His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (2 page)

“No, the guys can see it later. They just started climbing the Temple of the Masks. They’ll be awhile.” He stood tall over her scattered items then bent to pick up her trowel. As he examined the pink handle, he appeared amused, then he laid it down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at his well-worn hiking boots that showed off his muscular legs. When she looked up, the glint of mischief in his eyes took her off-guard. Somehow managed to resist the temptation to flirt and maintain her professionalism. She waited for his flip comment about her pink digging tool but he remained silent. Although she hadn’t met Dr. Chandler before this trip, she suspected he was the type of professor who would test and challenge his students, but hopefully, not intimidate them.

They certainly didn’t have professors like him at Montclair State. He was a hunk. His tanned features, dark tousled hair and gray eyes gave him an exotic look. She couldn’t place his accent, but the melodious roll of his tongue added to his charisma.

No doubt every female archaeology student at Boston University had tried to claim his heart. in Waiting at the end of a long parade of admirers did not interest her. She wasn’t the competitive type when it came to relationships and she wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating pool. One disastrous marriage screwed up her career, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

Fortunately, Boston University had an opening in their field program this semester. In six months, she would finally have enough credits to graduate with her master’s in archaeology. With the huge amount of research required for her thesis, she didn’t need a handsome distraction to deter her efforts. No man would undermine her dreams again.

“Forget your flashlight? Need to borrow one?” His lilting accent was very sexy.

“I have it.” Lauren held the flashlight up, then scooped her belongings into the backpack and strode toward the tomb’s entrance.

Why did she think this was some sort of initiation? Did he want to see if she’d chicken out? She wished Justin and Kyle hadn’t told her about the tarantulas in the jungle, because now she constantly scanned the ground for the large hairy creatures. She didn’t want to step on one, or worse, have one crawl over her foot.

On her last excavation field study in Arizona she had run into a few snakes. She didn’t mind them much—she even killed a couple— tarantulas she didn’t care to see, and she was convinced they lived inside the tomb.

She swallowed hard.
She could do this
.

He must have detected her hesitation because he chuckled and said, “Don’t worry. It doesn’t go back too far. You can’t get lost. I’ll wait outside for the others to join us and I’ll watch your pack.”

She nodded, then gripped the flashlight and walked into the chamber, leaving Dr. Chandler behind.

Lauren rolled her shoulders, trying to relax, as she crept farther into the darkness of the tunnel. Inside, the buzz and whir of insects and the chirps and squawks of the jungle wildlife were silenced, like walking into a giant coffin.

Water dripped from cracks in the rocks, forming small puddles on the uneven stone floor.

“Forget about the tarantulas,” she told herself as she flashed her light around the long chamber. “Archaeologists don’t freak out over creepy crawly things.”

No carvings were visible along the walls or floor. The ceiling was low, but she couldn’t reach high enough to touch it. As she took in a breath, she scrunched her nose against the dank, musty air. Each step echoed off the damp stone walls.

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the entrance behind her had become nothing more than a sliver of light. She followed the tunnel around a ninety-degree turn and darkness fell, leaving only the narrow beam of her flashlight to guide her.

After several minutes, she came to a dead end. Okay, where was the surprise? There was nothing there. She illuminated every corner, then directed the light on the back wall and discovered a large Mayan face.

Startled, she shouted and jumped back a few steps. The chiseled wall sculpture spanned the entire wall, about seven feet tall and five feet wide. “So this is what he meant by surprise.” Her words sounded strange amplified through the tunnel.

Stepping closer to the face, she ran her hand over the stone carving. An elaborate headdress with round ornaments adorned the figure. Protruding eyebrows shaded deep spaces for the eyes and cast menacing shadows over the face. A large square nose, a straight slit for a mouth and two circular shapes for ears completed the form.
Amazing.
The sculpture was probably over a thousand years old. She imagined an old man with calloused hands chiseling the stone into the beautiful carving and wondered what the carver would say if he had known his creation would be admired by archaeology students centuries later.

