Tim wrapped his arm around her waist and placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I love your mind.” At which Tabitha beamed. At which a collective groan rippled through the group. At the rate they were burning the candle Kris might actually win the bet. The break up was going to be mammoth.
“Fact or no fact, I’m siding with Edgar Cayce. Next year I say we go to the Bahamas and put this whole issue to bed once and for all.” Harold trudged through the snow with purpose, a broad smile breaking across his handsome face as the thought warmed him against the chilly air.
Cheyenne shook her head, smiling at the friendly banter. Harold, who was always pushing for an excuse for an island getaway, was not one for letting go of an idea once it had settled in. And it was obvious to Cheyenne that it was settled. This time next year they would no doubt be scuba diving off the coast of the Bahamas.
Their trip to Santorini hadn’t been a total bust, however. Coupled with the great diving opportunity and the fantastic sites the gorgeous island provided, Cheyenne was able to bring back a few choice bottles of wine the city was known for. In anticipation of their coming discovery (cross fingers), she had tucked away a bottle of their famous vinsanto into her bag along with a few small plastic tumblers. Known as the “holy wine," Cheyenne could think of no better way to commemorate the event than rewarding themselves with the sweet nectar of the gods.
Casting her gaze heavenward and seeing nothing more than a blanket of white as far as the eye could see, Cheyenne had only one wish: that they were already at the top, so she could crack that baby open and taste the sweetness of vino coating her tongue while nibbling on a chocolate bar.
A chocolate bar that was currently sitting on the nightstand beside the bed back at the B & B in town. Damn! Talk about bursting bubbles.
Thoroughly peeved, Cheyenne dug the spikes of her crampons into the ground and continued the trek up the mountainside with much less enthusiasm, allowing Kris, who grinned like a kid let loose in a candy shop at the allowance, to take the lead.
Chapter 2
They finished setting up camp just before sundown. Tabitha and Tim chose to bunk together in their own tent while Harold, Sebastian and Kris bunked together in theirs, and Cheyenne, Cathy and Hadley opted for a little girl time in a tent of their own.
Snuggled deep within their sleeping bags, Cathy was regaling them with tales from her adventures in bank telling while Cheyenne and Hadley listened intently, sharing a few well-earned laughs along the way.
“I’m telling you guys, the man wrote a check for three billion dollars, and as if that wasn’t ridiculous enough, he asked for it all in twenties!” The women broke out in a fit of laughter at the absurdity of it.
“What happened then?” Hadley asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I told him I had to have the manager sign off since it was such a large amount, then I went to the back and called the cops. It was pretty sad too. The guy really thought he was going to get that money for a minute there. At least until the officers slapped the cuffs on his wrists and dragged him out of the door.”
“That’s really sad.” Hadley frowned. “I mean, maybe he really needed the money. Maybe he was homeless or something.”
“Or maybe,” Cheyenne smirked, “he was just really stupid.”
Hadley smacked her arm as if offended, but she couldn’t hide the smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “You’re stupid, Chy.”
“And you’re too soft-hearted for your own good,” Cheyenne rebutted. “I swear, Lee, one of these days you’re gonna be taken to the cleaners by some poor sap with a good sob story.”
Cathy gave an unfeminine snort. “Too late, Chy, Cam already got to her.”
Cheyenne smothered a laugh. Cameron was Hadley’s husband. Ten years ago they had met in a coffee shop down the block from her apartment. Hadley had noticed his mopey, withdrawn behavior and being the bleeding heart that she was; she had approached the perfect stranger and asked him if there was anything the matter. Of course, he spilled the classic story about a bad break-up and a cheating ex and Hadley had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
They had been inseparable ever since—except for these outings, of course, but not for the sake of trying. Every year Cameron would plead his case and every year, to her continued surprise, Hadley shot him down. Cheyenne was the only one who knew it was because this was a rare opportunity for Hadley to break free of her daily grind and Cam’s clinging vine routine. Hadley needed the break, plain and simple.
