Suddenly, that strange voice inside Roen’s head began clawing at him, demanding blood. She is yours. Not theirs. Don’t let them take her.
This time, Roen didn’t fight it. In fact, he felt empowered by it. “The woman is with me,” he growled. “So take me to whoever’s in charge, because I’m not about to let anyone touch what’s mine.”
Shane chuckled. “You think you’re in a position to make demands?”
All right. Shane wasn’t the true leader; otherwise he would have said so. His ego would have demanded it. Roen also knew that men like these—thugs—only respected one thing in life: power.
“Yes, and I’ve got a ship full of armed men,” Roen bluffed, “who are now on your beach and would agree with my right to demand.”
“You have men? On our beach?” Shane asked, seeming amused.
“Not for long,” one of the long-haired assholes said before they all burst into laughter.
“Anyone want to take an evening dip?” another said, roaring hysterically.
Christ. Roen wasn’t sure what they meant, but these bastards were mad. Completely mad. But he couldn’t let that rattle him.
“If you clowns are finished, I’d like to speak to the poor bastard who gets the honor of calling himself your leader,” Roen said.
The men fell silent.
“I think your words are naively tough for a man in your position.” Shane stepped forward as if he was about to take a swing with his machete, when one of the others pulled him back.
“No. Let’s give the landlover what he wants. Let him meet with L’isle,” he said.
Shane grinned. “This piece of shit isn’t worthy of L’isle’s time. But”—he looked at Roen—“leave the woman, and you can go back where you came from. With your men.” He grinned smugly, clearly knowing something Roen did not.
The group of thugs chuckled again.
Roen shook his head. He didn’t want to fight ten guys who happened to be larger than him, but that was Roen’s Achilles’ heel: He’d rather die than let anyone step on him. Living one year in group homes after his mother died, where he’d had his ass kicked every day by the other boys, taught him one thing: Backing down only invited more sadistic bastards to knock you around, kick you in the balls until you cough up blood, and hit your nose so many times that even four surgeries couldn’t completely put it back straight.
Roen clenched his fists. “As I said, she’s mine. So you have two choices: touch her and die. Or touch me and die.”
The men burst out laughing, but Roen didn’t give a damn. No, he wouldn’t win this fight, but he’d take at least one of these skirt-wearing fuckers with him. If anything, he might be able to provide a distraction to allow Liv to escape. The blunt, ugly truth was that no one would give a shit if he died. But Liv had an entire family waiting to see her again. Simply put, her life mattered more than his.
Roen almost choked on his uncharacteristically selfless thoughts. Hell, Roen, something is very, seriously the matter with you.
Shane crossed his arms, snickering. “All right, tough guy. You’re obviously lost and arrived on our island by mistake. But you’re in luck; we happen to be feeling generous today. Prove she’s yours, and you may take her.”
“What proof do you want?” Roen scoffed.
“Call her. Make her crawl to you and kiss your foot.”
Roen wanted to kill the guy for merely suggesting it. “I think you can go and f—”
“No. It’s okay,” Liv interrupted. Her fearful eyes blinked at him, then quickly swept over the savage faces standing around them. “I’m yours. I don’t mind proving it.” Her voice was low and scratchy. Roen knew it wasn’t meant to be sexy, but it still came out that way.
You’re a sick bastard, he thought to himself.
Liv slowly moved to her hands and knees, her gaze fixed on Roen’s eyes. He knew in her weakened state, doing this took everything she had. But in the short time he’d known her, he’d already figured out she was a fighter. And clever and sexy.
Liv began crawling toward him, and with every inch, Roen’s blood simmered hotter and hotter. Partially because it pissed him off that these men wanted to humiliate her, but also because seeing the top of her full breasts pushing against the confines of her tattered T-shirt, her pert ass pushed slightly into the air, made him see images of her crawling toward him on a bed. Naked, sweaty, and ready.
