Chapter 7 Chemical Attraction
Chemical Attraction
ORION
Halfway down, I catch hold of the maintenance line, the sudden jolt wrenching my muscles. My hands slip along the rope, friction burning my palms through the heated leather before I secure a firm grip.
I sway in the open air, the metal ring bolted to the exterior of the observatory groaning under my weight. Muscles strained, palms on fire, I glare across at the ladder running along the wall. In hindsight, a much saner option.
“Fuck.”
Destination unavoidable, I savor the last hit of adrenaline before I release the rope, dropping the remaining fifteen feet. I grunt as my hands and knees take the brunt of the impact, the sand about as soft as a slab of concrete. A jolt of pain shoots up my leg from the old fracture.
Despite my body aching in protest, the faint sound of Collins’s voice spurs me toward the sloping edge of the cliff, where the drop-off isn’t as drastic.
Searching out a crevice, I wedge my boot into the rock face and begin to scale down the incline. A loose rock dislodges beneath my hand, and I latch onto a jutting stone before my feet find purchase on a large shoreline boulder.
The tide has come in, filling the narrow clefts between the sea stacks. The raging surf crashes against the slate stones, sending a wild ocean spray over Collins as she clings to one of the boulders.
“Hold on—” I shout, my voice cut low by the savage bursts of waves that continuously batter the rocks.
Bracing myself for the icy bite, I drop into one of the deep crags, sucking in a sharp breath as the briny water reaches my thighs. I fight the current through the hollows, the swelling tide nearly toppling me over, until I reach her and heave myself onto the jagged edge of the boulder.
Across the gray-washed dark, lit only by the stars glinting silver off caps of foam, my eyes connect with hers.
And my lungs seize, speared through by the same unnerving sensation I feel every time I see her. Bathed in mist and eerie light, her dark hair wild from the spray, clothes soaked and molded to her curves—fuck, she’s so beautiful it’s painful.
“What are you doing here?” she demands, just as a wave crashes over us. She hunkers low on the rock before once again spearing me with those unearthly teal eyes, their intensity heightened by the fear I find cresting there.
“That’s what I should ask you.” A blaze of anger lights up my sternum, so sudden, I grit my teeth against the impact. “Why the hell are you out here putting yourself in danger?”
Shock parts her mouth, and she frantically pushes her damp hair away from her face. “It was a warm evening. I went for a walk,” she says evenly.
Her feet are bare, shoes lost. She’s not wearing a jacket, just a flimsy white blouse and that same tight skirt. I situate myself on the rock as another hit of anger sharpens my voice. “Alone?”
“What—you’re angry with me? How was I supposed to know a crazy-high tide would come in within a matter of seconds?”
I dig my gloved fingers against the coarse surface of the rock, and my palm flares with a satisfying hit of pain. I could blame my heated response on the adrenaline still pouring through my veins, but I suddenly realize how fragile she is.
And that fucking near-transparent blouse clinging to her chest isn’t helping.
“Spring tide,” I say in a more controlled tone.
As her mouth purses in confusion, I point toward the black sky.
“Extreme high tides come with a new moon.” I glance at my watch, muttering a curse as I try to blink away the blurriness.
“I think it’s close to ten. The tide will start to recede after midnight. ”
“Wait… We’re going to be stranded out here for two hours?” She curls her slight body against the raised edge of the boulder and pulls her legs beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist as a fierce shiver racks her body.
Some foreign emotion cracks open inside my rib cage. The same gravity that dropped me over forty feet on impulse now crushes me beneath its pulverizing weight.
I scrape my fingers through my damp hair, and a spike of alarm blazes through me. I ball my hands into fists before inspecting the injury. The sodden leather damn near shredded, salt water like fire against the rope burn, I’m relieved when I see only my palms sustained any damage.
God damn. I jumped off the observation deck for her—without any thought.
By the time I crawl across the uneven stone toward her, she’s unable to control the tremors attacking her muscles. Wearing only my oxford shirt, I have nothing to offer for warmth.
“You’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear,” she says, her voice a quivering rasp.
I turn my face skyward, gauging the depth of darkness. This rock will be submerged in less than an hour.
As another violent spray sends shards of water down on us, I hold up my hand as a useless shield. “Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll help you wade through.”
Collins flattens her palm to the space beneath her collarbone, real fear blanching her features beneath the pale starlight. “I can’t…I’m sorry.”
