Forbidden (17 page)

The rest of the climb went smoothly
from then on and she found herself looking down into a basin of sea
water. It was fascinating really, as the tide came in and then
retreated the rocks acted as a sort of bowl. She could see the
creatures moving around below the surface of the shallow water, it
was an entire community and she bit her lip as she moved over the
top of the rocks and shimmied down to squat at its edge.

Her hands shifted lazily through the
water and she nearly jumped out of her skin when what looked like
just another rock, rose up on its many legs and darted forward. She
jerked her hand out of the water and watched the crab slow its once
hasty retreat.

Jocelyn bit her lip, considering, and
then a smile lit her face.

Standing, she pulled off her dress,
stumbling a bit with the buttons down the back. Frustrated, she
finally gave them up as a lost cause and she had to shimmy, blind,
with her arms trapped on either side of her head, before she was
able to pull the rest of the damn thing off.

She took a deep, satisfied breath and
knelt by the basin once more. Then, quick as a flash, she dipped
her dress beneath the water and caught the crab up before it could
run away. It struggled and snapped in her dress but she held it in
a sling so it couldn’t touch her. She was ecstatic, as triumphant
as a hunter who’d just taken down his first rampaging lion,
(Jocelyn was unsure what hunters made a habit of
hunting).

So, victorious, she returned to camp
with her prize and was rewarded by the praise she glimpsed in his
eyes.

Though whether the praise was for her
catch, or the fact that she was still in her chemise she didn’t
know. Though by the way his heated gaze dropped to her peaked
nipples and his pants tented, she guessed his approval had to do a
little bit more with her than the crab. She held still, hopeful for
a touch, a kiss, even the heat of his breath would have been
welcome, but as if finally noticing the dangerous undercurrents
between them, Damon turned away from her.

“I’ll get diner ready. Sit down.” His
tone was stiff even if his words were cordial enough and trying to
stifle a disappointed sigh Jocelyn sat and watched him as he killed
the crab and then stuffed its body on a sharpened stick. Then he
placed its thick body beneath the coals of the fire, stick in hand
so that he could bring it out when it was finished
cooking.

Though she couldn’t have helped her
wince of sympathy when he’d stabbed the poor thing she had to admit
that as it roasted, it smelled delicious. Losing any sense of
misplaced affection or guilt for the creature, she found her
stomach grumbling. She flushed at first, embarrassed before she
realized that Damon could care less about such silly things and if
he was anything like her the fruit they’d been eating wasn’t nearly
enough.

It was a like a weight off her
shoulders, and when the food was done, and she had her portion she
tore into it with a vengeance that had her guardian laughing. For
the first time she understood Ava’s atrocious eating habits and
vowed from then on to emulate her in them. Though she guessed that
Uncle Clay and his wife would be a bit stricter when it came to the
rules of propriety than their father had been. She licked her
fingers and yawned, maybe the discipline would be good for Ava.
She’d been running wild for much too long.

She looked up to see Damon looming over
her and her heart skipped a beat. She could see his eyes as he
squinted down at her before holding out a hand to help her up. For
a moment her body brushed against his and then he moved
away.

“Put your dress back on and get some
rest. I’ll clean up out here.” He proceeded to do just that though
what would need cleaning and why, she had no idea. Instead she did
as she was told and slipped back into her dress. She’d let it dry
beside the fire as they ate and though it was still damp in places
it was wearable. It was much easier putting it on and taking it off
and she didn’t bother trying to button herself back up nor did she
ask Damon to do so for her.

The open back provided her with more
freedom of movement and also let what little breezes there were now
that the sun was almost down, to cool her fevered skin.

It was so bloody hot. She wished she’d
taken him up on his offer and walked around naked. Or at least
pretended as though she’d ‘lost’ her dress so she could walk around
in her chemise.

The thought of what he’d do to her were
she to grow so bold as to try it had her face going a deep scarlet
and her breath catching. She doubted she’d ever be brave enough but
it was a pleasant fantasy nonetheless. She crawled into the shelter
he’d been working on for much of that day and found it cozy. The
leaves let off a pleasant smell that blended nicely with the sea
air and she sighed in pleasure as she moved towards the angled wall
that pressed into the sand before rising up above her head. He’d
placed more of those soft, supple leaves, along with his own coat
along the ground for her to lie on and she smiled as she lay
down.

She waited for him, for what seemed
like forever, until curiosity got the better of her.

“Damon?” Her voice seemed especially
loud in the gathering darkness and she shivered. Then Damon
appeared at the opening of the lean-to, the fire at his back
casting his face into shadow.

“What is it, Princess? Something
wrong?”

“Aren’t you,” her throat seemed to
swell and she had to clear it. “Aren’t you coming to
bed?”

He went very quiet, very still. Then he
said, his voice deceptively empty, “It’s not too big in here,
Princess. It’s comfortable for one but if I crawled in things could
get … uncomfortable. I’ll start making something more permanent for
both of us as I get the supplies.”

“But where will you sleep?”

“In the longboat. Don’t worry about
it.”

“But--”

“It’s better this way, Princess.” His
voice wasn’t so empty now. “I’m trying my damndest to make sure
things stay nice and proper from now on. I don’t want to ruin you
before you can get back home.”

She refrained from telling him she was
most likely as not already ruined beyond repair. She had a sneaky
suspicion that Damon was in denial and because it was late, and she
was tired, she let him stay that way for now. So, shrugging, she
watched him straighten and amble away. Then, before she could lose
her nerve, she stripped back out of her dress and nearly moaned at
how much better she felt. It was still hot and muggy but not
terribly so. She could sleep now at least. Folding the material
carefully so as not to wrinkle it more than necessary, she placed
it beneath her head and almost immediately fell into a deep
sleep.

