by Anna Zaires
My captor is an enigma. I don’t know who he is or why he took me. There is a darkness inside him—a darkness that scares me even as it draws me in.
My name is Nora Leston, and this is my story.
It’s evening now. With every minute that passes, I’m starting to get more and more anxious at the thought of seeing my captor again.
The novel that I’ve been reading can no longer hold my interest. I put it down and walk in circles around the room.
I am dressed in the clothes Beth had given me earlier. It’s not what I would’ve chosen to wear, but it’s better than a bathrobe. A sexy pair of white lacy panties and a matching bra for underwear. A pretty blue sundress that buttons in the front. Everything fits me suspiciously well. Has he been stalking me for a while? Learning everything about me, including my clothing size?
The thought makes me sick.
I am trying not to think about what’s to come, but it’s impossible. I don’t know why I’m so sure he’ll come to me tonight. It’s possible he has an entire harem of women stashed away on this island, and he visits each one only once a week, like sultans used to do.
Yet somehow I know he’ll be here soon. Last night had simply whetted his appetite. I know he’s not done with me, not by a long shot.
Finally, the door opens.
He walks in like he owns the place. Which, of course, he does.
I am again struck by his masculine beauty. He could’ve been a model or a movie star, with a face like his. If there was any fairness in the world, he would’ve been short or had some other imperfection to offset that face.
But he doesn’t. His body is tall and muscular, perfectly proportioned. I remember what it feels like to have him inside me, and I feel an unwelcome jolt of arousal.
He’s again wearing jeans and a T-shirt. A gray one this time. He seems to favor simple clothing, and he’s smart to do so. His looks don’t need any enhancement.
He smiles at me. It’s his fallen angel smile—dark and seductive at the same time. “Hello, Nora.”
I don’t know what to say to him, so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “How long are you going to keep me here?”
He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Here in the room? Or on the island?”
“Both.”
“Beth will show you around tomorrow, take you swimming if you’d like,” he says, approaching me. “You won’t be locked in, unless you do something foolish.”
“Such as?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as he stops next to me and lifts his hand to stroke my hair.
“Trying to harm Beth or yourself.” His voice is soft, his gaze hypnotic as he looks down at me. The way he’s touching my hair is oddly relaxing.
I blink, trying to break his spell. “And what about on the island? How long will you keep me here?”
His hand caresses my face, curves around my cheek. I catch myself leaning into his touch, like a cat getting petted, and I immediately stiffen.
His lips curl into a knowing smile. The bastard knows the effect he has on me. “A long time, I hope,” he says.
For some reason, I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t have bothered bringing me all the way here if he just wanted to fuck me a few times. I’m terrified, but I’m not surprised.
I gather my courage and ask the next logical question. “Why did you kidnap me?”
The smile leaves his face. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with an inscrutable blue gaze.
I begin to shake. “Are you going to kill me?”
“No, Nora, I won’t kill you.”
His denial reassures me, although he could obviously be lying.
“Are you going to sell me?” I can barely get the words out. “Like to be a prostitute or something?”
“No,” he says softly. “Never. You’re mine and mine alone.”
I feel a tiny bit calmer, but there is one more thing I have to know. “Are you going to hurt me?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer again. Something dark briefly flashes in his eyes. “Probably,” he says quietly.
And then he leans down and kisses me, his warm lips soft and gentle on mine.
For a second, I stand there frozen, unresponsive. I believe him. I know he’s telling the truth when he says he’ll hurt me. There’s something in him that scares me—that has scared me from the very beginning.
He’s nothing like the boys I’ve gone on dates with. He’s capable of anything.
And I’m completely at his mercy.
I think about trying to fight him again. That would be the normal thing to do in my situation. The brave thing to do.
And yet I don’t do it.
I can feel the darkness inside him. There’s something wrong with him. His outer beauty hides something monstrous underneath.
I don’t want to unleash that darkness. I don’t know what will happen if I do.
So I stand still in his embrace and let him kiss me. And when he picks me up again and takes me to bed, I don’t try to resist in any way.
Instead, I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.
All three books in the Twist Me trilogy are now available (click HERE). Please visit my website at www.annazaires.com to learn more and to sign up for my new release email list.
Excerpt from Capture Me
Author’s Note: Capture Me is a dark romance trilogy featuring Lucas & Yulia. It parallels some of the events in the Twist Me trilogy. All three books are now available.
She fears him from the first moment she sees him.
Yulia Tzakova is no stranger to dangerous men. She grew up with them. She survived them. But when she meets Lucas Kent, she knows the hard ex-soldier may be the most dangerous of them all.
One night—that’s all it should be. A chance to make up for a failed assignment and get information on Kent’s arms dealer boss. When his plane goes down, it should be the end.
Instead, it's just the beginning.
He wants her from the first moment he sees her.
Lucas Kent has always liked leggy blondes, and Yulia Tzakova is as beautiful as they come. The Russian interpreter might’ve tried to seduce his boss, but she ends up in Lucas’s bed—and he has every intention of seeing her there again.
