Adventure Countdown
Shasta stared out the window of the plane, peering down at the patchwork of earth far below. This was what always felt so strange about flying. None of it made logical sense. A large group of people crammed themselves into a metal tube on wheels and then willingly hurled through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour, which was ridiculous no matter how common people pretended it was. Maybe she should’ve studied physics in college instead of computer engineering. But computer engineering was what the statistics said paid the most right now—and God knew she needed the money.
The phone in her hand played a movie through the airplane’s Wi-Fi. “Ask me about my wiener!” a man in an outrageous costume yelled at a crowd on a college campus.
Shasta snorted softly. She loved these campy movies. Rom-coms were good, campy was better, but old-school terror was the best. Who could ever turn away from a good Freddy Krueger movie fest? Definitely not her.
A sudden pause in the film pulled her attention from the clouds and back to the screen in her lap. “Sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. The cart will be coming around filled with refreshments. Anything you want today is on the house, courtesy of one of your fellow first-class passengers.
"Please feel free to order anything you like. All alcoholic drinks will need to be verified with identification. Once again, thank you for flying with us today.” A soft beep sounded through her wireless headphones, and her movie resumed.
Elbowing the Sister-from-Another-Mother seated beside her, Shasta tried to grab Sierra’s attention. “Since when do they have the ability to interrupt our movies? I don’t give a shit about drink carts!”
Sierra very dramatically pulled the earbuds from her ears. Looking down at her own phone, she sighed heavily. “They’ve been doing this since forever,” she informed her. “Why do you care anyway? Some rich person in first class is telling us to get whatever we want. I’m getting a cosmopolitan.”
Rolling her eyes, Shasta turned her attention back to the white, peaked mountains outside the window. Sierra always acted like she knew more than she did. As a matter of fact, this was only Sierra’s second time ever on an airplane, but she was claiming they’d had the power to interrupt shows since forever. And the cosmopolitan? Sierra thought it made her look older—classier somehow.
Please! She was from good, Middle-America stock with two hardworking parents. There was no way she could act snobbier than she already was. The act she thought she was pulling off was just sad, really. But who was Shasta to tell her otherwise?
Since her freshman year of high school, Shasta had lived with Sierra and her family. A perpetual child of the system, she’d first met Sierra in junior high. They’d grown close fast—so close that when Shasta’s foster parents were notified by her social worker that she’d be moved to another county, Sierra’s parents stepped in without hesitation. Distraught over the news, they quickly offered to take her in. That had been eight years ago. Shasta called Sierra her sister, and Sierra’s parents had insisted she call them Mom and Dad. They had cared for her—loved her—for so long. Who was she to deny them? Besides, Mom and Dad had a nice ring to it, something she’d never had until they came into her life.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Shasta looked over to see Flora, Sierra’s best friend from college, trying to get her attention. “Shasta, the cart’s here. Do you want a drink or a snack?”
Glancing at the patiently waiting attendant, Shasta gave a polite shake of her head. The nerves twisting in her stomach were already bad enough. She was afraid that if she put anything in it, it wouldn’t stay there long.
“Okay, so we’re halfway there right now,” Sierra began, clearly pleased with herself as she informed them both. “Once we land, there’s a private terminal we need to get to that will take us to the next plane—which will take us to the private part of the island!”
“Ugh! How much longer?” Shasta whined.
“Uhm… about four more hours,” Sierra guessed.
“Wake me when we get there,” Shasta muttered, pulling her sleep mask down over her eyes and leaning her head against the cool wall of the plane.
She absolutely did not plan on actually falling asleep, so when the attendant’s voice suddenly filtered through her earbuds sometime later, Shasta jolted slightly in surprise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare your area for landing. Return your seats and tray tables to their upright positions. An attendant will be coming around one last time to collect any trash you may still have. We hope you enjoyed flying with us today. On behalf of your pilots and flight crew, we would like to welcome you to the Maldives.”
Quickly pulling off her eye mask, Shasta looked back out the window to see crystal-clear blue water and scattered islands in the distance. The plane was definitely descending. When she glanced at her phone, the time had automatically updated to afternoon—when it should’ve been evening. Her brain felt scrambled.
“Oh, I’m so excited!” Sierra screeched. “Aren’t you excited too?” She looked at Shasta, then burst into laughter. “Holy shit, Shasta! You look like you just woke up from a twenty-day sleep!”
Flora snuck a quick peek and immediately joined in the giggles.
“All right, all right! Just give me a minute in the bathroom, and I’ll look better.”
“They turned on the seatbelt sign. No more bathroom breaks, I’m afraid.” Sierra was clearly enjoying herself.
With a quiet grumble, Shasta dug into her backpack and pulled out a compact and a small travel brush. Working quickly, she did her best to smooth her hair and look somewhat human before landing and deboarding.
Once on the ground, they had twenty minutes to find their next terminal. Sierra immediately took the lead—as usual. She’d always been the take-charge one in group settings. After asking an employee behind one of the check-in desks, she grabbed Flora’s hand and started issuing orders. “This way. Let’s go!”
