Revealing Eden (24 page)

“Where did you get that dress?” he demanded.

Eden shrank back, perplexed. “Don’t you recognize it? It’s Rebecca’s.”

He shot to his feet. She had a worm’s-eye view of his towering figure. The wet loincloth molded to his hips. Tousled hair fell down his shoulders. Fits of sand clung to the dark skin. Bramford was a wild, angry beast.

“Take it off,” he said.

“What?” she said, struggling to sit up.

Eden wondered what triggered the door between them to open, then slam shut. And why had she thought the dress would please such an insensitive brute? Or didn’t she look as pretty as Rebecca, after all?

“Take if off,” Bramford repeated. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

She stammered. “But. But I have nothing else to wear.”

“There’s no one here to see.”

Meaning he wouldn’t even look?

Eden’s temper flared. “When I find Rebecca I’ll give it back. Where is she?”

His jaw muscles pulsated. Flinty hardness armored the eyes. Somehow Rebecca seemed to get deeper under his skin even in her absence than Eden did in the here and now. After all that they had shared, why wouldn’t he tell Eden the truth? If only she could get him to open up to her.

Bramford growled half-heartedly—more of a grunt, really. She saw that the ferocious battle had weakened him. He turned away, loping towards the river. The tessellated
ground, whipped into small dunes, reeked of violence. He picked up something and stood with his back to her for some time, perhaps watching the river meander on its course.

Eden longed for him to look at her like he had before. But no, that wasn’t true. She ached for more, only that wasn’t possible. Sadly, she recalled her father’s warning.
His affection might kill you
.

Bramford returned to her side, though he avoided her searching gaze. He held out a razor-sharp tooth of the anaconda. Was this his attempt at sharing?

“It’s horrible,” Eden said, stating the obvious.

Naturally, Bramford took a contrary position. “If you choose to look at it that way. I see one of nature’s greatest creations. I’m sorry I killed it.”

“But it would have killed you. And me.”

“Is that so terrible?”

Eden’s mouth gaped. Didn’t he care for her at all? Then she recalled Maria’s fairy tale and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Coatlicue?
Is that what you mean?”

“That, too,” Bramford said, and she caught his disdainful glance at his body, or more likely, at hers.

“You don’t believe it’s guarding an afterlife, do you? It’s no worse killing an anaconda than any other predator.”
Like him?
“I mean, it’s just a silly myth,” she quickly added.

“Is it?”

Again, felt she’d said the wrong thing. But if he wouldn’t tell her what was on his mind, how on Great Earth could they ever really communicate?

Bramford abruptly turned and walked to the edge of the forest. His torso rippled as he gathered long, stringy vines
with his good arm. His wide shadow tipped behind him like a buttress to a tree. Eden’s gaze never left him, as if she feared the warm feeling in her chest might vanish, and maybe the whole world with it.

“We’re all connected,” he said over his shoulder. “If I’d lost the fight I would have provided fuel for the anaconda. Instead, its tooth becomes my tool. Does it matter?” He snapped the vines with the tooth, as if to prove his point.

“Of course it matters,” Eden said. “We have to survive.”

He cast a withering glance over his shoulder. “You only think so because you’re human.”

There, he admitted it
. They were different. But the truth burned a hole in her heart.

“You’re wrong,” she said in a small voice. “You have no idea what I think.”
Or how I feel
.

Bramford fixed her with a questioning look. He seemed about to say something, and she waited anxiously. Then he shook his head and turned away.

“Man thinks he’s above nature when in fact he’s its slave,” he said, pulling down two huge leaves from a giant banana tree. “Look at you, Eden. Without walls to enclose you you’re afraid of everything. Don’t you see? Your fear invited the anaconda to attack. Try to think of yourself on the same plane as the animals in the forest. No better. No worse.”

How wrong Bramford was! Only one thing frightened her now. What if he never touched her again?

He dragged the gigantic leaves towards her and, aware of her injuries, set them by her good side. Then he sat down and handed her one end of the vines.

“Hold this tight,” he said.

Eden took it, and he began to braid the ropes together with one hand. The warmth from his body reached her like an embrace. She looked away, fighting the pull.

Pinpoints of light flickered like fireflies on the opposite shore. Their fickleness reminded her of Bramford’s changing moods. Was there some clue in nature that would help her decipher his strange meanings? Maybe then she could calm this impossible, hammering need for him.

For Earth’s sake, he was a beast who could offer her nothing. And yet, her body seemed to have a will of its own. Logic failed in the face of uncontrollable, ridiculous emotions and lusty desires. However, Bramford’s only concerns were for the dying earth and fairy tales and animals. She wanted to scream as he calmly worked the braid. Some antenna he had.

“The more man ruins the planet, the sicker he becomes,” he went on. “He doesn’t even know why he’s heartbroken. It’s solastalgia—homesickness for the loss of one’s habitat. Like the Huaorani.” He looked up at her with a soulful expression. “You suffer from solastalgia, Eden, whether you know it or not.”

No, something much worse than that broke her heart. But she couldn’t tell him. She simply stared at him, wondering if this was the same man who once had wasted precious resources and belittled the loss of her dog. Maybe Bramford really had become a shaman.