“You can. It’s not yet that deep.”
Stubbornly, she shakes her head.
“I thought fire signs were more daring and adventurous,” I say to bait her.
Her pretty gaze narrows on me, an accusation banked there within the hidden striations of gold.
“Your ink,” I explain, letting my eyes fall to her covered wrist. “I connected the dots on the constellation pattern. Either you or someone close to you is a Sagittarius, I assume.”
Her unsure stare holds mine a moment longer before she looks down and slips her sleeve up, exposing the starry points across her inner wrist. “I don’t have anyone close.”
When she looks up, something frail and unguarded flashes behind those lustrous eyes, and it clenches the muscle beneath my ribs, dripping a kind of sadness that can’t be captured, stolen.
Kept.
She covers her wrist. “But I guess I just clash with water. I can’t swim.” Her soft voice is snatched by the deafening wind. “The tide came in so fast, pushing me up toward the rocks. I thought I could hike through them back to the pier…”
I frown, not needing the rest of her explanation. It’s a slow crawl through the shoreline rocks, much too slow to escape a high surge. Especially if you’re fearful of water.
Despite my impaired eyesight, the raw vulnerability of the situation makes it impossible for her to mask the tremulous shame etched across her beautiful face. The desire to pull her into me is so intense, I fear my impulsive thoughts more than the dangers of any tidal swell.
This close to her—alone in the dark—the fiendish cravings should be clawing at my skull. Yet her proximity quiets the noise banging inside my head just enough to maintain a level of control.
It’s fucking maddening.
I don’t press her. Some things are best left obscured by the dark. Instead, I lean back against the rock and shift my body closer, offering what little heat I can to replace the warmth leached from her trembling body.
“A tidal surge can catch anyone off-guard,” I eventually say, attempting to ease her.
“Right.” She nods shakily. “So I should be wary of the new moon, then.” Her gaze tracks over my profile.
I scrub the back of my head. “All phases of the moon influence the tide, but I think it’d sound odd to say you should be wary of celestial alignment.” At her prolonged silence, I clear the ache from my throat. “There’s enhanced gravitational pull on the oceans when the Earth, moon, and sun align.”
She subtly arches an eyebrow. “Yes, that would sound odd, Dr. Night. But you still said it.”
I chuckle, surprising myself. “It might be easier to download a tide app.” I look her over, noting she doesn’t have her phone.
“I like to disconnect after work,” she answers my unspoken question. “Wait. Where’s yours—”
“I don’t have one. At all.” Hope falls from her features, replaced by a questioning look. I release a heavy breath. “Distractions. Germs.” I wiggle my gloved fingers for emphasis.
“You could get one of those old flip phones. No touchscreens.”
I drag the ridge of my teeth over my bottom lip, thoroughly amused by her. “Distractions,” I reiterate.
As the crash of waves fills the stretch of silence, my hope of boring her past a panicked state is ruined as she holds my gaze, her wide eyes sheened with starlight. A captivating phenomenon that lures me closer, caught in her blink pattern—one, one-two, one, two—
“What else should I know?” she asks, disturbing my obsessive thoughts. “I should probably learn how to traverse this deathtrap around here.”
I lick my lips, tasting the salt and a warm current of vanilla and amber mixed with her relief. “Tides change every six hours.” I pull my leg up and rest my arm over my knee. “There are two high and low tides every twenty-four.”
Her smile is more breathtaking than the gusting wind. “Maybe it’s just smarter for me not to roam the beach.”
“Can’t live in fear.”
“And that’s how one winds up stranded on a rock.”
“With a devastatingly attractive astrophysicist,” I say, bringing a slight flush to her skin, and I can’t help the smile twitching at my lips.
The breathy sound of her laugh unfurls heat in the center of my chest. “God, you have no filter,” she says.
I grin, shrugging. “We’re not trapped. Yet.”
Worry pinches her eyes, and she turns her attention to the churning water, the ocean covered by a veil of endless dark. “Yet,” she whispers. “But the tide will keep rising before it recedes.”
The intense wind guides my face back to hers. “Yes.”
A breath slips past her trembling lips, the softest brush across mine. “I’m not sure the truth is what I need right now.”
The gravity of her gaze condenses the atmosphere between us, the echo of her words crashing against my chest more powerfully than the waves trying to shatter this rock.
“What do you need?” I dare to ask.
Her arm curls tighter around her middle as she stares up at me. “A distraction.”