Only 04 - Only Love

after dressing out that last elk. He’s probably washing off in the hot spring pool right now.
    Quickly Shannon shut and barred the cabin door. When she opened the cupboard passage, light from a single candle danced in silent welcome. As she closed the cupboard behind her, the husky keening of the panpipes faded into a spectral whisper, then into silence.
    Shannon searched darkness that seethed with mist from the hot spring. She couldn’t see Whip. Impatiently she kicked off her boots and socks andtugged off the leather belt that held up her worn men’s pants.
    “Whip, are you in the pool?”
    There was a hissing whisper as a long lash curled out of the darkness. Shannon felt a tug at her shirt and heard a soft tearing sound. Before she could do more than gasp, she sensed another swift movement, another tug, then another and another. Very quickly her old flannel shirt vanished, floating to the rocky floor in uneven ribbons.
    Shannon made a surprised sound as the bullwhip’s supple lash licked over her trousers. There was a soft pop followed by a metallic clink as the single button on her pants hit the ground.
    She looked around and saw nothing but twists of steam and the dark curl of the lash returning. Though she saw it coming, she still made a startled noise when the leather whip delicately, precisely, sheared cloth away from her body without touching her skin at all.
    She shivered as the remnants of her trousers fell to the stone floor, leaving her wearing the shabby pantalets that were her only underwear.
    “W-Whip?”
    “I wanted to do this the first time I saw you dressed in ragpicker’s clothes that were an insult to your beauty. But I knew the bullwhip would frighten you then. Does it frighten you now?”
    Shannon closed her eyes as a delicious shiver of anticipation went through her.
    “No,” she whispered. “Nothing you do could frighten me, Whip.”
    The lash curled, tugged, and the worn ribbon came untied, leaving nothing to hold up the pantalets. They slid to the floor. Shannon stood motionless, wearing only candlelight and the seething mist rising from the hot spring.
    “You’re like the sun, honey girl. Beautiful. Perfect.”
    Whip’s voice was as dark and sultry as the cave itself.
    “I’ve seen myself in your shaving mirror,” Shannon said. “I’m not perfect or beautiful.”
    “You are to me.”
    The truth in Whip’s voice was another kind of caress licking over Shannon as softly as the mist, as gently as the smooth leather kissing her cheek, her shoulder, the swell of a breast, the full curve of one hip, the sensitive skin behind one knee. The cool, delicate touches were swift, always unexpected, shockingly arousing in their restraint and sensual promise.
    Shannon whimpered Whip’s name as her body shimmered and caught fire. She captured the teasing, flicking lash and tugged hard, only to find herself pulled in turn toward the steamy darkness where Whip waited. Beneath her feet cool stone gave way to the soft, thick blankets Whip had spread near the edge of the hot spring.
    There was a swirl of water and the secret rush of drops onto stone as Whip came out of the seething pool. Wearing only coils of steam and a glistening sheen of water, Whip loomed in front of Shannon.
    He was as beautiful to her as a pagan god, but the shadows haunting his eyes were those of a man whose powers were merely human.
    I wish I were a different man!
    Don’t love me, Shannon. Please. Don’t. It hurts too much.
    An eerie stillness wrapped around Shannon’sheart, making it stop. She knew in an instant of total silence that Whip would leave her soon.
    Very soon.
    Shannon’s heart turned over and beat frantically. She bit back a cry of protest at all that could have been and now never would be, shared laughter and intertwined lives, building a home and holding babies, children with his eyes and her smile and their love like a sunrise bringing light to the landscape of their lives….
    But it was not to be.
    All Shannon had was this moment when she would share her body and soul with Whip for the last time.
    As graceful as candlelight and mist, Shannon walked to Whip. And like candlelight and mist she flowed over him, touching him, tasting him, learning every bit of his body in a rage of silence that left Whip shaken.
    “Honey girl,” he said through his teeth. “ My God. ”
    Shannon’s answer was a delicate movement of her tongue over the blind eye of his passion.
    “Stop,” he said