by Emma Castle
He squared his shoulders and entered the lobby. It was expensively decorated, but it was empty now, given the late hour. Jean scanned the mahogany furniture and valuable works of art on the walls. He had been here once before when he had flown in from France to work for Holt Enterprises as a gemologist. He was supposed to assess the value of the diamonds recovered from the jungle cave. The amount of money Mr. Holt agreed to pay him for his silence was staggering. Jean was no fool. What Holt was doing wasn’t legal, but Jean was human like anyone else, and agreed to forget the legalities and focus on the prize.
He hadn’t signed up for slaughtering tourists who had just come to take pictures. Moreover, he hadn’t signed up for being slaughtered in the jungle by that creature. Half-mad with delirium, he had thought that it looked almost human. But no, it had to be some strange form of mountain gorilla.
Holt’s office was open. The door was slightly ajar, and gold light cut through into the darkened lobby. Jean stopped at the threshold of the office and knocked.
“Come in,” a deep voice commanded.
Jean stepped inside. Archibald Holt was in his mid-forties, the age where a man either retained his physique or promptly lost it. Jean was thirty-seven and already felt the changes in his body, the signs that it would be a battle to keep thin and fit. Holt had made his own choice clear. The man was tall, his dark-brown hair was cut short, and his tailored suit fit the muscular thickness of his form like a second skin. He looked lethal.
Holt rose from his desk. “Mr. Carillet. ” His cold blue eyes swept over Jean’s bloody, sweat-soaked clothes. “I see that there’s been a problem?”
“Oui.” Jean wanted to collapse in one of the expensive leather armchairs facing Holt’s desk, but he stayed where he was.
“What is it?” Holt demanded. His tone was still calm, but that worried Jean even more.
He cleared his throat. “Monsieur. Cash was leading us toward the cave, and we came upon a group of tourists, mostly American, who were there to see the gorillas.”
Holt did not speak. He merely waited, still as a lion, eyes unblinking.
“Well, Mr. Cash gathered them up and shot them.”
Jean shouldn’t have been surprised by Holt’s lack of a response to this news. But of course, Cash hadn’t gone rogue, had he? He’d followed orders.
“And?”
“He killed all but one.”
Holt’s face finally expressed an emotion. Mild disgust. “He took a hostage, didn’t he? Let me guess—a woman? That bloody fool thinks of his cock and nothing else. The man is supposed to be a professional.”
“Oui, a woman. But there was a sound from the jungle. Some of the men began speaking of a beast. A pale ghost.” Jean cringed at the memory of the tree shaking with the echoing roar. “We started to run. Monsieur Cash stayed behind to kill the woman, but the beast killed him and the others. Only I escaped.”
Holt’s eyes somehow managed to frost even more. “Cash is dead?”
“Oui. The beast snapped his neck. It killed like no other creature I’ve seen. For a moment I thought . . .”
“You thought what?” Holt asked, his voice dangerously low. The gilded furnishings in the office suddenly took on an ominous feel. A stuffed gorilla looked on menacingly from the corner in the muted lamplight.
“I thought the beast looked human, Monsieur Holt. But that cannot be. No one lives that deep in the forest.”
Holt slowly sat back down at his desk, storm clouds gathering on his brow. His gaze turned distant for a long moment. When he refocused on Jean, the Frenchman’s stomach roiled with nerves.
“Go and clean yourself up at the hotel across the street and rest the night there. Charge it to my account. Tomorrow we will speak again about this ghost.”
“Oui, monsieur. Thank you.”
Jean fled the office and rushed into the growing dark, only to hear a bellow of rage and the smashing of something behind him. Whatever lurked in the branches of the jungle wasn’t the only monster in Uganda. Another lived right here in the city, wearing an expensive suit.
7
Eden stretched and yawned as sunlight began to warm her face. For a moment she didn’t remember where she was. Then she felt soft grass rustle beneath her, and her eyes snapped wide open.
