White Flame

by Susan Edwards

  Tipping his head back, he let out a long, loud cry to catch the attention of the spirits. Then he begged for their help. “You spoke to me. Gave me the white woman known as Emma. Lead me to her so I might fulfill my vision quest.”

  To his relief, Mahpiya heard his invocation and took pity on him. Though the clouds above him remained swollen, the snow slowed to sparse flurries. Striking Thunder gave thanks then resumed his search. He didn’t have much time before the heavens once again dumped a load of snow on the land. Painstakingly, he checked along the riverbanks and then moved up to the base of the hills, looking for any sign of Emma. Nothing.

  “Emma. Emma.” Over and over he called her name. Where was she? Was she injured? Dead? His gut tightened at the thought. He couldn’t lose her. The sudden and unexpected sight of Black Cloud flying overhead drew his attention. The bird normally stayed sheltered within the protection of trees during the storms. But it circled, its caw loud in warning.

  The sharp report of gunfire followed, startling both him and the bird. The raven flew into the thick cover of forest. Striking Thunder stood, poised. When the shots came again, the same pattern as before, he listened to the echoes. Whoever it was, they were close. Half a mile at the most. Scanning the snow-covered prairie, he couldn’t see anyone. Who was out there? Friend or foe?

  Leaving Emma’s mare beneath a tree, he slid into the forest and climbed rapidly. From his vantage point, he was now able to spot a small dark blur marring the blanket of white. A tribe on the move? Not likely in this weather. With sudden insight, Striking Thunder knew they were soldiers. Emma’s father hadn’t given up the search. He hunkered down to watch. If they continued toward him, he would have to abandon his search for Emma and go warn his people.

  After another volley, silence fell. Then, to his relief, the distant dark speck faded as they turned back. After another few minutes, they were gone entirely. Striking Thunder headed back down the snow-covered hill. There was no time to lose. He had to find Emma.

  The wind chose that moment to wail through the trees, bringing with it a sudden onslaught of snow flurries as the heavy clouds released their burdens once again. He froze in his tracks to listen to the wailing wind. Was that a cry he heard? A woman’s voice? Again, it came. Emma! It had to be her. She was here, somewhere.

  “Emma!” The blast of cold air tore the words from his throat. He slid and slipped down the hill and plunged among the trees, unable to pinpoint where her voice had come from. He turned in a slow circle. The raven left the shelter of the trees and perched on top of a pile of snow, plucking at some pine boughs.

  Striking Thunder ran past, keeping to the edge of the forest, sure she would have taken refuge among the trees. But there were so many trees. With a flap of wings, Black Cloud landed on his shoulder. Striking Thunder pressed the edge of his hand against the bird’s feet to remove it. He didn’t have time for the bird right now. He had to find Emma.

  But when the raven stepped onto his fingers, a glint of red tangled around one of the bird’s claws caught his attention. Striking Thunder stopped and pulled the single strand of hair free. Emma! The bird was forever trying to pluck at her bright hair. He held the bird at eye level. “Oh, wise bird, my helpmate, you know where the woman is. You came to me in my vision. Now show me.” He tossed the bird into the air.

  The bird flapped its wings and returned to the pine boughs where he’d perched moments ago. Again, he plucked. Striking Thunder lurched forward, and he saw it. Shoving through the knee-deep snow, he caught a glimpse of Emma’s golden-red hair.

  A frantic voice broke through the white fog shrouding Emma in a cloak of silence. Her lips moved. “Papa.” She tried to move, but couldn’t feel any part of her. Her eyes refused to open. Trapped. She was trapped in a world of blinding white. The voice came again, urging her to break free of the numbing bliss stealing over her. She tried but didn’t have the energy.

  Emma had no idea of the passage of time or how long she lay in a numbing world but with a suddenness that caused pain, the cottony cocoon vanished beneath an onslaught of needlelike pain traveling through her fingers and feet. A voice demanded that she wake. She cried out, but her voice was only a hoarse croak.

  “Kikta yo. Wake up! Open your eyes!” Striking Thunder commanded, rubbing her fingers.

