The Devil and Ms. Moody (13 page)

Carmen proceeded to untie Diablo’s red bandanna and remove it. She then produced a large rectangle of black muslin that she used to blindfold him, knotting it tightly at the back of his head. “Good luck,” she whispered, touching Edwina’s hand.

Edwina couldn’t respond, not even to nod. A part of her psyche had detached, split off completely from the horror of what they were about to do. Another part of her, still rational, couldn’t believe that she had ever agreed to such craziness. They were going to die! They were going to plummet into the black chasm of death and cease to exist.

“Sit tight,” Diablo told her as he directed the bike toward the granite bridge. “I’m going to gun it.”

“Gun it?” Edwina was painfully out of breath. “Why?”

“The momentum will carry us, maybe even give us some lift. If I can’t see where I’m going, then the hell with it, I’m going to fly across.”

“We, Diablo,
we.
I’m sitting right behind you, and I don’t like flying. I can guide you, I promise, just follow my directions.” Her fingers tightened on his arm, and the answering contractions of his bicep made her realize that he was as tense as she was.

“I hate to be a bore,” he said grimly, “but aren’t you the one who opened your mouth and got us into this?”

“I know I got us into this!” she whispered. “Now, please, trust me to get us out of it.”

“Trust you,” he muttered. “That’s rich.”

Edwina’s heart wrenched painfully as he cranked the throttle and edged the cycle toward the crossing. He stopped the bike several feet from the cliff as though coming to a decision. “How about those directions?” he said abruptly.

“Right! You’re fine,” she told him. “Straight ahead. Twelve o’clock.”

He geared down and started across slowly. “A little to the left now—eleven o’clock,” she urged. “Yes! That’s good.”

She continued calling out directions—and fighting off paralyzing bouts of panic whenever he neared the edge. The rocks were uneven and dangerously slick in places, causing the motorcycle to jolt and slide. Chunks of granite broke loose and tumbled into the chasm as the bike’s wheels ground out a precarious traction. As they reached the halfway point, Edwina opened her own fisted hand and saw that she’d drawn blood with her fingernails.

The emotion she felt could be described only as sickening fear. Her breath was trapped in a vise, squashed by the frantic grip of her lungs, and every crackle of sound, every fragment of loose gravel, sent her heart thundering.

“Left! Nine o’clock!” she cried as the bike slid sideways on a slippery piece of rock. “Oh, dear God!” She grabbed for Diablo as they veered toward the edge.

Diablo hit the gas and swung the heavy bike around, fighting desperately to bring it out of the grinding, tire-shreddding skid. He was taut as wire, every muscle bulging, every tendon rigid as he heaved and twisted, forced to use gut physical strength to stop the slide. His leg shot out to steady them as the back tire dropped into a groove, and his hands were shaking on the handle grips as he brought the huge machine under control at last.

“You okay?” he asked jagged-voiced.

“Yes—” A hot flare of relief burned through Edwina. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought down the need to cry and scream and shake. She couldn’t let herself fall apart now. She had to get it together. She was his eyes, dammit. And crazy as it seemed, she was his courage too. He took all his signals from her, and if she let him know how precarious it was, how terrifyingly close they’d come to the edge, to death, she would rattle him.

“Straighten it out,” she said, barely able to talk. “Let’s bring this baby home.”

Several more terrifying seconds passed before they reached the other side. As the bike’s front wheels touched solid ground, Edwina let out a scream of relief. She threw her arms around Diablo and cried with joy.

“We did it,” he said, twisting the throttle.

As he gassed it off the bridge, his back wheel hit some loose ground, and the bike lost traction. Gravel sprayed wildly, and Edwina screamed as she felt the rear end of the machine drop. She grabbed for Diablo, catching hold of his vest as the bike’s back wheel spun off the cliff.

Edwina had no strength left. Fear had bled her muscles dry, and it was all she could do to hang on to him as he fought to bring the massive cycle onto safe ground. The bike vibrated violently, shrieking its primacy over nature, and her world exploded in roaring engines and flying, splintering rock.

In the next savage burst of effort Diablo manually inched the bike toward safety, and they finally burst free, hurtling onto solid land. He hit the brakes, ripped off his blindfold, and roared with triumph. Edwina collapsed against the sissy bar, too weak even to express her relief.

