Savage Dom: A Dark Romance: Savage Island Book One

by Henry, Jane

  I pace around the cabin, keeping up my end of the facade.

  “Stupid jerk,” I mutter. “I don’t need him anyway.” I pace around, saying all sorts of crazy ass stuff, when I hear someone coming toward me from the woods. It isn’t Cy. I can tell just by the footfall that it isn’t him. I shiver. Someone’s coming toward me. Whoever it is, they’re falling for the trap.

  I pace near the bed and look where the makeshift “pillows” lie.

  There’s a knife under my pillow.

  I quickly lift the pillow and remove the knife, sliding it under my dress and into my bra, when I hear footsteps drawing closer to the hut.

  I turn around slowly, my stomach knotted with fear. I stifle a scream when I see a heavily bearded man who does not meet Will’s profile in the doorway. He’s lanky and lean, his once-blond hair matted and filthy. Encrusted with dirt, his clothes are little more than rags. And his eyes. God, his eyes look ready to kill.

  “Get out!” I scream, brandishing my knife. He doesn’t even look at it but steps in the room anyway.

  “I said get out!” I repeat, but he keeps coming at me. “If you come any closer, I’ll kill you!”

  He still doesn’t stop.

  I have no choice. Oh God, I have no choice.

  With a growl, he reaches for my wrist, but I deflect him, and jab at him. This time, the blade catches his hand. Crimson blood spurts out from where I sliced at him, and he howls in agony. I ignore the scream and strike again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I’m screaming, and I can’t seem to stop. My hand is covered in red blood, but the man is still coming at me when Cy barrels though the doorway. With a ferocious roar, he lunges at the guy, tackling him to the floor. The man’s head hits the ground with a sickening thud, and he passes out.

  “Is he dead?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Is he?”

  Scowling, he lifts his wrist and feels for a pulse. “No,” he says. “Unfortunately, not. But I saw which direction he came from. We need to see if Will is with him. Let’s go.”

  We tie him up with long, supple leaves that work almost as well as rope, and leave him outside our door. I follow Cy back to the cave where we stayed the first night I was here.

  “He came from the hill, which can only mean he’s been using the cave as a shelter,” he says.

  I nod. But as we draw near, I freeze.

  “Cy,” I whisper, pointing a shaking finger toward the cave, to where another man’s mutilated body lies in a sickening heap. “Oh, God,” I say on a sob. He reaches for me and draws me close. “Don’t look, babe,” he says. “Don’t. There’s shit you don’t want to see.” He sighs. “And that was Will. He must’ve been killed by Derek.”

  I nod. “Why?” I whisper. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not about fairness, Harper, but survival. And the better question is, how is Derek even alive still? I’m telling you, he was dead.”

  I shudder. “No idea. We should go back and make sure he hasn’t done anything dangerous to himself or our shelter.” But as we’re about to turn away, something black catches my eye. Something that seems so out of place, I’m not sure what to make of it at first.

  “Cy,” I say. “Wait.”

  I hold up a hand to him. He turns back around to look at me.

  “What is it?”

  I point wordlessly to the pile of black metal and plastic on the ground.

  Hand in hand, we walk together. I tell myself there isn’t a dead man lying on the ground beside us. I pretend it isn’t there.

  It doesn’t help.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, shaking my head.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Cy’s frowning, when he falls to his knee in the cave and lifts the broken remains of something plastic and electronic in his hands.

  “What does this mean?” I ask on a whisper.

  His jaw tightens grimly. “It means Derek and Will aren’t the only ones watching us.”

  I feel my eyes go wide, and I swear I feel panic right down to my soul.

  “Watching us?” I whisper.

  He points to the broken remains of security cameras on the ground all around us.

  “Watching us,” he repeats. “These are security cameras, babe. And they aren’t old. We need to get back to Derek.”

  He stands and looks out beyond us. “It makes sense. It all makes fucking sense.”

  “What does?”

  But he shakes his head. “We can’t speak freely here.”

