Chapter 38
Harlow
“Almost there,” Jordyn calls back to me, somehow still managing to sound chipper despite the fact that we’ve been hiking for what feels like an eternity in our full leather uniforms under the blazing sun.
By now, my legs are burning. My thighs, my calves, even my lungs feel like they’re on fire as we crest what I desperately hope is the final hill before the beach. I have to say, it didn’t look this far when we started out. The ground looked relatively flat. I was wrong on both counts.
I grunt in response, too exhausted to form actual words.
I snicker to myself since I sound very much like Drake right now. Once again, he hasn’t said more than two words to me.
Right now, I don’t care.
Sweat is running down my back, pooling at my waistband, and to make matters infinitely worse, the swimsuit I’m wearing underneath has been slowly working its way into the most uncomfortable position imaginable.
The fabric has been riding up my ass for the last hour, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it without stopping to adjust myself in front of everyone.
Note to self: never trust Charlotte’s sweet smile when she promises a swimsuit will be “perfectly comfortable under your uniform, dear.”
Drake’s new PA might be middle-aged and lovely, but clearly her idea of comfort and mine are worlds apart.
I actually think she might have given me a size too small.
I’m really tall, with decent-sized breasts.
I normally take that into account when trying on a bathing suit.
Only, I didn’t try this on like she suggested.
That was on account of wanting to get out of there for fear of seeing Drake.
I don’t think I could have handled more cold shoulder than he has already dished out.
“Come on, guys!” Becca shouts from somewhere ahead. “You can do it.”
The four words I’ve come to hate since arriving on the island.
I resist the urge to flip her off. It’s not her fault she’s in better shape than I am, or that the shifters have barely broken a sweat while the rest of us humans are dying a slow, painful death.
My boot catches on a rock, and I stumble forward, catching myself. I wish I could go five minutes without proving what a klutz I am. I may as well be a newborn foal. All shaky legs.
“You good?” Scar asks.
“Just dandy,” I tell him, picking up my pace, even though my legs are screaming in protest.
Finally, we break through the tree line, and the beach spreads out before us.
I stop dead in my tracks, temporarily forgetting about my exhaustion and the swimsuit currently attempting to become one with my body.
It’s beautiful.
The sand is pristine white, almost blindingly bright in the afternoon sun, stretching in a gentle curve along the coastline.
The ocean is a brilliant turquoise that looks almost artificial, like someone photoshopped the color to make it more vibrant.
Small waves lap at the shore with a rhythmic whisper, and the breeze coming off the water carries the sharp, clean scent of salt.
But what really catches my attention is Mermaid’s Tail.
The rock formation juts out of the ocean about half a mile from shore, dark and imposing against the bright water.
From here, it does look remarkably like a tail – long and thick, gradually narrowing to a point.
There is a scattering of rocks that could be construed as the fan of a tail, if you use your imagination a little.
“Holy shit,” Dani gasps beside me, and I can’t help but agree with the sentiment.
“That’s where we’re swimming?” Georgia asks, sounding dubious.
“That’s the one,” Scar confirms, already making his way down to the sand. “Come on, let’s get set up. The day is a-wasting, and we have work to do.”
We trudge down to the beach, and I’ve never been more grateful to stop moving in my entire life. The sand is warm beneath my boots, and I can’t wait to get out of this uniform.
“Drink some water,” Scar instructs, dropping his own pack on the sand. “Hydrate before we get in the ocean. Then strip down and we’ll head out.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I dig my water bottle out of my pack and drain half of it in one go, not caring that some of it dribbles down my chin. The cool liquid feels like heaven, and I can already feel my head clearing a bit from the fog of heat exhaustion.
Around me, everyone else is doing the same. Jordyn is chattering away to Becca about something, both of them somehow still full of energy. Dani and Georgia look about as done as I feel. And the shifters…
I chance a glance in their direction and immediately regret it.
They’re already stripping out of their uniforms. They’re all wearing Speedos. Teeny, tiny scraps of spandex that never seem to look good on a man…until now.
“Holy shit!” Dani chokes out.
“Are those Speedos?” Becca snort-laughs.
“They look hot,” Jordyn says what all of us are thinking.
Mist is in the same standard-issue bathing suit as the rest of us. She’s tall and toned and freaking gorgeous, like all shifters are.
