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Sticks and stones may break my bones and whatnot.
Albeit, the stones hurt like a bitch.
It takes no time for me to find a small aluminum boat, flipped over and shoved underneath the back deck. “Bingo,” I say, finally smiling. “Now for a motor.”
Moving away from the deck, I walk to one of the small sheds in the cottage's backyard. The door has a deadbolt locking it. I start fishing around on the upper rim of the door. Leon stands beside me, arms crossed. “So, what are you doing now?” He asks, clearly still not on board with the idea that I have this covered.
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I finally feel what I’m looking for on the upper rim of the shed. I pull down the key and work on opening the lock. “Like I said, most of these tourists are only here a few weeks of the year. But often, they let their friends and family come and stay when they aren’t around. I highly doubt someone who owns a new higher tech boat would let inexperienced friends and family take it out on their own. So, instead, they keep the motors to their smaller, easier-to-manage boats in the shed and leave the key out so their friends and family can use them whenever they come down. I’d be willing to bet the house keys are also hidden around the doors.”
I’m pulling the lock off the door and opening it as I finish my perfectly logical explanation.
Leon only arches an eyebrow, looking less than impressed as we peer inside the shed, seeing it’s empty except for a few cans of paint and a couple of kayaks. I mentally log the kayaks as another fallback plan, and I shut the door and re-lock it before replacing the key.
I head for the next shed down the line of cottages as Leon interjects. “You’re a bit more polished at this whole breaking and entering thing than I expected. I find I am a bit at odds with this aspect of you. It very drastically contrasts what I know of you.” His eyebrows are furrowed as if he’s frustrated with this development.
I scoff at his words. “No kidding, Leon. I’m not Cassandra. We are separated by thousands of years and have been shaped by completely different life experiences. That’s what I mean when I say the bond might not be real. This love that you’ve felt. It isn’t for me. I’m a different person. Only breaking the bond will let us know for sure.”
Leon's eyes darken at my statement. “You’re wrong.” He pulls my arm and stops my walking, turning me to face him. “I don’t care what life has shaped you into. Your soul, your spirit, is the same. Nothing can change that love, and no matter how little you believe it, to your core, you are the same.”
He pauses now, his eyes taking on their feral look again. “Breaking our bond won’t give you clarity, Vivian. It will shatter you. Will shatter us. I thought I made it abundantly clear last night. You aremine. No matter what you believe about the magic that draws us together. No matter how badly you fight it, there is no beating it. It’s already written into our destinies. You. Will. Always. Be. Mine.” His tone is vicious as he spits each of his last words, punctuating them by wrapping his fingers into my hair and jerking me towards him before crushing his mouth to mine.
I feel momentary shock before the bond springs back to life, enveloping me with the same heat. It’s like a drug,the haze that pours over me, making it difficult to think a straight thought and always leaving me craving more.
Leon’s mouth claims mine, and he holds me so tightly, I’m sure I’ll have bruises on my arm where one of his hands still holds me. His grip on my hair is no less punishing, and I feel some of my hair being pulled out.
I go limp in his arms as my body gives in to the heat that the bond commands, not daring to fight it. As soon as he feels me relax into him, Leon loosens his grip. He softens the kiss until he finally releases me.
I’m quiet, feeling on edge. Rather than facing him, I turn and continue for the shed ahead of us.
This one has no key on the ledge, but I find it a few minutes later, underneath a well-placed rock, leaning up against the back of the shed. If the owners took extra care to hide this key, it has potential. Coming around to the shed door where Leon waits, I don’t bother showing him I’ve found the key. Clearly, the man is not happy with my excellent critical thinking skills.
Instead, I unlock the door, swinging it open to find a small motor hanging from a stand on the back wall. There’s a can of gasoline next to it. I motion for Leon, and he comes in, wordlessly picking up the motor. I grab the gas can and think to also grab a coiled length of rope hanging on one of the walls. Together, we return to the pier, setting them down.
Still, in silence, we make a second trip, carrying the aluminum boat. Tying off the boat, I step inside and wordlessly try to figure out how to latch on the motor once Leon hands it down to me. My experience with boats and motors is severely lacking. Still, I figure it out,finding the small clamps on one side and securing the motor as tightly as possible.
Unsure what to do next, I spot the pull cord. I yank it, hoping something will happen. No luck. Leon gets on board now. I turn to him. “Have you got any experience with motors?”
Again, Leon lets the skepticism bleed from him. “No, I haven’t had the occasion to be around them.”
I turn away from him. I’m not going to take the bait from his tone. I eye the motor again, and then spot what I thought was an empty flat gas can in the back corner of the boat. Looking at it more closely, I see a small line extending from it. I can’t help but smile at solving another bit of the puzzle. I connect the small line to the motor.
Fuel.
Fuel probably helps the boat do the wholegothing.
Leon calls from behind me, sounding impatient now as the sun is starting to rise. “Just unlock my collar, Vivian. Let me take care of things.”
Once again, I ignore him, not entirely sure I even like him right now.
I can do this.
The bond gives a slight tug at my irritation, and I pay no attention to it. The bond is strong, but I’m stubborn. Besides, I’m rapidly developing a long list of reasons not to want to give into the bond anymore.
I add some gas from the small can we brought along. It takes me a few more minutes of tinkering before I get the engine to roar to life. Silently, I reach over to the dock and untie us. It isn’t the best boat driving you’ve ever seen, but I do my best to navigate the small waves.
Evidently still in an unhelpful and foul mood, Leon asks. “So, how are you going to find the island? Have you got any experience navigating?”
Again, that underlying skepticism grates at me. I take a deep breath to stamp down my newfound temper and answer patiently. “I took the ferry last summer when I visited the island. Once I see the ferry, I’ll have a reference point. The island is a straight fifteen minute boat ride from the ferry.”
