20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
London
I wasn’t sure how I would react to seeing Micah again. My love for him is undeniable, yet there’s a lingering sense of unfamiliarity that troubles me. Perhaps I’ve never known him or understood the chilling whispers of his senseless brutality. He’s always had demons inside him, and I love him regardless of them. Because I have that anger, too… but right now, it’s directed at him.
I’m so fucking mad at him.
We rejoin the group, and I’m fully aware of how utterly disgusting I am as we approach the others huddled around the fire, Ezra included.
I’m tired, so exhausted, but I’m more hungry than anything. I’m always hungry. My stomach never settles, even when I’m able to eat scraps of whatever anyone cares to give me. I’ve never gotten used to the hunger, unlike Micah, who seems superhuman and can seemingly go days on end without eating or sleeping.
Always prowling.
As soon as we approach and I see Naomi sitting next to Serena, my body goes wholly still. My anger… it’s directed at her, too. We make eye contact, and for a moment, we are the only two people here. She’s no longer the cocky, confident girl who thought she owned the school and everyone here. Her golden hair is pulled back, and her eyes are… broken. I recognize the emotions swimming inside her. If I looked in the mirror, I’d see the same.
Because Micah broke her, and he broke me, too.
And she broke Ezra.
A vicious, toxic cycle I am now the center of, yet I have no time or energy to sympathize with her. She’s the reason why Micah didn’t come back to me and I had to break my own hand to get out of those binds. I have no idea how much longer I could have endured that. The dehydration alone almost killed me—though, what I was planning on doing to myself scares me the most.
I can’t be by myself. I realize that now.
As I cautiously step inside the circle, I can’t help but notice the palpable intensity of Micah’s energy right behind me. Ezra hangs to the side alone, not quite a part of the group but not an outsider anymore. We make eye contact, and he frowns, then tips his head to the side as if saying—
I’m sorry.
Naomi notices our interaction and frowns, wrapping her arms around herself. Everyone watches me as I sit cross-legged on a blanket Micah grabbed from his pack.
Micah keeps his distance and stands away from the group, gripping his bone weapon needlessly since no one is attacking him right now.
Although my earlier rejection pains him, I can’t be what he needs me to be at this moment. His eyes somehow grow darker, and he pulls his hood up and sits at the edge of the circle. I don’t owe Micah an explanation to make him feel better.
Whenever Ezra steals glances at me, he smiles—a calculated display meant to taunt Micah, who is watching closely. The four of us are seemingly engaged in a treacherous game of heartbreak and betrayal.
“Now that we’re all together, we need to talk,” James says, looking over at Jade.
Together… is that what we are?
Jade casts her gaze between Micah and Ezra, sensing the tension among us. “And we mean talk, not fight it out like dogs.”
“Quit fucking looking at her,” Micah grits to Ezra .
“Ollie is missing,” Jade snaps. “Can we please focus on him rather than London, who is safe right now?”
That shuts everyone up, and I lower my eyes, focusing on the fire, hating that the attention is once again focused on me. Micah sits behind me, laying a blanket over me and pulling me between his legs. I fall into him, too tired to fight it, and he wraps his arms around me tight.
This behavior… It’s very Maison-like.
The public displays of affection, the claiming… He’s never done this before; he was always so distant and cold. Then again, we haven’t really been together in front of everyone. I don’t know how to act, and deep down… really deep down, this still seems like a betrayal to Maison. This group saw me on his lap in this same position for weeks.
“I didn’t see Nigel when I went out, and unfortunately, I found no signs of Ollie,” James says, looking directly at Ezra. “I found Ezra near the airplane heading north. I offered to bring him back if he could tell me where to find Nigel, but he claims to only know approximately where Nigel is hiding and swears he doesn’t know the exact spot.”
“Bullshit,” Micah mutters.
“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth,” Naomi says, still leaning against Serena. “Ezra and I didn’t know where Nigel was. It was part of our arrangement, and I was relieved and slept better at night because of it.”
“He got worse as winter went on,” Ezra says darkly, his gaze fixated on the fire. “He started saying some weird fucking shit, and I didn’t like the way he looked at Naomi, so I kept Naomi away from him.”
