Once a Myth (Goddess Isles Book 1) Page 6

  Or…you could stop wasting time, quit admiring a monster, and get this over with.

  Looking around at paradise, I was more wary of perceived open spaces than I was with subtle guards watching my every move. I’d been given the illusion of free will. But in reality…there was no such thing on this island.

  There might not be iron bars or padlocked gates, but this was still a prison. The only difference was nature kept me trapped rather than manmade devices.

  The sooner I learned his vulnerabilities and what I could use to my advantage, the better.

  With a heavy sigh, I tightened the cape of my courage…and followed him.

  He didn’t slow his long gait, and I hurried to keep up as he vanished around a corner planted with a spray of colourful flowers. Another corner. A breeze sweet with honeysuckle. Another laneway twist. A dabble of shadow beneath trees. Until, finally, the pathway turned into a small courtyard, trading sand for basalt tile.

  My feet froze on the border of yet another paradise.

  The courtyard held a fountain of three mermaids tipping water from seashells, the droplets spritzing in the sun and creating hundreds of rainbows. They were naked, and their breasts gleamed with pearlescent scales, the colour cascading down their sides to mystical tails.

  The tropical plants bordering the space ranged from light green to dark forest, all lush and glossy, heavy with fruit and flowers. A bird table sat on the wooden deck, big enough for an entire flock of finches to land and take their fill of speared pineapple, juicy watermelon, and a splattering of banana, mango, and sunflower seeds.

  The man who thought he owned me strode up the three steps to his deck, tapped his shoes against the side of the villa to remove loose sand, then disappeared past the floaty curtains and through open French doors.

  His black voice feathered back to me, disjointed from the beauty of such a place. “Stop wasting my time and come inside.”

  My eyes skipped over the idyllic space as I skirted around the fountain, earned a few droplets on my skin that leaped from the mermaid’s hands, and ducked a low flying parrot as it landed on the bird table. Bracing myself, I traded the overwhelming heat of outside for the relieving cool of inside.

  A rattan fan spun lazily in the open rafters of a thatched roof, pushing hot air out and leaving refreshing oxygen behind.

  The décor was silver and white with a splash of woven grass. The wood was all silvered driftwood, the walls whitewashed, the furniture light and clean lines. The woven flax on the floor set off the white couch, glass coffee table, and the large driftwood desk perfectly.

  Artwork of green-sketched ferns and ghostly silhouettes of half-drawn women hung huge and imposing.

  A door in the opposite wall led to a bathroom sparkling with opalescent mosaic tiles from floor to ceiling. Glass replaced the ceiling, drenching the space in sunshine. The basin was one large carved piece of black marble, and the shower big enough for four people.

  Two more doors led to rooms that were closed, but the openness and simplicity of the lounge did its best to relax me, even as my instincts stayed on high alert.

  What was this place?

  The entire villa could’ve been feminine, if it wasn’t for the man seated within the centre. A man who could cover himself in pearls and prisms and still not be able to reflect anything than what he was.

  Merciless and undeniably masculine.

  He flicked a pen over his knuckles, watching me in a silent, lethal way.

  My stomach coiled, blending fear with unwanted need.

  He didn’t need to purchase women to earn every sexual favour he desired. Anyone—single and sane—would struggle not to be entranced by him.

  If we’d met under different circumstances, I would’ve expected him to be untouchable by people like me. People of a middle-class persuasion. He didn’t need to buy me to say he had money. It was obvious he had mountains and skyscrapers of the stuff. He bled wealth. He breathed affluence. He was the epitome of abundance—abundant physical assets, monetary riches, and a treasure chest of private islands.

  I didn’t move.

  He didn’t speak.

  We never looked away from each other.

  I stood at the foot of his desk while he reigned on his throne. A lowly servant at court waiting for her liege’s command.

  I hated the way he made me feel.

  I despised the heat creeping through my veins.

  But…I had to admit.

  I’d hated the traffickers in Mexico.