Cameron was a loving husband and an attentive father, but he was severely lacking in a lot of areas. While Hadley was playing the role of housewife, maid, mother, chef and chauffeur, Cameron was working part time shifts at the refinery. Barely clocking in more than twenty hours a week, he never ceased to come home and demand his ritual beer while he fused his ass to the recliner and got lost in his video games for the remaining eight hours of the day.
Cheyenne had been playing counselor to Hadley’s pent-up anger for last few years as tensions began running higher. Not that Cameron had ever noticed the change. However, men always seemed to wear their blinders where their personal life was concerned; which was why Cheyenne had remained blissfully single most of her adult life.
Whenever she found herself getting lonely and that familiar itch to seek out a mate became too strong, she would snuggle up with a bucket of rocky road and her favorite author, J.R. Ward and her delicious men of the Brotherhood, and get lost in the fantasy of hulking, leather clad, emotionally wrecked males whom she would be all too happy to dive in and fix.
And that was wherein the problem lies. No man, unless they were a fictional character dreamed up by a woman, would ever be that incredibly devoted, loving, attentive and sexy. Not that Cheyenne would ever mark men off her list entirely. She had needs too. It was just that, aside from the perfect specimen dropping out of the clear blue sky, sword in hand ready to defend her to the death, there would never be a man alive that would meet her specifications.
“You really are a bleeding heart though.” Cheyenne caught the wicked gleam in Cathy’s eyes even as her face dropped into a pitiful pout. “Speaking of, you think I could borrow a couple grand? My rent is overdue because I bought these really cute shoes that were way out of my price range, and my landlord says that if I don’t pay by the end of the week, I’ll be on the street. I don’t want to be a streetwalker, Leelee.” Cathy swiped at her face as if she were crying.
“I know you don’t think I’m falling for those crocodile tears, Cat!” Hadley snapped good-naturedly. “I swear you two; I don’t know why I even bother.”
Cheyenne and Cathy shared a look before bursting out laughing, earning a quizzical look from Hadley. “One, because you love us,” Cathy said.
“And two,” Cheyenne chimed in, “because if you weren’t here with us, you’d be wiping up spills and changing poopy diapers while Cam beckoned for another beer because he had such a long and ‘stressful’ day at work.” Cheyenne made air quotes to emphasize her annoyance.
“Stressful my eye,” Cathy snorted. “I’d like to see him survive one day in that mad house and come away even half as sane or polished as our Leelee here.” She shuddered. “Believe me, I have spent an afternoon in the Silverman household, and I for one, have gained a new-found respect for mothers with toddlers.”
“Hey, it may be rough at times, but I hardly think it was that terrible,” Hadley defended.
“Rough? Rough? Leelee, my dear, I would gladly walk into a war zone, bullets whizzing past my head, before I spent another day under your roof. Those aren’t children. They are monsters.” Cathy stabbed a hot pink fingernail at the air between them to accentuate her point.
“Monsters!” Hadley screeched, taking offense. “My children may be a little high strung at times, but they hardly earn monster status.”
“One of them ate my purse strap, Leelee! In my book that qualifies as a monster.”
Silence enveloped the tent; the tension was so thick it could
be cut with a knife. The women exchanged looks both heated and unsure. Out of the blue, Hadley erupted in a fit of laughter, leaving Cheyenne and Cathy puzzled. They may not have known what set it off, but in a matter of seconds, everyone in the tent was holding their sides and gasping for air.
“You’re right, Cat. They are monsters.” Hadley breathed deeply, her attempt to calm herself an act in futility.
“Yeah, but they’re your monsters, and I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Cathy leaned over the small lamplight nestled between them and offered Hadley a hug, which was accepted immediately.
“Alright ladies, I think it’s time to hit the sack. We’re going to need all the energy we can get if we’re going to rise with the sun.” Cheyenne reached out and flipped the lantern off, immediately plugging them into darkness. The wind whipped outside the tent walls as the chilly night air tried its best to beat its way inside. However, that wasn’t what kept the women from getting a good night’s sleep. It was the strange animal noises coming from somewhere nearby.
