Page 13 of Castaway Heat

Six months later…

R onin awoke, stretching as carefully as he could not to awaken his omega.

The shadows of the nearby coconut trees danced over his beautiful face as the breeze moved them outside, dappling sun and shade on his cheeks already littered with freckles.

Freckles had popped up all over the more Shiloh was in the sun, and Ronin had made it his duty to investigate them often to see if any new ones appeared.

It gave him the perfect excuse to kiss every single one of those freckles, new or otherwise, on a regular basis.

Shiloh mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and rolled to his side, curling into the crook of Ronin’s arm.

He smiled, running a gentle hand over his omega’s growing belly.

While they were both growing more and more scared as their time ran thinner and thinner before Shiloh would give birth, he couldn’t ignore how sexy his omega looked full and round with their child.

He traced his fingertips over the swell, in awe of what his mate could do. A little bit of Shiloh and a dash of Ronin—and they’d made a new life. A new life they’d have to figure out how to provide for and protect on a deserted island.

His gaze drifted to the haphazard remnants of the crib he’d attempted to build with bamboo and vines.

It had looked great, but after he’d placed one heavy gallon of water inside to test the strength, it had come apart.

He’d have to go back to the drawing board and hopefully figure out a design before the baby came—although, Shiloh’s weaving skills were beginning to look really good.

He’d already made multiple baskets to use for collecting the papaya, pineapple, passionfruit, and breadfruit from around the island, and they were sturdy enough to hold a decent amount.

Maybe they’d have to weave a crib instead.

“I see steam coming off your head,” Shiloh whispered.

Ronin glanced up, his hand still dreamily drawing circles over Shiloh’s belly. “No you can’t. Your eyes are closed.”

“You’ll figure out the crib,” Shiloh whispered. “We still have time.”

“It’s starting to feel like we don’t,” Ronin replied sourly.

The instant he did, he saw concern in Shiloh’s eyes and immediately regretted vocalizing the moment of doubt.

For months, he’d been the voice of optimism, hoping he might wish a rescue into existence.

As the months flew past, he’d gotten more and more cynical of their chances—though he’d tried to hide those thoughts from Shiloh.

He slid his hand from Shiloh’s belly and skated it up, grazing a stiff nipple on his way to capture his mate’s face for a kiss.

“But you’re right. We’ll get there. We still have a few more months. ”

“I wish I’d paid closer attention in health class all those years ago,” Shiloh muttered.

“You’d think a biologist would know more about how the body worked.”

Shiloh swatted at his arm. “A marine biologist. Other than a couple of basic biology classes first year, I’ve been focused on aquatic life, which is much, much different than ours for the most part.

” He glanced over his shoulder. “Speaking of marine biology, do you remember if I brought in my notebook?”

Shiloh had been taking advantage of a collection of tide pools a ways down the from their section of the beach to watch some of the native fish in the mornings and late afternoons.

He sketched and took notes on their habits.

They’d also swam out to a coral reef not too far from that a few times, but without scuba equipment, or a snorkel at the very least, they were only able to go under for brief minutes at a time.

At least the water was crystal clear, and they could watch some of the activity from above the surface, too.

“I don’t remember you having it when you came in,” Ronin said. “You may have left it on the beach.”

“Damn, I hope I didn’t leave it too close to the water. The tide might’ve pulled it out. All my hard work gone.”

Ronin smiled as he slowly slid out of bed. “You’re the only student I know who gives himself homework on his summer break.”

“It’s hardly summer anymore, no matter how hot it is here. Since I’m missing the first semester, I figured I’d work on thesis ideas—turn my time here into something productive.”

Ronin pointed at his omega’s belly. “You’re doing something productive at all times these days.” He leaned over the bed and stole a kiss. “I’ll go see if I can find your notebook.”

“The last place I remember laying it was under my sitting tree.”

Ronin chuckled. His sitting tree. Shiloh had use coconut husks and fibers to fashion himself a pillow of sorts for when he sat against a palm tree and jotted his thoughts in that damned notebook of his.