The mention of Nigel sends a chill up my spine, and goosebumps rise on my arms. As if noticing my tension, Micah’s hands run over my shoulders, instantly warming and relaxing me. But he squeezes them in warning, harder than usual, which reminds me he’s not Maison. And in this dark moment, he brings me comfort. His hand twists around my waist and settles on my stomach.
Everyone’s still watching.
Ezra stays quiet and distant .
Naomi continues, her face solemn, “I think he has a cave similar to ours somewhere, and Ezra would meet him every few days to cook, hunt, and share food. But it’s not like we left our cave much.” She looks over at him. “Ezra and I were trapped in our cave for months during that big deep freeze.”
I remember the deep freeze well. I spent it mainly cuddled up and warm.
Micah scoffs. “It seems like Ezra took real good care of you.”
Ezra stiffens. “Well, we are fucking alive, aren’t we? And that wasn’t thanks to you… that was all me.”
“You’re barely alive,” Micah says, running his hand over me, probably because my entire body tenses. “Naomi was hanging on by a thread when I found her. Do you even have a freshwater source?”
Naomi folds her arms. “No, we don’t, which is part of why I left.”
Ezra merely scoffs at that. “We all know she left for other reasons…”
“Why don’t we just let him rot?” Thomas says. “He’ll die there eventually. The snowpack’s melting and drying. He won’t have any access to water.”
“I’d sleep better at night if we knew where he was,” Jade says, her eyes set firmly on the flames. “If we find him, we’ll find Ollie.”
Ollie has been missing for several days now, and everyone seems reluctant to acknowledge the harsh reality that maybe Ollie has become one of the countless souls who now reside in the afterlife on this island.
“I’m going back tomorrow to look for him,” James says. He exchanges glances with Serena, who frowns at him. “If he’s still alive, I’ll find him eventually.”
Or his body.
I hope for Ollie’s sake that he ended up somewhere the animals can’t get to him. The bottom of the lake, perhaps, would be a good place where his soul could rest in peace. At least now, everyone understands the true threat that haunts us here. It’s not the icy winds, rocks, animals, hidden shelters, or lack of food .
It’s Nigel.
Jade believes it, even if the others don’t. Out of everyone here, she possesses the deepest understanding of him. She knows he didn’t kill Maison out of revenge for his sister but because he is nothing more than a brutal killer who probably would have killed eventually, regardless of his reasons why.
The little scar on my throat begins to throb like it always does whenever I think of him. No one talks or utters a word as we all relive the horrors of what happened when we were all last together.
He’s out there. A murderer hiding in these woods, who is now also desperate and hungry.
Serena finally lifts her gaze from the fire. “We should all be safe enough together, right? I doubt he will come anywhere near here.”
My head rests on Micah’s chest, and I can distinctly hear the rhythm of his heart, but I swear it skips a beat, his body heat rising. Something about his energy shifts, and his body tightens. The silence is deafening; no one knowing how to answer.
Micah finally says, “I bet he is already here somewhere.”
I swallow the acid in my throat at that very real possibility.
“What do we do now?” Naomi asks over the crackling fire. Hearing her voice makes my skin crawl. Visions of her beating me, holding me down while Nigel stabbed me in my side all those months ago… She doesn’t deserve a place among us.
“We take turns staying awake,” Jade says. “Some of us sleep during the day, and some of us man this fire. No one is ever allowed to be alone. We have three shelters, so we can split up, but keep your wits about you. All he needs is a fleeting moment.” Thomas and James rise. “Two people need to stay up tonight.”
“We’ll take the fire,” Micah volunteers before I even have a chance to protest. I look up at him, my eyes wide. It’s still cold outside. My breath still teases the air, and I absolutely hate sleeping in the elements. But the fire out here is big, and they have a sufficient stockpile of wood. Besides, I spent the entire day sleeping, so I’m not tired anyway.
“It’ll be fine, London,” Micah whispers in my ear.
He doesn’t understand. I’m not scared of the cold; I’m petrified of being alone with him. I hate how comfortable I already am in his arms. I need to remind myself I’m still pissed at him. We never finished our conversation.
Jade nods. “Fine, then tomorrow night, we can switch.”
“We’re not staying,” Micah interrupts before she can finish her thought. “I’ll take London back with me tomorrow. You can keep the food.”
Jade tilts her head as if seeing right through us. She can sense my hesitation; everyone can. I’ve never been great at hiding my emotions from these people.
