Spirits Shared

by Jory Strong

  She closed her fingers into a fist beneath his hand. "No. I guess what I want to know is if you ever loved any of them."

  "Not like I love you. But you're the first woman I've ever really loved. The rest were either crushes or fun fucks."

  He glanced at her face but couldn't read her eyes. "I'm done with casual, Jess."

  She stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "Somebody could get hurt."

  Her voice held the fear that she was the one who would get hurt and his heart wanted to pledge that he'd never let that happen, but how could he make that promise when he'd already hurt her by telling her he was bi? His hand tightened on hers, acknowledging the truth. His throat locked.

  Jessica forced her fingers to unclench on Clay's erection. Could she really give herself to another man for him? Could she really share him with that other man?

  She wasn't turned off by the idea of gay sex and would probably be turned on watching it if she loved the men involved. She'd had fantasies of being with two men at once, but that was fantasy, and there was no possibility of heartbreak and loss in fantasy.

  She wanted Clay to say he'd always love her and nothing would change that. She wanted him to promise a threesome would lead only to incredible pleasure and not to unbearable pain. But he couldn't guarantee those things. No one could.

  Even for him, she didn't know if she could handle this, but she asked, "How would we find a third person?"

  "Jess…" His hand nudged hers up and down on his erection. "I've been so torn up over telling you…" his voice broke. "I've been so worried about losing you that I haven't gotten past the part where I convince you to keep wearing the engagement ring."

  "I'm not sure I can go through with it."

  Tears glittered against her cheeks and Clay's throat clogged. He didn't have the courage to ask her if she was talking about the threesome, or their getting married.

  "Maybe just knowing you accept the need will be enough to keep it manageable. I'd rather cut my dick off than hurt you."

  She sniffled and gave a tiny laugh. "I'd rather you not do that. It's one of your best parts and most redeeming features."

  Some of the ache in his heart eased at being on familiar ground. His throat cleared and he arched his hips to press his cock into her cupped hand. "He's a big fan of yours too."

  Jessica gave Clay's erection a little squeeze, ready to push The Revelation out of her thoughts for a little while. "He can show me how big a fan he is when we get to the cabin."

  "He'll do that."

  They reached a turnoff guarded by totem poles. In the stormy grayness the poles looked surreal. The pounding of rain became ancient drums. The wind became the power of the Thunderbirds perched on top of the poles, their wings outstretched as they claimed everything they could see.

  "They're beautiful," she said. "Like towering guards serving the earth and wind and water."

  "Yeah, they are. We can hike back tomorrow and get a closer look. This turn leads to the local sheriff's house. The next one will take us to our cabin."

  The drumbeats became so real that she gave in and asked, "Do you hear them?"

  He glanced at the totem poles. The faces of badgers and bears and foxes and birds of prey were carved into the wood beneath the Thunderbirds. "What? The birds or the animals?"

  "Drums beating."

  He laughed and flashed a smile that had her heart tripping over itself. "Love your imagination, babe."

  Harder winds buffeted the car. Clay took his hand off hers and put it on the steering wheel.

  Five miles later the fury of the storm arrived. It was magnificent in its violence, like something alive and primal.

  The windshield wipers swiped frantically at water. The car edged forward at a crawl. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky. A crack of thunder splintered the air right on top of them.

  Jessica flinched. A rumbling vibration shook the car.

  She grabbed the edge of the seat. Clay hit the gas and they jolted forward.

  An instant later something slammed into the rear of the car.

  She screamed as they spun, heart climbing into her throat as they plunged off the road and careened down the steep incline toward a line of trees.

  There was time for a gasp. An instant of blindness as violent impact exploded the airbags.

  Shock held her in place for a second. And then she could think.

  I'm okay. I'm okay.

  She turned toward Clay, slumped in this seat and not moving, and a sob choked off breath. Oh god, let him be okay! Please let him be okay!

