Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance

Nate’s palm landed on my ass, the slap leaving behind a stinging sensation that rivaled the other marks he’d just put on my body. None of them would leave a permanent mark. But that didn’t make them any less painful.

“Up,” he demanded, his voice cold. “Go shower and prepare yourself for dinner.”

I eagerly accepted his reprieve, exhausted after being in his presence here all day.

He’d been… creative.

Playing with toys.

Knives.

Items meant to prolong my torment and enhance his pleasure alone.

I shivered, my body bruised and abused and bleeding.

Nate wouldn’t care. He never did. But tonight marked a new experience between us, one defined by the single bed in this bungalow.

He intended for me to sleep beside him.

Or perhaps on the floor.

There wasn’t a cage, which meant he didn’t plan to lock me up. And that provided the opportunity I’d been looking forward to on this trip.

He used to lock me up after fucking.

Because I’d often fought back.

But I’d eventually learned that obedience could earn rewards—like a taste of freedom.

One day, he hadn’t locked me up, just left me in the basement dungeon.

A few weeks later—or maybe it was months; I wasn’t sure—he’d given me a bedroom with windows.

When I hadn’t run, he’d started leaving the door unlocked.

After that, I’d been allowed to roam the house he’d kept me in.

That had later escalated to being enrolled in university courses.

Then the ultimate test had come when he’d allowed me to move into an apartment with another girl. Not an Elite Bride like me, but an ordinary student.

Jenica Roberts.

She’d become my one and only friend.

Yet she didn’t really know me at all.

Because I hadn’t been allowed to tell her anything about me. Our whole living situation had served as the ultimate test, one I knew Nate heavily monitored.

So I’d played every move correctly, all the while pretending to be the perfect little slave.

I’d attended my university classes as expected.

I’d shown up for my requisite hours at Ecstasy—a sex club owned by the Sin Cave Elite—every single week.

I’d knelt for Nate every time he’d demanded it. Sucked whoever’s cock he’d told me to suck. Fucked until I couldn’t walk. Had done every sick and depraved thing he’d demanded of me without trying to fight him.

All to gain his trust.

To lead to this moment.

The one where he finally let his guard down because he thought his job was done.

I should be at some college graduation celebration right now, bonding with Jenica over our college accomplishments and reminding her how Logan Pierce didn’t deserve her. If he wasn’t going to man up and own his feelings in front of her brother, then Jenica needed to move on and find a new love. She needed to live and enjoy life. She deserved better than a man who wanted to keep everything a secret.

But I couldn’t tell her any of that.

Because I was standing in this magnificent bathroom adorned with marble floors and stone walls with decorative gold fixtures. Too lost. Too unfeeling. Too busy staring at my body reflected in a mirror that spanned an entire wall.

Bruises. Bleeding cuts. Handprints and fingerprints. Rope burn. I truly resembled a broken woman.

Which was exactly what I desired.

Exactly what I needed.

Nate wouldn’t second-guess me in this state. He’d relax and eat his food and either invite me into the bed or send me to the floor.

Regardless of where I ended up, it would be near him. Near where he slept. Near where he would finally be somewhat vulnerable in my presence.

Near where I could hurt him.

He knew I hated him.

But he also assumed I would never do anything to stop him. Because he’d drilled the consequences firmly into my head, telling me over and over again how much better my life would be as an Elite Bride.

I might have to fuck every male my husband brought home, but at least I’d be respected in society. A woman of worth. A wife to an Elite.

Fighting my future would remove any and all aspects of protection afforded to an Elite Bride.

Nate was convinced that I knew better than to test his theories.

But he failed to understand that I would prefer that fate to bending over and taking it for society’s enjoyment.

There might not be any true escape.

There might not be any alternative.

However, I would hate myself if I didn’t try to do something to fight this.

They might catch me and subject me to a life of misery. But if Nate had taught me anything, it was that my life would be miserable either way.

So why not take charge? Why not test my fate? Why not end this training game my way?

I smiled, the expression oddly cold in the mirror.

A haunting image that imprinted itself in my mind as I moved to take my shower.

That smile was still there even as I flinched from the water touching my fresh cuts. Even as I soaped myself up and grimaced from the resulting stings and tenderness. Even as the water washed all the soap and grime away. Even as I eventually dried off and found the mirror again.

My lips were no longer curling.

But they were inside my mind.

Because I had a plan. A lethal one. And tonight, I intended to act.

Just not yet.

I still had a submissive role to play.

I braided my damp hair the way Nate liked, the strands the color of midnight from the water glittering against the dark color. An appropriate look, one that matched the hardening of my eyes.

Yet I softened them almost immediately, aware of what Nate would expect to see in my features.

Perfect, I thought, ready to play my final role.

There were no alternatives to my plan. Nate had made it quite clear that he intended to start his sharing activities tomorrow with the owner of this fucked-up little island. And I just wasn’t interested.

Well, no. That was a bit of a lie. I’d stolen a peek at the man in charge—Asher Sinner—and I hadn’t been appalled by his features at all.

However, I knew what kind of man lurked beneath that flawless skin. He had sadist practically engraved into his nearly black eyes. And while I enjoyed a little pain with my pleasure, I knew he would go too far. They all did.

As a test.

To expand my limits.

To deaden me to the world.

Hence the fresh wounds on my body now. They would heal, and the ointment Nate had provided would help reduce any potential scarring.

My future husband wanted me perfect, after all.

Sexy. Confident. A well-cultured bride in public. A willing deviant in the bedroom.

