Dark Dangerous Mine Box Set - Anna Zaires

DARK, DANGEROUS, & MINE THREE COMPLETE DARK ROMANCE TRILOGIES

ANNA ZAIRES

♠ MOZAIKA PUBLICATIONS ♠

Contents Twist Me: The Complete Trilogy Twist Me Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27

Keep Me The Arrival Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 The Estate Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 The Captive Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Hold Me The Return Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 The Healing Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 The Trip Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 The Aftermath Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Epilogue Capture Me: The Complete Trilogy Capture Me The Assignment Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 The Detainment Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 Chapter 13 The Prisoner Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Bind Me His Captive Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

The Breaking Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 The Rift Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Claim Me The Escape Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 The Lead Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 The Caretaker Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

Chapter 39 Chapter 40 The New Captivity Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Bonus Epilogue: Nora & Julian Mia & Korum : The Complete Krinar Chronicles Trilogy Close Liaisons Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Close Obsession Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Epilogue Close Remembrance Part 1 Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Part 2 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Part 3 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Epilogue Excerpt from The Krinar Captive Excerpt from The Thought Readers by Dima Zales Excerpt from Oasis by Dima Zales About the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 Anna Zaires and Dima Zales www.annazaires.com All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Published by Mozaika Publications, an imprint of Mozaika LLC. www.mozaikallc.com Cover by Najla Qamber Designs www.najlaqamberdesigns.com e-ISBN: 978-1-63142-196-9

TWIST ME: THE COMPLETE TRILOGY

TWIST ME TWIST ME: BOOK 1

PROLOGUE

N ora BLOOD. It’s everywhere. The pool of dark red liquid on the floor is spreading, multiplying. It’s on my feet, my skin, my hair… I can taste it, smell it, feel it covering me. I’m drowning in blood, suffocating in it. No! Stop! I want to scream, but I can’t draw in enough air. I want to move, but I’m restrained, tied in place, the ropes cutting into my skin as I struggle against them. I can hear her screams, though. Inhuman shrieks of pain and agony that slice me open, leaving my mind as raw and mangled as her flesh. He lifts the knife one last time, and the pool of blood turns into an ocean, the rip current sucking me in— I wake up screaming his name, my sheets soaked through with cold sweat. For a moment, I’m disoriented… and then I remember. He will never come for me again.

1 EIGHTEEN MONTHS EARLIER

N ora I’M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD WHEN I FIRST MEET HIM. Seventeen and crazy about Jake. “Nora, come on, this is boring,” Leah says as we sit on the bleachers watching the game. Football. Something I know nothing about, but pretend I love because that’s where I see him. Out there on that field, practicing every day. I’m not the only girl watching Jake, of course. He’s the quarterback and the hottest guy on the planet—or at least in the Chicago suburb of Oak Lawn, Illinois. “It’s not boring,” I tell her. “Football is a lot of fun.” Leah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just go talk to him already. You’re not shy. Why don’t you just make him notice you?” I shrug. Jake and I don’t run in the same circles. He’s got cheerleaders climbing all over him, and I’ve been watching him long enough to know that he goes for tall blond girls, not short brunettes. Besides, for now it’s kind of fun to just enjoy the attraction. And I know that’s what this feeling is. Lust. Hormones, pure and simple. I have no idea if I’ll like Jake as a person, but I certainly love how he looks without his shirt. Whenever he walks by, I feel my heart beating faster from excitement. I feel warm inside, and I want to squirm in my seat. I also dream about him. Sexy dreams, sensual dreams, where he holds my hand, touches my face, kisses me. Our bodies touch, rub against each other. Our clothes come off.

I try to imagine what sex with Jake would be like. Last year, when I was dating Rob, we nearly went all the way, but then I found out he slept with another girl at a party while drunk. He groveled profusely when I confronted him about it, but I couldn’t trust him again and we broke up. Now I’m much more careful about the guys I date, although I know not all of them are like Rob. Jake might be, though. He’s just too popular not to be a player. Still, if there’s anybody I’d want to have my first time with, it’s definitely Jake. “Let’s go out tonight,” Leah says. “Just us girls. We can go to Chicago, celebrate your birthday.” “My birthday is not for another week,” I remind her, even though I know she’s got the date marked on her calendar. “So what? We can get a head start.” I grin. She’s always so eager to party. “I don’t know. What if they throw us out again? Those IDs are just not that good—” “We’ll go to another place. It doesn’t have to be Aristotle.” Aristotle is by far the coolest club in the city. But Leah was right—there were others. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it. Let’s get a head start.”

LEAH PICKS ME UP AT 9 P.M. She’s dressed for clubbing—dark skinny jeans, a sparkly black tube-top, and over-the-knee high-heeled boots. Her blond hair is perfectly smooth and straight, falling down her back like a highlighted waterfall. In contrast, I’m still wearing my sneakers. My clubbing shoes I hide in the backpack that I intend to leave in Leah’s car. A thick sweater hides the sexy top I’m wearing. No makeup and my long brown hair in a ponytail. I leave the house like that to avoid any suspicion. I tell my parents I’m going to hang out with Leah at a friend’s house. My mom smiles and tells me to have fun. Now that I’m almost eighteen, I don’t have a curfew anymore. Well, I probably do, but it’s not a formal one. As long as I come home before my parents start freaking out—or at least if I let them know where I am—it’s all good.

Once I get into Leah’s car, I begin my transformation. Off goes the thick sweater, revealing the slinky tank-top I have on underneath. I wore a push-up bra to maximize my somewhat-undersized assets. The bra straps are cleverly designed to look cute, so I’m not embarrassed to have them show. I don’t have cool boots like Leah’s, but I did manage to sneak out my nicest pair of black heels. They add about four inches to my height. I need every single one of those inches, so I put on the shoes. Next, I pull out my makeup bag and pull down the windshield visor, so I can get access to the mirror. Familiar features stare back at me. Large brown eyes and clearly defined black eyebrows dominate my small face. Rob once told me that I look exotic, and I can kind of see that. Even though I’m only a quarter Latino, my skin always looks lightly tanned and my eyelashes are unusually long. Fake lashes, Leah calls them, but they’re entirely real. I don’t have a problem with my looks, although I often wish I were taller. It’s those Mexican genes of mine. My abuela was petite and so am I, even though both of my parents are of average height. I wouldn’t care, except Jake likes tall girls. I don’t think he even sees me in the hallway; I’m literally below his eye level. Sighing, I put on lip gloss and some eye shadow. I don’t go crazy with makeup because simple works best on me. Leah cranks up the radio, and the latest pop songs fill the car. I grin and start singing along with Rihanna. Leah joins me, and now we’re both belting out S&M lyrics. Before I know it, we arrive at the club. We walk in like we own the place. Leah gives the bouncer a big smile, and we flash our IDs. They let us through, no problem. We’ve never been to this club before. It’s in an older, slightly rundown part of downtown Chicago. “How did you find this place?” I yell at Leah, shouting to be heard above the music. “Ralph told me about it,” she yells back, and I roll my eyes. Ralph is Leah’s ex-boyfriend. They broke up when he started acting weird, but they still talk for some reason. I think he’s into drugs or something these days. I’m not sure, and Leah won’t tell me out of some misplaced loyalty to him. He’s the

king of shady, and the fact that we’re here on his recommendation is not supercomforting. But whatever. Sure, the area outside is not the best, but the music is good and the crowd is a nice mix of people. We’re here to party, and that’s exactly what we do for the next hour. Leah gets a couple of guys to buy us shots. We don’t have more than one drink each. Leah— because she has to drive us home. And me—because I don’t metabolize alcohol well. We may be young, but we’re not stupid. After the shots, we dance. The two guys who bought us drinks dance with us, but we gradually migrate away from them. They’re not that cute. Leah finds a group of college-age hotties, and we sidle up to them. She strikes up a conversation with one of them, and I smile, watching her in action. She’s good at this flirting business. In the meantime, my bladder tells me I need to visit the ladies’ room. So I leave them and go. On my way back, I ask the bartender for a glass of water. I am thirsty after all the dancing. He gives it to me, and I greedily gulp it down. When I’m done, I put down the glass and look up. Straight into a pair of piercing blue eyes. He’s sitting on the other side of the bar, about ten feet away. And he’s staring at me. I stare back. I can’t help it. He’s probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His hair is dark and curls slightly. His face is hard and masculine, each feature perfectly symmetrical. Straight dark eyebrows over those strikingly pale eyes. A mouth that could belong to a fallen angel. I suddenly feel warm as I imagine that mouth touching my skin, my lips. If I were prone to blushing, I would’ve been beet-red. He gets up and walks toward me, still holding me with his gaze. He walks leisurely. Calmly. He’s completely sure of himself. And why not? He’s gorgeous, and he knows it. As he approaches, I realize that he’s a large man. Tall and well built. I don’t know how old he is, but I’m guessing he’s closer to thirty than twenty. A man, not a

boy. He stands next to me, and I have to remember to breathe. “What’s your name?” he asks softly. His voice somehow carries above the music, its deeper notes audible even in this noisy environment. “Nora,” I say quietly, looking up at him. I am absolutely mesmerized, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. He smiles. His sensuous lips part, revealing even white teeth. “Nora. I like that.” He doesn’t introduce himself, so I gather my courage and ask, “What’s your name?” “You can call me Julian,” he says, and I watch his lips moving. I’ve never been so fascinated by a man’s mouth before. “How old are you, Nora?” he asks next. I blink. “Twenty-one.” His expression darkens. “Don’t lie to me.” “Almost eighteen,” I admit reluctantly. I hope he doesn’t tell the bartender and get me kicked out of here. He nods, like I confirmed his suspicions. And then he raises his hand and touches my face. Lightly, gently. His thumb rubs against my lower lip, as though he’s curious about its texture. I’m so shocked that I just stand there. Nobody has ever done that before, touched me so casually, so possessively. I feel hot and cold at the same time, and a tendril of fear snakes down my spine. There is no hesitation in his actions. No asking for permission, no pausing to see if I would let him touch me. He just touches me. Like he has the right to do so. Like I belong to him. I draw in a shaky breath and back away. “I have to go,” I whisper, and he nods again, watching me with an inscrutable expression on his beautiful face. I know he’s letting me go, and I feel pathetically grateful—because something deep inside me senses that he could’ve easily gone further, that he doesn’t play by the normal rules. That he’s probably the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met. I turn and make my way through the crowd. My hands are trembling, and my

heart is pounding in my throat. I need to leave, so I grab Leah and make her drive me home. As we’re walking out of the club, I look back and I see him again. He’s still staring at me. There is a dark promise in his gaze—something that makes me shiver.

2

N ora THE NEXT THREE WEEKS PASS BY IN A BLUR. I CELEBRATE MY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY, STUDY FOR FINALS, hang out with Leah and my other friend Jennie, go to football games to watch Jake play, and get ready for graduation. I try not to think about the club incident again. Because when I do, I feel like a coward. Why did I run? Julian had barely touched me. I can’t fathom my strange reaction. I had been turned on, but ridiculously frightened at the same time. And now my nights are restless. Instead of dreaming of Jake, I often wake up feeling hot and uncomfortable, throbbing between my legs. Dark sexual images invade my dreams, stuff I’ve never thought about before. A lot of it involves Julian doing something to me, usually while I’m helplessly frozen in place. Sometimes I think I’m going crazy. Pushing that disturbing thought out of my mind, I focus on getting dressed. My high school graduation is today, and I’m excited. Leah, Jennie, and I have big plans for after the ceremony. Jake is throwing a post-graduation party at his house. It will be the perfect opportunity to finally talk to him. I’m wearing a black dress under my blue graduation gown. It’s simple, but it fits me well, showing off my small curves. I’m also wearing my four-inch heels. A little much for the graduation ceremony, but I need the added height. My parents drive me to the school. This summer I’m hoping to save enough money to buy my own car for college. I’m going to a local community college

because it’s cheaper that way, so I’ll still be living at home. I don’t mind. My parents are nice, and we get along well. They give me a lot of freedom—probably because they think I’m a good kid, never getting in trouble. They’re mostly right. Other than the fake IDs and the occasional clubbing excursions, I lead a pretty sedate life. No heavy drinking, no smoking, no drugs of any kind—although I did try pot once at a party. We arrive and I find Leah. Lining up for the ceremony, we wait patiently for our names to be called. It’s a perfect day in early June—not too hot, not too cold. Leah’s name is called first. Luckily for her, her last name starts with ‘A.’ My last name is Leston, so I have to stand for another thirty minutes. Fortunately, our graduating class is only a hundred people. One of the perks of living in a small town. My name is called and I go to receive my diploma. Looking out onto the crowd, I smile and wave to my parents. I’m pleased that they look so proud. I shake the principal’s hand and turn to go back to my seat. And in that moment, I see him again. My blood freezes in my veins. He’s sitting in the back, watching me. I can feel his eyes on me, even from a distance. Somehow I make my way down from the stage without falling. My legs are trembling, and my breathing is much faster than normal. I take a seat next to my parents and pray that they don’t notice my state. Why is Julian here? What does he want from me? Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to calm down. Surely he’s here because of someone else. Maybe he has a brother or a sister in my graduating class. Or some other relative. But I know I’m lying to myself. I remember that possessive touch, and I know he’s not done with me. He wants me. A shudder runs down my spine at the thought.

I DON’T SEE HIM AGAIN AFTER THE CEREMONY, AND I’M RELIEVED. LEAH DRIVES US TO JAKE’S HOUSE. She and Jennie are chattering the entire way, excited to be done with high school, to

start the next phase of our lives. I would normally join in the conversation, but I’m too disturbed by seeing Julian, so I just sit there quietly. For some reason, I hadn’t told Leah about meeting him in the club. I only said that I had a headache and wanted to go home. I don’t know why I can’t talk to Leah about Julian. I have no problem spilling my guts about Jake. Maybe it’s because it’s too difficult for me to describe how Julian makes me feel. She wouldn’t understand why he frightens me. I don’t really understand it myself. At Jake’s house, the party is in full swing when we arrive. I am still resolved to talk to Jake, but I’m too freaked out from seeing Julian earlier. I decide that I need some liquid courage. Leaving the girls, I walk over to the keg and pour myself a cup of punch. Sniffing it, I determine that it definitely has alcohol, and I drink the full cup. Almost immediately, I start to feel buzzed. As I had discovered in the past few years, my alcohol tolerance is virtually nonexistent. One drink is just about my limit. I see Jake walking to the kitchen, and I follow him there. He’s cleaning up, throwing away some extra cups and dirty paper plates. “Do you want some help with that?” I ask. He smiles, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, sure, thanks. That would be awesome.” His sun-streaked hair is a little long and flops over his forehead, making him look particularly cute. I melt a little inside. He’s so handsome. Not in the disturbing Julian way, but in a pleasantly comfortable sense. Jake is tall and muscular, but he’s not all that big for a quarterback. Not big enough to play ball in college, or at least that’s what Jennie once told me. I help him clean up, brushing some chip crumbs off the counter and wiping up the punch that had spilled on the floor. The entire time, my heart is beating faster from excitement. “Nora, right?” Jake says, looking at me. He knows my name! I give him a huge grin. “That’s right.” “That’s really awesome of you to help, Nora,” he says sincerely. “I like throwing

parties, but the cleaning is always a bitch the next day. So now I try to clean a little during, before it gets really nasty.” My grin widens further, and I nod. “Of course.” That makes total sense to me. I love the fact that he seems so nice and thoughtful, so much more than just a jock. We start chatting. He tells me about his plans for next year. Unlike me, he’s going away to college. I tell him I’m planning to stay local for the next two years to save money. Afterwards, I want to transfer to a real university. He nods approvingly and says that it’s smart. He’d thought about doing something like that, but he was lucky enough to get a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan. I smile and congratulate him. On the inside, I’m jumping up and down in joy. We’re clicking. We’re really clicking! He likes me, I can tell. Oh, why hadn’t I approached him before? We talk for about twenty minutes before someone comes into the kitchen looking for Jake. “Hey, Nora,” Jake says before he goes back to the party, “are you doing anything tomorrow?” I shake my head, holding my breath. “How about we go see a movie?” Jake suggests. “Maybe grab dinner at that little seafood place?” I grin and nod like an idiot. I’m too afraid to say something stupid, so I keep my mouth shut. “Great,” Jake says, grinning back at me. “Then I’ll pick you up at six.” He goes back to being the party host, and I rejoin the girls. We stay for another couple of hours, but I don’t talk to Jake again. He’s surrounded by his jock friends, and I don’t want to interrupt. But every now and then, I catch him looking my way and smiling.

I’M FLOATING ON AIR FOR THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR happened. They’re excited for me.

HOURS.

I

TELL

LEAH

AND JENNIE ALL ABOUT WHAT

In preparation for our date, I put on a cute blue dress and a pair of high-heeled

brown boots. They’re a cross between cowboy boots and something a bit dressier, and I know I look good in them. Jake picks me up at six o’clock sharp. We go to Fish-of-the-Sea, a popular local joint not too far from the movie theater. It’s a nice sit-down place, not too formal. Perfect for a first date. We have a great time. I learn more about Jake and his family. He asks me questions too, and we discover that we like the same types of movies. I can’t stand chick flicks for some reason, and I really enjoy cheesy end-of-the-world stories with lots of special effects. So does Jake, apparently. After dinner, we go see a movie. Unfortunately, it’s not about an apocalypse, but it’s still a pretty good action film. During the movie, Jake puts his arm around my shoulders, and I can barely suppress my excitement. I hope he kisses me tonight. When the movie is done, we go for a walk in the park. It’s late, but I feel completely safe. The crime rate in our town is negligible, and there are plenty of streetlights. We’re walking and Jake is holding my hand. We’re discussing the movie. Then he stops and just looks at me. I know what he wants. It’s what I want, too. I look up at him and smile. He smiles back, puts his hands on my shoulders, and leans down to kiss me. His lips feel soft, and his breath smells like the minty gum he was chewing earlier. His kiss is gentle and pleasant, everything I hoped it would be. Then, in a blink of an eye, everything changes. I don’t even know what happened or how it happened. One minute, I’m kissing Jake, and the next, he’s lying on the ground, unconscious. A large figure is looming over him. I open my mouth to scream, but I can’t get more than a peep out before a big hand covers my mouth and nose. I feel a sharp prick on the side of my neck, and my world goes completely dark.

3

N ora I WAKE UP WITH A POUNDING HEADACHE AND QUEASY STOMACH. IT’S DARK, AND I CAN’T SEE A THING. For a second, I can’t remember what happened. Did I have too much to drink at a party? Then my mind clears, and the events of last night come rushing in. I remember the kiss and then… Jake! Oh dear God, what happened to Jake? What happened to me? I’m so terrified that I just lie there, shaking. I am lying on something comfortable. A bed with a good mattress, most likely. I’m covered by a blanket, but I can’t feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my skin. I touch myself and confirm that I’m right: I’m completely naked. My shaking intensifies. I use one hand to check between my legs. To my huge relief, everything feels the same. No wetness, no soreness, no indication that I’ve been violated in any way. For now, at least. Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Crying wouldn’t help my situation now. I need to figure out what’s going on. Are they planning to kill me? Rape me? Rape me and then kill me? If it’s ransom they’re after, then I’m as good as dead. After my dad got laid off during the recession, my parents can barely pay their mortgage as is. I hold back hysteria with effort. I don’t want to start screaming. That would attract their attention.

Instead I just lie there in the dark, every horrifying story I’ve seen on the news running through my mind. I think of Jake and his warm smile. I think of my parents and how devastated they’ll be when the police tell them I’m missing. I think of all my plans, and how I will probably never get a chance to attend a real university. And then I start to get angry. Why did they do this? Who are they, anyway? I assume it’s ‘they’ instead of ‘he’ because I remember seeing a dark figure looming over Jake’s body. Someone else must’ve grabbed me from the back. The anger helps hold back the panic. I’m able to think a little. I still can’t see anything in the dark, but I can feel. Moving quietly, I carefully start exploring my surroundings. First, I determine that I’m indeed lying on a bed. A big bed, probably king-sized. There are pillows and a blanket, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to the touch. Likely expensive. For some reason, that scares me even more. These are criminals with money. Crawling to the edge of the bed, I sit up, holding the blanket tightly around me. My bare feet touch the floor. It’s smooth and cold to the touch, like hardwood. I wrap the blanket around me and stand up, ready to do further exploration. At that moment, I hear the door opening. A soft light comes on. Even though it’s not bright, I’m blinded for a minute. I blink a few times, and my eyes adjust. And I see him. Julian. He stands in the doorway like a dark angel. His hair curls a little around his face, softening the hard perfection of his features. His eyes are trained on my face, and his lips are curved in a slight smile. He’s stunning. And utterly terrifying. My instincts had been right—this man is capable of anything. “Hello, Nora,” he says softly, entering the room. I cast a desperate glance around me. I see nothing that could serve as a weapon. My mouth is dry like the desert. I can’t even gather enough saliva to talk. So I

just watch him stalk toward me like a hungry tiger approaches its prey. I am going to fight if he touches me. He comes closer, and I take a step back. Then another and another, until I’m pressed against the wall. I’m still huddling in the blanket. He lifts his hand, and I tense, preparing to defend myself. But he’s merely holding a bottle of water and offering it to me. “Here,” he says. “I figured you must be thirsty.” I stare at him. I’m dying of thirst, but I don’t want him to drug me again. He seems to understand my hesitation. “Don’t worry, my pet. It’s just water. I want you awake and conscious.” I don’t know how to react to that. My heart is hammering in my throat, and I feel sick with fear. He stands there, patiently watching. Holding the blanket tightly with one hand, I give in to my thirst and take the water from him. My hand shakes, and my fingers brush against his in the process. A wave of heat rolls through me, a strange reaction that I ignore. Now I have to unscrew the cap—which means I have to let go of the blanket. He’s observing my dilemma with interest and no small measure of amusement. Thankfully, he’s not touching me. He’s standing less than two feet away and simply watching me. I press my arms tightly against my body, holding the blanket that way, and unscrew the cap. Then I hold the blanket with one hand and lift the bottle to my lips to drink. The cool liquid feels amazing on my parched lips and tongue. I drink until the entire bottle is gone. I can’t remember the last time water tasted so good. Dry mouth must be the side effect of whatever drug he used to get me here. Now I can talk again, so I ask him, “Why?” To my huge surprise, my voice sounds almost normal. He lifts his hand and touches my face again. Just like he did at the club. And again, I stand there helplessly and let him. His fingers are gentle on my skin, his touch almost tender. It’s such a stark contrast to the whole situation that I’m disoriented for a moment. “Because I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Julian says, and I can hear the

barely suppressed rage in his voice. “Because he touched you, laid his hands on you.” I can barely think. “Who?” I whisper, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. And then it hits me. “Jake?” “Yes, Nora,” he says darkly. “Jake.” “Is he—” I don’t know if I can even say it out loud. “Is he… alive?” “For now,” Julian says, his eyes burning into mine. “He’s in the hospital with a mild concussion.” I’m so relieved I slump against the wall. And then the full meaning of his words hits me. “What do you mean, for now?” Julian shrugs. “His health and wellbeing are entirely dependent on you.” I swallow to moisten my still-dry throat. “On me?” His fingers caress my face again, push the hair back behind my ear. I’m so cold I feel like his touch is burning my skin. “Yes, my pet, on you. If you behave, he’ll be fine. If not…” I can barely draw in a breath. “If not?” Julian smiles. “He’ll be dead within a week.” His smile is the most beautiful and frightening thing I’ve ever seen. “Who are you?” I whisper. “What do you want from me?” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he touches my hair, lifts a thick brown strand to his face. Inhales, as though smelling it. I watch him, frozen in place. I don’t know what to do. Do I fight him now? And if so, what would that accomplish? He hasn’t hurt me yet, and I don’t want to provoke him. He’s much larger than me, much stronger. I can see the thickness of his muscles under the black T-shirt he’s wearing. Without my heels on, I barely come up to his shoulder. While I contemplate the merits of fighting someone who probably outweighs me by a hundred pounds, he makes the decision for me. His hand leaves my hair and tugs at the blanket I’m holding so tightly. I don’t let go. If anything, I clutch it harder. And I do something embarrassing. I beg. “Please,” I say desperately, “please, don’t do this.”

He smiles again. “Why not?” His hand is continuing to pull at the blanket, slowly and inexorably. I know he’s doing it this way to prolong the torture. He could easily rip the blanket away from me with one strong tug. “I don’t want this,” I tell him. I can barely draw in air through the constriction in my chest, and my voice comes out sounding unexpectedly breathy. He looks amused, but there’s a dark gleam in his eyes. “No? You think I couldn’t feel your reaction to me in the club?” I shake my head. “There was no reaction. You’re wrong…” My voice is thick with unshed tears. “I only want Jake—” In an instant, his hand is wrapped around my throat. He doesn’t do anything else, doesn’t squeeze, but the threat is there. I can feel the violence within him, and I’m terrified. He leans down toward me. “You don’t want that boy,” he says harshly. “He can never give you what I can. Do you understand me?” I nod, too scared to do anything else. He releases my throat. “Good,” he says in a softer tone. “Now let go of the blanket. I want to see you naked again.” Again? He must’ve been the one to undress me. I try to plaster myself even closer to the wall. And still don’t let go of the blanket. He sighs. Two seconds later, the blanket is on the floor. As I had suspected, I don’t stand a chance when he uses his full strength. I resist the only way I can. Instead of standing there and letting him look at my naked body, I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chest. My arms wrap around my legs, and I sit there like that, trembling all over. My long, thick hair streams down my back and arms, partially covering me. I hide my face against my knees. I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me now, and the tears burning my eyes finally escape, running down my cheeks. “Nora,” he says, and there is a steely note in his voice. “Get up. Get up right now.” I shake my head mutely, still not looking at him. “Nora, this can be pleasurable for you or it can be painful. It’s really up to you.”

Pleasurable? Is he insane? My entire body is shaking with sobs at this point. “Nora,” he says again, and I hear the impatience in his voice. “You have exactly five seconds to do what I’m telling you.” He waits, and I can almost hear him counting in his head. I’m counting too, and when I get to four, I get up, tears still streaming down my face. I’m ashamed of my own cowardice, but I’m so afraid of pain. I don’t want him to hurt me. I don’t want him to touch me at all, but that is clearly not an option. “Good girl,” he says softly, touching my face again, brushing my hair back over my shoulders. I tremble at his touch. I can’t look at him, so I keep my eyes down. He apparently objects to that, because he tilts my chin up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze with my own. His eyes are dark blue in this light. He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat coming off his body. It feels good because I’m cold. Naked and cold. Suddenly, he reaches for me, bending down. Before I can get really scared, he slides one arm around my back and another under my knees. Then he lifts me effortlessly in his arms and carries me to the bed.

HE PUTS ME DOWN, ALMOST GENTLY, AND I CURL INTO A BALL, SHAKING. HE STARTS TO UNDRESS, AND I can’t help watching him. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and the T-shirt comes off first. His upper body is a work of art, all broad shoulders, hard muscles, and smooth tan skin. His chest is lightly dusted with dark hair. Under some other circumstances, I would’ve been thrilled to have such a good-looking lover. Under these circumstances, I just want to scream. His jeans are next. I can hear the sound of his zipper being lowered, and it galvanizes me into action. In a second, I go from lying on the bed to scrambling for the door—which he’d left open. I may be small, but I’m fast on my feet. I did track for ten years and was quite

good at it. Unfortunately, I hurt my knee during one of the races, and now I’m limited to more leisurely runs and other forms of exercise. I make it out the door, down the stairs, and I’m almost to the front door when he catches me. His arms close around me from behind, and he squeezes me so hard that I can’t breathe for a moment. My arms are completely restrained, so I can’t even fight him. He lifts me, and I kick back at him with my heels. I manage to land a few kicks before he turns me around to face him. I’m sure he’s going to hurt me now, and I brace myself for a blow. Instead, he just pulls me into his embrace and holds me tightly. My face is buried in his chest, and my naked body is pressed against his. I can smell the clean, musky scent of his skin and feel something hard and warm against my stomach. His erection. He’s fully naked and turned on. With the way he’s holding me, I’m almost completely helpless. I can neither kick nor scratch him. But I can bite. So I sink my teeth into his pectoral muscle and hear him curse before he yanks on my hair, forcing me to release his flesh. Then he holds me like that, one arm wrapped around my waist, my lower body tightly pressed against him. His other hand is fisted in my hair, holding my head arched back. My hands are pushing at his chest in a futile attempt to put some distance between us. I meet his gaze defiantly, ignoring the tears running down my face. I have no choice but to be brave now. If I die, I want to at least retain some dignity. His expression is dark and angry, his blue eyes narrowed at me. I am breathing hard, and my heart is beating so fast I feel like it might jump out of my chest. We look at each other—predator and prey, the conqueror and the conquered—and in that moment, I feel an odd sort of connection to him. Like a part of myself is forever altered by what’s happening between us. Suddenly, his face softens. A smile appears on his sensuous lips. Then he leans toward me, lowers his head, and presses his mouth to mine. I am stunned. His lips are gentle, tender as they explore mine, even as he holds

me with an iron grip. He’s a skilled kisser. I’ve kissed quite a few guys, and I’ve never felt anything like this. His breath is warm, flavored with something sweet, and his tongue teases my lips until they part involuntarily, granting him access to my mouth. I don’t know if it’s the aftereffects of the drug he gave me or the simple relief that he’s not hurting me, but I melt at that kiss. A strange languor spreads through my body, sapping my will to fight. He kisses me slowly, leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world. His tongue strokes against mine, and he lightly sucks on my lower lip, sending a surge of liquid heat straight to my core. His hand eases its grip on my hair and cradles the back of my head instead. It’s almost like he’s making love to me. I find my hands holding on to his shoulders. I have no idea how they got there, but I’m now clinging to him instead of pushing him away. I don’t understand my own reaction. Why am I not cringing away from his kiss in disgust? It just feels so good, that incredible mouth of his. It’s like kissing an angel. It makes me forget the situation for a second, enables me to push the terror away. He pulls away and looks down on me. His lips are wet and shiny, a little swollen from our kiss. Mine probably are too. He no longer seems angry. Instead, he looks hungry and pleased at the same time. I can see both lust and tenderness on his perfect face, and I can’t tear my eyes away. I lick my lips, and his eyes drop down to my mouth for a second. He kisses me again, just a brief brush of his lips against mine. Then he picks me up again and carries me upstairs to his bed.

4

N ora WHEN I LOOK BACK ON THIS DAY, MY BEHAVIOR DOESN’T MAKE SENSE TO ME. I DON’T UNDERSTAND why I didn’t fight him harder, why I didn’t try to get away again. It wasn’t a rational decision on my part—it wasn’t a conscious choice to cooperate in order to avoid pain. No, I am acting purely on instinct. And my instinct is to submit to him. He puts me down on the bed, and I just lie there. I’m too worn out from our earlier struggle, and I still feel woozy from the drug. There is something so surreal about what’s happening that my mind can’t process it fully. I feel like I’m watching a play or a movie. It can’t possibly be me in this situation. I can’t be this girl who was drugged and kidnapped, and who is letting her kidnapper touch her, stroke her all over her body. We’re lying on our sides, facing each other. I can feel his hands on my skin. They’re slightly rough, callused. Warm on my frozen flesh. Strong, though he’s not using that strength right now. He could subdue me with ease, like he did before, but there is no need. I’m not fighting him. I’m floating in a hazy, sensual fog. He’s kissing me again, and caressing my arm, my back, my neck, my outer thigh. His touch is gentle, yet firm. It’s almost like he’s giving me a massage, except I can feel the sexual intent in his actions. He kisses my neck, lightly nibbling on the sensitive spot where my neck and shoulder join, and I shiver from the pleasurable sensation.

I close my eyes. It’s disarming, that surprising gentleness of his. I know I should feel violated—and I do—but I also feel oddly cherished. With my eyes closed, I pretend that this is just a dream. A dark fantasy, like the kind I sometimes have late at night. It makes it more palatable, the fact that I’m letting this stranger do this to me. One of his hands is now on my buttocks, kneading the soft flesh. His other hand is traveling up my belly, my rib cage. He reaches my breasts and cups the left one in his palm, squeezes it lightly. My nipples are already hard, and his touch feels good, almost soothing. Rob has done this to me before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like this. I continue to keep my eyes shut as he rolls me onto my back. He’s partially on top of me, but most of his weight is resting on the bed. He doesn’t want to crush me, I realize, and I feel grateful. He kisses my collarbone, my shoulder, my stomach. His mouth is hot, and it leaves a moist trail on my skin. Then he closes his lips around my right nipple and sucks on it. My body arches, and I feel tension low in my belly. He repeats the action with my other nipple, and the tension inside me grows, intensifies. He senses it. I know he does because his hand ventures between my thighs and feels the moisture there. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking my folds. “So sweet, so responsive.” I whimper as his lips travel down my body, his hair tickling my skin. I know what he intends, and my mind blanks out when he reaches his destination. For a second, I try to resist, but he effortlessly pulls my legs apart. His fingers pat me gently, then pull apart my nether lips. And then he kisses me there, sending a surge of heat through my body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around my clitoris until I’m moaning, and then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks. The pleasure is so strong, so startling that my eyes fly open. I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and it’s frightening. I’m burning inside, throbbing between my legs. My heart is beating so fast I can’t catch my breath, and I find myself panting. I start struggling, and he laughs softly. I can feel the puffs of air from his breath on my sensitive flesh. He easily holds me down and continues what he’s doing.

