Fall by Autumn Archer
2
PRESENT DAY
“Please, Dante. Let me explain,” I gasp, caught in the middle of his brutal carnage. Thunder crashes overhead and a flash of light illuminates his pulsating veins and flaring nostrils. He fluidly crouches before me and seizes my throat. Our eyes meet for the quickest second. Mine wide with terror and his narrowed with madness.
The heel of his palm presses into my windpipe, making it hard to swallow. His torso slants toward the supine body next to me on the floor. The unconscious man who attacked me is exposed from the belly down, revealing a flaccid dick. A blood-spattered toweling robe splays open and bandages from his recent surgery have fallen to the floor. Leather knuckles constrict as Dante snakes the belt free from under the man’s waist.
“Don’t speak,” he grits out. “No more lies. You gave him a note behind my back. You thought I’d never find out, beija flor.” When the hummingbird’s name escapes, he thumps a fist to his temple and blows out hard. “Eyes down. Don’t fucking look at me, Iris, or I swear I’ll kill you right here, right now.”
With the soft cord threaded through his fingers, he bows his face so fury tipped shoulders, frosted with sorrow, bring feathery whiskers close to my cheek. I pray the violence unravelling within him calms. An edgy snarl follows a second of uncertain silence. “Open your lying mouth.” The command holds no room for bargaining. His tone blasts like a bomb filled with nails, casting deadly shrapnel with the sole purpose of causing harm.
“Dante.” The name catches in the air. “I can explain.”
I flinch when the hand wrapping around my neck jumps to my jaw, locking my face before him. “You don’t know me. Never call me by that name again. There isn’t anything you can say to fix this. I should have put you down the night we found each other in the forest.”
Dante is gone.
El Fantasma dominates.
Hot tears stream from the corners of my eyes. I want to ask what stopped him from killing me back then. Why did he stay with me while I was battling the fever? Why did he welcome me into his kingdom? Yet, covered fingertips bite into my cheeks to keep me silent. No matter how hard I thrash, I’m imprisoned by brute strength. Where untold passion once bloomed between us, haunting despair vibrates with a promise of pain.
He releases me and roughly shoves the cotton belt past my front teeth. The ruthless knot behind my head tugs and traps woven strands of hair. I’m gagged and muted, kneeling before him as he rises to a predatory stand.
“If you try to remove it… I’ll…” His jaw locks, and he stares at me with a wild gaze. His breathing slows from uncontrolled to shallow. Swallowing hard, he shields his eyes once again and swears in a tyrannical rumble.
“Sir?” A man with a walnut complexion, broad nose and a neat goatee stops abruptly, locking eyes on the bloodied scene. He reaches for his weapon, meeting Dante’s explosive aura. “What happened?”
“My gun, Luiz.” Dante crooks his fingers. “I need my piece, now.”
Luiz lowers his firearm and reaches behind his hip, retrieving yet another gun. “Is there something I can help with, sir?”
Metal meets leather. Dante’s features remain void of emotion. Chin low. Eyes to the broken man. A hair-raising calmness blankets his turbulence. “Yeah, get the chopper ready.” As the order snaps out, he straightens his arm and points the loaded gun to the beaten man.
With a twitch of his finger on the trigger, a bullet competes with the crack of a thunderbolt. An intermittent explosion of electricity highlights the cartridge’s supersonic journey where lead tunnels on a mission to terminate.
My veins run ice cold. I hunch over, gripping my stomach as it heaves. The reality of his actions bleed out before us. There’s no doubt the man is dead. The mushrooming puddle of sanguine fluid around his skull confirms it.
Terror racks my bones. Fear barbs over my skin. El Fantasma. The monster. He’s my enemy, and now I’ve betrayed him.
“Get up.” He doesn’t touch me, only stares at the doorway without looking back to address me.
Uncontrollable teardrops sting my eyes. I swallow and do as he asks. The aroma of citrus combines with a metallic waft of death. Dante’s fingers tighten around his weapon when he steals a glance, checking to see if I’m on my feet. At that second, I’m not even sure if I am standing because the break of sickness crashing through every cell in my body makes me lightheaded.
A rise of horror within me distorts the replica suite, making the world around us so much darker than it should be. The ache spearing the chambers of my heart spreads to my stomach when he marches from the cabin, expecting me to obediently follow. I can’t physically bring myself to slide a foot forward. Everything inside me shakes.
