Through the Maelstrom (13 page)

Irritation took her over as her cheeks turned bright pink and she growled. "What do you want me to say? I didn't think this through and hadn't realized swimming equaled you shirtless." She balled her hands into fists and stomped a foot. "Well, I did, but I didn't realize how freaking ripped you were. It threw me. I couldn't help but stare. You happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? You're attractive and it's overwhelming." She spun around and stalked out of the room, not waiting to see what he'd do.

Chuckling, he caught the door before it closed and followed her into the hall, ensuring the room was locked before he continued. Serena desired him, and his noticing made her uncomfortable. Whatever
ripped
meant, she'd said it like it was bad, but her reaction made it seem good.

Perhaps he shouldn't have teased her outright. She'd attempted to drive him away because that was all she knew to do in such a situation. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't going to be deterred. He was learning how to read her tells.

As he hurried to catch up, he whistled a shanty he'd learned from the crew of
The Calypso
. Amusement flared within him when she picked up her pace the closer he came.
Retreating
. Her surrender would be oh so sweet, and he could bet she would feel more at ease with him once she allowed herself to react in the ways she truly felt instead of hiding behind the detachment she used as a shield. All he had to do was give her time to like him. She was already starting to.

Half an hour later, when they finally made it into the water, his progress wasn't going quite as well as he'd like. Serena was a slippery one, he'd give her that. Swimming wasn't unheard of in his time, but it wasn't a popular pastime for ladies. Many didn't know how to tread water, let alone have the gumption to venture out until their feet no longer touched the sand.

Serena did, and feeling confident in her ability to do so, she stayed out of arm's reach from him any time he attempted to draw her near. He didn't make a fuss because the water was clear enough to see beneath them. Fish flitted by on occasion. Even a stingray briefly made an appearance, but didn't come too close.

"Aren't you the least bit cold?" he asked. The water was warm and perfect. He hoped she'd take the excuse and swim into his arms regardless.

Swimming a circular lap around him, she shook her head. "Nope."

When they'd made it to the dock, Christophe had offered to show her some of the more majestic beaches of the island, since he figured those had not changed much over time. She chose to remain close to the ship, where she had plenty of people around to make her feel safe from his wicked ways, he supposed. And where she could retreat to the boat as soon as he pushed her too far into the direction she was afraid of admitting she'd like to explore; he'd never get the image of her lusting for him shirtless out of his mind.

She'd feel comfortable with him eventually, seek to be with him alone without the public eye to shield her.

"Serena..." He lunged for her, but she splashed away, deeper into the ocean. He wished she'd go closer to the shore. The sea could turn on someone in an instant.

"Christophe," she countered. She leaned back and floated. Delicate toes breached the surface and curled before she kicked her smooth legs to gain momentum.

Away from him.

At least she'd circled between him and the shore. Serena tilted her head, exposing the tempting curve of her throat that beckoned for gentle kisses as he explored her body and brought her to pleasure. The sight of her left him completely speechless. She loved the water. Swam like she belonged there. He'd compared her to a siren before, but now she was every bit a mermaid. He was so deep in her thrall he would let her drown him if that was what she wanted. Thankfully, his mermaid was not a violent sort.

A lighthouse was visible in the distance. They were somewhere along the southern side of the island. Much had changed, but the island itself was still easy enough to navigate from memory. The clear blue-green water allowed him to drink in the sight of her body though she did not wish for him to touch her. It was torture, but he enjoyed looking all the same. She'd left the lacy garment on the beach with Becky Ann, who had come to read using a flat gray object which conjured words like magic. She'd claimed to be reading a "sexy" novel entitled,
Wicked Satyr Nights
, and couldn't be disturbed.

Without her lace chemise, Serena's slick deep purple swimsuit gave him an accurate impression of her every curve. Even the skirted bottom hid nothing, floating up with the water and teasing him endlessly. The buoyant material of his own concealed his reaction to watching her swim.