“Suit yourself,” she mutters.
I bite my lip as everyone starts to shuffle away, getting ready to sleep for the night. A sense of dread eats me up inside—at the thought of staying here, at the thought of leaving… and at the thought of living.
How long can we truly live like this?
“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?” Ezra asks.
“We have a half-built shelter about a hundred feet down the river where Ollie stayed sometimes. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing,” James responds, rising and grabbing Serena’s hand, but not before his gaze lingers on Micah, then on me, his eyebrows raised. “There is some wood stockpiled next to it, so you should be fine to start a fire.”
Thomas, who hasn’t said a word to anyone, walks out into the darkness, and Jade follows him, leaving Naomi, Ezra, Micah, and me.
The outsiders.
I can imagine how weird it is for the four of them to suddenly have four extra people to contend with. Ezra grimaces at Naomi, staring at her for a long second, anger seething out of him before he finally says, “Are you fucking coming or what, Naomi?”
She exhales sharply, scoops up a couple extra blankets, and joins Ezra in the darkness without even acknowledging our presence, leaving Micah and me alone once more.
Micah rises and throws a few logs into the fire, getting it nice and hot as I lay out a few extra blankets Jade has left us and lie down. I watch him, so confident and so strong. The ground, scorched by the flames, is dry to the touch, but a bone-chilling wind makes me shiver instantly. I can’t relax; my joints are frozen, and my nerves are jumpy. My heart beats rapidly, reminiscent of the first time I was alone with Micah.
After all these months and everything we’ve been through together, Micah still has me on edge. It’s as if my adrenaline spiked when I pulled myself out of those binds, and it never came down. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I jerk when he crawls in behind me on our bed.
My breath falters because I have no idea which version of Micah I’m about to get.
“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me close.
The cuddly one apparently.
He runs his hand down to mine and pulls off the dirty bandage wrapped around it. I turn to face him, and the gold specs in his eyes flash as he pulls it off and checks the wound underneath it. I don’t like to look at it or think about what it represents.
“I’ll fix it,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my brow. “I’ll make it better.”
No acknowledgment that he was the one who caused this, but a burning sorrow radiates from him. I can’t shield him from that pain; he should endure it, and I hope it lingers until his last breath.
He bends my wrist, and I gasp as he tries to bend one finger. Every finger is swollen and bruised, the veins of my hand popping out. He frowns as he reaches over to the medical kit nearby and re-wraps my hand tighter than before, and it instantly feels better .
“We have to get some ice on it,” he says, laying his head down and pulling my head down with him.
I enjoy his hot breath on my ear and neck. His erection is pressing against me, which causes heat to build in my core, adding to the already blazing fuel coursing through me that is my anger. My anger builds and intensifies with each passing second. He really thinks soft strokes and gentle kisses will make this all better?
He’s relentless as his hands begin to roam my stomach, teasing their way up to my breasts where he cups one of them before moving back down to my belly.
Down.
Down.
Down.
“Micah, I can’t do this right now,” I protest, even though his soft hands are the medicine my body needs.
He runs his hand over my thighs. “I know, London. I’m warming you up; you’re freezing.”
The same way he left me—cold and alone. Now, suddenly, he cares?
“I’ll rub you all night if I need to, baby,” he whispers, nibbling on my ear. It sounds like an apology, although there is an edge to his voice.
I know Micah Matei well enough to tell when he’s livid with me—his fingers hit all the right chords. And right now… he’s raging.
This is usually the version of him where I get my best orgasms, which says more about me than it does about him.
My body reacts by leaning into him as if I can’t control it. I crave him, even though I hate him right now. I hate how badly I want this.
His strong hands, which cover much of my withered body, rub every part of me, and my skin starts to thaw. The big fire he made us also helps as the flames heat my face.
He plays with the drawstring of my pants, and I clamp my fingers around his before he can get any further. “Fucking me isn’t going to make me forgive you,” I whisper.
He arches a brow and hits me with a pouty smile. “But you will fuck me? Because I’ve gone five days without sex, baby. I don’t think I can hold back right now.”
I don’t respond, but I definitely don’t say no as his fingers edge closer to the apex of my thigh. I close my eyes and revel in the heat, doing my best not to arch my back and give him any reason to believe I like it.
I don’t stop him.
