Chapter One
Liandra Powers ignored the annoying sensation of prying eyes boring into her skull. Like a moth attracted to light, people couldn’t help themselves when they saw a person who didn’t fit the conventional norms of society. No matter how stealthy they tried to be, she sensed their censure. The cherry red hearing aids stood out. She’d long abandoned the sense of shame that came with having special needs.
Without this wondrous device, she didn’t hear much more than bass, and the vaguest notion of voices. People were always embarrassed when their kids asked her about the “thing” on her ear. In reality, she found the frankness refreshing, and preferred it to the assumptions and speculation. Being the subject of whispered conversation never felt nice. No matter how many years of training you had.
“Excuse me, miss, can I get you something to drink?”
Liandra glanced up and shook her head at the graceful flight attendant with flaxen hair, a brilliant smile, and a model-thin frame. Clad in a navy uniform and a jaunty scarf she exuded cheer.
“No, thank you.” Liandra turned back to the window. The clouds above looked gray and ominous. Her stomach fluttered. If she could drive to a shoot, she would, but Hawaii left her with no options other than air travel. Thoughts of the assignment replaced the unease with a slow-simmering excitement.
This is my opportunity to break through! A wedding photo shoot for the popular magazine was an achievement to be proud of. Imagery developed in her mind like camera film. The destination ceremony in a tropical paradise had been done a million times over. How can I make it different?
She leaned forward, dug the black book bag out from beneath the seat in front of her, unzipped the back section, and pulled out a manila envelope. A few minutes later she had the model’s photos spread out on the lowered dinner tray. They were gorgeous. With beautiful tan skin that boasted a Pacific Islander ancestry, she had piercing brown eyes and thick, black hair. The woman, Tania, had high cheekbones, lush lips, and an average height with curves in all of the right places. Her waist-length curls begged for flowers ... orchids.
Creativity rose, dampening the irritability and discomfort she’d sunk into previously. A playful ‘vintage meets exotic’ theme began to come together. Photography had been her savior, the one thing she excelled at. Her profession allowed her to express herself without words and provided an escape.
She’d learned early on how harsh and unforgiving the world could be. Dark-skinned, deaf, and equipped with extra curves, there were times she felt as if there’d been a target permanently painted on her back. If she hadn’t come up in a small town in the south, things might be different.
The violent sway of the plane jerked her from her musings.
The fasten seat belt light dinged. She quickly tidied her area and replaced her tray. Flight attendants rushed forward in the aisle way, and people scrambled for their seats.
“Ladies and gentleman, we will be experiencing severe turbulence. We ask that you fasten your seatbelts,” the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker steady and calm.
Not buying his indifference, she focused on not hyperventilating. I really hate flying.
The plane dropped. Cries of alarm filled the cabin. Clenching her jaw, Liandra gripped the armrests for dear life. Her knuckles ached in protest, and her heart thudded. They plummeted, straight down. The overhead bins gave way. Bags fell onto the grounds. Tremendous pressure formed behind her ears and her chest constricted.
Oxygen masks deployed from above. She reached out, grabbed the circular cup, and struggled to put it over her face as she fought against the direction gravity wanted to twist her body. Inhaling deeply, she flooded her lungs with the brain-clarifying substance. Panic blurred the sharp edges of her vision, and mentally clarity fled.
Her gaze darted around, taking in the stricken faces of her fellow passengers. This is where my story ends with no legacy behind me, and few to mourn. A thunderous boom sounded. Loose debris floated around the cabin. The plane began a wild death spiral. Disoriented, she saw the world in double. Pain detonated in her body as the plane connected with something solid. Her head hit the wall, and she knew no more.
Liandra opened her eyes and squinted at the light. A dull ache tapped a rhythm in her head and continued down her body. Fragments of memory rushed back. The plane crashed. She pushed up into a sitting position and cringed. Silence. No, that couldn’t be right. She reached up to touch her hearing aid and found nothing but the cartilage of her ear. Sound burst from her vocal cords as she cried out.
