Tender Savage (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

“So it appears.”

  “Defend yourself.” Beginning to circle Abraham, Carlos tossed his knife from hand to hand, grinning in anticipation.

  Laughing when Abraham did nothing, Carlos made a few flippant lunges, all to which Abraham ignored.

  “Come, my friend. Try your hand.” Carlos yanked apart his shirt, pointing at his chest. “Here it is—my heart. Plunge your knife deep, because for one of us it will end here, on this night. So take your chance.”

  “Give yourself up, Carlos. In that way you may live, albeit in a prison cell, but alive for all that.”

  “No, it ends here, your life or mine.”

  Abraham glanced across at Eleanor. Carlos followed his look. “When you die, Savage, the woman will be mine, as all your women have been. I will sink myself into her pure, white body and slake my thirst, taking once again what is yours.”

  Abraham slowly withdrew his own knife.

  “Very well, Carlos. For better or worse it ends now.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes, too frightened to look. If Abraham should die…

  Chapter Twelve

  For Eleanor the silence was too much, and she strained to hear, but there was nothing—nothing but the quiet whispering of the trees, the shuffling of feet, and the grunts of heavy breathing. Cautiously she opened her eyes, just a bit, too frightened to look but too terrified not to.

  Both men were bloodied, clothes torn by blades, and both had a look of primitive savagery on their faces. Quickly she closed her eyes again. Everything seemed heightened, the sounds, the smells, and the savagery.

  A primeval cry rent the air, vibrating around, resounding off the trees. Its sound eerie, wretched. Eleanor’s eyes snapped open.

  Abraham was bent over Carlos, who was sprawled on the ground. A knife was in his chest, and blood was seeping crimson red from the wound. Carlos spoke, his words soft and eerily disjointed. Abraham grasped his uplifted hand.

  “You win…my friend, the…other…wound…the one that cut so deep…it is…now revenged, eh?”

  Nodding, Abraham reached out with the other hand and grasped Carlos’s shoulder.

  “Rest now, Carlos. There are no more battles to be fought.”

  Carlos took a shallow, difficult breath. “The stars are strange, hazy now, like lights through a misty window.”

  “Close your eyes, my friend. There is nothing more to fear.”

  Rising to her feet, Eleanor moved closer to Abraham and rested a small comforting hand on his shoulders as the last lingering sign of life left Carlos.

  Abraham slowly got to his feet, Eleanor’s hand sliding unheeded from his shoulder. Protecting Carlos’s body from the wild animals, he laid a handkerchief across Carlos’s face and silently began covering him with stones. Looking on, Eleanor was unsure of what to do or say. Her was mind reeling with unanswered questions, and she bent and lifted some stones to give to Abraham.

  Looking coldly at her, his eyes to her mind dead, soulless, he ordered her to leave well alone, that this task was for him to do alone. Opening her mouth to speak, she quickly, upon catching Abraham’s eyes on her, closed it again. His eyes were so blank, empty of all emotions, and cold, like the emeralds they epitomized.

  The task done, Abraham caught hold of Eleanor’s arm and, quickly withdrawing a knife, sliced through the binds that held her wrists. Momentarily his thumb stroked against the red weals left behind, and his gut clenched. Then sparing her no further interest, he marched off back toward the clearing, not even bothering to check to see if she was following. Staring after the silent, retreating figure, Eleanor took one more glance at the makeshift grave and scurried after him.

  * * * *

  Dawn was breaking, the night seeming to have flown on speeding wings. Back at their encampment, Abraham quickly doused the still-glowing fire, handed Eleanor the flask, and proceeded to break camp. Passing her bag to her, Abraham, without a backward glance, set a hard, fast pace and marched out the clearing.

  The hours passed, and Eleanor was tired beyond imaginings. Abraham’s pace had stayed steady, lessening only slightly over the course of the last couple of miles. She was hot, tired, and thirsty, heartily sick of getting soaked from sudden rain storms and then moments later her clothes steaming dry. Her feet were killing her, and the strain from the bag on her shoulder was beginning to tell, every muscle screaming in pain. They had stopped but only once, ten minutes for a short rest, a drink, and a piece of beef jerky, all of which had been partaken in silence. Wanting to speak, ask questions, and commiserate on his loss, Eleanor, thoroughly confused by the relationship between Abraham and Carlos, had thought better of it, especially when Abraham had deliberately turned from her and rested some distance away. His stiff back and shoulders told her more than words that this was not the time for small talk.

