Delirium (Captive Love: Forced Proximity Standalones #4)

Chapter 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

CAMP

A t this point, prison was looking pretty damn good. Did I want to go to prison? No. Did I really seem like the kind of person who could keep my mouth shut? Also no.

I’d be eaten alive in prison for nothing more than telling the truth, which didn’t really seem fair, but alas. Such was life.

But right now, being safe and contained within cement walls really seemed like a better option than being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no real prospects for escape.

The ironic part about it all was that technically, you shouldn’t even be able to get cabin fever in the middle of the rainforest. One of the cures for feeling trapped was getting lots of fresh air. Well, here I was, getting—excuse the pun—boatloads of fresh fucking air, yet still, I was drowning.

Nash needed to fix the motor. He had to. Scarlett hadn’t looked concerned when she entered my room after talking to him. Truthfully, she seemed more at peace than she had before. Of course, that meant fuck all. The woman currently resting on my knees flipping through the diary we’d found in the tents had the best poker face out of any of us. It helped when you knew what other people would look for in a lie.

As if she could read my mind, which truly wouldn’t have surprised me at this point, she squeezed my thigh, and peered up at me. “What’s on your mind?”

“Prison.”

Her eyes widened, and she blinked. “Well. That’s definitely a new one.”

I smirked, snatching the journal from her hands, placing it carefully on my bedside table. “Would you rather I lied to you? Told you I was thinking about making a banana rum cake with extra icing as soon as I got back home?”

Scarlett raised a brow. “Can you even make one of those?”

“I can.” I nodded solemnly. “It was the only cake my mother knew how to make. Figured if it was the only one she bothered to learn, it was probably worth me learning as well. Imagine my surprise when I got to university, only to find out most people hate banana rum cake with a passion.”

“I actually kind of like it.” She laughed, and the tension stiffening my muscles released the tiniest bit.

“Well then, I’ll make you one as soon as we get out of here. Screw the icing, we’ll double the rum instead.” I ran my fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes, resting her head on my leg. “I always found it funny how people couldn’t bake. It’s a science. You follow the steps, and voila, you have muffins. Cookies. A cake. Cooking on the other hand…cooking is an art.”

“I never thought about that,” she murmured. “But don’t try and change the subject. Why were you thinking about prison?”

“I was just thinking about how in an alternate universe, I’d probably be in prison right now. The company would probably be worse, but at least the situation itself would be a bit more stable. None of this, will Nash fix the boat , bullshit.”

Scarlett sat upright, frowning. “Probably be worse? So there’s a chance you’d prefer the company of your cellmates over me?”

“Shhh…You know that’s not what I mean.” I laughed, pulling her to my chest, grateful when she laughed, too. “I just really don’t want to go back into that fucking rainforest. I don’t want to go anywhere near that city again. Something was wrong about that place. It was like we disturbed something that didn’t want to be bothered.”

“I know. I felt it too.” She sighed. “Nash will fix the boat.”

“You sure?” I wanted to have the same kind of faith she had in Nash, but it was hard.

“I don’t think we have a choice to think anything else.”

“Fair.” I paused, toying with a strand of her hair. “Did you find anything of interest in that diary?”

Scarlett shook her head. “Nothing that would help us figure out where they might’ve gone. It’s mostly just a log of what they worked on that day, what terrible rations they ate, so on and so forth.”

“Disappointing, then.”

“There was one interesting entry.” She spun around to look at me again, a crease between her brows I fought the urge to smooth away. “He spoke about a curse. I only found it interesting because I heard someone else at the market say that the city was cursed, too.”

I stroked her forehead with a smile. “Don’t tell me you believe in curses now.”

“No. I mean. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I know logically, curses don’t exist. But I also know how I felt standing in that city wasn’t natural. My brain feels like it’s trying to hold too much information at once. I don’t know how to process it, or make sense of it, or even label it. So thinking it might be a curse…”

“Makes it easier,” I finished, nodding. “I get it. There’s a reason that past civilizations believed in gods and goddesses. Sometimes things don’t make sense at first glance. It’s easier to chalk it up to an immortal being pissed at you than thinking the corn just didn’t grow that season.”

