by Myra Nour
“Me neither.” He stared into the woods, where the trees were even denser and sunlight barely penetrated. “I thought I’d try to find a hunter’s cottage Robert told me about earlier.” He paused. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
She interrupted, “We can’t go around never saying his name again.” Looking at him, she tried to put an interested expression on her face. “What did he tell you?”
“Said there was a cottage deeper in the woods, and that no villagers ever go near it.”
“Why?”
Clearing his throat, he answered, “It belonged to William.”
“And we have no other choice but to use something he owned?” Anger laced her question.
He shrugged. “We need to steer clear of humans, and William’s reputation seems to keep them away.” His eyes took in the circumference of the makeshift camp. “This doesn’t provide much shelter, and if any humans happen upon us when we shift…”
His unspoken words told loudly enough of their need to find a safe haven.
“Go on, then, I’ll be fine here. I may take a walk later myself.”
Raynor searched her face, as if seeking clues to her true thoughts, but turned away and prepared his side pack. “I’ll be back before nightfall, whether I find it or not.”
She nodded, distracted by her own thoughts.
* * * * *
It took him most of the day to find the hunter’s cottage, which was perhaps five miles from their present location, but well-hidden in a profusion of low-growing trees. Several times he thought he heard something slithering through fallen leaves, but never caught a glimpse of who caused the sound. Was Briana pacing the woods, perhaps as the snakewoman? He hoped not, because he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be if she accidentally ran across a human in her present state of mind.
The cottage was satisfactory, being sturdy and made of large blocks of stone. Inside, it was one room, as large as the living room had been in his apartment back home. No furniture graced its interior except one ruggedly-made chair, which looked like it’d been left as an afterthought. The floor was earth, with no rushes. Raynor was glad; he wouldn’t have enjoyed pitching filthy straw out the door in armfuls. Plus, it would have been a sad reminder of the tower.
Thankfully, a nice-sized fireplace took up much of one wall. It looked big enough to roast a pig in, and perhaps it’d been made for just such duty. On the hearth, he discovered a dented bowl, which could be put to many uses, and a large spit hung over the fireplace. He was thrilled with that find. They could stick rabbits and other venison on the rod. There was even a crank to turn the spit, which would make cooking in these primitive conditions much easier.
Placing his pack on the hearth, he kept only the water flask, securing it to his belt. The trip back was much quicker. He set a straight course to the west, following the setting sun, and marked his trail by breaking branches along the way.
Briana was not in camp when he returned and this disturbed him. Was she wandering the woods in such deep sorrow she didn’t pay attention to where she went? Was she lost? In trouble?
On the verge of jumping up and looking for her footprints, he heard a soft rustling in the leaves nearby, and a few minutes later, she appeared. Her form was human, but something told him she had definitely wandered the forest in her snakewoman body. She was upset and could not control her shifting yet, so she’d probably changed without any thought as to the possible consequences.
“Did you find it?”
He nodded. “A nice place too, perfect for our needs.”
“Yes, perfect, just like this world,” she mumbled.
“We’ll go there tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She caught his eyes with an intense look. “When do we leave this time period?”
“Remember what I told you about bonding.”
Nodding, she said firmly, “Then let’s get started. The sooner we leave this place, the better.”
“Don’t you want to eat first?”
“No.”
For once, he wished she’d waited a bit—she was acting out of sorrow and anger. Not the best conditions for bonding. Frankly he wasn’t in the mood. He was tired, and his thoughts kept switching back to that small body and his part in the killing of poor little Robert. Then there was the danger of their exposure in such an open area.
But Briana wouldn’t take no for an answer, he could see that in her rigid carriage and set features. Making her point very explicitly, she came over and sat down in his lap. Working with the material and shifting her body from side to side, she positioned her crotch over him. Lord help him, he got hard immediately when he touched her smooth bottom. He’d forgotten ladies didn’t wear underclothes here—one thing he could say he liked about this century.
Her hand reached underneath the bulky cloth covering their bodies and she fiddled with his leggings, grasping his penis. Next, she slid down onto him, encasing him in her warmth in one downward thrust.
In spite of his misgivings, he was aroused by her wet heat. Suddenly, he did want to make love to this beautiful, tortured woman. The next minute, she shifted and it was the snake goddess who rode him like a fiend. Their session didn’t last long; she was too wild, too intent on gaining a momentary pleasure. She drove him over the brink in a few minutes with her wiggling body and inside massage that felt like a frenzied dance. Like a horde of tiny Leprechauns were doing the Riverdance on his cock; at least that was the crazy image his imagination dredged up.
After their lovemaking, Briana reappeared and he wished it’d been her he’d had sex with. The snakewoman was wildly satisfying, but he had a deep longing to fully experience the human side of Briana, her needs, and to know her body as well as the shifter side.
* * * * *
Their life fell into a pattern after they settled into the cottage. Briana went on frequent walks or sat and stared into space. She was too caught up in her inner world; she seemed to have completely forgotten about their need to bond. He hunted, fished, and brought in firewood, while she cooked the food. No further lovemaking fell into that routine, since she didn’t initiate any and he didn’t feel as if he should push her.
