Page 68 of The Spirit of the Wolf

“Hiya, you are right. Protest all you like.” He continued cutting at her drawers, repeating the same procedure to her other leg.

Dear Lord. Even in her sleep she wore more than this.

For a moment, the yearning for her own society became almost more than she could bear. But she suppressed the feeling. This she would endure, if only because she had to.

“I am sorry,” Grey Coyote said. “I realize how difficult this is for you, since I am certain you do not wish your form to be this amply displayed. But come, you are being very brave. Now let us be even more courageous.”

Again, she sighed.

“However, there is one observance I feel compelled to mention.”

“Oh?”

“You are perfect, my wife. Perfect, indeed.”

The compliment made her smile, and he returned the gesture, adding, “I thought you should know.”

Suddenly, within her, there was a need to do something further than simply stand before him. What she really wanted, what she really needed, were his arms around her, and hers around him. She leaned in toward him.

As though she had spoken aloud, Grey Coyote answered her need. In a rush, he undressed her completely, and Marietta, standing nude before him, had never felt naughtier nor so sexy.

Quickly, he washed his hands in the stream, and soon after, his fingers unerringly found their way to and into her femininity. She welcomed him, moving her hips against his touch, desiring more…all of him.

He said, “I don’t believe I have ever witnessed a woman so perfect as you. And I don’t think I have ever wanted anyone more.”

She gasped, then whispered, “Nor I.”

They fell into one another’s arms, fitting perfectly. Despite having been together for no more than six days, they each seemed to grasp instinctively what the other required. Perhaps it was because they had made love so often these past few days, or mayhap it was some other source to account for the feeling. After all, terrific danger faced them yet this day. But, whatever was the cause, every nerve ending within her screamed at her, and she was ready for him. Now.

And he knew it. Grabbing hold of her derriére, he scooped her up off her feet, holding her against him. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She didn’t even think to hesitate.

No sooner had she complied than he was there, positioning himself until he was firmly sheathed within her warm folds. Gratification was intense. She could not recall being pleasured more.

She reached her pinnacle almost at once, and he, coming down to his knees, gently lowered her to the stream’s bank, though he remained kneeling in front of her, as though she were an altar and he her worshiper. Her legs he placed around his shoulders, and with him loving her in such a way, she couldn’t help but rise to her pleasure once more.

The ultrasensitive sensation didn’t die, either. It went on and on, lasting so long that in due time, while she was still reeling in the grandeur of it, she felt him shudder, and she welcomed his final push as he spilled his seed within her.

For a few moments, neither one of them moved, neither said a word. It was as though the experience were too flawless to disturb. Then, rising slightly above her and looking down into her eyes, he uttered the words she had little realized she had been longing to hear.

“I love you,” he said.

She gasped, but he continued, as though once started, he was compelled to say it all. “My feelings are powerful,” he whispered, “my intent toward you is earnest. You should know, however, that though we must eventually part, I will always love you.”

She smiled at him. So great was her joy, especially because it was coming at the end of such a close moment, that, had she been able, she might have returned the sentiment.

But she didn’t.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t. And, though she rejoiced to hear his confession, she was more than a little confused.

So much was this so, her silence seemed somehow deafening.

Chapter

Fourteen

The shadows of evening were closing in around them, as Grey Coyote carefully covered her body with mud, clay, grass and guck. Already, the air around them was awash with the sounds of insects and the steady howl of the wind. It was scented, too, with the sweetness of sage and roses, and was so fragrant it almost covered up the more balmy smell of dirt and clay, the one which seemed to have permanently lodged inside Marietta’s nostrils.