How he longed to embrace her the way the calm, gentle laps of water rolled along her skin. Dreamed to hold her the way the water held her afloat. He ached for a repeat of their kiss the night before. When she was ready, she'd come to him and he would happily give her anything she sought.

With her eyes closed, he had the perfect opportunity to inch closer. If he splashed at all, she'd open her eyes and catch him. It was almost as if she'd forgotten he was there with her. Had she fallen asleep?

Or... Christophe grinned. She only
wanted
him to think she was oblivious to him. Wanted him to catch her. She'd act like she hadn't, but who was he to deny her such things?

He reached out, smirking, and as his hand hovered close enough to grab her, a shrill whistle blasted from the beach. A man on a wooden platform waved his arms in the air; Serena had pointed him out when they arrived and called him a lifeguard, "also known as the person who would drag him out of the water if he molested her." He'd laughed then, but the frantic waving and pointing didn't mean anything good. Serena opened her eyes and her face paled, verifying his fears. She sank momentarily as surprise knocked her out of her rhythm. The sea had turned on them, just when things were spiraling in his favor.

"What's wrong?" As he asked even it became apparent. A gray-blue dorsal fin breached the surface several feet behind her.
Shark
. Dread filled his gut and he reached a hand toward her. There were two feet between them, and he didn't want to make a quick movement to alert the predator in the ocean.

She shook her head. "T-t-tiger shark. I saw it's st-stripes. Through the water." The shark in question returned, drifting aimlessly in their direction. They were out deeper than he should have allowed. Had been too caught up in watching her to think clearly on their safety. The other swimmers had already made it to shore, and the man whistling was gesturing to them to come in. In the distance, men raced down the docks to smaller boats, hustling to untie one. To come to their aid perhaps?

Christophe couldn't worry too much about what was happening out of the water. He returned his attention to the shark, staring into the creature's beady black eye as it circled close. Was it the same one that had been caught in the maelstrom with him, coming to finish what it set out to do when it circled the longboat? Could it sense him? A brethren of a time long forgotten?

"It's merely curious, love. Take my hand. Slowly..." She complied at last, and he waited until the shark's backside was to them to gently ease her against his chest. She clung to him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He loved the feel of her there, but would greatly prefer it without the sea-devil stalking them. "I wish I had my bloody sword."

"Why, so you could stab it to death? And lure more sharks with its blood?" She trembled, and he realized he couldn't wait for the men in the small vessel on the docks to come for them. He had to move Serena to safety. Waiting could prove fatal, and it was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

He began to swim toward the beach, taking light laps with his arms and keeping their bodies downward in a straight line. Too many limbs cutting through the water would make them appear like a wounded animal the shark might want to taste, and he had to protect Serena at all costs, even if he lost a hand doing so.

Soft, wet sand brushed his toes and he released the breath he'd been holding in. He could move quicker without open ocean beneath his heels. The shark swam past again, so close the tip of its tail hit his thigh and brushed the underside of hers. Serena uttered a soft cry of fear against his neck, and it nearly broke him. When the water level dropped below his waist, he ran as best he could with her until they were surrounded by people. The small boat sailed through the water where the shark continued to swim, too late to do anything now.

Becky Ann threw a towel around Serena when he eased her into a chair someone had carried over. Christophe shook his head at an offer of a chair for himself, but gladly accepted a towel. He didn't want to move from Serena's side. If she'd been injured, killed, and he'd had no weapon to save her...

False. He would have beaten that shark off her until either it was dead or he was. Luckily it hadn't come to that. Serena wiped her face and turned to her friend, hugging her tight. A strange jealousy overtook him. He wanted the trust she shared with Becky Ann. He wanted to be the person she needed to comfort her now that they'd put the danger behind them.

Like she could sense his turmoil, she turned to him. At first they simply stared at one another in silence while strangers asked them questions they didn't fully answer. She stood, hesitated a brief moment as tears she'd not once shed despite her fear earlier lingered along her lower lashes.

