A gloved hand flicks up to silence me. His eyes flash like lightning in cut glass. “Did you give him a letter with your home address on it to send outside of my oasis?”
“It wasn’t a letter . . . it was a brief message.”
The backdrop of a deadly storm fades when he takes a sharp breath and splays a palm over his heart like it’s fractured. “Fuck!” His vicious snarl spikes my soul with horror.
I scramble to stand. Power and fury lunge in a whirl of body mass and brawn. An unforgiving grip snatches the unkempt locks pouring over my shaking arms, restraining me at his hip level. “Stay on your fucking knees.”
He unclips a radio from his belt and brings it to his mouth. “Luiz,” he barks out. “Cabin thirteen. Now. Bring my gun.” The second he gives the order, he tosses the radio to the floor and drags a hand down his face.
“Listen to me, Dante. It’s not what you think.” My eyes burn. “I . . .”
“Shut the fuck up!” he yells over a boom of thunder. His voice explodes louder than the violent weather disturbance. Muscles flex, and any compassion that once lived in his eyes dissipates into a flicker of abhorrence. Disorderly hair falls in curtains when his eyes squeeze shut, blocking out my tears. Quick breaths steady and lashes lift like poisonous darts, pinpointed at my mouth. “Never use that name again. It’s el Fantasma to you.”
“No, please, it’s not what you think. Let me explain. You’re scaring me,” I sob, locking my pleading gaze to a distant, baron wilderness of green where even the bonniest flowers perish.
He lowers his face to mine. “You should be scared. I’m going to fucking destroy you, traitor.”
To be continued…
Continue the Jungle Oasis Series in book two, FALL.
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About the Author
Autumn is an International Bestselling Author from Northern Ireland who writes romance aimed at your heart. She’s a teen wrangler, dog slave, star-gazer, and matcha lover who thrives on the written word.
Her novels delve into the darker element of life at times, giving her romantic suspense books a curious dark edge, with alpha men who have to work hard to win over strong women. That being said, she also loves to write sweet and swoony books to make your heart soar.
Read More from Autumn Archer
Of Roses and Thorns
(A Ridge Rogues Short Story)
By Renee Harless
Renee Harless
Of Roses and Thorns
He had been waiting. She didn’t know that her time was up.
I bided my time.
I kept my distance.
I waited patiently for her.
Willow Ward had thrown my world for a spin.
Our connection was stronger than anything I had ever experienced.
Except she left in the middle of the night without a backward glance.
I was determined to make her mine again.
There was no way I was going to let her get away a second time.
I had to convince her that I was worth the risk,
That we could have more than a one-night-stand.
Only I wasn’t sure that I would be enough to make her stay.
Of Roses and Thorns © 2021 Renee Harless
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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1
Willow
A brisk wind whipped around me as I sat on the folded chair, bored out of my mind. It caused my tassel and my curly hair to catch on my glossed-over lips. I groaned as I wiped it away for the fifth time. I tried apologizing to the unnamed boy sitting next to me, but he only snored louder.
I wasn’t sure how many hours had passed during the graduation ceremony, but the sun was hanging high in the sky, scorching all of us beneath our black polyester capes. The woman standing behind the podium was rambling, and I had drowned her out after the first few sentences. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about what she was saying, I just had other things on my mind.
The internship I had squared away at the local broadcasting network had called me yesterday and said that they were withdrawing their acceptance. They were removing their internship program as viewership had dropped for the station. It didn’t hurt them, but it kept me from fulfilling part of my degree requirement. I was only sitting here pretending to graduate; it wouldn’t actually happen until the fall, and that was if I could secure an internship in some sort of communications field.
Glancing over my shoulder, I sought out my cousin Jolee through the crowd. We shared an apartment when she transferred to Wellington University to get her Master’s in business. She was the only family I had in attendance to watch me walk across the stage.
When I had informed my parents of the date in the hopes that maybe they’d show an ounce of interest in me, I was told that they would be on a cruise during the ceremony. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Since my grandmother died and left an enormous amount of wealth in my mother’s bank account, my parents had changed. They decided to do all the things they had always dreamt of. Apparently, none of those dreams included visiting me at college or watching me graduate. Or, as I had found out at the beginning of the year, pay my tuition as they had promised. Instead, I found myself neck-deep in student loan debt for the private college I attended. The only reason I had sought out Wellington was for its exclusivity.
I couldn’t say that I hadn’t used my share of the money, though. It kept our apartment nicely furnished and gave me the chance to have some fantastic school breaks.
Nothing seemed to be going right for me this year. I just hoped that the frantic phone calls I had made the night before would pan out. Someone had to be looking for an intern: free labor and all that.
With my luck, though, it was wishful thinking. Sighing heavily at my turn of events, the guy on my right narrowed his gaze at me in frustration. Apparently, he cared about the speech being made, not like the guy on my left side who was snoring loud enough to attract the attention of the other students around us.