“Maybe.” She sighed again, twisting around in my arms once more.

She didn’t like my explanation. I wanted to talk more, to explain it didn’t sit right with me either, but I didn’t like the way that made me feel. I wanted to say all this to her, but I found myself exhausted in more ways than one.

The heat must have been getting to me. It was hard to breathe, the thickness making me drowsy.

Scarlett was quiet. She must have been getting tired, too.

Luckily, we had an afternoon to kill, and nothing better to do than sleep. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit. Don’t go.”

“Never.” Her words were a promise, her voice a dream, and I found myself drifting off easily, clinging to her waist, a lifeline I’d never thought possible.

My dreams were bright, brighter than the rainforest that surrounded us. The four of us trekked the path to the city. I wanted to scream ahead of me, beg the other three to turn back, tell them not to go down there. It was safer on the boat. Safer at home.

Safer far, far away from whatever energy surrounded this place.

But my feet kept walking toward them, never stopping. I looked to my side, and the once green foliage was a bright purple, shimmering in the light. I reached out my hand to touch it, only for the leaf to turn to ash, crumbling beneath my fingers.

Scarlett was just ahead, swirling orange and pink. She spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out her words. Still we marched on, unable to stop time, the path to the city set in neon stone. Ahead of both of us, Nash glowed a deep red, almost maroon. I knew what happened from here on out. I knew James would run ahead, and Scarlett would follow. I knew I would keep back, some unseen force preventing me from stepping inside.

Except that didn’t happen. James ran through, and Scarlett followed, and I went to follow her, tripping and tumbling down the small dirt hill, the brightly-colored world spinning around me as I fell, farther and farther. The hill hadn’t been this tall, but I didn’t stop falling. I called out for Scarlett, the words drifting away from me, only for her to turn around, the only still thing as everything else spiraled.

Just like everything else, she was her and not her. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.

Two sides. I could see Scarlett in front of me, yet I couldn’t do anything about the black jaguar stalking her from behind.

I bolted upright in bed, patting my hammering chest, making sure I was on the boat, in my bed, and not in the rainforest, back in the city from hell. I was still here, in one piece, but Scarlett was gone. Looking out the window, the bright light of the day was fading toward sundown, and I realized I had been sleeping for far longer than I planned. Scarlett was likely checking on Nash. The boat was probably almost ready to go.

I swung my legs out of bed, nearly falling to my knees. My legs weighed a hundred more pounds than they had before I fell asleep, or at least they felt like they did. I pressed my hand into the wall, steadying myself before I lost balance entirely.

What the fuck? I knew I’d slept for longer than I should’ve but I’d never experienced something like this before.

I didn’t feel well. Not at all. And it wasn’t only because of the weird dream I’d woken up from, still lingering in the back of my mind. I shook my head trying to rid myself of the images of the slick, black jaguar, stalking Scarlett, leaving me with no way to warn her. It was just a dream. It meant nothing.

I’d get outside, see her whole and healthy, Nash would tell me he fixed the boat, and we’d be off. All good. Then we’d be on our way home, hopefully Scarlett would still like me back in civilization, where I’d make her the banana rum cake of her dreams.

Raised voices echoed from the hall. I dropped all of my thoughts and raced to the noise. But when I yanked on the knob, my door was fucking jammed. The heat must have made it swell, because no matter how hard I wrenched on it, it didn’t budge.

“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

The voices were getting louder. I could make out James and Nash’s angry words, but couldn’t hear Scarlett’s at all. Maybe she wasn’t there, but the men were arguing about something. Little surprise there.

I gave my door one last try, losing my grip and stumbling to my knees. Fuck . The last thing I needed was Scarlett to overhear, have some kind of hero complex and try and break the two of them up.