Somewhere in the distance she heard the Warlords yelling and cheering, and then she felt Diablo’s arms around her and knew she was being lifted from the bike.

Through a blur of exhaustion she saw Squire coming across the bridge toward them. The older man rushed at Diablo, caught him around the shoulders, and bear-hugged him.

“You’re a Warlord, man,” Squire said, presenting Diablo with the red bandanna, now an official symbol of his membership.

Diablo exhaled a gust of harsh laughter. He handed Squire the black blindfold, and the Warlords shouted their approval.

“There is one last thing, Brother,” Squire told Diablo as he nodded toward Edwina. “It’s her turn now. You know the rules.”

Edwina roused herself long enough to peer at both of the men.
“Her
turn?”

Diablo’s shoulders stiffened as he faced the Warlord’s leader. “I know the rules, Squire, but she’s my old lady. I initiate her in my own way.”

D
IABLO’S MOTORCYCLE SPED
through the deep canyon, passing foliage and boulders that could barely be seen in the thin streams of moonlight reflecting off the walls. The bike and its riders were dwarfed by the majesty that surrounded them—white-faced cliffs and hoary outcroppings that resembled ancient gargoyles in Gothic architecture. The canyon was the wild heart of the mountains, frighteningly beautiful.

Diablo banked into a sudden curve, and Edwina touched his indrawn arm, her body swaying into him naturally. The warmth of his skin startled her, and she drew back involuntarily. Everything felt charged and spiky between them now, she realized. Even accidental touches were made premonitory by a sense of something about to happen.

“Where are we going?” she called to him. All he had told her was that the rite of initiation wasn’t over.

“Up ahead,” he called back.

The canyon opened up onto an amphitheater of living rock—smooth sleek granite, jagged slate, and ribbed limestone. Diablo headed for an opening in the cliffs in front of them, a dark, yawning maw that looked endless, as though it might connect the mountain with an alternative universe.

“It looks like a cave,” she said. “Why are we going there?”

“Hang on. You’ll see.”

She felt zephyrs of cool air caress her face as they cruised into the mouth of the tunnel. The engine’s soft rumble ricocheted off the walls, and almost instantly they were swimming in a darkness so total it felt like deep-sea water. Edwina’s field of vision was obliterated. Disorientation swept her and she clutched Diablo, thankful for his reassuring warmth.

It seemed to her that they’d been riding forever, and then a sound came to her from far away. It was silvery and melodious, like tinsel rustling in the wind or the shimmer of harpstrings. The darkness above them sparkled with an eerie phosphorescence, and Edwina had the feeling she was staring up at open sky, at stardust and infinity.

A shaft of light burst out of nowhere. Edwina inhaled sharply as more and more light poured through the darkness until the path before them was illuminated with pearlescence. The rustling sound became a breathtaking roar. Before she knew what was happening, the wall alongside them had dissolved in the thunder of a waterfall. A fine spray coated Edwina’s arms and face as Diablo drove past cautiously.

“The grotto,” he said a moment later as they rolled into an open-air fairyland. Exotic ferns hung from jutting rocks, and a pair of waterfalls oozed from crevices between the boulders and spilled into a lagoonlike pool. Edwina looked up and saw that the stardust above them was the real thing. The sky was studded with constellations.

“This is breathtaking,” she said, aware that Diablo had slid off the bike and was waiting for her. She spent the next several moments admiring the grotto, remarking on the lush greenery and the sparkling pool that bubbled up like warm champagne. Was it fed by an underground hot springs? she wondered. Did the cavern date back to prehistoric times? Drinking in the scent of honeysuckle, she gazed up at the starry night until she was dizzy. And all the while, the question that loomed large in her mind was
what next?

A sparkle of curious humor lit Diablo’s eyes. “Are you planning on getting off the bike anytime soon?” he asked.

“Well ... sure.”

She took his outstretched hand, aware that she was not only alone with him but more isolated from the world than she’d ever been with a man. She’d already sensed what this part of the ritual involved, but she didn’t want to ask and have her fears confirmed. The irony of that reticence didn’t escape her. During their kiss at the stadium, she would have sold Food Chain to a meat-packer for some time alone with Diablo. Now that she had both the time and the opportunity, she was losing her nerve again.