  Foreboding grows in my belly with every step we take back toward the shelter. I remember the dead, vacant eyes of the man killed in the cave. The savage, feral eyes of the man waiting for us in the shelter.

  Will I become that way?

  Will Cy?

  And why the fuck were there—are there—cameras?

  Cy knows something I don’t, and I mean to find out.

  We make it back down to the shelter as the sun is setting. What are we going to do with the man waiting for us?

  “If he’s fucking gone…” Cy begins, but when we get there, he isn’t. He’s waiting for us, still lying in the same position we left him. He watches us with cold, calculating eyes. I’m glad Cy is here. If I came across this man alone…

  “We have questions for you,” Cy says. “And I want you to answer.” He swallows hard, and I can tell it costs him something to ask the next question. “Can you talk?”

  The man nods.

  “Take ‘em off,” he says. His voice makes my skin crawl. If a rabid, ferocious wolf could talk, it would sound just like this. I take another step toward Cy.

  “Take what off?”

  He nods to his restraints. “I’ll talk if you take ‘em off.”

  Cy narrows his eyes and crosses his arms on his chest.

  “No.”

  “Then I ain’t talkin.’”

  Cy looks at me. “We need answers,” I tell him. “The two of us can take him if we have to.”

  Cy stares at the guy. “Fine,” he finally concedes. “You make one fucking move toward her, and I kill you without a backward glance. You get me?”

  “Yeah.” Frowning, he kneels and slices the rope at the man’s wrists but holds the knife. The man sits up, rubbing his wrists, and looks me up and down before turning to Cy.

  “Figures you got the girl.”

  I shudder at the thought of this guy putting his hands on me.

  “I thought you were dead,” Cy begins.

  “Yeah,” the guys says. “I was bitten by something venomous. It didn’t kill me like you assholes thought, though.”

  Cy watches him through narrowed eyes. “Jesus,” he says.

  “You buried me in a fucking shallow grave. You remember the rain?”

  Cy shakes his head. “We were already half starved by then,” he says. “I don’t remember much.”

  “Rain washed away the grave or I’d have been buried to death,” he says.

  “Jesus,” Cy repeats. “I—”

  “Shut up.”

  Clearly this guy has not forgiven him.

  “I got out. Came to. Wasn’t dead but in a partial coma. Starving. With every fucking day that passed, I felt more and more like an animal.” He shakes his head. “A month in, I found the cameras.”

  The little hairs stand up on my arms. “What cameras?” I whisper.

  “The cameras that are watching your every fucking move. My move. Made by the same people that brought us here. That brought you here.”

  “How do you know?” I whisper.

  “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist. How’d you get here?”

  I tell him, and now that I’m saying this in light of what we know, it sounds implausible.

  “Won a fucking cruise?” he says derisively. “You didn’t win a fucking cruise.”

  “Christ,” Cy mutters. “I knew that something was off. I knew that none of this was accidental.”

  “Like… like how?” I ask.


  He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Not hard, sweetheart,” he growls. “Brainwashing and drugs that honed your fuckin’ animalistic instincts. The food that went missing? Manipulation. It’s there. Fuckin’ cameras and shit hide it. Sharks? Planted. Undercurrents? Planted. Poisonous fuckin’ insects? Same. You ever hear of a wolf on an island? Me neither. Fuckin’ planted.”

  “Why?” I whisper. “Are they watching us now?”

  “I got some of the cameras,” he says. “There are three left. I did my job. Now you do yours.”

  “You have no idea who’s behind this?” Cy asks.

  The man turns to him, his eyes bulging, so wide now so I can see the whites.

  “No, but I can guarantee you. It was no fucking accident.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  He looks at Cy. “You don’t remember anything, do you? You stayed the most sane of all of us, you bastard. But you don’t remember fucking anything.”

  “I remember we were taken,” Cy said. “We were…there were drugs…” his voice fades as he scowls.

