Wood, Fire, & Gold

by Jackson, Pam

  A gruesome smile split Johann’s face. The scar that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his right eye made him look more like a jack-o’-lantern than the faithful servant he was.

  “Ha!” The priest scoffed. “My dear man, if you are leery of Johann ... well, ‘tis true, you should be. But only by my command will Johann mark you with a fatal blow or wound. Aye, and at this moment I prefer you alive and an asset.” The priest waved a finger at Abimal. “However, if you are not a faithful lamb, a corpse you shall become.” The priest flashed a toothy, white smile and then clasped his hands together as in prayer once again. “Johann will see you are returned, unharmed, to your home.”

  The priest snapped his fingers, and Johann lifted Abimal from the floor and directed him to the door. Immediately, it opened, and the other large, aggressive male appeared to escort Abimal back into the coach.

  As Johann crossed the decrepit room, the floorboards creaked with offense from his massive build. He knelt before the priest. “Shall I find the Atros Fallis, Father Benoit?” he asked in a hushed tone of reverence.

  Father Benoit took Johann’s hand and looked with adoration on this young warrior, remembering how Johann had saved his life and protected the priest’s honor, only to be afflicted with the hideous scar that permanently deformed his appearance. No one besides the priest would ever look at this young man lovingly again—pity and terror would be all he’d receive.

  Jesuit priests like Father Benoit were being hunted down and murdered by the same Catholic Church they had vowed to love, cherish and protect—simply because of different beliefs regarding social tolerance and free thought. The only way the Jesuit society could prevail was with money. With gold and silver they would dominate and crush their enemies, and the Atros Fallis was the society’s means of survival.

  “Johann, take Monsieur Young to his home. Observe if he contacts the thief. They could be conspiring together. I will send a messenger to our agent in the highland hills to ferret out this man Claudius. The Atros Fallis must not be bequeathed to our enemies; I would rather ‘tis destroyed than given to the despotical Holy Father so he can wield the power and lay waste to my order.” The priest reached for Johann’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You must, Johann. True sorrow fills my heart to place this burden on you once again.”

  Johann nodded his head at the command. There was no need for an explanation from the priest. This was the role Johann was groomed for after the order had rescued him as an orphan boy begging for bread in the filthy streets of Dresden. He was one of many, merely an instrument used by the order to complete tasks that would embarrass the Vatican. And now his loyalty stood with the Jesuit brothers who had raised him as one of their own, instead of the betrayer Pope. So when Father Benoit asked him to murder for the sake of the order, Johann would do it, and without hesitation.

  “And for the thief Claudius,” Father Benoit said, “the local militia is to capture him for his crimes, but ‘tis by your hand that he dies. Bring Samuel with you. He is in need of more training with the brotherhood ... and, oui, our gluttonous Monsieur Young shall disappear as soon as Claudius is dead.”

  Father Benoit raised Johannn’s hand to his eyes, viewing the same tattoo that sat between his own thumb and forefinger. It’s what they shared with the few and privileged holy men within the order. The marking connected them to the Atros Fallis and made them the true protectors of God’s powerful magic. A serpent’s body coiled in a figure eight—its head, a wolf with an open mouth, its tail, a peacock’s plumed head waiting to be devoured by the wolf. An ouroboros.

  Chapter 17

  Andie felt so damn good in his arms, but the sound of her frightened sobs punished his heart. If only he could release her from this tormenting nightmare; he couldn’t take her fear and pain, not a damn second longer. Anger flashed over him, and the rush of adrenaline through his veins felt like a fire lit with gasoline. A powder keg was about to explode inside him, and preventing it was going to be damn near impossible. Why was this happening?

  He didn’t understand it: the visions, the tattoo, the damn book ... and Claudius haunting them both. Andie was there. She saw all of it, too. What the fuck?!