She dimly remembered falling asleep near the gorillas, but she wasn’t lying in a nest on the ground. She was lying in a bed of soft grass that covered a mass of palm fronds from banana trees, which formed a gentle cushion the size of a king bed. She was in a tree house, much like the first one Thorne had brought her to. But that one had been small and closed off except for the trapdoor and a small window. In this one, the walls were carved with strange symbols in beautiful patterns, some of them matching the tattoos on Thorne’s shoulders.
This tree house was bigger than her small one-room efficiency apartment back in Little Rock. This place was huge. The beautiful bed of long soft grass and fronds was in one corner. There were five large windows with thatched reed coverings that could drop in place, held up by vines used like rope to hold them during the day. In one corner of the room, a pile of glittering stones and gold objects rested in beautifully arranged displays. Eden’s eyes widened.
Eden wanted to know where Thorne had found those. They had to be from a lost civilization. If there were more, archeologists would consider it the find of the century.
Her camera bag lay close to the bed. Thorne had removed her boots and socks and draped a blanket of fur over her body. It felt like deerskin. She gently pushed it off her body. A small, roughly carved wooden cup held fresh water, and a palm frond that sat within reach was piled with more peeled mangoes, nuts, and wild celery.
Eden wanted to explore this new home, but she needed to satisfy the rumblings of her belly first. She drank the cool water and ate, then got to her feet and padded on the smooth wooden planks to the nearest window. How had he made this place? The craftsmanship was still rough in places, but not everywhere. It was clear that Thorne had gained his knowledge of woodworking from someone. The question was who and how? She peered out and gasped when she saw how high up they were. In the distance, a waterfall spilled into a pool. Was that the waterfall he had taken her to yesterday?
The jungle shook with a distant roar, one she knew belonged to Thorne, but it was not a warning call. It was something else, a sound of happiness and a challenge to the jungle at the same time.
Then she saw him. He swung down below on the vines and came up toward her with the lithe grace of a jungle cat, landing on all fours in a perfect crouch. Then he straightened, walking confidently along the branch, only a foot wide, toward the ladder that led up to the tree house. His lean, muscled legs were a sight to behold. Eden kept convincing herself that she had imagined the sheer perfection of his body, and yet it wasn’t her imagination. He was gorgeous.
She took a moment to watch him unobserved. A flutter in her belly was followed by a slow-burning desire. She’d been trying to slow things down, but damn if he didn’t call to something primal inside her. He spoke of mates with such a sweet earnestness that it nearly broke her resolve. He would become a masterful lover, she was certain. Eden had always had a healthy love of sex, but sex with Thorne would be beyond anything she’d ever experienced before, and that was a little bit intimidating. What if she fell in love with him? What if there were simply too many what-ifs when it came to this beautiful wild man?
Thorne suddenly appeared in the window, beaming at her. “Eden is awake.”
“Yes, I am.” She chuckled, pointing to herself as she emphasized the pronoun. “And it is ‘You are awake.’ Not ‘Eden is awake.’”
Thorne pointed to himself. “Me.” Then pointed to her. “You?”
“Yes, exactly.”
His brow furrowed as he considered her words before he vanished and then opened one of the large wooden doors to the tree house.
“You are awake,” he said more confidently.
“Yes.”
“You eat?”
/>
“I have eaten, yes.” She corrected him again. Last night she’d noticed him doing his best to correct his speech, and she’d decided to help him.
“I have eaten.” He looked to her, and she nodded in approval. He brightened. “You take more pictures?” He pointed to her camera bag.
“Can I? I would love to take pictures of the elephants and the waterfall.” Her gaze flicked to the gold and diamonds and the carvings on the walls. “And maybe the place where you found those?” She would take pictures of his display as well. She wanted to be able to document everything as best she could.
His hand rose to the leafy crown on his brow, and he frowned.
“Would that be okay?”
“Yes. But cave is dark.”
“Not a problem.” Eden knelt by her camera bag and pulled out a flashlight. She clicked it on and shone the light on the wooden floor. Thorne tensed, then suddenly smiled at her.
