His alpha female counterpart was lying beside him. They mated for life. Slater hadn’t notice her immediately until she had reached up with her long pink tongue to lick his ear. She blended into the snowy surroundings. She was his opposite with pure white fur. She had matching identical deadly fangs and probably the same determination and the same sadistic need for blood and power---a well-matched mate.
The black devil didn’t look like he was ready to cut and run. That would have been cowardly and Slater didn’t think that would be acceptable to this wild carnivore. He stood still and silent, seeming to majestically be waiting for something as he stood guard at the top of his icy mini peak.
CHAPTER 8
Slater eyed Swan warily as she struggled to come to a sitting position. He watched as what seemed like an exhausted effort push a strand of wayward heavy mane from her furrowed brow. She looked so lost and helpless that something stirred in the middle of his gut that he chose not to identify. He was unusually tense when softly she called out to him. It took him by surprise when he realized that was his great white hope and that all he wanted to do was hold her, comfort her, and chase away her demons. He was more than a little concerned that she might still consider him one of those diabolical monsters that she seemed to be fighting both asleep and awake throughout the night. That was not going to happen again!
Slater had always been an exceptionally good lover. Rarely, if ever, did he have to wait for any signal from the opposite sex. He didn’t brag about it--that was just the way it was. Females were always stud friendly. Never had his actions ever been rebuffed! This was a totally new and surprising experience. He always relied on his swarthy good looks with olive skin, coal black hair, Roman nose, high cheek bones, sky blue eyes, and “devil may care attitude” that except for his baby blues, all gave testimony to his American Apache heritage. All he needed to do was turn on the charm and flash his toothy white smile that produced dimples on both sides of his mouth and he immediately had more than his share of feminine partners.
It mattered not to Swan that Slater was handsome and gorgeous as she could only touch and feel. Obviously, she was not impressed with his “bear like” activity of the night before wrestling match. He realized that a little more finesse was probably required in this situation. Let’s face it---a LOT more finesse was probably required.
Adjusting to the situation and changing tactics, Slater cleared his throat, signifying his presence, but unsure of what to say next, which was rare in itself. So, he ran his forefinger over his sexy lips thinking and waiting as he had often had to do when situations called for it.
Slater was not a stranger to waiting and evaluating a problem. He had often had to do just that when he was under difficult circumstances in enemy territory with his commando unit. His buddies called him Ace for two reasons: he always delivered the enemy and he always scored with the ladies. Hoping that Swan would make the first move, he waited.
Swan had a miserable night. She’d had visions of dreadful monsters that haunted and chased her from the past. They had insisted on intruding and producing a mini-nightmare. Her eyes were red and swollen from a night of sobbing combined with the terrifying situation of the plane crash, blindness, and a strange man that brought conflicting emotions. It was a lot for her mind to cope and comprehend.
Slater prayed that more tears were not forthcoming. As luck would have it, Swan reached out to him. His heart did a little leap of anticipation. He had to remind himself that this was not a signal for him to “jump her bones”, but merely a need for some security from another human being. Her tiny pink tongue flicked over her luscious lips. Sloan stifled a moan.
“I need you,” she whispered.
A second invitation did not need to be issued. Slater was at her side in a flash. He reminded himself that her key word was “need” not “want”. He felt exonerated and if he really evaluated the situation, he also felt contrite and a little relieved.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. Where did that come from? He’d rarely, if ever, said those words in his entire lifetime. “Watch it, Tiger, you’ll soon find yourself falling for gorgeous Red.”---an ignored inner voice injected as another voice replied, “Too late.”
CHAPTER 9
By evening, Swan and Slater had fallen into a quiet companionship and unbeknown to Swan a micro-courtship had also begun to take place. All this holding, light touching, and soothing quiet talk was uncharacteristic for Slater. For him, it was unchartered territory. Not really a sacrifice as he was finding out, but since he was a bit of a louse, he hoped that it would help gain him the advantage for his ultimate goal of something that he wanted--- and no doubt about it, he wanted Swan.
Slater always liked his tumbles lusty and spontaneous. There never was a need for a plan. But, he knew that a change of tactics was needed “big time” if he were to have this woman and he would have her. However, over the course of almost a week, Swan was becoming more than “just” a woman to him than he was willing to admit even to his subconscious. Helplessness combined with a woman’s dependency was new on his radar, raising raw protective emotions that had never surfaced before in his entire thirty-three years of life. It was a new and conflicting experience that he wasn’t about to take time to dwell upon at this moment.
Swan had been lost in her thoughts thinking about her reaction to Slater the night before with his aggressive tactics of a fully aroused male. She was not terribly surprised that she had reacted with such hysterics from such a forceful man as a distant memory had jumped up from the past, intruded, and did a repeat preview of an awful scenario from long ago. She wanted to get over it. She needed to get over it.
“Are you a patient lover?”
Slater froze, hoping this was an indication that things were gaining momentum in his favor. At that moment he would have said, “Yes” to any required positive answer.