After a few days, Raynor lay awake a long time, thinking about Briana. He hadn’t known much about her when he was dream calling—she was too far away for a proper connection. Besides, her unknowing state about her shifter heritage caused a big rift in the link they should have established through the years before they met.
But he had discovered much about her since jumping to this time period. She was strong in both body and spirit, taking on everything that had been thrown at her with a sense of humor. Her tenderness toward Robert proved her kindhearted and interested in children. She was intelligent, resourceful, thoughtful, and sweet. A virtual Girl Scout. Raynor grinned at his own silliness.
In reality, she was everything he’d ever hoped for when thinking of the perfect match for himself. Her beauty and sexual charisma were outstanding and he couldn’t think of any other qualities he would add to that list. Even her snakewoman was sizzling, heroic, and exciting.
His beautiful princess had been temporarily ousted by a sad, grieving woman. He hoped she worked through her pain soon; otherwise they might be stuck here for quite a while. The medieval experience wasn’t so bad, but he was ready to go home. Ready to start his new life with his lovely Briana. They had been mated by the psychic link of their people, but he’d also fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with this wonderful woman.
Finally, after a week of her grief, he thought it was time to move on, that they must work on their bonding. He returned with a fresh catch of trout and found her sitting on the one chair, staring into the fire. He’d already cleaned the catch outside, and it took only a few minutes to prepare them for the spit. Afterwards, he knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his.
“Briana, aren’t you ready to go home?”
Chapter Seventeen
Coming out of her self-induced haze, her eyes stared i
nto his with clarity. “Yes, I want to go home.”
“Then, sweetheart, we have to start working on bonding.”
Briana physically threw herself backwards, almost tipping over in the chair. “I can’t. It seems disrespectful to be enjoying myself when he’s lying in a cold grave.”
Raynor understood perfectly. When he’d lost his beloved grandfather, everything he did that brought him pleasure—fishing, going to movies, dining out, and making love—seemed wrong somehow. The very act of living and being alive in a vibrant way, while his grandfather rotted in a cemetery, didn’t seem right.
Grasping her hands again, he said softly, “We don’t have to make love, there’s other steps to bonding that are just as important, and frankly should be worked through before engaging in sex.”
Her jaw clenched when she said, “Then why have we been going at each other like dogs?”
“It’s the natural attraction we feel, can’t be helped at first.”
“So, now what?”
“I start training you how to stay in human form and how to become as one with me.”
“That second part sounds very…weird.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” His chuckle drew a slight smile from her.
“Do you feel up to starting now?” At her nod, he jumped up and brought the fur throw from where it lay on their makeshift beds. Then he placed it in front of the fireplace and put a large log on the fire. The room brightened and warmed to a pleasant temperature.
Settling on the fur, he sat cross-legged and looked up at her. Patting the place in front of him, he waited until she sat down facing him. It took a few seconds, but she finally got the skirt of the dress to cooperate so she could sit as he did. “Now, just close your eyes and breathe.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
She did, but a few moments later, cracked her eyes and peered at his relaxed features. “Are we meditating?”
His eyelids opened half way and his peaceful golden gaze locked with hers. “Yes,” he whispered.
Getting the hint, Briana closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. It wasn’t as easy as she would have thought. Somehow, thinking about her breathing seemed to make her so conscious of it, she took erratic breaths. And her mind, she couldn’t stop its ruminating. Robert’s sweet memory was etched into almost every corner.
Still, Raynor didn’t say a word, and she knew he could probably hear her off-beat breathing. Heck, she wouldn’t doubt he was aware of her very thoughts either. He seemed to have uncanny abilities when it came to her. Since he didn’t stop to tell her she wasn’t doing it right, she kept on. After what seemed like an eternity, her body relaxed and Briana’s mind wandered in places other than those captured by sorrow.
An interminable time later, she heard a distant growling noise, opened her eyes, and giggled. She couldn’t help it. Raynor’s stomach was protesting loudly. Sighing, he slid his eyes open slowly and grinned.
“Guess we’d better eat.”
“You’re not the only hungry one.” She smiled.
They prepared dinner together, which wasn’t hard since the fish he’d put on the spit earlier had cooked to a mouthwatering tenderness. Briana scraped and chopped a few raw vegetables, and they added a slice of fresh bread he’d bought yesterday.
The evening was pleasant, sitting in front of the fire, sipping homemade mint tea. They chatted amiably about nothing in particular. Raynor seemed intent on not bringing up any subject which could be construed as painful. While she appreciated this thoughtfulness, it began to make her feel silly also, like she was some fragile female who couldn’t stand up to the challenges life threw her.
Nodding dreamily to herself, Briana realized that this is just how she’d been acting, that it was time to come out of her pain-filled stupor and face the world. If she wanted to return to good ol’ twenty-first century America, that was exactly what she had to do.