I’ll let him make me feel good. I’ll let him beg and grovel for once—it’s the least he can do.
I’m not sure whether it’s the heat from his body or from the fire, or the burning sensation in between my legs, but I begin to melt. The softness overtakes me. So much that I can ignore the rocks scraping into my side, the freezing earth beneath me, and the anger that just moments before consumed me.
After a few minutes, Micah’s stroking stops. “You like these warm hands, don’t you, baby?”
I don’t like the way he says it, so I don’t answer.
“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart.”
Goosebumps form on my skin despite how hot my body is.
He kisses my neck and teases his tongue on my earlobe, nipping it. “Because you will die out here without these hands, and you know it. So tomorrow, when I say we are leaving, you are going to come with me without saying a fucking word. Do you understand what I’m telling you, baby?”
My whole body freezes. Why can’t Micah understand that we need to be with the others? That both our mental states are too fragile to be away from them. That they are really our lifeline, not each other.
“Micah, quit acting like this,” I choke out a whisper as his hands move up to my neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but the mere motion of it scares the shit out of me. The whisper is more like a sob because he is making me so helpless that it causes my heart rate to spike.
Every time I’m with Micah, I’m weak. It’s the control he has over me. We’ve changed… I sense it—he must sense it, too. I know it pains him, and I don’ t know if we can ever go back to the way it was between us. When I was blind to the rest of the world, and only he mattered.
He made it that way. He made himself my only lifeline, my entire existence. It’s the textbook definition of abuse. An abuse I apparently crave because I deplore that his lips are so close to mine and he’s not kissing me. In fact, he moves his hands away from me, positioning himself a couple of inches away from my body.
My eyes open, and I turn to face him.
He moves his hand, and after a few seconds, he parts my lips and slips a piece of meat between them.
I salivate at the savory flavor and the rich, meaty texture.
It makes me weak, but I can’t resist biting into that meat, licking the flavor off his fingers. I chew…. I think strongly about biting his thumb off as he presses it into my mouth as I swallow.
He chuckles darkly, running his fingers over my lips. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, sweetheart.”
I snap my mouth shut, and he grips my hips and squeezes, nudging his body against mine. He wraps his powerful arm tightly around me, the muscles in his biceps nearly suffocating me.
I turn to face him and run my fingers down the curve of his nose and under his eye. His broody, pouty lips tease me.
We stare at each other for a moment, neither making a move.
“Your choice, London King,” he whispers, his voice rough and raw. “I’ll never force you, and if you say no, I’ll stop.”
I devour his lips, slipping my tongue into his mouth, infusing him with my newfound energy. It’s as if the breath I was missing suddenly floods back with a single kiss. He moans softly and effortlessly pulls me onto him.
I can’t think about tomorrow or the day after. With my current mental capacity, I’m incapable of processing anything beyond my immediate physical urges and desires. Right now, I want him. Fuck, I want him more than anything. I’ll worry about tomorrow and the hard decisions I have to make when it comes. The intensity of my desire for him surpasses all else, and at least for tonight, my anger relinquishes.
He is what I need in this moment.
I take control, biting his lower lip, then moving my lips to his neck. Longing for every inch of him, my kisses turn desperate. His hands slide to my lower back, and he slowly pulls off my sweats. He moans, and it nearly breaks me. He pulls my body closer to his, resting his hands on my hips.
“Pull those wet panties down, London. I want to see how badly you missed me.” He kisses my ear and cups my neck. “Because I missed you, too, baby.”
I snap my head up, my muddy hair lingering in my face. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I breathe, but pulling my underwear down nonetheless.
He kisses me hard and deep, pulling me down to him. “Yeah, I know,” he says after ripping his lips off mine. He turns me over so I’m lying on my back, the firelight making his eyes blaze as his muscled body looms over me. “But you still want me, don’t you?”
His fingers find my center, stroking my clit. There is no hiding how much I want him. “Always so fucking needy,” he murmurs. My traitorous body is dripping for him. I can’t help my response to him because every part of him—the dark, dirty, soft, loving, every hard edge that makes up the fabric of Micah—is home to me now.
His lips find the skin on my neck, and his tongue begins to mark it. “Say those words to me, London.” He smells so good… even his saliva smells delicious.
My stomach clenches at the toxicity of this. How broken we actually are… “Please, Micah.”
