Since she was all about touch and texture, she ran her hand over the nearest wall, slowing down in thought at the alternating rough and smooth feel under her trailing fingers. Her little light bounced back dark rock, intermixed with white. Like ash. She looked up and over to the other wall. Happiness morphed into acute alarm.
“The back of the door was held closed by a simple metal bar. When you pushed the stones in at an upward diagonal angle, they slid under the bar and released it from where it latched into the wall. Simple and ingenious.” His voice sounded impressed.
Ria didn’t have time to be impressed. “Santos?”
“Hmm?”
“We need to leave. Now” Grabbing him by the hand, she dragged him back into the ruin, a foul mix of emotions erupting in a split-second to erode any logical thought. “Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous? In any way unusual?”
Her headlong flight to the stairs came to a sudden halt when Santos yanked her back. “Aroused to high hell, but that’s not unusual when I’m around you. Tell me what’s going on.”
Ignoring his casual reference of wanting her, she shoved her hands through her hair, and gripped several hanks. “I was wrong. It wasn’t a meteorite. It was a volcano.”
His expression said she’d lost her mind. Again. “Excuse me?”
Agitated, she held out her arms and pivoted in a circle. “This is a crater, but the crater of a volcano, not a meteorite. And that,” she pointed to the tunnel, “is where hot lava comes from. The walls are slick and black from the scorching heat, white from the ash. What we’re standing in is the top of a volcano.”
His head was shaking in disagreement. “Sorry, honey, but Florida doesn’t have any volcanoes.”
“Oh, yeah?” She jabbed him in the chest. “Think you’re so smart? Ever hear of the Wakulla Volcano?”
He looked up at the sky, a study in male resignation. “No.”
Another hard jab to get his attention. “Back in the early 1800s, settlers spoke about rising smoke in the Wacissa Swamp, so high and thick it could be seen from the Gulf in the day, while at night an eerie glow pierced the thick foliage. Some claim they even saw fire leaping toward the sky. At any rate, this went on for more than a hundred years. Theories ranged from Indian camp fires to hot springs and changed with each passing generation. Until 1886, when a massive earthquake hit Charleston, SC and sent shock waves into Florida. After that day, the smoke was never seen again.”
One brow winged up. “And why has no one ever gone out there to check into it?”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Because much of the Wacissa Swamp is untouched wilderness filled with sulfur springs, monstrous sized snakes and a plethora of alligators. Even with all our technology, most of it is as inaccessible today as it was back then.”
A second dark brow went up. “And you know this how?”
She shrugged. “Myths and legends are my specialty.”
He still didn’t appear convinced. “All right. Say this was a volcano. A dead one I presume.” He waited for her nod before continuing. “What’s the rush?”
“We don’t know how long it’s been dead or what kind of gases have built up in there. It’s too dangerous.”
“Someone used it if they put a door on it.”
“Again, it doesn’t mean it’s safe. There could be hundreds of skeletons in there. Used as a sacrificial chamber for all we know.”
Again with the head shaking. “No, Ria. There’s no dead bodies. No decomposed corpses. No scent of rot.”
“You don’t know that.” She snapped back.
He touched two fingers under her chin. “Yes, I do. And you know how.”
Her lips firmed in a thin line. She was not doing this now. “Maybe I do. But even with a super sniffer, you still can’t smell carbon monoxide.”
“All right. I’ll give you that, but,” he continued, clasping his hands on her shoulders to keep her near. “I want you to think for a minute. Use logic to balance out emotion as you professed not so long ago that we all need to do.”
Her eyes went into slits at the subtle jab. She wasn’t acting hysterical. She was trying to keep the idiot safe. “Your point?”
The slightest curve of his mouth. “If this is a volcano, why is there only one vent leading to the crater? Where are the others?”
“They could be covered by the walls.”
“Possible. But if enough lava came through to melt the rock in that large of a vent, don’t you think the crater would be much larger as well?”
