She imagined that the glass had been put in place as a novelty, for visitors to watch schools of tropical fish and to admire the jewel-toned waters of Tahiti. She couldn’t help but think, however, that the opposite could be true, too—that something from beneath could be watching her.
Isla shuddered lightly, then reprimanded herself for her overly active imagination. She looked up to find Gaspar’s pale blue eyes trained on her intently. He seemed to be searching for...something, but she couldn’t tell what.
“You are different than most.” At Gaspar’s words, Isla shifted uncomfortably. “Most see nothing but the beauty of an island such as this. They do not recognize the danger beneath such beauty.”
“Right.” What was she supposed to say to that? “Is there someplace where I can get some lunch maybe?” Isla was feeling peckish after her long day of travel, and she grabbed at the opportunity to distract her intent concierge. “Nothing fancy. Just a sandwich or something is fine.”
Gaspar still seemed fixated on her. His head was cocked to the side as he examined her, and Isla swallowed thickly, not sure what to say or do.
“I will have an assortment of lunch foods delivered to the suite.” An emotion that Isla couldn’t quite identify flickered over the man’s face, but then it was gone before she could study it further. If she had to label it, she would have said that he was perhaps a bit sad.
“Thank you.” The thought of staying in the bungalow, however exposed she felt there, was highly preferable to leaving and exploring the grounds by herself.
Irritation washed over her skin, and it was all directed at herself. The whole purpose of accepting this trip was to nudge her way out of her comfort zone, yet here she was, thwarting her own efforts.
“That’s very kind of you, but I think I’ll take a walk and explore a bit.” Another expression that she couldn’t quite interpret flickered over the man’s face.
“As you wish, Miss Miller. You will find a small sandwich bar by the pool.” Gaspar nodded, then hesitated, seeming on the edge of saying something that he wasn’t sure he should say.
“Thanks, Gaspar.” After assuring him that she had her pager in hand, she followed him back out into the sunlight. He was silent as he walked her to the end of the dock, speaking only when they were about to part ways.
“The owners of the resort prefer that guests stay within the grounds. Liability issues, you know.” Isla nodded in agreement, distracted by her new surroundings. When her concierge snapped her name she looked toward him, and she was startled to find that his expression was deadly serious.
“Whatever you do, Miss Miller, please be careful. The owner of the suite would be most displeased should anything happen to you.”
* * *
Isla decided that her adventurous new attitude had perhaps been a bad idea.
Sucking nervously at the remains of her watered-down lemonade, she felt conspicuous. Perhaps there was some Tahitian custom that she was unaware of. Why else would the others who had gathered around the pool in the space of time she’d been there be so obviously interested in her?
Even the ones who were obviously couples seemed interested in her. One woman had even winked when she’d caught Isla’s eye.
All of the unexpected attention made Isla feel as though she were caught in a dream, one of the ones in which she was naked in public and surrounded by mocking people. These people, however, weren’t mocking her. No, many seemed...attracted, for lack of a better word. And that, she reminded herself as she got off her lounge chair and moved away from the pool, was ridiculous.
“Oh!” Having turned back quickly to see if she was still the subject of curiosity, Isla found her way blocked by a wall of solid flesh. Fright shuddered through her as she shrieked and turned around.
Cursing herself for her rudeness, she shook the nerves away.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so clumsy.” Stepping back to smooth her dress, Isla found herself looking up at one of the most handsome men that she had ever seen—and that included Mr. McConaughey himself.
The man nodded, saying nothing, and Isla swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. Gorgeous as he was, he was looking at her as if he was a predator and she was his next meal.
Despite that, she felt an attraction tug at her, one more intense than anything she had ever felt.
“Is everyone here gorgeous?” She didn’t realize that she had said the words aloud until the ghost of a smirk appeared on the man’s lips. She cringed and looked at her toes, which she had painted bright coral for the trip.
