by A. K. Koonce
“Swimming lessons, great idea. Maybe you’re better with relationships than I initially gave you credit for,” Lucas says, taking a seat on the stairs next to me. The idle wheel just a few feet above us begs for me to sail us out of here.
It’s late. Everyone else on the Island is asleep, only the sounds of the waves drift around us.
“Wasn’t my idea, not really.”
“Interesting. Would you like to hear something more interesting?”
“I waited up for you, didn’t I?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
He smirks at me as he hands me a beer. He holds an unopened soda in his other hand. He’s changed into new clothes, which I can only assume he had at Cali’s hut.
“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me. You wouldn’t have been able to sleep without hearing from your favorite mate.”
“You’ve got to stop saying that, mate,” I tell him.
He laughs, his happiness echoing into the silent night. A smile touches my lips, his emotions are infectious. He forces himself into my life, and his emotions do the same. The hundreds of years I was here before him were definitely less whimsical.
“Care to know who the Queen of England is in 1799?”
I quirk an eyebrow at his attempt at small talk.
“Why would I give a shit who the bloody Queen of England is in 1799?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer as I lean my elbow back on the steps.
Lucas’ face grows serious for a moment. My insides turn heavy as I see his somber features.
“Because her name was Helen Adair,” he says in a low voice.
My breath catches. I lower the beer bottle, mid-drink, my brows pinching in confusion as I look at him. He waits for my reply, his eyes large and knowing and … nervous almost. He’s nervous for me.
“Headless Helen ... was … Helen Adair …”
I think through the history I know, piecing together all the little scraps of life that I can. Fuck, how did I not know this myself? Because you’ve wasted an extensive amount of time lurking outside of a tower instead of researching your work.
I take a slow breath, rubbing my hand roughly over my tired face.
“How many people did you bring back?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
Lucas looks at me for a moment, like I might say more about what he’s told me. But I won’t. It’s my problem, not his. I’ll figure it out.
“Just one,” he finally replies.
One.
He almost died bringing back one life for Felicity. Anger boils beneath my skin. This can’t keep happening; she has to get someone else to do this shit. He’ll die if more than one Survivor boards this ship.
“Have you talked to Felicity about what happened?” I ask, choosing my words carefully.
“Yeah, I did. She said she’d give me a few days to recover, but I’ll do as I’m told until you complete the task you’ve been given.”
My heart falls in my chest.
Lucas gives me a forced smirk, making light of the hell that surrounds us. His boyish face is highlighted by the moon, emphasizing his youth. Has he always been this young? He’s maybe only eighteen at the most.
She’s pushing me. Lucas or Alexandra. One of them will suffer or both will suffer while I take my time making up my mind. In the end, we all might pay.
CHAPTER TEN
Humiliation and Aggression
Remy
It’s official. Alexandra’s a swimmer.
It took days but finally it clicked. No more flailing in the water, or sinking to the ocean floor, or accidentally punching me in the balls. Nope, not today. She’s a natural, which isn’t surprising considering I’m her instructor.
She rolled her eyes pretty heavily when I told her that.
A white towel is wrapped tightly around her, tucked into itself at the top as the sun sets behind us. We swam the whole afternoon. We even raced to the shore, and I let her win by only a few feet. If I’m being honest, I nailed my foot on a chunk of coral and had to focus on not whimpering as I limped up the coast.
But I’d do it all over again to see how happy she is right now.
She opens the door to her hut, tossing her towel in a small chair in the corner. My eyes linger on her smooth stomach and chest as she pulls her dress over her head.
“I can’t believe Cali wasn’t there today of all days,” she says.
My eyes return back to hers as she adjusts the dress into place and sits on the edge of her bed to take off her shoes.
“We’ll go again tomorrow, won't we?”
I nod and remain leaning against the thin door frame as I listen to her excited chatter.
“Are you coming in?” she asks, finally looking up at me.
My fingers tap restlessly against my thigh. Am I coming in?
I shouldn’t. Not just because the sight of her bed makes me think about her in it with me, beneath me, but I have too much on my mind. I should go back to the shore and wait for Lucas. He’s been gone for more than twenty-four hours now. I don’t want the ship to dock without me, in case he needs me again.
“I …” I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to decide how to explain myself without alarming her.
“Don’t go. Not yet. I have all this pent up energy from today. I can’t even feel the hum of the Island over the thrum of energy coursing through me. You did that. You can’t leave yet. Please, Remy.”
She’s pleading with me and all but bouncing on the edge of the bed with excitement. How can I leave after she just confessed I made her thrum with energy?
Fuck Lucas; he’s on his own. I’ll know when the ship enters Resurrection; I’ll be there. But right now I’m here, with the only person who does for me what she just described. Alexandra makes the world fall away; anxiety and pain and numbness don't exist when I’m with her. I’m different when we’re together.
“Of course I’ll stay.”
I close the door behind me, shutting out the setting sun. Once it’s closed, I don’t move farther into her room. I stand leaning against the bamboo door like a trapped animal. The room is small and, with us at opposite ends of the hut, only ten feet of space separate us.
