Cainsville: Visions Part 30

I stroked him until his eyes slitted, those gold flecks glowing. I tightened my grip, and he swore under his breath. I leaned in to kiss him, his hands squeezing my a.s.s as he pushed me against the tree and I stroked him.

"You might not ... want to keep ... doing that," he panted between kisses. "That chasing..."

"Shortened your fuse?"

He managed a laugh, entwined with a groan. "Yeah."

"Don't worry. I know exactly how far-"

His breathing hitched.

"That far," I said, and let go, throwing my weight to the side ... and getting absolutely nowhere as his arm shot out to stop me. "d.a.m.n," I said.

He chuckled, the sound ragged now, his eyes barely opening. "You really think I'm going to let you go now?" He pushed me against the tree, kissing me, lifting me up to straddle him.

"What if I dodged in that direction?" I said, nodding toward the fairy-circle clearing.

"Thought you weren't going to tease me about it."

"Not teasing. Using every trick at my disposal."

"Ah. Well, that one-" he hitched me higher on his hips "-is not going to work now. Focus, remember? When I want something..." He turned, putting my back toward the clearing. "... nothing gets in my way."

He kissed me and took three steps, bringing us into the clearing. Then he lowered me down, on my back, in the middle of it, and I felt the fairy circle being crushed under my back.

"That's gotta be bad luck," I said as he shoved my jeans down my hips.

"Yep. I'm trapped now." He grabbed my hips. "And that's fine by me."

He pushed into me, so hard I reared up, gasping. He did, too, his eyes opening wide. I gripped the ground, the damp earth under my fingers, and caught a scent on the air. Horses. I smelled horses. My fingers dug into the ground and I could feel it vibrating, the shocks rippling through me as Ricky thrust.

Then he stopped suddenly. Arched there, his eyes wider now.

"f.u.c.k, no," he said. "No, no, no."

He held himself still, face screwed up, fighting climax as he panted.

"Hold on," he said. "f.u.c.k. Sorry. Just hold on."

The ground kept shaking, the smell of horses stronger now, and his eyes opened as if he'd caught a whiff. I took his hands and pressed them against the ground. "Do you feel that?"

He stretched out his hands, braced on them, eyes widening. "f.u.c.k, yes." He s.h.i.+vered, pus.h.i.+ng deeper into me, hands pressed to the ground. "No, no, no," he whispered. "f.u.c.k, no. Not yet-"

I wriggled. His eyes snapped open.

"No, I'm okay. Don't-"

"I want to see it." I pressed his hand to the ground again, mine on his, the vibrations rocking through us, and I had no idea what I was talking about, but I said it again: "I want to see it."

I pulled away from him, rolled over, and ran from the clearing.

CHAPTER FORTY.

Our earlier chase had been a playful game of hide-and-seek. This was a hunt. I tore through the forest, vines snagging my legs, branches whipping my arms, rocks biting into my soles, Ricky one step behind, his breath coming so hard I had to look back to be sure it was him, half expecting to find a hound on my heels instead. As for why I was running, or where I was running, I'm not sure I could have even articulated it. I felt ... drunk isn't the right word. But something like it. High on adrenaline, the hormone pounding through me, drowning out rational thought, telling me I wanted to see it, wanted to see it ...

Wanted to see what?

Oh, I knew. I could say I didn't, but deep down I did. The ground vibrated under my feet. The smell of horses wafted over on the breeze. And then I heard it: the baying of hounds. Everything I'd smelled and heard in that hallway at the charity dinner, but this time there was no urge to run away. I couldn't imagine why I'd ever wanted to run away. Tonight I felt that and I heard it and I smelled it, and I ran toward it.

Then I saw it. The flicker of movement in the forest, the ground pounding so hard now I stumbled. Ricky caught me around the waist, keeping me upright. I looked into the forest and I saw fire, licking flames in the distance, and I heard the pounding of hooves and the panting of hounds. Ricky's hands closed around my waist and he tried to turn me around, but I wouldn't look away, kept straining to see. He pushed against me, hard and urgent, and said something, but his voice was too thick for me to pick up the words. I dropped to my knees, on all fours, Ricky dropping behind me.

I saw fire and shadows. Then I saw riders. Riders and hounds, and Ricky thrust into me, and after that I didn't care what I saw, didn't care at all.

What happened next? I wasn't even sure. Oh, I remembered the first part just fine. s.e.x. Amazing, unforgettable s.e.x. Then collapsing on the ground, Ricky shuddering and panting, "s.h.i.+t, holy s.h.i.+t," as he caught his breath, his arms around me, so warm it was like falling into that fire, the fire I could still smell on the breeze. And then ... well, nothing. I could say I drifted off, but I don't even remember hitting the ground.

The next thing I knew, I was alone in the forest, sitting naked on the ground, blinking into the darkness.

"Ricky?"

"Right here. Sorry." He appeared through the trees, something gathered in his arms. "I thought I could make it back before you woke up."

