CHAPTER 40: CHAPTER 40: THE GOLDEN-EYED STRANGER 1

The resort’s infinity pool stretched endlessly toward the horizon, its crystalline waters reflecting impossible colors from a sky that shifted between sunset coral and midnight sapphire.

Mailah floated on her back, her white silk cover-up billowing around her like sea foam, watching clouds that moved in patterns too perfect to exist.

"I’ll be right back," Grayson’s voice came from somewhere behind her, warm and familiar. "The concierge needs my signature on something—honeymoon suite upgrade paperwork."

She turned to look at him, admiring how the dream-light caught the sharp angles of his face, how his eyes seemed to hold flecks of starlight. Even after all their time together in this perfect place, the sight of him still made her breath catch.

"Don’t be long," she said, her voice carrying a contentment so deep it felt like drowning in silk. "I’ll miss you."

His smile was devastating in its tenderness. "Five minutes, I promise. Then we’ll have all night."

She watched him walk away, appreciating the confident grace of his movement, the way other dream-guests turned to look at him with barely concealed desire. But he was hers. Her husband. Her perfect, beautiful husband who loved her more than breathing.

Husband. The word still felt strange sometimes, like wearing someone else’s jewelry. But that was just newly wed nerves, wasn’t it? All new wives felt that way at first.

Mailah closed her eyes and let herself sink deeper into the warm water, feeling utterly safe and cherished. The resort around her hummed with quiet luxury—the distant sound of laughter from other guests, the soft jazz drifting from the poolside bar, the gentle splash of fountains that never seemed to run dry.

This was paradise. This was everything she’d ever wanted.

So why did she sometimes feel like she was forgetting something important?

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice was unfamiliar—smooth as aged whiskey, with an accent she couldn’t quite place.

Mailah opened her eyes and found herself looking up at a man she’d never seen before.

He was tall, probably a little taller than Grayson, with the kind of athletic build that suggested both strength and grace. His hair was dark gold, like honey touched by sunlight, and his eyes...

His eyes were the color of molten amber, flecked with gold that seemed to move and shift in the dream-light. They were beautiful eyes, mesmerizing in their intensity, but there was something about them that made her feel suddenly exposed, as if he could see straight through her.

"I..." she began, then realized she was still floating in the pool like some water nymph. Heat crept up her neck as she moved to the pool’s edge, acutely aware of how the wet silk clung to her body. "I’m sorry, do we know each other?"

The stranger’s smile was slow and knowing, transforming his handsome features into something almost predatory. "Not yet. But I’d very much like to remedy that."

He was dressed casually but expensively—white linen shirt rolled up to reveal strong forearms, dark pants that looked custom-made. Everything about him screamed wealth and confidence, the kind of man who was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted.

"I’m married," Mailah said quickly, though something about the words felt automatic, rehearsed. She lifted her hand to show her wedding ring—a stunning diamond solitaire that caught the light like captured fire.

"Ah yes," the stranger said, his golden eyes flicking to the ring with what might have been amusement. "The absent husband. Tell me, does he often leave you alone like this?"

"He’ll be back any moment," she said, but even as the words left her mouth, she glanced toward the resort lobby. How long had Grayson been gone? It felt like longer than five minutes now.

"May I?" The stranger gestured toward the poolside bar, where two elegant barstools sat empty. "Just until he returns, of course. I hate to see a beautiful woman drinking alone."

Mailah looked at the untouched cocktail sitting on the bar—something tropical with floating orchids that she didn’t remember ordering. Had she ordered it? The memory felt hazy, like trying to grasp smoke.

"I suppose that would be alright," she heard herself saying, though she wasn’t sure why she’d agreed.

Something about this man unsettled her, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. It was more like the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff—dangerous, but oddly thrilling.

She climbed out of the pool, water streaming from her cover-up, and accepted the towel he offered with a grace that felt almost choreographed. When had he gotten a towel? When had she gotten in the pool?

The questions flickered through her mind like butterflies, there and gone before she could catch them.

"You’re very kind," she said, settling onto the barstool beside him.

Up close, she could see that his eyes held depths that seemed almost infinite, layers of gold and amber that drew her in despite her better judgment.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it," he replied, signaling the bartender with the casual confidence of someone who’d never been denied anything. "Two champagne cocktails, please. Your best vintage."

The bartender—had there been a bartender before?—nodded and began preparing their drinks with movements that seemed slightly too fluid, slightly too perfect.

"I’m Mailah," she found herself saying, though she wasn’t sure why she was introducing herself to a stranger.

"Mailah," he repeated, and the way he said her name made it sound like something precious, something to be savored. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I’m Kieran."

"It’s nice to meet you, Kieran." The name felt strange on her tongue, foreign but somehow significant. "Are you staying at the resort?"

