by Amy Star
Connor was about to raise his voice again when Sarah spoke up in a soothing and tempered tone that seemed to lull everyone in the room. They knew she wasn’t just a figurehead – more often than not, the affairs of state ran through her, and her eidetic recollection of history and facts was incalculably valuable. Everyone turned in deference toward her.
“My love,” she said, “it is as the envoy said. It would show weakness – or worse, disrespect – for only one of us to show up. I will accompany you.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Connor shook his head, “we don’t know anything about them.”
“We know enough,” she replied, “we must show strength.”
“What about Cora?” he said.
Sarah stopped and fumbled for a moment, but long enough for Connor to see her hesitation. “We’ll all go,” she said, “she will be safer with us, than if we leave her here. I don’t trust these Bloodweres, but I don’t trust your father, either.”
The envoy seemed shocked by something so blasphemous, especially against his master, but Sarah eyed him squarely as if to remind him that he was on her territory now.
“You don’t think he’d do anything, do you?” Connor said, but the slowness of his speech indicated he wasn’t sure himself.
“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted, “but I want Cora with me. And I’m not letting you go alone. I leave you alone for two minutes without supervision, you’d tear this poor man to shreds and feed him to the dogs.” There was supposed to be a lingering humor and irony in her voice, but the envoy apparently didn’t get it and shrank back, visibly offended again, but also freshly terrified of this tall and graceful woman who had shown her teeth on more than one occasion.
“Then it is settled,” the envoy said after another pause. “We leave tomorrow.”
It was agreed that Connor, Sarah, and the others in their troupe including, with her recommendation, an armed party to protect them, would meet at the nearest village outside the razed chalet. The borderlands between the Clawgrove and the Greyback territories lay there, in a vast wilderness. It was a perfect place to roam free and wild as a bear, but it was also an ideal habitat for outcasts if, as Patrick, Connor’s father, presumed, the Bloodweres were hiding.
On the long train ride there, Sarah went over all the books she could find on the Bloodwere’s mythology and the legends leading up to their exile. Across from her, Connor held Cora in his arms and played another game of peekaboo. The small child giggled in delight again, her bright eyes flashing.
“I think this cub is getting bigger!” he announced, raising her up.
Cora squealed and Sarah smiled across the table. Connor had become a good husband, but he made a good father too, something she was secretly glad and grateful for. She could still remember their first night of lovemaking in the ancient woods, the passion and the fire of it, both of their bodies mingled in a sweaty contortion of limbs and embraces.
There was something inherent in a parent’s protectiveness of their young. She knew that it always came out strongest in the mother, and she had no doubt about her maternal instincts. But as she watched Connor dangle Cora by her arms and then kiss her belly, she suspected it probably ran deep in his blood as well.
“Did you find anything of use?” Connor said. “I would like to know a bit more about our enemy so I can try and prepare myself. I still have no idea how my father expects to meet these Bloodweres. Much less re-induct them into the family. Seems like a fool’s errand.”
“You said yourself, your father must have a reason.”
“Yes, but the only report we have gotten from Bloodweres in centuries is them burning down an ancestral castle on hallowed ground. It’s a helluva statement, I admit, but it doesn’t reek of diplomacy at all. More like a call to arms.”
Sarah looked up over her books and twisted her lips. “There’s not a lot about them in the codex or the family histories either. They really do look like legends. Insubstantial.”
“You know how well our families are at hiding truths,” Connor reminded Sarah. She thought back to the first encounter with the Clawgroves. Both her parents and the Clawgroves had secretly condemned and executed one of their own – Caroline’s father – and then buried him.
“I know.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, “really.”
“I know you’re not,” he said.
“We have to focus. According to what I’ve found, the Bloodweres did belong to a rogue group of Bears. They hated the idea of turning human, and wanted instead to live what they saw as a pure life, one unmitigated by human form. But what the envoy said about them being ruthless isn’t far off either; they loved violence and war, and wanted the Great War to continue. It was the main reason they were banished.“There are reports of bear attacks throughout that region over the last century, as well. Mostly unverified reports of bear attacks. But the bears they’re describing are much too large to be natural.”
“So some of the Bloodweres have been picked up on the radar, from time to time?”
“Maybe,” she said, and motioned for Connor to hand over Cora, who was crying and wanted to be fed again. She raised her shirt and her brown breast tumbled out. Cora greedily grabbed onto it and began suckling.
“She’s hungry.”
“She’s your child,” she said with a wink, “of course she’s hungry.”
Connor stood up and looked out the window of the train. “We’ll be arriving soon,” he said, and came up behind her, draping his arms over the back seat and rubbing her shoulders. She closed her eyes and hummed pleasantly. “You ready for this?”
“I’m ready for anything.”
*
The town they arrived in was a small, quaint Canadian border post, humble in its own way. A number of loggers and truckers used it, and there was something distinctly blue-collar about it. The envoy had arranged for them to stay in a lodge up the hill, which offered a broad view of the hillsides and mountains in the distance. Sarah had a quick flashback to when she’d first entered this country. It was a truly wild place, untapped by human hands. It also happened to be dangerous.
