by Cathryn Cade
“Yeah,” he agreed automatically. “Sure thing.” As he headed up into the damp shadows of the forest, he scanned the forest ahead with anticipation. He’d catch up with her in a few moments. That was good, because he had a few things to say to her.
Bella dashed into the forest, as if she could outrace the tumult of emotion warring inside her. She’d dropped that coconut on Kobe. She knew she had, even with no proof and no experience prior to today. She’d done it as surely as if she’d climbed the tree and cut it loose.
Or had she? Her civilized side was reeling from the implications that she was capable of loosing such anger on another person and that she had been able to free the coconut.
But from deep in her middle, sheer, naughty triumph bubbled up and burst free. She let it out, her husky, breathless laughter echoing along the trail of dark lava she followed. Oh, Pele, it had felt good to watch that fool get thumped right on the head. The Hawaiian evidently thought he was some kind of great catch. Let him go chase another wahine.
She had enough problems, such as the new one with the photographer. Looking over Camille’s shoulder at her camera earlier, Bella had been startled and then disturbed to notice that several of the shots seemed out of focus, or not centered well.
And then Joel Girand had to butt in and accuse her of meddling, when she’d only been trying to do her job. One for which she felt more ill-equipped as the day wore on. She liked people, but she had been shaken by the events of last night, and now this. She hated having to question another professional’s work, but the whole expedition, and possibly her job, depended on Camille’s skill as a photographer. And the forest couldn’t help with that, she thought wryly.
She’d phoned her boss from the shade of the palms by the shore.
Regina Rayburn was the daughter of the owner, and not much older than Bella. She was generally fairly easy to work for, as long as one understood her need to prove herself to her father and the way that colored all her business decisions. Since Bella was driven by similar needs, although to whom she had to prove herself, she wasn’t sure, she felt a sense of kinship with the other woman.
“How’s it going out there?” Regina asked, her voice relaxed. Bella sighed inwardly, knowing that since it was the weekend, the other woman was probably sitting by the beachside pool of the family home on Maui.
“Fine,” Bella said. “Everyone’s working very hard. The models we hired are great.”
“Fabulous. Any problems?”
“There is one thing.” Bella turned her back on the group in the center of camp. “Did someone check the credentials of our substitute photographer?”
“Oh, that’s right. The photographer from Hilo was injured, wasn’t she?” Regina’s tone was regretful. “Just let me look…oh yes. This, um, Camille has stellar credentials. List of references a mile long—mostly California companies. And Bob checked her portfolio. He’s thorough. Why, is there a problem?”
Bella looked over her shoulder at the slender woman laughing with Joel as he stood, stretching mightily. She wished she hadn’t waited so long to voice her worries, but Mr. Big Shot had been so adamant that she leave the photographer alone to work. Camille looked back at Bella, still smiling, and Bella turned away again, looking out at the sea sparkling in the sun.
“I think there may be. I watched her take some of the shots, and they looked out of focus, not centered, that kind of thing.”
“Ask her to show you the work she’s done so far,” Regina said decisively. “I hope you’re simply mistaken, but report right back to me. This is crucial, Bella.”
“I will.” Bella hung up the phone and sighed again, knowing she faced a further confrontation with Camille, one of the people she really liked on the trip. Well, maybe she could keep it light, just ask to go over the day’s shots. Her stomach knotted at the thought of beginning again with a new photographer. They’d have to send Frank back to ferry him or her out.
She’d speak with Camille as soon as she got back to camp. But, oh, if only she could keep running and forget it.
Bella picked up her pace, arms and legs pumping smoothly, racing deeper into the forest. Her feet flew along the ribbon of lava, worn by countless years of rain and footsteps. How many of her ancestors had walked this way? Her eyes wide, she scanned the forest as she ran, seeing what they had seen.
To her left, a solid embankment rose steeply, the ropy pewter of a’a now entwined with vines and shrubs that had found footholds in crevices. To her right, the forest had taken hold, growing up through and among the ribbons of lava. The trail led up a gradual slope through a tunnel of living green.
