11. A Shared Beverage
A Shared Beverage
Liam
Islid my hands into the pockets of my thick black trousers and strolled around the small space. I wore the usual gear most of the others did—a breathable navy button-up with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows in an attempt to stave off the heat of the rainforest.
While Rosenshield pointed out the only non-animal living beings scattered around the cave—a few varieties of fungi growing along the walls—I explored another room, bored with his lectures about how they reproduced using spores.
As I ambled around the space, my mind couldn’t stop wandering back to Cerise’s reaction when I mentioned Ambrose Yearwood. It was obvious I had hit a nerve, but I wasn’t sure why.
I hadn’t really meant to suggest she was only attracted to droll men. But sometimes, my words tumbled out without me thinking them through. Although I was only teasing about her being boring—I didn’t actually think that—it seemed as if I had hurt her feelings.
Was that the only reason she was upset? Or was it specifically related to Ambrose?
Dr. Yearwood was a professor at another university.
While he was brilliant, known for his research on a rare species of butterfly, he was an absolute bastard.
I had interacted with him several times at conferences and he’d always rubbed me the wrong way.
He looked down on most everyone in our field, behaving as if he was the most important person in the room.
Tall and thin, his piercing blue eyes held no warmth as he gave his lectures on stage or when he graced us peons with stiff handshakes and artificial smiles.
I loathed him.
“Doctor Pendragon!” Rosenshield’s voice called from the other room. “Please rejoin the team.”
I shook my head as I began to make my way back, when something in the dirt captured my attention. Animal tracks. Large and feline, they wound through the back of the cave, disappearing down a dark tunnel.
I knelt, ignoring the pleas from my boss, and examined the prints. The hair stood on the back of my neck when I determined what left them. We needed to leave. Now.
I rose and hurried back to the group.
“There you are, Doctor—”
I interrupted Rosenshield. “Did no one think to scout this cave before we put ourselves in mortal danger?”
“Danger?” Sylvie asked, sudden fear in her voice.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Rosenshield said.
“My team scouted this cave a month ago, sir,” said Ivan.
“Well, it seems something has moved in since. It’s time to leave.”
Cerise looked at me. “What did you find?”
But before I could answer, a growl rumbled from deep within the cavern.
“What was that?” Aaric whispered.
“Jungle cat,” I replied, backing away with the group. “And we’d better get out of its home before we become lunch.”
“Jungle cats don’t eat humans,” Cerise corrected me. “They feed on more medium-sized mammals. Small deer, tapirs…even the occasional—”
I strode up and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the entrance. “Not the ideal time for a lesson, Doctor Thornheart. Everyone, follow me!”
Our team gathered our gear and the few specimens we’d collected and hurried away. But, as we were almost to the cave entrance, a giant feline appeared, blocking our way out.
The jungle cat was huge, its height on all fours reaching my waist. It padded forward on giant paws, assessing us with cunning silver eyes that were stark against its black fur. Pale pink spots and swirls decorated its legs and long tail, and a growl resounded from the back of its throat.
“It’s a female,” Cerise whispered. “I bet she has young somewhere close that she’s protecting.”
“Well, that’s even worse,” I whispered back.
The cat paced back and forth, hissing and growling.
“What do we do?” Aaric asked.
“Everyone stay still. Don’t do anything she may perceive as a threat.”
The group followed my instructions as I picked my brain for some solution to get us out without injury.
“Does anyone have any food?” I asked.
“I have some dried beef in my bag,” Aaric replied.
“Get it out. Hand it to me.”
Aaric did as I commanded, handing over the meat. I held it out, allowing the cat to scent it. It sniffed the air and looked at me hungrily. I tossed the beef to the side and the cat followed, temporarily distracted.
“All right, let's go. Hurry.”
I remained in my spot, allowing the rest of the group to pass until it was just Cerise, Sylvie and myself remaining. As we were about to scoot by, the feline looked up, eyes locking on to the three of us.
Sylvie raised her hands, but this agitated the cat and she lunged directly at Cerise. Without thinking, I grabbed her, pulling her out of the path of the giant paw that swiped midair.
Sylvie screamed and I froze, realizing what had just happened. She’d been behind Cerise and now blood bloomed from three large gashes in her shoulder.
“Get behind me,” I said to both of them, holding out my hand.
Sylvie’s cries and whimpers echoed in the cave as Cerise tried to calm her.
Flames erupted from my palm and I shot a small fireball at the ground in front of the cat. Not to harm it, but to keep it at bay as we escaped.
The cat backed away and the three of us rushed the rest of the way out, exiting into the steamy rainforest with sighs of relief.
“My shoulder. My shoulder!” Sylvie sobbed, holding her arm.
Ivan rushed forward to assess her injury. “They aren’t too deep. We can address this back at camp.” Ivan scooped her up and headed back into the jungle. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go.”