  He had a bitter taste in his mouth as he realized he was more pissed off at himself for losing control of his assignment than at Tivoli and his hired fuckheads for hunting them down like wounded prey. And to add another layer to the major FUBAR he’d created, he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again; he wanted to touch her, please her, and pound her soft folds with his heavy cock until they both lay exhausted across the new mattress that was just feet away in the small bedroom.

  She was so beautiful, he thought as he gently stroked her blonde locks that fell loosely at her back. Her small frame was tucked perfectly within his muscular build as his arms surrounded her, and he felt the quiver in her chest as she fought back another sob. She didn’t deserve to be this afraid, or to be used by the feds so they could check off another case in their win column. This was the place where hell was born, and he’d been here before—a place where everything went to shit. His job was to shield the human target who was the government’s witness, but instead of Andie being just another name on a testimony list, she had become so much more to him. A common link in a chain that had weighed heavily on him for so long, but now he was free from its burden, as long as he had her.

  He could no longer just deliver her to the FBI tied up in a bow for their federal case. Fuck them. Fuck them all! She was his. No one else could have her, and he would return to that numbing, dark abyss—the place where he disconnected himself from the rest of the world so he could become the killing machine that received so much secret praise from his superiors. Of course, they would never admit they’d taken part in making him.

  His assignments at ICE put him in constant danger, but his killing skills were used only when necessary—neutralizing the enemy wasn’t always an option when you needed them to testify for the bigger cause of legal justice. His last assignment was protecting a young girl who had witnessed a murder done by the Russian mob in Brooklyn, but his cover was compromised, and killing those scumbags before they killed him or the witness was justified. Unfortunately, a stray bullet below the groin sometimes went with the job.

  Clay thought about the firefight in the sycamore grove and that pathetic greenhorn he had killed—just collateral damage, but Eberstark was the real threat. He should’ve taken that piece of shit out when they’d entered the swamp. The pit now growing in Clay’s stomach was telling him there was a good chance the ugly son of a bitch didn’t drown out there in the murky, icy waters of that dreaded place.

  Andie was still in danger.

  A still silence hung thick in the room, and he was amazed that she hadn’t yet removed herself from his protective embrace as they stood together, leaning against the exposed studs of the clapboard wall. Clay still faced the window, watching for any movement around the perimeter of the cabin. He didn’t need his night vision goggles now, and a feed of nonstop adrenaline was pumping through his veins, heightening all of his senses. Even the erection that was growing fast under his black cotton fatigues was elevated to a point of pleasurable pain. He was just about to break the silence in the room with some comforting words when Andie beat him to it.

  “Clay, promise me, no matter what happens …” Her words were a dry whisper emerging from her throat. “ … If one of us is still alive, please, you must find the Atros Fallis and destroy it.”

  He didn’t like her suggestion that she would be the one dying for this moronic cause. He buried his hands in her hair and gently tilted her head back so he could see her eyes glistening in the overhead light. “Damn, baby, you don’t seem to get it.” Searching for just the right words, Clay rolled his eyes to the dilapidated ceiling of the cabin and then back to Andie’s lovely face, now brimming with uneasiness. But instead of speaking, he found himself tightly pressing his lips against hers. She opened to him, and her tongue swept tenderly against his. Tha
t aching urge to feel her—all of her—was ramping up and getting ready to explode. He knew he couldn’t hold back this time. His kiss intensified, and he crushed his lips against hers with a feverish desire.

  She clasped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer, letting him know she felt the same hunger. He could feel her heart pounding beneath the form-fitting turtleneck she was about to lose by his quick hands, but first he knew he had to finish the words he had started to say.

  “Andie.” He gently pulled his mouth away, but stayed close, barely touching her rosy, glistening lips. “I love you. And I know that sounds so crazy because I just met you, but I ... I have loved you for all these years. Your face is what I see in my dreams, and when I was with other women ... even Aksana ... I was dreaming of you. Only you, always you. And no one will ever take you from me. I promise you, as long as my heart beats, then so does yours. The violence and destruction I will create to keep you safe will be like only hell has seen.”

