Take Me

by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin

  “No, of course not!” I give her an offended glare.

  She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

  “Why would I miss that monster?” I hiss at her, uncontrollable anger suddenly boiling up from the pit of my stomach. “After what he did to me? To Jake?”

  She laughs softly. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much . . .”

  I jump to my feet, unable to bear the mockery in her voice any longer. In this moment, I hate her so much I would’ve gladly stabbed her with a knife if I had it handy. I’ve never had much of a temper, but something about Beth brings out the worst in me.

  Thankfully, I regain control over myself before I storm off and make a complete fool of myself. Taking a deep breath, I pretend that I intended to get up all along. Walking to the water, I test the temperature with my toe and then walk back toward Beth, sitting down again.

  “Really warm water on this side of the island,” I say calmly, as though I’m not still burning with anger inside.

  “Yeah, the fish seem to like it here,” she replies in the same even tone. “I always catch some nice ones in this area.”

  I nod and look out over the water. The sound of the waves is soothing, helping me control whatever it was that came over me. I don’t fully understand why I reacted so strongly to her teasing. Surely I should’ve just given her a contemptuous look and coldly dismissed her ridiculous suggestion. Instead I’d risen to her bait.

  Could there be some truth to her words? Is that why they irritated me so much? Am I actually missing Julian?

  The idea is so sickening that I want to throw up.

  I try to think about it rationally for a bit, to sort through the confusing jumble of feelings in my chest.

  Okay, yes, a small part of me does resent the fact that he left me here on this island, with only Beth for company. For someone who supposedly wanted me enough to steal me, Julian is certainly not being very attentive.

  Not that I want his attentions. I want him to stay as far away from me as possible. But at the same time, I am oddly insulted that he’s staying away. It’s like I’m not desirable enough for him to want to be here.

  As soon as I analyze it all logically, I see the absurdity of my contradictory emotions. The whole thing is so silly, I have to mentally kick myself.

  I’m not going to be one of those girls who falls in love with their kidnapper. I refuse to be. I know being here on this island is screwing with my head, and I’m determined not to let it.

  Perhaps I can’t escape from Julian, but I can keep him from getting under my skin.

  * * *

  Two days later, Julian returns.

  I learn about it when he wakes me up from my nap on the beach.

  At first, I think I’m having a dream. In my dream, I’m warm and safe in my bed. Gentle hands start stroking my body, soothing me, caressing me. I arch toward them, loving their touch on my skin, reveling in the pleasure they’re giving me.

  And then I feel hot lips on my face, my neck, my collarbone. I moan softly, and the hands become more demanding, pulling at the straps of my bikini top, tugging the bikini bottoms off my legs . . .

  The realization of what’s happening filters through to my half-conscious brain, and I wake up with a sudden gasp, adrenaline rushing through my veins.

  Julian is crouched over me, looking down at me with that darkly angelic smile of his. I’m already naked, lying on top of the large beach towel that Beth gave me this morning. He’s naked too—and fully aroused.

  I stare up at him, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread. “You’re back,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “I am,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing my neck again. Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, he’s already lying on top of me, his knee parting my thighs and his erection prodding at my tender opening.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as he begins to push inside me. I’m wet, but I still feel uncomfortably stretched as he slides in all the way. He pauses for a second, letting me adjust, and then he begins to move, slowly at first and then with increasing pace.

  His thrusts press me into the towel, and I can feel the sand shifting under my back. I clutch at his hard shoulders, needing something to hold on to as the familiar tension starts to gather low in my belly. The head of his cock brushes against that sensitive spot somewhere inside me, and I gasp, arching to take him deeper, needing more of that intense sensation, wanting him to bring me over the edge.

  “Did you miss me?” he breathes into my ear, slowing down just enough to prevent me from reaching my peak.

  I’m coherent enough to shake my head.

