Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures) (6 page)

Part of her brain – probably the bit where sense and reason hung out – screamed at her to stop as she ran to the drawer where the flashlight was, but Suzy told the voice in her head to shut up, tore the drawer out and emptied it on her bed. Flashlight, matches, Swizz pocketknife, sharpening stone –
so that’s where it was!
– a box of survival ration bars and, at the bottom of the pile, a large can of pepper spray. Bless those clever grandparents. Suzy snatched the flashlight and the spray and dashed to the front door. Tying her boots seemed to take forever, but soon she was out through the door, down the stairs and then bounding awkwardly through the grass. She paused to shove the keys down a pocket, zip it shut and turn on the flashlight, bathing the forest in a bleak light fit for a horror movie. Suzy remembered seeing a path below the veranda leading into the valley, so she ran around the house with the flashlight’s circle of light bobbing in front of her. She found the path, and set off into the woods.

This is insane.
What if she had been wrong? Perhaps there had not been any dangerous animals, only a pack of oversized badgers. And who knew who the stranger was? Perhaps he
was the real madman. After all, he had a frigging
hat
. She reminded herself that she did this to stop him from being bear food. She was
not
doing this because of his dark eyes. Or his voice. Or those arms.
She wasn’t!

Suzy shoved the thoughts aside and focussed on not breaking her neck as she tore through the forest. If she stumbled and smashed the flashlight, she was done for. The path was wide and clear, but even with the bright moon illuminating the land, the darkness outside the flashlight’s radiance was a dense black, a fog of ink that would close on her in the blink of an eye, were it given half a chance. Her eyes flickered left and right. In her imagination, bears, wolves and Sabretooth tigers lurked everywhere she did not look.

After a minute, the path took her to the stream and then ran along it, the glittering water to her right. That must be why that man walked here. And the animals. Maybe. Soon she fought for breath, and her sides began to throb. The stream flowed towards the house so she was running uphill, and even though the slope was gentle, it soon began to take its toll on her legs. This would leave her sore as hell. Suzy shook her head.
As if that was my biggest concern right now!

Her mind raced alongside her feet. A plan. She needed a plan. Well, that was simple. Find the man, warn him, and then run like mad from whatever animals that stalked him while pepper-spraying anything that moved. Suzy was the friend of any beast furry or fuzzy as long as her place in the food chain was undisputed. Right now, though, she was driven by a dicey blend of near-panic and hell-bent determination, and any beast in her way had better watch out.

She passed a large boulder she remembered seeing through the telescope. She was getting close. The pepper spray can was slippery in her sweaty palms. The air was still murderously warm. Panting and wheezing, she slowed her sprint to a jog, then a walk. Any time now. The shadows held a hundred make-believe bears licking their fangs. She frowned. Did bears even eat people? She had seen plenty of news clips where black bears dug through bins in national parks up north, but she had never seen one tearing a human being apart. At least wolves ate people. Or did they? And pumas? Who knew what they ate? Well,
some
people would know, but Suzy was not one of them. In any case, they all had fangs.

She turned another bend in the path and froze. She swallowed and forced her breathing under control. Something sounded from inside the woods, to her left, not far away. And it sounded like – singing. Beautiful
singing, at that. A man’s voice, soft yet strong, drifting to her on the warm breeze from somewhere in the darkness. It was definitely
the
man’s voice.

He was alive. That was good. Mission accomplished. So why did she not run?
Come on, legs. Get me out of here.
But what if the bear was still around? No, she had to warn him. Make sure he was alright. That made perfect sense.

Suzy swept the flashlight in the direction from where she heard his singing. The trees stood so close the flashlight’s light reached no farther than a few steps. She made her way through a wall of tree trunks, stepping over ferns and roots that tried to trip her, edging around the pine trees with the pepper spray held what she estimated to be bear-face high. The singing was closer. She stepped around a wide trunk, brushed a few, dense branches out of the way, and found herself in a glade. Almost perfect circle, the clearing was no more than a dozen steps wide, walled off by trees and with a pond in the middle. A ring of smooth, knee-high rocks were placed side by side around the pond’s edge, encircling it.

Several things competed for her attention. First, inescapably and strikingly, the man. He languished on the grass next to the pool, lying on his side and resting on an elbow as he poked at a flower. He was still singing. Strands of his tawny hair hung down to shadow his face, but the moonlight found its way to parts of those high cheekbones and that lined law. He still wore the same clothes he had worn at the house but – thankfully – no hat. The stupid thing had really looked like it had a pair of antlers. Next to him stood a dark bottle and, of all things, an empty wine glass. The water in the pond was absolutely still, reflecting a sprinkle of stars. There were no bears. No wolves. No pumas.

She stole another look at him where he lay. Once more she tried to pin down where he might have gotten his looks from, but again she failed. Part Caribbean, part Native American, and part tall and powerfully built Eskimo? And not to forget, one whole part amazingly good-looking.  He belonged on a stage in front of thousands dazzled fans, or on a silver screen so that everyone could bask in that gaze. Or on a battlefield commanding legions of sinister elves, if there were such a thing. She blinked and shook her head. He had not looked up, but he already messed with her mind.

Suzy lowered the pepper spray and cleared her throat, hoping not to startle the man.

He did not look up, but his singing stopped. “You have come here, woman, by your own intent. Why?”

Good question.
“The name’s Suzy. And I, er, came to warn you.”

He looked up at her. At least Suzy thought he did; his eyes were hidden in shadow, but she felt as if two black, pinpoint suns burned there. “To warn me?” he echoed.

“Well, yeah, I saw this bear, and a wolf. And a puma, I think. From the veranda, up at the house. They have this telescope, and I something. You. And the animals.” She was babbling. Damn his eyes! And damn the wine, too.