Then his plane goes down, and he learns the truth.
She betrayed him.
Now she will pay.
He steps into my apartment as soon as the door swings open. No hesitation, no greeting—he just comes in.
Startled, I step back, the short, narrow hallway suddenly stiflingly small. I’d somehow forgotten how big he is, how broad his shoulders are. I’m tall for a woman—tall enough to fake being a model if an assignment calls for it—but he towers a full head above me. With the heavy down jacket he’s wearing, he takes up almost the entire hallway.
Still not saying a word, he closes the door behind him and advances toward me. Instinctively, I back away, feeling like cornered prey.
“Hello, Yulia,” he murmurs, stopping when we’re out of the hallway. His pale gaze is locked on my face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you like this.”
I swallow, my pulse racing. “I just took a bath.” I want to seem calm and confident, but he’s got me completely off-balance. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“No, I can see that.” A faint smile appears on his lips, softening the hard line of his mouth. “Yet you let me in. Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to continue talking through the door.” I take a steadying breath. “Can I offer you some tea?” It’s a stupid thing to say, given what he’s here for, but I need a few moments to compose myself.
He raises his eyebrows. “Tea? No, thanks.”
“Then can I take your jacket?” I can’t seem to stop playing the hostess, using politeness to cover my anxiety. “It looks quite warm.”
Amusement flickers in his wintry gaze. “Sure.” He takes off his down jacket and hands it to me. He’s left wearing a black sweater and dark jeans tucked into black win
ter boots. The jeans hug his legs, revealing muscular thighs and powerful calves, and on his belt, I see a gun sitting in a holster.
Irrationally, my breathing quickens at the sight, and it takes a concerted effort to keep my hands from shaking as I take the jacket and walk over to hang it in my tiny closet. It’s not a surprise that he’s armed—it would be a shock if he wasn’t—but the gun is a stark reminder of who Lucas Kent is.
What he is.
It’s no big deal, I tell myself, trying to calm my frayed nerves. I’m used to dangerous men. I was raised among them. This man is not that different. I’ll sleep with him, get whatever information I can, and then he’ll be out of my life.
Yes, that’s it. The sooner I can get it done, the sooner all of this will be over.
Closing the closet door, I paste a practiced smile on my face and turn back to face him, finally ready to resume the role of confident seductress.
Except he’s already next to me, having crossed the room without making a sound.
My pulse jumps again, my newfound composure fleeing. He’s close enough that I can see the gray striations in his pale blue eyes, close enough that he can touch me.
And a second later, he does touch me.
Lifting his hand, he runs the back of his knuckles over my jaw.
I stare up at him, confused by my body’s instant response. My skin warms and my nipples tighten, my breath coming faster. It doesn’t make sense for this hard, ruthless stranger to turn me on. His boss is more handsome, more striking, yet it’s Kent my body’s reacting to. All he’s touched thus far is my face. It should be nothing, yet it’s intimate somehow.
Intimate and disturbing.
I swallow again. “Mr. Kent—Lucas—are you sure I can’t offer you something to drink? Maybe some coffee or—” My words end in a breathless gasp as he reaches for the tie of my robe and tugs on it, as casually as one would unwrap a package.
“No.” He watches as the robe falls open, revealing my naked body underneath. “No coffee.”
All three books in the Capture Me trilogy are now available. Please click HERE to get your copy. If you’d like to find out more, please visit my website at www.annazaires.com.
Excerpt from The Krinar Captive
Author’s Note: The Krinar Captive is a full-length, standalone romance that takes place approximately five years before The Krinar Chronicles trilogy.
Emily Ross never expected to survive her deadly fall in the Costa Rican jungle, and she certainly never thought she’d wake up in a strangely futuristic dwelling, held captive by the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. A man who seems to be more than human…
Zaron is on Earth to facilitate the Krinar invasion—and to forget the terrible tragedy that ripped apart his life. Yet when he finds the broken body of a human girl, everything changes. For the first time in years, he feels something more than rage and grief, and Emily is the reason for that. Letting her go would compromise his mission, but keeping her could destroy him all over again.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Please, please, please, I don’t want to die.
The words kept repeating in her mind, a hopeless prayer that would never be heard. Her fingers slipped another inch on the rough wooden board, her nails breaking as she tried to maintain her grip.
Emily Ross was hanging by her fingernails—literally—off a broken old bridge. Hundreds of feet below, water rushed over the rocks, the mountain stream full from recent rains.
Those rains were partially responsible for her current predicament. If the wood on the bridge had been dry, she might not have slipped, twisting her foot in the process. And she certainly wouldn’t have fallen onto the rail that had broken under her weight.
It was only a last-minute desperate grab that had prevented Emily from plummeting to her death below. As she was falling, her right hand had caught a small protrusion on the side of the bridge, leaving her dangling in the air hundreds of feet above the hard rocks.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Please, please, please, I don’t want to die.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This was her vacation, her regain-sanity time. How could she die now? She hadn’t even begun living yet.
