Take Me

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

  “Just a chat. That’s all,” Fox whispered, so low only I heard.

  The fact he’d willingly kidnap me at knifepoint just to ‘talk’ made my protective instincts swell to protect Clue. I needed her safe, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone while I laced into this maniac.

  It was time to show Fox he’d captured the wrong woman to interrogate.

  Plastering a convincing smile on my face, I said, “No, it’s fine, Clue. I’ll go and talk. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

  Clue shook her head. “No. I’ll wait. Whatever he wants to talk about can’t take very long.”

  “You’ll leave,” Fox snapped. “I have a lot of questions to be answered. I’ll make sure a car sends her home when we’re through.”

  Clue glared at Fox, her eyes full of fire. She never took orders well. Coming closer, she whispered in my ear. “Blink twice if you want me to kick his ass.”

  I almost did it. Almost.

  But this was my fight—not hers. I needed her gone so I could win. Plus, if I couldn’t go home yet, I would rather Clara be cared for by her Auntie rather than a strange babysitter.

  “I’m okay. Honestly.” I forced my eyes to stay wide, hoping she saw a relaxed and willing conversationalist. I didn’t want her to see just how terrifying Fox truly was. And not just because he was a lunatic. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust myself with him. I didn’t trust what would happen if he took me away from the public eye.

  Fox didn’t just want to talk. The awareness bound us together—a static charge vibrating ceaselessly where we touched.

  I tried to make myself care that the moment he got me behind closed doors, I expected we’d both give in to more than just talking.

  And I hated myself for needing a small dirty moment where I was nothing more than a woman seeking a release with a menacing man.

  After a tense moment, Clue nodded. “Don’t worry about Clara. I’ll take care of her.” Squeezing my hand, she murmured, “I’ll wait up for you.”

  Corkscrew gave me a concerned look. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  His concern flurried my heart. He was a good man—worthy of my best friend. “I’m sure.”

  Clue narrowed her eyes. I had no doubt she’d harass me for every detail of whatever was about to happen.

  I stifled my groan as Corkscrew wrapped an arm around her, and they disappeared into the crowd.

  Fox murmured, “We’ll go to my office. It’s quiet, and we won’t be disturbed.”

  My heart rabbited.

  Office. Undisturbed.

  He should’ve said dungeon, and then I would’ve believed him.

  A steely resolve came over me. It helped me ignore the spark smouldering between Fox’s body and mine. Clue was gone. She was safe. Now I could worry about how to free myself from this crazy idiot stabbing me with my own knife. I’d had a moment of weakness, entertaining thoughts of forbidden sex, but now I was clearheaded.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you, you know,” I muttered as Fox pushed me toward a wide set of stairs leading up into the dark.

  He huffed. “I said I wanted to talk. Not to fuck.”

  Such a crude word.

  I hated that it turned me on.

  A shudder travelled the length of my spine. His voice was perfectly level, restrained and controlled, but beneath his careful tone lurked lethal potency.

  Climbing the wide stairs, he said, “I expect answers. I want to know who you are. I want to understand why you’re different.”

  My stomach erupted with fluttering winged things. “What makes you think I’ll answer? Having a knife pressed against me doesn’t make me very eager.” I sucked in a breath as he twisted the blade once more before withdrawing. Holding the knife up, he tucked the blade away and slipped it into his pocket.

  “There. Now, you’ll talk.”

  No, now I’ll lie.

  Chapter Four

  Roan

  I’d learned from an early age to use people’s weaknesses against them. Taunting the fragile, mocking the littler. Instead of being told no, I was encouraged. Given the tools to excel in murder, and browbeaten into being the perfect obedient machine.

  The moment I set eyes on her, I tasted a delicious combination of fear and strength. Weakness and bravery. Sadness and resignation.

  Instincts and needs that I’d buried and ignored volcanoed to the surface. I lost control. I broke every rule and didn’t give a fuck.

  She woke a part of me I didn’t know existed—a man not layered in ice and coldblooded disassociation. This new man ached with every inch; he craved heat and fire and lust.

