Oasis of Eden (3 page)

“How about if I take you to my tent first. I have many things I wish to share with you.”

Yeah. I’ll bet
.
She held her phony smile. “I’m in a great hurry, you see. I will have to visit your tent another time. But for now, please show me to—what did you say his name was?

Lothar deflated some and even had the audacity to pout, the whiny boob. “Omari Elydian Amun. I’m most certain he will be pleased to see you.”

Jade didn’t care if the muckity-muck was pleased or not. Her immediate need was to get back to her own camp. And losing Lothar would be a definite plus.

“Very well. We will go.” He turned and motioned for her to follow him.

Having circumvented the camp since she’d arrived, she realized just how different this place was. She must have bumped her head, unless that concoction really put her on the roof. How else could she have confused it with Dr. Harper’s site?

On the ride in to Dr. Harper’s camp the day before, the character of each dwelling didn’t stand out the way it did here. In this camp, as if following an Egyptian theme, each place sported glyphs upon their advertising shingles. Tar-Quinia’s laundry and sewing services, Lehu-Lux’s hand-cranked mill house, and Faybar-Gamshoo the glass-blower were a few of the more eye-catching storefronts. Jade felt Dr. Harper’s camp much more primitive, not to mention temporary, than what sat before her now.

After walking what seemed to be a Chicago city block or better, they stepped onto a wide strip of cushy, faded, rust-colored carpet swept meticulously clean. At the end lay a tent much nicer than the rest and much more luxurious. It branched out in both directions like some sprawling Sheik’s tent, surrounded by a line of several tall blazing torches. In front of the well-lit grand entrance, she paused. “I sure hope this Omar Eli Moon is an early riser.”

He pivoted on his heel, turned to meet her gaze and spoke slowly as if to a child. “You mean, Omari Elydian Amun.”

Jade resisted kicking him in the shin at being talked down to.

“And do not worry, the Omari has not yet gone to bed.”

If he was looking to intimidate her with the name he repeatedly dropped, he’d done his job. Hoping to keep his attention on her face, which had held his gaze for more than five seconds for the first time since they’d met, she opened her eyes as wide as she could. “How do you know he is not in bed yet?”

He chuckled. “Everyone who dwells in Omari Amun lives by the light of the moons. It is far too hot during the day to be exposed to the elements. Only the Omari does that, and not very often.”

She released a pent up breath when his gaze returned to her chest. Moons? No wonder he watched her breasts with such interest. The man obviously suffered from double vision. After a moment she cleared her throat, but not even her audible irritation distracted his focus. Were he not a foot and a half taller than she, she’d have pasted him one in the chops by now.

He sighed and called out. “Omari, ‘tis I, Lothar-Canute. I must beg an audience with you. We have a visitor.”

A female protest sounded from somewhere inside the tent. “Tell him to go away, Elydian! I hate that ram’s ass.”

Jade stiffened beside Lothar-Canute, but he didn’t seem affected by the jeer.

A very male, booming voice ground back in answer. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Havliah, I am Omari here. It is my duty to see to the inhabitants of this camp.”

Neither of them sounded ready to entertain guests at the moment. Jade shifted from one foot to the other. Great, she was about to step directly in the path of some domestic dispute.

At once, the curtain was yanked back to reveal a man much taller than Lothar-Canute, with shoulders that rivaled the width of the shorter man’s belly. And that was saying something.

Eat your heart out, Valentino!

His tanned skin would have surpassed Coco Chanel’s by about three shades. Quite young for an authority figure—perhaps not yet in his thirties, his full mane of brown, sun-streaked hair hung to his brawny shoulders. He didn’t wear much as far as clothing, unless you considered Tarzan’s wardrobe sufficient. But who was Jade to complain? His well-padded loin cloth—if it was in fact padding—put his manly thighs on display for all to enjoy. His muscled physique announced to the world that he spent his days rowing up and down some lucky stretch of water.

Lothar-Canute bowed via his thick waist. “Omari, I beg forgiveness for the intrusion, but it seems a misplaced Lambish has wandered into our camp.”

Elydian’s gaze fell upon Jade. Instantly, she felt absorbed into the maleness that simply radiated from him, sapping her of whatever strength she hadn’t spent traipsing about the camp. Heat crept up the back of her neck, and she moistened her lips. Oh, how she’d love to get fresh with this one. He was luscious from head to toe—like a cup of thick, steamy hot chocolate laced with almond liqueur. The girls back at the dorm would just die of envy.

In slow motion, the most amazing full lips she’d ever beheld parted slightly, and she waited for him to speak. He stood without uttering a word, like some dark, Grecian statue in all its glory. If he hadn’t been breathing, she’d have thought him a lifelike replica.

Jade was unable to tell what color his eyes were, as they were focused on her chest. Hopefully, he wasn’t double-sighted like his comrade. She folded her arms. “Up here,” she murmured hoping he’d take the hint.

His line of sight snapped back to hers, and she drew in a steadying breath to speak when the gorgeous man before her tossed over his shoulder, “Havliah. Out.”

“What?” the woman shrieked and pushed her way past Elydian. She sneered at Lothar-Canute and then frowned down her nose at Jade. “Is this why you are dismissing me? So you can entertain this short, plump little nothing?”

