WICKED PARADISE | JENLISA

SEVEN

JENNIE
***

SHE STOOD THERE, SURROUNDED by palm frond shadows, her arm spread, revealing a suit that clung to her flawless body.

No beer belly. No flabby jowls. No pockmarked skin or terrible body odour.

Why did she have to look like every element of my wanton dreams come to life? And for a woman?

It wasn’t fair.

Fate had somehow read my fantasies and stitched together every facet that I found appealing in the female sex, improving on the design, fabricating something inherently faultless, all while hiding the rot deep inside.

I already found her personality appalling.

When she’d spoken, I’d suffered a visceral reaction of loathing.

Her cultured, clipped baritone dripped with blackness. It’d reached inside me and left an oily, suffocating residue on my heart. My organs felt like the sticky feathers of dying seabirds, iridescent from grease and entirely unwashable.

I knew what she was.

I wasn’t stupid—not when it came to her. I didn’t need to be worldly to understand that this was not a woman. This was not someone I could ever trust or let my guard down with.

She was an untamed huntress. She was sheathed claws and hidden teeth; a well-groomed pelt hiding the viciousness within.

I forced courage that I didn’t have into my snippy voice. “I prefer to skip the tour and, instead, negotiate the terms of my freedom.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Her lips twitched into a small smile. Her head tilted just slightly, as if tasting my fight and battling her own reaction toward me. It seemed I wasn’t the only one hyperaware.

My awareness came from adrenaline and the chemical makeup of my body as it sought a way free. Everything was brighter, sharper, louder. That was why I noticed so much about her.

The only reason.

What was her?

Compared to Taehyung, this woman was from a different galaxy. She’d not only been forged from all the best pieces a female could inherit but had somehow improved upon the perfection.

Her calculating, unreadable doe eyes had poisonous hooks designed to snag and trap, rendering me breathless. Her short dark hair fought to remain entirely ebony, but the tips rebelled with a sparkle of sun-given bronze. Her nose was straight, her chin strong, her cheekbones refined as any blue-blood. All in all this woman is screaming perfection.

I tore my gaze away from her harsh lips and the flash of a tempestuous tongue.

She gave in to her smile, letting it twist harshness into cruelty. “I’m not in the mood for negotiations.”

“And I’m not in the mood to be purchased.”

“That’s convenient because the transaction has already been completed.”

I crossed my arms. “How much?”

She looked me up and down as if wondering who the hell I was. “Excuse me?”

“How much did you pay?”

She narrowed doe eyes that mimicked the sky above. “Too much for you to ever comprehend.”

“Tell me a number.”

“I don’t discuss business with my possessions.”

My temper made me quake. I couldn’t contain it. My feet sank into sun-warmed sand, my toes curling for purchase. “I’m not your possession.”