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Aslan’s narrowed glare landed on my mouth.
He stiffened and shook his head, as if he could read my wayward thoughts. With a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders sagged and he gave in. “Okay, Jack. I’ll watch over your daughter for you.”
“And say you’ll have fun together.”
Aslan refused to meet my eyes all while I couldn’t control my smirk. “I’ll have fun with her.”
“Good lad.” Dad patted him on the back. “You’ll love it out there.”
“I’m sure I will.” Aslan croaked, flicking me another stare before stepping away from all of us. “I’ll make sure to bring her back to you in one piece.”
My heart pounded.
He could break a tiny piece of me.
A virgin piece that no one would see but would firmly bind me to him in body and soul.
Dad had no idea the secret undertones between Aslan and I, but it gave me a cheap thrill to believe the boy I cursed for chaperoning me had just promised to have fun with me.
We’re going to share a tent...
I shivered as a flurry of excited goosebumps cloaked me.
“I’ve got some old camping gear, the tent I mentioned, and some other supplies that you can take,” Dad said to Aslan. “Tomorrow morning, you and I will go shopping so that you’ll have all the essentials.”
“Essentials being...?” I asked, tearing my gaze from Aslan’s discomfort.
“A first-aid kit to rival any hospital, that’s for damn sure,” Mum said, standing and swirling the last mouthful of her wine. “I want antidotes and EpiPens. I want cures for every bite there could possibly be and a freaking tracking beacon so we can come and get you if anything goes wrong.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong, Mum,” I muttered. “You’ve met Zara’s mother and father. They’re insanely knowledgeable from all their trips abroad. They’ve been in far more dangerous places than Daintree.”
Not that they’re going...
That was a lie.
And one I did not feel guilty about.
I was fifteen now. Fifteen and ready to live.
“Sleeping in the Serengeti isn’t the same as the Australian wilderness,” Dad muttered. “One has hungry lions you hear coming, and one has creepy-crawlies that can kill you without a sound.”
“Fuck, are you sure you want Nerida going to a place like that?” Aslan asked stiffly. “It’s reckless for someone who isn’t equipped. I don’t agree, Jack. I think you should say no.”
“Oh, don’t you start.” I glowered at him. “I’m going. And I guess that means you’re going to.” I flashed a tight smile. “We leave tomorrow afternoon. I suggest you get ready to have some fun, Aslan.”
Hating that I sounded bratty but really needing some space, I disappeared into the house and slipped into my room.
Throwing myself face first onto my bed, I screamed into my pillow.
I screamed, not because I was still being treated like a child or even that I was the overly protected one bringing a damn bodyguard into the jungle.
I screamed because that bodyguard would be sharing my tent.
He would be watching over me as if my very life was his.
He was going to make it absolutely impossible for me not to kiss him at some point and I already knew how that would go.
I would kiss him.
He would hate me.
And the distance that he never let fade between us would grow impossibly, horribly wider.
Chapter Nineteen
*
Aslan
*
(Moon in Finnish: Kuu)
I SAT IN THUNDEROUS FURY AS NERI danced with her best friend Zara, their feet kicking up dried leaves, their laughter loose and free.
I hated that all she wore was her tangerine-coloured bikini, matching Zara’s decision to strip off her clothes almost the moment we arrived here.
I hated the guys sitting on their camp chairs, sipping beer, whispering to each other as they watched the girls spin and sway.
My hands balled into fists.
The lies she’d spun.
The tale she’d sold.
I had a good mind to wring her perfect little neck and take her back to Jack in a damn body bag. Because that was probably how this trip would end.
With me killing her.
Or killing Zara’s older brother, Joel.
Or maybe the other two guys Joel had brought.
Fuck, I might even murder the two girls sitting at the feet of the guys on garish bright blankets, their breasts barely covered by skimpy bikinis, their legs glistening from insect repellent.
They definitely looked closer to eighteen than fifteen, passing around a flask of something potent, giggling at something Joel said.
I sat alone.
Leaning against the tyre of Joel’s Ute, unable to take my eyes off Neri, in-case a snake appeared or a spider bit her or a fucking goanna launched at her from the bush.
Four hours we’d been here.
Four hours where each group had staked out a patch of the rented site, erected our mismatched tents, and placed the eskys (a new slang word I’d learned)—holding the food and copious amounts of alcohol that Joel and his friends had brought—in the most shady, coolest spot we could find.
