Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance
Isle of Sin: Chapter 8

“Wh-what? Why?” I stammered, trying to wrap my head around the words Asher had just spoken. “Why would you do that?”

“If I tell them you killed him, what will happen to you?” he asked, his dark eyes searching mine. “What will they do to you, Adalyn?”

My brow furrowed. “You know what they’ll do.”

“Maybe. But tell me anyway.”

I swallowed.

Was he demanding this to remind me of my fate? To warn me? To hurt me with words?

Nathan used to do that to me often, constantly making me reiterate whatever threat he’d just laid at my feet. Reminding me of my potential future had been one of his favorite taunts because it’d forced me to behave.

“I’ll still marry Taylor so he can take over the company, but it’ll be in name only. I’ll become a toy, likely used in the Sin Cave Fantasy circuit, or somewhere worse.” My voice gave away my nerves, the hairs along my arms standing on end.

His eyebrows lifted. “Sin Cave Fantasy circuit? Is that part of Ecstasy?”

I blinked at him. What kind of question was that? “No. It’s a different branch. Though, I guess some Ecstasy members have access to both.” I frowned. “Aren’t you part of both?”

He snorted. “I’m not part of any of it.”

I searched his gaze, not understanding. “Not part of any of what?”

“The network.” He spat out the word like it was a curse.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I’m not a member of Ecstasy or the Fantasy circuit you mentioned. I’m not part of your Elite circle either. I just learned about Elite Brides last night.” His gaze was intent. “But it seems I was on the recruitment list for potential membership, and now I have no choice in the matter.”

I… I didn’t know how to respond to that.

He had to be lying.

Another mindfuck. A trick. A way to provide false hope. However, I’d learned years ago that hope didn’t exist in my world. Maybe for other people, but never for me.

I started to shake my head. “I’m not falling for this, Mr. Sinner. Try again.”

“There’s nothing to fall for, Ms. Rose. But I need your cooperation. I’m expecting several Elites to arrive on my island soon, which means our stories have to match one another. Otherwise, there will be more issues than I care to deal with.”

“Our stories,” I repeated. “You want me to lie about killing Nate. Say you did it instead.” I snorted at the insanity of that ploy. “Let me guess—the purpose is to ensure the severity of my punishment? To make it worse than it already will be?”

I gave him a once-over.

“A sadist through and through,” I mused, rolling my eyes. “I killed Nate. I own that. You don’t need to play a game to fuck me. Unless that’s how you get it up.”

A taunt, one that I realized might be true.

I almost started to laugh, but his expression had me freezing in place.

I’d pushed a button.

Something to make the gentleman façade fade into the monster beneath.

Because he appeared ready to commit murder.

“A sadist, yes.” His fingers caught my chin, giving it a little squeeze as he forced me to hold his burning gaze. “But I only play with willing masochists, Adalyn. Because I believe in consent.” He released me and slid off the bed. “Stay there and don’t move.”

He didn’t look back to see if I obeyed him, leaving me to wonder what the fuck he meant about being willing and consenting to whatever he had in mind.

I would never be willing.

Or consenting.

Those were two concepts that didn’t exist in my world.

“Bryant!” he called from the doorway, making me jump.

“Yeah, boss?” a deep voice returned.

“I need your assistance.” The words sounded angry.

Is he inviting someone to join us? To try to force my willingness? A game of normal sadist and worse sadist? A way to show me why I may prefer the sadist who hadn’t raped me while unconscious, maybe?

“Did she claw you up again?” Bryant asked, a note of amusement in his tone as the sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

Asher glanced down at his forearms. I couldn’t see them from here but now wondered if I’d drawn blood earlier. “No. I need my laptop.”

A male with brown hair appeared, the edges of it falling to his ears. It was the sort of style that almost looked as though he needed a trim, just like the light dusting of hair along his square jaw. I suspected that was the look he enjoyed—messy but purposeful.

Dangerous, I translated. Rebellious.

Yeah, this was definitely about to become a game of Who can be the worst sadist?

Great.

Just what I’d always wanted.

Of course, I’d known this would happen the moment I’d decided to kill Nate.

Sighing, I sat up on the bed, letting the sheet fall again. “Look—”

“I told you not to fucking move,” Asher cut me off, his expression smoldering with fury. “Cover your damn breasts.”

I arched a brow at him. “What? You don’t like seeing Nate’s handiwork on my skin? Does that turn you off? Because that may be a problem. He left knife marks all over my body.” I held up my palm, recalling the moment I’d yanked one of those knives from my ass. The stitches on my hand were a new touch, giving me pause for a moment.

That gash must have been worse than normal. This may even leave a scar.

“Well, at least he didn’t break her spirit,” Bryant said softly.

“Laptop. Now.” Asher slammed the door, causing me to jolt once more, my heart flying into a chaotic rhythm as he stalked toward the bed.

Shit. I always was a bratty sub, but only because most Doms enjoyed having a reason to punish me.

This one didn’t appear all that enthused by my antics.

Actually, he appeared downright infuriated by them.

His dark gaze went to my breasts—I hadn’t covered them up yet—and his jaw ticked.

He started unbuttoning his shirt, making my mouth go dry. This is it. He’s finally going to act.

But as he began revealing his fit physique, I wasn’t entirely sure this was a bad thing. Except, no, it was definitely a bad thing. Because a man in his shape could last for a long time. He could actually hurt me. Horribly, even. All those rippling muscles spoke of a stamina that might just rip me in half.

