“It will,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He’d read up on the wildlife of the island while he was preparing the facility for his captive, but until now, surviving an encounter with a king cobra had been purely theoretical knowledge. “Just don’t hesitate. Not even for a second. I know you may believe otherwise right now, but I don’t want you dead.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t speak or give any other sign as to whether or not she believed him.

Clay inched closer, his gut telling him he should be prepared just in case Harley decided not to follow directions. Not following directions was one of her strong suits, and one of the things he’d loved about her once upon a time.

But this wasn’t a locked gate at a private beach; this was life and death. King cobras dispensed an insane amount of venom into the bloodstream, the quantity ensuring most people who were bitten died within minutes, long before they could reach medical help.

There was antivenin in the infirmary back at the installation, but it would take at least ten minutes to get there. They would never make it in time.

If Harley didn’t do exactly as he said, chances were she would die.

It wasn’t until right now, seeing her facing down a snake longer than the both of them put together that he realized he didn’t want her to die. He wanted his son and he wanted to never have to see this woman, who made him so aware of his own capacity for ugliness and evil, ever again, but he didn’t want her dead.

“On three, Harley,” he said, slowly drawing back his arm. “Just do exactly as I said and you’re going to be fine. One.” He stepped a little closer. “Two.” His entire arm tensed, ready to throw the shirt far enough to the left that the snake wouldn’t be able to shift directions easily. “Three!”

Everything happened at once—he threw the shirt, the snake leapt into the air, its powerful body flying at the scrap of cotton with fangs bared, and Harley made a break for the other side of the cliff, running in the opposite direction from where she’d been told to run.

But Clay was ready for her. She barely made it two steps before he grabbed her around the waist, hauling her against him as he turned and ran.

It was an awkward position—Harley dangling from one arm as he pumped hard with the other—but the knowledge of how fast cobras could move lent him the adrenaline rush to make it work. He kept running, ignoring Harley’s grunted shout to be put down and the uncomfortable strain on his muscles until he was on the other side of the grove of thorn bushes. Only then did he glance back, his grip on Harley relaxing as he saw the cobra fleeing in the opposite direction, up into the mossy stones of the cliff.

“No you don’t,” he said as Harley squirmed free and made a break for the top of the ridge. He caught up with her easily, grabbing her hips and spinning her around before bending low enough to flip her over his shoulder. “No more running away.”

“Put me down,” she panted, pummeling his lower back with her fists.

“Not a chance, now behave yourself,” he said, swatting her bottom hard enough to make her flinch and cry out. “If you bruise my kidneys on the way back, I’ll take it out on your ass later.”

She stiffened but stopped hitting him and a few moments passed in silence as he circled the brush and started back toward the trail, doing his best not to think about Harley bent over his knees with her bare ass in the air. He had never been into that sort of thing, but he liked the idea of reddening Harley’s ass as punishment for running away from him.

He could imagine the way her muscles would lock tight from a combination of shame and discomfort. He could almost see the red welts his hand would leave behind and hear the way she would cry out as he took her punishment further, sliding his fingers between her thighs, playing with her until she was wet and squirming and hating herself for responding to his touch.

“You can put me down,” Harley said, interrupting his fantasy. But it was too late. His cock was already hard, trapped at an uncomfortable angle by his boxer briefs. “I can walk. I won’t try to run away again.”

“How dumb do you think I am?” he asked, tightening his grip on the back of her legs.

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” she said. “Honestly, I’m too tired to run anymore. I haven’t had any food since lunch yesterday and I—”

“Speaking of dumb,” he interrupted, quickening his pace, hoping physical exertion would help banish the carnal hunger pumping through his veins. “I can’t believe you would rather take your chances with a king cobra than do what I told you to do.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” she said in a weary voice. “You already proved that you might kill me. The cobra’s intentions were still up in the air.”

“If I hadn’t grabbed you, you would be dead right now,” he said, but her words sent a fresh burst of self-hatred rushing through him.

He had lost control and then lost his focus, forgetting that leaving someone like Harley tied to a bed wasn’t nearly enough to ensure she would stay put. He had to pull his shit together and treat her the way he would treat any dangerous suspect during an interrogation. She wasn’t a pretty, helpless, petite woman; she was a sociopath, and he’d been a fool to forget it, even for an hour.

Harley’s breath rushed out in a sound that was almost a laugh. “So you want me to thank you? Is that it?”

“Of course not,” he said as he stepped back onto the trail and the cottages came into sight. “I know you’re incapable of gratitude. Or any other normal human emotion.”

“Fuck you,” she growled, her fist slamming into his ass. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know me anymore!”

Rage rushing through him, Clay flipped her back onto her feet, grabbing her around the upper arms and leaning down to whisper his next words into her flushed face. “And you don’t know me, and don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” she said, eyes glittering as she held his gaze. “I’ve got plenty of bruises to remember the new you by.”

“You can always have more,” he snapped.

Her lips stretched in a mean smile. “Lovely. That’s just what Jasper needs, a father in his life to teach him how to abuse women.”

“You’re not a woman, you’re a criminal.”

“So are you!” she shouted, standing up straighter, her arm muscles flexing beneath his hands. “You kidnapped me and nearly strangled me to death.”

“Keep talking,” he said through gritted teeth, fighting the insane urge to shove his tongue between her lips and silence her with a kiss, “and I’ll rethink the pain reliever I was going to give you.”

“Fuck your pain reliever. And fuck you.” Her breath rushed out as her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again.

That hint of awareness was all it took to send him over the edge.

Fisting his hand in her hair, he crushed his mouth to hers, making a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl as she opened for him and her tongue darted out to wage war with his own. Their tongues writhed against each other, fighting for supremacy, as their lips pressed so tight together he could feel her teeth bruising his lips as they fell to the grass. He rolled on top of her, grinding his erection between her legs as she bucked into him, both of them making animalistic sounds of rage and lust that drove him even wilder.

Her fingernails clawed into his bare skin, leaving scratch marks behind as he gripped her breast through her shirt and squeezed hard enough to make her gasp into his mouth.

“No, fuck you,” he mumbled before pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, summoning a pained, pleasured sound from low in her throat as he released it. “I’m going to fuck you, you evil bitch. And you’re going to come on my cock knowing you spread your legs for the man who is going to ruin your life.”