  I’d nursed my hate like a glowing ember, feeding it twigs of injustice to stay aflame, tossing a few dried leaves of righteousness for fuel.

  But this man?

  This man threatened to turn that flickering coal into a furnace.

  One look from him and my heartbeat relocated into every extremity, and my temperature increased a thousand degrees.

  I detested him.

  But I was drawn to him.

  There was something…something ruthless and savage about him. Something instinctual that sensed predator from prey and firmly put him in the category of dangerous.

  But beneath that savage suaveness, something smoothed the merciless edges, granting a strange kind of enigma.

  Cold and hot.

  Immune and unprotected.

  He wasn’t as invincible as he appeared.

  Find his weaknesses.

  Use them.

  Abuse them.

  Get free.

  “What is your name?” he asked quietly. Too quietly.

  I narrowed my eyes, ignoring my aches and bruises. “I already gave my name to them. They didn’t pass on that information?”

  He let the pen fall from his knuckles. It clattered against the desk, making me jump. “No. We’re not in the habit of gossip.”

  “My name is not gossip.”

  “Your name is no longer yours.”

  I stepped closer to his desk, purely because every part of me wanted to run in the opposite direction. “My name is and always will be mine. No matter if you think you can own me. No matter that you paid some bastard his fee. I am a living, breathing creature, and you cannot—”

  “Enough.” He swiped his hand through the air, silencing me. “I’ll go first, shall I? My name is Sully Sinclair. I don’t care what you call me inside that overzealous mind of yours, but while you serve on my island, you will address me with respect.”

  “While I serve you?” My lips pulled back in a snarl. “And what does that job entail exactly?”

  His lips spread into a sinister smile. “Fucking, of course. Lots and lots of fucking.” Dropping his stare, he deliberately undressed me with his eyes. My nipples pebbled as he studied my breasts. My skin goosebumped as he trailed down my belly to my core and beyond.

  It didn’t matter I wore a sack-shaped jumper. It didn’t matter I had underwear on.

  I was naked.

  Well and truly stripped to my barest of forms, and my hatred reached a whole new level. I was tired, jet-lagged, strung out, and in pain. I missed Scott, my parents, and my carefree, untouched life. To be told that I’d been reduced to a whore—worse than a whore—an unpaid sexual slave…yeah, I reached my shaky threshold.

  “I will never fuck you. You’ll have to kill me.”

  He laughed under his breath, rich and deep. “Who said anything about fucking me?” His eyebrows shaded icy blue eyes. “I’m the proprietor of this paradise. You work for me to entertain my high-paying guests.” He stood, moving slowly around his desk toward me.

  I wished I hadn’t taken off my knee-high socks in the helicopter. I could’ve used one to strangle him.

  “My clients range from young to old, handsome to obese, generous to monstrous. They all come here for one purpose.” He stopped within touching distance but kept his hands to himself. “That purpose is to fuck. To let their darker desires come out to play. To do things to you that they would never do to their wives.”

  I hid my shudder. “Why don’t they pay someone, l
ike normal people?”

  “Pay?” His eyebrow shot up. “Oh, they do pay. They pay me very well indeed.”

  “I mean, why don’t they just hire a prostitute? A woman who actually gets to keep what she earns and not someone like you who buys unwilling trafficked women.”

  He laughed. The sound rolled like thunder with a hint of rain. “If you think prostitutes get to keep what they earn, you’re a very naïve little girl.”

  I bristled at the word. I’d admit when I was young, I was naïve. Just like my teacher said. But…that was before. This was now. I’d grown up since. I’d opened my eyes and matured to the ways of corruption and greed.

  I didn’t drop eye contact even though his blue gaze resembled the inside of a fire. The hottest part that glowed past orange and yellow. The nucleus where even metal could be melted. “Don’t you see how wrong this is? To purchase a woman with the sole intention of using her against her will?” I allowed a thread of vulnerability to enter my voice, seeking some sort of humanity through the intolerance he wielded. “How can you justify stealing my life for your gain? Can’t you empathise? Imagine if you were snatched from your partner and beaten, tattooed, and imprisoned by men, then sold to someone who promises a future of fucking until you’re no longer of use. You ought to be locked up. You should have your freedom taken and then see—”

  “Silence.” Grabbing my cheeks, he squeezed until my mouth pursed and words were an impossibility. My skin heated beneath his touch, sickly and desperate to get away.

