Chapter 19

I’ve never been a man to live with regrets. I agreed to let Ash go at me before I sought out Isla last night, hoping it would take the edge off.

It didn’t.

And then I came back to the room and found Noah all curled up around her, the room smelling of cum and slick, and any hope I had of abstaining went fuck out of the window.

I owe him a beating. But I guess that will have to wait.

She’s still curled up in the bed asleep. I’m standing outside the room, the door shut for once. I’m butt naked. Ash just wrapped his fist around my throat and dragged me out for our chat.

“You’ve fucked her again,” he says.

“Knotted,” I admit. “It’s not supposed to happen?—”

“Shut the fuck up and let me think,” Ash mutters, releasing me and pinching the bridge of his nose. His knuckles are all busted up from beating on me last night.

“There are going to be consequences,” Noah says, ignoring Ash’s instruction to shut up.

Ash’s lips tighten as he lowers his hand. “I’ll deal with it.”

“How?” Noah presses.

Ash gives him the glare that says he’s going to rearrange his face if he questions him again.

Noah holds up both hands. “Hey. Want me to take her to get cleaned up?”

“No,” Ash and I say in unison.

“The fuck! I’m not the one who fucked her.”

“And you won’t be,” Ash says bluntly. “Seb, get her up and ready. We’ll be moving out as soon as we get the green light from HQ.”

Isla

The door is shut. It’s the first time I’ve seen a closed door since I was taken from the shuttle, and it leaves me feeling unnerved. This place isn’t exactly welcoming, and the thought of being trapped in this room is starting to freak me out.

The door opens before I can rouse my panic fully, and a naked Seb strides in.

God, the man is a work of art, from the masculine beauty of his bruised face to the thick slabs of muscle on his built body. I’m not even taking into account his cock. There is a strip of white tape across his nose—that is new.

I’ve found out I’ve been lied to all my life, that I’ve been kept behind a dome for safety from imaginary meteor attacks. A dome that’s apparently there to keep us safe, only from something or someone else—probably this war I’m now in the middle of. But all I can think about is sex.

I’ve got it bad. Stockholm Syndrome has me in a tight grip, and it’s not letting go.

“Come on,” he says, dropping a clean pack of clothes on the bed next to me. “Up and dressed. We’re moving out soon.”

He drops a second pack next to mine and begins to dress efficiently.

I follow his lead, pushing the covers aside and throwing the clothing on. The way they treat women here, you’d think they’d keep us naked. But, no, the kit we wear for traveling is thick, durable, and covers every inch.

Like I can figure any of this out.

I’m sore and needy despite the ache emanating from my pussy. I think I might actually cry if he tried to put his dick in me. But if he wasn’t acting so brusque, I’d still probably ask him to.

The opportunity is taken from me. I’m led back along the dripping corridors with their persistent mood of doom, and to the battered canteen.

To say I’m not in a rational frame of mind is a bit of an understatement. So when the first person I see is the bitch blonde standing beside Ash as he talks to Noah, I can’t help the curl of my lip.

Seb fists my arm and walks me straight past them to the box of rations, pulling out one of the delicious teeth-breaking meal replacement bars and a bottle of water. He sits me down in the nearest seat. “Behave. Don’t have time for any of your bullshit today.”

“Nice. Guess we have the asshole Seb in residence today,” I mutter, tearing open the dismal ration bar.

I catch his fleeting grin. He likes my sass, and I don’t want to try to analyze why that makes me feel all fuzzy and warm.

Then he pisses me right off when he walks over to speak to Ash and Noah, who are standing next to her.

She glares at me. I glare right back.

Then I do what I should have done from the start: ignore her and focus on my food.

I glance up—I tell myself it’s to check on Seb and not her—but she has broken away from the three men in deep discussion and is homing in on me.

My brows knit together. What the fuck does she want?

I’m not prepared when she lunges at me.

“Stay away from Ash,” she hisses as she grabs at me. Her fist closes over my hair, dragging me from the seat. I stumble, and we both go down, her on top.

I’m not a fighter, never have been, but the rage that fills me at her audacity to come at me when she had him first, when she still has him, as far as I know, brings out a red haze. She’s heavy and sprawled out over me, hampering my ability to move. I catch a blow to the chin and swing my fist for her face while trying to peel her fingers from my hair.

“Woah!”

Her weight disappears as we’re unceremoniously yanked apart. She still has a death grip on my hair, and a chunk of it is ripped away with her.

I’m shaking up a storm, chest heaving. My fingers are tentative as I touch my throbbing lip, and they come away coated in blood.

Seb has me. Ash has her. Noah is standing in the middle with his arms spread wide, ready to wade in if it starts again.

“The fuck was that about?” Ash demands, looking between us.

“Don’t touch her,” I hiss. I’m so damn feral that I can’t bring it down. I hate the bitch, but I hate his hands on her more. I rail against Seb. He clamps an arm around my waist in a no-nonsense way.

I’ve no idea what I’m going to do if I get free, but I have this crazy notion of pushing her away from Ash.

Ash, who is standing still as stone while she plasters herself against him, her hands all over his chest as she tries to get his attention.

Except, it’s me he’s staring at, even as a thousand and one ugly emotions churn through me.

Like a man in a daze, he calls someone’s name. A man steps up and, without looking down at the blonde, Ash passes her off.

My satisfaction is sharp and all-consuming.

“You don’t want her.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. For the first time since I met him, it reaches his eyes. He steps forward, right up to me, until he’s so close I can feel his body heat before me and the wall of Seb’s built body behind. He traces a single rough finger down my cheek. “You’re right, Isla. I don’t.”