On the eve of the twentieth day, my beautiful companion sat next to me on a little stool beside the hammock I lay on.
She held out a bowl of food, offering it with her usual smile.
“No food,” I said, gently pushing her hand away. “I need a boat.”
She looked at me quizzically.
“Boat,” I repeated and rose from the hammock. She took the opportunity to steal a glimpse at my manhood as the small cloth tied around my waist slipped off.
I won’t lie, she looked pleased, and my ego felt the same.
I resecured the cloth and plucked a small twig from the ground, drawing a boat in the dirt. Around it, I drew little waves and the symbol of a fish.
When she realized what I meant, I could see the disappointment in her eyes.
“Boat,” she repeated the word.
I nodded. “Yes, boat. I need to go home.” I drew another symbol on the floor of an island with a house. Inside, I drew little figures of people. “Home.”
A look of deep turmoil reflected in her eyes. More than ever I wished I could explain how grateful I felt for her help, how special she was to me. She’d saved my life and asked for nothing in return.
When she stood, I assumed she was going to go speak with her elders in the village, but she did not leave.
She untied the colorful piece of woven cloth around her waist and dropped it onto the floor.
With a hard breath, I took in the sight of her soft curves and the patch of dark hair between her legs, knowing that I shouldn’t dare touch her. I knew nothing about these people or their customs.
But when she slid her hands underneath the piece of cloth I wore around my own waist and began stroking my cock just aching to burrow deep inside her, my manly needs took over.
I reached for the back of her head and kissed her soft lips with a roughness I didn’t know I’d be capable of in my still-weakened state. But this kiss, like the woman, was nothing ordinary. As I tasted her on my tongue and pulled her sweet scent into my lungs, something deep inside me burst, like a light flooding my entire soul and blocking out the entire world. There was only her and me, and nothing else seemed to matter.
Where had she been all my life? Because she was the meaning I’d been searching for without ever knowing it. And I believed she felt the same for me.
Our gentle kiss quickly turned into a wild flurry of touching—our bodies grinding, our hands exploring.
Dear gods, could her breasts be any softer? Every part of her I touched—ass, hips, and the soft folds between her legs—was sinful perfection.
She broke away and began to kneel, clearly intent on getting my cock into her mouth, something I would normally not refuse from a woman. But that was not at all what I wanted. I needed to be inside her, to feel our bodies connected.
I gently grabbed her shoulders to raise her up. “A woman like you should never kneel before a man like me.” I knew she did not understand the words, but I hoped she’d sense how I truly felt.
I guided her into the hammock and then laid myself between her thighs, not wasting a moment’s time to position my cock at her entrance, testing her readiness.
Gods, was she ready—warm and wet with eager hips.
With our mouths once again locked in a flurry of frantic kisses, I thrust myself into her and she let out a yelp. I immediately realized why. Virgin?
“I am sorry,” I said, pulling back. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. She wasn’t young. In fact, I guessed she might be five or six years older than myself. On my island, a woman of her age had already had two or three lovers and several children.
Staring deeply into my eyes, she slid her soft hands around my ass and urged me back.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I hoped she might understand. My size wasn’t something a woman would enjoy her first time.
She gave me a tender smile, as if to tell me it was what she truly wanted. And me, being who I was, could not resist the invitation. I sank into her, slowly driving in my cock, inch by inch. She moaned gently into my ear, tilting her hips to help me slide deeper.
She pulled her head back and stared at me with those intense eyes, and I wondered what she was thinking. What did she see in a man like me who had washed up on the shore, his body shattered and emaciated, nearly dead?
I didn’t know the answer to that question. All I knew was how she made me feel, like there was a goodness inside me—something worth wanting.
Slowly, we began moving together, our eyes locked, our souls touching. It was like magic the way our spirits and bodies mingled and drew from each other. My heart began to tingle, as if pulling the light from within her. Meanwhile, I felt her pulling a piece of my soul into her.
There were no words to explain other than she was pure ecstasy, pure light, pure sinful pleasure and joy.
With what felt like only seconds of thrusting and sliding my shaft into her willing but tight body, I felt the eruption coming. I quickened my pace, our hips colliding, her pants coaxing me to take more, to move faster, to drive harder. I exploded inside her, feeling my seed pouring over the tip of my cock, bathing the entrance to her womb while she dug her soft fingertips into my ass, pushing me as deeply as I could go. She let out a cry of ecstasy, and I forced myself to continue, drawing the pleasure from her body.
Finally, after several long moments of lying together joined, sweaty, and spent, I opened my eyes to find it was no longer morning, but nighttime. What seemed like minutes had really been an entire day.
I looked at her and stroked her soft cheek. “Who are you?” I whispered.
“Happy,” she responded.
Happy. That was the perfect name for my Seer from another land. She made me so happy.
~~~
The next morning, I found myself alone as usual, but now I missed her more than ever. Her sweet smell, her eyes, her smile. I realized that being with this strange woman was the first time I’d ever felt I belonged somewhere, like there was hope for me. Yet, the other part of my soul knew that to be impossible. I was an outsider, not welcome in their village.
