Page 72 of Tattered and Torn
“I guess we’re meant to be then.” He kisses me gently, and then he strokes my cheek.
He’s still inside me, and when I flex the muscles between my legs, he closes his eyes and moans. “Damn.”
Then he lies back down and rolls us onto our sides. After gently withdrawing, he removes the condom, wraps it in a tissue, and sets it aside. “Come here.”
We slip inside the double sleeping bag, and he turns me onto my side so he can spoon me from behind. His hand covers my breast, and I feel his lips in my hair.
He kisses the back of my head. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
* * *
I wake with a start, momentarily confused by the raucous sounds coming from outside our tent—hooves pawing at the ground, the jarring clang of cowbells, and Zeus’s loud, angry snorts. “John! What’s wrong?”
John slips out of bed and quickly pulls on his jeans and boots. “Stay in here,” he barks at me.
I reach over and switch on the lantern. “What is it?”
He removes his rifle from the scabbard, then he grabs a long black flashlight. “Predator.” As he unzips the tent, he says, “Do not go outside, Gabrielle. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. My heart is pounding from fear of the unknown. It could be anything out there—a bear, wolves. Those poor horses!
John slips silently into the darkness as the horses continue making enough noise to wake the dead.
“Ha! Get out of here!” he yells. Then I hear the crack of a rifle shot. Then another.
I crawl to the tent flap and unzip it just enough so I can peer outside. As my sight adjusts to the darkness, I can just make out John standing by the horses, going from one to another as he examines them with the aid of his flashlight. “It’s okay,” he says. “Everybody’s fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Did you see what it was?”
“Bobcat.”
“You didn’t shoot him, did you?” I ask, horrified at the thought.
“No.” He chuckles. “But I put the fear of God in him. He hightailed it out of here.”
“Will he come back?”
“I doubt it. And if he does, he’s no match for Zeus and Odin.”
After making a thorough search of the immediate area, John returns to the tent, puts the rifle away, and slides back into our sleeping bag. “You okay?” he asks as he draws me close. “You’re shaking.”
“I was startled, that’s all. It’s not every night I’m awakened by the sound of Armageddon.” I reach for his hand and link our fingers together. “Are you sure the horses are safe?”
“Don’t worry. They’ll raise an alarm if there’s a problem. Horses have an excellent sense of smell and hearing.”
He drops a kiss on my bare shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll stay awake for a while and listen, just to be sure.”
* * *
When I wake again, it’s light outside. I roll over to find the other half of the sleeping bag empty. Then I realize I can hear John outside stoking a fire.
I manage to find my clothes and put them on before crawling out into the early morning chill. “Good morning.”
He looks up from his task and smiles. “Good morning. I hope you slept well after all the excitement last night.”
“I did.” I look to the horses, who are all calmly nibbling on the grass at their feet. “The horses are okay?”