Invitation to Ecstasy (4 page)

Damn, this place was filled with ghosts.

Refusing to let her melancholy ruin her adventure, Sara
shook off the sad memories of her deceased parents and swam farther from the
shore, diving and exploring as she headed out. Several times a rogue wave
washed over and filled her snorkel, but she cleared the water without any
trouble. The rocks were less than one hundred yards away when a particularly
large wave washed over her, rolling her in its wake enough to prompt Sara to
poke her head up.

Angry gray clouds that had been hovering on the horizon had
rolled in and replaced the white cotton clouds and azure sky of thirty minutes
ago. Sara treaded water for a moment, assessing the size of the squall.
Afternoon rain showers were common in the Keys and she was already wet. So when
the fat drops pocked the surface of the water, she shrugged and decided by the
time she got to the beach, the storm would have blown itself out and she’d have
missed this opportunity to enjoy what she’d come out to see. She forged ahead.

By the time she reached the outcrop of rocks, the gentle
swells had become tumultuous whitecaps that broke on the rocky barrier and
buffeted her from all directions. When they repeatedly swamped her snorkel and
she couldn’t clear it to catch her breath, Sara panicked. Spitting out the
snorkel and clawing the mask off her face, she promptly lost both in the
crashing surf.

The raindrops had become a torrent that pelted her with icy
barbs. She chided herself for not wearing the life vest still tucked into the
kayak.
Stupid arrogance.
Swimming back to the beach safely would be
nearly impossible without it.

Her only hope was to get out of the water until the squall
passed. She swam toward the sturdy outcropping, a large wave cresting and
breaking, rolling her in its power, ripping off one of her flippers. Realizing
too late the folly of her maneuver, Sara was slammed into the jagged rocks with
the backwash, pain stealing the air from her lungs on a bubbling scream of
pain.

Stupid.
She broke the surface, managing to fill her
burning lungs with precious air before another wave smashed into her, bruising
her tender flesh once again as it pushed her against the rocks.

She had to get away. But the ebb and flow of the waves over
the rocky ledge was stronger than Sara anticipated. In a last-ditch effort to
save herself from the tempest, she dove below the surface and kicked away from
the rocks, stroking hard with her arms. She swam until her muscles burned and
her lungs screamed for air. When she broke the surface to catch her breath, a
wave crashed down on top of her, pushing her under the water again. Sara fought
her way back to the surface, working to control the panic overtaking her.

The tranquil ocean had become a maelstrom of chop. The wind
whipped it into a foamy frenzy that seemed intent on drowning her. Once again
it slammed her back against the ledge and she lost the other flipper in her
struggle to protect herself.

Fear wrapped icy tentacles around her aching muscles as she
fought to keep her head above water. She gasped for air but found only the cold
slap of salt water filling her mouth and nose, making her cough. Despite the
pain, she kicked off the rough rock wall once again, bursting from the surface
and finally filling her lungs.

Calling for help in the secluded lagoon would be a foolhardy
waste of energy, but she cried out in angry frustration nonetheless. The raging
storm simply swallowed the pitiful sound. Her arms flailed as she tried several
more times to catch her breath, praying the squall would pass before she
succumbed to the ocean’s fury.

Fatigue took over, clouding her mind. She screamed once
again, shaking her fist against the storm battering her body. A huge wave
rolled toward her and she gasped for breath, diving once again in an attempt to
escape the angry storm.

Derek’s white-knuckled grip on the Wave Runner had carried
him over the choppy water to the edge of a rock outcropping. He was sure he had
seen Sara’s blonde hair among the whitecaps, but it had disappeared as he’d
neared the rocky ledge. Perhaps he’d only been imagining things.

He hadn’t planned on spending the afternoon with Sara, quite
the opposite in fact. He’d filled the restless morning hours by working out in
the gym, hoping to exorcise thoughts of Sara and how badly he’d screwed up. But
even the weights and a run on the beach hadn’t taken the edge off his jumpy
nerves.

He’d headed for the dock, intent on frittering away the
afternoon on a Wave Runner, stewing in his misery in private. The encounter
with Ethan had seemed unintentional, his suggestion of the secluded lagoon
innocent enough. It hadn’t been until Derek had reached the beach and saw the
kayak that he’d realized Ethan had set him up.

His gut had told him the small craft belonged to Sara.

