Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

M asada Dig

Judean Desert, Israel

2044

Branson had been excited to be invited to the dig. He knew many more had applied for the highly coveted volunteer slots than would be chosen. The one thing that had put him off was the idea of living in a dorm for eight weeks. He'd contacted the head of the kibbutz and arranged to rent one of the houses in the community. The area was nothing like he'd thought it would be. It was essentially a small, scenic and gated neighborhood. The houses weren't large or ornate, but every lot was plenty big enough for each family to have their own house and the community boasted all the amenities the residents could want or need.

The van stopped at the community center, which was flanked by two dormitory-style houses, one for men and one for women. Each had a residential aide that ran the house and acted as a resource for the students. Renata exited the van and headed towards the women's residence.

Well, at least I know where to find her.

"Dr. Norris?" asked an elderly gentleman as he walked toward Bran with an extended hand. "I'm Norman Ebeling, one of the council members here. I thought I'd take you up to your house." He gestured toward an electric golf cart.

As Bran settled in on the passenger side, the council member explained, "We keep the cars that need to be outside our walls in the garage area. Within the kibbutz we try to limit the use of fossil fuels so most everyone either walks, bikes, or drives a golf cart. The house you rented comes with its own cart. Even though it's the farthest away from the communal areas, it has one of the best views and its own garden out back."

"I was happily surprised to find I could rent a separate house," said Bran.

"We have found it lucrative to offer tourist opportunities at our kibbutz. You can arrange to stay in one of the dormitories or rent a small house, like the one you've rented. We also offer guided tours of all kinds."

Bran turned around in his seat to get a better view as they drove past a small park. "It's very beautiful here," he said.

"We think so. There's a sort of bleak grandeur to it all. The fact that we've carved out a place for ourselves where we can grow things for both food and beauty is a testament to those who have come before us."

The house they rolled up to was small, almost quaint. Bran would have called it a cottage had they been in England, but instead of being made out of stone or wood with a thatched roof, it was made of cinderblocks with a sturdy metal roof.

"The house is air-conditioned. We find those not used to our climate are much more comfortable in buildings with central air. In addition to the golf cart, the house has its own washer and dryer combo, as well as a two-person hot tub."

"This is better than my place back at Oxford," said Bran, smiling. "I can see the benefits of a hot tub in England, but here in the desert?"

"Many of us use them more like a kind of cool tub—we lower the water temperature. Sitting and bubbling in cool water can be quite refreshing."

Images of a naked Renata sitting in the tub with him filled his mind and he smiled, feeling his cock begin to stiffen at the thought.

"You're a professor there as I recall," said Mr. Ebeling. "One of the youngest to gain tenure, as I recall."

Bran nodded. "I've been extremely fortunate that a position came open right after I had a major find."

He remembered the occasion well because so much had been made of it at the time. For Bran, it had been one more tic on the checklist—finish his doctorate, discover a major find, become tenured. He often felt untouched by things that should have been more meaningful to him.

"I remember. Finding that Viking longship in a burial mound must have been thrilling."

"It was unusual, to say the least. That burial mound was at least twenty miles from sea. When I think of what it must have taken to get it from the water to its resting place, I still can't believe it. I'm still supervising the dig there, trying to figure out if the warrior that we found brought it with him, or if it was brought after he'd died and was part of the burial ceremony."

"I think that's half the fun of archeology—trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together."

Bran laughed. "I agree. It seems like just when you think you know it all, somebody else comes along with a better theory than yours."

Norman pulled a set of keys from his pocket and held them out to Bran. "Your bags should be here this evening. The house is fully stocked with food, but if you need anything else, there is a little store in the center of the community."

"I saw that as we drove here. Thank you," Bran said, taking the keys.

Norman waved as he drove away, leaving Bran standing in front of his rental. He opened the gate to the private yard and then explored the small two-bedroom cottage. A sliding glass door at the rear of the house led out into the back yard. Instead of a lawn, the small garden had stone pavers with hardy green ground cover growing between them. As promised, there was a small hot tub with instructions on how to use the auto start function, which would fill the tub and heat the water. He made note of the small grill, with a generous woodpile next to it.

Bran looked toward the back of the yard and saw his hopes had been rewarded—the back wall of the garden had a locked gate, which meant he had direct access to the foothills and the mountains beyond. It would make being able to shift and go for a run as a wolf much easier.

He re-entered the house and the cool air was a welcome respite from the harsh heat outside. He took inventory of the food on hand. He could tell some attempt had been made to make it appealing to European, British, and American tastes. He certainly had enough to choose from. A list of community phone numbers had been left by the landline phone on the wall in the kitchen. He called the store and confirmed they had a couple of New York style steaks. He asked the employee he spoke with to put them aside for him, plus some baklava for dessert and a few other things he'd need.

If he played it right, he'd have the next eight weeks to find out everything about his fated mate. Renata Valor—a Scot with a Spanish name and no pack allegiance. Bran assumed there had to be a story there. When they became a bonded pair, she would be Renata Norris, which was a decidedly old and very English surname. Someday Renata would be Mistress of Ravenscar, his ancestral home and the seat of his pack. He wondered idly what her wolf looked like. He had red-headed friends, and he'd found for the most part, their wolves almost always had a beautiful reddish-gold cast to their coats. Renata's hair also had streaks of blonde, however, so maybe her wolf would be even more stunning.

He took a quick shower to wash off the dirty film that traveling always seemed to deposit, then called down to the woman's dormitory and asked to speak with Renata.

"Dr. Norris?"

"Renata, it's Branson. Bran. I thought I'd pick you up about six, but if you want to come earlier that would be fine too. Is there anything you'd like for dinner? I was planning to grill a couple of steaks."