* * * *

He was going insane.

She was killing him.

Wait … no. Could he die from insanity
or did slow tortuous death cause madness?

Either way he got the same
result.

He was proud of her for the crab though
he would have to teach her a better way to catch them next time
other than stripping. If he hadn’t known better he would have said
she’d done it on purpose to tempt him but those sorts of musings
led down a dangerous path. Just the sight of her breasts, plump and
full beneath the thin white material had made his mouth dry. Each
time she’d leaned forward or back as they sat and ate his desert,
her breasts would sway and dance for him, drawing his eye so that
he spent more time staring at Jocelyn than he had eating his own
food. She was like the plague, albeit an attractive one, but still
a sickness that got in his blood and made him sweat.

He knew now what color her nipples
were, knew how they sat like ripe cherries on top of the pale cream
of her breast. She was like his favorite desert and his hands
itched for the chance to get his hands on her so he could get a
taste.

He growled at himself, disgusted, and
began to pace. Maybe if he exhausted himself he really could get
some sleep this night. He was desperate enough to remind himself
what he risked by wanting her, trying to lose himself in his
nightmares. But she was beginning to appear in those now as well.
Their first night stranded he’d watched a Mahratta mercenary skin
off her face as she struggled beneath him and screamed for Damon to
save her. He never reached her in time, which was typical because
otherwise it wouldn’t be a nightmare anymore.

It was a toss-up whenever he closed his
eyes for whether he was fucking her or killing her.

As a result he’d only gotten an hour or
two of sleep that day before and the day before that back on the
Marie he didn’t sleep at all.

Between wanting Jocelyn and his fears
that he would fail to keep her safe, his eyes were growing so
gritty with exhaustion he might as well have scrubbed them with
sand for all the relief he got. In his sleep deprived mind that
evening, as he was hypnotized by her breasts, he’d come up with a
solution.

First step: Avoidance.

Second step: Don’t dream. Which meant
don’t sleep. Wasn’t there an old adage about sleeping when you’re
dead?

It was easy, simple, a piece of plump
cake with twin cherries on top.

Damon knew he could pull it off, just
not for how long.

He gritted his teeth and continued to
pace.

Chapter Seven

Damon, I know how hard you pushed
yourself after that day. You felt as if you’d only moved a bit
faster, as if you’d been a bit smarter, you could have reached them
in time and saved them. I won’t waste my breath and say it isn’t
your fault. You won’t listen to me now just as you’ve never
listened before. All I ask is that every now and then you let the
guilt go and relax. Remember that’s it’s alright to be human and as
humans we all make mistakes. It takes a man to realize when he’s
made one and later on how he’s going to fix it. Just as it takes a
woman to show a man when it’s alright to make them...

Jocelyn awoke with rain on her
face.

In a dim part of her mind she thought
how good it felt on her body. Especially after the night had turned
out to be even hotter than the one before. She kept tossing and
turning during the night, trying to get comfortable and grateful
when only her chemise stuck against her sweating skin rather than
sand or the leaves she slept on.

Then the first droplet came, hitting
her square between the eyes and she sighed happily even as her eyes
opened. She lay there, enjoying the respite as the rain grew
stronger and thunder began to threaten. It took her a sleepy while
before she realized that the fire was out. She frowned.

Since they’d come they’d been careful
not to let the fire go out, especially Damon. Now not even the
embers glowed. Jocelyn stared out across the beach, at the hulking
trees that whipped and danced under the wind, at the waves that
crashed and taunted her. She saw the elongated shape of the
longboat but that brought no comfort because she didn’t see what
she needed to, which was Damon’s outline as he made his way to her
and shelter.

“Damon?” Her voice, which had sounded
loud before, now sounded weak. Her stomach cramped.

“Damon!” Surely he’d heard her from the
longboat. But nothing in the vessel stirred. Trembling, she crawled
towards the opening of the lean-to and got to her feet.

The rain beat against her body, though
compared with the violence of a hurricane, it felt more like a
caress to her now. It cleaned away the sweat that had coated her
skin and plastered her chemise and hair more securely against her
curves.

Damon had nightmares. He dreamed of his
family dying. If he’d fallen asleep before the rain had come and he
was in the throes of one of those terrible dreams he wouldn’t wake
up. She wouldn’t be there to wake him up.

“DAMON!” Her voice held an edge of
panic now. She couldn’t help it.

Where was he? Why wouldn’t he
come?

“DA-!”

“Shit, Princess, what’s the matter?
What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

She wasn’t alright. She nearly jumped
out of her skin he startled her so badly. He hadn’t come from the
direction of the longboat as she’d expected but rather from the
darkened canopy of the jungle.

She stood there, shivering and
miserable as her heart rate slowed enough to be called normal. Then
he got close enough to see her and her heart picked right back up
again at the look in his eyes as he gave her a slow up and down
perusal. Jocelyn licked suddenly dry lips and watched as he tracked
the innocent movement.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was less
panicked now that he saw she wasn’t laid out bleeding on the
ground. Jocelyn figured she should have felt a moment’s guilt for
worrying him like that, but instead she experienced a fierce surge
of satisfaction. Whether such a feeling made her a bad person she
didn’t know and refused to consider. She liked that Damon worried
for her.

“Nothing … Nothing’s wrong.” Her voice
came out strong, clear, and surprisingly steady considering the
blazing path his eyes seemed to etch onto her skin. Damon’s face
tightened briefly, more confusion than irritation. He knew she
wouldn’t have called for him so desperately if there had been
nothing wrong.