  And so I stole her.

  And I took her.

  Over and over again.

  * * *

  Shit.

  How the hell had this happened? This never happened. Never in my life had I submitted to a bodily craving. That sort of thing had been tortured out of me. I didn’t suffer from a lack of discipline.

  Ever.

  Until now.

  The instant I saw her I lost a part of myself. I became drunk on a new sensation. Something about her drew me. I didn’t lust or fuck or need. To be close to another filled me with horror not joy. So why the hell did I want to know her? Why were my thoughts full of nakedness and heat? What the fuck am I doing?

  I glanced at her. With her shoulders back and chin thrust forward, she looked like she was headed to war not a conversation. Every step was calm and brave; every motion full of confidence and poise.

  The stolen blade hung heavy in my pocket, thudding against my thigh with every step. I’d lost control and kidnapped someone at knife point. Not just anyone—a woman I touched.

  I fucking touched her!

  I never touched anyone voluntarily unless it was in a fight. It just wasn’t done. My entire life I’d avoided every iota of touch and contact. And yet the instant I wrapped my fingers around her arm, my entire body shuddered with some unseen power filtering from her to me.

  It intoxicated me. It bewitched me. It fucking scared me.

  Only when I looked directly into her eyes did I taste just how much passion, fear, strength, sadness, and rebellion lived inside her. She was like an unlit firework—contained and neatly packaged on the outside, but a hazardous explosion on the inside.

  “I want my knife back,” she murmured, her eyes connecting with mine. All I could think about were emeralds and every green gemstone I’d ever seen. Her eyes mocked my own—whereas I had no colour, she had every spectrum.

  “You’re not getting it back till I say you can.” Until I understand this insane drive to touch you.

  “You’re not my owner,” she snapped. “This isn’t a discussion. It’s my property, and I want it back. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not playing your crazy mind games anymore.”

  The familiar strength and rage shot up my spine. Tearing my eyes from hers, I strode faster up the steps.

  She took the steps two at a time and brushed past with a cold look. Her shoulder grazed mine. My vision turned red, muscles locked down, and the familiar command to hurt made me tremble. My jaw locked as I fought the orders.

  Shit. She isn’t different after all.

  My fucking heart sank. I’d chased her, trapped her, and dragged her up here because I’d dared to hope. Dared to believe that I was drawn to her because she might be impervious to my training. That I might be able to touch and be touched.

  Turned out I could touch her without falling into old patterns, but she couldn’t touch me.

  My heart hardened in disappointment. So she wasn’t my cure after all. I’d hoped—

  You’d hoped it was fading. That you could finally live a life where you wouldn’t automatically punch someone in the fucking face or slam a dagger into their heart.

  Tough shit.

  I doubted I’d ever be free, and that just made me fucking homicidal.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, her lips parted as she took in the large landing. Skating her
eyes over the table and black couch, she drifted toward the glass perimeter. From here, the arena looked like a modern day version of the coliseum. Men fought in cages and rings, unconscious bodies were tended to by medics. All that was missing were the lions and other exotic animals the Romans used to kill unlucky slaves.

  I shared a certain bond with those unfortunate souls.

  No one would look at me and think I was slave. But I had been. I still was. I probably would be forever.

  I didn’t say a word as she pushed off from the balcony and moved toward a statue of a twisted and gnarly tree.

  The sculpture took me eighteen days with barely any sleep to finish. I’d warmed the metal just enough to twist and distort. I turned a pristine lump of bronze into a tortured piece of art. The tree looked like it was heralded by demons and designed by masochists. Its branches only suitable for carcass-eating vultures to perch.

  But I liked it. In fact, it was one of my favourite pieces. It represented nothing, but at the same time, everything.

  It was me. Bared raw.

  Slowly, almost hesitantly, she ran her fingertips over the cold metal. The instant she touched it, my cock lurched. It fucking lurched for the second time in my sorry existence.

