Fever by Autumn Archer
5
Golden sunlight.
An ocean blue sky.
Freedom.
I’m standing alone on a long wooden walkway hovering over the treetops. Tall palms yo-yo as a temperate breeze carries the moist scent of natural life. An array of humming, thrumming, and chirping echoes around me in a living, vibrating concert of life.
It’s peaceful. Serene. Unreal.
Every dreamy step takes me further away from the dense upper tier, sinking down to the earth. Floating from the heights until I’m treading soil. Heated skin prickles as the temperature cools. My veins pump hot and cold. Sweat glistens on my forearms.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Bruce.
Shadows drape his left side. Half his mouth forms a grave smile. Obscure creases weigh down the corner of his visible eye with sadness––or concern.
I reach out for his hand. “Let me help you.”
Thick, unforgiving vines snake from his body, slithering around his chest, covering him from sight. A crunch of dry wood splinters.
My head whips around. Hazy heat brushes gooseflesh. Intense peridot eyes blink out of the undergrowth. The rush of fear peaks in gasps. In a heartbeat, a wildcat as black as soot covers the ground until we’re face-to-face.
It's a standoff of wills. Superiority versus bravery.
Cautiously and ever so slowly, I place my hand against the glossy sheen of fur. The jaguar bristles, unveiling razor-sharp teeth. I stroke the fierce beast whose display of authority rumbles from its chest. With each slight caress, the edginess wanes. Rigid muscles relent. Terrifying teeth no longer sparkle with malice.
Beams of light brighten the scene like a curtain is lifted. My adversary purrs, rubbing its jaw against my palm. Long licks soothe and clean the flurry of insect bites over my arms.
I’m safe.
There’s no need to fear the animal taking care of me, accepting me into its natural habitat.
My lashes flutter shut. When they open, we’re no longer in abundant vegetation. We’re at the edge of a river, shoulder to shoulder. Allies.
I watch the sensual swagger of lithe muscle and a playful swoosh of a long tail before the panther plunges into the water. An unquenchable thirst of desire ripples through me. Before I take the leap, wings vibrate. Metallic purples and greens blur. The cutest hummingbird hovers over the tempting water. Large paws eject from the depth, swatting and swiping. It’s only when the fearsome cat plans his attack that I notice the pads are disfigured. Sharpened claws are absent.
The once tamed cat flips to feral and thrashes violently. The hummingbird flutters and dances, swooping to the water's edge, staring right at me.
Peridot eyes blaze with liquid venom. The docile panther no longer swims freely, he’s prowling. My heartbeat slams. What I thought was happiness was a lie.
Danger stalks across a decaying blanket of flora. The colors of the sky turn to black and white. I can see a fire of danger in its eyes. They aren’t calm and friendly anymore. They burn hellish orange, undomesticated, and savage.
One leap. One snarl. Jaws wide.
My legs jerkand a gust of air fills my lungs. Sweat drenches stiff muscles. A lamp glows in the far corner. Wooden cladding meets supporting elevated beams. Picture windows frame a shaded tropical landscape with no curtains or blinds. I’m sitting upright in a bed cocooned in fresh sheets and wearing a cotton cami and short set. Overhead, a ceiling fan spins at warp speed, casting the most delightful blanket of welcoming cool air over my damp skin.
Aside from being alone in a luxurious cabin, I notice a tightness on my cheek. It feels alien and swollen. With a gentle pat, my fingers locate a dry dressing spanning the length of my jaw.
I’m safe.
I have no recollection of time.
All I remember is Bruce. Blood and gore. Half man, half tree.
Slipping out of the comfy bed onto a woven rug, my knees scream. How long have I been here?
The owner of this resort has designed everything for comfort and luxury. Decorated with neutral tones and rattan to compliment the landscape. Even the adjoining bathroom has glass walls with intricate copper tiles and dark green finishes.
Water gushes from the waterfall-styled faucet into the hand-carved lacquered basin. I gather the bar of jade colored soap and lather up a creamy froth. Then it hits me. Lime and coconut. Profoundly green eyes. Danger and darkness.
A tingle of the unknown unfurls in my belly. The heavenly scent triggers sensory overload. My heartbeat drums. For some reason, it hammers out a warning—not relief—for the sanctuary.
