Page 10 of Wild Life (STEAM-y #2)

Man-Just-Go

Maris

It’s official. I’m never getting any sleep in this place.

My head swam and my lids drooped heavily as I lay in the hammock. I had spent all last night wide awake, tracking every suspicious noise from the bushes, expecting a bear to jump out at any moment and maul me to death.

I loved the outdoors. It was one of the reasons I had become a wildlife biologist. However, camping in a known environment with a team was completely different from roughing it solo in a location that possibly didn’t exist on any map. Needless to say, my anxiety was working overtime without pay and benefits, and she was not thrilled.

Sleeping by myself was the other issue. While I didn’t prefer it, I was capable of slumbering without sharing my bed, especially on work nights when the sex-then-snuggle dance impeded my schedule. However, right now, my mind was so dysregulated from too much unfamiliarity that it craved closeness. But I was not about to hop into bed with him just to quell my nerves. Forty-eight hours was too short a time to bed a Sasquatch. I still had standards. No cuddles without at least a coffee date first.

Fuck, I miss coffee. My head pounded harder at the memory of warm happiness in a cup.

If the night was noisy, the day was Grand Central Station. Birds cawed. Insects chirped. And the random sounds of branches snapping off trees ruined any chance for a nap.

I was losing my fucking mind. I was certain of it, too, because last night, I could have sworn I heard singing coming from inside the hut. It’d barely been audible over the breeze, but I had heard it. With no electricity to run a TV here and a silent stranger, where had it come from?

Maybe it was some weird paranormal energy or something inhabiting the island…like spirits. Spirits of people who had never escaped. Fuck.

They always said that the outfit you had on when you died became your ghost outfit .

I looked down at my once-white-now-light-brown Henley and dingy trekking pants against my sunburned skin. I was destined to be the ugliest ghost that had ever existed. Double fuck.

My latest crisis was interrupted by the hobbling pig and his owner carrying a large basket made of woven leaves and a long rod with a sharp end—kind of like the ones used for spearfishing.

My heart lurched in my chest. If my suspicions were correct, he would be going to the beach.

Jumping to my feet, I chased after him to catch up before he headed into the thicket. “Can I come with you?”

As per usual, he didn’t stop to answer, and I didn’t wait for an invitation. The beach would give me access to the coastline, and there had to be at least one boat passing by.

His brisk pace quickened, most likely as a means to lose me on the journey, but my determination energized me as well as one of the room-temperature energy drinks from the case on my office floor ever had.

“Do you fish often?” I happened to know firsthand that he still had plenty back at the hut. I may or may not have been double-dipping into the stash in the middle of the night. Chewy salted fish was my new fast-food restaurant fourth meal .

My brain worked overtime, mapping the terrain. My job was studying animals in their natural and unmanicured habitat, but this environment was too difficult to navigate even by professionals. Every turn appeared to be like the previous and every rock was indistinguishable. Only an inhabitant like Cryptid could recognize the way.

However, I was able to make out something rather curious on our left. A group of trees—three, to be exact—standing close together. It wasn’t the trees themselves that sparked my interest, but the markings on them. Tiny gashes covered the trunks, too deep to be organic.

These had been made using tools. Sharp tools. The kind that only a human was capable of employing.

“These marks are interesting. Do you know what they are?” I asked, stopping to run my fingers over the uneven lacerations.

Suddenly, my hand was yanked away by a big, rough one. His icy stare froze my lips shut. How was it this man who had never uttered one word could silence me with a look?

His calluses scraped my skin as he tugged me along, leaving the tick marks and their hidden meaning behind. So many secrets. Nothing about him was obvious; he was an impenetrable fortress of mystery.

Despite confusing the hell out of me, he brought my twisted mind comfort. I stared at our hands joined together, his large one swallowing up my small one, then closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the security of his touch. Every nerve came alive, sending trills of heat up my arm. The most intimidating beast of a human somehow made me feel safe and, in some sick way, excited me. The lunacy of it was beyond my understanding, and a part of me blamed it on the deficit of touch I was currently experiencing. My obsessive desire to be connected to another human hadn’t been met since I had washed ashore. The deprivation only heightened my senses whenever he did touch me. And my body responded like that of a boy-crazy teenager, excited by a mere brush of skin.

My lunacy must’ve been showing because I realized we had stopped walking, and when I opened my eyes, I found him gazing at me with interest.

