Afraid to Fall (Ancient Passages Book 1)

by Sutton Bishop

  His hands slid over her hips, exploring the bones that framed her concave stomach and reaching under her to knead her cheeks. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured into the velvety skin of her thighs as he coaxed them apart, his fingers and tongue slowing, languidly stroking her core.

  His pleasurable torment made her toes curl. She gulped for air. “Omigod, Luca. More.” Ari panted as her sweet ache intensified, rocketing toward ecstasy. “I want more. You. Please.”

  There was no hiding Luca’s desire as he raised his head from her apex. His green gaze had darkened, turning malachite, pinning her with its intensity. He moved over her, his thick rigidness stroking her thigh, leaving a moist trail.

  Face-to-face, Ari met Luca’s hungry, demanding eyes with her own. Her body was on fire, and she opened her legs wide in urgency.

  He waited outside the entry, giving her full control. “Take me in slowly,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “Yes, nice and slow, like that.”

  She stopped, enjoying the sensations, the thick hardness of him. She pushed toward him.

  He pulled back, his breathing harsh. “Slowly, sweetheart,” he said, answering Ari’s whimper.

  A few more slow strokes and she upped the pace. “I understood you were giving me control,” she said through her hard, labored breathing in answer to Luca’s surprised expression. She caressed his stubbled jaw, enjoying its rough texture in contrast to the slickness their bodies created. Ari pitched her hips forward, her feverish eyes searching his, begging him, as she careened over the edge. Luca right behind her.

  Unlike the aftermath of their first time together, Ari was wide-awake and chatty afterward. She broke from being spooned by him and sat up, crossing her legs and pulling the sheet onto her lap.

  “Tell me about him. The man you had a relationship with.” Luca rubbed her back, his touch feather soft. “You said it ended badly.”

  “Eric was the dean of my department. I became involved with him, and he turned out to be a liar and an asshole.” She twisted to look directly at him. Her eyes were full of anguish. “He was married and a father. I had no idea until I saw him with his wife and daughters at an ice-cream shop close to the university. I was so ashamed of myself. I never would have become involved with him had I known.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I left as soon as I found out, staying with my parents that weekend. I applied for this project that weekend, just made the deadline.”

  “Ah, that is why you submitted a concise CV.”

  “Concise is a nice way of putting it.” She smiled at him, then twisted back to hug her knees. “That feels so nice, Luca.”

  “The concise part or my fingers on your lovely naked back?” He smiled at her, his head resting on his forearm.

  “Your touch.”

  He purred, then said, “No headshot.”

  “Um, yes. I forgot that. Not on purpose. I wasn’t functioning on all cylinders. I didn’t realize it until I met Joan in Semuc Champey.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “And no one let me know. I guess my face wasn’t as important as my creds, huh?”

  “An oversight by you that turned out for the best. I would not have brought you on.”

  Ari changed position and faced him, her voice rising as she asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “You are far too alluring. I would have decided you were too tempting and have passed on you.” He laced his fingers through hers and kissed them.

  “And now?”

  “There is no going back,” he whispered.

  Ari nodded in agreement.

  “What is it, bella? Something else gnaws at you.”

  “He’s contacted me twice since I’ve been here.”

  “What do you mean, contacted you?” He sat up abruptly. “Why? How does he know where you are?”

  “His secretary tracked me down. She was able to dig up everything. My new phone number. My itinerary. He stated it in the letter.”

  “What?”

  “I spent two weeks in Antigua before traveling north. There was a letter waiting for me at my hostel when I first arrived. He knew about the project.” She left out the part about Luca. “And when I was on respite in Flores with Natasha, there was a letter waiting for me again, a lot nastier. It came right after we left for Kanul, and it wasn’t postmarked.”

  Luca pinched the top of his nose, as anger and fear mushroomed. He kept his voice even. “Can I see the letters?”

  She shook her head. “I burned the first and washed it down the shower. I made confetti out of the second and added it to my coffee.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, murmuring into her hair. “Sweetheart, I do not like this. He is stalking you.”