  The driver side window was a spider-web of cracks where he'd hit it. She jerked out of the seatbelt and harness, forced herself to fight the swelling panic.

  He's breathing. At least he's breathing. That's a good sign.

  With shaking hands, she gently explored his skull. There was a knot already forming on the side of his head. But nothing felt broken and there was only a little blood on the side of his face.

  He moaned and the sound lanced into her. His eyes flickered open and she glimpsed uneven pupils before his lids drifted shut. She thought concussion but her stomach churned.

  She swallowed, and swallowed again, trying to keep the grilled cheese and fries down. There could be other injuries, injuries she couldn't see.

  His hand twitched as though he intended to reach for his seatbelt. "Jess?" It came out slurred.

  She covered his hand with hers. "I'm right here."

  With her other hand, she grabbed her purse and retrieved her cellphone. There was no signal.

  Clay opened his eyes. "Jess?"

  His voice was still slurred and confused. His pupils looked more uneven and his breathing… Was it shallower? More labored?

  He could be bleeding internally. A lung could be punctured. Things inside him could be broken.

  She didn't want to leave him alone with a concussion. But if she didn't, and there were other injuries, it could get worse, so much worse.

  She needed to climb to the road and see if she could get a signal. And if she couldn't then she'd need to leave him long enough to get to the sheriff's house.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She knocked them away. I have to do this.

  "Clay?"

  He didn't answer. Her heart stretched up her throat and banged in her ears.

  She jostled him gently, afraid he'd slipped into a coma. "Clay?"

  He stirred. Eyelids flickered. Lips parted and finally, slowly, moved. His voice was too faint to hear but she read the words. Love you.

  Eyes stinging she grabbed her jacket and put it on, pulled the hood up though there was a lull in the rain.

  "I'm getting help," she said, pressing a kiss to his forward.

  She got out of the car. No bars.

  Zipping the cellphone into her jacket pocket, she glanced at Clay. Please, please be okay when I get back.

  She climbed, sending small rocks and miniature landslides downward with her hands and knees and feet. Reaching the road, Clay wasn't visible, but the boulder that must have hit the car and sent them spinning off the road had smashed into several pines, uprooting one and breaking another in two before ripping into a third.

  She shivered. If the rock hadn't hit the rear of the car, if it'd struck the driver's side door…

  Lucky. They'd been lucky. They just needed a little more luck.

  She pulled out her cellphone. There was no coverage.

  That means I go to plan B.

  She couldn't allow herself to think what failure might mean. She would find help. Clay would be okay.

  She took a deep breath and ran in the direction of the turnoff to the sheriff's house. Each of her heartbeats was a plea. And every slap of her tennis shoes against the muddy, rocky road sounded that same plea.

  Let me find help.

  Let me find help.

  Let me find help.

  Her lungs burned and her sides ached by the time she reached the totem poles. Passing between them, she had
the eerie impression that the land itself was aware of her presence. And with that feeling came a fleeting sensation that in another life she'd known when Thunderbirds flew and had lived in a world where spirit guides existed.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms. Clay's imagined voice said, Love your imagination, babe, and she swallowed against the added burn in her throat.

  She stopped to catch her breath. Doubled over, hands on her thighs.

  "Please let him be okay. Please let me find help," she whispered and a sudden strong wind surged past her, as if catching her pleas and then carrying them swirling upward in a funnel cloud of leaves and dirt.

  She pulled her phone from the jacket pocket. A single bar. And it was getting darker faster.

  Swallowing against a rush of panic she pushed herself back into a fast run. She had to keep going. That's all she could do.

  The rain returned in a fierce downpour. It drove against her back as if she was the storm's target.

  Lightning flashed with increasing frequency. Thunder obliterated the pounding of her own heart.

  A cluster of dark clouds twisted and roiled and hurried across the sky in a beautiful, powerful display. She ducked her head, the wind against her back felt like a hurrying hand.

