Growls echoed in Miles' mind, scraping at the insides of his skull. His nightmare—being stuck in an underwater cave with water continuously rising towards the top and engulfing him—made little sense already, but now it was worse, with such sounds showing up. Deafening, daunting, they filled up his brain, pushing into the membranes, shattering through him.

Wait—

He jolted upright in bed.

A nightmare, that was all it had been. Horrifying and senseless, but unreal. Miles rarely had nightmares, but he imagined a place like this would provoke them in just about anyone.

He scrubbed his face, thankful that he'd been forced out of slumber. And yet, he squinted through the darkness, wondering why those growls were still filling his eardrums. Low, monstrous-like, they curdled his blood and sent shivers down his spine. Was he still asleep? Or had those growls seeped into his dream to wake him up?

He pulled the covers up to his chin, still squinting through the obscurity, attempting to put together the layout of his bedroom and figure out where a growling monster might have been hiding. But as the growls continued, he started to realize they weren't coming from inside his room—they were coming from outside the cabin.

Clenching his teeth, he let go of the blanket and moved his legs to dangle from the bed. His feet touched the floor—cold, shooting more shivers up his calves and thighs. He winced as he stood up, hoping the mattress wouldn't squeak. Not that whatever was grumbling outside his lodging would be able to hear him inside, but who knew in this fucked up place? Also, who knew how close that thing was to his window?

He tiptoed to said window, covered by a thin curtain. Did he want to look out and see what was lurking around his dwelling? What if it was right there, waiting for him to stare at it? What if it showed its yellow eyes and its stained teeth, revealing itself as one of those monsters, having deciphered his decision to break the system?

He was panting as he took a few steps forward, then paused.

It was them. Them, the monsters. The ones pursuing Kera. The gods had discovered his doubt, the ruler had suspected him, and she'd ensured her hounds would come running to rip him into shreds and serve as an example to anyone who doubted the island's rules. He'd be fed to the others on a silver platter, his mouth stuffed with onions and tomatoes—homegrown on the island.

Had they gotten to Kera? Had she been killed? Or had she said something to implicate Miles, angry at him for having ditched her?

The growls grew louder, sharper, but also in a higher note, almost feminine. He cocked his head and extended himself forward a bit more, to better listen to the noise. It was wolf-like in nature now, like a pack of female wolves howling to the moon.

Were there wolves on this island?

Maybe it was the others, the group. They'd indulged in their weird orgy and gone hunting, and come back transformed into four-legged creatures that yapped all night while prowling around cabins and terrifying anyone who hadn't joined in on their lust, then their violence.

"No," he whispered to himself, shaking his head, gaze still fixed on the curtained window. "No, it's them, it has to be."

He wasn't sure how the ruler would have known of his plots, but she must have found out. She must have been hovering over him and Patrek earlier that day, like he'd presumed. Or maybe there was more to it, maybe she'd had deeper access. That was how she eavesdropped, right? She was an invisible mist, disguised as the air they breathed, filtering into their lungs then zapping up to their brains and reading every thought within. She could possess anyone, Miles had no doubt—so had she possessed him?

However she'd done it, he was fucked. He was certain he heard scratches along the walls of his cabin now, though the growls seemed to grow more distant, as if the creatures were moving towards the edge of the cliff. Maybe it was a trap—they were pretending to move on, to lure Miles out so they could tear into him out in the open, blast his blood all over the forest leaves and blades of grass, coloring everything red.

To show everyone he wasn't who he pretended to be.

Or they'd bite him, transform him into one of them, and draw him down into the woods to hunt down Kera. She'd never see it coming—Miles, now a monster, dashing after her to make her pay for her disobedience. And he'd be brainwashed into being one of the monsters, and would have no control over himself when he massacred her.

He'd sensed their presence when he'd left Kera behind. They'd been drawn to her like flies to a pile of shit, and it twisted Miles' stomach into knots remembering it. Noxious, nefarious, they were like shadows looming over him, counting his steps, watching his every move as they waited for him to move away from Kera. They'd had no interest in him then, because they'd come for her; but what if they'd changed their minds? What if they'd sniffed out Miles' hidden desire to escape, and what if they'd showed up now to stop him, permanently?

"I need to check," he muttered, gathering all his courage as he padded up to the window. He clutched the curtain, took a deep breath, then slipped it aside.

He had a view on the campfire from this spot, and he froze at the sight displaying before him.

