Words of Love

chapter SIXTEEN



Jesse had actually walked the last bit through the main plaza near camp.

“Really, Brett,” she pleaded. “Please. We can do this now. Let’s just grab a couple of lanterns and go back.”

Again, she watched him shake his head but he was all smiles. It was infectious. As they entered the camp, she saw a lantern near the camp stove and picked it up.

“Look,” she said.

But, as he swept by her, he put an arm around her waist and pulled her toward the tent.

“You can bring it if you like but I think we have enough light,” he said.

She kept her grip on it and brought it.

“Enough light for what?”

He held up the stone with the Jester God.

“I want a closer look at this,” he said, still grinning.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him as he quickly strode toward the tent. He was like a schoolboy with a new toy. Once they were inside, he guided her past the mosquito netting to sit on the edge of her bed. As she sat, she realized that she really was tired. Dizzy spells aside, her legs felt like lead after climbing the pyramid. He must have noticed her relief.

“You don’t eat,” he said, as he set the stone down on the bed beside her and took the lantern from her. “You’re having a reaction to the antimalarial,” he continued as he set the lantern next to the one that was already lit. “And the translations really seem to take it out of you.”

He was dragging his bed through both mosquito nets. Jesse quickly raised her feet when she realized what he was doing–putting the beds together.

“And we’ve been through a lot,” he said, pushing the bed into position. “Is it any wonder you’re tired?”

He quickly took off his boots and crawled over his bed. She took off her shoes and tossed them to the floor as he picked up the stone tablet and sat cross-legged opposite her. His face was beaming as he stared down at it.

“The Jester God,” he whispered. “But I’ve never seen him carved in stone and never a stone like this.”

He held it between them so that she could see it too.

The dark blue of it was beautiful. Small white veins ran across the surface and its high polish glinted as he moved it. The carvings were delicate and low relief, in stark contrast to the huge stone architecture. It was a work of incredibly high craftsmanship.

As always, it was the glyphs that drew her attention. Despite the deep blue of the stone, her multi-colored symbols began to form.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We’re going to take this stone down those stairs and we’re going to find a place where this fits.” He gripped it by its edges as though he were doing that now, slotting it into some unseen hole in the air. “And when we do that,” he pronounced. “We’ll find the Red King. I know we will.”

“Bring me your confession,” Jesse whispered, staring at the glyphs. “Your confession?”

That wasn’t right. She knew it. It was the language of Zuyua and it couldn’t be that simple. Besides, a confession wasn’t a thing. Her mind began to wander through her mental catalog: there were glyphs, images, colors, sounds, and dialects.

Not confession.

It was on the tip of her tongue.

Not confession.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Jesse, stop.”

She blinked and looked down at the blanket. The tablet was gone.

“Where–”

“I put it next to the lantern,” he said, taking both her shoulders. “You’ve been staring at the bed.”

She looked up at him, his face no longer beaming.

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” she said. “It’s not confession but, what it really is…”

“I know,” he said, quietly. “There’ll be time for that tomorrow.” He lightly brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and then both hands gently held her face. “You’re incredible,” he said. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

She didn’t quite know what to say but, in a moment, it didn’t matter, as he gently kissed her.

He rose up on his knees and drew her upward, as his lips lingered on hers. Soft and feathery, his lips slipped across hers. Moist and warm, the slow, sensual slide of them, one way and then the other, was hypnotic. Though the glyphs still whirled in her head, they began to fade, replaced by the singular sensation of Brett’s mouth.

His lips seemed to explore hers, probing and sampling, as though he’d never kissed her before. He tested her upper lip, drawing it tenderly between his. His hands, lightly framing her face, slid to the nape of her neck and hers finally found his waist. His tongue skimmed her captive lip, a seductive sweep that felt like he was tasting her. Then his mouth found her lower lip as she finally closed on his upper.

Somehow this kiss was different–Brett was different. Instead of the fiery passion that had exploded from him earlier, Jesse sensed a new calm. His tongue slowly and steadily stroked her as her mouth tried to respond to its rhythm. His mouth suckled hers and, though her lips parted, his lips continued to knead into hers. His tongue caressed her lips rather than slip between them and the warmth of the moist breath from his nostrils spilled over her chin.

The moment seemed suspended in time and Jesse no longer sensed their surroundings, the glyphs, or even her own body. Instead, his kiss had become her world. Delicate and tender, achingly slow, she hung on each new sensation.



• • • • •



Brett could not believe the incredible sensation in his mouth. Though he had thought of Jesse as sweet, he hadn’t realized she tasted that way as well–not until this moment. The fragrant scent of her skin mixed with the faint but clear taste of sweet wine. As though he fed from her mouth, he lightly sucked her lips and savored each tantalizing taste.

Like her strange and hidden talent, Jesse was one surprise after another. Each layer that he removed only revealed another beneath: her secret beauty, her utter vulnerability, and now this. Was it any wonder he couldn’t get enough?

Beautiful and swollen, her lips were an irresistible invitation. The flesh gave easily under his tongue and the silken swell of them, held gently in his mouth, was like a drug. She kissed him back, opened her mouth to him, but he could not let this moment end. Though he longed to plunge inside her, claim her mouth and body yet again, the delicate cling of her lips mesmerized him. His lips clung to hers, seemed magnetically drawn to them, and were completely unwilling to leave them.

Slowly, his hand left the nape of her neck and circled around her lower back. Her body bent to his as he curved over her, though his mouth continued to explore hers. He leaned even lower as her back arched to accommodate him and, as her hands slipped from his waist, he held her completely in his arms. Her limp form rested easily in his grasp and still he drank from her mouth, her parted lips pulsing with a sensual rhythm that matched his. He held her to him as he let her head loll backward, almost touching the pillow beneath it. Her lips softly slid along his and he suckled them for a last, sweet taste of wine. Then he let them lightly tug away as he slowly laid her down.

A deep sigh whispered shallowly from her lungs and, though her eyes remained closed, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Sleep,” Brett whispered as he settled down on his side.

Her face cleared and a tiny smile curved her soft, pink lips, and in moments she was asleep. With his head propped up on his hand, he watched her. Wonder and longing and sheer happiness mixed in his chest and realization suddenly dawned on him–he was in love. As he lay his head down and closed his eyes, he smiled.



• • • • •



Jesse woke with a start. She’d been dreaming.

“What is it?” Brett murmured from behind her in the dark.

As she lay on her side, she felt his arm around her middle draw her closer. Then he brought his knees up behind her knees.

She relaxed.

“A dream,” she said, quietly.

She realized that the tent was incredibly quiet. The rain had stopped.

“Good or bad,” he said, nuzzling into her neck.

“Bad,” she said and he stopped moving. “The Blood Gatherer.”

“That’s tomorrow,” he whispered. “We’ll find the Red King tomorrow.”

Though she couldn’t see him, she pictured him smiling at the thought.

“The Blood Gatherer is waiting for us, Brett. I feel it.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said. “Now sleep.”

He sounded sleepy and though she knew she ought to do exactly that, she knew she probably wouldn’t. Somehow the glyphs held the answer to the last test. The stela had already warned them.

“Those who do not understand, die.”