by Alisha Paige
Fear and terror gripped her like a vice…
She nodded to Sean and he crossed the room, opening the window as wide as it would open. He returned to the bed and held both of Paige’s hands.
“We’re going to show you something, baby. Don’t be afraid. I promise you won’t get hurt.”
“What are you talking about? Have you two lost your minds?” Paige asked, now very afraid, feeling as though she were living in a horror film.
Aunt Bette moved to the center of the room and took off her knit sweater, laying it across a chair. She kicked her shoes off and sat on the floor. She closed her eyes as Sean pulled Paige to him, wrapping his arms around her, securing her tightly.
Aunt Bette began to shake and moan. Her left leg began scratching her left ear in a most unnatural position. She looked as if she had been infested by fleas. Paige watched in horror as her leg became a hind leg. Her foot grew two feet longer and grey hair sprouted as black claws reached for the carpeted floor. All of the sudden she was on all fours, only half changed. Her pants and shirt ripped off her as muscles and hair popped through the shreds. Her soft gray head was replaced by a long muzzle with wiry hair and sharp fangs. Her ears grew quickly, pointing toward the ceiling as she grunted and groaned.
Paige writhed and screamed as Sean held her steady. She finally shut her eyes tight, then reopened them again for fear she wouldn’t see Aunt Bette coming forward to claim her dessert. Fear and terror gripped her like a vice. She thought she would have a heart attack on the spot, but she didn’t. She wished she would faint or wake up or die. Aunt Bette wasn’t Aunt Bette anymore. The she-wolf sat in the center of the quaint bedroom and looked at both of them with intelligent human-like eyes. Sean held onto Paige as she fought in vain. He nodded to the wolf, knowing that Paige had now seen enough.
Canyon Wolf Bride
by
Alisha Paige
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Canyon Wolf Bride
COPYRIGHT Ó 2007 by Alisha Paige
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 706
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, June 2007
Print ISBN 1-60154-049-3
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For Michael, Dianna and Annalisa - my lover, partner in dreams and leader of the pack, my little cheerleader and my carrot-topped comic relief.
Chapter 1
The lone owl flew with silent, spotted wings over the tops of the snow covered pines as the old moon shined bright and cold, lighting her journey back to the giant, grandmother oak. Hollow and deep, the ancient tree hid her babies, cradling them in darkness, sheltering them from the frosted wind.
Swooping to the top of the tree, she peered inside, her lifeless prey dangling in her crooked beak. Peeping through a wormed-out hole near the top of her home, she eyed his deep footprints in the snow. He was a small gray figure now beneath her tree, gazing at her with round blue eyes as if to say, I’ll get it next time.
The silver wolf stalked away as the owl began tearing the rabbit with her talons, feasting heartily, her gold eyes keeping watch until he disappeared into the snow covered forest.
The wolf would go hungry tonight. His frosty breath led the way as he plodded through the woods, edging near the road as the sun peeked over the horizon. Nearing the cabin and inching around to the back, he jumped on his hind legs and peered through the kitchen window. The lace curtains only allowed half an inch to see inside, but he could already see that she was up, drinking coffee in her robe. Sighing, his blue eyes flicked to chocolate brown at the sight of her.
He worried endlessly about her and long ago made it a habit to check on her on his way home. Inhaling, he breathed in the scent of bacon, coffee and the flowery, feminine fragrance that filtered through his wolf nostrils and into his man heart. Reluctantly, he returned to all fours. Morning was near. The mountainside was beginning to glow bright with first light as he scampered off.
His heart was pounding by the time he reached the truck. He had almost cut it too close. Sun rays glistened on his silver coat as he jumped into the bed of the truck. Pain filled grunts and growls escaped his throat as the truck rocked back and forth. Birds in the trees took flight as the woods plunged into quiet stillness. He lay naked on a thin sheet of ice, his eyes shut tight as his rapid breathing slowed to normal.
Perspiration rolled down his smooth chest. His hazelnut hair was drenched, plastered against his neck and jaw line. He groaned and opened his eyes to a flood of color and light. The change from black and white vision to full frontal color spectrum never failed to take his breath away. He focused on an icicle hanging from his toolbox. The bed of the truck changed from dull gray to bright color as he blinked to focus again. The tool box shone bright red, the icicle a pearlescent white, his snow skis a brilliant blue, and the sunlight filtering through the pines a warm yellow.
Taking a deep breath of frosty air, he reached for the bag, tugging at the draw string. He grabbed his jeans, sweater, and boots, dressing in record time, jumping onto the snow just as the sun began to peek over the Rocky Mountains. Bounding into his truck, he sped off toward his cabin a mile away.
****
Paige Wellington flipped through the radio stations, stopping at the classical channel playing Brahm’s Requiem. She maneuvered her car carefully through the newly fallen snow, reaching for her sunglasses as the bright sun shot around a bend in the road.
