by Emma Castle
“So your parents were murdered?”
“Murdered?” He didn’t know that word, but it left a terrible taste in his mouth.
“Yes. Killed by another human.”
Thorne nodded. “Murdered.” The word tasted bitter upon his tongue.
“How did you survive, Thorne?”
He could feel Eden’s eyes upon him, searching for answers. He was silent a long moment, collecting his thoughts. “Keza found me.”
“Keza?”
“Mother. Other mother. Keza is gorilla.”
Eden stared at him. She blinked.
“What?”
“Keza found Thorne. Took Thorne in her arms. Made Thorne safe. Gave Thorne family.”
“A gorilla rescued you?”
Thorne nodded.
“Gorillas raised you?”
Thorne nodded again.
“Gorillas.”
Thorne wondered why she was having trouble understanding him.
“Nobody is going to believe this,” Eden muttered, scratching at her forehead. “This is incredible.”
“What is incredible?” He sounded out the unfamiliar word. Eden used so many words he did not understand.
“It means good. It means beautiful. It means . . . Actually, it means not believable, which is pretty accurate, come to think about it. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
Thorne half smiled. “Thorne understand. Good. Beautiful.” He reached over and cupped her face with one hand. “Eden is incredible.”
Her cheeks turned a soft pink like the petals of wildflowers that grew in the mountains.
“I’m not incredible,” she mumbled.
“Yes. Incredible,” he said in that dominant tone of his that warned her not to argue with him.
“You really lived with gorillas all this time?” Eden leaned closer, seeming quite curious. He liked it when she was curious, when she was happy.
“Keza had infant. Akika. Thorne’s brother. Thorne learn to climb, swim, live as gorilla.” He studied the trees that formed his world with new eyes. His parents hadn’t come from here. He looked back to the book she held. “Eden read to me journal?”
“Huh? Oh! Sure.” She ducked inside the plane and came back out with a book bound in what looked like smooth brown animal skin. She opened it and began to read.
“My name is Jacob Haywood, the Earl of Somerset. I crashed here with my wife, Amelia, and my three-year-old son when the engine failed. Our pilot, Charlie MacGrath, perished in the crash. We removed his body to the woods nearby. My wife and I face great and insurmountable odds. This part of Uganda, the Impenetrable Forest, is called so for a reason. I fear no one may ever find us. My son, Thorne, gives me hope. He never cries, never complains. He trusts me to keep him safe. The last thing I wish to do is fail him, but I fear that my brother, Cameron, may not find us in time.”
Eden stopped reading. There was much Thorne didn’t understand in what Eden said, but he believed he understood enough.
“Thorne, you have more family,” she breathed. “You have an uncle, Cameron.”
“Uncle?” he asked. The word was familiar.
“Your father had a brother. His name is Cameron.” She then went back to the first line. “Your father was an earl from England.”
Thorne still did not understand. “What is earlfromengland?”
“No, an earl. It’s . . . oh, how do I explain that? A man with power, who commands many people. England is where you are from, not here, not Africa.”
This Thorne understood. An earl was like the dominant silverback.
“And when a father dies, his son becomes the new earl. That’s you. You are the Earl of Somerset.”
“Thorne does not want power.” He had exactly what he wished for here. The jungle, Keza, Akika, and now Eden. He had no need for anything else. Power to a human male meant death. He didn’t care about that. He had plenty of power here in the forest where he ruled among the animals and kept the natural order. He’d never fought for control of his gorilla family—Sunya was more suited to the role. What Thorne craved most was peace. Death did exist here, power did exist here, but it was all part of the cycle of life. No animal killed others out of a joy of killing. Even gorillas when they fought for control did not usually kill each other.
“Thorne, you must listen to me. We need to leave the jungle and find your uncle.”
“No. Not safe.” Thorne stood, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was rooted in place for a long moment, before he entered the plane cabin again. The two gods—his parents—lay there as silent ghosts. Thorne curled one hand into a fist and placed that fist over his heart. Eden joined him, and she pointed toward the figures.
Eden moved to the skeleton. “Your father has a ring. It belongs to you now.” Thorne watched her gently remove a thick band of something shiny from the bony hand. She returned to him and gently took his hand in hers. Then she slid the object around his smallest finger.
“A perfect fit,” she murmured. “I think this must be your family crest.”
Thorne examined the image on the thing Eden had called a ring. “Crest?” It seemed as though a sun was rising over the trees, the small lines curved simply, yet he knew it was a sunrise, or sunset. He curled his hand back into a fist, feeling the ring around his finger. An unexpected surge of pride filled him. He closed his eyes. A dim memory of lying in his father’s arms, half-asleep, touching this ring with tiny fingers.
When he opened his eyes, he looked toward his mother and saw a shiny leaf hanging by a shining thread around her neck. He reached for it. It was like the gift he’d given Eden, the one she now wore around her neck.
“Here, let me.” Eden did something to make the shiny thread break apart so it could be removed. She tried to hand it to him, but he reached up and touched her neck.
“You,” he whispered. “You have it.”
