Atlantean's Quest Volume 1 Page 7
Rachel shrugged the pack off and reached inside for a ratty T-shirt. She didn’t want to leave any litter, so she’d passed on bringing tissues. She grabbed the clean shirt and dabbed at her eyes.
She noticed a fallen tree about five yards away that looked inviting. Rachel dragged her backpack over to the mossy green trunk and sat down. The air was hot, muggy and all around unpleasant. She swatted at a bug, buzzing around her head.
Jac and Brigit were right. She wasn’t ready for a real expedition, one where people died. She needed her friends, needed to talk to them. She needed to get the hell out of this jungle.
Rachel glanced at the trail. The caravan had disappeared out of sight and she couldn’t hear the rustling of their feet. Something inside her told her she should be worried, but she wasn’t. Right now, she didn’t care. She needed to hear a friendly voice.
She looked at her watch, her mind scrambled, trying to calculate the time difference. Digging in her bag, she pulled out her cell phone, praying the satellite phone would work in this thick canopy. She punched in the numbers, almost by rote, since the sun barely permeated the green depths.
The line crackled and hissed, but then she heard the distinct sound of ringing. Her heart leapt.
“Pick up, pick up, Jac. Please pick up.”
“Hello.”
“Jac, it’s me, Rachel. Can you hear me?”
“I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as possible—if you’re lucky.”
Rachel’s spirits sank, swallowed up by the moist earth below her feet. She waited for the beep. Hopefully Jac would pick up her voicemail soon and get back to her.
“Jac, it’s me. I just wanted you to know that I miss you guys and I can’t wait to get home.” Rachel scrubbed tears from her cheek with her palm. “You were right. Right about everything. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll try to call later when we make caaaahhhhh—”
A big hand reached from behind her and covered her mouth. A man’s hand. Rachel tried to break loose and scream, but it was no use. The hand didn’t budge. Instead, the man grabbed her T-shirt, ripped it in half and shoved part of it in her mouth. A thin vine looped over the top of the hanky, cutting off all chance of yelling for help.
She clenched the cell phone in her hand and hurriedly pressed off with her thumb, before shoving the phone into her pocket. She didn’t want her friend to hear the last gasps of life leave her body.
She felt herself being lifted from behind. Rachel scratched and kicked frantically against her assailant, fighting like an animal possessed. Several more hands grasped her, tying her feet and wrists as she struggled.
Rachel recognized Jaro, the guide she’d been talking to earlier. What was he doing?
Several of the men from the expedition stood around her, holding machetes. She’d been trussed like a turkey by the time they’d finished. From the looks on their startled faces, she’d at least gotten a few good jabs in.
Serves them right.
Fear seeped into her bones, weighing them down like a marble slab. She was defenseless. They could do anything they wanted to her and she wouldn’t be able to stop them. She began to tremble as a flood of fresh tears filled her eyes.
In her mind, she tried to remember how many guides were on the expedition. Fifteen…twenty…enough for a very efficient gang rape. New York Times articles sprung into her mind about group violence. Wilding, they’d called it years ago. Her gaze moved to the machetes. What if…
No!
Her stomach flipped and bile rose in her throat. She screamed against the gag, her body tensing and straining, testing the strength of her restraints. The vines bit into her tender wrists. She felt the warm trickle of liquid drip down her hand.
Blood. Her blood.
Rachel’s head began to swim. If she were lucky she’d lose consciousness before they had a chance to touch her or chop her to pieces.
The guides began to chant ritualistic words, their voices strangely hypnotic in cadence as they addressed their gods, yet terrifying considering the situation. A familiar voice bellowed out. Rachel had never been happier to hear the Professor.
Where was he? He’d stop all this nonsense at once, if she could just get his attention.
Dr. Donald Rumsinger stepped into her line of vision.
She screamed into the makeshift gag and strained harder to get his attention. Blood roared in her ears. Tell them to untie me, you jerk.
