Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

B en Gurion Airport

Tel Aviv, Israel

2044

Renata Valor stumbled off the airplane, exhausted. It wasn't that the flight, which was a little over seven hours, was overly long. It had just felt that way. The half-drunk businessman who had sat next to her was either trying to get uncomfortably familiar with her or banging into her as he made his way from his window seat to the restroom. Why he hadn't opted for an aisle seat was beyond her. Added to that nuisance had been the child in the seat behind her, who had managed to kick the back of her seat. And somewhere nearby had been a screaming baby who hadn't let up for the entire trip.

The plane landed and was headed for the terminal. "You sure I can't buy you a drink in the airport bar?" asked her seatmate.

"For the umpteenth time, no. I didn't like you before your three whiskey sours. I didn't like you when you elbowed my head numerous times to go take a piss. And I sure as hell don't like you now that you've tried to grope me. So no, I will not have a drink or anything else with you. In fact, if I never see the inside of another plane again it'll be too soon."

The plane came to a stop and the passengers stood, trying to get to their belongings out of the overhead bins so they could disembark as quickly as possible. Renata remained seated. She watched with barely concealed amusement as people practically trampled each other to get out of the plane to rush to baggage claim. It never seemed to occur to them that their baggage was not in any rush to get to the carousels.

Once the plane had cleared and the stewards were cleaning the aisles, Renata stood, gathered her things, and quietly made her way into the terminal. The letter inviting her to the Masada dig had said someone would be waiting so that participants could turn over their baggage claim tickets, and the organizers would get all the luggage. Then it would be taken to the kibbutz where they would be staying.

Leaning up against a railing just inside the waiting area was a middle-aged man who fit the caricature of an archeology professor to a T—right down to his tweed jacket with suede elbow patches, slightly askance silver hair, and thick horn-rimmed glasses.

Renata approached him. "Professor Lansky?"

"You must be Renata with the beautiful sun-streaked, red hair."

"The slightly jet-lagged and less-than-stylish light-brown haired Renata, but otherwise, guilty as charged."

"We are so excited to have you with us. Your last paper comparing pictographs, hieroglyphics, and petroglyphs of the ancient Celts with those of the Egyptians for secondary school children was most thought provoking."

"Honestly, it was really aimed more at their teachers. While I appreciate the children are young and things must be explained in simplistic terms, I don't think we need to freely interchange the terms until they are older… Sorry, I'll get off my soapbox. I know I'm preaching to the choir."

"You are indeed but preach away. You do know the dig most likely won't provide you with any new material, don't you?"

"I do, but I'm also hoping I'll have some time to myself to do a little exploring."

"You aren't a prisoner, but the Peace Accord of 2037 hasn't been as effective as most of us would have liked, in terms of settling centuries-old conflicts. Just be sure to let someone know where you're going, and it is always preferable to take someone with you. We don't want to get a reputation for losing our volunteers."

As another plane landed and people disembarked nearby, Dr. Lansky held up his cardboard sign and collected another group of volunteers. The professor announced that the plane with the final volunteer on board had landed. When the passengers began to come through the jetway, Renata felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. It was a bit disconcerting, as she had never felt anything like it before. It felt like her knees were about to buckle. One of the other volunteers tried to steady her, but Renata waved her off.

"I'm fine. I didn't have anything to eat on the plane and probably didn't drink enough water. I haven't had the time to do either since I landed," said Renata with a smile.

"This heat isn't helping either," said the girl, who had short, mousy brown hair.

"If you think this is bad, you're going to hate the desert," teased Renata.

She would have said more, but she suddenly felt short of breath and her ability to speak or even think coherently had fled. He walked through the doorway as if he hadn't needed a plane to get there. He was a tall, blond god Renata was certain had just ridden his chariot down from the heavens to find his next goddess to ravish. Renata wasn't worried—she was too tall to be a goddess.

All the other female volunteers, and even the male gay ones, pushed forward to meet him but Renata hung back. By process of elimination, she knew this had to be none other than Dr. Branson Norris. Like her, he seemed to be a fish out of water on this project. His specialty was Arthurian legend. She knew from her own research that he seemed bent on proving that Arthur and his knights had truly existed and most likely had Roman origins. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be quite so … She searched for the word. Big. Not that he was overweight by any stretch of the imagination, but he seemed to have a larger than normal life presence.

The blond god's hair was shaved close on the sides around his ears and neck and became longer toward the crown of his head. Renata wondered if it was as soft as it looked. He had broad shoulders that tapered down to a lean waist. His denim chambray shirt was untucked, and the sleeves were rolled up. The shirt was opened probably one button too far, revealing a light dusting of blond hair over what looked to be a cut chest. His jeans were distressed, but in a way that looked as though they'd become that way over time as opposed to designed and manufactured that way. They fit his ass and his thighs perfectly and seemed to accentuate what lay behind his fly. Worn cowboy boots and what looked like a vintage Rolex completed his look. Renata suspected, based on what she could see, that he had washboard abs that more than one female partner had drooled over—literally and figuratively.

