Savage Dom: A Dark Romance: Savage Island Book One

by Henry, Jane

  He swallows hard but nods. It’s a good sign.

  “There,” he says. “On the beach. Look.”

  I drag Will in front of me where I can see him and look to where he points. I blink in surprise. For once, I’m glad he’s with me, because if he wasn’t, I’m not sure I’d believe what I see. I’d convince myself I was hallucinating or something.

  There’s a ship. A huge cruise ship or something, anchored just off our coast. And aboard the deck are at least a dozen people dressed in clothes you’d wear on vacation… swim suits and sunglasses. It’s so surreal, we both watch in amazement. My heartbeat accelerates, sweat breaking out over my body.

  People.

  Civilized people.

  Who are they? Are they here to hunt us? Will they take the limited food we have?

  “Get them off this island,” I growl. I blink and shake my head. What the hell am I saying? “Get them off.” I poise my slingshot at the ship inanely, as if somehow, I can shoot rocks at them and make them retreat.

  “Maybe they have food,” he says in a fevered whisper. “Cy, what if they have food? Cruise ships have… oh, God, everything.” He swallows, and saliva drips down the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go, Cy. We need to get them.”

  “Don’t let them go. Call to them. We have to fucking call them and get off this island!” I whisper, my pulse pounding. “We need to kill them,” I amend, as if this makes perfect sense.

  “All of them,” he agrees. “Kill them and take their food and water.”

  “We’ll deal with killing them when we find them.”

  There’s something off about this conversation, but I’m too desperate to care what it is. We need food and we need it now.

  “Heyyyy!” Will shouts, screaming so loudly my ears ring.

  “Up here!” I scream, louder than him. “Help!”

  They’ve got to hear us, but no one even looks our way. But we’re deep in the woods and we can’t run down to them. The only way down is back to the cave, then down to the rocks, then across the beach. We can’t get to them from up here.

  “Go,” I tell him. “Get down there. We have to go.”

  We pause just long enough to grab the roasted carcass. I clumsily tear it in half and give him the larger portion, shoving the meat in my mouth as we run back toward the cave. I choke it down, not caring it’s nearly burnt and tasteless. My stomach growls appreciatively. It’s not delicious, but it’s food.

  “We have to get to the cave,” I tell him. “If we don’t, there’s no way back down to the beach.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters. We’re both panting, when I stumble. I go flying headfirst, blocking my head with my arm, but he grabs my arm and yanks me back up, and we’re running again, the two of us. We’ve been here all this time and never once seen a boat, a ship, nothing at all that would indicate human life until now.

  We make it back to the cave then begin the descent toward the beach, but I don’t hear any more voices. I ignore the foreboding that builds in my chest. I’m not giving up. It’s the first sign of civilization we’ve seen since we got here and I’m not giving up now. But the distance is longer than I thought, and it seems we’re running so much longer than we should.

  “Are we lost?” Will asks. “You sure this is the right way?”

  I look wildly around me but do recognize where we are.

  “Left,” I say, panting. There’s a stitch in my side and between the water I drank and the scarcity of food in my stomach, I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I push on. We run until we make it to the beach. The stark, empty fucking beach.

  I drop my elbows to my knees, panting, my lungs constricted so I can hardly speak.

  “You see anything?” I say in between gasps.

  “They’re gone,” Will says. His voice cracks and I swear he’s on the verge of tears. “There’s no one here.”

  I curse, my own throat tight, but I refuse to cry. I learned young that real men don’t cry. ever.

  And I won’t cry now.

  “They left that quickly? They looked like they were out for a daytime excursion.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head, and he swipes his hand across his eyes. The bastard’s crying. It makes me want to beat him all over again. “What the fuck? Where’d they go?”

  “For Christ’s sake, stop your blubbering,” I mutter, but I hate myself for saying that because it was the constant refrain I heard growing up.

  Real mean don’t cry.

  Stop your blubbering.

  Man up.