Fuck.

“Here,” he grated, handing me his shirt. “Put this on.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Put. It. On.” Each word was enunciated slowly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My instinct to rebel vanished behind a wave of necessary submission, my fingers shaking as I grabbed the cloth and quickly did what he commanded. A hint of minty aftershave touched my senses, swathing me in his masculine scent.

Warmth touched my skin, both from the residual heat embedded in the fabric and the shame that came with knowing I’d angered my superior.

I hated this feeling.

Hated how it belittled me.

I should be proud for standing up for myself, for pushing him, but some sick and twisted part of me didn’t like disappointing the men in my life. It was a part of me that Nate had cultivated and groomed and exploited.

“Thank you,” Asher said, his tone softer now as he brushed the back of his knuckles against my cheek on his way down to grip my chin. His grasp wasn’t as hard as before, more of a gentle caress as he pulled my gaze up to his once more. “I’m not here to punish you, Adalyn. I’m not here as part of Sin Cave. And I’m going to prove it to you once I have my laptop.”

I frowned at him. “How?”

“By showing you the arrangements I’ve already made on your behalf.”

He drew his thumb along my jaw as he sat beside me, not against the headboard, but facing me with one leg pulled up on the mattress and the other hanging off the side of the bed.

“You have no reason to trust me, Adalyn. And I know you’ve been through hell. But I don’t have a lot of time to convince you of my intentions.” He slowly lowered his touch to the shirt, his opposite hand joining it as he began fastening the buttons around me. “I had no idea what Nathan was going to do to you on this island. But I suspected something was wrong the moment I saw you. I already had Nathan on my watch list when you killed him.”

“W-watch list?” I repeated as he fastened a button near my lower belly.

“There are rules on my island. Rules I take very seriously. And if I feel someone may be breaking those rules, they’re put on the observation list for my men. The breakfast I requested with Nathan was meant to be an evaluation. Obviously, it didn’t come soon enough.”

A knock sounded, interrupting whatever reply I would have made to that—not that I really had one. I was still trying to process his statements and the warmth his touch spread through my body as he dressed me. It was the opposite of what every man before him had done. They’d never wanted me to cover up; they’d wanted me to strip.

“Come in,” Asher instructed, his focus on me and not the door.

Bryant entered, carrying a laptop, his brown-green irises taking in the scene with a quick sweep of his gaze. The action, coupled with the way he carried himself, suggested he was some sort of bodyguard.

And definitely a Dominant, too.

Men with a superiority streak carried themselves in a manner that I recognized instantly, usually with just a glance at their shoulders—straight, imposing, and almost regal in nature. They also wore their preferences in their eyes, via that penetrating stare that demanded submission. Like an alpha wolf on the prowl, commanding everyone in his path.

I glanced down now, knowing better than to challenge two Doms.

“Do you want me to arrange a wardrobe for her?” Bryant asked as he set the laptop on the nightstand. “Her suitcase only has lace in it.”

I almost grunted at that.

Because Nate packed it for me, I thought.

I only had the one outfit I wore on the jet to appear professional. And a second dress to wear home. Everything else was revealing and meant to be worn for a week of constant sex.

Asher nodded, his fingers returning to my chin as he guided my focus away from my lap and up to his gaze once more. “What do you like to wear, Adalyn?”

I blinked at him—an action that seemed to be happening a lot this morning. “Whatever I’m told to wear.”

He arched a brow. “That’s not what I asked.”

I stared at him.

He stared back, waiting me out.

I swallowed. “I, uh…” I wasn’t sure how to answer this question. “For you? Or… when I’m… not training?” It came out almost incoherent, making me want to kick myself. But this male was all sorts of confusing.

Absolutely Dominant.

Primal, too.

Yet he wasn’t touching me in the way I’d anticipated, and he seemed hell-bent on trying to provoke emotions from me. Emotions like hope. And I sort of hated him for that.

Well, no, I did hate him.

I hated all of them.

Every man. Every Elite member. Every fucking male who looked at me.

Some women, too.

“What do you like to wear at home when you’re alone?” he rephrased.

“Jeans. Yoga pants. Tank tops.” I shrugged. “Sometimes nothing at all. The cuts sometimes sting when…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish that statement because he would probably make me wear something that chafed just to ensure I felt those injuries with every movement.

His gaze went to the shirt covering my skin before his attention shifted to the male standing beside the bed. “Summer dresses. Yoga pants. Tank tops. I imagine she at least had some undergarments in that suitcase?”

“Crotchless ones,” Bryant replied.

Asher’s grip tightened on my jaw, making me wince. He released me, his hand falling to his lap. “Get her everything she needs. Comfort over sexy.”

Bryant nodded. “On it. Clive is downstairs in case you need more ointment or anything.” His lips quirked as he glanced at Asher’s arms.

I followed his look, my lips parting upon seeing the scratch marks I’d left on his skin. Shit. If I’d done that to Nate, he would have strangled me.

Yet Asher… Asher had barely touched me.

He’d forced me to wear a shirt instead.

I considered him for a moment as his friend left, my mind struggling to compute his motives. Emotional torture wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, especially if the Elite wanted to break me irrevocably to guarantee I never acted out again.

However, other than grip my chin, he hadn’t really exuded much dominance over me. Not even when he’d pinned me to the bed earlier.

“Fuck both of you,” Asher muttered as his friend stepped away from the bed.

His friend chuckled in response, the door softly closing behind him as he left.