The Edge of the World

Chapter Nine

  "I don't get it," Tatum said as they plowed through the woods, their feet crunching the snow. "The only way that SOS sign will work is if we light it on fire. It's foggy as all hell here. No plane is going to see it unless it's burning."

He glanced back at her, taking in her scrunched expression as she scratched at her arms and face. "Yeah, well, it's at least something. Maybe the branches will dry out enough to burn when we hear a plane. Did you notice the snow didn't reach the beach? Like the storm only hit inland? Man, fuck this place," he said on an exhale, tired of trying to comprehend the mysterious island. After three days, he was no closer to understanding their whereabouts than the day he woke on the shore.

Listening to her scratch at her arms and growl in frustration was grating on his last nerve, until he finally turned back to her. He grabbed her arm, and shoved the sleeve high to examine her flesh, searching for an explanation for her annoying angst. Beyond the ink and scarring were the welts from whatever mayhem she'd found herself in the night before. The marks looked inflamed and irritated by her scratching, and along the angry lines were tiny bumps, exposing the effects of some poisonous shrubbery.

"Poison ivy?" he wondered aloud, and she pulled her arm from his grasp, eyeing the rash in confusion.

"Might be, I guess. Although I've never heard of poison ivy or poison oak having thorns, but what do I know? UGH! The itching makes me want to die, though." She gave her forearm a vigorous rub before turning her ministrations to her face and chest where more of the injuries tormented her.

"Let's just get back to the cabin. We might find something to help you there. I saw an old First Aid Kit under the bathroom sink."

Tatum grumbled something and proceeded to follow him, but then stopped, staring off to her right. The realization she'd grown quiet captured his attention, and he turned back to see what she was up to.

"What is it," he asked, taking in her intense stare.

"The lake," she replied. Then a smile touched her full lips and she begin walking towards it. He opened his mouth to stop her. She was crazy if she thought a lake healed people. Hell, it was probably frozen over, considering how cold it got in the early hours of the morning.

"Come on, Tatum, it's cold out here. You'll freeze your ass off if you get in there."

If she heard him, she didn't show it, continuing her course towards the water, which still rippled, much to his surprise. He moved to follow, hoping to talk her out of this madness, when she dragged her sweater off, her black bra the only thing keeping her breasts from view. His breathing hitched, and he froze, his muscles turning to stone. He watched, unblinking, like a creeper, as she walked and stripped, leisurely making her way to the water, donning only her panties and bra, her clothes leaving a trail in the snow behind her.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mouth went dry, and his vision had veins of foggy crimson lining it. He let his gaze roam her pale flesh, taking in every inch of her that the black undergarments and long, dark hair didn't hide. He wanted her. God, he wanted her in a way that would get him arrested if he acted upon it.

Voices spoke in his head, and he knew it was his voice, but merged with other forms of himself, all murmuring in unison.

And the words spoken were ancient, and powerful, unholy, yet blessed. They were demanding he succumb to the cravings and take her. Admit his desire for her. His love and need for her.

The passion between he and Tatum was a conflict that would never be finished, the voices warned. There was no surrender and only bouts of conquering. Their battle would always wage, one trying to best the other. Their love was a dark one. An eternal battle of wills. It was war loving her and it was hell being without her.