  “Hurts,” she gasped, opening her eyes. Her vision cleared. Striking Thunder leaned over her, his features tight, his lips compressed.

  He speared her with his piercing eyes. “You are lucky to be alive. You nearly died out in that storm.” He stood.

  Too confused to understand his anger, Emma cried out, “Don’t leave me.” Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

  He bent back down, lifted her head and held the water pouch to her lips. She drank then he laid her down, tucking the fur tightly around her. “Shh. Relax. We’re safe from the storm in a cave. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She watched him walk over to a fire and toss bits of bark onto the glowing flames. Emma turned her head. Firelight danced on the gray walls. Grotesque shadows danced and loomed and made Emma nervous. When he returned to her side, she breathed easier. Striking Thunder continued to massage her hands and feet. Slowly, the warmth from the fire stole over her but it wasn’t enough. She shivered, her body wracked with cold and incredible sharp stabs of pain as her blood began flowing again.

  She opened her mouth to ask him how he’d found her but Striking Thunder stood and, with quick movements, shucked off his clothing, all but his loincloth. He moved beneath the furs and took her in his arms, pulling her back tight against his front, curling his legs around her.

  Emma, to her dismay, realized she was naked beneath the fur, but the warmth from his body stealing into hers stilled her protests. Slowly, her body calmed. One of his hands rested just beneath her breasts. She grabbed hold of him. “Don’t leave me,” she repeated, afraid.

  “Mni kte sni yelo. I won’t go. Now sleep. Istima yo.”

  Emma allowed the soft caress of his deep murmurs to lure her back into a dreamless sleep. Just before darkness closed over her, she whispered, “Papa was here.”

  She never heard Striking Thunder’s “I know,” or saw the tenderness in his gaze as he watched her sleep. And she didn’t feel the press of his lips just below her ear as he shifted and drew her even closer to his body’s warmth.

  Striking Thunder woke to the soft warmth of Emma’s body wrapped around his. He smiled and pulled the furs tighter against them. Outside the cave to which he’d brought Emma yesterday, the ravaging storm continued. Pain lanced his heart when he realized how close he’d come to losing her. And the realization that it mattered shook him deeply. He shouldn’t care. But he did, and not just for his plans of revenge. He stared at the rocky ceiling.

  Emma, with her brave spirit, her loyalty to her sister and father, her gentleness with the children of his tribe, and her incredible talent for seeing what most whites didn’t, had broken through the protective layer he’d built around his heart. No longer could he keep his emotions at bay. His heart and mind warred with the knowledge.

  Shifting his gaze to the woman asleep, her head pillowed on his shoulder, Striking Thunder found Emma staring at him with sleep-clouded eyes the color of a misty lake. Lifting his hand, he brushed a bright red strand from her face and trailed his finger down the side of her cheek. “Foolish woman.” His voice was tender.

  Tears pooled in Emma’s eyes. “I tried to find Renny. Night Hunter has her.” Her voice came out a mere whisper. “But I failed again.” Ashamed, she turned away.

  Gently, Striking Thunder tipped her head back, forcing her to look at him. “Explain how you failed again?”

  Emma stared at him, her eyes wide and troubled. “I didn’t protect my sister. I should never have left home and exposed her to this danger.”

  Striking Thunder absently rubbed her hair between his thumb and forefinger. Though the wilderness was no place for a white woman and child, he’d never have met her if she hadn’t gone in search of
her father. “It was meant to be…”

  Tears slipped down the sides of her face. Her lips trembled. “How can you say that?” she cried. “Those soldiers were murdered because of me. If I’d stayed onboard the steamboat instead of being in such a hurry, none of this would have happened. Yellow Dog would never have seen me, or attacked those soldiers to get me.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips.

  Striking Thunder recalled the grisly scene of ambush and could only imagine the terror she’d gone through. “It does no good to torment yourself with blame. I cannot explain, except to say that my sister foresaw your coming. You were meant to be with us for this short time. The spirits have spoken.”

  Emma’s eyes flashed with denial and anger. “Don’t expect me to believe that I’m here just so you can try and have your stupid revenge.”

