Shifting the Night Away (77 page)

By mid-day Tara had managed to reach the turn off that would lead her down the west side of the mountains and into civilization for a resupply trip, a night in a cabin and a hot shower before hiking back up into the mountains and continuing her southward trek.

There was a wait for the ferry. She could hike around the lake, or she could wait. She looked at the man waiting at the ferry landing. He stood about 6 foot 3 inches with black hair that hung in an unruly mass over his forehead, framing the chiseled features of his handsome face. His eyes were a deep green that contrasted with the dark hair and the stubble of a beard not shaved in several days. He was standing casually at the dock, wearing jeans and t-shirt that fit snugly over the muscles of his upper arms and torso.

Tara hoped she wasn't visibly drooling. She saw a lot of rough, outdoorsy types on the trails, but this man stood out. There was an easy nature about him, he seemed to be part of the wilderness rather than a visitor to it. She chalked that up to his Grizzly Adams attire. Seriously, when was the last time she saw a hiker wearing jeans?

It was a common saying in the hiking community that "cotton kills," almost everyone who was voluntarily living out of a backpack was clad head to toe in nylon, polyester blends and Goretex. Denim was not only cotton that dried slowly and lost its insulating properties when wet, it was heavy. Who wanted to haul around 4 pounds of pants per pair when they had to carry everything they had?
 

She looked around and noticed he didn't seem to have a pack with him. Not even a day pack or a water bottle. Maybe he was just day hiking from the small resort. She didn't care, she just wanted to look at him. She decided to wait for the ferry.

"Hey." The handsome stranger hailed her as she approached the dock where he was standing.

"Hi!" Tara answered. She worried he would notice her eyes traveling up and down the length of his body. He looked like a lumberjack. His body strong and thickly muscled yet agile. It looked like he came by those muscles honestly, from doing real work, not by lifting weights in a gym. She imagined him chopping fire wood with an ax to warm a log cabin he'd built by hand.

"I'm Lane," the man held out his hand to Tara in greeting, pulling her back into reality.
 

She grasped his hand firmly for a moment, then released it and let her pack slide off her shoulders to the ground where it landed with a thud. "Tara." She felt herself blush as her eyes met his. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was giving her the once over too. Of course, that couldn't be the case, his eyes flashed a hungry look for a second as they moved down from her breasts to her hips and thighs.

She was used to men looking her up and down. She was even used to them being distracted by her large breasts, but once their gaze went below her rack, their faces always revealed varying degrees of disgust, from "fat but still fuckable," to "coyote ugly" status, depending on how desperate they were to get laid at any given moment. Men did not make eye contact with her, smile, and then let their eyes travel languidly over each contour of her flesh with that "I want you now" look of lust in their eyes. Especially not men who looked like Lane.

So the way Lane looked at her now must have been a fluke. She was simply misinterpreting his stare because she didn't know him well, or because she hadn't spoken more than a few words in passing to another human in 3 days, or because this guy was hella hot and she was hallucinating her wishful thinking.

Lane looked at Tara. He couldn't help himself, he tried to maintain eye contact with her, to keep his gaze casual and non-threatening, but it was hopeless. Her body distracted him, his eyes took in hers; big, brown with flakes of amber in them fringed with long thick lashes. Her hair was a wild mess of auburn waves that had started the day pulled back in a simple pony tail but had ended with several mavericks that now created a halo effect around her round face. As lovely as her face was, it was her body that called to him. His eyes moved down, over her throat to the deep cleavage created by the sport bra that held her breasts together and pushed them up from her rib cage, her waist was a narrow isthmus between her chest and the space where her hips began to blossom into the gratuitous swell of her ass before descending to the slighter roundness of each thigh.

He felt his blood in his veins, being pumped rapidly though his heart and racing to fill his cock. He saw her blush, and sensed her discomfort under his eyes but he also caught her scent of arousal which gave him confidence. He chose not to avert his gaze. He pulled his thoughts away from the beckoning triangle between her thighs and forced his eyes back to hers.

"Terra? Like earth?" Lane asked as he reached down and grabbed one of the shoulder straps on her pack. He lifted it easily and set it down to one side, near where he'd been standing when she approached.

Tara scrunched up her face and thought. She'd never really considered her name before. She didn't spell it like the popular science fiction word for her home planet, but she wasn't sure what it's origin was. "I don't think so," she finally answered, "it's T A R A."

His smile lit up his face, softening the hard angles of his cheek bones and jawline, "Oh. As in 'Star' then." His eyes squinted slightly when he smiled and tiny lines fanned out from their corners.
 

Tara honestly had no idea, she kinda offered a shrug in response. She sat down on the cool ground next to the place where Lane had placed her backpack and dug into the side pocket for her water bottle. She sat there and stared out across the lake, straining her eyes to see if she could make out the other end where the small resort sat. It gave her something to focus on so she wouldn't stare at Lane. She wanted to keep the conversation going, but she didn't know what to say.

"So. Do you live up here?" She head her voice break the quiet and as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. It sounded stupid. Kinda obvious. She might as well have said, "So it's sunny today, huh?" Inwardly she groaned, but was happy when he answered with interest.

"Kind of." He looked at her like he was deciding if he should tell her a secret, "I usually stick to the higher elevations, farther south."
 

The way he said it made it sound like he spent a lot of time in the back country but he didn't have any gear with him, "So are you staying at the resort right now?" She asked.

Lane noticed the way her eyes looked around and he realized she was probably wondering where his stuff was if he was a hiker like her. He wasn't sure what to tell her. He realized it was best to let her think he was hiking, but he also knew he didn't really fit the backpacker look. He hadn't considered the details, he had only wanted to make sure he got a chance to meet her. Now he found himself sitting on a small dock at the far end of a man made reservoir, waiting for the private ferry that carried hikers and occasional hunters from the mountain resort on one side to the trail head on the other to save them from an extra 4 miles of hiking.

