Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set

by Flynn, Connie

  "That's right, just a story." Tony lay down beside her, tucked the flyaway strand beneath her damp headband, then took her in his arms. "I'll ask for a happier one."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, put a light kiss on his lips. "Not now."

  She kissed him again, lingering this time. Tony nipped at her lower lip. With a sharp intake of breath she deepened the kiss. Tony felt her almost imperceptible tremble and returned her kiss with equal hunger.

  "Make love to me, Tony," she breathed against his mouth. "Whisper some colorful poetry into my ears, and let me forget for a short time why we're here."

  Tony groaned, involuntarily tightening his hold on her. "We can't, Lily. Such intimacy is expressly forbidden before a Tribunal."

  "Forbidden . . ." She rolled out of his arms. "How unfair."

  She stared up at the trees again. Behind them the river babbled pleasantly. Birds called out overhead, and occasionally a frog was heard. Then she sat up abruptly, as if she'd made an important decision.

  "Please, Tony," she said, unfastening the waistband of her shorts. "I'll take my chances. Please make love to me." She jerked down the zipper and slipped off the shorts in one fluid movement, then fell back against the blanket and looked up at him with hungry eyes. "If I'm to die, at least I'll have that."

  Had any others ever joined together beforehand and survived? Would violating the ban cost Lily her life? Lily rolled on her side, slipped her hand beneath the flimsy covering provided by his loincloth. When her fingers touched him there, he immediately came to life, hot with wanting her.

  "We shouldn't," he murmured hoarsely. "We mustn't."

  She nibbled on his lower lip and flicked her tongue against the sensitive skin inside. "Shh," she whispered against his mouth. "Shh."

  Still kissing her, Tony groaned and rolled on top of her, sliding his hands underneath her body and taking her small buttocks in his hands.

  Her hand still enclosed him, moving rhythmically up and down. With a smooth twist of her wrist, she dislodged his loincloth, exposing him fully.

  She could die during the inquisition, he realized. They both could die, whether they defied the ban or not. A moment like this one might never come again.

  He entered her, swiftly, possessively, finding her hot and moist and ready. This time she took him without the urgency of the night before, rotating her hips so sensually he burned with need for her. As she wrapped her legs around his thrusting hips, she suddenly broke their kiss, opened her eyes, and stared pensively into his.

  "Tony," she asked in a ragged voice, "did White Wolf Woman survive?"

  "Yes, Lily. Yes, she did."

  She sighed, tightened her legs around him, then claimed his mouth again.

  * * *

  Night fell with a blaze of crimson and orange. With obvious reluctance, Tony withdrew his arm from around Lily and stood up. He had put the backpack he'd carried with him from the village not far from the blanket, and now he crossed to it and pulled down the zipper.

  Lily sat up, feeling a little light-headed. As custom required, they'd taken neither food nor water since reaching the sweat-lodge site, but she wasn't sure whether her dizziness came from that or was an aftermath of their lovemaking.

  She watched Tony's purposeful movements. The drapes of his loincloth had split, displaying the flexing muscles of his thighs, and she licked her parched lips, remembering how they'd felt between her own parted legs. Her skin tingled even now, and she felt another wave of desire.

  But his grim expression told her she wouldn't tempt him a second time. With a muffled groan she reached for her discarded shorts.

  "You won't need those," Tony said, rising with a buff-colored garment in his hand.

  He walked over and handed it to her. "Our women wear these during mixed gender sweats," he said.

  She smiled up provocatively. "And what do you wear when you're alone?"

  "Nothing," he said curtly, then returned to the backpack.

  He came back with his satchel, which he put on the ground. Solemnly, he began taking out items. Lily smelled the aroma of tobacco seeping through the leather wrapping of a small packet, saw a sage stick tightly bound with vines. Then he opened a larger bundle, from which he took the wing of a big bird and a round drum. Next came a clay pot, and he filled this to the brim with water.

  "You look like a traveling medicine show," she joked, trying to ease her unrest.

  "Talk no more unless it is of these matters," he said with a sharp look.

  "Sorry. I didn't realize there was a protocol."

  "Lily!”

