When we first got stranded, I kept thinking about my next meal. Now all I keep thinking about is when I get to touch Abby again. I'm starting to hate when the others come over to our campsite.—Dean Woodall, Day 18
Something about Lana's calculated chess moves through the game bothered me, but I kept quiet. When she drew Dean aside and told him her plan and he was equally enthusiastic, I kept my fears to myself. Maybe I was just being a chicken—but something about pulling in so many people bothered me. Perhaps because I was afraid that the more people in our alliance, the less valuable each member was. Still, you had to make big moves to get to the end, and Lana was definitely making some smart moves. I had to admire her for that.
Dusk fell and eventually Lana and Leon moved back to their own campsite, waving at us until the darkness swallowed them up.
No sooner did they leave than Dean grabbed me and pulled my body against his, his mouth hot on my own. "Thank Christ. I thought they'd never leave." His hands slid to my ass, cupping it and pulling me against him.
Well, at least Dean and I were on the same page. My worries momentarily put aside, I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him down to me, licking the edges of his mouth. He tasted slightly salty this time, tangy with the sea around us, and bits of sandy grit rubbed between our bodies as we pressed against each other.
And then I winced as I watched a fat mosquito land on my arm. I jerked away from him, slapping at the creature. "God, I wish we were back in our cabin."
"Are you kidding? This gives me the perfect chance to oil you up," Dean said with a grin. He took my hand in his and led me around the campfire into the bushes, where he'd hidden our prized bug repellent. As he leaned over, I caught a perfect view of his lean, tight ass and slapped it.
Dean jerked back up, surprised.
"Mosquito," I said innocently.
"I'll bet," he said in a low, husky voice. He held up the jar and shook it. "Guess this means you'll be doing me first, doesn't it?"
Now that was an appealing offer. I took the jar and poured a little of the thick, creamy oil into my hand and set it back down on one of our makeshift benches. With a teasing look at Dean, I twirled my finger. "Turn around, sir."
He did, and my mouth nearly went dry at the sight of his broad shoulders. We were both starving down to nothing so his shoulder-blades were a little more prominent, but his waist was lean and taut, and the heavy triangle of his shoulders was as healthy and gorgeous as ever. I wanted to run my tongue over his skin instead of the lotion, but I forced myself to behave. To warm the liquid, I rubbed both my hands together and then placed them against his back, sliding over the play of muscles.
Dean gave a groan of pleasure. "This going to turn into an impromptu shoulder rub?"
"If you're lucky," I teased back.
"I feel pretty lucky right now," he said, and his light chuckle made my knees turn to jelly. I finished smoothing lotion down his spine and slid my hands up to his shoulders, my slick fingers gliding over the skin lightly. I kneaded his muscles for a few moments, then couldn't resist trailing my fingers down his corded arms. Muscular and tight, but not bulging. Just the way I liked it. I made a small noise of approval low in my throat and continued to slide my fingers down his arm, circling his wrist and then toying with his fingers.
"My front is getting lonely," he said in a hoarse voice, as affected by my light teasing as I was.
"Give it a minute," I said, leaning over his arm to whisper in his ear. "The mosquitos will all congregate there now that your back is safe."
He turned and grabbed my hand, then pulled me toward him. "Cruel woman." His mouth nipped at mine in a teasing fashion. "Just means I'll have to wear something over my front to cover it. I'm thinking a hot brunette with long legs and a smart mouth."
"I happen to know just the one," I responded, then bit his lower lip gently. My hands slid over his slick arms, trying to find purchase and just sliding over glossy, hard muscle. It only turned me on more. I took a step back from him and splayed my oily hands over his chest, pretending to glide more of the oil on his body, when all I really wanted to do was keep touching him. My palms slid over his collarbone as he stood stock still, before moving down the line of his belly and gliding over his nipples.
He groaned at that and his hands tangled in my hair, pulling me in for a fast, passionate kiss. "Your turn. Give me your back."
