Atlantean's Quest Volume 1

by Jordan Summers

  This isn’t possible. I’m imagining this. It has to be my imagination. Otherwise I’d be crazy.

  But even as the thought tumbled from her head, she felt the familiar pleasure-pain begin to build. Oh God, she was going to orgasm. Breathing ragged, Jac clutched the pack as if the canvas bag could somehow protect her from the unseen hands. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give out. The pressure increased, until Jac thought she couldn’t take a minute more. As if sensing her impending release the heated touch dissipated, leaving her body quaking from the onslaught.

  Jac exhaled. Relief mixed with a healthy dose of frustration. It was quickly followed by anger. She didn’t like being played with. And that was exactly what somebody was doing. She didn’t understand how it was happening. Jac just knew that it was. Whatever or whoever was behind it had finally stopped. Had they quit enjoying the game or were they simply gearing up for round two. She took a moment to gulp in air and try to regain her composure. She didn’t get the chance as a giant imaginary tongue licked her slit from end to end. Jac convulsed as the orgasm took her, driving her to her knees.

  She knelt on the ground, resting on all fours, desperately trying to catch her breath. Her body continued to quiver and twitch like an electrical current ran through it. Jac felt a heavy weight settle against her back, as if she were about to be savagely mounted. She knew no one was behind her, yet her muscles locked and she shuddered in…anticipation. Her gaze bulleted to the jungle, Jac wasn’t sure what in the hell was going on, but she was determined to find out—just as soon as she could function again.

  Moments later, Jac pulled herself up and brushed off her legs. She glared at the trees as if the look alone would send a ‘don’t fuck with me’ message, then scooped her pack from the ground and got in line with the men. She didn’t miss the fact that they were now staring at her as if she were truly insane. Maybe she was. Maybe she’d been bitten by a mosquito and had developed some kind of bizarre fever that caused orgasms. If that were the case, then she’d better find a sample and file a patent because she was about to be rich. She looked at her guides. She was still shaking, but no one came to her aid.

  It’s comforting to know that I’m on my own—as always.

  Monkeys scattered and screeched as she stepped into the rainforest. The air thickened in the shaded undergrowth. Red, green, and gray parrots squawked and flapped their wings. Any other time she’d find their commotion irritating, but after what occurred in camp, Jac barely noticed. She focused on the trail in front of her, eyes peeled for any flash of movement, anything out of place.

  She’d sent one of the guides ahead to search for signs of Rachel. He’d bring back information if he noticed anything out of the ordinary. Perspiration from the intense humidity dampened her shirt. Despite the heat, Jac rubbed her arms, in an attempt to ward away a chill. Something wasn’t right. The jungle felt off, almost oppressive. She didn’t believe in ghosts—at least she hadn’t up until now—but she couldn’t think of any other logical explanation for what had occurred at basecamp. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. She didn’t have that good of an imagination. Jac slid her hand to the pistol and removed the safety. The next time the phantom visited, she’d be ready.

  They marched through the rest of the morning, reaching the river at two o’clock, an hour behind schedule. Fortunately for Jac, the jungle had remained relatively quiet with no more unusual happenings. Upon reaching the water, the men inflated the canoes and settled the equipment inside, tying it securely. The current was swift, churning up sediment from the bottom, making visibility close to nil. Before pushing off from shore, Xavier ordered another guide to run ahead through the jungle to search for signs of Rumsinger’s party.

  Jac was relegated to sharing a boat with Xavier. They paddled in silence for the first hour, the only sounds coming from the ripples the oars made when they sliced through the water and the occasional flap of wings overhead.

  From the river, the jungle seemed different, somehow less threatening, as if viewing it from a distance kept the danger at bay. Jac relaxed for the first time since arriving and leaned back. She imagined having the flow of the water washing over her, cascading through her tired muscles and taking the tension from her body. Staring trance-like at the water, Jac watched as a pair of dark eyes surfaced about ten feet away. The black caiman watched them with the lazy appreciation of a predator sizing up a meal. Jac bolted upright and rowed hard. There couldn’t be enough distance between her and that leftover dinosaur.

