The Secrets of Roan Island

18. Ruby

18

Ruby

M y eyes feel gritty when I open them, heavy and sensitive. Every muscle in my body aches as I roll, groaning. I push myself up from the uncomfortable floor, my fingers deep in a plush rug.

I glance around. Messy tables. Haphazard paperwork. Stacks of books. Still in the secret library, then. Only I can’t remember falling asleep. Can’t remember laying down on the carpet. I wrack my brain trying to recall the last thing I do remember. I yawn and stretch, wondering what time it is, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. Then I remember why I’m down here.

Noah.

The research.

The book.

Shemaiah’s warning.

I look around, and there, near the book I’d been holding, is Noah. He’s sprawled on his stomach with one arm stretched toward me. His dark hair is unruly, but he looks peaceful. I’ve seen so many different versions of him, I’m unable to decide which has been my favorite. The austere version? The companionable one? The untethered scientist? The maniacal kisser? Impossible to choose since I’ve enjoyed them all.

“Noah?” I crawl toward him. “Are you alright?”

I remember Mrs. Darning. The tea. “I think we were drugged.”

Noah’s eyes flash open, completely black.

I lurch away but can’t bring myself to run. I need to be sure he’s alright. Maybe it’s an aftereffect of the drug? “Noah?”

He lifts his head, sniffing the air. “Ruby Rose. You smell so good.”

I scramble back, but his hand shoots out and misses my ankle by a skim of sharp, long fingernails. Wait, were his nails always that long? They’re more claws than nails. “Noah?” I whimper.

His unnerving eyes lock with mine. He blinks. Once. Twice. The black recedes, but his pupils remain dark and blown out. As he stands, I swear he’s grown taller, more muscular.

He looks toward the grandfather clock in the corner and curses.

It’s late afternoon.

“It’s fine, Noah.” I get to my feet. “I’m sure I can get another boat tomorrow. This will just give me more time to–”

“You don’t understand, Ruby.” His voice is a low caressing growl as he turns to face me. “I want—I can’t—too close.”

His tormented expression matches the intensity in his gaze, and I watch as the black once again takes over the white of his eyes. My pulse echoes Shemaiah’s warning. Run. Run. Run .

Noah groans. “I want to taste you.”

My heart trips, then races as I step backward and stumble into a bookshelf. “Noah? What’s happening?”

He cages me against the shelves. “Let’s play a game.”

“What kind of game?” I stutter, my heart knocking against my ribs.

“The kind where I get to catch you.” He grins, and that’s when I notice his fangs.

Oh fuck . I thought I felt an extra sharpness when we kissed last night, but I ignored it. I can’t ignore it now.

Before Noah can say another word, I duck under his arm and run, darting from the library, back through the hallway—dark now. And while the dark would normally terrify me, remind me of David, whatever Noah is behind me is much more frightening.

I think back to all the ways Noah has been with me. Every time he insisted I stay in my room. Or the night before: You should walk out into the library and shut that door. And I want you on that boat . All the ways I thought he was just being authoritative. What if it had nothing to do with control, but rather protection? From him?

I pick up my pace, a dark, sensuous chuckle chasing my footsteps.

My lungs hurt as I lurch with terror. I grab hold of the closest door and try the handle. Locked.

“Ruby,” he says, his voice strange. He’s closer. “I smell your fear.”

“You’re scaring me!” I scream.

“You should be scared.”

I dash up the stairs, tripping and scrambling. My breath catches as I skid around a corner and slam into a side table. It slides across the floor with a loud scrape. I’m almost to the portrait hall, but I freeze. Noah must have heard that.

It’s quiet except for my loud breathing, and the silence is wrong. I don’t hear Noah any more. I grasp at the wall, fingertips slipping along the velvety wallpaper. “Noah?”

I don’t know why I call out to him. Why I’m seeking support from a monster, someone—something—I don’t know.

Except I do know. I read about them last night. The Mavarri. Creatures with fangs, claws, the ability to shift, whose sole source of nutrients came from the blood of their prey. The bite that could change their prey into one of them, under the right circumstances.

“Mavarri,” I whisper.

Noah materializes from the shadows, his dark eyes glittering with something other than reflected light. I should be terrified, but there’s something stunningly beautiful about the power he exudes.

