Delirium (Captive Love: Forced Proximity Standalones #4)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

SCARLETT

N ot for the first time since I’d stepped foot on Carpe Diem that morning, I wondered if I were playing with fire.

Camp wasn’t wrong. People who ended up on trips like this usually were running from something. Even though I knew very little about my companions, I knew what he said was true. We were all on the run from something. Searching for something.

It was just more tangible for some than others.

I had given Camp a truth, and now I wanted one in return. He thought he presented as a confident, self-assured man, but I could see through the facade.

He didn’t like how weak humans were. He didn’t like that he was human.

But at the end of the day, he was human, and all humans had flaws, chinks in their armor I could chip away at easily.

Camp watched me the same way I watched him. Examining. Sussing out the weaknesses.

Knowing this was the reason I let him into my room in the first place, knowing he had failings like the rest of us. I liked people who leaned into the cracks, and whether he knew it or not, Camp embraced the fractures spreading throughout.

A truth. If I pushed too hard, he’d push back. If I didn’t push hard enough, he would know I was scared.

Plain as day, if he asked the right questions, truth was I was scared of him, scared of the men on this boat, of how comfortable I felt around them after years of distancing myself from anything even close to friendships or, heaven forbid, a relationship.

His truth, though…

I chewed on my thumbnail, a terrible habit leftover from childhood, and presented my words carefully. “Why did you drop out of school?”

I expected him to lean away to think, but the opposite happened. Camp leaned in, brushing the unruly lock of hair I could never seem to contain behind my ear.

“I dropped out of school because I was tired of making mistakes.”

He froze there, with his hand on my cheek. I found myself leaning into the touch, trying to break apart the pieces of Camp. He thought school was a mistake. Either that, or what he was doing at school was a mistake. Curious.

“Truth or dare,” he murmured, as I watched his lips.

“Truth,” I whispered.

“Why are you on this boat?”

I screwed up my lips, not letting my carefully bottled emotions spill to the surface.

His eyes softened. “You can change your mind, you know. I’m not going to force you to tell me all your secrets.”

I laughed, trying to shake off the nerves creeping up my legs. “But you will force me to do a dare instead?”

“No, not that either.” His thumb swiped along my chin, an oddly reassuring gesture. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Scarlett. Anything that happens here is your choice.”

Anything that happens here.

Your choice.

What did I want to happen here?

“You’re full of contradictions, you know that?” This time, his smile reached his eyes at my words. “Dare.”

I knew what offering dare meant, because I knew the words destined to escape his mouth before he even spoke. Hadn’t we been leading here the entire day? Every second, every minute, leading up to this moment? It felt inevitable, one of those moments in history there was no getting around.

“Kiss me.”

Camp’s words were confident, but his eyes betrayed his anxieties lingering beneath the surface. He didn’t move closer to me, either, not that he needed to.

We were practically kissing already without me having to move the millimeters toward his mouth, soft and full and waiting for me to either chicken out or follow through.

“Camp,” I whispered, even as I closed the distance.

“It won’t mean anything. Two people looking for connection in a strange situation.”

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or me.

My lips pressed against his, and without thinking I grabbed for his shoulders, surprised at how muscular they were beneath his thin shirt.

Camp wrapped both hands on either side of my face, deepening the kiss immediately, his tongue darting out to lick the seam of my lips. With a soft moan, I opened my mouth instinctively for him. He responded by tangling his hand into my hair.

Was this what I had been missing out on for so long by isolating myself? Locking myself away in a tower, waiting for the nonexistent prince to save me from myself?

The prince had never been real, but the loneliness was. And this, this real human connection I had with Camp was the best thing I’d experienced in recent memory. From the way he was tugging my hair, pushing against me until I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began, I would hazard a guess that Camp felt the same.

Until a knock at my door had us jumping apart, wide eyed staring at each other, chests heaving for air.

“Scarlett? Just letting you know dinner will be ready in five.” Nash’s voice carried easily through the door.

I tried to hold back my laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Camp twisted his lips into a rueful smirk. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be right out!” I called back, trying to contain myself.

“Do you want me to show you where it is?”

“No!” If he waited for me, he’d see Camp in my cabin, and I wasn’t sure how I would explain that to someone I also seemed to have a connection with. “I mean, um, I know where it is, so I’ll be fine!”

“Okay, well, come to the galley when you’re ready.” Nash’s heavy footsteps disappeared, and I wondered how the hell I’d missed them in the first place.

Probably something to do with the smug, shaggy-haired man on my bed. “Good save,” he said with a laugh. “Not suspicious at all .”

“Seriously?” I pushed him away and straightened out my now-rumpled clothes. “I didn’t see you jumping to my defense.”

He shrugged. “You seemed like you had it handled. And besides, you didn’t sound like you wanted him to know I was in here. Wouldn’t that have ruined your little secret?”

Camp stood, stuffing a hand in a pocket and smiling at me.

“I didn’t mean, um, I didn’t…”

He grabbed my chin and pressed a quick kiss to my lips, effectively silencing me. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I don’t mind keeping the taste of your lips a secret. For now, anyway.”

With that, he slipped out the door, and out of sight.

I blinked, trying to process exactly what just happened. It was surreal, almost, the funny way dreams had a certain soft quality around the edges that let you know it wasn’t real.

Except when I touched my lips they were swollen, and I knew without a doubt everything that had just happened was very, very real.