  He kissed her with such fury that he thought she would protest with a cry of pain, but instead, he felt the vibration of a moan from her chest and felt her warm fingers run through his hair, gripping and tugging his head closer. He felt his erection solid and as hard as steel, just begging to be set free from its confines. One more moan like that from her, and he might not be able to control himself. His need for her was pounding fast through his body, and he was on the edge of animalistic mating instead of prolonged lovemaking. He needed to dial it back—but damn, she was breaking down his fortitude, melting his patience like hot water on ice. With every flick from her sweet tongue against his, he hoped he could hold it together long enough to enjoy the feel of her sweet ride.

  ###

  This was so reckless of Andie. She was always the one in control, especially when it came to her lovers. Maybe that was it—she had finally met the one man who didn’t make her feel the need to be in control every moment. Like a tale from ancient history, she had always sought the nobleman with the fine house and the safety that went along with such a lifestyle. Sweet and safe, especially when it came to sex. God help her for thinking this way, but Clay was more like the Roman Centurion who conquered foreign lands, took what he wanted, and bedded the women as he pleased. There was no restraint or control on her part when it came to him. Whenever she watched the corner of his mouth curl into a sexy half-grin, or saw the way he brushed his wavy hair away from his forehead, she would sink deeper into her thoughts of his skin against hers. All she wanted to do at this moment was please him—in any and every way possible.

  She, too, loved him, and she would show him just how much.

  She didn’t resist him as he pulled at her sweater to remove it. Her heated skin tingled from the touch of his fingers as he exposed the tops of her full breasts accentuated in a lacy, black bra.

  He let out a sharp breath as he looked at her. He said behind gritted teeth, “This is lovely on you, but right now, it’s impeding my progress. I need you naked, or damn well close to it.” He snapped open her bra and removed it, and he began kissing the length of her neck as he caressed a breast with his palm, gently moving a finger across her nipple. His free hand pulled her body close to his open mouth as his kisses ran from her neck down to her other breast. His tongue flicked over the crown of her hard, round nipple, and she moaned deeply as his teeth began to pull at the sensitive peak. She was losing control, and so was he. She could feel the intensity growing with every kiss to her breasts, her throat, her mouth. She felt hazy, as if she were under a spell, and her skin tingled from the gentle rub of the scruff on his chin. Breaking from her trance, she realized he was eagerly reaching for the button and zipper on her hiking pants. She helped with the buttons, and as the pants slid down her legs to the floor, she somehow managed to kick off her hiking boots and socks.

  “How are your hands? I see you took the Band-Aids off of them,” he said in between licks and kisses.

  Her senses were overloaded by his sweet kisses, and she nearly forgot about the scrapes and bruises on her palms. In fact, they had looked worse at the cliff yesterday, and after being cleaned and bandaged, the wounds appeared shallow and superficial.

  “They feel fine. You’re a fabulous field surgeon. Thank you.”

  He smiled and said, “Good, because I need your hand.” He turned her around and pulled her close to his chest so she could feel the length of his rock-hard erection firmly pressing against the small of her back. Even through his fatigues, she could feel the blood pulsing hard against the wide ridge of his shaft.

  He entwined his large fingers with hers as he guided both their hands beneath the soft lace of her panties. “Ahh, sweet Andie, I want you so fucking much,” he rasped against her ear, and then he gently nipped at the soft, pink flesh of her earlobe. “I want you to feel me touching you so you know just how crazy you make me feel.”

  Not only had his kisses made her body into molten lava, but now his seductive words would surely send her over the edge. Control yourself, Andie. This isn’t your first rodeo. He was pure testosterone, and she decided to let all her inhibitions and her need for dominance take the back seat and let Clay drive.

  With her back arched, she stepped back against his wide chest and wished his clothes were off, too. His finger discovered and gently circled the sensitive tip of her clit, now slick and swollen with the anticipation of his touch. He delved deep into her cleft with a delightful thrust. One finger, then two. Her breath caught in her throat as her own finger, still entwined with his, followed his deeper and deeper inside of her. Never had any other man made her feel this hot and sensual about her own body.

