Page 92 of Dare
The prince stored plant samples into jars and pots. He itemized the collection, seemed satisfied by the assembly, and held a petal to the dim light.
I knew this sort of passion, felt it whenever I drew in the sand.
Then I recalled the mangoes I’d tried to harvest during our first hike together. Not only might it taste delicious, but Jeryn could have some medical use for it.
I crept away, leaving him to his work. Harnessing one of a dozen satchels I’d found in the textile cellar, I ventured from the ruins and located the thorn tree, my mouth watering at the ripe new crop of orbs hanging from the canopy.
Because the boa and I had developed a fellowship, I didn’t worry about an attack this time. Instead, I used the trunk spikes as footholds and eased myself around their tips. After collecting enough mangoes to fill my bag, I descended the trunk, nearly reaching the bottom when my foot slipped. A yelp lurched from my mouth as I smacked to the ground, most of the fruits scattering across the understory.
When I shifted to get up, sharp jolts tore through my side. I wailed while forcing myself to stand and toil back to the ruins via the cave tunnels, one of which ended at the main steps. It took I-don’t-know-how-long to climb them, and I kept hunching over, pausing to lean against the railing, with only a few mangoes left in my satchel because it had hurt too much to gather the rest. Once I got to the threshold, I buckled against the door frame, the rainforest spinning in my vision.
As if sensing a problem, the prince materialized at the threshold. Taking one look at my clammy features, he strode forward.
“Fuck,” Jeryn hissed, catching me before I fell. “Turbulent woman. Glutton for disaster. Reprehensible bane of my—”
“Okay,” I griped. “The rainforest and I are kindred. It would never scathe me for good unless I deserved it, dishonored it, or stopped trusting it. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“On the fucking ground, where it belongs.” Jeryn fingers roamed over my abdomen, his touch rousing a horrible and all-too-familiar vision of me arching toward him while my cunt drenched his tongue.
“You cracked a rib,” he gritted out.
Hellfire. That would make it hard to fish, hike, and complete a thousand other tasks.
I threw a fit to keep the prince from carrying me. Instead, I leaned my body into his as he took the bag from my shoulder and supported my weight inside.
Even with all the ingredients he’d amassed, Jeryn could do nothing for my rib. He tucked me into my bed, and I cursed life itself. Though, I didn’t mind the prince doctoring my injury and hovering over me, nor the blue slide of his hair across my mouth. If it weren’t for the nastiest hurt in the world, I would have paid more attention to the sensations.
“Don’t fucking do that again,” Jeryn warned, then caught the urgency in his tone and steeled his voice. “We don’t have enough supplies for mishaps.”
True. Regardless of what the ancients had left behind, we weren’t living like Royals. Still, that wasn’t the only reason his words had shook with worry, though we pretended not to hear it.
***
Each rain blessed me as I offered myself to the initiations. Vapor rain was safe, whereas lightning rain pierced flesh, and thunder rain produced a bruising shower that pounded its fists down on us. Meanwhile, celestial rain shimmered like falling stars, which didn’t last long and happened only at night. Lastly, storms at dawn scalded like acid—ember rain, according to the legend.
Turned out, breaking my rib wasn’t the last time Jeryn got upset when I threw myself into danger’s path. The prince applied an ointment to my ember rain blisters, though the pain lasted hours.
We concluded the droplets affected humans and the fauna, but not the landscape or inanimate objects. Ultimately, only creatures were at the sky’s mercy.
After experiencing my rites of passage, I avoided all but the celestial and vapor rains. Gradually, the prince and I learned when to trust the sky and when to escape it.
***
The echo of flowing water led us to an oasis where waterfalls cascaded down hilly brackets and splashed into a turquoise pond. After smelling and touching and tasting the water, we reckoned it swimmable.
On the bank, I sketched Papa’s lopsided grin, Mama’s peaceful stare, Poet’s wicked eyes, Briar’s freckled profile, and Jeryn’s cold stare. A melody played in my ears, my throat humming as I finished. When a breeze tossed sand from a distant area into the air, I danced inside the funnel, revolving my wrists, swaying my hips beneath a strappy dress, and kicking my legs—and stumbling.
Backdropped by the cascades, Jeryn watched me. His eyes kindled like timbers, the impact both a thrill and a threat.
It took forever for him to shatter the distance between us. His tall body sauntered forward with stealth and loomed before me, his open shirt flapping in the wind, almost but not quite caressing my bodice. It was the almost that probed the slit between my thighs, where his mouth had spread me open.
My tongue peeked out. I licked bits of salted gold from my lips, a wet trail that his gaze followed.
A teardrop of sweat glided down his temple. His mouth opened, primed to speak.
I braced myself, my pulse thudding and need coiling in the nexus of my thighs. No matter how much time passed, my urges only became more dire. Especially when I stashed myself in hidden parts of the ruins and fingered my pussy. While plying the tender walls, stroking my clit until it swelled, and pumping my fingers, I would imagine his face and body and lips until my walls contracted, and I came into my fist, with his name ripping from my lips.
The evidence must have shone on my face because Jeryn’s pupils darkened, seconds before he tore his gaze away and strode past me.