His eyebrows arch. “Please what? I need you to say it, London.” His face is pained like this is eating him up, too—or the guilt is, at the very least. The realization of how much control he has over me is slowly sinking in for him. Either that, or he missed me and felt our souls severing when we were apart.
I pause, aware of our surroundings: the blackened trees, the lingering threat, and how close the others are, probably listening to us.
I don’t fucking care .
It’s been five days of pure torture, hunger, thirst, and captivity—almost losing my sanity. I deserve comfort without the guilt that constantly affects me.
I move my knee between his legs, ignoring the rocks and hard sticks digging into my back underneath the blanket. He needs to know this is consensual. “Please, Micah. I want you inside me. I need you so badly.”
“Fuck.” He unleashes himself from his pants and enters me easily, my pussy clenching around him and a jolt of pleasure nipping at my core. Our hearts beat together as if they are one.
He’s soft as he fucks me, and I whimper because my body is on the verge of collapse. He pushes in deeper, his hands roaming to my breasts, pinching my nipples and causing me to moan.
He cups my mouth as he pushes in and out of me. “Shh, baby. Keep it down. I don’t want your little boyfriend to interrupt us again.”
My boyfriend? He can’t possibly be talking about James because that’s ridiculous.
But it also makes sense. Micah is so possessive and can be extremely insecure. It brings liquid heat to my core, thinking of how much I own him, too. However, it pales in comparison to what he made me endure when I saw him with Naomi.
A dark smile plays on my lips. “You’re so fucking jealous,” I say, which causes his thrusts to deepen. I brush the hair from his face so I can see the soft shadow in his eyes and tilt my head toward him. “But James isn’t the one you need to worry about.”
This catches his attention.
“London,” he warns. “Don’t fucking do that to me.”
I scratch his back as he continues to fuck me in typical Micah fashion. He’s not soft, and multiple orgasms roll through me as he keeps his hand on my mouth and my legs wrap around him. I moan profusely as he moves his lips to my neck, grazing his teeth across my skin.
“I’ll give these marks to you every night if I have to, sweetheart. Then, every time they look at you, they will know who you belong to. ”
I’m breathless, overwhelmed by the intense emotions he stirs within me as he vigorously pleasures me with pain. Biting me. Punishing me.
When I’ve finally had enough, he pulls his lips off. A satisfied expression covers his face as he admires the black marks etched on my body.
“Fucking. Mine,” he growls. He then arches his soft, dark eyebrows, keeping his heavy gaze on me. “Say it, baby.”
“I’m yours, Micah,” I whisper as his heart beats against mine, savoring the steady rhythm in his chest. A moment of anger edges its way back into my heart, and I dig my fingernails into his back, which only cranks him up.
I kiss his mouth, and he nibbles on my lip, making me forget any sensation other than his softness and his muscled arms as he pins me to the ground.
No anger, pain, or sadness—or how fucking scared I am. For a few minutes, it’s just him, and I forget everything else, including the pain in my hand, my ripped heart, and my fucked-up hallucinogenic mind. I quit caring what the others will think about the deep marks on my neck or if they can hear the moans coming from me.
We climax together, and when he finishes, he rolls off me and pulls me against him.
I’m not sure when I started crying, but he wipes my tears with his thumb and kisses the bridge of my nose. Then, I swear, he is asleep within thirty seconds.
I stare at the sky, unable to breathe or process what just happened. After a few long minutes, he finally says, “I thought I fucking lost you.” He says it so softly that I wonder if he even said it at all. I’m not sure he’s even conscious as his eyes remain closed.
He almost did lose me… and still might have. I get lost staring at him, and the tears pour out of me because I thought I lost him, too.
It takes ten minutes for my heart rate to settle, and luckily, sleep eludes me. I turn to face him and take him in. He is so familiar now, just like Maison once was—every line of his body, the way he breathes, how soft he is when he’s sleeping. Even in this situation, near death, he still looks sexy.
I don’t know what the future will bring, how much food we actually have left, or what we are going to do next, especially with Nigel still out there somewhere.
I’m not sure if I can truly forgive Micah.
Right now, I can’t determine what scares me the most: Nigel lurking in the shadows, potentially watching me at this very moment, the perils of this pretty island, or the guy sleeping beside me, who I love so fully and who I think is out of his damn mind.