Instead she cupped her palms at his hips as lightly as she could and not be sent into outer space when they hit the next uneven patch.
The terrain was incredibly rough. Even the snowmobile had a hard time getting over some of it. Walking the distance between the two villages would be nearly impossible. Traversing it as a wolf had probably been the best way.
Despite the ridges and valleys, the bumps and thumps, Alex began to enjoy the ride. Her father had loved speed. You couldn’t be a Jäger-Sucher and not be sort of a danger-junkie.
When they’d traveled the western highways, where there were no speed limits, he’d put his foot to the floor and taken them up and down hills and around curves with the skill and velocity of an Indy 500 driver.
The memory of those rides, combined with the rush of the wind and the flash of snow-covered terrain moving backward at an incredible rate, both thrilled and saddened Alex. She loved the sensation of speed, but she really, really missed her father. Which made her wonder—
If he saw her now, would he shoot her in the head as he’d shot so many others?
Chapter 11
Julian clenched his jaw so tightly it began to ache. If he wasn’t careful he’d crack a tooth. He’d done it before.
What had he been thinking to bring her along?
Well, he couldn’t leave her in town until he’d spoken with her about keeping certain secrets, and he couldn’t just order her not to tell anyone who she really was. Knowing Alex, that would be an open invitation to do just that, however if she did he’d have one less problem to deal with when he returned to Barlowsville.
But he wanted her to suffer, not to die. Although the way she was making him suffer right now had him rethinking the entire plan.
Sure, she was holding on to him so lightly, if he hit a particularly big rut she would go sailing. Regardless, he could still feel the warmth of her hands on his hips, which only made him think of the last time those hands had been in the same place, pulling him closer, urging him on—
“Knull mæ i øret,” he muttered.
“What?” Alex shouted, leaning closer, pressing her breasts into his back and her crotch more firmly against his ass.
Julian started to look for a huge dip in the snow so he could send her flying far away before his hard-on became a reality instead of a threat. Thankfully, his searching eyes caught sight of the roofs of the Inuit village instead. He let off the throttle, and the snowmobile slowed noticeably.
“What’s wrong?”
Julian lifted his chin toward the horizon as more and more roofs became visible, along with telephone and electrical poles, even a few flags. One of the villagers lumbered a hundred yards south of them carrying a string of fish in one hand and a spear in the other. Julian couldn’t tell who it was since the hood of the man’s fur-trimmed parka shaded his entire face.
“This is an Eskimo village?” Alex asked.
“Inuit,” he corrected. “It means ‘the real people.’ The word Eskimo went the way of savage, redskin, chief, squaw, papoose—”
“I got it. Inuit,” she repeated, leaning forward again as he reached the top of the swell that led down into the center of town.
“The village is called Awanitok.”
“Which means?”
“Far away.”
“Clever. But…I don’t see any igloos.”
He fought the urge to laugh. Certainly the Inuit had made use of igloos once upon a time—mostly as an emergency shelter for hunting expeditions—but now—
“This place seems more up-to-date than yours.”
Exactly.
“The Inuit are mostly craftspeople these days. They need more contact with the outside world than we do.”
“Mor
e contact?” She rolled her eyes. “From what I saw, Barlowsville doesn’t have any.”