  I walk over to him and shake my head, my voice gruffer than I intend. “It’s alright. It’s a sign that we’re not as isolated as we think.”

  Even though I hate him, even though I hate that I’ve become the bastard who has no mercy, it makes me feel more human than I have in days… weeks… months.

  But he pushes me away. “Shut up,” he says, full on crying now. “We are isolated. We’ve got nothing to eat and we’re going to fucking die here and you know it.” Tears stream down his cheeks and it makes me so mad I have to breathe through my nose so I don’t hurt him. My hand clenches into a fist and I want to deck him again. He’s a slow learner.

  He opens his mouth to speak, then pauses with his mouth still hanging open. Wordlessly, he points behind me. I turn, half expecting to see Eugene. I’m ready to attack. But when I turn, I don’t see what I expect at all.

  There’s a woman with her back to us, so far up on the ridge she couldn’t hear us if we called her. She’s curvy and gorgeous, with billows of vibrant auburn hair. I can’t see much more than that but can see she’s dressed in a skimpy dress and walking away from us.

  “It’s a woman,” Will says, as if that isn’t fucking obvious.

  I turn to him, a different kind of hunger consuming my every thought, consuming every fiber of my being, and a ferocious need to protect what’s mine rages through me.

  “She’s mine.”

  Four

  Harper

  This island is magnificent. Breathtakingly beautiful. I’ve been so taken by the sights around me for days, and even now I still can’t process the vibrant blue of the ocean, the beautiful white of the sand, the endless sky and greenery that surrounds the island like icing on a cake. This is the stuff that dreams are made of. Utter paradise.

  The cruise ship has been amazing, and I’ve indulged more in the past week than I have my entire life. Mimosas in the morning and omelets made to order, decadent desserts and chocolate fountains, filet mignon and the largest, most succulent shrimp I’ve ever had. And even though there are other guests on board, I somehow feel as if I’m the one they’re most focused on. I convince myself that it’s because I’m the weirdo that won the all-inclusive cruise.

  It feels a little creepy, if I’m honest. When I enter the dining room, all eyes are on me. At the spa, I have half a dozen women waiting on me hand and foot. The chef has paid me a personal visit when dining multiple times now, asking if there’s anything at all he can do for me.

  And I just can’t get used to it. I’m the independent one, ready to take care of whatever or whoever I need to. I’m not used to being served like this, and it makes me a little uneasy. That’s the only reason I can fathom that this whole luxurious vacation has me on edge.

  When we finally dock on an island, and we’re told we can roam freely for a few hours, I eagerly get off the ship. I don’t trust anyone, so I take my bags with me, but I packed fairly lightly. I throw my backpack on, take my phone, and get ready to take some pictures.

  I took jugs of sunscreen with me because fair girls like me burn easily, but I’ve gotten used to limiting my exposure to the sun and staying in the shade to avoid being burned. I have the lightest tan now, and only burned once, but on the island, there are enough trees I can hide beneath during the full blare of the sun.

  I miss Daniel. And if I’m honest? I’m even missing my work. Still, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t stunningly beautiful. I feel as if I’ve steppe
d foot straight into paradise.

  I find a waterfall a few yards from the main beach and take a seat on a rock. Though the cruise ship’s been delightful, being alone like this is more my speed. I wish I had more time to explore, but I don’t want to get lost, so I get up after a few minutes and go in search of some photogenic places.

  I wonder what Ben’s doing right now. Is he celebrating his birthday again? I smile to myself. Though it’s been devastating to see my baby brother regress after the accident, his childlike simplicity inspires me. There’s an ache inside me being apart from him.

  I shake my head. I’m here to enjoy myself, not pine away for home.

  Since I ate a substantial breakfast, I don’t even think about food or water for a while, as I explore the beauty of this island. I put my backpack down and take out my camera, marking where I put it so I don’t lose it. I don’t want its weight on me while I take some pictures.