“You carry sunlight.”
“Sort of.” She motioned him forward and handed him the flashlight. She showed him how to flip the switch to turn it on and off. He did it several times, grinning. Even jungle-raised wild men loved technology, it seemed.
“Can we leave now? I would like to take some pictures.” She put her camera bag over her head and slung it across her body.
Thorne glanced at the empty palm fronds he’d left by the bed, then agreed. It was weirdly cute that he was so thoughtful about her needs.
She climbed onto his back, and he stepped out into the webbing of thick branches.
“You hold me,” he instructed. One of his hands tapped her knee as if to remind her she needed to keep a tight grip on him.
“I’m holding on as tight as I can,” she assured him.
Thorne grabbed the nearest thick vine, his muscles bulging as he wound his fingers around it.
“We aren’t climbing?” Panic rocketed through her as she realized what he meant to do. “Oh no, no-no-no—!”
He leapt off the branch before she could finish, and her words turned to a shriek as she closed her eyes. The pit of her stomach dropped as they entered a brief freefall before the vine Thorne held caught their weight. She heard the chatter of birds and felt the breeze whip her face and hair as they swung. She dared to open her eyes just as Thorne caught another vine and they swung yet again. They were flying, or close to it, and Eden suddenly laughed.
For a few glorious seconds, her past life no longer existed. There was only this moment with Thorne, the jungle, the humidity clinging to them and the wild world ahead with its endless beauty.
Their swinging slowed, and Thorne dropped down to the ground with panther-like grace. She had to practically peel herself off his back from the sweat. She plucked at her clothes, more than a little embarrassed, but Thorne watched her with a sweet, knowing smile that held a hint of mischief.
“What?”
He shrugged and started walking toward the open trail where they had first seen Tembo and his herd.
“Tell me!” She rushed to catch up to him. “Seriously, what?” She reached for his hand, and he turned amused eyes on her.
“You like to hold me with your body.” He spoke the words carefully, getting better at his English every time he practiced.
“I do not,” she lied.
Thorne merely smiled wider. “You do. We are dating. I am pleased.”
He was indeed—he practically gleamed with pride. Eden was torn. He had never had a human companion, at least not since he’d lost his parents, but now he had her. And part of her, a far too big part of her, loved the idea that she was the first woman he had ever kissed and that he wanted to be her man, to care for her and cherish her.
Last night as she fell asleep, he had spoken to her softly about mates and how he had dreamed of one, and how he would give everything that was his to have her. He’d spoken of love, too, but what did love mean to a man raised in the wild? Did he understand the intricacies of falling and staying in love? It was possible here in the jungle that it was easy to love, but in the modern world it seemed infinitely more difficult.
He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, so their bodies were flush against each other. He cupped the back of her head and brought his lips to hers. She groaned against his mouth as his tongue played with hers. He was becoming a master of this, seducing her slowly and exquisitely into a state of wild arousal. Eden wanted him to never stop touching her and never wanted to feel his mouth leave hers unless it was to kiss other parts of her. By the time he was done, she’d completely forgotten whatever they had been talking about. Her body was vibrating with the need for more.
“Good kiss?” he asked, his face flushed.
“Very good. I’m regretting that I taught you how to do that.” She chuckled and bit her lip as though to hide a smile. He looked almost bashful, and that made her flush with wild hungers that would have embarrassed her, but Thorne didn’t make her ashamed of her body or what it wanted.
“I like kissing you. It pleases me.” He swept his gaze over her body in a way that made her fully aware of where his thoughts were headed. Hers weren’t far behind.
“Thorne—”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as a trumpeting sound rang out. She turned toward the sound, and Thorne answered the elephant’s call with one of his own.
They had traveled to a place where the forest spread out into a beautiful savanna. It was a rare thing to see this small patch of land exposed to the sky in the midst of the jungle. A herd of elephants lingered on the open ground in front of them.
