Redemption (3 page)

Something in his tone must have alerted her to his intent. Her scent changed, a subtle mix of wariness and arousal that filled his nose, his mouth and caused a shift inside him. All the coiled frustration from his futile hunt for the shifter refocused on a new sort of prey. It was long past time for this particular hunt to end.

“I’m about done here.” She gestured behind her at her laptop, her camera jacked into the side and downloading shots of the Lanzón from every imaginable angle. He felt a pang of, not quite pity, but regret that he couldn’t help her.

“What are you working on exactly?” He already knew the answer. He hacked into her files weeks ago to find out exactly how close she was to the truth.

She assessed him for a moment then gave a tight little nod. “It’s my thesis, that all this is a form of written record.”

“The artwork.”

“Yes,” she said, her tone taking an academic formality he found oddly erotic. “The Inca used
quipu
—woven, dyed and knotted yarn—as a form of record keeping. It was a highly secretive, coded form of communication and because it was, well, mostly made of wool, there aren’t many examples left.”

“I’m familiar with
quipu.
This site predates the Inca by a thousand years.”

She gave him a smile, a real one. Something like appreciation sparked in her eyes and caused a warm rush of pleasure to flow through him. “Yes, that’s right. People think if the Inca didn’t keep a written record then there was no way the Chavín did, but I think that this—” she gestured behind her, “—is just another form of writing. Three-dimensional like
quipu,
every line, every mark, even the placement of the stones, the orientation of the buildings themselves tells a story if one knows the code.”

He forced a smile when she looked at him. She took a deep breath and continued, “I know it sounds crazy but I really think I’m on to something.” She crouched down near her laptop and tapped at the keys, pulling something up to show him. “If you look at the cayman on the Tello obelisk, that’s not a local animal, why would—”

He took a step closer, interrupting her. “I’ve heard that the cayman and this jaguar figure represent deities.”

She shook her head, determined. “Not deities. Look at the avian guardian figures on the pillars of the black-and-white portal. Have you noticed how every feather ends in a face? What if the animals symbolize other tribes, other cities? They could be a warning or a record of conquest, tribute. They might even be part of a map.”

He curled his hand around her neck, fingers flexing into the soft skin that shielded delicate bones and arteries. She stiffened and slowly turned her head to look up at him. Her eyes wide and vulnerable, waiting for his reaction. So smart, his Sophie. He should steer her in another direction, laugh at her theory, mock her. It would be difficult for her to prove anything provided the other pieces remained lost. The Yaguara would never let her find any of the other sites. That Sophie wasn’t already on their radar, being monitored, was another indication of how distracted they were by their war.

“It’s an interesting theory.”

Some of the light in her eyes faded. “You don’t believe it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Suddenly very conscious of the walls between them, he caught her hand and pulled her up. She swallowed a gasp and gave him an irritated look to hide her fear. Still riding the thrill of the hunt, he tugged at her hand.

“Come with me, Sophie. I want to show you something. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t try to pull away, and that was all the answer he needed. Shifting his grip so their palms clasped, he started down the tunnel.

“My laptop—”

“Will be as safe as you were.” She made a frustrated sound and he added, “It’ll be fine. I just did the rounds and there’s no one else who shares your dedication.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She stumbled over an embedded rock and he caught her against his side. Surprised, he glanced down into wide, unfocused eyes. He’d nearly forgotten that it was too dark for her to see. All this time she’d been blindly following along in the dark—she trusted him. An unfamiliar and bittersweet feeling spread through him. Her body was warm where it pressed to his, all gentle curves and hollows. Reluctantly, he let her pull back but kept his hold on her hand.

He urged her forward again but at a slower pace. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but I do think you work too hard…now it’s time for a break.”

“I’m here to work.”

“Sean runs in the morning, lifts weights with Ethan at night and chases after anyone who might lay down for him. Mia chases Sean and goes into town at least once a week to do her shopping and have her nails done. Ethan entertains himself with his books and his conspiracy chat rooms. But Sophie? What do you do except work?”

