Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance

Ugh.

What the…?

Everything felt fuzzy. Wrong. Heavy.

Like I was weighed down by mud.

Where am I? I wondered, my eyes refusing to open. It left me in an inky pool of darkness, my thoughts murky as I fought to recall whatever had put me in this state.

Did Jen and I go out drinking?

Fuck, I hope not. Nate will kill—

Wait…

Nate’s dead.

An image of his body flooded my thoughts.

Followed by ones of Asher Sinner.

His villa. His guest room. French toast. A walk on the beach…

Dreams.

Oh God.

“Dreams,” I breathed, my eyes finally working.

Black sheets. Bedposts. A balcony overlooking the ocean.

“Adalyn.” The deep voice came from my left. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Safe? Panic held me captive, stealing the breath from my lungs. I’m not fucking safe!

Everything had been a lie.

Safety didn’t exist.

Safewords meant nothing.

Safe wasn’t real.

“Adalyn,” the voice said again, a strong hand cupping my jaw. His thumb traced my cheek.

And all I could think about were what his hands had done to me before I’d passed out.

My throat. Strangling me. Killing me.

I couldn’t remember what had happened next.

Did he fuck me? Did Asher join him?

My brow furrowed. Asher.

That was his voice now.

So maybe he had joined him. But hadn’t he said he preferred his women to be conscious?

Oh, but he’d also promised me a safeword.

Which hadn’t been true at all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his touch going to my throat. “I’m sorry he touched you, Adalyn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry for letting you down. I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart slowed, my breathing beginning to steady. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

He… he wasn’t there?

“You did so good using your safeword, sweetheart,” he continued softly. “Someone alerted my security team. But I should have been there. I shouldn’t have let that bastard on my island. I promise it won’t happen again.”

He ran his fingers through my hair while I tried to process his words, my mind struggling to comprehend.

My… my safeword worked?

Or is this another lie?

“Clive is going through Nathan’s files and making a list of those who have touched you. I’ve already told Julian none of them are welcome here. And Brevington’s gone now, too. He left the island, and he’s not allowed to return. I’ll be issuing a ban to everyone else, just as soon as I have the list from Clive.”

He gently took hold of my chin to drag my focus up to his dark, intense gaze.

“I failed you. It won’t happen again. No one will touch you without permission, Adalyn.” He traced my jaw with his thumb. “You’re mine to protect. I know I bruised that faith. And I’m sorry. I’ll prove my worth again, sweetheart. I promise.”

I searched his features, confused. Is this another game? Another way to hurt me? Emotional torture?

What happened after Mr. Brevington choked me? I wondered, trying to recall what had come next.

I… I didn’t feel sore. Just bruised along my sides. My throat felt raw, too. But nothing else really ached. At least not in the way it typically did after a harsh fuck.

“Throw that asshole in holding.”

The deep voice echoed in my mind, followed by something about a doctor. Or had that been before the demand? I couldn’t remember the order or what had really happened.

But I recalled feeling hands on me.

Someone hushing me.

Telling me it was all right. That Asher would be there soon.

However, I’d kept repeating my safeword, dreams, the only phrase I seemed to know. It almost left my lips again now.

Because I felt broken. Shattered. Used.

Yet whole.

And…

And safe.

Which made no sense. That notion didn’t exist. It was a lie. Everything is a lie.

Except some part of me—a naïve part, maybe—believed in Asher.

Or rather, that part wanted to trust him. Although, he kept holding back. He focused on me instead of himself, always in control, never allowing me to see his darker side.

“This is who I am,” he’d said the other night.

But then what was that scene with Mr. Brevington? A fluke? A test? A twisted punishment?

I… I didn’t understand any of this.

I didn’t understand Asher’s words or his desires or his intentions or any of his reasons. Everything was just so confusing in my head. Warped and wrong and wicked.

And fractured.

He’d engaged me in this torture, making promises I longed for him to keep. Then reality had spoiled each vow, tarnishing the edges of this fantasy world and grounding me in my former existence.

I felt as though I were drowning. Swirling. Dying.

Nothing made sense. Nothing seemed right. My world was up and then down and turned and then sideways.