  “Liar,” he whispers, and his thrusts become harder, more punishing. He’s ruthlessly driving me higher and higher until I’m screaming, my nails raking down his back in frustration as the elusive release hovers just beyond my reach.

  And then I’m finally there, my body flying apart as a powerful orgasm sweeps through me, leaving me weak and panting in its wake.

  With a suddenness that startles me, he pulls out and flips me over, onto my stomach.

  I cry out, frightened, but he merely pushes inside me again and resumes fucking me from behind, his body large and heavy on top of mine. I am surrounded by him; my face is pressed into the towel and I can hardly breathe. All I can feel is him: the back-and-forth movement of his thick cock inside my body, the heat emanating from his skin. In this position, he goes deep, even deeper than usual, and I can’t help the pained gasps that escape my throat as the head of his cock bumps against my cervix with each thrust of his hips. Yet the discomfort doesn’t seem to prevent the pressure growing inside me again, and I climax again, my inner muscles clenching helplessly around his shaft.

  He groans harshly, and then I can feel him coming too, his cock pulsing and jerking within me, his pelvis grinding into my buttocks. It enhances my own orgasm, draws out my pleasure. It’s like we’re linked together, because my contractions don’t stop until his are fully over.

  Afterwards, he rolls over onto his back, releasing me, and I draw in a shaky breath. With limbs that feel weak and heavy, I get up on all fours and find my bikini, then pull it on while he watches me, a lazy smile on his beautiful lips. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to get dressed himself, but I can’t stand to be naked around him. It makes me feel too vulnerable.

  The irony of that doesn’t escape me. Of course I’m vulnerable. I’m as vulnerable as a woman can be: completely at the mercy of a ruthless madman. A couple of tiny patches of material aren’t going to protect me from him.

  Nothing will, if he decides to really hurt me.

  I decide not to think about that. Instead I ask, “Where were you?”

  Julian’s smile widens. “You did miss me after all.”

  I give him a sardonic look, trying to ignore the fact that he’s naked and sprawled out only a couple of feet away from me. “Yeah, I missed you.”

  He laughs, not the least bit put off by my snarky attitude. “I knew you would,” he says. Then he gets up and pulls on a pair of swimming trunks that were lying on the sand next to us. Turning toward me, he offers me his hand. “A swim?”

  I stare at him. Is he serious? He expects me to go for a swim with him like we’re friends or something?

  “No, thanks,” I say, taking a step back.

  He frowns a little. “Why not, Nora? You can’t swim?”

  “Of course I can swim,” I say indignantly. “I just don’t want to swim with you.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “Um . . . maybe because I hate you?” I don’t know why I’m being so brave today, but it seems like the time apart made me less afraid of him. Or maybe it’s because he appears to be in a light, playful mood, and is thus just a bit less scary.

  He smiles again. “You don’t know what hatred is, my pet. You might not like my actions, but you don’t hate me. You can’t. It’s not in your nature.”

  “What do you know about my nature?” For s
ome reason, I find his words offensive. How dare he say that I can’t hate my kidnapper? Who does he think he is, telling me what I can and cannot feel?

  He looks at me, his lips still curved in that smile. “I know you’ve had what they call a normal upbringing, Nora,” he says softly. “I know that you were raised in a loving family, that you had good friends, decent boyfriends. How could you possibly know what real hatred is?”

  I stare at him. “And you know? You know what real hatred is?”

  His expression hardens. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says, and I can hear the truth in his voice.

  A sick feeling floods my stomach. “Am I the one you hate?” I whisper. “Is that why you’re doing this to me?”

  To my huge relief, he looks surprised. “Hate you? No, of course I don’t hate you, my pet.”

  “Then why?” I ask again, determined to get some answers. “Why did you kidnap me and bring me here?”

  He looks at me, his eyes impossibly blue against his tan skin. “Because I wanted you, Nora. I already told you that. And because I’m not a very nice man. But you already figured that out, didn’t you?”

