Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (e book reader pc TXT) 📕

I wouldn't need a knife or even a razor.

The protein bar I'd been rationing would be my weapon of choice.

“Who knew?” I chuckled, and stuffed three of the pills deep within the chewy, nougaty center. Maddox was a big son-of-a-bitch. I figured thrice the amount of the recommended daily allowance would do the trick.

I pulled the wrapper back around the bar, and rubbed my hands together. I felt a bit like the evil genius in a Bond movie. I liked that feeling.

Rustling sounds came from the trees behind me.

I whipped around, thinking he'd seen me, knew of what I was planning, and there goes the fucking neighborhood.

No. Just two Tropicbirds taking off from the limbs of a calabash tree. They were slender, and white, and their tail feathers exceptionally long. Like birds from a Doctor Seuss book.

I stood up, and made my way to the tree from where they'd been watching me. I'd have to remain much more vigilant. He was not going to get me again. No way, no how, no sir. Fool me once and then twice and all that.

Gourds grew in abundance on the calabash. They weren't edible, but could be used to make bowls or plates. Or knock somebody out.

I took the boa knife, and sliced through the stem of the lowest hanging gourd. It was heavy, rather a pretty shade of lime green, and had hung from a branch that if honed correctly, would make a dandy spear.

Using the serrated edge of the boa, I began to saw through the limb. The knife made short work of the effort, and as it came away from the tree and into my hand, I found myself growing more and more fond of this island and all the goodies it was providing me with thus far.

One of the Tropicbird's tail feathers had come away from its owner, too. It would make a nice ornament for my primitive little hacienda. Make it more homey, you know?

I took my treasures back to camp, and literally whittled the rest of the day away.

He came to call just as the sun had gone down.

It may have been the fire that had lured him in, or it could be attributable to dumb, stupid luck. As far as Maddox Petersen was concerned, I'd chalk it up to the latter.

My customized branch and I were just behind the palm tree when he'd called out.

“Hello?”

The dumb ass. What did he think, that I'd pop out from my hiding place and chirp, “Here I am, dear! Tag, I'm it!”

I watched him step up to the fire, the embers popping and bursting into the night sky. He said 'hello' again, then asked who was here, straightened himself up, and put his hands on his hips.

Shit, he was a tank of a person.

A mountain of a man.

I wasn't a very good actress. Even though my fake cramp had thrown him for a bit of a loop yesterday, I really didn't think I had the chops to pull this sort of stunt off. It was Rebecca who had earned the Theater Badge, after all. Not me. She was so happy when Mom sewed it on her sash. The embroidered comedy mask seemed to smile back at the both of them. That was just a few days before Dad's barbeque.

Oh, God, I missed them so much.

And the anger and the heartbreak all churned together in a furious, emotional tornado. I could do this. I had to do this. For Becca, for Leslie. For me.

I clutched my branch, and burst out from behind the trees.

“You stay the fuck away from me!” I screamed, and held out my homemade spear like a crazed Berserker.

From the look on his face, I could tell he thought I'd gone nuts, and in some respects, he was right. He told me to take it easy, reminded me that if I couldn't shoot him at point blank range, my stick and I had limited odds. Which made me even fucking angrier, and that was good. Very, very good.

I told him to fuck himself. Ordered him to keep his hands up, where I could see them. And all the smug mother fucker did was exactly the opposite.

Fine.

I expected that.

To give myself even more of an edge, I took my eyes off him for just a second. For good measure, I started trembling. Not a lot. Not like I was having a seizure or anything. Just a little shaking. Because less is more in acting, like Rebecca always said, and thinking of her, and the barbeque, and the lint, brought the tears back to my eyes.

This seemed to satisfy him. He then proceeded to help himself to my supplies, and it took everything I had to stave off a smile. Especially when he bit into the bar I'd put out in front of the others.

He'd said something about bullshit, and knocking it off. Sauntered past me toward my stash of water, and to make it look really, really believable, I swung the branch. Which, of course, he grabbed from me. I wasn't expecting him to break it, though. Well, that was alright. There were plenty of branches. There was plenty of edge left on the blade, too.

I snuffled back my tears and called him a son of a bitch, then tried not to laugh as he ate the whole thing.

“If we're going to be a couple, sweet face, you're really going to need to learn how to cook,” he said.

I kept sniveling and looked at the stars hovering above. I thought about my parents, my sister, and my niece, all up there, cheering me on. I heard Maddox ask where I learned how to build a fire. So I told him, bringing my stare down from the sky, and locking it on him. He was chugging down my water.

Did he not understand he was marooned on a deserted island with no potable liquid? Seriously? How can someone live this long