At the lodge, they were surprised to see the big figure of Patrick waiting for them. He was dressed in black pants and a tight, buttoned shirt, with a glass of Scotch in one hand. He looked weathered, as if he’d suffered much in his own private exile, but when he saw the two of them, a smile arched at the ends of his lips. His grey hair had grown longer, and was now wavy, and even his moustache and beard now had a stronger definition . There was something remorseful in his eyes, but again, as the first time, Sarah could detect no malice in them. Only sadness, she thought.
“My boy, how are you? And Sarah! My god, you are more beautiful by the day. Your side of the family always did age more gracefully than mine. Just wait, in a few years Connor will look like me,” Patrick said, slapping his paunch.
“It’s good to see you again, Senator,” Sarah said, with Cora bundled in her arms.
“I told you once, call me Patrick. I’m not even a Senator anymore, so that title doesn’t really fit even from a technical side of things. Oh! And is this Cora?”
Sarah cast a fearful eye at Connor as the old man approached, and she saw him tighten his hands into fists. However, Patrick merely tickled Cora’s chin, and the small girl grabbed onto his pointer finger and giggled again.
“Such a happy child,” he said, “and the hope of both our tribes. I do not envy the burden of your birthright, little one. But then, with parents like these, I think you have nothing to fear.”
It was the nicest thing Patrick had ever said, and Sarah felt a little bit off-balance. Connor saved the moment by stepping forward, and his leather coat made a stretching sound as he waved at the envoy. Behind, waiting outside, their protective detail consisting of three of the Greyback’s finest warriors and trainers nodded and stood guard.
“The reason we’re here,” Connor grated.
“Ah, yes! Come w
ith me and I’ll show what I’ve found,” Patrick said, leading them into the back of the lodge where there was a study filled with papers and open books. It looked like a madman’s nest, and Sarah was not hesitant to raise an eyebrow. “I’ve discovered where one of the most recent sightings was located. It’s here,” he said thrusting a plump finger at a map, “about ten clicks north of the old chalet. You heard about it, I suppose?”
“What makes you think these Bloodweres want anything to do with us?”
“I can see you’re as suspicious as ever. They chose the chalet for a reason – they knew that no one was there. It’s empty eleven months of the year. And it is the last remaining testament to a division between households.”
“You think burning the chalet was a symbolic gesture?” Sarah quipped.
Patrick narrowed his eyes at her. “I always said you had the sharpest mind I knew. Yes, I think it was a symbolic act. Now that Clawgrave and Greyback have unified once again, it would be understandable for them to want to be allowed back among our ranks. It’s been a long time… old hatreds die hard, don’t they?”
Connor rubbed his lips. “It’s still a long shot, I think,” Connor griped.
“Maybe,” Patrick admitted, “but the price of peace always is.”
***
Later, in the comfort of their room, Connor stood half-dressed, looking out the window at the night landscape. The trees had turned to black spikes against the horizon, and there was a muted sense of tension in the air, like the moment before thunder. A tingling in the air, something you could only vaguely pinpoint, but knew was coming any second.
In the spare room, Cora had gone off to sleep, and Sarah stepped lightly out and pursed her lips. She only had on her small white T-shirt, which swayed as she walked, lifting up with the wind of her movements, so that her navel kept peeking out. Her large breasts pressed against the fabric, and in the wide V her cleavage could barely restrain itself.
“Do you see anything, my love?” she asked, coming up behind him.
She put her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms under his, crossing her fingers over his chest. He had grown larger in the past few years as well. His pectoral muscles stood out, and flexed instinctively under her fingertips, as if she’d touched the surface of a pond. She rubbed her fingers down across his chest hair, over his nipples, and down his abdomen. There were scars there, and she had learned all of them by heart.
She closed her eyes and counted. This one from a hunting accident. This one from falling out of a tree when he was sixteen. This one, this one. He reached down and placed his hand over hers, pressing her fingers into his muscles again and breathed deeply. She flattened herself against him, and listened to his heart through the broad rise of his scapula.
I can hear you,” she whispered, and pressed her groin into his buttocks.
He stiffened a bit and reached behind, stroking her hair. “You can do more than that,” he said.
As he turned, she kissed him again, drawing herself up on her toes so that she could reach his broad mouth and felt his tongue plunge into her again, sucking hard on her tongue in a way that made her squeal with delight into his mouth. His hands reached down her lower back and cupped her buttocks firmly. Gently, he slid one hand further down, tracing the curve of her ass, and then back up through the groove between them. She let out a little moan as his fingers pressed down on the outside of her panties, curving inward, where he delivered pressure on her asshole.
“No one’s watching us now,” she said sleepily, drawing back so she could look at him.
“Perfect,” he whispered back, his hands rising up.
She lifted her arms as he pulled the T-shirt off her and cupped both her breasts again, moving them in a circular motion. His palm brushed her nipples, and they hardened instantly as he drew his mouth down over her sternum, licking the space between her breasts. Finally, opening his mouth, he sucked down hard on her breasts, and she let out another little muted scream with her mouth open.