He took our jeans and stretched them over me, then paused and looked down at his work.

"Not much of a blanket," he said.

I laughed softly. "I appreciate the effort. Very sweet." I reached for his hand and tugged him down.

He stretched out beside me, pulling me against him, which was warmer than any blanket. As I snuggled in, he said, "That, um, that was..."

"Intense?"

"h.e.l.l, yeah." He exhaled. "Intense." He was silent for a moment. "Was it...? I mean, that wasn't quite ... Is everything okay?"

In his eyes, I saw the real questions. Was it too intense? Did I frighten you? Did I hurt you?

I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, answering that way. After a moment he relaxed, the kiss deepening, his hands on my a.s.s as he pulled me closer.

"Is everything okay with you?" I asked as we broke for breath.

"h.e.l.l, yeah. I just wasn't sure if it was too much-"

I cut him off with a kiss. "For the record, I will always let you know if it's too much. I'm pretty sure I was the initiator there, and yes, I was following your lead, but I wouldn't do that just to make you happy. I'm not that selfless."

He smiled. "Okay. Thanks."

A few moments curled up together, light kisses, postponing the inevitable trip back to the cabin. Then he said, "In the forest ... Did you see...?"

"I saw something."

"Riders?"

I nodded.

"There's a stable nearby," he said. "I suppose that's what it was, but..."

"But...?"

He looked at me. "You promised not to mock, right?"

"Absolutely. And I meant it."

He reclined with his arm still around me. I twisted and rested on his chest, my chin propped up.

"It was riders from the stable," he said. "A midnight hunt. Logically, I know that. But when I was a kid, sometimes I'd hear the horses and the hounds, and I'd tell myself it was the Hunt."

"The Hunt?"

"I mentioned that my nana used to tell me stories. She's Irish, and she grew up with all that. I liked it, so she'd pa.s.s it on. Stories of fairy traps and enchantments. And the Wild Hunt." He lifted his head. "Have you heard of it?"

I was glad for the darkness, hiding my expression. "I have. Phantom riders and hounds that hunt the living and send them to the afterlife. If you see the Wild Hunt, it's a death omen."

"Nana said you aren't supposed to see them, but only because, if you do, they might be after you. They hunt evil. Spectral vigilantes. I like that version better."

"Nice. You'll have to tell me more of her stories."

"Better yet, you could meet her." He s.h.i.+fted, getting comfortable. "She's off on some hiking tour in Peru for the next few weeks, but when she gets back, if you'd like to meet her..."

"I would."

His arm tightened around me. "Good."

"They're your dad's parents, I presume?"

"His mom. His father isn't in the picture. Never was. He sent plenty of money, but there was no contact. That's one reason my dad insisted on keeping me, and made sure my mother stayed in touch."

"Wanting something better for you."

"Yeah." He s.h.i.+fted again and made a face, reaching under him.

"Yes, the ground is cold and rocky."

"That's not it. I'm lying on..." He pulled out the boar's tusk. "Um, okay..."

"Actually, that's mine. It must have fallen out of my jeans. Did I mention I wouldn't tease you about your superst.i.tions? I have my own. It's a good luck charm."

"Huh." He turned it over in his hands. "I'd remember if I'd seen it before, but it looks familiar. A tooth of some kind?"

"Boar tusk-the tip of one."

"Really? And the writing? What does it mean?"

"I have no idea. I had someone take a look, and she could only decipher enough to figure out it's a protective amulet."

He peered at the etched letters. "It's old, whatever it is. Very cool. Especially this." He ran his thumb over the entwined moon and sun. Then he touched the words under it. "You have no idea what this says?"

"Nope."

"Huh. Well, as hard as I try not to be superst.i.tious, I think you're right. It's good luck. You should keep it close."

"I am." I stuffed it into my jeans. "And I suppose I should put these back on so I don't lose it, which probably means we should head back to the cabin. It is a little nippy out here."

"We'll head back, and I'll get the fireplace roaring."

Ricky was having a dream. A bad one. I woke when he kung-fu-chopped me in the neck.

I scrambled up, ready to fight whatever monster had attacked in the night, only to find Ricky tossing and turning, moaning softly. Sweat plastered his hair and soaked the pillow. I tugged the covers off, in case he was just overheated.

He mumbled something I couldn't make out. He kept mumbling it, over and over. I rubbed his sweat-drenched back.

"Ricky?"

More mumbling. Then he shot up so fast he startled me.

"I know," he said, grabbing for me. "I know it."

His eyes were wild, those golden flecks I'd seen earlier glowing. He held my arm tight, gaze fixed on mine, sweat dripping from his face.

"I know it, Liv."

"Okay." I loosened his iron grip on my arm.

"Sorry, sorry." He let go. "I know it."

"All right," I said. "What do you know?"

"The tusk. The writing. I know what it says. What it means."

"Okay. What?"

His mouth opened. Panic flooded his eyes. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no. I know. I know."