Then I recall vomiting at his feet. Embarrassment replaces the flicker of uncertainty. And there it is, the reason for my uneasiness. I basically stumbled across the most attractive man I’ve ever met and puked like a demon. I’m thankful for his kindness. For taking care of me so attentively and putting me up in this suite. I just wish there was a mirror to study the wound hidden beneath gauze. If I wasn’t so dazed and relived to be alive, I might think I'm trapped in a glass cage with no privacy.
I smooth coconut essence over the lengths of my hair and rinse, shaking out the water to revive my natural curls. I’m too weak to stand for long in the shower, and my belly spasms with hunger. Smiling to myself, I press my nose to the glass, happy to be safe instead of traipsing deeper into an undiscovered territory without supplies.
With that thought comes the gravity of guilt. I shouldn't be celebrating my stay in a five-star resort when I’ve dropped off the radar miles away from home. Our colleagues at the lab will have notified the police, and my parents will know I’m missing.
There’s no doubt my little sister Emmie is scared for my return. I promised her everything would be okay. Wild horses couldn’t have stopped me from taking Fergal’s place when he bowed out. Bruce had visited the Amazon countless times in the past. He was a veteran of jungle life.
He told me, “Wild animals don’t hunt humans. We aren’t on the menu. If you leave them alone, they won’t rip out your throat. Give them the respect and privacy they deserve, and they’ll offer you the same courtesy.”
It should have been an incredible, once in a lifetime adventure.
An engine roars to life from outside the cabin. I scramble to the door, leaving the perfect temperature for my fair skin, and plunge into intense humidity. Thankfully, I’m dressed in a light top and skimpy shorts. Damp curls tumble over my shoulders, springing up and down as I jog over a long wooden pathway toward the mechanical noise. Scattered lanterns give the resort a magical atmosphere, so welcoming and enchanting. It’s pretty here. If I weren’t in such a rush to get home and speak to Bruce’s family, I’d be happy to hang out for a few more days.
The faster I run, the more my cheek throbs with every jarring step. Blisters on the soles of my feet twinge and sting where wooden ridges irritate their healing. This is my chance to hitch a ride out of paradise and get word to my loved ones. I’m deliriously happy to have a second chance. It’s been a bittersweet adventure of tragedy and self-discovery. Maybe one day I’ll return to the rainforest. Once I get over this trauma.
The urgency to leave injects me with false stamina. A helicopter lowers to a clearing with twinkling lights surrounding a circular helipad. I’m struggling to keep a brisk pace as a man with a cap and dark glasses steps out of the shadows. He greets a suited gentleman who jumps out of the aircraft without luggage. They don’t shake hands or hug like acquaintances. Their exchange is short and businesslike. No rolling out the red carpet for a paying vacationer.
The man wearing a khaki cap has his back to me. Broad shoulders flex, cloaked in a concealing onyx shirt. Assessing his dominant stature, I find muscular, lean legs are on show from the knee down. Camouflage shorts.
My hero wore the same style. I can’t be certain if it’s him. Hopefully, it is so I can personally thank him for taking me in before I take to the air.
The heat is intense, which makes running even harder. Perspiration gathers in a sheen over my heaving chest. My advance doesn’t go unnoticed, which isn’t my concern. It’s the hovering aircraft, inches from the ground.
“Wait!” I yell, waving my arms. “Wait for me. I need to get to an airport.”
A monsoon, brimming with violence and destruction, crowds me with powerful arms. “Get the fuck back to your quarters.”
He drags me away from the agitated breeze.
“I’m ready to leave,” I protest.
Light glitters over black lenses. Coarse whiskers twitch around snarling teeth, but that hedonistic masculine scent dupes my sudden anger. I’m confused and aroused. Begging to go home. Captured in an unforgiving grip that melts me on the inside and stirs up an urge to fight back.
“Turn around and don’t look back.” He motions with his wrist, signally to my only method of escape. My eyes mist over when leather weaves through my hair, fisting a clump of curls close to my scalp. “Now that you’re well enough to run, we can discuss the arrangements for your time in my oasis.”
I recognize the seductive husk of his baritone. Equally fire and ice.
He’s the man who found me.
My guardian angel. Only this man is an illusion of godliness. Rather than give me wings to soar, his mannerisms tell me he’ll hack them off to keep me grounded.
The second man approaches. His soft voice slithers down my spine. “I didn’t know you had entertainment. Very good, el Fantasma. Very fucking good.”
