Incubus Desires Series

Chapter 3: Call A Doctor

Renee

Unable to sleep, Renee tossed on her cot. Her skin burned, yet her insides froze as if she had swallowed an iceberg. Nothing made sense. Not the two women who checked in on her, not Damon visiting her. Why the hell would he take care of her? Even the walls of her tent warped and wobbled as if she dreamed them into existence. She must have been imagining it all, because why would Damon show concern for her?

Maybe she had a case of malaria. Wait, was that even possible in Turkey? Her head cramped as if squeezed into a vise and pounded with a mallet.

Think, Renee! Yes, a small chance of malaria existed in the southeastern parts of the country. However, overall, malaria wasn't considered a risk in the main tourist areas in the west and southwest or Cappadocia. Nor listed on the required shots prior to her trip.

Images flashed in her mind of Damon in her tent, his eyes morphing colors from cobalt to jade to hazel and back again, not to mention Travis, who was this old, bald man instead of the twenty-something-year-old she knew.

Was she hallucinating? God, she'd never been this sick before.

Her stomach doubled over, and she groaned. Had the cook forgotten to boil the water enough for the oatmeal? But then no one else at camp seemed affected.

A throat clearing outside her tent caught her attention. "Renee? Do you need anything?" Damon's worried tone drifted from behind the flap. "Are you feeling better?"

His husky voice brought visions of him shirtless and wiping her forehead with his damp T-shirt. His hands on her made her shiver in anticipation of his touch.

Okay. Something was definitely wrong. Not because he wasn't handsome, hell, he was gorgeous. She had fantasized about him until she realized he wasn't attracted to her. So why was she thinking of ripping her clothes off and dragging him into bed with her now?

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"Renee?"

When he pulled back the corner of her tent, she sat up in bed, trembling all over. "I'm fine. Just caught a bug or something." She still wore the same shirt and shorts from yesterday, but last night faded in a foggy blur.

"Would you like some soup or water?" he asked.

Odd. She'd have thought him more annoyed since she impeded his dig. "No, I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Fine." He let the tent flap fall. "But if you get worse, call out. I'll hear you." He paused and shuffled his feet as if he didn't want to leave. "I'll check on you again after a bit, before lunch. If you don't feel better soon, I'll fly in my doctor."

When the sound of his boots scrunching rocks faded, she sighed and slipped back on her cot. He had sounded worried about her, as if he cared more than a boss or even a friend would. Yup, she was truly sick if she believed that.

* * *

Hours later when the sun peeking in through the gap in her tent flaps poured light right into her eyes, Renee woke before anyone in the camp stirred. She had another dream of Damon placing a wet cloth on her forehead. Not in a creepy way, but like a concerned friend. Even after she roused, the image stayed wedged in her mind. Had it really happened? Sweat soaked her clothes and bedding.

At least now she was feeling a lot better. The last thing she remembered was coming into her tent when she felt like she was going to pass out. Strange. Must have been a bug or something.

Getting to her feet, she stripped out of her clothes, added them to her laundry bag and toweled off. Later she'd take a dip in the river a mile from camp. For now, she'd use the water from her canteen to sponge bathe. But when she turned the water can upside down, only a few drops spilled onto her palm. Strange. She'd filled it yesterday. Wait, she remembered Damon making her sip water. Probably why it was empty. Her skin flushed as she recalled bits and pieces of last night and the way his brow pinched with concern. Stop it, he has a girlfriend. And even if he didn't, he's too controlling.

After she finished dressing, her stomach rumbled, and she grabbed a piece of jerky from her pack. Breakfast wouldn't be for another hour or more.

Can't sponge bath with an empty canteen. She'd take a walk to the river and a bath would rejuvenate her. Even her hair remained damp from sweat. Time to wash the smell of sickness away. Tucking a clean towel under her arm and snatching up her backpack with a change of clothes, she tossed a piece of charcoal into her canteen for cleansing the drinking water. After hitching the canteen over her arm, she crept out. The sun slowly rose, and Sarah yawned as she added wood to the fire. The others wouldn't appreciate it if Renee stomped through the camp and woke them or they might suspect she was a wild animal or gravedigger.

Renee wove through a camp filled with nine tan-colored pitched tents, spruce olive and date trees, and the rocks that reminded her of a travel postcard. Turkey was laid back and gorgeous. She tripped over a shovel. "Damn it!"

Who was careless enough to leave their tools lying about? She shuffled through the campsite careful where she stepped now. A few yards away, wooden stakes and ropes marked off the holes, so she didn't fear falling or twisting her ankle in one of them.

Her thoughts returned to when she first arrived at camp. At first, she thought Damon had done the sporadic digging. Like he hunted for something specific.

