Page 40 of Venom Island
Or that’s the plan, anyway.
Hence the need for supplies.
Food.
Water.
Shelter.
The old hotels were very handy for my purpose, their supplies surprisingly abundant. Unfortunately, humans perished quickly on most islands, their inability to escape the virus wiping them out in weeks rather than months or years like other areas of the world.
Iceland was an anomaly, as were other Nordic islands with strong supernatural populations.
But wolves didn’t like the heat of the Caribbean, and vampires couldn’t stand the sunlight.
Creatures like dragons were the ones who prospered here, but they tended to live in more remote locations of the ocean. I have no idea if they’re still around this area or not.
I finish filling a bag—one I found in a closet—with an old skillet, matches, and a towel, then hoist it up onto my back with my other pack. Then I bend to pick up the net of various fruits and vegetables I’ve picked from the wild. I wanted to catch a few fish as well, but I haven’t found any fishing poles.
So I suppose that means we’ll be living on a vegan diet for a few days.
At least it’ll get Caja through her heat.
I’m halfway down the moss-covered marble hallway when an unexpected scent assaults my senses, one I recognize almost immediately.
Freezing, I slightly rotate to my left. “Francesca?” I breathe, wondering if I’m losing my mind.
Because this is impossible.
Yet, Iknowthat citrusy-lime aroma, the undercurrent providing a subtle strawberry sweetness.
“Hey, big guy,” she murmurs, her voice unmistakable. “Long time no see.”
I turn around slowly, half convinced I’m hallucinating.
Because Francesca is dead.
Or she’s supposed to be.
“How is this possible?” I ask, taking in her tall, slender form. Her dark curls are piled on her head in a bun, her light brown eyes as alert as ever. “You’re dead.”
She snorts. “Isn’t everyone on this fucking island?”
I blink. “I don’t understand.” I’m pretty sure I’m alive.Unless… unless…
My brow furrows.No. I’m definitely alive.
Because I can still smell Caja. Her alluring perfume is calling to my cock, telling me I’m very,verymuch alive.
“Your face right now is fucking priceless,” Francesca muses, strutting toward me. “Probably looks like mine this morning when I found that pit of Alphas you created. Not a great way to make friends on the island, Riq. Alas, I don’t think you’re going to find many friendly wolves here anyway.”
I narrow my gaze, not liking the subtle threat underlining her words. “Yourself included?”
She considers me, her gaze as astute as ever. “Depends on why Carlos sent you here. Did you finally misbehave? Upset the delicate power balance he has in store?”
I stare at her. “Carlos is dead.”
Her dark brows rise. “Oh? Since when?”