The man's jawline was sharp, but pleasingly so. She could easily imagine herself nibbling along his stubble toward his perfect mouth. The angular nature of his face was offset by kind, hazel-colored eyes. As he entered the terminal he had seemed to be in deep thought. He looked up and recognized the group that was waiting for him and smiled, changing the entire countenance of his face. He had lovely crinkles around his eyes and the cutest dimples. It seemed a bit weird to think of a man as cute when he most closely resembled a mountain, but when he smiled, he was almost adorable.

"Dr. Norris. I'm Dr. Lansky and these are your fellow volunteers. Let me take care of your luggage slips…"

Renata watched as Branson Norris pushed past Dr. Lansky and the line of women standing in his way.

"And you are?" he rumbled in a voice that dripped with honeyed sexuality.

"Interested only in the dig and what I might find in some of the surrounding caves."

The next thing she knew, he had drawn her hand through his arm—a blatant message to the rest of the group that he had picked the one he wanted. Unfortunately, what the gorgeous Dr. Norris wanted wasn't all that important to her. She tried to draw away without making a scene, but he elegantly and adroitly prevented her from doing so.

"Uh, right," stammered Dr. Lansky. "Well, let's get down to the vans. We're about three hours from the kibbutz, but if we're lucky we'll miss the traffic in Masada, and it won't take us five." Everyone laughed. "One of my assistants will drive and the other will get your bags and join us later. Most likely he'll remain in the city until after dark. The traffic in Tel Aviv is horrific. Come along now."

Renata tried to pull away again. The fact that she felt steadier using him for balance wasn't all that comforting. He was adept at keeping her under his control, so escape seemed to be a moot point. She heard a low, rumbling sound that was part growl and part purr, and felt her body shiver in response.

"Enough, Renata."

"How do you know my name? We weren't introduced."

"For one thing, your picture was in the materials Dr. Lansky sent to all of us. And I have an almost eidetic memory and your name was the only one on the list Lansky didn't introduce me to."

Not wanting to make a scene, Renata allowed Branson to lead her out to the van and help her in. She was quite sure that no one else would mention, or perhaps even notice, the possessive way his hand slid over her ass as he directed her into a seat. He took the one next to hers and they were on their way.

Renata tried to ignore him and instead busied herself by looking out the van window. She had been raised in the Outer Hebrides, and the only time she'd spent time away was when she attended the University of Edinburgh. She rarely talked about the farm she'd been raised on to anyone. All her life she'd been surrounded by green and water in one form or another and she had never before seen a landscape like this. It was stark and brutal, but beautiful nonetheless with the sand, rocks, and scrappy plants clawing their way out of the ground. Occasionally they would pass a small village, some looking more affluent than others. Distant mountains completed the tableau.

Resting her head against the window, she closed her eyes and breathed in the cool air and the raw sexuality of the man sitting next to her.

A s Bran had left the plane headed for the terminal, a nasty headache and feeling of dizziness had descended upon him. He chalked it up to a bad flight and not enough water. He had been hoping he could find a small kiosk that would have some kind of pain reliever. Once he was out of the recirculated air of the plane and the jetway, he inhaled deeply once and then once more. The corners of his mouth lifted as he recognized the scent—Lady Slipper Orchids combined with the smell of the sea that crashed upon the shores of Ravenscar.

Branson realized in the van on the way to the kibbutz that he probably shouldn't have been quite so obvious in the way he had taken up with Renata. But it had served its purpose—the other heterosexual men in the group knew that Renata was off limits, and the gay guys and heterosexual women knew that he wasn't interested in anyone other than Renata.

"So, you're from Scotland," he said quietly.

"Yes, Edinburgh."

"I didn't know they had such beautiful she-wolves that far north." Bran couldn't tell if the look on her face was surprise, shock, or fear, but it would be interesting to find out. "The most northern pack that I'm aware of in Scotland is Inverness."

"Do you really think we should be talking about this here?" she hissed.

"No one's paying us any mind. But we can table this until tonight at dinner."

"I'm not planning to have dinner with you."

"In case you hadn't noticed, your plans have changed."

"Are they all like us?" she asked, glancing at the others in the van.

"Don't you know?"

"I guess you seem different from them."

Bran shook his head. Could she really be that ignorant or innocent? "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Simple enough question. Are you dizzy, nauseous? Have a headache?"

"Yes, and it's one of the prime reasons I don't want to have dinner with you."

He barely managed to stifle his chuckle. "God, you'd better be clueless because if you're not, you're lying to me, and that is not a path you want to travel down." Time to change tactics. "How about if we start over? We'll have dinner tonight, just the two of us, and I'll see if I can't make you feel better. I won't do anything but stroke your head and shoulders unless you tell me differently."

"And if I say no?"

"I'll revert back to my natural state of overbearing alphahole."

She looked into his eyes and tried to tighten her jaw to keep from smiling but failed. "Are you always this obnoxious?"

"Only if I see something I want and only if I'm successful at getting it. If not, I change tactics. But be warned, I never give up." He said the last words in his best cartoon villain voice. "Have dinner with me. They've gotten me a house up at the top of the kibbutz and the pictures made it seem very nice. I'll even cook so you can just kick back and unwind."

This time she did laugh. "Do you really think you could help with how I'm feeling?"

"I do. Within the confines of the boundaries you've set, I can help alleviate it, but I can't eradicate it."

"Why?"

"Because that would involve my claiming you as my fated mate."