Nonsense. How could he possibly know what was under the ground? Yes, equipment was used as a guide, but usually the best discoveries were small and overlooked by machines.

Once she had discovered a piece of an ivory comb in Egypt. The archeologist told her it was better than anything they found all summer. Then he reprimanded her about her possibly breaking it when she drew it from the ground. She could never win with control-freak archeologists. When she was in charge of her own dig, she'd set her own rules and not punish people for being ambitious. But that would take getting her doctorate and tons of financial backing. Who would want to support her? An unknown.

Tan dust clouds rose from her hiking boots as she tramped through the valley. In the distance stood the Fairy Chimneys' rock formations from volcanic sediments or tuff. One of the many geological marvels of this country; they were shaped like mushrooms with elongated stems crammed together. Inside the chimneys, the early Cappadocians carved underground tunnels and shelters. If the ancients knew that four million years ago this land was formed from volcanic eruptions, what would they think?

She greeted Gary, who guarded the excavation and campsite.

"You feeling better?" he asked.

"Much. Yes." She blushed. "I'm gonna go exploring for a bit."

"Don't go too far." He tipped his baseball hat to her. "Call out if there's trouble."

"Will do. Thanks."

At the edge of the camp, she headed northwest over the piles of rocks and boulders toward the river. The musky smell of anemone and the sweet scent of the Lenten Roses filled the air. Soon, the boulders gave way to a forest on one side. The river was farther than she realized. Nearly a mile hike if her panting was accurate. It had looked much closer from the plane last night.

Once at the water's edge, she looked back. A lone steepe bird flew overhead. Ahead of her stood a rock fissure and the slow river she'd noticed on the plane ride.

Inviting waves lapped at the pebbled shore. Farther out, rapids crested, and the darkened deep waters gave her shivers. She couldn't swim. Hadn't even waded out in water deeper than her thighs, even after years of therapy.

For now, a splash beside the edge would have to do.

Against the rising sun, something caught her attention, and she shielded her eyes. Several colorful hot air balloons floated on the horizon. She'd have time before the expedition finished for a ride and some sightseeing. Probably a terrific way to experience Cappadocia's natural and amazing countryside from so high up.

After removing her shirt and pants, Renee laid them over her canteen, but kept her underwear and bra on. She waded in until the cool water covered her shins, then she brought handfuls of water up to splash her arms and her neck.

A man called out, "You're up early."

She spun around with a gasp and clasped her arms to shield her body. "Damon?"

His chuckle made her stomach flip. He was dressed in pale blue swim trunks. Not even a towel hung around his neck. Golden hair trailed down his lower abdomen and disappeared below the band on his swimsuit as if pointing the way.

"I came here to get cleaned up." Stop staring at his- "But I-I'm done. It's all yours."

"Hardly."

Her skin prickled. "Pardon?"

"You've barely washed." His stare heated her. "How about a swim? With me." He held out his hand, and she blinked not realizing he stood so close to her.

"No." She backed up. The water seemed dark and hypnotizing.

"I didn't think you'd be skittish."

He didn't know a damn thing about her! Still, the river didn't appear too deep. Maybe it would only come to her waist. Yes, it had to be shallow. Right? Her breath hitched.

She refused to allow him to witness her terror. She could do this. When she took his outstretched hand, desire coursed through her and nearly buckled her legs. Was this her illness? Or had the fever returned. A feeling of peace filled her in his presence, and she wasn't scared when he tugged her hand.

Glittering water caressed her thighs, then reached her stomach as they waded. When a wave hit her chest, she took her gaze off Damon, realizing how far out she'd come. How had he gotten her to take his hand and block her panic? No one had ever succeeded at getting her into water over her knees without her clawing, kicking, and screaming. Yet when she looked at him, calm drifted into her. What possessed her to trust him and wade out this far? She had to leave. Had to get back to shore.

"Careful." Concern filled his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." The sudden thought of Damon nearly kissing her made her anger flare and her words come out sharper than she intended. He wasn't someone to lose herself with and she didn't want him to think of her as incompetent or anything.

"The rocks can be slippery here. Let me help you." He grasped her elbow.

"I'm okay." She pulled away, but the stone was slick beneath her feet. God, why had she come out this far? Terror clawed at her throat. Her legs shook as her breathing raced.

Water splashed up against a boulder to her left, bringing back the image of her dad's face and the way his dead eyes stared into hers. On a ride through the rapids, she'd been thrown off. Her father leapt into the churning water after her and helped her scramble onto a rock. The next time she gazed at her dad, he lay in his casket.

Rather than let Damon discover her phobia, she plunged ahead and tripped on a mass of rocks hidden below the surface. She yelped before water crashed over her head and she sank to the bottom of the river.