Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance

A high-pitched squeal from downstairs caused me to sit upright, my heart in my throat. What was that?

I’d been debating what to wear since Asher had left the room, my brain struggling to understand this strange reality.

He’d held me while I’d cried.

I’d… I’d only started to tear up because I’d thought that was what he’d needed to fuck me. And then it’d morphed into a true sob, into terror and horror and pain and a myriad of other emotions I couldn’t name. I’d felt lost and utterly destroyed.

Yet he’d been there the whole time.

Soothing me.

Caressing me.

Handling me with a care I didn’t understand. No one had ever touched me so tenderly. No one had ever praised me, either.

Then he’d offered me a reward.

And I’d spoken without thinking it through.

He’d been shocked.

I’d tried to take it back, but he’d just hugged me again. Which had only made me cry harder.

I felt utterly destroyed. Shattered beyond recognition. Almost as though years of torment had unfolded all at once into a session of agonized pain that I could no longer control.

Why did he hold me?

Why is he being so kind to me?

It was almost cruel. Because I knew it wouldn’t last. Yet a part of me prayed it would. A part of me prayed this was real and not some twisted dream.

The squeal sounded again, making me jump.

It… it almost sounded like a child?

My eyes widened. Oh, no… Did he have a child here? To… to…? My throat started to close, my lungs refusing to work. Is that why he hasn’t needed me?

That… that would be a new fetish. One I’d heard about but had never seen. Oh God… That had better not be what was happening here!

I couldn’t allow that. I… I had to stop it from happening. Offer myself. Something. Anything. Fuck, maybe this is the pain he wished to inflict upon me?

That… that would be the worst kind of pain.

But the squeal didn’t sound pained, did it?

As it rang through the walls a third time, I frowned. No, it sounds happy.

My brow furrowed. Does he have a kid?

Why hadn’t I heard it before?

I picked up the robe he’d left on the bed and slipped from the sheets to put it on. Every part of me ached as though I’d just run a marathon, but I forced myself to my feet and headed toward the door.

It wasn’t locked—something that surprised me. I hadn’t bothered trying last night, as I’d assumed I wasn’t really allowed to leave.

But the door appeared normal with the lock on my side, not the hallway.

So perhaps… perhaps I was allowed to leave? To truly wander? Had he mentioned that yesterday? I couldn’t remember. Everything felt so foggy. So unreal. So… unexpected.

I crept down the hallway, noting the other rooms along the way. Two more bedrooms, both of which were similar to the one I’d spent the last however many hours in. Had it been a day? Two days? A week?

No. Not that long.

He’d said we had twelve days until members from Sin Cave arrived.

It felt like a year had passed since killing Nathan, but it was more realistically only a day or two at most.

“You work too much,” a feminine voice accused, giving me pause near the top of the stairs. It was one of those open-railed spiral designs that circled down to the first level. Which gave me a view of the foyer from up here, and a peek at the living area beside it.

“I could say the same to you,” Asher replied, his voice holding a touch of humor to it.

Another squeal sounded, the high-pitched noise making me wince once more. But this time I heard the laugh that followed, the child clearly happy.

A male chuckled as well. A male that sounded like Asher. “I think he likes me, Kid.”

“Of course he does, Gramps. You’re letting him yank on your hair,” the female replied.

“Well, he can’t yank on Yon’s hair.”

“Hilarious,” a male voice deadpanned. Not Asher. And definitely unamused, too.

“Not a joke if it’s true,” Asher returned, a note of teasing in his tone. “Your son is— Ow.”

“I stand corrected. That was hilarious,” the other man said. “Do it again, Graham. Pull on Uncle Asher’s hair.”

“Let’s not teach our child to abuse…” The female, who I assumed was Asher’s sister now, trailed off. “No, yeah, actually, do it again, Graham.”

“I’m starting to regret inviting you to my isle,” Asher muttered. “Aren’t you two supposed to be on your honeymoon? Why are you in my villa?”

“Because we didn’t see you for breakfast. Again.” Yeah, that definitely sounded like a sisterly tone. I’d witnessed my old roommate, Jen, give her older brother that tone on numerous occasions. Usually when discussing her age and being an adult, though. He had a knack for seeing her as a kid, which was a problem because she was not-so-secretly in love with his best friend… who also saw her as a kid sister. At least until recently.

A night at Ecstasy had changed all that.

Sort of, anyway.

I frowned, wondering if anything had changed at graduation. She’d been planning to confront him for a final time. But I’d been on a plane to Fiji, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to follow up with her.

There likely never would be.

My chest gave a pang at the thought of never speaking to Jen again. She’d been my only friend. The only sense of family I’d ever really known.

And now…

Now that felt like a lifetime ago.

“If I promise to make an appearance at breakfast tomorrow, will you let me get back to work?” Asher asked.

“Hmm, maybe,” his sister replied. “But only if you agree to have dinner with us one night this week.”

“I don’t think she understands the point of a honeymoon, Yon,” he said conversationally. “Maybe you need to give her a tutorial?”

“Trust me, I’m trying. But she has this weird obsession with her older brothers.”