  They’d been on the river for a few hours, when the guide on land shouted that a track had been discovered. Jac’s heart raced, as thoughts of Rachel ran through her head. She wondered if the professor had fed her. Had she been tortured? Would they find her body tied to one of the trees?

  No, no, no—in her mind Rachel was happy, healthy, and doing fine. She simply waited for Jac to find, rescue, and return her to her rightful place—New York.

  * * * * *

  The sun had set by the time the guide returned with news of Rumsinger’s safari. He had pitched camp about five miles away as the crow flies. Jac’s party couldn’t reach him before nightfall, so they’d have to camp here for the evening.

  Jac didn’t like the idea of camping in the heart of the jungle, especially when the hair on the back of her neck had been standing on end for the past ten minutes. Her fight or flight response had kicked in and she couldn’t seem to shut it off or shake the feeling of being stalked.

  Jaclyn Monroe Ward, knock it off.

  She wasn’t prone to normal female outbursts. Jac prided herself on the fact that she could at any given moment, behave exactly like a man. She’d had to, to survive in the corporate world of law, but this was different—it felt different. For the first time in her life, Jac knew she was up against something formidable and she had no way of predicting the outcome. And that fact alone freaked her out—and excited her.

  “You’re sure Rumsinger is five miles away?” she asked the scout, hoping that maybe he was wrong and that would explain her sense of unease.

  The man nodded. “I’ve seen his camp. It is a few miles downstream.”

  “Did you see any women with him?” she asked, hoping that he’d caught sight of Rachel.

  He shook his head. “No, only men.”

  Jac bit back her disappointment. It didn’t mean anything. He could be keeping Rachel inside a tent. “What about scouts?”

  “I’ve come across no sign of scouts in the area,” he said.

  “Any other signs?” she asked, fearing his answer. She’d told the guides to watch for any kind of sign that would indicate violence.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Okay, but keep watch. We don’t want them sneaking up on us in the middle of the night.” Deflated, Jac watched the men set up the tents. Within an hour, the vegetation had been cleared and a fire had been built. She thought about chastising the crew for disturbing the plants, but since there hadn’t been an alternative she kept her mouth shut. After a dinner of fruits and fish, Jac headed straight to her tent. Clouds were building on the horizon and it had looked as if they were in for one heck of a storm. She zipped the door closed behind her, desperate to escape the feeling of prying eyes. Jac seriously considered inviting Xavier to stay with her. Not for the sex, but for the company. Too bad he already thought she was crazy.

  Jac hated to admit it, especially to herself, but she was scared. Not in the physical sense, although she did feel vulnerable to a certain extent. The fear masked something deeper, something she’d refused to analyze. The faceless stranger at the creek had brought out emotions in Jac that she’d managed to keep tamped down for years. Hidden primitive thoughts of being possessed completely by a dominating male, letting go of her hard won control, relinquishing her power, and allowing herself to feel protected, cherished—loved. She’d fantasized about the stranger’s mouth, his spicy animalistic scent, and that incredible body ever since. Even though she hadn’t caught a glimpse of him, it was as
if Jac held his invisible brand somewhere on her skin.

  She removed the scarf. The unusual material had managed to keep her neck cool all day, despite the sudden spike in the afternoon temperature. So maybe it was worth keeping after all. In her tent, the air practically crackled with electricity. Jac rubbed away the sudden gooseflesh rising on her arms, determined to get some sleep tonight, come hell or high water, which was saying something since they were camped on a river.

  * * * * *

  Several hours later, Jac tossed the sleeping bag off her legs and tried to get comfortable. It had been raining off and on for most of the night. She readjusted the mosquito netting, throwing her arm over her eyes, and fell back to sleep. The invisible touch she’d felt this morning haunted her thoughts all the way into her dreams.