Shasta followed behind them, her face buried in her phone. The second they’d landed, it had started dinging notification after notification. She kept Sierra’s and Flora’s feet in her peripheral vision as she scrolled through her messages, trying not to fall behind. She’d thought she was keeping up just fine, but clearly not. Distracted by her phone, Shasta walked straight into the firm backside of a very good-looking man. “Oof! I’m so sorry,” she rushed out, then froze the second he turned.
His eyes were a striking, almost unfair shade of blue—clear and sharp enough to make her lose her train of thought completely. One corner of his mouth lifted in quiet amusement, a brow arching as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. “No worries,” he said, his voice low and smooth.
Shasta’s brain officially short-circuited, which was awesome and fantastic in the most humiliating possible way.
“Shasta! Let’s goooo!” Sierra shouted from somewhere way too far ahead.
“I—I have to go,” Shasta stammered, already stepping back. “I really am sorry!” she called over her shoulder as she hurried to catch up, her cheeks still burning and those blue eyes annoyingly stuck in her head.
The small commuter plane she’d expected turned out to look far more like a private jet. Supple, cream-colored leather seats lined the cabin, unfortunately arranged in rows of two, which meant Shasta was left sitting alone while Flora and Sierra happily claimed seats side by side. Taking out her cell phone once again, she attempted a second time to scroll through the messages still coming in.
“May I sit next to you?”
Shasta’s head snapped up at that voice, and her stomach gave an immediate, traitorous flip. It was the stranger she’d accidentally plowed into while racing through the terminal.
“Of—of course,” she said, nodding quickly and waving toward the empty seat beside her before immediately turning to stare very hard out the window.
Up close, the man looked like he’d been carved from marble by an overachieving sculptor. His jawline was sharp enough to belong in a museum, the faint shadow of stubble only making it more unfair. Dark, straight hair fell just slightly over his brow, the perfect contrast to those striking blue eyes she unfortunately remembered very well.
Shasta swallowed. If he noticed the way her body reacted to him, he gave no sign, but something told her a man who looked like that probably knew exactly the effect he had on women.
“We’ll be taking off in a few minutes, Ma’am.” The beautiful blonde flight attendant snapped Shasta out of her spiraling thoughts. “You’ll need to fasten your seatbelt.”
Shasta shifted in her seat, reaching down to grab the ends of the belt. Almost immediately, frustration set in. The metal connectors in her hands looked nothing like the ones from the commercial flight earlier. She stared at them until her brain, apparently, decided now was the perfect time to stop being helpful.
“Would you like some assistance?” the Voice asked.
Without looking up, Shasta nodded.
“May I?”
He was asking for the belt. She really needed to learn his name. She couldn’t keep calling him the Voice in her head like some weirdo. Doing as requested, she released the straps and let him take over. His fingers moved with easy confidence, clicking the unfamiliar pieces together in one smooth motion. With a firm but careful tug, he snugged the belt low across her lap.
Say something, her mind screamed. “Th-thank you,” she managed, the words barely above a whisper.
“You’re welcome,” he replied smoothly. “Are you heading to the resort for the event?”
Ah. That event. Not exactly her dream vacation. Sierra and Flora had practically bullied her into this trip, reminding her—repeatedly—how she was always complaining she didn’t have a life. Outside of school and work, her version of 'fun' usually involved sleep and maybe takeout. Still, this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind. Finally lifting her gaze to meet those unfair blue eyes, Shasta gave a small, crooked smile. “Against my will, but yes.”
“Against your will?” His brows pulled together immediately, concern flashing across his face. “This isn't something anyone should do against their will.”
Oh, great. Now she sounded kidnapped. Realizing how bad that must’ve come across, she forced out a light, awkward giggle. Judging by the deepening furrow in his brow, it wasn’t selling. “I meant my sister and her best friend talked me into it,” she clarified quickly. “They decided I needed a break.”
His expression didn’t fully relax. “Please tell me you know where you’re going and what you’re about to walk into,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I won’t allow this plane to move until you do.”
Okay, dramatic much? Was he the owner of the jet? Shasta seriously doubted it. More likely, he was just another overprotective stranger with a hero complex, and those were her favorite...Not.
Plastering on a polite smile, she gave him a reassuring nod. “Yes. We’re attending a weeklong retreat for submissives and Dominants trying to find each other. It’s being held at a private resort owned by some rich guy who apparently gets off on hosting it every year.” She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “No need to worry. I know what I’m walking into.”
Before he could answer her, the engines revved and the plane began to move. The sound inside the cabin grew deafening. Shasta quickly dug out her noise-canceling earbuds and slipped them into place. This flight felt nothing like the commercial jet earlier. Every bump, every shift, every subtle dip in the air traveled straight through the small aircraft and into her bones. She did her absolute best to keep her expression neutral. Maybe if she stared out the window and kept to herself, the Voice wouldn’t notice anything, but that plan lasted all of thirty seconds when, without warning, the little plane seemed to drop straight down.
