Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance

Adalyn remained silent all day and night, making me check on her more than once. Each time, I found her in the same place I’d left her—in the bed—still wearing my shirt.

She’d tensed every time I’d entered, almost as though she’d anticipated me charging her.

I’d kept my distance on purpose, demonstrating through action that I wasn’t a threat.

But as I entered her room now, I realized it hadn’t helped at all.

She was still in the bed, hair rumpled, eyes wary.

Sighing, I leaned against her door frame and folded my arms across my freshly pressed dress shirt. “Having trouble sleeping, darling?” I asked casually.

Her nostrils flared. “I’m not used to big fluffy beds.”

“Would you prefer a cage?” I wondered aloud. “I can find one.”

I wouldn’t actually put her in one unless she really needed it.

Dr. Zansky had commented that she might struggle with the concept of freedom, given what she’d probably been through. She was used to having someone tell her what to do, and while she clearly possessed a defiant streak, she required that hint of dominance to ground her.

Which he’d continued on to say was something I would need to provide for her, if I wanted to help her heal.

It seemed counterproductive to her situation, but his logic held merit.

And I’d seen proof of it yesterday when I’d demanded that she put on my shirt.

She’d immediately moved to comply, even after taunting me just seconds before.

It’d almost broken my heart.

Just like the conflict in her expression now.

“Tell me what you need, Adalyn,” I said, pushing off the door frame to start toward her.

She was sitting up again, her body tensing as I approached.

I moved slowly and purposefully toward the bed, then sat close enough to touch her without actually encroaching on her space. “Would it be easier if I told you what I want?” I gentled my voice, very aware of the chaos darkening her gaze.

Maybe giving her this big room had been a mistake. But had I closed her off in a smaller one, she still would have fretted over whatever came next.

So I’d give her a normal day today.

Show her what life on my island could be like.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Tell me what you plan to do. What you want from me. Please.”

Poor darling sounded so broken.

She’d obviously been up all night worrying herself to death.

Because she didn’t trust me.

And I couldn’t blame her at all for that.

What she needed from me now was patience with a subtle hint of dominance, both of which I could give.

I reached out to cup her cheek, my touch purposefully gentle. “I want you to take a shower while I select an outfit for you. Then I would like you to go to breakfast with me. Okay?”

She nibbled her lower lip, her brow furrowing. “And then?”

“And then, I need to do some work. But you can wander the house, maybe even take a walk on the beach. Nothing too strenuous, as Dr. Zansky says you need to rest. We’ll plan to have dinner here, perhaps a bit early since it seems you didn’t sleep much.” I let my hand fall. “If this bed is too soft, then I’ll find you something else, all right?”

“Like a cage?” It almost sounded like a retort, but it lacked heat.

“If that’s what you need, but it wouldn’t be my preference.”

Her dark eyelashes fanned out across her pale cheekbones before lifting to reveal big, beautiful eyes. “What’s your preference?”

“For you to be comfortable.” I drew my thumb along the hollow beneath her eye. “Let’s go eat. Then we’ll discuss more, okay?”

She swallowed but nodded a little.

“Go shower,” I commanded, my voice gentle yet firm. “I’ll find something for you to wear.” Bryant had put all the clothes in the closet, per my request.

“Okay.” She slid out from beneath the sheets, pulling my shirt down along the way, and swayed a little as she stood.

I moved to my feet and walked around the foot of the bed toward her as she started forward. Her knees nearly buckled, but she caught her balance and blew out a breath.

“Did you eat anything yesterday?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I learned a long time ago not to eat much before a session.”

“Because you expected me to come back for you last night.”

“At some point,” she corrected, gritting her teeth. “Yes.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m here now. But not to fuck you.” Crass words, but they were the ones this situation required of me.

She eyed me warily. “I don’t want to believe you.”

“I know.” I pressed my palm to her lower back. “How about I prove it?”

This would not be easy, but at least it would give her an idea of my control.

Her lips turned down as we walked, her fear mounting with each step. “I’m not going to fuck you, Adalyn,” I told her as we entered the bathroom. “But I am going to bathe you.”

She gaped at me in the mirror. “You’re going to… to what?”

“Hands on the counter, sweetheart,” I commanded.

She obeyed beautifully, her body seeming to respond before her mind even caught up. I left her there and went to the shower to turn on the water. Then I stripped down to my boxers—which I would have to change after this—and returned to stand behind her.

She kept her head bowed in submission, her need to supplicate radiating between us.

Perhaps she’d given me every ounce of her fight yesterday, and today, she couldn’t stand the thought of rebelling. Regardless of her reasoning, I knew how to handle her in this state.

I moved her hair away from her neck, pulling it over one shoulder, and ran my finger along her spine over her shirt. “I need to undress you,” I informed her softly. “Then I’m going to guide you backward into the shower and wash your hair. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly, her throat working to swallow. “Yes, Sir.”

I bent to press a kiss to her neck. “Good girl, Adalyn.”

She shivered in response, her nails seeming to bite into the counter. It made me wonder if anyone had ever praised her before. I made a mental note to do it again later.

I reached around her slowly to unbutton her shirt, my gaze observing the motion in the mirror to ensure I didn’t touch her inappropriately. Her breathing escalated, her back brushing my chest with the motion, her head still angled downward.

She had her lip clenched between her teeth, her eyes closed as though anticipating the worst. I pressed another kiss to her throat, my lips skimming her ear as I whispered, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Breathe for me. That’s it.” I reached the final button, my gaze tracking the movement. “I’m going to pull my shirt off your shoulders now, okay?”