I turned obediently—eagerly—and my stomach began to do a wild flip-flop of anticipation. I heard Dean opening the jar and pulled my thick, curly hair up in one hand so it wouldn't get into the oil when he put it on my back. And then I waited.
And waited.
Seconds ticked by like hours, and I squirmed in place, turned on and anxious all at once. He wasn't having second thoughts, was he—?
Warm, slick hands slid over my shoulders, and I nearly melted onto the sand.
It felt amazing. The few back massages I'd had before had never been particularly relaxing—most guys tended to dig in their fingers in a way that was painful instead of pleasant, but Dean knew just how to touch me. His fingers glided over my skin, brushing against the straps of my bikini and fluttering underneath. He pressed down ever so slightly, kneading the muscles as he stroked, and worked over my shoulders and the top of my spine and then slid further down to the small of my back and stroked over the skin on my hips and belly, his arms snaking around like a caress as he touched me. I shivered when he hit a ticklish spot, but I didn't ask him to stop.
His oily hands brushed against the elastic of my bikini bottom, hinting at things to come, and I turned in his arms, my breath fluttering in my throat. "Got to do my front first," I whispered.
Dean pulled me back against him and my body slid against his slick one. "Let's go to the shelter," he said. "Private there." And he gave me a kiss to appease my sudden frown.
I wasn't frowning at the thought of having to wait the short distance (like thirty feet) to get to the shelter—I was frowning at the thought of the camera crews possibly watching us grease each other up and how turned on we were getting. It was a private moment on an island where there weren't any, and I peered suspiciously at the shadows. "Did you see a cameraman?" They were so unobtrusive and quiet that I'd stopped noticing them after the first few days. I kicked myself—how could I forget where we were?
"No, but I want to be sure that there's no surprise cameras hidden in the trees," Dean said, and relief spiraled through me. He linked his hand in mine and grabbed the jar with his other, leading me back to the shelter. "Guess what I stole from our cabin," Dean said to me with a grin.
I couldn't guess. "What?"
He pressed the jar against his pocket, and I heard foil crinkle. Condoms. Clever man.
I grinned at that and moved to the front of our shelter. "Glad we didn't share those with the other team." We kept a few extra palm fronds near the front of the shelter to wipe the sand off of our feet, and as we did so, I noticed something odd. "Our shelter—they expanded it while we were gone."
Dean grunted at that. "Yeah, Lana was mentioning something about it. Said it was too cramped for two adults."
For some reason, that made me sad. "I kind of liked cramped." Now I didn't have an excuse to snuggle up against Dean through the night, and I actually wanted to.
"Me too," Dean said, and his voice sounded just as put out as my own, which made me grin. Then he slapped me on the behind. "Ladies first. Get in there so I can finish you off."
The double entendre wasn't lost on me. I made sure to wiggle my ass as I crept into the small shelter.
Lana had definitely been busy. The interior of our tiny shelter had been expanded—where before we'd barely managed to squeeze two bodies on four bamboo planks, we had ten now. She'd taken my original A-frame shelter and expanded it with a second A-frame and had a heavy bough of leaves crisscrossing the middle. It was a lot like an M without the dip in the middle.
"I need to thank her tomorrow," I said, pulling my legs under me and reaching for our one lonely blanket that was folded in the corner.
"There's one thing I like about this," Dean said, crawling in behind me, and he pulled something over the front, blocking out the view of the sky. "She actually made a door, that crazy woman."
I glanced at the other side of the frame behind me and sure enough, she'd created a flap to cover the entrance. "Definitely have to thank her tomorrow."
Dean grabbed my ankle and tucked it over his shoulder, and I fell back onto my elbows. In the low light, I could just barely catch a glimpse of his devilish smile. "Lay back, my lady, and let your humble manservant oil up thine legs."
"Humble manservant? Where has he been all this time?"
