Page 23 of His Angel

Luna charges after it, her floppy ears dancing with each bounding step, her joy infectious. I laugh—a sound so pure it mingles effortlessly with the sea breeze.

She’s more than a pet; she’s the salve to my guilty conscience. Anthony’s ghost may hover in the shadows, but Isaia’s whisperedI love youreverberates stronger, his last kiss still lingering on my lips, electric and haunting.

I’m not sure what kind of person it makes me when my infatuation with Isaia overrides the loss of a friendship that got me through some of the hardest times in my life. But I choose not to think about it because I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.

On the deck, Isaia stands outlined against the darkening sky, without a shirt and a glass of bourbon in hand. He’s been watching me for an hour, just standing there, staring. I can feel his gaze burning my skin, feel his intensity reaching for me. It does something to my insides, having his eyes on me while I pretend not to notice.

I wonder what he’s thinking while he watches me.

Is he thinking of closing the distance, claiming me right here on the white sand? Or does it go deeper, darker?

Maybe he’s counting every step, memorizing every move, plotting out exactly how he’ll draw me into the shadows where no one else can see, where he can ruin and rule my body and mind.

It shouldn’t thrill me. It shouldn’t make the hair on the back of my neck stand up with excitement. But it does, and each look is a chain he forges, linking me to him, and deep down a part of me loves it. It’s a dark game, but it’s ours.

Luna collapses, tongue out, sides heaving with happy exhaustion, so I head back to the house to feed her before she passes out.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.” Isaia’s eyes track me as I walk up the stairs. “That dog’s a menace.”

“You’re just jealous ’cause you’re not as cute.”

He scoffs, then swallows the last of his bourbon. “I’m going to check in on security, make sure everyone’s where they should be.”

“How many security guards do you have on the island?”

“Right now, twenty-two. Got eight more coming in tomorrow.”

“Thirty?” I raise a brow. “You sure we need that many?”

He pulls me close and places a kiss on my forehead. “Baby, if I had my way, there’d be a hundred of them around here. I’ll be back soon. Stay in the house.”

An hour later, I’m curled on the couch reading some book about ancient civilizations, the intricate hieroglyphics and monuments of a long-lost era.

My mind navigates through the stone-laden streets of the past, each turn revealing another piece of the mystery. Luna snoozes on the rug next to me with soft snores punctuating the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Feet stomp across the deck outside, and when Isaia steps in, I lift my gaze to him, my heart doing that silly flutter it always does when I see him.

He’s shirtless, his skin sheened with sweat, his hair tousled by the wind. The muscles of his biceps and shoulders ripple, gilded by the dim light of the corner lamp. A pagan God with eyes that gleam a dark, predatory glint.

I close the book. “Everything okay?”

Without saying a word, he settles on the chair across from me, muscled thighs spread wide, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers rubbing along his jaw. The air thickens, his silence a weight that presses against my skin, and I feel the heat of his stare.

“Isaia?” I set the book on the coffee table, his eyes fixed on me, unblinking, a shiver skittering down my spine. “What’s going on?”

“Take off your panties.” His voice cuts low, vibrating through the room.

A flush creeps up my neck. “What?”

“You heard me. Take ’em off.” His gaze darkens, and my core clenches, heat wrapping around me like a vise.

The old Everly he bumped into months ago would either melt into embarrassment or run as far away as possible. But he’s changed me. His touch, his unapologetic sexuality gives me a confidence I never thought I’d have. So I stand and reach under my dress, fingers trembling against the soft fabric.

Slowly, I slide my panties down—cotton dragging along my thighs, his eyes tracking every inch, every quiver—until they pool around my feet. My pulse races, heart slamming against my ribs like a drum, his intensity stoking the fire already flickering low in my belly.

“Now sit.” His deep, primal growl sends a thrill through me, and I obey, sinking back onto the couch, bare legs brushing together as I settle. He leans back, sprawled and predatory, with eyes that gleam with hunger. “Open your legs.”

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I let my thighs part, pulse pounding, pussy throbbing as his gaze drops to my core. A dark rumble rolls from his chest, and heat blossoms, my body responding to that feral sound.

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