His laugh was rich and warm, like honey poured over velvet. "You could say that. Though I have to admit, I’m not here for the amenities."

Something in his tone made her look at him more closely. There was an intensity to the way he watched her, a focus that felt almost predatory.

It should have frightened her, but instead it sent an unexpected thrill through her chest.

"What are you here for?" she asked, accepting the champagne cocktail he offered. The glass was delicate crystal, the liquid inside a pale gold that matched his eyes.

"You," he said simply, and the word struck her like a slap.

Mailah nearly dropped her glass. "Excuse me?"

"I’m here for you, Mailah." Kieran’s voice dropped to something barely above a whisper, intimate and urgent. "To save you, before it’s too late."

"Save me?" She laughed, but it sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Save me from what? I’m on my honeymoon with the man I love. This is paradise."

"Is it?" Kieran leaned closer, his amber eyes holding hers with hypnotic intensity. "Think carefully, Mailah. When did you get married? Where was the ceremony? Who were the guests?"

The questions hit her like stones thrown into still water, sending ripples through her perfect contentment.

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, confusion blooming in her chest like a poisonous flower.

"I..." she began, then stopped. The memories were there, weren’t they? The wedding, the ceremony, the guests...

But when she reached for them, they slipped away like mist, insubstantial and elusive.

"You can’t remember," Kieran said softly, and there was something like pity in his voice. "Because something isn’t right here, Mailah. Something is very wrong."

The words echoed inside her like a bell tolling at the end of something sacred.

Wrong.

Something stirred in the depths of her mind, a fragment of worry that felt different from the hazy perfection surrounding her.

There was something important she was supposed to remember, wasn’t there? Something urgent and vital that kept slipping away every time she tried to grasp it.

"No," she whispered, but the word lacked conviction. The champagne glass trembled in her hand, the liquid inside rippling like a disturbed pond.

"Yes," Kieran said, his voice gentle but inexorable. "There’s something you’ve forgotten—something important. About why you’re really here. About what’s happening to you."

The words triggered something deep in her mind, like a key turning in a rusty lock. Fragments of memory flickered at the edges of her consciousness—a pale man lying unconscious, someone talking about feeding, about danger, about staying aware of something crucial.

But the memories were frustratingly incomplete, like trying to remember a half-forgotten dream.

Her hands flew to her throat, and she could feel it now—a strange emptiness, as if something vital was slowly being drawn out of her.

The sensation was so subtle she’d mistaken it for contentment, but now that she noticed it, she couldn’t ignore it.

"Oh God," she breathed, the champagne glass slipping from her nerveless fingers to shatter on the poolside tiles. "Something is wrong. I can feel it now. Something is... taking from me."

"Not something," Kieran said quietly. "Someone. The man you think is your husband—he’s not what he seems. He’s keeping you here, in this perfect place, while he slowly drains you of everything that makes you who you are."

"Oh God, you’re right. I have to get out of here. I have to wake up."

"Not so fast." Kieran’s hand closed over her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "It’s not that simple. He’s in full feeding mode now—his hold on you is stronger than you realize. If you try to break free on your own, the psychic backlash could kill you both."

"Then what do I do?" Panic was rising in her throat, sharp and bitter. "How do I get away from him? How do I get back to... to wherever I’m supposed to be?"

The questions felt strange even as she asked them. Get back where? She lived here, didn’t she? This was her life, her reality.

But the growing emptiness inside her suggested otherwise, and the fragments of memory that kept flickering at the edges of her mind spoke of another place, another purpose she couldn’t quite grasp.

Kieran’s thumb stroked across her pulse point, and she was startled to realize how warm his skin was, how much more real he felt compared to the dreamlike perfection of everything else around them.

"You let me help you," he said, his golden eyes holding hers with mesmerizing intensity. "I was sent here to find you, to guide you safely away from his influence. But you have to trust me."

"Sent by who?" she asked, though part of her was already leaning toward him, drawn by the promise of salvation in his voice.

"By someone who cares about your wellbeing," Kieran replied smoothly. "Someone who doesn’t want to see you become another casualty of hunger."

It made sense. It all made sense. The perfect resort, the endless honeymoon, the way Grayson’s eyes sometimes held that predatory gleam even in his most tender moments, the strange emptiness she could now feel growing inside her.

She’d been such a fool, trusting so completely, never questioning why her memories of before this place were so hazy and incomplete.

"What do I need to do?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins.

Kieran’s smile was brilliant, transforming his handsome features into something almost divine. "Just trust me. Let me guide you away from his influence and back to safety."

He stood and offered her his hand, his golden eyes warm with promise. "Come with me, Mailah. Let me save you."

She stared at his outstretched hand, her mind racing despite the strange fog that seemed to cloud her thoughts.

Who was he, really? And should she trust him?