“Oh, no. I figure you’ll hand that over the next time you slip so you can keep trying to win. Keep your tie.”
Men fantasized about women wearing nothing but a tie often enough, and I found a man in only his tie equally attractive.
“You assume there’ll be a second time.”
“Be glad I’m leaving you with your tie, else I might be the one wearing your pants. I’ve always wanted to find out why rich men wear suits to dig sites. They must be really comfortable.”
“Are you trying to tell me you want me out of my pants?”
Yes, I was, but he’d have to try harder than that. “That depends on how well you defend your dissertation.”
“I think I’m doing a good job so far.” Landen fiddled with the top button of his shirt. “I think you should defend your dissertation and prove you’re better looking in my shirt than I am.”
I stared down at my filthy clothing. “I’d have to shower first. When I ruin that shirt playing in the mud, it’ll be at a dig site.”
“I see you already have plans for my shirt.”
“It’ll become a cherished memory. It’s not every day a woman gets to snooker an elite out of his clothes for a quarter.” Smirking, I flipped my hand. “I got the pleasure of your company for a whole quarter. You paid how much?”
“Not nearly enough. As I have already lost the financial war in a shameful yet excellent way, you should take pity on me and show me how the necklace should be worn. I want to know everything about it so I can do it justice.”
I couldn’t tell if he was going to surrender his shirt or the defense. “You’re surrendering your defense to keep your shirt?”
“Never. This is just a clever ruse to buy myself time to think of a viable defense. I couldn’t deny you my shirt when you’ve already made plans to wear it.”
He opened the first button and resumed fiddling, giving me a sneak peek at his tanned chest.
I’d expected him to be paler, and I liked the idea he worked outside without his shirt on. I hadn’t thought elite did anything that might expose them to the public or the sun’s damaging rays.
“It’s a marriage necklace. He likely gave it to her during their wedding ceremony. I expect it was likely the only thing she wore by nightfall.”
“And what about him? What would he have worn?”
“The second collar.” I laughed at the memory of the delightfully crude piece. “He was an artist and an engineer. She was an engineer, too, but couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler. She did the thinking, he did the drawing. The piece she gave him is absolutely hideous, but if effort measures her love, hers was his equal in all ways. Her carvings are crude and barely legible, but her message was clear. Her life was his, and if she ever faltered, she would offer her heart to the gods. She gave him everything. Her life. Her death. Her loyalty. And in the collar she gave him, she told him her reason why.”
“What was her reason?”
“He saw her. I speculate she wasn’t a beauty, and she found her worth only in her intelligence. She likely had no marital prospects, too ugly to draw the interest of warriors. He didn’t care about beauty. Everything he carved for her speaks of her mind, her wit, and everything she was. Her tomb describes her as her husband’s equal, and together they’d built an entire city to their gods. The real mystery is why they didn’t give their home a name.”
“How would they have exchanged necklaces?”
“It’s anyone’s guess. I like the theory it was a private exchange prior to them consummating their marriage. At their rank, they would have spent four days together in their palace.”
Landen’s eyebrows shot up. “For four days?”
“Marriage was a big deal to the Mexica. It’s also where we get the phrase ‘tying the knot.’ The couples would show their marriage in a ceremony where they would be bound together to signify their union. Infidelity was punished with ritualistic sacrifice. The culture was so strict even a goddess was sacrificed for promiscuity. The Nahua were pretty brutal, but even the so-called nicer tribes, like the Maya, weren’t exactly pacifistic. They murdered cheaters, too.”
“If I’m understanding this correctly, the necklaces were exchanged either during or after the ceremony, and the couple spent four days having sex afterwards?”
“That sounds about right.”
“A demonstration is off the table, isn’t it?”
He looked so crestfallen I couldn’t help but grin. “Perhaps I’ll show you what it looks like worn after I take a bath. We wouldn’t want to get it or my new shirt dirty.” I turned around, leaned against the counter, and reached behind me to point at my back. “Would it be imposing if I asked for some help getting the caked mud off? It gets everywhere.”