Images of the last two years slid through Emily’s brain, like the PowerPoint presentations she’d spent so many hours making. Every late night, every weekend spent in the office—it had all been for nothing. She’d lost her job during the layoffs, and now she was about to lose her life.
No, no!
Emily’s legs flailed, her nails digging deeper into the wood. Her other arm reached up, stretching toward the bridge. This wouldn’t happen to her. She wouldn’t let it. She had worked too hard to let a stupid jungle bridge defeat her.
Blood ran down her arm as the rough wood tore the skin off her fingers, but she ignored the pain. Her only hope of survival lay in trying to grab onto the side of the bridge with her other hand, so she could pull herself up. There was no one around to rescue her, no one to save her if she didn’t save herself.
The possibility that she might die alone in the rainforest had not occurred to Emily when she’d embarked on this trip. She was used to hiking, used to camping. And even after the hell of the past two years, she was still in good shape, strong and fit from running and playing sports all through high school and college. Costa Rica was considered a safe destination, with a low crime rate and tourist-friendly population. It was inexpensive too—an important factor for her rapidly dwindling savings account.
She’d booked this trip before. Before the market had fallen again, before another round of layoffs that had cost thousands of Wall Street workers their jobs. Before Emily went to work on Monday, bleary-eyed from working all weekend, only to leave the office the same day with all her possessions in a small cardboard box.
Before her four-year relationship had fallen apart.
Her first vacation in two years, and she was going to die.
No, don’t think that way. It won’t happen.
But Emily knew she was lying to herself. She could feel her fingers slipping farther, her right arm and shoulder burning from the strain of supporting the weight of her entire body. Her left hand was inches away from reaching the side of the bridge, but those inches could’ve easily been miles. She couldn’t get a strong enough grip to lift herself up with one arm.
Do it, Emily! Don’t think, just do it!
Gathering all her strength, she swung her legs in the air, using the momentum to bring her body higher for a fraction of a second. Her left hand grabbed onto the protruding board, clutched at it… and the fragile piece of wood snapped, startling her into a terrified scream.
Emily’s last thought before her body hit the rocks was the hope that her death would be instant.
The smell of jungle vegetation, rich and pungent, teased Zaron’s nostrils. He inhaled deeply, letting the humid air fill his lungs. It was clean here, in this tiny corner of Earth, almost as unpolluted as on his home planet.
He needed this now. Needed the fresh air, the isolation. For the past six months, he’d tried to run from his thoughts, to exist only in the moment, but he’d failed. Even blood and sex were not enough for him anymore. He could distract himself while fucking, but the pain always came back afterwards, as strong as ever.
Finally, it had gotten to be too much. The dirt, the crowds, the stink of humanity. When he wasn’t lost in a fog of ecstasy, he was disgusted, his senses overwhelmed from spending so much time in human cities. It was better here, where he could breathe without inhaling poison, where he could smell life instead of chemicals. In a few years, everything would be different, and he might try living in a human city again, but not yet.
Not until they were fully settled here.
That was Zaron’s job: to oversee the settlements. He had been doing research on Earth fauna and flora for decades, and when the Council requested his assistance with the upcoming colonization, he hadn’t hesitated. Anything was bet
ter than being home, where memories of Larita’s presence were everywhere.
There were no memories here. For all of its similarities to Krina, this planet was strange and exotic. Seven billion Homo sapiens on Earth—an unthinkable number—and they were multiplying at a dizzying pace. With their short lifespans and the resulting lack of long-term thinking, they were consuming their planet’s resources with utter disregard for the future. In some ways, they reminded him of Schistocerca gregaria—a species of locusts he’d studied several years ago.
Of course, humans were more intelligent than insects. A few individuals, like Einstein, were even Krinar-like in some aspects of their thinking. It wasn’t particularly surprising to Zaron; he had always thought this might be the intent of the Elders’ grand experiment.
Walking through the Costa Rican forest, he found himself thinking about the task at hand. This part of the planet was promising; it was easy to picture edible plants from Krina thriving here. He had done extensive tests on the soil, and he had some ideas on how to make it even more hospitable to Krinar flora.
All around him, the forest was lush and green, filled with the fragrance of blooming heliconias and the sounds of rustling leaves and native birds. In the distance, he could hear the cry of an Alouatta palliata, a howler monkey native to Costa Rica, and something else.
Frowning, Zaron listened closer, but the sound didn’t repeat.
Curious, he headed in that direction, his hunting instincts on alert. For a second, the sound had reminded him of a woman’s scream.
Moving through the thick jungle vegetation with ease, Zaron put on a burst of speed, leaping over a small creek and the bushes that stood in his way. Out here, away from human eyes, he could move like a Krinar without worrying about exposure. Within a couple of minutes, he was close enough to pick up the scent. Sharp and coppery, it made his mouth water and his cock stir.
