by Holley Trent
Denial was futile. “Only for our greater good,” Finn retorted, once again. How many times would he need to explain simple concepts? “Just because the council didn’t agree with my theory, doesn’t make it less valid.”
“They did not disagree that humans are over-populated, all-consuming, and self-destructive. And they did not disagree that the quest for true love is not a priority in human lives.”
“Oh?” Small concessions as they were from the council was progress. Frustrated by opposition that belittled his intelligence, Finn had left the council meeting abruptly when it became apparent he had no supporters.
“But, Finn, you truly can’t expect the council to agree that the energy from a few billion humans, no matter the degree, can affect us in Alfheim.”
The king didn’t see it. The council didn’t see it. Even though the human dimension was a mere hair’s width removed from the Alfar, no Alfarian believed the negative energy humans generated could weaken an elf, any more than they understood energy from human love could be used to enhance Alfarian powers.
Finn looked into the king’s cobalt blue eyes. “If that is the case, then I ask that you grant me leave from the council. Give me time with the humans to gather the proof I need. Give me twenty of their human years to conduct my study.”
The king let go a snort. “Leave you to play games with the humans?” His gaze traveled over the sea of dancers. “Do you see a miserable face out there, Finn? Humans love their holidays, yet they allow themselves little leisure. No wonder so few find true love. Create. Destroy. Over and over. No one understands them. How could you have insight enough into the ways of these creatures to pair them with their true mates?”
Finn had watched humans for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why he was entertained by them when most Alfarians viewed them as inconsequential. Centuries ago, he’d started to see the energy that swirled around them, how the color of the energy changed dependent on their thoughts, how love surpassed all energies, even hatred. “I read their minds.”
King Oberon drew in a short breath.
Finn carried on before the king could protest. “Humans don’t see themselves, they don’t understand their own needs, so how can they determine what they need in a mate? By instigating more love into their world, I serve both our realms, and I have the means to prove it. The matchmaking service I will provide will be faultless.” Practically. There’d be human hearts broken here and there, terribly difficult to avoid, but he served the greater good, and did he request compensation? Never. “I will tell no one I have the king’s approval for my work, unless you wish acclaim when I pool my results for the council.”
“You have five human years, Finn. I want reports annually.”
Finn bit back the exclamation that five years was nothing. He worked alone. He had to find subjects, devise games, measure responses, tally results. But he also knew when to push and when to wait for another day. He drew a deep breath that mushroomed his chest.
The king wasn’t finished. “I trust you’ve curbed your tendency to indulge them.”
Finn’s chest deflated.
“I wouldn’t call it a tendency.” He’d paid a hefty price for those mishaps. “And those humans thought me a trickster, so I doubt they felt indulged.” But it was fruitless to explain human habits to Alfarians. “I desire nothing other than the time to test a dozen or so variables.” Which factors unleashed the greatest passion between two mates? This game would test sexual boundaries.
“Your credibility is at stake, Finn. I wouldn’t forget that.”
King Oberon disappeared without a goodbye.
Finn knew what was at stake. When he’d tapped the force behind the most passionate love, no longer would his genius be called lunacy. No longer would his isolation be called defeat.
An instant later, Finn appeared on the beach under palm fronds that cast long black shadows over the sand. He watched his male subject halt at the shoreline and stand frozen even when a wave brushed his sandals. Alone for a moment, Jonathan glanced toward the Italian restaurant, as if he controlled his destination.
Finn was the master of the night, Jonathan and Isabelle mere players. Power surged in his veins — there was nothing finer.
He cast the Alfarian spell to begin the game.
Chapter Two
The boom-boom-boom of conga drums beat the rhythm of salsa into the heated bodies undulating over the dance floor. With a subtle shift of her partner’s body, Isabelle was spun in a tight pirouette and pulled up against his ultra-toned chest.
“Your skin, it is so soft like a spring blossom under my hands. My lovely, Isabelle, I would like to spread your petals and taste your sweet, sweet nectar.” His hips rocked against her pelvis as his lips brushed her ear.
Isabelle tugged her hand from the Latin American man. “I don’t think so, Leonardo. The only sweet nectar you’ll get from me comes in a can. Thanks for the dance. Do enjoy your night.”
Spread your petals and taste your sweet, sweet nectar. Oh brother. She laughed as she slipped off the dance floor, averting the flicker of heat between her thighs from her thoughts. In week eight of her relationship classes, she wouldn’t plunge into a hot affair if Leonardo had the only nimble feet left on Earth. Groomed to make everyone’s vacation a most pleasurable experience, all the dancers at Serenity Resort were light on their feet and heavy on charm.
This vacation was an opportunity to determine why she attracted the wrong guys time after time — men who lusted after her body and didn’t care if she had a mind. Week eight was detox. A cleansing of old thought patterns. Relationship Rescue’s mantra sang through her mind. I deserve a man who treats me like treasure.
The promise of a Caribbean sunset drew her away from the music and down the lit stone path toward the beach. The security guard nodded as she passed.
“Buenas noches,” she said in her limited Spanish.