  Heat. Delicious wanting heat blazed in my blood. Lust. So unknown and almost unrecognisable. It grabbed me around the balls, making me hard, filling my cock with new life.

  My dick knew better than to act on its own. It’d been taught to never react. Thoughts of release and sex were beaten out of us at a very early age. And if we disobeyed—well…

  The fear had kept me impotent, but this woman—this magical infuriating woman—had graced me with a fucking hard-on. I gritted my teeth, revelling in the sensitivity as I swelled, thickened, and ached with unfamiliar need. The flush of heat boiled the ice in my blood, leaving me steaming, angry, and on the cusp of something entirely alien.

  Two years I’d waited for the thawing, and for two years it never happened. But tonight. Tonight, all thanks to one woman, I might’ve found the chink—the weakness—in my brainwashing.

  She bent her spine, investigating the artwork closely. My balls drew tighter, throbbing.

  Her body beckoned me. She was different, elusive, unobtainable. And my cock wanted unobtainable. For the first time since my life of slavery began, it came alive between my legs.

  I didn’t think I could stand the craving. It was too strong—too demanding.

  I trembled for an entirely different reason. I wanted to scream at her for having such power over me while at the same time bow at her feet for freeing me from the cage I existed in.

  Then came the fear.

  The anxious sweats at misbehaving, the knowledge I’d disobeyed a direct order. Punishment would be horrific.

  They’re not here.

  I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip—re-centring myself.

  “Hey. Umm, are you okay?”

  My eyes flew wide only to be trapped by her half-angry, half-concerned gaze. Her scrumptious body wrapped in gold and silver chased away my fear and my mouth watered at the thought of taking her.

  Pity filled me. Pity for her because now that I’d tasted what she could do for me, I wasn’t letting her go. She wouldn’t be going home tonight. Or the next or the next or the next. She’d be in my bed. She’d open her legs and I’d—

  Goddammit, I’m acting as if I’m fucking fifteen.

  Trouble was I had a lifetime of lust fizzing and bursting inside. Two orgasms I’d enjoyed since I hit puberty. Only two. I was fucking desperate for a third.

  “I’m fine. Why?” I eyed her provocative dress, drinking in her gentle curves; filling my mind with images that any man starved of sex would imagine. I wanted to run a tongue down her cleavage. I wanted to taste her skin before sinking deep, deep inside her.

  I’d never felt this way. Never.

  She stood taller, baring her shoulders with fearlessness and a fine edge of resentment. “You’re shivering. And frankly you look sick.” Waving her hand, she scowled. “Not that I care if you’re sick, of course. Look, I’m done with all of this. Give me back my knife and let me go.” One hand went to her side, rubbing where I’d placed the blade. “You’re a bastard for forcing me against my will. If Clue hadn’t been there, such a tiny weapon wouldn’t have stopped me from ripping off your balls.”

  First image into my head was her tiny hands cupping my aching balls.

  Second image was the ludicrous suggestion she could even touch me without my permission.

  I couldn’t stop it. Cold laughter erupted from my mouth. I froze, cursing this woman. Cursing myself for these new, strange feelings. I never laughed. I never touched. I never got hard. I never wanted to fuck.

  She was a witch. She was magical. She would fix me.

  “How much was Corkscrew going to pay you for tonight?”

  Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”

  “How much? To fuck you?”

  She shuddered. “That’s what you think I am? I thought you were joking before.” She shook her head, a low noise coming from her throat. “Unbelievable. You’re a bastard and an asshole. For your information, he’s my best-friend’s boyfriend. He’s a nice guy—unlike you.” She paced on the landing, her dress whispering around her legs with every step. “Fucking unbelievable. I want to leave. I’m done talking to you.”

  My muscles shivered, feeding off her temper, letting her spirit clash with mine. Another lesson I’d been taught: leech the feelings off another before stealing everything. It allowed me to feel their fear, live their terror—the only thing I could get in those days.

  Dragging my eyes over her body, my fucking cock hardened to a rock. Her breasts were squished inside the lace of the dress, her waist so tiny I could crush the life out of her with just my hands. Her legs…

  Shit.

