by Jackie Ivie
But it had changed his world.
For he’d sucked in a breath, too.
Shock had rippled through his veins as he’d watched the woman named Becky drop onto the bench in seeming slow-motion. The air had even felt alive, pushing against him as he’d leapt toward her. The sensation of returning life was unexpected, undeserved, and beyond containment. His heart had swelled as it searched out and found her heartbeat. And then matched it. His skin had rippled with goosebumps. His lungs had filled and expelled copious amounts of air. His gaze had devoured her as she’d rested her head between her knees. And other things had also wakened.
He’d been aroused. And excited. Everything on his body had experienced the electrical energy being near her caused. His groin was no exception. Nor, were his canines. Both had elongated without volition. And then she’d seen the latter and fallen forward. Right into his arms.
At last!
They’d reached the golden doors leading to his inner chambers. Mikhal turned to push through them with a shoulder. They slammed back into place behind him. He should push down the bolt. He didn’t. It wasn’t important. The only thing of any value and importance was in his arms. He lifted her closer, putting her breasts against his upper chest. That way he could experience the continual thump of their hearts, beating in tandem. Rhythmically. Incessantly.
It was awe-inspiring. Truly. Too much for one man to absorb. Even an immortal one.
They’d reached the queen’s chamber. Mikhal shoved through the draped cords that covered the doorway, feeling for the first time how the pearl and gem-encrusted cords felt as they slid over his head and shoulders. The silk bedding was free of dust. He shifted her to one arm, anyway, in order to slap it free of any such filth. Nothing but the best must touch his mate. The most exquisite. The most pristine. The most costly. The richest.
The mattress was held aloft between stretched cords. Mikhal replaced them annually. By some twist of fate, he’d just finished that a week or so earlier. He traced one, thrilled at the feeling of rope beneath his finger pads.
Was it a week ago?
Less?
Did it truly matter?
Time had been a nonentity for too many years. He truly couldn’t remember when he’d reworked his bed. It hadn’t been very long ago. The lines were still light-colored. Fresh-smelling. He leaned forward and placed his mate into the center of his bed with the adulation she deserved. The sheets felt cool against his forearms, and even that sensation was an amazement that required a gift to the gods. But he didn’t know of a one sufficient-enough. Even a blood-letting seemed too trivial.
Mikhal went to one of the chests along the wall next, rifling through items for a blanket. Everything in these chests belonged to her. He’d been gathering them for centuries. Ah. He pulled out a blanket. He remembered this one. It was woven with the Chachapoya pattern. He’d overseen every step of its construction. He’d purchased the finest alpaca wool. Hired the clan’s best weaver. Kept it in pristine condition.
He placed it reverently atop Becky.
It was still incredible! His hands shook for a moment before he controlled it. Oh. He was favored. She was so wondrously fair. Her hair streamed about the sheets resembling stripes of old gold. Her lips were rose-shaded. Her skin was perfect with the slightest tint on each cheek. Her eyelashes looked especially dark. And her throat had the sweetest vein thumping along the skin...
Mikhal stepped back before he did something regrettable. He already had that issue. He wished he hadn’t toyed with her. He should have spoken up immediately. Told her he knew what she said and what she wanted to know. He knew exactly what a khipu was. He had an entire library of them. They weren’t an Incan invention. They pre-dated that civilization by thousands of years. He had them because even before the Spanish conquistadors arrived, Mikhal had been gathering and collecting treasure. And hiding it away.
He wasn’t a khipucamayug, however. He hoped she wouldn’t find it too disappointing.
She didn’t stir. Mikhal frowned slightly. She hadn’t suffered head trauma, had she? He knew she hadn’t hit anything. He’d caught her before that happened. He raced to a wall, found his switch and illuminated the myriad of LED lights that sparkled throughout the ceiling, looking like the night sky. The light barely reached her, so he moved to the fireplace next, and started up the lighting system using another series of LED lights. He also added the heat feature, so she’d be warm. He didn’t use real flames. Not since the industrial age had arrived, and he’d installed solar panels.
