Skinwalker ~ Native American Paranormal Erotica Read online

  I shiver with anticipation, sweeping my fingers over his muscular form. I find scars on his abdomen and look up to his eyes, fixed on me. I follow the scars down his stomach, three long, straight lines. Only one thing could have made them.

  Claws.

  He lifts up the base of my dress and spreads my legs with his knees. He frees himself from his leggings and I can smell his distinct man scent. It makes my mind dizzy with need.

  I lick my lips as he reaches down and spreads me with his fingers. I lift my hips in eagerness for him. I will wander... wander like a butterfly.

  He enters me and my eyes roll back. I moan from the satisfaction of him rubbing me in the wet, sacred place, and from the flame of hunger awakened inside me.

  He pushes fully inside, grinding against me with his pelvis. I arch my chest, wanting to feel my breasts against his bare skin, but I’ve lost all control of my body and can not remove my dress now.

  All I can move are my hips, or rather they move on their own, swallowing his joyous thrusts. I can tell he is moving to please me. It’s not long before I’m consumed by the motions. He lifts my pelvis and rocks me, seeming to push deeper and deeper.

  His black hair falls around me and I smell sweet herbs. My arms wrap around his back as he rocks into me. I feel more scars on his back, and I come out of the pleasure delirium.

  These scars are less specific, and I can’t guess how he earned them. But I know they are from great battles. He moves inside me, taking me to a higher level of ecstasy. So powerful, so strong, like an animal.

  He is a man, but I feel the spirit of an animal within him. He thrusts with such desire, such passion. Agility, like the wolf. Strength, like the bear. And wild... free... He takes me with him.

  I cry out when elation hits me. He’s panting, but smiles at me as my insides clamp around his penis. I sink back, in complete submission.

  I wake to the smell of afternoon. The skinwalker has built a large fire, and the warmth of it, and the furs, brings strength to my limbs.

  I look around, expecting to see him nearby, since the fire was stoked recently, but he is gone. Next to me I find dew-soaked raspberries laid upon several maple leaves. Sitting up, I take the berries in hand. The Mani-ha has left, and he has taken the disarray of supplies with him. Nothing is left... except... Below my feet I find two white-leather moccasins. The bead work is intricate, more beautiful than I have ever seen. I almost hate to touch them, but my curiosity is too strong. They are soft, but well-crafted and sturdy. Without thinking, I slide my feet into them.

  My feet are sore, but the moccasins cover them softly like his hands did. My eyes moisten with tears, missing him the strange man that brought me here, but I start to eat the ripe, juicy berries and stand. I expect my legs will be weak, but as I pull myself up against the large stone, they are able to support me.

  I know I have to leave. The cave feels wild without his presence, forbidden. Carefully I walk to the thicket that will lead me out, unsure of my feet.

  There, atop a stone near the entrance, a single eagle feather rests. It is white with black at the tip, a wing feather. I tie the feather into my hair, knowing it is my final goodbye.

  The air is fresh and cool as I step outside. I look around the forest, seeing no wolf, nor bear. I know it is time to return to the village, but I am not really sure where I am.

  Then I hear the call from above. A voice that sounds like it has echoed against a hundred mountains, an eagle. I find the bird, soaring above the canopy to my left. I turn and follow, knowing it will lead me home.

  THE END

  DERENDREA

  Derendrea is an author of sensual and entertaining erotica, in a variety of sub-genres, from paranormal, medieval, science fiction, to fantasy.

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  And now for a free sample of

  SACRIFICE TO TANGAROA

  Paranormal Tribal Erotica

  SAMPLE OF

  SACRIFICE TO TANGAROA

  I’m not afraid of the sea. The vast emptiness of the churning water should make me afraid. The sea took my father, my brother, my mother. And very soon, it will take me.

  Smooth, heavy stones lay at my feet. I hurl several into the restless waves, but the stones disappear with little more than a splash.

  The men and women of the village know of my hatred of the water. They blame me for the temperament of the ocean this last season.

  “We have lost a fishing boat on almost every seafaring venture, and few fish have been harvested,” the elders had said.

  “She has angered Tangaroa.”

  “She must be sacrificed to the angry waters to appease him.”

  Remembering their words makes blood rise to my skin. I glance up to the cliff side, where I last spotted members of my tribe. They left me on the north facing beach, twenty or thirty man-lengths drop from the top of the cliff. Now it is low tide, and I am trapped between the restless waves and the sheer rock. Come noon, I will have to try to swim and brave the waters... or drown.

  The women painted my body with symbols of fertility and virginity, hoping my youth and beauty will be enough to satiate the hunger of the sea god. They are fools. I will die beneath the frothy gray water, and my life and body will be wasted. The soul of the ocean cares naught for me, it cares naught for any of us.

  I won’t allow the sea to take me. I will not allow my body to be given to the selfish waters. Kicking up sand, I run down the beach. If I make it around the sheer cliffs before the tide, I may be able to find a path into the jungle in the center of the island. I will never be welcome back in the village, but perhaps I can steal a boat and navigate to another island.