If she clenched her jaw any tighter, she was going to grind her teeth into dust. “I don’t know. I’m not a volcanologist.”
“And?”
“And what?” Stubborn, thy name is Ria.
Her refusal to give an inch seemed to amuse him further. “Ria. Kitten. You panicked.”
Her spine went stiff. “I most certainly did not.”
“You did.” He kissed her nose with affection. “And I have to say your concern is greatly appreciated.”
She might care for his safety, but that didn’t mean she panicked at the first sign of danger. Panic was an emotional overload and she always kept those under tight security. “Hello?” Fisting both hands in his shirt, she yanked, not comprehending she was overloading emotion left and right at the moment. “What part of volcano did you not understand? Trapped gases? Potential death?”
“Everything all right down there?” Gwen’s voice caused Ria and Santos to look up. “Need me to hold Santos while you beat him?” The ranger’s grin fell into open mouth shock. “Holy crap. It’s a door?”
Gwen bounded down the stairs, but Ria blocked her before she could go any further. “There could be toxic gases in there so don’t go any closer.”
“Ria now thinks this is a volcano.”
Gwen’s eyes darted from Ria, Santos, the tunnel entrance and back again. “A dead one I’m assuming.”
“You don’t find a volcano in Florida odd?” Santos asked blandly.
Gwen only pinned him with a wily look. “Ever hear of the Wakulla Volcano?”
“Ha!” Ria crowed. “Told you.”
Santos snatched the finger she pointed at him, threading his own fingers through hers to tuck her lethal digits out of harm’s way. “Recently.”
“Hmm.” Gwen pulled a flashlight from her backpack and edged closer to peer, at a safe distance, into the open tunnel. “I checked the soil samples this morning, Ria, and compared the findings against several others we’ve taken in the reserve. There was no significant amounts of iron, silicon or aluminum in any of them. The levels were all normal.”
One by one, Ria’s muscles began to loosen at the news. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. “Well hell. That’s means no volcano either.”
“However,” Gwen’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “The samples taken down here did contain higher salt concentrations. Much higher.”
As that bit of information sank in, Ria dropped her head to her chest, lashes falling over her eyes. For years she’d been so seeped in countless myths and legends, surrounded by the impossible and improbable, that she never even considered the practical. No wonder Santos had forced her to think logically. It was an ironic side-effect of suppressing strong emotions. One little thing happens and boom, all those emotions blast free from their containment. In her case, it was concern for Santos that had led to the detonation, and instead of considering all the evidence, she’d reacted on impulse and fear for his safety.
In other words, she’d panicked.
Than again, who would have guessed what the depression was this far from the ocean? “Abso-freaking unbelievable. A saltwater pond, fed from the ocean by the tunnel.”
“That’s my guess. I came to tell you about it after my rounds.”
The group clustered around the entrance, witnesses to the millions of tiny white dots reflected in the beam from Gwen’s powerful flashlight. “Looks like some limestone down here. See how the walls get bumper, even crustier loo
king, further in?”
Santos grunted. “An underwater cave.”
“Once upon a time is my guess. James is going to flip out.” Gwen referred to the head ranger. “He loves this kind of stuff. Anyway, the bay curves sharply up before turning into the alligator nesting grounds at the far north end of the reserve. This area isn’t that far north, so the tunnel probably leads to the bay. Sediment buildup, an earthquake or years of storm debris could have blocked the entrance or pushed the waters back enough that it all dried up. It’s not uncommon. The earth is constantly shifting, shorelines changing.”
“A shoreline where a pirate might anchor his ship and, taking advantage of what’s readily available, slip his cargo through a ready-made tunnel and into a handy hiding place.” Gwen could picture it all in her head. The dark of night, men carrying case after case of loot through the tunnel and into the ruin. Whether it had already been erected at the time by settlers in the area, or Morgan had instructed its creation was something she would have to ponder later.