Reality had settled in for her. She'd faced a predator in the wild and lived to tell of it. She didn't simply hug him or say thank you. She threw herself into his arms and clung tightly as she cried. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered. "I've never been so afraid."

He wrapped his arms around her and leaned his cheek against her forehead. "You and me both. Though I was more worried about you. How am I supposed to convince you I can protect you if I let you become shark food?" He shook his head. "I should have pulled you closer to the beach. I let my joy at watching you swim overcome my caution. In that, I failed you."

"No you didn't. You saved me." She leaned back, her eyes bright and glistening. "You saved me..." She repeated it under her breath and then stepped away from him, but he held fast to her hand. Perhaps he feared she'd float away if he did. She didn't seem to mind.

The lifeguard chose that moment to interrupt by apologizing profusely for not seeing the shark approach until it was in right by them. Apparently tiger sharks usually didn't swim so close to their beaches, and attacks weren't frequent. He listened to the conversation, but his focus remained on the woman standing next to him, drying her eyes with the ends of her towel and nodding at what the lifeguard told them.

What would he have done if he had lost her as soon as he'd found her?

T
he remainder of the afternoon had gone by in a blur. Serena hadn't been given more than two seconds alone with Christophe since he carried her out of the water, leaving the shark behind. There was a certain paralyzing fear when a shark swims close enough to touch. Reflecting back, it seemed more curious about them than on the hunt. That didn't mean it wouldn't bite, but Christophe had been brave enough to get them out of the water rather than wait for help to come. He didn't panic and flail and cause a shark bite scenario. He'd kept his cool, which was awesome because she'd totally lost it.

Ugh, she'd even cried in front of him.
On
him. She didn't think he was one of those guys who was disgusted by tears, but she hadn't meant to. He hadn't pushed her away. Instead, he'd held her closer, rubbing her back and letting her have her moment in front of him and the entire beach.
God, how embarrassing.

Finally, back in her room on the ship, watching the shore of Bermuda fade into the distance as they set sail in the dark, Serena sighed and lay back on the bed. Christophe was on deck, playing the pirate for photo opportunities and making a killing on tips since word had spread about how he'd rescued a damsel from a shark.

Damsel in distress. What she
always
wanted to be.
Ugh
. That was even worse than the crying. If only she could do something for him. To save him from some threat and regain equal ground. Sadly, all she could think to save him from was a case of blue balls, and being rescued from a shark was definitely the adrenaline-inducing circumstance to make her really,
really
want to have sex with him. Not because she felt she needed to thank him. She liked him. A lot, actually. The need that coursed through her urged for skin-on-skin contact. A connection with him she'd not taken.

You want him bad. Admit it.

Serena closed her eyes and sighed. She was having sex tonight. She'd thought of nothing else all afternoon and hadn't been afforded any time alone with him since she made her decision. She hadn't even had time to kiss him, not without a hundred or more people watching and judging. While he showered and changed, Becky Ann had talked her ear off and the opportunity was wasted. Now it was almost time for his shift to end and they could grab dinner.

She gasped. Rather than enjoying the time in solitude, all she could think about was being where Christophe was. When did that happen? Ever? That realization, coupled with her attraction to him, made her decision all the more solidified.

Becky Ann was right. For her, sex was as good as commitment. Seeing Christophe react to a crisis so calmly and quickly showed her how dependable he was. He could have left her there for the shark and made it to the beach without her adding to his weight. That whole incident had done one thing: shattered her walls. She wanted him fiercely, and would fight to keep him. Was he really from the past? Serena no longer cared. He wanted her, she wanted him, and nothing else mattered.

She rolled over and eased the drawer open out of curiosity. The pile of condoms Becky Ann had placed there made her laugh. All different brands, colors and...flavors?

What the hell?
One was glow in the dark and banana flavored.
Gross.
Becky Ann knew she hated bananas. Couldn't she have found a strawberry one or...