“Such a smart woman.” His nostrils flare as his eyes roll closed. “Do you know what scent I like even more than your fear?” He’s suddenly behind me, pressing me into the table that tripped me moments ago. “Your pleasure.”

One large hand spans my back, pinning my chest to the wood, while the other slides over my backside, gathering a fistful of my skirt. He sniffs, leaning his weight into me, nose skimming the ridge of my ear. “There it is.”

Something sharp grazes the tender skin where my neck and shoulder meet. I shiver from more than fear, a pleasure that prickles from the scratch at my neck all the way down between my legs.

“You make me wild,” he admits with a groan. “Do you know how dangerous it is to make a Mavarri lose control?”

“They aren’t extinct,” I say, more as a breath. And damn me, even as my mind tries to make sense of my situation, I press my hips back and tilt my head to give him access to my neck.

“Close enough to extinct,” he growls, bunching my skirts higher.

“What do you mean?” I twist, trying to look at him, but he holds me in place.

His tongue tastes my neck, and he groans. “Just us now.”

“Us?”

“Me, my siblings, my father. We’re the only ones left here.”

Completely at his mercy, fear and arousal war in my body, and something like sympathy stirs in my chest. I know what it is to feel alone. What would it be like to be the last of your kind? Like me: the last of my family. My thoughts scatter before I can grasp hold of them, blown away by Noah’s warm breath as he presses his hips against me and tests his teeth along my skin. My traitorous body responds, gushing wetness between my thighs. I grip the legs of the table I’m folded over and rashly grind my ass back into him with a whimper.

He abruptly grabs hold of my shoulders, pulling me up so my back is to his chest. His heavy breaths rise and fall with my own.

Slowly, he turns me around. Face to face, I see everything. His desire, wild and fevered. His frustration. His attempt at restraint. And something more. His eyes soften, letting the tiniest bit of white return before going black again.

“Fuck, Ruby. I want to taste you.” He lowers to his knees, holding my waist. “I want to sink my teeth into your thigh.”

Fear spikes my heart again, breaking through the fog of lust. He’s a predator. And I’m prey. He could kill me without any effort. A bite, and I’d be dead. Or… transformed. Would he do that? Would I want him to?

He gathers my skirts, raising them inch by inch, eyes still locked on me. “Tell me to stop, Ruby.”

I swallow. A battle rages between my mind and my body. Am I really considering this?

He’s got my skirt pulled up to my knees now, hands on my thighs. “Tell me!” he shouts, though it’s more guttural, wild.

I need to choose. Need to say something. I can’t let this go on. “Stop.” My heart burns as I scratch out the single word on something like a sob.

The noise Noah makes is somewhere between a howl, a growl, and a scream. It rips from his throat as he throws himself away, pressing his back to the wall across from me. His hands spread against the wallpaper. His black eyes bore into mine. “Run, Ruby.”

I can see the restraint he’s fighting for in every vibrating muscle. My mind screams danger even as my body wants to push him, to take back that one word, pull up my skirts, and let him feast.

Survival wins. I dart down the dark hallway. He laughs, though it isn’t filled with joy but rather something feral.

“I love a challenge,” he shouts, and I know he’s lost his battle on restraint.

Holding my skirts high, I run toward the portrait and the passage back to the main house. I don’t think Noah would intentionally hurt me, but his intentions don’t matter right now. He’s Mavarri. He’s a hunter. And I’m the prey he wants.

His steps pound behind me.

I run faster.

He’s close.

My chest tightens. Pulse wild and erratic. I can see the portrait that blocks the passageway. Almost there! I reach.

His hands are on me.

We fall against the painting, and it rips.

“Noah!” I screech, grabbing hold of the gilded frame, trying to pry it open as I twist and struggle in his grip. But it’s stuck, or locked.

“Mine,” he says, his voice in my ear, his hands sliding up my thighs.

Every muscle in my body tenses with anticipation, every nerve sparking with an electric, tingling sensation.

“Noah, please,” I whimper, unsure if I’m telling him to stop or continue.

Suddenly, the painting shoves forward, pushing me into Noah. We both stumble to the floor as the door swings open.

Noah’s arm wraps my waist as he looks up, bares his teeth, and growls. “Mine.”

A laugh cuts through the space.

Jafeth stands in the doorway, his eyes completely black like Noah’s, his fangs bared. He tilts his head and grins. “You’re missing the party.”