  “I’m fine. We’re in a place he can’t contact me. I figure I continue the radio silence, and he’ll just give up. Maybe he already has.”

  He put a finger on her chin, gently turning her to look at him, and kissed her forehead. “His actions deeply disturb me. You are a brave one. Thank you for sharing with me.” He lay back, pulling her on top of him, stroking her cheek and then kissing her deeply.

  She broke free of the kiss, smiling into eyes fixated on her. “Again?”

  “Mm. I believe so,” he said, running his hands over her ass, pressing her against him.

  Her fingertips lightly traced the scar that ran the length of his hip bone and disappeared into his groin. “Does this have a story?”

  Luca rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow, cheek cradled in his hand. His other hand reached out, playing with some of Ari’s curls, his eyes darkened as he spoke. “It does. Not a happy one. A car accident.”

  “I see. I’m so thankful you came out of it okay. Sometimes…” She didn’t know where to go with her words. Meg had shared what she knew, but it was bare bones. Her hope was that Luca would confide in her.

  He sat up and covered both Ari’s hands with his. Anguish etched his eyes in the soft light. The evening from eight years earlier came rushing back to him.

  He was pinned in his crumpled car. Sofia, eyes closed and pale, slumped motionless in the other seat. He called her name, becoming louder and more frantic when she did not respond. Her loose blouse made it impossible to see if she was breathing. Smoke from the blue and orange flames licked the twisted metal in front of his shattered windshield, mixing with a fog of chemicals released by the airbags, burning his throat. It was difficult to breathe. His legs, chest, forehead, and hand burned, and his ribs felt as though someone had kicked him. Something metal pierced the windshield and Luca, pinning him to his seat. His gut and hip were numb, and a dark stain spread over his shirt and pants. Blood. Weak and shaking, he attempted to open the door, but it would not budge. Sirens screamed as they got closer. Then someone pounded on his door and asked if he could roll down his window.

  “My wife,” he said. Others in uniform were at her door. It groaned and snapped as they broke it open. “My wife,” he cried weakly. The rescuers leaned in, anxiously checking her vitals. The men were silent; their grim expressions told him the truth before they said the words. “Sir, she is gone. We’re sorry.” Their words barely registered with him. “Sir, you are burned and bleeding. We need to saw the post to move you.” His door was wrenched open with the Jaws of Life and his seat belt cut in several places. He passed out as they extracted him from the car. The next thing he remembered was the cold too-white lights in the trauma center and deep sorrow. Sofia was gone. Guilt engulfed him. He was at fault.

  She scooted closer to Luca as he relived the accident. Her eyes were dark with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Luca. I’m so sorry. I brought this on by asking.” She stroked his forearm and then reached to cup his face tenderly, coming up on her knees to kiss him. “A very wise man I know told me that fear diminishes the ability to experience something fully.”

  His eyes came back into focus, and he ran his hand over his face with a groan. His expression was earnest, assuring her. “You have no reason to be sorry.” Smi
ling ruefully, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “My words. Touché.” Unrelenting rain pummeled the tent as Luca gathered her into his arms. “You and I cannot be truly intimate if we hide and do not share. You have trusted me with your fears and pain. It is time I do, as well.” He swallowed, quietly admitting, “I rarely speak of it. Still, after eight years, it is painful.”

  He began haltingly. “I was married. Her name was Sofia. When dating, we discussed having a large family. But ten years into our marriage, we were still not parents. She became pregnant soon after we married, but several months later, she miscarried. She was inconsolable, wanting to be by herself. I gave her the space, and when she was ready, when we were ready, we tried again.

  “After the second miscarriage, we grieved harder. We became anxious as well as excited with each ensuing pregnancy, and pregnancy after pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Our emotions escalated. She withdrew, as did I, not knowing how to comfort her or how to process the grief I felt. It is so difficult to lose a child, the dream of having a child. I threw myself into research and teaching.