"Busy admiring the view," Dean said in the worst cockney accent I'd ever heard.
I was about to tease him about it when instead of oiling up my leg, he twisted his body around so that he was on his knees, my foot still over his shoulder, and he knelt between my legs. He grabbed my other calf and pulled it up until I was spread out on the floor, Dean looming over me and biting at my lower belly with his teeth.
"Dean!" I gasped as he began to tug my bikini bottom down with his fingers, momentarily jerking my legs together. He left the piece of fabric dangling from one foot, which he had thrown over his shoulder before moving in and nuzzling at my thigh. I squirmed, trying to keep my moans muffled as he moved ever closer toward the spot I needed him the most. "We shouldn't," I began to protest and then moaned loudly when his breath fanned across my slit, my hips bucking slightly.
"Hush, woman. I'm busy renewing my alliance with my teammate. I need to win her over if I want her to vote for me," he said in a husky voice, and his tongue slid lightly along the seam of my skin, already damp. His fingers slid my folds apart and then his mouth moved over my flesh, and I lost the tart reply I'd come up with as his tongue grazed my clit.
And after a few seconds, I didn't care if the cameras in the forest caught my cries of pleasure after all.
***
I stared down the endless, sandy beach and had to force myself not to touch Dean. The others lined up on the sand next to us, and as usual, curious glances were being directed our way. I knew they were waiting to see if we'd explode on each other, but the ruse was getting harder and harder to keep up, and I felt their scrutiny intensely.
Next to me, tall and tense, Dean had his arms crossed over his chest, watching our host tensely. If he felt the same awkwardness that I did, he hid it amazingly well.
Down the row, Lana seemed to sense my nervousness, and she gave me a long, meaningful look and a slight tip of her chin as if saying straighten out. Head in the game.
I nodded at her and turned my focus back to Chip. Focus.
"This is your final team challenge," Chip said in a boisterous voice, as if he were more excited about that than we were. He held up a colorful length of rope. "This will join you to your teammate, and together, tied at the waist, you will both make your way through the most grueling obstacle course imaginable."
Oh gee. Great.
"This last challenge is, of course, for immunity. The two teams that finish last will be taken to Judgment, where one team will be eliminated."
The last one. We just had to get through this one, and we'd make it past the first round. After that, it would be individual challenges, and our secret alliance would quietly clean up behind the scenes. I wanted to look over at Dean and see if he was relieved or unhappy that we'd soon be lumped in with everyone else, but I didn't dare glance over.
I remained calm and silent as I was lashed to Dean's side with a bright purple bungee cord of some kind. It separated us by about a foot—just enough so that we'd trip over each other—and had a bit of give, but not enough. I could quickly see how the producers wanted this challenge to go—one partner dragging the other through the obstacle course. Lovely. I peeked ahead at the obstacles through the trees—yup, sure enough, I could see some sort of swinging vine and a pool of mud up ahead.
Poor Dean, stuck with me.
"Teams ready?" Chip shouted, dragging my attention back, and as one we hunched forward, one knee placed in front of the other, readying to run.
"Last two teams across the finish line head to Judgment." Chip lowered his arm. "Good luck! Go, go, go!"
The teams surged into action. Dean and I surged forward as well. The rope tying my waist to Dean's jerked as he leapt ahead, and I had to scramble to keep my feet, the breath sucking out of my lungs. Adrenaline rushed through me and I began to charge forward. I wanted to beat the others at their game, suddenly—show them that Dean and I truly were a force to be reckoned with.
And I really, really did not want to go home tonight.
The first obstacle was a low climbing wall, and the teams crammed together, pushing and jostling to try and get over—not an easy feat considering we were lashed together. Dean was right at my back and nudging my shoulder, and as soon as I felt an ounce of give in the rope, I began to climb, swinging my legs over.
I still wasn't much of an athlete, but the rush coursing through me helped. I managed to wobble my way down the other side without more than a skinned knee as I fell forward. Dean grabbed me by the arm and helped me back to my feet and we dashed forward.
