“Or do a little more,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“I don’t know about that. The park closes at a certain time, you know. But we’ll see.”
“How long have you been here tonight?”
“Ten minutes early. I promise I wasn’t watching you, because I knew you had work to do. I just wanted to make our night together special, talk to you about the caves, the kachinas, the—”
“The Koshari? I would still like to hear his side of the story from you instead from out of some book or remembering what the kids in the neighborhood told me.”
“Sure. If you want to hear the story.”
“You’re a hell of a man, Red Sky.”
His nose nuzzled hers. “I’ve been told that, my love. Come, let’s sit on the blanket so I can answer all the pondering questions.”
Justine wiggled between his spread thighs, feeling the heat of his swollen erection already willing and anticipating contact with her. She liked that, loved the idea of a man so ready for her that he could barely think of anything else. For her, that was living.
His breathing lulled her, making her a slave to any and all things he could possibly do to her. His voice drew her in as he told her exactly what animals were on the walls, what the stick-like people were doing and how hunts were so great back in the day of the roaming, plentiful buffalo. He told her the story as though he had actually been there. Maybe he had been. Reincarnation was more than just a word, and with Darrius’s sixth sense, who knew what to believe—or disbelieve. But she believed because he was a master in every sense of the word.
His voice took her out of her pleasant reverie and made her pay attention. He poured her a glass of chardonnay. “Do these walls live up to your expectations?”
“That and more.”
He nibbled on her earlobes, making her ready to completely relax with him to let him take her right then and there, but he was reluctant to. The place wasn’t right enough to make it real to her. She deserved more than a blanket, a musty cave and only a flashlight as ambiance. Justine was the luxury suite type of woman as far as he was concerned. But for the time being, he was glad to tell her stories, do a little making out and just spend some quality time together.
He massaged her nipple through the thin cotton dress and ached to kiss her in so many places, but again, she deserved more and he planned on giving her only his best. To not concentrate on how much he wanted to make love, he lowered to her ear. “Want to hear a story?”
“The Koshari one? I know a lot about him, but not enough.”
“Not him—not this time. I have another one; one that’s so grand in scale it makes Koshari pale in comparison.”
“Yeah? What story could surpass Koshari?”
“The one about Red Sky.”
“Hmm. I’m beginning to like the sound of that. Where did your last name come from, anyway?”
He nuzzled against her ear. “What will you give me in return for delivering my sordid story?”
“My soul?”
“That’s a start.” His hand moved down to the V of her thighs, tracing the thin panty line, rubbing the pad of a finger across the center and against the swelled nub of opulence. She shuddered at what one stroke could do to her.
“I know you love what I’m doing to you. Don’t deny it.”
“I can’t deny it, Darrius. You make me insane.”
“What about the rest of you? When do I get this?” He cupped her slick passage.
“After I get my story. Deal?”
“Deal.” He settled against the dirt cave wall and unfolded the generations-old tale of a family. “Legend has it that on the night of my great-great-grandfather’s birth, a storm raged; it raged like never before, with streaks of gray and yellow lightning illuminating the sky. Alone in her village, except for her grandmother, a young woman gave birth to a son, and at the exact moment of his arrival the heavens opened up, seemingly wanting to swallow the Earth. In its wrath, the sky turned bright red, hailed, boomed. The birth was a difficult one, rendering her almost dead, yet she held on to give life to a nameless baby who she knew would be great in his days on this planet.”
Justine was spellbound. “Did she die soon after naming him?”
“She survived and named him after something more powerful than himself—the elements; thus came the name Red Sky. He was the first of three sons and a daughter born to the young woman, and all turned out to be powerful in his or her own way. My great-great-grandfather, along with his brother, went on to become a legendary hunter of the Bear Tribe. The other son became a powerful medicine man. As for my great-great-aunt Nereid, she became known as a notable sea-maiden.”
“Are you serious, Darrius?”
“Very. Thus my great-great-grandfather’s name stuck, using his name as our last name. I don’t know who decided that, but it stuck. Throughout my family history, there have been powerful men and women.”
“Like you.”
“Hardly. I’m just a man.”
“You’re more than a man, Darrius; you’re someone I could get lost in forever.”
The tip of his tongue played at her ear, savoring her feel and aroma, getting hungrier for her with every move she made, every word she spoke. He captured her lobe, pulled on it, tugged softly, feeling his nature aching to be set free to overpower her, and in such luscious ways. “I guess I have been on the hunt for you since looking into your eyes.”
“A hunter, are you?”
“When I want to be.”
“Really, though. Do you hunt?”
“I can but I don’t. It’s not my calling. I believe most of what I have came from my shaman ancestors. I love getting to the truth of things, seeing and talking of greater things than us humans, trying to understand forces that I know are way beyond our scope. I’m the religious one of the clan.”
“What about Derrick? Is he religious, too?”
