“What areyoudoing?” I ask breathlessly. He holds up the lighthouse book.
“Looking for the beacon?”
I scoff, “No. Why would you think that?”
“You dog-eared the page.”
“Oh. Did I?” I mumble. I couldn't sleep last night, so I stayed up late with the book shoved against the window, trying to read as best I could with the webs of moonlight highlighting only a few words at a time.
The book is about Raven's Isle and its history, published in 2008. It has a record of what seems like every important event. Sylvester is even mentioned in it, named the official lighthouse keeper since 1978.
Over the years, he's assisted with hundreds of vessels. These waters around Raven Isle are perilous and rocky and are known for sending ships down under. Lighthouses can have several meanings, and this one was meant to both warn and to offer a safe haven if it was already too late.
There are dozens upon dozens of recounts of ships wrecking and Sylvester guiding them to his island. Every one of them lists the vessel, what it was transporting and where to, and even the names of known survivors and deaths.
Except there is no record of the prisoners. Nothing about a transport ship capsizing or any of the survivors washing up on Raven Isle. It doesn’t mean it didn't happen, but it only makes me wonder why it wasn't documented like the others.
“Why are you looking for the beacon?”
In the book, there was a brief mention of how Sylvester would guide the sea captains here while manning the beacon. Which means that he had to have some type of way to communicate while up there.
There obviously must be another set of stairs somewhere leading to it, and I was curious as to where. There could be another radio up there. Maybe a way to send out some type of distress signal and prompt a ship to come to rescue us.
Or just me.
It would be nearly impossible to hide a boat from Enzo. Then again, I could always lie and say he’s dangerous…
I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “I wanted to go stare into the light.”
Enzo crosses his arms, waiting for an honest response.
The fucker can keep waiting.
Turning back around, I place my hands on the wall and start lightly knocking again, resuming my search for a hollow point.
“Sawyer,” he growls, the rough timbre of his voice deepening his accent and sending shivers down my spine. I never actually got to hear him moan my real name, and I think I’m glad for it. If I had, I don’t think I would’ve ever left that man’s bed, and while maybe that would have prevented this entire mess, it wouldn’t have prevented me from falling for him.
And that is by far more dangerous than shipwrecking in the middle of the ocean during a storm. Ask anybody.
“What?” I snap, embarrassed by the flush slowly crawling up my throat and the fact that I need to clench my thighs just to abate the throb between them.
“Why are you looking for the beacon?” he repeats, his voice closer than it was a minute ago. “I think it’s best you don’t lie to me this time.”
“I wasn’t lying. I was diverting. There’s a difference,” I defend lightly.
When I feel his presence close in on me, I yelp, twisting around and pressing myself into the wall.
“Don’t come a step closer, or I’ll scream,” I threaten, pointing a finger at him.
One of us is a lion and the other is a rabbit. And it’s not hard to guess which one is scared and which one looks hungry.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I demand.
Fuck.Didn’t work. He’s still looking at me like that.
“Answer my question. I’m not going to ask it again,” he orders, taking another step closer, his searing gaze locked onto mine.
The entire expanse of my body is flattened against the wall, and once more, I’m faced with the unbending fact that I can’t walk through solid objects.