It wasn't long before we were ahead of the other teams by a long shot. No surprise, really—Dean was so athletic he was dragging me along when I faltered, and his momentum spurred me on. We'd also had protein (the peanut butter) to fuel us. I was hanging in with him, while my other female competitors seemed to be wilting. Even Lana, who was quick and fast thanks to her tiny frame, wasn't quite keeping up with Leon.
We were going to win again. Joy surged through me, and I grabbed onto the rope, trying to urge Dean forward. The line of obstacles continued—a rope net, another wall climb, and a digging challenge. Dean seemed full of endless energy, and as other people caught up with us and then fell behind again, pride surged through me. I watched his shoulders flex, tawny with the sun and gleaming with sweat.
Perhaps I was a little too focused on watching my partner, because after we both grabbed onto a knotted rope swing and flung ourselves over a mud pit I landed on my ankle.
There was a nasty pop as my weight landed awkwardly on my foot and pain shot through my leg. I yelped and collapsed, and the short length of rope ensured that Dean fell on me. Pain—red and blinding—flared, and I nearly blacked out.
Dean cursed as he pushed off me, not realizing how hurt I was. "Get up, Abby. We almost have this!"
The pain was excruciating, but some stupid part of me was rushing with adrenaline and at his urging hands, I tried to stand on my foot anyhow… and promptly fell to the ground again as white-hot agony shot through me. Dean fell back over me again.
As we fell back to the ground, I saw the first team rush past us, heading for the finish. It was close.
"My ankle," I said, my voice sounding too close to tears. "I can't walk."
"We have to finish or we'll be eliminated," Dean said, trying to help me up. "You have to try and walk. Just a few feet."
I nodded and leaned on Dean, trying to shift my weight so I could limp along with him. We did that for a few moments. One team whizzed past us, then another. I made a frustrated sound in my throat, and Dean sucked in a breath. He was thinking the same thing I was—if we were one of the last two teams, we'd be on the chopping block. The last place I wanted us to be. But I couldn't seem to swallow the agony. The pain was overriding all rational thought as I leaned heavily on him.
Another moment later, Dean hesitated. I thought he was going to get mad at me for my slow limping, but to my surprise, he swung me up in his arms. "It's okay, baby," he whispered and pressed his mouth to my hair, hauling me into his arms. "Almost done." I buried my face in his chest as he carried me across the finish line, moving heavily into last place.
All my fault.
***
I hung my head at the Council of Judgment as Chip stood in the front, ready to read the votes. The questions we'd received from him hadn't been warm and had mostly been about how I was dragging my team down. There wasn't a lot of sympathy in the expressions of my other competitors, either. One or two had a look of glee on their faces, though they'd tried to hide it. After all, I was pretty much out of the water in any sort of physical challenge. The last team immunity and I'd lost it for Dean.
I sucked.
My ankle was wrapped tightly but swollen to twice its normal size. As soon as the cameras had stopped rolling for the competition, medical had swooped in and checked me out. The verdict? A bad sprain but no breaks, so I was left in the game unless I chose to bail out (and thereby drag Dean into the loser lodge involuntarily). I chose to stay.
Even if it was just until Judgment.
Jack and Meg sat next to us on the Elimination Bench, and they seemed quite a bit more confident than Dean and myself. After all, they were both whole. They'd had trouble working together to cross the mud pond with the rope swing and had ended up wading through. Their clothes were still dark and covered with mud, but they seemed confident as they flicked glances over at me and my monstrous ankle.
"Teams, pass your slates forward. I'll read the first vote," Chip said in his best TV-host voice. He pulled up the first slate, regarded it, and then flipped it as he read the name.
"Team Six."
I regarded the slate with mixed emotions. The next would be for us, for sure. Dean was a strong competitor.
Chip held up the second slate. "Team Six."
