When Miles' eyes opened, achy and dry as if he'd drained every tear from his body, it was early. Earlier than he was used to, he could tell. There were no clocks, no watches on the island to determine time. But by the faint light coming from behind his curtain and the soft chirp of birds, he assumed it was barely dawn.

He rolled off the bed, wincing at the soreness of his limbs. Had he gone on some kind of marathon in his sleep? Had he even slept? All he remembered was hurling his guts into the toilet, then shoving his face into his pillow while thinking of Kera. While thinking of how he never should have left her, but instead tried to help her with her plans to get out. She was far from discreet, but if he'd stuck with her, he never would have seen what he'd seen the night before. Never would have the image of his best friend in the nude ingrained into his mind, accompanied by the spilling of blood and Jessa's delicious curves covered in it.

His nightmares were red and foul-smelling, populated with bloody claws and sharp teeth and wolfish snouts snarling at him. Moonlight and fire, hairy, naked creatures dancing around a campsite, and suckling sounds that reanimated his nausea.

"Ugh," he said, slipping off the bed. "I need caffeine, and I need air."

He got dressed—cargo pants and a t-shirt—and waited as the coffee machine brewed him a sweet, vanilla-scented java that he'd found in the cupboard. The caffeine content was supposed to be high, and he hoped it was, because he'd need a lot of energy to keep his eyes open today.

Once the brew was poured into an oversized mug, he took it and meandered outside to take a few whiffs of the early morning oxygen. It was cool, but not frozen, and the tingling down his spine felt great. It felt real, not supernatural, not toxified like he'd been feeling for the past few days. This was nature in its raw form, untouched, and he smiled as the breeze passed over his neck and soothed him on the inside.

A gulp of the steaming coffee had his insides warming up, too. A good warmth, one that reminded him of evenings in front of a fireplace, studying science books that he'd taken from his parents' lab.

He stood on the stoop of his front door while admiring the view of the bay and the sun slowly rising above it. A beautiful sight, one he would have welcomed any other day—but not today. Not here. Not in this rotten place with its rotten gods and its rotten rules. Nature was nothing but decoration here; the gods would spray its pretty leaves with red and laugh about it.

His boots crunched on the grass, cracking twigs as he ambled over to the campsite. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to find, yet it still stunned him to discover red stains dried over one of the logs, and puddles of what appeared to be blood near other logs and surrounding the fire pit. He'd thought to light another fire, in case anyone had gone out to hunt meat for breakfast. But at the sight of the blood, the confirmation of what he'd witnessed the night before, he didn't have the stomach for it. He wasn't positive he'd ever eat again.

Instead, he sat on a log opposite the area where he'd watched Jessa and Vick fucking themselves into literal oblivion. Where they'd bled on one another, fed on one another. Miles hadn't seen Vick bite Jessa, but he had no doubt he had, once Miles had stopped watching.

He took a few swigs of his coffee to cover up the acidic taste in his mouth.

He'd been looking down at the worn tips of his boots when he heard twigs cracking again. Whipping his gaze up, he noticed Vick coming over, rubbing at a bandage over his neck.

Fuck.

The bandage was also proof that Miles hadn't hallucinated the night before. It covered the spot Miles had seen Jessa sink her teeth into; the spot where she'd drank Vick's blood.

"Morning," said Vick, stretching with a cringe. He placed a hand to his chest, and offered a weak smile. "Rough night."

Miles tried not to snort. He imagined Vick had had to bandage up his torso, too, with all the claw marks Jessa had left there. But did Vick know how he'd gotten those marks? Did he remember any of it?

"I made coffee in my cabin, if you want any," said Miles, figuring he might as well act friendly, as his usual self. No point alerting Vick that something was off, more so if Vick didn't know something was off.

He's important to getting to Jessa, and subsequently, to the ruler.

Vick shook his head. "I'm good. This place is my caffeine," he wrinkled his nostrils, "fuck, that sounded cheesy. But I freaking love it here. It's so far away from everything, so isolated. No one to tell us what to do except whatever we want. Love," he fist-pumped, "it."

Miles peered down into the depths of his coffee mug. "Uh, yeah, sure. Great for sleeping, too." He gestured at his cottage with his other hand. "Passed out nice and early last night, after those beers."

Thankfully, Vick was so self-absorbed that he wasn't one to detect when one of his closest friends was lying. He chuckled. "Shame, though; you missed out on the fun. Taryn was... wild," he winked, "and Jessa and her almost got at each other's throats to decide who'd be allowed to fuck me. It was fantastic."

Miles flinched, but hurried to look away before Vick caught it. "Right," he cleared his throat, "sounds like your cup of tea."

He held in his insults. Despite the fucked up factor of what he'd said, and how this place might have pushed him to enjoy it more, Vick was certainly the type to encourage women fighting over him.

But did he have any clue what had happened next? How he'd ended up naked, running around with Jessa, then clawing at each other like animals?