  “So, you had a boyfriend in your previous life.” He sneered. “I can assure you, whatever tame boy you were in love with will never see you again.”

  I didn’t bother enlightening him that Scott and I were good travel partners with similar personalities, but as far as love went? I wasn’t in love with him. Five months wasn’t long enough to know…was it? He might’ve ended up being the one or…we might’ve gone our separate ways.

  Either way, my relationship was beside the point.

  The point was this bastard had stolen me.

  He thought he was god, and I had to obey.

  No.

  Just no!

  I raised my hands to push him away. I went to tear my face from his hold.

  But he trapped me before I’d even formulated the thought. His hand caught my wrists, hurting my fresh tattoo, shackling them together while his fingers dug harder into my jaw, promising pain if I didn’t submit.

  “Don’t fight. I see it there in your eyes. I feel it in your pulse beneath my touch.” Ducking until his nose brushed over my ear, he whispered threateningly, “I wouldn’t pick a battle you can’t win. I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are. Not because I have compassion, but because you won’t be able to work as soon as I require. However, push me…and I won’t hesitate to remind you of your new place. With as much force as necessary.”

  My heart skittered as adrenaline bubbled with fear.

  He pulled back, our eyes locking again.

  For the longest second, he didn’t move. His gaze danced over my face, the blue depths turbulent and unstable. The prey in me froze, recognising the thin ice I kneeled on.

  He wasn’t entirely human. Wasn’t entirely in control.

  He made a noise deep in his chest. A noise that hijacked my fight and flight response and weakened my knees. I was in danger. The worst danger I’d faced. Worse than any angry trafficker. Worse than any pissed-off captor. This man might rule over an exclusive island. He might purchase women for men who gave untold fortunes for pleasure, but beneath his pricey clothes and cultured whispers, he hadn’t evolved from our ancestors.

  He was a primordial beast with primitive black and white views. An archaic brute who still believed women were there to serve…in any capacity men commanded.

  My hate reached an entirely new level.

  His cologne of coconut and something earthy spiralled up my nose as his lips parted, and he breathed as if tasting me. As if he could sense how alert I was. How full of loathing and injustice. How hard I struggled to contain the restless fury inside me beneath strict calm-headedness.

  I was actually afraid of the blustering acrimony within my heart. I’d meant to just nurse it, to let it feed me strength until I got free. But somehow, that rage had mutated, stealing space to sprout scaly wings, pierce wicked talons, and hunger for the blood of everyone who’d stolen me.

  I didn’t just want to run back to my life. I wanted to leave this man broken and bleeding before I did. I wanted him in jail. I wanted the Mexicans in a grave. I wanted the whole sick and twisted world to die a miserable, poetic death.

  His fingers dug extra hard, my teeth pinching against my cheeks. “Stop it.”

  I narrowed my eyes and shot every vicious, violent thing I could think of in his direction.

  A shudder worked up his arm and down his spine. His gaze left the realm of sane and slipped directly into diabolical. “Fuck, you really shouldn’t have pushed me.”

  Shoving me away, he marched to a carved wall unit where hundreds of little drawers waited like an apothecary dispensary, hiding pills and potions, secrets and sins.

  Ripping open a drawer in the top row, he fisted something and turned back to face me.

  I hadn’t moved.

  My legs were full of metal that he’d melted and hardened to anchors. My heart flew too fast, making my pulse unsteady and lack of nutrition obvious on my burned-out system.

  Straightening his shoulders, as if hauling himself back from whatever edge he’d almost fallen from, he strode back toward me. Slow and meticulous, he held out his palm, revealing a crystal vial.

  A vial with a silver cap and a tiny sticker with a purple orchid on the front. “Your first requirement as an owned woman.” Taking my hand, he planted it firmly into my grip. “Drink it.”