She started to nod but froze when my mouth brushed her skin. “Yes, Sir.” It sounded like an ingrained response, words she’d been taught to utter on repeat all her life.

I wouldn’t deny the beauty of hearing them on her lips.

Or the very real arousal I felt spiraling inside me at the mere act of undressing her.

But I knew how to temper my urges. I knew how to properly care for a submissive. Perhaps not one as broken as Adalyn, though. However, I would do my best and learn her cues along the way.

Her rosy nipples beaded as I exposed them to the air, her body seeming to react on instinct alone.

She’d clearly been trained to respond to a man’s touch, even when she didn’t desire it. That would make her harder to read, but not impossible.

I ran my fingers down her arms with the fabric. “Stand up straight,” I told her.

She obeyed.

I removed the shirt from her wrists and set it aside. Then I took hold of her hips and slowly rotated her to face me. She didn’t meet my gaze, her submissive pose seeming to be the only thing holding her upright.

“Eyes on me,” I whispered.

She swallowed, then obeyed, her watery gaze breaking my heart a little. She was trying not to show her fear, trying not to allow me to see what this was doing to her. And it killed a part of me to even think about what had driven her to look at a man in this manner.

Accusations and hatred poured from her beautiful eyes.

Followed by pain.

And a hint of panic.

I drew a little circle against her hip with my thumb, then took a step backward toward the stone-walled shower. It was a walk-in style meant to accommodate two or three people with a waterfall fixture overhead that provided a nice touch to the already exotic ambience.

My own shower was actually partially inside and outside, my rooms overlooking the ocean below.

It allowed for a taste of exhibitionism as well.

Which was what made this shower better suited for Adalyn—it was enclosed by glass on two sides and stone walls on the others, making it private and for her alone. If I’d invited her into mine, she’d be entirely exposed. And I suspected that would do more harm than good.

I moved her into the center beneath the falling water, then turned on some of the wall sprays as well, ensuring she received the full experience.

A violent tremble worked its way through her, causing her knees to bend. But I caught her before she could fall. Her hands grabbed my forearms, her eyes blowing wide open with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

I frowned at her. “Were you going to kneel?”

“Y-yes,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart, if I want you to kneel, I’ll tell you. Right now, all I want is for you to stand here and let me take care of you, okay?”

Another shudder worked through her as her body and mind seemed to argue about how to proceed.

“Do as I tell you.” I infused a hint of dominance in my tone, sensing that she needed it. “Stand here in the center. Close your eyes. And let me take care of you.”

Her throat moved, another shiver seeming to consume her. But then her legs locked and her eyes fell closed, just like I’d commanded. “Very good, Adalyn,” I told her softly, one of my hands leaving her hip to move up to her face. I brushed my knuckles against her cheek, noting the way she leaned into my touch rather than away from it. “You’re very beautiful, sweet girl.” I meant it. Because she was quite possibly one of the most stunning women I’d ever met, and it wasn’t merely because she stood naked before me now.

There was just something unique about her.

Not only in looks, but inside her, too.

A fighting spirit, I thought. However, it was more than that. Even a wounded animal would fight against perceived threats.

No, Adalyn struck me as calculative.

She read people and their motives, something she’d proven last night when she’d called me a sadist. When she’d called out my kinks as though I’d written them down for her.

Except for the rope fetish.

I would never bind a woman to the point of pain.

Shibari? Yes, I enjoyed watching that.

But nothing extreme. Nothing that made something hurt for the sake of hurting. That wasn’t what I enjoyed. A little pain made me hard because I knew I would be the one to make her feel better, to chase that sting away with my hands and with my tongue.

So I was somewhat of a sadist as a result. But nothing hard-core. Not like other men I knew.

Adalyn remained perfectly still as the water dampened her black hair, the long strands reminding me of sensual ink trailing over her slender shoulders and touching the tips of her perfect breasts.

I could see why someone might want to enslave her.

If she were mine, I wouldn’t get anything done. I’d be too busy fucking her all day and night.

An inappropriate assessment, maybe. But I couldn’t bring myself to take it back.

Instead, I busied myself with caring for her the way I’d said I would.

Every touch was meant to help her heal. Every stroke was my way of promising not to push her too far. Every caress was meant to apologize for all those who’d come before me.

I shampooed her hair.

Then rinsed it.

Careful of her eyes, which she kept closed the whole time.

Then I coated my hands with conditioner and combed my fingers through her hair. She seemed to fall into a trance by the time I finished, her breathing slow and steady and her face almost relaxed.

I took advantage of her calm state and knelt to thoroughly soap up her calves and thighs, my eyes on the various scrapes and bruises marring her otherwise perfect skin.

A true sadist understood how to turn pain into pleasure.

It seemed Nathan had only played at the role, assuming her pain had equaled his own pleasure. And maybe it had. But that made him a psychopath, not a sadist.

I carefully cleansed her inner thighs, my gaze drifting up to her face as I did.

She’d stiffened a little, her eyes having opened to watch me.

Not with contentment.

But with fear and a hint of something darker. Something expectant.

Damn. I’d lulled her into a state of comfort, and something I’d done had disturbed the peace. She appeared to be on the edge of a reaction.

I just wasn’t sure if she meant to scream, cry, rage, or try to kill me.

Perhaps all of the above.

Well, shit.