Page 70 of Lucky 14

Oakley drags me down the hall and into a room, shutting the door carefully behind us and locking it.

I back into the room, barely able to get the mask off my face. “Don’t t-t-touch me.”

Oakley turns, chest heaving slightly. Seeing me back in the room, he immediately raises his hands. “I don’t think anyone noticed.”

I hit the air conditioning unit at the far end of the room, then am blasted by frigid air. I jump, teeth clacking.

Oakley winces. “I’ll get a shower started.”

I open my mouth, but he disappears into the bathroom, and the thought of being warm overwhelms me. I need it more than I’ve needed anything.

Oakley comes back out, immediately searching for me in the room. As soon as he sees me, his shoulders relax. “There’s shampoo and conditioner in there.”

I’m drawn to the bathroom like there’s a magnet in my chest, but I force myself to pause. I need to walk past my captor and then get naked. While he’s right outside.

Oakley must realize my hesitation at the same time, because he gets that obnoxious look in his eyes. The one where he looks like I kicked him in the nuts for no reason. It’s enough to make me straighten and stare down my nose at him. At least as much as I can, given how tall he is. He backs up to the bed, sitting on it and dropping his gaze away from me. It makes his dark lashes fall on his cheeks in a pretty, shadowed mess, which, in turn, makes my blood boil.

“Come in, and I’ll cut your dick off.” I stalk past him and try to slam the bathroom door. Only, it doesn’t slam, it’s one of those slow-shut doors, which just makes my hands shake more. There is no lock. I glance around. There’s nothing to barricade the door with either.

The bathroom is warm, steam filling it, and I immediately remember what it’s like to be comfortable.

Even still, I’m frozen for a while. I don’t want to get naked with Oakley so close. But inevitably, I realize that if he wanted me naked, he’d get me that way whether I want to or not. That’s what gets me in the shower, and I stay there for as long as I can. I stay until I’ve scrubbed every last bit of filth from my scalp and under my nails and until my skin prunes. And then I stay longer, the water pounding on the plastic tag in my ear. It hurts, the pounding water jolting my tag and sending shooting pain into my skull.

And yet, I don’t move. Maybe if I stay here forever, everything will disappear.

Eventually, when I almost pass out from the heat, I force my body out of the shower. I feel less achy, but still sick. As I stare at myself in the mirror, a fevered look in my eyes, my stomach drops.

How sick am I? I’m not sure what that bug was. The wound itself hurts, but less so with the sharp pain from the initial bite. Now it feels infected. Which is…a good thing? Does that mean the fever is just from the infection and not that the bite was poisonous?

Wait, venom or poison? My brain latches onto that useless detail, turning it over and over as I stare at my dirty clothes. They look even worse now, covered in grime and dirt and dark spots that I don’t even want to know. I don’t want to put them back on, but I don’t want to be naked.

So, reluctantly, I put them back on, almost gagging from the scent, listening for any sounds from Oakley outside the door.

Nothing.

The thought of the helpless act pisses me off again, but just for a moment, I wonder if there’s any possibility Oakley is telling the truth. That he really wants to get me off the island.

Immediately, I stuff that thought back down. Not only is it highly unreasonable, but it’s also dangerous.

Kindness is never safe.

With that thought, I narrow my eyes and head out of the bathroom, ready to face Oakley down.

Only, the room is empty. I freeze, staring at the empty king-size bed, then whirl to glance at the closet. Empty. Feeling stupid, I look under the bed. Nothing. Behind the curtains, it’s dark outside. Nothing.

He’s not here.

I’m alone.

I can escape.

Immediately, I turn to the door. But right as I put my hand on the handle, I hear voices outside.

Jumping back, I put space between myself and the door. The voices are low and deep. One laughs, a mean sound. I don’t recognize it.

Hunters.

My stomach cramps, and a wave of cold drops on me. I can’t go out there right now. They’ll eat me alive. It would be like running from the pot to the fire.