She looked perfect. She was perfect. And then the buzz of an incoming VAL call came through the walls. Searching for him. Reaching him. Making his shoulders slump as all she did was shift and snuggle further into his bed.
What horrific timing Akron had.
Mikhal ran to his communication room too late for the first call, but before they tried again, he’d slapped a laptop on, and was up and pacing before it connected.
“Hola, and all that jazz.”
Ugh. It was Nigel Beethan, the Vampire Assassin League’s youngest vampire.
“What do you want?” Mikhal asked.
“Hey Montezuma! How’s it hanging?”
“Montezuma was an Aztec. Get your cultures straight.”
“Oh. My. Have I called at a bad time?”
“Yes and good-bye.” Mikhal moved to shut off the connection.
“Whoa! Down, boy. That was a rhetorical question.”
“It doesn’t matter. It is still a bad time.”
“Note to self, Nigel. Incans have zero sense of humor.”
“I am not Incan. I’ve told you before,” Mikhal replied.
“Listen. Michael. Sorry to interrupt but I have an assignment for you.”
Nigel always massacred his name. Akron was the only one pronouncing it correctly, although he drew out the first consonant, making it sound like ‘Mee-kall’.
“Give it to someone else. I am...occupied.”
“Oh. Isn’t that too bad.”
“Nigel.”
Akron’s resounding voice inserted into the conference, sending a boom of sound through the rock walls all about Mikhal. The place reverberated for a bit. As foolish as it was, he even looked upward as if the sound might dislodge pebbles before returning his vision to the laptop screen. With the name, Akron had sounded amused. Mikhal wouldn’t want to hear him if he was displeased.
“Sir?”
“Perhaps you should call another associate with the hit. It sounds as if Mikhal is truly busy.”
“Look, Sir. You put me in charge this afternoon. And already you’re questioning it? The call just came in. Some rich bastard wants his ex-wife eliminated. She’s on some tour of ancient Incan ruins in the Sacred Valley near Cuzco.”
“I am in the northern Andes, Nigel.”
“And the next closest associate is in Brazil.”
“Nigel,” Akron inserted. It was a warning, but he still sound amused.
“I’m certain it will take Mister Cloud Warrior all of five minutes to accomplish, and then he can go back to playing pan pipes or whatever he normally does. I mean, really. He can’t have anything that pressing going on. I mean. Come on. He lives in the Andes Mountains. It’s almost out of internet range. I think we’ve even got a two-second delay in our conversation here.”
“I have...found my mate,” Mikhal informed them.
“Oh. Well. Congratulations. How wonderful. Woo-hoo. I am so excited for you. You have no idea.”
Nigel didn’t sound enthused through any of the words.
“You’ll have to forgive Nigel, Mikhal. He knows exactly how you feel. He has just taken...a different path.”
“Nigel has found his mate? And he is not enthused?”
“It is a bit more complicated than that,” Akron answered.
“But it is the most wonderful thing! I cannot believe it! I need to send an offering to the gods, but I have yet to think of one of sufficient value!”
“Wow. Thanks for that, Michael, my man. Perh
aps I shouldn’t run the desk after all, Sir.”
“I do not understand,” Mikhal said in the silence that followed.
“Very few know this, but yes. Nigel Beethan has found his mate. He knows exactly where she is, and with whom. And that was why he made the decision to walk away. Despite how that feels.”
“Oh.”
Mikhal stared at the screen. He was just dealing with absolute joy. He couldn’t imagine turning away from Becky. He hadn’t known the youngest VAL member had it in him. Apparently, he hadn’t known quite a few things.
“Can we move on now?”
Nigel used a tone Mikhal had never heard from him before. He sounded wounded. And yet dedicated. Strong. And that is why Mikhal took the assignment.
CHAPTER FIVE
Man!
Dreams like this were for the really lucky. Becky hovered on the age of wakefulness, considering it. She had to get this committed to memory before she opened her eyes. It was like the best adventure movie on the planet. What had happened? She’d gone off on a trek through uncharted territory with a really small guy. That was a stupid move. She’d discovered a real archeological ancient site. Amazing circumstance! She’d been deserted by said dwarf-guy. That was a dark moment. Then she’d met and actually conversed with an Incan sun-god. One that got the flame lit to her fuse, the muse working overtime, and the juices flowing. And that was just from looking at, and conversing, with him. Okay. That took this adventure movie into pure fantasy. And it had been really nice.