When he’d found her red bathing suit littering the sand
thirty minutes ago, he figured she’d asked Ethan to send him. But when he’d
followed the sandy path to the beach cabana and found it empty, Derek realized
the manager’s intentions had been less than virtuous. He had no doubt now that
the man had engineered the rendezvous, and Sara was as oblivious to Ethan’s
machinations as he had been.

Derek hadn’t decided whether to wait for Sara or drag his
tail back to the resort when the gray clouds had rolled in, turning the
tranquil turquoise ocean into a menacing pewter gray.

By the time the waves were crashing with unusual frequency
and intensity on the beach, he’d decided to head out and find her. When Derek
had finally broken through the largest waves, the rain was coming down in
sheets, the angry tempest churning the surface of the ocean into a dangerous
mix of swells and whitecaps.

Now the small craft bucked and reared in the choppy water,
as if intent on throwing him. He’d just come to the conclusion that he’d been
seeing things when an arm flailed out of the water before being swallowed again
by the waves. He pulled on the lanyard around his wrist, ripping out the safety
key and shutting down the engine before diving after her.

The normally clear water was boiling with sand and seaweed,
dropping the visibility to a few feet. It was only by luck and sheer fate that
his hand found an arm. He hauled her weary body close to his and kicked off the
rocks. With a Herculean effort he broke the surface of the water and managed to
push Sara’s body onto the seat of the Wave Runner, relieved when she pulled
herself to sitting position.

Another wave crashed over them, tossing the Wave Runner,
jamming him between the ledge and the bucking craft. Knife-edged rocks sliced
across his thigh as the heavy craft slammed into his chest, stealing his
breath.

Ignoring the pain, Derek shoved the Wave Runner away. He got
one hand on the steering column and used the power of the next wave to pull
himself onto the small craft, maneuvering himself into a sitting position in
front of Sara.

But they were far from safe. Two more waves crashed over
them, nearly capsizing the small craft, slamming it into the rocks before he
could shove the tethered key in place and get the Wave Runner started.

Sara’s nails bit into his stomach, but her embrace was
pitifully weak. He wrapped an arm around her forearms in a vise grip and hit
the throttle. Relief flooded through him when the Wave Runner pushed through
the next wave without swamping the engine.

He worked to control the erratic Wave Runner with one hand
while keeping both him and Sara upright on the seat. Normally having a woman
naked, leaning against his back would have had Derek’s heart racing with
anticipation, but the cold press of her body had only adrenaline and icy fear
pumping through his blood.

He had no idea if hypothermia was an issue in the tropics,
and if she succumbed, how the hell to deal with it. His medical experience was
limited to sub aftercare, not life-saving measures. Broken bones he’d deal
with, but internal injuries from being battered against the rocks would mean a
dangerous trip through the storm back to the main lodge.

With the rain pelting his face and the ocean boiling in a
tumultuous white foam, slamming the watercraft from all directions, it seemed
his only choice was to bring Sara ashore. He’d deal with whatever trauma had
happened when he had her safe.

Another large swell hammered the side, ripping at their
legs, threatening to tear them from the Wave Runner. As if cursing its loss,
the storm sent a bolt of lightning streaking from the clouds, an answering clap
of thunder bellowing in frustration. Visibility was next to nothing, and it was
only quick reflexes that kept Derek from smashing into the overturned kayak
bouncing in the waves.

He didn’t even want to contemplate what would have happened
if she’d been farther from shore in the little boat when the storm hit.

Gunning the engine, he held on tight and ran the craft up on
the beach. In one fluid motion, he hit the kill switch, jumped off and scooped
Sara into his arms.

Blood covered her legs and torso.
Jesus.

He ran the hundred yards to the intimate bungalow, grateful
he’d scoped it out before heading into the storm. The lush foliage protected
the little hut from the worst of the rain and the howling wind. Still, he heard
the angry storm lashing at the windows and pounding on the roof as he kicked
open the door. The hut held little more than a plush bed and a hot tub. It had
obviously been meant for a love nest and not the emergency triage shelter he
needed.

“Derek, I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” Sara’s raspy voice was
weak, but he was happy to hear it.

He set her gingerly on the ceramic tiles surrounding the tub
and knelt in front of her. Her skin was cold and clammy as he checked her legs
and back. “There’s blood everywhere. I need to find where you’re cut. Does it
feel like anything’s broken?”

“Derek.” She gripped his hands, her icy fingers stopping his
nervous search. “It’s not me. I’m fine.”

