Page 37 of Nightmare Island

He’s just standing there, staring at me, and for the first time, I can properly see his eyes in the clear morning light. They’re not the same color—one is a milky, pale green, while the other is a deeper bottle-green. He sits on the edge of the bed next to me, close enough that the heat radiating from his skin pours over me.

I reach for his mask. My fingers brush against his jaw, feather-light, seeking the edge. His hand catches mine, yet he doesn’t push me away. Just holds my hand there, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“Why do you wear it?” The question comes out barely above a whisper.

“I hate getting attention and people staring at my injury.”

I can’t help but snort. “Right, because a skull mask is totally inconspicuous. Nobody ever stares at the guy in the creepy mask.”

“Better they fear me than pity me.” His voice is light, but there’s steel underneath.

Something in my chest tightens. “Can I see?”

His thumb stills on my hand. “Be careful. You may not like what you see.”

“I doubt that.” The words come out softer than I meant them to, more honest.

There’s a long pause as he just looks at me, his gaze searching mine for something. Then, slowly, he reaches up with his free hand and pulls the mask to the top of his head.

My breath catches, but I force myself not to react. A brutal scar cuts down across his pale green eye, the skin puckered and raised like a ridge of angry flesh. The eyelashes are missing in a stark line where the scar passes, and that ghostly eye seems to have a diagonal scar, too. It seems to stare right through me.

His jaw is clenched tight. I keep my face carefully neutral, even as my heart aches for the pain he must have endured.

“I’m blind out of that eye,” he confesses with a rough voice.

“What happened?”

His good eye darkens. “Remember that fucking dickhead you met when I first found you on the island? Let’s just say we had a huge disagreement. After that savage fight, we split the island in half, but I’ve vowed to destroy the son of a bitch for what he did to me. And, well, he’s got the same vendetta against me.”

Before I can stop myself, my hand comes up to cup his cheek, fingers gentle against the scarred flesh. “I’m so sorry he did that to you.”

“I gave as good as I got.” He pulls away slightly. “But I don’t want to talk about the bastard or your pity.” The mask goes back on, and I let my hand fall back to the blanket.

“What about you?” He turns those mismatched eyes on me again. “Seeing as we’re sharing… your turn. I notice you don’t have a bonding mark on your arm, so you weren’t sent here as a prisoner. You mentioned something about a plane crash?”

“I did?” I squirm internally. Gods, what else did I say last night? But he did save my life, and he’s shown me something deeply personal. He deserves at least part of the truth.

“I was on a plane to Romania, going to my brother.” The words come slowly. “There was a storm suddenly…”

“Your doing?” His response is casual, too casual.

I fix him with my flattest stare, but my heart is racing. He doesn’t even guess but is convinced of my abilities. Or did I reveal that, too, in my drug-induced haze?

“If I could control storms, do you really think I’d still be stuck on this island?”

He leans closer, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him. His presence is like gravity, pulling at something deep in my core.

“So you don’t have control of your ability, then?”

I narrow my gaze on him, unsure how much I can trust him yet. “What’s with the inquisition?”

He shrugs. “It’s important to know who I bring into my home for the safety of my pack. And you’re still not being forthcoming.”

“And I think you’re not exactly an open book yourself.” I meet his gaze steadily, even as my pulse thunders in my ears.

A slow smile spreads across his face; I can see it in his eyes, even if the mask hides his mouth. “Touché.”

The morning sun catches his good eye, turning it to sapphire, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. There’s somethingmagnetic, dangerous, and alluring about him that makes me want to trace every scar on his body and learn their history. But there’s also something dark there—whispers of violence and anger. Something that says this man is not meant for happy endings.

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