Bordering the walkway, the delicate petals of a Persian pink amaryllis warmed in the evening heat. When she reached the beach, she slipped off her sandals and strolled to the water. Grains of sand sifted in between her toes as she breathed the humid, salted air. A seagull swooped in low over the waves, its voice, a jovial call. Her shoulders relaxed. If only every day could end on a sandy beach.
Apart from one guy reading a Blackberry farther along, the beach was oddly deserted. She squinted to see him clearly. Closely cropped dark hair, five-o’clock shadow, looking hot not scruffy, perfect proportion of shoulders to hips — it was him — Jonathan. On her first night at the resort, they’d had dinner together when he’d impressed her with his knowledge of French wine.
Heat flushed her skin as she remembered what had happened after dinner: the invitation, the intrusion, the realization. She pushed the memory from her mind. What hot-blooded woman wouldn’t have yielded to temptation in the guise of insanely sexy Jonathan?
A strange wind drifted across her neck, sensual in the way it licked against her skin and fluttered the fabric of her blouse over her tummy. When her nipples tingled against her bra, desire sparked to life deep inside her womb.
She trembled and released the light sweater she’d tied around her shoulders. Slipping her arms in, she pulled the sweater closed and hugged her chest.
Get a grip, Isabelle.
With no wish to close the distance between herself and the temptation named Jonathan, she decided not to walk any farther along the beach, but stay close to the hotel to watch the sunset. A wave rolled over her feet. Once again, the touch felt seductive. Water sluiced through her toes, tickling her instep, kissing her ankles. Oh! Don’t think kisses. She’d be a fool to think kisses. Keep to your course.
Inhaling another deep, relaxing breath, she let her gaze drift over the rolling waves. She must be suffering serious man withdrawal if she felt seduced by Mother Nature. She lifted her chin and straig
htened her shoulders. Don Juan with tsunami-strength appeal would not distract her from her program. The very last thing she needed was a man’s touch.
• • •
Jonathan’s pulse quickened as he read the email on his Blackberry. The house on Red Pine Drive had just listed. It didn’t have the timber work or leaded glass windows like the house in Sherwood Hills had, but he’d never expected this house to come on the market.
Red Pine Drive. His grandparent’s house, once upon a time, where apple crisp baked in the oven, wooden rockers creaked in rhythm on the porch, and a rope swung over the swimming-hole out back.
Did he wish to make an offer?
Nothing but good memories turned his lips into a smile. Hell yes.
The Realtor had prefixed that question with a suggested amount, but he wasn’t about to play games with a low-ball offer — not again. Other buyers might bid on the property, so he replied with the amount he wished to offer, fifteen-thousand over the asking price. He hit send. No chance he would lose this house.
Only then did he let his gaze travel the crimson shoreline and rest on the dark-haired woman who’d walked down to the water’s edge. Isabelle. Stunning woman. Decent taste in wines, too. He’d been impressed when she’d paired a pinot noir with a soft-ripened brie. After the bottle they’d shared on the first day, he’d anticipated spending time together on the winery tour where they’d both registered.
Water rushed over his feet. As the pull of the undertow dragged against his ankles, he pressed his thumb against the inside of his wrist, and stepped away from the water.
His Blackberry beeped — unable to deliver his email. Damn. Reception away from the hotel could be sketchy. With his mind on the house, he turned his back on the sunset and headed to the resort.
What the hell?
He stopped and pivoted. His heels sank into the sand. Where was the resort? With night coming on he should see the lights, hear the music. Had he been so preoccupied, he’d not realized he’d walked a fair distance down the beach?
He scanned the tree line.
Nothing but trees. No familiar landmarks. No interlocking path. No tiki lights. Odd. His pulse quickened. Even though he’d been focused on his offer, he’d seen Isabelle walk a straight line from the trees to the water. Not more than five minutes ago, he’d walked past the dance floor and seen her dancing. She’d obviously come from the resort.
Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last cerveza.
Maybe he had sunstroke.
He rubbed the beard stubble on his jaw. As a thought occurred to him, he gave a short laugh. He knew why he didn’t see lights and hear music — a blackout — a regular occurrence in the tropics. No wonder the resort seemed to have disappeared.
Use your brain much, Raynor? He bisected the beach and cut up to the trees to find the path to the hotel.
Once again, it was not where it should be. He usually had decent spatial sense. How could he be so far off?
After a search along the edge of the dense bush, he was baffled.
As the sun began to blaze the horizon, he watched Isabelle leave the water’s edge and head back to the hotel. Since he doubted she’d overdone the cervezas, he’d let her find the walkway, then he’d follow behind.
As she approached, her gaze flitted over him. She paused, gave him a friendly but quick smile, the kind you give someone when you’re rushed for time. Her head shifted right and then left as she appeared to suffer the same inability to see the hotel in the darkening forest.
He crossed the distance to stand beside her. “Hello, Isabelle. I think there’s been a blackout.”
Her gaze sharpened through the dense bush. “But where’s the walkway to the resort? Funny, I don’t remember the trees being so thick here.”
“No idea. The resort appears to have vanished.”
She expelled a little scoff. “Uh huh. Disappearing resorts are such a problem these days.”
