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Kyna lay on her stomach on the blanket with her chin propped up on her hands. Cyrus was on the ground at her side, his body folded almost casually into the lotus position. As the night drew to a close, the air grew progressively cooler, but so far they were comfortable beneath a protective film of lust-spent sweat. From their vantage point on the peak, they could see the lights coming on in the houses down on the edge of Tucson. |
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"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just stay up here forever?" Kyna asked. "You could bring the game you caught back to our little cave and I could cook it over an open pit. Our children would have to sneak into Tucson to go to school, of course. But in the afternoons they could turn into little wolf puppies and hunt with their father." |
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"Kyna, I hope you don't mind me saying: You're the weirdest woman I ever met." |
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"Not at all. Russ, do you think we could have children?" |
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He looked at the back of her head as he considered the idea. In the pale light, her hair was the color of blood. |
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"You mean normal kids?" he asked. "Or kids like me?" |
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"Gee, I don't know. I guess we'll have to ask Paula." |
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"Do you want children? I mean, maybe I'm taking a lot for granted." |
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In truth, he really hadn't thought about it. |
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"Let me ask you a question," he said to give himself time to think. "You really want to be stuck with a guy that goes through electric razors the way Pavarotti goes through pizzas?" |
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While she pondered the question, Cyrus's mind was in turmoil. Did he want to marry Kyna? Did he want to marry anyone, for that matter? He had major feelings for her. He'd told Paula it was love, but was it really? Would he know it if it were? He took a long look at the curve of Kyna's neck, the slope of her back and the tight mounds of her buttocks. Her skin was a combination of cream and silk and smelled of sandalwood and dust. How could any manany werewolf, for |
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