El Fantasma?
“She’s not entertainment and none of your goddamn business.” He grits his teeth. “My staff are my property. Mistreat them and you won’t leave the oasis alive. Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we start. Don’t leave your allocated cabin. Wandering alone can, and will, get you killed.” El Fantasma growls out his expectations for the guest, all the while holding my face in the moonlight. I'm not his staff. He rescued me. “You’ll be guided to your cabin shortly.” El Fantasma pulls a handheld radio from his pocket. With a clipped tone, he speaks in Portuguese. Whatever he says is short and definitely not sweet.
The observer smirks. Wishy-washy blue eyes trail over my trembling body. “By reputation alone, I expected you to be a ruthless sonofabitch, but keeping her to yourself—I’ll pay a substantial bonus if she’s part of my welcome party.”
The second his intentions coast into the sultry air, the knot in my stomach tightens. My hands flail, trying hard to escape the scents of citrus and sin.
Realization drops from the highest palm tree like a rogue coconut shell. This isn’t a fancy holiday destination or a wellness retreat with fruit platters and souvenirs. It’s an off-the-grid lair.
The reflection in my captor’s dark glasses shows my wide eyes and pitiful naivety.
El Fantasma uncurls his fist. I exhale the breath caught in my lungs when he finally lets go. A few false steps of freedom leave me lightheaded and flustered. Tears spring to my eyes. “Whatever you’ve got going here, I’m not part of it. I’m leaving on the next helicopter that lands,” I say firmly, planting my feet and straightening my spine. My heart pumps faster as I fight the weakness in my knees. “Why did you let it leave without me? My family will be worried about—”
Soft leather forcefully slaps over my mouth. The contrast of suppleness with relentless pressure makes me scream. The pitiful mewl muffles into his fingers. My struggle to remove his hand is in vain.
“Stop fucking talking.” His scent is fresh and exotic, a future trigger for pulsating anxiety.
Behind us, someone ushers away the guest. I don’t see who leads him to his accommodation or which direction they go in because of the towering monster looming over me. Swift footsteps thud over planks, becoming faint.
Little by little, he drags his fingers over my lips, securing them beneath my chin instead. “There are rules here. You’d do well to abide by them.”
“Let me go.” I narrow my eyes with a rebellious glare, wishing he would remove the dark lenses between us. “I can hear you perfectly well without your hand on my throat.”
A symphony of animal calls bursts to life in a moment of silence. Fingers tighten, and when I think he’s going to throttle me for my insubordination, they skate down to my collarbone and then move to his cap. He lifts the hat off his head and rakes thick strands with a gloved hand, repositioning it into place once the hair settles. A hint of a smile lifts the side of his mouth, not with joy or pleasure, with cruelty.
“Number one,” he begins. “You work for me now, which means you’ll never speak of your past.”
“No, I don’t,” I say with a sharp outburst. “I don’t work for you.”
He looks me up and down, shaking his head. “Let’s start again. The rules are non-negotiable. You are mine now. The second you fell at my boots, on my land, you pledged your allegiance to me.”
My temper ripples down to my hands, making me quake. “I didn’t bow to you. I fainted. There’s a big difference. If you think I’m working here, you’re mistaken. I have a job I love and a family who won’t give up looking for me until I’m found.”
I’m not completely unworldly. I know what men like him do in this unjust ecosphere. What they’re capable of. They think ownership is a right. That it comes without consequences. The Kittson’s will send out a search party. They’ll rally troops of volunteers, if they haven’t done so already. Our coordinates were logged, and every experiment monitored. Any day now, a rescue party will fly overhead.
“You’re dead,” he states abruptly. “My patrol found your campsite and your unfortunate colleague. You’re no longer Iris Kitson. You live in my oasis.”
“Excuse me?”
“Iris Kitson is dead.”
I force courage even though I’m visibly rattled. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“Your accidental death has been registered. Your dead body can’t be recovered because the river swept it away. And your family was informed of the tragic news a few days ago.”
I clasp my chest, holding my heart as it shatters into thousands of cracked pieces. A few days? How long have I been here?
