Page 35 of Nightmare Island

“Because,” she whispers, suddenly serious. “Then you might try to sell me like everyone else has done in my life.”

The raw pain in her voice cuts through her drunken haze, making my wolf snarl with the need to hunt down everyone who’s ever hurt her.

Many in this fucked-up world are in the business of selling Omegas, trading them. When something is in small supply but huge demand, there’s a damn market for it. I’ve seen it firsthand back in Denmark. Families who had female children would sometimes sell them for wealth, and I fucking hate the practice. Hate it because I know what it’s like to be taken from my family, to be treated as a nobody and sent away.

That shit right there, where your family rejects you, fucks you up for life.

“Look at me,” I command softly, waiting until her glassy eyes meet mine. “No one is selling you. Not here. Not ever again.”

She studies me. “Promise?”

“I put my life behind my vow.” The words come easily, even if promises are dangerous things, especially on this island.

“And where are you from, then?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the way she’s looking at me, as if I’m something worth trusting.

“Denmark.” She giggles, the sound light and carefree. “Land of Vikings and very grumpy wolves.” Her nose scrunches up adorably. “So many grumpy wolves.”

I stiffen. Denmark? The coincidence is too great. My mind races through possibilities, through connections I haven’t thought about in years.

“Which pack?”

“You ask too many questions, silly Alpha.” Her head flops to the side, and suddenly, she’s sleeping deeply, making tiny snoring sounds that are impossibly endearing. My fearsome reputation would never recover if anyone knew how those little snores affect me.

I stare down at her, my mind racing. Who is this girl, really? Do I know her? What pack broke her, made her run? And why does the mystery of her pull at something deep inside me, something I thought died years ago?

When I slowly rise to leave, she turns to her side, reaching for me.

“Stay,” she whimpers, a plea that goes straight to my gut. “Please.”

The need in her voice matches the need clawing at my chest. That’s when I spot something red on the back of her forearm—a scratch with dried blood around it.

“You got hurt there, too.”

She glances at the cut like she’s surprised to find it there. “Ouch,” she says simply, making me smile despite myself.

I sit back beside her, leaning over her arm, not thinking twice about needing to clean it for her.

Her gaze locks with mine as I slowly, deliberately, take a long lick of the wound, then another, her blood almost sweet on my tongue. I tell myself it’s just to clean it, to prevent infection, but we both know that’s a lie.

I’m becoming obsessed with her taste, with everything about her.

“That tickles,” she breathes, her chest rising more prominently. The blanket slips lower, revealing her beautiful breasts and small nipples, tight and the color of the darkest pink.

My cock punches hard, thick and ready, and I breathe in the delicious sweetness of her arousal. My gaze is locked on those full tits, and a deep pulse shakes me. My balls tight, the ache to reach over, to touch and taste them, strangles me.

Mate.

The words boom in my head like a reminder that she’s mine to claim, to show her why she belongs to me.

My wolf surges forward, clawing at my control.

She must sense something in my stillness because she says, “Please, Ghost.”

I stare at her, fighting every instinct that screams at me to take what she’s offering, ignoring my aching cock. My chest heaves with the effort of restraint. She’s drunk, injured, and vulnerable—everything that in me craves and needs to protect.

“Don’t you want me?” she purrs, and the insecurity beneath her words has my heart clenching.

“You have no idea how much I do,” I growl, drinking in her curves, memorizing them before forcing myself to pull the blanket back over them. The action feels like tearing off my own skin. “When I claim you—and I will—I want you fully conscious. I want you to know exactly what you’re getting into. Not like this, not when you’re hurt.”

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