"Well... that explains the growls."

There were indeed creatures roaming about, but not the creatures he'd thought. Humans—two of them, stark naked, their glistening skin illuminated by the flickering bonfire blaring behind them. They were dancing around it, possibly, Miles couldn't be certain. One of them had dark, short hair, and the muscular body of a man, a few hairs on his broad chest. The other was a voluptuous woman, with fiery red tresses flying behind her—

"Oh, fuck." Miles blinked, then rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was seeing correctly. "That's... that's..."

Vick and Jessa, running around the fire, completely naked, and howling up at the sky like animals.

It was just them—no Taryn or Lorenzo or Patrek nearby—and they seemed undisturbed by the fact that they'd gone totally nuts. Flailing their arms, hopping about in uneven motions, worshiping the stars with their glossy gazes. Miles was too far to tell for sure, but he thought their eyes were glowing purple, and their skin reflected with purple, too.

The ruler. She's in them, turning them wild and crazy?

They stopped running amok and paused before the fire, their silhouettes perfectly outlined in front of the sparking flames. Jessa looked up at Vick, and they joined their hands, not moving for a few minutes, only swaying lightly side to side. Vick peered down at Jessa, and Miles could have sworn he caught him smiling as he tugged her into his arms and kissed her. A cute moment, had they not just been cruising around the bonfire as if to ask it to swallow them, or summon some sadistic god to sacrifice to.

Their kiss became volatile, and they seemed to eat each other's mouths. Miles gagged—he'd seen some sloppy kisses before, but this one took the cake. They were slurping, sucking face, their hands gripping asses and squeezing skin to the point of turning it red. As Jessa turned slightly, Miles noticed a burning handprint over her right butt-cheek.

By that point he should have pulled away, dropped the curtain, left them alone. But an odd fascination kept him standing there, ogling them through his window. If they knew he was watching, if they knew anyone was watching, they didn't seem to care much, and continued their rough kissing before Jessa shoved him off. The force of her shove was intense, making Vick fall onto one of the logs, hard. But he wasn't fazed by the collision—his gaze rested on Jessa, a certain hunger in the way he bared his teeth and growled at her.

It was then that Miles spotted Vick's very erect member; his seated position displayed it in full, and thanks to the flames, Miles had no means to miss it. Not that he'd ever wondered—he rarely thought of his friends' dicks, after all—but he was surprised at the length and girth Vick had been concealing.

Well, that might explain how he gets so many women into his bed.

Vick started stroking his penis, and Jessa strolled closer to him, undulating her hips, a seductress seeking to capture his attention. And she had it—he licked his lips as she approached and straddled him, his member slipping into her with ease. She arched her spine and glimpsed the sky, releasing a loud, luxurious moan in reaction to how he felt inside her.

Now Miles was intruding, and he knew it. Yet he couldn't move, couldn't stop his obsession over this sort of mating ritual out in the open, between Jessa and Vick. And he couldn't help feeling aroused, too, no matter how badly he didn't want to. His pajama pants grew tight, and he swatted at his swelling arousal with a groan.

Jessa's hips rolled forward and backward, and she unleashed a few more moans before she began to rock steadily atop Vick. His head tipped back and he let out a few grunts of pleasure, causing Miles to grimace and almost instantly lose his erection.

Thanks; I don't want to be turned on watching my best friend fuck a half-possessed hot chick.

As they continued, getting louder and louder with every thrust, Miles realized he'd been right—Vick didn't share. If Taryn had earlier implied there'd be some group sex with her and Lorenzo and Jessa and Vick, she'd either been denied, or it hadn't gone smoothly enough to continue on into the night. Vick had gotten what he wanted; Jessa, all to himself, though easily visible to anyone peering out their windows at that moment. "Look at her, desire her—but don't touch her."

Miles was about to draw away and give them the privacy they weren't really asking for, when he saw Jessa scraping her nails over Vick's chest. She clawed at him, and immediately drew blood that drizzled down his torso. He winced, but didn't complain, nor did he stop her when she did it again. And again. She slashed, as if her nails were knives, as if she meant to harm, to kill. But Vick wasn't dead, nor was he disturbed by her violence. If anything, he was soothed, eyes half-closed as he reveled in the pain she was inflicting. The blood nearly sparkled in the moonlight, and he leaned backwards as Jessa curled up to lick the red liquid off his skin. Her tongue lapped up every drop, slowly, sensually, as if she were licking chocolate off him. She then dipped her fingertips into him, into the scrape wounds she'd created.