Eden’s eyes blurred with tears as she removed the other gift and put this one in its place. She handed him back the heavier gift, which he laid at the feet of his mother’s bones in silent memory.
Eden touched the shiny object around her neck. “This looks like a ginkgo leaf, only gold.”
“What is gold?”
“This.” She touched the leaf and shining thread. “The stuff that’s shiny.”
“Yes. Thorne has seen much gold.” He thought of the cave and the glittering stones. “Bad men take much gold.” He closed his eyes, letting those awful memories take hold. He reached up to his head, touching the crown of leaves. “Bad man gave Thorne this. But Thorne let go to hold on to Keza’s fur when she took Thorne away.”
Eden watched him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Thorne, would you let me meet Keza and Akika? Would it be safe?” She touched the ginkgo leaf against her collarbone as though it gave her comfort. That thought filled him with a quiet joy, to know that his mother’s treasure was pleasing to his mate.
“Eden can see family. First we eat.” He held out a hand. Eden placed her palm in his, and they returned to the jungle.
Eden sat in the cradling roots of the tree below Thorne’s tree house, nibbling on fresh mangoes and some kind of wild nuts that Thorne had found for her. He had retrieved her camera bag from the tree house after she had asked him to.
As he lounged nearby, licking the juice off his fingers from his own mango, and Eden couldn’t help but stare. The more time she spent with him, the more she seemed to forget the world outside the jungle. She could have gazed at him forever, admiring the lean lines of his muscles, his beautiful yet masculine hands and feet, which held strength and dexterity in them from years of necessity and adapting in this wild, wondrous world. Yet there was something more to it than that. She couldn’t explain why, but it felt as though he was here for a reason, not just because of luck and survival.
A butterfly with black wings, marked by two bright-blue spots that resembled eyes, fluttered around Thorne’s head before settling upon his shoulder. He held still, his breath even as he carefully mov
ed the butterfly to his finger. Then he knelt in front of Eden and held it out to her. He placed the butterfly on her fingertip.
“Eden stay with Thorne?”
Her throat tightened. She did want to stay with him. If she had no life calling her home, no family, she might have thrown logic and reason to the wind and stayed here forever with this wild man. She couldn’t indulge in crazy romantic notions of living in the jungle with him. He may be cut out for the wild, but Eden acknowledged that she wouldn’t make it a month without a real shower, shampoo, a hair dryer—the list was endless.
What she needed to focus on was a way to convince him to leave the jungle and find his uncle. Cameron Haywood deserved to know what had befallen his brother’s family. But this was still a sensitive subject for Thorne. He did not trust humans, and no doubt he had good reason for it.
“I can stay for a little while, but not forever.” She hoped he understood. The butterfly took flight, leaving them close enough that she shivered, but not out of fear. She was lost in the bright blue of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but reach out to touch his face. He held still as she explored his dark eyebrows, the lines of worry creasing his brow, down to his straight aquiline nose, and to his lips. They were full and lush, tempting.
Thorne has never kissed a woman. He might not even know what a kiss is. Eden was secretly thrilled at the thought, but she wondered if she would be taking advantage of him. Based on the journal, he was twenty-five, a year older than her. One kiss wouldn’t be bad, would it?
“Thorne, may I kiss you?” Eden asked.
This was insane. Kissing a strange wild man who’d been raised by gorillas in the jungles of Uganda. What if he did return her to her people and then disappear back into the forest? The thought of him never knowing the magic a kiss could hold broke her heart.
“Kiss?” He echoed the word, his brows drawn together. He seemed to decide that whatever terrible thing a kiss might be, he would endure it. His reaction almost made her laugh.
“It’s okay. I promise. Just . . . close your eyes.” She demonstrated what she meant for him to do.
Thorne closed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists as he tensed. It was adorable, the way he seemed to think she was about to mete out some medieval torture.
Eden cupped his face in her hands, feeling the light rasp of stubble beneath her palms. Then she leaned in and feathered her lips over his. She took her time, enjoying the tight heat coiling in her belly and how good it would feel to kiss him deeper if she had the chance. He was as still as stone as she continued to kiss him. Then she pulled back to examine his reaction. His eyes were open, and he was staring at her, soft-eyed, almost dreamy.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.
Thorne was silent a moment, and then he licked his lips and scooted an inch closer. “Thorne kiss Eden?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, you may kiss me.”
He cupped her face and mimicked her movements as he brushed his lips over hers. She opened her lips and flicked her tongue against his mouth. He stiffened a second and then opened his own mouth and touched her tongue with his. A pulse, like a drum, began to beat inside her, burrowing deep as her body hummed with life.
It was so innocent a kiss, but in that moment it was also the most important kiss of her life. Her first true kiss with this jungle lord would be her undoing. It would also be her everything.
This time when they broke apart, Thorne gazed at her with heavy-lidded eyes, the eyes of someone awakened to desire.
“Do mates kiss often?” he asked. The gentle rumble of his question sent zings of arousal through her. At the same time, something softer wrapped itself around her heart.
“Mates?” She was having trouble thinking now because he was so close, and his scent filled her head with wild, hungry, yet sweet thoughts.
