Craved
Chapter 5

Renee:

How embarrassing. Arrogant, macho Damon now knew what only a few did... Renee's weakness of not being able to swim. Her stepfather had put in a huge pool in their backyard. He forced her into swim lessons, despite her mom having tried before, but finally gave up after ten years of pestering. And her mom let him torment Renee to please him.

Not her. She would not let a man, or anyone walk over her. Including sexy Damon Cubins. She marched back into camp. The others were eating breakfast, and she accepted a plate. Toast and bacon.

After she ate, she returned to work on a grid patch. The feeling of someone watching her itched along her spine. Damon stood outside his tent, his gaze on her. Then his girlfriend peeked out with a big smile and tried to tug him inside. He whispered something to her, and she winked, disappearing inside the tent, while he remained outside, then strolled to Sarah who was asking for more firewood.

Always, Renee struggled to remain in a size nine, while Melanie was pencil thin and chesty. She'd either had implants or she'd been blessed by the breast goddess. Why couldn't Renee have brains, bosom, and a tiny waist? Then again, if she did it might be even harder to earn trust from some of her male colleagues. That's why when she received the news Damon headed this dig and that he accepted her into his crew, she immediately respected him. He'd selected her for his dig purely based on her resume and without meeting her. He was willing to take a chance on her, a rookie in the eyes of his peers. From his conclusions and archeological papers, he held an intelligence and vast knowledge of history which rivaled hers. Now his teasing at the river and sexual escapades tainted her view of him. What did she expect, a saint? The guy was a woman-magnet and cocky. Should've known her perfect picture of him was unrealistic. The sound of wood chopping sliced through her thoughts, and her gaze swept across the field to Damon. His chiseled muscles were sleek. Why couldn't she stop checking him out whenever he stood near her? Stop it! He's your boss. Nothing more.

An hour later, soft mews came from his tent, and she cringed as she tried to ignore the noises. Hard to do while the other men and women gaped at Damon's tent, then at each other. Time for headphones. She put in her earbuds and cranked up the volume. Rock music. Perfect.

***

At a tap on her shoulder, she jumped back, startled. "Sorry." Travis smiled. "Hungry?"

She clicked off her music. "Food now? But we just ate."

"Four hours ago. Lunchtime." He nodded to the camp.

Others had finished their sandwiches. Damon hadn't emerged from his tent. Not that she watched. Occasionally, a breeze flapped the fabric like a beacon, drawing her gaze to the opening. "Thanks." She dusted off her hands. Upon standing, intense muscle aches radiated through her legs. After she stretched them out by walking, she grabbed her canteen to wash her hands. Travis shuffled his feet.

"Has everyone eaten?"

"Except you, Damon, and Melanie."

"Ah." Damon's girlfriend. Not adding more to the conversation, Renee followed Travis to the middle of camp and snatched up a roast beef sandwich. After taking a bite, she closed her eyes briefly in bliss. Food always tasted so good when out in the middle of a dig. Maybe the excitement or the remote location caused her appetite to change. She might have seconds.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Travis kicked a pebble. "You know, from the other night."

"Yes. Some weird bug or something. I'm all better now." She took a sip of water from her canteen then closed it and let it fall back against her hip. The weird things she'd seen must have been from the fever-hallucinations. "Broke my fever last night so I'm good."

"Great. I'd hate for you to leave this dig. It should be special if we replace what Damon's been searching for." He fell silent.

Odd. Did Damon hunt something in particular? When Travis didn't continue, she asked, "Searching for what?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing specific. Just the history of the Phrygian religion and evidence they worshiped a mother god." He waved a hand like shooing a fly. "And a sky father."

She jumped at Damon's voice behind her, then recovered her composure quickly. "You don't believe they worshiped a female goddess as a supreme being?"

"No." He bent past her, his hand resting on her shoulder a moment while he grabbed a sandwich. When he straightened, he let go.

Her skin tingled from his touch. "Why not? Many other cultures, even the Greeks and Romans, worshiped gods and goddesses."

"Yet the gods bowed to Zeus or Jupiter a male god and king of the gods."

"What of Hekate?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Even Zeus honored her. He didn't take anything away from her and let her keep her inheritance as a Titan even when he killed all the others." "Because he respected her."

"That proves my theory." She nodded. "Goddesses could be as powerful or equal to the gods."

His cobalt eyes lightened as though in mischief. She rocked back on her heels.

"Prove your theory." He held out her trowel.

Without a word, she took the tool from him with her free hand as she stuffed the last piece of her sandwich into her mouth. As she made her way to the hole she'd been working on, she noticed Damon take a sandwich and disappear into his tent. He probably gave the food to Melanie since he reappeared seconds later without it. Whatever.

Renee scraped away at a fresh patch of pale tan dirt.

Her mind shifted to the crystal, which really was pretty. She'd take it into the village and have them create a necklace out of it. Guilt nudged her about not telling Damon. Why should she? She didn't wish to discredit herself in his eyes. No doubt, he'd think of it as a stupid rock. Or even make a joke and ask if she trained to be an archeologist or a geologist.