  I swallow and look down at the sand. He’s not even the least bit ashamed of his actions. Julian knows what he’s doing is wrong, and he simply doesn’t care.

  “Are you a psychopath?” I don’t know what prompts me to ask this. I don’t want to make him angry, but I can’t help wanting to understand. Holding my breath, I look up at him again.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t seem offended by the question. Instead, he looks thoughtful as he sits down on the towel next to me. “Perhaps,” he says after a couple of seconds. “One doctor thought I might be a borderline sociopath. I don’t check all the boxes, so there’s no definitive diagnosis.”

  “You saw a doctor?” I don’t know why I’m so shocked. Maybe because he doesn’t seem like the type to go to a shrink.

  He grins at me. “Yeah, for a bit.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “Because I thought it might help.”

  “Help you be less of a psychopath?”

  “No, Nora.” He gives me an ironic look. “If I were a true psychopath, nothing could help that.”

  “So then what?” I know I’m prying into some very personal matters, but I feel like he owes me some answers. Besides, if you can’t get personal with a man who just fucked you on the beach, then when can you?

  “You’re a curious little kitten, aren’t you?” he says softly, putting his hand on my thigh. “Are you sure you really want to know, my pet?”

  I nod, trying to ignore the fact that his fingers are only inches away from my bikini line. His touch is both arousing and disturbing, playing havoc with my equilibrium.

  “I went to a therapist after I killed the men who murdered my family,” he says quietly, looking at me. “I thought it might help me come to terms with it.”

  I stare at him blankly. “Come to terms with the fact that you killed them?”

  “No,” he says. “With the fact that I wanted to kill more.”

  My stomach turns over, and my skin feels like it’s crawling where Julian is touching me. He has just admitted to something so horrible that I don’t even know how to react.

  As if from a distance, I hear my own voice asking, “So did it help you come to terms with it?” I sound calm, like we’re discussing nothing more tragic than the weather.

  He laughs. “No, my pet, it didn’t. Doctors are useless.”

  “You’ve killed more?” The numbness encasing me is fading, and I can feel myself beginning to shake.

  “I have,” he says, a dark smile playing on his lips. “Now aren’t you glad you asked?”

  My blood turns to ice. I know I should stop talking now, but I can’t. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No, Nora.” He sounds exasperated for a moment. “I’ve already told you that.”

  I lick my dry lips. “Right. You’re just going to hurt me whenever you feel like it.”

  He doesn’t deny it. Instead he gets up again and looks at me. “I’m going for a swim. You can join me if you like.”

  “No, thanks,” I say dully. “I don’t feel like swimming right now.”

  “Suit yourself,” he says, and then walks away, striding into the water.

  Still in a state of shock, I watch his tall, broad-shouldered frame as he goes deeper into the ocean, his dark hair shining in the sun.

  The devil does indeed wear a beautiful mask.

  Chapter Twelve

  After Julian’s revelations on the beach, I don’t feel like asking any more questions for a while. I already knew I was being held by a monster, and what I learned today just solidifies that fact. I don’t know why he was so open with me, and that scares me.

  At dinner, I mostly keep quiet, only answering questions posed directly to me. Beth is eating with us today, and the two of them are carrying on a lively conversation, mostly about the island and how she and I have been spending our time.

  “So you’re bored?” Julian asks me after Beth tells him about my lack of interest in reading all the time.

  I lift my shoulders in a shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. After what I learned earlier, I’d take boredom over Julian’s company any time.

  He smiles. “Okay, I’ll have to remedy that. I’ll bring you a TV and a bunch of movies the next time I make a trip.”

  “Thanks,” I say automatically, staring down into my plate. I feel so miserable that I want to cry, but I have too much pride to do it in front of them.

  “What’s the matter?” Beth asks, finally noticing my uncharacteristic behavior. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Not really,” I say, gladly latching on to the excuse she gave me. “I think I got too much sun.”

