Revealing Eden

by Victoria Foyt

  “If I don’t, I’ll die. Is that what you want?”

  Her heart protested, never. Why couldn’t she just say it?

  Instead, she stammered. “But, don’t you see? What if it’s dangerous?”

  Bramford looked her dead in the eye. “Oh, it’ll be dangerous, Eden. You can count on that.”

  WITH DREAMY eyes Eden watched Bramford stir his herbal concoction over the fire. She breathed in the pleasing smell of wood smoke that mingled in the night air with the heady perfume of the water lilies. Moonlight trickled down from an ebony sky, casting a mellow glow upon their little camp. Twinkling stars, aligned in ancient patterns, reminded her of the cool indifference of time.

  Her old life in the tunnels with the ever-present voice in her head and the dark coating that fit like a second skin seemed nothing more than a bad dream. Had it really happened? Only the present felt real, and comforting. Somehow, Eden believed she and Bramford always had been together in the jungle—how had he put it—as partners.

  Attuned to him, she sensed the anxiety hunkering behind his impassive face. Soon he would head into battle again. No matter what happens to me, don’t be afraid. Was he kidding?

  Bramford leaned the stirring stick against the trestle and walked over to her. Angry red streaks zigzagged down his swollen arm, like just accusations of her stupidity. Eden held still, her nerves on fire, as he kneeled beside her.

  His touch electrified her, as he slid one arm around her. Perhaps it was simply easier to hold her since he only had one good hand to retie the knot at her side. In any case, she was happy for an excuse to lean against his warm, bare chest.

  “How’s the pain?” he said.

  She put on a brave face. “It only hurts when I breathe.”

  “Take shallow breaths.”

  “I am.” Except when you look right through me.

  He’d finished with the bindings and yet, he lingered. A soft but powerful sound like a babbling brook rolled out of him. It both excited her and swept her into a place of deep contentment. Why couldn’t it always be like this?

  She was on the verge of asking Bramford that very question when he pulled away.

  There was a hitch in his voice as he said, “The bejuco de oro is calling me. Are you ready, Eden?”

  “Do I look like I’m ready?”

  “Yes, you are. Even if you don’t know it.”

  She shrugged. “It’s up to you, anyway.”

  “Only if you choose to give away your power. If you know your place here then your strength will equal mine.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Listen carefully to what I tell you,” Bramford said, his tone emphatic. “Even now, the herbs may speak through me. The bejuco de oro will say things to test me. And you.”

  “But I’m not part of this.”

  “You’re here for a reason. Try to understand.”

  “I’m only here because you kidnapped me.” It was a fact, though for once Eden presented it without malice.

  “But you came along, didn’t you?” he said, with equal matter-of-factness.

  “I had no choice,” she said softly.

  He looked off into the distance as he spoke. “In everything we do there’s always a choice. We can choose to see ourselves as victims of circumstance. But when we act beyond our personal needs we become part of something greater. The choice is ours.”

  Eden gave him a blank stare. Riddles, she thought. As mystifying as love.

  Bramford shook his head, as if to say, I tried.

  Her pulse raced, as she watched him lift the gourd from the trestle. Here we go.

  He returned to her side, his hold on the medicine reverential. When he set the gourd on the ground between them, Eden peered inside at an unappetizing dark brown watery soup, surprisingly odorless.

  Bramford settled onto the other giant banana leaf, his wounded arm away from her, so that their injuries were like damaged bookends. He closed his eyes and blew out a slow, deep breath that rattled the air. Without a single word of encouragement or even so much as, “see you in the morning,” he took one long swallow.

  Immediately, he began to shake. The empty gourd slipped from his grasp. Eden gasped, as he doubled over with an agonizing moan. Then he lurched like a drunkard to the bushes, where she heard him retching.

  Good Earth.

  She snapped as soon as Bramford wobbled back into view. “What kind of medicine is this?”

  Swaying, he collapsed beside her. By the flickering light she saw his glassy eyes, his face, taut and sweaty.

