Words of Love

by Hazel Hunter

  His lungs heaved in air and Jessica breathed in sharp grunts as her body continued to writhe against him, slipping and sliding, the two of them drenched in sweat. As her head lolled back, the rhythm of her hips began to falter. As the jerking of her hips became erratic, he found himself embedded deeply, his groin pressed hard into her entrance as he held her tight. Then he reared back and plunged into her again. With the first deep penetration, Jessica cried out. With the second, she thrashed in his arms. With the third, though, her grip around his neck loosened but he hugged her to his chest and picked her up.

  • • • • •

  Jesse felt the words of love in the glyphs carved into the altar below her. They were throbbing with a deep, violet glow, like the symbols that swirled in the air around them. Though the magic of this place was everywhere, it faded into the background as Brett took her body to the brink.

  But now she felt herself lifted up and she gasped at the unexpected movement. He took all of her weight in his strong arms, pressing her to him, but slowly he lowered her on his thick arousal, the fullness of him swelling inside her.

  “Brett,” she moaned.

  She convulsed and shuddered in waves and her hips began to obey an instinct that she hadn’t known she possessed. Her hips began to gyrate, slowly at first, as her hands gripped his powerful biceps. But as he finally pulled her down all the way, her legs locked around his narrow waist and she ground against him, rocking her hips forward and back, left and right, as the molten need between her legs took over.

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  He lifted her and then pulled down, thrusting up to meet her. She willingly sank down on the rigid shaft, helping it to penetrate to her pulsing core. The forceful pressure filled her and an irresistible tension suddenly coiled inside–and he thrust again. Over and over he plunged into her until the throbbing, vibrating need in her abdomen threatened to shatter. She frantically pressed her hips against his as she bucked in wild desperation, searching for release. Her mound dug into him as her pelvis whipped forward. Her sweet spot collided with him at each penetration. The tension in her abdomen ratcheted tighter until it felt like it could rip her apart. But as the pleasure mounted higher and she teetered on the edge of pain, a familiar sensation quickly claimed her body.

  Her climax exploded. A hoarse cry ripped from her throat as uncontrollable, shuddering contractions filled her. Her abdomen clenched in a hard spasm and her back arched convulsively. Brett’s harsh groan echoed dimly as his massive thickening pulsed inside. Then he released himself, stiffening inside her, jerking against the walls of her body. Rippling ecstasy rolled through her, as waves of contractions flowed along his length. As his rigid arms suddenly tightened around her, his climax flooded into her, hot and deep.

  Jesse clung to his neck as a chain of spasms rocked her body. She convulsed around him, clenching deep inside, as he grunted in response. Though her hips weren’t hers to control, they slowly, finally began to quiet and the last crest of pleasure ebbed away.

  A deep, shuddering breath escaped from Brett, joining her agonized gasps. For several moments, all they could do was breathe. But finally, as the heaving of their chests gradually slowed, he lowered her to the altar. Jesse felt the cool stone behind her as Brett gently laid her back. She opened her eyes to see him bending over her, his arms still in the curve of her back. A little smile flitted across his lips just before he lightly kissed her and then, slowly, he laid his face against her chest. As her fingers idly ran through his hair, she closed her eyes and smiled.

  • • • • •

  Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Brett finally pulled back from her. He stood at the edge of the altar, looking down at Jessica’s glistening, creamy skin. He lightly ran his hands over her ribs, then down her flat tummy, and finally over her thighs as he backed away.

  Though he waited for her to move, she lay still, her legs still dangling over the edge of the altar. As he put on his clothes, he found that he watched her intently. Her breathing was steady and deep, as though she might be sleeping. But a stone slab was no place to rest. He was just about to wake her when she finally stirred.

  As she slowly sat up, her hand went to her forehead and her eyes remained closed. Something was wrong.

  “Jessica?” he said, immediately stepping forward into the same position he’d just been. He put his hands around her waist. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded ‘yes’ but that couldn’t be true. As she opened her eyes, he crouched down to look directly into them. Though they seemed a bit glassy, she focused on him.

  “I’m okay,” she said quietly and smiled. He frowned but didn’t reply. “Really,” she said, sitting up straight. “I’ll just get dressed.”

  He helped her down from the platform and stood back.

  Slowly and very carefully, she bent to her clothes, picked up her panties and put them on, then her shorts. She was moving in slow motion and Brett couldn’t help but stand a little closer. As she stepped into her shoes, Brett realized she always kept one hand on the altar. Now she put on her bra and tank top but she leaned against the altar with her hip.

  “Jessica, you’re not okay,” he said, putting his arm around her waist for support. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head but the movement was apparently the last straw–her knees began to buckle.

  “Jessica!” he said, as he immediately scooped her up from behind. Her head lolled back and her eyes quickly closed. “Jessica!” he tried again.

  He watched her chest rise and fall and saw the pulsing of her jugular. She was unconscious.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jessica woke to see Brett looking down at her.

  “Welcome back,” he said quietly.

  Welcome back? From where?