  Beth sighs. “I told you not to sleep on the beach mid-day. It’s ninety-five degrees out.”

  It’s true; she had warned me about that. But my misery today has nothing to do with the heat and everything with the man sitting across the table from me. I know that when the dinner is over, he’s going to take me upstairs and fuck me again. Maybe hurt me.

  And I will respond to him, like I always do.

  That last part is the worst. He beat up Jake in front of my eyes. He admitted to being a murdering sociopath. I should be disgusted. I should look at him with nothing but fear and contempt. The fact that I can feel even a smidgen of desire for him is beyond sick.

  It’s downright twisted.

  So I sit there, picking at my food, my stomach filled with lead. I would get up and go to my room, but I’m afraid it will just speed up the inevitable.

  Finally, the meal is over. Julian takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I feel like I’m going to my execution, though that’s probably too dramatic. He said he wouldn’t kill me.

  When we’re in the room, he sits down on the bed and pulls me between his legs. I want to resist, to put up at least some kind of fight, but my brain and my body don’t seem to be on speaking terms these days. Instead, I stand there mutely, trembling from head to toe, while he looks at me. His eyes trace over my facial features, lingering on my mouth, then drop down to my neckline, where my nipples are visible through the thin fabric of my sundress. They’re peaked, as though from arousal, but I think it’s because I’m chilled. Beth must’ve turned on air-conditioning for the night.

  “Very pretty,” he says finally, lifting his hand and stroking the edge of my jaw with his fingers. “Such soft golden skin.”

  I close my eyes, not wanting to look at the monster in front of me. I wanted to kill more . . . I wanted to kill more . . . His words repeat over and over in my mind, like a song that’s stuck on replay. I don’t know how to turn it off, how to go back in time and scrub the memories of this afternoon from my mind. Why did I insist on knowing this about him? Why did I probe and pry until I got these kind of answers? Now I can’t think about anything but the fact that the man touching me is a ruthless killer.

  He leans closer to me, and I can f
eel his hot breath on my neck. “Are you sorry you asked me all those questions today?” he whispers in my ear. “Are you, Nora?”

  I flinch, my eyes flying open. Does he also read minds?

  At my reaction, he pulls back and smiles. There’s something in that smile that makes my chill ten times worse. I don’t know what’s going on with him tonight, but whatever it is, it frightens me more than anything he’s done before.

  “You’re scared of me, aren’t you, my pet?” he says softly, still holding me prisoner between his legs. “I can feel you shaking like a leaf.”

  I want to deny it, to be brave, but I can’t. I am scared, and I am shaking. “Please,” I whisper, not even knowing why I’m begging. He hasn’t done anything to me yet.

  He gives me a light push then, releasing me from his hold. I take a few steps back, glad to put some distance between us.

  He gets up off the bed and walks out of the room.

  I stare after him, unable to believe he just left me alone. Could it be that he doesn’t want sex right now? He did already have me once on the beach earlier today.

  And just as I’m about to let myself feel relief, Julian returns, a black gym bag in his hands.

  All blood drains from my face. Horrifying thoughts run through my mind. What does he have in there—knives, guns, some kind of torture devices?

  When he takes out a blindfold and a small dildo, I’m almost grateful. Sex toys. He just has some sex toys in that bag. I would take sex over torture any day of the week.

  Of course, with Julian the two are not necessarily separate, as I learn this night.

  “Strip, Nora,” he tells me, walking over to sit down on the bed again. He lays the blindfold and the dildo on the mattress. “Take off your clothes, slowly.”

  I freeze. He wants me to disrobe while he watches? For a moment, I think about refusing, but then I start to undress with clumsy fingers. He has already seen me naked today. What would I achieve by being modest now? Besides, I’m still sensing that strange vibe from him. His eyes are glittering with excitement that goes beyond simple lust.

  It’s an excitement that makes my blood run cold.