I sat up a little at that, surprised. I glanced over at Lana, who sat in the audience, and she gave me a meaningful look, her eyes hard. Had she orchestrated something quietly at Judgment Council to save our asses? I would so have to thank her when we got back if that was the case. She could eat all my peanut butter if she wanted it.
Well, maybe not that.
She was stone-faced as they read the next vote. "Team Six," but I noticed the faint hint of a smug smile on her partner Leon's face. Further down the row, Will was openly smiling, his arms crossed over his chest.
Sure enough, Lana had saved our asses. I owed her.
Dean seemed to realize the same thing, slowly. He sat up straighter as the last two votes were read, and I glanced over at him and smiled, delighted, and reached for his hand. I wanted to hug him, but such a brash display of affection would work against us.
Apparently Dean felt that any sort of affection would work against us. He pulled his hand out of mine and gave me a hard frown.
I pulled back away, trying to brush it off, but his cold rebuff had hurt my silly, stupid feelings. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. It was stupid, but my ankle hurt, my pride was wounded, and my emotions were completely strung out. I wanted Dean to hold me, not push me away. I glanced over at Lana to see if she'd seen my small gesture as well.
She had. The look on her face had turned hard and unfriendly. She didn't approve of my needy actions.
"Team Eleven! You live for another round," Chip crowed as he moved over to us and helped me to my feet. "How do you feel?"
"Ready to keep playing," Dean said in his smooth, effortlessly cocky voice.
"Great," I added, forcing a smile to my face.
***
With the help of a shirt-wrapped stick acting as my crutch, we were able to hobble back into camp once the boat dropped us off. Dean hadn't said much to me, which was just as well—I wasn't in the mood to talk to him either. All of my energy was going into walking without maiming myself further.
When we made it back to camp, I sat heavily on a log and put my head in my hands, frustrated. Frustrated at myself for screwing up in the challenge, frustrated that I'd tried to be needy with Dean and he'd turned me away because it was the smart thing to do. Frustrated because Lana had noticed and she was unhappy with me. This day had been one big mess of crap from the start.
To my surprise, Dean sat next to me and began to brush the hair off my shoulders, rubbing the frustrated knot at the base of my neck. "How are you holding up?"
"I feel stupid," I admitted. "I almost blew it for us." I decided not to bring up the part about him rebuffing me in front of the others. It was stupid to get hurt feelings over it.
"It happens." He pulled me into his lap, careful of my injured foot, and began to nibble on my neck. "Don't beat yourself up."
"Too late," I said in a grumpy voice, but twined my arms around his neck and leaned in so his lips could have better access to my skin.
His lips moved to mine and his tongue slid along the crease of my mouth. I parted to let him in and his tongue flicked against mine, and a small moan rose in my throat as I forgot about my wounded ankle. He groaned low and slid his hands to my hips, shifting me in his arms. His hips lifted against my own in a suggestive move. "Can you slide your leg over?" he breathed against my mouth and then bit at my lower lip, as if his mouth couldn't stand to be parted from mine for a single moment.
Sounded like a good idea to me. With his hands on my hips to steady me, and my hands on his shoulders, we maneuvered a little awkwardly, watching for my injured foot. After a bit, I was able to straddle him as he sat on the log, and the cradle of my sex was firmly slid up against the hard length of his. It felt enormous and hot even through his swim trunks, and I flexed my hips forward and was delighted to hear his breath suck in. He grasped my ass and ground me down against his cock and his mouth lowered to nuzzle my breast through my bikini. I gasped as his mouth grazed my nipple and I twined my fingers in his hair to hold him in place, my eyes focused on his intense, handsome face. His short buzz of dark, ash blond hair was growing out and it stuck up from his head like a spiky bed of grass.
Something moved behind his head. I glanced up just as he pushed aside the fabric of my bikini, exposing my nipple and placed his mouth on it again.