The tension inside me is becoming unbearable. I’m squirming against his tongue, and my motions seem to be bringing me closer to some elusive edge. Then I go over with a soft scream. My entire body tightens, and I’m swamped by a wave of pleasure so intense that my toes curl. I can feel my inner muscles pulsing, and I realize that I just had an orgasm. The first orgasm of my life. And it was at the hands—or rather the mouth—of my captor. I’m so devastated that I just want to curl up and cry. I squeeze my eyes shut again. But he’s not done with me yet. He crawls up my body and kisses my mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. It’s from me, I realize. I’m tasting myself on his lips. A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through my body even as the hunger inside me intensifies. His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates my mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between my legs. One of his hands is holding the back of my head, while another one is between my thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again. I still don’t really resist, although my body tenses as the fear returns. I can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against my inner thigh, and I know he’s going to hurt me. “Please,” I whisper, opening my eyes to look at him. My vision is blurred by tears. “Please… I’ve never done this before—” His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. “I’m glad,” he says softly. Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward my opening. I gasp as he begins to push inside. I’m wet, but my body resists the unfamiliar intrusion. I don’t know how big he is, but he feels enormous as the head of his cock slowly enters my body. It begins to hurt, to burn, and I cry out, pushing at his shoulders. His pupils expand, making his eyes look darker. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, and I realize he’s actually restraining himself. “Relax, Nora,” he whispers harshly. “It will hurt less if you relax.” I’m trembling. I can’t follow his advice because I’m too nervous—and because it hurts so much, having even a little bit of him inside me.

He continues to press, and my flesh slowly gives way, reluctantly stretching for him. I’m writhing now, sobbing, my nails scratching at his back, but he’s relentless, working his cock in inch by slow inch. Then he pauses for a second, and I can see a vein pulsing near his temple. He looks like he’s in pain. But I know that it’s pleasurable for him, this act that’s hurting me so much. He lowers his head, kissing my forehead. And then he pushes past my virginal barrier, tearing through the thin membrane with one firm thrust. He doesn’t stop until his full length is buried inside me, his pubic hair pressing against my own. I almost black out from the pain. My stomach twists with nausea, and I feel faint. I can’t even scream; all I can do is try to take small, shallow breaths to avoid passing out. I can feel his hardness lodged deep inside me, and it’s the most agonizingly invasive thing I’ve ever experienced. “Relax,” he murmurs in my ear, “just relax, my pet. The pain will pass, it will get better…” I don’t believe him. It feels like a heated pole has been shoved inside my body, tearing me open. And I can’t do anything to escape, to make it hurt less. He’s so much larger than me, so much stronger. All I can do is lie there helplessly, pinned underneath him. He doesn’t move his hips, doesn’t thrust, even though I can feel the tension in his muscles. Instead, he gently kisses my forehead again. I close my eyes, bitter tears streaming down my temples, and feel the light brush of his lips against my eyelids. I don’t know how long we stay there like this. He’s raining soft kisses on my face, my neck. His hands embrace me, caress my skin in a parody of a lover’s touch. And all the while, his cock is buried deep inside me, its uncompromising hardness hurting me, burning me from within. I don’t know at what point the pain starts to change. My treacherous body slowly softens, begins to respond to his kisses, to the tenderness in his touch. The evil bastard senses it. And he slowly begins to move, partially withdrawing from my body and then working himself back in. Initially, his movements make it worse, only adding to my agony. And then he reaches between our bodies with one hand, and uses one finger to press against my clit, keeping the pressure light and steady. His thrusts move my hips, causing me to rub against his finger in a rhythmic way.

To my horror, I feel the tension gathering inside me again. The pain is still there, but so is the pleasure. I’m writhing in his arms, but now I’m fighting myself as well. His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I’m screaming from the unbearable intensity. The pain and the pleasure mix, until they’re indistinguishable from one another—until I exist in a world of pure, overwhelming sensation. And then I explode, the orgasm ripping through my body with such force that my vision darkens for a moment. Suddenly, I can hear him groaning against my ear and feel him getting even thicker and longer inside me. His cock is pulsing and jerking deep within me, and I know that he found his release as well. In the aftermath, he rolls off me and gathers me to him, holding me close. And I cry in his arms, seeking solace from the very person who is the cause of my tears.

AFTERWARDS, MY MIND IS FOGGY, MY THOUGHTS and I lie limply in his arms, like a rag doll.

STRANGELY JUMBLED.

HE

CARRIES ME SOMEWHERE,

Now he’s washing me. I’m standing in the shower with him. I’m vaguely surprised that my legs can hold me upright. I feel numb, detached somehow. There is blood on my thighs. I can see it mixing with the water, running down the drain. Also, there’s something sticky between my legs. His semen, most likely. He hadn’t used protection. I might now have an STD. I should be horrified by the thought, but I just feel numb. At least pregnancy isn’t something I have to be concerned about. As soon as I got serious with Rob, my mom insisted on taking me to the doctor to get a birth control implant in my arm. As a nursing assistant at a nonprofit women’s clinic, she saw far too many teenage pregnancies and wanted to make sure the same thing didn’t happen to me. I’m so grateful to her right now. While I’m pondering all this, Julian washes me thoroughly, shampooing and conditioning my hair. He even shaves my legs and armpits. Once I’m squeaky clean and smooth, he shuts off the water and guides me out of the shower.

He dries me with a towel first and then himself. Afterwards, he wraps me in a fluffy robe and carries me to the kitchen to feed me. I eat what he puts in front of me. I don’t even taste it. It’s a sandwich of some kind, but I don’t know what’s in it. He also gives me a glass of water, which I gulp down eagerly. I vaguely hope that he’s not drugging me, but I don’t really care if he is. I’m so tired I just want to pass out. After I’m done eating and drinking, he leads me back to the bathroom. “Go ahead, brush your teeth,” he says, and I stare at him. He cares about my oral hygiene? I do want to brush my teeth, though, so I do as he says. I also use the restroom to pee. He considerately leaves me alone for that. Then he takes me back to the room. Somehow the bed now has fresh sheets on it, with no traces of blood anywhere. I’m thankful for that. He kisses me lightly on the lips, leaves the room, and locks the door. I’m so exhausted that I walk over to the bed, lie down, and instantly fall asleep.

5

N ora WHEN I WAKE UP, MY MIND IS COMPLETELY CLEAR. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, AND I WANT TO SCREAM. I jump out of bed, noticing that I’m still wearing the robe from last night. The sudden movement makes me aware of a deep inner soreness, and my lower body tightens at the memory of how I got to be that sore. I can still feel his fullness inside me, and I shudder at the recollection. I am sickened and disgusted with myself. What is wrong with me? How could I have just lain there and let Julian have sex with me? How could I have found pleasure in his embrace? Yes, he’s good-looking, but that’s no excuse. He’s evil. I know it. I sensed it from the very beginning. His outer beauty hides a darkness inside. I have a feeling he’s only begun to reveal his true nature to me. Yesterday I had been too frightened, too traumatized to pay attention to my surroundings. I’m feeling much better today, so I carefully study this room. There is a window. It’s covered by thick ivory shades, but I can still see a little sunlight peeking through. I rush to it, pulling open the shades, and blink at the sudden bright light. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, and then I look outside. The bottom drops out of my stomach. The window is not hermetically sealed or anything like that. In fact, it looks like I could easily open it and climb out. This room is on the second floor, so I could maybe even make it to the ground without breaking anything.

No, the window is not the problem. It’s the view outside. I can see palm trees and a white sandy beach. Beyond it, there is a large body of water, blue and shimmering in the bright sun. It’s beautiful and tropical. And about as different as possible from my little town in the Midwest.

I’M COLD AGAIN. SO COLD THAT I’M SHIVERING. I KNOW IT’S FROM STRESS BECAUSE THE TEMPERATURE must be somewhere in the eighties. I’m pacing up and down the room, occasionally pausing to look out the window. Every time I look, it’s like a punch to the stomach. I don’t know what I’d been hoping. I honestly hadn’t had a chance to think about my location. I’d just sort of assumed that he would keep me somewhere in the area, maybe near Chicago where we’d first met. I’d thought that all I had to do in order to escape is find a way out of this house. Now I realize it’s far more complicated than that. I try the door again. It’s locked. A few minutes ago, I had discovered a small bathroom attached to this room. I used it to take care of my basic needs and to brush my teeth. It had been a nice distraction. Now I’m pacing like a caged animal, growing more terrified and angry with every minute that passes. Finally, the door opens, and a woman comes inside. I’m so shocked that I simply stare. She’s fairly young—maybe in her early thirties—and pretty. She’s holding a tray of food and smiling at me. Her hair is red and curly, and her eyes are a soft brown color. She’s bigger than me, probably at least five inches taller, with an athletic build. She’s dressed very casually, in a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top, with flip-flops on her feet. I think about attacking her. She’s a woman, and I have a small chance of winning against her in a fight. I have no chance against Julian.

Her smile widens, as though she’s reading my mind. “Please don’t jump me,” she says, and I can hear the amusement in her voice. “It’s quite pointless, I promise. I know you want to escape, but there is really nowhere to go. We’re on a private island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.” The sinking feeling in my stomach worsens. “Whose private island?” I ask, though I already know the answer. “Why, Julian’s, of course.” “Who is he? Who are you people?” My voice is relatively steady as I speak to her. She doesn’t make me nervous the way Julian does. She puts down the tray. “You’ll learn everything in due time. I’m here to take care of you and the property. My name is Beth, by the way.” I take a deep breath. “Why am I here, Beth?” “You’re here because Julian wants you.” “And you don’t see anything wrong with that?” I can hear the hysterical edge in my tone. I don’t understand how this woman is going along with that madman, how she’s acting like this is normal. She shrugs. “Julian does whatever he wants. It’s not for me to judge.” “Why not?” “Because I owe him my life,” she says seriously and walks out of the room.

I EAT THE FOOD BETH BROUGHT ME. IT’S PRETTY GOOD ACTUALLY, EVEN THOUGH IT’S NOT TRADITIONAL breakfast food. There is grilled fish in some kind of mushroom sauce and roasted potatoes with a side of green salad. For dessert, there’s some cut-up mango. Local fruit, I’m guessing. Despite my inner turmoil, I manage to eat everything. If I were less of a coward, I would resist by refusing to eat his food—but I fear hunger as much as I fear pain. So far he hasn’t really hurt me. Well, it did hurt when he put his cock inside me, but he hadn’t been purposefully rough. I suspect it would’ve hurt the first time regardless of the circumstances. The first time. It suddenly dawns on me that it had been my first time. Now I’m no longer a virgin. Strangely, I don’t feel like I lost anything. The thin membrane inside me had

never held any particular meaning for me. I never intended to wait until marriage or anything else like that. I regret that my first time was with a monster, but I don’t mourn the loss of the ‘virgin’ designation. I would’ve gladly gone all the way with Jake, if I’d only had a chance. Jake! My stomach lurches. I can’t believe I haven’t thought about him since Julian told me he was safe. The guy I’ve been crazy about for months had been the furthest thing from my mind when I was in the arms of my captor. Hot shame burns inside me. Shouldn’t I have been thinking of Jake last night? Shouldn’t I have been picturing his face when Julian touched me so intimately? If I truly wanted Jake, shouldn’t he have been the one on my mind during my forced sexual encounter? I’m suddenly filled with bitter hatred for the man who did this to me—the man who shattered my illusions about the world, about myself. I’d never thought much about what I would do if I got kidnapped, how I would react. Who thinks about stuff like that? But I guess I’d always assumed I would be brave, fighting to my last breath. Isn’t that what they do in all the books and movies? Fight, even when it’s useless, even when doing so means getting hurt? Shouldn’t I have done that too? Yes, he’s stronger than me, but I didn’t have to give in so easily. He didn’t tie me up; he didn’t threaten me with a knife or a gun. All he’d done was chase me down when I tried to run. That run had been the grand total of my resistance thus far. I don’t recognize this person who had given in so easily. And yet I know she’s me. A part of me that had never come to light before. A part of me that I would’ve never known if Julian hadn’t taken me. Thinking about this is so upsetting that I focus on my captor instead. Who is he? How can someone afford to have an entire private island? How does Beth owe him her life? And, most importantly, what does he intend to do with me? A million different scenarios run through my mind, each one more horrifying than the next. I know there’s such a thing as human trafficking. It happens all the time, especially to women from poorer countries. Is that the fate that awaits me? Am I going to end up in a brothel somewhere, drugged out of my mind and used daily by dozens of men? Is Julian simply sampling the merchandise before he delivers it to its final destination? Before panic can take over my mind, I inhale deeply and try to think logically. While the human trafficking is a possibility, it doesn’t seem likely to me. For one thing, Julian appears to be very possessive of me—far too possessive for someone

just testing out the merchandise. And besides, why bring me here, to his private island, if he’s just planning to sell me? My pet, he had called me. Is that just a meaningless endearment, or is that how he sees me? Does he have some fetish that involves keeping women captive? I think about it for a while, and decide that he probably does. Why else would a wealthy, good-looking man do this? Surely he has no problem getting dates the usual way. In fact, I might’ve gone out with him myself if I hadn’t gotten that strange vibe from him in the club. If he hadn’t touched me like he owned me. Is that his thing? Ownership? Does he want a sex slave? If so, why did he choose me? Was it because of my reaction to him at the club? Did he guess that I would be a coward, that I would let him do whatever he wanted to me? Did I somehow bring this upon myself? The thought is so sickening that I push it away and get up, determined to explore my prison further. The door is still locked, which doesn’t surprise me. I’m able to open the window, and warm, ocean-scented air fills the room. I can’t open the screen on the window, though. I would need to do that in order to climb out. I don’t try too hard. If Beth is to be believed, escaping from this room wouldn’t help me at all. I look for something that could be used as a weapon. There’s no knife, but there’s a fork left over from my meal. Beth would probably notice if I hide it. Still, I take a chance and do it, concealing the utensil behind a stack of books on a tall bookshelf that lines one of the walls. Next I explore the bathroom, hoping to find a bottle of hairspray or something else along those lines. But there’s only soap, toothbrush, and toothpaste. In the shower stall, I find body wash, shampoo, and conditioner—all nice, expensive brands. My captor is clearly not stingy. Then again, anyone who owns a private island can probably afford a fifty-dollar shampoo. He might even be able to afford a thousand-dollar shampoo, if such a thing exists. The fact that I’m thinking about shampoo amazes me. Shouldn’t I be screaming and crying? Oh, wait, I did that yesterday. I guess there’s only so much crying a person can do. I seem to be all out of tears, at least for now.

After exploring every nook and cranny of the room, I get bored, so I take one of the books from the bookshelf. A Sidney Sheldon novel, something about a woman betrayed who seeks revenge on her enemies. It’s engrossing enough that I’m able to mentally escape my prison for the next couple of hours.

BETH COMES AND BRINGS ME LUNCH. SHE ALSO BRINGS ME SOME CLOTHES, FOLDED IN A STACK. I’m glad. I’ve been wearing the bathrobe all morning, and I would like to dress normally. When she puts the clothes on the dresser, I again think about tackling her and trying to escape. Maybe using the fork I’ve got stashed away. “Nora, give me the fork,” she says. I jump a little and give her a startled look. Could she actually be a mind-reader? And then I realize that she’s simply looking at the empty tray and noticing that the utensil is missing. I decide to play dumb. “What fork?” She lets out a sigh. “You know what fork. The one you hid behind the books. Give it to me.” Another one of my assumptions proven wrong. I don’t know why I’d thought I had any privacy. I look up at the ceiling, studying it carefully, but I can’t see where the cameras are. “Nora…” Beth prompts. I retrieve the fork and throw it at her. I think I’m secretly hoping it spears her in the eye. But Beth catches it and shakes her head at me, as though disappointed in my behavior. “I was hoping you wouldn’t act this way,” she says. “Act what way? Like a victim of kidnapping?” I really, really want to hit her right now. “Like a spoiled brat,” she clarifies, putting the fork in her pocket. “You think it’s so awful, being here on this beautiful island? You think you’re suffering by being in Julian’s bed?”

I stare at her like she’s a lunatic. Does she honestly expect me to be okay with this situation? To meekly go along with this and never utter a word of protest? She stares back at me, and for the first time, I notice some lines on her face. “You don’t know the real meaning of suffering, little girl,” she says softly, “and I hope you never find out. Be nice to Julian, and you just might be able to continue living a charmed life.” She leaves the room, and I swallow to get rid of the sudden dryness in my throat. For some reason, her words make my hands shake.

6

N ora 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.

HE’S AGAIN GENTLE WITH ME. I SHOULD BE TERRIFIED OF HIM—AND I AM—BUT MY BODY SEEMS TO enjoy the dual sensation of fear and arousal. I don’t know what that says about me. I lie there with my eyes closed as he takes off my clothes, layer by layer. First he unbuttons the front of the dress, like he’s unwrapping a present. His hands are strong and sure; there’s no hint of awkwardness or hesitation in his movements. He’s clearly had a lot of practice with women’s clothing. After the dress is unbuttoned, he pauses for a second. I sense his gaze on me,

and I wonder what he’s seeing. I know I have a good body; it’s slim and toned, even though it’s not as curvy as I would like. He trails his fingers down my stomach, making me tremble. “So pretty,” he says softly. “Such lovely skin. You should always wear white. It suits you.” I don’t respond, just squeeze my eyes tighter. I don’t want him looking at me, don’t want him enjoying the sight of my body in the undergarments he picked out for me. I wish he would just fuck me and get it over with, instead of engaging in this twisted parody of lovemaking. But he has no intention of making it easy for me. His mouth follows the same path as his fingers. It feels hot and moist on my belly, and then he moves lower, to where my legs are instinctively squeezed tightly together. He doesn’t seem to like that, and his hands are rough as they pull my thighs apart, his fingers digging into my tender flesh. I whimper at the hint of violence, and try to relax my legs to avoid angering him further. His grip eases, his hands becoming gentler. “My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, and I can feel his hot breath on my sensitive folds. “You know I’ll make it good for you.” And then his lips are on me, and his tongue is swirling around my clit, his mouth sucking and nibbling. His hair brushes against my inner thighs, tickling me, and his hands hold my legs spread wide open. I twist and cry out, the pleasure so intense that I forget everything but the incredible heat and tension inside me. He brings me close to the edge, but doesn’t let me go over. Every time I feel my orgasm approaching, he stops or changes the rhythm, driving me crazy with frustration. I find myself pleading, begging, my body arching mindlessly toward him. When he finally lets me reach the peak, it’s such a relief that my entire body spasms, shuddering and twisting from the intensity of the release. For some reason, I start crying when it’s over. Tears leak from the outer corners of my eyes and run down my temples, soaking into my hair and then the pillow. He appears to like it because he crawls up my body and kisses the wet trails on my face, then licks them. His large hands stroke my body, rubbing my skin, caressing me all over. It would be soothing if it weren’t for the hardness of his cock prodding at my entrance. I’m not fully healed inside, so it hurts again when he starts to push in. Even

though I’m wet from the orgasm, he can’t slip into me easily, not without tearing me open. Instead, he has to go slowly, working himself in gradually until I have a chance to adjust to the intrusion. I bite my lower lip, trying to cope with the burning, too-full feeling. Would I ever be able to accept him easily? Would I ever experience pleasure without pain in his arms? “Open your eyes,” he orders in a harsh whisper. I obey him, even though I can barely see through the veil of tears. He’s staring at me as he slowly begins to move inside me, and there’s something triumphant in his gaze. The heat of his body surrounds me, his weight presses me down on the bed. He’s inside me, on top of me, all around me. I can’t even escape into the privacy of my mind. And in that moment, I feel possessed by him, like he’s taking more than just my body. Like he’s laying claim to something deep within me, bringing out a side of me that I never knew existed. Because in his arms, I experience something I have never felt before. A primitive and completely irrational sense of belonging.

HE TAKES ME TWICE MORE DURING THE NIGHT. BY MORNING I’M SO SORE I FEEL RAW INSIDE—AND YET I’ve had so many orgasms I lost count. He leaves me at some point in the morning. I’m so exhausted I’m not even aware of his departure. I sleep deeply and dreamlessly, and when I wake up, it’s already past noon. I get up, brush my teeth, and take a shower. On my thighs, I can see dried bits of semen. He didn’t use a condom this night either. I wonder again about STDs. Does Julian care about this at all? He probably isn’t worried about catching anything from me, given my lack of experience, but I’m certainly worried about getting it from him. Lifting my left arm, I peer at the tiny mark where my birth control implant was inserted. Thank God for my mom’s pregnancy paranoia. If I didn’t have it… I shudder at the thought. Right after I exit the bathroom, Beth comes into my room carrying another food tray and more clothes. This time, it’s more traditional breakfast food: an omelet with vegetables and cheese, a piece of toast, and fresh tropical fruit.

She’s again smiling at me, apparently determined to ignore the fork incident. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. My eyebrows rise. “And good morning to you too,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. At my obvious attempt to needle her, Beth’s smile widens further. “Oh, don’t be such a grump. Julian said you get to leave the room today. Isn’t that nice?” It actually is nice. It would give me a chance to explore my prison a bit, to see if this place is really an island. Maybe there are other people here besides Beth— people who would be more sympathetic to my plight. Alternatively, maybe I’ll find a phone or a computer. If I could just send a text or an email to my parents, they could pass it along to the police and then I might be rescued. At the thought of my family, my chest feels tight and my eyes burn. They must be so worried about me, wondering what happened, whether I am still alive. I’m an only child, and my mom always said she’d die if anything happened to me. I hope she didn’t mean it. I hate him. And I hate this woman, who’s smiling at me right now. “Sure, Beth,” I say, wanting to claw at her face until that smile turns into a grimace. “It’s always nice to leave a small cage for a bigger one.” She rolls her eyes and sits down on a chair. “So dramatic. Just eat your food and then I’ll show you around.” I think about not eating just to spite her, but I am hungry. So I eat, polishing off all the food on the tray. “Where is Julian?” I ask between bites. I’m curious how he spends his days. So far, I’ve only seen him in the evenings. “He’s working,” Beth explains. “He has a lot of business interests that require his attention.” “What kind of business interests?” She shrugs. “All kinds.” “Is he a criminal?” I ask bluntly. She laughs. “Why would you assume that?”

“Um, maybe because he kidnapped me?” She laughs again, shaking her head as though I said something funny. I want to hit her, but I restrain myself. I need to learn more about my surroundings before I try anything like that. I don’t want to end up locked up in the room if I can avoid it. My chances of escape are much better if I have more freedom. So I just get up and give her a cold look. “I’m ready to go.” “Then put on a swimming suit,” she says, gesturing toward the clothes she had brought, “and we can go.”

BEFORE WE WALK OUT, BETH SHOWS ME THE REST OF THE HOUSE. IT’S SPACIOUS AND TASTEFULLY furnished. The decor is modern, with just a hint of tropical influence and subtle Asian motifs. Light hues predominate, although here and there, I see an unexpected pop of color in the form of a red vase or a bright blue dragon sculpture. There are four bedrooms—three upstairs and one downstairs. The kitchen on the first floor is particularly striking, with top-of-the-line appliances and gleaming granite countertops. There is also one room that Beth says is Julian’s office. It’s on the first floor, and it’s apparently off-limits to anyone but him. That’s where he supposedly takes care of his business affairs. The door is closed when we walk past it. After we’re done with the house tour, Beth spends the next two hours showing me the island. And it’s definitely an island—she didn’t lie to me about that. It’s only about two miles across and a mile wide. According to Beth, we’re somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, with the nearest populated piece of land over five hundred miles away. She emphasizes that fact a couple of times, as though she’s afraid I might take it into my head to try to swim away. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a strong enough swimmer, nor am I suicidal. I would try to steal a boat instead. We go up to the highest point of the island. It’s a small mountain—or a large hill, depending on one’s definition of these things. The view from there is amazing —all bright blue water wherever the eye can see. On one side of the island, the water is a different shade of blue, more turquoise, and Beth tells me it’s a shallow cove that’s great for snorkeling. Julian’s house is the only one on the island. It’s sitting on one side of the

mountain, a little ways back from the beach and somewhat elevated. That’s the most sheltered location, Beth explains; the house is protected from both strong winds and the ocean there. It has apparently survived a number of typhoons with minimal damage. I nod, as though I care. I have no intention of being here for the next typhoon. The desire to escape burns brightly within me. I didn’t see any phones or computers when Beth was showing me the house, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. If Julian is able to work from the island, then there’s definitely internet connectivity. And if they’re foolish enough to let me roam this island freely, I will find a way to reach the outside world. We end the tour at the beach near the house. “Want to go for a swim?” Beth asks me, stripping off her shorts and T-shirt. Underneath, she’s wearing a blue bikini. Her body is lean and toned. She’s in such great shape that I wonder about her age. Her figure could belong to a teenager, but her face seems older. “How old are you?” I ask straight out. I would never be so tactless under normal circumstances, but I don’t care if I offend this woman. What do social conventions matter when you’re being held captive by a pair of crazy people? She smiles, not the least bit upset at my impolite question. “I’m thirty-seven,” she says. “And Julian?” “He’s twenty-nine.” “Are you two lovers?” I don’t know what makes me ask this. If she’s in any way jealous of my position as Julian’s sexual plaything, she’s certainly not showing it. Beth laughs. “No, we’re not.” “Why not?” I can’t believe I’m being so forward. I’ve been raised to always be polite and well-mannered, but there’s something liberating about not caring what people think. I have always been a people-pleaser, but I don’t want to please this woman in any way. She stops laughing and gives me a serious look. “Because I’m not what Julian needs or wants.” “And what is that?” “You’ll learn someday,” she says mysteriously, then walks into the water.

I stare after her, curiosity eating at me, but she appears to be done talking. Instead, she dives in and starts swimming with a sure athletic stroke. It’s hot outside, and the sun is beaming down on me. The sand is white and looks soft, and the water is sparkling, tempting me with its coolness. I want to hate this place, to despise everything about my captivity, but I have to admit that the island is beautiful. I don’t have to go swimming if I don’t want to. It doesn’t seem like Beth is going to force me. And it seems wrong to enjoy myself at the beach while my family is undoubtedly worried sick about me, grieving about my disappearance. But the lure of the water is strong. I’ve always loved the ocean, even though I’ve been to the tropics only a couple of times in my life. This island is my idea of paradise, despite the fact that it belongs to a snake. I deliberate for a minute, then I take off my dress and kick off my sandals. I could deny myself this small pleasure, but I’m too pragmatic. I have no illusions about my status here. At any moment, Julian and Beth could lock me up, starve me, beat me. Just because I’ve been treated relatively well so far doesn’t mean it will continue to be that way. In my precarious situation, every moment of joy is precious—because I don’t know what the future holds for me, whether I will ever again experience anything resembling happiness. So I join my enemy in the ocean, letting the water wash away my fear and cool the helpless anger burning in the pit of my stomach. We swim, then lounge on the hot sand, and then swim again. I don’t ask any more questions, and Beth seems content with the silence. We stay on the beach for the next two hours and then finally head back to the house.

7

N ora THIS TIME, JULIAN IS SUPPOSED TO JOIN ME FOR DINNER. BETH SETS A TABLE FOR US DOWNSTAIRS AND prepares a meal of local fish, rice, beans, and plantains. It’s her Caribbean recipe, she tells me proudly. “Are you having dinner with us?” I ask, watching as she carries the plates over to the table. I’m showered and dressed in the clothes Beth provided for me. It’s another white lacy bra-and-panties set and a yellow dress with white flowers on it. On my feet, I’m wearing white high-heeled sandals. The outfit is sweet and feminine, very different from the jeans and dark tops I normally wear. It makes me look like a pretty doll. I still can’t believe they’re letting me walk around the house freely. There are knives in the kitchen. I could steal one and use it on Beth at any point. I’m tempted, even though my stomach churns at the thought of blood and violence. Perhaps I’ll do it soon, once I’ve had a chance to learn a bit more about this place. I’m learning something interesting about myself. I apparently don’t believe in grand, but pointless gestures. A cool, rational voice inside me tells me that I need a plan, a way to get off the island before I try anything. Attacking Beth right now would be stupid. It could result in my being locked up or worse. No, this is much better. Let them think I’m harmless. I stand a much greater chance of escape that way.

For the past hour, I’ve been sitting in the kitchen, watching Beth prepare food. She’s very good, very efficient. Spending time with her is distracting me from thoughts of Julian and the night to come. “No,” she says, answering my question. “I’ll be in my room. Julian wants some alone time with you.” “Why? Does he think we’re dating or something?” She grins. “Julian doesn’t date.” “No kidding.” My tone is beyond sarcastic. “Why date when you can kidnap and rape instead?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Beth says sharply. “Do you really think he has to force women? Even you can’t be that naive.” I stare at her. “You mean to tell me he doesn’t make a habit of stealing women and bringing them here?” Beth shakes her head. “You’re the only person besides me who has ever been here. This island is Julian’s private sanctuary. Nobody knows it even exists.” A chill runs down my spine at those words. “So why am I so lucky?” I ask slowly, my pulse picking up. “What makes me worthy of this great honor?” She smiles. “You’ll find out someday. Julian will tell you when he wants you to know.” I’m sick of all this ‘someday’ bullshit, but I know she’s too loyal to my captor to tell me anything. So I try to learn something else instead. “What did you mean when you said you owe him your life?” Her smile fades and her expression hardens, her face settling into harsh, bitter lines. “That’s none of your business, little girl.” And for the next ten minutes while she’s finishing setting the table, she doesn’t speak to me at all.