  Her thoughts returned repeatedly to Clay. She imagined him drowsy but okay. She imagined him slipping into a coma. She imagined him bleeding internally, the blood pooling, turning into something life-threatening and killing him before she could get back with help.

  She passed a stand of junipers and their scent was Christmas with Clay.

  Rain and tears nearly blinded her. The storm deafened her. A white car with a bronze five-pointed star overlaid with the word Sheriff swung around the curve in front of her and her heart soared. Help. She'd found help.

  The car braked, sliding into a stop and a Native American man emerged from the cruiser wearing a brown slicker with the Sheriff's Department logo. Her exhale was part sob. Relief nearly sent her to her knees.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two

  Mine, Tekoa thought. The land had called to his spirit and brought it back to his body when she'd passed the totem poles. He'd known he'd find her on the road, but now the pain and fear in her sob, the desperation in her eyes and the engagement ring on her finger had his heart thundering in an uncertain beat.

  Every instinct demanded that he take her in his arms but he forced himself into his role of sheriff. "What happened?"

  "A boulder hit the car. We went off the road."

  "Who was with you?"

  "Clay."

  "Your fiancé?"

  Tears sheened her eyes. She nodded. "He's hurt. He's at least got a concussion. But there could be internal injuries."

  Another sob like the one she'd first greeted him with left her, and again he fought the urge to take her into his arms. Already he burned with the desire to protect and comfort and possess her.

  He fisted his hand rather than curl it around her arm, grabbing at any excuse to touch her. Nodding toward the cruiser, he said, "Get in the front."

  He slid into the driver's seat, uncertainty and hope and worry for her turning Thunderbird spirit into a tornado trapped inside a mortal body. She was his perfect match.

  As a man he wouldn't have known it, not with the ring on her finger. But his spirit had passed over her in the Thunderbird's form and recognized her as his mate.

  One of his mates.

  Let her be the first of two mates.

  Her fear and anxiety burrowed into him. If Clay wasn't also meant to be his mate, then the ring on her finger said she would endure the grief and pain of losing someone she loved.

  That possibility made it a struggle not to floor the gas pedal. Tekoa's heart beat too hard and too fast in a too tight chest, sending ache into the hands gripping the steering wheel. "What's your name?"

  "Jessica. Jessica North."

  "I'm Tekoa." They reached the totem poles and the rain eased.

  "Turn left," she said. "It's a little further."

  The sky darkened with storm and nightfall. He sped up, driving as fast as he dared.

  They rounded jutting rock and ahead of them a man lay sprawled face-up in the road.

  "Clay!" She unclasp her seatbelt and grabbed the door handle.

  Tekoa shackled her wrist, the contact enough to fist and squeeze his heart. "Hold on."

  He braked a few feet from Clay, released her and shifted the cruiser into park.

  She shoved the door open and scrambled out. He joined her, kneeling next to Clay.

  Blue eyes with uneven pupils opened. "Jess?"

  "I'm here. The sheriff's here. You're going to be okay." She stroked Clay's cheek, love in her touch and gaze and voice.

  Tekoa leaned over Clay. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

  "Stomach hurts. Chest hurts. May have broken some ribs."

  "Anything else?"

  "Head hurts. Puked a little while ago. Think I have a concussion. Had one before." He closed his eyes and shivered violently. "And cold. So cold."

  "Let's get you to the car," Tekoa said.

  Clay roused enough to help them get him on his feet and then onto the back seat.

  Tekoa retrieved a blanket from the trunk and covered him, then tapped Clay's cheek. Slowly Clay opened eyes the color of a summer sky.

  Let him be my mate, Tekoa thought. "Stay conscious."

  "Will try."

  Returning to the driver's seat, Tekoa shifted out of park. "There's a turnout up ahead."

  "How far to the hospital?"

  "Too far."

  Her sound of distress arrowed into his heart and this time he didn't stop himself from taking her hand.

  He wanted to say, It'll be okay. Clay will be okay. But they weren't of The People and she wouldn't be comforted by his intention to do a sing.