The sun was just breaking over the horizon when the women stumbled from the tent to join the men in the middle of the small campsite. Cheyenne noticed almost immediately that their tent had already been broken down and packed away. Kris was knelt down in front of the portable cook top heating water.
“Coffee,” Cheyenne croaked. She wouldn’t be fully awake until she had her morning dose the black stuff, and the last thing the team needed was an irritable grizzly leading them to their death. She would need to be operating on all cylinders to get this mission accomplished.
Kris held up the lid to the thermos. Cheyenne accepted and tossed it back, grimacing as it burned a path down her esophagus and smiling serenely when it warmed her insides.
“The guys and I will tear down in a few.” He tipped his head indicating the women’s tent. “I already mapped our next path up the mountain. We’ll cut through the trees to the west. There’s supposed to be a path cutting through there. We’ll follow that. It should be a straight shot from there.”
Cheyenne stared at him blankly, her eyes following his every move as he passed out small cups of coffee to everyone until the pot was empty. He packed fresh snow into the thermos and tucked it away in his pack then turned back to finish breaking down the cook area. Hadley, Cathy, Sebastian and Harold milled about sipping at the foam cups.
Looking around, Cheyenne frowned. “Where are Tim and Tabby? Haven’t they gotten up yet?”
The men shared amused looks. Sebastian cleared his throat. “I think Tim was up most of the night.”
A devilish grin spread over Harold’s face. “Yeah, I’m betting Tabs didn’t fare much better. “
“Yeah, we didn’t get too much sleep last night either,” Hadley said with a yawn. “I think an animal got hurt or something what with all that howling going on.”
“Or something,” Kris said under his breath.
Cheyenne, not liking this one bit, pushed the empty lid into Kris’s chest and marched through the snow to the happy couple’s tent. Since there wasn’t a door to bang her fist against, she took a large breath to brace herself for whatever she was about to encounter, and unzipped the tent in one quick motion.
“Rise and shine!” she bellowed.
Tabitha and Tim jolted upright, grimacing at the bright rays of sunlight streaming through the opening. Clutching the sleeping bag they had wedged themselves into to their obviously bare chests, Cheyenne became instantly contrite. Here was the “animal” that had robbed her of her much-needed beauty rest. Here was the “animal” that had wailed long into the early-morning hours putting her and her team mates in jeopardy. Narrowing her eyes, they shrank back letting her know the message was received.
“Five minutes…” she growled.
Backing out of the tent and securing the opening, Cheyenne crossed the small site and began tearing down her tent alongside the men. It was all she could do to keep her mind off the irrational fury bubbling inside her.
Four minutes later, they were breaking down the last of the campsite and heading up the mountain in search of their mystery.
Chapter 3
The fiery golden rays of the sun burned through the black cotton shirt—the only color he wore these days—scalding his skin. Like the fires of hell, he mused, bringing the brown glass bottle to his lips. The bitter liquid coated his tongue before washing down his throat and heating his insides another degree. Beer was his favorite cure-all. Though it took nearly a dozen to affect the same results, he desired as when he first started the habit.
Cold, dewy moisture dripped from the bottle onto his shirt, soaking through the material and cooling his skin one drop at a time. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the back of the lounge chair, his vision washed in copper as the sun tried its best to burn a hole into his retinas. He would not care, not one bit if it meant ridding him of the terrible nightmares that plagued his sleeping mind every damned night of every damned day he was forced to live on this damned planet.
Live, he snorted without amusement. Was that was he was doing? If you called working the days away at a dead-end job, drinking yourself into a drunken stupor just to catch a couple of hours of blessedly uneventful, dreamless, sleep, then yeah, he supposed he was living.
“Erias,” a sweet female voice crooned.
Oh yeah, you could add bedding a different female every night to sate his body’s cravings to the list while you were at it. Shit, he couldn’t even fuck without seeing her face every damned time and feeling like a cheating bastard.