  “I don’t remember everything either, but between me and Will, we pieced things together. Someone was behind our abduction. Someone kidnapped us, drugged us, affected our fuckin’ memories. You can do a fuckin’ lot to the human brain.” He shudders. “I ought to know. Did it myself.”

  Cy stares at him, shaking his head. “What did they do to us?” he asks softly.

  The man glowers, his eyes red and bloodshot. “Made us fuckin’ savages. Manipulated our brains and bodies so we’re more animal than human. We did shit, kept us together. At first. Will tried to kill me. I killed him first. And when I did…” his voice trailed off. He shakes his head. “It came as natural to me as a lion killin’ its prey.”

  “Jesus,” Cy mutters.

  “They brought us here. They’ve been watchin’ us. Made this happen. None of its real. None of its fuckin’ real.”

  “God,” I say, my voice shaking. “How do we get off?”

  “That’s just it, sweetheart,” he says. “We don’t.”

  He shakes his head and lunges for the knife. Cy and I both reach for him but he gets it before we do and he retreats, holding it out. “Not gonna hurt you. But I want off this island, and I ain’t ever goin’ home. So I’m gettin’ off this fuckin’ island.”

  It’s like it plays out in slow motion. His hand at his throat. The sickening sight of skin ripped open by sharp metal. Blood. Oh, God, so much fucking blood.

  It splashes on the ground. I scream and scream, covering my mouth with my hands, screaming for the body in the throes of death at my feet and the life snuffed out so easily. Screaming for the knowledge that I was tricked, that I wasn’t meant to be here. Screaming because I can’t take this anymore.

  I’m in Cy’s arms and he’s tucking me against his chest and carrying me away with his long strides.

  “Your arm,” I sob.

  “Hush, baby,” he says. “You’re light as a feather. I’m only holding you with one arm.”

  I don’t fight it. I don’t say a word. He carries me back to the shelter, shuts, and barricades the door.

  We lay down in silence and don’t speak.

  After a while, there comes a certain quiet after trauma. You can’t cry anymore. You can’t even really think. It’s during that quiet that he holds me, rocking me gently against his chest. I’m hungry and thirsty, but I don’t care anymore.

  “You were right,” I whisper.

  “Wish that made it better,” he whispers back, running his fingers through my hair from top to bottom. It feels nice. I sigh.

  We lie in the silence for a little while longer. I can’t help but feel the raw attraction to him that I always do, but I know now it isn’t natural. It isn’t part of who I am, but somehow…

  “We have to find them, Harper,” he says.

  “We do.”

  I don’t need to ask him who or what. We’ll find the cameras, and the people behind this.

  “We’ll get off this island, baby.”

  We will. “But where will that leave us? And how?”

  “I don’t know, Harper. But I love you. And no matter what happens next, we’re in this together.”

  I reach for his hand and entwine my fingers with his. “I love you, Cy. Together.”

  * * *

  This concludes Savage Dom: A Dark Romance, book one in the Savage Island Duet. The Savage Island Duet concludes with Savage Love, which you can find HERE.

  I am so grateful for your support! Please read on for previews of my other books you may enjoy.

  PREVIEWS

  Beyond Measure: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

  Previews

  Preview: Beyond Measure

  I scowl at the computer screen in front of me. As pakhan, the weight of everything falls onto my shoulders, and today is one day when I wish I could shrug it off.

  A knock comes at my office door.

  “Who is it?” I snap. I don’t want to see or hear anything right now. I’m pissed off, and I haven’t had time to compose myself. As the leader of the Boston Bratva, it’s imperative that I maintain composure.

  “Nicolai.”

  “Come in.”

  Nicolai can withstand my anger and rage. Over the past few months, he’s become my most trusted advisor. My friend.

  The door swings open and Nicolai enters, bowing his head politely to greet me.

  “Brother.”

  I nod. “Welcome. Have a seat.”