And then what happened?
She’d fainted.
Because that’s what you do.
Becky groaned. Why couldn’t she just stay in dreamland a little longer? Long enough to maybe get some skin-to-skin time with Mister Sun-god? At least long enough to get a peek under that kilt-thing? Well. Damn. She might as well get up. She couldn’t stay in bed all day. She slid an arm along silken-feeling sheets. The hostel had certainly improved their linen closet.
Wait a minute.
She could feel the strap from her backpack pulling at a shoulder. A quick check along her side located exactly where she’d felt it. She was in a bed with her backpack on? Fully-dressed? She wriggled her toes. Yep. She even had her hiking boots on. Had she ingested something really hallucinogenic without meaning to? Something made a crackling sound. She sniffed. Was that...a fire?
Becky slit an eye open, almost afraid of what she’d see. And then she stared wide-eyed at the most amazing night vista. Stars twinkled from horizon to horizon. Wow. She heard the skies in the southern hemisphere were dynamite. Clear. Brilliant. Filled with all kinds of constellations and colors and...
She rolled her head to one side. The dark blue had a purple haze that seemed to move, too. And that was just a little too perfect.
Becky sat up. The structure she was atop bounced slightly. She lurched slightly again. The structure bounced with it. Okay. She was on a trampoline. Not so strange...
The blanket slid to her lap. She ran her fingers along it. She’d never felt anything so luxurious. She didn’t look at it. She was viewing a cut-rock fireplace that adorned one wall, flames flickering and snapping within its enclosure, sending golden light out so it could reflect off more gold. Gold! Gold! Everywhere she looked was the glint of gold. The walls were even covered in it.
No way.
Was she still dreaming? Because it sure as hell felt like it. And if so, well. She was being cheated. Mister Sun-god had done a disappearing act. And that was such a shame. Would it have been so bad to awaken in this bed? With him in it...?
Stop it, Becky.
She’d just experienced a single woman’s dream-guy. She looked like she’d awakened in a treasure-hunter/archeologist’s wet-dream. Well. What if Mister Sun-god was around here somewhere, or came back? This just couldn’t get much better. Becky shoved her feet toward one side. She had to scoot more than once, and the bed bounced along with her. She hoped her hiking boots weren’t leaving too much dirt and whatever else she’d trekked through on these sheets. Because they were really fantastic. Looked and felt like real heavy silk, as if she had any experience. And they were immense. It was a long way to one side. Who the heck fashioned a suspended bed that was super-king-sized anyway?
She didn’t know why she asked it. Where else would a sun-god rest? Except maybe on a sacrificial altar. Bathed in sunlight. Or covered in blood.
Okay. Imagination check, Becky. That’s a little too wild.
And really. What had brought that thought up anyway? So far nothing looked like she was at the mercy of a murderous priest of historical lore. In fact, he’d looked much more like a warrior.
A warrior of the clouds.
Yeah. That was it. Mister Sun-god was a cloud warrior.
She left the bed and stood. It shimmied behind her with a barely audible rustling sound before stopping. Nice design. Beat the heck out of foam and air and water beds. The floor was more dark rock. Covered intermittently with what looked like animal skins. She recognized jaguar, for sure. And they were from some big animals with lush-looking, gorgeous fur. She wasn’t for or against hunting. Never gave it much thought...until now. When faced with a dozen or so hides. Which just felt wasteful. There were perfectly good options for rugs, besides using animals. Textiles for one. Mister Sun-god should have used them. She’d tell him so when she next ran into him.
If she ever ran into him again.
Becky tiptoed around the rugs. Approached the door. There was only one entrance to this place. It was hung with strands of beads. As she got closer, she realized they weren’t just beads. There were multi-colored gems knotted in place, and even some pearls.
Double wow.
