Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Laura

M uffin trailed after me, both of us stepping over the exposed rocks as we made our way to the cottage. The gentle clop of his hooves made my shoulders relax, his nearness like a soothing balm.

The bathroom window glinted in the low evening sun, reminding me of Phoenix watching me bathing. After him being pressed up against me all night, his fingers thrust into my underwear, him watching me shouldn't have been a shock. The watching wasn't even the worst of it. He'd held up his hand and shown me exactly what he'd been doing.

Disgusting.

And maybe just a little bit hot.

If a man had ever been so overcome at the sight of me he needed to masturbate, I'd certainly never been privy to the information. Didn't he see my imperfections? It was one thing to want a warm body in the dark of night, but a whole other to see them in the light of day and touch yourself.

God dammit, Laura, you're fucking crazy. He's a psycho.

Or maybe I was. Because seeing his cum dripping from his fingers made me wish I could lick it off. Only for one insane moment, but the thought had been there.

It was like being near him possessed me with some sort of carnal demon. I wasn't like that.

I was…

Well. Who was I? Even if I made it home I wouldn't be the woman who my mother dragged reluctantly into society life. There would be no parties to arrange, no family to try and impress. No fiance. Nowhere to call home. I'd likely be met with pity. If what Massimo said was true, there was no money left either in my family coffers. I'd need to find a job. To start over.

Maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing.

Maybe I could be something I was proud of. What if I could rise from tragedy and turn it into a life I loved.

That life was like a fog. There were no solid shapes to it. My upbringing had focussed entirely on one future. A future that didn't even fit around me. One I was being wedged into. If I were to start again on my own, where would I even begin?

Muffin and I reached the cottage, and I giggled as he tried to nose his way into the kitchen.

‘There's nothing in there for you, buddy. I don't think you want the strawberry shakes.' I scratched the side of Muffin's neck before directing him to a particularly overgrown patch of grass near the door.

Silence greeted me indoors. Most of the day I'd spent up on the clifftop dreaming about escaping the stupid little island in between short bursts of remembering the way Phoenix's scarred fingers felt between my thighs. I sung to the ponies and threw pebbles into the ocean. Anything but being stuck in the tiny cottage with him .

The bedroom was empty, the bedding still crumpled where I'd left it. He wasn't in the bathroom, nor anywhere around the cottage exterior.

Panic started to make me sweat. Where was he hiding? Was it some sort of game to freak me out?

My eyes grazed over the shoreline, following the beach to the dock.

The empty dock.

Holy shit.

Phoenix had abandoned me!

My breath snagged in my chest while my legs turned to jelly beneath me.

It was one thing to be captive on the island while planning my escape, but to be abandoned there alone suffocated me with terror.

The cottage wall met my back as I stumbled over the patchy grass, a sob ripping from my throat.

What if he didn't come back?

There was no way I could survive on the shakes forever. There weren't enough for more than a few weeks.

Muffin blinked at me.

‘Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you,' I snivelled, trying to calm my breathing. The pony tipped his head up and let out a whinny before going back to his grass. ‘At least you won't run out of food. Maybe I'll end up joining you on a grass diet.'

I slid to my ass and sat there until the night shoved the day below the horizon and my skin grew so cold it began to ache. No lights appeared on the darkening sea.

You should be happy. He's gone. Another boat might come along and set you free.

But what if they didn't. What if someone worse than Phoenix found me? He was far from a saint, but he'd looked after me in his own way. He'd held off on fucking me despite our agreement. He wanted me to want it.

It wasn't exactly gentlemanly behaviour, but it could have been much worse.

With my limbs burning from the chill, I made my way indoors with an armful of firewood.

By the time I had the log burner going, and a cup of awful strawberry shite to drink, I was cursing Phoenix all over again.

He hadn't even left a fucking note.

What a monumental prick.

If he ever dared show his face, I'd be ready for him. He'd regret ever picking me out of that fire.