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Once we’re alone in our room, he finally breaks the silence. “Luka, we can’t just ignore what’s going on here. That girl…she was in trouble.”
“Listen to me,” I cut him off, my eyes searching his. “There’s a play here. But you gotta trust me.”
He’s on edge, a live wire ready to spark. He rubs at his temple, his other hand still clenched in a fist. “What kind of play?”
I glance around, lowering my voice and making sure we’re truly alone. “That’s why I’m here,” I mutter. “But look…you’ve gotta stay quiet and fall in line until I need you, okay? Otherwise they’ll lock you up.”
“Where?” Isaiah scoffs. “This island is all sunshine and rainbows, it’s not—“
“There’s a research facility under the island,” I interrupt. “Where do you think all the omegas are?”
Isaiah takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on mine. “So, I stay quiet? Act like I didn’t see anything?”
“Exactly.” I nod once, sharp and precise. “For now, we keep our heads down, gather intel. When the time’s right, we hit ’em where it hurts.”
A pause hangs heavy between us. Isaiah breaks it with a nod, slow but determined. “Okay,” he says, and there’s steel in his voice. “I’m in. But damn, dude…”
“Yeah?”
He just shakes his head, listless. “Just starting to wonder if anywhere is safe.”
I nod in understanding, the weight of his words heavy in the air. It’s a cruel world we live in, especially out here on this forsaken island where danger lurks around every corner. But there’s a coal in my chest, ready to burn.
For her.
My May Queen.
“We’ll make it right,” I say, more to myself than to Isaiah. “We’ll bring these bastards down.”
Isaiah gives me a tight-lipped smile, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, we will.”
Chapter eleven
Aisling
I toss in bed, sheets twisted around my legs like I’ve been fighting off ghosts.
My mind is a broken record, stuck on Luka—his smirk, the way his eyes glint when they catch mine. Ever since that damned ceremony, he’s under my skin, and it’s like I’m itching from the inside out.
His cock sliding between my thighs, his big body boxing me in, his lips on my throat and his teeth over my pulse…
I can’t get enough.
I haven’t had enough, and I need it.
“Damn it,” I mutter and throw the covers off. I sit up, press my palms into my eyes until I see stars. It’s not just the ceremony, it’s him. His scent lingers in my nostrils, incense and man. I’ve been good at playing the ice queen, keeping my heats in check like a pro. But tonight, my body betrays me, craving a touch that isn’t there, yearning for the pressure and heat of someone else—a fantasy with Luka’s face.
“Get a grip, Aisling,” I whisper to myself, voice barely above a husk.
I promised Gunnar.
I promised.
But is it that wrong to dream?
I grab the pillow and shove it between my thighs, pressure building as I imagine it’s Luka. My breath comes in short bursts, my body aching for a touch that isn’t mine. I clench around the softness, pretending it’s him—raw, unyielding. The thought alone sends me spiraling into a want so fierce it borders on savage.
“Damn you, Luka,” I hiss under my breath, my own hands traitors as they roam where I imagine his would. Heat coils in my belly, a desperate kind of pleasure that has nothing to do with love and everything to do with primal need. I rock against the pillow, chasing a release that’s as much about frustration as it is about desire.