  Rolling over, he covered her body with his and cupped her face between his hands. He didn’t want to talk about her father or even think of him. “Then believe you are here for me. For this.”

  Gently, he covered her mouth with his own. Her lips parted with a sigh and he slid his tongue inside, basking in her sweet moistness. With his touch alone he sought to convince her that this—they—were meant to be. He knew the rightness of it. He only feared that after experiencing all this woman had to offer, he’d never be able to let her go. But that was months off. After all, if the spirits had given her to him, he had to believe they would give him the strength to do right by his people.

  Emma broke off the kiss with a moan. She shifted beneath him. Her gaze grew wide as if she just realized she was naked beneath the furs. Her fingers spread across his bare chest. “We can’t do this.”

  Bringing her hand to his mouth, he kissed her palm then each finger. “Yes, we can. We will.” Striking Thunder lowered his head back to her mouth, kissing away her protests. Against his chest, he felt the soft swells of her breasts. Needing to see her, feel her, all of her, he lifted his head and tossed the fur off him.

  Glancing down between them, he reacquainted himself with her full, pale breasts. “Beautiful,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. He scooped one full mound into the palm of his hand then lowered his head. Reverently, he kissed the pink bud, first with his mouth then by sweeping his tongue over the firm, beaded tip.

  Her chest rose beneath him and her soft whimper wrapped him in silken threads, binding him to her. His need for her grew and he moved to her other breast, then did what he’d longed to do that first night when he’d seen her bare flesh. He buried his head between the generous swells and inhaled deeply, filling his nostrils with her scent and warmth.

  Lost in a sea of incredible sensations, Emma threaded her fingers through Striking Thunder’s cloud of dark hair, holding him to her breasts, lifting herself to encourage him to continue his fondling. Whether it was his fingers kneading her, or his warm mouth drawing her aching nipples inside to suckle with urgent need, or his tongue snaking out to tease her sensitive flesh, Emma was on fire. Gone was the cold of the night before.

  Her heart pounded furiously, her skin flushed with heat and need as Striking Thunder ignited her passion. His palm slid down her belly, and he lifted his head. With eyes glazed with need, his fingers found that hidden part of her that swelled beneath his touch. Her hips lifted and she pulled him to her, claiming his lips in a kiss that demanded as well as gave.

  Secluded in the cave with the sound of the storm outside, Emma felt a tide of passion cresting within her. She pulled her lips from his, but kept her hands wrapped in his long hair as need swept her into another world.

  Striking Thunder bent his head and nuzzled her neck. “Feel my fingers.” He increased the pressure of his rotations and stroked faster. “Feel what I give you.”

  “Yes,” Emma cried. “Oh, yes.” Thought fled as need took over. There was nothing else. Only him. This. And like the night under the stars, her body shook with pleasure, seeking an end yet wanting it to go on forever. This time, when her hips jerked, once, then twice, she was prepared for the loss of control as she found her release in a sunburst of color.

  Slightly embarrassed by her reaction, she kept her eyes closed and concentrated on calming her ragged breathing, but Striking Thunder had other plans. Encouraging her to part her thighs wider, he slid one finger, then two, deep inside her. Sensitive to his touch, she arched her back. He withdrew his fingers. She moaned in protest.

  He moved over her, settled his thighs between hers. His moan joined hers. “I need you. All of you.” He spoke the words against her mouth and slid his manhood across her where moments ago, his fingers had stroked.

  Emma felt his male member against her, throbbing in time to her own racing heartbeat. She moved against him, oblivious to all but the aching need to touch and be touched by him. The friction of him sliding along the outside of her slick heat sent shivers of delight through her.

  Striking Thunder supported his weight on his hands and threw his head back as if the contact were too much. Glancing up at him, seeing the look of pain mingling with need, Emma realized she affected him the same way. Heady with the knowledge, she reached between them and slid her fingers down his chest, over his flat belly to where his dark curls blended with her reddish ones. As he stroked between her moist lips, she caressed the tip of his velvety softness.