AFTER EVERYTHING IS READY, SHE LEAVES ME ALONE IN THE DINING ROOM TO WAIT FOR JULIAN. I’M both nervous and excited. For the first time, I’m going to have a chance to interact with my captor outside the bedroom. I have to admit to a kind of sick fascination with him. He frightens me, yet I’m unbearably curious about him. Who is he? What does he want from me? Why did he

choose me to be his victim? A minute later, he walks into the room. I’m sitting at the table, looking out the window. Before I even see him, I feel his presence. The atmosphere turns electric, heavy with expectation. I turn my head, watching him approach. This time, he’s wearing a soft-looking gray polo shirt and a pair of white khaki pants. We could be having dinner at a country club. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, and I can feel blood rushing through my veins. I’m suddenly much more aware of my body. My breasts feel more sensitive, my nipples tightening underneath the lacy confines of my bra. The soft fabric of the dress brushes against my bare legs, reminding me of the way he touched me there. Of the way he touched me everywhere. Warm moisture gathers between my thighs at the memory. He comes up to me and bends down, giving me a brief kiss on the mouth. “Hello, Nora,” he says when he straightens, his beautiful lips curved in a darkly sensual smile. He’s so breathtaking that I’m unable to think for a moment, my mind clouded by his nearness. His smile widens, and he walks over to sit down across the table from me. “How was your day, my pet?” he asks, reaching for a piece of fish and putting it on his plate. His movements are confident and oddly graceful. It’s hard to believe that evil wears such a beautiful mask. I gather my wits. “Why do you call me that?” “Call you what? My pet?” I nod. “Because you remind me of a kitten,” he says, his blue eyes glittering with some strange emotion. “Small, soft, and very touchable. You make me want to stroke you just to see if you will purr in my arms.” My cheeks get hot. I feel flushed all over, and I hope my skin tone hides my reaction. “I’m not an animal—” “Of course you’re not. I’m not into bestiality.” “Then what are you into?” I blurt out, then cringe internally. I don’t want to make him mad. He’s not Beth. He scares me. Fortunately, he just looks amused at my daring. “At the moment,” he says

softly, “I’m into you.” I look away and reach for the rice, my hand shaking slightly. “Here, let me help you with that.” He takes the plate from me, his fingers briefly brushing against mine. Before I can say anything, my plate is filled with a healthy portion of everything that’s on the table. He puts the plate back in front of me, and I stare at it in dismay. I’m too nervous to eat in front of him. My stomach is all tied into knots. When I look up, I see that he has no such problem. He’s eating with gusto, clearly enjoying Beth’s cooking. “What’s the matter?” he asks between bites. “You’re not hungry?” I shake my head, even though I was ravenous before he came. He frowns, putting down his fork. “Why not? Beth said you spent the day at the beach and swam quite a bit. Shouldn’t you be hungry after all that exercise?” I shrug. “I’m okay.” I’m not about to tell him that he’s the cause of my lack of appetite. His eyes narrow at me. “Are you playing games with me? Eat, Nora. You’re already slim. I don’t want you to lose weight.” I gulp nervously and start to pick at the food. There’s something about him that makes me think it would be unwise to oppose him on this issue. On any issue, really. My instincts are screaming that this man is as dangerous as they come. He hasn’t really been cruel to me, but there is cruelty within him. I can sense it. “Good girl,” he says approvingly after I eat a few bites. I continue eating, even though I don’t really taste the food and I have to force each bite past the restriction in my throat. I keep my eyes trained on my plate. I have an easier time eating if I don’t see his piercing blue gaze. “So Beth tells me you had a nice day swimming,” he comments after I’ve had a chance to eat about half of my portion. I nod in response and look up to find him staring at me. “What do you think of the island?” he asks, as though genuinely interested in my opinion. He’s studying me with a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s pretty,” I tell him honestly. Then, pausing for a second, I add, “But I don’t

want to be here.” “Of course.” He looks almost understanding. “But you’ll get used to it. This is your new home, Nora. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.” My stomach lurches, and I feel like the food that I just ate is in danger of coming up. I swallow convulsively, trying to control the sick feeling inside me. “And my family?” The words come out low and bitter. “How are they supposed to come to terms with it?” Some emotion flickers briefly across his face. “What if they didn’t think you were dead?” he asks quietly, holding my gaze. “Would that make you feel better, my pet?” “Of course it would!” I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. “Can you do that? Can you let them know I’m alive? Maybe I can just call them and—” He reaches out to cover my hand with his own, stopping my hopeful rambling. “No.” His tone leaves no room for arguments. “I will contact them myself.” I swallow my disappointment. “What are you going to tell them?” “That you are alive and well.” His large thumb is gently massaging the inside of my palm, his touch distracting me, turning my bones to jelly. “But—” I almost moan when he presses on one particularly sensitive spot, “— but they wouldn’t believe you—” “They would.” He withdraws his hand, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “You can trust me on that.” Trust him? Yeah, right. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask in frustration. “Is it because I talked to you in the club?” He shakes his head. “No, Nora. It’s because you’re you. You’re everything I’ve been looking for. Everything I’ve always wanted.” “You know that’s crazy, right?” I’m so upset I forget to be afraid for a moment. “You don’t even know me!” “That’s true,” he says softly. “But I don’t need to know you. I just need to know what I feel.” “Are you saying you’re in love with me?” For some reason, that idea frightens me more than when I thought he just had weird sexual preferences. He laughs, throwing his head back. I stare at him, irrationally offended. I don’t want him to be in love with me, but does he have to find the idea so funny?

“Of course not,” he says after he’s finally done laughing. He’s still grinning, though. “Then what are you talking about?” I ask in frustration. His smile slowly fades. “It doesn’t matter, Nora,” he says quietly. “All you need to know is that you’re special to me.” “So why didn’t you just ask me out on a date?” I’m struggling to comprehend the incomprehensible. “Why did you have to kidnap me?” “Because you went on a date with that boy.” There is sudden rage in Julian’s voice, and icy terror spreads through my veins. “You kissed him when you were already mine.” I swallow. “But I didn’t even know you wanted me.” My voice shakes a little. “I only saw you at the club—” “And at your graduation.” “And at my graduation,” I agree, my heart hammering in my chest. “But I thought you might’ve been there for someone else. Like a younger brother or sister…” He takes a deep breath, and I can see that he’s much more calm now. “It doesn’t matter now, Nora. I wanted you here, with me, not out there. It’s much safer for you—and for that boy.” “Safer for Jake?” Julian nods. “If you had gone out with him again, I would’ve killed him. It’s best for everyone that you’re here, away from him and others who might want you.” He’s completely serious about killing Jake. It’s not an idle threat. I can see it on his face. My lips feel dry, so I lick them. His eyes follow my tongue, and I can see his breathing changing. My simple action clearly turned him on. Suddenly, a crazy and desperate idea occurs to me. He obviously wants me. He’s even willing to do things to make me happy—like letting my family know I’m alive. What if I use that fact to my advantage? I’m inexperienced, but I’m not completely naive. I know how to flirt with guys. Could I do this? Could I somehow seduce Julian into letting me go? I’m going to have to be careful about it. I can’t have a sudden about-face. I can’t act like I despise him one minute and love him the next. He needs to believe that he

can take me off the island and that I would willingly remain with him for as long as he wants me. That I would never look at Jake or another man again. I’m going to have to take my time and convince Julian of my devotion.

8

N ora FOR THE REST OF THE DINNER, I CONTINUE ACTING SCARED AND INTIMIDATED. IT’S NOT REALLY AN ACT because I do feel that way. I’m in the presence of a man who casually talks about killing innocent people. How else am I supposed to feel? However, I also try to be seductive. It’s small things, like the way I brush my hair back while looking at him. The way I bite into a piece of papaya that Beth cut up for our dessert and lick the juice off my lips. I know my eyes are pretty, so I look at him shyly, through half-closed eyelids. I’ve practiced that look in front of the mirror, and I know my eyelashes look impossibly long when I tilt my head at exactly the right angle. I don’t go overboard because he wouldn’t find that believable. I just do little things that he might find arousing and appealing. I also try to avoid any other confrontational topics. Instead, I ask him about the island and how he came to own it. “I came across this island five years ago,” Julian explains, his lips curving into a charming smile. “My Cessna was having a mechanical problem, and I needed a place to land. Luckily, there’s a flat, grassy area right on the other side, near the beach. I was able to bring down the plane without crashing it completely and make the necessary repairs. It took me a couple of days, so I got a chance to explore the island. By the time I was able to fly away, I knew this place was exactly what I wanted. So I purchased it.” I widen my eyes and look impressed. “Just like that? Isn’t that expensive?”

He shrugs. “I can afford it.” “Do you come from a wealthy family?” I’m genuinely curious. My captor is a huge mystery to me. I stand a much better chance of manipulating him if I understand him at least a little bit. His expression cools a little. “Something like that. My father had a successful business, which I took over after his death. I changed its direction and expanded it.” “What kind of business?” Julian’s mouth twists slightly. “Import-export.” “Of what?” “Electronics and other things,” he says, and I realize that he’s not going to reveal more than that for now. I strongly suspect that ‘other things’ is a euphemism for something illegal. I don’t know much about business, but I somehow doubt that selling TVs and MP3 players results in this kind of wealth. I steer the conversation toward a more innocuous topic. “Does the rest of your family also use the island?” His gaze goes flat and hard. “No. They’re all dead.” “Oh, I’m sorry…” I don’t really know what to say. What can you say that will make something like that better? Yes, he kidnapped me, but he’s still a human being. I can’t even imagine suffering that kind of loss. “It’s all right.” His tone is unemotional, but I can sense the pain underneath. “It happened a long time ago.” I nod sympathetically. I genuinely feel bad for him, and I don’t try to hide the glimmer of tears in my eyes. I’m too soft—Leah says that every time I cry at a depressing movie—and I can’t help the sadness I feel at Julian’s suffering. It ends up working in my favor, because his expression warms slightly. “Don’t pity me, my pet,” he says softly. “I’ve gotten over it. Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?” I blink at him slowly, knowing that the gesture draws attention to my eyes. “What would you like to know?” Didn’t he find out everything about me in the process of stalking me? He smiles. It makes him look so beautiful that I feel a tiny squeezing sensation in my chest. Stop it, Nora. You’re the one seducing him, not the other way around.

“What do you like to read?” he asks. “What kind of movies do you like to watch?” And for the next thirty minutes, he learns all about my enjoyment of romance novels and detective thrillers, my hatred of romantic comedies, and my love of epic movies with lots of special effects. Then he asks me about my favorite food and music, and listens attentively as I talk about my preference for eighties’ bands and deep-dish pizza. In a weird way, it’s almost flattering, the way he’s so utterly focused on me, hanging on to my every word. The way his blue eyes are glued to my face. It’s as though he wants to really understand me, as though he truly cares. Even with Jake, I didn’t get the sense that I was anything more than a pretty girl whose company he enjoyed. With Julian, I feel like I’m the most important thing in the world to him. I feel like I truly matter.

AFTER DINNER, anticipation.

HE LEADS ME UPSTAIRS TO HIS BEDROOM.

MY

HEART BEGINS TO POUND IN FEAR AND

Like the other two nights, I know I won’t fight him. In fact, tonight I will go even further as part of my escape-by-seduction plan. I will pretend to make love to him of my own free will. As we walk into the room, I decide to brave a topic that has been nagging at the back of my mind. “Julian…” I ask, purposefully keeping my voice soft and uncertain. “What about protection? What if I get pregnant or something?” He stops and turns toward me. There’s a small smile on his lips. “You won’t, my pet. You have that implant, don’t you?” My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know about that?” The implant is a tiny plastic rod underneath my skin, completely invisible except for a small mark where it was inserted. “I accessed your medical history before bringing you here. I wanted to make sure you don’t have any life-threatening medical conditions, like diabetes.” I stare at him. I should feel furious at this invasion of my privacy, but I feel relieved instead. It seems that my kidnapper is quite considerate—and more importantly, not trying to impregnate me.

“And you don’t have to worry about any diseases,” he adds, understanding my unspoken concern. “I’ve been recently tested, and I have always used condoms in the past.” I don’t know if I believe that. “Why aren’t you using them with me, then? Is it because I was a virgin?” He nods, and there is a possessive gleam in his eyes. He lifts his hand and strokes the side of my face, making my heart beat even faster. “Yes, exactly. You’re completely mine. I’m the only one who’s ever been inside your pretty little pussy.” My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a gush of liquid warmth between my thighs. I can’t believe the strength of my physical response to him. Is this normal, that I get so aroused by someone I fear and despise? Is this why Julian was drawn to me at the club? Because he sensed this about me? Because he somehow knew about my weakness? Of course, given my plan, it’s not necessarily a bad thing that he turns me on so much. It would be far worse if he disgusted me, if I couldn’t bear to have him touch me. No, this is for the best. I can be the perfect little captive, obedient and responsive, slowly falling in love with my captor. So instead of standing stiff and scared, I give in to my desire and lean a little into his hand, as though involuntarily responding to his touch. Something like triumph briefly flashes in his eyes, and then he lowers his head, touching his lips to mine. His strong arms wrap around me, molding me against his powerful body. He’s fully aroused; I can feel the hard ridge of his erection against the softness of my belly. He’s stroking my mouth with his lips, his tongue. He tastes sweet, from the papaya we just had. Fire surges through my veins, and I close my eyes, losing myself in the overwhelming pleasure of his kiss. My hands creep up to his chest, touch it shyly. I can feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his skin—male and musky, strangely appealing. His chest muscles flex under my fingers, and I can feel his heart beating faster. He backs me toward the bed, and we fall on it. Somehow my hands are buried in his thick, silky hair, and I’m kissing him back, passionately, desperately. I’m not thinking about my grand seduction plan—I’m not thinking at all.

He bites my lower lip, sucks it into his mouth. His hand closes around my right breast, kneads it, squeezes the nipple through the dual barrier of the bra and the dress. His roughness is perversely arousing, even though I should be frightened by it. I moan, and he flips me over, onto my stomach. One of his hands presses me down, pushing me into the mattress, while the other one lifts my skirt, exposing my underwear. And then he pauses for a second, looking at my butt, lightly stroking it with his large palm. “Such curvy little cheeks,” he murmurs. “So pretty in white.” His fingers reach between my legs, feel the wetness there. I can’t help squirming at the light touch. I’m so turned on I just need a little bit more before I come. He pulls down my underwear, leaving it hanging around my knees. His hand caresses my buttocks again, soothing me, arousing me. I’m trembling with anticipation. Suddenly, I hear a loud smack and feel a sharp, stinging slap on my butt. I cry out, startled, more from the unexpected nature of the attack than from any real pain. He pauses, rubs the area soothingly, and then does it again, slapping my right cheek with his open palm. Twenty slaps in quick succession, each one harder than the rest. It hurts; this is not a light, playful spanking. He means to cause me pain. Forgetting all about my resolution to play along, I begin to struggle, frightened. He holds me down easily, then transfers his attention to my other butt cheek, slapping it twenty times with equal force. By the time he pauses, I’m sobbing into the mattress, begging him to stop. My backside feels like it’s burning, throbbing in agony. Even worse than the pain is the irrational sense of betrayal. To my horror, I realize that I had begun to trust my captor, to feel like I knew him a bit. He’d caused me pain before, but I didn’t think it was on purpose. I thought it was just because I was so new to sex. I hoped my body would adjust and there would be only pleasure in the future. I was obviously a fool. My entire body is shaking, and I can’t stop crying. He’s still holding me down,

and I’m terrified of what he’ll do next. What he does next is as shocking as what he did before. He turns me over and lifts me into his arms. Then he sits down, holding me on his lap, and rocks me back and forth. Gently, sweetly, like I’m a child that he’s trying to console. And despite everything, I bury my face against his shoulder and sob, desperately needing that illusion of tenderness, craving comfort from the one who made me hurt.

AFTER I’M A BIT MORE CALM, HE STANDS UP AND PLACES ME ON shaky, and I sway a little as he carefully undresses me.

MY FEET.

MY

LEGS FEEL WEAK AND

I wait for him to say something. Maybe to apologize or to explain why he hurt me. Was he punishing me? If so, I want to know what I did, so I can avoid doing it in the future. But he doesn’t speak—he simply takes off my clothes. When I’m naked, he begins to undress himself. I watch him with a strange mixture of distress and curiosity. His body is still a mystery to me because I’ve kept my eyes closed for the last two nights. I haven’t even seen his sex yet, even though I’ve felt it inside me. So now I look at him. His figure is magnificent. Completely male. Wide shoulders, a narrow waist, lean hips. He’s powerfully muscled all over, but not in a steroid-enhanced bodybuilder way. Instead, he looks like a warrior. For some reason, I can easily picture him swinging a sword, cutting down his enemies. I notice a long scar on his thigh and another one on his shoulder. They only add to the warrior impression. His skin is tan all over, with just the right amount of hair on his chest. There’s more dark hair around his navel and trailing down to his groin area. His skin color makes me think he either goes around naked, or he’s naturally darker, like me. Perhaps he has some Latino ancestry, too. He’s also fully aroused. I can see his cock jutting out at me. It’s long and thick, similar to the ones I’ve seen in porn. No wonder I’m sore. I can’t believe he’s even able to fit inside me. After we’re both naked, he guides me to the bed. “I want you on all fours,” he

says quietly, giving me a light push. My heart jumps in panic, and I resist for a second, turning to look at him instead. “Are you—” I swallow hard. “Are you going to hurt me again?” “I haven’t decided,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to cup my breast. His thumb rubs my nipple, makes it harden. “I think it’s probably enough for now.” Enough for now? I want to scream. “Are you a sadist?” The question escapes me before I can think, and I freeze in place waiting for his answer. He smiles at me. It’s his beautiful Lucifer smile. “Yes, my pet,” he says softly. “Sometimes I am. Now be a good girl and do as I asked. You might not like what happens otherwise…” Before he even finishes speaking, I scramble to obey, getting on my hands and knees on the bed. Despite the warmth in the room, I’m shivering, trembling from head to toe. Violent, gruesome images fill my mind, making me feel ill. I don’t know much about S&M. Fifty Shades and a few other books of its ilk are the extent of my experience with the subject, but none of those romances depicted anything like my situation now. Even in my darkest, most secret fantasies, I’ve never imagined being held captive by a self-admitted sadist. What is he going to do? Whip me? Torture me? Chain me in a dungeon? Is there even a dungeon on this island? I picture a stone chamber filled with torture instruments, like in a movie about the Spanish Inquisition, and I want to puke. I’m sure normal BDSM is nothing like that, but there’s nothing normal about my situation with Julian. He can literally do anything he wants to me. He gets on the bed behind me and strokes my back. His touch is slow, gentle. It would be soothing, except I’m cringing, expecting a blow at any moment. He probably realizes it because he leans over me and whispers in my ear, “Relax, Nora. I won’t do anything else tonight.” I almost collapse on the bed in relief. Tears run down my face again. This time, they’re tears of relief and gratitude. I’m pathetically grateful that he won’t hurt me again. At least, not tonight. And then I’m horrified. Horrified and disgusted—because when he starts kissing my neck, my body begins to respond to him as though nothing had happened. As though it’s never known a moment of pain at his hands.

My stupid body doesn’t care that he’s a depraved bastard. That he’s going to hurt me again and again. No, my body wants pleasure, and it doesn’t care about anything else. His warm mouth moves from my neck to my shoulders, then over my back. My breathing is shallow, erratic. Despite his reassurance, I’m still afraid of him, and the fear somehow makes me wetter. His lips move to my buttocks, kiss the area that he hurt just a few minutes earlier. His hand pushes on my lower back, and I arch slightly under his touch, understanding his unspoken command. His fingers slip between my legs, and one long finger finds its way into my slippery channel, entering deeply. He curves that finger inside me, and I gasp as he presses on some sensitive spot deep inside. It makes me tense and tremble—but this time, not from fear. As he pushes that curved finger in and out, I feel a pressure gathering inside me. My heartbeat skyrockets, and I suddenly feel hot, as though I’m burning from within. And then a powerful orgasm tears through my body, originating at my core and spreading outward. It’s so strong that my vision blurs for a moment and I almost collapse on the bed. Before my pulsations even stop, he gets on his knees behind me and begins to push in. I’m wet and his entry is relatively easy, though he still feels huge inside me. My inner tissues feel tender and sore from last night’s hard use, and I can’t help a slight gasp of pain at the invasion. When he’s in fully, his groin presses against my burning bottom, adding to the discomfort. Grasping my hips, he begins to move in and out, slowly and rhythmically. Despite the initial pain, my body appears to like the feeling of fullness, of being stretched, and responds by producing even more lubrication. As his pace picks up, my breathing accelerates and helpless moans escape my throat each time he pushes deeply into me. Suddenly, with no warning, my muscles tighten as my senses reach fever-pitch. The release ripples through me, the pleasure stunning in its intensity. Behind me, I can hear his groan as my climax provokes his own—and feel the warm spurt of his seed inside me. And then we both collapse on the bed, his body heavy and slick with perspiration on top of mine.

9

N ora I WAKE UP SLOWLY, IN STAGES. FIRST, I FEEL THE TICKLING SENSATION OF MY HAIR ON MY FACE. THEN the warmth of the sun on my uncovered arm. For a moment, my mind is floating in that soft, comfortable limbo between sleep and wakefulness, between dreams and reality. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to wake fully, because this is so nice. Then I realize I can smell pancakes cooking in the kitchen. My lips curl in a smile. It’s the weekend, and my mom decided to spoil us again. She makes pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because. The hair tickles me again, and I reluctantly move my arm to push it off my face. I’m more awake now, and the warm feeling inside me dissipates, replaced by harsh, gnawing fear. No, please let it all be a dream. Please let it all be a bad dream. I open my eyes. It’s not a dream. I can still smell the pancakes, but there’s no way it could be my mom cooking them. I’m on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, held captive by a man who derives pleasure from hurting me. I stretch carefully, taking stock of my body. Other than a slight tenderness in my bottom, I seem to be mostly fine. He had only taken me once last night, for which I am grateful.

Getting up, I walk naked to the mirror and look at my back. There are faint bruises on my buttocks, but nothing major. That’s one of the benefits of my golden-tinted skin—I don’t bruise easily. By tomorrow, it should look completely normal. All in all, I seem to have survived another night in my captor’s bed. As I brush my teeth, I think back to last evening. The dinner, my silly plan to seduce him, my feeling of betrayal at his actions… I can’t believe I had begun to trust him even a tiny bit. Normal men don’t kidnap girls from the park. They don’t drug them and bring them to a private island. Men who like normal, consensual sex don’t keep women captive. No, Julian is not normal. He’s a sadistic control freak, and I can never forget it. The fact that he hasn’t hurt me badly yet doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a matter of time before he does something truly awful to me. I need to escape before that happens, and I can’t take my sweet time seducing Julian. He’s far too dangerous and unpredictable. I need to find a way off this island.

AFTER I TAKE A QUICK SHOWER AND BRUSH MY TEETH, I GO DOWNSTAIRS FOR BREAKFAST. BETH must’ve already been in my room because there is another fresh set of clothes laid out. A swimsuit, flip-flops, and another sundress. Beth herself is in the kitchen, and so are the pancakes I’d smelled earlier. At my entrance, she smiles at me, yesterday’s tension apparently forgotten. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are you feeling?” I give her an incredulous look. Does she know what Julian did to me? “Oh, just great,” I say sarcastically. “That’s good.” She seems oblivious to my tone. “Julian was afraid you might be a bit sore this morning, so he left me a special cream to give you just in case.” She does know. “How do you live with yourself?” I ask, genuinely curious. How can a woman stand by and watch another woman being abused like this? How can she work for this cruel man? Instead of answering, Beth places a large, fluffy pancake on a plate and brings it

to me. There is also sliced mango on the table, right next to a bottle of maple syrup. “Eat, Nora,” she says, not unkindly. I give her a bitter look and dig into the pancake. It’s delicious. I think she added bananas to the batter because I can taste their sweetness. I don’t even need the maple syrup, although I do add a few slices of mango for additional flavor. Beth smiles again, and goes back to doing various kitchen chores. After breakfast, I leave the house and explore the island on my own. Beth doesn’t stop me. I still find it shocking that they’re letting me wander around like this. They must be completely confident there is no way off the island. Well, I intend to find a way. I walk tirelessly for hours in the hot sun, until the flip-flops I’m wearing give me a blister. I stick close to the beach, hoping to find a boat tied somewhere, maybe in a cave or a lagoon. But I find nothing. How did I get here? Was it by plane or helicopter? Julian did mention yesterday that he had originally discovered this place while flying a plane. Maybe that’s how he brought me here, via a private plane? That would not be good. Even if I found the plane sitting somewhere, how would I fly it? I imagine it must be at least somewhat complicated. Then again, with sufficient incentive, I might be able to figure it out. I’m not stupid, and flying a plane is not rocket science. But I don’t find the plane either. There is a flat grassy area on the other side of the island with a structure at the end of it, but there’s nothing inside the structure. It’s completely empty. Tired, thirsty, and with the blister beginning to bother me more with each step, I head back to the house.

“JULIAN LEFT A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO,” BETH TELLS ME AS SOON AS I WALK IN. Stunned, I stare at her. “What do you mean, he left?” “He had some urgent business to take care of. If all goes well, he should be back within a week.” I nod, trying to keep a neutral expression, and go upstairs to my room.

He’s gone! My tormentor is gone! It’s just Beth and me on this island. No one else. My mind is whirling with possibilities. I can steal one of the kitchen knives and threaten Beth until she shows me a way off the island. There’s probably internet here, and I might be able to reach out to the outside world. I’m so excited I could scream. Do they truly think I’m that harmless? Did my meek behavior thus far lull them into thinking I would continue to be a nice, obedient captive? Well, they couldn’t be more mistaken. Julian is the one I’m afraid of, not Beth. With the two of them on this island, attacking Beth would’ve been pointless and dangerous. Now, however, she’s fair game.

AN HOUR LATER, I QUIETLY SNEAK INTO THE KITCHEN. AS I too early to prepare dinner and too late for lunch.

HAD EXPECTED,

BETH

IS NOT THERE. IT’S

My feet are bare, to minimize any sound. Cautiously looking around, I slide open one of the drawers and take out a large butcher knife. Testing it with my finger, I determine that it’s sharp. A weapon. Perfect. The sundress that I’m wearing has a slim belt at the waist, and I use it to tie the knife to myself at the back. It’s a very crude holster, but it holds the knife in place. I hope I don’t cut my butt with the naked blade, but even if I do, it’s a risk worth taking. A large ceramic vase is my next acquisition. It’s heavy enough that I can barely lift it over my head with two arms. I can’t imagine a human skull would be a match for something like this. Once I have those two things, I go look for Beth. I find her on the porch, curled up with a book on a long, comfy-looking outdoor couch, enjoying the fresh air and the beautiful ocean view. She doesn’t look when I poke my head outside through the open door, and I quickly go back in, trying to figure out what to do next. My plan is simple. I need to catch Beth off-guard and bash her over the head

with the vase. Maybe tie her up with something. Then I could use the knife to threaten her into letting me contact the outside world. This way, by the time Julian returns, I could already be rescued and pressing charges. All I need now is a good spot for my ambush. Looking around, I notice a little nook near the kitchen entrance. If you’re coming in off the porch—like I think Beth will be—then you don’t really see anything in that nook. It’s not the best place to conceal oneself, but it’s better than attacking her openly. I go there and press myself flat against the wall, the vase standing on the floor next to me where I can easily grab it. Taking a deep breath, I try to still the fine trembling in my hands. I’m not a violent person, yet here I am, about to smash this vase into Beth’s head. I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t help picturing her skull split open, blood and gore everywhere, like in some horror movie. The image makes me ill. I tell myself that it won’t be like that, that she’ll most likely end up with a nasty bruise or a mild concussion. The wait seems interminable. It goes on and on, each second stretching like an hour. My heart is pounding and I’m sweating, even though the temperature in the house is much cooler than the heat outside. Finally, after what feels like several hours, I hear Beth’s footsteps. Grabbing the vase, I carefully lift it over my head and hold my breath as Beth steps through the open door leading from the porch. As she walks by me, I grip the vase tightly and bring it down on her head. And somehow I miss. At the last moment, Beth must’ve heard me move because the vase hits her on the shoulder instead. She cries out in pain, clutching her shoulder. “You fucking bitch!” I gasp and try to lift the vase again, but it’s too late. She grabs for the vase, and it falls down, breaking into a dozen pieces between us. I jump back, my right hand frantically scrambling for the knife. Shit, shit, shit. I manage to grab the handle and pull it out, but before I can do anything, she grabs my arm, moving as quickly as a snake. Her grip is like a steel band around my right wrist. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glittering as she twists my arm painfully backward. “Drop the knife, Nora,” she orders harshly, her voice filled with fury. Panicking, I try to hit her in the face with my other hand, but she catches that

arm too. She clearly knows how to fight—and she’s also obviously stronger than me. My right arm is screaming in pain, but I try to kick at her. I can’t lose this fight. This is my best chance at escape. My feet make contact with her legs, but I’m not wearing shoes and I do more damage to my toes than to her shins. “Drop the knife, Nora, or I will break your arm,” she hisses, and I know that she’s telling the truth. My shoulder feels like it’s about to pop out of its socket, and my vision darkens as waves of pain radiate down my arm. I hold out for one more second, and then my fingers release the knife. It falls to the floor with a loud thunk. Beth immediately lets me go and bends down to pick it up. I back away, breathing harshly, tears of pain and frustration burning in my eyes. I don’t know what she’s going to do to me now, and I don’t want to find out. So I run.

I AM FAST ON MY FEET AND IN GOOD SHAPE. I CAN HEAR BETH CHASING AFTER ME, CALLING MY NAME, but I doubt she’s ever done track before. I run out of the house and down to the beach. Rocks, twigs, and gravel dig into my feet, but I barely feel them. I don’t know where I’m running, but I can’t let Beth catch me. I can’t be locked up in the room or worse. “Nora!” Fuck, she’s a good runner too. I put on a burst of speed, ignoring the pain in my feet. “Nora, don’t be an idiot! There’s nowhere to go!” I know that’s true, but I can’t be a passive victim any longer. I can’t sit meekly in that house, eat Beth’s food, and wait for Julian to return. I can’t allow him to hurt me again and then make my body crave him. My leg muscles are screaming, and my lungs are straining for air. I divorce myself from the discomfort, pretend I’m in a race with the finish line only a hundred yards away.

It feels like I’m running forever. When I glance back, I see that Beth is falling further and further behind. My pace eases a little bit. I can’t sustain that speed much longer. Without thinking too much, I head for the rocky side of the island, where I can clamber up the rocks and disappear in the heavily wooded area above them. It takes me another ten minutes to get there. By then, I can no longer see Beth behind me. I slow down and climb up the rocks. Now that I’m out of immediate danger, I can feel the cuts and bruises on my bare feet. It’s a slow and torturous climb. My legs are quivering from unaccustomed exertion, and I can feel a post-adrenaline slump coming on. Nevertheless, I manage to get myself up the rocky hill and into the woods. Tropical vegetation, lush and thick, is all around me, hiding me from view. I go deeper into the brush, seeking a good spot to collapse in exhaustion. It wouldn’t be easy to find me here. From what I remember during my earlier exploration, this forest covers a large portion of this side of the island. I should be safe here for now. As the darkness begins to fall, I take shelter under a large tree, where the underbrush is particularly impenetrable. I clear a little patch of ground for myself, making sure I’m not near any ant hills or anything else that could bite me. Then I lie down, ignoring the throbbing pain in my lacerated feet. Not for the first time in my life, I’m grateful to my dad for taking me camping when I was a child. Thanks to his tutelage, I’m comfortable with nature in all its glory. Bugs, snakes, lizards—none of these bother me. I know I should be careful around certain species, but I don’t fear them as a whole. I’m far more scared of the snakes who brought me to this island. Now that I’m away from Beth, I can think a little more clearly. That lean, toned body of hers is clearly not from doing light cardio and yoga in the gym. She’s strong—probably as strong as some men—and definitely much stronger than me. She also seems to have had some kind of special training. Martial arts, maybe? I clearly made a mistake trying to take her prisoner. I should’ve slipped that knife into her back when she wasn’t looking.

It’s not too late, though. I can still sneak back into the house and surprise her there. I need access to that internet, and I need it now, before Julian returns. I don’t know what he’ll do to me for attacking Beth—and I certainly don’t want to find out.

10

N ora A STRANGE SENSATION WAKES ME UP THE NEXT MORNING. IT FEELS ALMOST LIKE— “Oh shit!” I jump up, trying to shake off the long-legged spider that’s leisurely strolling up my arm. The spider flies off, and I frantically brush at my face, hair, and body, trying to get rid of any other potential creepy-crawlies. Okay, so I’m not exactly afraid of spiders, but I really, really don’t like them on me. This is definitely not the most pleasant way to wake up. My heart rate gradually returns to normal, and I take stock of my situation. I’m thirsty, and my entire body aches from sleeping on the hard ground. I also feel grimy, and my feet hurt. Lifting up one leg, I peer at the sole of the foot. I’m pretty sure there’s dried blood on there. My stomach is rumbling with hunger. I didn’t have dinner last night, and I’m absolutely starving. On the plus side, Beth hasn’t found me yet. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do next. Perhaps make my way back to the house and try to ambush Beth there again? I think about it and decide it’s probably the best course of action at this point. Sooner or later, Beth or Julian will find me. The island is not that big, and I would

not be able to hide from them for long. And I can’t risk procrastinating, in case Julian returns sooner than expected. Two against one are terrible odds. I’m also getting hungrier by the minute, and I tend to get light-headed if I don’t eat regularly. I could probably find fresh water to drink, but food is more iffy. I don’t know where Beth gets those mangos from. If I try to hide for another couple of days, I might be too weak to attack anyone, much less a woman who could be a freaking warrior princess. Besides, she might not be expecting me quite yet, and I could really use an element of surprise. So I take a deep breath and start walking—or rather, limping—back toward the house. I know this might not end well for me, but I have no choice. I either fight now, or I will forever be a victim. It takes me about two hours to get back. I end up having to stop and take breaks when I can no longer tolerate the agony in my feet. It’s kind of ironic that I escaped because I’m afraid of pain, and I ended up hurting myself so badly in the process. Julian would probably love to see me like this. That perverted bastard. Finally, I reach the house and crouch behind some large bushes near the front door. I don’t know if it’s locked or not, but I don’t think I can just stroll in through the main entrance. For all I know, Beth is right there in the living room. No, I need to be more strategic about it. After a few minutes, I carefully make my way to the back of the house, toward the large screened porch where I had attacked Beth yesterday. To my relief, no one is there. Taking care not to make a sound, I open the screen door and slip inside. In my hand I’m holding a large rock. I would much rather have a knife or a gun, but a rock will have to do for now. Crab-walking to one of the windows, I glance inside and am gratified to find the living room empty. Straightening, I walk up to the glass door that leads to the living room, quietly slide it open, and step inside. The house is completely silent. There’s no one cooking in the kitchen or setting the table.

The digital clock in the living room reads 7:12. I’m hoping that Beth is still asleep. Still clutching the rock, I sneak into the kitchen and find another knife. Holding both, I carefully head upstairs. Beth’s bedroom is the first one on the left. I know because she showed it to me during the house tour. Holding my breath, I quietly push open the door… and freeze. Sitting there on the bed is the person I fear most. Julian. He’s back early.

