PARADISE PARADOX (#1 PARADISE ISLAND duology)

-- thirteen --

Kera watched Jessa. She was immobile, not breathing, her face suffocated in sand. Her perfect curls were grimy and tangled, and the dusty surface below seemed ready to swallow her.

Miles, after a moment of silent panic—he winced, inhaled a deep breath, wiped his forehead—bent down to check on Jessa.

"She's alive," he said, after hesitantly pressing his fingers to her wrist, checking her pulse, his golden eyes narrowing as he redressed himself.

"Of course I'm alive, you fool," said Jessa, her voice muffled but strong, slicing through the air as if magically amplified.

Miles hopped away from her, shocked at her reanimation.

She got up with grace, as if unbothered by having fallen onto her face, her consciousness restored and normal. And she straightened up with ease, as if unharmed, unaffected by whatever had hit into her chest.

She dusted herself off; but she wasn't herself, Kera could tell immediately. Like earlier, she was transformed, possessed. A purple glow grew about her, like a halo of neon nightclub lights. Her skin was milky, sparkling with dots of violet, and strings of violet veins flashed up and down her arms, throbbing as if in rhythm with her heartbeat. Her eyes widened and turned a blinding violet shade sprinkled with diamonds.

She raised her arms and unleashed a lengthy, exalted sigh. Her hiking clothes melted from her skin, transforming to ashes at her feet; she was now covered in a skin-tight, maroon but sort of see-through shift that wrapped around her figure tight, showing off every lust-worthy curve.

"Better," she said, her voice breathy and sultry, more so than usual.

She walked around in a circle, testing her legs, her balance. Her every move was languorous, pronounced, exaggerated. She swayed her hips, tossed her hair, rolled her ass in model-like fashion.

Jessa exuded a new, more powerful sensuality that captivated Kera—who couldn't take her eyes off her rounded breasts, the nipples hardened against the fabric of her shift.

The others were transfixed, too; Vick's jaw had dropped, his tongue lolling out, drooling; and Miles was holding onto the wall, gawking at Jessa as if she were a miracle of science.

The girls were less subdued, but still absorbed in Jessa's movements, her cautious steps, her glances at the glowing splotches on the cave's walls, and the water lapping nearby, calm as if it hadn't devoured and spat out Brody mere moments before.

In a stiff yet inexplicably sexy motion, the not-quite Jessa motioned at the group to accompany her through the cave's mouth. And though reluctant seconds ago, Miles was the first to hurry after her, his limbs gangly and droopy as he walked. As if hypnotized, his brain had turned to mush; and he wasn't alone. The others were as mystified, and Kera, though retaining a semblance of composure, struggled to focus as well, sensing an irresistible pull in Jessa's direction, forcing her to follow.

Into the darkness of the cavern they went, without a clue what awaited them inside. Would Brody be there, gnawing on some bones, slurping from a fountain of the toxic water that flowed in the cave's depths? Would there be a shrine to these eerie island gods? Or were they there, seated atop thrones, bracing to sentence the disobedient students to their fates?

They traversed an obscure tunnel that would lead them into the cavern, and their light footsteps echoed on the ceiling overhead—which made no sense, as they were walking in the sand, not making a single sound. Luminous, rainbow-hued reflections danced on the tunnel wall's surface, playing tricks on Kera's mind.

Once past the tunnel, to Kera's shock, the cave's insides weren't dim or dreary. The obscurity faded into nothing, as if it hadn't existed. Inside, the cave wasn't filled with lustrous treasures or swarmed by the poisonous waters. It wasn't small and cramped as she'd expected, but vast, with a high, rocky ceiling, and sharp rocky walls. And it was mostly bare, boring. Dry, brown sand was on the ground, clusters of rocks huddled near the sides and rear facade. The ceiling was coated in luminous globs and patches that provided light, and a small pool of turquoise water rested in the middle. There were no ripples in said pool; not a hint of wind whispered within, and the air was stale, tinged with body odor, copper, and a strangely sweet floral scent. Like they'd walked into an overly perfumed sauna saturated with decaying bodies—