Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I find my release first, and I don’t care who hears me.
It is exceptional.
Ace growls, low into my ear as he digs his fingers into my flesh, moving me faster, until he finds his own release with a groan so deep I feel it travel over my skin. Then, when he stops shuddering, our foreheads drop together, breaths tickling each other’s faces.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Gracie,” he murmurs.
“Who would have thought we would find each other like this,” I tease lightly. “Stranded on an island together.”
“Couldn’t write it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across my cheek.
When the tide creeps up and threatens our little moment, Ace walks me back to camp, and I let him. I’m not done with him, I’m scared I will never be done with him. We lay down together, a tangle of arms and legs, and then he fucks me again, slow and quiet, the crackling fire the only sound around us.
Why is it that being here, with him, with them, is starting to feel like home?
14
“I DISAGREE,” KELLEN says, arms crossed over his chest, back straight as a pin, glaring at Ace like he might just throw a punch if this doesn’t simmer down soon.
They’re arguing over whether to light a signal fire and keep it running, something big enough to draw attention. Ace thinks we shouldn’t, because if we do remain here for longer than we are anticipating, we may need that timber for when it gets cold. Kellen thinks we should patch up the new boat and then light the lifeboat up and keep it running from there.
It’s a lot of work to keep a fire that big running. It is a good idea, though, for passing ships. The island has a good amount of wood, but it is also quite wet the further in you go and that means it doesn’t light up well. We need to cut and dry it, and the further we have to haul it, the harder it gets. If we are keeping a large signal fire going, we’re going to be spending a lot of time chopping wood and dragging branches.
“I hear you,” Ace says, calmly. “But brother, keeping a fire that big going is fucking stupid. It could be months and we waste all that timber and energy. We need to focus on survival, and that means stashing wood for the winter and doing what we can, while we can.”
“It could be months,” Kellen argues. “It could also draw people closer in days.”
“I agree with Ace,” Rachel says, hesitantly flicking a gaze in Kellen’s direction. “I think it’s stupid for us to keep something that big alight. It is already difficult getting wood to this fire, and keeping it going, let alone something that big. Plus, if we light up the lifeboat, and this new boat doesn’t work, we’re left with nothing.”
“Didn’t fuckin’ ask you,” Kellen growls.
Rachel crosses her arms. “Well, I’m telling you anyway. We’re all here to make decisions together.”
“This decision doesn’t fuckin’ involve you,” he growls back.
“Well, guess what, I’m involving myself.”
The two are nose to nose. Aggie steps between them, a hand on Kellen’s arm. “Come on, no point in fighting about it.”
He jerks his arm away, and she looks hurt by that.
Oh dear.
His fist balls slow, like he’s savoring the tension—a tiny, unhinged smile twitching the corner of his mouth. Oh, Kellen is mad mad. Like proper. Ace just stares at him, his body equally as tense, as if he’s waiting for his friend to snap. Maybe this is something he has seen before; either way, the look they’re giving each other is terrifying.
“Get it together,” Ace growls. “This ain’t the time. Calm down and we will talk about it.”
Kellen glares at him. “You think everyone here’s supposed to just listen to you? That you know better?”
“I’m tryin’ to keep us alive,” Ace interrupts. “You want to fight about it, fine, let’s fuckin’ fight about it. I am in the fuckin’ mood to kick your goddamn motherfuckin’ ass.”
Oh.
Shit.
That does it.
Kellen lunges. He doesn’t even cock his arm—he just hurls himself forward, knocking Ace back off his feet and into the sand. It’s not even a punch at first, just raw momentum, both of them landing with a thump. Kellen swings first, a wild right that bounces off Ace’s cheek. Ace absorbs it, rolling with the force, and jams an elbow hard into Kellen’s ribs.
No one moves to break it up. I’m so stunned it takes me a solid three seconds to realize I am screaming at them, voice hoarse and wild.
“Stop! Fuck, STOP IT—”
Neither hear me.
They’re two animals, sand and spit and flying fists. Kellen lands a left hook that snaps Ace’s head sideways so hard I hear his jaw crack, and Ace reels, comes up low and tackles Kellen by the waist, slamming him flat. They roll, Ace on top, then Kellen again, arms and legs strobing—wrestling for the advantage, nothing clean, nothing technical. Just weeks of rage bursting out in ugly, rage-filled bellows.