  He rhythmically pushed deep to her core, his long fingers moving. She knew he was enjoying her sweet torture. Her skin was blazing, yet chills ran down her body. Her instinct was to push him to the bed and ride him, but this man was so different. She wanted him in every possible way, and her body and soul were drowning in his lustful touch.

  “Mmm, Andie, you’re so wet. Tell me, darlin’. Is it all me who’s making you wet? Nobody else but me. Nobody else. You’re beautiful, Andie. Let go and come for me. Can you feel how wet you are?”

  She removed her hand and reached behind her to grab the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Releasing a soft cry of pleasure, she coaxed him on, letting him know she wanted more.

  “Yeah, darlin’, I feel you. Didn’t I tell you before that I was going to punish you for that crazy stunt you pulled back at the sycamore grove? I can be a real fucking tease when I wanna be, baby.” He gently nipped and kissed the length of her neck as her lusty groans and shallow breaths grew louder.

  “Please, Clay, don’t ... don’t stop.” She was close to a rippling climax that would crest over her taut and anxious flesh, and she knew he was relishing his complete power over her.

  Her body thrust hard against his as she found utter bliss from his touch. She felt the tip of his finger move to her sensitive and pulsing clit. He made tiny circles around the slick little bud, and his fingers moved between touching that sweet spot and plunging deep within her cleft. Her throat was dry, but with a raspy whisper, she said, “You feel so good, I’m going to come so hard. Please don’t tease me.”

  “Oooh, baby, don’t worry, I’ll finish you,” he said, and groaned along with her.

  Her groans grew louder, and she shouted out his name with her release. A wave of hard tremors moved through her body, making her rigid and then relaxed in his arms.

  “Mmm, Andie. I need to see you come again,” he whispered with triumph into her ear. “I can watch you all night—listen to your moans until they’re screams.” He turned her to face him and lifted her off the ground as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist, kissing his mouth harder and faster. His tongue plunged and tangling with hers, coaxing yet another deep moan from her chest as he carried her into the small back bedroom of the cabin.

  Reaching the new mattress covered with soft flannel sheets, Andie couldn’t help but notice that awful taxidermy nightmare that hun
g low on the far wall. She closed her eyes and kissed Clay, trying not to imagine its dark eyes staring at them during this passionate moment. I believe he called it Murdoch. From hell, it is! She noticed shaggy dark hair around the bear’s contorted face and its sharpened elk antlers protruding like warrior spears from its massive head.

  Gahh! Don’t look at it, girl, it will ruin the moment.

  Instead, Andie focused on Clay standing over her as she lay nearly naked on the bed. In the dim light of the sparsely furnished room, she could see those thick slabs of muscle along the width of his chest flex and relax as he fluidly removed his T-shirt. The sculpted ripples that tapered down his flat stomach pushed and pulled under his creamy skin with a deliberate motion, taking her breath away.

  God, he was beautiful, and from the moment she saw him standing over her on that sheer cliff where he had so valiantly saved her from death, she knew she was right to place him among the Greek gods.

  With minimal fumbling, he removed his boots and several small weapons that were concealed on his body. His stare burned up the length of her body as he released the buttons on his pants. Andie watched him as the fatigues fell to the floor, freeing his engorged cock, and she realized he wasn’t wearing any briefs. She gasped, impressed with his form, which definitely matched his over-six-foot stature as well as the girth and solidity of his chest, arms and thighs.

  He moved toward her on the bed, his knees straddling her thighs. He lowered his head against the flat surface of her belly and kissed her soft skin. His lips and fingers moved down to the edge of the sheer fabric of her panties. His kisses seared hot against the curve of her hip. She needed him, wanted him to touch her like this always, but now she wanted to watch him shudder from the delight she would shower on him. She gently pushed back on his shoulders, lifting him away from her torso.

  He stared at her in bewilderment and alarm. “Andie, did I hurt you? I’ll stop if you don’t want me ...”