Fall by Autumn Archer
11
We still have tonight.
And then she’s gone.
The rope bridges wobble as we cross, moving from one to another on our descent. I let her take the lead so I can catch her if she slips between the knotted planks. I’m well used to the motion of swaying above the earth. This is my life. Iris, on the other hand, grips the coiled fibers like her life depends on it.
With my T-shirt on her back and a waterfall of springy curls bouncing, my stomach burns with all the chaotic reasons for pushing her away. I’ve never had the privilege of saying goodbye before. That simple word with a million complexities attached to it was always irrelevant when the people in my life were snatched away before it could leave my lips. They disappeared from my world like the cruelest form of magic whisked them away. They were by my side one day and completely erased the next. Only the memories keep them alive. And even those fade.
Iris will most likely board the aircraft with a sigh of relief. She’ll find contentment in the flight path soaring over her old prison. Her goodbye will be a simple good riddance, not a fond farewell. It’s my fault. I’m not proud of how I’ve treated her. That’s a fact. Even if the sex we shared was the only worthwhile event in my sorry state of depravity, I don’t regret it. Not one single second of it.
She asked to stay at the Oasis to extend her adventure and gather essential research on a biodiverse habitat. I saw through her flimsy plan. Perhaps she hoped the sparks flaring between us would light up the universe. That we’d earn a happily ever after. We won’t. It’s impossible for me to believe in such a whimsical notion when death finds each of us eventually. I’d rather not love than endure the aftermath without her. Moments of pleasure have fooled me with possibilities and just as quickly buried me beneath a rotten layer of decay.
Death is an unhallowed heathen who follows my every move.
I don’t have the authority to twist fate in my favor. This isn’t an existence where flowers thrive for decoration. They serve a purpose. To nourish the insects that feed the creatures. It’s the circle of life. And that loop ends in a dark crypt. Fatality hunted out every soul I’ve ever cared for, and Iris is no exception to the decree. It’s coming for her, and if she stays here, it will catch her sooner rather than later. She’ll be robbed of a long life like Gabriela. Cheated of the chance to have her own family and lowered into the darkness in a casket fit for one.
Some might say I’m running scared of the inevitable. And I’d tell them to fuck right off. I’m painfully aware of the emptiness loss creates. Years of torment have taken their toll and forced me to take a stand. The element of my control hangs in the gallows. Stretched to capacity and hoisted high. Straining to survive. One simple fuck up has the harsh ability to detach the final thread and unleash the worst chaos.
That’s what I believe. That single slip from humanity will dominate my life for eternity. The transformation will be ugly and fast. I’ll hand over credence and switch to the wildest savage in every sense of the word. Therefore, it’s better to free the bird than watch it die.
Reaching the solid walkway, Iris canters off the elevated platform and scampers over the leafy path. “What’s that noise? Can you hear it?” She stills, scanning the leaves.
She’s invested in the sounds of the jungle with a quizzical expression and a cute furrow denting her forehead. I guess I’m used to the wonders of the rainforest these days. Not much surprises me anymore––except for her.
I stay silent, attuning my senses to the humidity and usual insect harmony. While she scampers, searching for fuck knows what, I watch from the shade. The perversion of my unique situation pulsates in every cell of my body, including my dick. I’m bizarrely turned on by her narrow waist accentuated by a knot and the fact she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. The chemistry I’ve tried so hard to stamp out has contorted my character. I could be perceived as a menace. A fucking pervert. Or perhaps this is the true nature of lust. All red hair and soft curves of intoxicating lust. A crippling sensation where a man would do anything to glimpse at the creature feeding his soul with nectar.
“Dante!” She hunkers down near a tree trunk. “It’s a jaguar cub. He’s bleeding.”
I reach for my gun. The very weapon I despise, but feel justified in carrying. “Be careful, beija flor. If it’s on the wrong side of the electric wire, the mother won't be too hospitable if she finds a way in to rescue it.”
Hair spills over her shoulders as she investigates, ignoring the fact she’s tampering with nature. “He’s shaking. We have to help him.”
That’s when I hear the cub’s whine. The defenseless critter will die out here without a mother to teach it the rules of the jungle. If it has open wounds, it won’t survive the night, let alone the next few hours. Runts are automatic victims. They’re bullied and ripped apart as prey.