Vick dropped onto a log—the same log he'd been reclining on as Jessa straddled him that night. He sat right in the blood smears Miles had noticed, but if Vick cared, he didn't show it.

"I mean it, man." Vick plucked a few twigs from nearby and tossed them into the pit. "The way this island takes away our inhibitions, you know? I didn't think I'd love it this much, what with being cut off from the world, and all. But it's actually fucking divine."

What inhibitions? You already have none for this place to take away.

There he was speaking eloquently and elegantly again, which further proved to Miles that Vick was far from his usual self. His regular asshole demeanor remained, but there was a fascination, a wonder in his gaze that meant he was absolutely subdued by the island, and utterly under its control.

He was so calm, so peaceful, and said nothing of the wounds he'd gotten from Jessa last night. Strange, since he often loved to boast about his conquests. But not this one, it seemed. He lounged, silent as he stared out at the horizon, leaving Miles to sip on his coffee without having to talk about what he'd overheard, overseen, the night before.

And he definitely didn't want to. What would happen if he told Vick he'd watched him become a wild, bloodthirsty sex-monster? That he'd ogled Jessa's luxurious curves while she undulated over Vick, moaning in pleasure at his every thrust into her? Knowing Vick, he wouldn't care much that Miles had caught the fucking part. He might blush at Miles having visualized his penis from afar, but being exposed and fucking in public weren't things he hid from anyone.

The bloodshed, the savagery, the violent parts; Miles wasn't certain Vick would be okay with him having viewed that side of him. No matter how proud he was of this island, Vick was also proud of his privacy. He was a prick, and an enraged one at that, but didn't like for others to be aware of that piece of his personality. It scared people away, especially the ladies.

What if it was what had attracted Jessa?

Maybe Vick had no clue what he'd done, waking to find himself covered in bruises and scrapes, similar to that morning they'd all woken on the beach. If Miles confronted him, told him what had happened, Vick might be so embarrassed that he'd hide in his cabin and never come out. Or he'd get so pissed at Miles having snooped on them that he'd turn on him and try to shove him off the cliff. Or behead him with some machete he'd hidden in the back of his pants. Or call for the ruler to summon the monsters to them.

But maybe, maybe, he wouldn't care either way. Because maybe he was proud of what he'd done with Jessa, and had no qualms about anyone knowing about it.

Miles didn't want to take the risk. He kept his mouth shut, pretending to have slept soundly through the night, undisturbed by their moans of pleasure. But he couldn't look at Vick. Not without wondering what the fuck was going through his mind, what the fuck was wrong with him, and if he was even worth saving if he loved this place so much.

"So quiet out here." A voice came from behind Miles, prompting him to twist around. He hadn't needed to confirm it, recognizing the lullaby-like lilt to her words, the seductiveness to her syllables.

It was Jessa, arriving from one of the cabins off to the side.

She, too, wore a bandage over her neck, and a few around her wrists. She strolled up to Vick, who got to his feet to greet her with a deep, languorous kiss. A tad too deep for this early in the morning, or so Miles thought. And more so in front of company.

But they were undeterred in their display of affection, of passion. For a moment, Miles wondered if they were about to rip each other's clothes off and pick up where they'd left off the night before. But to his relief, they separated at last, and Jessa settled on the log next to Vick.

"Miles," she said, narrowing her gaze on him. "You seem tense. That coffee not loosening you up yet?" She gestured at the crate of alcohol, left in the same area it had been last night. "Maybe you should put something a little stronger in it."

He accidentally let his eyes meet hers, and clenched his jaw. She was slightly glowing, like she did when possessed by the ruler. But with the sunlight beaming over her, he couldn't tell if it was her after-sex glow, or the paranormal aura that took over when the ruler did.

He swirled the rest of his coffee, making sure to not look at her anymore. "I don't like to taint my coffee with liquor," he said, not meaning to sound offensive, but his voice came out gruff and impatient, anyway. "Plus, that stuff has been out here all night and is probably bad to drink, by this point."

"Oh," Jessa snickered, "someone's not a morning person. My apologies." She twisted to Vick and took his hand in hers. "You are, on the other hand, aren't you?"

Miles came close to guffawing at that; in fact, Vick was the opposite of a morning person. He slept until noon if he could, and preferred to roam about like a night owl, when the lights were out and everything was dark. He thrived at Miles' private parties where there was little illumination and he could go about groping women unseen and uncontested.

This woman wanted him to grope her, that much was clear. Jessa set his hand on her boob and made him squeeze it.

"I'm anything you want me to be," Vick said to her, glancing between her breast and her lips, salivating.

Miles rolled his eyes and got up. "Okay, and on that note," he motioned vaguely towards his cabin, "I'm going to clean up and go for a bit of forest exploration."

Vick didn't stop ogling Jessa, but waved at Miles as he walked by. "You want company? Can get crazy out there."

Miles snorted. "Nah, I'll be fine. I just want to scout the area, see what kind of game there is. I think I'm the only person in the group who hasn't gone out for a true solo adventure yet."

