Eagle's Redemption

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “Well, come on in then,” she said, turning away to set a pan in the dishwasher, which gave him a great view of her delectable ass as she bent over. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “Well, I never said I wasn’t strange,” he joked as he came in and set a sack of groceries down on the table. “But at least I’m a stranger bearing chocolate.” He pulled a white cardboard bakery box out of the bag and set it on the counter. “Black Forest cake, if that’s okay.” He patted Silver’s head, finally acknowledging the furry nose pushing at his leg. “No cake for you, buster.”

  Carmen’s laugh was deep and rich, setting Dash’s nerves tingling. He crossed to her in a few strides and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Chocolate is always welcome, and so are you. How was your day, Dash?”

  “A whole lot better in the last minute or so,” he answered before leaning down to kiss her.

  Her lips were sweet, opening under his instantly, welcoming him. She tasted of garlic and chili peppers along with something sweet—maybe the lemon-lime soda he saw in a can on the counter. Most of all, she tasted like Carmen, and that made him hungry for more. By the time the kiss ended, he was breathing hard and she gasped, burying her face in his chest.

  “I made fajitas,” she mumbled into his shirt. “It’s all in the oven keeping warm. Be a shame to let it get all dried out because we forgot to eat dinner.”

  “Be worth it,” he replied with a grin. “But more civilized, I suppose, to have dinner first.” He couldn’t resist one last kiss to the top of her head before he opened his arms and stepped back.

  Her lips quirked into a crooked smile. “I’m not sure civilized is always a good thing, but my stomach was growling ten minutes ago, so we should probably eat.”

  Dash followed her lead, helping move dishes to the table. “So what were you singing? Your voice is amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she told him. “It was an aria from Puccini. My mother is a huge opera fan and passed it along to her daughters—which also explains the names Carmen and Aida. My sister is still convinced I got the better end of the deal, since everyone in Texas can at least pronounce Carmen.”

  “Have you ever sung professionally?”

  Carmen shook her head. “Opera also requires physical acting—moving around on the stage, hitting your mark, not running into scenery. So I just sing for fun. Aida did some college theater musicals, but pre-med is pretty intensive, so she only did it for her first year or so.”

  “Your sister’s a doctor?”

  “Yep. Pediatrician, just like dear old dad.” Her hands moved from dish to dish effortlessly as she loaded her homemade tortilla with meat, grilled peppers and fresh salsa, again demonstrating her excellent sense of spatial memory.

  “I guess that means your dad’s a physician too?”

  “Yep. Runs a thriving practice in downtown Houston. My sister opened up a branch in San Antonio. Mom does the whole charity thing—board of directors for half a dozen foundations. Dad’s professional confidence took a hit when his own daughter contracted meningitis and he couldn’t save her sight, mind you, but after a while he recovered.”

  “So you weren’t born visually impaired?” He chewed on a bite of his meal, enjoying the flavors of spices and meat and vegetables. Carmen was a hell of a lot better cook than he was.

  “Nope. Dad was doing a stint down in Mexico for one of those international relief groups when I was little and he took us with him. Wasn’t anticipating a meningitis outbreak. Since I was three, I have some vague memories of what the world looks like for other people. Honestly, I was lucky to survive, and being mostly blind is better than some of the other neurological damage that could have happened. A lot of patients end up in worse shape.”

  “Wow.” The thought of her having been so sick chilled him, even though it had been decades earlier. He set down his fajita as his stomach briefly rebelled. “That must have been scary as hell for your parents.”

  “It was. Sort of like how your mother must have felt when you were shot and trapped in a burning warehouse?” She reached under the table and patted his knee. “We all have rough spots in our lives, you know. The key is to deal with it the best you can and keep on living. Otherwise the bad shit wins.”

  He felt his face warm in a flush. He could learn a lot about life from this resilient—not to mention sexy as hell—woman.