“Boat,” I heard a familiar voice speak from the doorway.
I looked up and found my goddess holding out several spotted furs and three big bundles tied with twine.
“Boat,” she repeated, urging me to take the goods.
“You did it?”
I got up, and she quickly shoved the items at me. “Ko’oten. Ko’oten!”
I suddenly had the feeling she was telling me to hurry my ass up. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t with the blessing of her tribe.
“You will get in trouble,” I said. Of course, she didn’t understand. Her response was to grab my hand and urge me to follow.
“No. I do not want you to do this.” I had no clue if these people were peaceful or savages, if her helping me to take a boat would earn her more than simply being poked with sticks as they had done to me when I invaded their shore.
I dug in hard and with my considerable size compared to hers, she couldn’t move me. “No,” I said firmly. I refused to have another black mark on my soul or cost someone else theirs.
Suddenly, deep male voices began echoing through the jungle.
Her eyes filled with panic. “Ko’oten!” she yelled.
“I will speak with them. I will tell them you had nothing to do with this.”
Frustrated by my lack of movement, she shook her head at me and blew out a breath. She then reached for my hand and placed it over her heart. “Happy.” She laced her fingers with mine, and I then started to wonder if she was trying to say that she wanted to go with me.
I could never allow that. There was little chance of any boat crossing back over that ocean. I couldn’t put her in danger.
I took her hand and placed it over my heart. “You have to stay here.”
She blinked at me and then growled, jerking her hand away. She turned her petite frame and began running.
“Gods be damned, woman! Where are you going?” I c
hased after her, running as fast as I was able, ducking under branches and thick vines. Still fairly weak and not yet having built my muscle back, I moved as fast as a pregnant ox at best.
I tracked her footsteps through the moist dirt, finally breaking through the vegetation, shooting out onto a warm beach covered with white powdery sand. I caught sight of her running toward a small fishing boat that was narrow with an upward-pointing tip.
She didn’t stop until she got to it, and when she did, she immediately began shoving off, motioning for me to come.
I looked up at the sky for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. I had to make her understand.
I hurried toward her, and the moment I got to the boat, now bobbing in the shallow waves with her wading knee deep beside it, I heard the men’s voices.
I looked over my shoulder at them as they came rushing toward us with long spears in their hands.
Curses of the gods. This was not good.
Happy yelled frantically, and I had to choose. She would most likely die if we shoved off and tried to cross that ocean. If she stayed, I might be able to bargain with these people and convince them this was my doing. Perhaps I could make them think that I had bewitched her in some way.
I grabbed the boat and gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t take you on that ocean. I care too much for you.”
She frowned at me and a look of hurt showed in her eyes. She didn’t understand, and there was no way to explain it.
The men surrounded us, and that was when I knew that I had once again made a mistake.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TEDDI
Why did he stop? Why the hell. Did. He. Stop? I realized I’d scooted forward, literally sitting on the edge of my seat, hanging on every word in that dark room. Yes, it was a fictional story—obviously—but as he wove his tale, using that deep, hypnotic voice, I had been transported to another time and place. I saw every detail he spoke of plus many more he hadn’t—the earthy smells of the jungle, the thick texture of the air, the sunlight filtering through the tree canopy—as if I were right there with him. My heart was even pounding and my palms were sweating. I felt torn for the two of them. And the sex—dear God, had he been trying to torture me? It took everything I had not to drool on my lap. No, he hadn’t gone into too much detail, but it wasn’t necessary. Like I said, my mind felt plugged in to his memories, and anything he didn’t say, my imagination filled in.
You’re an idiot, Teddi. The story’s not even real. Just like that cheese you ate yesterday. Regardless, my heart genuinely ached for this couple.
I cleared my throat and settled back in my chair, trying to gather myself. “S-so what happened next?” I asked, sounding only slightly less desperate than I felt.
It took him a while to respond. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”
“I’m asking, aren’t I?”
“You’re a bit of a smart mouth.”
I was really more of a person who lacked experience in the couth and diplomacy department. One needed to be finely attuned to the feelings of others in order to excel in those particular areas. But that was neither here nor there, and I wasn’t about to talk about my issue.
“Yes. And don’t change subjects,” I reprimanded.
He rose from his chair, and the action startled me. His place was over there on the other side of the room. My place was over here close to the exit.
I was about to get up and head for the door, but then he walked over to the window away from me.
“I’m not changing the subject,” he said, his voice quiet and pensive. “I’m merely being a gentleman and warning you—the rest of the story is not a pleasant one.” He cracked open the curtain and gazed outside at the plum tree in the courtyard, shattering the intimate cocoon of our little world and bathing the institutional white walls and marbled tile floor with bright light.