Roen pushed back the lustful thoughts. This wasn’t the time or place. However, as Liv bent her head down and kissed the top of his foot, the softness of her plump lips jarred him. Jesus, fucking hell, woman. If kissing his foot felt this good, he could only imagine how good her mouth would feel on the tip of his—
You’re a dirty bastard, Roen. A coldhearted bastard.
Roen was only vaguely aware of the men around him, who watched with a predatory fascination as Liv leaned back and raised herself onto her knees, smiling up at him. “Was that good?”
You have no idea. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing a woman had ever done to him. And he didn’t even have a foot fetish.
“Not good enough. Have the little whore suck your cock,” said Shane.
Roen’s and Liv’s heads swiveled in shock.
“You’re a disgusting pig!” Liv barked.
Shane flashed a sadistic smile. “As I thought. You’re not his.”
Liv hissed, “Just because I’m not in favor of public blowjobs doesn’t mean—”
“Liv,” Roen cut her off, “we both know that’s not true.”
Liv’s nostril’s flared with outrage.
Roen leaned down to Liv, who remained kneeling at his feet. “Liv,” he whispered, placing his hand on her cheek, pretending like he was going to talk her into their contemptible request. “You were right. You are good at reading people.”
Liv’s confused expression indicated she was probably wondering why he’d just said that.
Roen quickly kissed her lips. “Now, I want you to do me a favor and run like hell.”
Roen turned and lunged for Shane, knocking him to the ground. The men descended upon him and threw him to the ground. Roen swung, making contact with one, but it did no good.
“No!” Liv screamed. “Don’t touch him!”
Why the hell hadn’t she run? Roen only caught a glimpse of her tortured expression, her hand reaching for him, before one of the men kicked his head.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Stop! You’re going to kill him.” Liv watched in horror while ten extremely large men kicked Roen’s ribs, back, and head with their bare feet.
Weaker than hell, she managed to stand and throw herself at one of the men, but he flung her back, sending her crashing into a tree trunk.
Liv gulped for air, the skin on her back burning, while they laughed and carried out the vicious assault, thoroughly enjoying the sound of cracking bones and the sight of Roen bleeding. She didn’t know the man, but no one deserved to die like this. No one.
As soon as her breath returned, she screamed, “Roen! Roen—oh God. Roen!”
One of the men, a blond with a long braid down his back and a giant sea serpent tattooed on his chest, looked at her. “His name is Roen?”
“Yes.” She nodded frantically. “Roen Doran.”
His green eyes lit up. “Fuck.” He turned to the other men and started pushing a few back. “Stop, you fucking idiots! He’s Roen Doran.”
The nine other men froze, shock in their eyes. Shane stared down at the bloody heap on the ground, stepping away as if Roen carried Ebola. “This guy? It’s not possible.”
How they knew Roen or why it resulted in their sudden fear of him didn’t matter. They’d stopped kicking.
“Yes! He’s Roen Doran. I swear it,” Liv said.
Shane shot her a worried look. “How did he arrive here?”
“His ship. It’s a few miles offshore.”
The group of men exchanged uneasy glances.
“We have to get him to the great hall before L’isle sees
this,” one of the men said.
Shane nodded. “You do that. But don’t give him too much water. He’s not one of us. Not yet, anyway.”
Oh shit. They planned to make Roen one of them? What the hell did that even mean?
“Put this one in a cage until the claiming tonight.” Shane jerked his head toward Liv.
Liv held up her hands as the blond approached her. “Sonofabitch, you fucking touch me,” she growled, “and I swear I’ll kill you.” Yeah, that was a pretty empty threat given she didn’t possess a really, really big army or elephant tranquilizers.
The blond guy with the braid cocked his head and flashed a set of pristine white teeth. “I like feisty women with dirty mouths. Maybe I’ll put my name in the hat for you.” He plucked her off the ground by the arms and began dragging her by the wrist through the forest, while the others lifted Roen and disappeared in the opposite direction.
