Sinners Retreat (The Slaycation #1)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Kindra

S ix. That’s the number of times I came before I hobbled back to mine and Cat’s room at three a.m. She’d been fast asleep as I crawled beneath the covers and slid into a dreamless sleep, and I was glad for it. After such an amazing night, I didn’t want it spoiled by mindless conversation.

Not that I had much mind left to contribute by the time Ezra finished with me.

Now it’s seven in the morning, and I’m exhausted as I trudge to the bathroom to shower before heading off for our flight to the island. My shoulders feel like they’ve been beaten with a hammer, but the ropes left no marks on my wrists. With the way I was squirming, I’m surprised I didn’t saw them clean off.

As for my hips, legs, and pussy, I don’t think I’ll ever walk normally again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cat says as I step out of the bathroom. “I brought up some breakfast from the lobby. For a resort, they didn’t have much to choose from.”

Her bright demeanor so early in the day would normally grate my nerves raw, but the multiple orgasms from the previous night have left my tolerance much improved.

“Thanks,” I say as I towel off my hair. I dress in something comfortable for the plane ride—another tank-top-and-shorts ensemble, no belt—and sit on the edge of the bed.

Cat grabs her laptop and sits beside me. “I received a link to a video from the Sinners Retreat last night, but you were still out, so I haven’t watched it yet. I figured we could watch it together.”

“What kind of video?”

She shrugs and opens the laptop. “I dunno. Probably some kind of orientation.”

After clicking a link, a pink-and-orange logo fills the screen and a male voice comes through the speakers.

“In a few short hours, you’ll be on Devil’s Horn Island, home of the Sinners Retreat.”

The image fades to black, then fades back in on a wide shot of a large island set in the middle of the ocean. The images look like they were shot with a camera from the seventies. Even the music sounds like something from a bygone era.

“While on our island, please observe a few simple rules. First, keep your kills confined to activity events. We have several to choose from.”

Short clips flash across the screen. In one, a couple rides a pair of horses down the beach at sunset. As they break into a canter and move away from the camera, we can see the ropes attached to each horse. Two bodies bounce along behind them, leaving a trail of blood to be washed away by the incoming waves.

In another shot, a group of people laugh as they mill about a kitchen. The camera zooms in on a blender, which holds a severed hand and what appears to be a few organs. Maybe a liver and some kidneys, based on the coloring. The blender whirs to life, and the body parts turn to mush.

“I am not partaking in the cooking class,” Cat says.

“Now there’s something we can agree on.”

I lean forward and watch as the video continues.

“For the safety and privacy of our guests, we do not allow any photography or videography on the island. All guests must consent to have their devices wiped clean of all images before departing our little slice of heaven.”

After an image of a camera with a large red X over it, the shot showcases a large mansion set within a jungle.

“We look forward to seeing you at the welcome dinner. And remember, we’re all sinners here.”

The camera backs away and rises, revealing a group of people on the beach, who all smile and wave as the shot fades to black.

“Well, that’s three minutes of my life I’ll never get back.” I stand and move to the sink to begin packing away my toiletries.

Cat does the same, and we’re ready to leave when our car arrives out front a few minutes later. I grab the small bag of breakfast Cat chose for me and peek inside. A dry muffin stares back at me. It’s a good thing I’m not very hungry. After last night, I don’t think I’ll crave anything other than Ezra for a while.

We make our way to the lobby, then out the front doors. I look back at the resort and bid a silent farewell to an evening of fantasy fulfillment. At least something good came out of this. Now it’s time to focus.

Once we’re settled in the back of a long black limo, I turn to Cat and keep my voice low so the driver can’t eavesdrop. “Listen, while we’re on the island, I need you to keep a low profile. You have to help me keep a low profile as well. That means you can’t bring up my real identity. Got it?”

She nods. “My lips are sealed.”

I wish she spoke in facts instead of cliches. We wouldn’t be in this mess if she had some strong epoxy to hold her mouth shut.

“Also, no matter how excited you are to witness or participate in these activities, you have got to keep your cool. If you look like a first timer, you’ll blow our cover.”

I can see it now. Someone slits a throat, and Cat’s eyes go wide with wonder. If they get a single whiff of her naivete, we’ll be the ones to have our throats opened.

Cat groans and looks out the window. “I wish you had a little more faith in me. I’m not completely useless.”

While I’m sure she’s good at many things, she has yet to divulge any of them to me, either by words or actions. But I keep this to myself. I’ll have to watch her like a mother hen for the next five days, and I don’t want to upset her too much.

We arrive at a small airport after a short drive through Miami. Our driver takes us straight onto the tarmac, where a sleek silver jet awaits our arrival. A man dressed in black takes our luggage, then leads us to the stairs, where we enter the most luxurious travel accommodations I’ve ever experienced.

The space looks more like a futuristic living room than the inside of an aircraft. White leather seats dot the interior, with what looks like a couch on one side. The ceiling is one big screen, which showcases a night sky. It’s so realistic I feel like I’m standing in the open instead of crammed inside a tin can.

I turn to Cat, expecting her to be as awestruck as I am, but she’s playing it cool. She glances around like she flies in one of these on the daily, then takes a seat in one of the white leather chairs.

I choose a seat near the back of the cabin, preferring to sit by myself. If anyone else joins us, I can only hope they’ll sit with her. I pull out my phone and begin scrolling so that I look as unapproachable as possible.

A few minutes later, footsteps trudge up the stairs, and an elderly man shuffles into the cabin. Cat notices him and turns to me. We share a look of raised eyebrows, then return to watching him.

There’s no way he’s on the right plane.

For starters, he’s a wiry little antique. I can’t imagine him killing anyone. He looks more like someone’s grandfather than their worst nightmare. Then again, maybe that’s why he’s good at what he does.

He takes a seat near Cat and pulls a large bowie knife from beneath his suit before wiping it with the handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Appearances can be deceiving, I suppose.

Cat engages him in conversation, but they speak too quietly for me to hear what they’re saying. Now I wish I’d sat closer. If she makes a misstep, I won’t be there to save her.

“Do you know how long until we depart?” I say to the man, hoping to interrupt their conversation before anything can go wrong.

The man shakes his wrist, freeing his watch from his suit sleeve so that he can look at it. “Maybe ten minutes or so.”

He has a hint of an accent, possibly German.

I nod in acknowledgment and return to my phone when I see Cat pull a magazine from the small table in front of her. Good. She’s much better suited for celebrity gossip.

Exhaustion creeps up on me. I tip the back of my head against the leather headrest and close my eyes. With no idea how long this flight will last, I toy with the notion of a cat nap. Even thirty minutes would do me some good.

But then footsteps clang on the staircase once more, and Ezra steps into the cabin.