The moan of pleasure died in my throat at the sight of Lana and Leon heading down the beach toward us.
I grabbed at my bikini, nearly snapping his head backward.
"Abby, what—"
I wiggled on his lap, trying to extricate myself from his grasp before they could see us in such an obvious position and guess what we were up to.
Unfortunately, my hurt foot was seriously compromising my ability to move. I twisted on Dean helplessly for a few moments before he glanced over his shoulder and saw the same thing. "Shit." He stood up quickly, me still in his arms and then set me down on the fallen log that served as our bench.
"I'm going to grab water," he said, leaving me alone on the log and swinging by the other side of the fire pit to grab our water bucket. I was about to protest when I caught a glimpse of him in profile—and the massive tent he was sporting in the front of his swim trunks. All right, water was probably a smart move. Still, it left me stranded and breathless as I raised a hand to my eyes, squinting at the sunny beach as Lana and Leon approached.
Lana wore a scowl on her face as I greeted her, as if she'd guessed what we'd been up to and was mad at catching us red-handed again, like we were a couple of horny teenagers. Leon was far more blasé about it, to the point that I wondered if he'd seen anything. Both of them carried bags on their shoulders.
"Where's Dean?" Lana said in a sharp voice.
I cocked my head toward the dense jungle a few short steps away from the sandy encampment. "He went to get water. What's up?"
She glanced down at the front of my swimsuit and rolled her eyes. I quickly glanced down as well—on top of nipples that were standing at attention, I had a gigantic wet spot over one from Dean's mouth, directly in the center of the Y for 'ABBY'.
How embarrassing. Shoot me now, God. I colored and wished I could get up from my seat to grab my shirt. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and rubbed them as if pretending to be cold… in the hundred-degree oppressive tropical heat. Yeah.
Leon looked at me like I was crazy. "You guys read your Tribal Summons yet?"
"Tribal Summons?" I glanced over at the treasure chest and sure enough, a long scroll was sticking out of one side, the lid ajar. Of course. The game went on, even if Dean and I were no longer paying attention. "My ankle injury kind of distracted us," I said and stretched it out in front of me to remind them.
That changed the focus of the conversation entirely. Lana immediately sat down next to me and glanced at my ankle with a worried look. "How bad is it?"
"Sprain," I admitted. "I thought I'd broken it but the game doctors told me that if I keep my weight off of it, I should be able to walk within a week or so."
"A week!" Lana exclaimed, as if it was the end of the world.
"You gonna evac?" Leon asked me, standing over me and blotting out the sun with his huge tattooed shoulders. "Quit the game?"
"Me? No. I want to keep playing." The thought of quitting the game and screwing Dean over? Never crossed my mind. He wanted this badly and I wanted to spend time with him. Despite the bugs and the sand and the stress of the game, I was enjoying myself, oddly enough. "I'm in this to win it." Well, kind of. More like I was in this to pad my book deal.
Oddly enough, I hadn't thought about my book deal much since getting on the island and meeting Dean. Thinking about it now kind of made me feel… unclean. Like I was deceiving him. I didn't care for that much. Would he hold it against me once we were out of here?
Was there anything for us when we were out of here, I wondered. Why was I even thinking that?
Lana and Leon were still discussing my ankle, though. Did it hurt to walk? Did I think I'd be able to perform in challenges? What about helping out around camp? I endured their grilling, answering mostly with "I don't know" and "Yes, but it hurts." Lana finally revealed the reason behind her grilling. "Leon's joined our alliance," she revealed. I glanced up at the big tattooed guy and he nodded at me.
"I'll have to tell Dean," I murmured, not sure what to think of this. Another person? We had five for sure, then, if Will was still with us. "Do you think the other five have allied?"
"Nope," said Leon. "Shanna's on my team and we haven't been approached by anyone. She'll vote with me when the next Judgment comes."