  “Now on to more interesting topics,” she said. “I was thinking of going riding tomorrow afternoon, maybe taking the eagle with me and releasing her. You said you usually take weekends off—you want to go on a picnic?” She’d introduced him yesterday to the pale gray mare that lived in the other end of her barn from her rehab patients.

  Though he had doubts about the idea of riding a horse just for fun, Dash agreed. Any excuse to spend time alone with Carmen was a good one, besides, he’d hate to miss the eagle’s release. They talked about the ranch for a bit, and then over dessert he ended up telling her about his work on the computer records and how, for the first time, he’d felt as if he really had something to contribute.

  “That’s great,” she replied, forking up a bit of the rich chocolate cake he’d brought. “I know Leah hates the paperwork, so I’m sure she’ll be happy to have you take over that aspect of the operation. See—you’re starting to find your place. I hope that means you’re planning to stay.”

  Dash’s breath caught in his chest. He had been putting off the decision on whether to stay in Texas permanently. On the one hand, his mother and stepdad were in Chicago, along with all his friends and the only life he’d ever known. However, at least here he had a job, such as it was, and he wanted to spend more time getting to know Leah and Mac—not to mention Carmen.

  “I don’t have any plans to head back to Chicago,” he answered carefully. “But I’m still not sure where the future will lead.”

  Her nod was easy and warm. “Of course. Living day by day is all any of us can ever really do, isn’t it? No matter how much you plan your future, fate always seems to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it.”

  “You can say that again.” Some of those curves could knock the hell out of him, but some, like meeting Carmen, made life just a little bit better. That he could finally see the good in life after the last several months was a huge step in the right direction.

  * * * * *

  Carmen was delighted to find there was no awkwardness this time when Dash followed her up to her bedroom. He’d helped her clean up after dinner then they’d checked on the eagle and even taken a short walk down the road to enjoy the evening breeze before returning to the cabin. As they walked up the driveway, he’d unselfconsciously pulled a gym bag from the passenger seat of his truck and slung it over his shoulder before taking her hand again to go back into the house. Silver padded along beside him as though walking around with a man were an everyday occurrence. Dash even patted the big dog’s head and said good night before they headed up the stairs. It was both odd and oddly comfortable at the same time.

  Still, there was nothing comfortable about the feelings that whipped through her body when Dash dropped his bag beside her bed and pulled her into his arms.

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said with a low groan as her breasts pressed up against his chest and his arms wrapped around her. “At least sitting behind a desk hid the fact I spent half the afternoon with a hard-on.”

  “You made it hard for me to think too,” she whispered, running a hand along the smooth skin of his jaw. He’d shaved before coming over. “I’d start to do something then I’d remember last night, and a little while later I’d realize I’d forgotten whatever it was I should have been doing. I’d be standing there, panting and wet, and wanting you so badly it hurt.”

  “Oh Christ, don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me come in my pants.” He tilted his pelvis toward hers, pressing his erection into the soft flesh of her tummy.

  “Wouldn’t want that,” she purred, though she couldn’t help the
thrill of pure feminine power that whipped through her at the thought of bringing this strong man to such a point. “Guess we’d better get you out of them.”

  Sliding her fingers down to the button-fly of his jeans, she made quick work of the fastenings before pushing the denim down to his ankles along with his cotton boxers. Unable to resist, she ran her hand up and down his rigid length before pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed and kneeling in front of him.

  “Shoes first would have probably been smart,” she murmured.

  “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He leaned back on his hands as she lifted first one foot then the other, removing his brand-new cowboy boots and heavy cotton socks. Then she tugged his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off and moved up between his knees, laying one hand on each of his thighs. He’d pulled off his shirt while she was busy, and she leaned in to kiss the little wispy line of hair just above his navel, which pressed her chest up against his groin, teasing them both.

