Page 4 of Seducing Scylla (Mated Myths #1)

Morgan

W arm liquid laps at my face like a gentle caress.

I sigh. That feels nice.

Wait.

I snap my eyes open. I’m not dead. Although, I kind of wish I was.

I feel like someone came at me with a battering ram.

I groan loudly from where I lay against the warm metal wall of the shipping container.

My restraints have come loose at some point, and I flex my now free fingers and toes, finding nothing broken.

I move up my body, tensing and relaxing, taking stock of any injuries.

I’m surprisingly okay, if not a little bruised.

Surprising because the shipping container has been completely wrenched in two, as if a giant has come along and torn it in half with its bare hands, straight through the middle.

The sun streams freely through the gaping hole at one end .

Water lazily flows in and out of the newly formed entrance.

There’s the smell of salty brine in the air and gulls squawking above, but it’s otherwise quiet.

No sounds of shocked onlookers or a rescue party.

I blink slowly, once, twice, unsure if my eyes are deceiving me or if I’m actually seeing sand and scrubby trees in the distance.

The creamy white sand shimmers with the reflection of the sun’s rays and the trees sway rhythmically as if to a song only they can hear.

A groan from one of the other women breaks me out of the trance.

“Elena?” I hiss, pulling myself into a sitting position with a wince.

Two women are strewn about the container in various states of consciousness, but no Elena.

I crawl forward on my hands and knees to a woman lying face down.

I roll her over, so her face isn’t in the water anymore, in case it gets deeper.

I’m not going to kid myself and pretend like I know how to check for a pulse, so I hover closely, waiting until I see her chest rise and fall.

I sigh in relief and move to the next one, repeating the process of watching their chest move.

The daylight illuminates a black denim jacket and purple hair.

Disappointment floods me as I realize it’s the woman from the library.

She frowns and whimpers in her unconsciousness, and I think she was the one who groaned before.

I grab her shoulder and give her a little shake.

“Hey, wake up.”

Her eyelids flutter but she doesn’t come to fully. Sitting back on my heels, I pause to think. She could be concussed.

I brace myself against the steel wall as I stand, not fully trusting my legs to hold me up, and edge toward the opening.

Surely, someone has noticed this hulking chunk of metal on the beach and has called for help.

Careful of the jagged edges, I peer outside.

We are indeed on a beach, but there is no one to be found.

The picturesque beach is entirely deserted except for the other half of the shipping container a few meters away, tipped over on its side, entrenched in deeper water than this half.

One woman must’ve been thrown from the container as she rests on her stomach on the sand not far from the edge of the water, head twisted to the side.

The water sucks at my ankles as I rush to the fallen woman.

There’s a deep gash on her forehead and her arm, but neither is still bleeding.

I need to get the women out of the container in case the tide comes in, but the other half, the one I haven’t looked into yet, is already in deeper water.

I chew at my lip, and stumble toward it, hoping the women in this half will be okay for now.

The sand shifts beneath me with each step. Wading into the water, it reaches my knees by the time I approach the other half of the mangled steel prison.

“Hello, is everyone okay?” I call out.

“Help!” a wavering voice echoes from within.

“Hang on, I’m coming!”

The hem of my dress clings to my knees where it drags in the ocean, making my steps sluggish in the water.

Inside the container, the waves ebb around a large craggy rock that has pierced the steel and juts out just above the waterline.

Sitting beside it is Elena. The water laps at her collarbones while she tries to keep another unconscious woman above water; the woman’s head resting on Elena’s shoulder.

“Elena! You’re okay!”

Elena grunts. “Hardly. My foot was pinned between the wall and the rock when it pierced the container. I can’t move it. This one,” she gestures to the woman on her shoulder, “was unconscious when the water started coming in. I don’t think I can keep her head out of the water for much longer.”

“Here.” I gesture to Elena and heft the woman off her by her underarms. She’s heavier than she looks, bogged down by wet clothes, and Elena groans in relief.

I pull the woman toward the exit, letting the water take most of her weight.

I puff, exerted. Some rescue party I am.

I’m not made for this kind of work. Let me shelve books every day over dragging women to safety on a deserted beach.

“I’ll be back.” I breathe heavily, looking back at Elena. “I’ll find something I can use to get your leg free.”

She grimaces. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

I drag the unconscious woman up the beach, stumbling more than a few times along the way.

I drop her unceremoniously next to the banged-up woman still passed out in the sand, before falling back onto my butt with a whoosh of air.

I tip my head to the sky, eyes closed, as I suck in deep lungsful of air, trying to catch my breath.

