PREFACE
He told me only part of him was human. And I believed him.
Not because it was true, but because deep down, I felt different too.
Did he know my secret?
Since the moment I set foot on this island, everything has felt written long before I arrived. Even him.
Men like him don't seem to belong to this world.
The real question is why he chose me.
Someone like him would never choose someone like me... without a reason.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, I could feel he wasn't the only thing I should fear on this island.
CHAPTER I
Where am I?
I woke up in a strange bed, looking around a house I didn't recognize. A letter rested on my chest, in my hand. The sender: my father. Damn it, how did I get here?
The smell of salt filled my senses. I ran to the window to make sure it wasn't my imagination. There was no doubt—I was at the beach.
I had the strange feeling that someone was watching me, but there was no one around. I sat for a second—still in shock—to sort out my memories. For some reason, I was still a little dizzy. My last memory was being on a ship with my father and several sailors; we had sailed for three days. He was very quiet the entire journey, as if he were ashamed to look me in the eye.
I would have thought he was proud that I had finally agreed to marry a stranger to save us from ruin. After all, it had been my fault that we had become the laughingstock of the city after I ran away from my wedding ceremony—twice. Sometimes I wonder if I was running from men... or from myself.
When I finally believed my father had given up—because he had left me alone for a few years—one night he told me the debts were three times greater than what we owned. And suddenly, a nobleman appeared, willing to marry a woman almost thirty, a woman who had run away from marriage twice, and whom he had never even met.
We had to take a ship to his lands. I told my father that I would not marry him without meeting him first, that I needed to at least see him before making a final decision. My father was upset, but he agreed.
The three most uncomfortable days of my life were spent on that ship full of men giving me looks of contempt. According to them, a woman on a ship was bad luck. And my father's silence—his wordless glances—made more noise than the drunken sailors themselves.
On the third day, he only offered me tea. We both drank, and immediately afterward, I lay down for a while. I don't remember anything else.
Where am I? I asked myself again. I opened the doors with the letter still in my hand. White sand, rocks, and the sea were in front of me. I was in a house on the edge of the beach. There was no sound other than the waves; nothing could be distinguished but nature on both sides of the house. Where was everyone?
I was afraid to read, but I gathered my courage, opened the seal, went back into the small living room, and began to read:
"My dear daughter, this has not been an easy decision, but I hope that in time you can forgive me..."
"Forgive him?" what?.
"...You are on Lord Declan's island, your future husband. You are going to marry him as agreed. I already signed the contract giving my consent. The wedding is in a couple of weeks. I know you have not been the same since your mother passed away, but perhaps this new chapter will help you mature and see life differently."
I couldn't believe what I was reading. I felt like my father didn't care what I felt or needed. I started feeling angry and sad—but above all, doubtful.
"Whether you like it or not, Sereniah, you will marry Lord Declan; it is his island, and there is no escape. Please fulfill your duty as the daughter of House D'Arell and honor our name. The Lord is a powerful man, and in my opinion, kind and sensible. He agreed to marry you knowing your story. So, you owe him a bit of respect. There is one condition: he needs a child, an heir to carry his name. You must give him what he needs and become a family, Sereniah. The rest, you will discover for yourself. After everything you've done, this is your last chance to be happy; I hope you see this as a favor and thank me one day. I will pray to hear good news soon about your adaptation to your new life.
Love,
Dad."
Tears blurred my vision. He had left me here, in the middle of nowhere. I took a deep breath to keep from breaking. The paper crinkled in my fingers. Then I saw something I hadn't noticed before: on the back, in the lower corner, a different, paler ink—strange symbols. I swallowed hard. A cruel joke? What was that?
In short: I was trapped on an island by my "future husband," who wanted a child and had conspired with my father to leave me lock me here, a watery prison. But submission wasn't in my nature; there had to be a way out. The worst part wasn't the betrayal itself, but the certainty that, deep down, my father had stopped seeing me as his daughter a long time ago. I guess I was partially guilty of that. Ugh— a sudden pang
As I read the letter a second time, someone entered through the door. A tall, lean man in his thirties. The first thing that caught my attention was his long red hair, a sea of fire between copper and intense crimson. But it was his cold, intimidating—yet strangely majestic—gaze that settled on me.