Staring directly back at me was an old keyhole, nearly wide enough for me to see clearly through with one eye. I pressed my eye up to the hole with my heartbeat in my ear, torn between wanting to call out and not wanting to turn the attention onto me.

These two had a long history.

Through my small lens, I could see James and Nash standing at the end of the hall. James stood slightly taller than the captain, but the captain’s bulk more than made up for it. They were glaring at each other, tension ripe in the air.

For the first time, it made sense to me how they could’ve been friends when they were younger. Two sides, same and yet not. James’ icy cool demeanor found its perfect match in Nash’s warmness. Nash’s muscles amplified James’ height, and vice versa. Everything made perfect sense.

Except right now the two sides were at war with each other.

James balled his hands into fists, clenching them so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I know you did this on purpose, Nash. I know you got us stuck out here as some kind of…some kind of revenge. Just own up to it, and we can all move on.”

Nash scoffed. “You really think you’re that important to me after all these years? Man, I always knew you were self-absorbed, but this is something else entirely. I didn’t think you’d ever get yourself this worked up over a woman.”

“A woman? A woman ?” I had never seen James look as cold as he did right now, sheer ice radiated out of every pore. “You think this is over Scarlett?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I saw your face at the waterfall. You’re jealous. You can’t come at me for her, because it’s her choice she doesn’t want to be with your sorry ass, so you’re coming at me for this instead. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain cell.”

Fuck . This was a side of Nash I’d never expected to see, and I couldn’t say I was even against it. He was only defending himself.

Apparently, James didn’t see it that way. “I’m surprised you can see it then, seeing as you only scraped by in life sponging off my intelligence and my money, oh, and what else? My name, maybe? Is there anything you did for yourself besides this sorry excuse for a boat that can’t even get us home?”

I couldn’t breathe. I should break them up, but how was I supposed to do anything with a stuck door? Screaming through the keyhole wasn’t likely to make an impact either. I’d be surprised if they even heard me over their anger. My only saving grace was Scarlett was nowhere in sight.

Nash laughed, violent and sharp. “My sorry excuse for a boat is still more than you can say for yourself. Your father’s been gone for years now. And still you cling to his name, forever in daddy’s shadow. Tell me, how does it feel to know you’ll never be good enough? Not to me. Not to your precious daddy. Not to Scarlett. No one cares about the great James Remington .”

Nash’s words even shot through me, my chest tightening when I heard them, and I didn’t even fucking like James. But holy hell, that had to hurt.

“What did you say?” James ground out. “What did you fucking say to me?”

“You heard me.” Nash’s voice didn’t waver, not once. “You don’t matter. You never will.”

I saw the bright flash of the steel before my brain processed it, and by the time I yelled out, “Stop!” the kitchen knife James had slipped from his belt had already pierced Nash’s neck.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Holy fucking hell had that just happened? It must’ve, because Nash made a strangled sound, clapping his hand over the spurting wound, before dropping to the floor, blood spilling out of him in amounts that didn’t seem possible.

Hadn’t Nash glowed red in my dream? Was that a sign? Had I already known this would happen?

I’d assumed in a fight or flight situation, I’d always fight. Apparently, I never thought murder would be a situation I’d be in.

Murder . James murdered Nash. And Scarlett was going to walk around that corner any minute.

My body flew into action. With all my remaining strength, I wrenched open the door, swinging it back until it hit the wall with a thud. James looked up in surprise and stared at me. I stared back at him, frozen. I wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do in this situation. The large kitchen knife he held dripped blood onto the floor, and all I could think about was how the bright crimson would never come out of the wood.

Drip . That stain would be there forever, a mark of the sins we’d committed on this boat, the least of which was my inability to move.

Drip . I opened my mouth to speak, finding myself speechless.

Drip . James shook his head with a frown. “I fear I’ve made a mess.”

Drip .