“HELLO, NORA.” His voice is deceptively soft, his perfect face expressionless. Yet I can feel the rage burning quietly underneath. For a second, I just stare at him, paralyzed by terror. I can’t hear anything but the roaring of my own heartbeat in my ears. And then I start to back away, still keeping my eyes trained on his face. My hands are raised defensively in front of me, rock and knife clutched tightly in each. At that moment, steely hands grip my arms from behind, painfully squeezing my wrists. I scream, struggling, but Beth is too strong. The knife twists backward in my hand, nearly reaching my shoulder. In a flash, Julian is on me, and both the knife and the rock are wrenched out of my hands. Beth releases me and Julian grabs me, holding me tightly as I scream and writhe hysterically in his arms. The harder I fight, the tighter his arms become around me, until I go limp, almost fainting from lack of air. Then he picks me up and carries me out of Beth’s room. To my surprise, he brings me downstairs and stops in front of the door that leads to his office. A tiny panel opens on the side, and I can see a red light moving over Julian’s face, like a laser at a supermarket checkout. Then the door slides open. I stifle a gasp of surprise. His office door opens via a retina scan—something

I’ve only seen before in spy movies. As he carries me inside, I try to struggle again, but it’s futile. His arms are completely immovable, holding me securely in his grip. I’m once again helpless in his embrace. Tears of bitter frustration slide down my face. I hate being so weak, so easily handled. He’s not even winded from our struggle. I’m not sure what I’m expecting him to do. Perhaps beat me, or brutally take me. But he simply places me on my feet when we’re inside his office. As soon as he releases me, I take a few steps back, needing to put at least some distance between us. He smiles at me, and there’s something disturbing in the beauty of that smile. “Relax, my pet. I won’t hurt you. Not now, at least.” And as I watch, he walks over to a large desk and slides open the drawer, taking out a remote control. Then he points it at a wall behind me. I turn around warily and stare at two large flat-panel TV screens. They look very high-tech, not at all like the ones I’m used to seeing at home. The left screen lights up. The image is strange because it’s so unexpected. It looks like a regular bedroom in someone’s house. The bed is unmade, sheets bunched up carelessly on the mattress. Posters of various football players line the walls, and there is a laptop sitting on the desk. “Do you recognize it?” Julian asks. I shake my head. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad about that.” “Whose bedroom is it?” I ask, a sick feeling appearing in my stomach. “Can’t you guess?” I stare at him, feeling colder by the minute. “Jake’s?” “Yes, Nora. Jake’s.” I begin to shake inside. “Why is it on your TV?” “Do you remember when I told you that Jake is safe as long as you behave?” I stop breathing for a second. “Yes…” My whisper is barely audible.

Truthfully, I had forgotten about his initial threat to Jake, too consumed with the experience of my own captivity. I don’t think I took the threat seriously to begin with, certainly not after I learned we were on an island thousands of miles away from my hometown. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had been convinced Julian can’t really harm Jake. Not from a distance, at least. “Good,” Julian says. “Then you’ll understand why I’m doing this. I don’t want to keep you locked up, unable to go anywhere or do anything. This island is your new home, and I want you to be happy here—” Happy here? I’m more than ever convinced that he’s crazy. “—but I can’t have you trying to hurt Beth in pointless escape attempts. You need to learn that there are consequences to your actions—” The sick feeling inside me spreads throughout my body. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it anymore! I won’t, I promise!” My words are hurried and jumbled. I don’t know if I can prevent what’s about to happen, but I have to try. “I won’t hurt Beth, and I won’t try to escape. Please, Julian, I learned my lesson…” Julian looks at me almost sadly. “No, Nora. You haven’t. I had to come back today, cutting short my business trip because of what you did. Beth is not here to be your jailer. That’s not her role. She’s here to take care of you, to make sure you’re comfortable and content. I can’t have you repaying her kindness by trying to kill her—” “I wasn’t trying to kill her! I just wanted…” I stop, not wanting to reveal my plan to him. “You thought you could take her hostage?” Julian looks amused now. “To do what? Get her to take you off the island? Help you reach the outside world?” I look at him, neither denying nor admitting it. “Well, Nora, let me explain something to you. Even if your attack had succeeded —which it wouldn’t have, because Beth is more than capable of handling one small girl—she wouldn’t have been able to help you. When I leave, the plane leaves with me. There’s no boat or any other way off the island.” His words confirm what I had already suspected from my explorations. But I’m still hoping that— “And I’m the only one who has access to my office. There’s no computer or communication equipment anywhere else in the house. All Beth can do is send me a direct message on a special line that we have set up. So you see, my pet, she

would’ve been quite useless as a hostage.” So much for that hope. Each sentence feels like a nail getting pounded deeper into my coffin. If he’s not lying to me, then my situation is far, far worse than I feared. Unless Julian chooses to let me go, I’ll be stuck on his island forever. I want to scream, cry, and throw things, but I can’t let myself fall apart right now. Instead, I nod and pretend to be calm and rational. “I understand. I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t know any of this before. I won’t try to escape again, and I won’t hurt Beth. Please believe me…” “I’d like to, Nora.” He looks almost regretful. “But I can’t. You don’t know me yet, so you’re not sure if you can believe me. I need to show you that I’m a man of my word. The sooner you accept the inevitable, the happier you’ll be.” And with that, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that looks like a phone. Pressing a button, he waits a couple of seconds, then says curtly, “You can proceed.” Then he turns his attention to the screen. I do the same, a hollow sense of dread in my stomach. The TV still shows an empty room, but a few seconds later, the door opens and Jake walks in. He looks terrified. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and his nose is off-center, like it’s broken. He’s followed by a large masked figure toting a gun. A horrified gasp escapes my lips. “Please, no…” I’m not even cognizant of moving, but my hands are somehow on Julian’s arm, tugging at him in desperation. “Watch, Nora.” There’s no emotion on Julian’s face as he pulls me into his arms, holding me so that I’m facing the TV. “I want you to learn once and for all that actions have consequences.” On the screen, the masked henchman suddenly reaches for Jake— “No!” —and hits him hard across the face with the handle of the gun. Jake stumbles backward, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. “Please, no!” I’m sobbing and struggling in Julian’s iron grip, my eyes glued to the violent scene taking place thousands of miles away. Jake’s attacker is relentless, hitting him over and over. I scream, feeling each

blow inside my heart. Every brutal strike against Jake’s body is killing something inside me, some belief in a brighter future that has held me together thus far. When Jake falls to his knees, the man kicks him in the ribs, and I can hear Jake’s pained groan. “Please, Julian,” I whisper in defeat, slumping in his arms. “Please, stop…” I know I’m begging for mercy from a man who has none. He’s murdering Jake in front of my eyes, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. My captor lets the beating proceed for another minute before he releases me and pulls out his phone. I stare at him, trembling from head to toe. I don’t even dare hope. Julian quickly types in a text. On the screen, I see Jake’s assailant pausing and reaching into his pocket. Then he stops completely and leaves Jake’s room. Jake is left lying on the floor, covered in blood. I remain glued to the screen, needing to know that he is alive. After a minute, I hear his groan and see him getting up. He hobbles toward the house phone, moving like an old man instead of an athletic young guy. And then I hear him calling 911. I sink to the floor and bury my face in my hands. Julian has won. I know that my life will never be my own again.

11

N ora WHEN I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, JULIAN IS GONE AGAIN. I don’t really remember what happened after I collapsed in Julian’s office yesterday. The rest of the day is fuzzy in my memory. It’s like my brain had switched off, unable to process the violence I had witnessed. I think I vaguely recall Julian picking me up off the floor and bringing me to the shower. He must’ve washed me and bandaged my feet because they’re wrapped in gauze this morning and hurting a lot less when I walk. I’m not sure if he had sex with me last night. If he did, then he must’ve been unusually gentle because I don’t have any soreness this morning. I do remember sleeping with him in my bed, with his large body curved around mine. In some ways, what happened simplifies things. When there’s no hope, when there’s no choice, everything becomes remarkably clear. The fact of the matter is that Julian holds all the cards. I’m his for as long as he wishes to keep me. There’s no escape for me, no way out. And once I accept that fact, my life becomes easier. Before I know it, I have been on the island for nine days. Beth tells me so over breakfast this morning. I’ve grown to tolerate her presence. I have no choice—without Julian there, she’s my only source of human interaction. She feeds me, clothes me, and cleans after me. She’s almost like my nanny, except she’s young and sometimes bitchy. I don’t think she’s forgiven me fully for trying to bash her head in. It hurt her pride or something.

I try not to bug her too much. I leave the house during the day, spending most of my time on the beach or exploring the woods. I come back to the house for meals and to pick up a new book to read. Beth told me Julian will bring me more books when I’m done with the hundred or so that are currently in my room. I should be depressed. I know that. I should be bitter and raging all the time, hating Julian and the island. And sometimes I do. But it takes so much energy, constantly being a victim. When I’m lying in the hot sun, absorbed in a book, I don’t hate anything. I just let myself get carried away by some author’s imagination. I try not to think about Jake. The guilt is almost unbearable. Rationally, I know Julian is the one who did this, but I can’t help feeling responsible. If I had never gone out with Jake, this would’ve never happened to him. If I hadn’t approached him during that party, he wouldn’t have been savagely beaten. I still don’t know what Julian is or how he’s able to have such a long reach. He’s as much of a mystery to me today as he’s ever been. Maybe he’s in the Mafia. That would explain the thugs he has in his employ. Of course, he could simply be a wealthy eccentric with sociopathic tendencies. I truly don’t know. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night. I miss my family, my friends. I miss going out and dancing at a club. I miss human contact. I’m not a loner by nature. Back home, I was always in touch with people—Facebook, Twitter, just hanging out with friends at the mall. I like to read, but it’s not enough for me. I need more. It gets so bad that I try talking to Beth about it. “I’m bored,” I tell her over dinner. It’s fish again. I learned that Beth catches it herself near the cove on the other side of the island. This time, it’s with mango salsa. It’s a good thing I’m a seafood fan because I get a lot of it here. “You are?” She seems amused. “Why? Don’t you have enough books to read?” I roll my eyes. “Yes, I still have seventy or so left. But there’s nothing else to do…” “Want to help me fish tomorrow?” she asks, giving me a mocking look. She knows she’s not my favorite person, and she fully expects me to turn her down immediately. However, she doesn’t realize the extent to which I need human interaction. “Okay,” I say, obviously surprising her. I’ve never been fishing, and I can’t

imagine it’s a particularly fun activity, especially if Beth is going to be snarky the entire time. Still, I’d do just about anything to break the routine at this point. “Okay, then,” she says. “The best time to catch these fuckers is right around dawn. Think you’re up for it?” “Sure,” I say. I normally hate waking up early, but I get so much sleep here that I’m sure it won’t be too bad. I probably sleep close to ten hours at night and also catch an occasional nap in the afternoon sun. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. My body seems to think I’m on vacation at some relaxing retreat. There are apparently perks to not having internet or other distractions; I don’t think I’ve felt so well-rested in my entire life. “Then you better go to sleep soon because I’ll come by your room early,” she warns. I nod, finishing up my dinner. Then I head upstairs to my room and cry myself to sleep again.

“WHEN IS JULIAN COMING BACK?” I ASK, WATCHING BETH AS SHE CAREFULLY ARRANGES THE BAIT AT the end of the hook. What she’s doing looks disgusting, and I’m glad she’s not making me help her. “I don’t know,” Beth says. “He’ll come back when he’s done taking care of business.” “What kind of business?” I’ve asked this before, but I’m hoping one of these days Beth will answer me. She sighs. “Nora, stop prying.” “What’s the big deal if I know?” I give her a frustrated look. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. I just want to know what he is, that’s all. Don’t you think it’s normal to be curious in my situation?” She sighs again and casts the lure into the ocean with a smooth, practiced motion. “Of course it is. But Julian will tell you everything himself if he wants you to know.” I take a deep breath. I’m obviously not going to get anywhere with that line of questioning. “You’re really loyal to him, huh?” “Yes,” Beth says simply, sitting down beside me. “I am.” Because he saved her life. I’m curious about that too, but I know she’s touchy on

that subject. So instead I ask, “How long have you known him?” “About ten years,” she says. “Since he was nineteen?” “Yes, exactly.” “How did you two meet?” Her jaw hardens. “That’s none of your business.” Uh-huh. I sense I’m again approaching the difficult subject. I decide to proceed anyway. “Was that when he saved your life? Is that how you met him?” She gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Nora, what did I tell you about prying?” “Okay, fine…” Her non-answer is answer enough for me. I move on to another topic of interest. “So why did Julian bring me here? To this island, I mean? He’s not even here himself.” “He’ll come back soon enough.” She gives me an ironic look. “Why, do you miss him?” “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 some 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.

12

N ora 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 airconditioning 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 feel 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. He watches as the dress falls off my body and I kick off my flip-flops. My movements are wooden, stiff with fear. I doubt a normal man would find this striptease arousing, but I can see that it turns Julian on. Under the dress, I’m wearing only a pair of cream-colored lacy panties. The cold air washes over my

skin, making my nipples harden even more. “Now the underwear,” he says. I swallow and push the panties down my legs. Then I step out of them. “Good girl,” he says approvingly. “Now come here.” This time I’m unable to obey him. My self-preservation instinct is screaming that I need to run, but there’s nowhere to run to. Julian would catch me if I tried to make it out the door right now—and it’s not like I can get off this island anyway. So I just stand there, naked and shivering, frozen in place. Julian gets up himself. Contrary to my expectations, he doesn’t look angry. Instead he seems almost… pleased. “I see that I was right to begin training you tonight,” he says as he comes up to me. “I’ve been too soft with you because of your inexperience. I didn’t want to break you, to damage you beyond repair—” My shaking intensifies as he circles around me like a shark. “—but I need to start molding you into what I want you to be, Nora. You’re already so close to perfection, but there are these occasional lapses…” He traces his fingers down my body, ignoring the way I’m cringing from his touch. “Please,” I whisper, “please, Julian, I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I’m sorry for, but I will say anything right now to avoid this training, whatever it may be. He smiles at me. “It’s not a punishment, my pet. I just have certain needs, that’s all—and I want you to be able to satisfy them.” “What needs?” My words are barely audible. I don’t want to know, I truly don’t, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from asking. “You’ll see,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm and leading me toward the bed. When we get there, he reaches for the blindfold and ties it around my eyes. My hands automatically try to go to my face, but he pulls them down, so that they’re hanging by my sides. I hear rustling sounds, as though he’s searching for something in that bag. Terror rips through me again, and I make a convulsive movement to free my eyes, but he catches my wrists. Then I feel him binding them behind my back. At this point I start to cry. I don’t make a sound, but I can feel the blindfold getting wet from the moisture escaping my eyes. I know I was helpless before, even without being blindfolded and tied up, but the sense of vulnerability is a thousand times worse now. I know there are women who are into this, who play these types

of games with their partners, but Julian is not my partner. I’ve read enough books that I know the rules—and I know that he’s not following them. There’s nothing safe, sane, or consensual about what’s going on here. And yet, when Julian reaches between my legs and strokes me there, I’m horrified to realize that I’m wet. That pleases him. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the satisfaction emanating from him as he begins to play with my clit, occasionally dipping the tip of one finger inside me to monitor my physical response to his stimulation. His movements are sure, not the least bit hesitant. He knows exactly what to do to enhance my arousal, how to touch me to make me come. I hate that, his expertise in bringing me pleasure. How many women has he done this to? Surely it takes practice to get so good at making a woman orgasm despite her fear and reluctance. None of this matters to my body, of course. With each stroke of his skilled fingers, the tension inside me builds and intensifies, the insidious pressure starting to gather low in my belly. I moan, my hips involuntarily pushing toward him as he continues to play with my sex. He’s not touching me anywhere else, just there, but it seems to be enough to drive me insane. “Oh yes,” he murmurs, bending down to kiss my neck. “Come for me, my pet.” As though obeying his command, my inner muscles contract… and then the climax rushes through me with the force of a freight train. I forget to be afraid; I forget everything in that moment except the pleasure exploding through my nerve endings. Before I can recover, he pushes me onto the bed, face down. I hear him moving, doing something, and then he lifts me and arranges me on top of a mound of pillows, elevating my hips. Now I’m lying on my stomach with my ass sticking out and my hands tied behind my back, even more exposed and vulnerable than before. I turn my head sideways, so I don’t suffocate in the mattress. My tears, which had almost stopped before, begin again. I have a terrible suspicion I know what he’s going to do to me now. When I feel something cool and wet between my butt cheeks, my suspicion is confirmed. He’s spreading lube on me, preparing me for what’s to come. “Please, don’t.” The words are wrenched out of me. I know that begging is useless. I know that he has no mercy, that it turns him on to see me like this—but I can’t help it. I can’t accept that additional violation. I just can’t. “Please.”

“Hush, baby,” he murmurs, stroking the curve of my buttocks with his large palm. “I’ll teach you to enjoy this too.” I hear more sounds, and then I feel something pushing into me, into that other opening. I tense, clenching my muscles with all my might, but the pressure is too much to resist and the thing begins to penetrate me. “Stop,” I moan as a burning pain begins, and Julian actually listens this time, pausing for a second. “Relax, my pet,” he says softly, caressing my leg with one of his hands. “It’ll go much better if you relax.” “Take it out,” I beg. “Please take it out.” “Nora,” he says, his tone suddenly harsh. “I told you to relax. It’s nothing but a small toy. It won’t hurt you if you relax.” “Isn’t hurting me the whole point?” I ask bitterly. “Isn’t that what gets your rocks off?” “Do you want me to hurt you?” His voice is soft, almost hypnotic. “It would get my rocks off, you’re right… Is that what you want, my pet? For me to hurt you?” No, I don’t. I don’t want that at all. I give an almost imperceptible shake of my head and do my best to relax. I don’t think I’m successful at it. It’s just too wrong, the feeling of something pushing in there from the outside. Nonetheless, Julian seems pleased with my efforts. “Good,” he croons. “Good girl, there we go…” He applies steady pressure, and the thing goes deeper into me, past the resistance of my sphincter, inch by slow inch. When it’s all the way in, he pauses, letting me get used to the sensation. The burning pain is still there, as is the almost nauseating feeling of fullness. I focus on taking small, even breaths and not moving. After about a minute, the pain begins to subside, leaving only the disorienting sensation of a foreign object lodged inside my body. Julian leaves the toy in place and starts stroking me all over, his touch oddly gentle. He starts with my feet, rubbing them, finding all the kinks and massaging them away. Then he moves up my calves and thighs, which are almost vibrating with tension. His hands are skilled and sure on my body; what he’s doing is better than any massage I’ve ever had. Despite everything, I feel myself melting into his touch, my muscles turning to mush under his fingers. By the time he gets to my neck and shoulders, I’m as relaxed as I’ve been since waking up on this island. If I

hadn’t been blindfolded, bound, and sodomized, I would’ve thought I was in a spa. When he removes the toy some twenty minutes later, it slides right out, without even a hint of discomfort. He pushes it back in again, and this time, the pain is minimal. If anything, it feels… interesting… particularly when his fingers find my clit and begin stimulating it again. I don’t resist the pleasure those fingers bring me. Why bother? I would take pleasure over pain any day of the week. Julian is going to do whatever he wants, and I might as well enjoy some parts of it. So I divorce my mind from the wrongness of it all and let myself simply feel. I can’t see anything with the blindfold, and I can’t put up much of a fight with my hands tied behind my back. I’m completely helpless—and there’s something peculiarly liberating in that. There’s no point in worrying, no point in thinking. I’m simply drifting in the darkness, high on post-massage endorphins. He fucks me with the toy, pushing it in and out of me at the same time as his fingers press on my clit. His movements are rhythmic, coordinated, and I moan as my sex starts to throb, the pressure inside me growing with each thrust. Abruptly, the tension gets to be too much, and there’s a sudden, intense burst of pleasure, starting at my core and radiating outward. My muscles clamp down on the toy, and the unusual sensation only intensifies my orgasm. Unable to control myself, I cry out, grinding against Julian’s fingers. I want the ecstasy to last forever. All too soon, though, it’s over, and I’m left limp and shaking in the aftermath. Julian is not done with me, of course, not by a long shot. Just as I’m starting to recover, he withdraws the toy and presses a different, larger object to my back opening. It’s his cock, I realize, tensing again as he begins to push in. “Nora…” There is a warning note in his voice, and I know what he wants from me, but I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can relax enough to let him in. It’s too much; he’s too thick, too long. I don’t understand how something that big can enter me there without ripping me apart. But he’s relentless, and I feel my muscles slowly giving in, unable to resist the pressure he’s applying. The head of his cock pushes past the tight ring of my sphincter, and I cry out at the burning, stretching sensation. “Shh,” he says soothingly, stroking my back as he slowly goes deeper. “Shh… it’s all good…” By the time he’s in all the way, I’m a trembling, sweating mess. There’s pain, yes, but there’s also the novelty of having something so large invading my body in this weird, unnatural way. I know people do this—and supposedly even derive pleasure from this act—but I can’t imagine ever doing this willingly.

He pauses, letting me adjust to the sensations, and I sob softly into the mattress, wanting nothing more than for this to be over. He’s patient, though, his strong hands caressing me, relaxing me, until my tears subside and I no longer feel like passing out. He senses it when my discomfort begins to ease, and starts to move inside me, slowly, carefully. I can hear his harsh breathing, and I know that he’s exerting a lot of control over himself, that he probably wants to fuck me harder but is trying not to ‘damage me beyond repair.’ Nevertheless, his movements cause my insides to twist and churn, causing me to cry out with every stroke. And just when I think I can’t bear it anymore, he slides one hand under my hips and finds my swollen clit again. His fingers are gentle, his touch butterfly-soft, and I begin to feel a familiar warmth in my belly, my body responding to him despite the violation. What he’s doing isn’t taking away the pain, but it’s distracting me from it, allowing me to focus on the pleasure. I never knew pleasure and pain could co-exist like that, but there’s something strangely addictive in that combination, something dark and forbidden that resonates with a part of myself I never knew existed. His pace picks up, and somehow that makes it better. Maybe some nerve endings are desensitized by now—or maybe I’m simply getting used to having him inside me—but the pain lessens, almost disappears. All that’s left is a host of other sensations—strange, unfamiliar sensations that are intriguing in their own way. That, and the pleasure from his clever fingers playing with my sex, arousing me until I’m crying out for a different reason, until I’m begging Julian to do it, to send me over the edge again. And he does. My entire body tightens and explodes, shuddering with the force of my release. He groans as my muscles clamp down on his shaft, and I feel the liquid warmth from his seed bathing my insides, the saltiness of it stinging my raw flesh. “Good girl,” he whispers in my ear, his cock softening within me. He kisses my earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that I feel disoriented. Is this normal kidnapper behavior? When he withdraws from me, I feel empty and cold, almost as if I’m missing the heat from his body pressing me down. He doesn’t leave me alone for long, though. He unties my hands first and rubs them lightly, then he takes off my blindfold. I blink, letting my eyes adjust to the soft light in the room, and move my arms, bracing myself on my elbows. “Come,” he says softly, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

I let him tug me to my feet and lead me into the bathroom. My legs feel shaky, and I’m glad he’s holding me. I don’t know if I could’ve walked there by myself. He turns on the shower, waits for the water to heat up for a few seconds, and leads us into the large stall. Then he thoroughly washes every part of my body, rinsing away all traces of lube and semen. He even shampoos and conditions my hair, his fingers massaging my skull and relaxing me again. By the time he’s done, I feel clean and cared for. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, turning up my palm and pouring some body wash into it. “You want me to wash you?” I say incredulously, and he nods, a small smile curving his lips. With the water running down his muscular body, he’s even more gorgeous than usual, like some kind of a sea god. A sea monster, I correct myself. A beautiful sea monster. He continues looking at me expectantly, waiting to see if I will do as he asked, and I mentally shrug. Why not wash him, really? It won’t hurt me in the least. And besides, as much as I hate him, I can’t deny that I am curious about his body—that touching him is something I find exciting. So I rub my hands together and run them over his chest, spreading the soap all over his bronzed skin. He raises his arms, and I wash his sides and underarms, then his back. His skin is mostly smooth, roughened in just a few places by dark, masculine hair. I can feel the powerful muscles bunching under my fingers, and I find myself enjoying this experience. In this moment, I can almost pretend that I want to be here, that this stunning creature is my lover instead of my captor. I wash him as thoroughly as he washed me, my soapy hands gliding over his legs, his feet. By the time I get to his sex, his cock begins to harden again, and I freeze, realizing that my ministrations unintentionally aroused him. He correctly interprets my reaction as fear. “Relax, my pet,” he murmurs, his voice filled with amusement. “I’m only human, you know. As delicious as you are, I need more than a few minutes to recover fully.” I swallow and turn away, rinsing my hands under the water spray. What the hell am I doing? He hadn’t forced me to touch him. I had done it of my own accord. He’d asked, but I am pretty sure I could’ve refused and he would’ve let it slide. The dark undercurrent I’d sensed in him earlier this evening is not there now. In fact, Julian

seems to be in a good mood, his manner almost playful. I want to get out of the shower now, so I make a move to slide past him. He stops me, his arm blocking my way. “Wait,” he says softly, tilting my chin up with his fingers. Then he bends his head and kisses me, his lips sweet and gentle on mine. A now-familiar response warms my body, making me want to rub myself against him like a cat in heat. He doesn’t let it go far, though. After about a minute, he lifts his head and smiles down at me, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now you can go.” Utterly confused, I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and escape into my room as quickly as I can.

13

N ora THAT NIGHT I LEARN ABOUT JULIAN’S NIGHTMARES. After the shower, he joins me in my bed, his muscular body curving around me from the back, one heavy arm draping over my torso. I stiffen at first, unsure of what to expect, but all he does is go to sleep while holding me close to him. I can hear the even rhythm of his breathing as I stare into the darkness, and then I gradually fall asleep too. I wake up to a strange noise. It startles me out of deep sleep, and my eyes fly open, my heart pounding from an adrenaline surge. What was that? For a moment, I don’t dare breathe, but then I realize that the sounds are coming from the other side of the bed—from the man sleeping beside me. I sit up in bed and peer at him. It looks like he rolled away from me in the night, gathering all the blankets to himself. I’m completely naked and uncovered, and I actually feel a little chilly with the air-conditioning running at full blast. The sounds escaping his throat are muffled, but there is a raw quality to them that gives me goosebumps. They remind me of an animal in pain. He’s breathing hard, almost gasping for air. “Julian?” I say uncertainly. I don’t really know what to do in this situation. Should I wake him up? He’s clearly having a bad dream. I recall him telling me about his family, that they were all murdered, and I can’t help feeling pity for this beautiful, twisted man.

He cries out, his voice low and hoarse, and flops over onto his back, one arm hitting the pillow only a few inches away from me. “Um, Julian?” I reach out cautiously and touch his hand. He mumbles and turns his head, still deeply asleep. If we were anywhere but on this island, this would be the perfect moment for me to try to escape. As it stands, however, there’s really no point in going anywhere, so I just watch Julian warily, wondering if he’s going to wake up on his own or if I should try harder to wake him. For a few moments, it seems like he’s settling down, his breathing calming a bit. Then he suddenly cries out again. It’s a name this time. “Maria,” he rasps out. “Maria…” For one shocking second, I feel a hot tide of jealousy sweeping over me. Maria… He’s dreaming of another woman. Then my rational side reasserts itself. Maria could easily be his mother or his sister—and even if she’s not, why should I care that he’s dreaming of her? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything. So I swallow and reach for him again, suppressing the residual pangs of jealousy. “Julian?” As soon as my fingers touch his arm, he grabs me, his motions so fast and startling that only a small gasp escapes me as he pulls me toward him. His arms around me are inescapable, his embrace almost suffocating, and I can feel him shaking as he holds me tightly against him, my face pressed into his shoulder. His skin is cold and clammy with sweat, and I can hear his heart galloping in his chest. “Maria,” he mumbles into my hair, his fingers digging into my back with such force that I’m sure there will be bruises there tomorrow. Yet somehow I don’t mind because I know he’s not doing this on purpose. He’s in the grip of his nightmare and he’s seeking comfort—and I’m the only one who can provide it right now. After a while, I can hear his breathing easing. His arms relax a little, no longer squeezing me with such desperation, and his frantic heartbeat begins to slow. “Maria,” he whispers again, but there’s less pain in his voice now, as though he’s reliving happier times with her, whatever those may be. I let him hold me, not moving lest I wake him from his now-peaceful rest. He’s not the only one receiving comfort here. Despite everything he’s done to me, I can’t deny that a part of me wants this from him, this feeling of closeness, of

safety. He’s the only thing I have to fear; logically, I know that. It doesn’t matter, though, because right now I feel like he’s holding the darkness at bay, keeping me safe from whatever other monsters may be lurking out there. Just as I’m keeping him safe from his nightmares.

WHEN I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, JULIAN IS GONE AGAIN. “Where is he?” I ask Beth at breakfast, watching as she cuts up a mango for me. I still feel an occasional twinge of discomfort when I move, a reminder of my captor’s more exotic proclivities. “A work emergency,” she says, her hands moving with a graceful efficiency that I can’t help but admire. “He should be back in a couple of days.” “What kind of work emergency?” Beth shrugs. “I don’t know. You can ask Julian that when he returns.” I look at her, trying to understand what motivates her… and Julian. “You said I’m the first girl he brought here, to this island,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “So what did he do with the others?” “There were no others.” She’s done with the mango, and she’s placing the plate in front of me before sitting down to eat her own breakfast. “So why is he doing this to me? I know he’s got peculiar tastes, but surely there are women who are into that—” Beth grins at me, showing even white teeth. “Of course. But he wants you.” “Why? What’s so special about me?” “You’ll have to ask Julian that.” Again that non-answer. Her evasiveness makes me want to scream. I spear a piece of mango with my fork and chew it slowly, thinking this over. “Is it because of Maria?” I’m not sure what makes me ask this, except that I can’t get that name out of my head. It’s apparently the right question, though, because it stops Beth in her tracks. “Julian told you about Maria?” She sounds shocked. “He mentioned her.” It’s not really a lie. Her name did come up, even though Julian doesn’t know it. “Why does that surprise you?”

She shrugs again, no longer looking so shocked. “I guess it doesn’t, now that I think about it. If he’s going to tell anyone, it would probably be you.” Me? Why? I’m burning with curiosity, but I try to keep my expression impassive, like none of this is news to me. “Of course,” I say calmly, eating my mango. “Then you understand, Nora,” she says, looking at me. “You have to understand at least a little bit. Your resemblance to her is uncanny. I saw the photo, and she could’ve been your younger sister.” “That similar?” I struggle to keep the shock out of my voice. My heart is pounding in my chest. This is so much more than I could’ve hoped for, and Beth just handed me this information on a silver platter. She frowns. “He didn’t tell you that?” “No,” I say. “He didn’t tell me much. Just a little bit.” Just her name, uttered in the throes of a nightmare. Beth’s eyes widen as she realizes that she probably revealed more than she should have. She looks unhappy for a moment, but then her expression smooths out. “Oh well,” she says. “I guess now you know. I’ll have to tell Julian about this, of course.” I swallow, and the piece of mango slides down my throat like a rock. I don’t want her to tell Julian anything. I don’t know what he’ll do to me when he finds out that I know about Maria—that I saw him when he was at his most vulnerable. My stupid curiosity. “Why?” I say, trying not to sound anxious. “You’re the one he’s going to be upset with, not me.” “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Nora,” Beth says, giving me a slightly malicious smile. “And besides, I don’t ever keep secrets from Julian. He’s very good at prying them out of people.” And getting up, she starts washing the dishes.

I SPEND THE NEXT TWO DAYS ALTERNATING BETWEEN SPECULATING ABOUT MARIA AND WORRYING ABOUT Julian’s return. Who is she? Someone who looks a lot like me, apparently. So similar that she could be my younger sister, Beth said. How old is this girl? Who is she to Julian? The questions gnaw at me, interfering with my sleep. He took me because of my

resemblance to her—that much is obvious to me. But why? What happened to her? Why is she in his nightmares? I want to know, I want to understand, yet I’m afraid of Julian’s reaction when he returns and finds out that I snooped. I could try to explain that I learned all of this accidentally, that I didn’t mean to invade his privacy, but I strongly suspect my captor is not the understanding type. Beth doesn’t tell me anything else about Maria. In fact, she doesn’t talk to me much at all. She’s one of those rare individuals who seems happy being by herself. If I were her, I would go crazy being stuck here on this island, doing nothing but cooking, cleaning, and looking after Julian’s sex toy, but she seems perfectly fine with it. I, on the other hand, am far from fine. I am constantly thinking about my old life, missing my family and friends. They probably think I’m dead at this point. I’m guessing there was a big search for me, but I doubt it yielded any results. I also think about Jake, wondering if he recovered from his beating. It had looked so brutal, what Julian’s thug had done to him. Does Jake know that it was my fault? That he got attacked in his house because of me? Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if he knows or not. Whatever Jake and I could’ve had together is over. I belong to Julian now, and there’s no point in thinking about any other man. In a way, I am lucky. I know that. I’m sure many girls end up in far worse circumstances than me. I once saw a documentary about sexual slavery, and the images of those hollow-eyed women had haunted me for days. They’d seemed broken, completely and utterly crushed by whatever had been done to them, and even the fact that they’d been rescued didn’t seem to dispel the suffering etched into their faces. My captivity is different. It’s much nicer, much more comfortable. Julian is not trying to break me, and I’m grateful for that. I may be his sex slave, but at least he’s my only master. Things could definitely be much worse. Or so I tell myself as I wait for his return, desperately hoping that Julian’s reaction to my prying won’t be as bad as I fear.