She was alone as she made her way down the mountain on her way to the art museum where she worked as curator. A brown rabbit darted in front of her jeep, forcing her to brake as it scampered across the road in front of Sean Wilson’s cabin.
He was already up, chopping wood. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the hood of his truck. He wasn’t hard to spot in his red flannel jacket. When he heard her car, he looked up and waved. A warm smile curved around his handsome face.
She drove on as he eyed the rabbit scampering into the woods. His eyes flashed to ice blue as he watched the cotton tail disappear into the forest, making a mental note of that particular rabbit.
Butterflies skittered through Paige’s belly as she remembered their first date last week at the local pizza joint. Sean had been there for her since her husband Rob was killed two years before in a skiing accident. They were both on the U.S. Olympic team four years earlier and had become close friends. He had won the gold in moguls and Rob had won the silver in downhill.
Sean had been the last person to see Rob alive near the top of the mountain when Rob hit a rock on a black slope propelling him into a large pine tree. He was killed instantly. The press had been merciless, though Sean was there to help Paige through the worst of it. Paige and Sean had grown closer over the past two years during their weekly talks. Sean periodically came by to check on her, chop wood for her, clear her garden, and even patch up her roof after a bad storm. Paige often asked him why he decided to stay in his modest cabin when the sports commercials he endorsed had delivered thousands to his bank account. He joked and said he had to keep an eye on her, but it was no joke. He as
ked her the same, though Rob had not made as much money after the Olympics as Sean, he left Paige very comfortable.
Paige smiled at the memory of Sean’s reaction when she agreed to their first date. It had been a great night. They had talked for hours over a hamburger-bacon pizza and a bucket of beer. Reluctantly, they took the hint when waiters began sweeping around their feet and piling chairs on top of tables.
As he had driven her home, the snow begun falling again. They had laughed and talked all the way up the mountain. He had hopped out of his truck and told her to stay put, coming around to open her door. She had squealed with laughter as he scooped her up, carried her to the porch and placed her onto the welcome mat.
She had planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “How about dinner at my place on Saturday?”
“What should I bring?” he’d asked, staring at her mouth.
“You’re all I need,” she’d replied, pushing a brown lock of hair away from his forehead. A throaty laugh had escaped him as he imagined what she really needed from him.
“I’ll see you Saturday. Have a great week.” Sean had kissed the top of her strawberry colored head before jumping over the hedges onto the snow and into his truck.
He had caught a glimpse of her smile as she closed the door. Backing out of the drive, he had shaken his head. Seven more days had seemed like torture for a man who had waited on edge for two long years.
****
Paige unlocked the back door of the museum. There was brisk meaning in her step as her high heels clicked along the tiled floor all the way to her office.
Her office was carpeted in a lush, creamy rose pattern. A large potted ivy sat on a corner shelf near the rear window, its long stems and leaves reaching for the plush carpet as it dangled a mere inch from the floor. A miniature statue of Michelangelo’s David sat in the opposite corner and two Renaissance prints lined the coffee colored walls.
She switched on her computer, hung her mink in the closet and sat in the ebony leather chair. Grabbing a pencil from her desk and sharpening it in the electric sharpener, she jotted down some notes for the 10:00 a.m. meeting.
Swiveling her chair around, she gazed into the courtyard at the angel in the center of the garden. She was covered with snow, the tips of her wings frozen with ice. Paige stared at the serene expression on her little face and thought how odd it was that she looked so real, yet so unaffected by the cold.
There was a knock at her door. Swiveling back around, Paige answered, “Come in.”
Her secretary, Mary opened the door half way.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wellington. Sorry to bother you so early, but Coming Wind is here.”
“All ready?”
“He’s anxious to speak with you about his exhibit. He says he wants them displayed in a particular order and wanted to see you before the art was hung.”
“Very well, then. Send him in. Thanks, Mary.”
Mary nodded and left to retrieve Coming Wind.
Coming Wind was an American Indian artist, famous for his paintings of The Grand Canyon and its wildlife. As chief of the Havasupai tribe, he was a very busy man. Paige knew how lucky she was to display his art and was particularly grateful that he had traveled so far. She knew what an important man he was to the Havasupai. He had come all the way from Supai Village, located in remote Havasu Canyon at the bottom of the western Grand Canyon.
As the most powerful elder of the tribe, he’d been essential as an environmental lobbyist, helping a handful of bills pass into legislation over the past few years. His art would bring a lot of visitors to the museum. More important was the fact that he was interested in donating some money for the building of a new wing dedicated to ancient civilizations.
As Coming Wind entered her office, Paige stood, extending her hand. He crossed the office wearing jeans and a long sleeved khaki shirt with a chocolate, suede vest. Around his throat, he wore a thick piece of dark animal hide with a bone-white arrowhead dangling in front of his Adam’s apple. A single blue feather pointed toward the floor at the end of a tiny braid on the left side of his flowing, black hair.