“You bastard!” Emmie. “My little sister,” I hiss as fury scorches my complexion. His boots shift, and he pulls back his shoulders, hinting a degree of discomfort. The news of his monstrous lie spreads to every cell in my body. “How dare you.” I lunge forward, ripping the glasses from his face. “Look me in the eye while you tell me Emmie thinks her big sister is never coming home.” Unreadable green eyes flare like poisonous darts. Daggered lashes freeze. “I will never work for you. Never! Do you hear me?” The vibrations tearing through me project into my prodding finger. It jabs his sculpted chest, hard and furious.
He snatches my hand. “Rule number two. You will never disobey me.” The roughness around his order chills my rage flushed skin. “Rule number three. You will never leave the oasis. Rule number four. You will never fucking disrespect me again.”
“Disrespect you?” I scoff, raising my chin higher.
“You’ve stayed here for five days. Free of charge. You were taken care of while you wrestled with a fever. Not once were you harmed or mistreated.” He marches to the adjoining boardwalk and climbs the step until he’s above me like a powerful god. “You owe me.”
I don’t wish to follow him, but I fear I’ll push him too far if I don't. Perhaps my tactics are all wrong. Show gratitude and appreciation. Then maybe, just maybe, he’ll reconsider. I can turn up alive, eventually. It’s perfectly workable. I’m sure people return from the dead all the time. “Why did you look after me?”
He glances back. The peak of his cap shades the depth of a withering glare. “I didn’t. My onsite medical staff saw to your injury.” A casual shirk seems to disassociate him from my presence.
“Tell me why I have to stay here. What purpose would a scientist from Scotland have for a man like you?”
His gravelly laugh leaves me with an uneasy fascination. I shiver at the darkness dripping from his hidden smile. “I have no need for a scientist. Your qualifications are irrelevant. You’ll become a cleaner, or a sous chef, or a servant, or whatever my head of staff requires of you.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you need me?”
Those whiskered lips of his fight a grin. “I don’t need you. You’re not permitted to leave. Working here pays off your debt and goes towards accommodation and meals.”
Frustration propels me along the path, trotting behind him. “What if I decline your job offer? What if I choose not to stay? What if I hitch a ride on the next helicopter?”
“That’s a lot of wasted what-ifs. Let’s clear this up once and for all. Stay here and serve or run.” He points to the thick boundary of ferns, lit by solar lamps. “The only exit is right down that path.”
It’s not fair. Either option is ruthless. Return to the wilderness where the pendulum slows until I die or become a prisoner in paradise with unseen chains.
“So, what you’re saying is, I owe you for saving my life. And I can either work here for an eternity or take my chances in the jungle?”
For some reason, that observation warrants a low chuckle. “Like I said, you belong to me now. If you aren’t careful, I’ll alter the arrangement. Perhaps you’d be better placed as my personal servant.” I swear his breath hitches. Green eyes meet mine, immobilizing me in the most misleading snare.
My gaze skips away. I mentally collect all the absurd thoughts of giving in to his every whim, and I bury the mania in the sadness of never seeing my family again.
“I won’t grant you permission to leave, unless it’s that way,” he confirms, still eyeing me with the hunger of a watchful predator.
My toes curl into the warm boards, balancing the shock. “I’m not your trinket or your possession or even your slave.” I find his barbaric suggestion unnerving. “And what if I choose to go out there?”
He stands before me, surrounded by copper-colored light and shadows. Coarse hair guards manly features, and the hat gives him another layer to hide behind. I loathe his disguise. Cowardly and beyond contrition.
His head tilts to the side, trailing intrigue down my legs. It drags to my nipples and lingers on my tongue, swiping over dry lips. I can’t explain why my stomach whorls with both apprehension and lust. He might be crafted out of every woman’s wildest fantasy, but his heartlessness is utterly unappealing.
“You’ll most likely die from dehydration or an insect bite.” His lips curl into an offhand sneer.
Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m a fool. But choosing freedom will be my ultimate challenge. I won’t give up without a fight. My parents taught me to strike and to strike right at the core. Bullies only win if you let them. That’s why I’m the youngest ecologist in my lab. Dedication and sacrifice pay off. “And what if I survive?”
“You won’t,” he says with a shrug.
I’m dancing on the edge of a knife, and he damn well knows it. “I got out alive the first time,” I argue, not that it matters.
“Barely,” he points out, widening his stance.
“Even so, I didn’t die. I found you. A way out.”
“Correction. I found you.” He teases the hair on his chin in contemplation. “You’ve yet to survive. I’m offering you a onetime opportunity.”