She could feel the vibrations, yet, her world remained stuck on mute. How can I be rescued if I can’t hear anything? Fear gave her the slap on the face she needed. Focused, she took in her surroundings. White sand covered the ground beneath her feet. A canopy of tall, tropical trees nearly blocked out the light above her. Ridiculous how idealistic this place appears, given the horror that led us to be here. If there is an us.
Scanning the floor around her, she searched for the aids and came up empty. She hit her knees and sifted sand with her hands. After what felt like forever, she admitted defeat. They were gone, and if she wanted to find her way out of here, she needed to leave while she still had light. A twinge of pain brought her hand up to cover her ribs, and she limped through the area, stepping over tree roots and watching for signs of life. Proceeding forward, she was careful to keep a watchful eye on the brush for any sign of movement.
The ground shook. She turned in the direction of the vibrations, and ran toward the source, desperate to hold on to what could be her only link to the plane and other survivors. A heavy weight slammed into her. Iron bands held her tight. Dazed and breathless, she froze. Suddenly, she was lifted like she weighed nothing, then placed onto her back. Confused, she tilted her head and met the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. Disheveled, dirt-smudged, bleeding from various nicks and cuts, the man’s angular face and fast-moving thin lips were a thing of pure beauty.
She shook her head, cleared out the mental cobwebs, and shoved at his chest. He yielded, and scooting back to sit on his heels, he pointed in the direction she’d be going.
“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me yelling for you to stop? The plane is still burning and exploding,” he said.
“I can’t hear,” she replied.
Cupping her face in his palms, he inspected her closer. “Your ears aren’t bleeding. Maybe you were too close to the explosions. Do you hear ringing?”
Touched by his kindness, she covered his hands and waited until his gaze returned to hers. “I was already like this before. I lost my hearing aids in the crash.”
His brow furrowed. “How are you answering me then?”
She snickered at the common question. “I read lips.”
“Oh.” His lips formed a circle.
She grunted. “Mind getting off me?”
“Y-yeah, sorry.” He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair.
“Have you seen anyone else?” she inquired.
He paused. “You’ve been the only one alive.”
Tears swam to the surface. She closed her eyes and inhaled. A warm weight rested on her shoulders, and she lifted her heavy lids.
“Hey, you and me, we’re going to be okay.” Her mystery man gave her a kind smile. She frowned, not one to rely on pretty packaging as a guide to what lay beneath. Still, he’d probably saved her life. Sobered by the thought, she pushed up to a sitting position.
“Thank you. I think you just saved my life.”
“My pleasure ...” He leaned forward, giving her an expectant gaze.
“Oh! I’m Liandra Powers.”
“Liandra, I’m Kirk Watford.”
Kirk. I wonder what he sounds like. The scent of smoke lingered, but beneath it, she smelled a rich, masculine, and maddeningly enticing aroma. “What’s going on out there?” she asked.
“Chaos. The plane split. Maybe on impact?” He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s all a muddled blur. I washed up on the beach. There were bodies floating in the water, face down on the sand. I checked them for a pulse.” He shook his head. “When the first engine blew, I ran for it. You’re the only one I’ve seen since.”
“Do you think others survived?”
“I do. Best I can figure, the plane broke into pieces, and each one landed on a different part of the island.”
She combed her fingers through her hair, shaking free tiny grains of sand that rained down over her body. “What do we do?”
“Once the firework display is done, I think we should salvage. I’m not sure what the island has to offer food wise, or how long it’ll be until we’re found.” He shrugged.
Unable to find fault with his reasoning, she nodded. Kirk rose, offering her his hand, and she accepted. A powerful surge of electricity jolted her. His eyes widened, and his thick, golden eyebrows arched upward. He pulled her up and released her, breaking the mysterious connection.
“Since I know where I’m going, how about I take the lead? If you need to stop for any reason, just give me a tap on the shoulder.”