She was breathing hard, but she felt good—wonderful, in fact. Her breath was quick and hard, her body exulting in the chance to cut loose from the chains of civilization and run free through her forest.
But wait. Her forest? She paused for a moment on the brink of a sharp turn in the trail, jogging in place, her eyes wide as she explored the powerful feelings coursing through her. Yes, hers. It felt right and good that she should think of this place as her own. All around her the deep heartbeat of the island and the steady, hushed murmur that was life, flowed through the trees, the plants. And just ahead, water, like a silken whisper, beckoned her to come and drink.
A steady thud intruded in her newfound idyll. She whirled. Footsteps pounded up the trail after her. Her heart leapt, and on impulse, she reached up, grasped a vine and used it to scramble up the steep bank beside her, over the small ridge and into the shadows of the trees growing on top.
From her hiding place, she could see the trail below. A shaft of sunlight streamed down onto the trail, and into its beam ran the only man she wanted to see even less than the amorous Kobe. Joel Girand. He paused for a moment, and she tensed instinctively, poised to run away.
But she stayed, caught by the sheer masculine power and grace of his nearnaked body in the sunlight. The warm light poured over his damp hair and the tanned skin on his powerful, athlete’s frame, highlighting the dew of perspiration.
His broad chest heaved with his hard breaths, the swell of his pectorals dusted with only the faintest tracing of reddish-gold hair. But that appeared again, a darker trail that headed south across his washboard-abdomen and into his low-riding shorts. His happy trail, as Claire would say. Bella had been close enough to caress that intriguing line. Her fingertips twitched. She could almost feel the crisp, silky texture of that hair, and the heated plush of his skin underneath.
Au’e! On her last trip to Nawea, she and her cousin Zane had spent time every day running and hiking the trails above Nawea, he in brief shorts, but she’d felt companionship, liking—not this heated, unwilling awareness.
Joel stood for an instant, his breath audible in the quiet air. She could see his gaze flick up the trail, and then he turned his head, zeroing in on the vine she’d used—still swinging. And there was no breeze, not a breath of one.
Bella’s heart leapt, and she clenched her hands, willing the vine to be still. With mingled elation and fear, she felt it cease all movement.
Too late. Something made him follow it with his gaze, up the rock face— simple deduction or a hunter’s intuition.
His gaze, piercing golden-brown under his heavy brows, met hers. The bandanna tied across his forehead only enhanced the masculinity of his face, like a kalaunu, crown of her ancestors. Electricity arced through the still air between them—awareness and something else.
Something that made her body contract, every muscle poised to retreat from his threat. Not sleazy, as Kobe’s had been, but sheer masculine power against a smaller, slighter feminine creature. It caused other changes too, deep in the pit of her belly. Changes she was unused to and certainly was not going to suffer for this arrogant alpha male.
She raised one eyebrow, staring down at him. She might have kissed him on the rocks, but she wouldn’t allow him to become the aggressor, to take the lead in their sensual duel. He might have routed her during the photography session, but he would not do so here, in her
forest.
His eyes narrowed, his broad jaw hardening subtly.
“Go away.” Her voice was soft, breathless in her own ears. Her heart thundered in her breast, and she clenched her hands into fists in a desperate denial of the other voices that whispered in her ears, in her blood. “Take him, little sister. Keep him here with you.”
He stared up at her, and then gave her a quizzical look. He shook his head once.
“You really do have some control issues, don’t you? Relax, Princess. Frank asked me to keep an eye out for you, that’s all.”
Bella stood where she was as he jogged easily on up the trail.
She took a deep, shaky breath, willing away the urge to leap after him, to make him listen, make him understand she was just trying to stay in control of this expedition, and of herself…and of something else so powerful she had the terrifying notion she’d only begun to explore the edges of what she was capable of doing.
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, letting the comfort of the forest close around her once again. Akamâli’i wahine, a princess? Indeed, here she felt like a beloved one returned to a place she should never have left.
