Page 36 of Nightmare Island

She blinks, a blush crawling over her cheeks, and pulls her hand back. I catch it, unable to let her retreat completely. Her pulse flutters under my fingers like a trapped bird.

“It takes a damn strong man to resist you right now, sweetheart, and I like to think I am such an Alpha.” I trace circles on her inner wrist, feeling her shiver. “But I can onlyresist so much when you’re everything I…” I pause, the weight of unspoken words heavy.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, then she goes silent, tugging the blanket to her chin.

My chest aches with words I can’t say, promises I shouldn’t make. My wolf is singing with what I tasted in her blood, with the knowledge that fate or chance or this cursed island has given me what I never thought to find.

She’s mine for eternity. My mate. My salvation. My damnation. She just doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll find out soon enough.

The only issue is her ability to leave the island. If she escapes my clutches, I can’t follow. The brand on my arm ensures that. The thought makes my wolf rage, makes the darkness in me rise up with plans and schemes I shouldn’t contemplate.

Heart thundering, frustration boiling in my veins, I lean over to whisper, “Sleep, little flame. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes are closing, her breathing heavy.

I move to the corner of the room, settling into a chair before shutting off the torch. In the darkness, I watch her breathing even out. She looks peaceful now, unaware of how much she’s upended my world.

My thoughts are obsessed with her.

My to-be mate.

All while images of her bare breasts, of her offering her body to me, keenly suffocate me with need.

She shifts in her sleep, mumbling something that might be my name.

As I settle in for my watch over her, I know one thing with bone-deep certainty—whatever game fate is playing with us, I intend to win and not lose my fated mate. No matter the cost.

Chapter

Nine

HEL

Iwake with a fuzzy head. The morning light streaming through the window is too bright, making me squint as memories from last night start trickling back in fragments—Eve’s betrayal, that creepy ghost town, being chased, falling over, my leg…

As if the thought summons it, a dull ache throbs in my shin, not nearly as bad as last night, though. More memories surface hazily, mostly about Ghost being near me, him making me drink something bitter. Something to help with the pain, they’d said. Something to make me forget…

That explains my foggy brain.

When I manage to lift my gaze, my breath catches. Ghost is slumped in a chair by the window, head bent forward, sunlight pouring over him like liquid gold. He’s only in black pants, and my gaze shoots to his bare chest, stomach rippled with muscles, at how uncomfortable he looks in that seat, like he’s about to spill out. Why does he have to be so damn muscular that all I can think about is running my hands over him? I haven’t even seen his face, yet here I am, drooling over him being half naked.

Scars crisscross his torso, some silvery with age, others still pink and angry. The kind of marks you get from war or something worse.

And he’s still wearing that ridiculous mask, even while sleeping.

He stretches his arms above his head with a low groan that does things to my insides I refuse to acknowledge.

“Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” He rises from the chair in one fluid motion.

I clutch the blanket to my chest, suddenly very aware of my own vulnerable state, of my nakedness. “I’m feeling better,” I answer quickly.

A low chuckle rumbles from behind his mask. “You’re suddenly shy, unlike last night?”

My heart stops. “What exactly are you saying? Did we… you know, do something?” Gods, what did I do? And why can’t I remember?

“Giggled a lot, mostly, and touched my chest. You seemed to enjoy that a lot,” he admits with a grin.

Fire burns my cheeks to think that I groped him while high on painkiller medication.

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