Page 14 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

– Jack London

There’s a desert plant called flower of stone that can survive the harshest of conditions.

Known as a resurrection plant, Selaginella lepidophylla folds in on itself during dry periods, looking like a brown ball of dead leaves.

It can remain like that for years without water, and then when it gets hydrated again, it opens up, turns green and thrives.

My time on the island so far has been like the flower of stone’s dormancy. I’ve been conserving resources and waiting for better conditions to arrive.

And now they have. The hurricane created chaos, and that’s exactly what I needed. I hope to use the upheaval and uncertainty to gather information and start making a plan.

I thought about Rona’s advice to keep my head down and go along. I can’t, though. I suspect staying on this island means slowly giving up control of my mind. If my choices are to stay in Rising Tide and become a soldier-breeding four or die trying to escape, that’s an easy decision.

Pax went to the children’s camp with Virginia, and he left me a list of tasks to work on while he’s gone. It’s rare for me to be unsupervised, and I plan to make the most of it.

Before I tackle the list, I take the balled-up T-shirt I filled with greens to Billy in the kitchen.

What’s left of it, anyway. The destroyed contents of the cooking area have already been removed, and a crew is working on tearing down what’s left of the walls. They’re rebuilding the kitchen as a log structure, thick tree trunks already being hauled into camp and stripped of their bark.

“Hey, Billy.”

Standing at the end of a picnic table that was dragged out of the jungle, he nods to me. A massive cast-iron stew pot sits on the table in front of him. He’s slicing up something that looks like a root to add to it.

“I found this right outside the training perimeter.” I open the shirt and dump the wilted greens onto the table. “I tasted it myself this morning and I’m not sick.”

He furrows his brow, skeptical. “How much of it did you eat?”

“About half a cup. It could still make me sick. But?—”

“Get it out of here,” he says briskly. “I know you mean well, but I can’t risk it.”

There’s not even enough food for the pregnant women. The fish and game sheltered during the storm, and they haven’t returned. Not that there’s much left anyway. The dull ache in my stomach has been there for days and there’s a hollowness in everyone’s cheeks.

At least I tried.

“Okay.” I pile the leaves back onto the shirt.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay. You?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We’re hanging in there.”

Rona, Olin, and two other kitchen workers are peeling unripe coconuts and papayas on upside-down barrels nearby. I try to make eye contact with Rona so I can wave at her, but she keeps her gaze down.

Olin smiles at me, my heart clenching as I think about what Rona told me. I smile back, wishing I could get some time alone with him.

I have to work on the list Pax gave me, though. After dumping the leaves at the perimeter of camp for fear of getting caught eating them, I return the shirt to my room and go to what’s left of the storage building.

It’s just a pile of rubble now, a random, waterlogged boot lying on top of the mangled boards that used to be the building’s walls. There’s a folded paper stuck between two boards on what’s left of the building’s front left corner, where Pax told me I’d find it.

I pick up the wet paper and take it to the single-room office Pax and Virginia share. Once I’m alone, I carefully unfold the paper and scan the words on it.

It’s a preprinted inventory list. There’s an empty line next to each of the items, and there are two long rows of items. My heart pounds nervously as I read through it as quickly as possible.

The first things on the list are all foods: oats, beans, rice, barley, lard, salt, pepper, curry powder, honey, protein powder, and pasta. There’s a zero written by the oats and a line drawn down all the other items to indicate they’re also zeros.

Then there are medical supplies: amoxycillin, doxycycline, aspirin, morphine, ivermectin, iodine, alcohol, and various-sized bandages. There’s a three by the ivermectin, but zeros everywhere else.

Other things on the list include different sizes of shirts, pants, underwear, bras, socks, blankets, and boots. There are numbers by all of those things, but not many.

I hold my breath as I quickly try to take in everything. There’s too much to remember. But almost everything else has a zero by it anyway.

So there must have been a time when this camp was well supplied, but it isn’t anymore. I fold the paper up the way it was before and set it on the desk on the right side of the room, where Pax told me to leave it.

His desk is otherwise mostly empty. There’s a sharpened pencil and a pile of papers. I flip through them, but it looks like it’s just a handwritten list of people in the camp, with notes scrawled next to some of the names.

Eleven names on the list have lines drawn through them. Two of them are Robert Adler and Mateo Rodriguez. Another name also rings a bell. Jonathan Carpenter. The one who was attacked and killed by the jaguar.

The names crossed off must be people who have died since the list was made.

I turn toward the door, glancing at Virginia’s desk.

Only a blank pad of paper and a pencil sit on top, a small black safe sitting off to the side beneath the desk.

Whatever’s in that safe, I imagine it will answer some of my questions about this place.

Getting caught touching it is probably a death sentence, though.

It’s a risk I have to take. I rush over to the safe and pull on the handle, finding it locked.

My heart sinks. Of course it’s locked.

I quickly leave the office, my pulse still racing. I’m disappointed about the safe, but I did discover a few other things that could be helpful.