“I do not!” she exclaimed, eliciting a giggle from her son.

The giggle almost made my lips curl. It was such an innocent, happy sound. Did I ever sound like that as a child? I wondered, taking a step back from the railing. I’d intruded enough on their conversation, and I wasn’t brave enough to go down dressed in a robe.

Besides, I doubted Asher wanted to explain my presence to his sister.

So I crept back to my room, only to pause at the entryway and eye the closed door at the end of the hall. Asher’s room, I recalled, thinking of how he’d pointed toward his wall yesterday.

I kept going on instinct, curious to see what kind of room a man like Asher called his own. Would there be a cage under the bed? Beside it? Bars along the wall? A cross?

His door was unlocked, making it easy to enter.

But my breath caught in my throat at what existed on the other side.

Windows.

So. Many. Windows.

He had a balcony that circled two-thirds of his room, his ceilings over two stories tall and lined with skylights. And his bed—a huge four-post ordeal with gauzy white curtains decorating the poles—was against one of the room’s only walls.

No cage.

No bars.

No kink of any kind, really.

But absolutely masculine in a way I couldn’t define.

It certainly suited the island ambience with the dark wood furniture and decorative stone floor. The white linen added to the effect and matched the billowing curtains along the glass walls. Two doors were open, allowing for a calm breeze to flow through the room, bringing with it the scent of salt and ocean. I inhaled deeply, moving toward it, desiring more of the calming reprieve.

When I stepped through the glass doors, I quickly realized that the balcony spanned more than his bedroom; it actually continued along the one I’d been put in as well.

That meant he could sneak into my room from the balcony.

Not that it mattered.

He could use the hallway door, too.

And he hadn’t exactly tried to bother me much, just kept checking on me.

Then bathed me today.

I ran my fingers through my knotted hair, realizing I probably should have picked up a comb or a brush. Oh well.

With the view of the endless ocean water and soft sand beach below, my hair felt inconsequential.

This view… was heaven.

His home wasn’t like the villa I’d been in that first night. He wasn’t on the actual water here. He had a beach front instead, and a dock that led to a yacht.

There didn’t appear to be another property in sight, suggesting he owned this small section of the island.

Well, no, he owned the whole thing.

But this was his residence.

And he didn’t put guests near his home.

Not even his sister and her family.

Interesting, I thought, inhaling once more and releasing a calming breath.

So beautiful. So mesmerizing. So perfect.

I could stay here forever.

Which… hadn’t that been part of Asher’s offer? To let me live here?

Of course, that would require me to believe him. A concept that was becoming a bit too feasible for me. Especially after overhearing him with his sister.

She… she sounded happy. Because she’d been arranged with someone she actually liked? Or… or because she wasn’t an Elite Bride at all?

Most women with brothers in the network were all sent to the Elite Bride program because it meant they were within the network and likely came from families that would profit from arranged marriages.

Such as my own. As the sole heir to Rose Royale, my father needed a good candidate to take over his business.

But he wanted one he could control.

Hence, he’d chosen Taylor Huntington.

And it’d become my job to meet all of Taylor’s commands for a wife. No matter what.

I gripped the balcony railing, my gaze on the sea. I’d considered suicide a number of times, especially in the early days of my training. But something had always held me back.

Some sort of pride.

A need not to give in to the darkness, I supposed.

But as the wedding neared, I kept considering it more and more.

Killing Nate was the first step.

I’d never really had a second step other than to survive. Then Asher Sinner had… found me. I vaguely recalled our moments on the beach, his face a bleak memory overshadowed by darkness.

Who are you really? I wondered, glancing around the beach before taking in his balcony and turning to eye his villa. What do—

My knees nearly buckled as I found him leaning against his sliding door, hands tucked casually in his pockets, gaze on me.

Shit! I pressed my palm to my chest, my heart beating a mile a minute at him startling me.

He pushed off the door to saunter toward me. “Taking in the view?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, swallowing.

His expression suggested he didn’t quite believe me. But then he glanced around as well, nodding. “Would you like to eat breakfast out here?”

I glanced down at the stone patio floor, my lips twisting. “Um.” If I told him I did, he’d probably make me kneel here to eat. If I told him I didn’t, he’d also probably make me kneel. So there wasn’t really an option.

“Adalyn?” He caught my chin with his fingers, pulling my gaze upward.

“I…” I cleared my throat. “Whatever you desire, Sir.”

He gave me a look that said I’d disappointed him. Then he pulled his phone out from his pocket and lifted it to his ear. “We’re going to eat out on my balcony.” He held my gaze while he spoke. “Cushions would be great, thank you.”

Cushions? I thought, my brow furrowing.

But he grabbed my hips and spun me back out toward the ocean, walking me to the edge, distracting me from my thoughts. “This is how things are going to go,” he said against my ear as he reached for my hands and placed them on the balcony.

I shuddered, waiting for him to remove my robe or pull it up to my waist.

However, all he did was gently lay his hands over mine, caging me between the railing and his muscular body.

I hated how good his chest felt against my back.

How warmth seemed to bleed from him into me.