“Hmm.” Gwen took a slow sweep around, her train of thought on pare with Ria’s. “Build some walls, roof it with wood from the forest, dump on some dirt, add a building on top, and no one would ever know what was underneath unless they found the opening, or the stairs which were also covered up.”
“A lot of work unless there was a substantial amount of treasure he wanted to keep to himself.” Santos observed. “Though I still think he used it all to build and furnish the Orchards. Mom’s got some of the original furniture and it wasn’t cheap.”
Ria nodded. “Makes sense. He exchanged his stolen goods for hearth and home, creating treasure of another kind.” She looked up at Santos. “But I still want to explore the tunnel.”
His mouth curved in anticipation. “As do I.”
“But not today and definitely not until James gets here.” Gwen’s eyes went hard with unyielding authority. “Before either of you argue, I will remind you we are still in the reserve and when in the reserve, what a ranger says is law. And I say no one enters without the proper equipment. That includes a shotgun or two.” At Ria’s puckered expression, Gwen added, “If this tunnel curves too much, it could lead to the alligator nesting grounds. I don’t know about you, but I have no desire to come face-to-face with a pissed off gator.”
Seeing the logic in that, Ria swallowed and quickly agreed, backing away from the tunnel with a new found sense of caution. Vampires and shifters were one thing, but an angry alligator?
Now that just made her shudder.
Chapter Eighteen
Experienced in spelunking, James Eden, the head ranger at the reserve, had shown up at the site,his face lit with excitement. He’d provided a list of equipment a group of four would need, and together with Santos, the two traveled into town to purchase the supplies.
Ria called Lance to check how he was feeling and to tell him of her and Santos’s discovery. He’d been thrilled, his animation palatable through the phone line, causing her to grin from ear to ear. She promised they wouldn’t investigate until tomorrow when he would be present, citing the rangers’ requirements of the necessary safety precautions.
After shutting the etched door, and with nothing left to do other than go back to the piles behind Santos’s place and dig around for anything that might have been missed – a job that wrought non-existent enthusiasm – Ria chose instead to follow Gwen around the reserve as the ranger finished her day. For the rest of the afternoon, Ria peppered Gwen with questions regarding the pirate Claude Morgan, the reserve, the Orchards, and the Felix family.
Though she was probably a nuisance, Gwen answered Ria with the utmost patience, unable to hide a little knowing smile when Ria’s questions turned, on several occasion, to Santos. Though she’d hoped to garnering information about the eldest son surreptitiously, Ria quickly learned it was a futile effort. The other woman wasn’t an idiot and obviously knew where Ria’s interest truly lay.
Later that night, dinner turned into another family affair, one that included Ria and Lance. As she filled her plate from tonight’s buffet offering of a taco bar and Spanish rice, Ria scanned the others gathering for the evening meal. She found the easy acceptance all the alpha cat shifters portrayed of non-shifters as perplexing as it was beguiling. Gwen, Annie and Bob were all human and yet ate with the family with the same consistency as the males; seemingly only to be absent when guests were in attendance.
Well, except Gwen. The other woman had told her on their sojourn through the reserve that Melinda requested her presence at the dinner table to interact with the guests in an informal capacity, such as Melinda did. A task that, as Gwen had pointed out her lack of culinary skills, she considered more of a perk than a duty. She also informed Ria, in a rather galling tone, that Porter, Andreas or Rome were almost always at the table as well.
When Ria had questioned her reservation on that, Gwen had only rolled her eyes, stating, “It’s protection duty.”
Recalling that comment now, Ria looked at those around her with different eyes.
Annie and Bob were accepted no doubt due to long-term familiarity, plus the fact the older couple lived in a small apartment off the kitchen. Gwen was validated as one of their own as she and Rome were obviously in an intimate relationship. In fact, Ria wouldn’t be surprised if Gwen wasn’t sporting an engagement ring soon. Lance, by extension of his sister, was also taken into the bosom of the family.