Where were they taking him? What were they going to do to him? She’d only just met Roen, but the way he’d stood up to these horrible cretins left her feeling…well, she didn’t really know. Loyal, attached, indebted, turned on, shocked as hell? All of the above?
Roen was not the depthless, coldhearted playboy the media portrayed. He was altogether something different, almost another species of man entirely—the sort that exuded a fearless, raw, masculine energy that could just as easily scare the crap out of you as it could leave your body breathless with need.
No wonder women trip over themselves for a night with this guy. Just one look at those piercing green eyes, just one glimpse of that strong jaw and broad shoulders and you wanted to be anything, say anything, do anything to be his even if only for a few hours. Not that she wanted that. Because…they didn’t know each other. And it would be insane to have carnal urges for a man she barely knew. During a life-or-death situation. When she hadn’t showered in over ten days and suffered from dehydration.
But Holy Christ, that kiss. It was only a peck, but it left her wanting and needing so much more.
Then he’d thrown himself to the wolves in an attempt to set her free. No one had ever stood up for her like that—not that she needed a man to protect her, but still. She couldn’t remember anyone ever really trying. Not even her ex, some loser named Dan she’d dated during her second and third year of college, lifted a finger when they’d been at a bar one night and some drunk jerk grabbed her ass on the way to the bathroom. She’d confronted the guy and told him to keep his hands to himself, to which he’d responded, “Wow. You’re a real bitch. Someone needs to give you a good fuck.” Furious as hell, she slapped the dipshit and then went back to the table and told Dan she wanted to leave. Later, Dan would mention he saw the entire thing from across the room and thought it was funny. Funny? He saw the entire thing and did nothing? Not that she wanted Dan getting into a barroom brawl, but not giving a crap wasn’t the correct response either, which was why she dumped Dan that same night. Strong woman or not, she could only love a man who…
Acted like Roen just did?
Okay, she didn’t love the man, but for whatever reason, she’d been unable to run when he told her to. All she’d thought about was how she had to stop those pigs from hurting him and how they were trying to take something away from her—a prized possession she had every right to keep. Just like right now. The idea of anyone laying their filthy fucking hands on that man sent her into an epic womanly rage.
“You can’t take me away. I belong to Roen,” Liv blurted out. She had no clue if that might persuade him not to separate them, but it was worth a shot.
The blond man chuckled. “Now, now. We both know that’s a lie.”
Barely able to support her own weight, Liv stumbled behind him over fallen branches, slippery pine needles, and mushy leaves, trying to keep pace with the gargantuan man. “But you heard him say it,” she panted.
“Trust me; if you were really his—or any of ours—we’d know.”
“How?” she asked.
He laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough, darlin’.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “You mean, I’ll know after I’m claimed by one of you?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s going to be done to me?” she panted, hoping it might help prepare her to fight.
He laughed. “Oh. Well, that depends on what you like. Most of us are game for anything, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman. Although, I did have a woman once ask me to wear a Little Bo Peep costume, so I had to draw the line. But the Zorro outfit was fun.”
This conversation was not only surreal, it made no sense. He spoke as if she would be asking one of these men to sexually role-play. They were all completely out of their minds, but pointing out that fact was useless.
She was about to ask if Roen would be all right and where they were taking him when she suddenly felt a black curtain pull over her eyes, her body slamming into the ground.
“Woman, wake the fuck up.” A sharp slap across her cheek jolted her into consciousness.
She sucked in a breath and saw the blond man kneeling over her.
“What happened?” she muttered. The canopy of deep green trees above were no longer visible—too dark now—nevertheless, the world seemed to move in one giant nauseating wave.
“You passed out. Didn’t Shane give you the sacred water?”
She rubbed her eyes. “You mean that weird stuff laced with speed?”
“Yes. Though, there are no drugs in it.”
