Page 50 of Love in the Wild

After her ordeal, her boss had sprung for the nicest available room while she stayed in Kampala a few more days. There was still unfinished business to attend to.

She rubbed her stiff neck and yawned. It had been a hell of a day, between the embassy interviews and Cameron Haywood. Thorne’s uncle had left her a voice mail after seeing the picture, wanting a DNA test. She’d returned his call and told him that Thorne had refused to leave the jungle, but that she believed she could lead a recovery team to where the airplane was.

Cameron had been suspicious at the mention of Thorne not being available, but he’d offered to fly to Kampala to try to find him. Eden cautioned against it, not without support. She was convinced that the poachers Thorne had killed were part of a bigger problem, if what Thorne had said about the treasure cave was true. But she couldn’t warn him about that. Her story was hard enough to believe as it was. She needed to crash and sleep for days before she would feel normal again, or at least close to it.

Eden wore the pajamas she’d gotten from her suitcase, a small cotton button-up top and matching shorts. It felt good to be clean again. She’d taken a shower and allowed her hair to dry in loose waves before she ran a comb through it. Then she pulled back the covers on the king-size bed and crawled under them. The sheets were cool against her skin despite the humidity. As she reached for the light on the bedside table, the fine hairs on her neck began to rise. She wasn’t alone. She turned to face the window and balcony.

A dark shadow was visible through the pale-blue translucent curtains.

A large, masculine, yet elegant hand, dripping with rain, pushed the curtain back. Eden opened her mouth to scream, but the shadow stepped into the light. Eden stared at the intruder’s face, not quite sure she believed who she was seeing. It was as though she was supposed to recognize him. Yet he was so different than what he’d been a day ago.

“Th-Thorne?” She gasped and scrambled out of bed to run toward him.

He opened his arms, and she flung herself at the dripping jungle god. He was wet, but he was warm to the touch.

“Come inside.” She dragged him away from the rain and into the dim gold light of the bedroom. She was lost for words as she saw the transformation he’d made. Gone was the dark leather loincloth and the crown of gold leaves. He wore cargo shorts and a black T-shirt that clung wetly to his chest. But his hair ... The long, dark locks that had once draped down over his shoulders were gone. His hair was cropped short, yet it was still long enough for her to comb her fingers through. The ends at the base of his neck curled slightly with the rain.

As he held her, he sighed softly, and a lock of his newly shorn hair fell over his eyes. Eden brushed it away, her fingertips lingering over his cheek. His blue eyes, so deep and penetrating, remained fixed on her.

“Eden.” He whispered her name reverently. “I found you.”

The way he said it told her a world of things. He’d walked away from all that was familiar and comfortable to him in order to findher. It stole her breath, and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

When she finally found her tongue again, she had nothing but questions. “How did you get here? Who cut your hair? Whose clothes are these?”

Thorne nuzzled her cheek. A low, almost purring sound escaped him as he held her flesh to his body. “You have many questions, little mate,” he said with a chuckle. The rich timbre of that sound rippled through her.

“Little mate?” She tilted her head.

He brushed his fingers over her cheek, smiling. “You’re so little—and you’re my mate.”

“Ah!” She almost laughed. He wasn’t wrong—on either count—so how could she deny him that nickname? “I think I’m going to have to teach you about nicknames.”

“What is nicknames?”

“Nicknames are names you give to people you love—sweetheart,darling,my love,my heart,honey pie...”

“Darling,” he whispered softly, his deep voice rumbling over that one word so deliciously that she trembled.

“Yeah, like that one.”

She laughed a little giddily, so relieved and overjoyed that he was here with her. The puddle of water growing at his feet called her attention to the fact that he had to be freezing.

“You’re wet. Let me get a towel.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go of her. “Come on. Trust me.” She pulled him into the large bathroom with her, and she pulled a fluffy bath towel off the rack and tossed it over his head. He peered at her as he lifted the towel up, his fingers fisting in the cloth’s soft surface as he began to rub it over his body.

“Okay, so let’s start again.” Eden helped him dry off, but she knew that he eventually would have to get out of his clothes. “Why did you leave the jungle? I thought you wouldn’t.”

“When you left, I felt sick.” Thorne touched his chest. “Here.” He looked down at her, and she could see his soul in his eyes.

Eden had spent so much time trying to convince herself that what she’d felt for Thorne was not as intense as she remembered, that it was driven by adrenaline and survivor’s guilt, that she’d overreacted. But the truth was that what she felt for him was all too real, and even deeper than she could ever imagine.

“I went to Bwanbale’s village. He gave me clothes, and his mate cut my hair. He drove me here to find you.”

Eden slipped out of the bathroom to grab her phone. She pulled up her text message thread with Bwanbale and typed a new message to let him know that Thorne was with her. A second later, Bwanbale responded.

Take care of him. Call if you need me.

“He knows you’re here and that you’re safe,” Eden explained.

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