  She jerked her head in assent. Suddenly a bundle of nerves, she climbed to her feet, becoming aware of the soft feel of the garment in her hand. Holding one edge, she let it fall.

  It was a knee length shift, constructed in the meticulous manner of the tribespeople. Deerskin, she thought, wondering if this was another metaphor. The Dawn People were full of them. She glanced up and saw Tony looking at her.

  "It absorbs the heat from your body and makes the fires of the lodge easier to withstand," he said.

  She raised her eyebrows in question.

  "Yes, it is deerskin, but has nothing to do with the legends. Put it on now. The sun will soon set."

  He turned back to the satchel, dumping its remaining contents on the blanket. Then he put the items he'd taken out back inside, except for the clay pot. By the time he finished, Lily had gotten into the dress, which ended at the middle of her thighs and was as soft and supple as her own skin.

  When Tony looked up, his eyes widened. "Free your hair, if you will."

  Lily untied the thong, and her hair fell around her shoulders. Barefoot, clad only in the dress and the bright scarf around her forehead, she felt suddenly self-conscious beneath Tony's riveted gaze.

  "If beauty were any defense, the Tribunal would surely acquit you." His words were so soft they sounded like sighs. "Here," he said, louder and more gruffly, shoving Lily's sandals toward her. "Although shoes aren't allowed inside the lodge, you'll need these for the climb "

  She thanked him and slipped the sandals onto her feet. At that he got up, swung the satchel over his shoulder, then bent for the bowl. Cradling it against his chest, he turned to her. "We must go now."

  Lily walked behind him, noticing that though he wore only moccasins himself he kicked away the larger rocks to protect her feet, making her ascent relatively easy. When they reached the top, Lily waited beside the blazing fire pit, the colors in its depths matched the sky. Tony hurried toward the lodge, lifted the leather curtain, and put the satchel inside. He came back with an enormous, scorched scoop that had been carved from a gourd.

  He scooped out the fiery rocks one by one onto a rusty sheet of metal that had once been the fender of a car. When he'd gathered about a dozen, he looked at Lily. "Help me drag the Stone People to the lodge."

  She took one corner of the metal. Horrific heat emanated from the glowing rocks, and perspiration beaded her forehead as they lugged the metal sheet to the sweat lodge.

  Although it was dark in the lodge, Lily's keen eyes still saw the smooth dirt floor and the large hole that marked one corner. The eastern corner, she noticed, remembering there was some significance in that location. She asked Tony about it.

  "East is the spirits' door to our world."

  "Oh, the spirits," she said numbly, looking up at the sky. The colors were fading, and like the nights before, the wind was rising. Surprisingly, she felt no fear, even though she was facing the greatest unknown of her life. Although it was foolish, Tony's affirmation that White Wolf Woman survived her ordeal had given Lily a hope she hadn't possessed earlier.

  After kicking off his moccasins, Tony positioned himself in the middle of the sheet of metal, then asked Lily to take hold of the opposite end, adding, "Be careful not to burn your hands."

  He pulled and she pushed. When the metal sheet was halfway inside the lodge, Tony raised his hand. He knelt in front of the corner pit and transferred the
rocks by means of the gourd. Soon Lily felt as if she were standing in front of a sauna. Only the blowing wind kept her from becoming faint from the intense heat.

  When the last rock was in place, Tony pushed the metal aside, then stood and said, "Wait here."

  He walked barefoot to a nearby chaparral. Taking his knife from its sheath at his waist, he cut off a branch and brought it back to the lodge.

  "Remove your shoes and enter," he instructed, waiting beside the door.

  Lily kicked them off, stooped to clear the low entrance, then fell to her knees and crawled on the leather floor as far as possible from the heated rocks. Tony scooted in behind her and sat in front of the pit. Using the edge of his knife like a razor blade, he sliced leaves off the chaparral branch, dropping them in the clay bowl. This he carefully placed on top of the glowing stones. After that he unwrapped the tobacco pack and put it at the center of the lodge.

  Next he shoved the sage stick against the blazing stones. When it began to smolder, he pivoted at the waist to reach toward the door.