  “You know, one thing I didn’t do last night was find out how you taste,” she murmured. She’d had a lick or two but nothing much. Now she wanted more. Taking his shaft in her hand, she ran her cheek along his length, inhaling his potent, musky scent. Holding him against her cheek, she nuzzled around the base of his cock, peppering his skin with tiny kisses as she went. Gently, she took one of his heavy testicles into her mouth, using her tongue to play with the smattering of crinkly hairs and skin while she sucked lightly at the taut orb. His low groan was enough to let her know he liked what she was doing, so she treated the other ball to the same attention, massaging his thick rod lightly with her hand all the while.

  Once she was through exploring his testicles, she ran her tongue up along the broad ridge on his shaft. A network of slightly raised veins crisscrossed the smooth skin, and he more than filled her hand. When she reached the blunt crest, she licked her way around the underside of it before slurping up the bead of pre-cum that had formed at the slit. Wanting more of his salty, earthy taste, she dipped the tip of her tongue inside the narrow opening and was rewarded by his hands tightening in her hair.

  “Carmen,” he said on a ragged gasp. “Honey, I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

  “Mm, good,” she murmured, nibbling on his tip with her teeth sheathed by her lips. “I don’t want you to last. I want you to come down my throat.”

  “You’re kidding.” His breathing was short and shallow, his muscles rigid. “You don’t have to do that.” Even as he said it, his hips bucked up, pushing his crown into her mouth.

  Carmen sucked lightly then pulled away long enough to say, “I want to, Dash. Please.” Then she took the crest deep into her mouth and began to draw rhythmically while one hand circled the base of his cock and stroked. The fingers of her other hand cradled his balls and played softly.

  “Anything.” He moaned. “Sweetheart.” His hands in her hair helped her set the rhythm and pace he needed, and Carmen gloried in the scent and taste of his skin and the hard thickness of his cock in her mouth. Knowing she could bring this powerful man to such mindless passion was a bigger aphrodisiac than anything she’d ever experienced. Wetness slicked the inside of her thighs, and she couldn’t help rubbing her engorged nipples against the crisp hair on his legs now and then as she bent her head over his lap. When he started bucking harder into her mouth with every stroke, she wondered if she could come too, just from giving him head—she was that aroused.

  Pushing down so his crown was at the very back of her throat, she swallowed, easing him just a little farther in, and she knew the muscle contractions of her throat would caress him as she sucked hard. With a hoarse shout, Dash lifted his hips up off the bed and came, streams of hot fluid filling her mouth and throat as she swallowed repeatedly, drinking down every vital drop.

  When he finally stopped coming, she pushed him back to lie on the bed, his knees still hanging over the edge. “Condoms…in the bag,” he grunted, lying there with his cock still rock-hard and pointed at the ceiling.

  Carmen fumbled in the bag beside her and found the box of rubbers. She grabbed one, opened it with her teeth then stood to roll it on over his undiminished erection. Desperate to feel him inside her, she climbed onto the bed, straddled his hips and lowered her aching pussy onto his rigid shaft.

  “Oh yes,” she murmured as he filled her deeply. His hands came up to cup her breasts, pinching her swollen nipples as she began to rock back and forth on his cock.

  Her pelvis ground down on his in a way that rubbed her clit against his pubic bone each time she moved. Each time she lifted, it dragged his cock against her G-spot, spiking her arousal even higher. When he lifted his head to take one of her nipples into the wet heat of his mouth and sucked hard, she screamed out his name and bowed her spine as her body convulsed. Her fingers dug into the corded muscles of his shoulders as she rode out the climax, her inner muscles clamping down hard around his cock.

  He bucked his hips beneath her and went rigid as well, a sweat breaking out on his skin as she felt him empty himself into the condom. Long moments later, she collapsed onto his broad chest, savoring the feel of his powerful arms holding her close.

  “What is it about you?” he murmured into her hair. “Suddenly I feel sixteen again.”

  Carmen managed a shaky laugh that ended in a yawn. “Well, I’m sure as hell glad you’re a grown-up.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she fell asleep with him still nestled inside her.

  Chapter Six

  “You’re absolutely sure this is a good idea?”