How my heart skipped a beat as his lips grazed my neck before returning to my ear. “When I ask you something, I want you to tell me truthfully how you feel. Anything that you fear. Anything that makes you uncomfortable. Such as just now, you didn’t want to kneel on the stone. Had you admitted that, I would have explained what I meant by my question regarding eating out here or elsewhere.”

The air seemed to shift as someone stepped out onto the balcony behind us. Interesting that I sensed that disturbance but hadn’t noticed Asher’s arrival. Perhaps because the minty scent had already been abundant out here, the wind having carried it from his room to mingle with the salty air around me.

And now, there was something else.

Someone else.

I started to turn toward the intruder, but Asher reached up to clasp my neck, forcing me to continue staring out at the sea while his mouth remained by my ear. “I would have told you that I have furniture specifically for that purpose. Furniture that is now being brought up here for us to sit on while we eat. Because I don’t treat women like pets, Adalyn. I treat them like equals.”

He nuzzled my throat, causing my pulse to skyrocket.

Because he was touching me.

Holding me.

Telling me things I longed to hear. Words I worried would be ripped from my chest in the next second. A dream I feared I would one day wake from.

“I want you to choose a safeword, Adalyn. Something that you can say if you’re pushed too far. Something to tell me that you’re uncomfortable with a situation. A word you can use at any time without repercussion.” His thumb drew a line down the opposite side of my neck, making me feel utterly trapped. Yet oddly secure.

Like he was holding my balance in his palm.

Maintaining my being with that simple touch alone.

What is this man doing to me?

“A safeword,” I repeated, almost drunk on his presence. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I didn’t need one, that my limits were undefined. But the phrases I knew so well didn’t come. It was almost as though his hand choked me, refusing to let me utter the statements that weren’t truly mine to say.

Yet I could breathe just fine.

Which meant he wasn’t choking me at all.

“Yes, Adalyn. That is today’s reward for being so good. I’m giving you a verbal token that you can use to escape a situation of your choosing, anytime you need it.”

My eyelids lifted. I wasn’t sure when they’d closed, my mind lost to the male at my back, but they were open again now.

A reward.

A one-time-use safeword.

“Any situation?” I asked on a breath.

“Any situation,” he repeated back to me. “Any time you feel uncomfortable, you can use the word. And if you’re really good and eat all your breakfast, I’ll reward you by adding a second-time use of that word.”

So two times that I could use a safeword to escape a situation not of my liking.

My heart skipped several beats.

Nate had never offered me anything of the sort.

But I found myself yearning for it now—proverbial escape cards, a way to say no. A way to choose. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, please.”

His hands went to my hips, his motions gradual as he gently rotated me to face him. “What word would you like to use? What word will you use to stop a scene and express your discomfort?”

I considered him for a long moment.

“It should be something you would never normally say. A word you either despise or something you would never think of in a sexual situation.”

I knew what a safeword was, but I didn’t tell him that. Mostly because I preferred his definition over the one Nathan had once provided when I’d asked him to explain the concept after overhearing the term at a club.

“It’s something bad subs use when they can’t handle the pressure anymore. It’s a word you don’t need because you have no limits. You’ll do whatever I want, however I want, wherever I want. And no word will ever save you from me.”

I shuddered with the memory of what he’d done next. He’d proven his point by taking me to a new height, one that had my knees buckling now just from the thought of it.

Asher caught me, my name leaving his lips.

My legs shook as I fought to stand upright, my hands on his biceps to hold myself in place.

He gave me a moment, let me breathe in the refreshing air, allowed me to wrap myself up in the salty air tinged with his minty essence.

Safe, a small voice whispered. Finally safe.

It was a lie, of course.

A dream.

A figment of my imagination.

But I allowed myself to believe it for the moment, to give myself the strength I needed to collect my thoughts.

He wanted a safeword.

Something I would never say during sex.

There were so many things I didn’t want to say during sex that I’d been forced to say. Bleed me. Hurt me. Strangle me.

None of those were things I ever desired or wanted to voice aloud.

I could so easily list those phrases now, but they wouldn’t work. It had to be something I shouldn’t say, or wouldn’t be required to say, anyway. Otherwise, I’d waste my safeword. Because I could handle bleeding and pain and breath play.

No, it had to be a word I wouldn’t typically voice.

Something I hid deep inside.

A fear, perhaps.

One I wouldn’t want to ever reveal in that situation unless I absolutely needed the escape.

“Dreams,” I whispered.

He blinked down at me. “What?”

“Dreams,” I repeated, meeting his smoldering gaze once more. “My safeword is dreams.”

Because dreams didn’t exist in my world.

To be allowed to leave a scene would be a dream for me.

Which made it the perfect word to use.

Dreams were an escape. Dreams were make-believe. Dreams were fantasies that didn’t exist.

Just like a safeword.

There was no such thing as a limit for me. No such thing as denial.

And to believe that he would ever actually allow me to use a safeword was just another silly dream.

However, I’d use it to amuse him.

See if it actually worked.

Because maybe, for once in my life, my fantasy would come true. And I’d be given the right to dream.