Begrudgingly, my eyes adjusted, and once they did, I sucked in a quiet, appreciative breath. Dear God. The light filtered around him like a seductive aura, giving me my first breathtaking glimpse of his masculine, godlike silhouette and the back of his tall—six three or so—body. His shoulders were powerhouse broad and tapered down into a tight waist. His legs, incased in dark jeans, were muscular and long. His hair was dirty blond and a bit shaggy in the back, just enough length to run one’s fingers through while fucking like two sex-starved animals with only hours to live.
Wow. Why the hell had I thought that? The “two hours to live” part, I mean. The part about animals was obvious. The man was huge. Or, maybe huge wasn’t the right word. He was more like impressive, the sort of guy who walked into a room and drew everyone’s eye—the men because they’d see him as a threat. The women because they’d be wondering if he looked just as good naked as he did clothed.
As I ogled and he stared out the window, he lifted one arm against the glass and rested his forehead for a moment. That was when I noticed his heavily inked biceps with what look like dates and symbols and such.
“What do the tattoos mean?” I asked.
“I thought you wanted to know what happens next in my story.”
“Can’t I ask about both?”
“You can ask,” he replied, his tone indicating that he wouldn’t necessarily answer.
Pill. This man is a pill. Yeah, but he’s a sexy pill, so there is that in his favor.
“I choose story,” I said. “Your body art can wait for another day.”
I watched his large, powerful shoulders rise and fall a bit with an anguished sigh. He then snapped the curtains shut, pulling us back into his world of darkness. But now, more than ever, I ached to see his face. Did his front look just as good as his backside?
He turned and took his seat while I sat there like an eager puppy waiting for my next treat.
“Well?” I said. “What happened?”
“What do you think happened?”
Ugh. He’s toying with me. “I don’t know, Mack. That’s why I’m asking.”
I heard a grumble of displeasure from across the room. But then finally, he gave me what I wanted.
“They separated us. I was brought back to that small hut on the outskirts of their village, where I was guarded by several men. She was taken elsewhere. I spent the next several weeks begging to see her and trying to explain that she’d done nothing wrong, but they seemed more interested in me. They spoke to me and asked questions. We traded words, and I learned anything I could, treating it like a game. I would walk my fingers across my palm, pretend to drop dead on the floor, or hold something in my hands, and they would shout out words, like a sad game of pre-Hispanic charades. With my knowledge of languages, I picked up the basics quickly.”
“How many languages did you speak?” I asked.
“Sixteen.”
That was a heck of a lot of languages. “I thought you said you were from a small island.”
“Our people were known for our metalwork and pottery. We traded with merchants from as far away as Eastern China. I really spoke closer to twenty languages if you want to include dialects from nearby fishing villages.”
“Impressive.”
“Not really. My father insisted I learn so that I could better serve my brother someday—translation skills, math, reading and writing. And, of course, fighting. Everything was planned around my brother’s needs.”
Except that Mack had said he blew all that off after his parents died. It was why he’d felt too guilty to say no when Draco asked Mack to kill him.
“So you learned Happy’s language,” I said.
“Enough to communicate and learn her name was really Óolal.”
He pronounced it Oh-a-lahl. A beautiful name—sounded like some kind of decadent dessert.
He went on, “And I learned enough to ask them to see her. Instead, I got a visit from Kan, Óolal’s father.”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t happy?”
“He wasn’t the sort of man you’d want to cross. And considering my crime, I was shocked
that I wasn’t tortured to death, my organs plucked out on an altar to appease the gods for my misdeeds.”
“Just for taking a boat?”
“No. Turned out, they didn’t care about the boat. Kan was their king, and Óolal was considered sacred because of her gifts. She was thought to be the property of the gods. I apparently defiled that gift.”
Oh shit. Now I was beginning to understand why this story wasn’t going to end in a happy place. No pun intended. “So you took something that wasn’t yours.”
“Kan and I developed a strange but close friendship over the next several months while they waited for the equinox—the day to make sacrifices and atone for one’s sins in their culture. Kan asked questions about the places and people I’d seen while traveling with the Nords. He shared details about his powerful bloodline and his gifts. And every day, I asked to see Óolal but was told it wasn’t time yet.”
My skin began to crawl as I envisioned where this was heading.
“Ironically, I caught some sort of illness. My guess: Malaria from the mosquitos. I didn’t live long enough to find out what would’ve happened on the equinox, but on my deathbed, Kan promised to bury me with the Artifact—that stone I carried—and mark the grave. I hoped someday someone would find it and that the gods would do the rest, making sure the stone made it back to Mia.”
“That was very generous of Kan.”
“I threatened to bring his people bad luck if he didn’t help my spirit rest soundly.”
“Did you ever see Óolal again?” I asked.
Mack didn’t reply immediately, and I felt the air spike with despair. It was really fucking weird.
“I did,” he said, sounding solemn. “She must’ve heard I was dying and gotten free. The last thing I saw was her beautiful face hovering over mine. I told her I loved her, and then it happened.”
“What?”
“It was a whirlwind of screams and fighting and blood and…” He let out a breath. “Her father caught us together and slit her throat two feet from my face, screaming that her disobedience and insults to the gods would bring about suffering for their people.”
Mack Page 5