14

N ora JULIAN COMES BACK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. I MUST’VE BEEN SLEEPING LIGHTLY BECAUSE I WAKE up as soon as I hear the quiet murmur of conversation downstairs. My captor’s deeper tones are interspersed with Beth’s more feminine ones, and I have a strong suspicion I know what they’re talking about. I sit up in bed, my heart galloping in my chest. Getting up, I quickly pull on yesterday’s clothes and run to the bathroom to freshen up. I don’t know why I care about brushing teeth right now, but I do. I want to be as awake and prepared as possible for whatever Julian decides to do to me. Then I just sit on the bed and wait. Finally, the door to my room opens and Julian walks in. He looks unusually tired, with dark shadows under his eyes and a hint of stubble on his normally cleanshaven face. These flaws should’ve diminished his beauty, but they only humanize him a bit, somehow enhancing his attractiveness. “You’re awake.” He sounds surprised. “I heard voices,” I explain, watching him warily. “And you decided to greet me. How nice of you, my pet.” I know he’s mocking me, so I don’t say anything, just continue looking at him. My palms are sweating, but I’m doing my best to project a calm demeanor. He sits down on the bed next to me and lifts his hand to touch my hair. “Such a sweet pet,” he murmurs, lifting a thick strand and playfully tickling my cheek with it. “Such a curious little kitten…”

I swallow, my breathing fast and shallow. What is he going to do to me? He gets up and starts to undress while I watch him, frozen in place by a mixture of fear and strange anticipation. His clothes come off, revealing the powerfully masculine body underneath, and I feel a wave of desire rolling through me, heating up my core. I want him. Despite everything, I want him, and that’s the most screwed-up thing of all. He’s probably going to do something awful to me, but I still want him more than I could’ve ever imagined wanting anyone. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Did you do this to Maria?” I ask quietly. “Did you also keep her as your pet?” He looks at me, his eyes as blue and mysterious as the ocean. “Are you sure you want to go there, Nora?” His voice is soft, deceptively calm. I stare at him, feeling uncharacteristically reckless. “Why, yes, Julian, I do.” My tone is bitterly sarcastic, and I realize that part of my boldness stems from jealousy, that I hate the idea of this Maria being special to Julian. But even that realization is not enough to stop me. “Who is she? Some other girl you abused?” His expression darkens, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he would do now. In a way, I want to provoke him. I want him to punish me, to hurt me. I want it because I need him to be nothing more than a monster—because I need to hate him for the sake of my sanity. He walks over and sits down on the bed next to me. I fight the urge to flinch when he reaches for me and wraps his strong fingers around my neck. Gripping my throat, he leans over and brushes his cheek against mine, back and forth, as though enjoying the soft texture of my skin against the roughness of his stubble-covered jaw. His fingers don’t squeeze, but the threat is there, and I can feel myself shaking, my breathing speeding up in terrified anticipation. He chuckles softly, and I feel the gust of air against my ear. Despite his weary appearance, his breath is fresh and sweet, as though he had just been chewing gum. I close my eyes, trying to convince myself that Julian wouldn’t really kill me, that he’s just toying with me right now. He kisses my ear, nibbling lightly on my earlobe. His touch in that sensitive area sends pleasurable chills down my spine, and my breathing changes again, becomes slower and deeper as I get more aroused. I can smell the warm, musky scent of his skin, and my nipples tighten, reacting to his nearness. The ache between my thighs is growing, and I squirm a little, trying to relieve the pressure building inside me.

“You want me, don’t you?” he whispers in my ear, slipping his hand under the skirt of my dress and lightly stroking my sex. I know he can feel the moisture there, and I suppress a moan as one long finger pushes inside me, rubbing against my slick inner wall. “Don’t you, Nora?” “Yes.” I gasp as he touches a particularly sensitive spot. “Yes, what?” His voice is harsh, demanding. He wants my complete surrender. “Yes, I want you,” I admit in a broken whisper. I can’t deny it any longer. I want Julian. I want the man who kidnapped me, who hurt me. I want him, and I hate myself for it. He withdraws his finger then and lets go of my throat. Startled, I open my eyes and meet his gaze. He lifts his hand to my face, pressing his finger against my lips. It’s the same finger that was just inside me. “Suck it,” he orders, and I obediently open my mouth, sucking the finger in. I can taste myself, my own desire, and it makes me even more turned on. When he’s satisfied that the finger is clean, he removes it from my mouth, grasping my chin with his hand instead, forcing me to meet his gaze. I stare up at him, mesmerized by the dark blue striations in his irises. My body is throbbing with need, desperately craving his possession. I want him to take me, to fill the aching emptiness within. But all he does is look at me, a mocking half-smile playing on his beautiful lips. “You think I’m going to punish you tonight, Nora?” he asks softly. “Is that what you’re expecting me to do?” I blink, startled by the question. Of course I expect him to do that. I did something that upset him, and he’s not shy about hurting me when I’m on my best behavior. Apparently reading the answer on my face, he smiles wider. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, my pet, but I’m far too exhausted to do your punishment justice tonight. All I want right now is your mouth.” And with that, he fists his hand in my hair and pushes me down, so that I’m kneeling between his legs, his erection at my eye level. “Suck it,” he murmurs, looking down at me. “Just like you did my finger.” I’m no stranger to blow-jobs, having given quite a few to my ex-boyfriend, so I know what to do. I close my lips around the thick column of his shaft and swirl my tongue around the tip. He tastes a little salty, a little musky, and I look up, watching his face as I cup his balls in my hand and squeeze them lightly. He groans,

his eyes closing and his hand tightening in my hair, and I continue, moving my mouth up and down on his cock, swallowing him deeper every time. For some reason, I don’t mind pleasuring him this way. In fact, I find it strangely enjoyable. Even though it’s an illusion, I feel like he’s at my mercy at the moment, that I am the one who has the power right now. I love the helpless groans that escape his throat as I use my hands, my lips, and my tongue to bring him to the very brink of orgasm before slowing down. I love the agonized expression on his face when I take his balls into my mouth and suck on them, feeling them tightening in my mouth. I love the way he shudders when I lightly scrape my fingernails on the underside of his balls, and when he finally explodes, I love the way he grabs my head, holding me in place as he comes, his cock pulsing and throbbing in my mouth. When he releases me, I lick my lips, cleaning off the traces of semen while looking up at him the whole time. He stares down at me, still breathing heavily. “That was good, Nora.” His voice is low and raspy. “Very good. Who taught you to do that?” I shrug. “It’s not like I was a nun before I met you,” I say without thinking. His eyes narrow, and I realize that I just made a mistake. This is a man who seems to revel in the fact that he was my first, who likes the idea that I belong to him and only to him. Any references to ex-boyfriends are best kept to myself. To my relief, he doesn’t seem inclined to punish me for this transgression either. Instead, he pulls me up, back onto the bed. Then he undresses me, turns off the light, and puts his arm around me, holding me close as he drifts off to sleep.

MY PUNISHMENT DOESN’T TAKE PLACE UNTIL THE FOLLOWING NIGHT. JULIAN AGAIN SPENDS THE DAY IN his office, and I don’t see him until dinnertime. For some reason, I’m not as frightened as I was before. The little interlude last night—and sleeping in Julian’s arms afterwards—soothed my anxiety, making me think the punishment won’t be as bad as I’d initially feared. He didn’t seem particularly angry that I’d found out about Maria, which is a big relief. I hope he’ll forgo punishing me altogether, particularly if I do my best to behave today. The three of us have dinner again, and I listen to Julian and Beth discussing the latest developments in the Middle East. It surprises me how well informed both of them seem to be about the topic. Before my kidnapping, I was pretty good about

following current events, but I’ve never heard most of the politicians’ names they’re mentioning. Then again, if Julian really does run an international importexport company, then it makes sense for him to have his finger on the pulse of world politics. My curiosity gets the best of me again, and I ask if Julian’s company does a lot of business in the Middle East. He smiles at me as he spears a piece of shrimp with his fork. “Yes, my pet, it does.” “Is that where you went on this trip?” “No,” he says, biting into the juicy shrimp. “I was in Hong Kong this time.” I make a mental note of that. Hong Kong had to be close enough to the island for him to fly there, conduct his business, and fly back—all within two days. I picture a map of the Pacific Ocean in my head. It’s a bit fuzzy, as geography is not my strong point, but I think this island must not be that far from the Philippines. Beth offers me some curried potatoes to go with my shrimp, and I take them, thanking her with a smile. I’ve noticed that we get more food variety shortly after Julian comes back from the mainland. I’m guessing he brings us food supplies from wherever he goes to. Beth smiles back at me, and I see that she’s in a good mood. In general, she seems happier when Julian is here, more lighthearted. I’m sure it’s not fun for her, dealing with my attitude all the time. One could almost feel bad for her—‘almost’ being the key word. “I’ve never been to Asia,” I tell Julian. “Is Hong Kong really how they show it in movies?” Julian grins at me. “Pretty much. It’s amazing. Probably one of my favorite cities. The architecture is fascinating, and the food…” He makes a show of licking his lips. “The food is just to die for.” He rubs his belly, and I laugh, charmed despite myself. The rest of the dinner passes in the same pleasant manner. Julian tells me amusing stories about the different places he’s been to in Asia, and I listen in fascination, occasionally gasping and laughing at some of the more outrageous tales. Beth sometimes chimes in, but for the most part, it’s as though it’s just Julian and me, having fun on a date. Like that time when we had dinner alone, I find myself falling under Julian’s

spell. He’s more than charming; he’s simply mesmerizing. His allure goes beyond his looks, although I can’t deny the physical attraction between us. When he laughs or gives me one of his genuine smiles, I feel a warm glow, like he’s the sun and I’m basking in his rays. Everything about him appeals to me—the way he talks, how he gestures to emphasize a point, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at me. He’s also an excellent storyteller, and three hours simply fly by as he entertains me with tales of his adventures in Japan, where he once lived for a year as a teenager. I don’t want this dinner to end, so I try to stretch it out as much as I can, helping myself to second, third, and fourth helpings of the fruit Beth prepared as dessert. I’m sure Julian is aware of my delaying tactics, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Finally, everything has been eaten, and Beth gets up to wash the dishes. Julian smiles at me, and for the first time this evening, I feel a flicker of fear. I can again sense that dark undercurrent in his smile, and I realize that it’s been present all along—that it’s always there with Julian. The charming man that I’ve just spent three hours with is about as real as a figment of my imagination. Still smiling, he offers me his hand. It’s a courtly gesture, but I can’t help the chill that runs down my spine as I see a familiar gleam in his blue eyes. He again looks like a dark angel, his sublime beauty tinted with a faint shadow of evil. Swallowing to get rid of the sudden knot in my throat, I place my hand in his and let him lead me upstairs. It’s better this way, more civilized. It allows me to pretend for a few moments longer—to hold on to the illusion of having a choice. When we enter my room, he has me undress and lie down on the bed, on my stomach. Then he ties me up again, binding my wrists tightly behind my back. A blindfold goes over my eyes, and pillows under my hips. It’s the exact same position in which he took me last time, and I can’t help tensing as I remember the agony—and the ecstasy—of his possession. Is that what he’s going to do? Have anal sex with me again? If so, it’s not that bad. I survived the last time, and I’m sure I’ll be fine again. So when I feel the coolness of lube between my cheeks, I try to relax, to let him do whatever he wants. A toy slides in, the invasion startling but not particularly painful. I can definitely tolerate it. As before, he leaves the toy inside me as he gives me a massage, relaxing me, arousing me with his touch. He kisses the back of my neck, nibbles on the sensitive spot near my shoulder, and then his mouth travels down my spine, kissing each vertebrae. At the same time, his finger slips into my vaginal opening, adding to the tension coiling low in my belly.

My release, when it comes, is so powerful that I buck against the mattress, my entire body shuddering and convulsing. While I’m recovering from the aftershocks, Julian withdraws his finger, and I feel cool air on my back as he leans away from me for a second. The lick of fire along my buttocks is as sharp as it is sudden. Startled, I cry out, trying to twist away, but I don’t get far, and the second hit is even more painful than the first, landing on my thighs. He’s whipping me with something, I realize. I don’t know what it is, but I can hear the swish in the air as he brings it down on my defenseless ass, again and again while I sob and try to roll away. Apparently tired of chasing me all over the bed, he unties my hands and then ties them above my head, securing my wrists to the wooden headboard. “Julian, please, I’m sorry!” I plead, desperate to make him stop. “Please, I’m sorry I was prying. Please, I won’t do it again, I won’t—” “Of course you will, my pet,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm on my neck. “You’re as curious as a little cat. But sometimes you should let things slide. For your own good, you understand?” “Yes! Yes, I do. Please, Julian—” “Shh,” he soothes, kissing my neck again. “You need to accept your punishment like a good girl.” And with that, he pulls back again, leaving my back and buttocks exposed to him. I try to scramble away, but he catches my legs, holding my ankles together with one hand. He’s strong, far stronger than I could’ve imagined, because he’s able to hold my flailing legs with just one arm while whipping me with the other. I can hear the swishing sound his prop makes, and I can’t help the screams that escape my throat each time it lands on my ass. My butt and thighs feel like they’re on fire, and the blindfold is soaked with my tears. I want it to stop, I’m begging him to stop, but Julian is immune to my pleas. It seems to go on forever, until I’m too hoarse to scream and too exhausted to struggle. I can’t even gather enough energy to keep my muscles tense, and somehow that seems to help the pain. I relax further, make my body go limp, and the pain becomes more manageable, each lash feeling less like a bite and more like a stroke. As the whipping proceeds, my world seems to narrow until nothing exists outside of the present moment. I’m not thinking anymore; I’m simply feeling, simply being. There’s something surreal, yet incredibly addictive in the experience.

Each swish brings with it a sharp sensation that pulls me deeper into this strange state, making me feel like I’m floating. The pain is no longer unbearable; instead it’s comforting in some perverse way. It’s grounding me, providing me with what I need at that moment. A warm glow spreads throughout my body, and all my worries, all my fears disappear. It’s a high unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. When Julian finally stops and unties me, I cling to him, trembling all over. Without the blindfold and the restraints, I feel lost, overwhelmed. As though knowing what I need, he pulls me onto his lap and cradles me gently in his arms, letting me cry against his shoulder until I no longer feel like I’m going to fall apart. After a while, I become cognizant of the hard length of his erection pressing into my buttocks, which are sore and throbbing from the whipping. The little toy he put in my ass before is still there, lodged securely inside me, and I realize that the warm glow within me is different now, more sexual in nature. Apparently sensing the shift in my mood, Julian carefully lifts me and positions me so that I’m facing him while straddling his lap. My hands are on his shoulders, and I can feel the powerful muscles playing under his skin. With my thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses against my sex. The smooth head slides between my folds and rubs against my clit, intensifying my arousal. I moan, my head arching back, and he slowly enters me, penetrating me inch by slow inch. With the toy in my ass, he feels even bigger than usual, and I gasp as he goes deeper, filling me with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and I moan again, tightening my inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and I do it again, wanting more of the sensation. He opens his eyes and stares at me, his face taut with lust and his eyes glittering. I hold his gaze, fascinated by the fierce need I see there. He’s as much in my thrall right now as I am in his, and the realization adds to my desire, further heating up my core. Raising his hand, he curves his palm around my cheek, wiping away the remnants of tears with his thumb. Then he bends his head and kisses me, as tenderly as I’ve ever been kissed. I revel in that kiss; his affection is like a drug to me right now—I need it with a desperation I don’t fully understand. I close my eyes, and my hands slide up his shoulders, finding their way into his hair. It’s thick and soft to the touch, like dark satin. Pressing closer to him, I rub my naked breasts against his powerfully muscled chest, delighting in the feel of his

hair-roughened skin against my sensitive nipples. His lips are firm and warm on mine, and the cock inside me is unbelievably hard, stretching me, filling me to the brim. Still kissing me, he begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within me ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout my body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes my throat as my sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs. He swallows the sound, his mouth now consuming mine with unrestrained hunger. His hand slides into my hair, holding it tightly as he devours me with his kiss, his hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within my core. His other hand moves down my body, and then he presses on the toy, pushing it deeper inside my rear passage. I fly apart. My orgasm is so strong, I can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, I’m completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. My body shudders and undulates on top of Julian’s, and my movements trigger his own release. In the aftermath, he holds me, stroking my sweat-dampened hair. I can feel his shaft softening within me, and then he reaches between my butt cheeks and tugs on the toy, carefully pulling it out. Then he makes me get up and leads me into the shower.

15

N ora HE TAKES CARE OF ME IN THE SHOWER AGAIN, WASHING ME, SOOTHING ME WITH HIS TOUCH. HE’S especially careful around the tender area of my thighs and buttocks, making sure not to add to my discomfort. To my relief, it doesn’t look like the skin is broken anywhere. My ass is pink with some reddish welts, and I’m sure there will be bruising, but there is no trace of blood anywhere. When I’m clean and dry, he guides me back to bed. He’s silent and so am I. I’m still not fully out of that strange state I was in earlier. It’s as though my mind is partially disconnected from my body. The only thing holding me together is Julian and his oddly gentle touch. We lie down together, and Julian turns off the lights, wrapping us in darkness. I lie on my stomach, because any other position is too painful. He pulls me closer to him, so that my head is pillowed on his chest and my arm is draped over his ribcage, and I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than the oblivion of sleep. “My father was one of the most powerful drug lords in Colombia.” Julian’s voice is barely audible, his breath ruffling the fine hair near my forehead. I had already begun to fall asleep, but I’m suddenly wide awake, my heart hammering in my chest. “He started grooming me to be his successor when I was four years old. I held my first gun when I was six.” Julian pauses, his hand lightly stroking my hair. “I killed my first man when I was eight.” I’m so horrified that I just lie there, frozen in place by shock. “Maria was the daughter of one of the men in my father’s organization,” Julian

continues, his voice low and emotionless. “I met her when I was thirteen, and she was twelve. She was everything that I was not. Beautiful, sweet… innocent. You see, unlike my father, her parents sheltered her from the reality of their lives. They wanted her to be a child, to know nothing about the ugliness of our world. “But she was bright, like you. And curious. So very, very curious…” His voice trails off for a second, as though he’s lost in some memory. Then he shakes it off and resumes his story. “She followed her father one day to see what he was doing. Hid in the back of his car. I found her there because it was my job to be a lookout, to guard the meeting spot.” I can barely breathe, unable to believe that Julian is telling me all this. Why now? Why tonight? “I could’ve told her father, gotten her in trouble, but she begged so prettily, looked at me so sweetly with her big brown eyes that I couldn’t do it. I made one of my father’s guards take her home instead. “After that, she came to see me on purpose. She wanted to get to know me better, she said. To be friends with me.” There is a note of remembered disbelief in Julian’s voice, as though nobody in their right mind could’ve wanted something like that. I swallow, my heart stupidly aching for the young boy he had been once. Had he even had friends, or had his father stolen that from him too, just as he had destroyed Julian’s childhood? “I tried to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea, that I wasn’t somebody she should be around, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She’d find me somewhere almost every week, until I had no choice but to give in and start spending time with her. We went fishing together, and she showed me how to draw.” He pauses for a second, his hand still stroking my hair. “She was very good at drawing.” “What happened to her?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything else for a minute. My voice is strangely hoarse. I clear my throat and try again. “What happened to Maria?” “One of my father’s rivals learned that she was seeing me. We had just raided his warehouse, and he was pissed. So he decided to teach my father a lesson… through me.” Every little hair on my body is standing on end, and I feel a chill roughening my skin with goosebumps. I can already see where this story is heading, and I want to tell Julian to stop, to go no further, but I can’t get a single word past the

constriction in my throat. “They found her body in an alley near one of my father’s buildings.” His voice is steady, but I can sense the agony buried deeply within. “She had been raped, then mutilated. It was meant to be a message to me and my father. Back the fuck off, it said.” I squeeze my eyelids together, trying to keep the tears burning my eyes from leaking out, but it’s a futile effort. I know Julian can probably feel the wetness on his chest. “A message? To a thirteen-year-old boy?” “By that time, I was already fourteen.” I can’t see Julian’s bitter smile, but I can sense it. “And age didn’t matter. Not to my father… and certainly not to his rival.” “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I want to cry—for him, for Maria, for that young boy who’d lost his friend in such a brutal manner. And I want to cry for myself, because I now understand my captor better—and I realize that the darkness in his soul is worse than anything I could’ve imagined. Julian shifts underneath me, and I become aware of the fact that my hand is now on his shoulder and my nails are digging into his skin. I force myself to unclench my fingers and take a deep breath. I need to get a hold on myself, or I’m going to burst out sobbing. “I killed those men.” His tone is casual now, almost conversational, though I can feel the tension in his body. “The ones who raped her. I tracked them down and killed them, one by one. There were seven of them. After that, my father sent me away, first to America, then to Asia and Europe. He was afraid all that killing would be bad for business. I didn’t come back until years later, when he and my mother were killed by yet another rival.” I focus on controlling my breathing and keeping the bile in my throat down. “Is that why you don’t have a Spanish accent?” My question comes totally out of the left field. I don’t even know what makes me ask something so trivial at a moment like this. But it’s apparently the right thing to do because Julian relaxes slightly, some of the tension leaving his muscles. “Yes. That’s partially why, my pet. Also, my mother was an American, and she taught me English from a young age.” “An American?” “Yes. She was a model in her youth, a tall, beautiful blond. They met in New York, when my father was there on a business trip. He swept her off her feet, and they were married before he told her anything about his business.”

“What did she do when she found out?” I know I’m probably focusing on the wrong things here, but I need to distract myself from the gruesome images filling my mind—images of a dead girl who’s a younger version of me… “There was nothing she could do,” Julian says. “She was already married to him, and living in Colombia.” He doesn’t explain further, but he doesn’t need to. It’s clear to me that his mother was as much of a prisoner as I am—except that she’d chosen her captivity, at least initially. For a few minutes, we just lie there quietly, without talking. I’m no longer drowsy. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight at all. The ache in my body is nothing compared to the despair in my heart. “So is that what you do now? Drugs?” I ask, finally breaking the silence. It’s not far from my original supposition that he’s part of the Mafia or some other criminal organization. “No,” he says, to my surprise. “That part of my life ended when my parents were killed. I took the family business in a different direction.” “Which direction?” I remember him telling me something about an importexport organization, but I can’t imagine Julian doing something as innocuous as selling electronics. Not after what I’ve just learned about his upbringing. He chuckles, as though amused at my persistence. “Weapons,” he says. “I’m an arms dealer, Nora.” I blink, surprised. I know a little—or at least, I think I know—about drug dealers, thanks to some popular TV shows. Arms dealers, however, are a complete mystery to me. I strongly suspect Julian isn’t talking about a few guns here or there. I have a million questions about his profession, but there’s something I need to know first, while Julian seems to be in a sharing mood. “Why did you steal me? Is it because I remind you of Maria?” “Yes,” he says softly, his voice wrapping around me like a cashmere scarf. “When I first saw you in that club, you looked so much like her, it was uncanny. Except you were older—and even more beautiful. And I wanted you. I needed you. For the first time in years, I was truly feeling. Of course, the emotions you evoked in me were nothing like what I’d once felt for her. She was my friend, but you…” He inhales deeply, his chest moving under my head. “I just needed you to be mine, Nora. When I touched you that day, when I felt the silkiness of your skin, I so badly

wanted to take you, to strip off those tight clothes you were wearing and fuck you senseless right then and there, on the floor of that club. And I wanted to hurt you… the way I sometimes like to hurt women, the way they ask me to hurt them… I wanted to hear you scream—in pain and in pleasure.” His hand continues playing with my hair, and the caressing touch keeps me calm enough to listen. In the darkness, none of this is real. There’s only Julian and his voice, telling me things that a normal person would find frightening—things that somehow make me wet instead. “I brought you here, to my island, because it’s the safest place for you. My business associates are always looking for signs of weakness, and you, my pet, are a weakness of mine. I’ve never felt this way about another woman. I’ve never been so —” he pauses for a moment, as though searching for the right word, “—so fucking obsessed. Just the thought of another man touching you, kissing you, drove me crazy. I tried to stay away, to put you out of my mind, but I couldn’t resist seeing you one more time at your graduation. And when I saw you there, I knew you felt it too, this connection between us—and I knew then that it was inevitable… that I would take you, and you would always be mine.” His words wash over me like a warm ocean wave, bringing with it trepidation and a kind of unhealthy excitement. Some twisted part of me revels in the fact that I’m special to Julian, that he’s as helplessly drawn to me as I am to him. For some strange reason, I feel compelled to reciprocate his openness. “I was afraid of you,” I tell him quietly. “In the club, and then when I saw you at my graduation, I was afraid.” “Only afraid?” He sounds amused and mildly disbelieving. “Afraid and attracted,” I admit. This seems to be the night for revelations. Besides, he already knows the truth. Despite my fear, I desire him. I’ve wanted him from the very beginning, and nothing he’s done since changes that fact. “Good.” He runs his hand lightly down my back. “That’s very good, my pet. It’ll make things easier for both of us.” Easier? I consider that statement. Easier for him, certainly. But for me? I’m not so sure. “Did you ever contact my family?” I ask, thinking of his promise all those days ago. “Do they know that I’m alive?” “Yes.” His hand pauses at the curve of my spine. “They know.”

I wonder what he told them and how they reacted. I wonder if it made it better for them or worse. “Will you ever let me go?” I already know the answer, but I need to hear him say it anyway. “No, Nora,” he replies, and I can feel his smile in the darkness. “Never.” And bringing me closer, he holds me until we both eventually fall asleep.

16

N ora OVER THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, MY LIFE ON THE ISLAND FALLS INTO A ROUTINE OF SORTS. WHEN JULIAN is there, my world revolves around him. His moods, his needs and desires, rule my days and nights. He’s an unpredictable lover—gentle one day, cruel the next. And sometimes he’s a mix of both, a combination that I find particularly devastating. I understand what he’s doing to me, but understanding doesn’t make it any less effective. He’s training me to associate pain with pleasure, to enjoy whatever he does to me, no matter how shocking and perverted it is. And always afterwards, there’s that unsettling tenderness. He turns me inside out, takes me apart, and puts me back together—all in the span of one night. And his training is working. I go into his arms willingly now, craving that high I often get from a particularly brutal session. Julian tells me that I’m a natural submissive with latent masochistic tendencies. I don’t know if I believe him—I know that I certainly don’t want to believe him—but I can’t deny that his peculiar brand of lovemaking resonates with me on some level. Toys, whips, canes—he’s used them all, and I have invariably found pleasure in some part of what he was doing. Of course, he’s not always sadistic. Sometimes he’s almost sweet, massaging me all over, kissing me until I melt, and then making love to me when I’m nearly out of my mind with need. On days like that, I don’t want to leave the island. All I want is for Julian to keep holding me, caressing me… loving me, in whichever way he can. Perhaps that is the most disturbing part of it all—the fact that I now crave my

captor’s love. I don’t even know if he’s capable of that emotion, but I can’t help needing it from him. He wants me, I know that, but it’s not enough. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my hatred for him, and I don’t even know how or when it happened. I still resent my captivity, but those feelings are now separate from the way I feel about Julian. Instead of dreading his visits to the island, I now eagerly await them. His business keeps him away more than I like, and I begin to understand how pets feel, waiting for their owner to come home from work. “Why can’t you conduct more of your business from here?” I ask him one day, after we wake up together in the morning. He always sleeps with me now. He likes holding me during the night; it helps him with his nightmares. “I do as much remotely as I can. Why, do you want me here, my pet?” His gaze is coolly mocking as he turns his head to look at me. He doesn’t like it when I question him about his business. It’s a part of his life that he seems to want to keep separate. In general, I get the sense that he’s sheltering me and Beth from some of the uglier parts of his world. Beth is fully aware of what Julian does, of course, but I don’t know if she knows much more about arms dealing than I do. “Yes,” I tell him honestly. “I want you here.” It’s pointless to pretend otherwise; Julian knows exactly how I feel. He’s very good at reading me—and manipulating me. I have no doubt that he’s enjoying my growing attachment to him and likely doing his best to facilitate it. Sure enough, at my admission, his lips curve in a sensual smile. “All right, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll try to be here more.” And reaching for me, he brings me toward him for a kiss that makes me dissolve in his embrace.

WITH EACH DAY THAT PASSES, MY OLD LIFE SEEMS FURTHER AND FURTHER AWAY, FADING INTO THAT nebulous time known as the past. When Julian is gone, I occupy myself by reading, swimming, hiking all around the island, and the occasional fishing expeditions with Beth. Julian brought us a large-screen TV with a DVD player and hundreds of movies, so Beth and I have something to do during rainy weather, too. We’re still not exactly friends, Beth and I, but we’ve definitely grown closer. Partially, I think she likes the fact that I no longer try to escape. After my one failed attempt to bash her over the head—and the horrible incident with Jake that followed—I’ve been a model prisoner.

Of course, it would be foolish to be anything else. Even during Julian’s visits, when his plane is here, it’s locked inside the hangar I found on the other side of the island. I’m pretty sure Julian keeps the keys to the hangar in his office, where only he can access them. And even if I somehow got my hands on the keys, I sincerely doubt there would be an operating manual conveniently stored inside the plane, teaching me how to fly it. No, my captor knew exactly what he was doing when he brought me to this island. It’s as secure a prison as any I could imagine. As days turn into weeks and then into months, I try to find more activities to fill up my free time—and to prevent myself from pining after Julian when he’s not there. The first thing I do is start running again. I begin with short distances at first, to make sure I don’t strain my knee, and then I slowly increase both speed and distance. I run either in the mornings or at night, when it’s cooler, and it’s not long before I am in as good of a shape as I’d been during my days on the track team. I can do a three-mile run in under seventeen minutes—an accomplishment that makes me ridiculously happy. I also take up painting. Not because I remember Julian saying that Maria was good at drawing, but because I find it both entertaining and relaxing. I had enjoyed art classes in school, but I was always too busy with friends and other activities to give painting a serious attempt. Now, however, I have plenty of time on my hands, so I start learning how to properly draw and paint. Julian brings me a ton of art supplies and several instructional videos, and I soon find myself absorbed in trying to capture the beauty of the island on canvas. “You know, you’re very good at this,” Beth says thoughtfully one day, coming up to me on the porch as I’m finishing a painting of the sunset over the ocean. “You’ve got the colors down exactly—that glowing orange shaded with the deep pink.” I turn and give her a big smile. “You really think so?” “I do,” Beth says seriously. “You’re doing well, Nora.” I get the sense that she’s talking about more than just the painting. “Thanks,” I say dryly. Should I add that to my list of achievements—the fact that I’m able to thrive in captivity? She grins in response, and for the first time, I feel like we truly understand each other. “You’re welcome.”

Walking over to the outdoor couch, she curls up on it, pulling out her book. I watch her for a few seconds, then go back to painting, trying to replicate the multidimensional shimmer of the water—and thinking about the puzzle that is Beth. She still hasn’t told me much about her past, but I get the sense that for her, this island is a retreat of sorts, a sanctuary. She sees Julian as her rescuer, and the outside world as an unpleasant and hostile place. “Don’t you miss going to the mall?” I asked her once. “Having dinner with your friends? Going dancing? You’re not a prisoner here; you could leave at any time. Why don’t you have Julian take you with him on one of his trips? Do something fun before you come back here again?” Her response was to laugh at me. “Dancing? Fun? Letting men put their hands all over my body—that’s supposed to be fun?” Her voice turned mocking. “Should I also shop for sexy clothes and make-up, so I look all pretty for them? And what about pollution, drive-by shootings, and muggings—should I miss those, too?” Laughing again, she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m perfectly happy right here.” And that’s as much as she would say on that topic. I don’t know what happened to make her so bitter, but I strongly suspect Beth hasn’t had an easy life. When we were watching Pretty Woman, she kept making snide comments about how real prostitution is nothing like the fairy tale they were showing. I didn’t ask her about it then, but I’ve been curious ever since. Could she have been a prostitute in the past? Putting down my brush, I turn and look at Beth. “Can I paint you?” She looks up from her book, startled. “You want to paint me?” “Yes, I do.” It would be a nice change of pace from all those landscapes I’ve been focusing on lately—and it might also give me a chance to get to know her better. She stares at me for a few seconds, then shrugs. “All right. I guess.” She seems uncertain about this, so I give her an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to do anything—just sit there like that, with your book. It makes for a nice visual.” And it’s true. The rays of the setting sun turn her red curls into a blazing flame, and with her legs tucked under, she looks young and vulnerable. Much more approachable than usual. I set aside the painting I was working on and put up a blank canvas. Then I begin to sketch, trying to capture the symmetric angles of her face, the lean lines and

curves of her body. It’s an absorbing task, and I don’t stop until it gets too dark for me to see anything. “Are you done for today?” Beth asks, and I realize that she’s been sitting in the same position for the past hour. “Oh, yeah, sure,” I say. “Thanks for being such a good model.” “No problem.” She gives me a genuine smile as she gets up. “Ready for dinner?”

FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS, I WORK ON BETH’S PORTRAIT. SHE PATIENTLY MODELS FOR ME, AND I FIND myself so busy that I hardly think about Julian at all. It’s only at night that I have a chance to miss him—to feel the cold emptiness of my king-sized bed as I lie there aching for his embrace. He’s gotten me so addicted that a week without him feels like a cruel punishment—one that I find infinitely worse than any sexual torture my captor has doled out thus far. “Did Julian say when he’s going to be back?” I ask Beth as I’m putting the final touches on the painting. “He’s already been gone for seven days.” She shakes her head. “No, but he’ll be here as soon as he can manage. He can’t stay away from you, Nora, you know that.” “Really? Has he said something to you?” I can hear the eagerness in my voice, and I mentally kick myself. How pathetic can one get? I might as well put a stamp on my forehead: another stupid girl who fell for her kidnapper. Of course, I doubt many kidnappers have Julian’s lethal charm, so maybe I should cut myself some slack. Thankfully, Beth doesn’t tease me about my obvious infatuation. “He doesn’t need to say it,” she says instead. “It’s perfectly obvious.” I put down my brush for a second. “Obvious how?” This conversation is fulfilling a need I didn’t even know I had—that for a real girl-to-girl gossip session about men and their inexplicable emotions. “Oh, please.” Beth is starting to sound exasperated. “You know Julian is fucking crazy about you. Whenever I talk to him, it’s Nora this, Nora that… Does Nora need anything? Has Nora been eating well?” She lowers her voice comically, mimicking Julian’s deeper tones. I grin at her. “Really? I didn’t know this.” And I didn’t. I mean, I knew that Julian is crazy about fucking me—and he definitely admitted to a certain obsession

with me because of my resemblance to Maria—but I didn’t know I was this much on his mind outside of the bedroom. Beth rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re not nearly as naive as you pretend to be. I’ve seen you batting those long lashes at him over dinner, trying to wrap him around your little finger.” I give her my best wide-eyed-innocent look. “What? No!” “Uh-huh.” Beth doesn’t seem fooled in the least. She’s right, of course; I do flirt with Julian. Now that I’m no longer quite so afraid of my captor, I am again doing my best to get into his good graces. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a persistent hope that if he trusts me enough—if he cares for me enough—he might take me off the island. When this plan had first occurred to me—in those terrifying first few days of my captivity—I had been playacting. As soon as I found myself off the island, I would’ve done my best to escape, regardless of any promises I might’ve made. Now, however, I don’t even know what I would do if Julian took me with him. Would I try to leave him? Do I even want to leave him? I honestly have no idea. “Have you ever been in love?” I ask Beth, picking up my brush again. To my surprise, a dark shadow passes over her face. “No,” she says curtly. “Never.” “But you have loved… someone, right?” I don’t know what makes me ask that, but I’ve apparently touched a nerve, because Beth’s entire body tightens, like I just struck her a blow. To my surprise, however, instead of snapping at me, she just nods. “Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes, Nora, I have loved.” Her eyes are unnaturally bright, as though glittering with unspilled moisture. And I realize then that she’s suffering—that whatever happened to her had left deep, indelible scars on her psyche. Her thorny exterior is just a mask, a way to protect herself from further hurt. And right now, for whatever reason, that mask has slipped, exposing the real woman underneath. “What happened to this person?” I ask, my voice soft and gentle. “What happened to the one you loved?” “She died.” Beth’s tone is expressionless, but I can sense the bottomless well of agony in that simple statement. “My daughter died when she was two.” I inhale sharply. “I’m sorry, Beth. Oh God, I’m so sorry…” Setting down my

brush again, I walk over to Beth’s couch and sit down, putting my arms around her. At first, she’s stiff and rigid, as though not used to human contact, but she doesn’t push me away. She needs this right now; I know better than anyone how soothing a warm embrace can be when your emotions are all over the place. Julian delights in making me fall apart, so he can then be the one to mend me and put me back together. “I am sorry,” I repeat softly, rubbing her back in a slow circular motion. “I am so sorry.” Gradually, some of the tension drains out of Beth’s body. She lets herself be soothed by my touch. After a while, she seems to regain her equilibrium, and I let her go, not wanting her to feel awkward about the hug. Scooting back a bit, she gives me a small, embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to—” “No, it’s all right,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry I was prying. I didn’t know—” And then we both look at each other, realizing that we could apologize until the end of time and it wouldn’t change anything. Beth closes her eyes for a second, and when she opens them, her mask is firmly back in place. She’s my jailer again, as independent and self-contained as ever. “Dinner?” she asks, getting up. “Some of this morning’s catch would be great,” I say casually, walking over to put away my art supplies. And we continue on, as though nothing had happened.

17

N ora AFTER THAT DAY, MY RELATIONSHIP WITH BETH UNDERGOES A SUBTLE, BUT NOTICEABLE CHANGE. She’s no longer quite so determined to keep me out, and I slowly get to know the person behind the prickly walls. “I know you think you got a rough deal,” she says one day as we’re fishing together, “but believe me, Nora, Julian really does care about you. You’re very lucky to have someone like him.” “Lucky? Why?” “Because no matter what he’s done, Julian is not really a monster,” Beth says seriously. “He doesn’t always act in a way that society deems acceptable, but he’s not evil.” “No? Then what is evil?” I’m genuinely curious how Beth defines the word. To me, Julian’s actions are the very epitome of something an evil man might do—my stupid feelings for him notwithstanding. “Evil is someone who would murder a child,” Beth says, staring at the bright blue water. “Evil is someone who would sell his thirteen-year-old daughter to a Mexican brothel…” She pauses for a second, then adds, “Julian is not evil. You can trust me on that.” I don’t know what to say, so I just watch the waves pounding against the shore. My chest feels as though it’s being squeezed in a vise. “Did Julian save you from evil?” I ask after a while, when I’m certain that I can keep my voice reasonably steady.

She turns her head to look at me. “Yes,” she says quietly. “He did. And he destroyed the evil for me. He handed me a gun and let me use it on those men—on the ones who killed my baby daughter. You see, Nora, he took a used-up, broken street whore and gave her her life back.” I hold Beth’s gaze, feeling like I’m crumbling inside. My stomach is churning with nausea. She’s right: I didn’t know the real meaning of suffering. What she’s been through is not something I can comprehend. She smiles at me, apparently enjoying my shocked silence. “Life is nothing more than a fucked-up roulette,” she says softly, “where the wheel keeps spinning and the wrong numbers keep coming up. You can cry about it all you want, but the truth of the matter is that this is as close to a winning ticket as it gets.” I swallow to get rid of the knot in my throat. “That’s not true,” I say, and my voice sounds a bit hoarse. “It’s not always like this. There is a whole other world out there—the world where normal people live, where nobody tries to hurt you—” “No,” Beth says harshly. “You’re dreaming. That world is about as real as a Disney fairy tale. You might have lived like a princess, but most people don’t. Normal people suffer. They hurt, they die, and they lose their loved ones. And they hurt each other. They tear at each other like the savage predators they are. There is no light without darkness, Nora; the night ultimately catches up with us all.” “No.” I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. This island, Beth, Julian—it’s all an anomaly, not the way things always are. “No, that’s not—” “It’s true,” Beth says. “You might not realize it yet, but it’s true. You need Julian just as much as he needs you. He can protect you, Nora. He can keep you safe.” She seems utterly convinced of that fact.

“GOOD MORNING, MY PET,” A FAMILIAR VOICE WHISPERS IN MY EAR, WAKING ME UP, AND I OPEN MY eyes to see Julian sitting there, leaning over me. He must’ve come here straight from some formal business meeting, because he’s wearing a dress shirt instead of his usual more casual attire. A surge of happiness blazes through me. Smiling, I lift my arms and twine them around his neck, pulling him closer toward me. He nuzzles my neck, his warm heavy weight pressing me into the mattress, and I arch against him, feeling the customary stirrings of desire. My nipples harden, and my core turns into a pool of liquid need, my entire body melting at his proximity. “I missed you,” he breathes in my ear, and I shiver with pleasure, barely

suppressing a moan as his talented mouth moves down my neck and nibbles at a tender spot near my collarbone. “I love it when you’re like this,” he murmurs, raining gentle kisses on my upper chest and shoulders, “all warm, soft and sleepy… and mine…” I do moan now, as his mouth closes around my right nipple and sucks on it strongly, applying just the right amount of pressure. His hand slips under the blanket and between my thighs, and my moans intensify as he begins to stroke my folds, his finger drawing teasing circles around my clit. “Come for me, Nora,” he orders softly, pressing down on my clit, and I shatter into a thousand pieces, my body tensing and peaking, as though on his command. “Good girl,” he whispers, continuing to play with my sex, drawing out my orgasm. “Such a good, sweet girl…” When my aftershocks are over, he steps back and begins undressing. I watch him hungrily, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. He’s beyond gorgeous, and I want him so badly. His shirt comes off first, exposing his broad shoulders and washboard stomach, and I can no longer contain myself. Sitting up, I reach for the zipper of his dress pants, my hands shaking with impatience. He draws in a sharp breath as my palm brushes against his engorged cock. As soon as I succeed in freeing it, I wrap my fingers around the shaft and bend my head, taking him into my mouth. “Fuck, Nora!” he groans, grasping my head and thrusting his hips at me. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s good…” His fingers slide through my hair, tangling in the unbrushed strands, and I slowly suck him in deeper, opening my throat to take in as much of his length as I can. “Oh fuck…” His raspy moan fills me with delight, and I squeeze his balls lightly, reveling in the heavy feel of them in my palm. His cock gets even harder, and I know he’s on the verge of coming, but, to my surprise, he pulls away, taking a step back. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes glittering like blue diamonds, but he manages to control himself long enough to get rid of his remaining clothing before he climbs on top of me. His strong hands wrap around my wrists, stretching them above my head, and his hips settle heavily between my open thighs, his thick shaft nudging against my vulnerable entrance. I stare up at him with a mixture of apprehension and excitement; he looks magnificent and savage, with his dark hair disheveled and his beautiful face drawn tight with lust. He’s not going to be particularly gentle today—I can already see that.

And I’m right. He enters me with one powerful thrust, sliding so deep inside me that I gasp, feeling like he’s splitting me in half. And yet my body responds to him, producing more lubrication, easing his way. He fucks me brutally, without mercy, but my screams are those of pleasure, the tension inside me spiraling out of control one more time before he finally comes.

AT BREAKFAST, I’M A LITTLE SORE, BUT HAPPY REGARDLESS. JULIAN IS HERE, AND ALL IS RIGHT WITH MY world. He seems to be in a good mood as well, teasing me about watching an entire season of Friends in one week and asking about my latest running times. He likes it that I’m so much into fitness lately—or rather, he likes the results of it. Physically, I’m in the best shape I have ever been, and it shows. My body is lean and toned, and I’m a walking testament to the benefits of a healthy diet, lots of fresh air, and regular exercise. My thick brown hair is growing without any sign of split ends, and my skin is perfectly smooth and tan. I can’t remember the last time I had so much as a pimple. “My last three-mile run was 16:20,” I tell Julian without false modesty. “I bet not many guys can beat that.” “That’s true,” he agrees, his blue eyes dancing with laughter. “I probably couldn’t.” “Really?” I’m intrigued by the idea of beating Julian at something. “Want to try? I’d be glad to race you.” “Don’t do it, Julian,” Beth says, laughing. “She’s fast. She was quick before, but now she’s like a fucking rocket.” “Oh yeah?” He lifts one eyebrow at me. “A fucking rocket, huh?” “That’s right.” I give him a challenging look. “Want to race, or are you too chicken?” Beth begins to make clucking noises, and Julian grins, throwing a piece of bread at her. “Shut up, you traitor.” Laughing at their antics, I throw a piece of bread at Julian, and Beth scolds both of us. “I’m the one who has to clean up this whole mess,” she grumbles, and Julian promises to help her with the bread crumbs, soothing her temper with one of his megawatt smiles. When he’s like this, his charm is like a living thing, drawing me in, making me

forget the truth about my situation. On the back of my mind, I know that none of this is real—that this sense of connection, this camaraderie is nothing more than a mirage—but with each day that passes, it starts to matter less and less. In a strange way, I feel like I’m two people: the woman who’s falling in love with the gorgeous, ruthless killer sitting at the breakfast table and the one who’s observing the whole thing with a sense of horror and disbelief. After breakfast, I change into my running clothes—a pair of shorts and a sports bra—and go read a book on the porch, so I can digest my food before the run. Julian goes into his office as usual. His business doesn’t wait just because he’s on the island; an illegal arms empire requires constant attention. While Julian rarely talks about his work, I’ve managed to glean a few things over the past several months. From what I understand, my captor is the head of an international operation specializing in the manufacture and distribution of cuttingedge weapons and certain types of electronics. His clients are those organizations and individuals who cannot obtain weapons by legitimate means. “He deals with some really dangerous motherfuckers,” Beth told me once. “Psychopaths, many of them. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them.” “So why does he do this?” I asked. “He’s so rich. I’m sure he doesn’t need the money…” “It’s not about the money,” Beth explained. “It’s about the thrill of it, the challenge. Men like Julian thrive on that.” I wonder sometimes if that’s what Julian likes about me—the challenge of making me bend to his will, of shaping me to become whatever it is he thinks he needs. Does he find it thrilling, the knowledge that I’m his captive and that he can do whatever he wants with me? Does the illegal aspect of the whole thing excite him? “Ready to go?” Julian’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look up from my book to see him standing there, dressed in only a pair of black running shorts and sneakers. His naked torso ripples with thick, perfectly defined muscles, and his smooth golden skin gleams in the sunlight, making me want to touch him all over. “Um, yeah.” I get up, putting down my book and begin to stretch, watching Julian doing the same out of the corner of my eye. His body is incredible, and I wonder what he does to keep in shape. I’ve never seen him working out here on the island. “Do you do some kind of exercise when you go on your trips?” I ask, shamelessly

staring as he bends over and touches his toes with surprising flexibility. “How do you stay so fit?” He straightens and grins at me. “I train with my men when I can. I guess you could call it exercise.” “Your men?” I immediately think of the thug who had beaten up Jake. The memory makes me sick, and I push it away, not wanting to think about such dark matters now. I have to do this sometimes, to separate this new life of mine into neat little sections, keeping the good times apart from the bad. It’s my own patented coping mechanism. “My bodyguards and certain other employees,” Julian explains as we head out toward the beach, walking fast to warm up. “Some of them are former Navy SEALs, and training with them is no picnic, believe me.” “You train with Navy SEALs?” I stop and give Julian a hard look. “You were just kidding earlier, weren’t you? About not being able to beat me in a race?” His lips curve in a slightly mischievous—and utterly seductive—smile. “I don’t know, my pet,” he says softly. “Was I? Why don’t you race me and see?” “All right,” I say, determined to give it my best shot. “Let’s do this.”

WE START OUR RACE NEAR A TREE THAT I MARKED SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS PURPOSE. ON THE OTHER SIDE of the island, there is another tree that serves as the finish line. If we run on the sand, along the ocean, it’s exactly three miles from here to that point. Julian counts to five, I set my stopwatch, and we’re off, each starting at a reasonably fast pace that’s not our top speed. As I run, I feel my muscles easing into the rhythm of the movement, and I gradually pick up the pace, pushing myself harder than I usually do at this point in the run. Julian runs beside me, his longer stride enabling him to keep up with me with ease. We run silently, not talking, and I keep sneaking glances at Julian out of the corner of my eye. We’re halfway through the course, and I’m sweating and breathing hard, but my gorgeous captor seems to be barely exerting himself. He’s in phenomenal shape, his smooth muscles glistening with light drops of perspiration, bunching and releasing with every movement. He runs lightly, landing on the balls of his feet, and I envy his easy stride, wishing that I had even a quarter of his obvious strength and endurance. As we get into the last half-mile, I put on a burst of speed, determined to try to

beat him despite the obvious futility of the effort. He’s not even winded yet, and I’m already gasping for breath. He picks up his speed too, and no matter how hard I run, I can’t put any distance between us. He’s practically glued to my side. By the time we get within a hundred yards of the tree, I am dripping with sweat and every muscle in my body is screaming for oxygen. I’m on the verge of collapse and I know it, but I make one last heroic attempt and sprint for the finish line. And just as my hand is about to touch the tree, marking me the race winner, Julian’s palm slaps the bark, literally a second before mine. Frustrated, I whirl around and find myself with my back pressed against the tree and Julian leaning over me. “Gotcha,” he says, his eyes gleaming, and I see that he’s breathing almost normally. Gasping for air, I push at him, but he doesn’t back away. Instead, he steps closer, and his knee wedges between my thighs. At the same time, his hands grab the backs of my knees, lifting me up against him, my thighs spread wide as he grinds his erection against my pelvis. Our little race apparently turned him on. Panting, I stare up at him, my hands grabbing at his shoulders. I can barely remain upright, and he wants to fuck? The answer is obviously yes, because he sets me down on my feet for a second, pulls down my shorts and underwear, and then does the same thing to his own clothes. I sway on my feet, my legs shaking from the exertion. I can’t believe this is happening. Who fucks right after a race? All I want to do is lie down and drink a gallon of water. But Julian has other ideas. “Get on your knees,” he orders hoarsely, pushing me down before I have a chance to comply. I land on my knees heavily and brace myself with my hands. The position actually helps me regain my breath somewhat, and I gratefully suck in air. My head is spinning from the heat outside—and from the aftermath of a hard run—and I hope I don’t end up passing out. A hard, muscular arm slides under my hips, holding me in place, and then I feel his cock pressing against my buttocks. Dizzy and trembling, I wait for the thrust that will join us together, my treacherous sex wet and throbbing with anticipation. My body’s response to Julian is insane, ridiculous, given my overall physical state. He brushes my sweat-soaked hair off my back and leans forward to kiss my

neck, covering me with his heavy body. “You know,” he whispers, “you’re beautiful when you run. I’ve been wanting to do this since the first mile.” And with that, he pushes deep inside me, his thickness stretching me, filling me all the way. I cry out, my hands clutching at the dirt as he begins thrusting, both of his hands now holding my hips as he rams into me. My senses narrow, focusing only on this—the rhythmic movements of his hips, the pleasure-pain of his rough possession… I feel like I’m burning inside, dying from the violent brew of heat and lust. The pressure building inside me is too much, unbearable, and I throw my head back with a scream as my entire body explodes, the release rocketing through me with so much force that I literally pass out. By the time I become conscious again, I am cradled on Julian’s lap. He’s got his back pressed against the finish-line tree, and he’s feeding me small sips of water, making sure that I don’t choke. “You okay, baby?” he asks, looking down at me with what appears to be genuine concern on his beautiful face. “Um, yeah.” My throat still feels dry, but I’m definitely feeling better—and more than a little embarrassed about my fainting spell. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten this dehydrated,” he says, a small frown bisecting his brow. “Why did you push yourself so hard?” “Because I wanted to win,” I admit, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. He smells like sex and sweat, an oddly appealing combination. “Here, drink some more water,” he says, and I open my eyes again, obediently drinking when he presses a bottle to my lips. The bottle is from the cooler I keep stashed on this side of the island to keep hydrated after my runs. After a few minutes—and an entire bottle of water—I feel well enough to start walking back. Except Julian doesn’t let me walk. Instead, as soon as I get to my feet, he bends down and lifts me into his arms as effortlessly as if I were a doll. “Hold on to my neck,” he orders, and I wrap my arms around him, letting him carry me back home.

18

N ora THE NEXT MORNING I WAKE UP TO THE LUXURIOUS SENSATION OF HAVING MY FEET MASSAGED. IT FEELS so incredible that, for a few seconds, I think I’m dreaming and try to avoid waking up. The feel of strong fingers kneading my foot is all too real, however, and I moan in bliss as each individual toe is rubbed and stroked with just the right amount of pressure. Opening my eyes, I see Julian sitting on the bed, gloriously naked and holding a bottle of massage oil. Pouring some into his palm, he bends over me and starts massaging my ankles and calves next. “Good morning,” he purrs, looking at me. I stare back at him, mute with surprise. Julian has given me massages in the past, but usually only as a way to relax me before doing something that would make me scream. He’s never woken me up in this pleasurable way before. There is a half-smile on his sensuous lips, and I can’t help feeling nervous. “Um, Julian,” I say uncertainly, “what… what are you doing?” “Giving you a massage,” he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Why don’t you relax and enjoy it?” I blink, watching as his hands slowly move up my calves. He has large hands— strong and masculine. My legs look impossibly slender and feminine in his grasp, though I have well-defined muscles from all the running. I can feel the calluses on his palms scratching lightly against my skin, and I swallow, the unbidden thought that those hands belong to a killer entering my mind. “Turn over,” he says, tugging on my legs, and I plop over on my belly, still

feeling nervous. What is he up to? I don’t like surprises when it comes to Julian. He starts kneading the back of my legs, unerringly finding the areas most sore from yesterday’s race, and I groan as tight muscles begin to loosen up under his skilled fingers. Still, I can’t relax completely; Julian is far too unpredictable for my peace of mind. Apparently sensing my unease, he bends over me and whispers in my ear, “It’s just a massage, my pet. No need to be so worried about it.” Somewhat reassured, I let myself relax, sinking into the comfort of my mattress. Julian’s hands are magic; I’ve had professional massages that were nowhere near as good. He’s completely attuned to me, paying attention to the slightest change in my breathing, to the most minute twitch in my muscles… After several minutes of this, I no longer care about his strange behavior; I’m simply wallowing in the bliss of this experience. When my entire body has been thoroughly massaged and I’m lying there in limp contentment, Julian stops and shepherds me into the shower. Then he goes down on me, pleasuring me with his mouth until I explode in mind-blowing release. At breakfast, I’m practically humming with contentment. This is the best morning I’ve had in months, maybe even years. By some strange coincidence, Beth made my favorite food—Eggs Benedict with crab cakes. I haven’t had anything this decadent since my arrival on the island. The food Beth cooks for us is good, but it’s usually on the healthy side. Fruits, vegetables, and fish seem to make up the majority of our diet. I can’t remember the last time I had something as rich and satisfying as the Hollandaise sauce Beth made today. “Mmm, this is so good,” I moan around a mouthful. “Beth, this is amazing. These are probably the best eggs I’ve ever had.” She grins at me. “They did come out well, didn’t they? I wasn’t sure if I got the recipe right, but it seems like I might have.” “Oh, you did,” I reassure her before I serve myself another portion. “This is great.” Julian smiles, his eyes gleaming with warm amusement. “Hungry, my pet?” He himself has already eaten a sizable serving, but I’m on the verge of catching up to him. “Starving,” I tell him, bringing another forkful to my mouth. “I guess I burned a lot of calories yesterday.”

“I’m sure you did,” he says, his smile widening, and then he tells Beth about how I almost won the race, leaving out the part about our fucking and my passing out afterwards. When the breakfast is over, I’m so stuffed I can’t eat another bite. Thanking Beth for the meal, I stand up, about to go get a book for a relaxing reading session on the porch, when Julian surprises me by wrapping his hand around my wrist. “Wait, Nora,” he says softly, pulling me back down into my seat. “There’s one more thing Beth prepared today.” And he shoots Beth an indecipherable look—at which point she immediately gets up and goes into the kitchen. “Um, okay.” I’m beyond confused. She had prepared something, but didn’t serve it during the actual meal? At that moment, Beth comes back to the table, carrying a tray with a large chocolate cake—a cake with a bunch of burning candles. “Happy birthday, Nora,” Julian says with a smile as Beth places the cake in front of me. “Now make a wish and blow out those candles.”

I BLOW OUT THE CANDLES ON AUTOPILOT, BARELY REGISTERING THE FACT THAT IT TAKES ME THREE attempts to do this. Beth cheers, clapping her hands, and I hear the sounds as though they’re coming from a distance. My mind is whirling, yet I feel oddly numb, as if nothing can touch me right now. All I can think about, all I can concentrate on is the fact that it’s my birthday. My birthday. It’s my birthday. Today I turned nineteen. The realization makes me want to scream. I met Julian shortly before my last birthday—and he brought me to this island shortly thereafter. If it’s my birthday today, then nearly a year has passed since my abduction—since I’ve been here, at Julian’s mercy and entirely isolated from the rest of the world. A year of my life has passed in captivity. I feel like I’m suffocating, like all air had left the room, but I know it’s just an illusion. There’s plenty of oxygen here; I simply can’t seem to breathe in any. “Nora?” Beth’s voice somehow penetrates the din in my ears. “Nora, are you all right?” I finally manage to draw in some much-needed air, and I look up from the cake.

Beth is staring at me with a puzzled frown on her face, and Julian is no longer smiling. Instead he looks like a dangerous stranger again, his gaze filled with something dark and disturbing. Holding myself together with superhuman effort, I squeeze out a shaky smile. “Of course. Thank you for the cake, Beth.” “We wanted to surprise you,” she says, her features smoothing out as she takes my words at face value. “I hope you have some room left for dessert. Chocolate cake is your favorite, right?” The ringing in my ears intensifies. “Um, yes.” Despite my best attempts, my voice sounds choked. “And you definitely surprised me.” “Leave us, Beth,” Julian says sharply, glancing at her. “Nora and I need to be alone right now.” Beth blinks, obviously taken aback by Julian’s tone. I’ve never heard him speak like that to her before. Nevertheless, she obeys immediately, practically running up the stairs to her room. I haven’t seen Julian this angry in a while and I know I should be frightened, but at this moment, I can’t seem to bring myself to care about what’s to come. Every muscle in my body is trembling with the effort to contain the terrible storm I can feel brewing inside me, and it’s a relief to have Beth away from here. A year. It’s been a fucking year. The rage that’s building inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before; it’s like a dam has broken and would not be contained. A red mist descends on me, veiling my vision, and the ringing in my ears grows louder as my emotions spin out of control. As soon as Beth is out of sight, I explode. I’m no longer rational or sane; instead I’m fury personified. I grab at the nearest thing I can reach—the chocolate cake— and throw it across the room, the dark-colored icing splattering everywhere. My plate and cup follow, hitting the wall and shattering into a million pieces, and all the while, I hear screaming, coming at me from far away. Some still-functioning part of my brain realizes that it’s me—that it’s my own screams and curses I’m hearing—but I can’t stop it any more than I can contain a typhoon. All the anger, terror, and frustration of the past year has boiled to the surface, erupting in a lava of fierce rage. I don’t know how long I exist in that mindless state before steely arms wrap around me from the back, imprisoning me in a familiar embrace. I kick and scream until my voice grows hoarse, but my struggles are futile. Julian is far, far stronger than me, and he uses that strength now to subdue me, to hold me tight until I

completely exhaust myself and slump against him in defeat, tears running down my face. “Are you done?” he whispers in my ear, and I can hear the familiar dark note in his tone. As usual, I find it both sinister and arousing, my body now conditioned to crave the pain that’s to come—and the mind-shattering bliss that inevitably accompanies it. I shake my head in response to his question, but I know that I am done, that whatever it was that came over me has passed, leaving me drained and empty. Julian turns me around in his arms, so that I’m facing him. I stare up at him, my tear-glazed gaze helplessly drawn to the perfect symmetry of his features. His high cheekbones are tinged with a hint of color, and there is something disquieting in the way he looks at me—as though he wants to devour me, to tear out my soul and swallow it whole. Our eyes meet, and I know that I’m standing on the edge of a precipice right now, that a sinkhole is opening up underneath my feet. And in that moment, I see things clearly. I am not angry because I’ve been imprisoned on the island for an entire year. No, my rage goes far, far deeper. What burns me up inside is not the fact that I’ve been a captive this whole time—it’s that I’ve grown to like my captivity. Over the past few months, I have somehow come to terms with my new life. I’ve grown to enjoy the calm, relaxing rhythms of the island. The ocean, the sand, the sun—it’s about as close to paradise as anything I can imagine. Freedom and all that it implies is now just a vague, impossible dream. I can barely picture the faces of those I left behind; they are just blurry, shadowy figures in my mind. The only thing that matters to me now is the man holding me in his hard embrace. Julian—my captor, my lover. “Why, Nora?” he asks, almost soundlessly. His arms tighten around me, his fingers digging into the soft skin of my back. When I don’t reply, his expression darkens further. “Why?” I remain silent, unwilling to take that last, irrevocable step. I can’t bare myself to Julian like that. I just can’t. He’s already taken far too much from me; I can’t let him have this too. “Tell me,” he orders, one hand sliding up to twist in my hair, forcing my neck to bend backwards. “Tell me now.” “I hate you,” I croak, gathering the last shreds of my defiance. My voice is like

sandpaper, hoarse from all the screaming. “I hate you—” His eyes flash with blue fire. “Is that right?” he whispers, leaning over me, still holding me arched helplessly against him. “You hate me, my pet?” I hold his gaze, refusing to blink. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes,” I hiss, “I hate you!” I need to convince him of my hatred because the alternative is unthinkable. He can’t know the truth. He just can’t. Julian’s face hardens, turning to ice. In one swift motion, he sweeps the remaining dishes off the kitchen table onto the floor and pushes me onto the table, forcing me to bend over, my face sliding on the smooth wooden surface. I try to kick back with my legs, but it’s useless. He’s gripping the back of my neck with one strong hand, and then I hear the menacing sound of a belt being unbuckled. I kick back harder, and actually manage to make contact with his leg. Of course, it gains me nothing. I can’t escape from Julian. I will never be able to escape from Julian. He leans over me, pressing me into the table, his hard fingers tightening around the back of my neck. “You’re mine, Nora,” he says harshly, his large body dominating me, arousing me. “You belong to me, do you understand? Each and every single part of you is mine.” His erection presses against my buttocks, its uncompromising hardness both a threat and a promise. He rears back, still holding me down with one hand on my neck, and I hear the sibilant whisper of a belt being pulled from its loops. A moment later, my dress is flipped up, exposing my lower body. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for what’s to come. Thwack. Thwack. The belt descends on my ass, over and over again, each strike like fire licking at my thighs and buttocks. I can hear my own cries, feel my body tensing with each blow, and then the pain propels me into that strange state where everything is turned upside down—where pain and pleasure collide, become indistinguishable from one another, and my tormentor is my only solace. My body softens, melts, each stroke of the belt starting to feel more like a caress, and I know that I somehow need this right now—that Julian has tapped into that dark, secret part of myself that is a mirror image of his own twisted desires. It’s a part of me that longs to give up control, to lose myself completely and just be his. By the time Julian stops and turns me over, there isn’t an ounce of defiance left in my body. My head is swimming from an endorphin rush more powerful than anything I have ever experienced, and I’m clinging to him, desperate for comfort, for sex, for anything resembling love and affection. My arms twine around Julian’s

neck, pulling him down on the table with me, and I revel in the taste of him, in the deep, hungry kisses with which he consumes my mouth. My backside feels like it’s on fire, but it doesn’t diminish my lust one bit; if anything, it intensifies it. Julian has trained me well. My body is conditioned to crave the pleasure that I know comes next. He fumbles with his jeans, opening the zipper, and then he’s inside me, entering me with one powerful thrust. I shudder with relief, with ecstasy that borders on agony, and wrap my legs around his waist, taking him deeper, needing him to fuck me, to claim me in the most primitive way possible. “Tell me, baby,” he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against my temple. His right hand slides into my hair, holding me immobile. “Tell me how much you hate me.” His other hand finds the place where we’re joined, rubs there, then moves down a couple of inches to my other opening. “Tell me…” I gasp as his finger pushes into my anus, my senses overwhelmed by all the conflicting sensations. Dazed, I open my eyes and stare at Julian, seeing my own dark need reflected on his face. He wants to possess me, to break me so he could put me back together, and I can no longer fight him on this. “I don’t hate you.” My words come out low and raspy, and I swallow to moisten my dry throat. “I don’t hate you, Julian.” Something like triumph flashes on his face. His hips thrust forward, his shaft burrowing deeper inside me, and I suppress a moan, still holding his gaze. “Tell me,” he orders again, his voice deepening. His eyes are burning into mine, and I can no longer resist the demand I see there. He wants all of me, and I have no choice but to give it to him. “I love you.” My voice is barely audible, each word feeling like it’s being wrenched out of my very soul. “I don’t hate you, Julian… I can’t… I can’t because I love you.” I can see his pupils dilating, turning his eyes darker. His cock swells within me, even thicker and harder than before, and then he pulls out and slams back inside, making me gasp from the savagery of his possession. “Tell me again,” he groans, and I repeat what I said, the words coming easier the second time around. There’s no point in hiding from the truth anymore, no reason to lie. I have fallen head over heels for my sadistic captor, and nothing in the world can change that fact. “I love you,” I whisper, my hand moving up to cradle his cheek. “I love you,

Julian.” His eyes darken further, and then he bends his head, taking my mouth in a deep, all-consuming kiss. Now I am truly his, and he knows it.

