Szereto, Mellanie - Two from the Triangle [Bewitching Desires 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (4 page)

She grumbled something he couldn’t quite understand, but that was probably for the best. For as tiny as she was, she had a big temper. Her wide streak of independence had to come from her wish that people stop treating her like a helpless child because of her appearance.

Chuckling as he walked beside Heath, Owen handed Heléna the wet shirt. “She’s right, Heath. You can be overbearing at times. Me, I’m only protective. Best to humor him, honey.”

Heath scowled at his friend. “Overbearing? She collapsed from heat exhaustion, and you make it sound like I overreacted.”

“She said it, not me.” Owen held up his hands as if to deflect any blame.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Heath bit his tongue to keep from spouting a defensive retort. He lengthened his stride to cover the half a mile up the beach quicker. The sooner he got to the shade, the better. The cluster of pines could hardly be called a forest, but it would shelter them from the afternoon and evening sun.

When they headed inland, Heléna started squirming again. “I can walk. I’m not an invalid.”

God, she was stubborn. “You’re not heavy, doll. I think I’ll carry you instead since we’re almost there.”

She growled, and a smile tickled his mouth. “Stop calling me
doll
!”

“That’s what I call all the women who follow pilots around like puppies.” He hefted her higher to keep from losing his hold on her. “Fakes looking to tell their girlfriends they got fucked by an airplane jockey.”

Her fist connected with his jaw, sending a surge of pain through his teeth. She packed quite a punch at close range. Her legs slipped from his grip, and she jerked free, tumbling to the ground. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on the planet!”

She fought the skirt tangling around her, tripping several times before she gained her feet. Gathering some of the fabric in her hands, she sprinted past the trees and toward the northernmost point of the cay. Her steps were sure and steady, and she showed no signs of fainting or falling. She disappeared behind a distant rock a minute later.

The woman tied him knots. He couldn’t convince his logical brain she hadn’t purposely stowed away on the plane, yet his instincts told him she hadn’t. Add to that his dick’s response to holding her, and the caution against becoming involved in a relationship again worked to sabotage any chance of it.

Owen picked up his sandy shirt, shaking off the wet grains. “How many apologies are you shooting for, Heath? ’Cause the one you owe her now makes two.”

Not in the mood for his partner’s smartass comments, Heath shook his head and aimed for the other end of the island. “I’ll get our stuff and some wood for a fire.”

Resisting the temptation to check for a glimpse of Heléna, he concentrated on the gentle shush of the surf washing against the shore and the breeze ruffling his hair. He half expected one of the gulls riding the wind overhead to shit on him.
It’s been that kind of day.

* * * *

Heléna stripped off her skirt and ran to meet the waves racing to greet her. Who’d have thought the very first day of her first fertility cycle could’ve gotten any worse? Maybe she’d get lucky and drown while she hid the evidence of the stinging hurt from Heath’s insult in seawater.

He’d labeled her a shallow, manipulative bitch before she’d even spoke a word to him. A man like him didn’t deserve the gift of her virginity, whether her hormones wanted him or not.
They
didn’t care that he wasn’t her mate. He was simply a means to pacify a sexual need.

Owen had triggered a similar reaction, but she couldn’t use him to satisfy the craving. He’d made an effort to be nice to her, unlike his copilot, and searching for
any
male to screw had never entered her thoughts. No, that wasn’t right. She’d wished for a pair of cabana boys and a beach that very morning.

She shivered when the cool water lapped at her thighs. It might’ve been refreshing if the heat and humidity of summer pressed down on her instead of mild winter temperatures.

A tear dripped from her cheek into the ocean, the two mixing and blending to dilute her emotions. Somewhere, her mates unknowingly waited for her. Would they still be available to her in seven years? Even if she managed to spell herself back to the mansion, she wouldn’t venture out again until her next cycle. Between the ineptitude of her spellcasting and the lack of receptive men, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Her cousin Kata’s experience in a tropical paradise floated into Heléna’s mind as she dove under the surface. Being incanted into a painting as a mermaid with a pair of deliverymen sure beat being stranded on the beach with two pilots after their plane crashed. Of course, Aaron and Adam were Kata’s true mates as well. Heléna couldn’t begin to guess where the men she was destined to share her life with lived.

She skimmed the ocean floor with her belly, aiming for the beach. Swimming alone was dangerous, especially since she knew nothing about the tides and the depth beyond where she stood when she came up for air. Small waves set her off-balance with their insistent pressure on the middle of her back, and the touch of a fish gliding past her knee sent a chill up her spine.

“Heléna! Heléna!” Owen jogged into the shallows, wildly gesturing with his arms. “Shark! God, honey, there’s a shark right behind you!”

A gray fin cut through the water a few feet from her right side, the silhouette of its long body darkening the clear aqua sea. Her heart skipped a beat, and her lungs seized.
I’m meant to die instead of finding my mates.

Splashes from the far left sent the shark swimming toward the movement, and a quick glance made her stomach drop to her feet.

Heath smacked a stick on the surface of the water, drawing the predator away from her. “Get out of the water!”

Frozen in place, she could only stare at her rescuer.

“Damn it, Heléna! Now! Get out of the water!”

The panic in his voice pushed her legs into motion, and she kicked toward the beach until her ankles hit sand. She chanced a look at Heath as she crawled out of the surf.