I retracted my hand. Oh, for fuck’s sake. My neediness had reached a whole new level of weird .

I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone. I, Maris Schuler, can be alone!

One of his bushy brows lifted before he continued walking toward where the pig was grunting merrily ahead of us.

I marched along, this time crossing my arms over my chest, banning myself from his touch in the event I tripped or something and involuntarily reached out for the oaf.

We traveled in silence with nothing but the crunch of brush under our feet and the buzz of flies in our ears.

The air thickened and I was dripping sweat.

I preferred to work in clothes that covered my limbs to avoid falling prey to poisonous spiders. And since most of my work was usually done at night with the exception of setting up nets to catch bats, I could get away with being fully clothed and not suffocating like I was now. My vulva was officially chafing from wearing the same dirty pair of underwear. I wished I had enough courage to ditch them completely.

“Where’s the beach?” I stared, puzzled, at the dense trees around us. We had been walking for some time, and instead of the foliage thinning as it did near the shore, it grew thicker. We were in the heart of the jungle.

“I think you went the wrong way,” I called out. He stood in front of a luscious green tree drooping with red and orange jewel-colored fruit.

He dropped his basket, and with a brisk shake of the tree with the rod, the gem-colored fruit rained down on us, landing on the ground with blunt thuds. I covered my head, unwilling to withstand another unconscious incident while I was still recovering from the first.

“Mangoes!”

There must’ve been almost twenty of them lying around my feet like green, red, and orange globes.

Cryptid stooped low, tossing the ripest fruit into the basket. He moved to the adjacent tree and repeated his process of shaking so hard that the branches threatened to break off.

The avalanche sent bubbles of excitement bursting inside me, like a kid witnessing birthday balloons raining around them. I giggled with glee until the last one hit the ground.

This time, I beat him to the chase and picked up a mango before he had a chance to collect it. The pig let out a coarse snort and went to town, gorging on the feast around us.

The seemingly permanent wrinkle etched between Cryptid’s brows softened at our enjoyment. His usually intense eyes lightened briefly with an emotion I couldn’t place.

I squeezed the fruit in my hand, testing the slight give. Eagerly, I dug my nail into the skin and juice spilled out over my fingertips as I pierced into flesh. Saliva was already pooling in my mouth.

Unexpectedly, he reached out, taking it from my hand.

“Hey! That’s mine, you big bully.” His grouchy self was like a wet blanket on my emotions. God forbid I ever found any joy around here. He would make sure I was as miserable as him. It was a wonder he ever let the pig squeal in excitement.

Mr. Miserable let out a rough grunt before biting into the skin. Threads loosened steadily as he ripped it away from the orange flesh with his teeth. Strip by strip, he skillfully peeled the mango by mouth as we huddled over the ground. My gaze was glued to the confident way his mouth treated the fruit, and a warm heat rushed through my core. He could make any task erotic.

He passed the exposed, juicy globe back to me.

I cleared my throat, swallowing down excess drool in addition to gratuitous guilt. “Umm, thanks.”

I sank my teeth into the treat. “Mmm,” I groaned. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. So sweet and hydrating…and untidy. Nectar dripped down my chin in tiny rivulets. I laughed at the complete mess I was making as I slurped the entire thing down in record speed. Not ignorant to his attention dragging along my liquid-stained skin to the bottom of my V-neckline, I tried to wipe away the juice—and also his gaze.

He peeled another with his teeth and offered it to me.

“Don’t you want any?”

He nudged it in the air until I finally accepted. I took another bite, closing my eyes this time to savor the luscious taste.

“It’s so good. You have to have at least one bite.” I pushed it toward him. Instead of taking it into his own hands, he grasped my wrist and lowered his head, wholly focused on me, and sank his teeth into the flesh. Juice dribbled down his lips and onto his beard, and I followed a cloudy drop as it escaped onto his bare chest. His skin was always glistening with sweat—not in a pretentious gym-bro kind of way, but in a sexy-lumberjack kind of way. The result of hard manual labor. The sheen highlighted the definition in his muscles, making them appear as juicy as the mango in his mouth. Maybe even more.

My tongue was suddenly too heavy, and the temperature must’ve risen about ten degrees because my neck was burning up.

There we sat, in the middle of the jungle, hungrily staring at each other’s lips. Was he hoping for more than just sharing produce, like I was?

