Chapter 7
Her laugh is explosive joy. She snorts a little and that just makes her laugh harder.
I’m grinning wider than I have in years. I don’t laugh aloud often, but with her, I can’t help chuckling. Feels good, especially after I thought I might be eaten—which seems like a more frequent danger than it should be. I didn’t realize living in Crescent Cove would be so risky.
She grabs the rags I’m offering and holds them over her privates.
“This is so ridiculous.” She giggles between every few words. “I’m stark naked, and you’re handing me… raggedy scraps… of our torn-up shirts.” She bends over, still laughing, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes. “I almost ate you up. Like, stripped every bit of flesh off your bones.”
“I’ve been told I’m a snack,” I say.
That sends her into more peals of laughter. I’m laughing too, but that’s not the only reaction my body’s having. I’ve got eyes. Her hair and the scraps only cover so much of her gorgeous body.
“You want my pants?” I ask.
Her eyes go wide, humor sparkling in them. “Do I want your pants? Buddy, your pants would fall right off me. Also I don’t know your hygiene habits. What if you’re a skid marks guy?”
“Skid marks?”
“You know… the guy who can’t be bothered to wipe his butt properly.”
“First of all, I’m not going commando here. I’m wearing boxers as well as jeans. And second, I’m a grown man, Marlowe. I have top-shelf hygiene standards.”
When I say her name, the smile leaves her mouth, but her lips stay parted. The humor in her eyes shifts to heat.
The rain pelts incessantly, streaming in rivulets off the edge of the overhang, but other than the sound of its hissing and trickling, the air in this space is quiet. Thunder grumbles distantly, softly.
Marlowe brushes the sand off her chest and thighs, not bothering to be particularly careful about what she’s exposing to me. I clear my throat and glance away.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says.
“Hm?”
“You don’t need to look away like that.”
“Just trying to be polite.”
“Don’t. I prefer it when you’re rude. Is that weird?”
“Yeah. It tells me that you grew up being talked to roughly by the people who were supposed to care about you.”
She winces. “Kelpie herds are not places of love and gentleness. We’re wild, vicious, greedy, and hungry… always hungry.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mother always told me I was too soft. She thought that cruelty would make me tougher, but it only made me hate her. My father was the lead stallion. He was focused on two things—finding kills he could get away with, and mating with every mare in the area, kelpie or not.”
“Wait… he mated with regular mares?”
Her nose crinkles with disgust. “Yes, he did, even though it’s forbidden.
To us, horses are on a higher level than humans.
They’re family, in a sense, so there’s a law among kelpies that horses are not to be harmed.
We don’t harm or devour them. They don’t even smell like food to us.
And we don’t mate with them, because they’re beings of lower thought and they can’t consent. ”
Rick doesn’t speak, but I see the rage and horror in his eyes over what I’m telling him. I think, if my father were here, Rick would throttle him. And even though he’d die in a face-off with a kelpie stallion, the thought makes me like him more.
“My father was like a cult leader, always able to reason his way around the rules and persuade his herd to make exceptions for him,” I continue.
“He convinced them that he was special, chosen by the gods, a unique vessel of their will and therefore exempt from every law. He had this technique for singing to normal horses, keeping them silent and submissive when he was around, so they wouldn’t fuss when he did things to them.
The world is a better place without him. ”
“He died?”
“Yes. It was a strange and violent death, one he richly deserved.”
“Well… I won’t offer my condolences. Maybe my congratulations.”
A smile flickers on her lips. “Thanks.”
“So the other horse I saw out by Fuller’s Pond—”
“My sister. She wants me to rejoin the herd, ritually kill my mother, and take my place as the lead mare, or the alpha mare, as some call it. She has promised to cause bloody havoc around here if I don’t comply.”
“Wow.” I rub my hand over my jaw. “Your family makes mine look like the picture of health and stability.”
“I didn’t want to be like other kelpies.
” Her gaze holds mine, earnest, intense.
“I came here to get away from them and be a better person, someone who doesn’t hurt other people to feel better.
We’re a family of serial killers and cannibals, basically.
I’ve devoured human flesh before, just like the others in my herd.
I haven’t done it in years, but it did happen, multiple times. ”
“That’s not who you are now.” Somehow I’ve gotten closer to her. I don’t even know when I took those steps—it’s like my body was drawn to hers, like my subconscious moved me nearer to her instinctively.
