His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (13 page)

At the bottom of her suitcase, Lauren found the set of sheets she’d brought and made up her cot. Then she slid her suitcase under the cot and stretched out on her bed with her hands behind her head. Despite the smell, the sparse furnishings and lack of modern conveniences, this was home, her private place, and would be for several weeks.

The setting sun cast an orange glow inside her tent. She remembered her flashlight, sat up, dragged the suitcase out and reached in for her travel clock and flashlight and placed them on the nightstand in easy reach.

“Knock, knock,” Deven announced.

Lauren jumped, startled by the voice. She got up and pulled back the flap. Deven stood there, a multicolored woven blanket in his arms.

“Thought you could use this. It gets cool in the evenings.”

“Thanks. Love the colors,” Lauren said as she lifted the blanket to admire the hand-woven work. “The Guatemalan people sure love bright colors. I’ll have to shop for one like this before I leave. Come on in.” She stepped back and Deven ducked into her tent.

He handed her the blanket. “This is the most organized field tent I’ve ever seen. The cot looks like it’s ready for a boot camp inspection.”

She laughed. “I can be a little obsessive about organizing.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” He searched her face then seemed to focus on her mouth. “Anything you need?”

She shook her head. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest.

“We’ll be taking trips to Flores about twice a month. They have a huge flea market and you’ll find plenty of souvenirs there like those blankets. You can also stock up on personal items.”

Unconsciously, she licked her lips and then glanced at his mouth. His full lips parted slightly. She would love to feel them on her again, teasing her neck, pressing hard against her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh…that sounds great.”

His gray eyes glinted as he held her gaze. Did he know what she was thinking? “Jim has dinner ready.” His husky voice and his closeness had a way of unraveling her.

“Sure, let me—” As she turned to drop the blanket on her bed, she suddenly screamed, threw the blanket into the air and plowed through Deven on the way out the door. “Oh God. Tarantula. On the bed.” She pointed inside the tent.

Justin and Kyle raced out of their tents. “What’s going on?” Justin asked.

As she walked in circles, she clenched her hands into fists. “I hate them…I hate them,” she mumbled.

Deven stepped out of the tent with the huge spider perched on his forearm. “Lauren has a roommate.”

“Wicked huge. Let’s see.” Justin reached for the spider and let it crawl onto his cupped hands. He walked over to Kyle to show him.

“Dude, get that thing away from me.” Kyle made a disgusted face.

“Can’t you kill it?” Lauren asked.

“No, he’s not hurting anything.” Justin walked to the other side of the camp, bent down by the edge of the forest and let the creature go free.

Amusement twinkled in Deven’s eyes, He was trying not to laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Not funny.”

“You need to keep your door flaps zipped closed. It’ll keep the critters and bugs out.”

She swatted at the whine of several mosquitoes buzzing close to her ear, then overhead, a high-pitched whistling sound caught her attention. Thousands of flapping wings swarmed like a dark cloud, coming from the direction of the nearby limestone cliffs. “Birds?” she asked.

“Bats.” Deven grinned. “Zotz is Mayan for bats.”

This was the jungle. Without a word, Lauren strutted over to her tent, zipping up the flaps, then turned to Deven. “I’m ready for dinner now.”

After dinner, Lauren filled her cup with steaming coffee from the kitchen, walked outside to join the others at the campfire and eased herself into a canvas director’s chair. While cupping the warm mug in both hands, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the night sky. Brilliant stars filled the sky. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many.

As she stared, more stars emerged and the sky expanded. The campfire crackled and spat sparks into the air. The stars, the sky and the fire were all hypnotizing. Beyond the borders of the camp, the jungle sang its nighttime chorus of peeping, twittering and howling.

“The jungle is more alive at night,” Lauren murmured.

“It is alive,” Margaret agreed. She was sitting close to Jim on a wooden bench seat, while he strummed his guitar. “In the jungle, every leaf and branch, stone and blossom, river, wind and all creatures are part of Mother Earth, part of the universe. And all living things are infused with magic.”

Lauren frowned and meditated on Margaret’s words for a moment. “I’m not sure if I follow, but I believe there is more to the universe than we can possibly understand or even imagine.”

