Locked (Savage Men 2)

But not her.

I want her to stay.

Suddenly, she stops and plucks something off a bush.

I frown, staring at her. When she sees me looking, she mumbles, “I can use this later.”

A random plant? Right. Whatever she wants.

I sigh to myself as I turn and face the jungle again, determined not to let Jules distract me. First, we have to get back to the hut. I’ll figure out what to do with her after.

Chapter Eight

Accompanying Song: “Again” by Noah Cyrus

Juliet

As we get back to the hut, I breathe a sigh of relief, which is quite a surprise. Lock lies down on the bed, and I fill up the flask in the water barrel outside and hand it to him. Then I grasp a wooden cup from the table and pour in a tiny bit of water. I throw in the herbs that I found and smash them with a stone, rubbing them until only the residue mixed with the water remains.

Together with a small banana leaf I found in one of his handmade closets, I approach him. He sits up right away, vigilant as I come closer. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, but the wounds on his body definitely need to be examined.

I sit down on the bed beside him—not too far but not too close either. I dab the leaf in the mixture and try to rub it on his skin where the gashes and bruises are, but he immediately pulls back, throwing me a glare that could scare away wolves.

Standing my ground, I say, “It’ll help.”

I gently grasp his arm again and pull it toward me gently, so he won’t get agitated. He finally gives in and lets me rub it in. He hisses and sneers at me. “That hurts.”

“It won’t if you let it sit for a while.” I want to help him and repay the debt I feel I have because he saved me … But if he won’t let me, there’s not much I can do.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Just some herbs to numb the pain and rinse the wound,” I explain. There’s not much else around in this jungle, but I know how to use it to my advantage.

“Herbs …” he growls, and he turns his head away as I keep rubbing the wounds.

His arm rests on my lap as I work on him, and I can’t help but be amazed by the sheer size of him and the veins protruding from his skin. He’s probably the most muscular man I’ve ever seen. And touched …

God.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand, but he keeps sneaking peeks at me and making me blush.

Shit.

He kept me in a pit like an animal. He’s not someone to pine over. Ever.

You need to focus on getting out of here, Jules.

I can’t be thinking about any of this right now.

I’m stranded on an island without communication with the outside world.

People died.

People are actually dead, and I’m sitting here, helping the one who’s trying to keep me here.

Tears well up in my eyes as the guilt washes over me.

I should be doing something instead of sitting here.

Something … but what?

My phone is dead, and I have no way to get back home.

How am I going to let everyone know what happened?

How am I going to do justice to Pete, Ollie, and the pilot and bring their bodies back to their families?

I clear my throat and put down the bowl. “Done.”

When I look up again, he’s staring right into my eyes, and it makes me inch back. His hand rises to my face, and I flinch. His thumb gently brushes across my cheek, and then his whole hand rests on my cheek and jaw. I stop moving. I stop breathing entirely because of the shock.

He’s actually touching me … softly.

Sweetly … as if he wants to console me. As if he wants to give me more than anger.

I’m stunned by his sudden warmth. And I’m not even scared.

I should be. He’s dangerous.

He could lunge at any moment and hurt me.

I shouldn’t trust him.

I lean away from his hand and attempt to get up, but he grabs my wrist.

“No,” he says, his voice not as dark and alarming as before but still stern.

Frowning, I bite my lip and say, “Let me go …”

The face he gives me is not the same one I saw before. Not contorted, but with brows raised and a soft expression. Why? Is he pitying me?

“You’re sad.”

No shit, and part of it is his fault, but I won’t say that. Not out loud.

He wouldn’t understand anyway. Right?

“Don’t,” I reply, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

I don’t want to discuss it because it’ll only make me feel things I don’t have room for right now. I need to focus on survival first.