“Now!” His voice booms.
I try to move once more, but I stumble and trip over my unsteady feet. Leaving ventilated air to the oppressive heat of the outdoors, I collapse to the worn planks and hunker on my hands and knees. Every fast breath welcomes fuzzy tingles of panic. There has to be another way. Whatever he has planned for me undoubtedly involves destruction. Ghostly chains of unbearable worry for my future keeps me locked to the planks, huddled and silently pleading for mercy.
“Iris.” Dante’s boots appear. “Get up.” I risk a look, noting his unfriendly grimace. My head sways, and I hum out a plea of forgiveness. Instinctively, my hands raise to the material, silencing my voice. He squeezes the bridge of his nose, then stoops over and snares my wrist. “I said, get up.” White teeth bared, ready to bite back at my muffled protest.
He thinks I’ve betrayed him.
Once upon a time, we shared parts of ourselves under the stars. He rewarded me with an understanding of peace and respect. Now it’s gone. Any glimmer of hope he offered is ruined.
I wish for three single grains of time. A grain of the present to tell him the truth. A grain of the past to unwrite the note. A grain of the future to know what punishment he deems fit for the woman who unintentionally shattered his trust.
Together, we cover the walkways at speed. Him forcing me to keep up with his determined strides and me trotting helplessly by his side, overpowered by masculine seething rage. Faraway thunder growls, now miles away from the Oasis. Palms sway in the aftermath of the raging storm, oblivious to the blizzard icing me out of Dante’s life forever.
A helicopter comes into view on the clearing ahead. Luiz is in the cockpit preparing for takeoff. Dante’s grip squeezes harder when the wind whips my hair into a frenzy. Apprehension spikes my heart rate out of control. Boarding an aircraft with a man slipping from humanity only makes me more determined to speak. With one hand, I blindly pluck at the tight loops.
“Don’t take it off,” he warns, refusing to look at me. “I have zero interest in what you have to say. It’s too late for that shit.”
I continue to struggle with the cord, oblivious to the steps leading to a fern fringed helipad. On a quest to be judged by the truth and not an assumption, I lose my balance and topple. In a heartbeat, before thought or consideration of his actions, he catches me. My muscles had braced for impact. Now they quake in his disconcerting embrace. We are chest to chest. Breath to breath. Hatred to hatred.
Blades gather momentum and cut through the sultry atmosphere. Playful parrots take to the sky, startled by the mechanical whirlwind. His jaw works as he tries to stop whatever emotions are running riot within him. Citrus surrounds me, and then evaporates, when he bumps me backwards. He grits his teeth and angles his head away. “Get in the helicopter.”
I stagger a few paces, then pivot to face him. My teary gaze pleads with his hidden assessment. There has to be a drop of compassion left. I know it lives inside him. I’ve seen it. I’ve welcomed it. Amity exists within the hostile savage grappling with violent tendencies.
My shaky fingertips fumble with the unforgiving bite at the corners of my mouth. He jolts, understanding how desperate I am to speak. His entire body simmers with visible restraint. Either his composure will remain solid, or I’ll suffer the consequences of a blistering warpath.
“Don’t try it,” he barks close to my face. “Get. In. The. Chopper.” His unnerved voice punctuates each word with no yelling. The unhallowed sharpness of his tone pelts me with ice, freezing me to the hard surface beneath our feet. Whatever response I offer won’t have the power to chip past his impenetrable wall. Not now, not ever.
Without delay, Dante wrenches my elbow and trails me toward the aircraft. He slides the door open, angles in and sweeps me into his arms. It’s not a romantic gesture or even a friendly offer of assistance. It’s rough and rapid. He propels me inside, and then I’m swiftly followed by a human storm of brawn. I’m trapped in a tiny compartment with him. He leans in toward the pilot and barks an order in Portuguese.
Neither of us are buckled in or wearing headsets when the helicopter rises vertically through an eclipse of mist. During the downpour, a bold blue sky distorts to bleak. Clouds suffocate the sun with an oppressive gloom.
He’s not prepared to hear the truth.
He wants to believe I’m a despicable liar.
I stare at his rigid form with a fixed spine and sharp gaze stabbing the horizon. My heart slams into my chest like he’s injected me with a killer shot of caffeine. Unruly and hysterical. All the air in the cramped space thickens with every rushed breath. Treetops blur beyond the windows, leaving the Oasis as a distant sanctuary.
