Ozone played a large part, along with distance from the equator, and air pollution to its heat and colour, but here, on Sully’s island, the gilded orb had the warmth of a thousand cosy blankets, pressing into me, reaching through my pores and blood to my bones beneath, easing out the tiny pinpricks of pain and melting them into nothing.

I was washed in gold, inside and out—the perfect healer to my exhaustion.

At least I was outside and no longer in bed. To be honest, I was surprised I’d achieved that small goal. It’d seemed like an impossible task when I’d first woken and been assaulted with aches and bruises, tenderness and overuse in literally every extremity. Even my little toes hurt when I gingerly slipped out of bed and hobbled toward the bathroom.

There, I’d swayed as blackness crawled over my hazy vision. Once again, my blood sugar levels were dangerously low. My stomach clutched on emptiness. My hands quaked with hunger.

My core wrenched a moan from my lips when I clenched my pelvic floor, my feminine attributes highly aware they’d been touched, licked, fucked, and sampled far, far too many times.

I’d wanted to soak away my discomfort in a bath, but with my knees almost buckling, I opted to sit on the plush bath mat by the huge wave-carved vanity instead of risking a fall.

Putting my head between my legs, I waited for the wooziness to pass, breathing as deeply as I could, doing my best to tame a tattered heartbeat. By the time I looked up again, I’d formulated a flimsy plan of crawling back to bed, ringing for some food to replenish me, and spending the rest of the day in misery.

Hauling myself to my feet, I blinked back new stars, focusing on the large stone bathtub. As if by magic, warm water bobbed with frangipani flowers, aromatic with sweet blooms and comforting vanilla.

How?

Did someone come in and draw a bath while I’d slept?

My shoulders rolled with utmost gratefulness. Tears even came to my eyes as I clutched the lip of the bath and carefully slipped a leg inside. The warm water embraced me instantly, deleting some of the strain.

I melted, and that was the extent of my strength.

I allowed myself to plop like a pebble into the comforting water world, holding my breath as I ducked under. My ribcage grumbled with aches as I held my breath, slowly easing by the time I came up for air.

Some guardian angel had foreseen my need for bodily rehabilitation. If only I had something to eat, I could wallow away the rest of the morning, allowing the bath to work better than any pill or painkiller.

Wiping away water droplets from my eyes, I blinked again.

What on earth?

There, on a small bamboo table with a small vase holding three freshly picked frangipani flowers, two bottles of sweet-smelling lotion, and a box of anti-inflammatories, rested a dewy, blue-glossy smoothie.

Oh, my God.

Had I been so blind not to notice these gifts when I first entered the bathroom or was some of the magic from Euphoria spilling into reality?

I bit my lip, looking around the bathroom to see if an invisible staff member poised with yet more offerings plucked straight from my wordless wishes.

But I was alone.

Alone with the tweets of birds, gentle slap of waves on the shore, and the tropical heaviness of humidity.

Wincing as I employed muscles to reach for the smoothie, I grabbed the dense drink and slipped back into the warmth again. Only my head and my hands remained dry, tipping the weighty glass to my lips and slurping huge mouthfuls of deliciousness.

I moaned as if the flavour explosion was another orgasm. My system instantly clamoured to convert food into life-giving glucose and minerals. Blueberries and banana, cinnamon, coconut, and a blend of too many other things to pinpoint.

Thick and wholesome, I devoured the entire thing, gasping with brain freeze by the end.

Contentedness spilled through me, and I reclined in the bath again.

I stayed there until the warmth turned to air temperature and the smoothie navigated from my stomach to my muscles. Only once I could stand without black spots dancing in my vision did I grab a towel, dry off, slip into a silver rhinestone-studded bikini, and apply liberal sunblock.

Even that amount of exercise made me very aware of how weak my body was. How all it craved was more nutrition and somewhere to rest. I padded through the airy villa and followed the sweet, spicy aromas coming from the deck.

Once again, my mouth fell open in shock. The table, resting under a giant umbrella, groaned with a plethora of dishes. Earthen pots holding rich curries, banana leaf plates presenting fluffy pastries, white china with fresh fruit, and dishes with lentils, vegetables, and barbecued halloumi, all waited to be chosen.

Saliva coated my tongue. I selected a huge piece of ripe watermelon, a handful of lychees, and a still-warm chocolate croissant before descending the two steps from the teak decking to the sugary sun-warmed sand.

I ate my beach picnic in record time, then lay back and…the rest was history.

I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to move.

I’d made the mistake of lying down in paradise, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t let guilt push me into motion.

My body wanted to rest.

I will rest.

I had no one to please, no chores to complete, no parents to obey.

Just bird song and wave chorus lulling me into a state of utmost lazy leisure.

Unfortunately, while my body might be able to switch off all signals to move, to lie like a corpse and be grateful for its respite, my mind began to race.

Last night returned in crystal, clamouring detail.

The cave.

The man.

The mind-numbing, body-breaking, elixir-maddening sex.

My nipples pebbled just from my memories, from his voice, from the way he manhandled me but also cared for me. It hadn’t been like I feared. He hadn’t been abusive or cruel. He’d taken what he wanted, but he’d also ensured I enjoyed it too.

And I had enjoyed it.

As much as I wanted to lie, to curse and scream and make myself sound less like a harlot, I had to be honest and admit…last night had been the best night of my life…sexually speaking.

A blush crept over my cheeks. A blush full of chagrin for Scott. If I ever got free—when I get free—how would I look him in the eye and admit what I’d done? Would it matter that I hadn’t had a choice? That the man who’d bought me stole my senses, plugged me into some sort of illusion, and then left me to his guests’ mercy?

Would Scott forgive me?

There’s nothing to forgive!

My hands curled, grabbing fistfuls of hot sand. I didn’t willingly open my legs for that brutish caveman. Yes, while under elixir’s influence, I had, but…that was a weapon used against me. My own libido and lust had become enemies.

If I ever saw Scott again, he would understand. If he didn’t…well…he doesn’t deserve me.

Nodding with firmness, I tried to calm my heart rate that’d once again skipped into tattered. A small puff of air wafted my face just before a gentle rustle of feathers and a cute chirp sounded in my ear. “Lazy, lazy.”

My eyes snapped open. I turned my head to come nose to beak with Sully’s tiny parrot. He tilted his neck so his head was horizontal, comical and far too bendy. “Lazy!” He ruffled his feathers, shaking off invisible dirt.

I smiled, studying the gleaming green feathers, snowy white chest, and apricot cheeks. “You’re very pretty.”