He wacked at the tooth-filled maw, jumping backward as the shark lunged at him. The stick connected with its snout, and the distinctive fin sunk under the waves to appear in deeper water a few seconds later. Heléna held her breath until Heath dropped to his hands and knees above the waterline.

Why would he come to her rescue when he clearly thought so little of her? She was nothing more than an immoral groupie to him. His actions made no sense.

Owen brushed her tangled hair off her forehead and cradled her in his arms. “You okay? Jesus, that took a decade off my life.”

Tremors rippled over her skin, making her shake from head to toe. Even her teeth chattered with the quakes. “I–I...”

Words wouldn’t form, but more tears did. Burying her face in his chest, she tried to stifle the sobs. His comforting hand rubbing her back set them free. She couldn’t remember when she’d last cried with such a mix of grief and relief. How could she have thought she could escape her mistakes so easily? Why hadn’t the Fates put her out of her misery? For some reason, a smidgeon of hope still lingered in her soul—the belief that she would discover happiness.

“You’re bound and determined to get us killed, aren’t you?” Heath’s tone carried more than anger. It held contempt. “Stay out of the goddamn water.”

She lifted her head to glare at him, but he’d already stalked away.

Chapter 4

Owen poked at the glowing remains of the coals, keeping Heléna in his peripheral vision. She’d lain on her skirt and fallen asleep within seconds of arriving at the site Heath had chosen for their camp. She hadn’t awakened when the aroma of grilled fish wafted up from the cook fire. Neither had Heath joined him for supper.

The animosity between his friend and their female castaway had spiraled out of control in the few short hours since Heath had discovered her on the plane. He’d all but blamed her for every aspect of their predicament—the crash, the lack of food and water, the shark incident.

Heath had directed his anger at her for pretty obvious reasons. Gut-deep fear had shown through the sparks he’d aimed at her when he told her to stay out of the water. Calling her “doll” kept her at arm’s distance with the reminder of his unpleasant experience with pilot-infatuated sluts. His superstitions about the area didn’t help, but an unwanted attraction sealed the deal.

Without a doubt, Heléna struggled with the same reluctance to let fascination lure her into the clutches of a man who openly seemed to despise her. Owen didn’t attempt to deny the twinge of jealousy that, although she’d sought comfort from him, she hadn’t offered any hint that she desired him. Not that any of it mattered. If no one found them soon, they’d all die from dehydration. One day without water would become two far too quickly.

“Any fish left?” Heath’s gruff question came as he sat in the shadows of the pines, out of the circle of light cast by the embers.

Owen nodded, holding out the stick with a headless grilled fish skewered on it. “You can have the rest. I saved some of mine for Heléna.”

“I thought she was going to die. I’ve never been so scared in my life, not even when the engine cut out.” His voice cracked, and Heath bowed his head, cradling it in his palms.

“Yeah, me too.” Pushing to his feet, Owen carried the scant supper to his friend. “I can still see the sheer panic on her face. I doubt I’ll ever forget it. Here. Eat.”

Keeping Heléna in sight, he settled beside Heath. They sat in silence while Heath picked at his dinner.

“You know, we’re in big trouble if nobody comes looking for us.” Heath shoved another piece of fish in his mouth.

“I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“I went to see if I could get some supplies from the plane, but it already washed off the shelf.”

Springing up, Owen cuffed Heath upside the head. “You stupid son of a bitch! There’s a shark out there waiting for one of us to volunteer to be its next meal. And you had the nerve to yell at Heléna for going in the water?”

A whimper from near the fire had Owen scowling at his friend and stalling midstep. Heléna shifted on the makeshift bed as she curled into a fetal position, another soft groan drifting to him. The curve of her hip drew his eyes. God, but he’d love to lie down with her, molding his body around hers.

“Quit staring at her ass.” Heath’s hiss broke the spell she’d cast on Owen. “She’s too damn innocent for either one of us.”

So there it is—the closest thing to an admission of interest I’ll get.
“Speak for yourself.”

“I’m not talking about sex.” Heath stood, slipping on his shirt. “She looks at everything like she’s never seen it before. Yeah, she’s probably a virgin, but the way she stares out at the ocean...”

Owen had noticed her fascination with the blue-green water that stretched past the horizon. Considering he and Heath had flown out of Miami, she had to have seen the Atlantic when she’d boarded. Maybe the color surrounding the Bahamas was new to her.

“No! I can’t!” Heléna thrashed in her sleep, panting as she moved her arms and legs like she was running. “Find the triangle!”

Heath led the rush to her side, gathering her now-trembling body onto his lap as he sank to the ground. “Wake up, Heléna. It’s okay.”

His soothing tone did nothing to calm her. “My destiny! Take me there!”

Owen stroked her hair, hoping the nightmare passed quickly. Her frantic words didn’t make any sense.

She let out a cry similar to the one that had drawn his and Heath’s attention to her presence on the plane. Her arms flew up to cover her head. “Can’t be it. Wrong place.”

Pulling her closer, Heath trapped her arms against his chest. “Shh, you’re safe. We won’t let anything hurt you.”

“Keep making mistakes.” Panic turned to resignation, and she slumped into Heath. “Not one of them.”