Our pilot lifts his hand and gestures to Dante with a circular motion. The aircraft swoops, and my heart drops with it. Turning into me, he drags his sunglasses down his nose slowly. His winter green gaze joists with mine. He pockets the frames and reaches behind my head. The pressure on my mouth releases, and the cord flops onto my lap. The short hairs snuggling his jaw seem darker than before, changing the shadows of his face without the bright sunlight.
Seizing the opportunity, I hurry to justify my actions. “I wanted my sister to know I was safe. That’s all. Nothing else,” I holler over the deafening engine hum. The validation whooshes from my dry throat in a frenzy to be heard. His mouth contorts and a thin vein in his throat throbs. “I didn’t mention…” Before I finish the sentence, his hand shoots out and clamps my jaw. I flinch at his sharp contact. Forcing my gaze to glue with his, he tips into me. A thin crown of green disappears into a black hole of extinction. Nostrils flare as he grips his temper by the thinnest thread.
I gulp when he steadily inhales and wonder if he’s memorizing the scent of betrayal. My balled fist rams into his chest, bunching the tight material close to his taut pecs... I’m prepared for a war of words. For the aircraft to land. To be the victim of brute strength ushering me from expensive upholstery to an austere clearing where my mentor rests in peace.
Instead, our mouths connect.
Fierce lips fuse with mine.
The kiss shocks my pulse, so it pumps at a thousand miles per hour. It’s a convoluted joining of fury and stimulation. What it lacks in tenderness, it makes up for in adrenaline. I’m fluid and solidified. Molten and frozen. Terrified and inflamed with passion.
Impure sensations rocket straight to my core. Firm fingers dive into my windswept hair and tug me closer. His unstoppable intensity lessens in pressure, but persistent hungry lips take and take. Our violent tongues start a war and eager teeth clash like swords.
I’m so terribly weak, because I can’t get enough. All the wrongs mutilate into feelings of immoral pleasure. Volatile urgency burns through me, raging with an impossible need. I understand who el Fantasma is––but this. This was unforeseen and hotheaded. His rigid exterior has melted into the surroundings, leaving a heartfelt, consuming kiss.
He wants me.
And foolishly, I want him too.
Lost in his taste, I’m naively unaware of his intentions. In this indecipherable moment together, my guard lowers. Wishes of forgiveness are exposed as I surrender to the man with my life in his hands. Unfortunately for me, my already bruised trust is unimportant to him. I’m just a woman held prisoner by the most attractive devil I’ve ever seen.
The artery in my neck beats out of time when he groans into my open mouth. And in that very second, his torturous lips rip away. Dante stoops and reaches behind me. An earthy atmosphere whooshes between us when the helicopter door shoots sideways. Riotous winds dance with the corkscrew spirals pouring over my shoulders. Unforgiving hands cuff my wrists. I squirm and shout, butting into him with an urgent plea to escape. My head snaps around to meet thin air and a landscape of greenery without a protective barrier.
In that second, my heart levitates when the reality of punishment sinks in. A rebellious curl flickers out from beneath his cap. His scowl lashes me with hailstones. He rolls his shoulders, scattering icicles of his chilling mood into the atmosphere.
“What are you doing?” I scream over the mechanical whirring. “l can explain…”
His impassive expression breeds a howling chill that shakes me from the inside out. I know this man has the strength to crack the earth and bury me beneath the rubble. He has the insufferable instinct to wipe out those who deceive him. And he also has the ability to nurture and care. The desire to locate his heart makes me reckless and foolish, pitiful and desperate.
“I’m sorry!” I scream. “It wasn’t about you.” Our gaze binds in an unfortunate crusade where el Fantasma dictates. His eyes close for a split second, and I witness momentary unease. Lashes lift and an illusion of sympathy flashes behind his eyes. “Don’t do this…”
For a second, I believe our time together mattered, that he would give me a chance to explain. Instead, his hands tremble, and before I can swallow back another ragged sob, he shoves me back with all his weight.
Limbs flail helplessly.
A tattered scream echoes in the great expanse.
Gravity claims me, and I free fall without a safety net.
Whether it’s the landing that kills me or my shattered heart, I’m dead either way.