The Professor glanced at her, then at the men surrounding her. “I told you my dear, in order to get the natives to continue on, there must be a sacrifice. You don’t mind that I mentioned to them that they could use you, do you?”
Rachel’s eyes bugged out. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. She tried to kick and scream, to no avail. The vines were too tight. She glared at him.
Rumsinger chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to save her. Hell, He was the reason they’d bound her in the first place. He’d set her up, knowing it would mean her death. Shock, fear, and revulsion crashed through Rachel until all that remained was white-hot anger. If she ever got out of here alive, he’d pay for this. And if she didn’t, Rachel swore she’d haunt him straight to hell.
The Professor turned to Jaro.
“I think she’s mad at me,” he smirked. “Make it quick. This part of the jungle gives me the creeps.” He rubbed his arms as if to ward off a chill, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her at the mercy of the native men. “Oh and Jaro, I don’t have to remind you to dispose of the body when you’re finished. We don’t want anyone stumbling upon her remains.”
Rachel watched his retreating back until he was out of sight, her eyes burning with rage. She blinked, then glared at Jaro.
He’d also observed the Professor’s hasty retreat, and a look of disgust crossed his coffee-colored features. His black eyes speared Rachel, a half smile covering his brown face. Without words, she pleaded with him.
“Perhaps I have time to show you what a real man is like. I’m sure the gods wouldn’t mind me sampling, before I send you off to meet them,” Jaro grumbled, rubbing his hand along the front of his pants.
Rachel watched in horror as his shaft began to lengthen and stir, straining the zipper. The men around her laughed and egged Jaro on. The pungent sweat of their bodies choked off the air. Rachel struggled, her boots kicking up bits of dirt from the ground. Revulsion and fear slithered through her blood like thousands of tiny fire ants, leaving her shivering and sweating.
“I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jaro crouched in front of her, reached out and pinched her nipple, twisting until pain shot through Rachel’s body.
She screamed against the gag and tried to roll away, but he stopped her.
“Maybe I’ll take that rag out of your mouth and put those pretty lips to use sucking my dick. I bet you’d be good.” The menacing smile on his face made her skin crawl. No wonder the men feared him.
Rachel watched Jaro raise his hand to his zipper, freeing his brown cock. He grasped himself, taunting, a not so subtle reminder of exactly what he planned to do to her.
“I can tell you’re hungry for me.” He cupped her sex. “I bet if I cut your pants off you’d be wet.” He pulled a knife out of his pocket and moved to make good on his promise.
Rachel shook her head and struggled violently against her bonds. She could feel the veins bulging in the side of her neck.
Jaro’s expression turned cold and he shoved his penis back into his pants. His black eyes bore into hers, sparking with barely contained rage.
“So you think you’re too good for me?” He spit on the ground beside her face. “You had your chance.” Jaro signaled to one of his men, who stepped forward and handed him something. Rachel got a glimpse of the weapon, when Jaro lifted the wooden rainbow painted club above his head. The singsong chanting which called to the forest gods resumed and increased in volume.
He brought the club down swiftly and thankfully her world went black.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Eros’s heart froze when he saw the native raise the ceremonial club in the air. He’d been following the expedition for the past several miles looking for a place to snatch his woman. He’d taken the time to scout ahead and now because of his absence she was about to lose her life.
He bellowed, a cry of anguish ripping from his chest, echoing through the jungle. Monkeys screamed and scattered throughout the treetops. Birds flapped their wings in their hurry to escape. Insects stopped their busy noises.
He raised his large palm, pointing it in the direction of the man holding the club. Brilliant energy shot out, ripping the weapon from the man’s grasp, searing the native’s hand. The guide screamed, clutching the burned limb.
The natives stepped away from Rachel’s limp body and scattered into the jungle. As they ran away, their panicked voices shouted warnings about the fierce ghost tribe.