“Yeah, I’m going to start carrying around my own pillow.”
As she took a few steps toward the trees, he took a few moments to admire the swing of her hips and wondered if her ass was as perfect as it looked under that skirt. She leaned over a plant to cradle a scarlet flower in her palm. Sweet mercy. The woman had killer legs. Sleek and shapely with softly muscled calves — and the length — those legs went on long enough to make a gazelle jealous.
“That’s odd. I recognize these plants.”
Yep, he could think of a few ways he’d like to wrap those legs. Her head turned over her shoulder to look at him.
Luckily he’d removed his gaze from her legs. “Hmmm? Plants? Where?”
“Right here. In my hand. It’s the only stand of amaryllis I’ve seen on the resort. I’ve stopped every day to admire them.”
She stiffened as she scanned the trees beyond the flowers. “The amaryllis is here, but the walkway isn’t. How can that be?”
The way her perplexity darted her eyebrows was cute enough that he didn’t want to look away. “We’re in the tropics, you can’t take four steps without dodging a flower. How can you be sure those are the same ones that were beside the walkway?”
“Think of it this way. I can distinguish flowers from one another, like you can distinguish women’s legs in world city populations.” Ah, she’d caught him ogling, but her tone was teasing. With that said, she set off to trek in the same direction he’d taken a few minutes earlier, so he decided to broaden his search with a few steps into the jungle. He stepped carefully into the bush, feeling no need to venture far and become disoriented. On the resort, the Italian restaurant and Tiki Bar hadn’t been more than thirty paces from the beach. A prickly sensation rose on his skin as he was engulfed by darkness. Resorts did not disappear.
He took one step forward.
The jolt from coming up against an invisible solid something sent him backwards, startling the bejeezus out of him and nearly tossing him on his ass. It took him a second to regain his balance. Like walking into a brick wall.
What the hell was that?
He saw nothing to impede his progress. Nothing but thick, humid air in his path. Tentatively, he reached an arm out. The same unseen impediment struck him even when he stepped to the right and to the left. He could go no farther. An invisible force field?
Nah. He was either losing his night vision, or the resort had installed a concealed security fence. He’d seen one used for dogs, although the dog had to wear a collar to make it work. This must be new technology.
“Hey! Hello.” Isabelle’s voice drifted through the trees. His mind shifted from the perplexing barrier. She must have found the pathway. Relief eased the tension tightening his chest as he pushed through thick undergrowth toward her voice. Sand felt cooler now as it sifted into his sandals. He emerged to see her jogging down the beach toward a blazing fire. Where had that come from?
Even in the diminishing sunlight, he could tell she’d paled as he approached. In her hand was a piece of paper. As he stood beside her, he took in the aged look of the note. Looked like parchment.
He glanced beyond the campfire to where a blanket and pillows, flanked by small stone bowls with lit candles, were arranged inside a curtained gazebo. A spiced, musky scent hung in the air.
Her gaze rose and fixed on him, eyebrows darted again. “This note is addressed to us personally, and it explains everything with crystal clarity.”
The prickly sensation crawling over his skin increased by tenfold. “What does it say?”
He noticed the blood-red stone tremble on her ring finger as she passed him the paper.
“Oh, a little bit about the island and a little bit about the vacation, and a little bit about Serenity Resort vanishing from the face of the Earth. And then there’s just a little bit more — a little bit about us being trapped in a lunatic’s game.”
Ch
apter Three
Isabelle was vaguely aware of the stricken expression on Jonathan’s face as her knees buckled. Only with legs clenched tight did she keep herself from tottering over.
Impossible.
The sun was a blazing half disc hovering over the horizon, the trees, an ink smudge rimming the beach. Within minutes, the shore would be chilling, isolating, disorienting, all except for this one fire-lit area.
Jonathan’s gaze rose from the bizarre note she’d found. “It’s a joke, it has to be. We have to play a game to get back to the resort? That’s insane.” He peered once again at the forest where ten minutes ago the resort had stretched over a few kilometers. Not a sound came from that site now, not even wind through the trees. Besides the flicker of fire, the night was still as a corpse.
“Did you find any sign of life out there?” She forced the words out evenly to tamp her panic and keep her voice from cracking.
“No, nothing. Did you know the resort has an invisible security fence? We won’t get past it if we go through the forest.”
“That’s odd. No, I didn’t hear anything about invisible security. Whoever wrote this note is playing games with us. Do you think this is a hoax put on by the resort?” Though she didn’t wish to admit it out loud, something about this scenario seemed … unearthly. A few feet from the fire sat a gazebo with over-sized pillows placed for comfort and as the note suggested — pleasurable game play. She couldn’t kid herself into believing that display had been on the beach five minutes ago. The cozy fireside retreat seemed to have appeared from under the snap of a magician’s cloak.
“I doubt it. This fire came out of nowhere. The note says we can’t escape the beach. ‘Play the game of Rhapsody to win your return to Serenity Resort.’ I don’t know who the lunatic is behind this, but we’re cut off from the hotel.” Jonathan checked his watch. As if the time mattered. With the sun sinking, it was lights out any minute.