“I…”

He smiled as she trailed off. “Exactly.”

“You don’t know me,” she said in a surly tone.

“No,” he agreed, leading her out onto the plaza. “But I intend to.”

He couldn’t miss the hitch in her breath, the flood of heat to her skin or the spike in her arousal. He grinned at her wary expression, her eyes blinking as they tried to focus on him. “Where are you taking me?”

“A surprise.” He cradled her face and touched her mouth gently with his own, pulling away before she could. “Trust me.”

It wasn’t far, only a half hour hike to the spot he wanted to show her, but the climb was steep enough that Sophie saved her breath for the effort. She’d dropped his hand but he had plenty of opportunity to touch her on the dark path, her back, her shoulder, her waist, guiding her over the rough spots and directing her steps. He’d thought the walk might give his blood time to cool, but walking beside Sophie, breathing her scent only ratcheted up his anticipation. When they reached the top, she cried out and he grabbed her arm, pulling her close and shielding her with his body, scanning the brush for a threat.

“What is it?”

She laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re blocking the view.”

Slipping his hand down her bare arm to her waist, he stepped aside. She looked up at the cloudless sky thick with cold stars while he looked at her. Her eyes were bright, her lips slightly parted. It was what had drawn him to her from the beginning, the look on her face right now, that capacity for wonder.

“God, it’s gorgeous up here. No wonder your ancestors worshipped the stars.”

“Beautiful,” he agreed.

She glanced at him sharply but then smiled, thinking she’d misunderstood the compliment. “Well, thank you for bringing me. You were right. This is just what I needed.”

He shook his head. “This is not what I wanted to show you.”

The overgrown trail skirted the edge of a cliff and he led her right up to the edge. “There’s a ledge about a dozen feet down. You can’t see it right now.”

She looked down at the steep drop and the darkness below, shaking her head. “Maybe if we come back in the daytime?”

If she was frightened now, she’d never attempt the climb when she saw it in full light. “I found some glyphs down there similar to the temple carvings. Actually, my brother did when we were younger and wandering where we shouldn’t have been. I’d forgotten about them but they look like the ones you’re studying, I think.” He moved toward the goat trail that angled down to a narrow outcrop below. “I wanted to see if they’re still there. I can check if you want to stay up here. It’ll only take a second.”

He turned and headed for the trail, smiling when he heard her take the first hesitant step and then call out, “Wait.” He’d known she wouldn’t be able to resist. Him, possibly. The glyphs? No.

He turned and waited for her to catch up. “Here, hold my hand. It looks harder than it is. I won’t let you fall.”

“You grew up around here?”

“Yes.” The truth. He’d grown up at the western edge of the jungle in Brazil and he and his brother had often wandered into these mountains as curious adolescents, feeling bold and dangerous, testing their limits. It was one of the reasons he was here now, because he was familiar with the territory, the history and the legends.

The cliff’s concave base formed a slight overhang. The ledge was narrow and overgrown with scrub brush. An animal had made its nest here as recently as a week ago but hadn’t returned since. He led her over to the wall and brushed away some dried mud until he found what he was looking for.

“Ah, here.”

She fiddled with something on her keychain and the sudden flare of light nearly blinded him. He looked away until his eyes adjusted. Only a penlight, tiny and weak, but his eyes had been dilated to see in the darkness. Sophie popped up onto her toes and even with the light, she had to squint to make out the crude markings. Again, he watched the rosy flush that came to her pale skin, listened to the swift indrawn breath and the way her heart beat faster. Addictive, that.

“My grandfather’s family was from the area. He would take Nic and me camping in these hills every summer, showing us the ruins and talking about the old legends.” Adriano wasn’t sure Sophie was even listening to him. She leaned in closer to the rock and he continued, something easing inside of him to be talking about Nic, sharing even such a simple story about his family. “We did a lot of…hiking. Nic turned an ankle on the path up there and slid down the hill. I’d nearly forgotten about this.”