  * * * *

  Stumbling over a tree root, Eleanor finally gave into exhaustion and lay where she fell. Too tired to call out, she just closed her eyes. Maybe at some point Abraham would notice her absence and realise she was missing, but, she thought as she metaphorically shrugged her shoulders, who cared.

  Abraham stopped and swung about, looking for Eleanor. Spying her lying prone on the ground, he strode over to her and turned her to face him. Gently pushing the hair back from her hot, red face, he quietly spoke her name.

  Her lids feeling like a ton of weights so heavy they refused to open. Eleanor, with a supreme effort, forced her lashes upward and gazed almost adoringly at him.

  “My hero!” she whispered with a besotted grin, lifting her hand to pat him on the face.

  “Oh my God!” Abraham breathed gently, pushing back her hair off her hot forehead. “Come on, Eleanor, drink this. You’re dehydrated.” Unscrewing the cap of the flask, he held it to her mouth.

  “No I’m not. I’m a bloody model,” she countered, her voice high pitched and squawky.

  “Drink,” he ordered, almost tipping the water in her mouth.

  Gulping, Eleanor coughed and spluttered as the liquid went down the wrong way, dribbling onto her chin and over the front of her shirt.

  “Now look what you’ve made me do,” she complained. “Now I’ll have to take it off.” She began to open the buttons of her shirt.

  “Enough!” Abraham ground out, smoothly lifting her in his arms.

  * * * *

  Placing her on the ground sheet, Abraham proceeded to fix the awning above her. All the time he was engaged in the mundane tasks of setting up camp, she talked gibberish to an imaginary friend and proceeded to remove items of clothing. Her blouse came off first, followed by boots and then socks. With each article she removed, she giggled, wildly throwing the items in all directions. After a fire was built, Abraham boiled up a kind of stew using edible nuts and roots. It wouldn’t taste that good, but it was nourishing and wholesome. A waterfall was nearby, and he’d collected some of the running water, which was in a tin boiling on the stones surrounding the fire. When it was cool, he would add the last of the sterilizing tablets, and then it would be fit to drink.

  Eleanor needed to get hydrated and quickly. He glanced across to where she was lying. Finally, exhaustion had caught up with her and she was asleep, mouth slightly open and snoring.

  At least the manic giggling had stopped, if only for a moment.

  Whilst the water was cooling, Abraham visited the waterfall and had a fresh cleansing wash. He didn’t dare immerse himself in the water, as it would be teeming with bacteria and God knew what else as well, and it wouldn’t do for the two of them to go down with something. Returning to the camp, he checked the now-cooled water and dropped in two sterilising tablets, then went to rouse Eleanor.

  Shaking Eleanor’s shoulder, he called softly to her. Her lashes fluttered and then, by what seemed a feat of immense will, her lids lifted and her eyes gazed slightly myopically into his.

  “Ello,” she squawked.

  Abraham raised her head and placed the lip of the flask against her mouth.

  “Drink,” he ordered, t
ipping the liquid into her mouth.

  Coughing and spluttering, Eleanor drank. Repeating the action a total of five times, he then decided that she’d had enough and, propping her against the tree trunk, went to get her some of the stew.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abraham’s hand on Eleanor’s shoulder shook her awake, and placing a bowl of stew into her hands, he ordered her to eat. Listlessly, feeling exhausted and slightly strange, she stirred the brown mess in the bowl and wondered what on earth Abraham was expecting her to eat. It looked like dog dirt, and she tentatively took a bite, and it tasted awful.

  “Ech!” she protested, spitting it out. “What the hell is it?”

  “Stew. It’s good for you, so eat it.”

  “No way! Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a pain, but there’s no need to try and poison me.”

  “Stop being ridiculous. You need nourishment, you’re exhausted and dehydrated, and the stew is full of vitamins and minerals, so be a good girl and eat it.”

  Patronising pig, she thought, looking mutinously at him.