The notebook itself had been found in someone’s luggage, partially used.

Shiloh had carefully dried the pages in the sun and then rewired the notebook’s spiral binding through the holes.

They’d stumbled over a pencil in a junk drawer and he’d turned trash into treasure.

After six months, it was packed with beautiful, lifelike sketches and copious notes.

If Shiloh hadn’t become a marine biologist, he should’ve become an artist. If they ever made it home, he planned to keep Shiloh stocked with all the art supplies necessary for that creativity to find its way out.

He ambled down their well-worn path to the beach and found the notebook exactly where Shiloh had suggested it would be.

He leaned down and picked it and the pencil up—and noticed an amazing sketch of their island.

Ronin smiled, awed by Shiloh’s talent. He turned a few more pages and stopped on one where his omega had drawn him numerous times.

Figure studies, he thought they were called, but most where just him from the shoulders up.

One was of him frowning in deep thought, looking down.

Another was of him smiling, looking in Shiloh’s direction with love in his eyes.

Another was larger—his entire body in profile with his hands gripping the net in the water, attempting to catch their dinner.

They were so masterful, they almost resembled photographs.

When he turned another page and saw a sketch of Shiloh’s growing belly and their hands entwined, fingers linked over the swell, tears burned the backs of his eyes.

It had to be one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

He closed the notebook and carried it like precious cargo.

It was the story of their lives there on that island, a history they could look back on someday.

Soon, the pages might just be filled with a baby’s sweet face.

As he strolled back to the house, Ronin wondered which of them their baby would favor—or would it be an equal share? He couldn’t wait to find out.

And was equally terrified of finding out. He returned inside the cooler shade and handed over the notebook. “Safe and sound.”

“Ah, perfect,” Shiloh said, relief in his voice. “Thank y?—”

Shiloh was cut off by the sound of a plane’s engine flying over the island.

Ronin froze for a split second before spinning on one foot and racing outside the house.

He moved in the direction the plane flew.

He raced, digging his feet as fast as he could in the sand.

When he came to a halt on the middle of the beach, he scanned the sky, looking for the aircraft.

And found nothing.

Disappointment—and the run—left it hard to breathe.

They’d been so close. Had someone seen their sign?

He spun in a circle, searching the sky again.

Finally, the plane appeared, flying even lower over the island.

Ronin waved his arms and jumped up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs as if the pilot could hear him over the roar of the engines.

It was a small prop plane, and he thought he saw a wave from the pilot, but it was hard to see with the glare from the sun.

It did one more circle overhead before flying away.

“No, no, no!” Ronin screamed as he watched the plane disappear from sight. He pulled his hair, desperate to know if they’d truly been seen.

“It’s not like they can land here,” Shiloh said behind him, waddling nearer. “If they saw you, hopefully they’ll send word to someone who can come pick us up.”

Ronin supposed Shiloh was right, but he wanted to know.

Not later, but right then. He needed to know his mate and child were safe.

He lifted a hand and urged Shiloh closer.

He dropped to the sand on both knees and pressed his forehead against Shiloh’s belly.

The pilot had to have seen him. If not, the lives of his omega and their child might hang in the balance.

Shiloh gently ran his fingers through Ronin’s hair. “We sit back and wait, I guess.”

Ronin pressed a kiss to the center of Shiloh’s belly before rising to full height. He hugged Shiloh close and kissed him. “I just hope that wave I thought I saw wasn’t just a figment of my desperate imagination.” He gazed about the island. “Should we pack up?”

“What are we taking with us? The only thing I plan to take is my notebook,” he said, lifting it.

“Well, we should try to leave the house somewhat like we found it, I suppose. I’ll go straighten things up in there. Do you mind sitting under your thinking tree and keeping watch for any boats coming our way?”

Shiloh nodded. “It’ll likely be awhile before anyone can get here by boat. We can both tidy the cabin up together.”

Ronin lifted a brow. “If I catch you lifting just one item over ten pounds, I will banish you to your tree.”