“I guess we’re not here for a picnic,” she said softly.

Diablo agreed with a shrug. “Not unless you brought some fried chicken.”

“Cluck, cluck,” Edwina murmured.

“Nothing has to happen, Ed,” he said finally. “Not unless you want it to.”

She plucked at a blond curl that had wandered onto her cheek. “If I did want it to, what would
it
be?”

Diablo studied her flushed expectancy, beguiled by the unconscious innocence she projected. She was irresistible. She made him feel dangerously male, both predator and protector. She made him feel tender and carnal. He wanted her body like hell on fire, and now that he was a Warlord, there was nothing to stop him. Nothing but her. The initiation he chose for her had to be right. Slow and sweet. Sexy and mind-blowing.

“Have you ever heard of the Maiden’s Spring?” he said.

She thought a moment. “It comes from mythology, doesn’t it?”

“Close. It’s a Celtic legend about a timber wolf who wanted to make love to a woman.” He walked to the waterfall and held out his hand, letting the water splash through his fingers. “According to the legend, the wolf led the woman to the Maiden’s Spring, and when she drank its charmed water, he took human form.”

Human form, Edwina thought, drawn to Diablo’s dark hair and mesmerizing green eyes. “And did he make love to her then?”

“No, he couldn’t. She had released his body from animal form, but not his spirit. The woman could see he was in agony, and she began to cry. The wolf gave her a wildflower for her hair and told her to bathe in the pool and wash her tears away.”

“And did she?”

He nodded. “Afterward, she took the flower from her hair and set it adrift on the water. The flower was a larkspur. It symbolized freedom.”

“And that released him?”

“Yes ... and then they made love.”

Edwina felt warmth radiate up her throat. Her heart was a little crazy, but she actually thought the legend was rather lovely. “And that would be my initiation?”

“Yes ... there’s just one other thing you ought to know, Ed. When the woman released the wolf, she gave up her right to refuse him.”

“Refuse him what?”

“Anything he asked.”

His eyes darkened as he said the words, and Edwina’s heart went completely crazy. “Anything he asks?
Anything?”
She stepped back from him.

“That’s the legend, Princess.”

Edwina’s breathing sharpened painfully as she thought about what he was asking of her. She brought a hand to her throat, drawing together the neckline of her top. The cave suddenly felt chilly and alien. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Do you
want
to do it?”

Edwina’s heartbeat went thready as he approached her. It was happening to her again, she realized, the same bizarre physical reaction she’d had at the reflecting pool. She felt strange, loose at the joints, and dizzy, as though the mountain air were affecting her equilibrium.

Diablo touched her forearm, and the heat of his skin shocked her. She pulled back and felt him respond with a staying hold, engulfing slender bones in his grasp. Edwina blinked down at his hand, at the facile strength of his fingers and the bronzed hues of his skin. The sight of him holding her and the unexpected contact of their skin set her imagination on fire.

She remembered his hands spanning her waist, cupping her breasts, and deep inside she felt a clutch of something that could only be desire. It shivered through her like restless water. It gripped and caressed her tender parts like seeking fingers. Edwina resisted the sensation, her stomach muscles tightening. Too fast, she thought. It was happening too fast. That was what frightened her about being with him. Her responses were lightning quick. One touch and she was liquid.

He’d aroused her to a state of near agony that night in the pool. He’d slipped his leg between hers and driven her half mad with ecstasy. And now it was happening again.

“Are you all right, Ed?”

He drew his finger along the inside of her wrist, a gentle stroking gesture probably meant to reassure. Instead it inflamed. The sensitive area was an erogenous zone for Edwina, her own personal weakness of the flesh. A whimper locked in her throat, and it was then that the truth of her frantic responses hit her. Maybe it wasn’t sex on the brain. Maybe it was just plain womanly need. The need to be physical with a man, to be held and caressed, to feel his hard muscles and harder bones pressing into the tender parts of her body.

Heat seeped up the crevice between Edwina’s shoulder blades and warmed her neck. Maybe it was need, dammit, she thought. Otherwise, she didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her. Or why she was swearing, for that matter. She
never
swore at home.