On occasions like this, cruelty is the kindest answer. A swift end for a wretched soul who can’t be saved. Jaguars hunt and perish in the wild, always on high alert for danger. Even they understand death is never too far away.
Joining her, I fold over the mass of speckled fur tainted with crimson. “Step away, beija flor.” I point the weapon at the cowering animal, no bigger than a domestic cat. This terminal outcome is for the best.
“What the hell are you doing?” Iris jerks her torso in front of the cub, thinking she’s a human shield. “Stop!” My muscles brace. The barrel lines up with her forehead. Aimed at the only thing I secretly treasure in this sad existence I call life. Chills scurry down my spine as a wash of heat breaks over my skin. The hand brandishing my piece in her face quakes. Her skin drains of color. “They’re endangered, Dante.” Inky pupils flare encompassing mahogany tones of glossy brown. “Let me help him, and then I’ll set it free beyond the border before I leave.”
I catch a tight breath and drop my aim, lowering the weapon with an arm heavier than lead. Fucking hell. My veins run cold, and my legs weaken. I try to speak, but it takes a moment to talk myself out of the shock. “Do not put yourself in the way of a bullet ever again.” My voice spears her with a javelin and tips hot oil over her thoughtless act. “Do you fucking hear me?” I close in on her, getting up in her face. “I could have killed you.”
She flinches when I grab her jaw and squeeze in desperation. I shouldn’t be so rough with her, especially after almost blowing a hole in her precious skull, but I’m far removed from calm.
“Dante,” she whispers, bringing her palm up to cover my hand. It’s soft, and warm and needed.
I straighten and shrug my hand away, looking down to my white knuckles wrapping the gun. “That was a stupid fucking move,” I snip, scraping at my neck to help regulate my breathing. “I get you want to save the rainforest, Iris, but not at the cost of your life.”
Rosy lips pout, and she trails her gaze from the gun, to the cowering cub, and back to me. “You were going to shoot it. Why?”
“To spare it from days of misery and suffering.” Aware of the weight of steel in my hand, I position it snugly under the waistband of my shorts. “Why would you value its life over your own?” I say on a growl with a mouth drier than the desert.
“I…” She looks away. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me.”
She trusted the monster with a gun. Fuck, even I’m not sure I would trust myself. I swallow down my anger before it escalates. “I’d never intentionally harm you, but accidents happen.” My lungs shrink, and my stomach folds in on itself until I’m numb. “I was about to pull the damn trigger, Iris.”
“Dante,” she says my name on a breath, almost like an apology. “You’re right. It was a dumb thing to do.”
Her fingers find mine, and she carefully draws circles on my wrist. Gentle, delicate loops that ease my anxiety. Hot blood around my body. I tip in closer, studying the freckles scattering the bridge of her fine nose.
“This is why you’re leaving,” I confirm, holding back the urge to dot kisses on her flushed cheeks.
She nods quietly, never taking her hand away. The rush of tingles spreads over every inch of my flesh. I can smell her salty skin and decide that kissing her is the wrong thing to do, for the both of us. Slowly, I pull away and drag a palm over the scratchy hairs on my jaw. “Can we go now?”
“I’d like to bring him with us to the medical facility.” She twists toward the bloodied cub, oblivious to the cracks in my foundations. “I’ll clean him up so he will have a chance at least. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Fine.” I sigh through my nose and move away, peeling my T-shirt off. She looks over at me, muted, but every bit aware of my naked chest. The tip of her tongue slips between her lips, and I resist the impulse to fuck her pretty little mouth.
The sooner I drop her off with Sal and go back to business, the better.
With the cotton pulled wide, I trample over fresh shoots to reach the animal that’s caused more harm than it’s aware of and cover its body fully. This is a very bad idea. Women attach themselves to babies and kittens and anything remotely cute or vulnerable. An odd twinge of jealousy curdles in my stomach.
Scooping up the cub brings me dangerously close to her again. I hear her every breath and sense her thrumming pulse. The cub squirms until I’m upright. Her eyes sparkle when they find mine, making my heart pinch. “He’s your responsibility. Once you’ve tended to his injuries, we’ll go to the boundary fencing together and let him loose.”