She couldn’t resist looking back up at the man. And then there it was, that feeling that she had been waiting for so long. That tug, right in the depths of her belly.
Desire. Something about him was...magnetic.
He wasn’t at all the type of man that she usually gave a second glance to. He was tall, over six feet if her guess was correct, and his muscles pressed against pale skin. His hair was raven dark, a mess of silky curls, and the eyes that regarded her with something dangerous in their depths were the color of a cappuccino.
More than that, those muscled arms of his were painted with intricate, sapphire-blue tattoos, something that she had never particularly cared for before. She found the ink fascinating, however, and the small silver studs that winked on his earlobes intrigued her, too.
“Ahem.” The man still hadn’t spoken, but he was watching her intently, just as people by the pool had. His attention, however, didn’t set her on edge or make her want to flee.
No, instead she had to resist the urge to jump straight into his arms.
“I...I’m Isla.” When in Rome, and all that.
The man blinked, as if she had surprised him, though he swallowed down the emotion quickly.
He seemed skilled at presenting an expressionless face.
“My name is Sloane Goldhawk.” Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to one side as he studied her as if he were trying to figure something out. “I am the mechanic on the island.”
“It’s—it’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand, and the man stared at it like he’d never seen the gesture before, so she quickly pulled it back. Though she’d had limited interactions with mechanics—she rode the subway to work—something about the information didn’t jive with what she saw in front of her.
He seemed...powerful. Charismatic. Someone who should be covering his tattoos with a business suit every morning before heading to work to run his international corporation.
“Are you settling in all right?” Isla looked up at Sloane with wide eyes.
“How did you know I’d just arrived?”
That whisper of a smile appeared on Sloane’s lips again, and he leaned in, just an inch, but it was enough to set Isla’s pulse skittering through her veins.
“I was working on the boat that was supposed to pick you up from the airport.” She inhaled deeply without thinking about it. Sloane smelled of an exotic and delicious mix of herbs and soap.
“Also, we don’t have many reservations this week. It’s a small resort. It would be hard to miss you.” Isla looked up, dazed, as Sloane drew back, amusement fully visible on his face by this point.
“Oh.” That must have been why she’d gotten so much attention at the pool—hers was a fresh face.
At that moment, she couldn’t have cared less. Sloane was...teasing her?
Maybe even flirting with her?
Isla bit her lower lip, inhaling sharply. No. No way was this gorgeous man attracted to her. He was an employee of the island.... It was probably part of his contract, to make the female guests feel special.
She watched as his stare tracked over cheeks that she knew were flushed and eyes that she could tell were wide with the beginnings of a crush.
She felt like an idiot.
“Um. It’s nice to meet you, Sloane. I...I’m going to go finish my walk now.” Cheeks burning, Isla nodded awkwardly, then cast her eyes to the ground as she hurried away.
* * *
Sloane watched as the petite woman hurried down the tiled path to the gates of the resort. Though she seemed as if she couldn’t wait to be outside the resort, she paused and looked around guiltily before she slipped out of the grounds.
Sloane wrestled for a long moment with feelings that he didn’t want to have. Clearly she didn’t care that it wasn’t safe for the humans on the island to venture off the resort property—not only was the rest of the island a tangle of wild, overgrown jungle, exotic wild animals and all, but the verdant foliage hid the occasional rogue vampire, one who had tired of Lucian’s rules and who had fled the confines of the resort to make it on their own. These rogues subsisted almost entirely on animal blood, and an unaware human would make for a celebratory treat for any of them.
Or perhaps the seemingly shy, mild-mannered woman was simply overwhelmed by the vast amount of attention that she was attracting and wanted some room to breathe.
Still...why should he care? No matter what her demeanor seemed to suggest, if she was on the island, she had to have some knowledge of the vampire population that inhabited it. Those same vampires were responsible for her well-being, not him.
Although there was something...different...about this human. It started with her smell, which, while delicious, held a note of something that he had never before smelled on a human.
