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Jake caught his breath, coveting the loving strokes she applied to the boy's back. How long had it been since he'd felt the comforting touch of a caring woman? A very, very long time.
Not since Ava.
Amid a flutter of activity, the younger children thrust themselves into the scene, piling on top of the revived boy with the pure-hearted affection only children possessed. They ought to give the boy some space so he could continue to catch his breath in peace, but none of them seemed to be worried about that. The revived boy flashed Zorah a wan smile, his color improving with every minute out of the water.
Zorah affectionately tousled his head before rising to grab the crawling baby, indignant at being left behind. She plopped the child near the other three, grinning affectionately when the baby grabbed onto the older boy's arm, demanding her share of his attention.
Did the young ones understand the boy had nearly died? Did they know how close he'd come? How easy it was for a life to disappear, as if it never existed? No, they probably didn't. Why would they? They were children, protected and cared for by their community, the way children were meant to be.
Jake turned away, discomfort crawling up his neck at the poignant display, and his attention snagged on the other boy stranded on the broken-down swimming platform. Another loose thread to tie up before he could close this chapter and return to his worksite.
With a guttural grunt, he caught Zorah's eye, shocked by the jolt that went through him as their gazes met.
Now, in the relative calm, nothing stopped him from staring as sunlight gilded her like an earth-stranded angel. Her eyes, deep amber flecked with gold, were shaped like lazy water drops napping on their sides, fat in the middle and softly angled up at the outer edges. Full, dark eyebrows arched across her forehead, thick and pronounced against the warm tan of her skin. The luxurious brows added gravitas to her youthful face, imparting a seriousness that offset dozens and dozens of adorable russet-colored freckles. The small dots frolicked in wild abandon over her forehead and nose, cascading down her cheeks as if on a quest to reach her bountiful lips.
And who could blame them? She had the most heavenly pair. Two pillows of rosy delight as full and luscious as her brows but infinitely more seductive. He wanted to sample them, to test their texture and firmness, to flick his tongue against the dainty seam and entice a soft sigh to emerge. A craving for her taste possessed him, making him clamp his fists to hold it in check. Much like her scent, he knew she'd taste sweet — sugary oranges and tart tangerines, with a touch of pink peppercorns for a warming, zesty spice.
Saliva flooded his mouth, and a low rumble rolled up from his chest, an animalistic eruption from some deep, primal place.
Her big eyes widened, and her lips parted a hair's breadth, exactly the way he'd imagined seconds before. As she knelt on the rocks and sand, her scent mingled with the grimy, musty smell of sweaty children and the sandy scent of the lake, irritating him with contamination. He wanted to breathe a pure lungful, wanted to suck it in and rub it into his pores, wanted to immerse himself in a pool of pure Zorah. The worst combination of alluring and dangerous, this girl flipped him upside down and scrambled his brains. It wasn't her fault, but he couldn't handle this unbearable proximity.
Shaking it off, Jake cocked his head toward the water. "Can that one get himself back to shore?"
Zorah's perfect lips formed a disdainful purse. "I wouldn't count on it."
"I'll get him." Relieved to have another task, Jake edged toward the water.
For the second time, he dove. Stretching his limbs, he glided into smooth, assured strokes, his pace relaxed after the race for speed earlier. His muscles worked while the water streamed over his skin, and the old feeling of peace settled his spirit. Strangely, he couldn't recall the last time he'd indulged in a swim, and it felt odd to have been so long away from one of his favorite activities. Another example of something he'd lost in the AfterEnd.
He'd loved swimming as a child, as a teen, as a young man. Hell, he'd spent the first two years of TheEnd playing in the Gulf of Mexico, thinking things would improve if he sat tight and waited it out. Such foolhardy innocence bit him in the ass in the end, but was it innocence or arrogance? Whatever it was, the next hundred years beat both out of him in spades.
He reached the dilapidated swimming platform in no time. Due to a defective support leg, one side slumped into the water like a ship paused midway through sinking. On the other side, the waiting boy sat with his legs dangling over the edge, toes morosely skimming the water. He looked older than the other one, but his averted eyes made it hard to tell his exact age. Not that Jake had a good gauge on kids' ages anyway, that seemed much more like Zorah's department.
Jake put a hand on the platform while his feet trod water. "You good to swim back?"
"Is Nico okay?" The kid chewed on his thumbnail. "I-I didn't know the boat was going to break."
"A boat?"
"Found a canoe," the boy mumbled, eyes downcast. "It was rusted, but it seemed to work okay... until I put my foot through the bottom."
Jake filled in the rest of the story from there. "Did you get cut?"
The boy's head swung from side to miserable side in answer.
Jake scratched at the back of his neck, unsure of what to do with this obviously distraught youngster. He wasn't any kind of parent or...shit... crisis counselor or whatever. God knew, he wasn't fit to be counseling anyone on anything.
A peal of babyish laughter skated over the water. Jake turned toward the happy noise, only to find Zorah's eyes intent upon him. In an instant, all thoughts evacuated from his head, and his entire being became hungry, aching withwant.
God dammit.He'd fought so hard these past weeks to expel her from his thoughts. The night by the rocks had been too much. Too much exposure to her scent and her kindness and her curiosity. Curiosity abouthim, for fuck's sake, which he absolutely did not deserve, but, curse him, loved anyway. Without even trying, she'd elbowed into his psyche, and now he couldn't escape. He suspected that no distance away from her could change that, but in his feeble defense, he'd left her alone.
Except for the toys. The toys were his one concession. The one connection to her he allowed. Because they weren't forher, right? They were for the kids. Kids needed toys. Even he knew that. At night, when he couldn't sleep for fear of memories and nightmares, he'd fashion the blocks and boats and hammers from scraps of wood, sanding them down so no little fingers would get splinters. They weren't fancy; hell, they weren't even brightly painted the way toys ought to be. But what did these kids know about toys? They'd never played with electric scooters or video games. A pile of rocks was their damn jungle gym.
Jake refocused on the boy on the dock picking at his cuticles, sullen and ashamed. His heart went out to the kid. Small wooden playthings wouldn't interest these older boys. With nothing else to do, they'd find mischief, which is likely how this whole scenario played out.
"Look, kid." He sighed. "I'm here to get you back, so do you need help or not?"
Commotion broke through the gentle watery background noise. Footsteps pounded on the trail leading back to the village, and adult voices wafted over the lake, panic and worry in every nearly audible syllable.