Lane thought that was ridiculous. People came from all over the world to hike the long trail that ran through his current home territory, 2600 miles from end to end, and when they got to this point they paid handsome money for a ride across the lake to avoid an extra 4 measly miles of walking.
 

It was good business for the tiny resort though. "Resort" was maybe stretching it a bit. The operation consisted of a small general store and an even smaller restaurant, surrounded by a smattering of shelters and some showers.
 

Lane had been born in the Sierra, his family had once moved between their home territory in the wilderness and the human settlements in the lower elevations, dividing their time between both their human and wolf sides. When the humans launched an extinction effort in the early 1900s, the Sierra werewolves were forced between choosing to live among humans full time, or fleeing to lands where wolves still roamed free.

Lane's family had moved north long before Lane was old enough to leave his parents' pack.

By the time Lane and Diego returned to their birthplace, the dam had been built, this lake was full, and the land around it was already adjusting to the changes.
 

Lane's eyes clouded with his memories as a hundred years fleeted through his mind in the space of the few seconds of silence in the lull of their conversation. "No." He finally answered Tara's question. "Not yet, anyway." He turned back to her and smiled. He liked the way she held his gaze with hers when he looked at her. Most women looked away from him, even when they looked
at
him, they didn't look in his eyes. Not this Tara. She looked him the eye when he spoke to her. He wondered if that was part of the attraction.

The ferry ride provided better conversation, the presence of someone else to ease the tension between them provided an opportunity to learn about Tara's hike and plan for lodging for the evening. Lane silently thanked his good sense to maintain a human ID and carry money with him as he settled his share of the ferry ride and arranged for a shower and a few personal items.

Tara thought nothing of sharing a tent cabin with handsome Lane. For starters, living in the wilderness tended to strip people of their highfalutin citified sense of modesty. It also reduced costs and, she tried not to admit it to herself, but maybe it would yield some eye candy to inspire her to make sure her girly parts got extra clean in the hot shower she was looking forward to.

Tara found the tent cabin assigned to her and pulled everything out of her pack. The contents vomited over the wood plank floor, giving the place a nice homey feeling. She spread her sleeping bag over the cot and began arranging items in small piles on the bed as she took inventory.

Lane came in and looked at her mess. "Looks like you're making yourself right at home," he grinned. "So, I guess this is where I get to sleep?" He gestured to a small area in the corner that Tara's belongings had managed to overlook in their exuberance to be free.

She laughed as she removed a pile of clothes from the other cot. "Sorry, Just trying to keep track of everything. It'd be nice to do some laundry while I'm here, but mostly I need to pick up some food." She immediately regretted saying it. She didn't want to do or say anything that drew attention to the obvious fact that she could stand to skip a few meals. She silently continued with her inventory count while she waited for him to make a joke about her size. She was pretty sure he liked her well enough that it wouldn't be intentionally hurtful, but a lot of good "friends" still felt comfortable joking about her weight.

When no such comment came, she turned around to see if he had managed to slip out the door without her noticing. Instead, he was sitting on his cot, staring at her. Had she just caught him looking at her ass while she was bent over? He casually shifted his gaze from her rear end to her face and smiled. He looked like a little boy caught with his hand in a cookie jar. She raised her eyebrow, but he didn't look away and he didn't apologize.

Her heart fluttered, a jolt of molten heat that started in her stomach snaked it's way down to her nether regions. Her lower lips felt warm and she could feel the dampness start between her legs.
This isn't really happening.
 
Rational thought was fighting a losing battle, raw instinct was winning out and Tara found herself
 
frozen in his gaze unsure of who had the next move.

Lane dipped his head slightly downward but kept his eyes locked on hers. There was something predatory in his look, but not threatening. His expression seemed familiar to her somehow. Through the fog of hormones, Tara suddenly realized that Lane was looking at her now exactly like the mystery wolf-dog had looked at her across the lake last night. Why did that seem so logical?

Tara had no time to put the random snippets of information together, Lane had closed the gap between them in one fluid movement that barely seemed human and now stood with his hands grasping the back of her head, forcing her face up to his while his mouth claimed hers. His tongue insisting itself between her lips, probing deeply and pulling her into him.

She felt dizziness overtake her as the sensation drowned out the world around them. She fought to keep his pace with the fevered kiss, not giving him the dominance he was demanding. It felt like they stood there a very long time, vying for the upper hand as the kiss moved on to a deeper level of passion.

Tara moved her hands to his forearms and then slid them up to his shoulders, taking time to fully feel the muscles under the palms of her hands. She tangled her hands in his hair and then moved them down his back. She wanted to feel every part of him in her hands. She wanted to see him naked and have his flesh against hers.

She ached to press her body against his, but his hands held her firmly as his mouth moved over her chin and along her neck. His breath was hot and it sent shivers down her spine, he trailed kisses over her jaw, down her neck to her collar bone. His mouth lingering at the delicate apex of flesh where her throat met her shoulder. For a moment she was filled with an unaccountable feeling that he might bite her there. Not a tender nip, but sink his teeth into that soft skin and rip through it till he tasted blood. And then the thought was gone and his mouth continued down toward her breasts.

Lane wanted to touch her all at once. He held her firmly but still she did not submit to him. Her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, her hands running over his skin, lighting him on fire. He knew. Without hesitation he realized the wolf was right, this woman was for him. He had reacted to her eye contact as though she had issued a challenge, he had found himself unable to resist the impulse to take her and now he found himself fighting to stay in control. The animal within him recognized its mate, but he knew it took more than a fevered kiss to captivate a human woman.