“Absolutely,” she agrees, scrambling to a stand. “I’ve named him Laoch.” Her fingers twist the tips of her hair. “It means warrior. Like a champion.”
I groan, carefully maneuvering the cub so its jaw rests comfortably on my forearm. “No pet names.”
“Why?” Her face scrunches.
“Once you name something, you open the door to attachment.” I walk away, knowing she’ll follow.
“Really?” She laughs lightly, trotting up beside me. “You call me beija flor. That’s a pet name, is it not?”
I side eye her, finding an expression I’m unfamiliar with. She grins up at me with entitlement. “I gave you a new name. That’s completely different. Iris Kitson washed away in the river, remember? I offered you a whole new identity and a second chance.”
Bumping her elbow into my arm, she doesn’t hide her appreciation. “You saved me, and I’ll always be grateful to you. However, you can’t deny it. Beija flor is totally a pet name, and we both know it. You could have called me Sharon or Sadie.” Her chuckle sails through me and ignites heat in my heart. “Instead, you named me after a beautiful bird.” The laughter disappears, and she whispers, “Or maybe I was just a bird trapped in an aviary.” She doesn’t wait for an answer and continues. “Anyway, he’s got a name now. So we have to save him too.”
I take her all in, utterly consumed with every minor detail and exquisite feature. I’d give anything for this moment to be normal. For beija flor to christen her cub and protect the rainforest as she wishes. I would hand over billions to fix this unfair situation. But the truth is, caring bandages won’t help bullet holes, and my macabre thirst for revenge won’t be satiated after blood coats my hands.
“You were never a pet,” I confirm, even if the lines around it are hazy. “You're an ecologist who needs a safer environment to carry out your important research.” I shrug. She opens her mouth to speak and thinks better of it. “Even if I agreed to let you stay,” I say with a lowered breath. “I can’t promise to be there if you need me. From now on, I need complete concentration with no distractions. If you get in my way, it won’t be my enemies who we will fear––it will be me.”
She doesn’t reply. Her face blanches with sickly understanding. I stiffen, hardening my posture, staying stoic in the justified decision. The wounded cub doesn’t argue or strain to break away. Instead, its legs drape over my arm, swinging listlessly. We’re both responsible for its fading life. The irony isn’t missed when I hug him closer to make sure he’s warm. I’m the guy who reluctantly accepted the role of savior rather than exterminator. And now I’ll do anything to save it from death just to prevent her heart from breaking.
The track I’ve trodden from my home to the Oasis over the years meets partially cleared terrain. Sunlight pours through the canopy in thin columns, fringing the adjacent timbre pathway ahead of us.
Her tiny hand lands on my lower back. “Just so you know, after everything we’ve been through together, I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me. I understand why I’m not welcome here anymore.”
I swallow down lumps of irritation. Miguel is the one who isn’t welcome in my Oasis. If it wasn’t for him, then maybe… it’s not worth dwelling on.
I’m not a callous man by nature. Deception has carved out this new version of me––this cold-hearted character. Bitterness and heartache have dulled the need for affection, only thinking of it as weakness.
“Good,” I add with a sharp bite. The patch on my skin where her hand settled cools once it slips away. I continue to cover the track and jump onto sunny planks. “If Jackson is too busy, we’ll have to treat the cub ourselves.” Her short strides keep up with my naturally quick pace. “And if the injury is infected or too bad to mend, I’ll put him out of his misery right away. Okay?” Iris withers back a step, her amble reducing in speed. “He’ll get torn apart out there if he shows any sign of helplessness. Isn’t it better to be cruel in order to be kind?”
I look back to find her arms folded and eyebrows raised with worry. “Let’s take a closer look at him first.” She softens her tone to pacify me. “It might not be all doom and gloom. Life doesn’t always end in death and destruction, Dante. Sometimes there’s hope and—happy endings.”
Instincts tell me to run from the very thing she calls hope. There’s every likelihood this runt won’t see a new sunrise, and after that his lifeless carcass will be fodder for the river rats.
We reach the glass fronted medical facility together. She jogs ahead and opens the door for us. Sticky heat meets a refreshing cool breeze. Goosebumps chase the hairs on my nape when she brushes past me, accidentally nudging her breast into my elbow. That one thoughtless accident has me on high alert for more opportunities to touch her inadvertently.