“No, it’s everywhere. You—”

Her finger shook and his gaze followed where she pointed.
The outside of his right thigh was gaping open just below his swim trunks.
Blood dripped on the floor in a watery pool. The adrenaline coursing through
his veins had kept him from feeling the pain.

Sara stood, urging him to change places with her. She
grabbed a folded white towel from the pile on the edge of the hot tub beside
him. “Keep pressure on it.” Laying the towel over the wound, she put his hand
on it and pressed. He clenched his teeth against the pain surging up his leg.

“Let me see what they have for first-aid supplies.” She disappeared
into the bathroom, flicking on a small bedside lamp as she went, pushing away
the gray shadows of the storm. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Derek wasn’t sure what he’d been
planning when he’d realized she was at the lagoon. But plucking Sara from the
depths of the ocean and ripping open his leg definitely weren’t on his dance
card. He lifted the towel, now soaked with his blood. The gash was definitely
deeper than anything created by even the strongest Dom whip but by no means
life threatening. He’d simply get them back to the main lodge and have someone
patch him up with a couple of stitches.

He shot a look over his shoulder, dismayed that the storm
had intensified.

“You’re not driving that machine back to the main lodge in
this storm,” Sara said as if reading his mind.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t think of it.”

“Though I’m definitely not getting out of here the way I
came in.” She knelt before him, a white fluffy robe now wrapped around her
petite figure. “Was that the kayak we nearly hit on our way in?”

“Seems Mother Nature is in cahoots with Ethan.”

Sara’s expressive face scrunched in confusion.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, brushing hair out of her eyes.
“But we do need to get me patched up before I pass out from blood loss.”

“You’re hardly going to bleed out,” she said, laying out a
small medical kit next to him. “But I’m sure this will clean you up
temporarily. I found it in the bathroom cabinets.” Sara smiled. The gesture lit
up her face and sparked in the blue pools of her eyes. “Sometimes being part of
the BDSM community comes in handy.” Gently lifting the towel, she let out a
long, slow whistle. “Damn, you did a good job on that. Fortunately we’ve got
everything we need to patch you up.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m a nurse, Derek. I tend wounds every day.” She dabbed at
the gash with a wet towel she’d brought from the bathroom.

Air whistled through his clenched teeth at the unexpected
quick stab of pain.

The corner of her luscious mouth lifted with her eyebrow.
“Though not usually on such big babies.” The cocky Sara who’d challenged him in
the hall last night had returned. “Don’t you trust me…”

Master?

She may not have finished the sentence, but they both felt
the power exchange the moment it happened, and Derek had no intention of losing
the momentum. Ethan had offered him another chance with Sara. He’d be foolish
to turn from it now. If he could get her to bare the pain bruising her soul, he
could surely reach in and help her heal.

Derek leaned forward, crowding her space, his nose nearly
touching hers. “I don’t think I’m the one with trust issues, Sara.” He held her
gaze as the wind howled and rain lashed the windows.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. But the pulse
quickening at the base of her throat proved to Derek that he’d hit upon a
sensitive nerve. Now he just had to wait her out and hope she chose to open
herself to him.

He sat back, giving her the option to run if that’s what she
chose. “Have at it.”

Derek forced himself to breathe evenly, despite the fact
that his heart hammered in his chest. He wasn’t sure his ego could handle
another blow like the one she’d dealt him last night. For some of the Doms
invited to XTC Resorts, this weekend was about training. For Derek it was a
chance to prove he could be a Dom his subs could trust. He
needed
Sara
to believe he could protect her from whatever shadows chased her. Because if he
understood anything about this woman, whatever it was she was hiding from
scared the living shit out of her.

Almost imperceptibly, her spine straightened, her chin came
up and her gaze dropped to his thighs. “I’m a nurse,” she said finally. “I
cared for my ailing parents for nearly a decade before they passed. I do know
what I’m doing, Master.”

Tenderly wrapping his fingers around her chin, he brought
her gaze up to his. The pain and fear filling her eyes clawed as his gut,
sending his protective instincts into overdrive. “Trust that I do too.”

As if underscoring Sara’s internal fight, lightning flashed
and thunder rolled through the clouds, rattling the windows, cutting the power
and plunging them back into murky shadow. He heard her quick intake of breath
and felt her jaw knot beneath his fingers.

Derek brushed his thumb over her bee-stung lips that had
finally gotten back their rosy color. “Despite the storm, you’re safe here with
me, Sara.”