The Song in the Silver by Faberge Nostromo Page B

in her stomach matching the tightening of her heat around his thickness. She knew that her pleasure was about to take her, to sweep its ecstatic wave from where she gripped him and outward to flood her entire body. She felt him moving even faster, signaling that his release was upon him too. Deeper and harder he swept into her, and she could hold back no longer. With a sudden tightening of her wetness on him, her back arched, her hips pushed up to him, and as her body exploded in rapture, she felt his warmth flood into her from the final, deep thrust of his need.
    The thunder rumbled again, and a flash of lightning seared the sky with its blue-white fork. He rolled to one side, pulled her close to nestle against him, and held her tight in his arms as the rain pounded upon the slate roof.

Chapter Two
    The soft padding of paws in the dry twigs and pine needles appeared on the edges of his hearing. He turned from his silent vigil to see the figure of a large wolf lope into view from between the trees. The animal’s breath condensed in the cold night air into clouds of white that floated away into the black. It approached across the clearing, moonlight glinting on its silver fur and stopped by his side. He stood and nodded his acknowledgment.
    A sound like the wind through the high pines and the soft breaking of the loch waters on a stony shore surrounded the wolf from nowhere, and her shape swept in a heartbeat, like a passing shadow, from animal to woman. She stood now, tall and graceful, silver-streaked black hair tumbling to shoulders draped in a long fur cloak that fell to the ground around her bare feet.
    “Aatu, my mother. It is good to see you,” he said, bowing his head.
    She placed a hand on his bowed head and smiled.
    “William, my son, it is both good and sad to have you back in the glen. The wolves welcome one of their own back. The time is soon?” she asked.
    “Yes. Tonight. The song in the silver tells me so,” he replied. He slipped his hand inside his cloak to touch the deerskin pouch.
    “I am sorry. You will go to her?”
    “Yes, at the end. To say good-bye and to tell her.”
    She nodded and stroked his hair.
    “It’s been a long, painful time since I found you that night, clutching the silver in your burning hand, William, but you have been ever faithful to your word. The wolves will look over him if you have to leave.”
    “Thank you, Mother. I know. And I will tell her that also.”
    An owl called, and a high, thin cloud scudded across the moon.
    ***
    “William, William, you must wake! Hurry, the storm has passed, but the sun is setting. We must hurry for we cannot spend the night in here,” said Mary as William felt her shake him awake.
    He sat up suddenly and ran his hand through his hair, blinking.
    “Oh, my word, Mary—yes. Quickly now, I will run with you down the hill, but I’ll leave you at the gate. Your father will not welcome me bringing you back so late,” he replied. He grabbed his staff and wrapped his plaid tightly around her shoulders. “You’ll be cold. Wear this, and I’ll run back here once I see you safe to the gate. I should be in time to make my way back to my father’s croft if the storm does not return.”
    She nodded and kissed his cheek.
    “Get along with you now, Mary, we’ve no time for that,” he said. Then he noticed her bare throat. “Your necklace, my love, ‘tis not around your fair neck. We must find it.”
    He turned the blankets over and heard the soft clink of the necklace hitting the floor.
    “Oh, William, the chain is broken,” she said. He picked it up and tried to place it around her neck. “Will you hold it for me until the morning? We haven’t time to fix it now.”
    “Of course, my love,” he said, examining the small silver cross. “I can fix the chain tonight, and tomorrow it will be as good as new. Now we must hurry.”
    They rushed down the hill while the sun headed westward to the horizon behind them. At the gate to the farm,