Fall by Autumn Archer
12
When I finally met myself again in the mirror, I gazed upon a young woman with a profile I’ve known all my life. It was me. Iris Kitson. Beija flor. One in the same.
A clone in appearance swamped in frizzy curls with freckled cheekbones. Jackson was right when he said my scar was practically invisible. It was, just like the unseen cuts carved into my psyche.
The reflection projected a familiar face with precise features. What it didn’t show was the wreckage beneath the surface. How I tried to hide the turbulent emotions within me. The person I was before my trip to the rainforest wasn’t there anymore. My eyes hold secrets and desires more powerful than I’ve ever known. The woman I once was has grown in strength and cast a new net into an unknown landscape, which isn’t simply the jungle––it’s him. Dante Valez. He’s a complexity of his own, with a changeable microclimate to match his moods.
I have the same face, but I’m not Iris on the inside. Not the innocent girl from Scotland who never experienced the true sense of dark desire. I’m a reformed woman who can’t decide if it’s for the best. Although I’ve survived the worst and taken pleasure in a fantasy, I’m not sure how to revert back to my old life––or if I want to.
Glacial water blasts from the faucet, freezing my cheeks when I splash it over my face to shock me out of this inner melee. I collect a few balancing breaths and chant inwardly. I’m going home to my family where I’ll be safe and loved. I’ll see my little sister again and watch her grow. My parents will rejoice in my miraculous reincarnation. Everything will work out as it should.
I spend the next few minutes rolling out my shoulders and loosening the knots in my neck. Scrunching my fingers into my hair, I rake out the curls and think of Laoch. The endangered jaguar I’ve rescued from an untimely death. I sigh lightly, happy with the small contribution I’ve made. Now he can father cubs of his own so the species will thrive. That alone is the one good deed I’ve accomplished when all my early research turned to shit.
Sunlight bursts in through the window, fracturing light over porcelain. Beams dance on the polished stainless steel faucet, refracting a colorful rainbow arc on the wall. It’s a reminder of my simple life in the Highlands. My real home.
I’m snapped out of the daze when the door handle jerks and the door opens. Dante stands in the shadowy corridor. His torso remains gloriously bare, and his gloved hands fist at his thighs. The muscles of his jaw work as he pauses before me in silence. We stare quietly at each other. Him preparing, and me, unsure what for. I sense an undercurrent of crazy rippling through him. Hunger vibrates around his form, suggesting he’s close to combustion, or worse, that a need for violence has blacked out the last wisp of decency.
Something isn’t right.
My heart booms faster when he stalks into the washroom, pivots and locks the door. While he slowly uncovers his hands, a spectrum of light emblazons his sculpted chest. He is gorgeous in the sunshine. Masculine and sexy with hair all mussed up.
Edgy movements scream of compulsory control. There’s a wildness terrorizing his gaze when he faces me and stuffs the gloves into his back pocket. Closing the distance in three strides, he gently presses two fingers to my sternum and backs me against the wall.
Usually, when I stare into his eyes, I’m blocked by high walls. Halted by a boundary I desperately wish to hack away. Only this time, it’s different. There’s a profound connection linking him to me. An acute awareness of our intimate bond forged from misfortune.
Fingertips caress my jawline, carefully assessing the silvery scar tissue. The movement is soft and curious. Gentle and thrilling. I gaze up at him and find an openness like never before. With tenderness, wishful thinking and questioning behind searching eyes.
“Are you okay?” His voice is hoarse with tiredness, his breath hot against my face.
I nod, taking him all in. A flurry of tingles dance over my skin when he presses his forehead to mine. I’m totally besotted with him. Granted, he faked my death and held me hostage. He’s also killed as many men as he’s employed and probably fucked more women than I can bear. However, the way he’s looking at me now isn’t cruel or callous. His expression doesn’t whisper a vow of punishment or sting with hatred. It’s so much more, and I dare to believe he’s lost in this black magic, too. I fear I’ve fallen when he dots a kiss to the end of my nose, and my heart aches for him. The power behind the emotion is far superior than anything I’ve ever lived through.
Closing my eyes, I breathe him in. The familiar scents of citrus and salty sweat awaken hundreds of butterflies in my rib cage. I gulp them down before managing a whisper, “Is Laoch sleeping?”
“He’s fine.” There’s a strained roughness to his tone.