  The image was fuzzy at first, then she recognized Xavier. He stood between her thighs, getting ready to lower his head to her aching flesh. Jac shifted, spreading her legs in anticipation. Suddenly his image was wretched aside, yanked right out of her dream and replaced by one much more powerful. Jac frowned, trying to focus once more.

  Tall and muscled, a dark stranger stood on a precipice, looking over his shoulder, his jade gaze intense, fierce, holding wicked promises of things to come. His expression was solemn, save for a sinful glint in his eyes. Black hair, the color of night, hung like a blanket to his trim waist. A loincloth hugged his well-developed ass, exposing his thick thighs and long legs. His large hand extended out to Jac, but he made no move to grab her. His massive body moved fluidly with the grace of a jaguar, as he turned to face her. That’s when she saw the scars marring his beautiful chest, a living testament to the battles he’d fought and won.

  Jac’s gaze rose to his face. She gasped at the surprising masculine beauty.

  Like an erotic fantasy come to life, he waited. For what she did not know. Jac’s gaze scrolled down the length of him, pausing at the impressive bulge beneath his loincloth. Familiarity prickled at the back of her mind. She glanced up, her eyes locking with the stranger’s, drawing her near despite her efforts to resist. His power was palpable. His need tangible. Jac fought the urge to throw herself at his feet and beg him to fuck her. Her nipples engorged, as if her body recognized his, yet she knew she’d never seen him before.

  Just as Jac was about to ask his name, the man smiled and then stuck out his six and a half inch tongue, rolling it provocatively, taunting her—reminding. Her breathing seized, recognition slamming into her as if she’d been tackled from behind by a linebacker. Everything came back in a rush—the stream, the blindfold, endless orgasms, and that tongue. The stranger threw his head back and laughed. The deep rumbling sound sent delicious vibrations through her body, bringing it instantly to life.

  Jac jackknifed up, her slender hands gripping the sides of the cot for support. Her breathing was labored and a thin sheen of sweat covered her skin. She blinked a couple of times as her mind scrambled to recall where she was. The green canvas walls of her tent came into focus. She could hear the steady patter of rain as it struck the canvas. Humidity embraced her like an old friend and animals stirred within the cover of the jungle. She glanced around the tent once more.

  She was alone. Always alone.

  The dream had seemed so real. He had seemed real. Her body continued to tingle from the dream’s vivid images. But that’s all it was—a dream. Jac pulled the mosquito netting apart and stood up. The phantom stranger had shaken her to the core. Logically, she knew he didn’t exist, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from imagining what if. Jac looked down at her body, her nipples were erect, and she could feel her it pulsing. There was no way in hell she’d fall back to sleep this aroused.

  Jac rummaged through her bag and found her bunny vibrator. She could care less if the guides could hear the steady buzz coming from inside her tent. She needed some relief—now. She slipped the vibrator in place and turned it on, allowing the delicate rabbit ears to stimulate her clit while the dildo made slow, sensual circles inside her. Jac lay back on the cot, spreading her legs wide for maximum enjoyment, picturing the dark stranger’s amazing tongue.

  It only took a few minutes of imagining the stranger’s mouth feasting upon her, the weight of his body spreading her as he impaled her with his impressive tongue, his lips practically rimming her anus, as he drove inside her harder and harder, before Jac’s breathing deepened and she came hard. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. Her skin heated from her release, blood roared in her ears, pounding, muting the sounds around her. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the musky odor of sex wafting in the air.

  Replete, she closed her eyes and once again sought out the dark angel from her dream. This time when he appeared, his gaze held an unspoken sensual promise. Jac shivered and got the distinct impression he was out there somewhere—waiting.

  Ares spent much of the night in a tree a hundred yards away from Jaclyn Ward’s campsite. He’d awoken on occasion throughout the evening to reach out and touch Jac’s thoughts, projecting his own back. When his mind received the carnal pictures floating through her during dream state, he’d almost fallen from his perch. His cock was still achingly hard. The fact that she’d imagined Xavier getting ready to stroke inside her only made matters worse.