I shook my head of any lingering thoughts of Camp, and stepped out into the darkening night of the rainforest. Twilight changed the world we’d been in only a few hours ago, making me feel like I’d stepped straight into another dream. While it wasn’t cold by any means, the temperature had dropped, and all around us the creatures that came alive at night were making their presence known.

Heading to the dining room, I hoped Camp and I would leave enough room between us so it didn’t raise suspicions. Somewhere in the distance a lone monkey called out, and the rainforest fell silent. I paused, waiting, not wanting the monkey to be alone in the night. It seemed like an empty place to be all alone—surrounded by everything, and yet nothing. I waited a breath, then two.

From the opposite side of the river, the answering call of another monkey rang out. I breathed a sigh of relief for an animal I couldn’t even see in the flesh. Funny how we managed to attach such feelings to something we knew so little about. For a brief moment, I wondered if my mind was simply playing tricks on me, repeating an echo from a distance. The rainforest seemed like the kind of place that liked to play games.

I continued on my way to the large, open room behind the cabins. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, giving an incredible view of the lush scenery from all three sides. The glass was currently pulled down, leaving only the mesh between us and the outside world, welcoming any semblance of a breeze we could.

Inside, James sat awkwardly at one end of the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking positively above everything that was taking place. Camp had wisely left several spaces between himself and James, and when I arrived, he merely picked up his head and smiled at me. Even at the large dining table, he looked too tall to fit. When he ran his fingertip lightly over his lips, his gaze meeting mine knowingly, I quickly shut my eyes, willing myself not to blush.

“Scarlett! Come sit down. I’ve saved you a seat next to me.”

I opened my eyes at Nash’s warm voice and sat down in the space where he patted. Whatever he was serving smelled absolutely amazing, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since my morning papaya.

Nash smiled, eyes crinkling, and for a brief moment I found myself comparing him and Camp, the way I never had to work to make Nash smile. He did so effortlessly, just like everything else about him.

Effortless.

And yet, there was something rather special about the work you had to put in to get a genuine smile out of Camp, like his joy was a reward, something few people were privileged enough to see.

“Now, don’t get too used to this treatment,” Nash began, lifting the lid off the dish closest to him. “For the most part, it’s a fend for yourself situation around here. But I always like to start the first night off right, with good food, and good company.” He looked up, staring directly at James when he spoke.

James remained silent, glaring back.

I couldn’t be certain who had won that standoff.

Nash turned back to me, whatever strange emotion that crossed his face gone, his expression clear and cheerful once more. “These are family recipes, and were always my favorite growing up, so I hope you like them.”

A perfectly cooked piece of fried chicken made its way onto my plate, with mashed potatoes following.

“Oh my God, Nash, this smells incredible.” My stomach growled angrily, demanding I dig in immediately. Anywhere else I would’ve protested so much food, but I wasn’t about to stand on ceremony in front of these men—not like they had for me anyway.

A sweet flush spread across Nash’s cheeks. “Thanks. It was the last thing my Gran taught me how to make before she passed. ‘Nash, if you ever want to win a woman over, you better learn how to make this fried chicken, and learn how to make it right.”

I laughed, as he turned to serve Camp.

“You know,” he paused. “I never thought to ask her what I should feed a woman if they were a vegetarian. Go ahead and start eating before it gets cold, Scarlett.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I scooped up a bite of chicken, considering. “Fried cauliflower maybe? Or whatever that special kind of mushroom is that tastes like meat.”

“I’ve had those before,” Camp piped up. “They’re actually pretty good. It tastes remarkably like chicken. They look like they’d taste like shit though.”

Nash shook his head, a wry smile on his face while he offered James some of the food. “You can make a lot of substitutions in the rainforest, but mushrooms are one thing I’d stay away from. Too many poisonous ones, and unless you’re an expert, a lot of them look the same. One wrong assumption, and boom, you’re dead.”

I swallowed my bite of the perfect chicken. “Do you just have a running list written down somewhere of everything that can kill you out here, or do you just keep it all stored in your head?”

“In my head, mostly. Once you’ve been here for long enough, it’s easy to know what to stay away from.”

“What a wonderful way to sell your business,” James drawled. “Stay away from all these things that could injure and or kill you. This trip is dangerous. This boat is dangerous. The rainforest is dangerous. But pay me money and come on my boat anyway. And don’t dare think we’ll stay to a timeline or course, because we’re on rainforest time out here.”

The knife Nash had been serving with fell with a solid thunk, embedding itself in the worn wood of the table. “Is this really necessary now, James? In front of everyone?”

I froze, my hand midway to my mouth with another bite of food. Sneaking a glance at Camp, he was frozen in nearly the exact same position.

James shoved himself back from the table, away from the knife and Nash both. “I just think it’s important your guests know the truth about what they boarded, and who their captain really is.”

His blue eyes had never looked so icy, staring at Nash with an almost palpable fury.

Nash, to his power, glared back. “Don’t. Don’t do this now.”

James tore his eyes away from Nash and instead turned his penetrating gaze onto me. “Don’t you want to know the truth of the Carpe Diem ?”

Blood raced to my head, making me dizzy. Did I?

Wasn’t that my whole purpose of being on the boat? Figuring out the complexities of human nature, and our desperate desire for connection. An escape from everything I had to do, filling my time instead with what I wanted to do.

But when I thought back to the easy connection Camp and I had with little knowledge of each other, I wondered if the truth was all it was cracked up to be.