“I might be a spoiled elite, but I’ll get my hands dirty for a good cause.”
“Excellent.”
Maybe money couldn’t buy happiness in the way Landen wanted, but my quarter got some damned good mileage. As I thought the jade necklace was priceless, he’d gotten a nice run for his money, too. Add in the bonus of enthusiasm on both our parts, and we’d made a pretty nice deal.
We lost track of time, and when dinner finally arrived, I doubted I could scrounge up the strength to crawl off the big bed. I kissed the idea of eating goodbye but thought the sacrifice was worth it.
Landen hopped up, grabbed a bathrobe and went to the door with a skip in his step. He returned wheeling in a dining cart. “At the rate I’m paying for this room, I’m pretty sure they can deal with stains on the sheets.”
“Are we both prostitutes now?” I pondered that. “My prostitution game is strong. Yours needs work, but I’ll say that was the best quarter I’ve ever spent.”
“Huh. I suppose we are. But it was for charity, so that’s all right, I’d say.”
“We may have gotten a little carried away.”
“Well, you had said the mud had gotten everywhere. I was being helpful. I had suspected I would be beguiled by a temptress before the auction was over, but I’d never expected someone like you to attend. I’m only a man, and I regret nothing.”
“And I’m only a woman who hasn’t gotten any in years. It’s a match made in heaven. There’s only one problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t move. How am I supposed to eat if I can’t move?”
“I’ll think of something,” he promised.
And so he did.
Chapter Four
What had I been thinking?
To reach Joya de Ballesteros, I needed to fly to Tepalcatepec before one of our local dig site managers, Miguel Ángel, flew me to a dirt airstrip near Los Horcones. If I lucked out, I’d be making the next leg of my trip by motorcycle. If not, I’d walk.
There weren’t any roads to Site C. I’d be on my own for the hike, trudging through miles of mosquito-infested jungle, using my earthweaving talent to keep the hungry predators and pissy snakes away.
My talent made me the ideal choice for excursions away from Joya de Ballesteros. No one else on the team could do it solo. I could handle anything nature threw my way. In reality, while my magic gave me the ideal set of defenses, the walk terrified me.
Men I could defend myself against. One hole later, and I was good—and they were neck-deep in trouble. Snakes? Not so much. Snakes slithered right out of any holes I wanted to stuff the scaly bastards in. The last time I’d crossed paths with a constrictor, I’d done the only thing a sane woman did: I’d bolted, and I hadn’t stopped running until I’d collapsed.
Unfortunately, when I’d collapsed, it had been into a mosquito-filled hell.
Between the bug bites, the bumps, and the bruises, I’d been sidelined for a week. Then, since that hadn’t been bad enough, I’d contracted every damned disease Mexico had to offer.
I loved the ancient Mexica tribes, but the jungles of Mexico could piss off and die.
Staggering out the door at ten in the morning after an energetic evening with Landen hadn’t done
me any favors. I already regretted leaving him to sleep quietly in bed, unaware of my departure. It worked out better for both of us that way. What was I supposed to tell him? Knowing me, I’d blurt the first thing to cross my mind, which involved something an elite like him wouldn’t approve of.
In a coin-toss tie, my mouth would either suggest we elope or just live together and forget the whole marriage thing. Nothing good came out of blabbing asinine ideas with lasting repercussions. No, I’d done us both a favor. I’d left us with nothing but good memories.
After an hour of hassle getting the old Cessna’s engine started, Miguel Ángel got us in the air and to the airstrip without killing anyone, although I wished him the best of luck limping the plane back to Tepalcatepec without crashing it. I waited for him to leave before checking the storage shed.
The only vehicle left was a damned bike with a flat tire. One day, when I no longer cared about acquiring my doctorate, I’d take Owen’s idiot ideas of appropriate transportation and beat him to death with them.
