Fever by Autumn Archer
10
She’s a blessing and a curse.
I’m blinded by fiery hair and a mirage of lust swimming in her feverish gaze. Or maybe I’ve been down this road before, where desire leads to destruction. Back then. It wasn’t anything more than dirty nights in Rio and a plan to skim more millions. The lying bitch I used for fun never got under my skin like this woman.
We fucked.
She listened.
I paid the ultimate price.
For the past few years, I’ve hidden myself away, focused on retribution and built the foundations of a billion-dollar empire. I don’t have time for this bullshit.
Iris despises me, equally as much as I can’t stand her being here.
We’re even on that score.
So why am I struggling to step away? How come she makes my blood hiss and my cock crave her sole attention. And not in a normal, perfunctory way. It fucking throbs so damn hard that I might go blind. I can’t decide if she’s an unfortunate prisoner to ignore, or a distraction to exploit.
That’s a decision I’ll make when I'm not under her spell. In a matter of days, she’s turned my peaceful plot of heaven into hell, and for that reason alone, I should bleed her dry. Instead, I’m staring at ruby colored lips, wet and full, and imagining how good they’d feel.
Beautiful, forlorn eyes glitter with tears. The red wound flames like her temper as she slides down the wall in defeat. I’m responsible for deleting her life and keeping her in captivity. That stark realization wilts my resentment toward her. As my chosen loneliness stretched to years, I’ve lost myself to anger and darkness. My life no longer has a place for pleasure.
Gabriela wouldn’t like the man I’ve become. Then again, she’s the reason I’m el Fantasma.
Drifting backward, I glare at the second biggest mistake I’ve made. Stealing her existence is a worthy punishment for trespassing. It occurs to me that her innocence is a scheme. To torment and tease me, then smash everything to pieces when my guard is lowered.
I didn’t see the catastrophe coming the first time. No way will I be that man again. I’ve worked damn hard to get to this point, and no one will stand in my way. I reach for my cap but opt not to put it back on. It’s liberating to be myself again––whoever this cruel version is now. To be in the same room as a stranger without hiding my identity is alien to me after so long.
“Pay off your debt. Prove to me you're not here to spy on my business, and I’ll consider freeing you at some point.”
Pitch black eyes as dark as venom glisten in the expanse of her milky skin. A simple promise energizes her spirit, and she leaps to a stand. “Really? I’ll prove it. Tell me how.”
“Stay the fuck out of my way,” I say with an unforgiving rasp. “Don’t wander around this place like it’s a holiday resort. Your uniform should hide your body, not show it off. The idea is to remain covert, not—” I stop abruptly, curtailing the affect her womanly figure is having on my brain.
She nods once, then twice, all too eager to keep her distance, too relieved that I’ll consider rebuilding her life outside of her confines.
“How long?” she asks, skimming fingertips over a bare navel.
I shrug with a candor attitude. Such an offer of light beyond a suffocating tunnel is more for my sanity than hers. Firstly, I’ll run more checks. I’ll prove to myself she’s a simple girl from a far-off town with an inconsequential life. Then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll set her free.
Even as I think about relenting, I doubt the ability to actually let her go. After all, the world is mourning Iris. Her home is here now.
She’s a ghost who belongs to me.
“A few years, maybe more,” I lie, gathering my sunglasses, preparing to depart the glass cell. Who knows? I’d like to imagine once I’ve completed the last hit, she’ll be less of a threat, but by then she’ll have learned too much.
Narrow shoulders pull back, disguising the obvious tremor of disappointment. “And if I work hard, will you consider reducing the sentence?” she dares to ask.
I keep my arms crossed. “You could beg.”
A crease wrinkles her nose. “This is a game for you, isn’t it? You’re playing with my life because you think I’m unimportant.”
“I’m not playing,” I correct. “I’m deadly serious.”
She no longer looks demure and sad. Her posture reconstructs from weak and broken to ferocious and resplendent. A long, splendid neck lengthens, her chin lifts, and eyes like multifaceted stones of onyx drill into mine. “My name is Iris, and I’m an ecologist from the Isle of Skye. I’ve withstood winters harsher than the tropics, bullies more tormenting than el Fantasma, and survived every fucking disaster life has thrown my way. You will never break me.”
The temperature drops to ice cold. Gray clouds gather over her cabin, preparing for a blustery storm. What she fails to realize is the official introduction has sealed her fate forever.
Before this point, she was an insignificant issue, a woman of no consequence, a possible traitor sent by my enemies. Yet now, she’s become the queen of the jungle, of my fucking oasis.
Out of rage or frustration or pure lust, I swoop in. Her eyes widen when I cover the expanse in rapid strides, swathing scar tissue around her proud throat. She inhales sharply, slapping her small hands over mine and scraping for air.
I reduce the pressure enough to let her know I’m the king around here, then I lower my lips to the side of her face. With a controlled breath, I tell her the truth. “After that bold recital, Iris will never leave. The woman you become will wish Iris never met me.”
The thrill of her whimper knocks off my heartbeat. She quakes in my hold. My pounding cock drains all the blood from my body. I drag my mouth over tight lips. It’s not a kiss, more of a hungry assault. There’s no meaning implied or sentiment attached, just a desire to show her who reigns.
For a divine second, the darkness of death evaporates. A bolt of adrenaline more powerful than lightning stimulates every hair on my scalp, lifting with a domino effect to my nape. Soft flesh melts into me, pliable from her head to her toes. A sexy groan hums in my mouth like a break of sunlight after a hurricane. I’m not immune to her warm skin and fluid persuasion.
And then the thrilling moment ends. Confusing desire wanes when her teeth clamp down to a sharp puncture. A metallic trickle mixes in the mash of furious lips. The strained rope reining in my temper finally splits. She bucks into my hips, sparring my passionate attack with curled fists. For such a tiny creature, she packs a loaded punch. Pitiful against my physique yet her streak of determination chips away at my conscience.
A vein pulses in her delicate neck, penetrating the heavy fog circling my mood. Her hatred for me curdles with my fascination. I tug her hair, yanking her head back so our lips rip apart. “You’ll regret that,” I growl into her temple, relishing blood.
She quivers as the words leave my throat in a husky warning. I let go and stagger back. Our eyes lock. A battle of worlds begins. Silently, Iris Kitson collides with Dante Valez, the man I thought I’d repressed long ago.
Iris gasps in relief, instinctively padding the curve of her neck with shaky fingertips. The bittersweet sting on the tip of my tongue reminds me how trust is earned. Not in a matter of days, or weeks, or even months. An eternity wouldn’t be long enough for this woman to prove her allegiance.
Hiding out in the wilderness deprived me of a God-given right. My flesh blazes with a feral mania. Both hands shake, retracting and expanding with limited control. What I’ve tasted can never be undone.
Too many months of harrowing memories have robbed me of decency, welcoming a vicious monster instead. But I don’t demand death. I’d prefer to bury my dick inside her and forget the demons calling to my psyche.
The fire in her belly lures me into a trap. And now, I’ve sampled my emancipation in the very thing I’ve captured.
