“Yes. I was invited by the doctor. It was too good a chance to pass up. You didn’t expect me?”
“No.” I shot him a miffed glare. “How truthful were you?” As if his answer would be credible.
He shrugged. “As truthful as any of us three might appear to an innocent observer. How truthful were you?”
“You thinkIwas lying?”
He tapped a shushing finger on his mouth then nodded at the doctor’s back.
Seconds ago, I had decided to only trust myself. Three people were lined up where the tarmac ended. Those must be the doctor’s help—waiting for their master like some collection of servants at an old-time manor.
Memories of the scent and throb of the helicopter lurched into me and churned my stomach.
Nausea welled into my mouth, and I stopped, groaning, bent over, hands on my knees. This too? The chopper ride had been smooth. I recognized the effects of my anxiety—that mild headache and the skittering of my thoughts as I looped from one worry to the next and back.
“What is it?”
Vaguely, I glimpsed Cassius leaning in to check as I kneeled, splaying my hands on the cool grass to steady myself.
“I’m feeling a little sick in the stomach. Come closer so I can barf on you. Oh…god.” I gulped.
Boots crunched closer, from ahead. I recognized the doctor’s shoes. How appalling that I knew him by his shoes, already. Cassius had laughed at my barf joke. I gave him back one point of trust. Any man with a sense of humor…
“Sit down for a minute, Charity.” Dr. Romanus put out a hand, and I grasped it, let him help me seat myself. “Do you know what made you ill? Motion sickness?”
He crouched beside me, and Cassius lowered himself on the other side.
“No. Just, believe it or not, a touch of anxiety.”
“Ahhh.” His large hand rubbed my back below my shoulders, gently, as if he cared. It was a relief. It feltgood,and after a minute of this warm and friendly massage, my stomach settled. “You know I promised you several things about this island. I promised not to irreversibly harm you.”
I grunted. “Which only leaves—”
“Reversible harming? Of course,” he added in that slightly menacing drawl of his. “And we both know you like that, don’t we?”
I peeked at him from one eye, suspicious. He did know it, though. My spanking kinks. It wasn’t news.
“Are you feeling well enough to walk to the car?”
“Yes.” Talking had quietened my insides—both stomach and thoughts. The man was nice when he chose to be. I could not picture him murdering girls, but murderers could be devious. Being deceptive was a part of their psychotic makeup, or so the shows about the criminal mind had told me.
“Good. Then answer me.” The unfastened bottom of the coat had fallen aside, and he pushed his hand over my thigh, sliding it between my legs. To my bemusement, he pinched a chunk of the leggings between his fingers and thumb, grabbing a small part of my flesh, then he twisted it. The pain flared and travelled to where it always did when I was spanked, like clockwork, it sped arrowlike to my clit and core. I gasped and stared, unready for this. The last of my nausea ran away to be replaced by fucking arousal.
“Don’t we like a little reversible”—he twisted harder—“harm.”
“Yes!”Fuck yes, really.
“Good. Then let’s go do the meet-the-help part.”
Cassius watched me rise, with mild distaste in the curve of his mouth. A moment later he was stony-eyed expressionless. Had I imagined it?
I wished the interaction between the doctor and I had been hidden by the oncoming darkness.I am such a slut. Why had I reacted like that? If I’d been feeling sicker, I would’ve barfed on him or slapped him.
Slapping the doctor…
What response would get me? It would be stupid to try.
But I was not a slut, I thought, backtracking. I was annoyed at how I’d condemned myself. Kinks were normal. How dare this stranger judge me.