The Isle of Sin and Shadows

by Keri Lake

“May I?” “I’d rather you didn’t.” “It’s this, or knocking you unconscious. Take your pick.” “What a gentleman. You have a gun, and you’re asking me to climb into a boat, blindfolded, so you can drive me to somewhere in the middle of the swamp. Has no one ever told you girls find that a little bit creepy?” “This isn’t a date.”

Why the sudden lack of interest?” “The game changed.” “Which translates to: you don’t fuck girls with targets on their backs.” “Not unless I know the nature of the target.” “What does that even mean? You have your way with me and pass me off to the bad guys after?” “I’m not passing you off to anyone.”

In all honesty, the shrimp tasted like she battered it in lava and dipped it in hellfire, perhaps the worst attempt at Valir cooking I’ve ever had, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. Because as bad as it may have been, no one, aside from my mother, has ever gone out of their way to cook for me, either.

“Let me go, Thierry! Or, I swear to God, I’ll scratch your goddamn eyeballs out!” “Listen to me, chaton. If life wasn’t so hell bent on fucking me over, I wouldn’t let you go, if you begged me. Unfortunately, in my world, you’re nothing but a pawn. A weakness. You’re a walking bullseye.”

She’s crazy, that’s what. My personal shot of chaos. A drug I want to inject whenever the fuck I’m feeling too calm and settled and my blood needs a spike of absolute bedlam and turmoil. A rush of adrenaline and lust that has my heart pumping overtime, just to keep up with a sudden urge to jump off a cliff while holding hands with her.

“What about this?” After twisting around in front of him, I pause to take in the quirk of his brow. With a huff, he eases back in his chair, stretching his arm over it in a way that makes me want to crawl into his lap. “If that’s the one you like.” “Seriously? You’re not going to throw one of those possessive and jealous alpha male fits, like something out of a mafia romance?” “You’re free to wear whatever you like, catin. Just as I’m free to kill anyone who looks at you in it.”

now that you’ve torn me open, are you disappointed?” “No. Unfortunately, I’m twice as intrigued.” “Why is that unfortunate?” “Because all I think about is how badly I want to stick you into a jar and keep you for myself.”

“This isn’t my home, though, is it? How can anywhere be home, when you don’t actually exist to the world? Here, I’m nothing but a girl caught on camera at a crime scene. A ghost story, and nothing more.” “Non, you’re more than that, chère.” Curling my palm around her neck, I draw her to me, tangling my fingers in her soft curls and losing myself in her kiss. “You’re my favorite ghost story,” I whisper against her lips.

La lune. Les étoiles. Ma Céleste. The moon. The stars. My Céleste.

“Jealous, much?” she says on a shaky breath. “To be jealous, one would have to assume that you might eventually stray. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.” Brushing away her hair, I bury my face into the back of her neck and breathe in the scent of coconut on her skin. “I don’t want anything else, but you, chère,” I say, raggedly. “No one else.”