Covering her shocked start, Jade lifted her chin two notches—the woman was as tall as Lothar-Canute. Similarly dressed as Jade, the fabric of Havliah’s outfit appeared thicker, more home-spun. Her platinum hair, shorn much shorter than a fashionable bob, desperately needed a conditioning treatment. Before she tore her gaze from Havliah’s burning assessment, she noticed that the woman had no curves whatsoever. Flat chested, her waist fell to branch out into long, gangly legs which poked through the high slits of her dress. Her height was something to envy, but Jade would never trade her woman’s figure for that of a very tall seventeen year-old boy’s skin and bones.

Jade turned to look directly into the eyes of Elydian, and when she spoke, his smoldering gaze met hers. His eyes were stunning. Light brown with golden flecks around heavy, focused pupils, all surrounded by a thin black ring.
What peepers
!
Had she the choice, she’d rather be lost in his eyes than in this camp of crazies. “There is no need to dismiss anyone. I have merely lost my way and this man,” she indicated to Lothar-Canute, “said you could help me.”

“There. You see?” Havliah said in triumph. “There is no need for me to—”

“Havliah, out.” he repeated a bit more briskly than before and took her by the elbow, showing her the way.

Havliah jerked out of Elydian’s grip and stumbled a few steps forward. Her eyes narrowed at Jade as she past.

Lothar-Canute chuckled.

“Ass,” Havliah murmured.

“Whore,” he shot back.

“Enough.” Elydian growled at them and turned back to Jade.

Without a word, he parted the curtain in a blatant invitation for her to enter.

Jade had two choices: she could refuse his arrogant, unspoken invitation, or she could step through the portal of his tent and thank him in any way he deemed worthy for getting Lothar-Canute off her tail, chest, or whatever she was inadvertently presenting to him at the time.

What a conundrum. Were she to give in and enter his lair, she’d probably experience the petting of a lifetime—and by the look in his eyes, that was exactly what would occur. Gads, Elydian’s hands seemed twice the size of her own. Liquid desire pooled in her belly. Before her better judgment, which had been dormant for many a semester, reared its head, she swept beneath his arm and into the tent.

Chapter Three

“Omari?” The hairy vermin, Lothar-Canute, stepped forward and addressed Elydian, glancing over his shoulder. Havliah was well out of hearing range.

“Yes?” Elydian said, reigning in his impatience.

“When you have tired of your new guest, I would be glad to host her in my tent.”

“Do not anticipate the opportunity too soon, Lothar. Take Havliah or one of the others. I do not plan on tiring of this one for quite some time.”

Elydian turned from Lothar into his tent, hoping he comprehended the dismissal.

He stopped short, his gaze scanning the inside of his sitting room. Had the Lambish slipped away? “Where—?”

Deep in a corner of his tent, the girl whipped around. Her silky-looking, dark brown hair wrapped around her neck and shoulders with the action, her hand holding fast to the neck of his water decanter. He dragged his fingers over his scalp at the sight of her. Was she some sort of royalty? Smooth, pale skin covered every inch of her exposed body, and the lushness taunted him—dared him to reach out and touch it. Only the wealthy carried themselves so, and no family he knew produced daughters whose heads reached only as high as his chest. There was a slim chance that she was but a child. If this was the case, he’d personally escort her back to her family and request they send her back to him when she became of age.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and strode toward her. “Are you thirsty?”

She nodded. “Yes. This is a party isn’t it?” She removed the stopper and sniffed. Her sweet little nose wrinkled briefly between her big, fern-green eyes. “Where’s the—what’s the word for alcohol?”

Elydian regarded her and her strange words. He was at once convinced of her womanhood, now that he could observe her up close in the light of the lamp. Unbelievably supple-looking in all the right places, she
gazed up at him expectantly.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. “I don’t have any al—or whatever it is you are looking for. I only have water.”

A comical expression marred her lovely features, then vanished. “Well, if I must.”

He chuckled and pulled his gaze from her full, pouting lips. He liked that she was not afraid of him like so many others. No. No fear, only a sassy insolence that further intrigued him. Stepping forward, he poured her a measure of water and handed it to her. She murmured her thanks and tossed it back as if avoiding the taste. It seemed she was just as eager for him as he was for her. It would be the reason she rushed through her refreshment.

Elydian took the goblet from her and set it back upon the table. He doused the lamp flames and he turned to her. “You may take your clothes off now.”

* * * *

“Excuse me?”
Horsefeathers, this fella moves fast.

He grinned. “My apologies.”

“That’s more like it,” she murmured.

He sobered and tossed his head toward the entrance to another room in the tent. “Proceed to where we shall retire, then take your clothes off.”

Had he started with, “what’s your name” or “gee, you’re swell”, it might have been easier to comply. “Look mister. You are the ultimate male and all, but how about some pretty words before we get to the petting, huh?”

Elydian stepped forward as if she hadn’t spoke at all, his dark, long fingers wrapped around her elbow. He guided her through a flap in the tent and down a slight incline a good six or seven steps, which led into the next room. A hint of spice enveloped her senses. The walls seemed thicker, and as a result, the air much cooler.