“Please sit down,” she says, moving up her bed, closer to the handmade headboard to make room for me.
I know a bad idea when I see one. Me sitting next to her on that bed, with her long legs curled up beneath her and her white dress clinging to her swimming suit, that’s what a bad fucking idea looks like.
But, like the selfish asshole I am, I do as I’m told, slowly taking a seat on the edge of her bed. My leg brushes against hers, and I leave no room between us. The rows of the bamboo bed frame bite into my thigh beneath the thin mattress. She smiles sweetly at me like she’s oblivious to the discomfort we sit upon.
“How old are you?” she asks, studying my face, her crystal-like eyes raking over my five o’clock shadow.
“I really don’t know. I grew up in an orphanage until I was a bit older.”
“Then what happened?”
Her head tilts slightly with caring interest. I don’t talk about my past often. Not because it’s graphic, but because compared to what the others on this Island have lived, my life was easy. My chest is heavy as I consider telling her my story. I’m filled with an almost longing for the hard life I once had. It was easy in comparison to the life I live now.
“They sold me to the British Royal Navy as soon as I was old enough. Called me a powder monkey,” I reminisce with a sad smile.
“That’s terrible.”
“There are worse things in life, especially for adolescent boys. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” I’ve felt it.
The corners of her lips dip down as she thinks about what I’ve said. “I shouldn’t ask so many questions.”
Her hands fold in her lap, a look of polite and perfect posture tensing her body. A smirk pulls at my lips at her regal behavior.
“I think I prefer your questions. It isn’t impolite. It’s distracting in a w
ay.” She opens her mouth but then quickly closes it with a look of confusion crossing her face. “Distracting in a good way,” I assure her with a smile.
A total of five seconds pass before she’s on to the next question.
“When did you come here? You can’t be older than twenty or twenty-one.”
I like that she’s considered my age. I like how it seems she’s wondered about it for a while. I like that she’s curious about me. About my past. But I’m not my past anymore. In life, you are what your past makes you. But my life is gone, and my past was so long ago, I’m no longer that beaten and broken boy who sailed into Resurrection cowering in Johnny’s shadow. I’ve all but forgotten the history that made me the man I once was.
“I came here in 1820, just when the fighting was starting to dwindle down for a bit in our world. Napoleon wasn’t a threat anymore. The French finally left England alone for a while; they had started to worry about their own people for once. My country was happy, and I was almost happy. Almost.”
People stop fucking with you at a certain age, when you shed boyhood and find yourself becoming a man. You realize you don’t have to take their shit anymore. You don’t deserve it despite what people tell you.
“Hmm. So you were born in the late seventeen hundreds. Interesting,” she says, tapping her long delicate finger against her lips.
My eyes can’t help but watch her mouth, licking my lips as I stare. “What’s interesting?” I ask with a skeptical smile, trying to look away from her. Her head rises a little higher, and she looks up at me from beneath long lashes, holding my gaze.
“I thought you seemed a little young. I was born in the year of our Lord 1776, making me older than you. You’re nothing but a child.”
Her smile grows with every word. She bites her lip to hold back a shaky laugh, and I can’t help but smile back at her simple amusement as I study her full lips.
“A child, huh? Do I look like a child?” I ask in a husky voice, leaning into her, hovering over her. I’m close enough to smell her salty, jasmine scent, which makes her blush. I love every second of it, how her body reacts to mine.
“Hmm …” she purrs, sending adrenaline spiraling through me at the small sound. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to talk back to your elders?” she whispers, still clinging to that beautiful smile. She leans a little closer to me like our souls are magnetized and we can’t help but be pulled toward each other.
I study her oceanic eyes intently; they hold a fire I put there. My gaze slips to her lips again, and they part with an unsteady breath.
I gradually lean closer to her, needing to feel her breath against my lips, against my tongue. Her chest rises and falls, brushing against my own. My hand slips to the base of her neck, tilting her head toward me, and her eyes flutter closed.
“Remy, I can’t wait to tell you how fucking fantastic my night was!”
Lucas’ voice booms through the room excitedly, the door banging against the wall upon his arrival.
Alexandra pushes back from me, my hands falling away from her as she studies the wall behind us, her cheeks flaming red.
Fucking Lucas.
I clear my throat, my jaw twitching. My eyes close tightly before I turn to look at him.
An enormous knowing smile fills his features. His mouth is slightly ajar, all but laughing at his own bad timing. He looks from my pissed off face to Alexandra’s embarrassment, then back again. He’s aware he just interrupted something, but being the asshole he is, he doesn’t excuse himself or even indicate he might leave anytime soon.
“Cali mentioned you two were here …” Lucas’ voice falls away with what must be his form of an apology.
My chest heaves in an annoyed breath as I slowly stand to usher Lucas from Alexandra’s humiliation and my aggression.
“I should go,” I say quietly to Alexandra, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. But the few hours I spend off the Island, in my cabin, provide me with enough peace to make it through the following day.
“I—” What should I say? I’m sorry. Fuck that. What’s the opposite of sorry? Shameless? Extremely pleased? Shortly disappointed, but also eager to continue? Yeah, there’s no condolences here. No point in faking it. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say lamely.