  The first picture I take is of a beautiful white flower with a yellow center in full bloom, the second the waterfall hidden in the woods. Birds tweet overhead, but at times it’s almost silent here. I’m so focused on taking pictures, I don’t hear anything but my own thoughts as I focus the lens on the beauty that surrounds me.

  But after a little while, I start to feel as if I’m being watched. I look around me, but none of the other passengers have ventured this far. I look to my left and then my right.

  “Hello?” I ask into the vast emptiness, but of course no one replies.

  The first clue that tells me it isn’t my imagination and I’m not alone is the snapping of twigs. I look all around me but see no one at all.

  “Who’s there?” I yell out, but my voice only echoes back to me. Then something flashes in front of me. I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. That wasn’t an animal but a person.

  He passes several yards in front of me again, running.

  What the hell?

  It’s not a passenger, though. No, it couldn’t be. His clothes were torn into shreds, his hair hanging about him in wild, unkempt light brown strands.

  The skin at the back of my neck prickles, little goosebumps rising on my arms.

  Are there natives on this island?

  Was it a man? Or an animal? He looked somewhere in between, if I’m honest.

  “Who is it?” I yell. I don’t see him, but footsteps draw closer. I look wildly around me for some sort of weapon, anything at all I can use to defend myself, because I know intuitively I’m in danger. My belly ties itself in knots.

  Would anyone hear me if I screamed? Would I be attacked?

  I need to get back to the ship, but cast one more final, wild look around me. All I see is a large stick, but it’s better than nothing. I pick it up, even though I have no idea what to actually do with the thing.

  “Where are you? Who are you?” I scream, but my voice echoes around me. My pulse races and the stick slips in my sweaty hands, when I hear him breathing behind me. I spin around with a hysterical scream. It is indeed a man, but something about him is wild and rabid.

  He lunges at me, his arms outstretched, his eyes hugely wide and terrifying. I barely register what’s happening, wildly jabbing my stick at him with another terrified scream, but he dodges me and yanks it from my grip.

  “Leave me alone!” I scream, words are my only weapon now, but he merely tosses the stick to the side and lunges at me, his hands at my throat. I slap at him, and on instinct knee him between the legs. He easily deflects my knee and slaps me across the face, hard. My cheek stings and blood fills my mouth. I’m whimpering and flailing when he grabs me in his ferocious grasp and throws me to the ground.

  I tear at him, my fingernails clawing at his arms and neck, but he only hits me again. I’m dizzy with pain, and I know I’m no match for him. He’s so much stronger and more vicious than I am. I’m crying and begging, when he yanks up my dress and shoves it up higher, then to my horror, grabs my panties and tears them down my legs. I realize with terrifying, vivid awareness that he’s going to assault me. Oh, God, he’s going to rape me.

  “Stop!” I scream, whimpering. I’m so shocked and petrified, I’m shaking and pleading. “Please. Leave me alone.” I can’t push him off me. He’s lanky and filthy, encrusted with blood and dirt, but seems bent on one thing. He palms my breasts with a savage growl and pins me down with one hand while he tears down his zipper with the other.

  “No!” I scream, flailing so hard beneath him my muscles ache, but I can’t push him off me. My voice raises in pitch and takes on a note of hysteria. “Get the fuck off me! Get off me!” I’m screaming but no one’s coming. Where is everyone? Why can’t anyone hear me scream?

  My pulse races, and right then, my mind goes to every woman who’s ever been assaulted, to every act of sexual violence we women have endured. I’ve written in support of sexual freedom and women’s rights and in criticism of the patriarchal society that seeks to strip women of their identity. But never, never in my life, have I been in a position like this.

  It’s paralyzing. Terrifying.

  And I make up my mind. I may not be able to stop him, but I will escape, and when I do, I will kill him. He will pay for this.

  I scream with everything I’ve got, until my vocal cords feel like they’re bursting and my throat burns, but he isn’t deterred at all. He throws his head back with a savage howl, and in my crazed, frantic state of mind, I wonder if I’m being attacked by a werewolf.