  The pressure built. More. She needed more. “This is—it feels—”

  “Woitonpe! Wonderful. Right. As it should be.” He took a ragged breath, then claimed her lips once more, his tongue thrusting in time to their hips.

  Emma grabbed hold of him as her body began the incredible ascent for the second time, but before she found release, Striking Thunder lifted himself from her and settled himself more firmly between her thighs. She felt the tip of him probe at the junction between her legs. She moaned, feeling as though she stood at the brink of something incredible. Tightening her hold on his shoulders, she pulled him to her. Her hands roamed from his sweat-slick back down to his smooth buttocks.

  A look of pure anguish etched his features. “Let me have you, flame of my body. Let me come into you, now.”

  “Yes,” she whispered and braced herself for the pain she knew would follow. Beneath her fingers, his buttocks tightened and with one quick, smooth thrust, he slid past her barrier and deep into her, making them one.

  At the piercing pain, her nails dug into him and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Murmuring soft words of comfort, he bent his head to her breasts and held himself still. Slowly, the pain ebbed and she became aware of only a sweet, pulsing fullness within her. He threw his head back. “Can’t wait. Move with me.” He pulled out then inched his way back inside.

  Afraid to move for fear of more tearing pain, Emma braced herself. But there was no pain, only a growing ache that built with each slow stroke. As passion built, his thrusts grew harder, deeper until her own needs equaled his. The throbbing centered where they were joined and grew, intensified with each stroke, driving her further toward the pinnacle of pleasure she knew awaited.

  “Now, kechuwa, join me.”

  Striking Thunder’s features contorted. With one final, deep thrust, white flames of passion rippled through them, sent them soaring high on a tide of blissful surrender.

  Chapter Twenty

  Striking Thunder collapsed beside Emma, pulling her against him, keeping them joined, unwilling to let her go. Nothing mattered. Only him and her, and he refused to consider the future or how he could let her go. He stroked her hair and listened to her ragged breathing. The only other sound was the occasional pop of embers. He didn’t get up to rebuild the fire. “You are mine now.”

  Emma’s fingers trailed along his jaw. “I have to find Renny.”

  He tipped her chin. Striking Thunder knew she was serious. She’d die trying to find her sister and while he admired her spirit and show of loyalty, he also knew just how close she’d come to succumbing to the blizzard. If he hadn’t found her… He banished the nightmare of those hours after he’d found he
r and his fear that he’d been too late. “You promised not to run away.”

  A spark of resentment flashed in her eyes. The color deepened. Sitting, she pulled the buffalo fur around her and moved away from him. “I also said I’d find my sister. I meant it. I will do whatever I have to.”

  Sitting on the fur he’d worn during his search for her, he studied her. “Even die trying?” Her reply wasn’t needed, nor was it given. “How will dying help her?”

  Emma shifted her gaze from his. “I cannot sit and do nothing.”

  Striking Thunder sighed. Standing, he moved to the fire and added more fuel. The time had come to bring the child to his village, both for Emma’s own safety and his own plans. The soldiers coming this close worried him. He had no idea if they would return or if they’d left the area for good. He couldn’t risk Emma leaving again.

  The wind whistled past the entrance to the cave, sending a cold draft to disturb the dancing flames. Lost in thought, Striking Thunder struggled with what he knew he had to do. Though it meant putting his own people at risk to have them both together, he would fetch Renny. But what if Emma decided to run away and take the girl with her? He was fond of the child and didn’t want to see her life risked. He went back to Emma and slid beneath the fur. Reaching across the space separating them, he pulled her back to him. Stiff and protesting, Emma resisted.

  “What would you do to get your sister back?”

  She stilled and lifted haunted green eyes to his. “Anything,” she whispered.

  “I will take you to your sister if you will agree to move into my tipi and stay with me until the time comes to release you. You must also promise not to take her from my protection and run away. I ask for your promise not to endanger her life.”

  “I would never put her life in danger.”

  Emma reacted automatically with indignation, as he’d known she would. He hated the pain his demand would cause but he needed her word. He lifted a brow.