Margaret nodded and smiled with a wise-woman’s temperance. “Some people aren’t as open minded and only believe what they can see or experience.”

Justin and Kyle seemed oblivious to the discussion and were attempting to roast marshmallows. Instead they were creating flaming charcoal blobs.

On the opposite side of the campfire, Deven and Sylvia sat close together, Sylvia with her head dipped toward Deven as they carried on a private conversation, with Sylvia doing most of the talking. Sylvia’s low whispers prevented Lauren from hearing anything. Lauren felt a pang of regret. Of course, Deven would be more attracted to Sylvia with her country club sophistication rather than to Lauren’s backyard barbecue style.

She looked away. No more trying to eavesdrop. It was none of her business. She tried to focus on something else. Jim played a few bars of various songs on his guitar.

“What would you like to hear, Lauren?” he asked.

Margaret wrapped her hands around her knees and leaned into Jim. The two gazed into each other’s eyes like a couple of love-struck teenagers. Good for them, Lauren thought. “Why don’t you play us your favorite?” she asked.

Jim’s Panama hat was tilted sideways, hanging low over his eyes. “Love the Doors,” he said as he picked out notes and began to sing “Riders on the Storm”. He closed his eyes, becoming absorbed in the music.

Margaret looked relaxed in a long jean skirt and loose sweater. Jim wore his Guatemalan colored baggy pants and T-shirt. Between the two of them, they’d easily blend in at the Woodstock concert.

Lauren glanced around and smiled, knowing she’d always remember her first night in the rainforest. The flickering campfire, the field crew, the noisy jungle, a sky bursting with stars and two guards carrying rifles was the strangest backdrop for a song by the Doors. This place was definitely the Twilight Zone. The anxiety she had felt when she first arrived had eased. She stifled a yawn. The long day and fresh air had made her groggy.

Lauren’s peaceful mood became restless again as Sylvia stood up and turned to Deven. “Take a walk with me?” Sylvia held out her hand.

“No thanks.” Deven remained seated with his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

Lauren tried to focus on Jim’s music, pretending not to overhear Deven and Sylvia’s discussion.

“Deven, I’d really like to talk,” Sylvia pressed.

“It’s been a long day. Tomorrow would be better.” Deven sounded exhausted.

Sylvia glanced around the campfire at her audience then gave him an angry look. “Fine. Tomorrow.” She turned to the others. “Good night.” She spun around, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder, and strode off to her tent.

Jim continued playing while everyone else was quiet. Standing up, Lauren tossed the remains of her coffee into the fire. “I’m turning in myself. See you guys in the morning.”

“Good night, Lauren,” Deven said solemnly as she walked away.

Lauren cautiously stepped into her tent, flashlight first, checking every inch for any tarantulas—none were found. She zipped her tent flaps closed and took inventory of what she would need first thing in the morning and checked that her clothes for the next day were laid out on the other bunk, her hiking boots placed by the door next to her backpack and her flashlight in easy reach in case she had to get up in the middle of the night and find the bathroom.

Like Deven said, nighttime in the rainforest was chilly. She quickly undressed and pulled a long T-shirt over her head. Thankful for the heavy blanket, Lauren wrapped it around her.

Climbing onto the cot, she flipped off her camp light and drew the blanket up to her chin. Now, if she could only tune out the sounds of the jungle, she might get some sleep. The wild cacophony of the jungle seemed to get louder as the night progressed. The exhaustion of the day’s events finally caught up with her and Lauren dropped into a deep sleep.

* * *

Lauren stood outside her tent semi-aware of her surroundings. Muan was there. Although it was dark, she could see him clearly because he glowed with a luminescence like the moon behind thin clouds.

“You will need something to ward off the night chill,” he said to her.

Lauren quickly obeyed, reached into her tent and grabbed her sweatshirt, then stepped outside and zipped the flaps closed. Looking down at herself, she noticed that she had already donned her hiking boots, but wore only a thin blue nightshirt. She pulled the sweatshirt around her.

“Come with me, Cimi.”

