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Miraculously, the wind abated for a few minutes—a long enough window for Crista, Shai, Jagger, and Shiraz to make it successfully to the buoy. I watched, heart swelling, as the kids riveted their attention on their prince, giving frightened nods to questions he shouted. But even from this distance, I could practically read their little minds. Prince Shiraz is here. Everything is going to be fine.
They listened even more intently as Shiraz jabbed an arm at the sky. Had one of his orders into the radio been a call for helicopter involvement? How the hell that was going to happen in this storm, I had no idea—but if anyone could make it so via the sheer intensity of their belief, that person had to be him.
My chest expanded even more.
Maybe more than that.
Watching him take command of the situation, calming those kids in the middle of a dangerous crisis like this, bizarrely made me yearn to jump into the damn water myself, simply to be closer to him. Just like that, my mind flashed to the moments I had been that close, sharing passion and breath and orgasms with him—and suddenly, sharply, desiring it all over again.
No. Craving even more.
Without shame, I let the hot stings in my eyes blend with the chilled rain on my cheeks. I fought to rationalize it away, the magnitude of the situation taking over me, but my gut knew better. My soul knew better. It was him—and the fact that it was going to take a long fucking time to forget about him.
I forced more air down. Focused on bringing more of my senses back on line again. Smelling the tangy salt in the water. Ew-ing at the inch of wet sand my shoes had somehow collected. Concentrating on anything except how long it was taking for that damn helicopter to get here.
Especially as the storm intensified again.
“No!” I uttered, falling to the hillside next to Jayd. No way in hell was I wussing out by returning to the truck. Shiraz, Shai, Crista, and those kids had to stick this out, and I would too—despite how hard Shiraz glared at me for the decision. Yeah, I actually felt the intensity of his eyes across the waves. And yeah, I was tempted to flip him off for it, from here.
Saved by the radio.
I forgot my rashness when the handset, still pressed to my chest along with Shiraz’s clothes, suddenly squawked.
“Savage to Driver. Driver, come in. Savage to Driver.”
I rolled over, huddling my back over the radio. The wind was really starting to howl, so I hunched low and tight against the hill then pushed the fattest button on the side of the device, hoping I remembered enough about this from military movies. As if I’d ever focused on the damn radio when Channing Tatum was on screen.
“H-hello?”
Long pause. I shook the handset, wondering if I’d broken the whole thing. But finally, a voice barked, “Who is this?”
Okay, the button functioned. So did my temper. “Who the hell is this?”
Jayd yanked the radio from me. “Samsyn, it is Jayd. I am here with—”
“Jayd? What the fuck are you—”
“Calmay. There is no time!”
“The hell there is not. What in Creator’s name—”
“She’s right,” I barked into the device, newly seized back from the princess. “There’s no damn time.” At least not enough to referee a brother-sister spat. Besides, Samsyn sounded enough like Shiraz that I was strangely comforted. “My name is Lucina Fava. When are you guys sending the helicopter for those kids?”
Another pause. “Lucina Fava? The wedding planner?”
“Not the damn Queen of England,” Jayd muttered.
“Yes.” I gritted my teeth to keep it calm.
“What the fuck are you doing out there?”
So much for gritted teeth. Or being civil. “I’ll update my social media when I get a second, okay? For now, you want to give me an ETA on that helicopter, because Shai Storm, Crista Noble, Jagger Fox, and your little brother are hanging on a buoy in the middle of the Mousselayan, trying to keep a pair of six-year-olds safe!”
It only took a few seconds for the radio to crackle this time—imagine that—though it sounded like Samsyn had used the gap to swear his brains out. I caught the end of an English-Arcadian profanity mash-up before he yelled, “ETA on the helo is two minutes. Can you tell them that?”
“I—I don’t know.” The wind had abated but that was because the rain had intensified. As I ducked my head to protect the radio again, the sides of my neck became dual waterfalls. “We’ll try.”
“Outstanding.”