Lauren whistled. Her musical warbling echoed eerily. Now that she saw the carving, she was ready to leave the chamber and go out into the daylight. As she turned away from the carved face to walk back to the entrance, she felt the whisper of a breeze. She froze, wondering where the draft came from. Then something brushed her shoulder.

It felt like a hand.

Lauren cried out, spun around and jerked the light back and forth.

Nothing. No one was there. The small pool of light offered little reassurance. She listened but heard nothing. Swearing, she scolded herself for getting spooked and imagining things.

She continued down the tunnel toward the entrance. It couldn’t be much farther. Again she strained to hear movement or breathing, but only heard the sound of her footsteps. A chill skittered up her spine and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Shouldn’t she be able to see the light from the entrance by now?

Then she heard a man’s voice next to her ear.

“Cimi,” he whispered.

Lauren screamed and stumbled over the uneven surface of the floor as she scrambled down the tunnel. This time she heard his footsteps and what sounded like beads clinking together.

Then he touched her arm.

She jerked away, dropped her flashlight, shattering the bulb. Darkness engulfed her.

* * *

Dr. Chandler watched Justin and Kyle as the two young men clad in hiking boots, T-shirts and jeans wandered around the base of the massive pyramid and headed toward a trail that led into the jungle. “Gentlemen, stick around. We’ll be heading back soon.”

The two men stopped and spun around.

“The ruins are wicked, Dr. Chandler,” Justin said.

“Can we check out the view from the top?” Kyle asked.

Dr. Chandler waved them on as the two young men scrambled up the steep steps of the pyramid.

Pacing outside the burial chamber, Dr. Chandler contemplated the uncertainty of the excavation at El Zotz. He couldn’t afford to shut down the field school now. The students depended on him and he hoped he wouldn’t disappoint them.

Besides the academic advantages of the field school, the project offered valuable data for his research. El Zotz might hold the key for proving his theory on what caused the Mayan civilization to disappear. He was close, he knew it. For the benefit of the university, his career and also for his parents and all the sacrifices they made for him, he felt obligated to make a great discovery.

If he could prove his theory, unlimited funds would surface and he wouldn’t have to depend on his main source of funding—Charles Bradford, president of the Harvard Peabody Museum board of directors.

Along the edge of the Great Plaza, the size of a football field, Deven noticed Sylvia Bradford, the curator of the Peabody Museum, standing in front of a stela, a seven-foot tombstone-shaped carving. She flipped open a sketchpad and started drawing with long swift stokes the eroded image of a god or ancient ruler. Tight-fitting white shorts and a green tank top drew attention to her very slim, almost too slim, figure. Her long brown hair swayed in the breeze.

According to Sylvia, the camera didn’t capture the intricate details that her drawings could. She preferred to do both for her museum’s documentation.

“How are you coming along with the drawings?” Deven asked.

“Very well, Dr. Chandler.”

“Dr. Chandler? Why so formal today?” he asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. “So what do you think?” She held up her pad.

Deven studied the drawing for a moment. “Nice representation.”

“Thank you.” She flashed him a sultry smile then continued with her sketch, shading in the details. “What are your plans for dinner tonight? How about we dine at our favorite place by the lake?”

“I’ll have to pass.” He caught a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “We’re not staying in town tonight. We’re going directly to the field camp when we leave here.”

“But you usually let the students tour Tikal and the local villages for a few days before they start work.”

“I know but with all the opposition from local authorities, I don’t want to waste a day touring.”

She continued sketching. “Small class this semester,” she said.

“All the rumors have had a negative impact on the program. Ten students cancelled and signed up at other field projects in less volatile areas. Brooding over the lack of students won’t change anything. We’ll have to make the best of it.”

“Only rumors? How can you be so sure?”

“The Nequam Rebels wouldn’t waste their time on a couple of artifacts. Not when drug trafficking is more profitable. And they wouldn’t come here. They’d be in Colombia, one of the major hubs, not Guatemala.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” She raised her chin. “I won’t be staying in town this trip. I’m staying at the camp.”