Eros jumped down from the tree he’d been perched in, and ran a shaky hand through his long hair. His fingers trembled as the excess energy was absorbed back into his system.
He approached the woman slowly, carefully, his body as sensitive to his surroundings as an exposed nerve in a loose tooth. Natural predators gave him a wide berth, sensing the danger.
She lay bound, her sable hair thrown in disarray around her face from the struggle. Long lashes fell in soft crescents against her pale moist cheeks. The hat she’d worn sat amongst the leaves about ten feet from her small body.
He crouched and reached a fingertip out to move the stray lock from her forehead. She was warm. The breath from her pert nose came out even and deep. He picked her up as if she were the finest gem, brushing leaves away from her clothes and out of her hair.
Eros ran a hand over her, examining her for injuries. She’d be bruised if he didn’t treat her. He sent energy through her, the heat permeating her body, healing her from the inside out.
It was time to take her home.
* * * * *
Rachel awoke in mid air, her arms and legs hanging limp. She must be floating up to heaven. At least she hoped that was where she was headed. Her muscles were numb and sore from lack of circulation. The strange thing was her head didn’t hurt.
She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of large feet, then long golden tanned legs, a loincloth, bulging biceps and a wide muscled chest.
Yep, definitely heaven.
Her eyes were drawn up and up and up. The man lifting her was a giant. At least he seemed like it to Rachel as the ground grew further and further away. Flash by flash pictures collided in her fuzzy mind. The rainbow stick, the guides, the attack, being tied up. Rachel wriggled and thrashed as her head jerked around to spot her assailants. Where were they?
The man held her with one hand, her feet dangling a foot off the ground as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. Her struggles went unnoticed. He pulled a huge knife from a sheath at his waist and sliced through the vines binding her hands and feet. He left her gag in place.
She squirmed, trying to break his hold, all the while knowing escape was impossible. Rachel looked into his face and her breath seized.
His eyes, an unnatural shade of aqua blue, held her gaze—locking her to him, drawing her in, arresting her until all thought of escape vanished like a dream upon waking. Undisguised desire flared from their watery depths, promising, imploring, and beseeching.
His features were starkly handsome, as if he’d been chiseled from Michelangelo’s granite. Long sun-kissed hair hung wildly around his face and down his back, ending at his narrow hips. His lips were firm, but full, tempting. The whole package was a lethal combination guaranteed to make any warm-blooded woman swoon. Rachel locked her knees as an inkling of familiarity danced across her mind.
This was her dream man.
Except he wasn’t a dream at all. And he’d somehow saved her life.
Rachel stilled, every fiber of her being honed in on his body. She reached out, unable to stop herself from touching his bare chest. She had to make sure he was real for her own sanity. Her fingers met with steeled warmth, and tingled on contact. She laid her palm flat, scraping his disc of a nipple, which hardened on contact.
He flinched, then quivered as she ran her fingertips over his chest. A thin line of fair hair trailed from his navel into his loincloth. He was definitely real and full of contrasts. Soft, yet hard. Tender, yet fierce. His blue eyes widened as she continued her exploration, then turned tumultuous like the ocean in the midst of a storm. Her fingers threaded through the fine thatch of hair. Downy soft and nearly transparent, the strip of hair lead to a growing bulge. Before Rachel had a chance to do more, the man flung her over his massive shoulder. The air rushed out of her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath behind the gag. The giant took off, racing through the jungle at an astonishing speed. He clasped the back of her thighs, holding her easily.
Rachel squirmed against his arm. She tried to untie the vine holding her gag in place, but she was bouncing too much and her fingers weren’t cooperating. She had to go back. She owed the Professor big time and wasn’t about to let him get away without payback. Let’s see how he likes a gun shoved in his face. Rachel needed to find her pack and the little gift from Jac she’d shoved in the bottom of it. That was the only way she’d be able to get out of this place alive and back home to New York.