  I near the narrow path between the cliffs and the sea, and the waves already crash up onto the rugged rocks. My feet sink into the wet, coursing sand. I grab onto the slick rocks to try to hold my place. Gingerly, I start to ease myself around.

  Something fast and solid slices through the air. Beside me lands a wooden spear embedded in the water and sand, thrown with deadly accuracy. I look up to several shadows looming over the precipice... hunters of my village. I glare at them, guessing their names though I cannot see their faces.

  They won’t allow me to pass. Either bleeding from their spear, or drowned under the waves, my life will end today.

  “Pokokohua!” I curse at them. It does little to lessen my anger, or to improve my situation. I am tempted to continue on, and let one of their well-aimed spears find my heart. At least it would be a death of my choosing.

  No... there still might be a way out. The pain of death scares me, though now, it is what I wish. I turn back to the open beach, weighing my options. In truth I have none.

  Water spurns at my ankles. It’s not just a wave, it’s the tide, but it is early. The tide, and my death, should wait until the sun kisses the horizon. The water rises, unnaturally quick. I glance at the cliff side, but have to plant my feet to keep my balance.

  The waters are strangely still, but rising. The warm, murky water reaches my knees. I watch the salt water fill the enclave, leaving no means of escape. The levels rise dramatically and I brace, expecting to be pushed off balance. It envelopes my legs and I gasp at the sensation. The waters are warm, licking my hot skin like so many tongues.

  The paint on my legs dissolves and swirls in blue and red rivulets into the water. Reaching my apex, the warmth gently laps at my naked mound between my legs.

  I close my eyes at the strange sensation. It almost feels like kisses. If this is my end, I guess a gentle, deadly caress is preferable to a sharp spear through the heart.

  The water recedes and I open my eyes. Waves rush back to the big open. Sand sinks beneath my feet as the waters recede. I can barely keep my stance.

  Where is the tide going? The waters retreat until the enclove is left a sandy,
rocky wet mess. The ocean makes a massive sucking sound.

  I gaze out at the vastness of the water. A great hill forms far out to sea, a green and blue disturbance of the deep ocean current. It rushes toward the shore, growing in size and speed.

  It is a ngaru tai, the monster wave, the hand of Tangaroa.

  So he has come to claim his sacrifice. My body tries to back up out of fear, but there is no running from the quickly-approaching wall of death. It crests, and boiling white curls the top of the wave.

  It is as high as the cliff. Instinct makes me hold my breath and turn away, but truly I have no defense.

  The ngaru tai roars as it crashes. I think of my family, lost under these same waters, and muster the courage to face my doom.

  Stinging, cool droplets spray me before the deluge. The serpentine colored wave crashes down to swallow me.

  The wave hits something ahead of me. It roars, splitting to the left and right, but it does not touch me.

  Some magic holds back the waters. They crash above me and thunder past to the cliff. I turn and watch them pound the rocks with fury, loosening the top layer as if it were dried sand, not solid cliff side. The waters, darkened with the mixture, rush back my way. The water crashes with almost as much force as the first wave. I lower to my knees and cover my head, but again the waters do not reach me. They crash above, as if they hit some invisible force, then churn on either side. The blue-green waters rush by.

  Inexplicably, I am dry. But I am not safe. There is a canoe-shaped space of air around me, but on all sides and above is rushing water. I am trapped.

  I can see waves crash high, high above. To the side, a school of teka fish fight the current that tries to crush them against the cliff. They rush past me, so close I can see the sun reflect on their silver scales. The waves agitate the rocks and sand. They, too, should be hitting me, but the unseen force keeps them at bay.

  All around is movement. An arm-length from me, the wall of water roils, peaking and dipping in vertical waves, as if each side is the surface of the sea.

  What keeps the water from claiming me? I feign to touch the side of the water, but hesitate, not knowing if it will break this spell and cause the waters to swallow me in an instant.

  Where the advancing sea splits to either side, the water begins to foam. It rises in splattering spirals, six hands taller than me and twice as wide. I step back, preparing for the whole ocean to be released from that spot.

  A shape coalesces from the turbulent water. It is almost... a chest. The muscular chest of a man, made out of water. And a jaw.

  A face.

  It is larger than a man, but the shape of one. The spinning tightens, forming the joints of a powerful neck, defined collar bones, and sinuous muscles. I step back, but I am close to the end of this tight oasis.

  The form is two arm-lengths from me. It has eyes now, and the water there glows a pale green. The face seems to shift... and look down toward me.

  He does look at me. I choke on the close air, desperately needing to back up, but I am unable.

  A man steps from the water, or the water becomes the man. I am so immersed in his body, I cannot tell which. His skin is a sparkling green and blue, iridescent, wet and slick over well-defined features. His feet do not touch the sand. The water still holds him from the knees down. When I look down I find he is naked, as I am, and a long, snake like appendage hangs between his legs, the same color as the rest of his skin. Quickly I avert my eyes.

  “What does the woman want?” a voice speaks from the figure, but it does not sound as I expected. His voice is almost human, though more pleasant than those belonging to the men of my village.

  What do I want? I do not know what to say. I stutter out, “Utu.”

  I want payback, that is the best way I can say it.

