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“Damon?” her voice was tentative, his
name on her lips like a prayer and almost instantly she felt him
stiffen as he came fully awake. He pulled away from her and she
tried not to notice the empty feeling in her chest his absence
brought.

“My apologies, Princess.” His words
were a little stiff, a little cold. She rose to a sitting position
with him as he moved away from her body and to the other end of the
boat. He stared at her for a moment, his head cocked to one side as
he considered her. Then something seemed to occur to him and his
face flushed a dull scarlet. He ran a large hand through his hair
and the salt still in it made the curls stand on end.

She tried not to giggle.

“I think….” He seemed awkward, distant,
and Jocelyn guessed that he knew she’d witnessed him in the throes
of a nightmare and didn’t like it. Not at all. He wouldn’t look at
her.

“You think?” She encouraged and watched
his mouth tighten. He straightened and finally looked her in the
eye.

“I think it’ll be a while before we’re
rescued.”

She nodded to show him she
agreed.

“I doubt anyone saw us in the boat so
they won’t be looking for it.”

“Chances are they’ll think we’re dead
and it’ll be a few days before they sift through all the bodies and
account for them.”

She raised a brow, “Should I be calling
this home now?”

“Not just yet.” She was relieved to
hear the beginning stirrings of amusement in his voice. “But all
the same we’ll need to start gathering anything useful. We don’t
know how long it’ll be before they notice we’re missing so there’s
no harm in preparing for a long stay.”

She smiled at him and stood, stretching
and groaning as sore muscles moved and screamed.

Taking a deep breath of the Caribbean
air she sighed and looked down at him with her hands on her
hips.

“Well we have a plan, now where do we
start?”

* * * *

Damon was proud of her. He hadn’t
expected her to handle their situation so well though he should
have. In the fighting she had been fierce, and she hadn’t flinched.
He appreciated that as a soldier. When they’d nearly drowned in the
storm and now when they found themselves abandoned on this
godforsaken island, she didn’t cry or bemoan their situation. He
appreciated that as a man. He wasn’t sure what he would have done
had she been a weaker woman and he found himself grateful for her
company.

That didn’t mean he had to attack her
in his sleep, no matter how sweet she smelled or how warm she felt
curled against his body. Even now the taste of her skin coated his
tongue and he had to fight with himself not to grab her up and take
a longer, more thorough exploration. He wanted her mouth again, he
wanted the sweet hardness of her nipples along his tongue, wanted
to pull the quivering flesh of her belly between his teeth as he
worked his mouth lower.

The thought made him hard and he jumped
up suddenly, unable to sit there around the fire a moment longer
and watch her gather fruit.

“We need water.” She looked at him for
a long silent moment, and he was reminded that it had been her
voice and touch that night that had soothed his nightmares. Yet
another reason to create some distance.

She nodded.

“Alright. I’ll stay here and keep the
fire going again. Just hurry back.” He wasn’t sure whether he was
grateful or embarrassed that she’d guessed his need for space but
he took her up on the offer nonetheless.

Going over to the longboat he searched
along the sides of it until he found a leather flask. It would hold
water at least until he made something else to take its place. He
pushed the flask between the curve of his back and his britches and
then set off into the woods. The sand of the beach tapered off
slowly into soft grasses. As he moved he noticed the soft supple
branches of the trees and began to mentally compile a list of uses
for them. He could use the sturdier pieces and shape them into
spears. He still had his blade in his boot and if necessary he
could strap it by its hilt to something longer. He could also make
baskets. He’d teach Jocelyn how to weave them together and once
they were finished they could be used to catch fish and
crabs.

The day before he’d only given the
island a cursory search, not enough to find a pool or anything but
enough to show him that while there were no headhunters, there was
a good bit of natural wildlife that they would do well to avoid. At
least until he’d made weapons to take them down. He could skin the
larger creatures and use the skins for blankets and such. Maybe
he’d even fashion Jocelyn a smaller dress so that she’d have
something to wear other than that black monstrosity.

He wondered around a bit longer until
he heard the sound of running water. His heart skipped a beat and
he followed the sound for a few minutes until he came upon a pool.
A spring fed water into the clear depths and he grinned.

They could bathe in the pool and gather
drinking water from the spring. He wasn’t sure but he thought he
recognized some of the plants edging the sides of the oasis. They
looked like the flowers that grew in India that could be crushed
and ground and used for soap. He’d have to tell Jocelyn about this
so she could finally wash the dried salt from her dress and hair.
He knew that the scratching of the material bothered her because
his own clothes irritated him, but if he had to watch her squirming
and pulling at her skirts for one more day he’d go
insane.

He’d been traveling for most of the
morning and he was hot, sweaty, and aching and as a result sorely
tempted by the relaxation and relief the water offered. He didn’t
think Jocelyn would miss him for a few minutes more and he wanted
to avoid her for as long as possible until he could get himself
back under tight reign. So he tugged off his clothes and hung them
on top of a boulder beside the pool. He wouldn’t put them on the
ground and risk something poisonous crawling up his ass when he got
back dressed.

Then he backed up a few steps, and
bracing himself for the shock, took a running leap into the middle
of the pool.

* * * *

His splashing and joyful yelps were
what drew her to him.

Jocelyn had become tired of waiting for
Damon beside the fire and after she’d assumed that an acceptable
amount of time had passed, she’d gotten up and followed him into
the woods. She figured she’d need to learn the layout of the island
herself before long and sooner was better than later. At first
she’d been afraid that she was lost and she wandered, carefully
picking her way through the underbrush, until she’d heard the first
splash.