She pounded on her dream man’s back, hoping he’d let her go. It was like hitting concrete with a feather. Rachel clung to his waist as he jumped over tree trunks and zigzagged around vines. The ground rushed by in a blur of green.
Rachel concentrated on taking quick breaths, closing her eyes for a second to keep from getting sick. Her insides tossed and churned, like she’d been thrown into a human blender.
His large body was hot and slick with sweat and smelled of musk against the jungle air. Sliding against him reminded Rachel of intertwining bodies, skin on skin, and sex. She willed herself to keep pummeling him. The last thing she needed to do was go down that road. Her hands were red and hurt worse with each blow that fell. Sooner or later, he’d have to get tired of her attacks and let her go, or at least put her down.
The giant simply slapped her firmly on the butt and kept running. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a surprised breath. She hadn’t been spanked since she was a child. Rachel tried to rise up to protest, but his movements prevented it.
Heat radiating out from her rounded backside caused other things to stir. She chastised herself for being so foolish given the circumstances, yet her body continued to respond with an answering wetness between her thighs. Real or not, they’d shared a lot, even if it was only in her dreams. Rachel clamped her legs together. Ashamed, but turned on, she wiggled again, hoping and fearing another quick slap.
You’re being kidnapped by a giant, and instead of concentrating on freeing yourself, you’re getting horny. Pathetic much?
She hit him again, out of anger at herself. This time he stopped and pulled her off his shoulder. She dropped to the ground, unable to support her weight. His eyes sparked when they met hers. She’d angered him. What was she going to do now? Rachel crawled to a nearby tree trunk and cowered, waiting for the blow to come.
It never did. Instead, he just stood there watching her, a frown upon his face.
She tried to pull the gag from her mouth, but the knot was too tight. Her jaw ached. Rachel never took her eyes off him. He hadn’t hit her yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Though he’d had every opportunity to do so before now. For some reason, Rachel didn’t think he would strike her. There was something about his eyes that told her in at least that respect she was safe.
The giant approached her cautiously, then slowly reached out to stroke her hair, his manner soothing, gentle. Rachel kept her guard up for a few minutes, then when nothing changed, she started to r
elax. With blinding speed, the man snatched a bit of vine from a tree, spun her around, and bound her hands behind her back.
Talk about lulling someone into a false sense of security.
Rachel strained, trying to pull the ties apart. The position thrust her full breasts out, making her shirt gape open. She stilled, not wanting to make the awkward situation worse.
He circled her, a couple of times sniffing the air, like a wolf scenting prey. Rachel’s skin prickled with awareness as she observed him from beneath her lashes. His nostrils flared as his eyes wandered over her in a slow appreciative perusal. Without trying, he was coaxing out a response from her body.
Everywhere he looked, she burned. He paused at her nipples, his gaze caressing. To Rachel’s embarrassment, they beaded under her white shirt. The man growled deep in his belly, then his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.
Oh god, she remembered that tongue from her dream.
Her traitorous body responded instantly. Rachel now knew it had been no dream—at least not in her tent--it was every bit as real as the man standing before her. He’d fucked her with his mouth, with his absurdly long tongue. And it had been incredible. The most amazing sexual experience she’d ever had. And dammit, despite the lunacy of the situation, she would let him do it again in a heartbeat. It didn’t matter that what he was doing was illegal.
The material of his loincloth rose with the evidence of his desire as she stared at him. Rachel couldn’t draw her eyes away from the outline of his massive cock. Her breathing deepened. There was no fighting the attraction sizzling between them. She imagined his muscle bound body moving on top of her, spreading her thighs, sliding inside, filling her with a shaft so long and thick that she’d feel it in her soul by the time he got done fucking her.
Rachel groaned, knowing in the end she would surrender. Just like she’d done the first night.
Her expression must have been obvious, for he smiled, flashing startlingly white teeth against his tanned face. Though impossible, the small gesture softened his features and made him even more beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat. The smile turned feral. Rachel knew she was in deep trouble.