  “Bramford?”

  He didn’t seem to register her voice. He simply stared into space, like a dead man. She called his name again. Only the crackly fire and the bubbly, laughing hoot of a tropical screech owl peppered the night.

  Eden nearly shouted. “You’re scaring me. Please, say something!”

  Still, Bramford didn’t respond.

  She poked his shoulder, tentatively at first, then with a little shove. At least his body felt warm so she knew he wasn’t dead. And yet, he seemed as far away from her as the world was from their lonely encampment. Had the spirit of El Tigre really flown away as Bramford had predicted?

  Her eyes traveled over his magnificent, inert form. She would have laughed at the irony if she weren’t so scared. The helpless Pearl guarded the Jaguar Man.

  Till dawn, he’d said. Eden hoped she would last that long.

  She settled back, her eyes fixed on her charge. From time to time his face twisted, as if his thoughts fought to escape. An occasional twitch of limb or weird moan startled her.

  In a short while, Bramford began making strange, indecipherable sounds. Perhaps it was a shamanistic language. His brow furrowed before he slipped back into his silent world.

  The snap of the fire and the buzz of insects grew loud around her. Her fears loomed large in her mind, as the night wore on. What if Bramford’s spirit never returned to earth? What if the great Coatlicue killed him in revenge for the anaconda’s death? And sent him back as one of those ugly piggy tapirs that her father had mentioned?

  For Earth’s sake, she sounded as superstitious as the Huaorani. Think logically, Eden.

  She wondered if she called Bramford by his first name, would he respond? She wouldn’t have dared before—that implied deep intimacy. But hadn’t he called her ‘partner’?

  Eden hovered close, speaking gently. “Ronson? Ronson, please talk to me.”

  She thought she saw his eyelids flutter. But no, his spirit stayed away.

  Resigned to wait, she lay next to him with a weary sigh. Overhead, the stark beauty of the sky filled her with unbearable longing. Why did true beauty do that?

  Slowly, she reached for Bramford’s hand and laced her fingers through his. He wouldn’t even notice. The warmth of his touch comforted her. And there was something else—her hand belonged in his, even if his was paw-like.

  To her surprise, Bramford squeezed her hand, as if he were trying to communicate. He rolled over to face her, the catlike eyes insistent.

  “Please, don’t go,” he said, though Eden hardly recognized the angst-ridden voice.

  “What?” she said.

  “Promise you won’t leave me.”

  Bewildered, Eden replied. “Of course not.”

  “Say it.”

  “Okay. I promise I won’t leave.”

  “But you did,” Bramford said, his face lined with pain. “You deceived me.”

  A heavy knot of guilt tightened around Eden’s heart. Could he have confirmed in his altered state that she had betrayed him to Jamal?

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she said. “I only wanted to survive.”

  “But you knew I would protect you.”

  For a while, perhaps. But once her father had finished his work, Bramford would have cut loose the Newman family.

  “We had no guarantees. You can’t deny that, Ronson.”

  “How could you doubt me? Do you think I would ever let anything ha
ppen to him? I’d give my life for him.”

  “Really?” For a Pearl?

  “You don’t understand how important he is to me.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Because you’re still afraid,” Bramford said, gently. “Tell me why.”

  “Look at me. I’m…” Did she have to say it? “I’m not strong like you.”

  “But I’m teaching you and you’ve made good progress.”

  “You can’t understand what it’s like for me or him.”

  “I realize that now,” he said, regretfully. “I’ve suffered, but I’m better for it. I’m sorry I hurt you. Both of you.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”

  Bramford caressed her cheek. “I didn’t think I could forgive you, but I have. I come to you with an open heart.” He paused, his sad eyes begging. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Yes. I’ve already forgiven you, Ronson.” And it was true, Eden realized. “But why did you bring us here?”

  “I had no choice,” he said, becoming agitated. “They would have taken him.”

  “Maybe, but he’ll die here.”