But why herself?
To discombobulate her even more, Santos once again took a seat next to her, making her very aware not only of his heat and masculinity, but also of the sexual tension that sparked between them. Even after hours of intimate play last night, she found herself wanting him again. It was crazy, the compelling need to strip him bare and touch every inch of his hard, honey-colored flesh. His taste was in her mouth, and she craved more. She craved sinking her fangs into his neck and drawing into herself the hot, rich blood that flowed through his veins, blending his essence with her own. Making them one.
Santos pressed his hard thigh against her own as if he couldn’t not touch her when she was near, and the searing contact had a million nerve endings spark to life. A fine tremor tickled her spine and desire, barely restrained, surged in liquid waves of heat low in her belly. She recalled all too well how his thigh felt, naked and hot between her own. As the sensual pressure mounted, it made her jittery, and she reached for her glass of iced tea to cover her fidgeting, eyes flitting around the table to see if anyone notice her discomfort.
Porter sat between Santos and Lance while Gwen, Rome, Annie and Bob were across the enormous table built for well over a dozen. Andreas and Melinda resided on either end.
“Now that we’re all here, I have announcement to make.” Rome said, drawing every eye to him. He lifted Gwen’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “My lovely Gwen has accepted me as mate and soon-to-be husband.” He beamed with joy. “We’re getting married.”
As congratulations flew around the table, Ria nearly spewed out her tea. Mate? Mate!? Lord she was an idiot. A certifiable, card-caring can’t-see-the-forest-for-the-trees moron. Mate. Mating heat.
She knew about the mating heat of shifters. Legends and myths always came from some type of reality and a shifter’s mating heat was a reality. Though according to her psychotic family, it was a vicious sexual chemical reaction that turned the male shifters into insatiable and feral beasts who took the female of their choosing again and again whether they wanted to be taken or not.
In essence, the woman became a sexual slave. Ria looked hard at Gwen’s glowing face and knew that that woman was no one’s sexual slave. If anything, the love and admiration in Rome’s eyes just before he closed them to align his lips to his new fiancee’s, Rome was Gwen’s slave.
It wasn’t the same old twisting of facts that surprised her, it was the undisputed knowledge that she was well acquainted with the intricacies of the mating heat between a male shifter and a female whose chemistry, once they touched, exploded int
o a feral hunger.
She was living it. Living with a kind of touch-hungry need that could only be quenched by the man sitting next to her. An all-consuming desire that now, seeing past the veil of her own trepidations at working amidst those she once thought would tear her to pieces simply for being what she was, actually started two months ago, when Santos had laid his hands on her bare arms to steady her before she tripped on her face.
The mating heat was why she’d dreamt about him for over sixty long and lonely nights. And because of the herbal cigarettes she’d been on for years to alter her scent, that mating heat hadn’t manifested in an explosion of need, but a slow, rising simmer that eventually flamed to life when they’d connected once again.
She was the mate of a jaguar shifter. Kalin and her father would probably die of cardiac arrest if they knew.
Hmm. Maybe she should make a long over-due call home.
While the idea of tormenting her once tormentors was a nice side-bar, the reality was that she was the freaking mate of a jaguar shifter.
To keep her hands from shaking, she squeezed them between her thighs and offered her own congratulations to the happy couple.
Intermixed with ideas for the upcoming nuptials, the group discussed the latest findings in the ruin including Gwen’s soil results, leading them all to believe the crater was once a salt pond connected to an underwater cave and out to the ocean. That led to more ideas and questions on possible tunnel entrance locations from the bay. All in all, it was another entertaining meal, one that thoroughly drew Ria into the various and constant conversations flowing around the table.
After dinner, Melinda requested aid in obtaining the Christmas decorations once again, and, after a short battle when Lance insisted he felt good enough to carry a box or two, Ria, Santos, Rome, Gwen, Porter and Lance went to retrieve the containers from the attic.
Drawing Deep Page 16