  Carmen looked over at Dash, mounted on a big bay gelding named Moose, and grinned. He was so cute—she knew he was more worried about her than he wanted to admit, wondering if it was safe for her to be on horseback. Given that she was a far more experienced rider than he was, she couldn’t help being amused.

  “Grandfather and Leah have trained Ghost specifically for me since she was a foal,” she told him. “She’s the gentlest, calmest thing on four legs. She’s also trained to stick closely to whichever other horse she’s with. I promise, Dash, one thing I don’t do is ride alone. I’m not unaware of my limitations.” The little gray mare wasn’t even spooked by Silver running alongside.

  Dash snorted. “I wasn’t worried about you.” Since she knew his lie was intended kindly, she let it go. “I’m worried about that.” She knew he was pointing at the third horse on a lead rope behind them with a large plastic animal carrier mounted to its saddle.

  From inside the carrier, the eagle gave a short squawk, as if responding to Dash’s concern. Carmen laughed. “She’s fine too, worrywart. She’ll be even better when we release her.” They were riding up to the hilltop where Dash had found the eagle. She was fully recovered now, and it was always better to let wild creatures go as close as possible to the place where they’d been found. Since it was Sunday, and Dash took weekends off from all but the most pressing ranch duties, Carmen had recruited him to go with her instead of her grandfather. “I’m sure her mate will be happy to have her home.”

  “I’ll bet,” Dash agreed. “Especially if they have young.”

  Carmen had explained to him that both male and female parents would normally take turns feeding any babies and protecting their nest. With the female missing, the male would have been doing double-duty as well as leaving the nest unprotected while he hunted. While Dash didn’t know much about Texas wildlife, he was interested and a quick learner. She was having fun teaching him as they got to know one another. They’d spent the last nights together, but this was the first time they’d actually left her property—almost like a date.

  “I just hope we don’t run into whatever idiot shot her in the first place,” Dash continued. “Why on earth would anybody do that?”

  “Well, a lot of farmers worry about them hunting chickens or young livestock,” Carmen replied. “Though they’d much rather fish. Some people just get freaked out by other predators. Honestly, it never made much sense to me either.”

  “Any
stories about eagles in one of your books?”

  “Eagles are very important in Cherokee culture, but they’re mainly war totems, and since my books are for kids, I haven’t written one specifically about eagles. I do have one that features A-wo-ha-li, or Eagle, along with lots of other birds, reptiles and mammals.” The tale had been a favorite of her great-grandmother’s and retelling it always gave her a warm rush of memory.

  “Tell me,” he said, his voice a silky caress that was almost as warm as the Texas sun.

  “Okay. It’s about a ball game,” she began, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the steady beat of their horses’ hooves. “The animals—the four-legged ones— challenged the birds to a game. Bear was the captain of their team, big and tough, and ready to take out anyone who got in his way. They also had Terrapin, whose sturdy shell would keep him safe—if he got the ball, no one would be able to get it away from him—and Deer, who could outrun everyone else. All through the dance before the game they bragged about their certain victory.

  “Eagle was the captain of the bird team, and though he had Hawk and other strong fliers on his side, he was starting to get nervous. While they were getting ready for the game, two tiny animals, as small as mice, came running up the trunk where Eagle and Hawk were perched and asked if they could join in the game.

  “Since they had four legs, Eagle asked them why they didn’t join the team down on the ground. The little mammals said they had, but Bear, Terrapin and Deer had just laughed and sent them away. Eagle thought this was unfair, but he knew he couldn’t let them join his team unless they could fly. Finally, one of the birds came up with an idea. They would make wings for their little friends. Using the skin from a drum and some cane splints, they made a set of wings and gave them to one of the animals, which is how Bat came to be. There wasn’t enough skin, though, to make wings for the other.

  “Then someone thought of stretching the animal’s own skin, to make sort-of wings. Two birds on each side used their strong beaks to stretch and stretch the skin between the little animal’s front and back legs until it had flaps, enabling it to soar and glide, creating Flying Squirrel.