Page 13 of Nightmare Island

Still, the hunger is there. The need to bury my cock deep in an Omega, to knot her, to release the need that builds up day after day on this hellhole of an island. Some days, it’s all I can think about. That brings out something raw and animalistic in me, and I fucking crave it.

And this girl… she’s special. The power she holds, the leverage it could give me to finally unite both sides of the island… well, after fucking Sten’s six feet under, of course.

Her scent is like heaven, doing things to me I can’t even begin to describe. Every inch of her calls to my wolf. My heart races, my palms sweat. She’s a wolf, obviously, but there’s something else there—a hint of humanity and the metallic tang of electricity.

Most wolves don’t carry magic, except for a few from Denmark that I’m aware of. So where did this little firecracker come from?

I inhale deeply, letting her scent wash over me. Pine and wild roses, with an undercurrent of ripe berries—it screams Omega, something that tightens my balls. It takes me a moment to place it, but when I do, a growl rumbles in my chest.

Heat. The faint beginning stages of an Omega’s heat.

Fuck me.

I rub a hand across my mouth, my mind racing. This complicates things. Makes them infinitely more interesting but also dangerous.

Silence.

I can’t take my attention off her, but I try, staring around the room to distract my obsession.

The room is sparse. Wooden floorboards are weathered but solid. A sturdy wardrobe against one wall. There’s even a door leading to a bathroom with running water, one of the perks left behind by the fae, their magic keeping the old plumbing functional long after they were gone.

A soft sound draws my attention back to the bed. She’s stirring, making little noises that go straight to my cock. I sit back, forcing myself to remain still as she slowly opens her eyes.

She glances around, confusion evident on her face. Sitting up, she touches the back of her head where I bandaged her wound, then looks down at her now-dry clothes. When she goes to scramble out of bed, I clear my throat.

Her head snaps up, gaze wide as she peers into the shadows where I sit. The moonlight washes over her face, and fuck if she isn’t captivating.

She’s all legs, this one. Probably hits about five foot eight, which means she’d fit just right under my chin. Her hair’s a mess, tangled and wild, as if she’s been through hell. It’s the color of wheat fields back in Denmark, all golden and shit, with darker streaks running through it. Makes me want to grab a fistful and see if it’s as soft as it looks.

Her face? Zeus! It’s the kind that could start wars. A mouth made for sin and eyes that could freeze me in my tracks. It’s too dark to see their color, but they’re sharp. Always moving, always watching. She’s got the look of someone who’s been through shit, who’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Her tits strain against her shirt, and her hips flare out just enough to give me something to hold on to. She moves like a predator, all coiled energy and grace, and I’m fucking intrigued. It has my wolf pacing, itching to chase, to claim.

But it’s more than just her looks. There’s something about her, some kind of raw power that sets my teeth on edge. My cock twitches, and I have to shift in my seat. Fuck, I haven’t reacted like this to a woman in years.

Her shoulders slump slightly, and the jerky movement of her gaze darts around the room, landing on the exit door.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence. “This is cozy. Do you make a habit of kidnapping women, or am I just special?”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Trust me, sweetheart, if I was in the habit of kidnapping women, I’d have a much fuller house.”

She stares at me, squinting into the shadows. “Oh, it’s you. Skull-face. You know, watching people sleep is generally considered creepy in civil society.”

“Good thing we’re not in civil society, then, isn’t it?” I lean forward, letting the moonlight illuminate my mask. “Besides, I had to make sure you didn’t die on me. That would be inconvenient.”

“Gods forbid I inconvenience you with my death,” she retorts. “I’ll try to schedule any future near-death experiences at more suitable times.”

I laugh again. I like this girl. She’s got fire.

“Since we’re exchanging pleasantries,” I say with a low tone, “mind telling me who you are and how you ended up on my island?”

“Your island?” Her gaze narrows. “Funny, I don’t remember seeing your name on theWelcome to Paradisesign. Must have missed it while I was running for my life.”

I stand, moving closer to the bed. She tenses but doesn’t retreat. Brave little thing.

“Let me rephrase,” I growl, letting a hint of Alpha command seep into my voice. “Who are you?”

She meets my gaze, holding my stare. “I’m the girl who’s wondering why she’s in a stranger’s bed instead of dead in a ditch. Your turn. Who are you, Skull-face?”

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