While she loved teaching, archeology with dirt caked in her nails was her passion. Soon this dig would be over, and school would start. If she could make an amazing discovery here, then she would have a chance to become a full-time archeologist. A letter of recommendation from Damon would get her funding to run her own expedition.

The dirt loosened, and she set aside her trowel. She eased her dental pick out of her tool belt and bent over the ground. A tiny spec of yellow winked. "Anything interesting?" Damon asked.

So engrossed in dusting off the yellow pot she'd uncovered, she didn't even mind his closeness. "Yes. An urn of some kind. Probably used at the temple here." "What makes you think this was a temple?" His cocky smile lifted a corner of his mouth.

Was he baiting her again?

"Look around. Even the grid forms a circle." Ropes sectioned off pieces of the dig site, appearing like symmetrical lines meeting in the middle like a giant pie. She went back to flicking away dirt from the urn. "Or rather a spiral. Typical pattern of ancient times."

When she turned back to the urn, his hand warmed her skin. A jolt rushed through her. Stronger than a static charge, his touch left her breathless. How was that possible?

"Remember theories are good but leave an open mind for other possibilities." He grinned. "Something you might not have thought of could bring the greatest pleasure."

If he didn't have a girlfriend lying in the tent, she'd have sworn he flirted with her. Part of Renee was insulted, the other part curious as to why he even bothered when she was clearly not his type.

"Right." The urn depicted someone on a throne. An image of a woman?

Renee got out the brush. Gently, she brushed the dirt and dust away to reveal a woman garbed in a robe and holding a scepter! So, a ruler or a priestess sovereign? Her grin wouldn't quit. If she was right, this was the greatest discovery of her

life.

***

Hours she chipped away at the dirt, careful not to damage the artifact. The sun dipped low on the horizon when she finally pulled the urn free of its grave.

"It's not a sovereign or a priestess." Damon squinted in the late afternoon light. "It's just a woman cleaning a trinket. The wavy lines show the dust floating away."

Renee glared. "Trinket? Are you serious? It's totally a scepter. Why would anyone paint a woman cleaning on an urn? That makes no sense."

His eyes narrowed. "How many Phrygian artifacts have you deciphered in your career?"

Now he was being snotty. "None. I've studied Celtic, Mayan, Egyptian, Greek, and others. I know what—"

"I'm hungry." Melanie coiled an arm through Damon's. "You said we'd go into town for souvenirs."

"And we will." He patted her hand as if she was a pet. "Renee, let's take this into town. There's an antiquities expert I know at the village museum."

She hated the idea of going anywhere with those two, but if it involved proving her case and Damon wrong, she was in. "Good idea." Renee dusted off her hands. In town, she'd get a jeweler to create a necklace from the smoky quartz. She rushed to her tent and grabbed her things, stuffing the crystal into her pack. A wobbling sensation shifted through her legs. What the holy hell? The dark spots before her vision faded. Did I move too quickly when I bent for my pack? It could be low blood pressure or something.

She stilled and waited for the dizziness to fade. After standing and experiencing no disconcerting side effects, she dashed out of the tent. At the vehicle, she hoisted herself into the old refurbished rusted and green minibus that was large enough for a dozen but with little leg room. Damon sat behind the wheel, and Melanie stretched her golden legs toward his-as much as the bucket seat would allow. Renee stifled a laugh at the image of Melanie falling from her perch onto the floor.

Travis and a few others stayed behind to guard against looters or grave robbers. She couldn't wait to meet this museum curator and hear him tell Damon he was full of crap. The image in yellow was at least some type of female ruler. His comment about the wavy lines, which she couldn't quite explain, niggled at her. At first, she thought they were tendrils of power or showing motion. Now she wasn't so sure what they were exactly. True, other artifacts could depict everyday life. Only, the woman in the image seemed commanding.

The bus bumped along the path as they drove toward the village. Every once in a while, she met Damon's eyes in the rearview mirror. Why was he staring at her? Melanie, as if sensing something amiss, propped her elbow on the console and rubbed a hand up and down his thigh.

Once they talked with the curator, she'd leave the love birds. Everyone could meet back at the vehicle at nine. She glanced at her watch. Only six now; plenty of time.

Tugging the crystal from her pack, she wiped a finger across its glossy surface. A jolt zinged through her as the minibus went over a pothole.

She blinked.

"Are you okay?" Damon asked. His brow furrowing like he was examining a puzzle piece that didn't fit with the others.

Was his gaze glowing? No, she was seeing things. She closed her eyes tight, rummaged in her bag, then slid the stone inside, next to her cell phone. After a few seconds of deep breathing, the feeling of dizziness subsided. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she focused again on Damon. His eyes were dark blue as usual. Must have been the reflection of sunlight.

Or she was still sick. Perhaps he would give her half a day to visit a doctor here in town. How many years since her last full physical? Was her body trying to get her attention that something's wrong?