  The man lifts his face as he regards me. I think I see amusement on his expression. His large hand drifts over his tightly braided hair, and human flesh forms beneath it. Rich brown skin forms over his surface. Pearly white teeth fill his mouth. A shell earring pierces his right ear. Otherwise he is still naked. I glance down to see the serpent between his legs take on the smooth human skin, with the transformation that covers the rest of his body. Again I look away.

  His eyes are still green, seeming to penetrate me to my core. He is larger than any man I have ever seen, a hand taller and two hands wider than our best warriors. And also unlike them, his face is not painted with the war tattoos every man of age bears.

  “Foolish they are, the fishermen,” he steps away from the water, his legs fully forming, “to cast out young women in hopes it will improve their catches.”

  I feel a spray of water as I near the churning wall.

  “Why do they think an inexperienced virgin would please me?”

  He smiles, but I feel a chilled. I reach down and lift a large rock from the wet sand.

  “I do not care what pleases you!”

  I hurl the rock at him. He does not flinch, does not falter. The rock passes through him, through his chest, the space it strikes turning to water to let the rock through, then turning solid again. Just as my stones passed, unphased into the sea.

  He is not angry, but his expression hardens. He steps closer to me. My shoulder presses into the cool spray.

  “Why do you hate?”

  The waters close in behind him, making the space smaller. I should not fear, as I am already dead, but my body trembles and my breath hitches.

  “You killed my family.”

  Looking back to the sea god, he stops three steps from me. He is serious a moment, reading my body more than considering my words.

  “Do you wish to die with them?”

  His tone is not cold, but it sends chills down my bones.

  “I want nothing of you, or the sea. You cannot have me.” I raise my chin in defiance. He laughs, his voice ringing deep like the roar of the waves.

  “You are already mine.”

  His large, powerful form takes another step forward.

  “Stay away from me!” I almost trip back. Spinning, I try to kneel down for another rock, but Tangaroa rushes me and seizes my wrists before I can.

  I feel a thrill at the speed and strength by which he subdues me. I try to pull away but he squeezes and pushes my hands sideways. The pain and pressure from his grip makes me weak.

  Lifting my gaze off his smooth chest, I find his etched face locked on me, framed by braided, long black hair. I twist my wrists, testing his hold. His touch is not warm, as human flesh should be. Nor is it cold. It just is, like the feel of the air.

  “Let me go, you monster.” My words are angry, but the rage I felt toward him is weakening inside me. He regards me with troubled, clear green eyes.

  “Do you wish to return to the surface? To your people who cast you out?”

  I try to turn away, but he pulls my arms so I cannot.

  “Do you want to go home, to those who wish you dead?”

  My breaths are painful, and it is not because his grip. He holds me to face him, but I cannot meet his gaze.

  “No.”

  As I answer, tears fill my eyes and my head drops. I feel like I will collapse. Tangaroa exchanges his hold on my wrists to around my arms. The wall of water closes in tighter, until it is a circling cylinder on all sides.

  He steps closer, his solid naked body brushing against mine. I breathe in deeply, trying to calm myself. There will be no escape from this fate. I either submit to him, or I die.

  Gently, he brushes my curly brown hair out of my face.

  “You cannot walk into my world.”

  I wipe my eyes and look up to him.

  “What?”

  I startle as his skin changes back to what emerged from the water, looking like it belongs to some sea creature. It is beautiful, but it is too close for me to enjoy. His eyes glow, like the full moon’s reflection upon still water.

  “A part of you must change.”

  Cool water splashes on my back. My body trembles
and I try to resist him.

  “Let me go!” I cry. My words sound louder in the small space. He wraps his arms around my back and holds me harshly against his chest. I fight him with all my strength. His leg wraps behind both of mine, pinning them together. I am sure he will force the serpent within me as he pushes me back. But instead, he moves his mouth to my neck.

  Thick, cool lips press against my neck under my ear. Shimmers of pleasure, and a prickly pain, radiate across my body. I moan, unable to clamp down my throat to silence myself as he leans me back. The blue and green patterns across his body glow brightly.

  His arms wrap tighter around me. I am unable to stand the sensation on my neck. I scream, thrashing, trying to remove him from over me. He grabs my hair and pulls it down, keeping my neck fully exposed to him. His lips feel like fire.

  My neck burns. My whole body burns, but my neck most of all. He pulls up and I want to grasp the wound, but my arms are pinned behind my back.

  “A part of you must die...”

  As he speaks, he pushes me back into the water.

  “No! Don’t do this!”

  Cool rivulets cover my scalp. I clutch Tangaroa, desperately trying to keep out of the deluge. His solid body eases me back.

  “No!” I scream.

  Frantic, I try to claw at him, but I can do nothing to stop him from pushing me into the undulating wall. The water touches my neck. It feels strange where he kissed me, and on the opposite side under my other ear. It feels like my skin is open.

  I lose these thoughts as the waters creep up my cheek. I start to scream, but have to hold my breath as a torrent of water crashes down upon me.

  Disoriented under the weight of water, I feel strong arms still hold me. The water churns and bubbles, but I find the golden blue surface of the water high above us, tall waves crashing down. If I can free myself, I may reach the surface and be able to breathe.