“Adalyn,” he breathed, his dark gaze holding a note of concern. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

Something real, I thought. Something… something right. Something to ground me. Something to make the world stop spinning!

I grabbed my head, hating how everything was spiraling. Hating how utterly wrong I felt. Hating the muddled thoughts and murky past. I wanted to… to feel normal.

To know Asher.

Truly understand him.

Feel him.

Be trained in his expectations. To understand the extent of his control.

I… I needed him to dominate me.

Anchor me.

Bring me back.

Help me.

His hands were suddenly on my cheeks, his body hovering over mine, his face swimming above me. I felt myself spiraling downward, sinking into a hole without an escape, the earth closing around me, suffocating me, making me—

“Tell me your safeword, Adalyn,” Asher demanded. His voice wrapped around me like a noose, dragging me to the surface and forcing me to see him. To focus on him. To be here with him.

Yes, yes.

More.

I… I need… I can’t define… I just… I…

“Tell me your safeword, Adalyn,” he repeated, his tone harsher now, his hand going to my throat. “Tell me right now.”

“D-dreams,” I stammered, frowning. “But it doesn’t… It’s a lie.” Right? Wasn’t it a lie? A falsehood? A game?

“You say dreams when you want the scene to stop,” he told me. “One word, Adalyn. That’s all you need. What Mitch Brevington did wasn’t a scene. It was attempted rape. You’re mine to protect. Mine to please. Mine to take care of. When you say dreams with me, everything ends and we talk about limits. We talk about how to move forward. Brevington has nothing to do with us. He’s gone. We’re in the present now, and dreams is your safeword. Now say it again so I know you understand.”

But I didn’t understand.

I didn’t understand at all.

“Asher, I—”

“Sir,” he corrected. “We’re about to begin a scene. You call me ‘Sir.’ Or ‘Mr. Sinner.’ Whatever you prefer. Now tell me your safeword, Adalyn. Say it with confidence. Know that you can use it. You’re the one in control here. You’re the one with all the power. It’s my job not to push you too far. It’s my job to ground you. But I need your consent. And you’ll give it by reminding me of your safeword.”

“Dreams,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Not confident enough, darling. That’s your word that makes everything stop. It’s your power. Don’t let that asshole steal it from you. Don’t let your past belittle it. You’re here now. You’re mine. And you have a safeword. One I will obey. One I will ensure you never have to use. Now say it again.”

I shivered, the sheer dominance in his voice making me melt beneath him.

It was exactly what my body needed.

Exactly what my mind required.

An escape. An outlet. A way to turn everything off. To not think about anything other than this moment. Anything other than him.

Asher Sinner.

My Sir.

My Master.

“Yes.” I stared into his eyes, everything else falling away around us. “Dreams.”

“One more time for me, sweetheart,” he said, his palm still around my throat. It didn’t hurt. It felt reassuring. Like he was erasing the touch of those who’d come before him.

Such as Mr. Brevington.

Asher was replacing him in my mind.

Creating a new scene.

A new experience.

One that would overshadow everything and everyone else.

A scene I desired.

Perhaps for all the wrong reasons. But this… this felt right. It allowed me to breathe, granting me renewed life with a refreshing air of the present.

No more past.

No more thinking.

Just him. Just Asher. Just us.

“What’s your safeword, Adalyn?”

“Dreams,” I answered automatically. “My safeword is dreams.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips brushing mine. “And who am I?”

“My Sir.”

“Very good, sweetheart.” He gave me another kiss. “Now tell me what you need.”

I blinked up at him. What do I need? “I need you.” I needed his voice. His commands. His touch. His praise. His control. “I need to understand you.” This game. This world. This reality. This present. “Everything feels so chaotic, Sir. Please fix it.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what I needed.

But some base part of me trusted that he knew what I desired. Perhaps I’d lost my mind. Maybe I was actually dreaming right now.

Did it really even matter?

I wanted Asher.

I wanted him to prove that there could be more in this life. To show me what it meant to be his. To stop this insanity and just let me exist in the now. “Please,” I repeated in a whisper, my gaze searching his. “Please, Sir.”

