Page 40 of Nightmare Island

“I don’t need anything.” She comes back at me fast, but I hear the strain in her voice. “And if you peek again, I’ll find a way to make that mask a permanent fixture.”

“Such violence,” I drawl but keep my eyes forward. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Okay, fine. I’m... decent.”

I turn, and my breath catches. She’s managed to slip into a simple cotton dress that falls past her knees. The pale blue fabric makes her eyes look stormy. Her blonde hair is mussed from sleep, falling in soft waves around her face. Something in my chest tightens.

Without warning, I scoop her up into my arms. She lets out a squeak that she’ll probably deny later.

“I can walk!”

“Sure you can, sweetheart. Just like you could dress yourself.”

She mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “smugbastard”but settles against my chest.

I carry her through the mansion and out onto the grounds. Other pack members are scattered around, trying to look busy while obviously staring. I feel her tense in my arms.

“They’ve all been talking about you, you know,” I tell her, heading for the pond behind the mansion. “The mysterious woman who crashed onto our island.”

Her head snaps up. “They have?”

“You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened here in years.” I settle her carefully on a wooden bench overlooking the water. Palm trees surround us, and the sun turns her hair almost white. The way she lifts her head, closes her eyes, and takes in the warmth has me grinning.

Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t smiled this much in my whole life. Now look at me. I’m a fucking clown.

I grab a partially cut palm tree trunk—heavy son of a bitch but worth it to see her expression when I set it in front of her as a footrest. She lifts her legs to rest them on it.

“My very own throne, complete with palm tree ottoman?” Her lips twitch. “You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

“Only the ones who crash-land on my island.” I flop down beside her, close enough to feel her warmth. “Speaking of which, what pack in Denmark are you from?”

“Straight to business, then.” She hesitates, and I see walls going up behind her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

“You’re stuck here. What are you still protecting?”

“Fine.” She shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about it, her gaze skimming out over the still pond. “You want to know? I’m from Ulv pack, and I fucking hate my father because he sold me to a bastard enemy in Balor pack in a forced marriage.” Her voice turns bitter. “I’m nobody. Just an object others sell for profit.”

Hate fills me at hearing her story, my hands curling into fists. Fucking bastards, yet I’m not surprised, as I’d witnessed it happening back in Denmark too often. Children were pawns for parents to use as they deemed fit, and I fucking loathed it. I wanted to hurt them, to make them feel abandoned and betrayed.

I study Hel as she stares at a tiny bird landing at the edge of the water, drinking, her fingers twisting over one another.

Reaching down, I gather a handful of smooth pebbles and place them in her lap. She immediately starts fidgeting with them.

“Sorry to hear that,” I say quietly. “And your husband?”

“Fuck him.” The words explode out of her like she’s been holding them in too long. Anger radiates from her so strongly I can almost taste it. I tilt my head, studying her, wondering what that bastard did to make her this furious. Was he the reason she was on that plane? Did he trigger her abilities? Was he on the plane when it crashed? One can hope. The questions burn in my throat, but I hold them back until she’s ready.

“You may hate me,” I say instead. “But I’m from the Balor Wolves pack.”

Her head whips around, studying me. And after a long pause, she just says, “I don’t hate you.” A pebble she throws splashes into the pond. “How’d you end up here, then?”

I lean back, taking a deep breath as memories darken my thoughts, hatred rising like bile. I’m not ready to show her the ugly truth of my past, why I belong here among the monsters, so I go for a softer option.

“My family. Once I turned eighteen, they offered me the option of either going to this island or dying after my fucker of a father blamed me for every damn thing that went wrong in the village. The man loathed me and beat me daily.” I choke on a forced laugh. “So it was easy to select the island if it meant leaving home.”

Her lips pinch, and she places her hand on mine, her warmth spreading over me. “That’s so fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.”

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