  My eyebrows flew up as I opened my fingers and gawked at the tiny bottle. “I won’t drink anything if I don’t know the contents.”

  He ran a hand over his mouth, letting it fall away as he struggled to stay normal. “Let’s just say…it’s plant-based and good for you.” Pacing around me, he went to recline against his desk, inserting hands into perfectly pressed slacks. “It won’t hurt you; you have my word.” His eyes gleamed, hinting it might not hurt me, but it would do something.

  My hackles rose.

  I wanted to throw the bottle to the floor and smash it.

  I went to tip if from my palm, but he murmured, “If you damage, destroy, or do anything to that elixir, you will severely regret it.”

  I paused. “Elixir?”

  He nodded, holding me prisoner with his stare, just daring me to ruin whatever he’d given me. “An elixir guaranteed to make your life here far more bearable.”

  Frowning, I studied the miniature bottle. It couldn’t have held much. Thirty millilitres at the most. “What does it do?”

  He chuckled, far more in control of himself than before. “Take it and find out.”

  “Elixir means a magical or medical potion. I don’t take drugs, and this isn’t a storybook. So, I politely decline.”

  His chuckle tapered off into a scowl. “You’re forgetting that you no longer have free will.” Pushing off from the desk, he ripped his hands from his pockets, snatched the bottle, twisted off the lid, and grabbed my chin. “The first thing you should know about me is…I’m not a patient man. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Immediately.”

  His eyes pinned me to the floor as he pulled my bottom lip down with his thumb and tipped the bottle into my mouth.

  I fought to repel backward, but he just walked with me, dumping the contents onto my tongue. The second the last droplet entered, he tossed the bottle away, grabbed me in a bone-crushing embrace and planted his hand over my mouth and nose. Pinching my nostrils, he took away my air, clutching me close as I wriggled and squirmed.

  I begged with my eyes for him to let me breathe.

  I kicked at his shins to get away.

  But he just h
eld on with unnerving, unyielding strength. “Swallow and I’ll release you.”

  I shook my head, tasting the sweet, rose-infused liquid. Hating the slight numbness on my tongue and the tingle in my cheeks. Already it affected me. What would it do if I let it slide down my throat?

  My lungs clawed for air.

  My mouth tried to open beneath his large, heavy palm.

  I gasped and choked, and still, he didn’t let me go. He moved with me when I backed away, patiently allowing me to come to the conclusion that I had no choice.

  I do. I do have a choice.

  Die or swallow?

  That wasn’t a choice at all.

  We danced a little more. I tripped over the woven flax mat, and he kept me upright, tutting under his breath. “Swallow.”

  I fought one last time, moaning and trying to get my arms free from his vise-like hold. But blackness feathered my eyesight, and my lungs ached as if they’d filled with poison.

  I stumbled again, unable to coordinate my legs.

  He showed no signs of mercy. No flicker of indecision or clemency. Just ruthless behest to win.

  The pain of no air became unbearable. The instinct to survive overrode my need not to drink.

  I swallowed.

  I stumbled.

  He let me go.

  I fell to my knees, bouncing hard on the hardwood floor. Little grains of sand stuck to my bare legs as I planted my hands into the ground and breathed.

  Breathed

  And breathed.

  Gasping and grateful for sweet, sweet oxygen.

  The taste from his elixir still lingered on my tongue. Fragrant and subtle. Sugary and potent.

  Moving toward me, he slid to his haunches. Stabbing one finger onto the floor for balance and using his other hand to tip my chin to face him, he waited until I stopped panting before he smiled.

  The feral glitter in his blue eyes terrified me. “Now listen to me. Pay attention…you don’t have much time.”

  Chapter Eight

  I SHOULDN’T HAVE FED her the elixir.

  Especially the upgraded version.

  Normally, my goddesses didn’t receive a dose until the night of their first client. I might expect their servitude and offered no sway in following my strict rules, but I wasn’t above humanity—if it suited my purpose.