"I–I have to find Holly."
"I told you I'll help you. But first, wouldn't you like to get to know me better?"
She came toward him, stopping inches away. He could feel the heat of her naked body. There was an ache between his legs.
"I can make you feel really good," Lupe said. "Would you like that?"
She reached down and touched him. His erection grew under her fingers.
"Well, what do we have here?" she teased. "And only sixteen years old. You are going to be quite a man, Malcolm."
He began to perspire. He could feel his shirt going damp at the armpits. Conflicting emotions ripped him. He wanted to take the hand of the taunting woman away, and he never wanted her to move it.
She undid his trousers and slipped her hand inside. The sensation was unbearable pleasure.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a long "Aaahhh!"
"Take those things off," Lupe told him. "Come into bed with me."
She peeled back the spread, blanket, and top sheet, then lay down, spreading her midnight hair over a pillow. She cocked one knee and massaged the velvety inside of her thigh with gentle strokes of her fingertips.
"Hurry," she said in a husky whisper.
With his eyes never leaving the woman in the bed, Malcolm stripped off. He pulled off shoes and socks and lay down on the bed beside her.
Instantly Lupe was on him. She kissed his mouth, her tongue probing deep. Her hungry lips nibbled at his chin, his throat, and down across his chest to his belly. The green eyes looked up at him teasingly.
"Feel good?"
"Y-yes."
"Want me to stop?"
"No."
"I told you so."
She took him inside her mouth then. Her tongue and lips worked on him, her white little teeth giving him gentle love bites. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. Malcolm felt as though he were being pulled inside out.
Just when he thought he could not last a second longer, she drew her head back, her mouth making a little popping sound as he slid out. She rubbed the length of her body up along his, the flesh lubricated by their mingled sweat. She raised her head and looked down on him. Her hair was a shiny black curtain framing her face. She smiled. Her teeth were very white, and very sharp. And not so little any more.
Slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered herself down on him and took his length inside her. He felt the heat radiate through his body.
"Good?" she said, her breath moist on his face.
He could not answer.
She began to ride slowly up and down on him, pausing at the top just before he would have slipped out, then sinking gradually to swallow him up again.
Malcolm closed his eyes, giving himself to the sensations of his body. Sitting on him, riding him, Lupe stepped up the rhythm and the vigour of their joinings until her buttocks smacked his upper thighs with a report like a pistol shot.
His climax came a second before hers. She dropped down on him, her arms wrapped about his neck, nails digging furrows in his back. They cried out together and rolled back and forth over the king-size bed until his seed was spent. Then they continued to cling to each other like drowning children as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Lupe was the first to speak. "I told you you'd never had a woman like me."
"Mmmm," was all Malcolm could manage.
"It gets better."
"I don't believe it."
"Oh, yes. When you really know about yourself, and about what we are, there are ways to make it much better."
Malcolm opened his eyes. He rolled to one side and pushed the woman away. "You said you'd take me where Derak went with Holly."
"Did I say that?" Lupe's eyes danced with mischief. "I don't know why you're so anxious to see Derak."
"We have to settle something."
"You're not thinking of challenging him?"
"Why not?"
"Because you are just a pup. Derak has been a leader of his people for a long time. You're lucky he has let you come this far on your own."
"Let me?"
"Of course he has. He could have taken you many times over the past year."
"Then why didn't he?"
"You don't know?"
"I'm asking."
"Because he is your father."
Malcolm sat up and stared at her. Derak, his father? The knowledge hit him like a fist. Malcolm knew him as a leader, a teacher, one to be respected. And perhaps feared. But a father? How was it possible? He felt closer to Holly, to Jones, to Bateman Styles than he did to the quiet-spoken man with the deep green eyes.
"Don't start thinking that makes you too special," Lupe went on. "Derak was father to half the children in the village of Drago. Of course, many of them did not survive the fire. Maybe that is why he is so patient with you."
"And my mother?" he said.
"She died in the fire. You must not think of her. It is not important, as you will learn."
He swung his feet off the bed and began putting on his clothes. "Take me to Derak now," he said.
Lupe reached over and slid a hand between his bare buttocks. "So soon? We've just got started."
He stood up, moving back out of her reach. "You're wrong, we're finished. Let's go."
"You mean you had your fun and now you're through?" she said petulantly. "What about me?"
He glared at her. "You promised."
She patted the damp sheet beside her. "Come back. Once more, then I will take you to Derak and your lady friend."
He cinched the belt buckle tight and crossed to the door. "If you won't help me, I'll find them myself."
"Go ahead, if you think you can," Lupe taunted him from the bed. "But it will be much nicer in here with me."
"The hell with you."
He went out and slammed the door. The night surrounded him. He looked at the lonely cars crouching like abandoned beasts in the painted spaces. The lights were out now in all the rooms, except the one where Lupe waited. Malcolm felt terribly alone.
He walked back past the motel units to where the land sloped up into the foothills. Up there somewhere was Derak, and he had Holly with him. But where? How to find them in all that expanse of dark, rolling country? The boy's doubts made the night even colder.
The he heard it. The howling.
Unmistakeably, it was a call to him. Malcolm closed his eyes. He sniffed the air. Small, invisible changes happened inside his body, and the night was not so cold any more.
When he opened his eyes, their green colour had deepened. He started confidently up into the hills.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gavin Ramsay sat staring at the little digital clock on his desk in La Reina County sheriffs office. He caught himself counting the seconds as they ticked by, and angrily turned the face of the clock away from him.
All right, so Holly Lang did not call last night. That didn't mean anything. There were a hundred reasons she might not have telephoned him. Yeah, he told himself grimly, and about fifty of them were bad news.
The new, slimmed-down version of Deputy Roy Nevins came into the office. His leather gleamed, his uniform was freshly pressed. He was shaved, trimmed, and looked maybe ten years younger than he had a year ago. Gavin marvelled at the varying effect exposure to violence had on different people.
"Any action, Roy?" he asked.
"Not to speak of. Somebody used the deer-crossing sign for target practice again. I collared a speeder from LA trying out his new Porsche. Had to break up a couple of guys who had pulled off the road to do some smooching."
"Couple of guys?"
"I should have mentioned that they were from San Francisco."
"Oh, well."
Nevins sat down to type out his report in two-finger machine-gun style. Ramsay sighed and turned the clock back around to face him. The hell with this. He was worried, and there was no use pretending he wasn't. He picked up the phone and direct-dialed the number of the Silverdale Motel.