  “Don’t you see?” His face glowed feverishly; his voice grew loud. “I laid out a precise plan. If you had trusted me you would have understood. My only goal was to protect you from The Heat—both of you. But you were susceptible to the FFP and gave in to your fears.” Sadness seemed to flicker across his face as he added, “If only you’d waited.”

  Eden grasped for understanding. “You did it all for us?”

  “For who else?” Bramford said.

  “Not for power?”

  “What is power to me without love?”

  Love? The word exploded inside of Eden. Was it possible that Bramford loved her?

  “Is that why you risked being the test subject?” she asked.

  “Time was running out,” he said. “They already knew my secret.”

  Eden recalled his well-timed arrival at the Moon Dance. “You tried to stop them from getting to me?”

  “Of course.”

  It all made perfect sense. The startled look in Bramford’s eye when they first met. He was attracted to her from the beginning, though her stupid prejudices against her own kind hadn’t allowed for that possibility.

  She smiled at him.

  “Now do you understand?” Bramford said.

  “You…?” Eden could hardly say it. “You love me?”

  “I’ve proven my feelings.”

  Just like that, the whole cock-eyed world righted itself. For Earth’s sake, this crazy, heart-shaking feeling was a thing called love. Aunt Emily was right, after all.

  Wild Nights! Wild Nights!

  Were I with thee,

  Wild Nights should be

  Our luxury!

  Futile the winds

  To a heart in port,—

  Done with the compass,

  Done with the chart.

  Rowing in Eden!

  Ah! the Sea!

  Might I but moor

  To-night in thee!

  “Oh, Ronson,” Eden murmured as she fell into his arms.

  EDEN SOFTLY moaned as Bramford nuzzled her neck. His bare chest grew hot to the touch, his breathing heavy. His lips found hers, teasingly at first. Then he pressed harder, kissing her with hungry passion. She wanted this kiss to last forever.

  She caught her breath as he whispered. “My mate.”

  Really?

  But she didn’t question him, not now. She simply reveled in the hot, sensuous sensations that danced in her body.

  Bramford tipped up her chin, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face and smiled at her. Just like in her dream. But this was real, she told herself. Wasn’t it?

  “I never thought I would see this day,” he said.

  “I wish I’d understood,” Eden said, dumbfounded but delirious. “Couldn’t you have given me a hint?”

  Bramford looked puzzled. “You were unreachable.”

  She sadly recalled her blind prejudices and foolish anger. “I guess I was.”

  “Nothing can separate us now.”

  Nothing. Not ever. That was what Eden believed. Until his next words knocked the wind right out of her.

  “Thank you for coming back, Rebecca.”

  “What?” She shook her head, hoping she’d heard wrong. “What did you say?”

  “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  Powerful Planet Earth, what kind of sick joke was this? And yet, Bramford looked so sincere. Eden braced a hand on his chest to steady the world, which had begun to reel.

  “And, who am I?” she said.

  “My mate, Rebecca,” he replied, with just a hint of irritation. “Who else could you be?”

  “And you funded the research to save me from The Heat? For me you became the test subject?” Eden gulped for air. “And you love me, Rebecca?”

  “Of course.”

  A birdlike shriek flew out of her. His love wasn’t meant for her, but the girl she resembled. She struggled to get away but he clung to her.

  “Rebecca, what’s wrong?”

  Eden flailed against his chest. “Let me go!”

  “I thought you understood.”

  She bit his shoulder, drawing blood. Confusion rushed over Bramford, as he stared at the spot. He slumped to the ground, his head weaving like a drunkard’s. Then his warning came back to Eden like a slap in the face. The bejuco de oro will say things to test me. And you.

  Even without mind-bending herbs it was easy to mistake her for Rebecca. The girl’s dress and perfume must have added to the confusion. Drug-addled Bramford believed he was with his mate, either in the past or present.