  When I first met Nicolai, he wore the face of a much older man. Troubled and anguished, he was in the throes of fighting for his woman. The woman who now bears his name and his baby. But I’ve watched the worry lines around his eyes diminish, his smile become more ready. While every bit as fierce and determined to dutifully fill his role as ever, he’s grown softer because of Marissa, more devoted to her.

  “You look thrilled,” he says, quirking a brow at me. Unlike my other men, who often quake in my presence, having been taught by my father before me that men in authority are to be feared and obeyed, Nicolai is more relaxed. He’s earned the title of brother more readily than even my most trusted allies.

  “Fucking pissed,” I tell him, pushing up from my desk and heading to the sideboard. I pour myself a shot of vodka. It’s eleven o’clock in the fucking morning, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been up all night. “Drink?”

  He nods silently and takes the proffered shot glass. We raise our drinks and toss them back together. I take in a deep breath and place the glass back on the sideboard before I go back to my desk.

  “Want to tell Uncle Nicolai your troubles?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

  I roll my eyes at him.

  I made an unconventional decision when I inducted Nicolai into our brotherhood. The son of another pakhan, Nicolai came here under an alias, but I knew he had the integrity of a brother I wanted in my order. I offered him dual enrollment in both groups, under both the authority of his father and me, and he readily agreed. We’ve come to be good friends, and I would trust the man with my life.

  “Uncle Nicolai,” I snort, shaking my head. None of my other brothers take liberties like Nicolai does, but none are as trustworthy and loyal as him, so he gets away with giving me shit unlike anyone else. “It’s fucking Aren Koslov.”

  Nicolai grimaces. “Fucking Aren Koslov,” he mutters in commiseration. “What’d the bastard do now?” He shakes his head. “Give me one good reason to beat his ass and I’ll take the next red-eye to San Diego.”

  He would, too. Nicolai inspires fear in our enemies and respect in our contemporaries. Aren falls into both categories.

  “Owed me a fucking mint a month ago, and hasn’t paid up,” I tell him. I spin my monitor around to show him the number in red. “And you don’t need me to tell you we need that money.” As my most trusted advisor, Nicolai knows we’re right on the cusp of securing the next alliance with the Spanish drug cartel. Our location in Boston, near the wharf and airport,
puts us in the perfect position to manage imports, but the buy-in is fucking huge. We have the upfront money, but the payout from San Diego would put us in a moderately better financial position.

  Nicolai leans back in his chair, rubbing his hand across his jawline.

  “And you have meeting after meeting coming up with politicians, leaders, and the like.”

  I eye him warily. Where’s he going with this?

  “It’s easy to say you need money. But that isn’t what you need, brother.”

  I roll my eyes. “I suppose you’re going to tell me what I need.”

  “Of course.”

  “Go on.”

  “You know what you need more than the money?” he asks. I’m growing impatient. He needs to come out with it already.

  I give him a look that says spill.

  “You need a wife,” he says.

  A wife?

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Sometimes I think your father dropped you on your head as a child,” I tell him. What bullshit. I look back at the computer screen, but Nicolai presses on.

  “Tomas, listen to me,” he says, insistent. “Money comes and goes, and you know that. Tomorrow you could seal a deal with the arms trade you’ve been working, and you know our investments have been paying off in spades. But a good wife is beyond measure, and Aren has a sister.”

  “You’ve been married, for what, two fucking days and you’re giving me this shit?” I reply, but my mind is already spinning with what he’s saying. I never dismiss Nicolai’s suggestions without really weighing my options. Aren is one of the youngest brigadiers in America and has a reputation that precedes him everywhere he goes. He commands men under him, and I’m grateful he hasn’t risen higher in power.

  He grunts at me and narrows his eyes. “I’ve loved Marissa for a lot longer than we’ve had rings on our fingers.”

  “I know it, brother,” I tell him. “Just giving you shit. Go on.”

  “Aren’s sister is single, lives with him on their compound. Young. I don’t know much about her, and haven’t seen a recent picture, but I met her years ago when I first came to America. And she was a beauty then. I imagine she’s only grown more beautiful.”