If I pushed hard, earning a new set of blisters to show for my troubles, I could reach Los Horcones’s dig site by nightfall. I’d be tired, hungry, and angrier than a nest of wasps, but I wouldn’t have to sleep out in the jungle alone where the snakes could get me.
I bet Owen had taken the motorcycles on purpose as payback for staying overnight in Texas.
My other option was to wait, but it could be days—or longer—until someone returned from Los Horcones’s dig site. No, I couldn’t afford to wait. I needed to haul ass through the jungle and stay with the other dig team for the night. There was no way I’d reach my camp without running the risk of collapse—or getting eaten by a panther, constrictor, or some other nasty waiting to dine on a delicious treat of idiot human.
“Damn it all!” I howled. Then I did what I did best: I clenched my teeth and kept moving forward one miserable step at a time.
Landen must have cleared me out of good karma; Mexico’s temperamental weather wound up and sucker punched me halfway to the Los Horcones site. When the storm failed to drown me, it turned the road into a mire. The mud clung to my boots, turning what should’ve been a long but uneventful walk into living hell.
At least the rain kept the mosquitos from eating me alive. The snakes didn’t come out to play, either, which made everything seem a little brighter when the lightning wasn’t streaking across the sky.
I made it to the camp at sundown, and the team working the site stopped their evening preparations to gawk at me. The lucky bastards had a waveweaver shielding them from the worst of the weather, which meant one thing: Dr. Sebastian Hoover, a former classmate and perpetual thorn in my side, was the current dig lead.
I considered turning around the marching back to the airstrip to spend the next few weeks hiding in the shed.
“Bloody hell, Summer.” Sebastian pushed between two of the Mexican diggers we used to boost our numbers and strode to my side. “You’re going to catch your death if you aren’t careful.”
The bastard could establish his shields without touching me, but he liked pushing my buttons—and boundaries—as often as possible. While tempted to dig a hole and drown him in it, I clenched my teeth and waited to see how affectionate he wanted to be.
Last time, he’d gone for a full hug, squeezing hard enough to make my ribs sore.
He tried to shove my hair out of my face to discover the mud and rain had plastered it to my skin. His talent cocooned me, snapping into place with a faint pop. Unless looking for the thin buffer, no one would notice the rain no longer touched my skin or belongings. “Bart, get the damned stubborn woman something warm to eat before we find out if she missed any illnesses last time.”
His team laughed, and I did, too. There wasn’t any point in protesting the truth—or getting offended over the old joke that’d never die. “Thanks, Sebastian.”
“You know how it goes. Until it’s safe to travel, you’re stuck. Bad timing; this blow’s just getting started, so you’re going to be here for a few days. Owen would have my head on a platter if I sent you his way. He can be an ass, but he doesn’t want to explain to the boss why he lost his best digger to the weather.”
Great. A night with Sebastian’s team would be enough to test my patience—and my magic. He took the number one spot as the most likely to try his luck and worm his way into my tent. He’d been chasing me since the day he’d spotted me in class. When he’d found out we were direct competition, he’d gone from bad to worse.
He wouldn’t quit until he got what he wanted, and I wouldn’t lower my guard until I was in a different kingdom.
I sighed and adjusted my pack’s straps on my shoulders. “Got a spare tent, then?”
“Yeah, we do. We lost Matt last week and haven’t found someone to replace him.”
Lost had two meanings at a site: poached or killed.
I hoped for the former; Matt had been one of the nicer archaeologists assigned to the Nahua-Maya mixed sites, and when we ran into each other, he’d made a point of offering me a hot cup of tea, warming the water with his flameweaving talent.
It didn’t hurt he understood the meaning of the word no.
Sebastian stared at me, waiting.
Wonderful. He was feeling needy again—or smug. Either or, I’d have a miserable few days, most of which I’d spend longing for a warm bed, a warmer man I actually liked to keep me company, and more Texan BBQ. “Poached?”
“Went to Brazil. He quit, claiming the site’s haunted.”