  The joy Eden had experienced only minutes ago disappeared as she saw her relationship with Bramford in yet another light. Yes, he had reacted to her uncanny resemblance to Rebecca right from the start. Only he had resented her for it because he loved Rebecca; that much was clear. Even worse, he had never seen the Real Eden, not once. Whenever he looked in her eyes, he only thought of his real mate.

  For Earth’s sake, was it Eden’s fate to be attracted to men who wanted a different girl?

  Well, if the herbs could test her, she also could test Bramford. She would capitalize on his confusion to discover the truth about Rebecca. Then, like a scorpion, she would sting him with it. She would balance out this cruel equation, his suffering for hers.

  She leaned forward and rubbed his arm with long, gentle strokes. “I’m sorry, Ronson,” she said, softly. “I want to understand what happened.”

  Bramford looked at her expectantly. “Really, Rebecca?”

  “Please, tell me.”

  “I tried to reach you. But I was too late. You’d already gone to them.”

  “To who?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” He clenched his fist, and Eden slowly sat back. “The FFP used you to get to me. I warned you, but you laughed and said I was paranoid.”

  “How could they get to you?”

  “You must know that you and I made a terrible mistake.”

  “By mating?” Eden asked.

  “No,” Bramford replied, then hung his head. “Yes.”

  “How can I trust you if you won’t tell me the truth?”

  “We deceived each other, that’s the truth.” He scrubbed his face with his good hand, as if he could wash away the sorrow etched there. “If I had discovered your lies, I never would have chosen you. But what were the odds?” He gave her a pleading look. “Tell me, Rebecca, did the FFP hire you for the job? Did you ever care for me?”

  It would have been so easy to crush him. But not yet, Eden decided. First, his secrets, then make him suffer.

  “You know I care, Ronson. Our kiss…” Her voice broke. She had to stuff her feelings down into the pit of her stomach to continue. “They tricked me. I wish I hadn’t listened to them. I’m sorry, but deep down I couldn’t believe you really wanted me.”

 
His attention seemed to flicker in and out of the present. From nearby, the quick rattling of a black guan sent a cold shiver up Eden’s spine. The Chamaepetes unicolor’s ominous birdcall sounded like a warning. Be careful, you’re playing a deadly game.

  But what more did she have to lose?

  “You’re lying,” Bramford finally said, the accusation cool and quiet. “You lied to me from the start. They chose you for the job. You only pretended to care.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, and Eden saw a change in his expression—acceptance, perhaps.

  “I guess I always knew I couldn’t trust you,” he went on. “Thank Earth, I protected Shen. Only a promise to my wise father stopped me from answering your persistent questions. If the FFP knew Shen was my half-brother, they would have used him against me, too.”

  Shen Bramford? So that explained his devotion.

  Steeliness seeped back into Bramford as he continued, “When our son was born, the truth was plain to see. But how could I let him pay for our crimes?”

  Eden’s head spun. “You—I mean—we have a child?”

  “You’d like to forget about him, wouldn’t you, Rebecca? I’m sorry to say I once felt the same way.” He pummeled the ground. “But what were the odds?”

  “Odds of what?”

  “Having a child with someone like you. Our son, Logan. A terrible mistake.” He stared at her with haunted, vacant eyes. “You were very clever, Rebecca. You begged me to go back home, swore you needed to see your dying father. Even then, you had planned your escape. If I had given you our position here, you would have let them destroy us and never shed a tear.”

  In a flash, Bramford pinned her down. “Admit it!”

  “I, uh…”

  “No more lies!”

  Eden trembled underneath him. He just might kill her, thinking she was his traitorous mate.

  “It was for the money, wasn’t it?” he said. “You abandoned me and your son—my son—for a bunch of worthless uni-credits.”

  “They tricked me,” she repeated, grasping at straws.

  Bramford nipped her neck, the sting sharp. He pressed his body hard against her. Eden could hardly breathe. Tortured, groaning sounds came out of him. Her screams only seemed to incite him.

  Desperate, she spoke to him as she had when she worked for him, hoping to undo the dangerous spell she’d cast.