—You're awake —he said softly.
His voice was deep, almost like the echo of the island itself. And even though I tried to convince myself it was just fear, something in me responded as if I had known him before.
A surge of electricity rushed through me; hot threads ran down my body. His voice gave me chills. What is this? It must still be whatever they used to drug me, I thought.
He took a couple of steps toward me. He moved with such grace. It must be him.
—Don't come any closer —I said firmly, tears still in my eyes.
He noticed. A shadow of tenderness appeared on his face, so quickly it seemed like a mistake. His gaze softened for an instant, then he shook it off, as if fighting it.
—My name is...
—I already know who you are.
—Oh, really? —he replied, mocking.
—Yes. My kidnapper.
He froze. He didn't expected that.
—It's not like that, you can—...
I didn't let him finish and ran out toward the beach. He didn't stop me.
I ran along the shore. Looked back. He was still at the door. I ran farther. Judging by the sun, it was just past noon. There had to be people on this island. I was willing to find them and pay whatever it took to leave.
I walked for hours without rest. I saw no trace of civilization. I was thirsty, and the heat was more intense than I expected. My dress didn't help. I lifted the hem and dipped my feet in the water. The scenery was beautiful. Like a dream... if it weren't for everything else. But something was off. Every now and then, I thought I saw footprints in the sand that weren't mine—marks too deep, almost circular, as if someone—or something—had passed before me. When I blinked, they disappeared, as if erased by the wind. And even though there wasn't a soul in sight, I couldn't shake the feeling that the island was watching me.
Then I saw it: between the rocks, far away, a still silhouette. For a second, I could swear it was staring at me, but when I blinked, it was gone. Only the tide remained. I wrapped my arms around myself. I didn't want to admit it, but I felt it—this island was different.
A moment later, I laughed to myself. Maybe the heat and thirst were making me hallucinate.
Minutes passed when finally I saw a figure on horseback in the distance. It was approaching from the opposite direction. Another mirage? I thought. When it got closer, the sun revealed his face.
It was Lord Declan.
My look of disdain amused him for a split second.
—I'm proud. You almost circled the island. One more hour and you would've reached the village. You went in the opposite direction of where everything happens —he said with that irritating calm—. Sereniah, you can throw all the tantrums you want, but without my approval you won't be able to leave the island. Maybe you would like to listen.
—Do I have another option?
—Of course. You can keep walking, talk to everyone on the island, try to bribe whoever you can—and fail. Or you can get on the horse, go back, take a bath, and talk. You must be tired.
He handed me a canteen of water. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He got off the horse.
—At least you're not another mirage.
—What? —he asked curiously.
I started drinking the water, unwilling to talk more than I had to. He pretended not to care and changed the subject.
—Shall we? —he asked, offering me his hand.
I gestured that I could manage on my own. I climbed onto the horse easily. I didn't want to touch him. His beauty was already intimidating enough.
I felt strange. A tingling spread through my body, especially in my hands and legs. The heat? The tea? Him?
—Lean a little forward to give me space —he said.
—What? Aren't you walking?
He smiled again, without warmth.
—Another time I'd let you ride alone, but night will fall soon. And even though this is my island, I don't control everything that happens on it. I'd rather not ride in the dark.
He climbed onto the horse, wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed his chest against my back, and with absolute calm, whispered in my ear:
—Relax, spoiled princess. Don't think I'm dying to put my hands on you.
A shiver ran down my spine. My skin broke into goosebumps. I wanted to pull away, to scream at him to let me go, but my body wouldn't obey. The warmth of his arms was both an insult and a trap. My mind repeated get away, but my muscles seemed ready to surrender to his nearness. What was happening to me? Was it the tea or ...?
We rode toward the sunset on a black horse straight out of a fantasy book. His long hair nearly touched the sand. It was spectacular.
—Do you like him? He's been with me since he was born. His name is Ozyrion.
It was as if he had read my mind. Or maybe I was just obvious. But... he couldn't see my face.