What was she trying to do? Fish inside his body for some hidden treasure? Dig into his organs, rip them out? Feast on his insides? What kind of mating ritual was this? For a second, Miles expected to witness her yanking out his heart or one of his lungs and plop it into her mouth for a midnight snack. He could even hear the chewing, without it happening; the crack of thick arteries, the squishiness of nerves, the tenderness of the flesh. He imagined the blood drizzling down her chin and her teeth stained red as she grinned at her maimed lover.

Miles gagged and covered his mouth, but was still unable to look away, too curious what would happen next. Was Jessa about to murder Vick? Or would Vick retaliate first, and scrape her, too?

Or was this what they desired, deep down? What were they, cannibals, now? Was this the ruler and the gods' idea of entertainment? Put their captives into a sexual trance, then watch as they ate each other under the stars?

Jessa didn't eat Vick, didn't remove any of his organs. She smiled as she licked her fingers before redressing herself and pulling Vick's body closer to her. He didn't squirm, didn't resist her, and blood droplets squeezed out and smeared all over Jessa as she held him against her. The droplets slid down her side, her hips, then fell to the grass. She grasped him close, as if seeking to get him to mold into her. She let out loud, raspy breaths, and Vick's forehead pressed into her upper chest, the rest of his face smothered between her breasts.

Again, Miles was ready to extract himself from this horrific yet strangely arousing scene of carnage, when Jessa dove forward and jabbed her teeth into Vick's neck. Miles gasped, stunned, yet not all too surprised by yet another act of apparent cannibalism. He removed his hand from his mouth and gripped the windowsill, anticipating that she'd tear Vick's throat out and guzzle down all his blood in one gulp.

But instead, she pulled off Vick, wiping her mouth with her arm. Miles squinted, seeing two small teeth marks on Vick's neck. All she'd done was nibble at him; like a vampire breaching skin to get a drink. And almost as soon as Miles thought that, Jessa did just that—she drank. She leaned over Vick and placed her lips over the bite, suckling at his flesh.

Even with the window closed, Miles heard her slurping, and he pressed his hand hard over his mouth once more.

"Okay, no, fuck this," he said, muffled, as he released the drape and spun around, hurdling past the bed. He didn't need to watch any more of this disgusting display of the island's ways of messing people up.

He dashed into the bathroom and barely made it to his knees in front of the toilet in time to release his insides into the bowl. His belly grumbled in agony, and he grasped the edges of the bowl to stabilize himself before he plunged in.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, before he regained semi-consciousness. Before he remembered what he'd witnessed, and how he wanted to erase it from his mind forever. But he'd never be able to, and he'd have to live with that. Or die, if that was his fate.

Maybe that'd be better than having the image of Vick and Jessa all bloody and fucking?

He wasn't squeamish. He worked in laboratories with his parents, collected blood samples, had seen the insides of many a corpse without so much as a flinch. But that—that display of gruesome gore outside... that had been too much for him.

Then it hit him—what he'd witnessed, what Jessa and Vick were doing... was that what he and Kera had done, on that first night when they'd blacked out? They'd woken bloodied and bruised, all of them; and Kera had figured out she'd lost her virginity, which the ruler confirmed. So had Kera and Miles done... this? This sick ritual of getting naked and dancing around a fire, then fucking each other senseless, followed by ripping through skin and enjoying the taste of blood?

He shivered, somehow getting off the damp bathroom floor to mosey over to his bed. He flopped onto the mattress and stuffed his face into the pillow.

Kera. Where are you?

He needed to find her. To save her. To ensure she didn't go through that—the bloody mating ritual—ever again. And to apologize, because if that was indeed what they'd done, he felt even worse about having taken her most precious gift away from her. It hadn't been his fault, he'd said that, even the ruler had said that; but he'd never, ever forgive himself.

Not that he wasn't already convinced, but this island was bathed in blood. It was dangerous, it was deadly, and to serve such gods meant suffering and death. That was why there were no other captives; they'd all died trying to live the way the gods wanted them to. Well, not Miles. No, he wouldn't let that bloody bullshit happen to him, and not to Kera. Not to any of them, if he could help it.

He'd go look for Kera in the morning, as planned. Once he was rested, once he'd slept off the sickness still swirling in his gut. They needed to get off this island, all of them, and fast.