  “I’ll think I’ll pass, thank you very much,” she said primly, putting the bowl to one side.

  Looking up from feeding the fire, Abraham stared decisively at her.

  “You either eat it willingly, princess, or I’ll force it down your stubborn little throat.”

  Gaping at him in disbelief, she hesitated momentarily before mulishly picking up the bowl, and she hastily began shovelling the food into her mouth, forcing back the angry words teeming in her head.

  * * * *

  The night was closing in, and Eleanor lay back on the groundsheet and tiredly closed her eyes. Before she knew it, it would be morning, and the route march would begin all over again. She wanted to cry. For what, she wasn’t really sure. For herself maybe, for the hardship and the fear, or for Abraham, for whatever drove him, for the demons that made him the unfeeling brute he had become. She checked herself. That was unfair. He wasn’t unfeeling at all. He was driven. So perhaps her tears were for her brother, who had wasted his life and was now a lost soul, living in a world of fantasy, not knowing the difference between illusion and reality. But maybe they could be for the passengers and crew of the aircraft who had lost their lives or even for the death of Carlos, who at one time, many years ago must have been a decent human being, some mother’s innocent child, and apparently Abraham’s friend. She sighed, shifting restlessly, still so many unanswered questions and so much heartache and sorrow. The sounds of the jungle merged, becoming incomprehensible, and she succumbed to sleep.

  Abraham glanced over to where Eleanor was sleeping. She seemed much improved. Thankfully, she was only slightly dehydrated, even though this setback, minor though it was, was sure to slow them down. Although, with just a day or so resting she should be as right as rain. He blamed himself for her suffering. Furious at her detention by Carlos and worried about her survival, he’d set a punishing pace, not heeding the signs of her distress until it was almost too late. Now she needed rest, so they would have to stay here tomorrow and then think about moving the day after.

  Checking the fire was secure, he made his way to the awning. Lying down beside, Eleanor he wrapped a protective arm around her as she snuggled into his warmth.

  * * * *

  Eleanor stretched luxuriously. A feeling of well-being encompassed her. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached out for Abraham. Missing the feel of a warm body beside her, she sat up, her eyes searching the small encampment. Breathing a sigh of relief as she glimpsed him entering the clearing, she hungrily took in his appearance. He looked fresh as a daisy, masculine, virile, handsome… Her thoughts skidded to a halt then backpedalled. He looked as fresh as a daisy, how?

  Scrambling quickly to her feet, she was brought to a halt as a sudden feeling of faintness assailed her. Reaching out, she grabbed at a tree and waited for the dizziness to pass. Abraham caught her as she swayed and quickly lowered her back to sit on the groundsheet.

  “Take it easy, Eleanor. You were dehydrated, so you’ll feel slightly disoriented for a while.”

  Looking up at him, she searched his face, waiting for some sign of tenderness. Finding none, she looked down and, finding a loose thread at the bottom of her shirt, started fiddling with it, occupying her traitorous hands, hands that wanted to reach out and touch him.

  “You’ve had a wash?” she questioned, still avoiding his gaze.

  Reaching out a hand, he lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “No hello or good morning?” He smiled whimsically.

  “No, err, sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Good morning, Abraham. You’ve had a wash?”

  Abraham grinned at her single-mindedness.

  “Good morning, Eleanor. Yes, if you’re sure you feel well enough, I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up.”

  * * * *

  Eleanor’s eyes grew wide, taking in the beauty of the wilderness that surrounded her. The waterfall was like something out of a film set. The water crashing into the pool was the bluest she’d ever seen, and the froth as it hit the pool was as white as snow, foaming and fizzing in a fantasia of sound. The sun shone, turning everything into a bright cornucopia of colour. The exotic flowers and butterfly wings seemed brighter somehow, and the myriad of beautiful plumage high in the trees took her breath away. The plants surrounding the pool were lush and strong, the greens vibrant, varying from a vivacious lime to a deep prosaic sage. And the smells—she sniffed, feeling intoxicated, exhilarating aromas, rich scents that tantalised the nostrils, smells she likened to honeysuckle, freesias, lilies, and May blossoms.