“Iris?” Sal shoves out from under the desk and stands to greet her with a big fucking grin on his face.
“Sal!” The over friendliness in her tone pecks at my last nerve. I’m not the only one she’s bonded with during her stay. I can’t quite fathom the seething possessiveness burning under my skin. I barely contain it when she announces, “Look, we found a little jaguar. He’s called Laoch.”
As if the two were best buddies, she closes in and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a motherfucking hug. The embrace only lasts for a single racing heartbeat, but it pisses me off.
I growl out my displeasure, alerting them to my volatile mood. I’m seconds away from dragging her to my hip, where she should be.
He taps her chin with his knuckles and quickly side steps out of the way. “It’s great to see you again.” He smiles at her and then looks right at me with the same quirk to his lips. “You just missed Jackson. He’s collecting supplies from the arranged drop off point. He won’t be long. I can call him if you think the cub needs medical assistance.”
“No. It’s fine.” I shake my head. There’s two of us. Iris and I. A third person will only get in the way. “We’ll assess his wounds, and if he needs stitches, Jackson can take over.”
I stalk past him, with Iris following behind. The din coming from the soles of her boots echoes in the empty corridor. It’s a steady beat to vex my reclusive tendencies and offer companionship over solitude.
My slamming heart bucks away from the echo of togetherness. “In here.” I kick the half-open door and march in. Astringent antiseptic odors hit my senses, snapping me out of the fog. The hygienic treatment room is well presented with orderly shelves and organized equipment. White walls are a bright contrast to the earthy tropic of the outdoors.
Laying the cub on the hydraulic operating table, I hold my tee over its sleepy form while Iris clicks on the surgical light hanging from a long arm. A burst of halogen highlights blood-soaked material. My stomach swoops when Iris tries to hide a gasp, knowing it doesn’t look good.
She darts from cabinet to locker, gathering sterile scissors, pads, disposable gloves and a clear solution. “Can you hold him while I clean up the blood and see where it’s coming from?” Her eyebrow cocks when she shoots me an apprehensive glance.
I nod, offering a tight smile.
“Be careful he doesn’t bite you,” she says with a breathy warning. Like I give a fuck if it snaps at me; it’s her I’m protecting from its razor-sharp teeth.
She places the supplies on a metal table and wheels it to the bed. Tucking messy curls behind her ear, she inhales deeply before strategically lifting up the fabric.
Congealed golden fur died scarlet, edges a superficial scrape which would cause discomfort. All the blood makes it look worse than it probably is, but I don’t comfort her with possible lies. Instead, I let her take the lead and obey her instructions.
I pin the cub by its neck and cuff its hind legs, then watch her work. A thin crease lines her forehead, and those intense black magic lashes of hers flutter as she wipes around matted fur. Bloodied gauze is replaced repeatedly, and then she dabs her brow with the back of her hand. She’ll make the perfect mother one day. Another reason we’re incompatible. Where kindness and forgiveness weaves through her soul, those qualities are blackened and charred within mine. I did the right thing, ordering Jackson to put an end to my bloodline. I’ll never father a child and that’s the right choice for me.
“It’s a bleeder for sure.” Her eyes find mine fused to her face, lost in thought. She stares back quietly, searching for something. My green eyes to her coffee rich brown.
“You’re doing a good job,” I reassure, noting her swallow. “Is it deep enough to need stitches?”
Her eyes fall to the slice on the cub. “I don’t think so. A dressing and a bandage should do the trick.”
Regrets snares me again. This is not how I expected my day to go. If anything, I hoped to put as much distance between both of us as possible. Now, I am standing before her with a bruised heart, falling for her as she nurses a damn injured animal.
A frail cub without the energy left to fight. He looks starved of love, and no more than six-months old. And worse still, her sexy Scottish pitch purrs reassurance of a healthy future, soothing the patient like they will spend an eternity together.
Yet the jaguar will return to the wild. El Fantasma will fall back in line. I will store Iris in the empty abyss, where happiness languishes beneath my quest for bloodshed. Equilibrium will be restored, and her havoc will gradually diminish.