Two younger elephants were playing. The elders watched in quiet enjoyment. Eden could feel the love the elephants bore for one another, like an invisible cloud that filled the air with hope and adoration. For a second, Eden thought she could almost hear them—hear words within their sounds and see them within their movements. Was she going crazy? Or was what Thorne had told her about how he spoke to and understood the animals just starting to make sense to her?
“You take pictures,” Thorne suggested quietly. “You must see Tembo’s infants.” He led her closer, but they still kept a respectable distance away until Tembo recognized Thorne. With the beckoning weight of his trunk, Thorne and Eden were welcomed into the elephants’ circle.
“This is Tembo’s daughter.” He pointed to the smaller infant. “And that is Tembo’s older son.”
Eden noted the size difference between the two baby elephants. The younger one stayed close to her mother and would hide beneath her belly. The older of the two was far braver and ventured close to Eden, letting her touch his head and trunk. Eden must have snapped a hundred photos of them before she turned her lens toward Thorne. He stood illuminated in the afternoon light, the sun glinting off his golden leaf crown. He faced Tembo, smiling as he held his friend’s trunk. Eden was struck by the power of that image.
Like two lords, meeting in peace and respect.
Eden’s heart fluttered as she watched him speak to Tembo like old friends. There was a magic to Thorne and the way he interacted with the animals around him. He wasn’t bound by any laws of men. He held no fear, only love and understanding. Then Thorne hugged Tembo goodbye and came back to her.
“You show me pictures?” he asked. She showed him the photos, and when he saw himself and Tembo, his smile vanished. “That is me,” he said, his tone hushed.
“Yes.” It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his own picture, but she sensed there was a question lurking behind it.
“Thorne is—I am a good male for females?” His troubled look as he stared critically at his own face was oddly endearing. He had no idea how beautiful he was.
“Thorne, you are very handsome.”
“Handsome?”
“Pleasing to females, very pleasing,” she explained. Then she added to herself silently, A little too pleasing.
He grinned again, his confidence restored. Tembo suddenly trumpeted, and Thorne tensed.
“What is it?”
“Temb
o says danger is near. The herd must leave. We must go.” Thorne’s eyebrows lowered, and his mouth hardened into a line as he searched the meadow. Eden turned off her camera and shoved it back in her bag.
“Come now,” Thorne urged as the elephants began to huddle and move across the meadow in a solid group, the two infants between them.
Eden kept close to Thorne as he led her back in the direction they had come. Thorne stopped and ever so slowly put her behind him as he faced the meadow. His body seemed almost to expand as he made himself appear larger to whatever threat he sensed was out there.
Then she saw it. The golden shape creeping toward them in the tall wheat-colored meadow. A male lion. Eden knew enough about lion prides to know that female lions hunted together, not males. This male lion was likely without a pride and therefore probably desperate for food.
Eden was paralyzed with fear. She’d seen what damage a big cat’s claws could do.
“Eden,” Thorne whispered, “when lion attacks, you run.”
“I can’t leave you.” Even if it got her killed, she wouldn’t leave him.
“You will. I fight lion before.”
Eden felt helpless as she saw him advance toward the shape in the grass. He removed a small dagger from the waistband of his loincloth, but it wouldn’t be enough, not against a lion.
Thorne began to sidestep, circling the beast as it tracked them toward the thick jungle. Eden kept behind him, not out of fear for herself, although she was beyond terrified. No, she stayed with him because she wouldn’t leave him, no matter what he said. Thorne shot a look toward the trees behind him, his face shadowed with a dark scowl of ferocity.
“Eden, run!” he shouted just as the lion leapt at them from the grass.
Eden didn’t run, but she did move out of the way. Thorne lunged to the side and grasped a vine hanging from a tree. He swung it around the lion’s neck. The lion shrieked in rage, slashing its claws in the air toward Thorne as he spun around behind it, closing the noose of the vine about the creature’s neck. He held the knife and wound the vine tight around his arm until the lion ceased struggling. Then it went limp. Thorne held still a moment longer before he let go. With careful hands, he loosened the vine. The lion’s eyes fluttered as it started to come around.