19

N ora THE NEXT THREE MONTHS FLY BY. After that day—after what I think of as the Birthday Incident—my relationship with Julian undergoes a noticeable change, becoming more… romantic, for lack of a better word. It’s a fucked-up romance, I know that. I may be addicted to Julian, but I’m not so far gone that I don’t realize how unhealthy this is. I am in love with the man who kidnapped me, the man who is still holding me prisoner. The man who seems to need my love as much as he needs my body. I don’t know if he loves me back. I don’t even know if he’s capable of that emotion. How can you love someone whose freedom you stole without a second thought? And yet I can’t help feeling that he must care for me, that his obsession with me is not only sexual in nature. It’s there in the way I catch him looking at me sometimes, in the way he tries to anticipate my every need. He constantly brings me my favorite foods, my favorite books and music. If I so much as mention needing a hand lotion, he buys it for me on his next trip. I am about as pampered as a girl can be. He even takes pride in my accomplishments, praising my artwork and going so far as to take several paintings with him off the island to hang in his office in Hong Kong. He also misses me when we’re not together. I know because he tells me so—and because every time he returns, he falls on me like a starving man just getting out of prison. That, more than anything, gives me hope that his feelings for me go beyond that of owner for his possession.

“Do you see other women? Out there, in the real world?” I ask him at breakfast after one night when he takes me three times in a row. The question had been eating at me for months, and I simply can’t contain myself any longer. My captor is more than gorgeous; he’s got that dangerous, magnetic appeal that probably draws women to him by the dozen. I can easily imagine him sleeping with a different beauty every night—a thought that makes me want to stab something. Even with his sadistic proclivities, I know he would have no trouble finding bed partners; there are probably plenty of women who, like me, derive pleasure from erotic pain. He smiles at me with dark amusement, not the least bit put off by my obvious display of jealousy. “No, my pet,” he says softly. Reaching over, he takes my hand, stroking the inside of my wrist with his thumb. “Why would I want to fuck someone else when I have you? I haven’t been with another woman since the day we met.” “You haven’t?” I can’t conceal my shock. Julian had been faithful to me this whole time? He looks at me, his lips curved in a sinfully delicious smile. “No, baby, I have not,” he says—and in that moment, I feel like the happiest woman in the world. I love it when he calls me ‘baby.’ It’s a common endearment, I know, but somehow when Julian says it, it sounds different—like he’s caressing me with that word. I much prefer ‘baby’ to being called ‘my pet.’ Ultimately, though, I know that’s what I am to him—his pet, his possession. He likes the idea that I belong to him, that he’s the only man who gets to touch me, to see me. He likes dressing me in the clothes that he provides for me, feeding me the food that he brings. I am completely dependent on him, utterly at his mercy, and I think something about that appeals to him, appeasing the demons I frequently sense lurking beneath the surface. Truthfully, I don’t mind being possessed. It’s a disturbing realization, but some part of me seems to like this kind of dynamic. I feel safe and cared for, even though logic tells me I’m far from safe with a man who deals in weapons for a living—a man who admitted to killing without any regret. The hands that touch me at night are those that brought death to others, but there is a certain piquancy in that. It makes everything more intense somehow, helps me feel more alive. Besides, despite his need to hurt me, Julian has never truly harmed me—not physically, at least. When he’s in one of his sadistic moods, I end up with marks and bruises on my skin, but those fade quickly. He’s careful never to scar my body, even though I know that blood and tears—my tears—excite him, turn him on.

When I share some of my feelings with Beth, she doesn’t seem surprised in the least. “I knew the two of you were made for each other from the first moment I saw you together,” she says, giving me a wry look. “When you and Julian are in the same room, the air practically sizzles. I’ve never seen such chemistry between two people before. What you have together is rare and special. Don’t fight it, Nora. He’s your destiny—and you are his.” She seems completely convinced of that.

ON THE NIGHT MY LIFE IRREVOCABLY CHANGES, EVERYTHING STARTS OUT AS NORMAL. Julian is on the island, and we share a delicious meal together before he brings me upstairs for a lengthy lovemaking session. It’s one of those times when he’s gentle, worshipping me with his body like I’m a goddess, and I fall asleep relaxed and satisfied, held tightly in his embrace. When I wake up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, I become aware of a dull pain near my navel. Relieving myself, I wash my hands and crawl back into bed, stretching out next to Julian’s sleeping form. I feel slightly nauseous too, and I wonder if I’m having indigestion. Could I have gotten food poisoning somehow? I try to fall asleep, but the pain seems to get worse with every minute that passes. It migrates down into my lower right abdomen, becoming sharp and agonizing. I don’t want to wake up Julian, but I can’t bear it anymore. I need a painkiller of some kind, any kind. “Julian,” I whisper, reaching for him. “Julian, I think I’m sick.” He wakes up immediately and sits up in bed, turning on the bedside lamp. There’s no trace of confusion on his face; he’s as alert as if it’s the middle of the day instead of three o’clock in the morning. “What’s wrong?” I curl into a little ball as the pain intensifies. “I don’t know,” I manage to say. “My stomach hurts.” His eyebrows snap together. “Where does it hurt, baby?” he says softly, pushing me onto my back. “My… my side,” I gasp, tears of pain starting to roll down my face. “Here?” he asks, pressing on one side, and I shake my head no. “Here?”

“Yes!” Somehow he has unerringly found the exact area that’s in agony. He immediately gets up and starts getting dressed. “Beth!” he yells. “Beth, I need you here right now!” She runs into the room thirty seconds later, pulling on a bathrobe over her pajamas. “What happened?” She sounds scared, and I am terrified too. I’ve never seen Julian like this before. He seems almost… frightened. “Get ready,” he says tersely. “I’m taking her to the clinic, and you’re coming with us. It might be her appendix.” Appendicitis! Now that he said it, I realize it’s the most probable explanation, but it’s beyond scary. I’m no doctor, but I know that if my appendix bursts before they cut it out, I’m pretty much toast. It would be frightening even if I were an hour away from medical attention, but I’m on a private island in the middle of the Pacific. What if I don’t make it to the hospital in time? Julian must be thinking the same thing because the expression on his face is grim as he wraps me in a robe and picks me up, carrying me out of the room. “I can walk,” I protest weakly, my stomach roiling as Julian swiftly walks down the stairs. “Like hell you can.” His tone is unnecessarily harsh, but I don’t take offense. I know he’s worried about me right now, and even with my insides in agony, I feel warmed by the thought. By the time we reach the hangar, Beth has opened the gates for us and is already waiting in the back of the airplane. Julian straps me into the passenger seat, and I realize that my greatest wish is about to be granted. I’m getting off the island. My stomach lurches, and I grab for the brown paper bag that’s lying conveniently in front of me. Sudden hot nausea boils up in my throat, and I vomit into the bag, my entire body sweating and shaking. I can hear Julian swearing as the plane begins to take off, and I’m so embarrassed I just want to die. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my eyes burning. I have never been so miserable in my entire life. “It’s all right,” Julian says curtly. “Don’t worry about it.” “Here.” Beth hands me a wet wipe from the back. “This should make you feel a

little better.” But it doesn’t. Instead, as the plane climbs higher, I get nauseous again. Moaning, I clutch at my stomach, the pain in my right side intensifying. “Fuck,” Julian mutters. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His knuckles are white where he’s clutching the controls. I vomit again. “How long until we get there?” Beth’s voice is unusually high-pitched. “Two hours,” Julian says grimly. “If the wind cooperates.” Those two hours turn out to be the longest ones of my life. By the time the plane begins its descent, I have thrown up five times and am long past the point of embarrassment. The pain in my stomach has long since morphed into agony, and I’m not cognizant of anything but my own bone-deep misery. Strong hands reach for me, pulling me out of the airplane, and I am vaguely aware that Julian is carrying me somewhere, holding me cradled against his broad chest. There is a babble of voices speaking in a mixture of English and some foreign language, and then I’m placed on a gurney and wheeled through a long hallway into a white, sterile-looking room. Several people in white coats bustle around me, one man barking out orders in that same strangely mixed language, and I feel a sharp prick in my arm as an IV needle is attached to my wrist. Dazed, I look up to see Julian standing in the corner, his face oddly pale and his eyes glittering… and then the darkness swallows me whole again.

20

N ora WHEN I REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS, I AM FEELING ONLY A LITTLE BIT BETTER. MY HEAD APPEARS TO BE stuffed with wool, and the nagging pain in my side remains, though it feels different now, less sharp and more like an ache. For a second, I think that I fell asleep feeling sick and dreamed the whole thing, but the smell convinces me otherwise. It’s that unmistakable antiseptic odor that you only encounter in doctor’s offices and hospitals. That odor means I’m alive… and off the island. My heart starts racing at the thought. “She’s awake,” an unfamiliar female voice says in accented English, apparently addressing someone else in the room. I hear footsteps and feel someone sitting down on the side of my bed. Warm fingers reach out and stroke my cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?” Opening my eyes with some effort, I gaze at Julian’s beautiful features. “Like I’ve been cut open and sewn back together,” I manage to croak out. My throat is so dry and sore that it actually hurts to talk, and I can feel a dull, throbbing ache in my right side. “Here.” Julian is holding out a cup with a bent straw in it. “You must be thirsty.” He brings it toward my face, and I obediently close my lips around the straw, sucking down a little water. My mind is still hazy, and for a moment, the wall between the good and the bad memories crumbles. I remember that first day on the

island, when Julian had offered me a bottle of water, and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. In that moment, Julian is not the man I love; he is again my enemy, the one who stole me, the one who made me his against my will. “Cold?” he asks, taking the cup away before leaning over to pull the blanket higher up, covering my shoulders. “Um, yeah, a little.” I’m off the island. Oh my God, I’m off the island. My mind is spinning. I feel torn, like I’m two different people—the terrified girl who insists this is her chance to escape and the woman who desperately craves Julian’s touch. “They took out your appendix,” Julian says, brushing back a strand of hair that had been tickling my forehead. “The operation went smoothly, and there shouldn’t be any complications. Isn’t that right, Angela?” He looks up to the left. “Yes, Mr. Esguerra.” Esguerra? Is that Julian’s last name? Recognizing the voice from before, I turn my head to see a petite young woman in white scrubs. Her smooth skin is a beautiful light brown color, and her hair and eyes are dark, nearly black. To me, she looks Filipino or maybe Thai—not that I can pretend to be an expert on either nationality. What I do know is that she’s the first person I’ve seen in fifteen months who is neither Beth nor Julian. I’m off the island. Oh my God, I’m off the island. For the first time since my abduction, there is a real possibility of escape. “Where am I?” I ask, staring at the young nurse. I can’t believe Julian is letting someone else see me—me, the girl he kidnapped. “You’re in a private clinic in the Philippines,” Julian replies when the woman merely smiles at me. “Angela is the nursing assistant who will be looking after you.” At that moment, the door opens and Beth walks in. “Oh, look who’s awake,” she exclaims, coming up to my bedside. “How are you feeling?” “Okay, I think,” I tell her cautiously. Holy shit, I’m off the fucking island. “They said Julian got you here just in time,” Beth tells me, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to my bed. “Your appendix was getting ready to go. They cut it out and sewed you right back up, so you should be right as rain.” I let out a nervous chuckle… and immediately groan, the movement tugging at the stitches in my side.

“Are you hurting?” Julian gives me a concerned look. Turning to Angela, he orders, “Give her more painkillers.” “I’m okay, just a little sore,” I try to reassure him. “Seriously, I don’t need any drugs.” The last thing I want is something clouding my mind right now. I’m off the island, and I need to figure out what to do. I’m doing my best to remain calm, but it’s taking all of my willpower not to scream or do something stupid. Freedom is so close, I can practically taste it. “Of course, Mr. Esguerra.” Angela completely ignores my protests and comes up to the bed, fiddling with the clear bag that’s feeding into my IV tube. Julian leans over the bed and lightly kisses me on the lips. “You need to rest,” he says softly. “I want you healthy. Do you understand me?” I nod, my eyelids growing heavy as I feel the medicine beginning to work. For a moment, I feel like I’m floating, all pain gone, and then I’m not aware of anything else.

WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN, I’M ALONE IN THE ROOM. BRIGHT SUNLIGHT IS STREAMING THROUGH THE clear large windows and several plants are blooming merrily on the windowsill. It’s actually quite cozy. If it weren’t for that hospital smell and the various machines and monitors, I would’ve thought I was in someone’s bedroom. Whatever this private clinic is, it’s quite luxurious—a fact that I didn’t have a chance to really appreciate before. The door opens and Angela walks into the room. Giving me a wide smile, she says in a cheerful voice, “How are you feeling, Nora?” “Okay,” I reply, a little warily. “Where is Julian?” Something about this woman rubs me the wrong way, and I can’t quite figure out what. I know she’s probably my best chance to escape, but I don’t know if I can trust her. For one thing, she could easily be in Julian’s employ, like Beth. “Mr. Esguerra had to leave for a couple of hours,” she says, still smiling at me. “Beth is here, however. She just went to the restroom.” “Oh, good.” I stare at her, trying to gather my courage. I have to tell her that I’ve been kidnapped. I simply have to. This is my one opportunity to escape. She might be loyal to Julian, but I still have to try because I may never get a better shot at freedom. Angela comes up to the bed and hands me the cup with the bent straw. “Here

you go,” she says in that same cheerful voice. “I’ll bring you some food in a bit.” I lift my arm and take the cup from her, wincing a little as the movement pulls at the stitches. “Thanks,” I say, greedily gulping down the water. I really, really need to tell her to call the police, or whatever the local law enforcement officials are called, but for some reason, I don’t. Instead, I drink the water and watch as she walks out of the room, leaving me alone once again. I groan mentally. What is wrong with me? Freedom is a real possibility for the first time in over a year, and here I am, waffling and procrastinating. I tell myself it’s because I’m being cautious, because I don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt— not Angela and certainly not anyone back home—but deep inside, I know the truth. As alluring as freedom seems, it’s also frightening. I’ve been a captive for so long that I actually long for the comfort of my cage; being here in this unfamiliar room makes me stressed, anxious, and there is a part of me that just wants to go back to the island, to my regular routine. Most importantly, however, freedom means leaving Julian, and I can’t bring myself to do that. I don’t want to leave the man who kidnapped me. I should be rejoicing at the thought of the police coming to arrest him, but I feel horrified instead. I don’t want Julian behind bars. I don’t want to be separated from him, not even for a minute. Closing my eyes, I tell myself that I’m a fool, a brainwashed idiot, but it doesn’t matter. As I lie there in that hospital bed, I come to terms with the fact that I’m no longer an unwilling captive. Instead, I am simply a woman who belongs to Julian— just as he now belongs to me.

I RECUPERATE IN THE CLINIC FOR THE NEXT WEEK. JULIAN VISITS ME EVERY DAY, SPENDING SEVERAL hours by my side, and so does Beth. Angela takes care of me most of the time, although a couple of doctors have dropped by to view my charts and adjust my painkiller dosage. I still have not told anyone about being a victim of kidnapping, nor am I planning to do so anymore. For one thing, I get the sense that the clinic staff is paid to be discreet. Nobody seems the least bit curious about what an American girl is doing in the Philippines, nor are they inclined to question me in any way. The only thing Angela wants to know is whether I’m in pain, thirsty, hungry, or need to use

the bathroom. I’m pretty sure that if I ask her to call the police for me, she would just smile and give me more painkillers. I have also seen a number of guards stationed in the hallway outside the room. I catch glimpses of them when the door opens. They’re armed to the teeth and look like scary sons of bitches, reminding me of the thug who beat up Jake. When I ask Julian about them, he freely admits that they’re his employees. “They’re there for your protection,” he explains, sitting down on the side of my bed. “I told you I have enemies, right?” He did tell me, but I hadn’t grasped the full extent of the danger before. According to Beth, there is a small army of bodyguards stationed at and around the clinic, all protecting us from whatever threat Julian is concerned about. “What enemies?” I ask curiously, looking at him. “Who is after you?” He smiles at me. “That’s none of your concern, my pet,” he says gently, but there is something cold and deadly lurking beneath the warmth of his smile. “I will deal with them soon.” I shudder a little, and hope that Julian doesn’t notice. Sometimes my lover can be very, very scary. “We’re going home tomorrow,” he says, changing the topic. “The doctors said you’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks, but there is no need for you to stay here. You can recover at home just as well.” I nod, my stomach tightening with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Home… Home on the island. This strange interlude at the clinic—so close to freedom—is almost over. Tomorrow my real life begins again.

21

N ora POP! P OP ! THE EXPLOSIVE SOUND OF A CAR BACKFIRING JERKS ME OUT OF SOUND SLEEP. MY HEART hammering, I jackknife up to a sitting position, then clutch at the stitches in my side with a hiss of pain. Pop! Pop! Pop! The sound continues, and I freeze. No car backfires like that. I’m hearing gunshots. Gunshots and occasional screams. It’s dark, the only light coming from the monitors hooked up to me. I’m on the bed in the middle of the room—the first thing someone would see upon opening the door. It occurs to me that I might as well be sitting there with a bull’s eye painted in the middle of my forehead. Trying to control my ragged breathing, I pull the IV from my arm and get to my feet. It still hurts to walk, but I ignore the pain. I’m certain bullets would hurt a lot worse. Padding barefoot toward the door, I open it just a tiny bit and peek out into the hallway. My stomach sinks. There isn’t a single bodyguard in sight; the hallway in front of me is completely empty. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Casting a frantic glance around, I look for a hiding spot, but the only cupboard in the room is too small for me to fit into. There is no other place to conceal myself. Staying here would be suicidal. I need to get out, and I need to do so now. Pulling the hospital gown tighter around myself, I cautiously step out into the hallway. The floor is cold under my bare feet, adding to the icy chill inside me. Out

here, I feel even more exposed and vulnerable, and the urge to hide grows stronger. Spotting a bunch of doors on the other end of the hallway, I choose one at random, opening it carefully. To my relief, there is no one inside, and I go in, closing the door quietly behind me. The sound of gunfire continues at random intervals, coming closer each time. I step into the corner behind the door and plaster myself against the wall, trying to control my rising panic. I have no idea who the gunmen are, but the possibilities that occur to me are not reassuring. Julian has enemies. What if it’s them out there? What if he’s fighting them right now alongside his bodyguards? I imagine him injured, dead, and the coldness inside me spreads, penetrating deep into my bones. Please, God, no. Please, anything but that. I would sooner die than lose him. My entire body is trembling, and I feel cold sweat sliding down my back. The gunfire has stopped, and the silence is more ominous than the deafening noise from before. I can taste the fear; it’s sharp and metallic on my tongue, and I realize that I’d bitten the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. Time moves at a painful crawl. Every minute seems to stretch into an hour, every second into eternity. Finally, I hear voices and heavy footsteps out in the hallway. It sounds like there are several men, and they’re speaking in a language I don’t understand—a language that sounds harsh and guttural to my ears. I can hear doors opening, and I know they’re looking for something… or someone. Hardly daring to breathe, I try to meld into the wall, to make myself so small I would be invisible to the gunmen prowling out in the hallway. “Where is she?” a harsh male voice demands in strongly accented English. “She’s supposed to be here, on this floor.” “No, she’s not.” The voice answering him is Beth’s, and I stifle a terrified gasp, realizing that the men have somehow captured her. She sounds defiant, but I catch an undertone of fear in her voice. “I told you, Julian already took her away—” “Don’t fucking lie to me,” the man roars, his accent getting thicker. The sound of a slap is followed by Beth’s pained cry. “Where the fuck is she?” “I don’t know,” Beth sobs hysterically. “She’s gone, I told you, gone—” The man barks out something in his own language, and I hear more doors opening. They’re coming closer to the room where I’m hiding, and I know it’s only a matter of time before they find me. I don’t know why they’re looking for me, but I know I’m the ‘she’ in question. They want to find me, and they’re willing to hurt

Beth to do it. I hesitate for only a moment before stepping out of the room. On the other side of the hallway, I see Beth huddling on the floor, her arm held tightly by a blackgarbed man. A dozen more men are standing around them, holding assault rifles and machine guns—which they point at me as soon as I come out. “Are you looking for me?” I ask calmly. I’ve never been more terrified in my life, but my voice comes out steady, almost amused. I didn’t know it was possible to be numb with fear, but that’s how I feel right now—so terrified that I don’t actually feel afraid anymore. My mind is strangely clear, and I register several things at once. The men look Middle Eastern, with their olive-toned skin and dark hair. While a couple of them are clean-shaven, the majority seem to have thick black beards. At least two of them are wounded and bleeding. And for all their weapons, they seem quite anxious, as though they’re expecting to be attacked any minute. The man holding Beth barks out another order in a language I now realize is Arabic, and I recognize his voice as belonging to the man who’d spoken in English. He seems to be their leader. At his command, two of the men walk up to me and grab my arms, dragging me toward him. I manage not to stumble, though my stitches ache with a renewed ferocity. “Is this her?” he hisses at Beth, shaking her roughly. “Is this Julian’s little whore?” “That would be me,” I tell him before Beth can answer. My voice is still unnaturally calm. I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet, the danger that I’m in. All I want to do right now is stop him from hurting Beth. At the same time, at the back of my mind I’m processing the fact that they want me because I’m Julian’s lover. That could only mean one thing: Julian is alive and they mean to use me against him. I suppress a shudder of relief at the thought. The leader stares at me, apparently as surprised by my uncharacteristic bravery as I am. Letting go of Beth, he comes up to me, grasping my jaw with hard, cruel fingers. Leaning in, he studies me, his dark eyes gleaming coldly. He’s short for a man, only about five-seven at most, and his breath washes over my face, bringing with it the fetid odor of garlic and stale tobacco. I fight the urge to gag, holding his gaze defiantly with my own. After a few seconds, he lets go of me and says something in Arabic to his troops. Two of the men hurry over and grab Beth again. She screams and starts fighting them, and one of them backhands her, stunning her into silence. At the same time,

the leader’s hand closes around my upper arm, squeezing it painfully. “Let’s go,” he says sharply, and I let myself be led toward the door at the end of the hallway. The door opens to a staircase, and I realize that we’re on the second floor. The gunmen form a circle around me, the leader, and Beth, and we all go down the stairs and out through a door that leads to an unpaved open area outside. We pass one man’s dead body in the staircase, and there are several more lying outside. I avert my eyes, swallowing convulsively to keep the bile from rising up in my throat. The sun is bright, and the air is hot and humid, but I can barely feel the warmth on my frozen skin. The reality of my situation is beginning to sink in, and I start to shiver, small shudders wracking my frame. There are several black SUVs waiting for us, and the men drag me and Beth to one of them, forcing us into the back seat. Two of them climb in with us, forcing us to huddle together. I can feel Beth shaking, and I reach over to squeeze her cold hand with my own, drawing comfort from the human touch. She looks at me, and the terror in her eyes chills my blood. Her freckled face is pale, and her right cheek is swollen, with a massive bruise starting to form there. Her lower lip is split in two places, and there is a smear of blood on her chin. Whoever these men are, they have no compunction about hurting women. I desperately want to ask her what she knows, but I keep quiet. I don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary. My mind flashes back to the dead bodies we’d just passed, and I fight the urge to throw up. I don’t know what these people intend for us, but I strongly suspect our chances of getting out alive are minimal. Every minute that we survive, every minute that they leave us alone, is precious, and we need to do whatever it takes to extend those minutes for as long as possible. The car starts up and pulls away. Still holding Beth’s hand, I look out the window, seeing the white building of the clinic disappearing behind us. The road we’re on is unpaved and bumpy, and the atmosphere in the car is tense. The two men in the backseat with us are gripping their weapons tightly, and I again get the sense that they’re afraid of something… or someone. I wonder if it’s Julian. Does he know what happened? Is he even now on his way to the clinic? I stare out the window, my eyes dry and burning. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I should be going back to the island today, back to the placid life I’ve had for the past year. It’s a life I crave now with a desperate intensity. I want to lie in Julian’s embrace, to feel his touch and smell the warm, clean scent of his skin. I want him to own me and protect me, to keep me safe from everything and everyone except himself.

But he’s not here. Instead the car is bumping along the road, taking us further and further away from safety. It’s hot inside, and I can smell the spicy odor of unwashed male bodies and sweat; it permeates the car, making me feel like I’m suffocating. Beth seems to be in shock, her face blank and withdrawn. I want to hug her, but we’re pressed too tightly together, so I just gently squeeze her hand instead. Her fingers are limp and clammy in my palm. The ride seems to last forever, but it must be only about an hour, because the sun is still not all the way up in the sky when we arrive at our destination. It’s an airstrip in the middle of nowhere, and there is a sizable plane sitting there. It looks vaguely military to me. The men force us out of the car and drag us toward the plane. I do my best to walk where they’re leading me, not wanting to tear my stitches open. Beth doesn’t put up a fight either, though she seems too shellshocked to walk straight, forcing them to practically carry her in. Inside, the plane is far from luxurious. As I had suspected, the body of the plane is military in style, with seats along the walls, instead of arranged into rows. It’s the kind of plane I’ve seen in movies, usually with Navy SEALs jumping out of it with parachutes. The men strap Beth and me into two of the seats and handcuff our hands before sitting down themselves. The engines rev up, the plane begins to roll, and then we’re airborne, the sun shining brightly in my eyes.

22

N ora THE TIME WE LAND A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER,

I’M DYING OF THIRST AND DESPERATELY NEED TO PEE. Sneaking a glance at Beth, I see that she’s in even worse discomfort, her eyes glazed and feverish-looking. The swelling on her face has turned into an ugly bruise, and her lips are crusted with blood. With my hands cuffed together, I can’t even reach over to give her a comforting pat on the arm. As soon as the plane touches down, they unbuckle us and drag us out of the plane with our hands still cuffed in front of us. The leader approaches us, giving us a quick once-over before pointing toward a black SUV parked a few yards away. He spits out some order at his men, and I understand it to mean that our journey is about to continue. Before they can force us into the vehicle, however, I speak up. “Hey,” I say quietly, “I have to use the restroom.” Beth flashes me a panicked look, but I ignore her, focusing my attention on the leader. I’m pretty sure I’d sooner die than piss my pants—or my hospital gown, as the matter may be. He hesitates for a second, staring at me, then jerks his thumb toward the bushes. “Go, bitch,” he says harshly. “You have one minute.” I scramble toward the bushes, ignoring the man with a machine gun who follows me there. Thankfully, he looks away as I hike up my gown and squat to relieve myself, my face flaming with embarrassment. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beth following my example a dozen yards away. Once we’re both done, we get into another hot, stuffy car. This time, the ride is even longer, the road winding through what appears to be some kind of jungle. By the time we get to a nondescript warehouse-like building—our final destination—

I’m soaked with sweat and badly dehydrated. I’m hungry too, but that need is secondary to the thirst that’s consuming me right now. When we get into the building, we are led toward two metal chairs standing in the corner. My handcuffs are unlocked, but before I have a chance to rejoice, the same man who guarded me at the bushes binds my wrists together behind my back. Then he ties my ankles to the chair, one to each leg, before wrapping a rope all around my body to secure me to the chair. His touch on my skin is indifferent, impersonal; I’m just a thing to him, not a woman. Turning my head to the side, I see that the same thing is done to Beth, except that her handler seems to enjoy causing her pain, yanking her legs roughly apart to tie them to the chair. She doesn’t make a sound, but her face gets even paler and her cracked lips tremble slightly. I watch it all with helpless anger, then turn away once the man leaves her alone, focusing my attention on our surroundings instead. It seems that my initial impression was correct. We’re inside some warehouse, with tall boxes and metal shelves forming a maze in the middle. Now that we’re securely tied to the chairs, the men leave us alone, gathering around a long table in the other corner. Beth and I finally have some privacy to talk. “Are you okay?” I ask her, taking care to keep my voice pitched low. “Did they hurt you? Before I came out, I mean…” She shakes her head, her mouth tightening. “Just smacked me around a bit,” she says quietly. “It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have come out, Nora. That was stupid.” “They would’ve found me anyway. It was just a matter of time.” I’m convinced of that. “Do you know who they are or what they want from us?” “I’m not sure, but I can guess,” she says, her hands clenching tightly in her lap. “I think they’re part of the Jihadist terrorist group that Julian told me about a couple of months ago. Apparently, they’re upset that he wouldn’t sell them some weapon that his company recently developed.” “Why not?” I ask curiously. “Why wouldn’t he sell it to them?” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Julian is very selective when it comes to his business partners, and it could be that he just didn’t trust them enough.” “So they took us as leverage?”

“Yes, I think so,” she says softly. “At least, that’s what you’re here for. Someone at the clinic must’ve been in their employ because they knew who you were and what you meant to Julian. I was sleeping in one of the rooms downstairs when they found me, and they immediately went up to the second floor, to the room where you were staying. I think they intend to use you to force Julian’s hand when it comes to giving them this weapon.” I draw in a shaky breath. “I see.” I can only imagine how men psychotic enough to kill innocent civilians would ‘force Julian’s hand.’ Gruesome images of severed body parts dance through my mind, and I push them away with effort, not wanting to give in to the panic that threatens to swallow me whole. “It’s lucky that Julian wasn’t at the clinic when they came,” Beth says, interrupting my dark thoughts. “They killed everyone, all sixteen of Julian’s men who were stationed there guarding us.” I swallow hard. “Sixteen men?” Beth nods. “They had insane firepower, and they came with a good thirty or forty men of their own. You didn’t see the worst of it, because they entered from the back. There were bodies piled six feet high in the other staircase, with many of the casualties coming from their side.” I stare at her, trying to control my breathing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. For them to sacrifice so many of their comrades, whatever they want from Julian must be a hell of a weapon. Would he give it to them to save us? Does he care for me and Beth enough? I know he wants me—and is concerned about my well-being on some level —but I have no idea if he would put me ahead of his business interests. Of course, even if he gives them what they want, there is no guarantee that they will let us live. I remember what Julian told me about Maria’s death… about how she was killed to punish him for some warehouse raid. In Julian’s world, actions have consequences. Very brutal consequences. “Do you think he’ll come for us?” I ask Beth quietly. The irony of it all doesn’t escape me. I now regard Julian as my potential savior, my knight in shining armor. He’s not the one I need rescuing from anymore. She looks at me, her eyes dark in her pale face. “He will,” she answers softly. “He’ll come for us. I just don’t know if it will matter to us by then.”

THE NEXT COUPLE

OF HOURS DRAG BY.

THE

MEN LARGELY IGNORE US, THOUGH

I’VE

SEEN A COUPLE OF

them looking at my bare legs when their leader wasn’t paying attention. Thankfully, the hospital gown is generally shapeless and made of thick material— about the least sexy outfit I can imagine. The thought of one—or several—of them touching me makes my skin crawl. They also don’t give us anything to eat or drink. That’s not a good sign; it means they don’t care if we live or die. My thirst is getting so bad that all I can think about is water, and there is an empty, gnawing feeling in my stomach. The worst thing of all, however, is the cold fear that comes at me in waves and the dark images that flicker through my mind like a bad horror movie. I try to talk to Beth to keep myself from freaking out, but after our initial conversation, she’s become quiet and withdrawn, responding in monosyllables at best. It’s like mentally, she’s not even there. I envy her. I’d like to be able to escape like that, but I can’t. For my mind to let go, I need Julian and his particular brand of erotic torture. When I’m just about ready to scream from frustration, two more men enter the warehouse. To my surprise, one of them looks like a businessman; his pinstriped suit is sharp and tailored, and a stylish Strotter bag hangs messenger-style across his body. He’s also relatively young, probably only in his thirties, and appears to be in good shape. Smoothly shaven, with olive complexion and glossy dark hair, he could’ve been on the cover of GQ—if it weren’t for the fact that he’s most likely a terrorist. He exchanges a few words with the men on the other side of the warehouse, then heads toward Beth and me. As he approaches us, I notice the cold gleam in his eyes and the way his nostrils flare slightly. There’s something vaguely reptilian in his unblinking stare, and I suppress a shudder when he stops a couple of feet away and studies me, his head cocked to the side. I stare back at him, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. Objectively, he could be considered handsome, but I don’t feel even the slightest tug of attraction. The only thing I feel is fear. It’s actually a relief; some part of me has always wondered if I’m simply wired wrong—if I’m destined to desire the men who scare me. Now I see that it’s a Julian-specific phenomenon for me. I’m frightened and repulsed by the criminal standing in front of me now—a perfectly normal reaction that I embrace. “How long have you known Esguerra?” the man asks, addressing me. He has a British accent, mixed with a hint of something foreign and exotic. At the sound of his voice, Beth looks up, startled, and I see that she’s back with us for the moment.