That was what all Elite Brides represented—high-society blood with a penchant for masochism.

But it wasn’t by choice. No, we were trained. Forced. Taken from our homes in our teens and given to men like Nate Spencer.

My jaw clenched, the action there and gone in a blink. My eyes took on a glassy appearance once more, my lips pouty, my expression utterly submissive.

Practiced.

Cultivated.

A mask I’d created and perfected to hide my every thought.

I’m ready, stepping away from the mirror and heading toward the door. No clothes. No towel. Just my freshly cleaned body and braided hair.

Nate would have told me if he expected me to wear anything at the table. But all he’d told me to do was shower and prepare myself. That meant he wanted me without clothes and on my knees.

I moved through the bedroom without looking up from the plush carpeted floor, into the hallway lined with marble tile. There was a living area with white furniture and more marble fixtures, framed by patio doors that opened to a staircase that led down into the ocean.

I’d momentarily contemplated jumping off them and swimming until I found new land or drowned.

But knowing I would be alone with Nate tonight had kept me secure and sane.

Just as it kept me steady as I continued through the living area to the dining room, just off the full kitchen.

A kitchen that has knives, I thought as I went to my knees beside the head of the table. I bowed my head, my face carefully blank, and waited.

This was another one of Nate’s tests. A way to ensure my absolute submission.

Because he hadn’t been in the bedroom, living area, or anywhere around the table when I’d entered. Which meant he’d stepped out for a moment. Probably to take a call. Or perhaps to wait outside to see if I deviated from his instructions.

I wouldn’t give him a reason to punish me.

Not tonight.

Not when I was so close to my goal.

I counted to five hundred before Nate returned, his flip-flops flapping as he walked through the apartment-like bungalow. He said something to the chef about leaving early, saying he would handle serving the food.

She left without argument, probably eager to be out of his presence. He put on a good show, but she’d likely heard some of the acts from the bedroom while preparing food this afternoon.

I’d done my best to keep silent. But there were times when I couldn’t hold back my scream.

Those were the times Nate loved best.

He usually came when I cried out in agony.

Sometimes I screamed just to end my suffering.

Other times, I kept quiet because I knew that was his desire. He wanted to work for it. Those were our worst sessions.

Today had fallen somewhere in between. I’d been so caught up in my endgame that I hadn’t really felt it. However, I’d definitely screamed loud enough for Chef Cassandra to hear.

“You’re such a good pet,” Nate praised, patting my head as he stopped by the table. “Maybe I’ll feed you more than my cock tonight, hmm?”

“Thank you, Master,” I replied, the phrase one that he’d etched into my tongue years ago.

Yes, Master. As you wish, Master. Whatever pleases you, Master.

I’m going to kill you, Master.

That last line was for me.

One I’d vowed years ago.

A promise I would fulfill. Tonight.

Nate busied himself with fixing a single plate and some wine, then joined me at the table a handful of minutes later.

He didn’t invite me to sit.

He expected me to stay on my knees.

It was a position I knew well.

Nate took his time eating his fill, forcing me to hear him chew and swallow and “Mmm” as he enjoyed his meal.

My stomach rumbled in response, my throat parched for a drink.

But I knew better than to ask.

When he finally finished, he set his mostly empty plate on the floor and told me to “lick it clean.”

Which I did. Because it might be the only food he’d give me.

He fixed himself some sort of dessert while I licked up the steak juice and residual mashed potatoes from his dish. I made it spotless, knowing he would call me ungrateful and punish me if I left anything behind.

“That’s my good little whore,” he said, picking up the plate and replacing it with a smaller dish of cut-up meat. “I made you an extra treat. No hands.”

“Thank you, Master.” I bent to pick up a piece of grilled chicken with my teeth, aware that this was his way of rewarding my good behavior. Rejecting that gift would not end well.

I ate every bite while he indulged in his dessert.

That dish he didn’t give me.

My diet consisted of lean meats, vegetables, and other lower-fat foods that kept my body in prime shape for my future husband.

For all the food Nate consumed, he at least managed to maintain a decent physique. It wasn’t like he had a six-pack, but he didn’t have much of a gut either.

He was actually fairly decent-looking. Forty-two years old, blond hair, hazel eyes, a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his square jaw, over six feet tall, and athletically built.

When we’d first met, I’d found him attractive.

At least until he’d introduced me to his violent side.

But his looks added to his overall charm, which allowed him to enchant others rather easily. That was what made him such a good trainer—he knew exactly how to play the society game, whom to rub elbows with, and how to appease his benefactors.

While being an absolute sadist behind closed doors.

A monster, even.

He collected my dish from the floor and walked away. “Head back,” he said as he returned.

I didn’t look at him, but at the ceiling, as I knew he wouldn’t appreciate direct eye contact.

He pressed a bottle of water to my lips. “Open.”

I stole a quick breath, then did as he asked and started swallowing as he fed me the water.

He wouldn’t stop until I choked.

So I took as much as I could, trying to make it last as long as possible, before eventually sputtering. He made me inhale a few drops before he finally took the bottle away, the bastard always finding subtle ways to assert his dominance.

I coughed a little, the sound forcibly quiet.

Then he repeated it twice more until the bottle was gone.

“I need to make some calls regarding your schedule this week. Wait for me in the bed.”

“Yes, Master,” I replied, forcing myself not to smile.

Because that meant I was right about his intentions for tonight.

He’s going to let his guard down.

And he’s just given me some freedom to properly prepare.

It’s finally time.