His hands slide from my cheeks to my shoulders and stop at the knot next to my belly button. Exotic forest green eyes lock on to me. The fabric unravels, and he tugs the T-shirt over my head. One by one, he pops open the buttons at my navel. Dark pupils dilate to pinpricks, expanding when his fingers skim the bare flesh beneath.
I exhale and let him lower the shorts to my ankles. This time, he doesn’t seize or snatch like I’m used to. Instead, he slots his warm hands at either side of my waist and effortlessly lifts me into the air.
Our chests collide, and I crawl onto him, hooking my legs around his hips. My fingers run through his hair when he sets my ass between the dual washbasins. He splits his attention, biting one nipple and then the next, devouring each breast with a hunger to make my mind spin. Then he looks up at me, his mouth latched on and his eyes burning. My nipple pops free, and he takes his time to straighten, brushing his nose over my skin. Bare hands cradle my face in his palms. His forehead bumps to mine as he inhales. We both do.
I sense a second of hesitation. It screams at me when his lips part and words fail him. Then, without delay, his mouth descends, and his wicked tongue slips between my teeth, making me liquefy. The kiss he offers is the last thing I ever expected from this man. It’s leisurely and soft with indulgence. Purposely disciplined as though he’s savoring the taste of me. My breath becomes his, and our lips threaten to never part.
After a mind-scrambling moment, he breaks away and releases his cock. So thick in girth and angry in anticipation. My blood thrums with willingness. I lift my knees higher, eyeing the serious lines furrowing his brow. Untamed hair catches as he blinks. He’s breathtaking.
“Dante…” I breathe his name when he spreads my thighs wide.
“Do you want this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I swallow my fluttering nerves, answering with honesty. “I want you.” Not just sex and intimacy, but all of it. All of him.
He glides feather light fingertips from my jugular, between my breasts and lower, studying the expanse of goosebumps on my exposed skin. My reaction to his touch lights a fire behind his eyes. “Do you need this as much as I do?”
His hand drops between us, and he slips a finger easily inside me. I’m ready for him, burning up for more. “Yes.”
My temperature rises when he angles his wrist. I drop my head back so the tips of my hair brush the top of my buttocks.
And then he bows, lowering his torso and replacing his fingers with a hungry mouth. He combines licks and sweeps of his tongue with sucks, doubling the pleasure when he inserts two fingers at once. And I unravel. My inner walls begin to contract and a tremor shakes through my legs. Shockwaves ripple through my core, and I cry out when he growls into the sensitive spasms. The sound of him vibrates inside me, heightening the rolling waves.
Hot kisses bring me around from my bewilderment. They cover my flushed skin, trailing back up my body until he’s standing before me again. Muscular and wild, every inch of him primed.
Finding my hips, he drags me closer to him so I’m sitting in a better position for him to take me. He hisses when the crown of his dick nudges into me, noticeably shivering when my nails scrape his biceps. As he aligns himself with my entrance, he pins me with a sexy as fuck look of pure unadulterated temptation. Hair tumbles over his forehead with disarray, and he bites his bottom lip before speaking. “I’ve never met a woman like you before, and I never will again.”
I want to reply, to explain how my life won’t ever be the same. Not now that we’ve met, and certainly not when I return to Scotland. I’d like to tell him that his grief will never leave, but I can comfort the pain of his suffering with love. With my love. If that’s what this really is. If time will allow us the opportunity to nurture an infatuation into something more.
As I go to speak, he dips and fuses his mouth to mine. While I’m lost in the warmth of his gentle kisses, he pushes deep inside me, joining us on a higher level.
I kiss him back, matching his hunger. Taking his bristled cheeks in my hands, I groan into his mouth, utterly overwhelmed by the invading thrusts that are ruining me. I angle my hips to increase the pressure, aware of his powerful movements grinding in gently and slowly.
He’s been rough in the past, controlling and commanding, and I secretly loved every second of it. Wanted more of his dirty demands. However, this––his dizzying pace and careful consideration is out-of-this-world.
Dante grunts under his breath, and I feel myself let go. The world around us spins, and my face drops to his shoulder. My teeth graze his hot skin. He buries himself deeper, nudging against my cervix with rhythmic plunges tunneling to my heart. My thighs tighten around his hips. One of his hands secures the base of my spine, welding our bodies together, and the other catches a clump of hair at my nape. He tilts my head and scatters wet kisses along my jugular, biting down gently to give me the edge I’m used to from him.
