my God. Oh my God, oh my God…
The snake lifted its head, clearly thinking more along the lines of
Lunch, lunch, lunch.
If she flung the sheet over its head, would it still bite? Would the venom go through the bedding? Would she die a horribly slow and painful death?
A shadow darkened the doorway, and Tobin pranced back in. “Rise and shine, princess.” He went to the washbasin and started brushing his teeth.
Tobin!
she screamed wildly inside.
He started humming “Bare Necessities” from
The Jungle Book.
Tobin!
Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. It was just like being a kid, when she’d imagined monsters in the shadows and called out for her mom — quietly, so the monsters couldn’t hear.
But that snake was no trick of her imagination. She’d seen enough pictures in her guide books to recognize one of the most venomous snakes in the Americas: a fer-de-lance.
“Tobin!” A tiny croak came out, and the snake advanced with a sickening ripple of yellow scales over her leg. The head hovered over her hip, and its eyes never left her face.
Call him,
those eyes dared her.
Call him and I will bite.
“How did you slee—” Tobin turned and froze. “Whoa.”
Whoa was right. She was staring death in the face.
Tobin stabbed the air with his toothbrush. “I’ll be right back.”
He dashed out the door, and she could have wailed,
Don’t leave me! Not now!
Not ever!
another part of her wailed.
Tobin rooted around outside, rustling and swearing, but all she saw were the two tiny nose slits and two reptilian eyes.
“Okay.” Tobin loomed in the doorway with something long and silvery in his hand. A machete? He was going to hack the snake to death — on her body?
“Tobin!” she squeaked.
He flicked his wrist, turning the blade this way and that, trying to figure out an angle that would work. “Um…okay, so…”
“Tobin!” she shrieked.
And just like that, Tobin went from indecision to pure action. His body blurred, metal flashed, and the cool, flat slide of steel slid along her leg. Tobin flung the snake backward and pounced, machete raised. He brought it crashing down to the cabin floor, out of her sight, and there was a dull thunk. The blade came up bloody before crashing back down.
Thunk! Thunk!
By which point she was screaming and out of the bed and behind Tobin, jumping from leg to leg as if the floor were crawling with scorpions. And who knew? Maybe those were next.
Tobin stood in front of her, armed and mighty and practically baring his teeth. A minute ticked by before he pointed with the machete.
“Breakfast, anyone?”
His voice was joking, but the hug he caught her in a second later was serious. Dead serious.
“Jesus,” she whispered, closing her eyes to the mess. “I have to get out of this place.”
A broad hand stroked her hair, and his lips flitted over her forehead. The man was steel and cotton at the same time, all hard plates of muscle with a soft, soothing touch.
“I’ll get you out of here, Cara. I swear I will.”
And for the first time in days — maybe even years, it felt like somehow, everything might just turn out all right.
She waited for the funny comment Tobin was sure to make. The tease. Something about snakes and bites and sex, maybe. Or something about princesses stuck in the jungle, followed by a flash of his perfect teeth and knee-melting smile.
But he didn’t. He looked at her long and hard, as if a whole speech was perched on the tip of his tongue, dying for him to work up the courage to set it free.
The words never came, though. He closed his eyes briefly, let her get dressed quickly then quietly shooed her out the door.
Maybe it wasn’t the same old Tobin as before. This one was a little older, a little wiser. A little quieter, too.
He came out silently, the snake looped over his machete.
His machete.
Holy shit.
He tossed the carcass in the bushes then came back to her side.
“See?” He kicked aside leaves, clearing a trail.
The snake lifted its head, clearly thinking more along the lines of
Lunch, lunch, lunch.
If she flung the sheet over its head, would it still bite? Would the venom go through the bedding? Would she die a horribly slow and painful death?
A shadow darkened the doorway, and Tobin pranced back in. “Rise and shine, princess.” He went to the washbasin and started brushing his teeth.
Tobin!
she screamed wildly inside.
He started humming “Bare Necessities” from
The Jungle Book.
Tobin!
Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. It was just like being a kid, when she’d imagined monsters in the shadows and called out for her mom — quietly, so the monsters couldn’t hear.
But that snake was no trick of her imagination. She’d seen enough pictures in her guide books to recognize one of the most venomous snakes in the Americas: a fer-de-lance.
“Tobin!” A tiny croak came out, and the snake advanced with a sickening ripple of yellow scales over her leg. The head hovered over her hip, and its eyes never left her face.
Call him,
those eyes dared her.
Call him and I will bite.
“How did you slee—” Tobin turned and froze. “Whoa.”
Whoa was right. She was staring death in the face.
Tobin stabbed the air with his toothbrush. “I’ll be right back.”
He dashed out the door, and she could have wailed,
Don’t leave me! Not now!
Not ever!
another part of her wailed.
Tobin rooted around outside, rustling and swearing, but all she saw were the two tiny nose slits and two reptilian eyes.
“Okay.” Tobin loomed in the doorway with something long and silvery in his hand. A machete? He was going to hack the snake to death — on her body?
“Tobin!” she squeaked.
He flicked his wrist, turning the blade this way and that, trying to figure out an angle that would work. “Um…okay, so…”
“Tobin!” she shrieked.
And just like that, Tobin went from indecision to pure action. His body blurred, metal flashed, and the cool, flat slide of steel slid along her leg. Tobin flung the snake backward and pounced, machete raised. He brought it crashing down to the cabin floor, out of her sight, and there was a dull thunk. The blade came up bloody before crashing back down.
Thunk! Thunk!
By which point she was screaming and out of the bed and behind Tobin, jumping from leg to leg as if the floor were crawling with scorpions. And who knew? Maybe those were next.
Tobin stood in front of her, armed and mighty and practically baring his teeth. A minute ticked by before he pointed with the machete.
“Breakfast, anyone?”
His voice was joking, but the hug he caught her in a second later was serious. Dead serious.
“Jesus,” she whispered, closing her eyes to the mess. “I have to get out of this place.”
A broad hand stroked her hair, and his lips flitted over her forehead. The man was steel and cotton at the same time, all hard plates of muscle with a soft, soothing touch.
“I’ll get you out of here, Cara. I swear I will.”
And for the first time in days — maybe even years, it felt like somehow, everything might just turn out all right.
She waited for the funny comment Tobin was sure to make. The tease. Something about snakes and bites and sex, maybe. Or something about princesses stuck in the jungle, followed by a flash of his perfect teeth and knee-melting smile.
But he didn’t. He looked at her long and hard, as if a whole speech was perched on the tip of his tongue, dying for him to work up the courage to set it free.
The words never came, though. He closed his eyes briefly, let her get dressed quickly then quietly shooed her out the door.
Maybe it wasn’t the same old Tobin as before. This one was a little older, a little wiser. A little quieter, too.
He came out silently, the snake looped over his machete.
His machete.
Holy shit.
He tossed the carcass in the bushes then came back to her side.
“See?” He kicked aside leaves, clearing a trail.
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