“Works for me.” She hated the liability her lack of hearing presented. Her entire life she strove to pull her own weight, regardless of the limitations others incorrectly labeled her with. Now, when she needed to be at her best, she’d become dependent upon a stranger. She didn’t appreciate life’s irony one bit.
“Okay, we’ll set out. The sun is starting to go down.” He began the journey at a fast clip. She followed, once again swallowed by quiet. They breached the tree line, and the breath left her lungs in a rush. The beach looked like Armageddon. Kirk’s account hadn’t done the utter destruction justice. Limp bodies lined the sand, twisted at angles impossible for any living person, barring a contortionist.
Cloth billowed out in the water around people who remained face down, bobbing like apples. Suitcases, purses, and damp items she couldn’t recognize yet dotted the shoreline. Coldness seeped into her body. She went numb. How have we alone been spared? She hugged her stomach, walking onto the bloodless battlefield. Sure the dead bodies would rise as zombies any second.
Kirk stopped in front of a blue backpack, knelt, unzipped it, and then dumped the contents. A large bottle of water rested on top of the small pile. He held it up triumphantly, motioning for her to join him. She sank to her knees beside him.
“Let’s salvage what we can. Here, you can have this bag, okay?” He handed her the bag.
She had to commend him. He didn’t treat her like her lack of hearing made her an idiot or speak to her as if someone had pressed slow motion on his speech pattern.
“Got it. Just don’t drift too far. This is creepy shit.” A shudder shook her.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Agreed.”
Taking the bag from his hands, she added the bottled waters he handed her and dialed down her emotions. Once they’d gotten everything possible from the crash site, and set up camp, she could splinter. Right now, their survival depended on smart thinking and quick action. The purses she came across gave them a few more bottles of water, a lighter, pieces of paper, gum, breath mints, numerous bags of airplane peanuts, and half a dozen waterlogged cell phones.
He knelt in front of her. “We should move down the beach, look for one of the service carts.” Together they amassed two book bags worth of items and made a rough estimate where other pieces might have landed. The sun began to sink, tinting the sky orange and pink.
“We can’t stay here. Whatever animals live here will be attracted to the bodies.”
“What do you suggest we do?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Find a place in the forest to set up and try to start a fire.”
“Here’s where you tell me you’re an ex-Boy Scout, right?” she said hopefully. She did many things well, but roughing it had never been a thing she excelled at.
His body shook with laughter. “I’m more of the troublemaker type.”
“Not surprised.” She exhaled through her mouth.
“Okay, Ms. Tattooed Sleeve.”
“These?” She gestured toward the brilliant display of flowers that stopped above her elbow.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, rebel.”
“Naw. It’s just a little self-expression.”
He pursed his lips, and she giggled. He had an incredibly expressive face. God, it feels good to laugh about something trivial. I wonder what he looks like all cleaned up.
“You know if we can’t get a fire started, we can’t communicate.” Realization bloomed in his eyes.
She sighed. “I realized. I guess we’ll have to caveman it, and use our hands.”
A wicked flame flickered in the blue gems he called eyes before he extinguished it. “We should go.” He nodded toward the wooded area.
Yes, we should.
****
IN THE END, THEY LUCKED out and found a cave about fifteen minutes from the beach. After an examination with a makeshift torch—which they’d managed to make from leaves, a now dry airline blanket, and a lighter—Kirk felt confident the space didn’t house any dangerous living creatures. With their lighter, sticks, and kindling made of leaves and moss, they started a small fire. Liandra sat beside him. Her lush body pressed to his so he could view her lips. The full, pink temptations teased him with every syllable she uttered. I’m a sick fuck. He’d faced his mortality tonight, and this courageous woman made him feel alive. He’d always considered himself partial to blondes. Now, his dick seemed hard-wired for full hips, breasts he wanted to bury his face into, and miles of golden-brown skin.
She tapped his shoulder, drawing his eyes to her.