My belly tightened, as he held my wrist. His breath was warm on my face. Fragrant like fruit. I parted my mouth, hoping to catch a taste.

There was no one around to interrupt this moment. No one.

No one.

Realization slammed into me like a freight train, and the lustful murkiness in my head vanished.

No one was here to save me. I was stuck on this island with a strange man who couldn’t answer any of my questions in a way that I could comprehend. Shit. I didn’t even know his damn name.

What was I doing? I didn’t have time for this. I needed to save myself, unless I wanted my worst nightmare to come true—to live what few days I possibly had left in isolation.

My paralyzing fear of loneliness clawed up my spine and wound around my neck, strangling me.

Clearing my throat abruptly, I shot to my feet, effectively breaking our connection. Forever the expert at pushing people away when things became too real…too intense. “Um…thanks. These were yummy.” I dropped the seed on the ground and backed away. The flies must have been watching us because they swarmed around me, sticking to the mess on my neck.

Swatting at them was futile. These assholes were persistent. “Too much to wish for a shower out here, huh?” I teased, smacking one of the buzzing nuisances that had landed in the middle of my forehead. Red and brown guts smeared my palm, and I rubbed it away on my pants. Gross.

He nodded and gathered the basket of fruit. The pig stayed behind, chomping on the mangoes that we’d left on the ground, while I followed the man with the rod in hand.

We continued on past the hut, several yards farther, to an alcove in the bushes. Another barrel rested there, similar to the one he used to catch rainwater outside the hut. Tall stalks of something resembling bamboo had been arranged like walls to form a nook. Large, smooth rocks lay flat on the ground inside the area with barely enough space between them to see a sliver of earth underneath.

Cryptid passed me the rod and twisted a makeshift valve on the ground constructed of plastic. I assumed it was another invention made from salvaged ocean trash. Suddenly, water trickled from an overhead spout fashioned from an old water bottle with small holes poked in the bottom, attached to another bamboo-like stalk. A shower.

I placed my free hand under the stream, cool liquid hitting my palm. “Oh my God! You built a shower?”

He nodded curtly before turning off the valve.

It was a shame no one else was here to witness his accomplishments. If he had been in a less isolated area, he’d have no doubt been a successful engineer. He deserved accolades for building something out of virtually nothing.

“This is amazing. Can I use it?”

He nodded again and collected the rod from me and the basket off the ground, leaving me in privacy.

Wow. A real shower. Despite being made from limited resources, it was far fancier than some of the showers I’d used in motels and hostels during my travels.

I waited for his footsteps to disappear before undressing. My clothes were so disgusting that I had to peel them off my body. I stripped down completely, ditching my sweaty underwear. A shower was a rare occurrence, and I intended to take full advantage of it.

Water flowed steadily when I switched on the valve as he had demonstrated. The pressure was low, and judging from the size of the barrel, I didn’t have much time to waste before the supply vanished.

I stepped under the stream and shivered when the cold water hit my skin. I tilted my head back, dousing my greasy hair. Liquid cascaded down my body, stinging my burnt skin. Gradually the ache dissipated, and I was able to enjoy the chilling sensation.

I gently cleaned my neck, and then my breasts. Underboob sweat was the bane of my existence, and I had been a walking factory for it over the past few days.

My eyes closed as I washed between my legs, cleansing away the memory of dirty panties. I had to admit that touching my most private parts in the middle of the jungle, with the birds chirping overhead and the breeze blowing, was liberating. I opened my eyes to take in the tranquil surroundings.

“Fuck!” I screamed and grasped at my body, unsuccessfully hiding myself from the inquisitive man gaping at me.

To my horror, Cryptid stood before me, taking in my hand that failed to contain my tits and the other that barely covered between my legs. A deep growl vibrated in his throat.

A large cloth tumbled from his clutches onto the ground. I snatched it up, instantly snapping him out of his stupor. Wrapping myself in the makeshift towel, I shut the water off.

“Dude! What the hell?! You can’t sneak up on people like that when they’re bathing!” He might’ve built the shower, but he certainly didn’t have any bathroom etiquette.

He still stood there, as if waiting to see more.

I frantically waved him off. “Do you mind?!”

Finally, he stalked away.

I wouldn’t have dreamed privacy would be an issue on an island with only two people, but damn it…