Lauren followed Muan as he led her into the jungle. The tree branches creaked and swayed in the wind. All of the vegetation and even the rocks along the path had a blue luminescence that flickered like a flame. As they walked past an ancient pyramid, a shiver crept up her spine. The purplish-red aura surrounding the stone structure emanated a menacing presence. She could sense it.

“You are safe with me, Cimi,” Muan said as if he could read her mind. “I must show you the sacred place.” Muan had an odd golden glow around him too. He was wearing the elaborate headdress of a Mayan shaman and the thick strands of jade and obsidian beads clanged like wind chimes as he walked.

They continued to push through branches that snapped back, pulled at her hair and scratched her bare legs. Where was he taking her? She seemed far away from the camp.

A few raindrops fell from the swirling clouds that roiled across the night sky. Each drop glittered like a blue-green jewel and the ground became spongy and slick.

She breathed in the scent of damp earth, leaves and fragrant flowers. Feeling no fear, only curiosity, she walked beside Muan. She knew he would protect her.

“Where are we going?” Lauren asked.

“To the God of Maize.”

“Is he expecting us?” Lauren held back a snicker. She felt giddy, but Muan was serious and determined to show her something.

“The owl talisman is there. Kayab carved it and I blessed it with the power of the maize god for protection. You must reclaim it,” he said with urgency. Muan walked faster, pushing though brush and vines. “Time is short and you and your friends are in danger, Cimi.”

“You mean the field crew is in danger? From what?”

“Nature will soon strike out in fear.” Then he trudged on into the jungle. Lauren almost had to run to keep up with him. She shivered from the cold. Her sweatshirt was soaked from the rain and her boots splattered mud with each step. “Maybe we should go back now.”

Glancing behind her, she tensed. There was no trail, only dense forest. If she tried to turn back on her own, she’d be completely lost. Muan better not vanish on her now. Despite the discomfort, she was curious and wanted to see what was so urgent.

“Over here, Cimi. It is not far.” Muan stopped in front of two large stone carvings about seven feet tall.

They were stelae like the ones at Tikal and had four vertical rows of glyph figures. In the center of one, there was a carving of a mask with an image of two ears of corn on the headdress.

“The maize god?” Lauren asked.

Muan nodded and pointed to the ground. “Here, Cimi, beneath the earth, you will find it.” His expression was grave and he looked at her to make sure she saw where he was pointing. “Pay heed to its power or evil will come for you.”

“What evil?”

He shook his head. “Evil is all around you.”

“I don’t know—”

“Please, Cimi, you must find the owl.” Tears glistened in his eyes. “Remember this place.”

* * *

Lauren awoke within the warmth of her cot. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She remembered the dream clearly and wanted to go over it in her mind before she forgot the details. She opened one eye to a slit and noticed that it was still dark. Good, she thought, it’s not quite dawn. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Sometime later, the CUB’s screen door slammed, jolting her awake, and she could hear people walking around outside. Daylight filtered into her tent through the canvas walls. Rolling onto her back, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. She threw the blanket back and jumped off the cot, both feet landing on the canvas floor. She gasped in horror. Besides the sweatshirt, she wore her hiking boots, caked with mud.

Lauren’s body shook violently. She did not go to bed with her sweatshirt or boots, but she wore them now, and they were soaking wet and muddy. A stinging sensation prompted an examination of her legs—they were scratched and bleeding.

She gasped in horror. Did she walk in her sleep last night, or was she in some kind of semi-trance? Although Margaret might believe her, Lauren didn’t want to take a chance she’d tell Deven. She’d just arrived at the camp, and they weren’t going to send her home now.

A twinge of regret tugged at her heart. Most sensible, intelligent students would talk to the lead archaeologist about a strange event. As much as she admired Deven, she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust any man.

Her faith in men had diminished since her husband demanded a divorce. After two years, Lauren was still trying to get her life back on track. If she didn’t plan to get serious with him, if she just had a casual fling for a change, she wouldn’t have any expectations and could get her work done. She could handle that, a fling, just for fun, no commitment, no one would get hurt. After the semester, they could go their separate ways.