Kissing the back of her hand, Coming Wind shot her a broad smile before taking a seat across from her desk.
“How are you this morning, Mrs. Wellington?”
“Very well. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No thanks. I just wanted to go over some last minute details before the exhibit.”
“Of course. I understand you want them displayed in a certain order. I was intending to hang them in order of their creation. What did you have in mind?”
He stood, pacing the floor before stopping to concentrate on one of the Renaissance prints depicting nude women feasting on grapes. Crossing his arms, he rubbed his chin in thought before turning around.
“I was thinking that a mix may be more pleasing to the eye. Perhaps start with two works of Havasu Canyon scenery, then two more of mixed wildlife. You could hang ‘Wolf Pack’ next to ‘Birds of Canyon Life.’ Then I would like to see several paintings of Havasupai Village life. Do you follow me?”
“I see. Yes, I think a mix would make it more pleasurable and interesting. It would give the audience more of a variety and allow them to see the diversity in your work. I’ll come up with a good mix, hang them and call you in for approval.”
Coming Wind nodded his approval and turned to go.
“Thank you, Mr. Wind.”
He turned, smiling to himself before closing her office door.
****
The week flew by for Paige. She had thrown herself into Coming Wind’s exhibit and had won his final approval. Opening night was one day away as she shifted her thoughts to Sean while dressing for their dinner date.
She had taken a creamy milk bath and realized as she looked at the clock that she lay in the tub far too long thinking of him. She often found herself thinking of Sean, smiling and blushing to herself as he flittered through her mind during her work day.
She no longer cried herself to sleep anymore as nightmares of Rob’s horrible accident began fading away. She could no longer deny the pull between the two of them. Something within her had awakened and somehow she knew it was time to explore these strange, new feelings.
Every morning when she passed his cabin, she slowed her car down, hoping to catch a glimpse. Usually he was already up, doing yard work or chopping wood. Paige wondered if he made an effort to be outside by the time she drove by. He had become a wonderful friend after Rob’s death. He had been there for her when she couldn’t imagine reading one more headline or watching the sports channel’s drivel of Rob’s great but short-lived ski career. All of her friends urged her to begin dating. Even her mother had been inquiring about her love life.
She dressed in a pair of her favorite jeans and a pink cashmere sweater with a dangerously low neck line. Her long strawberry-colored hair was pulled up on one side, held by a simple crystal barrette over her right ear, showing off her diamond teardrop earrings. A tiny diamond heart pendant nestled between her cleavage.
A firm knock thudded at the door as she sprayed expensive, gardenia perfume on her neck and wrists. Taking a deep breath and one last glance in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection. Sean knocked a second time as Paige finally made it to the door, opening it with a creak as a gust of winter wind blew in.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d answer. Got cold feet?”
“Sorry. I was in the back room.”
Whistling at Paige, Sean kicked the snow off his boots before shutting the door.
“Want me to build a fire? It’s chilly in here.”
“Sure. The wood’s out back.”
Sean laughed out loud. “I know. I stacked it for you. Remember? After I chopped it?”
Quick, nervous laughter escaped her before she answered.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
Sean took her hands and pulled them to his chest.
“Paige, you have nothing to be scared of. It�
�s me. Look, if you aren’t ready for this, I can go. I don’t want to pressure you.”
His brown eyes searched hers as he waited for an answer.
“No, I’m fine. Really. I’m happy you’re here. I hope you’re hungry. I bought a lot of food at the market.”
He dropped her hands and started for the back door to fetch the wood.
“Sounds great! I’m starved. I spent all day teaching twelve-year-olds how to ski. It was quite a challenge.”
“Sounds tiresome,” Paige hollered from inside the refrigerator as she retrieved meat and vegetables.
“It was, but I enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun. They’re a great bunch of kids.”
Paige smiled at him as she began chopping vegetables on the chopping block. Sean built a fire across the room and turned on the Celtic music he had given her a few weeks before.
The dry wood caught within seconds, popping and crackling. Watching him stoke the fire from the kitchen, Paige couldn’t help but stare at his firm behind in tight fitting jeans. She imagined what he would look like without them on and then pictured him without his sweater. Were his muscled arms as large as they looked? She already knew how they felt around her middle as he often hugged her goodbye.
“What are you smiling at? You look like the cat that ate the canary. What are you thinking of?”
Sean crossed the room and stood by her side, fumbling in the drawer for the corkscrew and opening a bottle of wine. She liked the way he made himself at home, taking full charge.
“Just how happy I am that you’re here.” Sean handed her a glass of wine and leaned against the counter with his arms folded, holding a glass of wine for himself.
“I’m happy to be anywhere with you, darling. Drink your wine. I want you to relax.”
“I have a secret to confess, Sean.” He raised his eyebrows in question. “I’ve dreamed of this for quite a long time.”