  The moment my eyes landed on her legs, memories swamped me.

  “See her? The prima ballerina?”

  My eyes had trouble focusing through the binoculars, but I could make out a girl in a tutu with legs that looked matchstick thin and so easily breakable. “Yes.”

  “She’s the target tonight when her father and mother are asleep.”

  I’d long ago stopped asking why. I never got a reply, only a swat around the head, and any fear that my soul was destined for hell had been purged from me in the early days of training.

  “Okay.”

  The pat on the back made me curl in horror. I hated people touching me. It always brought pain to me or pain to others.

  “Stay here until 3 a.m., then proceed.”

  “—and just because you own this illegal place doesn’t give you the right to hurt me!” Zel snapped.

  I blinked, trying to seem like I’d heard the entire string of obscenities she’d no doubt thrown my way.

  Dragging hands over my face, I said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Much. My voice was deep and gravelly. I hated flashbacks. They came at the worst times. Ironically, my body had been trained to perfection—I could kill in hundreds of different ways. I could mutilate and massacre with an artistry only learned from a lifetime of tutelage, but the weakest part of me was my brain.

  Try as I might to block the nightmares and visions, they broke through randomly, shoving me back into horror. However, this one had done me a favour.

  I was no longer hard.

  What the fuck were we talking about?

  Ah, yes. “Ten thousand is the going rate for a woman of talents. Not a bad income for a night’s earnings.” I licked my lips. “I could be persuaded to go to twenty thousand if you’re so repulsed by me.”

  Her eyes flickered to my scar. “I told you. I’m not a whore. You can keep your money as there’s no way in hell I’m letting you fuck me.” She backed up to the balustrade, her face paling from cream to white.

  The hair on my forearms stood up. I inched forward, trapping her between my body and the glass. A metre existed between us, but the air hummed, arching and spitting with
the same delicious energy I’d felt when I’d touched her.

  “Fine. You’re not a whore. But if you were…inclined…to agree to a one off deal. To let me, as you eloquently put it, fuck you—what would you charge?” My heart raced at the thought of peeling the lace off her shoulders.

  I took another tiny step forward. “I’m warning you now, I won’t take no for an answer. I haven’t wanted a woman, any woman, as much as I want you. I’m going to have you, so stop dancing around the fact, hoping you can get free, and agree to a figure.”

  My cock thickened again at the thought of touching her—relishing being allowed such a simple, but miraculous thing. I would savour every inch of her skin. I’d caress her with every fingertip, my tongue, my entire fucking body.

  Zel shook her head, loose curls haloing her head. “Nothing. Because there is no deal. Back up and let me leave. Go and sleep with one of your employees. You don’t need me.”

  Her denial made me want her all the more. It was torture. It was heaven. “You’re wrong. I do need you. I wasn’t lying when I said you were different. I don’t understand it, but I’m fucking done pretending to be human when I’m not. I need you to let me be free. I need to fuck you.”

  Her skin flushed and she moved suddenly, darting to the side to reach the stairs. She was fast, but I was faster. I placed myself squarely in her path, gritting my teeth ready for consequences. If she touched me we’d both be in trouble.

  She careened to a stop, unsteady in her high heels. “Move.”

  “No. Not until you agree.” I took another careful step toward her. My mouth watered at the thought of kissing, licking, biting. I’d never been so irrational or so sure. Something about this woman made my lifeless cock sit up and fucking beg.

  “There’s always a deal. For the right price,” I whispered, slowly closing the small distance between us.

  Zel’s neck rippled as she swallowed hard. “I’m not for sale.” The slight tremor in her voice stroked my need, making me burn. She lied. She might not know it, but she’d just admitted she would sell herself. To me.

  My stomach flipped, filling me with edgy thirst. Thirst to have her.

  I murmured, “I have a gift. A gift that tells me secrets that people think they hide so well. Call it sixth sense, or a hunter’s perception, but I know things about you already. I know when you’re lying.”