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There was more wine? I swished my dregs. “No more for me.”
“Okay.” His voice was muted, and I heard the sound of things being shifted. “And if you knew they would do it eventually, kill you, and you pre-empted it?”
“That’s also okay, though the law might find it hard to call it self-defense.” Cassius twisted to observe the doctor as he returned. His thoughtful expression became far more interested, and I swung my legs so as to sit on the side of the lounge.
“I agree. Murder isn’t murder if the person killed is a bad person.”
What was the doc doing? He was carrying looped, red rope…and the reason was instantly obvious…when our gazes connected.
I knew what that was for. Me.
Should I run, and what was my reason? Nothing. Just I wanted to. My exhilaration hit a new high as I sprinted to the side, leaping the vacated lounge the doctor had used.
Really?” was all I heard from the doctor, and awhoopfrom Cassius.
Fuck. This was stupid, but I was doing it anyway because the thought of them catching me was scary, even though I was fairly sure I could take whatever they intended and enjoy it. I liked some scary.
They were faster, or Cassius was, I could see that within seconds. The man pounded over the lounge and took off after me like a racehorse.
Stop looking back! Don’t sprain your ankle. I raced along, dodging trees, branches, rocks, until I stepped on a sharp stick, and it dug in and hurt. I screamed, hopped, and glanced back.
They were hurtling after me.
And I froze, my stomach lurching into an abysmal state where it dropped forever, churning with a thousand dark possibilities. Nausea surged to my mouth, bitter and frightening. I backed into a tree, the branches and my dress rustling, scraping, cracking. I shook with fear where a moment ago it had been desire. What had I become?
I was afraid of these men who skidded to a halt and waited before me, threatening, rope in hand, and I hated my terrors, hated myself. Did I imagine their leers, their impersonal lusts?
Tears leaked onto my face, but I did not dare to wipe them away. God, when had I become so fuckingweakand subservient to the memories lurking in my head.
14
CHARITY
My back slid partway down the tree trunk, twigs poking at me, and still I shook. I couldn’t stop.
I hate, hate, hate this.
Cassius took a half-step forward and his face fell into bleak shock—if I read him right. “Charity? Are you okay?”
Fuck. Was this comfort from him? Even that made me feel ill, uneasy, and wrong. Strength was what I wanted in myself.
The doctor stood frowning, the loops of red rope in his hand, ready for use. He drew a deep breath.
What I had done, and was still doing, would negate his clause about being what suited him. That also made me despair. I didn’t wish to leave the island.
“Safeword,” he said, with that frown remaining. “Use it, Charity.”
I swallowed, hard. My name in his mouth unlocked something…relief, or hope? Both? What safeword had I chosen?
“Distress,” I said, certain it was barely audible.
He nodded. “Good. Let’s get you back to the hut. We have to talk.”
“Oh.” I suppose I looked conflicted and miserable. I hugged my stomach, where my doubts still churned. “I failed, didn’t I?”
Cassius came in and went to one knee. “I’m an bastard but not that sort of bastard.”
“No, you have not,” the doctor said. “Hell to the no, as they say. You can walk back or be carried by—” He gestured.