“Yes. Tell Thorne about human mates. Please.”
He completely destroyed her heart with that plea. This gorgeous, raw, primal man was so desperate to know the ways of his own people. How could she deny him?
“How does Thorne mate Eden?” he asked more specifically.
“Mate?” Eden reached up to grasp his wrists, but she didn’t pull his hands away from her face. After everything she’d been through in the last two days, it felt good to be held.
“Yes.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “Gorillas do not kiss. The male is . . .” He struggled for words. “Rough. He uses power to convince female to be mate.”
“Oh . . .” Eden blushed. She thought of everything he must have witnessed in the animal world. Mating in many species was rough, sometimes even violent. But humans were different, and she sensed Thorne was beginning to realize that such a difference existed.
“Well, people, humans, when they both like each other, they decide to date.”
“Date?” Thorne listened as if she was telling him the most important secrets of the universe.
“Dating is where two people do things they enjoy, like eating together or having fun. Playing.” God, how could she explain this? He had no memories of movies, art museums, or coffee shops, the places where she usually went for dates. “They do it so they can get to know each other. To decide if they want to be mates.”
“Eden and Thorne ate together.” He nodded toward the remaining mangoes on the leaf nearby. “And play in water?”
“Yes, I suppose we did.”
“After date?” he said, pressing on with his questions.
“After? Well, if they like each other, they might kiss.”
“Like we kiss?” He brushed his fingers along her throat, the touch so light that she didn’t feel threatened.
“Yes.” She had to admit that was true too.
“After kiss?” His blue eyes never left hers as he continued his questions.
“It depends. Sometimes they spend the night together.”
“Eden spent night with Thorne.” He pointed this out with pride.
Heat flooded Eden’s face. “We did, but it’s not quite the same thing. You see, sometimes they need to have more dates before they decide. And sometimes they decide not to be mates.”
His lips pursed, and he slowly pulled his hand away from her throat. The loss of that connection rang deep inside her like the melancholy sound of a single bell. She hoped he didn’t take what she said the wrong way, but he had to understand that there were choices involved.
“Thorne . . .” She honestly didn’t know what to say as she reached for his hand. “This is all new to you. I’m new to you. Dating . . . mating is something you take slowly. Some people rush, but it’s better to make sure that you care about someone, that you love someone first.”
All her life that’s what she’d wanted and had yet to find it with a man. If she could teach Thorne one thing, it was the importance of getting a relationship right. Heaven knows she hadn’t been able to get it right yet herself. Thorne watched her eyes, his gaze searching.
“Will Eden take Thorne as mate?”
“We should take our time, see what happens between us.” She shouldn’t have said that. She had to focus on getting out of this jungle and contacting the authorities about the massacre. Remembering that made her head pound and her stomach churn. It was so easy to forget the awful nightmare when she was with Thorne, but staying here with him and pretending it hadn’t happened—it wasn’t right. She owed it to Maggie, Harold, and the others to get back into the civilized world and help the authorities track down the men who did this and arrest them. But while she was around Thorne, she couldn’t seem to think past the gorgeous jungle god who wanted to mate her. If that wasn’t straight out of a late-night wet dream she didn’t know what was. Any woman on the planet would kill for this fantasy. But this wasn’t a fantasy. People were dead, and the jungle was dangerous.
“No other males for Eden?” Thorne clarified, his gaze hopeful and serious.
“No.” There were certainly no other men before she’d come to Africa. And after their gen
tle and life-altering kiss, she couldn’t picture herself with any other man.
“Good.” He lifted her hand to his and pressed his lips to her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter. How did he know to do that? Were his memories of his early childhood strong enough to retain some things he’d seen his parents do? He was English nobility, and now more than ever she saw that he was infinitely more than that, with his classically handsome features and the quiet, noble presence of his heart that seemed to hearken to the ancient days of fair ladies and knights riding white chargers into battle.
Thorne Haywood, Lord of the Jungle, was a fairytale prince. Eden was worried she might—no, definitely would—fall in love with him. What would happen to her when he finally left the jungle and embraced the destiny that should have been his years ago? There might not be a place for her in his life then. And if he didn’t leave the jungle? What place was there for her here?
Eden touched the necklace Thorne had given her, the ginkgo leaf necklace that had belonged to his mother, the one that held such a significance to him now that he was learning who he was—who he might be someday.
He was her wild man, but someday he would belong to the world. If that was the case, she should take advantage of the time when he belonged to her and her alone.
“Could I meet your family?” she asked him. “Keza and the others?”
“Yes, I will take you to them.” He helped her to her feet, and Eden followed Thorne into the jungle.
6
Thorne’s lips were still tingling as he touched them with his fingertips. If he closed his eyes, he could even relive that kiss.
Kiss.
A strange word for such a powerful experience. He had been certain that she would lash out at him the way many animal females did when going into heat. Yet she’d given him something else instead, something precious: the human custom of kissing. The more he replayed it in his mind, the more he swore he remembered his parents kissing. The memories were hazy, tinged with heartsick longing, but they were there all the same.