Swan’s red hair fanned around her face like a halo. It blended into the fox fur making it difficult to distinguish between the wild and the domesticated, much like the white mate of the dark devil outside. In his haze, the analogy was lost totally on Slater as well as the increased howling that had begun to escalate into the wintry night. It should have alerted him to the danger that was taking place outside the cozy one room motel; however, because of the drama unfolding inside, Swan and Slater were completely oblivious to the drama unfolding outside.
“Make love to me.” Huh? Slater couldn’t believe his ears. “Just be patient,” she said so softly that Slater had lean closely to those luscious lips to hear the quiet words.
“Babe,” he pulled her against his muscular chest, “we have all the time in the world.”
Slowly, Slater tipped Swan’s rose colored lips to his. He was exhilarated that she was letting him taste her. They were every bit as good as they looked. Reaching under the fox fur for the warmth of male and female, his hand hovered over her breasts letting her anticipate the pleasure that was to come. One finger slowly lowered and began to circle her right nipple. He continued this assault back and forth between her two breasts before he got the response that he wanted. Then he proceeded to introduce Swan into the addiction of worldly love in the cozy cooler of the severed 707 tail. He persisted with his slow dance of making love for the rest of the night. He was indeed a patient lover. It wasn’t long before his coaxing and coaching urged Swan to become an active participate. By morning, their lusty lovemaking had escalated to steamy and sizzling as it threatened to melt their icy igloo and turn their temporary tin tent to mush.
CHAPTER 10
Slater was a happy camper. He smiled down at his surprisingly passionate Red that had given to him the most precious gift that any woman could give. That pleased him. It was quite obvious that he had pleased her as well. More emotions were jumping around inside him than had ever surfaced in his lifetime. Fortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell and evaluate what he was feeling.
The sense of eminent danger made Slater’s adrenaline jump to full throttle as his
body jerked and he suddenly took a giant leap to the hole in the window of their makeshift shelter. He scanned the frozen tundra frowning. It was mid-afternoon--a dark and gloomy day. What he saw outside on the snowy landscape made him more than a little exasperated with himself for underestimating his satanic enemy of the timber wolf.
While Slater was making love and glorifying in his expertise as the great Romeo, the situation outside had exacerbated to a high level of extreme danger---the black devil had called in his troops much like the great General Patton. His strategy plan was almost human in his execution.
“Son of a bitch!” Slater estimated the wild troops to be approximately fifteen in number. They were surrounded. Each canine predator was closing the circle and was intent on devouring the prey inside the igloo. They reminded Slater of Zulu warriors, not particularly in a big hurry, but enjoying the thrill of making their intended victims squirm and anticipate their death as they knew their quarry wasn’t going anywhere. Their tactics also made it easier to catch a running prey, not that Slater had any intention of trying to out run an animal capable of the top speed of 40mph.
Black Satan sat on tense hunches with his deadly mate mystically at the top of the embankment and appeared to be orchestrating the entire attack. Slater swore as he was given only a few seconds to prepare for war. Fortunately, those precious seconds were valuable and productive. He checked the security of the opening, which he suspected might be the most solid attack. He placed a stick with a hot ember on one end in Swan’s right hand, and grabbed his makeshift knife before the first wolf came charging through the small window entrance as if a decision had been made that this was the weakest point. His advantage was that they could come only one at a time through the small open port. If any got through before he was able to kill each first in line, he would be at a decided disadvantage.
The entire wolf attack lasted almost a full ten minutes as six vicious carnivores tried to enter the makeshift igloo. By the time it was over, four bloody timber wolves lay scattered lifelessly on the icy terrain and two others had retreated to lick their wounds. Slater had not survived the attack unscathed either as more than one fang had made contact with his forearms. The wounds were not life threatening, but none-the-less needed attention and hurt like hell.
Quickly wrapping each arm with makeshift bandages and with the help of Swan, Slater prepared for another attack. A large fire below the broken window was of the utmost priority. Now that the Canes lupus had drawn the blood of their opponent, they would be back to try to finish the job. The smell of blood and injured prey would excite the warrior wolves even more and regrouping would not take long. He only hoped that he was up to the task of defending his small fort one more time or as many times as it took to discourage the savage beasts.
CHAPTER 11
Bear and Dog had been scouting each crevice of the Colorado Rockies snow covered mountains for almost a week. It looked like one big glacier down there. They were not new to this painstaking procedure. They were experienced and well-seasoned troopers who had seen war in almost every zone and in the most demanding of climates in the world. They were good at what they did. They knew that if anyone could survive the jet disaster, it would be Ace. That possibility was becoming leaner every day. They, however, would not be satisfied until they saw his final parts in a black body bag.
Another big storm was headed their way. Big dark ominous clouds were hovering in the distance. Time was running out. If the wreckage of the 707 were not discovered today or tomorrow, it was liable to be buried so deep in lethal snow that any hope of discovery would be camouflaged until spring over six months away.
