"I just think you're lovely."

She laughs-the deep, rich tones of a woman who's sure of herself-turns and displays herself to me. "Is this what you find so lovely, Peter?"

I shake my head, start to tell her I find so much more about her that's lovely, but my body betrays me.

"You poor dear," she says, drawing me toward her with her tail. "Your mind says one thing"-she touches me between my rear legs-"and this says something entirely different. "

Afterward, we drift back to sleep. Elizabeth wakens me an hour later, pulling and pushing my body. "I'm hungry," she says, "Come hunting with me."

"In the daytime? Isn't that too dangerous?"

She laughs, pulls me toward the cave's mouth. "You forget, this is Cockpit Country. We don't have any roads here, barely any trails. Anyone who travels through has to contend with hill after hill-cliffs and ravines, lakes and rivers, caves and sinkholes, rocks so sharp they can slice through flesh, ground that collapses underfoot, underbrush so thick no one can cut through it without a saw. Except for an occasional hunter, some old Maroons and a smattering of ganja farmers, most Jamaicans avoid this area and none of the others dare come this far."

I follow her out into the morning air, dive with her toward the remaining morning mist and skim through it alongside her. The cool moisture of it counteracts the sun's hot rays beating on me from above and I whoop from the pleasure of it, spiral and dive and zoom skyward, laughing.

Elizabeth lags below me. "You'll never find prey up there," she says.

"I've never flown in daylight before." I swoop down beside her and let out a roar of pleasure. "I've never felt so free!"

"Quiet!" She drops lower, her eyes fixed on the terrain passing below.

An almost-perfect circle of water glistens a short distance in front of us and she says, "Stay here," then contracts her wings and dives toward a small clearing on the edge of the lake.

I circle overhead as she crashes into the underbrush at the edge of the clearing, listen to the squeals of the wild boar she pins with her talons, watch the bushes jerk and sway from their struggle. In a few moments all grows calm. "Come, Peter," she calls. "There's plenty for both of us. "

For some reason the image of a television-sitcom mother, calling her family to breakfast, crosses my mind. I grin at the incongruity of it as I land and help Elizabeth drag the big boar into the clearing.

"Not as good as human meat," she says serving me the first taste of her kill. "But we'd have to travel to the outskirts, near Accompong or Quick Step, where their farms and ganja fields are… and that's best done at night. "

We feed, side by side again, neither speaking, Elizabeth saving special parts for me, rubbing herself against me as we eat. Afterward, she runs toward the lake, leaps into the water and dives out of sight. I follow, dive after her.

When I surface, she's nowhere in view. I swim farther out and dive again. Still I find no sign of her.

I surface again. "Peter!" A voice calls from the shore.

Surprised to hear my name spoken out loud, I stop and turn in the direction of the voice, then gasp at what I see.

A young, naked woman, shorter than I would have expected, her mocha skin still wet and glistening from the lake's water, waves at me from the sandy beach.

I swim toward her, dive and change shape underwater just before shore.

"I thought you might like to see my human shape," Elizabeth says as I approach her. She stares at me, her emerald-green eyes seeming to examine me from head to foot, and her voice goes deep and throaty. "I certainly wanted to see yours."

Her accent surprises me. She looks like a light-skinned Jamaican woman and I expect to hear an island lilt to her words. Instead, her pronunciation is clipped and terse, like upper-class English enunciation.

Droplets of moisture shimmer in the short, dark curls that cover her head. She grins as I inspect her, turns and models so I can take in each delicious aspect, each curve of her thin, lithe form.

"Do you like?" she asks, cupping her small, brown, rounded breasts in her two hands, her dark nipples hard and thick-either from the chill of the wind or the excitement, I hope, building within her. "I could make them larger if you want."

I shake my head, displace her hands with mine, kiss her full, soft lips then pull her warm, wet body close to me, enjoying the disparity in our height, the top of her head nestled under my chin. I lean down a little, whisper, "Do you like?" into one of her small, perfectly formed ears as I press myself against her.

Elizabeth nods, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me down with her, onto the sunbaked sand.

In human form, I have no need to rely on instinct. I know just what to do and I concentrate on showing her a more gentle way to make love-stroking, touching and teasing each part of her, teaching her to do the same.

Later, lying in the sand, her head resting on my right arm, one of her legs across mine, she says, "So that's how they do it."

I laugh, gaze toward the sky, watch a pair of black crows fly overhead and say, "Do you think we'll ever stop long enough to have time to just talk-get to know each other?"

She runs a hand over my chest, and speaks softly, "We have time now."

"For starters, how old are you?" I ask.

Elizabeth pulls away a little, makes a small pout with her lips. "You should know that, my just coming into term, your being my first, my only-"

"Bear with me, Elizabeth," I say, sitting up, reaching for her, touching her protruding lower lip with one finger. "My parents sent me to school with humans. I even graduated from the University of Miami. But it seems they neglected to teach me very much about my own people."

"I never went to school. Pa says it would be silly to bother with such things. My mum taught me everything I need to know-how to hunt to feed my family, which herbs to grow and how to use them, how to brew Dragon's Tear wine, even how to read and write a little."

She pauses and looks away from me. "I'll be eighteen in three months. Mum says I came to term earlier than most."

I nod. "My father said you'd probably be young…"

"Is that bad?" Elizabeth frowns, looks down at the sand. "You're supposed to want to be with me from now on."

"Of course I do." I pull her toward me, hug her, kiss her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. "The question is, do you want to be with someone as old as me?"

She pulls back, and looks at me. "And how old is that?"

"Fifty-seven," I tell her and she laughs.

"That's not very old. My father was a hundred and ten when he finally found my mother. My brother Derek's ten years older than you right now and he hasn't found one of our women yet." She grins. "He'll be as envious of you as my little sister will be of me."

"So you want to be with me?" I ask.

"Of course." She grins as if she thinks me slightly confused. "Is there any other choice?"

The flippant way she talks about us injures my pride. "You don't have to come with me," I snap. "You could wait for someone else to come to be your mate."

"You are my mate. You fought for me and took me." Elizabeth shakes her head at me. "Why would I wait for anyone else when your child is already growing inside me?"