“We’ll need to come back during daylight.” Reverently, she brushed her fingertips over the glyphs and he hardened.

He watched her a moment longer and then swept a branch from the rough-hewn stone set at the edge of the cliff. “I always imagined this was an altar.”

She turned to see what he was talking about. “Oh, look. You can see the whole site from here.” She turned off her little light and stepped closer to him to look out over the city. “Maybe it was a guard post. I can see a bored warrior scraping his name into the rock on some long quiet night, can’t you?”

No.
He couldn’t imagine a Yaguara doing any such thing. A warrior would be punished severely for the lapse and, of course, Adriano already knew what the glyphs said. The names of the dead who’d been slaughtered on this rock for their betrayal, their corpses left on the altar for the condors to pick clean. But he couldn’t tell her that so he only smiled and shrugged.

It was a good stone, flat and hip high, the blood long gone. He didn’t have to share the story with her. Humans could be squeamish about that kind of thing. Death, blood, the cost of betrayal. He closed his hand around her wrist and when she didn’t try to pull away, he tugged her closer.

“Thank you for showing me this, I—”

He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cry of surprise and tasting uncertainty, confusion and raw need. That, she couldn’t hide from him no matter how she avoided meeting his eyes, no matter how many yards of fabric she wrapped around her lush body. The smell was unmistakable, rich, salty and feminine. He wanted to press his nose to her skin and follow it to its source. And, really, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to do that. She was responding to him. He should have thought of this days ago.

He picked her up and turned around, setting her down on the very edge of the rock. She made a small sound of protest that turned into a hum of pleasure when he brushed her hair gently from her face and deepened the kiss.

He wanted her. He knew that she wanted him, and he didn’t want to talk. Sophie might prefer a discussion, make a list of pros and cons or schedule him into that little planner she always kept in her back pocket. She liked to pretend that she could control everything. She would need to accept that she couldn’t control him, and he would show her that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

But first, he slipped the band from her hair, running his fingers through the loose strands. The silky fall was just as he’d imagined, softening her features and making her look heartrendingly vulnerable. Starlight gleamed on her wet lips and wide eyes. Groaning, he flexed his fingers, angling her head so he could kiss her again. Her lips parted easy as water and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, savoring the slick heat. When he stroked his thumb across the hollow of her cheek, a violent tremor racked her body. She was so tense, so painfully aroused and still he could tell that she fought the attraction. She kissed him back, tentatively at first but there was hunger there too, almost as deep as his own. When she moaned, the sound shot straight to his cock, already hard, heavy and aching.

It had been so long, too long, but he needed to stay in control. He didn’t want to scare her off. And she was human. She would expect a tame ride. Hard to keep it slow and easy when all he wanted to do was break through her hesitation and own her. He wanted her complete submission. An instinct in his kind, especially with a new partner—the irresistible urge to force submission, to possess fully and mark their mate. Once the mating bond was secure, then allowances could be made.

The thought made him hesitate. He shouldn’t be thinking about mating bonds with her. She didn’t know what he was, couldn’t ever know. Taking a human mate was taboo. Under the old regime, it had meant exile and shame for the family you left behind. Although those lines were beginning to blur, he had no intention of taking a mate now, human or otherwise. Not in the foreseeable future.

He’d never had a human before and was…curious. He’d always wondered what it was about a human female that could be so powerful it would make a man deny his people, walk away from his life, his family and his heritage to live among a weaker race. He’d never been tempted to find out. But this was Sophie and she was different. He liked the way she saw the world, looking past all the surface crap and seeing the real value of things. He
liked
that she wouldn’t stay where he put her, not even when he knew she was half afraid of him. He liked her solemnity, her persistence and her strange sense of humor.

Here, she was the normal one and he had to play by her rules. He was a shifter, a freak in her world. Would she be repulsed if she knew the truth? He lifted his head, their lips clinging briefly as he pulled away to look down at her, beginning to reconsider crossing that line. He couldn’t tell her what he was and there would always be lies between them. Her lips were glossy and swollen, her eyes bright and slightly dazed.