It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He was done with humans. They were too fragile, their lives too easily lost.
Or turned, and the turning could be yet another way to break them. He shuddered at the memory of Ana. The sweet human he had known had died in the change, leaving behind a feral animal who wouldn’t be controlled.
The past was in the past, he reminded himself. He needed to focus on the present. He knew better now.
Sloane watched as Isla inhaled a deep breath that he heard even from where he stood, nearly the length of a football field away. She seemed to brighten, away from the scrutiny of others, and though he was cursing himself for having noticed her at all, he found her shyness intriguing.
Alluring.
With a muttered curse, Sloane trudged after her, slowing his pace to that of a human’s.
Even if she was the kind of woman who didn’t believe in the paranormal, this resort didn’t seem like the kind of place that she would choose to vacation in. Simply put, there was more to her, to her story, than met the eye.
And she clearly needed some time alone. Sloane sighed heavily as he slipped out the gates behind her. She walked blithely along ahead of him, growing more sure with every step. She moved with a grace that he had never before seen in a human. Sloane reminded himself that it was none of his business what the woman did—none of his business if she wanted to wander off into the depths of the jungle. He shouldn’t be concerned that, as she’d eaten her sandwich by the pool, the vampires just waking from their day’s sleep had been inhaling the tropical scent of her blood and looking at her like she was dinner. He shouldn’t have cared that the human fangers had eyed her suspiciously, jealous of their paranormal attachments.
Something about the woman pulled at him, and it was more than her fresh beauty or the alluring scent that wafted off her skin. Maybe it was the human fragility that he saw.
Maybe he so badly felt the urge to protect her because he hadn’t been able to protect Sully from his ultimate death. Hadn’t been able to protect Ana from the insanity that had swallowed her. And wouldn’t a shrink have a field day with that little bit of introspection.
“Get with it, Goldhawk.” Sloane scowled at himself as he followed Isla through what had possibly, maybe, once been a path and now was long overgrown.
He was a vampire. He was, by nature, supposed to be hedonistic, interested only in things that he wanted and needed. Right now he wanted to keep an eye on the attractive human.
Why did he need to ponder it beyond that?
He heard the water before he saw it. He smelled the minerals that saturated the liquid, a scent that reminded him of his home—his original, human home—in what was now the Rocky Mountains in Canada. Breathing it deep into lungs that no longer needed air, Sloane observed Isla’s obvious pleasure in the discovery of the small tropical waterfall, the one that had carved a small, cool pool out of the rock below it.
“Oh!” He couldn’t help but smile at the small exclamation of delight that slipped from her rosy lips. Thinking to keep an eye on her while she sat by the small pool, he bent his knees in preparation, then jumped up to the top of one of the trees that bordered the small pool. He settled into a crouch on an outstretched branch, his movements barely disturbing the heavy, waxy leaves.
He refused to ponder the fact that, deep down, he knew he was watching her to make certain she stayed safe out here in the wild. He could try to convince himself that it was simply because he liked to look at her—liked to watch the beat of her pulse against the tissue-thin skin at the base of her jaw—but it was a lie.
Having settled himself high up in the tree, where he could see approaching threats but where Isla could not see him, Sloane looked back to Isla.
When he saw what she was doing, he nearly fell out of the tree, vampire athleticism and all.
“Damn.” He had assumed that shy Isla would simply sit by the pool, contemplating the crystal depths as she savored the solitude that she had so clearly craved.
He had been wrong.
While he had been arguing with himself, the woman he had pegged as reserved had slipped her sundress over her shoulders and down, where it now pooled around her ankles. Now she stood in a skin-colored strapless bra and bikini panties that gave the impression that she was completely naked.
Sloane felt his fangs begin to slowly descend from his gums as his eyes raked over the expanse of skin she had bared. It put him in mind of roses and cream, the pale expanse already flushed from exposure to the sun.
