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Day 7 - Juliet
Paralyzed for a moment in my shock, several things transpired in the wake of sixty seconds. My eyes pierced the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. A testament to glory and ancient gods, he stood on the edge of a rocky cliff, one knee bent upward as if staking his claim on a piece of land discovered solely by him. His hands hung at his sides in solid fists. The bulge to his long arms exuded strength. His hair was dark brown and mussed as if thick fingers recently combed through the strands, the tips kissed with sun-bleach. His eyes trained on my chest, dark and hollow in a face chipped as if by an expert in woodcraft, held me in place in my watery haven.
And then, I screamed.
The expression of his hard face transformed before me. His eyes opened wide. His mouth fell open. Startled. It was the only description of the look on his perfect face. And then it morphed, softening only briefly. His eyes flicked—the subtle motion a statement to something like recognition. Slowly his fists rose and unclenched, palms facing outward toward me. The sheer size of his mitts and the length of his fingers choked another scream from my throat. The second time, words followed.
“Go away.”
With the sound of my voice, his head snapped backward, the slightest knock as if I struck him. Dark orbs within his sockets softened again. Then his cheeks hardened, the impression of wood returning. A tick at his cheek hinted at the clenching of back teeth. His eyes remained focused on my breasts, and my nipples tightened at the heat he exuded. I told myself it was the refreshing water still trickling off me, exposing my skin to the gentle air above the surface. I let him stare for just seconds before slapping my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under my pits. A shiver followed the movement, but it wasn’t excitement that filled me.
It was fear.
And I refused to let it take me.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I yelled as if he was a dog that could be chased away with words. He blinked and that wooden stare roamed my body. It felt lurid and luscious like a long lick, but I refused to acknowledge the tingle of pleasure. I denied it could exist in me.
“Get. The. Fuck. Away from me,” I bellowed again, beginning to wonder if he was hard of hearing. Then wondering what he was doing on this island. The place was abandoned. I’d been told it would only be me. Small creatures, possibly. Millions of bugs, probably. But another human? Absolutely not.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” A hoarse voice, tired and croaking from lack of use broke through the echo of my final demand. A tiny memory pricked at my brain, like a needle attempting to pop a balloon. Not quite through the surface of latex, my memory pressed back in resistance, refusing to allow penetration while it absorbed the sting. The hint drifted.
“I don’t care,” I barked. “Get out of here.” My chest rose and fell, and I trembled uncontrollably. I could only imagine the sight of me—a woman on the edge of unhinging. My hair hung in clumps against my forehead. My throat stung with the weight of my scream. The tips of my fingers dug into the hollow pits under my arms. I felt my heart racing under my skin.
He continued to stare down at me, like a great mystery, a puzzle to be solved. I held my stance, glaring up at him despite the sun rays trickling through the leafy foliage behind him, haloing his head like he was some historical voyager, honored for staking out new land. He looked at me like unclaimed property, but he’d be wrong. I’d already been occupied. I’d been raped and pillaged, plundered and used. Unoccupied by permanence, like an abandoned homestead, I’d been depleted of anything considered a natural resource. He could not live off me. I’d kill him, choke him on the poison that surged through my body, feeding my hatred of all things male.
“Get—” The word seethed from behind my teeth, hissing in a reptilian sound of pure displeasure, yet his abrupt twist cut short the rest of the venomous sound. Without a word, he spun toward the trees, and stepped upward, exuding an effortless stretch of his long legs as he climbed the rocky outcrop, pulling himself to the next level. He didn’t turn back—not even a slight glance over his shoulder to see if I watched his retreat.
If I recognized sadness, I’d think my heart pinched as he ignored me. His broad back rose over the rocks, dragging his muscular legs with him, carrying him away from me. But sadness no longer resided in me. I only wanted peace. I’d passed through the levels of despair. Forgiveness was the only step left to take. Learning another person lived on this island stood in my way. Realizing it was him made it worse.