She was happy that he’d found water,
but a little annoyed that he’d taken the time to play before coming
to tell her about it. So she followed the racket he made, heedless
of the branches that grabbed her skirts and tore them. She found
him soon enough, but instead of flying into a lecture as she’d
intended all the moisture in her mouth dried up at the sight of
him.

He was naked. Which shouldn’t have been
a surprise since he was bathing and all, but still the sight of all
that muscled skin made her heart jump.

Jocelyn knew she should turn away but
her body felt frozen, her eyes glued to all the naughty places the
water touched. She liked the way the cold water made his nipples
harden, liked the slow, seductive slide of water droplets as they
caressed their way down the muscled planes of his stomach to
disappear in the silky triangle of hair between his legs. She could
almost, but not quite, make out what the water hid from her gaze
and she bit her lip, shaking for a glimpse of it before her
curiosity drew her to the rest of his body. He was graceful for
such a large man, and his bronzed skin was marked frequently with
thin white scars. Knife wounds, some worse than other, but none
distracting from his overall appeal. If anything they made her body
hot and her knees weak with the unbelievably wanton urge to slide
her tongue across them, to lick his pain and the memories
associated with them away. He lifted his arms to push his damp hair
off his face and Jocelyn watched, fascinated as the muscles in his
arms bunched and danced. His face was relaxed as he searched the
water and she watched a grin light his face. The expression made
her chest squeeze tight, made it hard to breathe. He made it easier
when he dove beneath the water once more. She stepped closer,
knowing she shouldn’t, knowing it would be smarter to run away
before he noticed her presence, but she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

He burst from the depths with a
triumphant shout, something struggling in his hands. Jocelyn
couldn’t see what because his back was to her and she was too busy
staring at what she saw. His back was completely covered in
symbols, strange twisting, thick black lines were etched across his
skin and across his back. It flared out across his buttocks to end
on the firm upper curve of either flank.

It was beautiful, eye catching, but all
the same there was an echo of pain behind it, some ambiguous
meaning that made Jocelyn’s breath catch.

She saw him stiffen and watched as he
dropped the small golden fish in his hands as he turned on her. His
hair was hanging in his face again, his lashes were once again
those spiky hormone inducing fans against his face. She watched
him, unable to turn or run away as his eyes flickered with rage.
The muscles in his body, flexed, tensed to iron and he began to
stalk towards her with slow deliberation. His gaze seemed to dare
her and she met the challenge, the old stubbornness rearing its
head.

She refused to feel ashamed. If she was
staring, then so what? It was his own fault for prancing around
naked with an impressionable young woman nearby. It was his fault
for moving in skin she wanted to suck into her mouth, his fault for
having lips she wanted to kiss and lashes she wanted to feel
brushing against her face, his fault for … good lord.

So that’s what was hidden beneath the
water.

Jocelyn felt her body flush first hot
and then cold, and then hot again. Sweat broke out against the
curve of her spine and between her breasts. She remembered her
dream and her thighs clenched, hot and hungry before she managed to
tear her eyes away. It was too late though, she’d gotten more than
an eye full. The image was burned into her brain, and even with her
eyes shut she could see him as an after image in her
mind.

The lower half was just as perfect as
the top. The silky black hair between his legs was straight unlike
the hair on his head. His legs were corded with muscle, lean from
hard work and tan from the sun. All of him was one, solid, drugging
color. She didn’t know if it was a tan, because where on earth
could he walk around outside naked all the time, or his natural
coloring. She was opting for the natural coloring but even if it
wasn’t she still wanted him in her mouth. She was practically
salivating with the need of it. The hair that coated his legs,
chest, and beneath his arms was also straight and thick enough to
prove he was all man but not so thick he resembled his distant
cousin the ape.

The most fascinating thing though, the
one that drew her gaze and held it, was his sex. Thick and heavy it
swung between his muscled thighs, seeming to grow larger, harder
the longer her eyes devoured him. As if simply her interest sparked
an irrevocable change. She’d watched Jet mate often enough to be
able to recognize the signs of burgeoning arousal. Of lust, and it
was the knowledge that she had enough power to make Damon feel that
way when she often found herself sobbing from need of him in her
sleep, that had Jocelyn’s eyes closing.

Her eyes shut, not in embarrassment,
but bliss.

It was all too much. She couldn’t take
it.

Though if the look in his eyes was any
indication it wasn’t simply lust, but anger that she brought out in
him.

“What are you doing out here? Didn’t I
leave you at camp? It’s dangerous wandering the island
alone.”

He seemed to be ignoring the fact that
he’d been the one to leave her by herself in the first
place.

Taking a deep breath she opened her
eyes in time to see Damon buttoning up his britches. She didn’t
give him time to put on his shirt, after all, the ticking in his
jaw told her his temper wouldn’t abate any time soon. Instead she
turned on her heel and ran.

* * * *

He caught her before she’d gone three
steps. Just the fact that she’d tried to escape him drummed in his
blood like a call for war. His body brought her down easily and
even in his anger he was careful not to crush her with his weight.
She yelped, a sound that did strange things to his self control and
began to struggle. He flipped her over onto her back, dodging the
claws she tried to rake down his face. Grabbing both wrists in his
much larger hand he pressed them into the ground above her head and
when she tried to kick him instead he moved himself between her
legs. Grunting in annoyance when her heavy skirts tried to keep him
away and pushing past them anyway. She lay beneath him, breathing
hard and green eyes blazing. He could feel her thighs, warm on
either side of his hips now that her skirts and chemise were
bunched up around her waist. He refused to look at the length of
leg he knew must be exposed.