Page 2 of Scorched Veil
We pull up to the entrance, and Kairo gets out first. He extends his hand toward me, not as an offer but as a test. One I fail because I ignore it and step out alone. The heat swallows me instantly, it’s sticky, pressing against every inch of exposed skin making my dress cling tighter. The silk is nearly see-through now, and I know he notices because his eyes drop to my chest for one long second before he looks away. Not out of respect but out of restraint. The difference matters. Respect means he caresabout my boundaries, restraint means he's choosing when to cross them.
Two staff members wait by the glass doors, heads bowed. They don't look at me either, and I'm starting to understand the rules of this island. Kairo Saint is the only one allowed to look. His hand presses flat against the small of my back, hot through the wet silk, and guides me inside. The foyer is cool as I’m greeted by soaring ceilings and dark marble floors that echo with every step. Expensive art adorns the walls, abstract, violent slashes of red and black on white canvas, art that probably costs more than a house. Wide glass doors stand open to the pool deck and the ocean beyond. The whole place smells like salt air, wood polish, and money.
"Welcome home, wife." His breath is warm against my ear, his body close enough behind me that I can feel his chest against my shoulder blades. "There is no phone signal past the front gate. Every inch of this island is mine." His fingers spread wider against my lower back as his thumb presses into the base of my spine. "And so are you."
I spin to face him, heart hammering against my ribs. "Then you'd better get ready for one hell of a war, Kairo. Because I'm not breaking for you, not today, not ever."
He crowds me back against the cool marble wall, one hand gripping my jaw, tilting my face up to his as his thumb drags roughly across my lower lip, slow and deliberate, as if he’s testing what I'll allow before he takes more. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and this close, I can see a thin scar that cuts through his left eyebrow.
"We'll see about that," he says softly, almost gently. The gentleness is worse than the grip on my jaw. Because the gentleness is a lie, and lies from men like him are the most dangerous thing in the world. "This heat has a way of burning through all that fight." His gaze drops to my mouth and lingersfor a moment before lowering. "And when yours burns out, and it will, I'm going to be right here, Summer, waiting to take what is mine."
I slap his hand away, hard enough that the sound echoes across the marble. He smiles dangerously as if I reacted exactly the way he wanted. With a smile that promises things that make me nervous, he steps back, adjusts himself, and then walks away deeper into the villa without another word, his footsteps echoing off the marble until they disappear.
What the hell?I stay pressed against the wall, my pulse hammering and my skin burning where his thumb was. I press my fingers to my mouth without thinking, then catch myself and drop my hand.
This is going to be a long summer.
2
SUMMER
Istay pressed against the marble wall, breathing hard, the skin on my jaw still burning from his grip. My pulse won't slow down, and I push my back harder into the cool stone and count to thirty, listening.
Nothing but quiet.
I push off the wall, thankfully I’m alone. The staff seems to have disappeared, leaving the glass doors to the pool deck wide open.This is my chance.I stare out the doors to the bright blue sky and the dark green tree line all the way to the azure water. I kick off my heels and leave them where they fall.Bare feet on marble make no sound.I don't look back, I just go.
The heat hits me the second I step outside, the afternoon sun turning the stone pool deck into a griddle under my feet. I hiss but keep moving, past the infinity pool, past the edge of the terrace where the cliff drops straight to the ocean, no stairs, no path, just rock and a fall that would break me before the water did.Not that way then.I cut right. There's a narrow stone path curving down through the palms toward a strip of white sand I can see between the trunks. I move fast down the path, the stones hot and rough under my bare feet. The wedding dresscatches on a low branch, and I rip it free without stopping, not caring about tearing it. Sweat is already running down my temples, between my breasts, and down the backs of my knees. The path winds through a cluster of palms and opens onto a small crescent of white sand. The water is turquoise and flat, lapping gently at the shore. It looks like a postcard and possible freedom.
I scan the waterline. There’s no boat, like he said, not even a dock.Nothing.Just sand and water and the faint dark shape of another island on the horizon, miles away. I could swim it,I think.I'm a decent swimmer, but miles in the open ocean with currents I don't know, no way to rest, and no idea what's in the water beneath me. I'd drown before I got halfway.And I’m not going to die today.
I'm standing ankle deep in the warm shallows, the hem of the wedding dress soaking up seawater, calculating the distance, when I hear it.
Dead silence.
The birds have stopped and the insects have gone quiet. The jungle behind me has gone completely silent as if a predator has just stepped foot inside it.
I turn around slowly.
He's standing at the top of the beach path.
Fuck.
His arms are crossed, and I can feel the weight of his glare between us. He's changed out of the dress shirt and is now wearing a black T-shirt that fits like a second skin across his chest and shoulders, along with dark sweatpants, and he’s barefoot like me. He's not rushing, he's just watching me, probably wondering what the hell I think I’m doing. As he warned me, he owns this island, owns everything as far as I can see.
"Going somewhere?" His voice carries across the sand, low and calm, almost amused.
I take a step backward, and the water rises to my calves.
His eyes widen as he starts walking toward me, slowly, each step pressing into the sand without sound.
"You made it further than I expected. Most people don't get past the front door." He smirks. “The last one who ran begged for days.”
I run toward him, which surprises him. I need to get out of the deeper water, then suddenly I turn at the last moment and run along the waterline, my bare feet slapping wet sand, the dress dragging heavy and sodden around my legs. I make it maybe twenty feet before I hear him behind me, not running, but moving fast, his strides eating up the distance without effort. His hand closes around my upper arm and yanks me backward as he drags me straight under. Saltwater crashes over my head, and I thrash wildly, lungs burning, panic exploding as he holds me down just long enough for real terror to hit.Three horrible seconds.Then he hauls me back up, coughing and choking on seawater. My dress is drenched and completely see-through. I spin and swing at him with my free hand, catching him across the jaw. His head snaps to the side, and when he turns back, there's a red mark blooming across his cheekbone, and hunger in his eyes that wasn't there before.
Oh shit.
"There she is." He smirks.
