Chapter 43 - FORTY THREE

Chapter 43: Chapter FORTY THREE

ANGEL

No.

No, no, no!

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My voice was completely gone, trapped somewhere deep in my paralyzed chest as he moved toward the bed with that slow, predatory walk I’d seen a thousand times in my nightmares.

"Did you really think I’d let you go that easily?!" He snarled, his dark voice deep, vicious, and echoing off the walls.

"You’re dead!" The words finally exploded out of me in a ragged burst. "I killed you! You’re supposed to be dead!" I was thrashing against the sheets.

"Dead?" He laughed—a low, dark, mocking sound that made my skin crawl and my blood run cold.

He was at the edge of the mattress, climbing on, his heavy body swiftly caging me in, pinning my wrists against the mattress.

"Does this feel dead to you?" His massive hand wrapped tightly around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off my air, forcing my gaze to lock onto his shadow-drenched face. "Does a dead man make your pussy wet?"

His other hand was already pushing up the hem of the cotton dress, rough fingers trailing up my bare thigh so agonizingly slowly it felt like pure torture.

I couldn’t breathe. His weight was crushing my ribs into the mattress.

"Please, please no—"

"You beg so prettily, Angel." His mouth was right at my ear, his breath hot. "Just like you begged me to fuck you. Begged me to let you come. Remember?"

His fingers found the edge of my underwear and yanked with brutal force. The thin fabric tore down the side, and then his hand was between my legs, touching me with slick authority, and I hated that my traitorous body was responding, hated the heat and wetness I could feel blossoming under his touch—

"There she is," he purred possessively against my throat. "My dirty little Angel who says she hates me but gets wet the second I touch her."

"No!"

"Yes." He positioned himself at my entrance, and I could feel him there, thick, hard, and ready to tear me apart. "Say you’re mine and I’ll make you feel good."

"Stop! No—"

He slammed into me in one brutal, merciless thrust.

I jolted awake with a blood-curdling scream stuck in my dry throat.

My hands flew out frantically, grabbing at nothing but empty air. I lashed out, accidentally knocking the heavy brass bedside lamp right off the nightstand, and it crashed to the floor before my shaking fingers scrambled and found the light switch on the wall.

Bright light flooded everywhere.

Empty.

The room was completely, entirely empty.

I was alone. The heavy bedroom door was still firmly closed and locked from the inside. Nobody was there.

My chest heaved up and down as I tried to catch my breath, trying to convince my racing, frantic heart that it was just a nightmare.

Just a dream.

Damien wasn’t here.

He couldn’t be here. He was miles away, cold on a floor.

But as I sat there shivering, I could still feel him. The phantom weight of his body crushing my ribs, the ghost of his hands burning on my skin, the terrifying pressure inside me. I could still feel his hot breath against my neck. I felt everything like it was happening right in front of me.

I pressed my bloody palms hard against my eyes and tried not to fall apart completely in the middle of the room.

It took several long, agonizing minutes to calm my breathing down. Falling asleep again was completely impossible now; the darkness felt too dangerous.

I swung my legs over the edge, climbed out of bed, and left the room.

I moved quietly through the pitch-black house on bare, sore feet. I just needed to walk. To move. To prove to my own frantic mind that I was free, that I could move whenever and wherever I wanted to.

That’s when I heard it.

A low sound echoing from down the dark corridor.

Low, breathy, and rhythmic—there was no mistaking what it was.

The sound came again—a soft moan, feminine and heavy with pleasure.

My feet carried me forward silently, drawn by an instinct I couldn’t control.

Down the hallway. Toward a partially open door where a warm, amber glow spilled out onto the hardwood floor.

I peered through the crack, and my breath caught instantly in my throat.

Kayla and Lona were on the bed together, completely naked, their slick bodies tangled tightly in the center of the sheets.

Lona’s mouth was buried between Kayla’s parted legs, sucking and licking with deliberate rhythm while Kayla’s back arched dramatically off the mattress. Her fingers were buried deep in Lona’s copper hair, holding her tight against her skin, and the breathless sounds coming from her throat were pure pleasure.

And I just stood there frozen like some idiot, wide-eyed, when I knew I should turn around and leave quietly before they noticed me invading their privacy.

Kayla’s eyes suddenly fluttered open and locked directly on mine through the gap in the door.

Shit.

But instead of gasping or pulling away, she just smiled—a lazy, satisfied grin—not even bothering to stop Lona’s busy mouth. "Enjoying the show?"

Lona lifted her head lazily, her lips wet, swollen, and glistening in the dim lamplight.

She looked up at me and smirked, wiping her chin. "Are you just going to stand there and watch, or do you want to join in?"

My mouth opened, but absolutely nothing came out.

"Come on," Kayla purred, reaching a long, slender arm out toward me in invitation. "It’s much more fun with more."

"We don’t bite... unless you ask nicely," Lona added with a mischievous grin.

"You’re both—" I started, then stopped dead because I didn’t actually know how to finish the sentence without sounding completely naive.

"Horny?" Kayla completed smoothly. "We’re just in desperate need of entertainment since our man isn’t here tonight."

Their man?

Did I hear that right?

"You both... share a boyfriend?" I asked, my brow furrowing, unable to comprehend what I was hearing after everything I’d experienced.

Both of them broke into soft chuckles like I’d just said the most hilariously innocent thing in the world.

"Boyfriend," Lona repeated, shaking her head, still looking immensely amused. "Sure, honey. If that’s what you want to call him."

So they really did share one man? How was that even possible? It wasn’t something I could ever see myself accepting, but they seemed totally fine—even thrilled—with the arrangement.

"It’s not just us two," Kayla continued casually, leaning back against the pillows. "All six of us belong to the Chief of this island. Well—" She glanced down at Lona with a smirk. "Five, technically. Nessa doesn’t fuck him. She just runs the house and keeps us in line."

Okay, maybe I really didn’t need this much overwhelming information on my first night.

"Sorry for disturbing you guys. I just... couldn’t sleep." I slowly backed away from the doorframe, my hands raised defensively.

"You sure you want to leave so soon?" Lona called after me, her voice dripping with playful teasing. "The invitation’s always open, sweetheart. We can definitely put you to sleep."

"No thanks," I said quickly, my cheeks burning.

"We’ll be right here if you change your mind!" Kayla called out softly. Just as I turned away to hurry back, I caught a quick glimpse from the corner of my eye—Kayla pulling Lona’s face right back down between her thighs, already moaning softly as the door slipped out of view.

I fled down the corridor, slipped back into my dark room, and shut the door tight, my mind racing in a hundred different directions.

What the hell was going on on this island?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​