My next task is to help a bunch of threes carry debris from the storm to the camp’s dump about a mile away. I won’t be able to do much digging for information, but I plan to keep my ears open for anything I might need to know.

The Rising Tide “spa” was gutted by the storm. Only the primitive toilets remain; the showers and the water delivery system will need to be completely rebuilt.

That leaves us with nature’s bathtub—the ocean. Pax and I are walking toward the beach that evening to clean up, bars of soap in hand. Both of us are grimy and sweaty from a long day of sweating in the tropical heat.

“How long have you been here?” I ask him.

He shoots me a quick glance. “You mean on the island? Three years.”

My bare feet squish through the mud; I can’t take another minute of wet socks and boots, so I left them back in my room to dry. Or rather, get less wet. In this humidity, nothing truly dries.

“That’s a long time.”

He shrugs and grins. “It’s a different life here. I know it’s an adjustment, but...” He stops walking and turns to face me, crossing his arms as we both wait for the loud tittering of monkeys nearby to pass.

“That’s one pissed-off primate,” he cracks.

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Probably a mating thing.” His eyes crinkle with a sheepish smile. “Nothing gets any animal going like mating does. Which is, uh...not the reason I stopped and makes me feel awkward even saying this.”

I can’t help liking him, despite everything. I don’t trust him, but there’s an underlying charm to Pax that’s hard to resist.

His expression turns serious. “I got called into the circle. Tomorrow night.”

The death-match circle? A pang of worry gnaws at my stomach. It’s only because of Pax that I’m not still working in the kitchen, and now that I know what’s included in the mystery meat stew, I can’t go back there.

“By who? Can you say no?”

“A guy named Anders. A four. And I wouldn’t say no even if I could.” He drops his arms to his sides and clears his throat. “Look, I can’t stop thinking about the way I treated you at the waterfall. I accused you of teasing me, and that?—”

I wave a hand, dismissing his concern. “Forget it. It’s fine.”

He draws his brows down in an earnest look. “No, it’s not. I like you, Briar. I really like you.”

Heat floods me all at once. My nipples tighten and my core aches. I want to throw myself at Pax, literally. Just hurl my body at his chest and climb him.

Fuck him. Do it right here against a tree. It’s what you both want.

My lips part with surprise. I’m having thoughts that aren’t my own again, and why do I suddenly feel like an animal in heat?

“Something’s wrong with me,” I murmur.

Pax takes my palm and gently lays it on his chest over his heart.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I promise.

I feel it too. Only it’s stronger in me because I’ve been here longer.

I wanted to let you adjust and not come on too strong, but.

..” He puts his hands on my hips, squeezing lightly.

“I’ve been with other women here, but it’s never been like this. ”

You want him. Put your hand on his cock and show him how much you want him.

I close my eyes, pushing back against the thoughts. It’s not really what I want.

His skin is so warm beneath my hand, though. I could run my fingers over his hard, muscled chest. And then lower. I could make his eyes wide and his cock hard. I could hold power over this powerful man—with just my body.

“Briar.”

I open my eyes, and Pax tilts my chin up so our eyes are locked together.

“I don’t want to go into the circle without knowing what it’s like to kiss you. Just one kiss.”

A kiss. Wetness pools between my thighs as I imagine sinking into him for a long, sensual kiss. His tongue sliding over mine. His mouth claiming mine.

It would feel so good. It’s okay to let go, just for a little bit, and feel good.

He slides his hand up from my chin to my lower lip, slowly grazing the pad of his thumb over it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

It feels good. Fuck him. Give in, give in, give in.

The words in my head play in time with the drumbeat that is my heart. I could let go of my control, for just a minute. Do what feels good instead of always fighting.

He slides his hand over my cheek and around to the back of my neck, cupping it as he lowers his mouth to mine. I melt against his chest, parting my lips.

Groaning, he moves his hand from my hip around to my ass, squeezing. His tongue brushes over mine, our bodies instinctively pressing together.

More. More. More. Give him more.

I pull away, the madness of having another voice in my head making my eyes wide with alarm.

“What’s happening to me?”

A smile tilts the corners of his lips. “We’re all animals here. Mating is instinctive.”

I pinch my brows together, at war with myself. My body and part of my mind are ready to lie down in the mud for a primal, filthy fuck. But the rest of my mind—the part that’s still me—is telling me to run.

As I shake my head, he puts a finger over my lips. “I got my kiss. That’s enough.” Arousal swims in his dark-brown eyes. “For now.”

He drops his hands away, continuing to lead the way on the narrow jungle path. I just stand there for a few seconds, dazed. How can someone or something else be inside my head?

Maybe I’m losing my mind. Maybe this is what happened to the other women here who have babies and don’t care that they don’t get to be mothers to them.

I exhale hard, steeling myself and following Pax.

At least there will be other people in the ocean swimming and bathing. I don’t trust myself alone with Pax. Nothing has ever made me feel more helpless than this loss of control over my own mind and body.

I have to get off this island. Soon.