Which was crazy, as she’d never been here before, but it didn’t matter. She was going to revel in her freedom for as long as she could. Which was only—she pulled her phone from the waistband of her shorts and checked it—another hour. Time for a long run and a stop on the way back for a swim.
Using the vine, she slipped back down the embankment. Once on the trail, she paused long enough to smile with dawning delight at how easy and smooth it had been to climb up and then back down, as if the vine had helped her, pulled her. She’d always been active, but here she felt as if she were a little more powerful somehow.
Joel Girand’s footsteps had long since faded, so she jogged around the bend in the trail, confident he was gone.
After a few moments, the trees thinned on the right. Through them she could see a sunlit grotto with a pool of fresh water surrounded by greenery. A waterfall poured into the pool from the mountainside above, and lava rimmed the bank.
It was a beautiful spot, but it was too close to camp. Any of the others might come here, and she didn’t want to be caught naked. She looked up at the waterfall. It was large enough it had to be coming from another pool above.
She ran up the steep trail and then on instinct slipped from the path into the forest. She had to scramble over downed logs to get there, but there was indeed a second, smaller pool. A narrower waterfall splashed down over the wet black rock into the pool, spray wafting in the still air, a rainbow arching in the sunshine. Red flowers hung heavy over the water, and birds called in the trees, a poignant cry of welcome.
Best of all, the small bowl of rock commanded a view of the shore, the sea and the camp below, and yet no one in the pool below or on the trail would even know she was here.
Bella stopped and let her small backpack slip to the ground beside the pool. She took a deep breath of the damp, perfumed air. It was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. She would be back soon to bathe, after she finished her run.
The lava trail she’d been following headed up the mountainside, where the lava had flowed down in ribbons around obstacles. Bella followed it up into the hushed green damp, along the rivulet that flowed clear and bright, splashing down over the rock. She followed first one ribbon of lava, then another, until she was tired, her legs shaking, breath coming hard, not quite enough to relieve the weariness in her muscles. Sweat dewed her skin, and dirt streaked her arms and legs where she’d scrambled over obstacles and through the foliage.
She perched on a rock and looked around her, squinting in the bright sun. She was high on the mountain, above the camp and all the people and annoyances, large and small, that awaited her there.
Out below her stretched the green roof of the forest, swaying slightly in the breeze now picking up. Flashes of red lehua blossoms, yellow orchids, and the dart of a flock of bright scarlet ‘I’iwi birds colored the canopy. She straightened, head high as she surveyed the green paradise. Every motion of the living forest called to her. “Stay with us, little sister. Immerse yourself in our beauty, be one with us.”
Bella drew in a deep breath, pulling in the scents of the tropical wild. The damp perfume heated as it swirled deep inside her, twining down through her middle and out into her extremities, as if to draw her into movement, into dance. A dance of offering to the wild fertility of this place.
As much as she was coming to love all things Hawaiian, she really should learn hula. Yes, as soon as she got back to Nawea, she’d ask the Ho’omalus to teach her or direct her to a private dance class somewhere on the island.
The decision satisfied her, but it also left her restless. She shifted on her perch, arching her back, as her yearning for graceful, rhythmic movement morphed into something deeper, hotter, more intense.
She wanted…she wanted sex. She wanted a man, tall and strong and virile, moving with her in the oldest dance of all.
A face and form appeared in her mind. Joel, as clear as if he stood before her, his mouth soft from their kiss, eyes full of heat, hands reaching for her. And the male package she’d seen in his wet swim trunks now rigid, erect, waiting for her to take it, take him.
A wave of sheer, wanton desire seized her, and Bella bent over with a moan, her hands fisted on her knees. Her breasts felt swollen, her nipples hard and needy against the fabric of her sports bra. She squeezed her thighs tight, trying to quell the tortuous ache that was spreading through her pussy, at once sweet and agonizing as her body readied itself for the man it wanted.