  She glanced around at the white netting and the green canvas. She could distinctly hear the rain at the cave entrance.

  Weren’t we in the temple?

  Confused, she looked back to his face, which was upset.

  “You passed out,” he said. She tried to sit up. “Just hold on,” he said, with a hand on her arm. “Just take it easy for a minute.” Reluctantly, she lay back down. “Do you remember what happened?”

  She tried.

  They’d been in the temple. She’d read the love poem. And–she searched his face–they’d made love on the altar. Then the room had started to spin.

  “I got dizzy,” she finally said, as though she were admitting defeat.

  “Dizzy?” he said, his eyebrows knitting together. He took one of her hands in his. “What do you mean dizzy?”

  “The room started to spin,” she said. He looked at her, waited for her to continue. “That’s all I remember,” she said. “Then I was here.”

  He frowned.

  “Is that something that’s happened to you before?” She looked away. “Jessica,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. “This could be serious. I need to know what’s going on.” He put a hand to her face and made her look at him. “What else?” he said, looking her directly in the eyes.

  “This morning,” she said. “When I first got up, everything started to spin but it stopped right away.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” She was silent. “I see,” he said, his jaw muscles working. “You’re going to carry your own suitcase. You’re going to keep the fact that you’re not feeling well a secret.” He paused and took a deep breath. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t do well in the field. Not everyone is cut out for–”

  “But I am cut out for the field,” she blurted out. He stopped and stared at her, a bit set back by the tone in her voice. “I just have to get used to it is all.”

  “Jessica,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” she said, sitting up. “This is something I’ve always dreamed of. I’ve never felt so…” She didn’t know how to put it. “So needed,” she concluded. “Like I fit. Finally, somewhere, I feel like I fit
.”

  Unbidden, the name the other children called her sounded in her ears: Jittery Jessica. The fits of reading new languages, the way her hands floated over the text–it had begun when she was young. She’d learned long ago to stop reading and translating in front of people. She felt her face flush hot.

  Brett smiled at her.

  “You do fit,” he said. “And you are needed.” He took her hand in both of his. “I need you,” he said, looking down at their hands and then into her eyes. “But I need you to be honest about how you’re feeling. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” She was about to protest but he cut her off. “And two dizzy spells, and then passing out, that’s wrong.” She closed her mouth, took in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “Is there anything else?” he asked. “Any other symptoms?”

  “No,” she said. He waited and tilted his head at her. “Seriously,” she said. “No. That’s it.”

  He nodded a little.

  “Okay, dizziness, vomiting, and a lack of appetite,” he said, like a laundry list.

  “But–”

  “No buts. They might not be related or they might.” He thought for a few moments, looking at the floor. “You already told me what you ate in Santa Elena and that was all right. And you’re on an antimalarial,” he said, and then he paused. “Which one?” he asked. “Which antimalarial are you taking?”

  “Doxycycline,” she replied.

  “Okay, right,” he said nodding quickly. “That could definitely be it. The side effects are nausea, vomiting, and dizziness. It could be worse.” Suddenly, he stopped. “You’re sure that’s it, right?”

  “Yes,” she said definitively. “That’s it.” He turned a fake scowl on her that made her laugh a little. “I swear,” she said. “That’s it.”

  “Okay,” he said, smiling as he took a deep breath. “Side effects, then. That’s the good news.” He squeezed her hand. “The bad news?” She waited and he actually became serious again. “There’s nothing we can do about it,” he said, as he glanced toward the cave entrance. “We’re not going anywhere until that monsoon passes and then it’ll be a matter of going back to Guatemala City.”

  “No!” she said.

  Guatemala City was across the country. If they went there, it’d take days.

  “Nope,” he said shaking his head. “There’s no real medical care out here. It has to be Guatemala City.” Again she started to protest and he interrupted her. “No arguments, Jesse.”

  She blinked at the first time he’d used her nickname.

  “Call it a Principal Investigator decision,” he said, smiling. “And that would be me.” Then his smile faded a bit. “Because you do fit and I do need you. And I have to know you’ll be all right. The doctors in the capital will hopefully be able to confirm that it’s nothing more than side effects. But you can’t switch drugs mid-stream. If they can’t do anything for the side effects, then…”

  He didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew. If the dizzy spells continued, she’d have to go home.

  Finally, she nodded.

  “When the rain is over, then,” he said.

  Although she couldn’t see the cave entrance, she looked that way anyway.

  All of a sudden, she wished the rain would never stop.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Last one,” said Frederico. “Take it or leave it.”

  They stood staring at the single Mayan vase on the table. It was a tall cylinder, nearly two feet in height and about six inches in diameter. The black and tan painting stood out clearly from the cream colored background. Though the images were somewhat eroded and faded, they were still recognizable: yet another great lord sitting cross-legged on his throne.

  The buyer stared hard at it. He’d thrown back the hood of his slick rubber poncho, which was dripping all over, though he was careful to keep it away from the vase.