Sleep that night was much more restful than it had been all week. She lay awake for some time though, thinking about their meditation session early that day, and wondering what tomorrow would bring.
The next day they spent a few hours practicing breathing and “centering”. Briana had to admit she was much better at breathing slow and relaxing on the second try. Raynor was pleased with her progress.
They took a long leisurely stroll in the woods afterwards; nature seemed to calm her even more, and she felt better than she had in a while. Talk revolved around their lives back home and they found they had many things in common. They both loved exercise, especially hiking in the woods. They enjoyed action movies and relished human holidays and all the festivities. Many more topics were discussed and they were amazed at the connections between them concerning their views on life.
After arriving back at the cottage, Raynor dragged out the make-shift checker board and pieces he’d created one evening. She had stared in curiosity when he unfurled a large square section of dried leather he’d brought back from his latest trip to the village. He’d spent hours carefully painting crude squares with a mixture of wild berries, using his finger like a brush. Then he’d dabbed berry juice on twelve acorns; hence designating them the red checkers, while the unpainted ones were the black ones.
Admittedly she hadn’t been sure exactly what he was doing until he’d waved her to sit across from him and play a game. Crude or not the board and acorn pieces worked quite well. Of course crowning the King turned into a gigglefest. Raynor had placed a pile of acorn ends nearby and each time one of them exclaimed “King me”, they had to try and fit the cap onto the wild nut. Sometimes it fit tightly and sometimes the end tumbled off during the game. They’d quickly fallen into a routine of playing several nightly games of checkers, in spite of the poor quality of the parts.
Later that evening, after their checker game, while they sat sipping their tea in front of the fire, her mind went back to questions she had concerning the Reeshon. She’d forgotten them until now, but her relaxed state seemed to bring them to mind again.
“Raynor, remember when I asked before about the bad shifters?” At his nod, she continued, “I was wondering if anyone does anything to punish such evil creatures?”
“As a matter of fact, we have terminator shapeshifters who kill them, exterminate them so to speak.”
“But, wouldn’t knowing about the terminators stop them from slaughtering people?’
“Maybe it would stop some, if they knew. It’s a big secret.”
“Wait a minute, then how do you know about it?” Her eyes opened wide. “Are you a terminator?”
He shook his head. “No, although I’ve thought about it. I have a good friend who is, and he shared the secret with me.” He smiled at her. “With a threat to never tell anyone, of course.”
“Then why tell me?”
He reached out and gently held her hands. “Because I think it’s very important for you to know. Just don’t tell anyone else, or I might have to kill you.”
Smiling, she turned serious again the next instant. “But why not let shifters know about this killing squad?”
“It’d make it harder and more dangerous for the terminators to find the perpetrators. Of course, evil bastards, such as those vampires, or insane shifters wouldn’t be scared off from their prey anyway.”
She nodded in understanding, and then looked at him intensely. “You have crazy shifters?”
“Sure, just like humans, only they’re much worse. Thankfully, they are also rare.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “Remember Jack the Ripper?”
She snorted at his question. “Who doesn’t?” Her eyes shot to his. “Don’t tell me he was a shifter?”
Raynor nodded. “Went insane, got stuck in between, wasn’t totally human or a shifter when the urge to kill struck him.”
“What was he?” she whispered.
“Werewolf in his true form, but something in between when he tried to shift.”
Shivering, she asked, “Did the terminat
ors take him out?”
“You got it.”
“Good.” She stared into space, trying to imagine the horror those poor women faced before being ripped apart. “What about the women he killed?”
“No time ripple; therefore, they were fated to die. Victorian England was hard on humans, especially prostitutes. Disease, alcohol, hard living.” He paused. “Although, there were two other women the cleaners went back and saved from being murdered—they weren’t slated for death.”
“Really? The terminators can save people before the fact?”
“Not the terminators. We have shifters who ‘clean up’ mistakes made by shapeshifters, whether it’s preventing someone from being killed, or cleaning up dumb mistakes, like teaching humans how to do something before its time in history.”
“Like how to pole-fish if it’s not the proper time?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “But a better example would be teaching a man how to start a fire using a modern method.”
“Cleaners, now that sounds like an interesting idea.” They were quiet for a few minutes, and then she asked, “Do you think the elders would have sent terminators after the vampires?”
He nodded, “I suspect so. I have a feeling those young people weren’t the first humans they’d killed.”
“What about Robert? Do you think it might not have been his time to die?”
Staring at her, he said, “Maybe not.”
“Does that mean the elders might send cleaners back?” she asked.
“Yes, if they pick up a ripple surrounding his death.”
Hugging her body to hold in a shiver that hit her, Briana mumbled, “Please, please, let it be a mistake.”
* * * * *
The next day, Raynor changed tactics, telling her to hold his hands while they meditated. She found this to be a pleasant experience, except for the tingles that shot from his hands to hers. Shoving erotic thoughts from her mind was difficult, but she had to in order to maintain the peaceful nature of their meditation.