"I'm told by the house manager that the place you rented has a great hot tub. If I could impose, I'd like to maybe soak for a bit, to see if it helps with the headache."

Branson grinned. "Nothing would make me happier." He'd expected to get at least some pushback, but none came. "How about you give me an hour?"

"That would be fine. That'll give me a chance to get unpacked."

Bran didn't like the sound of that, but he decided not to push. They ended the call, and he went out to check on the hot tub. It would be ready in about an hour's time. He went out to the electric golf cart, unplugged it, and backed out from beneath its canopy. Using the map that showed the layout of the kibbutz, he made his way down to the store and added a selection of hors d'oeuvres as well as beer and wine to the things he'd already ordered.

Bran checked his Rolex and determined he had enough time to go back to the house, put away the groceries, and then return for Renata. As he drove back to the dormitory, it occurred to him that even though he normally had a positive attitude toward life, the idea of spending time with Renata made him far happier than it should. He had grown up hearing his mother and father's love story countless times and felt that his father's patient but firm way of dealing with his mother would probably work best with Renata too.

She was standing outside the women's dorm talking with several women when he pulled up. He met her at the gate that separated the yard from the street beyond and held it open for her.

"Ooh, this one's got fancy manners," said a woman with frizzy blonde hair and a German accent.

"Of course. I was raised in a fancy house with a mother who'd hit me upside the head if I didn't behave like a gentleman," Bran rejoined, provoking laughter from the group.

"I've taken quite a bit of teasing, thanks to you," she said, clearly amused and not seeming to be all that concerned about it.

He escorted her to the golf cart, putting her small bag in the back seat. "I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing that you have a bag with you."

"It's my swimming suit."

"Bad thing," he said, and made a face which elicited a laugh.

He liked hearing Renata laugh. It wasn't one of those polite, giggling noises so many women usually made. It was enthusiastic and full of life. It made his heart sing. He was going to have to talk to his father about this whole fated mate thing. Part of him wanted to be patient and woo her, and another part, specifically his hard cock, didn't give a damn about patience. It wanted to be balls deep in her. He had a sneaking suspicion his father would tell him to put his cock in neutral and take his time.

"Which begs the question, what would be a good thing?" Renata asked with innocence in her voice.

"A spare set of clothes, make-up … The kind of stuff you'd need to avoid a walk of shame."

"You said you wouldn't push."

"No, I said I'd abide today by the boundaries you set."

"Why do you think they call it the walk of shame? Do men have a walk of shame?"

"The people who call it that didn't get lucky the night before and are jealous. Ironically, guys don't have a walk of shame. Mostly I think because a lot of time you can't tell we're wearing the same clothes the next morning. And even if you do, you know that some of us do it just because we're lazy."

Renata laughed again. She seemed to be relaxed in his presence.

"Since you decided not to keep me in agony waiting for you until six, I grabbed some snacks for before dinner. I thought if you wanted, we could have a drink and something to eat, I'd work on making you feel better and then we could soak in the hot tub. After that we can eat dinner at whatever time suits you."

Renata nodded silently before answering. "That sounds perfect."

They arrived at the house, and he grabbed Renata's bag and offered her his hand to get out of the cart. He didn't let go if her until they were inside.

"Wow! This is much nicer than the dorm. Don't get me wrong, it's better than a lot of dig accommodations, but still nothing compared to this."

"There's only one full bath and it's attached to the main bedroom. I took a shower when I got here. If you'd like one, help yourself."

"Oh, I couldn't," said Renata, an uncertain look on her face. "Could I? The dorm has a communal bath with six shower stalls. A private bath might be nice."

"Then enjoy and consider this an open invitation to use my shower anytime, no strings attached. It has a steam feature."

"I've never used a steam shower," she said.

"Then you are welcome to visit me in Oxford anytime as well. I have a good friend who has one in his house in Chelsea, and I used it one afternoon. Installing one of my own was the first renovation I made to my place in Oxford when I bought it."

Renata smiled and Bran's body responded. "Now I'm intrigued," she said slyly.

"I saw they have some of those make-up remover wipes in the vanity drawer. If you're going to use the steam, take your make-up off first to get the full effect."

"And let you see me without make-up? In broad daylight? Heaven forbid," she said in a light-hearted tone.

He stopped and pulled her close, tilting her face so he could look in her eyes. "I want to see you in every kind of light there is. Make-up or no make-up. Hair fixed or all messy from just waking up. All dressed up in your finest or in jeans and T-shirt, or maybe wearing nothing at all. I think you're gorgeous."

"I might take you up on your offer of a private shower to get the day's grime off, but that's all I'm committing to. Don't push your luck or my boundaries." Her easy banter had been replaced with a more formal and reserved tone.

He shook his head. "I'm not. But I'm also not going to lie to you."

"Good. I don't like liars." She pulled away but seemed to try and shake off her own resistance. "I think I'll take you up on the shower offer."

"That's a start. I'll get the appetizer tray out. Both the cheese and cracker and the veggie trays looked good. What do you want to drink? I have bottled water, beer, red and white wine, and some local sodas."

"I'd love an Otter Ale, but I don't suspect that's possible?"

He laughed. "God, I love that stuff. I didn't expect to see it here, but Saul, the guy who owns and runs the general store, told me one of the community members is originally from Devon so he started importing it and everyone loved it. He can't get very much of it and when he does, he can't keep it on the shelves. Folks would come in and buy him out so now he limits households to a six pack every other day. I bought a few, plus some other things that looked interesting."

Renata's face lit up like she'd had a brilliant idea. "Well, I can pick up more tomorrow and we can share."

"But what happens when I talk you into moving in here with me?" he waited for her to tense up or get angry, but she didn't do either.

"I guess you'll just have to decide if I'm worth the sacrifice," she teased.

"Renata?" She turned back to look at him. "I already have."