I lay my hand over hers as it rests on the bed for support. I’m so lost. The warmth of her skin reaches inside me, coaxing me to lean in. Those messy coconut essence curls will always entice me. I’ve lost count of the drowning thoughts I sank into night after night, all alone. Imagining her mouth on mine. Our bodies intertwined. And now I’ve experienced what it’s really like to have her in my bed. It’s heaven. No matter how much effort I muster, the impulse to kiss her overpowers my control, which makes this my living hell.
“Thanks for helping him,” she says softly, surprising me with a bold smile. “I knew you had a big old heart in there somewhere.”
She slides her hand free and takes a shuddered breath. I eye her closely as she packs the cut and wraps a crepe bandage around the cub’s rib cage. Once she’s finished, the latex gloves come off and get tossed in the waste disposal bin.
Lowering her face to the drowsy jaguar, she whispers, “You’ll be okay, Laoch. Tomorrow you’ll go home.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Releasing him?” She unfolds and straightens her spine.
“No, keeping him for the night. The longer you keep him in captivity, with human interaction, the more domesticated he’ll become. He won’t stand a chance of survival then.” I’m undecided if the statement was aimed at her, or at myself. Either way, she slams her hands on her hips meaning business.
“One night. And then I’ll set him free. I’ve been in captivity for weeks now and that hasn’t changed me, right?” She hesitates. “I’ll survive in my homeland because I’ve got brave Scottish blood coursing through my veins. He’s a fighter too. After a hearty meal, he’ll be ready. You’re the one who chooses to be alone; the rest of us don’t have to be the same.”
Our eyes clash. “I’d rather live by myself knowing I’ve served justice. I won’t let anyone get in the way of that. Not even you.” I grit my teeth and resist the hiss of anger.
Iris swallows. “Even if that means you’ll miss out on living your own life?” The cub fusses a little, mewling with pain. “It’s okay, Laoch.” She breaks our standoff and looks down. Soft strokes on his small head are teamed with her soothing voice like silk.
I never wanted to suffocate under the violent storm within me. The Oasis is a temporary destination for criminals. Eventually becoming a safe place for both men and women who’ve been wronged, destroyed by lies or framed for a crime they didn’t commit.
Together, Jackson and I have spent years mastering the craft of rebirth. With each passing day, I failed to consider what would happen after I wiped the last life out. Once retribution was no longer an act to immerse in.
I hadn’t given it any thought until Iris arrived, and now, I’m left wondering if I’ll choose the same route as my shady clients and create a new life for myself. Or if that’s even possible.
Mulling it over, I conclude the likelihood of weathering the storm of suffering in the jungle as a loner in isolation with only my computers for company in the evenings. I’ll probably not cut my hair, and over time, the scruff will turn to a beard. And every night I’ll look up at the stars and think of my sister, staring at the same back velvet sky that Iris lives under on the opposite side of the globe. At least I’ll be content they’re both safe. Gabriela in Heaven and Iris in the arms of her family.
Since I’ve made the jungle my home, my men and I have replaced thousands of trees stripped by eco-terrorists. Our aim is to regenerate and prevent deforestation by patching up the unforgivable wounds blighting the woodland. We give back more than we take. I couldn’t leave now, even if I wanted to. The rainforest needs me, and I need its privacy.
“I don’t expect you to understand the sacrifice, beija flor. However, I respect you enough to put you on a chopper. Maybe one day you’ll find your way back.”
Her eyebrows tug together, and her hand rests on her stomach. “Would you welcome me back?”
I’m filthy, with slashes of blood and speckles of dirt covering my chest. I look down at the pitiful cub, assessing the state of us both. If I tell the truth, it will hurt her even more. If I tell her a lie, then I’m a fucking hypocrite. I look her straight in the eye. “I’d ask you to stay with me forever.” Iris gulps, and her hands drop by her sides. “But the facts are,” I continue quickly, “I have questions that need answered, and I’ll get them one way or another. Whether I’ll be the same man after I’ve finished, that's up for debate. You don’t deserve a man like that.”
She scoots around the bed and grabs my wrists, lifting to her toes to search my eyes. “You don’t have the right to tell me what I do or don’t deserve.”