  The heavy leather curtain fell. Total darkness descended on the small space, and even with the light coming from the pit, Lily could barely see. A trill of panic ran up her spine. The Tribunal was about to convene.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lily's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Although she didn't know how he could stand the heat, Tony remained next to the pit, the glow silhouetting him in the darkness. Now he placed the drum between his legs. His lips moved wordlessly and he began tattooing out a rhythmic beat.

  "South," he cried, tilting back his head. "Home of Earth Mother, who was present when life began. We honor you."

  The drumming stopped. Lily smelled the scent of sage and saw red flashes as he waved the burning stick in the air.

  He made a quarter turn and the drumming resumed. "West. Grandfather Sky, the seed of thought and consciousness. We honor you."

  Another waft of sage, another turn, another beating of the drum. He spoke to the east, honoring the Four Leggeds for providing guidance and nourishment. As he uttered each prayer, the timbre of his voice grew more impassioned. When he turned to the north his voice rang like a bell.

  "North. Home of the Great Spirit, creator of all that the Two Leggeds know. Send your lords and demilords, your spirit guides, your animal guides!"

  Thunder shook the sky, rumbling in deafening waves from the north. Although she'd never feared the weather, Lily cringed.

  Tony resumed his drumming, raising the crescendo until it filled the lodge with a mighty song rivaling the thunder outside. As the beat slowed, growing quieter, gentler, Tony said, "The Storm Gods have heard our call. It's a good omen."

  "Good?" Lily repeated shakily.

  "Yes, very good. Now rise on your knees."

  She did as he asked, and he fluttered the bird wing above her skin, starting at the ground and moving gradually up her body. It created a heavenly breeze and Lily let her head drop back. Her eyes closed.

  "Your daughter is here, Great Spirit. Her heart is open to your guidance. Steer her well as she meets her accusers."

  Lily's eyes snapped open. For an inane moment, she thought of how her mother would respond to Tony's prayer. Ridiculous! Superstitious! But Lily's experiences of what lay beyond sight and sense did not allow her to share those sentiments. She knew these things existed. Her firsthand knowledge was of dark powers, though, and she had no faith the powers of light would appear—at least for her.

  "How can the Great Spirit steer me, Tony? I don't see or hear him. I don't even sense him."

  "You will, when the need arises. In the meantime, I'm your advocate in these proceedings. I'll share your visions and know what you experience. But you have to ask for my help. No matter what happens, don't forget I'm by your side. When all seems lost, turn to me." He leaned forward then and rested his hand lightly on her hip. "I fear for you, Lily. We shouldn't have made love."

  She took his hand in hers. Although her own skin was already growing clammy, his was dry. "It was worth it."

  Then she smiled, sank to the ground, and gave herself over to what was coming.

  * * *

  Arlan Ravenheart shivered as he led Sebastian and his pack through the darkening maze. The King had been impatient to find his lost Queen, and had rushed them from the cave before the sun had fully set.

  He tried to concentrate on finding small signs that the maze had been disturbed. He'd assisted in reworking the route many times and knew what to look for —a broken branch, a freshly cut twig, grass trampled by many feet, then raked back to conceal the damage. But the wind had picked up, bringing the scent of impending rain, and the stiff breeze made him shiver even in the sultry night. His limbs still ached from the rigors of alchemizing.

  His companions appeared untroubled by the changing weather and moved stealthily over the pine carpet of the forest even as he struggled to keep from clumsily snapping twigs, a difficulty he'd never had in human form.

  "This way," he said to Beryl, who'd remained close to his side, but was now veering off into a dead end. Beryl growled, moving uncomfortably close to Ravenheart's shoulder.

  Nor was he as tall as they, he realized. Beryl topped him by half a foot or more. This new state hadn't delivered the power he'd expected. And when the others had dragged in the elk and expected him to dine on the ripped, raw meat, he'd almost gagged. Was this common for an omega? None of them would explain and had soon grown cross with his ceaseless questions, laughing and nipping at him like the runt of the litter.

  "This is the correct path," he assured Beryl, who was looking at him suspiciously. The wolf prince didn't like him, although he didn't know why. Perhaps Sebastian's protection had raised his ire.

