“Hello.” A feminine voice drifted to him over the campfire.
His eyes popped open. Did someone speak to him or had he finally hit the sanity wall? He’d explored some of the island and hadn’t seen signs of habitation. Raising his head, his eyes adjusted to search the space around the campfire.
The figure of a woman came into focus on the other side of it.
“Hello?” he said.
The figure stepped forward and he shot to his feet.
“I didn’t think there was anyone on this island,” he blurted.
Her mouth quirked but didn’t quite smile. She was lovely. Maybe it was the glow of the fire on her skin or his long, long, hours alone... No, she was gorgeous. He couldn’t stop himself from looking her over, like his eyes couldn’t resist drinking her in. She wore some kind of loose cotton covering that hugged her curvy body when the breeze pushed the fabric against her. Her hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric drew his attention and imagination. She looked as though his hands would be a perfect fit for her waist.
He swallowed, his eyes jumping back to her face. That kind of ogling was very rude, and he knew better. Clearing his throat, he moved around the fire, extending a hand, “Jori Mountainside”.
She hesitantly extended her hand like his, looking as though she weren’t sure what it meant, he shook it anyway. Her hand was small in his, yet her grasp firm.
“I’m Jori. Arrived with the storm,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the mangled plane.
“Kymri Steelscale.” Her gaze flitted to the craft, but she otherwise seemed unsurprised by his presence. Or unimpressed. He wasn’t sure which. She wasn’t giving him much.
He frowned.
She resembled the woman from his rescue dream.
That couldn’t be. Could it?
He wasn’t sure how to react to her presence, let alone her guarded interaction.
Women were usually much more friendly and welcoming. How to navigate this?
“So, you’re a local?” he asked, cringing.
She nodded, her gaze studied him, and he suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable.
“Can I get you some coffee? I just finished making it.”
She looked to the area he’d been sitting and saw the metal pot by the fire, a little metal cup nearby.
She nodded, “Thank you.”
He let out a breath and moved to pour a cup, then held it outstretched, “It’s still hot.”
Her gaze dropped back to the pot beside the fire then leveled on him.
Why did she make him feel like an awkward teen again? This was embarrassing. Turning away, he retrieved his own cup and took a generous swallow. It wasn’t quality coffee, but it was still coffee.
Watching him, she raised the cup to her lips and tilted, tasting the liquid, her gaze still watching him over the rim. His eyes were glued to hers, yet he noticed the bright color of her nail polish where her fingers curled around the metal cup. Her expression changed. He wasn’t sure what it meant.
“Do you have radios on or near this island? I’d like to contact the mainland to get someone out to help with my plane.”
She shook her head, “Not here.” She didn’t elaborate.
“Somewhere nearby?”
She shrugged, “Maybe.”
Maybe? “What’s going on here? Either there is or there isn’t.”
The cup lowered from her face, her hands dropping. “Why are you here?”
He frowned, “I’m stranded,” he said, not sure what she was getting at. The wreck was clearly visible.
“Why were you flying over these waters?”
The hair on the back of his neck rose a little. His gaze scanned the darkness beyond the glow of the campfire. Something unseen lurked. Something dangerous was ready to pounce if he didn’t choose his words carefully.
“I’m exploring.”
“Why?”
“Why does it matter?” He was becoming exasperated by her blunt questions.
“This is my home.”
He nodded, “If you can help me call for someone, I’ll be happy to go.”
“What are you looking for?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. In the end, he resorted to honesty. “I’m chasing childhood stories.”
Her gaze turned curious and the tension wavered but didn’t go away. She put the cup down in the sand by her feet, “Thank you for your coffee,” she said, and turned back toward the darkness of the inner island.
“What about a radio?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said over her shoulder. The wind shifted, drawing the scent of tropical fruit across his nose, the ends of her wild hair catching in the light breeze.
“What a strange conversation.”
Despite his confusion and frustration, his eyes had dropped to the small of her back, curve of her hips, and round ass. Then he noticed the belt and knife sheath it supported. He watched her go, eyes glued to the sway of her hips until the dark swallowed her. The cup in the sand was the only evidence she’d actually been there, and he wasn’t already going delusional. The cup, and the uncomfortable swelling in his shorts.
Again, he felt as though his teen years had just rolled back on him where his dick seemed to be taking charge. She was hot. Odd, but hot. And he suspected she could carve him up if she wanted to.
Well, he’d just have to make sure she didn’t want to.
For now, he collected her cup, dumped the coffee and decided to go for a late-night swim to exorcise his teenage fantasies. His gaze drifted to where she’d been standing, images of his hands firmly gripping her ass rolled through his mind and his dick bucked in protest. Too damned much time alone. Stripping, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the camp chair. His shorts and boxers followed before he waded into the warm water to wash away the cares of the day and take care of his sudden sexual needs.
4
The next day, the woman, Kymri, appeared again at Jori’s camp.
The morning had been well spent swimming and exploring the island for fresh water and other supplies. He still hadn’t found the village she’d wandered over from. The tracks she’d left in the sand went through a wooded area then picked up again on another section of the island then led straight to the water. She must have come from another island by boat.
The activity kept his mind and body in check. With little to do, his mind kept cycling through various topics, many of which he didn’t want to think about—namely the past.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to think about Kymri— she was incredibly hot—doing so didn’t help his physical situation, just made it more frustrating and added to the tension of being stranded and unable to do much about it. So, he walked the island to burn off the sexual energy that riled him. He still couldn’t believe how damned quickly he’d suddenly turned into an uncontrolled teenage boy. And he couldn’t figure out what it was. She was a beautiful woman, yet he’d known many.
Her sudden appearance was making it difficult to focus on the mystery of his rescue. His notebook had quickly been filling up with recollections and theories. The equipment still wouldn’t function properly, so the book was all he had to rely on.
He was all over the place. Recalling his mother’s stories, considering the myths and legends he’d heard about the area, the conspiracy theories and the natural theories. When recalling the events from the night of the storm, he tried to stick to the facts, and they were sparse.