Page 29 of Lost Paradise

“What’s with the long faces? Did you miss me?”

“This isn’t funny,” Byronthe Brainmutters angrily.

I grin, relishing the fear that I can practically taste in the air. "Relax, mate. It's just a joke. You guys were freaking out over nothing."

But instead of joining in on my laughter, they stare at me with expressions that range from disbelief to anger.

“Come on, lighten up,” I say. “I’m alive. But Princess, honestly, I expected a thong, not granny knickers.”

“You’ve been trailing us all day?” Mr. Coldwell asks, and I wonder if this geezer has a first name.

“Hey man,” Zane breaks from the crowd, strolls over, and pulls his hand out. He seems the only one who can appreciate a good joke.

The smirk playing on his lips mirrors my own, so I reach out to grab his forearm to exchange that friendship and hisfist shoots out with lightning speed, connecting squarely with my face. Pain explodes through my face, a shockwave that reverberates through my body.

I stumble backward, clutching my throbbing nose, stunned by the suddenness of the attack. Blood gushes from my nostrils, staining my already destroyed shirt crimson as I struggle to regain my bearings.

“What the hell, wanker?” I splutter, blinking back the tears of pain and disbelief. The bastard has one ferocious fist.

Zane stands back, grinning, his eyes glinting with a fierce determination that catches me off guard.

“You’ve had it coming for days,” he replies, his voice dripping with contempt.

I’m way too dazed to respond, too busy trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from my nose. It throbs with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of my own foolishness in making my presence known to these imbeciles.

“To think that I almost felt sorry for you!” Eve announces. “You should have stayed freaking dead!”

I shrug, not allowing my battered ego to show. I wasn’t brought up to show weakness or defeat. At some point, I’ll get that cocky American athlete. I’ll give him a taste of the Corinthian Syndicate on his own, without witnesses.

“Awe, Princess,” I focus my attention on Eve. “And here I thought of you and came here bearing gifts, with just you in mind.”

I pretend to reach in my pocket and feel for something as I approach her. Zane steps forward, blocking my way, and I’m beginning to lose my patience with him.

“I let you get your way once. Don’t press your luck with me,” I warn.

“Zane,” Mr. Coldwell draws his attention. “Stand down.”

Go on, dog, listen to the man with the wise words.

“Watch your back, asshole, 'cause I have you marked,” Zane's eyes darken with his threat as he reluctantly steps aside.

He’ll get what’s coming, one way or another. Rather than retaliate, I’ll let him think he’s won this battle. I strike when he’ll least expect it.

I reach into my pocket and smile at the blonde beauty before me. Watching the males all pine after her today at the lagoon was hilarious. Even Mr. Coldwell couldn’t keep his knob down as he struggled to keep his eyes off that sexy arse of hers.

Despite what I said about her choice of lingerie, Eve Winters looks hot and sexy as fuck in that white cotton ensemble she chose to wear for the flight.

The color white is the operative word because when she climbed out of the water and stood under that waterfall, everything was on display, and not one of these poncers let her know because they all enjoyed the view.

So before some dumbarse wants to cast the first stone at me, they better have a reality check on their own selfish and corrupted minds. The difference between me and the other males here is that I embrace my dark nature. These poor blokes will struggle in the closet they cast themselves in because society dictates otherwise.

“Here, babe,” I approach her, and she rolls her eyes. “Got something for you while I roamed the island all day.” I pick it up from my feet and hold it up to her face.

The scream that erupts from her mouth could've stopped the world in its tracks. I brace myself, expecting the others to pounce on me, but as I glance towards them, what I didn’t anticipate was Eve snatching the human skull and swinging it at my head.

“Asshole! Your piece of human shit!” she screams, each word punctuated by the sickening thud of the skull connecting with my own. I brace myself to protect my head from her bashing because the last thing I’d ever do is hit a female.

Byron pulls her off me, his arms locking around her, while Jack positions himself between us. Zane swiftly grabs the skull from her and passes it to Mr. Coldwell, who now seems to have more steam blowing from his head than the smoke from the campfire.

---