Jessa was rolling her shoulder as Vick continued to knead her breast. "You went on the biggest adventure of us all." That made Miles stop and make eye-contact with her, though he regretted it instantly. Her gaze was wide and vibrant, the greens mixing with swirls of purple.

Possessed? Or about to be?

"You went and told Kera to leave us be. That was a bold move, and the ruler was impressed by it." Jessa smiled, returning her focus to Vick and to his fingers fumbling to lower her shirt, to get access to her nipple. "Well done, Miles."

Miles hurried off before being exposed to Jessa's nudity again, and becoming unwillingly aroused by it. Her silhouette had been a part of his nightmares that night, though that vision of her had been the only thing that hadn't made him want to wake up and hurl his guts out again. Her delicate skin, tinted purple, sparkling, and the roundness, the firmness—he assumed—of her breasts, the subtle sweet taste of her full lips.

Fuck.

He grimaced as he pressed down on his growing erection and stomped into his cabin.

He washed the mug, splashed some cold water over his face, and shrugged on a sweater-jacket, in case the deeper woods would be chilly.

Zipping up the jacket, he exited his cabin—only to smash right into Jessa.

"Oh," he said, stumbling back, one foot inside, one foot out. "What's up?"

Jessa descended the steps backwards, indicating for him to join her outside. "You may want to play buff and brave in front of another male, but you're not fooling me. Going into those woods on your own isn't recommended. You may have done it once, but I doubt you'll be as lucky a second time around."

He arched an eyebrow as he closed the door behind him. "Is that you talking, or the ruler?" He winced; that was bold of him to say out loud, and he hadn't meant to.

Luckily, she didn't show offense, and grinned. "Both, sweetheart." Her grin faded. "You're physically the strongest of this bunch, and it'd be a real shame to lose you so early in the game."

Miles gulped.

The game. So she's confirming that's what this is to those gods? A game?

There was a huskiness to Jessa's voice as she strode up to him, setting a finger under his chin to ensure he wouldn't avoid looking at her. "You're important, Miles. Very important. To the ruler, to the gods. She, they want you alive and in line. The way you ran off last night?" She tsked. "Well-played, but no more. They want you to participate now. Stop hiding, and let your true self out."

Miles' true self would have slapped Jessa, knocked her out of her ruler-like trance. Her eyes were three quarters purple now, and a purplish haze was forming around her, engulfing her. The ruler was close, seeping in, about to take over her body.

"I'm afraid," he whispered, not sure how to get out of range of her fingers, how to ignore the toxicity draining from her aura.

"No, you're not," she whispered back, and he sensed her lips inches away from his. They were thick, coated in honey, begging to be kissed. "You're holding back, and we want you to stop. Let it all go, Miles. Let it all loose."

Miles thought of Kera, thought of her hard, and sucked his lips in. "Okay." He didn't agree with the words pooling out of his mouth. "I'll be careful, I promise."

"Being careful is the problem," she said, her veins flashing a light purple. "Don't be careful. Let loose. Have fun. Enjoy yourself."

Her scent changed from a whiff of fragrance to a noxious cloud of poison. A poison that drew Miles in, that filled up his nostrils and clogged up his lungs.

The ruler's poison, her magic, her means of swaying everyone into doing her bidding.

He closed his eyes, desperate to sever the connection she was trying to form with him.

No, no, get out. Leave me alone.

He expected her to pry his eyes open, to force her tongue into his mouth, to grab at his unfortunately growing girth. But instead, she slid something into one of his hands. A long, leathery thing that indeed made him open his eyes and look down in surprise.

He held up the object she'd given him, his jaw dropping.

"A machete?" The swift blade caught the sunlight and made him cram his eyelids shut again. But he reopened them and stared at the weapon. "What for?"

"You can't go scouting through the forest without something to defend yourself, Miles." She'd reverted to her normal self, nearly. The purple glow and veins had lessened, and her eyes were almost fully green. She shrugged, nonchalant as if she hadn't been about to transform into a sneaky, seductive monster. "You'll thank me later, when it saves your life."

She wasn't wrong; he hadn't thought of bringing a weapon with him, as he hadn't planned to confront anyone or anything. He only wanted to locate Kera and observe her from afar, maybe leave her some clues on how to fend for herself, to stay alive.

But she'd have monsters on her trail, wouldn't she?

"Thanks," he said, sneering at the view of dried blood on the machete's blade. "I'll keep it close."

Jessa hopped up to her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Make sure you use it." Her voice was cryptic, not quite her own, but not the ruler's, either.

Was she implying she wanted him to come back with food, or else? Or did she want him to get violent and chop something, anything, to pieces?

He swallowed, well aware that if he returned empty-handed, or with a cleaner blade, she'd be suspicious and report to the ruler. Now he really had to hunt, didn't he?

As he saw her hurry over to Vick, Miles shook out of the stupor she'd put him in. He was definitely being watched, and more closely than he'd thought. So where could he start, how could he find Kera without ringing alarms that revealed his true intentions? Where would Kera be hiding... if she was still alive?