Her stomach plummeted, and the bead of sweat already clinging to her upper lip mixed with the tears that slipped free before she could stop them. Her fingers tightened instinctively, only for her to realize she’d grabbed hold of the Voice’s arm without meaning to. A warm hand settled gently over hers.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, his tone calm and steady. “These smaller crafts aren’t always a smooth ride, especially around the islands.” When he noticed the tears tracking down her cheeks, his posture shifted immediately. A moment later, he held something out to her. “Here you go.”
She blinked at the handkerchief. Honestly, she might’ve questioned where in the world a man still carried one of those, but right now she was far too grateful to care.
“Are you not used to flying?” the Voice asked.
“No. Not really,” she admitted with a small, self-conscious chuckle.
Without warning, the tiny cylindrical tube they were sealed inside began to shudder. Instinctively, her hand flew back to his arm, fingers tightening in a death grip. Squeezing her eyes shut, Shasta mentally prepared for the dramatic end of her very short tropical vacation. She thought she heard a quiet chuckle from the Voice, but there was absolutely no way she was opening her eyes to confirm it. A second later, that same warm hand settled gently over hers again. Then, to her complete and utter lack of composure, a solid, muscle-filled arm slid carefully around her shoulders, drawing her closer against his chest.
“Shhh… it’s all going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice low and calm above her head. “If you’d like, I can explain what’s happening with the plane and what exactly you’re feeling.”
With her face very much pressed into his ridiculously firm—and annoyingly good-smelling—chest, Shasta mumbled her answer. “I know what’s happening,” she insisted weakly. “Death. That is what we are feeling and experiencing.”
The soft rumble against her ear was unmistakable. He was definitely laughing at her. Fantastic.
“No, Little One,” he said patiently. “We are, in fact, experiencing air pockets—technically turbulence. It happens when there’s a sudden downdraft, a strong updraft, or a quick shift in headwind or tailwind. It doesn’t happen all the time, but when you’re flying around mountains or over the ocean, it’s fairly common.”
Shasta finally cracked one eye open just enough to peer up at him. “So… we can’t die from turbulence?” she asked carefully, clearly needing the reassurance spelled out in plain English.
“Well… not really. Although there are some planes they say were taken down by strong turbulence.”
The second her grip tightened on his shirt, he realized—too late—that particular detail probably should’ve stayed in his head. “But it’s highly unlikely it will happen,” he added quickly.
“I don’t want to die,” she whimpered into his shirt. “Not like this, at least.”
That low, unmistakable rumble of amusement vibrated through his chest again. He was absolutely enjoying her very undignified moment. “I would love to know what you do find acceptable, as far as dying goes,” he murmured.
Before she could even attempt an answer, the stewardess’s voice came over the speaker. “We are descending, folks. Sorry about the small bumps along the way. Please enjoy your stay on the island, and if you are attending the retreat, there will be buses waiting for you just outside the front door of the terminal.”
Small bumps? Did this woman hear herself? They were minutes away from attending their own funerals! This vacation was already off to a traumatic start.
“So… you’re one of the early guests, then?” the Voice asked.
Shasta carefully sat back upright, trying to reclaim what little dignity she had left. Then she noticed his wet and wrinkled shirt. Knowing she’d done it made her cheeks burn. “Yeah… my sister wanted to come a couple days early so we could check out the other early birds.” She gestured awkwardly toward his chest. “Sorry about… that.”
Following her motion, he glanced down at the damp fabric, then back up at her. “No worries. I have another one.”
Ugh. That smile again. It should be illegal for one human being to look that unfairly attractive while being this calm during near-death experiences.
“All right, get ready,” he said smoothly. “We’re about to touch down, and in these little planes, you can really feel it.”
Shasta repeated to herself that she would not grab his arm, she would not grab his arm. Then the wheels hit. He was not kidding! The sudden bump and aggressive braking nearly launched her soul out of her body. By the time the plane fully stopped, Shasta looked down in horror to find her white-knuckled grip firmly wrapped around his arm. Her own body had betrayed her!
“We’re here!” Sierra squealed, already halfway out of her seat. Then she noticed, her eyebrows shooting up as a very knowing grin spread across her face.
Shasta dropped his arm like it had personally offended her and shot her sister a sharp warning look.
The tiny airport turned out to be little more than an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Stepping off the plane, Shasta shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced across the tarmac. That was when she spotted him again. The blue-eyed stranger was already striding toward a sleek car waiting just a short distance away. Another man—less devastating but still annoyingly attractive—opened the rear door for him before sliding behind the wheel.
“What are we doing?” Flora asked, sliding up beside Shasta.
“Watching that man get into the car,” Shasta said, still squinting across the tarmac. “Who do you think he is?”
“I don’t know,” Sierra replied dryly. “You were the one sitting next to him the entire flight. Didn’t you think to ask his name?”
Shasta huffed. “Unfortunately, names never came up. I was too busy trying not to die.”
That earned her a sharp tsk from Sierra—complete with a dramatic eye roll—as she grabbed Shasta’s arm and started pulling her toward the small, house-like structure they were generously calling a terminal.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Sierra scolded. “Honestly, Shasta. Dying is not on the list of activities this week.”
