Page 30 of The Secrets of Roan Island

Shemaiah stands and crosses the room.

I retreat a step, though I don’t normally feel fear when it comes to either Shemaiah or Noah. Something is different, and I can’t identify why.

“Shemaiah,” Noah warns.

Shemaiah stops in front of me and casually puts his hands in his pockets. “We have something that needs researching.”

“We don’t need research,” Noah snaps. “We need answers. Experiments.”

“And how’s that working out for you, brother?” Shemaiah asks without looking away from me. “You’ve missed something.” His lips faintly quirk once more as if he’s enjoying the moment, a victor of sorts, but the smile fades just as quickly when his serious eyes—as dark and dilated as Noah’s— connect with mine. He leans closer and inhales.

Noah growls.

“Did you just sniff me?” My gaze darts to Noah. I think of the paintings in the hall.

His lips are pressed in a tight line, but his eyes aren’t on me, they’re burning a hole into Shemaiah’s back

Shemaiah dips his chin once, then advances, pausing when we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t let him push you out.” His gaze holding mine, he subtly tucks a crumpled piece of paper into my hand, clearly not wanting Noah to see. I step away from the intensity of his look, something dangerous lurking in the depths of his eyes.

“Noah will never admit it,” Shemaiah says. “But he needs the help. We all do.”

16

Ruby

“Follow him out, Ruby.” Noah nods to where Shemaiah disappeared into the hallway. His hands are white on the doorframe, clutching so tightly they must hurt. His nostrils flare. “You can’t be around me right now.”

“Why not?” I press, stepping around the table so there’s nothing between us. I’m anxious to read the paper Shemaiah gave me, but Noah’s strange energy keeps me focused on him.

His head drops down, hair obscuring his face, arms outstretched as he continues to grip the doorframe like he’s tied and bound between two pillars. It almost seems as if he’s grown, his dress shirt stretching tight, the sleeves rolled to his forearms like he was just working with his hands.

“Get. Out.” His voice is gravelly and harsh. Tempered, ground-out restraint.

“No.” I take a step closer, my heartbeat brisk inside my chest, my lungs tight as my breath moves quicker through my airways. My hands feel cold, and I fist them, crossing my armsover my chest. The paper crinkles in my hand, and though I feel guilty at possibly harming an important document, I have the impression I’m toying with a beast, which takes precedence. I don’t know why Noah is so angry, why he’s holding himself so carefully, but I want to know what happens when that calm control snaps. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He remains still, his face hidden.

I try a different approach. “What are you researching?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” His head flies up, dark eyes suddenly meeting mine, fiery and intense and unnatural. “You can’t help me.”

There’s excruciating pain on his face, a battle of wills waging behind his eyes. Have they gone darker? It’s like his pupils have expanded to cover almost all the white. A trick of the light? Or is something wrong with him?

I should retreat, follow Shemaiah, go to my room, lock the door, and wait for that boat to take me far away from Roan Island.

But I don’t. Worried for Noah, I drop the crumpled paper on the table and step closer, palms out, even as my instincts scream he’s dangerous.

His chest heaves with each move I make, gaze never straying from my advance. He licks his lips, nostrils flaring. “Fuck, Ruby, your scent. It’s…” He swallows, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers tighten on the doorframe. It splinters. “Please, don’t come any closer. It’s too hard to–”

I’m close enough to feel his sharp gasp as if it were my own, close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Fuck it.” He moves so quickly I don’t have time to react. Seizing me by the waist, he turns me and presses my back against the doorframe as his lips claim mine with a punishing kiss. It’s bruising fusion and overpowering swipes of his tonguethat have me melting into him, helpless in the face of his desperation.

I tug at his shirt, hungry for more. I’ve never felt such intense emotion, the sensations coursing through my body make all my previous experiences pale in comparison. Kissing Noah is like an electric storm over the lake, bright and angry but beautiful and wholly consuming.

My tongue frantically tangles with his, skimming against sharp teeth. His hips press against mine, pinning me tighter to the door. I feel his desire pressed unrelenting against me, the power of his body, tightly bridled energy, seeking release. I gasp as his hands grab my hair and tilt my head roughly to the side, his mouth leaving mine to trail kisses from my jaw to my neck. He growls in a way that makes my nipples tighten and my toes curl, a sharp insistence of something that can’t be undone as he tests my skin with his teeth.

“Noah,” I moan, gripping his shoulders.

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