“He gave me a whole pouch of it.” She left out the fact that she’d taken another small bottle of it from Shane’s home. “What’s in it?”
The man frowned. “And you still do not feel well?”
Why wouldn’t he answer her damned question? “No. I’m dehydrated. I need water. Real water.”
He scratched his jaw. “I think you need to see our doctor.” He scooped her up into his arms.
“Is he a real doctor, or do you just call him that?”
He marched through the forest at a swift pace, ducking beneath small branches, unaffected by the waning light or carrying her.
Must be that water. That and like the other men she’d seen, his height easily pushed seven feet. His arms and legs bulged with taut tattoo-covered muscles. Also like the other men, he was unusually handsome despite the bushy beard and unkempt hair. No. She wasn’t attracted to him, but it struck her as odd. All of the men seemed to be cut from the same fabric—large, built, better than average good-looking, and green eyes. There was something very, very different about this lot.
“Our doctor went to Harvard,” the man said.
Harvard?
“Though these days,” he continued, “he spends most of his time fishing—not much healing to do around here except when the women come. Then there’s a hell of a lot of broken bones.”
Oh shit. “Broken bones?”
“Never mind. You just watch your manners.” He gave her a little squeeze to remind her that he was in a position to inflict serious damage.
Regardless, she couldn’t “never mind” that. She was scared out of her ever-loving head. I need to find Roen and get the hell out of here.
“Will Roen be there, too?” she asked.
“Why would he be?” he said.
“He’s bleeding. You kicked his nose in and God knows what else.” Kidneys, broken spine…
“We were just playing around. He’ll be fine,” the man said casually.
They sure as hell were not playing around. They’d meant to kill him. “You’re going to give him that water, aren’t you?” It had healed her cuts, so she had to assume it would heal his, too.
The man glanced down at her disapprovingly. “You ask a lot of questions. Maybe I won’t put my name in the hat.”
Woe is me. A huge loss, surely. “If asking questions is a turnoff, then what’s your name? Who are you people? Why are you such assholes who feel the need to beat up on women?”
“We don’t beat up women.” He seemed genuin
ely offended.
Like hell they didn’t. In fact, she had a lovely sore spot on the back of her neck where Shane had grabbed her while he’d been shoving her head under water. “You just told me you have a doctor for their broken bones.”
“That’s for our men. Bones need to be set properly before they drink the—You know what? Never mind. Stop talking.”
Okay. Liv wondered why the men would be breaking each other’s bones for the women that came there. It had to be part of that “claiming” she’d heard Shane speaking of earlier. But what sort of women would want to come to this place? Maybe they’re all insane women with nowhere else to go. Or maybe they don’t come here voluntarily. Now that she could believe.
“If I weren’t so dehydrated, I’d spit on you,” she said.
The man shook his head and kept walking through the dark forest. Meanwhile, she tried her best to keep her head on straight. Not easy to do given how badly her body ached and her stomach hurt. She truly needed to be in a hospital. Her heart fluttered away, working overtime to pump the overly thick blood and carry oxygen to her vital organs. And the temperature of the air had dipped about twenty degrees in the last thirty minutes. She’d grown up in the small town of Wrangell, Alaska, where peak temperatures ranged in the low sixties, but despite being accustomed to the cold, she couldn’t stop shivering.
Just hang on. If there was a real doctor on the island, he might help her. Then again, maybe not. He was a doctor. On this island.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at a cottage in a small clearing. And while the cottage didn’t have French windows like Shane’s home, this one had lights all around the exterior and a satellite dish on the overhang above the front door.
Harvard doctor and a TV dish. Who the hell are these people? They weren’t as primitive as they appeared; however, given her background in sociology, which included a master’s in cultural anthropology, she’d already noted how their pecking order and rules resembled more of a tribal society with one primary leader: this L’isle man they’d mentioned. But why would men who seemed so savage and isolated have modern equipment and speak perfect English?