I don’t stop squirming until he pins me to the sandy beach, his athletic form easily dwarfing mine despite my five-foot-seven height.
“Ailsa,” he says, my name a caress with that soothing baritone.
I blink.What…?
My lashes flutter once more as I finally focus on the man above me.
Or rather…creature.
Monster?
His face… it’s… it’s covered in skull makeup. Black ink. Black irises. Long black lashes. Thick black hair. Everything isblack.
Except the hollows around his eyes are white.
And his lips… his lips are white, too.
A scream bubbles up inside mine, only to be smothered by his palm covering my mouth. “Ailsa,” he says again, his knowledge of my name only making my heart beat that much faster. “You’re safe. Or you will be. But I need you to be quiet. You landed in an unexpected place.”
That’s an understatement.
Nothing about this isexpected.
First, I found out I’m an Omega—something I’m convinced is a mistake.
Then I ran through the forest after a wolf and stupidly followed him into a cave.
Where I fell into a black pit.
That turned into sky.
That eventually becamethis.
My gaze darts around as I try to define whatthisis, and I realize thebeachI’m on isn’t a beach at all. It’s… it’s a cloud.
No, that’s not right.
It’s just white like a cloud. Soft. Squishy.Like cotton.
And the water we just escaped is bright red. Not blue. Not translucent. Not even turquoise. Butred. Like blood.
My gaze flies to the trees dotting the cotton-like beach. They’re all pink with flowers instead of leaves.
“I’m going to remove my palm from your mouth,” the male above me says. “But I need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay?”
My lids flutter again, the blinking instinctual as I stare up at this skull-faced madman. Beneath the makeup, I can see defined cheekbones and a square jaw, his features clearly handsome even with the paint. Or perhaps, made even more handsomebecauseof the paint.
I have serious issues, I decide.
His dark eyes narrow like he heard that. “Are you going to be a good girl for me or a naughty little rabbit?” he asks.
I’m not sure I like that question, something I convey by arching a brow.
“I see,” he murmurs. “Well, you should know, the louder you scream, the more punishments you’ll earn. I happen to like my cards, and I would hate to waste them on the blossom gremlins.”
Now I just… stare. Because what? Cards? Blossom gremlins?
He smirks and removes his hand, only to replace it with a quick and unexpected kiss against my lips. “Hold that thought, darling,” he murmurs, rolling off of me and onto his feet in a fluid motion that leaves no question as to his inhuman status.