  Anger over her mistaking him for another man fired Ares’s blood, so much so, he’d sent images of himself to taunt, tease, and remind her of what they’d shared yesterday. He’d expected shock, perhaps withdrawal, but not the curiosity or the insatiable hunger that lingered just below her cool surface. It took every fiber of Ares’s being to keep from going to her, but he wanted them deeper into the jungle, closer to the red devil he sought. Then when the moment was right, he’d claim her. In the meantime, he’d move to the other side of the river, where he’d be able to keep an eye on her canoe, and hopefully avoid temptation.

  Ares made his way through the trees and across the water a few hours before dawn. The foliage was less dense on the far side, so he’d have to be twice as vigilant to keep his presence hidden. He found a limb to wait on that allowed him clear access to Jac’s tent, then made himself comfortable and slept.

  * * * * *

  The next morning after breakfast the expedition broke camp. Xavier directed the men in boats into the water, then turned back to Jac. “We should catch up with the professor tonight, if we don’t run into any problems.”

  “Good, the sooner the better.” She really needed to find the bastard, rescue Rachel, and get the hell out of this jungle before her mind snapped completely. She was losing control and Jac didn’t like it one bit. “We’ll reach him even if we have to push forward in the dark,” she said, then rolled her shoulders to ease the tension that refused to leave. “I’m not letting him get away.”

  Xavier nodded and waited for Jac to step into the canoe before shoving off.

  They had been paddling for a couple of hours when the first gunshot exploded from the rainforest. The guide in the front canoe screamed as a bullet ripped through him, tearing a hole into his side.

  Blood spurted out, spraying the men in the canoe beside him. The guides started shouting. Several hands flew up, pointing to the bank. All eyes turned to the trees. Several natives lined the shore, rifles raised in their direction, then utter chaos erupted as more shots were fired.

  Nightmarish screams rang out. Painful cries for the dying blended with slaps as the paddles hit the water. Jac’s anger erupted as she saw Rumsinger smile and slip into the undergrowth. She pulled her pistols out and opened fire, dropping two of the natives on the shore. The river rippled as guide after guide dove into the murky depths, seeking escape. The ones lucky enough to reach the shore fled into the jungle.

  Xavier shouted orders to the remaining men to paddle to the opposite shore. Two more guides were felled. The current flowed eerily red as the blood blended with the water. Serpent-like heads broke the surface as the caiman closed in, drawn by the powerful scent of blood and carnage. Bullets plunked in the water. More men abandoned
their inflatable canoes and started swimming for the shore, taking their chances with the second deadliest predator in the area.

  Bullets whizzed by Jac’s bowed head. She ducked low and fired back, trying to buy Xavier enough time to paddle to shore. The buzz was horrendous as the groups exchanged gunfire. Metal ricocheted off equipment, zinging like giant mosquitoes, before striking one of the canoes. The craft exploded from the hail of gunfire, sending bits of yellow rubber soaring through the air, then raining down upon their heads. Jac watched in horror as canoe remnants disappeared below the surface, swallowed by the murky depths.

  Frantic, she scrambled forward on her belly to ask Xavier what they should do next. He was bent forward, muscles straining, paddling with all his might. She made it to the front of the canoe, as a bullet shattered Xavier’s skull. Fragments of bone flew in all directions. Blood and brain matter sprayed Jac, oozing down her face, drenching her clothes until the white of her t-shirt stained crimson. A second later a bullet caught her raft and it slowly began to sink. In her mind she screamed, but no sound came out. Her instincts took over and she stood, diving into the swirling, muddy water.

  Jac broke the surface several yards away, her pack full of water and weighing her down. Undeterred, she swam for the far shore. She couldn’t afford to leave it, since she had no idea how long she’d have to survive on her own. She could hear the guides’ screams as the current or the caiman sucked them under one by one. She closed herself off to the horrendous sound. If she were going to survive, she’d have to stay focused and keep moving. The current was strong, but she was stronger. Jac’s muscles strained as she sliced through the water. Gradually by swimming kitty-corner to the shore, she reached solid ground, and collapsed on the bank.