Lucas’ smugness is still abundantly on display. Asshole. How did I not feel the Vela enter Resurrection? Because you were too busy thrumming from Alexandra.
Alexandra stands, her embarrassment completely gone, once again channeling her regalness. Her confidence makes Lucas’ smile disappear, and her assertiveness alone makes me want to kiss her again. My hand twitches at my side to touch her. She doesn’t look at Lucas; instead she looks at me like he isn’t even here. My breath hitches in my throat, and I’m not the self-assured Savior I pretend to be under her scrutiny.
Closing the distance between us, her hands clutch my shoulder and elbow, her chest brushing against mine. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I can’t do anything but watch every move she makes. My heart is pounding overtime, like I need the extra adrenaline in my immobile body. The energy escalating through me puts me on edge. I want to touch her, but I don’t want to ruin whatever she’s about to do. I don’t want to embarrass her by showing the eagerness I’m harnessing.
When she leans into me, stretching against me to reach my height, I give in and touch my palm to her elbow to steady her. My body hums. Her lips press lightly to the corner of my mouth, their softness brushing against my coarse five o’clock shadow. My pulse accelerates, and she pulls away only a fraction of an inch. Pausing there, her lips hover close to mine and our eyes meet beneath her thick lashes. It takes everything in me to remain motionless before her. I lick my lips as my eyes flash to her mouth.
She seems to be thinking about something and I want to ask her what, but she releases my arm – and our moment right along with it.
“Good night, Remy,” she says in an almost shy voice.
Now she’s shy? Shit, seconds ago I thought she might devour me whole with Lucas standing watch because yes, he’s still fucking here with rapt attention. And I’d let her, encourage her even.
I drop my hand from her, swallowing hard. “Good night, Alex.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Villain and the Princess
Remy
I lie staring up at the sun, wishing it would burn me right off the surface of this unnatural utopia. Men and women laugh and rejoice farther up the shore while I sulk alone in the cool shady sand, glaring at the bright sun like it’s the fault of all my problems. I let my eyes drift closed in an attempt to stop thinking about everything.
It doesn’t work.
Why did I try to kiss her? I should be pushing her away, trying to sail her out of here on the next available ship, not seducing her in her hut. Or is she seducing me? Let’s face it; women aren’t exactly drawn to my sulking mood swings.
Not that I can help it. The Island pulses pain through my head like a migraine, waiting to explode. Maybe Alexandra understands that. I know she hears the Island, but does she feel it, too?
“Stop jerking off in the shadows. I didn’t mean to cock block you.”
I peel one eye open. Lucas looks down at me, smile lines appearing around his brown eyes. His blue beanie is in place over his shaggy hair despite the soaring heat.
“For the hundredth time, you didn’t cock block me. My cock was nowhere in sight to be blocked, mate.” I try to suppress a smile.
It is good to have him back. Part of me almost missed him.
He laughs, enjoying the entertainment that is my life. “But you are jerking off in the shadows?”
I almost missed him.
I push off from the sand, sitting up with my arms resting on my bent knees. Fine particles coat my arms and clothes. Lucas drops down and sits beside me, his white Converse sneakers dusted with sand.
“You like her, huh?” he asks without looking at me.
I think about how I hang on her intelligent and ca
reful words, how much I replay her words in my mind when she’s not around. I think about how my heart comes to life whenever she laughs. I think about how I’d spend the rest of my miserable life alone here without her just to get her safely back in that tower.
I nod slowly.
“The happiest day of my life was the day I died. I met this British fuck who I thought for sure was a pirate right out of Neverland.” He shoots me a glance, laughing when he meets my glaring eyes. “You weren’t, though. You brought me here, to a place that offers me more. She’s different. Alexandra doesn’t need Resurrection because she already has more waiting for her. She has a life, Rem.”
My heart sinks low in my chest but I nod, knowing he’s right. Of all the lives I’ve claimed, I’ll remember the day Lucas died for the rest of my life. I’ll never forget the boy who died at the hands of his father on New Year’s Eve. A death within a celebration; a celebration of life he never had.
Alexandra’s life is a fairytale, and I’m just the asshole who cursed her along the way. I’m the villain, and she’s the princess. Two people who never should have met and are worse off because of it.
“Is she going to stay and go through with the ceremony?”
“Not if I can help it,” I say, hanging my head low, studying each grain of sand at my feet.
Lucas knows how I feel about the Island. He doesn’t share my feelings, but he knows I would never allow another person I cared about to endure the pain I feel every day.
Alexandra has her own pain; she doesn’t need to harbor others’ as well. She’s too good for this place. She’s too innocent. I know because I feel her light sink into me every time she’s near. It doesn’t belong here. And some day, decades into her future, when it’s time for her pure soul to move on to another place, I won’t be there. There is no doubt in my mind she should have never laid eyes on me, or this island.
***
And yet here I am just days later, fixated on her beautiful face.
“Come with me.” I whisper into her ear as we stand on the outskirts of the community.
People mill around their huts, laughing, talking, and enjoying the last few rays of sunlight before dusk. The smell of campfire and warm food fills the air.