It was smooth and perfect and made him want to take a taste.
Her hands fluttered at her sides nervously as she looked around her, and Sloane found it enticing that she was so nervous, so self-conscious, even though she was completely alone. At least as far as she knew.
“Man.” He watched as she tentatively stepped toward the pool that had been carved out of the slick rock, dipping her toes before diving straight in, as he would have done. He had ample time to gaze upon the ripe curves that made up her small body—the curvy legs, the swell of her hips, the slim waist, the delicious mounds of her breasts.
“Fuck.” Sloane’s cock hardened painfully when, at the last moment, Isla reached behind her back and quickly unhooked her bra. She flung it behind her as she slipped into the pool, which was surprisingly deep.
He had a quick but vivid impression of full, plump breasts with nipples the color of rose petals.
This wasn’t good. Swallowing thickly, Sloane closed his eyes against the vision of Isla rising back out of the water, the clear liquid coursing in streams over her slender shoulders and down into the crevice between those heavy breasts.
The lust riding him wasn’t normal. And with lust came the need to feed, to mark her as his own so that no one else would touch her.
He had no delusions about what would happen to him if he marked a human so pretty that she obviously had to be for Lucian.
He would be dead. And likely, so would she. When Isla lay back in the water, letting it buoy her weight as she floated on her back, he groaned.
Her entire frame was bared to his gaze, and for the first time in memory he found that desire overruled his thirst. He wanted to sheath himself inside of her, wanted to mark her with his scent.
The voice telling him that he couldn’t was growing quieter and quieter, fading away into the recesses of his mind.
So wrapped up was he in the vision before him that he didn’t immediately snap to attention when the scent crossed his consciousness. He turned his head to the side, not sure if he had sensed what he thought he had.
Yes...there it was. The vinegar smell unique to vampires. It was a scent he was
well familiar with, yet this one seemed...different. Stronger than it should have been when the vampire wasn’t yet close enough for him to hear.
The only thing that Sloane could think of was that there were two vampires prowling around Isla as she swam. But rogue vampires rarely traveled together.
His fangs descended the rest of the way in a heated rush, and possessiveness washed away the lust. One or two, it didn’t matter. He was feeling protective of Isla, and although he didn’t know who—or how many—vampires were stalking her, he found that he didn’t care. The sudden invasion, right while he was lusting after the woman, turned a switch in his brain and he growled, determined to protect what his instincts decided was his.
Though he heard nothing, the scent failed to strengthen, which told him that the intruder had heard his growl and had stopped moving. He growled again, low, an animalistic sound that told the other vampire that this area was his territory...and that everything in the territory was his.
He would pay later for declaring this strange woman as his own—that much he knew even through the impulse-driven fog of his mind. But he couldn’t seem to help himself, an alpha animal who had found his mate.
Sloane checked to make sure that Isla was still swimming in the pool below, blissfully unaware of any threat. Bunching his muscles, he leaped to the ground like a wildcat, landing in a crouch.
The dry scent of the other vampire began to fade. The other was drawing back. Sloane felt the adrenaline rush into his stagnant blood, the thrill of having won a face-off, but it was twined tightly with a mix of emotions that he did not want to feel.
What had he just done?
Chapter 3
Sloane let himself look at Isla one last time. She was standing in the pool now, the cool water kissing her rosy nipples, forcing them to sharp points. Despite what had just happened, he felt his cock again begin to rise, thickening with the almost desperate lust of a second erection.
He needed to get her the hell out of the water and back to the resort, where he could avoid her for the rest of her stay. But his instincts and the hormones that still shot through his body wanted him to slide into the water with her and tear the last tiny scrap of fabric from her body. He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything, to hilt inside of her in one hard thrust, at the same time sinking his fangs into the delicate pulse at her neck, drinking from that ambrosial mix that smelled of mangoes and copper.
Darkest Desire of the Vampire: Wicked in MoonlightVampire Island (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 15