“What’s wrong?” Her unique voice seduced him. A blend of sweet, southern twang, and a distinctive tone he attributed to her lack of hearing, it endeared her.
He licked his lips. “Nothing.”
“The tension could fill up the cave it’s so thick,” she said.
That’s not the only thing that’s thick. He raked his gaze over her.
“Come on, don’t clam up on me. Your chattiness calmed me.” She smiled.
“It’s just hitting me. We almost lost our lives today.”
Her chilly fingers caressed his cheek, and she leaned forward into her touch. “And yet, here we sit.”
“What if that’s not what I want to be doing?” He covered her hand with his own.
“W-what?” Her pupils dilated.
The onslaught of emotions crashed down, drowning him in their ferocity. Leaning in, he captured her lips. The taste of the salty-sweet peanuts they’d eaten for dinner mixed with her natural flavor. He moaned, sucking her tongue. Her hands slid up to grasp his hair, and he moved in, seeking more. He gripped her thick, soft locks and pulled them tight. A feminine purr rumbled through her.
Yes. His dick threatened to explode inside of the damp denim of his jeans.
He moved back. “I need more,” he said. The air between them sparked. Passion roared to life. They shed their clothes like they were on fire. The flickering flames highlighted the skin he longed to explore. Next time. There’d be nothing slow or gentle about this. He tugged her to him, and their lips came together violently. Her teeth dug into the flesh of his bottom lip, and he gripped her ass hard, rubbing his cock against the slick lips of her entrance. The fragrant scent of her arousal reached his nose. He dropped to his knees, spread her legs wide, and dove between her thighs, sucking her juicy lips into his mouth.
“Kirk!” Her hoarse cry urged him on, and he licked her from front to back, leaving no part of her unexplored. He circled her rosette, dipping the tip of his tongue inside. She shuddered, and he moved back to her pussy, thrusting his stiff tongue inside of her heated center.
“Kirk, please.” She rolled her hips, and he worked her over the way he intended to with the stiff cock between his legs. Her muscles fluttered around him, and he gripped her ass, pulling her closer as he delved deeper.
“Oh, I’m going to come, I’m going to come.” She clamped down on him, releasing a spray of liquid he swallowed down eagerly.
After easing her through her orgasm, he stood. She explored him with the soft pads of her hands, leaving goose bumps on his flesh. His stomach muscles jerked in response to her feather-light touch, and finally, she held him in her hands. His cock twitched, and she smirked, tightening her fist and stroking him.
“I need you now.” The husky quality of his voice sounded foreign. He’d never been so turned on in his entire life.
“Yes,” she said.
Grabbing the supple flesh of her thighs, he lifted her up to wrap her legs around him. His dick slid between her folds. She was warm and wet, and he couldn’t wait. With one true thrust, he impaled her, relishing the cry of pleasure she released as she arched her back, and clawed his shoulder with her nails. Her pussy was a silken glove; handcrafted just for him. Lost in the incredible sensation that came from reaffirming life, he lifted and lowered her fast, pounding into her pussy like it was his last sexual experience, because who knew when or if they’d be found?
He shoved the thoughts into the back of his mind and focused on her face. Beautiful. With her lips parted, her hair tumbling behind her like a black curtain, and face highlighted by the soft light, she was a Renaissance painting come to life. All soft, rounded angles, and an angelic face. She flexed her muscles, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Jesus, is she trying to kill me? His arms shook, and he adjusted their angle, finding the magical spot that made her scream down the walls in the cave. Harsh breathing and moans filled the space. Her body spasmed and she yielded, shooting over the edge and taking him with her. He pumped her full of his seed, enjoying the keen sense of pride and accomplishment as she milked him dry.
She slid her legs down his body, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight. Pressing his nose against her neck, he took a moment to enjoy the lax feel of his muscles and the hazy happiness of his mind. She grounded him to this moment, taking away the chaos that raged around them.