  That isn’t real, my mind says. But this man is little more than a beast.

  He raises his hand and slaps my face. The pain radiates to my jaw and I turn to deflect him. He hits me all over the shoulders, the chest, my body, until I’m whimpering beneath him, dizzy and bloodied.

  I will kill him.

  I’m pinned beneath him with no help for it, too dizzy to deflect his frenzied attack. I can feel him shoving himself between my legs and bile burns at the back of my throat.

  “No!” I scream. I gather saliva in my mouth and spit at him, but he doesn’t even bother to wipe it, just glares at me and growls while he clumsily fumbles between my legs. But he isn’t going to take me easily. I will make him hurt for this before I kill him. I’m squirming and twisting beneath him when suddenly, the pressure of his body lightens, and he’s lifted clean off me. I scramble away, unsure of what just happened, but grateful for the momentary reprieve.

  I grope for my clothes and yank them back on to cover myself. There are others. Other…men? There’s a frenzy of limbs and snarls like a pack of savage dogs fighting. I scurry for the safety of cover, leaving the animals or men or whatever they are to fight among themselves.

  Someone just saved me, but I’m not safe.

  I’m balanced on a ledge of some sort, the men are snarling and fighting with vicious kicks, biting and tearing at one another. My mouth falls open in horror. It’s the most savage thing I’ve ever seen. How many even are there?

  I should run. I should get back to the ship and leave this place and never look back. It’s cursed, maybe even possessed. My dress is torn, my face throbbing from the assault, and yet I can’t bring myself to run. I’m riveted to the scene in front of me, as if I have to see how this plays out.

  I manage to mentally untangle the limbs and bodies so I can decipher there are three men: one, the man with the light brown hair, the rabid savage that tried to rape me; the second, a smaller man with dark hair and a thick black beard, a third; the largest of the lot, lithe but muscled, covered in ink, with sandy blond hair and a thick beard. He’s clearly the alpha, the one they fear the most, and I can see why. He takes the man who attacked me by the hair, holds him, and punches him so hard I can hear the snap of bone.

  They resemble dogs fighting more than men, with growls and ferocious tearing of skin and hair. My stomach lurches as the two smaller men suddenly turn on the larger one, but he has a decided advantage. Not only is he bigger, obviously stronger, and fearless, he’s the only one with a weapon. He holds a thick, club-like stick in hand and swi
ngs it with sickening accuracy across the head of the man who tried to rape me. He strikes him again and again. I turn away, not able to watch the brutality.

  I have to get away.

  I’m crawling toward the forest. I have to get away from these savage men. What will happen when the dust settles? Do the other people on the ship know there are violent natives on this island? It isn’t safe. Someone has to warn them.

  I’m trying to get away when a deep, angry voice cuts through the melee of screams and hoarse screams.

  “Stay right there!”

  They see me leaving, and don’t want me to escape.

  I move faster, but I don’t get far. There’s a howl and cursing behind me, a sickening thud, and snarled curses. I’m trying to run but I feel as if I’m caught in quicksand. My feet are too slow, my movements too labored, when a hand catches me at the back of my head, tangling in my hair.

  With a scream, I fall to my knees, grasping at my hair, but I’m unable to move him. “Stop! Let me go! Leave me alone!”

  I’m howling but not moving, for every movement brings blistering pain to my scalp. I look up to see the largest of the men standing over me, his violent blue eyes piercing mine.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

  Okay, then, so he actually is human.

  “Harper,” I say. “Let me go.”

  He doesn’t even acknowledge my request but grabs my elbow and drags me to my feet. “Come with me.”

  As if I have a choice?

  “Fine, but let me go, will you? God!”

  He ignores me. He drags me back through the underbrush to where they fought. The ground is stained with blood, and the man who tried to rape me is strewn on the ground, his limbs askew. Eyes vacant.

  The monster of a man narrows his eyes on me. “I’ll let you go while I do what I need to, but if you run, you’ll regret it. Understood?”

  My God, what is his purpose here?