“You’re dead,” he states abruptly. “My patrol found your campsite and your unfortunate colleague. You’re no longer Iris Kitson. You live in my oasis.”
“Excuse me?”
“Iris Kitson is dead.”
I force courage even though I’m visibly rattled. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“Your accidental death has been registered. Your dead body can’t be recovered because the river swept it away. And your family was informed of the tragic news a few days ago.”
I clasp my chest, holding my heart as it shatters into thousands of cracked pieces. A few days? How long have I been here?
“You bastard!” Emmie. “My little sister,” I hiss as fury scorches my complexion. His boots shift, and he pulls back his shoulders, hinting a degree of discomfort. The news of his monstrous lie spreads to every cell in my body. “How dare you.” I lunge forward, ripping the glasses from his face. “Look me in the eye while you tell me Emmie thinks her big sister is never coming home.” Unreadable green eyes flare like poisonous darts. Daggered lashes freeze. “I will never work for you. Never! Do you hear me?” The vibrations tearing through me project into my prodding finger. It jabs his sculpted chest, hard and furious.
He snatches my hand. “Rule number two. You will never disobey me.” The roughness around his order chills my rage flushed skin. “Rule number three. You will never leave the oasis. Rule number four. You will never fucking disrespect me again.”
“Disrespect you?” I scoff, raising my chin higher.
“You’ve stayed here for five days. Free of charge. You were taken care of while you wrestled with a fever. Not once were you harmed or mistreated.” He marches to the adjoining boardwalk and climbs the step until he’s above me like a powerful god. “You owe me.”
I don’t wish to follow him, but I fear I’ll push him too far if I don't. Perhaps my tactics are all wrong. Show gratitude and appreciation. Then maybe, just maybe, he’ll reconsider. I can turn up alive, eventually. It’s perfectly workable. I’m sure people return from the dead all the time. “Why did you look after me?”
He glances back. The peak of his cap shades the depth of a withering glare. “I didn’t. My onsite medical staff saw to your injury.” A casual shirk seems to disassociate him from my presence.
“Tell me why I have to stay here. What purpose would a scientist from Scotland have for a man like you?”
His gravelly laugh leaves me with an uneasy fascination. I shiver at the darkness dripping from his hidden smile. “I have no need for a scientist. Your qualifications are irrelevant. You’ll become a cleaner, or a sous chef, or a servant, or whatever my head of staff requires of you.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you need me?”
Those whiskered lips of his fight a grin. “I don’t need you. You’re not permitted to leave. Working here pays off your debt and goes towards accommodation and meals.”
Frustration propels me along the path, trotting behind him. “What if I decline your job offer? What if I choose not to stay? What if I hitch a ride on the next helicopter?”
“That’s a lot of wasted what-ifs. Let’s clear this up once and for all. Stay here and serve or run.” He points to the thick boundary of ferns, lit by solar lamps. “The only exit is right down that path.”
It’s not fair. Either option is ruthless. Return to the wilderness where the pendulum slows until I die or become a prisoner in paradise with unseen chains.
“So, what you’re saying is, I owe you for saving my life. And I can either work here for an eternity or take my chances in the jungle?”
For some reason, that observation warrants a low chuckle. “Like I said, you belong to me now. If you aren’t careful, I’ll alter the arrangement. Perhaps you’d be better placed as my personal servant.” I swear his breath hitches. Green eyes meet mine, immobilizing me in the most misleading snare.
My gaze skips away. I mentally collect all the absurd thoughts of giving in to his every whim, and I bury the mania in the sadness of never seeing my family again.
“I won’t grant you permission to leave, unless it’s that way,” he confirms, still eyeing me with the hunger of a watchful predator.
My toes curl into the warm boards, balancing the shock. “I’m not your trinket or your possession or even your slave.” I find his barbaric suggestion unnerving. “And what if I choose to go out there?”
He stands before me, surrounded by copper-colored light and shadows. Coarse hair guards manly features, and the hat gives him another layer to hide behind. I loathe his disguise. Cowardly and beyond contrition.
His head tilts to the side, trailing intrigue down my legs. It drags to my nipples and lingers on my tongue, swiping over dry lips. I can’t explain why my stomach whorls with both apprehension and lust. He might be crafted out of every woman’s wildest fantasy, but his heartlessness is utterly unappealing.
“You’ll most likely die from dehydration or an insect bite.” His lips curl into an offhand sneer.
Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m a fool. But choosing freedom will be my ultimate challenge. I won’t give up without a fight. My parents taught me to strike and to strike right at the core. Bullies only win if you let them. That’s why I’m the youngest ecologist in my lab. Dedication and sacrifice pay off. “And what if I survive?”
“You won’t,” he says with a shrug.
I’m dancing on the edge of a knife, and he damn well knows it. “I got out alive the first time,” I argue, not that it matters.
“Barely,” he points out, widening his stance.
“Even so, I didn’t die. I found you. A way out.”
“Correction. I found you.” He teases the hair on his chin in contemplation. “You’ve yet to survive. I’m offering you a onetime opportunity.”
Looking around at the stunning arrangement of raised cabins with an exotic backdrop of leafy trees and far-off constellations, I’m all too conscious of the unspoken constraints. The sanctuary is a lie. It’s a remote prison. “Then I wish for my freedom. I’d rather die out there by my own doing than stay here as your sex slave for the rest of my life.”
He doesn’t move. Our gazes snag. Facets of green loop black pupils. The last flicker opens holes to an expanse of darkness, settling with a thin crown of peridot trickery. If I stare into his eyes long enough, I could pretend the magnetism dancing around us is real. But it’s only the magical setting and late evening hum of insect activity. A combination so estranged from the cold, harsh winters back home.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed by my decision. I hate how his silence makes me feel nervous. How a part of me wishes he were a kindhearted man who wasn’t trying to enslave me. That way I would understand the torrid heat pumping through my veins.
“I never said anything about fucking,” he growls like the idea appalls him. The bass reverberation ripples down my spine. “I don’t fuck liars, not even if they beg me. If you’re dumb enough to pick a gruesome death, then go for it. Run.” His arms cross. “And those clothes on your back, they’re only available to you while you’re here.” Dropping his pensive stare, he quietly undresses me with bright green eyes. Humid air leaves my lungs in a hot and heavy sigh.