I pretended indifference as I answered:
—I suppose some people might find him pretty.
The horse neighed.
What?
Lord Declan let out a small laugh.
—Seems Ozzy didn't like your comment.
—The horse didn't understand me, My Lord. Right? —I asked, uncertain.
—My Lord... —he whispered against my ear—. I like how that sounds —he said, and I felt him smile behind me.
I froze, my cheeks on fire. I hadn't thought before speaking. I didn't say another word the entire way back.
The ride passed in heavy silence. I tried to focus on anything other than his arms around me. But it wasn't easy; there was something about his scent that was intoxicating. I could almost taste it. Maybe it was the lingering effect of whatever they gave me. The thought irritated me, and I shifted uncomfortably.
—We're almost there —he said, responding to my restless movements.
I just nodded. Fighting him on horseback at night wasn't smart, no matter how angry I was. I took a deep breath and tried to relax a little. We're almost there, I told myself.
A few minutes later, I began to see small lights and houses embedded in the rock, stone pathways that started at the beach and stretched into the forest. We had reached the village. I couldn't see much, but the houses looked strange—a mix of old architecture with surprisingly modern touches. I shuddered at the feeling that the few faces I saw in the windows stared at me too long, as if they were measuring something in me. Their eyes shone strangely in the torchlight.
The stars were shining like never before. Maybe all islands were like this; I'd never been to one. But if this was the reason people moved here, it was well justified. I stared at the stars for a long while, lost in their beauty, and didn't notice we had already passed the village and were in front of a house, set apart from the others. I was exhausted.
—We're here —he announced as he dismounted, extending a hand to help me down.
—I can manage —I replied disdainfully.
He simply made a polite gesture, as if to say "as you wish".
To my shame, I tried to get off the horse with the agility and grace of a professional, but my dress caught on one of the reins and I fell face first. His reflexes saved me before I hit the ground.
For an eternal second, we stayed nose to nose.
It felt as if a magnetic force pulled me toward him, as if every pore of my skin wanted to fuse with his. It was hard to explain. My skin felt like thousands of energy channels, all leading to him.
What the hell does this mean? I thought.
He held my gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. One hand still held my hips, while the other freed my dress from the reins.
Ow! I liked that dress, I complained inwardly.
Then, gently, he set me down on the sand.
He took a deep breath, and for an instant, the pain in his eyes was so clear it hurt. As if he too were trapped. He looked away, distant. He was hiding something—obviously. Sadness lined his face, along with something else. Finally, as we walked to the door, a sharp thought crossed my mind: Maybe the worst part wasn't being trapped on the island. Maybe the worst part was that something in me didn't want to run.
—There should be a hot bath ready for you —he finally said, interrupting my thoughts—. We can talk tomorrow, if you're too tired.
—I'm hungry —I replied with a grimace. I didn't even think; my mouth spoke on its own.
He let out a small laugh, maybe surprised by my response, and murmured something in a language I had never heard before. I decided to ignore it. I lifted my gaze, confused. He met my eyes.
—All right, I'll tell Mrs. M to have something prepared for you.
—Who's Mrs. M?
—She runs the household and is my most trusted assistant —he paused—. Do you want to eat alone or with me?
—I'm not so uncivilized that I can't have dinner with my kidnapper —I said, looking at him coldly.
The chill in his eyes overpowered mine completely.
—Says the "civilized" woman who went barefoot into nowhere without listening to any explanation. —Cold, sharp answer.
—Well, then we're even. You're a kidnapper, and I'm just more adventurous than most —I joked.
—Fine. Dinner is at eight o'clock sharp. See you in a while.
He started walking toward the door, then turned, as if he wanted to say a thousand things. He took a breath and finally said:
—I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. Your father didn't leave me many options; he believed he was doing the best he could. Please, keep an open mind.
"The best he could," I repeated in my head. My father, in the end, hadn't known what to do with me, and this had perhaps been a desperate way of "helping."
And yet, as I glanced sideways at Declan, I had the strange feeling that he too was a prisoner of a fate neither of us had chosen.
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