  He squeezed her hand, glanced away from the road long enough to meet her eyes and will her to trust him. "Downed trees and mudslides have the fastest route to the hospital blocked. There are ways around but they'll add hours to the trip and some of the roads are extremely rough. There's a good chance that traveling over them will make him worse. My cabin's closer. Right now it's better to get him there and out of his wet clothes."

  The curl of her fingers around his, the feel of her engagement ring against his palm, wrapped his heart in bands of heat and hope. "Okay," she said, twisting in her seat to monitor Clay, the tug of her hand from his leaving aching bands of longing.

  They reached the turnout, did a U-turn and headed toward his cabin.

  Jessica was his. He didn't doubt his spirit's recognition of a mate. But was Clay?

  He'd know soon enough.

  The rain lashed against the cruiser as if urging him to hurry, hurry, hurry. And his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his worry for Clay increasing.

  There could be internal injuries. But he hadn't lied to Jessica, he would never lie to her. The fastest route to the hospital was blocked and the roads they'd have to detour on were rough and jarring and might well be impassable.

  If Clay wasn't also meant to be his mate, if Clay couldn't be healed with a sing…

  Tekoa's throat tightened. Phantom talons gripped and pierced his heart.

  The loss would be devastating to Jessica and he wouldn't willingly see her hurt. He'd rather give her up than claim her knowing that the only way he could was if Clay died.

  Finally the cabin came into sight and Jessica grabbed the door handle as if she'd jump out before he stopped moving. His hand twitched on the steering wheel as he suppressed the need to shackle her wrist.

  They reached the cabin and he maneuvered the cruiser as close to the front door as he could. He parked and Jessica flung her door open, scrambled out of the car.

  His heartbeats alternating between ache and hope, Tekoa got out and opened the back door. Cold air and frigid water blasted into the back and struck Clay's face.

  His eyes opened. His teeth chattered.

  With Clay's help, they got
him out of the cruiser and into the cabin.

  "On the rug in front of the fireplace," Tekoa said.

  They crossed the room, lay Clay down on the thick rug Tekoa's grandmother and great aunt had woven in the red, white, black, yellow and blue that were the Thunderbird's colors.

  "He's pale," Jessica said, pressing her hand to Clay's forehead, her voice tight. "And his breathing is more labored."

  "Get him out of his wet clothes while I get the fire going."

  Tekoa closed his hands, opened them, fighting against covering the hand touched to Clay, against cupping the back of her head and pulling her forward so he could kiss the fear and worry away. He turned toward the fireplace and there were two half-full cups balanced on the Thunderbird his brother Ukiah had carved into the mantel.

  Lightheadedness had Tekoa reaching, gripping the smooth polished wood of the mantel's edge. Clay would be okay. Not only would Clay be restored to health with the sing, but the appearance of the cups containing the Creator's liquid blessing meant Jessica and Clay would become of The People, that they'd be able to fly as Thunderbirds.

  Tekoa offered a silent song of thanks then knelt and opened the fireplace grate. While his spirit had flown as a Thunderbird, his human shell had rested on the rug where Clay lay. When he'd been called back and flown over Jessica, he'd taken only long enough to dress and bank the fire before racing from the cabin.

  The flames came readily to life while behind him, the rustle of clothing marked Jessica's progress at stripping Clay. He steeled himself against showing any reaction to Clay's nakedness. They might be the lovers who would share his bed and his life, but right now they were strangers who needed his help.

  He turned and in a heartbeat was suffocated by his clothing, bound too tight by his own skin. He hadn't allowed himself to really see his mate, not when all Jessica's concern, all their concern had needed to be on reaching and rescuing Clay, but now…

  His heart stuttered. Her vulnerability called to him. Her blue eyes were the color of a warm, clear lake, the color of a sky meant for endless soaring. Everything about her was exquisite, soft and gentle and heart-wrenchingly beautiful.