  “On the morning of the accident, Sofia was running late for work. She left her diary on our bed. It was open. I have never been a person who snoops. However, when I went to close it and put it back in the nightstand drawer where she kept it, I saw another man’s name on the pages.

  “I read every last page of her diary. What she wrote told a different story, exposing all her lies and deceit. She never planned to have a child. Sofia had no desire to ruin her body. And on the days she was supposed to be grieving, she shopped or met up with her lover.”

  Luca rubbed the bridge of his nose, then shook his head. “How did I not see that? How had I not known what kind of a person she was?

  “I called in sick and cancelled my lab for the day. I had no plans when she called later that day, asking me if we could meet our friends for dinner. I was stunned and numb, but I agreed.

  “We had known this couple for years. We had regular dinners with them, out and at our homes. All of us had gone to Capri for a long weekend the summer before. Like me, the husband competed in triathlons. I ran with him on occasion, never realizing he and my wife were fucking each other and had been for years.

  “Normally, she took the train to and from home and work, but the restaurant was in the opposite direction, so I said I would pick her up at the end of her day. I confronted Sofia soon after she got into the car. My anger escalated as I drove. We were screaming at one another when I exited from the superstrada. I was livid. I must have had my eyes off the road. I missed the sharp turn. The car went airborne.

  “The metal fence post that punctured the windshield on impact sliced into my abdomen, just missing my internal organs and femoral artery. Sofia died of a broken neck on impact.”

  Ari gathered Luca to her, trying to absorb the demonic guilt he carried, kissing his shoulder, realizing there were no words she could use to express her empathy for him. She looked in his eyes and could see that he understood her silent response.

  They held each other in silence until he relaxed and fell back to sleep. She ran her fingers over his warm, damp flesh, still absorbing the awfulness of what had happened, attempting to soothe any remaining remorse and unease he had. After wiping away the last tears of compassion, she laid her hand over his heart and then adjusted so she could rest her head on his chest, her body pressed to his side, arm slung over his abs. Kissing him once more, she closed her eyes, whispering, “I love you, Luca.”

  Ari pulled back the flap Luca had hastily dropped sometime during their lovemaking last night and looked through his tent screen. The coast was clear, or seemed to be, as much as she could tell in the velvet black. She made one more pass with the arc of light from her flashlight. No one. The early morning was still quiet. Luca purred in his sleep, the picture of contentment. She smiled to herself and slowly unzipped the screen and stepped out, turning to zip it back up, keeping her flashlight pointed downward so not to disturb him. She stretched and yawned. She was going to need a nap later.

  “Good morning, Red. I see you kept Luca company last night.”

  Ari jumped, dropping the flashlight. Its beam underlit Natasha’s face, giving her an evil look. She shushed her and whispered angrily, “Lower your voice. I told you not to call me that. I was clear about that during orientation. And what I was doing in Luca’s tent does not concern you.”

  “It’s five thirty in the morning. You are supposed to be in your tent, not moving about our camp. It is dangerous to be out here by yourself.”

  “Well, thanks for having my best interest in mind. My tent floor got soaked by the rain, and I needed a dry place to sleep.”

  Natasha’s words were coated with malice. “Did you? Sleep?”

  “I did, thank you for asking. Why are you up at this hour?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. After all the ruckus last night, it’s too quiet. Then I heard a zipper and wondered why. So here you are, sneaking out of Luca’s tent.”

  “She’s not sneaking, Nat.” Luca stood bare-chested, in hastily donned and not fully fastened cargo pants. He looked feral and so damn sexy with his hair spilling over his broad shoulders. Annoyance registered on his sleepy face. “You two woke me with your squabbling.” He extended his arms upward, stretching, and added, “Ari’s tent was wet. She was in need of a dry spot to sleep and thought my tent was Joan and Meg’s. It was a downpour, and I asked her to stay.”

  “How convenient. And the reason she’s sporting one of your shirts?”

  “None of your fucking business, Nat. Go back to bed.”