  Frederico glanced at the rain through the screen on the window. It was still coming down in buckets. Although it happened to be the first storm of the season, it was the biggest storm Frederico had experienced. The buyer had come by road, not an easy thing in this weather. But the river was impossible.

  He looked back at the buyer. For a moment, he considered killing the man.

  The big truck he drove would come in handy. As his fingers settled on the handle of the machete hanging at his side, he imagined hacking the man’s throat. He looked down at the man’s front pants pocket. The serious buyers always brought cash. And this was a serious buyer. There was probably at least five thousand dollars in his pocket.

  Frederico stared at the pocket as the buyer circled around the vase, still careful not to touch it or drip water on it. But here was the problem, always the same problem. If he killed the buyer, he couldn’t buy anything in the future. He could have the truck and five thousand dollars now, but that’d be it. And if too many buyers disappeared, they’d all stop coming.

  Frederico folded his arms over his chest.

  “Take it,” he said. “Or leave it. Five-thousand.”

  “Wait a minute,” the man said, finally looking at him. “You just said it was four-thousand.”

  “That was before. Now you’re wasting my time.”

  Frederico put his hand back on the machete. The man stared at it, then glanced at the vase, and then back at the machete.

  “All right,” he hissed. “All right.”

  He dug into his pants pocket and removed a roll of large bills.

  Frederico smirked.

  “When will you have more?” the man asked.

  Frederico glanced through the screen and looked at the muddy river in the distance.

  “When the rain stops.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The glyphs were changing.

  Jesse sensed it more than saw it. The deeper they went into the Mayan ruins of the cavern, the darker the glyphs became–their look, their feelings, and their meanings.

  She had finally convinced Brett that she was feeling fine–and she was. They had agreed that the fainting and dizziness were the side effects of the antimalarial drug she’d chosen.

  Brett had been so understanding. It was her first time in the field so it was hard to know how the drugs would affect her. Going back to Guatemala City had to grate on him more than her but he seemed to be taking it in stride. For her part, she felt the need to get as much translation done as possible in whatever time was left.

  “I’m convinced the Red King is in the seventh cave,” Brett said. “And not just because the other caves don’t seem to have a burial. You’ll see what I mean.”

  They’d used lanterns to navigate through the long main corridor that led from the first cavern, the location of the main plaza and their camp. As they’d passed the other caverns, he’d pointed them out and talked about each.

  Cavern two had a cenote, a deep well into which sacrificial offerings were thrown–offerings that sometimes included people. Cavern three had a ball court where the hard rubber ball passing through a stone ring decided the fate of the players. Cavern four had contained a forest of pillars and number five was the temple of the high priest. They had just passed the sixth.

  “An enormous platform with an equally huge tzompantli,” Brett said. “I promise I’m going to show all this to you but I want you to see the seventh cave.”

  A tzompantli, Jesse thought grimly, the wall of skulls where the heads of sacrificial victims were placed on long wooden posts, stacked twenty high. Each cave had something more grisly than the previous. She was glad they weren’t stopping. As they neared the entrance, their feet moved quicker but Jesse felt a growing dread.

  “Blood Gatherer,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Brett, as he led her by the hand. “The Red King.”

  He hadn’t stopped talking about him since they’d left camp. And despite the strange glyphs they’d passed, she couldn’t help but be infected by his excitement. But something nagged at the back of her mind.

  “There’s a reason fo
r his name,” she said.

  His pace slowed a little as he looked at her face.

  “You said that in the first cavern,” he said. “At the stelae.”

  “Something’s coming,” she said, looking ahead to the dark mouth of the last cave. “The glyphs say so. I think we’re heading to Xibalba.”

  As they’d passed the other caves, each entrance had been marked by a stela. Although they hadn’t paused, she’d read them quickly as they passed.

  “Do you feel it?” she asked, as he came to a stop.

  “Xibalba is the underworld, the realm of the dead,” Brett said, still holding her hand. “It doesn’t really exist. You know that.”

  Jesse looked at the dark cave entrance ahead of them.

  “The Red King wasn’t supposed to exist either. Or his realm of Tulan Zuyua.” That was something Brett could hardly argue about. She gestured around them. “He’s gathering blood, Brett. I don’t know how but he’s still gathering blood.”

  Brett took her by both arms.

  “He’s dead, Jesse. For thousands of years. He’s dead.” Then his eyes lit up. “And we’re going to find him.”

  He didn’t see it. He didn’t see the way the glyphs looked.

  He tugged her toward the last cave. A stela was set up in the corridor just in front of it. The glyphs seemed to jump out at her.

  “Brett,” she said, as he started to pass. “Brett, have you read this?”

  He slowed but didn’t stop.

  “I read the top part but nothing seemed to have anything to do with the Red King.” Then he paused. “Why? What does it say?”

  Though the glyphs were the colors that she usually visualized, there was a deep vibrancy that was new. They were darker and richer colors and yet somehow just as bright. She blinked a few times as she approached. As she reached up to touch the first row, she felt a sudden chill in her fingertips. She gasped and stood back.