound of that. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say a word, the strident ringing of the alarm clock had shocked her awake.

For a few moments, she had lain in bed trying to shake off the creepy feeling.

Damn
. Her dreams were getting
way
too weird. Especially when they left her smelling like bears, or warriors, or something dark and unfamiliar...

She pulled the furniture away from the door and put it all back where it belonged. Paranoia strikes again? Maybe.

She went down to take a shower. Even a second lather couldn't get the peculiar, gamey smell off. So weird. She got dressed in her forest-green uniform pants and a man's muscle shirt, and headed for the tower stairs.

And ran smack into Cooper.

He was casually sprawled on the steps, six feet up.

She gasped. “Damn it, Wolf! You scared the hell out of me!”

She gripped the rail for support, panicking at the sight of him on the stairs above her. Then she frowned, and looked down into the completely exposed interior of the shower.

She ground her teeth. “How long have you been sitting there?”

A smile crept to his lips. “Not long enough.” He surveyed her slowly from head to toe. “Not
nearly
long enough.” His eyes rested hungrily on her breasts, exposed by the nearly translucent undershirt.

She threw her wet towel in his face. “Your mama named you well,” she snapped.

An evil laugh wafted out from behind the towel. “I'll admit, I’m no saint,” he said, peeling it off. “Damn, woman. I've never seen a Forest Service uniform quite like that before. Hope to hell it catches on.”