“Goddamn it, beija flor.” I shirk out of her grip and seize her nape, tipping her head to bring her mouth closer. She glares up at me, preparing for whatever I unleash. Except, all I can think about is kissing her. I have no more words. No anger to offload. The reasons to send her away are depleting hour by hour. I find myself shaking my head, battling willpower.
“Dante,” she whispers my name, and I almost buckle.
I stare into her eyes and see everything I could ever want staring back at me. She means more to me than money, the Oasis, hatred and isolation.
Faint footsteps grow louder, the sound infiltrating my thoughts. I want to ignore it and confess how I’m rotten inside and she’s the only cure. The privacy I’m used to having abruptly ends. Iris looks past me, and I peer over my left as Jackson slams both of his hands to either side of his temples.
“What the hell is going on? Christ’s sake, you’ve contaminated my workspace.” He edges further into the room, studying the heap of bandaged fur and dirty gauze strewn from one end of the operating table to the other. “Holy shit. We treat humans in here, not sick animals. What is it with you and strays?”
Iris lowers her face, forcing me to reluctantly let go. “Jackson,” I reply on a growl.
“Let me…” She pivots away, slides the cub into her belly, and lifts him like a baby. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” She actually apologizes to him. “I’ll take him outside.”
Sniper sharp reflexes snare her elbow. “No, you won’t. I own this facility, and him.” I shoot a glare at my friend and then find her worried eyes again. “Never apologize for doing the right thing. He’s a cranky old fucker who should know better than to interrupt me.” He’s well aware of my craziness, so this shouldn’t be a surprise. “The room needs a deep clean anyway and possibly a remodel. Whatever you need to make improvements, I’ll sign off on it, Jackson.”
He shakes his head from side to side and sighs. “Do you need me to look at him?”
“Iris fixed him up. He’ll live another day because of her.” A swell of pride hits me in the chest.
She smiles faintly and keeps her eyes to the sleeping jaguar in her arms. “He was on the wrong side of the boundary.” I study her as she speaks. “Once he's made a full recovery, he’ll be back with his family.” A ferocious streak of instinct cradles the cub tight to her chest.
It doesn't matter that she’s covered in flecks of blood, that her tangled curls are tipped with a humid frizz or that her pearly skin glows with a new sun-kissed radiance. She lives and breathes survival. Not only for herself, but for the tiny wild cat she saved from dying.
Determination halo's a proud posture. It’s ballooned in strength and fortitude since I first set eyes on her. Being a prisoner hasn’t sedated her luster, it’s varnished her with luminosity and given her wings. Not that I take credit for the metamorphosis. That’s all her––and I'm in awe. Profoundly fascinated and moved by her show of resilience.
“Your jaw has healed perfectly.” Jackson strolls to the stocked cabinet and gathers a fresh pair of gloves. “May I?” He idles into her space with debonair grace and refined poise.
Iris flicks her curious gaze to my silent assessment. He’s my only trusted friend, aside from Sal. Both on my payroll and both indebted to me. Even still, I regard him as a close confidant, which is why it’s unusual for me to feel unsettled when he reaches for her face.
Jackson is well educated, with an insatiable charm and aristocratic countenance. He’s never endured poverty or struggled to pay the rent. Even if his old life no longer exists, those qualities make him a better prospect for Iris. Better than I could ever be.
I beat down the thunderous jealousy threatening to explode inside of me and bring my curled hand to my mouth, discreetly hiding my grimace.
Jackson inspects her face as any medical professional would, stretching her cheek with latex fingertips. Uncertain brown eyes hunt out mine. It terrifies me how my emotions are cracking. How these feelings I’ve never known before are mutating from a rainstorm of distrust to a tsunami of necessity.
“It’s remarkable.” Jackson backs away. “The scar is barely visible. I can show you how it looks if you like?” He pulls out a drawer and extracts a golden handheld mirror. The only one in my Oasis. Saved for the big reveal at the end of each stay. My stomach heaves, aware of the fitting gesture. How it’s marking the finality of her journey and introducing her to my courageous beija flor.
Her lower lip wobbles, causing me to brace every muscle for strength. “I… I don’t know… it’s been so long since...” she stammers, swallowing in a rush.
Jackson lowers the burnished surface. “What are you afraid of?” he asks.
