Page 4 of Covert Desires

The next moment, my peace shatters like crystal on stone.

I barely register Nico’s presence before I feel the cold, unforgiving metal of a knife digging into my throat.

Pressing harder, he flicks his tongue over my earlobe, licking me as he whispers, “I’ve changed my mind…I preferthisroom.”

Fuck.

Chapter two

Psycho

(Kiah)

Thepaintbrushslipsfrommy fingers, clattering to the floor in what feels like slow motion.

Nico's threat ghosts across my neck, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cold steel digging into my skin. "I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I were you."

My body stiffens, every muscle coiling like a spring ready to unleash.

Each heartbeat thunders in my ears, a primal drum of anger and adrenaline. The bastard caught me off-guard, moving like a shadow, sound masked by the storm.

Not just some rich boy playing gangster, then. It takes skill to get the drop on someone like me.

You’re losing your touch, Kiah.

I should've trusted my instincts and never let him in.

But what’s done is done. I’ve never been one to get hung up on regrets. I have too many of those. They'd drown me if I let them.

I exhale slowly, letting him think it's fear. In reality, I'm centering myself, mind already cataloging every weapon within reach.

But beneath the survival instincts, something darker stirs?part of me I thought I'd buried in blood and regret actually thrills at this dance.

“What do you want from me?” My voice is low and steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system, “I don’t have any money.”

“Money is not my problem.” His tone drips menace as he yanks me closer, his soaked clothes seeping cold into my back.

“What then?”

“For starters, some duct tape.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Let’s see what you do have.”

He drags me toward the kitchen, blade never wavering from my throat. Five years ago, I would've risked the cut to break free. But my edges have softened here, dulled by paradise.

This island was supposed to be atemporaryescape while I figured out what to do next.

Half a decade flies by quickly when you’re avoiding the world.

My heart plummets when Nico finds the old gray fishing box?my makeshift toolbox?under the sink.Fuck.

“Well, well.” His voice carries a chill that rivals the storm. “Open it.”

The blade bites deeper, drawing a warm trickle down my neck. I comply, unlatching the grey plastic box that once held someone else's simple life.

Nico’s face twists into a smirk when he sees what’s inside. He shoves me into a nearby wooden chair, and I topple over the antique piece of furniture that is too worn to be valuable any longer—much like all my stuff.

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