I trail off as Kieran steps close enough that my heat sensing floods every vein in my body, mapping the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his pulse, and the elevation in his core temperature.
His eyes are greener here. More vivid. They’re the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen, and I want to fall into them and stay there forever.
He blinks a few times, as if coming out of a trance. “We need to grab the containers that survived the storm,” he says, although his voice is softer than usual, almost hypnotizingly so. “We’ll collect as much food and water as we can carry and bring it back to the ship.”
Callie’s already moving, collecting the containers that didn’t wash overboard.
Logan’s still holding Jade, and when he shifts her in his arms, her head lolls like she doesn’t have the strength to hold it up.
“Jade,” he says, low and urgent. “We’re on land. There’s fresh water and food. You did it—your storm brought us here. You saved us all.”
Her eyelids flutter, but they don’t open.
“Hey.” He adjusts his grip, pulling her closer, ducking his head until his forehead touches hers. “You’re going to be okay. Just focus on my voice. Can you do that?”
She doesn’t respond, but he keeps talking, a low stream of words I can’t make out.
Kieran touches my elbow, burning like a furnace, and the ghost of his body pressed against mine in the cabin is so vivid it hurts.
“We’ll head to the spring first,” he says, and I nod, not trusting my voice as I follow him off the boat and onto the beach.
The sand is warm beneath my boots, vegetation rises before us like a wall of green, and the delicious, sweet smell of the golden fruit intensifies with each step, so tempting that it takes everything in my body to not break survival protocol by reaching out and inhaling an entire piece whole.
The others join us, and we walk in loose formation with Kieran in front, Logan in the middle—still holding Jade as if she weighs nothing—and Callie and me bringing up the rear.
We’re only a few feet into the forest when Callie stops so suddenly that I nearly walk into her.
I follow her gaze to a low-hanging branch off the side of the path, three golden fruits dangling close enough to touch.
She plucks one, brings it to her mouth, and bites down.
“Wait—”
I’m too late. She’s already chewing and going in for a second bite.
Logan’s stopped walking. Kieran’s hand is on his dagger, his body coiled and ready, as if the fruit will turn Callie into a monster.
I count seconds and watch Callie’s face for signs of distress. Pupil dilation. Irregular breathing. Tremors. Confusion.
There’s nothing.
Then, the tension drains out of her shoulders and her lips curve into a peaceful smile I’ve never seen on her face.
“Callie.” I step closer, trying to focus on her instead of on how deliciously tempting the fruit smells now that its juice is exposed to the air. “Do you have any numbness in your mouth? Tingling in your extremities? Difficulty breathing?”
“I feel...” She pauses, tilting her head as if she’s searching for the right word. “Good. I feel good.”
I reach for her wrist, pressing my fingers against her pulse point to check her heart rate. It’s slightly slower than baseline, but that’s normal for Callie, so it’s not concerning. “Do you have any chest pain? Shortness of breath? Visual disturbances?”
“Relax.” Her smile widens. “It’s just fruit.”
But it’s notjustfruit. Nothing on these islands isjustanything. Circe’s food transformed men into animals, the sirens’ song led sailors to their deaths, and…
The thought scatters as Kieran appears beside me, a piece of golden fruit in his hand.
“Standard field test,” he says, calm and measured. “If we’re going to eat this, we do it properly.”
He sheathes his dagger, slides one of the knives from his forearm holster into his boot, and presses the fruit’s flesh against the exposed skin of his inner wrist.