It’s not punishment.
It’s something far more complicated.
He knows what I like, reading my body and driving me higher. Our lips reconnect, and I taste the forbidden, rising into him, naturally meeting his thrusts. The passion he pours into our kiss distorts reality. Stars burst behind my eyes, lighting me up from within. The united languid pace mimics the concept of making love. And right there, in the midst of the Brazilian wilderness, I accept it. I’ve fallen for him.
I swear his senses are supersonic, knowing the very second I’m about to detonate. At that exact moment he thrusts up harder. A savage climax bursts through me, causing my inner walls to clamp around him as it takes control. He growls into my mouth, giving me the air I need to survive the force of him––to withstand the merciless orgasm.
I’m weak when he wrings out every shiver and shudder, chasing his own unstoppable release. The pleasured grunts he makes drive me wild, but I’m incapable of anything other than holding on to him. I hug the man who has shown me the perfect combination of both gentle and firm. The match to his dual personality.
When I mentally float back to the room, strong arms are wrapped tightly around me returning my embrace. His chest rises as he catches a breath while I desperately try to thread words together to form a sensible sentence.
Dante’s chin nestles at my temple, and warm lips press to the crown of my head. The echo of a single kiss fills the silence. Then he dips his face, softly circles his nose with mine and pulls back. He takes a quick step away and buttons his fly.
Serious eyes hold me under a spell. I’m perched before him, love drunk and exposed in more ways than one.
“That was…” I murmur, unable to express the confusing thump behind my ribcage. An unsettled vibe pulsates between us.
“I know,” he replies in an edgy growl. “It was…” His interpretation sticks in his throat. Long lashes lower, and he takes an obvious deep breath before turning away to the exit.
His spine stretches as every muscle in his back reinforces his powerful posture. The heat from his body vaporizes, replaced with a bitter frost. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder after he unlocks the door. Nor does he speak. He silently steps into the shadows so the sunlight streaming through the window leaves his skin, and the door closes behind him.
What just happened?
I slip off the counter, clean between my legs and redress. How dare he seduce me like that and then walk out without an explanation or even a smile. It’s not fair. The more I over-analyze, the angrier I become. My breathing changes from relaxed to erratic.
Who the hell does he think he is by dazzling me with meaningful sex and making me believe no one on this earth will ever replace him? I laugh off the crazy notion and lean against the wash hand basin for support. The tremble in my legs isn’t normal. I’m a shaky mess. From unkempt hair, to an irregular pulse, to the ache pinching my heart.
He’s not allowed to waltz in here and suggest eternity in a kiss, or awaken unthinkable emotions that have no place in this dynamic. To think I was going to admit to him that my feelings have escalated. I scrub my eyes and sweep my hair away from my face.
But I felt the intensity lacing his lips and witnessed the hunger in his eyes. Perhaps he’s changed his mind, deciding I should stay after all. He has a funny way of showing if that’s the truth. A pain spreads across my brow, and I press the heel of my palm against it to ease the pressure.
He gave me more than words. It was all there in the moment we shared together. And now, in the afterglow, I demand to know his true feelings.
Once my energy returns and I stop pacing like a trapped animal, I storm into the corridor and march to the treatment room. We’re going to have this out. Right here, right now.
He’s created the Oasis like the Alcatraz penitentiary. No one enters or escapes without his permission. I understand he’s cracking open the ironclad doors for his sisters’ murderer, but I’m also certain the men on his payroll can detain a prisoner. They serve and shield their ruler without falter.
Once Dante, or el Fantasma, whichever streak of malice in him strikes first, has finished avenging his sister, he’ll need someone to hold him. And that person could be me.
Laoch lays in a cocoon on the operating table. Jackson looks up from his clipboard when the door handle smacks into the wall.
“Iris.” He smiles softly, placating my nerves. “He gave the jaguar three drops of cannabis oil. It should sleep soundly until the morning.”
“Thank you. Where is…” I keep his real name to myself.
Jackson slants, reaching for a vial of simple solution. “He’s already left.”
“Left?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“What do you mean he’s left… He’s still in the Oasis, isn’t he?”
He studies the minuscule font on the label, not making eye contact with me. “No. Luiz called him away on urgent business. He’s probably boarding his helicopter as we speak.”
