Surviving Raine (Surviving Raine 1)

I don’t know how I ended up in the fucking window seat. I fucking hated window seats.

The prop plane had room to seat nine, not including the pilot. There were only the four of us on it, though. The pilot was a dark skinned-guy with tightly twisted braids hanging all around him. It was so long, it made me wonder if it was all real or if he had fake shit weaved into his own hair. He spoke English with a Jamaican accent, and I wanted to strangle him with a Bob Marley hat for being so stereotypical. I didn’t speak to anyone during the flight, and as soon as we landed, I unclipped my seatbelt, climbed over Raine, threw open the door, and dropped onto the asphalt. I got about ten feet before six people were in front of me, flashing fucking cameras in my face and yelling out questions.

About a half second before I would have thrown a punch, John Paul was in between me and the journalist in front of me, pushing gently against the guy’s chest and telling him to lay off for a while. At least ten other guys dressed in uniforms approached, and a couple of them did a little crowd control. The others escorted the four of us out of the landing area and inside to a lounge of some sort. I had to take a piss, and I couldn’t decide if I was more annoyed that I couldn’t just whip my dick out and do it anywhere or gladder to be able to actually flush and wash my hands when I was done. Raine was chattering away about how fucking awesome toilet paper was – well, she didn’t actually say fucking, but still – and I couldn’t take how fucking thrilled she was to be away from our island.

I locked the bathroom door, leaned my back against it, and lit one of the Lobelia cigarettes I still had in my belt pouch. I guess I could have gone and bought some real fucking smokes, but I didn’t have any actual cash on me and I wasn’t about to ask anyone for some at this point. I still didn’t ev

en have a fucking shirt, for that matter. Shit – I’d have to get some money so I could find a fucking drink somewhere. My head was literally spinning – everything was happening way too fucking fast. I was back where I could get smokes and alcohol and clothes and a fucking hooker, if I wanted one. I didn’t want one. I didn’t want any of that shit.

I wanted to go back home.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a minute and then took a final draw on the cigarette, which both smelled and tasted of home. Part of it was comforting, but most of it just threw it all back in my face. Everything I wanted and needed was there…or at least it had been. Now there was nothing there for me because she was here. But everything else here – everything in the real world – I fucking hated it all. I hated the cities, the shops, the parks, the docks, the airports – fucking hated it. And the people…fuck, I hated them the most. I tossed the end of the smoke into the toilet and flushed it down.

As I opened the door, I heard Raine scream.

Visions of rapists, murderers, slavers, and drug lords ran through my head as I raced down the hall only to see her with a huge fucking grin and in some chick’s embrace. The girl was dark-skinned, chunky, had wild, dark hair that was just all over the place and a voracious grin. She was squealing at the top of her fucking lungs, holding on to Raine’s shoulders as they both jumped around in a circle.

“What the fuck are you screaming about?” I growled before I even realized what I was saying.

The chunky woman turned to look at me the same time as Raine did, and her eyes bore into my skull, narrowed, then slowly moved over to look at Raine.

“This is Bastian,” Raine said softly. “Bastian, this is Lindsay – we were just happy to see each other.”

“You sounded like you were…fuck it. Never mind.” Now that I had a clear enough head to think about it, it hadn’t been a scream of fear or pain at all, but that didn’t stop it from scaring the shit out of me.

Raine’s eyes went to Lindsay’s, and she looked a little contrite. Lindsay slowly looked from Raine, to me, and then back to Raine again.

“He saved me,” Raine told her, “more than once.”

Lindsay’s hands dropped, effectively releasing Raine. She turned and glided up to me, tilting her head upwards and sideways before standing on her tiptoes to fling her arms around my neck.

“Thank you,” she said. The sincerity was clear in her voice. “Thank you for saving my best friend. I don’t know what I would have done if I never saw her again.”

I didn’t respond, just looked over at Raine as Lindsay hugged me tightly for a moment, then she turned back to Raine and hugged her again, just for good measure. She took a step back, placed her hands on Raine’s shoulders, and looked her up and down.

“What are you wearing?” Lindsay inquired.

“Well…um…this is Bastian’s shirt…” Raine started to say.

“I think we need to get to the market.” Lindsay nodded. “Though you do look fabulous in basic black, that’s not exactly a flattering cut for you.”

Raine giggled. I tried to mentally come to terms with her shedding the last of my clothing, and failed miserably.

In what seemed to be under five minutes, we had sneaked around the reporters and out of the airport, found a taxi, and been driven to the nearest shopping area. Lindsay had given Raine one of her own shirts, which was too big and hung down low enough to practically display her nipples for the fucking world. My cock was pleased as punch, but I wanted to throw a punch at anyone who looked at her, which included John Paul glancing sideways at her from the front seat. I had put my own shirt back on, and we had both been given a pair of flip-flop shoes.

I fucking hated flip-flops.

Just sitting in the back of the cramped taxi, it was immediately obvious that Nick and Lindsay had something going on. Raine’s face scrunched up a little as Lindsay wholeheartedly agreed to sit on Nick’s lap so we could all fit in one vehicle. She didn’t seem thrilled with her friend’s obvious enjoyment in the pilot’s company, and I would have been lying to say I wasn’t intrigued as to why. I also wanted to hold her on my lap and tell her whatever she was worried about would be all right, but I didn’t quite dare. I hadn’t even touched her since we left the island.

The shopping area was a fucking nightmare.

It might have been a nightmare regardless of my current disposition, because trying to follow Lindsay and Raine as they sprinted through clothing rack after clothing rack was fucking exhausting. I would have rather battled a fucking shark to the death than try to keep up with those two. Take all of that and add my own issues, and you have what could only be described as a living hell.

For starters, guys stared at them all the fucking time.

I really, really wanted to go ballistic and throw her over my shoulder, then probably run off and hide her in the back of a cave somewhere, but I knew there wasn’t any point. I was going to have to get used to the idea that she wasn’t going to be mine anymore. Everything was different. She had choices now. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself until John Paul went and put his hands on her.

Raine had just come out of the women’s dressing room wearing a fairly short, flowing skirt with a blue and green tropical pattern on it and a tight, low cut blue shirt which showed off the tops of her tits and just about made my cock leap right off my body and start doing a little dance in the aisle. I was stunned for a moment, but when my eyes met hers, and she was looking at me with that sweet little shy-seductive, lip-biting, sexy-as-fuck gaze, I was readying to throw myself down on my knees and tell her I’d do fucking anything if she’d just stay with me…even if it was only for a little while. It didn’t matter how fucking unworthy I was of her, I had to do something – anything – to get her back.