Page 7 of Fever
His shoulders lift. “She’s not bad looking. Maybe––”
“Don’t even think about it.” For the first time in years, a trickle of disquiet creeps in. A wave of protection mocks my resolute plan to kill my enemies. “That's not what this is about.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.” Pale eyebrows lift. “Keep the woman for yourself. You’re never away from here long enough to––”
“No,” I bite out. The last woman I fucked for sex turned out to be the most treacherous of the four marked lives. “She’s a minor complication. Fucking her is not on the agenda. We can’t trust her. I’ve traveled that road before, and we know how that ended.”
My muscles brace. A shiver of regret rushes over me, like it always does when the hardest lesson of my life flashes in my mind.
“Dante.” Jackson is the only one left who calls me by that name. I’m not really Dante anymore. That man died in the flames. However, the lashing of remorse I get from hearing my proper name, reinforces hatred and taps into my heart, fortifying my impenetrable barriers.
I glance at the bed where she mumbles in a battle of wills. Even in the grip of a soaring fever, she’s fighting for survival. Stunning and exquisite.
“What do we do? Lock her in a cabin and let her rot to death?”
That idea has merit. “An employee, in basic terms. She can cook and clean, or whatever, until I find out who she is.”
All the stealth staff are well paid. They go undetected. Veiled by darkness and seldom noticed by the guests. What they give to me in service, I repay with big salaries and donations to the local community. My kindness is not a weakness, it’s a calculated plan to ensure the inhabitants serve and obey me.
The red-haired woman is only an illusion. An untrustworthy spirit of the forest who must be kept on a short leash. Neither she nor I will cross paths.
“Like a prisoner in paradise?” Jackson rips off tight surgical gloves and tosses them in the trash can. “If you didn’t have an enemy in her before, you will now.”
“And if she’s a traitor, she’ll wish I left her in the jungle for it to swallow her whole.”
I’d rather not drop her beyond the perimeter. If she doesn’t comply with my offer, I’ll have no choice. Now that she’s seen me, she won’t leave here alive.
“And if she refuses to work for you?”
“That’s on her.” I shrug. “The only way out is by foot.”
5
Golden sunlight.
An ocean blue sky.
Freedom.
I’m standing alone on a long wooden walkway hovering over the treetops. Tall palms yo-yo as a temperate breeze carries the moist scent of natural life. An array of humming, thrumming, and chirping echoes around me in a living, vibrating concert of life.
It’s peaceful. Serene. Unreal.
Every dreamy step takes me further away from the dense upper tier, sinking down to the earth. Floating from the heights until I’m treading soil. Heated skin prickles as the temperature cools. My veins pump hot and cold. Sweat glistens on my forearms.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Bruce.
Shadows drape his left side. Half his mouth forms a grave smile. Obscure creases weigh down the corner of his visible eye with sadness––or concern.
I reach out for his hand. “Let me help you.”
Thick, unforgiving vines snake from his body, slithering around his chest, covering him from sight. A crunch of dry wood splinters.
My head whips around. Hazy heat brushes gooseflesh. Intense peridot eyes blink out of the undergrowth. The rush of fear peaks in gasps. In a heartbeat, a wildcat as black as soot covers the ground until we’re face-to-face.
It's a standoff of wills. Superiority versus bravery.