  Everything seemed surreal, calm, peaceful, and exquisite, eons away from the death and destruction of the last few days. Turning a happy, smiling face to Abraham, she laughed girlishly up at him.

  “Can I really swim in here? It’s like—well, it’s just like I imagine ‘The Garden of Eden’ was.”

  Abraham, looking down into her delightful eyes, felt something strange stir in his heart. Ignoring the phenomenon, he pulled her close, his arm encircling her small, slender frame. Trustingly, she lifted her face for his kiss. His mouth unerringly found hers in a deep, soul-destroying kiss, a kiss that buzzed and sparkled like electricity throughout her veins and caused the blood to pump wildly around her erratically beating heart. Lifting her arms, she entwined them around his neck, her fingers stroking his nape and the soft hair that now needed cutting. She pushed closer, her breasts pressing against his hard, muscular chest. She groaned, a small grumbling in the back of her throat as she whispered for him to make her his, to let her be his Eve to her Adam.

  Laying her on the bank among the lush vegetation, Abraham, caught up in the moment, needed no second bidding and unhurriedly began undressing her. Slowly removing her clothes, he gently explored the womanly contours of her body. Finally naked, she lay exposed to his scrutiny. She was unashamed, spreading herself to his gaze. He looked his fill. She was all woman, skin soft and satinlike, luscious breasts, small waist, curvaceous hips, long, slender legs, and at the apex of her thighs a womanly mound, the lips already parted, ready, and pouting for his attention.

  His hands slid under her, cupping her backside, squeezing and caressing the cheeks, enjoying the feel of their shapely softness. Lifting her to his lips, his tongue danced around the perfect shape of her clitoris before sucking it deeper into his mouth.

  Eleanor’s hands in his hair stilled as a tingle began building deep in her pelvis. As she pressed his head further into the apex of her body, she wrapped her legs more securely around his neck and, with hips thrusting, urged him in small impassioned cries to make her come. Abraham appeared happy to oblige his mouth becoming an instrument of pleasure, nipping, suckling, and lapping, the scent of her essence filling his nostrils, and with her small mewing cries carried away on the sun-warmed air, he took her to heaven.

  * * * *

  Eleanor slowly opened her eyes. Her breathing had slowed, and the ripples of pleasure were now j
ust a tingle. Still feeling weak from Abraham’s pleasuring, she sighed deeply in satisfaction, loving the feeling of abandonment sex in the open air had produced.

  Turning on her side, Eleanor gazed at Abraham. Eyes closed, he appeared to be asleep. Reaching out a hand, she traced the scar that ran the length of his cheek, wondering how he had got it. His eyes snapped open, and a hard hand covered hers. She looked questionably at him.

  “How did you get this?” she asked, putting her thoughts into words. Pulling her hand from under his, she reached up to continue her exploration.

  Recapturing her hand, he told at her to behave and, pushing her onto her back, gave her a hard, hot kiss, his hands once again discovering her body.

  Her question forgotten, Eleanor pulled laughingly away, and sitting up, she in turn pushed him until he lay flat. He was naked, his clothes dispensed of she knew not when. Unclothed, he was the very epitome of raw masculinity, savagely elemental, designed to attract the opposite sex and created to mate.

  Filled with mischief, she kissed his lips, moved on to his neck, his shoulders, across his chest, and down to his flat stomach where the narrowing of hair signified the way. Glancing up briefly, she smiled at his expression and moved lower, teasing him with soft caresses that went from hip to hip, across his stomach, stopping momentarily to dip her tongue into the indent of his belly button and then to travel lower.

  She heard Abraham catch his breath as her lips stroked, butterfly soft, down the length of his cock, and she smiled briefly in satisfaction, the smile a gentle movement that stopped at the eye of his dick to taste the essence dewing there.

  He groaned, the sound resonant, raw, and primal rising from deep in his abdomen. Satisfaction at his involuntary response had her smiling secretly to herself and enticed her to be more adventurous. So with that in mind, she gently lifted his cock in her hands, softly skimming its surface, and, bending her head, she nuzzled his balls, loving the soft pliability of their fleshiness. Opening her mouth, she caressed and licked, nibbled and teased until, with another heartfelt groan, Abraham grabbed hold of her hair and gently pulled her head away.