Third a Kiss (Goddess Isles 3) - Page 33

Cold.

Factual.

The truth.

Chapter Eleven

DR CAMPBELL KEPT ME for observation for three hours.

He flatly refused Cal and Sully to enter his surgery after he witnessed the four of us, all with fingerprints around our throats, all strangled to unconsciousness, all at the mercy of a monster.

Only difference was, Sully had touched me with aggression in the height of lust. Our pain was mutual. Our pleasure shared.

Unlike the three goddesses who he’d almost killed. They’d had no mutual lust; they’d felt nothing but fear.

I knew I should feel vindicated. I should be honoured by what he’d done to extract vengeance in my honour.

Instead, I just felt terribly sad.

Sad for them.

Sad for him.

Sad for this whole messed-up island.

“Are they okay, Doctor?” I asked quietly as Dr Campbell returned from the closed door leading to where Jupiter, Neptune, and Calico had been taken. I didn’t remember anything after I’d passed out. The next recollection I had was waking up here with a splitting headache and a very sore neck.

He smiled gently, his weathered face crinkling behind his half-moon glasses. “How are you? That’s the answer I’m more interested in.” He came over to me, ignoring my enquiry. Taking my wrist, he counted my pulse before smiling gently. “Your vitals are good, and your tests came back clear. I’m confident you’ll be no worse for wear.”

“And them? Will they be alright?”

His gaze shadowed. “Maybe it’s time to send you back to your villa. You can continue recuperating in a nicer environment than a boring doctor’s surgery.”

My temper grew a little. “Will you tell me how they are?”

He patted my knee. “In a little while. Patient confidentiality and all.”

His refusals made my thoughts go wild. Had Sully killed them?

Oh, God.

I agreed they deserved to have consequences. After all, they’d tried to kill me.

But murder?

It sat like a slime-covered boulder in my belly, seeping noxious worry into my blood.

Was Sully that literal? That black and white?

A life for a life.

The awful part was, I already knew he was capable of such a thing. I’d sensed it the moment we met. He lived his life firmly between those two colours. There were no shades of grey to him, no leniency or second chances.

My stomach clenched.

I’m going to be sick.

My body wanted to expunge the slime inside because how could I be in love with a man who could be so vicious? A man who could kill so easily that it didn’t steal a large chunk of his soul?

I didn’t find that romantic.

I found it barbaric and frankly…fucking terrifying.

If he could eradicate three women who’d lived with him for years…what would he do to me if I did something he didn’t approve of?

Was that why he was so adamant against feeling something for me? Because he knew what he was capable of? That the first sign of an argument or disagreement could result in my heart being stopped by his ruthless hand?

I trembled in silence as Dr Campbell picked up the phone by his desk and called someone to escort me to my villa.

For the first time, I wanted that someone to be anyone but Sully.

I’d be fine with Arbi—the over diligent third-in-command. I’d be fine with Cal and his cool mocking stare. I’d even settle for one of the many inconspicuous guards who patrolled the shores, keeping us safe but also preventing us from swimming away.

But of course, my wishes went unanswered.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and Sully appeared.

My breath caught as the full power of his presence struck me dumb. Even with my fear of his behaviour and the residual panic of being attacked by his goddesses, I couldn’t ignore the chemistry between us.

The undeniable, unsurpassable blistering connection.

I’ve been sullied by Sully…in every possible way.

Mentally, physically, emotionally.

I’d permitted him to break me apart and make me forget who I’d been. I’d turned my back on what was right and wrong. I’d willingly relinquished my chance at escape. I sat on a gurney where I’d been treated for almost-death, and I still couldn’t control my stupid, skipping heart.

What’s wrong with me?

He stalked toward me, amplifying my shakes.

His dark hair with its island-bronzed tips was raked back and damp—either from a swim or shower—and his skin glowed with a handsome tan. His jaw clenched as he came closer, his blue eyes turning unreadable.

He no longer wore a suit but chose casual faded jeans and a black t-shirt, almost as if he no longer wanted to be the god-like creature he became when he wore a suit.

He looked normal.

He looked contrite but also fully justified.

His hand reached to touch my cheek.

I flinched back.

We both froze, our eyes dancing over each other’s, shouting messages, understanding painful ramifications.

His arm dropped, and he sighed heavily. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he didn’t speak for a moment before nodding once and striding past me to the room where three other goddesses lay.

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