Lower he moved on her, his hands planted firmly on her breasts and still kneading them, faster and faster. His tongue left its mark on her abdomen, over her navel, and he stopped at the lip of her panties. Inch by inch he pulled down on the elastic, and the small hairs of her pubis sprang out, further still until he had them around her ankles. He stared at her sex and its thin shock of hair.
She grunted as his tongue found her, licking up from her anus and over her labia. The pink organ of his mouth buried between the folds, and she felt herself grow suddenly wet as he continued to probe her and finally found her clitoris. Gently, with one thumb he peeled back its sheath and licked at its sharp nub. She shook, almost losing her balance, and he steadied her by grabbing both her legs and rubbing his mouth around it, clockwise.
“Oh Christ, I’m going to cum,” she said.
Connor stood up and unbuckled his pants, and she helped him pull off his boxers. His penis was half-erect and stood at the precipice between them. She kneeled and took it in her hands, massaging it as if it were an animal. The blood rushed into it and began to swell in her hands, and she reached down and pushed two fingers into her vagina.
She could feel him aching for her as she wrapped her lips over the tip and felt it expand again in her mouth, knocking against the back of her throat and trying to activate her gag reflex. She kept it in her mouth and felt her own saliva pool at the edges of her mouth and run down her chin. Her tongue became a paintbrush, painting its fresco of desire against every nerve-ending of his penis, and he inadvertently bucked his hips, plunging further back in her throat and she let out a choking sound.
“Come here,” Connor said, lifting her up again. His hands reached under both buttocks and lifted her up and she reached down and touched his cock, dripping with her own spit.
Gently she guided it up into her, and watched as it disappeared in her vagina, pushing steadily against her insides, and she leaned back. The ribbed texture of his shaft plastered itself against her G-spot as she rode him and his other hand came up to brace her back.
“The bed,” she motioned.
He laid her down and she wrapped her legs around him, her own hands coming down to his buttocks, and gripped him tightly. He bent down again and kissed her neck, rubbing his tongue across her throat, and began to pump harder into her.
She pushed her hands behind her, letting him have his way with her, and felt herself nearing a climax. She looked down and saw his hips, dark and tanned, entering her again and again, and felt the wet mingling of their sexes crushing against each other in sheer ecstasy. For her, sex had always been some sort of abstract ritual of the flesh – something she had never really understood. All that had changed when she met Connor. He had showed her what it really meant to be a part of another person.
She let out another little scream of joy and felt him come first, moving inside her like a hot flood of passion, and her orgasm quickly followed. Her legs trembled and she shivered in spite of herself, leaning into the movement of his final thrusts.
Exhausted, he tipped over on his side, but remained inside her, one of her legs draped over top of him, and held her tightly, pressing his lips to her forehead and gripping her shoulder.
“I love you, Connor,” she murmured against his chest.
“Forever and always,” he said. “Are you scared?”
She shook her head, her nose brushing his chest. “I know I should be, but I’m not. Maybe the danger doesn’t feel real. Or maybe, I just don’t want to be fearful. I have you and Cora… I feel safe. Are you scared?”
It took him a few moments to reply. “I don’t know, either. I feel like something’s waiting for us,” he said, “something that’s been watching us ever since we left the Estate.”
“Well, whatever it is, we’ll handle it together,” she said.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning Sarah and Connor met Patrick outside the lodge and Cecily arrived early on another train, which had been a day behind them. Sarah put a ha
nd on the English girl’s shoulder and relinquished Cora, still bundled tightly in blankets, into her arms.
“I’ll look after her, mum,” she said, “you and the master, though. You be careful, hear? I don’t like this whole affair.”
“Neither do I, Cecily. Let’s hope it’s over soon,” she said.
Patrick had rented a 4x4 Jeep for their meeting and the couple squeezed inside. It was summer, but the morning was particularly chilly; the clouds had started to roil up on the horizon like a stew, bubbling black over the hills.
“Looks like it might rain,” Connor replied grimly.
“Hopefully, this’ll be over before that,” Patrick said, pushing the Jeep into drive and tearing off down the rough dirt road. Each jump seemed to rocket through the vehicle’s outdated springs, and Sarah felt her knees hit against the side of the door. “In any case, this will be a very delicate situation,” the ex-Senator went on, “I hope you two are up for it.”
“You called us, don’t forget,” Sarah chided, and saw Connor smile at her volatile remark.
They drove for almost half an hour, but it was slow going up an old logging road that circuited into the hillsides, and on more than one occasion, they almost got stuck in the ditch or high-centered on giant washouts that had split the road.
Finally, they arrived at a big turnaround surrounded by tall cedars on the uphill side and a vast clear-cut to their right on the downhill. It was maybe two years old, since there was still evidence of tracks and wrecked slash – but for the most part, life was trying to seed itself, and a canopy of ferns and wildflowers had sprung up among sapling trees.
“This is as far as it goes,” Patrick said, stepping out and stretching.
“Nice place for an ambush,” Connor replied.
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“I don’t see anyone,” Sarah said, stepping out. She had on a leather jacket like Connor’s, but black, and she undid the top strap that ran up one side.