My heart beats frantically, and I can suddenly see the merits of a gym membership. Not that it’d do me any good now.

I need to get back to Elena and help free her foot.

I haul myself back up again, dusting my hands free of sand.

My face is hot and sweaty, and I can’t tell if it’s from exertion or the heat anymore.

Turning away from the water I face the bush behind me.

I figure that’s the best place to find something useful; a stick, or something.

Help would be even better. I’m cursing myself for not reading more survivalist books instead of losing myself in smutty romance novels.

I’d excel in this situation if I was a doomsday prepper.

A wealth of knowledge at my fingertips on a daily basis, and I choose to read about getting railed by the Tooth Fairy.

Shaking my head, I trudge into the scrub, eyes searching the ground for anything I think might be strong enough to push at the steel and allow Elena to pull her leg free.

There aren’t many trees here, mainly dense scrubby bush that comes to roughly shoulder height on my short five-foot-and-a-bit frame.

The trees that are here are spindly with short trunks; their branches sprouting from the very base.

They provide very little shade when the sun is beating down on you.

I pause to rest. My mouth is dry, my skin feels tight, hot, and sticky from sweat and salt water.

I peel off my now dry cardigan and wrap it around my head in a bid to protect my fair skin, but I fear it’s already too late.

My face is probably a shade of red to rival my hair by now .

I’ve traveled a small distance from the beach.

The shore and the shredded containers rest haphazardly in the water.

From here, I can see a few more containers bobbing further out in the ocean.

Worry tugs at my stomach that there might be people in those too.

I try telling myself it’s just washing machines and fridges to appease the guilt of not being able to do anything right now.

When I get Elena free, we can come up with a plan for the other containers.

My search comes up fruitless. The only sticks littering the ground are short and spindly, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to break one off a tree.

I don’t know how to get Elena free or help the other women on the beach.

Out here alone, the overwhelming emotions of this whole ordeal threaten to take over.

But I can’t afford to think about it right now.

I don’t have time to break down and wallow when people are depending on me.

I blink rapidly, dispelling the tears that threaten to spill but the tightness in my chest lingers.

Admitting defeat, I brave the stifling heat and trudge back toward the container to break the bad news to Elena.

We’ll have to figure out another way to get her free before the tide changes.

I don’t know how long we’ve been stranded here already.

The sun is way up high in the sky, so it must be around noon now.

It certainly feels hot enough, with sweat beading along my forehead under my makeshift cardigan hat.

Head down, I hum a tune to distract myself from the heat and the hopelessness gnawing at my bones.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

I jerk my head up, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, eager to see if help has finally come for us.

Frowning, I notice two red figures making their way down the beach in the direction of the containers.

I pause near the edge of the scrub where it meets the sand, unsure of what I’m seeing.

I don’t think I want to catch their attention if they’re wild animals; and if they’re wild animals then where the hell are we?

I’ve never seen anything like them, and I live in a city that’s hosted a furry convention. I’ve seen some things.

They walk upright like humans but on two thick crimson legs, with muscled arms that finish at three fingers tipped with claws.

Scales cover their bodies from head to toe to…

tail. I swallow, the fear building in my chest. And wings.

They have wings. Large dragon-like wings that protrude from their backs.

As they get closer, their faces remind me of dragons too, eyes forward over a short snout, with horns curving out from their temples and backward over their long black hair, littered with braids .

They approach the containers with caution, while I remain frozen on the spot.

They hunch over, swinging their heads back and forth as if sniffing for something.

I’m just close enough to see forked tongues flicker out from between their lips, as if tasting the briny sea air.

My brain feels like it’s malfunctioning.

Fear grips me in a vice, and my breathing is shaky.

I’m terrified these two beings will notice me standing here like a rabbit caught in headlights.

They seem to catch the scent of whatever they’re looking for and stalk toward the two unconscious girls lying on the sand where I left them.

I suck in a sharp breath as one of them licks the open wound on the injured woman’s head.

They say something to each other in a language I don’t recognize, clearly words, but not English.

One of them seems to agree with the other as it nods its head and moves to pick the woman up.

It juggles her in its arms, holding her like a groom carrying his bride.

I make a noise in my throat; a garbled cry I don’t mean to let slip from my lips.

The other creature snaps its head up, its slitted orange eyes locking onto mine.

Its tongue flicks out again, tasting the air before hissing at me.

It lets out a wild growl in my direction and my brain kicks back into gear, fight or flight mode activated.

I don’t wait a second more. I run.