His jaw tightened. “I thought you had work to do at the museum.”

“I do. The museum at Tikal is about the same distance from Flores as it is from El Zotz. I can take a Jeep. I’d also like to observe the progress at the excavation.” She held his gaze. He knew she was daring him to argue.

Because of her father’s financial support, Sylvia had a tendency to try to run his project. He’d rather deal with a Mayan tomb full of rattlesnakes then to deal with her manipulations.

“I’m anxious to select a few more artifacts for my collection at the Peabody and I can lecture on ceramics and testing procedures,” she said imperiously. “My experience goes well beyond anything the students may have learned in their classes.”

Deven resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn’t deny her extensive knowledge in Mayan artifacts. Her expertise in ancient ceramics made her a valuable addition to the project, but her attitude made working with her a challenge. “Thanks, I appreciate your help, Sylvia.”

“My pleasure.” She flipped to a clean page in her sketchbook, moved to the next stela and started sketching. “Were you debriefed at the embassy?”

“Yes. According to officials, there haven’t been any problems with the Nequam.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Still, I agreed to keep an eye out for any signs of guerrilla activity or artifact bandits around the excavation,” he said. “Since the stolen artifacts were recovered at the border, the officials are very… nervous.”

“So you’re in charge of the neighborhood watch again?” Sylvia teased.

He chuckled. “The embassy calls it surveillance, but essentially a neighborhood watch is all it is. All part of the job of an archaeologist.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“I’ll let you know.” Sylvia was one complication he didn’t need right now and he suspected she had her own agenda besides acquiring artifacts for the museum.

Deven heard shouts from Justin and Kyle on Temple of the Masks. “I better check out what they’re up to.”

Sylvia flipped her hand, dismissing him.

From the chamber entrance that Lauren was exploring, Deven watched Justin and Kyle racing up and down Temple II. He laughed, shook his head, then whistled loudly. The two students stopped halfway down, turned and waved. “Hey, daredevils. You’ll be a pile of broken bones if you fall.”

He did admire all the students’ enthusiasm. When Lauren first spied the ruins through the dense trees of the rainforest, he noticed the look of wonder and curiosity in her eyes. Much the same way he had felt on his first visit. She was intelligent and attractive—a dangerous combination.

At least a half dozen times since he picked her up at the airport, he acknowledged his attraction to the cute and intelligent blonde. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t notice her big brown eyes and pouting lips, or how she filled out her T-shirt. He was a professional and could handle it.

She was indeed a beauty and she was bright and ambitious, but he had to remember she was his student, even though she was only a few years younger than himself. Beneath her demure manner was a very sensual woman, he was certain. He wiped the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his hand.

Justin and Kyle reached the bottom of the pyramid, ran over to Deven and dropped to the ground breathing heavily. They had more energy than three-year-olds.

“Done with your marathon, gentlemen?” Deven asked.

“For now,” Kyle answered between huge gulps of air. He rolled over flat on his back with his chest heaving. “I won.”

“Cheated,” Justin groaned.

* * *

Lauren blindly ran toward the entrance of the tomb. With hands stretched out in front of her, she scratched knuckles and elbows along the stone walls.

“Cimi, please…” he shouted after her. She was sure the voice was a man’s.

Lauren hurried through the tunnel as fast as she could in the dark, intensely aware of the tingling sensation on her back and arms where she expected the man to grab her.

She couldn’t be lost.

Dr. Chandler said there were no other passageways. So where was the entrance? She strained to hear the man chasing her, but only heard her own footsteps and her labored breathing. Her chest hurt and she couldn’t catch her breath. Who was in here with her? How did he get in? Was there another entrance?

Finally, she saw daylight, rushed out of the chamber and ran right into Dr. Chandler, nearly knocking him over.

She tripped and landed on her hands and knees in the grass. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She pointed to the tunnel and said, “Someone…someone’s in there. He touched me.”