Then there’s Drake.
Holy hell!
I jerk my gaze away so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. Nope. Not looking. Absolutely not looking at Drake’s bare chest or the way his tattoos flow across his skin or—
Water. I need more water.
I take another long drink, forcing myself to focus on the horizon, on the rock formation, on literally anything else but him.
“Alright, ladies,” Becca calls out cheerfully. “Time to strip!”
Why does she have to sound so excited about everything?
I set down my water bottle and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s just a swimsuit. We’re all adults here. This is perfectly normal.
I reach for the zip on my leather pants, my fingers fumbling. Part of me is feeling self-conscious, while the rest of me can’t wait to get out of this uniform and into the ocean.
The suit is practical and full-coverage, which I’m grateful for, but it’s also tight. Very tight.
I reach back to discreetly tug the fabric out of my ass while everyone else is busy with their own uniforms, hoping no one notices.
“Looking good, Harlow!” Jordyn sings out.
So much for discretion.
I shoot her a glare, but she’s too busy looking like a swimsuit model to notice. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and the navy suit somehow looks designer on her despite being the exact same one I’m wearing. Becca, standing next to her, looks equally put-together.
How do they do that?
I glance down at myself. There’s a hint of cleavage, but my poor boobs are basically squashed into submission by the tight fabric. Nope, nothing sexy here.
“Everyone ready?” Scar asks, and I look up to find him watching us.
“Yes!” Becca and Jordyn shout in unison, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.
Georgia, Dani, and I manage somewhat less enthusiastic affirmatives. I really need to pull myself together. We’re here to train.
This is going to be fun, I tell myself. I need to pull my head out of my ass already.
I chance another glance at Drake, who is looking anywhere but at me.
Right. Still ignoring me, then.
Why is he making this so damned difficult?
You know what? Forget him. He can be a dick all he wants. I actually do like swimming, and I’m going to enjoy this, whether he participates or not.
“Hit the water,” Scar orders, already turning toward the ocean. “We’re swimming to Mermaid’s Tail. Stick with your mind-bonds for safety reasons. Shout if there’s a problem.”
He aims a look at Drake before taking off at a jog toward the water.
The rest of us follow, and despite my exhaustion and my determination not to think about Drake, I’m acutely aware that he’s right behind me as we head for the surf.
The water is warm when we hit it. I wade in up to my knees, then my thighs, and then I dive forward into an oncoming wave. The ocean envelops me, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.
This is what I needed.
I surface and start swimming, falling into an easy rhythm. Drake appears beside me a moment later, matching my pace stroke for stroke. The others are ahead of us, but we catch up quickly.
The water is calm today, the waves minimal, and the half-mile swim to the rock feels almost meditative. The saltwater stings my eyes a bit, but I don’t care. I’ve always loved the ocean – the vastness of it, the way it makes everything else feel small and manageable by comparison.
By the time we reach Mermaid’s Tail, I’m feeling almost human again.
We gather around Scar, treading water while he floats easily near the rock formation. Up close, it’s even more impressive, but it’s also more intimidating. The surface is dark and slick-looking.
“You can hold on to the thinner part of Mermaid’s Tail here,” Scar says, gesturing to where the rock narrows near the water’s surface. “But be careful; it’s slippery.”
I reach out and grab hold.
“When we’re in the field, a dragon will usually drop down low to allow their rider to mount,” Scar tells us. “But that’s not always possible. Sometimes you’ll need to be able to climb aboard when your dragon is at full attention, standing upright.”
“Impossible,” Dani mutters, and I’m inclined to agree with her.
“It’s very possible,” Scar assures us. “We always train for worst-case scenarios. You need to be prepared for every eventuality.”
He swims over to the highest, steepest part of the rock, the section that towers at least twenty feet above the water’s surface.
My jaw drops open.
We need to climb that? All the way up there?
“That’s impossible,” I whisper to myself.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Georgia yells, her voice cracking with disbelief.
“It’s possible, I assure you,” Scar says, a small smile toying with the edges of his mouth. The bastard is loving this. “Watch closely,” he says.
And then he proves how possible it is.
He pushes himself out of the water, stepping onto what looks like the tiniest lip of rock just beneath the surface. For a moment, he’s balanced there, water streaming off his body, and then—