What was happening to her? She felt half out of control. She had enjoyed sex with her few partners, but she’d never felt as if her body were taking over, leaving her at the mercy of her sexuality.
One fact was utterly clear—she couldn’t go back to camp this way. She was just carried away by nerves, tension and…and this place, that was all. She’d take care of her problem the way all single women did, by herself. Then she’d carry on with her day.
She was in the open here, though. Below stretched the sea, turquoise and clear near the shore, deepening to blue out in the deep. White-capped waves rode the surface, the white lace of the surf splashing on the point. She could see camp, a glimpse of yellow through the trees. Joel’s tent.
Out on the western and southern horizons, heavy clouds massed, belying the blue sky overhead. Below them, the air was dark and misty, as if it was raining at sea. Perhaps they would get a thunderstorm.
She must remember to check the weather, as well as figure out how to deal with Camille, Joel and Kobe. Au’e, she just wanted to hide away from them all.
The grotto waited for her. She dashed down the trail, leaping from rock to rock, grabbing a vine here, an overhanging branch there.
In a few moments, she’d reached the upper pool. The air was heavy and damp. The branches of the trees and shrubbery hung still, in an expectant hush. Bella listened for a moment, looking around her for any sign of life. But there was only the sound of her heavy breathing and the water spilling over the waterfall.
And the voices, calling her, urging her. “Come little sister. Give yourself up to us, and drink of our pleasure.”
Bella pulled her sports bra off over her head and dropped it to the ground, then wriggled out of her shorts and toed off her shoes. She stepped out of the pile of discarded clothing, feeling at once naughty and deliciously free, as if she were casting off the annoying bonds of civilization.
For an instant, she thought she heard the pound of footsteps on the trail, and she froze, her arms covering her breasts and mons. But there was no further sound, and she knew that even if someone, like Joel, passed, they couldn’t see this grotto from the trail. And the voices were still urging her on, not warning her, so she guessed the person was gone. She relaxed again.
The air was a soft kiss on her bare skin, and as she stepped into the pool, the petals of the overhanging blooms caressed
her skin. She shivered with pleasure, raising her hands to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples. It felt so good, as did the brush of leaves against her bare bottom, the tickle of a vine down her back, the cool water rising up around her.
Stepping into the water, she sank back, letting it envelope her. Then she rose up again, tipping her head back to let the water stream from her hot face, her hair a sleek fall down her back. She slid her palms down over her ribcage, the flat plain of her belly, and cupped her mons, moaning at the relief of touching herself where she was swollen and needy.
The sun streamed down through the trees, hot on her bare skin, while the water was cool around her legs. The blossoms hanging around her face and shoulders spilled their perfume in a heady aphrodisiac. It intensified when the blossoms nodded in a warm breeze, brushing the skin of her face, her shoulders and her breasts with caresses as delicate as silk.
She stroked her fingers into her swollen, wet labia and found her clitoris, a hard, rigid bud. Once she touched herself there, Bella could no more have stopped than she could have stopped the passage of the sun. She stroked herself in time with her pulse, with the subtle throb that was the heart of the forest, beating in time with her own, encouraging her, praising her, driving her on.
Her need intensified into a hard clench of inner muscles, and she came, her pussy quaking, her body trembling with pleasure.
Only when her soft cry mingled with the rush of the waterfall did Bella realize she had called out. She couldn’t bring herself to care. As her orgasm calmed, she opened her eyes, more relaxed than she’d been in days.
“‘Ae, little sister. Find your pleasure here, with us.”
She slipped into the water and swam across the small pool and back, wading out to retrieve the small bottle of biodegradable shampoo and body wash from her pack. Then she soaped herself, enjoying the slippery caress of her hands on her body. Humming to herself, she rinsed off and then soaped her hair, rinsing it under the waterfall.
She left the pool reluctantly, dried off and pulled on cotton panties and a Tshirt dress. She combed her wet hair down her back. After stepping into her sandals, she bundled her running shorts and bra into her bag, and set off down the trail to camp.