How long would the guilt last, he didn’t know. It had been nine hundred years, fifty-seven days, ten hours and some-odd minutes. He’d stopped counting those, finally. It was pointless. He no longer lived minute to minute. He had graduated second to second last year. Talk about improvement.
He raised the beer in celebration of his achievements and took a long draw.
Ice-cold water splattered his legs soaking through his jeans and cooling his heated flesh a few more degrees. The copper behind his closed lids turned to shadows dotted with red/gold circles. He grumbled, annoyed at the intrusion.
Eyes remaining shut tight, he brought his beer to his lips once again, draining its contents. He set the bottle down on the ground next to him, the clanking of glass against glass filling his ears as it joined its brothers. Hand reaching out, it unerringly found the cooler that seemed to have taken up permanent residence at his side over the last fifty years, and flipped open the lid.
“Erias,” the female whined from above him. “Why don’t you come swim with me?”
“No, thanks,” his gruff voice rumbled. Damn! Where was that beer? He shouted in his head as his fingers consistently found nothing but tiny squares of ice that burned against his heated flesh.
“I thought you brought me here because you wanted to spend some time together,” she whined some more. The cold dripping off her soaked body became more of saturation as she positioned herself over him and straddled his waist.
Great, now his boxers were soaked too. Fucking nice.
Instead of snapping at her, he plunged his hand into the ice in full search and rescue mode. He had one more left; he was sure of it, he told himself as he counted back, reliving each bottle, each delicious swig that took him closer to his desired state of mind: numb.
“The only thing you’re going to find in there is ice,” she said harshly. Then her voice morphed into a deep, throaty timber. “It would be a real shame to let it all go to waste. Lucky for you, I know a few ways to put it to good use.” She rose, tugging at his hands, urging him out of the plastic chair. “Come on, let’s go inside, big boy. I want to have some of that fun you promised me.”
Fun? Promised? First of all, Erias never made promises. He knew better. He couldn’t keep them. Second, he never would have offered her “fun." Fun was not a part of his vocabulary anymore. “I never promised you—”
Erias glanced around too. It wasn’t the nicest of places he had stayed at over
the last few years, decades. Made up mostly of concrete and asphalt, a few patches of grass and a couple of potted trees, the hotel boasted over one hundred rooms with a view—a distant view so small he wasn’t sure it wasn’t a mirage—of the ocean. Twenty-four-hour room service and two Olympic sized pools—one inside and one outside—where they currently were. He was a man of simple needs—money in his pockets, which meant he needed a job, beer in his hand, and a bed to crash in. Use of a female body was just a distraction he liked to enjoy on a regular basis, though it brought him momentary, if not very little, pleasure. There wasn’t a single woman who could measure up to his beloved Helena.
Looking up at the leggy blond, her drab brown eyes hard and demanding, peering down at him, her thinly muscled arms crossed over her too ample breasts. Surgically enhanced, they called them. Erias laughed to himself. His woman would have never needed such a thing. Her breasts were perfect, created by the gods, surely. They fit into the palm of his hand, were soft and silky. She had the sweetest rose-colored nipples that beaded in anticipation whenever he touched her. The women he shacked up with thought the bags they had stuffed into their chests were an improvement.
Like the woman before him, they were more than a handful, and he knew, to hold them, to kneed them, would prove a waste of time and effort because in most cases, they wouldn’t feel his ministrations as they had lost all sensation the moment the knife made its incision.
Eyes roving over her body, Erias soaked up the flat planes of her smooth stomach, the lack of curves a woman who had never bore a man’s child would have, and the lean, toned legs that went on for miles.
Shooting her a challenging grin, he patted his lap. “Sure, outside sounds great.” A part of him was only kidding, thinking that surely she would pale a run screaming for the hills, releasing him from a bargain he was beginning to regret having made. The other part of him craved the danger, the idea that at any second they could be caught. Being around as long as he had, he found that sometimes a man needed to create his own challenges. Damned gods. They had tricked him, twisting his words to suit their fancy. Proving to him once again why he had renounced his faith in the first place.
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