“I still have to fight the rage and the hunger every day,” she whispers. “Some days are easier than others. The coffees I used to get from Lou—they helped me purge negative emotions in a safe, controlled way so they don’t build up inside me and cause an involuntary shift.”
“I get it.” My hand glides down her arm, and goosebumps rise on her skin at my touch. “Listen, I know I’m new here, and that I don’t do things the same way Lou did—but I promise I can help you.”
She purses her lips. “I like certain things in my life to stay the same, and when there’s change, I like to be in control of it.”
“I understand that. But sometimes change can bring something better.” I smile ruefully. “Moving here wasn’t really my choice. I was no longer welcome in the city where I used to live. I didn’t like the way things were, and I complained about it too loudly. Made myself a nuisance.”
“Did they kick you out?”
“Nah, they were too civilized for that. But I got the cold shoulders and the side-eyes.”
She nods, slipping her hand along my waist, settling her palm against my lower ribs.
“I’m accepted here, but only because no one really knows me.
Most of the people in Crescent Cove aren’t aware of what I am.
They’re friendly and kind, but I tend to keep a little distance between me and others.
I guess I’m scared that if they find out what I am, they’ll pull away. Better to keep them at arm’s length.”
“Maybe they’d be more open to it than you think,” I suggest, cupping my hand over her hip. Her skin is impossibly soft. I haven’t touched a woman in a very long time, and I can’t stop my thumb from stroking back and forth along the hollow of her hip. “Are you cold?”
“Not really. Even in this form I’m a bit more resistant to temperature extremes than the average human.
I’m stronger than most humans, too. Still…
it wouldn’t hurt to share a little heat.
” She glances up at me, her gaze hooded and suggestive.
She drops the shreds of clothing, and I can’t help looking down at the area between her legs.
It’s so closely trimmed it’s nearly bare, and it looks soft and tender.
Just the right shape for my cupped hand.
Instead of going there right away, I take the locks of glossy black hair that are covering her breasts, and I lift them over her shoulders so the entire mass of her beautiful hair falls down her back. With a fragment of my T-shirt, I brush away the remaining grains of sand from her skin.
She makes a needy little hum in her throat and moves nearer to me, until her breasts push against my chest and her hips align with mine. I know she can feel the hardness beneath my jeans.
Now it’s my turn to restrain myself from taking what I want, roughly and immediately. With a low groan, I clasp her rear with both hands, pulling her tighter against me, pushing my bulge into that tempting space between her legs.
“I think I do want you to take your pants off, after all,” Marlowe says, hooking a finger in my waistband.
“Gimme a second.” Reluctantly I pull back from her long enough to remove my shoes, socks, jeans, and underwear. I show her the boxers—spotless. “Told you.”
She smirks. “Wow, you really went there.”
“You went there first. Now come here. You had a taste of me the other night. It’s my turn.”
Eyes wide, she takes a few steps toward me, glancing down at the erection I’m sporting.
“Legs apart,” I tell her. She plants her feet about a foot apart, but I shake my head. “Wider.”
When she adjusts her stance, I kneel, grasping her thighs. The ground is gritty, but I don’t care. No discomfort matters, only the plump pussy in front of my face.
Marlowe is trembling, her fingers awkwardly laced together like she doesn’t know what to do with them.
I look up at her, frowning slightly. “Has no one ever done this for you before?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve only been with a few guys, and it was quick. More about them than me.”
“Fuck ’em.”
A faint smile quivers on her mouth.
“Here’s how it works, beautiful. I’m your servant here, on my knees.
You’re the queen. You give me a command, and I’ll obey.
No question. It’s my job to please you, not the other way around.
You can grab my shoulders, my hair, whatever.
You want me to stop or do something different, I do it. All right?”
She’s already relaxing, reassured. “Yes.”
“Are we good to go?”
She nods. I use another piece of the soft T-shirt to brush off the area, and then I place my mouth over her.
Long licks, shallow at first, then deeper, slower.
Then I do what I call lip bites, moving my jaws like I’m biting her, except there’s no hard edges of teeth, just the motion and the pressure of my mouth opening and closing against her soft flesh.
Her hands clutch my hair and she whimpers, a sure sign that I’m doing something right.
“If you’re gonna shift again, warn me,” I murmur.