She’d not only discovered an ancient site. She’d found El Dorado, too. Why, with a dream this incredible, she might get really lucky and stumble onto a library full of khipus next. And the cipher would be in there to read them, too.
The corridor outside looked dark. Menacing. Scary. Looking into the dark maw of space felt like being in a video game. Or a movie set. It didn’t look remotely real. She was going to need a torch. Becky crossed to the fireplace without considering what she’d need to hold flames. And that was a really strange fire. She watched it for a few moments. Then she stuck her hand in. Yep. She had to be dreaming. Those flames were fake as hell. Her hand didn’t even get singed, although it did feel warmer.
She went back to the door. Stuck her head through the beaded curtain. Hollered.
“Hola! Mister Cloud Warrior!”
Nothing happened for a bit, and then her voice echoed back at her. Becky scrambled into the safety of the golden room. Held her hands to her chest as she gasped for air. She was shaking. Her head was pounding. Her heart was threatening to leave her chest. And this was ridiculous. If anyone had been around, she’d have been mortified.
This is not how explorers/archeologists acted.
Even in dreamscapes.
It took a while before her shaking subsided and her heart was back to a normal range and pace. Her head was another issue. She must have ingested something pretty powerful, because this headache resembled a hangover-and-a-half. And she hadn’t packed one acetaminophen tablet today. Not one.
Well. One thing was certain. She couldn’t stay in here all day. Or night. Or whatever. Becky lifted her watch to check it. Either she’d lost eleven minutes since her faint...or twelve hours and eleven minutes. If she was dreaming, it was the twelve hour choice. If she wasn’t dreaming...
Stop it, Becky.
She was a scholar. Rooted in science and history. If she wasn’t dreaming, she might as well toss her hat into the Ancient Alien theory crowd. That would make her even more unpopular. Good thing she was a loner. With no boyfriend in sight. Which did leave an opening for the cloud warrior, Mister Sun-god. Oh. She was so full of it. And...don’t forget what had happened, Becky. Mister Sun-god had fangs. Remember? Whoever heard of a cloud warrior vampire? Honestly. Vampires didn’t exist. And if they did, and were actually going to ma
nifest as absolute masculine perfection, why would she run across one? She was not that lucky.
Oh.
Make that unlucky.
She snickered. It made approaching the door easier somehow.
The corridor outside looked exactly the same. Dark. Unknown. Frightening. She didn’t holler for Mister Sun-god again. She’d done that dance and failed to finish. She didn’t need a repeat. Becky stepped gingerly from the bedchamber place. She was going to call it Home Base. She put her right hand onto the rock wall and started shuffling along. If she failed to find anything within three minutes, she’d go back. It shouldn’t be hard. Home Base was the only light at the moment.
By the way, Becky. This sucks.
She’d never been blind-folded. She wasn’t ever going to allow it, either. She didn’t like it. The light faded. The corridor bent. She stumbled, and caught it against the wall. And then she remembered her cell phone. She was such an idiot sometimes. Even if it was a toss-away model from an airport vendor, it was the most expensive one. Surely it had a flashlight mode? And – if not – the lighted dial might be sufficient. She moved closer to the wall, putting her side against it so she could find her phone. A nodule of some kind stabbed into her ribcage.
A quick check revealed that she’d found a light switch.
What in the hell?
El Dorado had electricity? What kind of crap was that? If she had to be on a drug-induced trip, why couldn’t it be just a little realistic?
She didn’t know why she asked. Becky flipped the switch. A moment later a glow started from way above her. It took a while for the light to brighten sufficiently. It buzzed like fluorescent tubing. A check upward revealed that’s exactly what was above her.
Way above her. It was a good thing she was leaning against a wall. She rocked back slightly to see the ceiling. It was more stone, and several stories up there. Changing out one of those tubes when it went dead must be a major pain-in-the-ass.
And that was a really dumb thought.
She brought her eyes back down. There was a myriad of shadowed alcoves and niches on the opposite wall of the corridor. She’d been lucky to pick the right side for this expedition. If she’d stuck her hand in one of those niches, she’d have probably run screaming back to Home Base.