Looking around at the stunning arrangement of raised cabins with an exotic backdrop of leafy trees and far-off constellations, I’m all too conscious of the unspoken constraints. The sanctuary is a lie. It’s a remote prison. “Then I wish for my freedom. I’d rather die out there by my own doing than stay here as your sex slave for the rest of my life.”
He doesn’t move. Our gazes snag. Facets of green loop black pupils. The last flicker opens holes to an expanse of darkness, settling with a thin crown of peridot trickery. If I stare into his eyes long enough, I could pretend the magnetism dancing around us is real. But it’s only the magical setting and late evening hum of insect activity. A combination so estranged from the cold, harsh winters back home.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed by my decision. I hate how his silence makes me feel nervous. How a part of me wishes he were a kindhearted man who wasn’t trying to enslave me. That way I would understand the torrid heat pumping through my veins.
“I never said anything about fucking,” he growls like the idea appalls him. The bass reverberation ripples down my spine. “I don’t fuck liars, not even if they beg me. If you’re dumb enough to pick a gruesome death, then go for it. Run.” His arms cross. “And those clothes on your back, they’re only available to you while you’re here.” Dropping his pensive stare, he quietly undresses me with bright green eyes. Humid air leaves my lungs in a hot and heavy sigh.
I detest this scam of a man.
But I’m inexplicably drawn to him.
Bastard.
He knows how to seduce. That’s his game. I’d never lower my standards to fuck a man so forbidden as el Fantasma. And I certainly wouldn’t beg.
He’s not my hero. I was sorely mistaken. “You’re not serious?” My fingers span my throbbing cheek. That light touch makes me flinch. The wound smarts.
His hand fists. “I’m deadly serious. You go, you strip first.”
“Wait!” I gasp. “How about I work here for a few weeks, to pay off the debt I owe and then—”
“Enough.” His voice booms like I’ve used up the last drop of his patience. “You’ve made your decision to go. Take off the fucking clothes and stop wasting my time.”
The casual flick of his wrist is a dismissive afterthought.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, grabbing the hem and whipping the top off in one sweep. “I’ll die the same way I was born.” The shorts are next, dropping to my ankles. “And you know what, I’ll come back here as a ghost and haunt you forever. Every time you hear a cry or a broken twig or a fucking heartbeat, you’ll remember Iris Kitson.”
He steps into me, blocking the warming glow of a neighboring lamp, darkening the world to deadly. My heart skitters, yet I hold my ground, pushing my chest out with defiance.
Lowering his chin, bristles tease my earlobe. “Don’t threaten me,” he says with malevolent calmness. “You mean nothing to me. Other than a minor irritant who’s taking up my time. You haven’t earned a place in my memories. Don’t mistake my tolerance as humility. Just because you’re bewitching, doesn’t mean I won’t punish you for pissing me the fuck off.” His statement is sharp, and yet his lips linger as he stills, inhaling slowly like he’s savoring the salty sheen coating my neck. Carbon dioxide caresses in puffs, skittering bubbles of fear and desire over my scalp. For the longest moment, he’s motionless. “I think it’s better for both of us if you take the easy option.”
The hoarseness to his voice tells me he’s not quite in control. That I’ve tested his last nerve. Dazed and without thought, I dip into him, only to hear an unrestrained rasp bubble from his throat. I quickly accept the level of danger I’m in and scoot back. We stare at one another, letting the sands of time suffocate each second.
A breeze carrying zingy citrus and fragrant floral blooms heightens my awareness. It reminds me that his offer of freedom is a fraud. That I won’t survive twenty-four hours beyond the façade of an oasis. Or how his cruelty has left me undignified and unprepared yet again. I wear my disgust with a hardened glare and an obvious quake of violence. I have nothing left to lose.
He, on the other hand, waves his hand outward as if granting me permission to face my fate. I hate everything about his grand gesture. His soul is varnished with a slick of bitterness. An invisible poison coats his flesh. He could very well be the most stunning man I’ve ever met, but that streak of evil both repulses and terrifies me.
My one true wish is to find a village just so I can purchase a rifle and return. To shove it to his temple and pull the trigger. My face being the last image he sees.
That surge of hope, the focus of revenge gives me a reason to run. And that’s what I do. I scamper along the pathway and leap over the rope guidelines.
