The warm, early morning sun bathed Rose Island in golden light.

The fine, white sand on the beach shimmered with a dazzling radiance.

The bedroom Alyssa was in was as dark as night.

Heavy, luxurious velvet curtains blocked out the sunlight completely.

In such an atmosphere, someone exhausted from a night of struggle could easily sleep through the day.

But Jameson woke up early.

After a night of relentless nightmares, he was drenched in cold sweat, his face ashen.

The moment he opened his eyes, he reached out frantically, his hands trembling.

He exhaled in relief when he felt the warmth of Alyssa's body beside him.

Then, he sat up in bed.

The bed was a mess, not from lovemaking but from Alyssa's frenzied struggles the night before.

At the very last moment, Jameson forced himself to suppress his urge to dominate her.

headboard, watching Alyssa's delicate face

chapped, pale lips curled into a relieved and blissful

he lifted his hand and gently

touch lingered; he was reluctant to

I wanna hold you so much..." Jameson softly sang one of his favorite love songs, his voice low and husky as he traced Alyssa's

him made his voice crack, go

couldn't hear

he knew that if he didn't sing to her now, he

morning, Lyse." Jameson leaned forward and planted

to address her

Schmidt".

couldn't bring himself to say it

that even if they had a wedding and shared the same bed, Alyssa would never actually be his—not for even

moment, he refused to lie

sounded, and a helper entered with a

"Mr.

your medications." As the helper approached, she noticed the raw, hideous wound

in shock, and she nearly dropped

"Mr.

the doctor to bandage it

his flesh and

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