Eden flinched as he leaned over her with the finished rope. When she realized he intended to bandage it around her ribs, she regretted her reaction. Why hadn’t he just said so?

Bramford looked wounded. “Do you think I’d hurt you?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

The observation that only recently he’d imprisoned her caught in her throat. She swallowed it because she couldn’t bear his sad expression.

She let him tie the rope around her, thrilling to the touch of his hands. A thin cough sputtered from her like a dying flame as he knotted it at her side.

Bramford gave her a searching look. Once more, it seemed he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” Eden asked.

Again, for no clear reason, a door seemed to close shut.

“Hold on,” he said, lifting her gently.

She put her arms around his neck and pulled close. He stood still, his sizzling green eyes on her. A deep, primal groan came out of him that made her heart spin.

“Lay still,” Bramford said, setting her on top of one of the giant leaves.

Eden heard her voice through a gauzy filter. “But for how long?”

“A day, maybe two.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“And what, sleep in the jungle? That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Eden.”

If only that were true
.

At least, Bramford would be there to protect her while she recuperated.

“What about your arm?” she said. “It’ll get infected.”

“Just rest,” he said, and walked away.

Eden watched him head downriver, hypnotized by the powerful movements of his hips and shoulders. Long, tubular
orange canna lilies brushed against his torso, like vibrant women luring him into the forest. It hurt just to look at him.

An explosion of bird cries popped in the direction he’d taken. Eden marveled at the jungle’s built-in warning system—
the Jaguar Man is coming
.

Soon the only trace of Bramford was the coarse scent that clung to her skin and filled her with deep longing.

E
DEN LAY rigid on the huge leaf, alert to every sound and movement in the jungle. The dappled light had thinned and angled west. From the passage of the shadows, she guessed Bramford had been gone at least two hours.

Panic clawed at her, as she wondered if she’d misunderstood him.
A day, maybe two
. She only had assumed he would stay with her. But what if he planned on leaving her alone? Why couldn’t the beast ever say what he meant?

Eden jerked her head at a loud splash in the river. A pretty, little rainbow fish leapt into the air, its tail flailing in vain against gravity. The frenzied attack of piranha fish cut short its escape. They diced the luckless prey, their scales flashing. Her stomach turned as blood fanned across the water.

It was evolution, her father would say.
Pygocentrus piraya
represented the water police that killed off the weak, making room for the strong. She nervously scanned the ring of forest, hoping she wouldn’t be nature’s next victim.

Now, a whistling sound behind a gumbo limbo tree startled her. She twisted towards it, a terrible ache in her side, and squinted at the waxy trunk. Cold fear iced her spine as the sound moved closer. Pure instinct told her there was another human there.

“Bramford?” she said in a thin, wavering voice.

No one answered.

Everywhere Eden looked she felt hungry eyes staring at her, closing in on her. The hysterical crescendo of a laughing falcon rippled in the air. She couldn’t fight the feeling, however illogical, that the evil
Herpetotheres cachinnans
mocked her plight.

Please, protect me, Mother Earth
.

Eden promised to be good. She’d heed good advice, even Bramford’s. Wait and see—always, she swore.

Something upstream caught her eye, and she did a double take. Bramford seemed to materialize from out of the shadows, in the opposite direction from where he’d left. Relief, and then anger washed over her. He hadn’t even bothered to call out to her.

Her shrill voice lit into him, as he approached. “For Earth’s sake, Bramford. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back? Or did you enjoy scaring me?”

He stood his ground in front of Eden and grunted. In his good hand, he cupped a bunch of leaves and nuts and berries. A thick, woody vine trailed over his shoulder. Bruising eyes bore into her.

One minute he was a pussycat, then, for no reason at all, he slayed her with just a look. She let loose a torrent of emotions, too agitated even to feel the pain of her heaving chest.

“I don’t know why you bothered to save me in the first place, if you were going to leave me here to die. There are
things
everywhere; things that want to kill me. Just now, I heard someone.” She wagged a finger. “Right there—”

Without warning Bramford pounced on her, scattering
his pickings into the air. Eden flattened her back against the leaf and screamed. He knelt over her, his weight supported on one arm. His loincloth brushed against the top of her thighs. His irresistible scent shot like a hot arrow through her galloping heart.

Eden yearned to caress his savage face but feared he might hit her. From a lifetime of habit she knew what to do.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she began, speaking in the flat, unthreatening tones of a Pearl. But she had to reach for the right note, as if it was packed away on a shelf. She hung her head on her chest as she continued. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I only wanted—”

“No!” Bramford said.

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“Why? I left you here without explanation. You have a right to complain. Go ahead. Attack, don’t whimper.”

“You mean you wanted to teach me a lesson? Is that it?”

He cocked his head, as if a good idea had struck him. “It’s certainly one you could learn.”

The bastard hadn’t changed one bit.

“How could you leave me defenseless here?” she said.

Bramford sat back on his haunches and heaved a weary sigh. “Did anything bother you, Eden? Even come close? Anything at all?”

She had to admit nothing had. Not even a rodent had scurried near. In fact, now that she thought about it, a protective bubble seemed to exist around her.