Barrett gripped the chopper’s steering and continued to zigzag over the frozen earth below. Barrett was nicknamed Bear because he looked like one--big, burly, and ferocious if the situation called for it, which in his previous business had been often. He was now a family man that made small private jets and helicopters for our American government. He liked married life. Why wouldn’t he? He was married to a beautiful, tall, long leggy actress with skin the color of coffee and cream, which was why she went by the name, Mahogany.
Mahogany was “Magdalena” on one of the national soap operas. She got the job when a director noticed her as she was performing for the USA troops at Christmas in Baghdad. That was Bear’s first encounter with his future wife. He immediately decided that she was going to be the one for him. She had the look of royalty with her fine features and exotic, slightly slanted, gray blue eyes--fit for a sultan just like him he decided.
Mahogany and Bear complimented each other and their courtship was very short. Although they had two preschool children, Lilly and Magnolia, who each had inherited the same tendency of their mother to become great beauties, she continued to work for the pure joy of entertaining. Bear understood that need and approved of her desire to be an active working woman; however, their growing family and each other were their top priority. Fortunately, the flexibility of their chosen professions gave them the opportunity to devote their time to both married life and the complexity of being a family.
Dog was named for his tenacious ability to sniff out the enemy and attack before they knew what had happened. He now worked for the government as a private secret agent. Dog had his own computer company. He had accounts all over the world. It made it easy for him to melt in and out of countries when the job required it. He enjoyed the undercover work. He never revealed his real name.
Dog had a variety of mistresses in several well-traveled countries. He was quite capable of satisfying each in spite of the demands of his business that needed his constant expertise. All women were thrilled to welcome his attentions no matter how frequently or infrequently were his visits. Three of his mistresses had his children, a total of five in all--three boys and two girls. They were each well provided for financially with homes that had spectacular views, swimming pools, and tasteful, but homey, decor. They were strategically placed in locations of the world to provide the necessary private retreat and security. It was a life that satisfied him without any feeling of regret. He needed the freedom. It was also important that any paper work did not point directly to family ties that might endanger his offspring or special moms.
Bear and Dog had worked with their buddy, Ace, on numerous occasions and under many complex circumstances. Each man would gladly lay down their life for the other and on more than one hot conflict; they had all had to prove that theory. They remained brothers in body and soul. Their Rambo days were over except for an occasional secret assignment that required the expertise of seasoned veterans. They were always more than happy to jump at the chance for camaraderie and excitement. Their private special missions over the years provided enough wealth to enable each soldier to retire in their early thirties, but the thrill of danger continued to lure them into explosive situations on occasions much to the chagrin of their loved ones.
“Over there!” Dog shouted.
The hawk eyes of Dog had spotted a wisp of smoke twirling above the looming mountain on the left. Hope with a little elation fell over the atmosphere inside the small enclosure of the humming black bird. Fire in this kind of landscape probably meant life---human life.
They were not prepared for the sight that greeted them. A small lump of powdered snow poked up from the frozen tundra that was in the middle of what looked like a deadly war zone. It would have been difficult to spot except for the weave of smoke emanating from the top. Several bloody bodies were scattered close to the icy mound. On closer inspection, Dog realized that they were the bodies of the great Northern American Timber Wolf. It looked like they had challenged a formidable opponent and had lost. Even at this distance, bright red blood could be seen sprinkled about the mountainside. It was fresh, as though a battle had just taken place. The person inside the lump of ice had obviously been the victor.
Bear grinned at Dog, “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve found our man.”
The friendly sound of the chopper caused
Slater’s dimples to appear on each side of his face. He had again endured a dangerous situation and had come out victorious. He knew that swirling helicopter above contained his buddies, Bear and Dog.
The warrior wolves heard the noisy helicopter as well as they began to slink into the edge of darkness and into the safety of the Colorado native pines that survived in the high altitude of the stately Rockies. Even though the pines had absorbed these creatures of the mountains, Slater knew that they were still watching and waiting. He also knew that any more attempts to round up a second attack would be futile.
Slater began heaving the heavy metal and plane chairs from the entrance cursing and muttering obscenities as fast as was humanely possible, most of which Swan in her isolated world had never echoed in her ears. Within minutes, the barred entrance was open and Slater was waving a hearty sign of excitement to his friends twirling above them. Upon landing the helicopter, they greeted each other with the exuberance of long lost buddies that had bonded the trio’s friendship long ago.
“We thought we would be finding your frozen ass on some mountain pass. Glad we were wrong buddy. Do you have anyone else stashed away in there?” questioned Dog.
Slater grinned, “Only one.”
Slater retreated into the frozen barrier and cautiously carried out his bundle of fox fur as though it were the most precious and fragile of all packages.
Bear extended his arms, “Let me help.”
Slater met his warm brown eyes with a determined steady gaze, “Not a chance.”
Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) Page 3