Instinctively, I understand where her fear originates. She’s afraid she won’t recognize the woman in the reflection. That she’ll either hate herself for surrendering to the man who incarcerated her, or weep for the innocent girl who died in the forest with her mentor.
Her lips draw in, and she stares over at me with conflicted, wide eyes. This isn’t the feisty woman I know. She’s become fragile, sadly missing the gutsy attitude I love so much. Yet this vulnerable side of her plucks at my heart even more. An overwhelming need to protect her pulls me closer.
When her eyes mist, I’m compelled by none other than utter compassion to move in and circle her waist, tugging her hip tight to my side. She fits next to me. Although dainty and small in stature, she’s the perfect shape and size to rival my authority.
We are equal.
“Take a look at yourself, beija flor.”
Goosebumps shower my skin when she nods, obeying my last command. I breathe in deeply when Jackson lifts the mirror and teary eyes settle on her stunning reflection.
“You see? You’d never suspect you had an infected lesion there a few weeks ago. The tincture you made worked a miracle.” He grins at me, unaware of her rocky path. Blinded to the nights we fought each other to stay away and the nights we couldn’t pry ourselves apart. “I’ll use the new blend on the next client when you give me the exact recipe.”
I don’t meet his admiration. Instead, I study her silent observation and how she cuddles the damn cub for comfort––and not me.
“Excuse me.” She lowers her lashes and takes a tattered breath as if she’s about to cry. “Will you take care of Laoch while I go to the restroom?” I see the skirmish unfold behind her eyes when she looks up at me. The effort to keep herself in check isn’t missed. “Hold him from under his tummy.”
I want to drag her into me and tell her everything will be okay, but even I’m not sure it will. Her valor falters, and she blinks away the salty liquid sheen, afraid to crack like a hairline fracture weakened under pressure.
Then it happens. Before I gather the cub from her arms, my thumb and forefingers snare her clenched jaw. Instantly, her pupils expand at the contact, and she inhales in a gust. My dick thickens at her responsive reaction, conscious of the violent voltage surging to my nerve endings. “Are you okay?”
She sways into me, silently staring back. Lost in whatever thoughts are swirling in her mind. Her neck strains, and she tries to turn her head away. “I’m fine.”
The warm cub meets my abdomen. I draw him in, careful not to touch his bandages. Once she’s content I’m holding him properly, she does a one-eighty and leaves the room.
“Well… I…” Jackson scratches his head.
“Don’t say a word,” I bite out, rocking the cub back and forth as it grumbles.
He holds up his hands and feigns shock. “I was only going to congratulate you on the tincture. The concentration of ingredients worked well this time. You must have spent hours getting it right.”
“It’s a new combination I was testing for burns.”
Over the years, the local villagers who live in the depths of the rainforest have taught me the ways of natural living. They don’t need to rely on the modern world. Not when nature supplies medicine and shelter. From alternatives to clinically produced medications to healing tonics and immune system enhancers. There are thousands of medicinal plants growing in abundance, and their traditions utilize and create interesting remedies.
“Aside from your botany skills.” His lips curl to a half smile. “I think the main reason the scar healed without a trace is the care and attention you gave her. She’s lucky you devoted all your time to her during the fever. With that and the infection, it’s a wonder she survived. Does she know you were there every step of the way?”
I shrug. “That’s not important. She’s strong. I’m certain she would have recovered with or without me.”
“I’m not so certain.” He dishes out a serious scowl. “She was in a terrible state. You could have left her to die and saved yourself a lot of trouble, but I guess you saw something in her. Something you see in yourself, perhaps?”
“We’re nothing alike.” I laugh low in my throat. “She’s everything I’m not. Pure, loving, forgiving and filled with so much courage. It scares me what she’d be capable of if she was pushed.”
Jackson waggles his brows. “Exactly,” he replies with a mumble. “Anyway, do you want me to contact the pharmaceutical companies so they can mimic your new product?”
“No. That brings assholes in suits. Those leeches would strip out every plant without a regrowth plan.” The baby jaguar gripes. “Get me some of the cannabis oil. I’ll rub it on his gums before I check on…” I’m about to say Iris when Sal flings the door open.
My head snaps up.
“Sir,” he pants, holding the door handle for support. “We have a big fucking problem. Luiz is trying to reach you.”