  Ravenheart stopped and looked back at the King, who was strolling in a lordly manner behind Ravenheart and Beryl, followed by the remaining seven. "Swear again, you will spare my people, and only take Lily and the shaman's kin from the village."

  "A werewolf always keeps a promise," Sebastian barked. "And I promised to hurt no one unless they attack first."

  "Yes, Lord," Ravenheart replied quickly. "Of course."

  Sebastian's sly smile made him uneasy. Something wasn't right. But at least he could shapeshift, something White Hawk couldn't do. Surely, he would harness these new powers in due time. This wasn't a mistake, he assured himself.

  No, he'd made no mistake. None.

  Ravenheart stopped, raising his hand. Through the trees he saw people milling around the fires. Sentries were posted beside the entrance, standing with their hands on their knives. Old Frieda leaned on her cane, taking her slow nightly stroll around the perimeter of the village.

  Beryl grunted something in the werewolves' language that Ravenheart vaguely knew meant that those behind them should also stop. He was already learning their tongue, although how he could do this in one day was beyond his comprehension.

  Sebastian cocked his enormous head and pricked his ears. He frowned unpleasantly, then sniffed the air.

  "Lily and the shaman are not here!" he roared.

  Ravenheart cringed. The people by the fires pivoted their heads toward the maze. The two warriors at the entrance drew their knives, then reached into the pockets of their sheath belts. Whoops rose from the edges of the forest.

  Dozens of warriors rushed toward the maze, arms raised and holding spears. Frieda, who was only feet away, shrank against her walking stick.

  The werewolves bristled and howled in unison. "Change," Sebastian ordered, melting into full wolf form. His eight minions fell in line, their forms melting until they stood on all fours. Ravenheart tried to obey, but the agony was so intense that by the time he'd alchemized, the others were barreling toward the approaching warriors.

  Suddenly the air was filled with noxious fumes. The wolves at the forefront gasped. One let out a pitiful cry and fell to the ground.

  "Fall back," Sebastian choked out. His wolf body now had a human head. One paw had turned into a hand. Lumber
ing awkwardly, he retreated into the maze. Beryl and the other wolves turned and began slithering for shelter. Ravenheart fell on his haunches, horrified.

  Then he gasped like the others. His body began to spontaneously alchemize, but not as painfully as before. The other werewolves slunk past, giving him little heed. Ravenheart stared down at his fingers, then turned to look at the fleeing werewolves, remembering Sebastian's last words before the chaos began. Lily wasn't in the village.

  He moved his gaze to Frieda. The warriors were swarming around her, rushing toward the entrance of the maze. Ravenheart could smell her fear, hear the boom of her pulse straining to race through her calcified arteries. He felt a hunger unlike anything he'd ever known, not even in his darkest moments of hating White Hawk.

  Pretending not to hear Sebastian's orders to follow him, Ravenheart ducked into the shelter of some bushes and waited until the warriors passed him. Then he stepped out of the maze.

  "Arlan!" Frieda exclaimed. "You are alive."

  He rushed forward, taking her in his arms as an expression of reunion. "Yes," he breathed hastily. "The werewolves captured me and were planning to trade me for Lily. But I escaped."

  "Praise the spirits," she replied. "If the man-wolves had learned, Lily is not here they surely would have slain you."

  "Not here?" He inhaled deeply. Even in human form he could smell the salty scent of her skin, could almost smell her blood.

  "No." Frieda leaned heavily on her cane and looked up at him. "She has gone with White Hawk to meet the Tribunal."

  Ravenheart let go of Frieda and stepped back. She'd given him what he needed. Her usefulness had ended. At least while she was alive. He looked toward the fires. Everyone had scattered. He and Frieda were standing in the shadows out of view and he was sure no one had seen them.

  "Follow me," he said. "I have something to show you in the forest."

  Frieda had no reason to doubt him. She'd always liked him, regarded him as a powerful warrior who was destined to be a shaman. He moved into the dark shelter of a tree and waited as she cautiously made her way, eyes downcast to check for obstacles.