I arched an eyebrow. The locals were more likely to fly off their hinges and claim a site was haunted; we’d lost half the locals at Site C within a week. Matt, however, didn’t believe in ghosts.
He believed in science, and there was no room for ghosts in his science. I wasn’t stupid enough to ask how his magic and science played together; the last idiot to ask that question had gotten a burned ass for his troubles.
Matt wouldn’t have abandoned a dig site without a damned good reason, and if he claimed there were ghosts, I’d believe him. Some men lied for attention, but not him. “All right. You just tell your men to keep their hands to themselves. I don’t want to have to drown any idiots tonight.”
“How about me, Summer? It’s been a while. I’m confident I can keep you stimulated.”
Ugh. “No. I’m not on the market right now in any capacity.”
If Landen ever found out I was about to use him as my first line of defense against perverts, I hoped he’d forgive me.
“Why not?”
Why couldn’t no be enough? While tempted to leave Sebastian neck deep in the muck, I kept my talent leashed. “There’s someone I like.” I wasn’t even lying, which made it all the sweeter. “I like to think I might have a chance with him, so no. Loyalty’s sexy—and is so is respecting my boundaries. Remember what happened last time you pulled this shit?”
Sebastian had the base decency to grimace. “You kicked my ass.”
“And what did you learn from that incident?”
“To ask politely and listen when you say no.”
How could someone who was supposed to be so smart be so damned dumb? I already missed Landen. He hadn’t done a single thing to earn my wariness. Smart men were my undoing, but I hated assholes. Sebastian reigned as the Crown Prince of Assholes.
I would never forget that.
“All right. I get the idea. What has your panties in a bunch today?”
“Someone left the bike with a flat tire at the airstrip.”
“Ah. Not us; we’ve been holed up here for a month. We uncovered a new temple, and it’s an interesting one—Maya, adjacent to the Nahua palace. It’s small, but it’s pretty spectacular. There’s a body encased in gold inside.”
The location of the Maya temple intrigued me; the other joint sites discovered had a clear line in the sand, keeping the two tribes separated despite sharing the same rough territory. “Encased? How?”
“Think Midas. It’s exquisite. We haven’t remove
d the body yet, as we’re still excavating.”
Still excavating meant he didn’t have an earthweaver on staff; with a find that interesting, the earthweaver would’ve been working around the clock to get such a find uncovered for preparation and transport for further studying in a lab. “How small is this temple?”
“It’s a twenty footer.”
I could excavate the entire thing in an afternoon if there weren’t any surprises, assuming he was willing to do the main cleanup work. Owen would kill me if he found out I’d been using my talent to help his rival.
What Sebastian could offer me was worth the risk. I wanted to see that body—and get a closer look at his temple. “I can give you two hours, but you’re covering my ass with Owen. He’s already ticked I’m late.”
“Deal. I’ll even toss in a bonus for you. We found hundreds of the same stone disc. We have no idea what they’re for, but they’re covered in a mix of Nahuatl and Mayan runes. I’ll loan you one.”
I snorted. “You want me to translate it for you.”
“Well, yeah. You speak modern Nahuatl almost as well as a native, and your Mayan’s top notch. Your ancient Nahuatl is brilliant. Of course I want you translating them for me. If you’d just change your specialty to dead languages, you’ll be a global authority in a handful of years. I’ll definitely owe you one for the translation, too.”
“All right, but I don’t want to hear any whining when I come asking for my favor.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll behave if we can catch up before we all crash out for the night.”
After the rollercoaster ride with Miguel Ángel and his rust bucket Cessna, I shuddered at the thought of crashing. While I had no doubt Sebastian would pressure me, he wouldn’t try anything seriously. He valued his life and testicles in equal measure. “Sure.”
As expected, Sebastian pressured me, although not in the way I’d anticipated. Whether to make me more comfortable or to further his goals, he joined me in Matt’s old tent, which was set up on top of the older dirt dumps. If he didn’t piss me off, I’d even tell him there was a structure beneath us.
The Captive King Page 4