Shiver (Paranormal Mates Society 4)

Shiver (Paranormal Mates Society)
Second Edition
Lia Connor
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Lia Connor

Epiphanies happen at the damnedest times, and let no man ever tell you different. No woman, either, but I'll get to the fairer points in just a minute.

Mine came to me as I sat with a man -- god -- whatever he might be -- called Pe-Ben, though if that's his name for true I couldn't say. He's some sort of winter power for a Native tribe up on the coast of Maine. Nice guy if you like the stoic type. Doesn't say much, and he puts me right to sleep. Says he can't help it, which is fine enough. He knows how to be quiet, and I like having someone to jabber to. Someone who'll believe me, and not go thinking I've lost my mind.

Which I did, some centuries back, but insanity's just part and parcel of my lot in life.

He knows the whole story, and I trust he'll tell each word to someone else when I have gone -- even if he tells it to their snores.

Anyway, this is what happened to me one day in Pe-Ben's home. I sat up, pointed my pipe stem at him, and demanded, "Let me ask you this, and you tell me for true. Have you ever been to Africa?"

He looked at me, all puzzled-like, and shook his head. I figured his look to indicate he didn't mind me going on, so on I went.

"Not the places they let tourists go, mind you. All that's been prettied up nice and modern, sterilized clean, nothing left of the old ways to bother people's sensibilities. Most places, anyway, or at least the ones you find in travel brochures.

"But," I said, gesturing with the pipe, "if you take just a step to the left, you'll find a different style of tourist trap. Grubbied down to suit people's expectations, them who come to play the exotic world traveler. They make me laugh, they do. Watching them, a body can almost read their minds and know what they want others to think in their regard. Look, how brave, daring the wilds of the dark continent! Or, maybe, they want to pretend they're rough and ready as the old explorers.

"To be honest, I'm not sure which brand of bastard is the worse. Those too dumb to realize they're double-dealing insults out with both their hands, a slap in the face with each too-small tip and pat on the head -- or the idiots who think they can walk out of their safe, polished world, dance a few reels with not really dangerous danger, and come back with a coat of fake bronze on their balls.

"No, none of them are worth spit in the wind so far as I'm concerned."

I leaned back, thoughtfully sucking smoke. "People today don't know adventure. Don't know glory. Don't know what it's like to be alive. Modern folk? They just survive, day by day, bill by bill, toy by toy. They think they're vibrant as the sun, but in truth? Every man Jack is dull as a storm cloud. Gray. There's no color in the world anymore. No stars. Weak yellow sun. Cold, barren moon."

I ramble some when I talk, but Pe-Ben, he just nodded gravely and indicated I should keep going.

I realized what bothered me. "There's no place for dreams anymore. Not true dreams. For believing in what could be. For wondering if there's more to life than just the here-and-now. People are nothing now but empty shells, all of them, wandering around in endless circles until they disappear into history. No one remembers them a few years after they're gone, and no one ever will.

"See, now we're out of the age of heroes, no one matters. Life has no meaning. That'll drive you crazy if you think on it too long, so -- they don't. Just go on and on, forever and ever, amen.

"They don't know what it's like to be alive.

"Not like I do. Like she does."

I fell silent, thinking about her. Her. The woman I've been chasing for, oh, centuries upon centuries now. And you're right, that makes me a lot older than I've any right to be. Still, I suspect she's far older than even me. The lady, my girl, my all-consuming fire. We've hunted each other down throughout the years, and while I don't know how she feels about me, I know what burns in my body when I think upon her face, her body, her quim.

I always was a fool for lust -- not love, as poets have it -- but pure want. The ache to feel her sinewy arms locked around my back, scratching welts down my spine while I drove into her with my cock, plunging in and out as a sailor assaults the sea, both of us rocking high and hot in a blaze that will consume us both, see if it doesn't. This inferno dancing across the waters will be the death of us both, but I can't see that as a bad thing.

My need to have her is strong enough it overcomes any fear of crossing the bar. I want -- desire -- need her like no one ever before, and never will another soul. If she has a soul. I'm not rightly sure.

Pe-Ben put his hand over my own, giving the knuckles a light squeeze. Now, this might just be my madness talking, but when I looked into his eyes I saw a vision, and I realized what I had to do.

I had to go to Africa.