  Putting her hands on her hips, she leaned toward him, pissed. “I’m up now.”

  “I am too.” He pulled on the shirt he had been holding, buttoning it. “I will start a fire. Daybreak is soon, and it looks to be beautiful. Ari, you can help me with coffee after you slip on something that covers your legs.”

  “Sure, but before I change”—she swatted her calf as she gathered her wet clothes she left under the awning last night—“look, Natasha. I realize we got off to a less than ideal start, but I thought things were smoothed over with… with all our teamwork”—Ari swept her extended hand in a half circle, then fanned something away from her face—“out here. I don’t want to ruin my, or anyone’s, and that includes you, experience. Our excavation and related scientific discoveries are events we should be proud of and be celebrating.” She slapped her thigh, coming away with a small dark mess, likely a dead mosquito. “Damn mosquitoes.” She took the repellent Luca handed her and sprayed herself liberally as she continued. “I apologize for whatever I’ve done wrong or you presume I’ve done wrong. Can we let bygones be bygones?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Jeez. Call a truce is what I’m asking for, although I have no idea why.”

  Silence came from Natasha as she considered Ari’s offer, staring at Luca, a myriad of expressions passing over her face.

  Omigod, she still has a thing for him. What woman wouldn’t? How naïve am I? Ari watched him. His face remained impassive under Natasha’s scrutiny.

  “Fine, Ari. Truce.”

  “Let’s shake on…” Her words faded as Natasha walked away. To Luca, she said, “I’m going to find my repellent and get a layer of clothing on. These mosquitoes are eating me ali—”

  The hunger in Luca’s expression stopped her. His voice was husky from sleep and sex, caressing her, reigniting her flame. “Get yourself covered.” He kissed her softly and took her wet clothes.

  “More clothes, yes. On it.” She took off toward her wet tent at a jog.

  He called to her, “Bring some of your things that are wet. They can dry by the fire with these while we have an early breakfast. I worked up quite an appetite.”

  Our ancient rulers and nobles practiced auto-sacrifice. Both men and women engaged in the bloodletting of their own bodies, using stingray spines marked with sacred glyphs. Women ran thorned ropes through their tongues, and men cut the head of their
penises.

  These rituals created great quantities of blood. After the blood dripped onto the bark paper and soaked in, it was set on fire and offered for purification.

  The smoke coiled upward toward the sky, enabling them to communicate with divinities and their forebears. Our ancestors often asked for advice or help or requested that the gods or their ancestors once again enter the earthly sphere.

  —Tata

  Mayan Shaman

  Petén, Guatemala

  Terrifying, otherworldly sounds exploded in the black dawn, something like out of a horror movie. After two months of sleeping in the Petén jungle, the roaring and barking still made Ari break out in a sweat and her heart gallop. Gradually her brain woke and, with it, awareness.

  “Damn monkeys! Can’t you just shut the hell up?” she yelled before burying her face in her camp pillow and pulling her discarded shirt around her ears to muffle the howling. “I’m never going to sleep through the night again.”

  In a beat of silence, soft laughter bubbled up on the other side of the tent. “Oh, girlfriend. The jungle is their home. They’re loud, but crikey, you’ve got to admit, bloody amazing. Like King Kong-sized roaring lions, yep?”

  Sitting up, Ari rubbed at her sleep-encrusted eyes in an effort to open them. She could just make out Meg’s form on top of her bedding in the dim lantern light. “Meg! You were with Matt. I didn’t expect you, didn’t hear you. When did you come in?”

  Meg cheerily responded, “G’day, mate!” Winking, she added, “I’m an ace with zippers.”

  Ari glanced at her watch and grimaced. Four thirty. She had to rise in thirty minutes for the day and could have used the extra sleep. “Not quite day. But I’m awake now. Do you mind if I turn the lantern up?”

  “No worries. Just know I may fall back to sleep. I’m bushed. We were going off—”

  “Um, more than I care to know, okay?” She could just make out the satisfied expression on her friend’s face. “Meg?”