[Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden by Lauren Hawkeye

head at me.
    “Just a storm, Noelle. Deal with it.” Despite the whispers of magic that surround the island, these are real storm clouds, coming with some real rain. There’s no other explanation, because I don’t believe in that stuff. I still don’t like the look of them and my pulse begins to hammer in my throat.
    I am in big trouble.
    Changing my heading a little, I put on the speed. I’m still at least two hours out from the island, but maybe I can beat the clouds. If worse comes to worse... well, I’ll batten down the hatches, and try to ride out the storm below deck. I remember doing that once when I was a kid, spending a day out on the water with my parents. You know, back when my dad and I liked each other. I remember the sick churn of fear in my stomach, the nausea from the roiling waves, the bruise on my temple from being smacked into the wall of the boat with a particularly vicious swell.
    But we survived that. I can survive this.
    I won’t accept anything else.
    Locking the boat onto autopilot, I grab my bag and open it to retrieve my jacket—at least I had the presence of mind to pack one. I slide it on, zip it up, tuck my wild, tangled hair into the hood and get back on the throttle.
    The boat is bouncing now, jolting my body and jarring it painfully. Waves crash against the hull and water laps over the bow.  I am fully regretting my decision to commandeer this boat and pilot it out here. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am not a sailor. I really don’t have the skills to be out here on my own.
    And by the looks of those clouds closing in on me, Teena is going to have the last word—it just might be my foolish behavior that kills me.
    The wind slashes across my face and hands like a steel blade as I struggle to keep the boat on the right heading. With each wall of water that slams into me, I shudder, trying to keep my footing.
    For some reason I think of the Master as the next wave hits, a backhand of icy, salty sea. The ocean wants me to submit. It is pummeling me into submission, something I thought I’d never voluntarily give.
    I want to fight it. I’ve never backed down from anything before. But when I think of him , I feel my resolve dissolving, like the copious amounts of salt that dissolved in the waters around me long ago. 
    So when the next violent wave hits me, I don’t fight it, even though I’m shaking and it feels like shards of ice slicing right down to the bone. I close my eyes and open my arms and welcome in the sudden, inexplicable warmth.
    I am not afraid. The ocean will not kill me—she is in fact is delivering me to the one place I need to go. The place I know deep inside my very soul will give me exactly what I want.
    Eden.

Chapter Three
    THEO
    T he last thing I expect when I take a moment to enjoy looking out at the water is a woman washed up onto the shore. I stare dumbly for a long moment, wondering if I can possibly be seeing what I think I’m seeing.
    Then I’m sprinting off the observation deck on my cliffs, my muscles burning as I tear across the soft white sand to the water.
    I kick off my leather sandals before splashing into the water. My fingers find cloth, and I grab hold of her jacket and drag her out of the water and onto the shore.
    She’s not wearing a lifejacket, so I press my fingers to the pulse point in her neck with dread. I’m amazed to find one, one that’s surprisingly strong.
    Salt water sprays into my face, blinding me as the very much alive woman sputters, coughing up the water in her lungs... right onto me. I reach for her shoulders without thinking, offering support.
    I can’t see her face, can’t look at her pupils to gauge a possible concussion .The long tangle of her blonde hair obscures her face as she spits up water.
    “Are you all right?” I ask.
    She nods, then sputters some more. “Where the hell am I?”
    “An island off the coast of Miami.” My words are distracted, because there is a subtle but discernible vibration