So that was six, really. That sure seemed like a lot of people if only ten were left. I said nothing though, since Lana was running the show and she seemed utterly confident in her actions. "So what's the plan?"
"We're merging, which you would know if you had checked your Island Mail," she said with a pointed look at me that made me blush and cover my arms over my chest again. "That means ten of us, all on the same beach. With six of us voting together, that means we can pick off the other four."
It seemed like an obvious question, but I had to ask. "And what happens when we get down to six?"
"The big prizes come at the final four," she said, just as Dean reappeared from the underbrush, sweaty and carrying a bucket of water (and sans boner, thank goodness). "It'll be you, me, Leon, and Dean to the four. We can decide who goes after that."
"What about Shanna and Will?"
"We don't tell them," Lana said with intense eyes as Dean moved toward us. "The final-four pact stays with us here on this beach, since we won't have any privacy at the new camp."
"New camp?" Dean said, wiping at his forehead with his forearm. He flicked a concerned look over me as if checking to see that I was doing okay, then turned his focus back to Leon and Lana.
"We're merging," Leon said, gesturing at the Tribal Summons. Dean cast me a wary look and then pulled the chest open. Two bags—just like Lana and Leon's—had been left for us, along with the long parchment scroll that told us of the merge and drew a map to the new campsite.
"It's a few miles down the beach," Dean said and squinted at the blue line of water just off in the distance.
My heart sank at that. "A few miles?"
"I can carry you on my back," Leon said to me. "Won't be nothing."
"I'll be the one to carry Abby," Dean said, his voice taking on a sharp edge.
"It's not a big deal, man—"
"I'll do it," Dean said, and I could hear his teeth gritting. I had a mental image of me splayed across Leon's back, my breasts pressing up against his shoulders, legs wrapped around his hips. Dean apparently had the same picture I did, and he didn't like it.
Dean moved to my side, as if to cement his claim. "If you guys can carry our bags…"
"Chill man," Leon said. "I already got a girl."
I blushed.
Lana looked like she wanted to murder all of us. "Can you guys stop thinking with your dicks for five minutes? We are here to win the money, not play Beach Blanket Bingo."
"Like I said," Dean drawled, helping me to my feet. "You guys carry our bags and we'll be just fine. We'll even bribe you," he said with a wink at me.
"The peanut butter?" I said slowly. I realized what he was doing—cementing our alliance at the last moment and bribing them to forget about the small spat that had just happened. Not to mention that we'd have to share the peanut butter with the others once we got to the beach anyhow. Best to fuel our alliance.
"You guys have peanut butter?" Lana whispered. Leon slapped Dean on the back, grinning his pleasure.
I nodded and pointed at where it was buried in the sand, a stick poking up to mark the spot. "We've been eating before challenges to stay strong. It was my reward item," I confessed.
"You lucky!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Between the four of us, we quickly devoured the remaining peanut butter left in the jar. We'd carefully saved a third of it, and at Dean's meaningful glance, I hung back on the food and let Lana and Leon eat the lion's share, though it was hard to do so. My stomach grumbled at the rich peanut smell and I wanted to devour the whole thing on my own. Still, this was a game about allies, and mine were currently rather pleased with us.
"What about the bug oil?" Lana asked.
"Bringing that," Dean said, and moved to the shelter to pack our bags.
Our small bits of clothing were packed into one satchel, the other full of necessities from the camp—the cooking pot, the blanket, the plates we'd made out of shells. Once the stuff was bagged up, Leon belted Dean's axe at his waist and Dean hauled me onto his back. My legs stuck out from around his torso and I clung to his shoulders like he was giving me a piggyback ride. His feet shifted as he moved into the sand, and I was struck with a pang of guilt. "Going to be a long walk for you," I whispered in his ear as we began to head down the beach. Lana and Leon were a few paces ahead, bags on their shoulders as they studied the map.
"You're mine," Dean said simply. "I'm not about to hand you off to someone else."
I wondered at his choice of words.