Third a Kiss (Goddess Isles #3) - Pepper Winters Page 0,27

nonsense.

She is human.

She isn’t trustworthy. Look at her current track record.

She’d run away. She’d stolen Skittles. She’d drugged me.

If I was stupid enough to want her after she’d shown her true colours, then I deserved the fate I’d been given.

Nodding with determination, I snatched the phone and called Roy Slater’s villa. It was time he got off my fucking island. Alone.

Eleanor would not be sold.

Not because of her little stunt yesterday, but because we had a contract—signed by both of us. A commitment of four years and then freedom. I would find a way to endure those four years. I would revoke this madness inside me. I would return to who I was, and she would begin her proper employment with weekly servicing for the men I let onto my shores.

Eventually, this scramble of elixir and Euphoria would get the fuck out of my bloodstream and I’d be sane again.

Slater answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Pack your bag. Your ride home leaves in thirty minutes.”

He coughed. “Orders now? After I was treated like a criminal and locked inside my villa all day yesterday? What the hell, Sinclair? I paid to come here. I paid for pleasure. Not so your goon could throw me into a cell.”

“That was for your own protection.”

So you didn’t see what I did to the goddess you’ve claimed.

“Something fishy is going on. Just honour our deal and I’ll leave. We’ll both be glad to say goodbye.”

“There is no deal. Not anymore.”

“What? But you agreed. We shook hands. We—”

“I don’t sell my property, Mr. Slater.” My temper spiked with a snarl. “I had a momentary lapse.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, wrangling the fury in my voice back into its cage and forcing gentile pleasantries instead. “I apologise for the inconvenience and, of course, your extra night on Goddess Isles is complimentary. But your stay has come to an end.”

He blustered and fought for words, finally settling on a pathetic, “But…I love her. I want her as my wife. You can trust me to care for her as my family, Sinclair. I would never harm her.”

Trust?

The most idiotic, dangerous emotion of all.

There is no such thing.

My hand tightened around the phone. Pika sensed my rising rage, fluttering to land on my head and hang upside down so we were eye to eye. He granted me enough rationality to exhale heavily and keep my voice from launching down the phone and stabbing the bastard in the ear. “I apologise for your conviction. You might think you love her…but I promise you, it will pass. You’ve been deceived by a delusion. The affection you feel has been triggered by an experience that cannot be compared. When you return home, the intensity will fade.”

I didn’t know if I lectured him or myself, but either way, this conversation was over. “Be at the helipad in twenty minutes. I will personally escort you from my shores.”

I hung up.

Before thoughts of Eleanor could wriggle their way like a parasite into my brain, I picked up the phone again. This time, I called the recruitment office I used in the States. I delivered on a promise that I should’ve done days ago and ordered a highly qualified vet to support the growing number of creatures on Serigala. And because guilt sat heavily for allowing my own shit to come before the animals who’d endured so much, I requested not one but two practitioners. One experienced in small animals, one in large livestock.

Soon, we’d have a shipment of horses and a couple of donkeys arriving. They hadn’t been tortured in a lab or forced to be unwilling guinea-pigs. Their experiences came from a more sinister nature. A facility that catered to psychopaths who liked to rape animals. A few sheep and a couple of cows were also expected. Poor beasts could be physically rehabilitated but would never trust a human again.

Like me.

Normally, I didn’t take on other abusive cases that didn’t originate from chemical testing…but, I couldn’t say no when the request for help appeared in my inbox. Soon, I might have to expand to another island to cope with the ever-growing population.

Good job I own forty-four of the fucking things.

When I put the phone down for the second time, Pika flew off my head to help himself to the bird table outside, shoving aside a sparrow and nipping at the legs of a macaw as he eyed up a juicy grape. He was a tenacious little spitfire…unlike Skittles who was so sensitive