“That was very kind,” he said. “But I am quite safe, I can assure you.”

“Safe? What about the big bear?”

“They are friendlier than you could ever imagine. How did you find me?”

“That wasn’t really hard,” Suzy said. “I went up along the stream, then I heard you sing.” Suzy scratched at her arm. Her recent tattoo had started to itch.

The man was silent. He was so still she would have walked past him if he had not been in the open. “You heard my song?” he asked.

“You weren’t exactly quiet.”

“Interesting.”

Suzy thought the man sounded as if he meant it. She decided to ask some questions of her own. “How come you’re hanging around here all alone. Do you sleep here?” Maybe he was homeless after all. No shoes, worn clothes. It was possible.

“I do. Sometimes.”

“It’s all right. I won’t tell on you.”

“Most kind,” he said and smiled.

Suzy could not help to smile back. Without its feral touch, his smiling was not frightening, only gorgeous. She wanted to touch those auburn lips. In fact, she realised, she wanted to do more than that.

Stop it!
What was she thinking? Panic threw another question into her mind. “What happened to your hat?”

“Hat?”

“I saw you wear it before. When I saw the bear.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Oh. I took it off. No reason for you to see me in it.”

“Why would you have something like that?”

“It was a gift.”

“From whom?”

He smiled and looked around, as if searching for someone. “My mother,” he said.

“Okay, be all secretive, then.”

“I apologize. I do not mean to be rude. I have few visitors. Please, have a seat.”

He gestured to the stones around the pond as if were they plush chairs. Suzy sat down on one of the stones, keeping a few metres between her and the man who stayed sprawled on the grass, picking at the leaves as he studied.

This close to the man, she saw his eyes for the first time. They were not brown as she had thought but green, a deep, dark emerald that bordered on black. Then she noticed his scent: Faint and subtle, it evoked images of tree crowns and sunlit grass, made her think of wild rivers, icy wind and blooming spring. It made any perfume she had ever known appear artificial and rank. This was an aroma of pure, untamed freedom. Suzy inhaled, deep, and began to lean towards the man.

Only then did she realize that she was actually sitting. She had not really meant to sit down. Or had she? She pulled herself back, blinking. “You never answered my question,” she snapped.

“Which one?”

“Why you’re here.”

He paused, studying her. “I am a caretaker of this forest,” he said eventually. He crossed his long, outstretched legs.

“You’re hired to look after the trees?”

“That is my work, yes.”

“Like a hunter?”

“In a way. Though I do not often hunt.  I tend to the groves and look after its children. Sometimes I set wayward people on the right path.”

“I get it,” Suzy said. “Cleaning up fallen branches, keep paths clear, things like that? Sounds like hard work.” Which explained those arms. “For a minute back at the cabin, I thought you slept rough. No disrespect.”

He frowned. “’Rough’?”

“You know. Like a homeless.” She hoped he did not see through the thinly disguised question.

“Ah.” He smiled. “My home is nearby. But who wants to stay inside on a night like this? No need for ceilings with all these stars to blanket us.”

“Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I like your forest. It’s real pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s your accent from? The UK?”

“Well spotted. Although I know I often speak in a rather old-fashioned way.”

“I don’t mind. I think it’s great. Me, I speak only New Yorkish. And a little Spanish, though I think I’m losing it. Every time I go to Puerto Rico, my relatives say I’m getting worse.”

They looked at each other in silence. Suzy resisted the urge to move towards him, to throw herself into those dark, strong arms. He had a quiet gravity that pulled at her. This was ridiculous. Had she been alone for a year, she would have understood her feelings more. This sudden desperation was totally uncalled for, and not a little tempting to give in to.

“Can I offer you something to refresh yourself?” he asked.

“Huh? What?”

“A drink.” He gestured at the bottle next to him and produced another wine glass. “I have made it myself. A good brew, I must say. A most successful year.”

“Er, no. Candy from strange men and all that. But thanks.”

“Oh.” The man poured a glass half-full and swished the golden fluid around. He turned and looked close at the glass in his hand. That infuriating smile was on his lips again. “You do not trust me.”

“I do,” Suzy said, holding on to the rock with whitening fingers. “It’s just – ” She sighed. “Okay, I don’t. I mean, I don’t know you. And I have a habit of not drinking stuff I don’t know where it came from.” She sniffed. “What is that, anyway?” The scent of the drink seemed to wash over her in waves. Light, sweet and fruity but with a world of undertones. Acorns and berries, apples, leaves and flowers. She was sure, but she didn’t know
how
she knew.
She was sure she’d never eaten an acorn.

“Cider,” he said. “An old recipe.”

“You brewed it yourself?”

“Yes. Not far from here.”

“In the
forest?
”

“In a cave. Up there, where the stream starts.”

Making his own cider in a cave. She would have thought he was a complete hippie, if he had not radiated a distinct un-hippiness. He dressed like a hobo but he talked and moved with the controlled manners of a prince. Not that she had met any, but still.

“I understand your hesitation,” he said. “As men go, you must think I am strange. Here, I will drink. Will that make you less apprehensive?”

“Not really.”

He shrugged, raised the glass to his lips, finished half of its contents and then lowered the glass, looking at Suzy over the rim. She realized she stood only a step away. When had she moved?

“Persuaded?” he asked.

She really should not. If there was something nasty in the drink, he might be immune or have taken some kind of antidote. Or he might just be tricking her, making it look as if he drank. A cunning serial killer in a funny hat. But then, he had tried to protect her, which was both annoying and kind of charming. And the hat was gone.

What the hell.
The theme of the evening seemed to be total outlandishness, so Suzy decided to go with the flow. She reached out, took the glass and sipped, holding his eyes.