He pressed his lips to mine, hushing me with a soft “Shh” against my mouth. Then he kissed a path to my ear. “I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart.” He nibbled the lobe before nuzzling my neck, his touch eliciting goose bumps along my arms. “Grab the headboard.” His words were soft but underlined with command.

I obeyed.

“Such a good little sub,” he whispered, kissing his way down my neck. He seemed to be tracing a path along some of the bruising, as the touch of his lips hurt yet soothed at the same time.

His tongue followed, licking a trail up my throat in a manner that left me trembling beneath him.

“If anyone other than me ever strokes this beautiful skin again, you safeword them, Adalyn,” he said softly. “Scream it. Someone will come running. And I’ll kill whoever it is that dared to touch you without permission.”

I swallowed, uncertain.

He must have sensed it because he lifted up onto his elbows on either side of my head, his hands stroking my arms as I clutched the headboard above me.

“My security staff is well acquainted with your safeword now, Adalyn. You so much as whisper it and they’ll come running. Because no one touches you except for me. Not unless you decide otherwise.” He arched a dark brow. “Understood?”

I licked my lips. “Yes, Sir.”

“Only me,” he added. “I’m the only one who touches you. Ever. Unless you desire another. Then we’ll revisit those limits. But until that moment, it’s you and me. Always.” His palm circled my throat again. “I’m your Dom now. Do you understand?”

“Always?” I echoed.

“For as long as you want me,” he clarified.

My brow furrowed. “Will you always want me?”

His gaze darkened. “Yes, Adalyn. I will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve never craved a woman as much as I crave you.” He lowered his head to run his nose against mine, the touch so gentle I nearly began to weep from it. No one had ever handled me with this sort of care. Yet every move was underscored by his dominance, his control, his sheer force of nature.

It left me dizzy.

Unable to concentrate.

Something about his words had felt unbelievable. Curious, even.

But when he touched me like this, I couldn’t question him.

It just felt too powerful, too real, too all-consuming, to ignore. “Okay,” I breathed, consenting to something I didn’t fully understand.

His lips captured mine in a searing kiss, sealing some sort of vow between us.

I didn’t ask for clarification. I just fell headfirst into it, succumbing to every stroke of his tongue against mine.

His thumbs drew little circles against my inner elbows, his body so completely mastering mine.

Yet he wore clothes.

A cotton shirt and gray sweatpants.

I wanted them gone. I wanted him as naked as me. I wanted him inside me.

He’d asked me what I needed.

I understood now what that was.

“Sir,” I breathed against his mouth. “I know what I need.”

“Tell me, sweetheart.” His words tasted minty on my tongue, his peppermint essence a seductive kiss to my senses that left me warm and ready beneath him.

“I need you inside me,” I told him. “I want to feel you come. I need to be the one to bring you to that point. I need to know you. To please you.” I opened my eyes, unsure of when they’d even closed, and stared directly up at him. “Please, Sir. I need more. I need you.”

Maybe I was having a moment of impulsiveness.

Maybe I had a bad case of hero worship.

Maybe I’d just lost my fucking mind.

But life was short, I wanted him, and there was a chance that I might never be given this opportunity again. Everything focused on the now—our present. Because our future was undecided.

And I no longer wanted to exist in the past.

“I want you,” I continued. “I want to know what it’s like to be with a man who… who respects me. Who… who won’t hurt me just to make himself feel superior.”

I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from or how I was able to string them all together, but hearing them aloud made me realize how true they were.

“All my life, every touch has been commanded by someone else. Dictated by other men. I want this for me. I… I want my right to choose.”

I swallowed, unable to say much else.

Because this was driven by so much more than physical need.

This was driven by an emotional wound that had bled inside me for far too long. A wound I needed to treat. A wound I wanted to start healing.

“Please.” The word fell from my lips as a tear escaped my eye. I suddenly felt even more broken than when I’d awoken. Like something inside me had just ruptured. Shattered. Utterly destroyed. Perhaps because I’d just admitted something aloud I hadn’t even admitted to myself.

My lungs deflated, my heart racing in my chest.

Because I had no idea what he would say next. How he would react. I was the sub. He was the Dom. I shouldn’t be dictating to him.

But he’d asked what I needed.

And what I needed was the right to choose.

And I’d chosen him.