My lungs tighten. “He didn’t tell me.” Jackson glances over and cocks an eyebrow. “When is he due back?” I ask, my voice breaking under the shock.
“I’m sorry, Iris. After he heard the news, he went straight to the restrooms to find you. I thought he was saying goodbye.” Jackson scratches his head. “I’m not at liberty to tell you any details. All I can say is, he’s leaving the Oasis, and from what I’ve gathered, you won’t be here when he gets back.” My fingers go numb, and I sway, clutching my stomach. Black blobs dance over my vision and threaten to bring me down. “Are you okay?”
I’m far from okay. Now I understand. He wasn’t proposing a vacation in the wild; he was saying goodbye. “Sal?” I say breathlessly.
Although I asked, I don’t hang around to hear the reply. I need answers. I need Dante.
My heavy boot thud, announcing my arrival in the reception area, where I expect to find Sal. His chair is empty, and the air is chilled to an icy temperature, making me shiver. He must be with Dante, talking over whatever business he’s excluded me from.
I push out into the baking midday sun, staggering to a run. Covering the shaded walkways at speed, I dart around bends and sprint beneath palm fronds. Sweat rolls the length of my spine. My eyes squint as I run from intermittent shelter to sunshine. I’m painfully aware of the hollowness inside of me. It’s the void created in the absence of love.
We must talk this through. For the man so inflexible on truth, he owes me his honesty.
A hydraulic motor comes to life in the distance. The now familiar thwap of blades cutting up the atmosphere spikes my pulse. If I could run faster, I would run straight into Dante’s arms. My pent-up frustration explodes in a yell. “Wait!”
When I reach the helipad bordered by pretty blooms and sweet fragrances, I come face to face with a sleek black chopper rising into the sky.
I’m too late.
My voice breaks beneath the noisy engine. He’s gone, and I don’t know what that means for me now.
“Iris.” Sal comes into view from my left. I’d been so focused on catching Dante that I hadn’t noticed him drop down the steps to join me. He studies me quietly for a few moments, giving me time to comprehend the magnitude of Dante’s rash departure. He sets his hand on my shoulder, sensing my distress. “He’s gone away on business.”
“Gone, for how long?” I choke out. “He didn’t tell me he was taking off.” I bite my bottom lip to stop it from wobbling, certain my emotions will get the better of me this time. “I thought we had one more night together. Why did he leave?” My gaze never leaves the black dot in the sky, watching it grow smaller. “I have to talk to him. There are things we need to discuss before I leave.”
“Iris.” Sal’s grip tightens with comfort yet his tone drops to subzero. “You’re leaving first thing tomorrow. I’ve been tasked with escorting you to the helipad to ensure your safe departure. You’ll spend the night in one of the recovery rooms in the medical facility. Don’t worry.” He sighs, hitching his mouth to a light smile. “They’re like a hotel suite rather than a hospital ward. He said you’d want to stay with your cub.”
I gulp. “When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “There was a complication.”
“A complication with what?”
“Look, Iris, it’s business. Stuff I can’t talk to you about. Okay?”
“So that’s it.” My fingers bunch the hem of my T-shirt––Dante’s T-shirt. “I’m leaving before he returns?”
“Yes.”
“And this issue he has…” I fold my arms beneath my ribs for comfort. “Is it dangerous?”
Sal runs his tongue over his teeth, mulling over his response. “Yes, Iris. Everything he does is dangerous. You should know that by now. Which is why you need to understand how much safer you will be on the other side of the world. Leave Brazil knowing that you met the good guy because when he comes back, I’m worried he won’t be that man anymore.”
“I didn’t just meet him,” I whisper. “I…”
“I know. We all saw it unfold. Even if he didn’t. But it’s over now,” he says firmly. “If you don’t board the chopper in the morning, it’ll be my bloated body found by the river police. He burdened me with the responsibility of you…” Sal pauses. “Aside from this mission, you’re the only thing that matters to him. If I let him down…” His expression is grave, and he swallows.
“Sal.” I turn into him when the aircraft is merely a speck. “He wouldn’t kill you. You’re one of the few people he trusts,” I say sincerely.
His face remains straight. “Iris, el Fantasma would kill anyone for you.”
My blood swooshes in my skull, and Sal moves his hand away, leaving me unsettled. I’m not sure what hurts me the most. The fact he didn’t tell me he was leaving or that our time in the bathroom was the last moment we’ll ever share.
Is this really the end of us?
