A Faerie Tale: Ring of Fire – excerpt

Liquid Silver Books

Paige Burns © 2005

Mateo stepped back behind the waterfall, willing his racing heart to slow. The first time he’d had this feeling had been on his return from the village. He’d felt eyes on him but hadn’t seen anything but a tree that looked as if the vines had molded into the shape of a woman. He needed to remember to bring his camera with him next time. That would be a picture the guys back home would love to see.

He stepped through his watery curtain, leaned forward and glanced up the trail to where his camp was, but couldn’t see anyone. He must be going crazy from lack of human contact. Except for his weekly trek to the village, he’d been by himself in the rainforest for close to two months now. All the same, he was going to skip prolonging his bath and get to settling in for the night. He had an early day tomorrow and a lot of work since he wasn’t getting an assistant.

Mateo gathered his clothes and backpack, not bothering to dress since he was clean and his clothes weren’t. As soon as he reached the top of the short trail to his campsite, he realized not getting dressed was a mistake.

Bent over his table was the most delectable ass he’d ever seen. The woman had legs that went on for miles and ended at cute but dirty bare feet. Her t-shirt and shorts looked vaguely familiar and were obviously too big since she kept tugging at them to keep them from falling.

Please fall down, please fall down, he chanted in his head for a second before he shook off his lust to wonder who she was and why she was looking at his paperwork.

“Um...” he started.

“Aieeee,” the woman yelled, whirling and landing in a fight stance.

“Hey now.” Mateo backed up a bit so he was out of range of whatever she was planning. “You’re in my camp, babe. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

She stood there silent for a moment, dark green eyes flashing with anger yet still beautiful to behold. Long black hair draped over her shoulders to rest on ample breasts. The strands glinted green in the dying sunlight. It reminded Mateo of the glint one might see off of dragonfly wings.

It took him a second to realize he was openly staring at her luscious body. He glanced up and caught a smirk on her face. Her eyes were no longer angry but hungry, and they were staring at him.

She eased out of her stance and sashayed forward. Mateo braced himself, for what he didn’t know. He did know that her getting close would be disastrous. Either she was gonna kick his ass, or he was gonna rip her clothes off and bury himself deep in her.

“Hi,” she purred when she’d gotten a breath away from him. She put her hands on his naked shoulders and leaned in to kiss one cheek and then the next. Her musky scent brought chills to his body and his cock to attention.

“I’m Damia and the university sent me for you.” She stepped back and looked him up and down. “Mateo, right?”

“Mmmm,” he responded, barely able to have a coherent thought other than that he wanted her naked now.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” Damia said, gesturing to his clothes that he hadn’t realized he dropped. “I’m sure if the girls at the university had known you’d greet them in all your glory you wouldn’t have had to wait so long for an assistant.”

“Shit,” Mateo barked. “Um, if you would excuse me...”

With as much dignity he could muster, he bent to retrieve his clothes and walked calmly to his tent, all the while feeling her gaze on him. He zipped the opening closed and sat heavily on his mattress, taking deep breaths. In. Out. I will not hyperventilate.

Women were not his specialty, volcanoes were. He’d had a girlfriend or two in high school and then a short and ill lived relationship in college. His model mother and CEO dad had passed down their beauty and brain genes to him, which made women flock to him like bees to honey. But the minute one came with in five feet of him, he began to sweat and all rational thought left. Most of the time he couldn’t even speak coherent sentences. How he’d dated at all was a miracle. Well, he hadn’t really done any talking on the dates, mostly fucking.

This wasn’t going to be easy. He expressly told the university that he wanted a male assistant. He’d gotten snickers from some of the other students who thought his lack of grace with women and his GQ looks made him gay. The reality of it was that he needed to finish this project for his doctorate, and with a woman here, his concentration would be way off.

You can do this. You’re the boss. You’re the boss. I’m the boss.

“Mateo,” Damia called, startling him into finally getting dressed. “It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be making something to eat?”

“Shouldn’t I be making something to eat?” he repeated, unzipping the tent to stalk over to where she stood leaning against the table.

“Listen here,” he said, keeping his voice firm and his eyes averted. If he looked at her, he’d be lost. “First rule to remember is that I’m the boss, you’re the assistant.” He was pacing now, still keeping his gaze on the ground in front of him.

“Okay.”

“Second,” he continued, “being an assistant means you do the menial jobs, fetching things, setting up the equipment.” He stopped pacing and braved a glance at her. “You do know how to set up the seismic equipment, don’t you? You do at least have a degree in geology right?”

Damia blanched, but quickly recovered. “Oh, I have a background in Earth studies, with a strong emphasis on plant and animal life. As far as the equipment, I’m a fast learner.”

“Plant and animal, huh? You might be somewhat useful after all.”

I can do this. I’m the boss.

“So, first things first, Damia. Where is your gear so we can get your tent set up before all the daylight is gone.”

“Oh. Umm. My gear?”

“Yeah, your stuff. Clothes, tent, etcetera. You do have gear, don’t you?”

“Well, umm, you see...”

She tugged at the oversized shorts again and Mateo realized where he’d seen them before. They were his. He walked around the back of his tent and, sure enough, the clothes he’d washed and hung to dry yesterday were gone, his khaki shorts and green U of H t-shirt, which is exactly what Damia had on.

“Those are mine,” he accused, returning to where she still leaned against the table. Her pose was provocative, his t-shirt clinging to her generous breasts, but her face held a look of uncertainty.

The pose had his cock stirring; the look his heart softening.

“All right,” he resigned and moved to get his package of dried soup to heat up for dinner. “It’s almost dark. You can tell me the story while we eat. I’m sure it will be an interesting one.”