Liesel is right to think I’ll hurt her. She’s only ever seen the worst of me. The worst of me is harsher than the devil himself. I’ve killed more men than Enzo or Zeke combined.
Tortured more people.
Ruined more lives.
You could blame my rough childhood on why I am the way I am, but I don’t. I blame no one. I chose this life. I wanted this life.
Liesel thinks she’s seen the worst of me, but I’m capable of so much more.
Most women would run in a situation like this. Run, flee, hide somewhere on the island to avoid being hurt. Others might search the island for any civilization to help her.
Not Liesel.
She knows the truth of her options. She knows she can run, but she’ll only end up dead from dehydration. She knows that anyone she finds on the island works for me.
She’s right on all accounts.
The only way off this island is death or me.
For now, I’m the lesser of two evils.
Her last option is to fight.
That’s the option she’ll choose, but she will take her time—planning, scouting her options until she knows everything there is to know about the island. Until she thinks I’ve lowered my defenses. Then she’ll strike.
I’ll be ready, though.
Liesel will follow me wherever I go for the time being. She will want to learn everything she can. So I don’t have to worry about giving her orders or tying her up. Not yet.
The island is split in two. One half holds a small native population of maybe a hundred people. The other half is vast jungle forest, almost completely uninhabited, except for one house—the house I own.
I could call a car and we would be at the house in ten minutes, but where’s the fun in that?
So instead, I throw my backpack over my shoulder, carrying the essentials—water, food, a change of clothes. And then I take off into the jungle.
“Really, Langston? You don’t have a car, a four-wheeler, something, to take us to wherever we are staying?” Liesel shouts.
I smirk. Liesel pretends she’s a girly girl—one who is afraid to chip her nails or mess her hair or makeup up, but that’s not who she really is. At least, that’s not who she used to be.
“I would call for one if there was a car to call on the island,” I lie.
Her feet stop moving. I no longer hear the crunch of leaves under her feet. “There isn’t anyone else on the island?”
“Just the two of us.”
Her mouth falls open as she stares back at the plane—the only chance she had to escape is now gone after I shot into the cockpit.
“We’re really alone?” she asks, recomposing herself.
“Yes.”
She grips her oversized sweatshirt around the neck, tightening the garment against her body like she’s hugging herself. She’s going to sweat to death in that sweatshirt. The only benefit is that she might get fewer bug bites this way.
I want her to take it off so I can get a better view of her body; it would make the hike more enjoyable. But I’m not sure my cock would survive if that were the case.
The one thing I know is that I won’t be fucking Liesel tonight, not even if she begged. And she won’t beg. If I touched her, she’d scream rape. She would survive and keep her secrets locked away.
She’s suffered a lot in her past, more than any woman ever should.
My throat closes up, and my eyes water just thinking about what she’s endured. It’s going to take a lot more than violating her to break her. A lot more.
Pain and fear are only one way to get her to the edge of breaking. Something much harder is the only way to get her to fully break. Something so dark and dangerous that I’m not even sure if I can endure it—but we must.
A trek through the woods is going to do little to wear her down. It will irritate her, but it’ll be worth it to sleep under the stars with her tonight.
Tomorrow we can sleep in the mansion. Tonight is about getting reacquainted with each other.
She stomps over to me, and the next thing I know, she’s pulled her sweatshirt off and tied it around her head to shield her head from the sun. Her sports bra shows off her flat belly just above her sweatpants. She’s wearing tennis shoes, so this trek isn’t too hard for her. It’s not like she’s wearing six-inch heels.
“Did you come prepared with any water or gear, if you expect me to hike through the jungle and risk catching malaria? Or are you hoping I’ll die of dehydration or become delirious to make it easier for you to rape me?”
I roll my eyes at her rape joke. She thinks that’s all this is about—a sexual tension and itch I need to scratch, that I’ve brought her here to fuck and nothing more. She has no idea of the truth.
I reach into my backpack and pull out a water bottle and sling it at her. She catches it and sips on the water.
“Now, stop complaining and get moving. We have a couple of miles to hike before dark.”
“Are we building a house too tonight? Or is there somewhere we are making it to? I’m guessing not since there are no cars on the island.”
“I thought we’d sleep under the stars like we did when we were children.”
“You better have two tents and two sleeping bags in that small backpack of yours.”
I grin. “Nope, just water and some food.”
She puts her hands on her hips like she just can’t believe she’s stuck with my incompetence. “Really? You didn’t even pack a tent? I’m not staying out here on this island for days or weeks without at least basic shelter. We are both going to die.”
“Stop being dramatic. We aren’t going to die. I was a Boy Scout, remember? I know how to survive in the woods for years without anything but a knife. And I have a lot more than a knife on me.”
“I don’t think your handgun is going to help much with hunting, Langston.”
“Maybe you can bore the poor creatures to death with your incessant whining.”
“I wouldn’t have to whine if you didn’t kidnap me and leave us stranded on an uninhabited island!”
I walk through a bush, pushing a branch back hard and then releasing it just as Liesel walks through. She catches it with one hand to avoid it hitting her face.
“Real mature,” she says, pushing it back to walk through behind me. When she releases it, though, her hand is bloodied from the thorns on the branch.
“Your hand,” I say, holding mine out.
She shakes her head.
“You need to clean it out and bandage it; you wouldn’t want to get an infection in the middle of nowhere, would you?”
She glances around, and then a smug smile trickles over her lips. She hikes off the trail I’ve made and yanks a couple leaves off a nearby bush, then stomps back. She takes her water bottle, pours water over her wounds and applies the leaf to her hand.
“There. This is an aloe vera leaf; it has medicinal powers. No infection.”
I study the leaf closer. “Looks like poison ivy to me.”
Her eyebrows jump up, and she goes to remove the leaves, but my heavy chuckle stops her.
“I hate you.”
I snicker. “Right back at you.”
She stomps past me deciding to take the lead, which is fine by me. I can enjoy her ass so much better from this angle. But I do end up having to duck a lot to avoid branches hitting me.