Back at camp, I sipped on a beer while I sat beneath a tree, watching as Cerise used her healing magic on Sylvie’s wounds. Hunched over the grad student, Cerise tried to hide her frustration at Sylvie’s constant screams and wails, her brow pinched with agitation.
She’s awfully loud. Her wounds are not that bad, I thought to myself.
“Sylvie, you must stop screaming,” Cerise chastised. “I cannot concentrate.”
Sylvie quieted, her screams turning to whimpers. Cerise laid her hands on the wounds after having cleaned them thoroughly, and closed her eyes.
The rest of the team sat beneath one of the research tents, organizing our finds and measuring the specimens.
I planned to join them in a few minutes; I just needed a moment away, still irritated that this injury could have been easily avoided if our damned guide—who was hovering over Cerise and Sylvie—had double checked the cave.
Cerise finished and rose, Ivan taking over to wrap the wounds. “After Ivan finishes, you should go take a nap in your tent,” she instructed. “You’ll feel much better after.”
Sylvie nodded and sniffled. Cerise ran her hand over her face as she turned and approached me.
The lavender color of her shirt brought out the violet in her eyes and, though she was drenched in sweat and dirt, she looked beautiful in the late afternoon light.
A piece of hair had come loose from her braid.
Tucking it behind her ear, she plopped down beside me.
A bead of sweat dripped down her neck and I couldn’t help but follow it with my eyes as it disappeared into her cleavage. I cleared my throat, willing myself to look away.
Cerise snatched my beer and took a long swig, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and handed the bottle back. I froze, staring at her in shock.
“What?” she said.
“Who are you and what have you done with Cerise?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just swiped my beer. And drank after me.”
She straightened. “Oh. I did. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
I laughed. “Don’t apologize. It’s nice to know you aren’t always so put together.”
“I’m too hot to care right now. It’s sweltering out here.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her neck and chest.
Fuck, that’s sexy. No, Liam. Stop it.
“The heat and humidity here are torturous. A cold shower sounds perfect right about now. Or,” I said, mischievously, “we can sneak off and take a dip in that little pool that’s not far off.”
“What? Absolutely not. I will not ‘take a dip’ with you.”
“Another time then,” I said, then offered the beer again. “More?”
She sighed and took the drink. “Thank you.”
“Cerise?”
“Yes?”
“About earlier…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…I don’t think you’re boring.”
She was quiet for a moment, searching the treetops and not meeting my gaze. “Apology accepted. I may have…overreacted a little. The topic of Ambrose isn’t my favorite.”
I quirked a brow. “The topic of Ambrose. So there’s a story there, then?”
She chewed her lip, still looking away as she took another long swig of beer. “He’s my…we were in a relationship.”
Well, that wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Oh?”
“Yes. Oh.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Well aware,” she said with disdain.
“Why did you date him if you so obviously despise the man?”
She toyed with her braid over her shoulder. “My mother introduced us.”
“So?”
She turned to me. “You don’t say no to Anya Thornheart.”
“Ah, so this was a career move then. How long were you two together?”
“About a year.” She paused. “And it wasn’t a career move. I did like him at first. But yes…there was pressure from my mother because of his status. Whatever. It’s complicated.”
“Who ended it?” I was genuinely curious—and admittedly slightly concerned she would tolerate someone so terrible for a year. Maybe he was a good partner behind closed doors.
“I did.”
“Why?”
She tilted her head. “Why are you asking me about this?”
Good question. It was my growing curiosity, that’s all. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself the more I wanted to get to know Cerise.
I shrugged. “Just having a conversation. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I was tired of being yelled at all the time,” she answered.
“He yelled at you?” I asked, shoving away the sudden anger that had made an appearance. Cerise was irritating, yes, but didn’t deserve to be yelled at. Ever.
“Oh yes. I never did anything right. Didn’t organize things right. Didn’t iron his shirts correctly. Breakfast was too hot or too cold. I didn’t wear the right clothing…” She stopped, catching herself. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” I searched her face. “So he was controlling…”
Cerise pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, beer still in hand. “I suppose so.”
“Did he hit you?”
“What?” She sat straighter. “No! He never did anything like that. He was just rude and demanding.”
“So he was emotionally abusive.”
She shook her head. “I—uh. He was just picky about his things.”
“So picky he had the right to belittle you?”
She was silent, turning away as she downed the last of the beer.
“That’s emotional abuse, sunshine,” I said with a whisper.
She regarded me again, staring with narrowed eyes.
“You shouldn’t tolerate anyone treating you that way, Cerise.” My voice had gone lower. My hand moved, and before I realized what I was doing, I tucked the stray hair that had escaped again behind her ear, my fingers grazing her neck. Her breath hitched as her grip tightened on the glass bottle.
“Good for you for ending it,” I added, pulling my hand back.
The two of us sat silently, not moving as we watched each other. As if neither one of us wanted to look away.
At last, Cerise rose, breaking the trance. “We should join the others or they’re going to think we never do any work.”