I hesitate for a second before answering. “About fifteen months,” I finally say. I don’t see the harm in revealing that much. He lifts his eyebrows. “And he kept you hidden this whole time? Impressive…” I suppress the sudden urge to snicker. Julian quite literally kept me hidden on his island, so this guy is more right than he realizes. My lips twitch involuntarily, and I see a flicker of surprise cross the man’s face. “Well, you’re a brave little whore, aren’t you?” he says slowly, watching me with his dark gaze. “Or do you think this is all a joke?” I don’t say anything in response. What can I say? No, I don’t think it’s a joke. I know you’re going to torture me and probably kill me to get back at Julian. Somehow that just doesn’t have the right ring to it. His eyes narrow, and I realize I somehow managed to make him angry. He looks like a cobra about to strike. My heartbeat spikes, and I tense, bracing myself for a blow, but he simply reaches for his Strotter bag and opens it to reveal his iPad. Glancing down, he quickly types some email, then looks up at me. “Let’s see if Esguerra thinks it’s a joke,” he says quietly, closing the bag. “For your sake, girl, I hope that’s not the case.” Then he turns and walks away, heading back to where the other men are gathered.

DESPITE MY TERROR AND DISCOMFORT, I SOMEHOW MANAGE TO FALL ASLEEP IN THE CHAIR. MY BODY IS still recovering from the operation, and I’m both physically and emotionally exhausted from the events of the past day. I wake up to the sound of voices. The guy in the suit and the short one I had pegged as the leader are standing in front of me, setting up what looks like a large camera on a tall tripod. I swallow, staring at them. My mouth feels as dry as the Sahara desert, and despite all the time that’s passed, I don’t have the least urge to pee. I’m guessing that means I’m badly dehydrated. Seeing that I’m awake, the Suit—I decide to call him that in my mind—gives me a thin-lipped smile. “It’s showtime. Let’s see just how much Esguerra wants his little whore back.” Nausea roils my empty stomach, and I turn my head to look at Beth. She’s

staring straight ahead, her face white and her gaze vacant. I don’t know if she slept at all, but she seems even more out of it than before. They point the camera toward us, checking the angle a couple of times, and then the Suit comes over to stand next to me. As soon as the camera light goes on, he puts his hand on my head, roughly stroking my tangled hair. “You know what I want, Esguerra,” he says evenly, looking at the camera. “You have until midnight tomorrow to get it to me. Do that, and your slut will remain unharmed. I’ll even give her back to you. If not, well… you’ll get her back anyway.” He pauses, smiling cruelly. “Little by little.” I stare at the camera, bile rising in my throat. I haven’t been harmed—yet—but I can sense the violence in these men. It’s the same darkness that stains Julian’s soul. Men like these are different. They don’t abide by the social contract. They don’t play by the same rules as everyone else. The Suit’s hand leaves my hair, and he takes a step toward Beth. “You may be doubting me, Esguerra,” he says, still speaking to the camera. “You may be thinking that I lack resolve. Well, let me do a little demonstration of what will happen to your pretty whore if I don’t get what I want. We’ll start with the redhead and move on to that one—” he nods toward me, “—tomorrow after midnight.” “No!” I scream, realizing what he means to do. “Don’t touch her!” I struggle to get free, but the ropes are holding me too tightly. There is nothing I can do but watch helplessly as he wraps his hand around Beth’s throat and begins to squeeze. “Don’t you fucking touch her! Julian will kill you for this! He’ll fucking murder you —” Ignoring my screams, the Suit barks out an order in Arabic, and a man steps forward, cutting Beth’s ropes with a sharp knife. I catch a glimpse of her terrified eyes, and then they throw her on the ground, face down. The Suit presses his knee against her back and yanks on her hair, forcing her head to arch back. I can see her legs drumming uselessly against the ground, and my screams grow louder as the Suit takes out a short, thin knife and begins cutting Beth’s cheek. She yells, struggling, and I can see blood spraying everywhere as he slices open her face, leaving behind a deep bloody gash. I gag, my stomach heaving, but he’s far from done. Beth’s other cheek is next, and then he presses the knife into her upper arm, cutting off a strip of flesh. Her agonized screams echo throughout the warehouse, joined by my own hysterical cries. I feel her pain as though it’s my own, and I can’t bear it. “Leave her alone!” I shriek. “You fucking bastard! Leave her alone!”

He doesn’t, of course. He continues cutting her, his dark eyes shining with excitement. He’s enjoying this, I realize with sick horror; he’s not doing it just for the camera. Beth’s struggles grow weaker, her cries turning into sobbing moans. There is blood everywhere; Beth is practically drowning in it. I don’t know how she’s able to remain conscious through this. Black spots swim in front of my vision, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me, my ribcage squeezing my lungs and preventing me from drawing in air. Suddenly, Beth’s body jerks, and she lets out a strange gurgle before falling silent. All I can hear now is the sound of my own harsh, sobbing breaths. Beth is lying there unmoving, a pool of blood spreading out from her neck area. The Suit gets up, wiping the knife on his pants, and faces the camera. “That was an expedited show for you, Esguerra,” he says, smiling widely. “I didn’t want to drag it out too much, since I know you’ll need the time to get me what I asked for. Of course, if I don’t receive it, the next show will be much, much longer.” Taking a step toward me, he runs one bloody finger down my cheek. “Your little whore is so pretty, I might even let my men play with her before I start…” This time I can’t control myself. Hot vomit rushes into my throat, and I barely manage to turn my head to the side before the contents of my stomach empty out onto the floor in a series of violent heaves.

23

N ora AFTER THE CAMERA IS TURNED OFF, THEY LEAVE ME ALONE AGAIN. BETH’S BODY IS DRAGGED AWAY, and the floor is carelessly mopped, leaving behind several reddish-brown streaks. I stare at them, my thoughts slow and sluggish, as if I’m in a stupor. I’m no longer shaking, though an occasional shudder still wracks my body. My stitches ache dully, and I wonder if I tore any of them during my struggles earlier. I don’t see any blood seeping through my hospital gown, so maybe I didn’t. A little while later, they bring me some water. I greedily gulp down the whole cup, causing some of the men to laugh and say something in Arabic while rubbing their crotches suggestively. I almost think they are hoping that Julian doesn’t come through, so they get to ‘play’ with me before the Suit goes to work. For now, though, they mercifully leave me alone. I am even allowed outside for a minute to use the restroom, and the same guy as before—the impassive one— guards me while I go into the bushes. I think he’s now my official bathroom companion, and I mentally start calling him Toilet Guy. I name some of the others, too. The one with the black beard down to the middle of his chest—I call him Blackbeard. The one with the receding hairline is Baldie. The short guy who led the raid on the clinic—he’s Garlic Breath. I do this to distract myself from thoughts of Beth. I can’t allow myself to think about her yet—not if I want to remain sane. If I get out of this alive, then I will mourn the woman who had become my friend. If I survive, then I will allow myself to cry and grieve, to rage at the senseless violence of her death. But right now, I can only exist from moment to moment, focusing on the most inconsequential,

ridiculous things to keep myself from being crushed under the weight of brutal reality. Time ticks by slowly. As darkness descends, I stare at the floor, the walls, the ceiling. I think I even nod off a couple of times, although I jerk awake at the least hint of any sound, my heart racing. They still haven’t fed me, and the hunger pangs in my stomach are a gnawing ache. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m just grateful to still be alive—a state of affairs I know will not continue for long, unless Julian comes through with the weapon. Closing my eyes, I try to pretend that I’m home on the island, reading a book on the beach. I try to imagine that at any moment, I can go back to the house and find Beth there, prepping dinner for us. I try to convince myself that Julian is simply away on one of his business trips and I will see him again soon. I picture his smile, the way his dark hair curls around his face, framing the hard masculine perfection of his features, and I ache for him, for the warmth and safety of his strong embrace, even as my mind gradually drifts toward an uneasy sleep.

A LARGE HAND CLAMPS TIGHTLY OVER MY MOUTH, JERKING ME AWAKE. MY EYES FLY OPEN, ADRENALINE surging through my veins. Terrified, I begin to struggle… and then I hear a familiar voice whispering in my ear, “Shh, Nora. It’s me. I need you to be quiet now, okay?” I nod slightly, my body shaking with relief, and the hand leaves my mouth. Turning my head, I stare at Julian in disbelief. Crouching beside me, he’s dressed all in black. A bulletproof vest is covering his chest and shoulders, and his face is painted with black diagonal stripes. There is a machine gun hanging across his shoulder, and an entire array of weapons is clipped to his belt. He looks like a deadly stranger. Only his eyes are familiar, startlingly bright in his paint-darkened face. For a second, I’m convinced that I’m dreaming. He can’t be standing here, in this warehouse in the middle of nowhere, talking to me. Not when his enemies are less than thirty yards away. My heart racing, I cast a quick, frantic glance around the warehouse. The men in the other corner appear to be asleep, stretched out on blankets on the floor. I count eight of them—which means that several of them are probably outside, guarding the building. I don’t see the Suit anywhere; he must also be outside.

Turning my attention back to Julian, I see him cutting through the ropes at my ankles with a wicked-looking knife. “How did you get in here?” I whisper, staring at him in dazed wonder. He pauses for a second, looking up at me. “Be quiet,” he says, his words almost inaudible. “I need to get you out before they wake up.” I nod, falling silent as he resumes cutting my ropes. Despite our perilous situation, I am almost dizzy with joy. Julian is here, with me. He came for me. The surge of love and gratitude is so strong, I can barely contain it. I want to jump up and hug him, but I remain still as he finishes his task, getting rid of the remaining ropes. As soon as I’m free, he pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly against him. I can feel the fine trembling in his powerful body, and then he releases me, taking half a step back. Framing my face with his palms, he looks down at me, his blue gaze hard and fiercely possessive. A moment of wordless communication passes between us, and I know. I know what he can’t say right now. I know he would always come for me. I know he would kill for me. I know he would die for me. Lowering his arms, he takes my hand. “Let’s go,” he says quietly, still looking at me. “We don’t have much time.” I grip his hand tightly, letting him lead me toward the darkened area near the wall on the opposite side of where the men are sleeping. The maze of shelves and boxes in the middle of the warehouse quickly hides us from their view, and Julian stops there, crouching down again and letting go of my palm. I hear a fumbling sound, like his hand is searching for something along the floor, and then there is a quiet creak as he lifts a board off the floor and places it to the side. On the floor in front of us is a large square opening. I kneel down beside it, peering into the darkness below. “Climb down,” Julian whispers in my ear, putting his hand on my knee and squeezing it lightly. The familiar touch calms me a bit. “There is a ladder.” I swallow, reaching out with my hand to find said ladder. How does he know this? “I hacked into their computer and found the blueprints of this building,” he

explains quietly, as though reading my mind. “There is a storage area below that has a drainpipe leading outside. Find it and crawl through it.” His hand leaves my knee, and I feel bereft without his touch, the danger of our situation hitting me again. My fingers touch the metal ladder, and I grab it, maneuvering myself toward it. Julian holds my arm as I find my footing and cautiously begin to descend. It’s pitchblack down there, and under normal circumstances, I would be hesitant to go into an unknown basement, but there’s nothing more frightening to me right now than the men we’re escaping from. I climb down a few rungs, then look up, seeing Julian still sitting there. The expression on his face is tense and alert, like he’s listening for something. And then I hear it—a murmur of voices, followed by shouts in Arabic. My absence had been discovered. Julian rises to his feet with one smooth motion and looks down at me, his hands gripping the machine gun. “Go,” he orders, his voice low and hard. “Now, Nora. Get to the drainpipe and outside. I’ll hold them back.” “What? No!” I stare at him in horrified shock. “Come with me—” He gives me a furious glare. “Go,” he hisses. “Now, or we’re both dead. I can’t worry about you and fight them off.” I hesitate for a second, feeling torn. I don’t want to leave him behind, but I don’t want to stand in his way either. “I love you,” I say quietly, looking up at him, and see a quick flash of white teeth in response. “Go, baby,” he says, his tone much softer now. “I’ll be with you soon.” My heart aching, I do as he says, climbing down the ladder as quickly as I can. The shouts are growing louder, and I know the men are searching the warehouse, starting with the maze in the middle. It’s only a matter of time before they get to the darkened area along this wall. My entire body is shaking with a combination of nerves and adrenaline, and I focus on not falling as I descend further into the darkness. Rat-tat-tat! The burst of gunfire above startles me, and I climb down even faster, my breathing hard and erratic. As soon as my feet touch the floor, I stretch out my hands in front of me and begin to grope in the darkness, searching for the wall with the drain pipe. More gunfire. Yells. Screams. My heart is pounding so hard, it sounds like a

drum in my ears. Something squeaks underneath my feet, and tiny paws run over my bare toes. I ignore it, frantically searching for that drainpipe. Rats are nothing to me right now. Somewhere up there, Julian is in mortal danger. I don’t know if he’s by himself or if he brought reinforcements, but the thought of him being hurt or killed is so agonizing that I can’t focus on it now. Not if I want to survive. My hands touch the wall, but I can’t find an opening. It’s too dark. Panting, I make my way along the wall, sweeping my hands up and down the smooth surface. My stitches ache, but I barely register the pain. I need to find a way out. If they catch me again, I will not survive for long. Another burst of gunfire, followed by more yells. I continue searching, my terror and frustration growing with every moment. Julian. Julian is up there. I try not to think about it, but I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to help him; logically, I know that. I’m barefoot and dressed in a hospital gown, without so much as a fork to defend myself with. In the meantime, he’s armed to the teeth and wearing a bulletproof vest. Of course, logic has nothing to do with the agonizing fear I feel at the thought of losing him. He will survive, I tell myself as I continue looking for the drainpipe. Julian knows what he’s doing. This is his world, his area of expertise. This is the part of his life he was shielding me from on the island. My hands touch something hard on the wall near my knees and then sink into the opening. The drainpipe. I found it. There is another high-pitched squeak, and something scrambles out of the pipe toward me. I jump back, startled, but then I get on all fours and determinedly crawl inside, steeling myself for more potential rodent encounters. The drainpipe is large enough that I can be on my hands and knees, and I crawl as fast as I can, ignoring the stale smell of sewage and rust. Thankfully, it’s only a little bit wet in there, and I try not to dwell on what that wetness might be. Finally, I reach the other opening. Compressing myself into a little ball, I manage to turn around and climb out feet first. Stepping away from the pipe, I gaze at my surroundings. The sky above me is covered with stars, and the air is thick with the scent of warm earth and jungle

vegetation. I can see the warehouse building on the small hill above me, less than fifty yards away. I stare at it, sick with fear for Julian. There is another burst of gunfire, accompanied by flashes of bright light. The gunfight is still going on—which is a good sign, I tell myself. If Julian was dead—if the terrorists had won—there would be no more shooting. He must’ve come with reinforcements after all. Wrapping my arms around myself, I press my back against a tree, my legs trembling from the combination of terror and adrenaline. And in that moment, the sky lights up as the building explodes… and a blast of scorching-hot air sends me flying into the bushes several feet away.

24

N ora THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS ARE A BLUR IN MY MEMORY. After I get to my feet, I am dizzy and disoriented, my head throbbing and my body feeling like one giant bruise. There is a din in my ears, and everything seems to be coming at me as though from a distance. I must’ve passed out from the blast, but I am not sure. By the time I recover enough to walk, the fire consuming the building is almost over. Dazed, I stumble up the hill and start searching through the smoldering ruins of the warehouse. Occasionally, I find something that looks like a charred limb, and a couple of times, I come across a body that’s very nearly whole, with only a head or a leg missing. I register these findings on some level, but I don’t fully process them. I feel oddly detached, like I’m not really there. Nothing touches me. Nothing bothers me. Even the physical sensations are dulled by shock. I search for him for hours. By the time I stop, the sun is high up in the sky, and I’m dripping with sweat. I have no choice but to face the truth now. There are no survivors. It’s as simple as that. I should cry. I should scream. I should feel something. But I don’t. I just feel numb instead. Leaving the warehouse, I begin walking. I don’t know where I am going, and I

don’t care. All I’m capable of doing is putting one foot in front of the other. By the time it starts getting dark, I come across a cluster of tiny houses made of wooden poles and cardboard. There is a shallow creek running through the middle of the settlement, and I see a couple of women doing laundry there by hand. Their shocked faces are the last thing I remember before I collapse a few feet away from them.

“MISS LESTON, DO YOU FEEL UP TO ANSWERING A FEW QUESTIONS FOR ME? I’M AGENT WILSON, FBI, and this is Agent Bosovsky.” I look up at the plump middle-aged man standing next to my bed. He’s not at all like I imagined FBI agents to be. His face is round, almost cherubic-looking, with rosy cheeks and dancing blue eyes. If Agent Wilson wore a red hat and had a white beard, he would’ve made a great Santa Claus. In contrast, his partner—Agent Bosovsky—is painfully thin, with deep frown lines etched into his narrow face. For the past two days, I have been recuperating in a hospital in Bangkok. Apparently, one of the women at the creek had notified the local authorities about the girl that wandered into their village. I vaguely recall them questioning me, but I doubt I made any sense when I spoke to them. However, they understood enough to contact the American Embassy on my behalf, and the US officials took it from there. “Your parents are on the way,” Agent Bosovsky says when I continue to stare at them without saying a word. “Their flight lands in a few hours.” I blink, his words somehow penetrating the layer of ice that has kept me insulated from everyone and everything since the explosion. “My parents?” I croak, my throat feeling strangely swollen. The thin agent nods. “Yes, Miss Leston. They were notified yesterday, and we got them on the earliest flight to Bangkok. They wanted to speak to you, but you were sedated at that point.” I process that information. The doctors already informed me that I have a mild concussion, along with first-degree burns and lacerations on my feet. Other than that, they were impressed by my overall good health—dehydration, recent surgery, and various bruises notwithstanding. Still, they must’ve sedated me to let me rest. “Do you think you could answer some questions before your parents arrive?” Agent Wilson asks gently when I continue to remain silent.

I nod, almost imperceptibly, and he pulls up a chair. Agent Bosovsky does the same thing. “Miss Leston, you were abducted in June of last year,” Agent Wilson says, the expression on his round face warm and understanding. “Can you tell us anything about your abduction?” I hesitate for a moment. Do I want to tell them anything about Julian? And then I remember that he’s dead and that none of it matters. For a second, the agony is so sharp, it steals my breath away, but then the numbing wall of ice encases me again. “Sure,” I say evenly. “What do you want to know?” “Do you know his name?” “Julian Esguerra. He is—” I swallow hard, “—he was an arms dealer.” The FBI agent’s eyes widen. “An arms dealer?” I nod and tell them what I know about Julian’s organization. Agent Bosovsky scribbles down notes as quickly as he can, while Agent Wilson continues asking me questions about Julian’s activities and the terrorists who stole me from him. They seem disappointed that he’s dead—and that I know so little—and I explain that I haven’t been off the island since my abduction. “He kept you there for the entire fifteen months?” Agent Bosovsky asks, the frown lines on his thin face deepening. “Just you and this woman, Beth?” “Yes.” The agents exchange a look, and I stare at them, knowing what they’re thinking. Poor girl, kept like an animal in a cage for a criminal’s amusement. Once I felt that way too, but no longer. Now I would do anything to rewind the clock and go back to being Julian’s captive. Agent Wilson turns toward me and clears his throat. “Miss Leston, we’ll have a sexual abuse counselor speak to you later this afternoon. She’s very good—” “There’s no need,” I interrupt. “I’m fine.” And I am. I don’t feel victimized or abused. I just feel numb. After a few more questions, they leave me alone. I don’t tell them any details of my relationship with Julian, but I think they get the gist of it. The FBI sketch artist comes to see me next, and I describe Julian to him. He keeps giving me funny looks as I correct his interpretation of my descriptions. “No, his eyebrows are a little thicker, a little straighter… His hair is a little wavier, yes,

like that…” He has particular trouble with Julian’s mouth. It’s hard to describe the beauty of that dark, angelic smile of his. “Make the upper lip a little fuller… No, that’s too full—it should be more sensuous, almost pretty…” Finally, we’re done, and Julian’s face stares at me from the white sheet of paper. A bolt of agony spears through me again, but the numbness comes to my rescue right away, as it did before. “That’s a handsome fellow,” the artist comments, examining his handiwork. “You don’t see men like that every day.” My hands clench tightly, my nails digging into my skin. “No, you don’t.” The next person to visit my room is the sexual abuse counselor they mentioned to me before. She’s a slightly overweight brunette who looks to be in her late forties, but something about her direct gaze reminds me of Beth. “I’m Diane,” she says, introducing herself to me as she pulls up a chair. “May I call you Nora?” “That’s fine,” I say wearily. I don’t particularly want to talk to this woman, but the determined look on her face tells me that she has no intention of leaving until I do. “Nora, can you tell me about your time on the island?” she asks, looking at me. “What do you want to know?” “Whatever you feel comfortable telling me.” I think about it for a moment. The truth of the matter is that I’m not comfortable telling her anything. How can I describe the way Julian made me feel? How can I explain the highs and lows of our unorthodox relationship? I know what she’s going to think—that I’m screwed up in the head for loving him. That my feelings aren’t real, but a byproduct of my captivity. And she would probably be right—but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. There is right and wrong, and then there’s what Julian and I had together. Nothing and no one will ever be able to fill the void left inside me. No amount of counseling would make the pain of losing him go away. I give Diane a polite smile. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.” She nods, not the least bit surprised. “I understand. Often, as victims, we blame

ourselves for what happened. We think we did something to cause this thing to happen to us.” “I don’t think that,” I say, frowning. Okay, maybe the thought did flit briefly through my mind when I was first taken, but getting to know Julian had quickly disabused me of that notion. He was a man who simply took what he wanted—and he had wanted me. “I see,” she says, looking slightly puzzled. Then her brow clears as she appears to solve the mystery in her mind. “He was a very good-looking man, wasn’t he?” she guesses, staring at me. I hold her gaze silently, not willing to admit anything. I can’t talk about my feelings right now, not if I want to maintain that icy distance that keeps me sane. She looks at me for a few seconds, then gets up, handing me her card. “If you’re ever ready to talk, Nora, please call me,” she says softly. “You can’t keep it all bottled up inside. It will eventually consume you—” “Okay, I will call you,” I interrupt, taking the card and placing it on my bedside table. I’m lying through my teeth, and I’m sure she knows it. The corners of her mouth tilt up in a faint smile, and then she exits the room, finally leaving me alone with my thoughts.

FOR MY PARENTS’ ARRIVAL, I INSIST ON GETTING UP AND PUTTING ON NORMAL CLOTHES. I DON’T WANT them to see me lying in a hospital bed. I’m sure they have already spent too much time worrying about me, and the last thing I want is to add to their anxiety. One of the nurses gives me a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and I gratefully put them on. They fit me well. The nurse is a petite Thai woman, and we’re roughly the same size. It’s strange to wear these types of clothes again. I had gotten so used to light summer dresses that jeans feel unusually rough and heavy against my skin. I don’t put on any shoes, though, since my feet still have to heal from the burns I got wandering through the remnants of the warehouse. When my parents finally enter the room, I am sitting in a chair, waiting for them. My mom comes in first. Her face crumples as soon as she sees me, and she rushes across the room, tears streaming down her face. My dad is right behind her, and soon they are both hugging me, chattering a mile a minute, and sobbing with joy. I smile widely, hug them in return, and do my best to reassure them that I’m all

right, that all of my injuries are minor and there’s nothing to worry about. I don’t cry, though. I can’t. Everything feels dull and distant, and even my parents seem more like beloved memories than real people. Nonetheless, I make an effort to act normally; I already caused them far too much stress and anxiety. After a little while, they calm down enough to sit and talk. “He contacted you, right?” I ask, remembering Julian’s promise. “He told you I was alive?” My dad nods, his face drawn tight. “A couple of weeks after you disappeared, we got a deposit into our bank account,” he says quietly. “A deposit in the amount of one million dollars from an untraceable offshore account. Supposedly it was a lottery that we won.” My mouth falls open. “What?” Julian gave my parents money? “At the same time, we received an email,” my dad continues, his voice shaking. “The subject was: ‘From your daughter with love.’ It had your picture. You were lying on a beach, reading a book. You looked so beautiful, so peaceful…” He swallows visibly. “The email said that you were well and that you were with someone who would take care of you—and that we should use the money to pay off our mortgage. It also said that we would be putting you in danger if we went to the police with this information.” I stare at him in bemusement, trying to imagine what they must’ve thought at that point. A million dollars… “We didn’t know what to do,” my mom says, her hands anxiously twisting together. “We thought this could be a useful lead in the investigation, but at the same time, we didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize you, wherever you were…” “So what did you do?” I ask in fascination. The FBI didn’t say anything about a million dollars, so my parents couldn’t have spoken to them about this. At the same time, I can’t imagine my parents simply taking the money and not pursuing this further. “We used the money to hire a team of private investigators,” my dad explains. “The best ones we could find. They were able to track the deposit to a shell corporation in the Cayman Islands, but the trail died there.” He pauses, looking at me. “We’ve been using that money to look for you ever since.” “What happened, honey?” my mom asks, leaning forward in her chair. “Who took you? Where did this money come from? Where have you been this whole time?”

I smile and begin answering their questions. At the same time, I watch them, drinking in their familiar features. My parents are a handsome couple, both of them healthy and in good shape. They had me when they were both in their early twenties, so they are still relatively young. My dad has only traces of gray in his dark hair, though there is more gray now than I remember seeing before. “So you really were swimming in the ocean and reading books on the beach?” My mom stares at me in disbelief as I describe my typical day on the island. “Yes.” I give her a huge smile. “In some ways, it was like a really long vacation. And he did take care of me, like he told you he would.” “But why did he take you?” my dad asks in frustration. “Why did he steal you away?” I shrug, not wanting to go into detailed explanations about Maria and Julian’s extreme possessiveness. “Because that’s just the type of man he was, I guess,” I say casually. “Because he couldn’t really date me normally, given his profession.” “Did he hurt you, honey?” my mom asks, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. “Was he cruel to you?” “No,” I say softly. “He wasn’t cruel to me at all.” I can’t explain the complexity of my relationship with Julian to my parents, so I don’t even try. Instead, I gloss over many aspects of my captivity, focusing only on the positive. I tell them about my early morning fishing expeditions with Beth and my newfound painting hobby. I describe the beauty of the island and how I got back into running. By the time I pause to catch my breath, they are both staring at me with strange looks on their faces. “Nora, honey,” my mom asks uncertainly, “are you… are you in love with this Julian?” I laugh, but the sound comes out raw and empty. “Love? No, of course not!” I’m not sure what gave her that idea, since I have been trying to avoid talking about Julian at all. The more I think about him, the more I feel like the wall of ice around me might crack, letting the pain drown me. “Of course not,” my dad says, watching me closely, and I see that he doesn’t believe me. Somehow both of my parents can sense the truth—that I’m far more traumatized by my rescue than by my abduction.

25

N ora OVER THE NEXT FOUR MONTHS, I ATTEMPT TO PICK UP THE PIECES OF MY LIFE. After another day in the Bangkok hospital, I’m deemed healthy enough to travel, and I go home, back to Illinois with my parents. We have two FBI escorts on our trip home—Agents Wilson and Bosovsky—who use the twenty-hour flight to ask me even more questions. Both of them seem frustrated because, according to their databases, Julian Esguerra simply doesn’t exist. “There are no other aliases you’ve heard him use?” Agent Bosovsky asks me for the third time, after their Interpol query comes back without any results. “No,” I say patiently. “I only knew him as Julian. The terrorists called him Esguerra.” Beth’s guess about the identities of the men who stole us from Julian’s clinic turned out to be correct. They were indeed part of a particularly dangerous Jihadist organization called Al-Quadar—that much the FBI had been able to find out. “This just doesn’t make sense,” Agent Wilson says, his round cheeks quivering with frustration. “Anyone with that kind of clout should have been on our radar. If he was head of an illegal organization that manufactured and distributed cuttingedge weapons, how is it possible that not a single government agency is aware of his existence?” I don’t know what to tell him, so I just shrug in response. The private investigators my parents hired hadn’t been able to find out anything about him either.

My parents and I had debated telling the FBI about Julian’s money, but ultimately decided against it. Revealing this information so late in the game would only get my parents in trouble and could potentially cause the FBI to think that I had been Julian’s accessory. After all, what kidnapper sends money to his victim’s family? By the time we get home, I am exhausted. I’m tired of my parents hovering over me all the time, and I’m sick of the FBI coming to me with a million questions that I can’t answer. Most of all, I’m tired of being around so many people. After more than a year with minimal human contact, I feel overwhelmed by the airport crowds. I find my old room in my parents’ house virtually untouched. “We always hoped you’d be back,” my mom explains, her face glowing with happiness. I smile and give her a hug before gently ushering her out of the room. More than anything, I need to be alone right now—because I don’t know how long I can keep up my ‘normal’ facade. That night, as I take a shower in my old childhood bathroom, I finally give in to my grief and cry.

TWO WEEKS AFTER MY ARRIVAL HOME, I MOVE OUT OF MY PARENTS’ HOUSE. THEY TRY TO TALK ME OUT of it, but I convince them that I need this—that I have to be on my own and independent. The truth of the matter is, as much as I love my parents, I can’t be around them twenty-four-seven. I’m no longer that carefree girl they remember, and I find it too draining to pretend to be her. It’s much easier to be myself in the tiny studio I rent nearby. My parents try to give me what remains of Julian’s gift to them—half a million with small change—but I refuse. The way I see it, that money had been for my parents’ mortgage and I want it used for that purpose. After numerous arguments, we reach an agreement: they pay off most of their mortgage and refinance the rest, and the remaining money goes into my college fund. Although I technically don’t need to work for a while, I get a waitressing job anyway. It gets me out of the house, but is not particularly demanding—which is exactly what I need right now. There are nights when I don’t sleep and days when getting out of bed is torture. The emptiness inside me is crushing, the grief almost suffocating, and it takes every bit of my strength to function at a semi-normal level.

When I do sleep, I have nightmares. My mind replays Beth’s death and the warehouse explosion over and over again, until I wake up drenched in cold sweat. After those dreams, I lie awake, aching for Julian, for the warmth and safety of his embrace. I feel lost without him, like a rudderless ship at sea. His absence is a festering wound that refuses to heal. I miss Beth, too. I miss her no-nonsense attitude, her matter-of-fact approach to life. If she were here, she would be the first one to tell me that shit happens and that I should just deal with it. She would want me to move on. And I try… but the senseless violence of her death eats at me. Julian was right—I didn’t know what real hatred was before. I didn’t know what it was like to want to hurt someone, to crave their death. Now I do. If I could go back in time and kill the terrorist who murdered Beth so brutally, I would do it in a heartbeat. It’s not enough for me that he died in that explosion. I wish I had been the one to end his life. My parents insist that I see a therapist. To pacify them, I go a few times. It doesn’t help. I’m not ready to bare my heart and soul to a stranger, and our sessions end up being a waste of time and money. I’m not in the right frame of mind to receive therapy—my loss is too fresh, my emotions too raw. I start painting again, but I can’t do the same sunny landscapes as before. My art is darker now, more chaotic. I paint the explosion over and over again, trying to get it out of my mind, and every time it comes out a little different, a little more abstract. I paint Julian’s face, too. I do it from memory, and it bothers me that I can’t quite capture the devastating perfection of his features. No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get it right. All of my friends are away at college, so for the first couple of weeks, I only speak to them on the phone and via Skype. They don’t quite know how to act around me, and I don’t blame them. I try to keep our conversations light, focusing mostly on what’s been happening in their lives since our graduation, but I know they feel strange talking about boyfriend troubles and exams to someone they see as a victim of a horrible crime. They look at me with pity and disturbing curiosity in their eyes, and I can’t bring myself to talk to them about my experience on the island. Still, when Leah comes home from the University of Michigan, we get together to hang out. After a few hugs, most of the initial awkwardness dissipates, and she’s again the same girl who was my best friend all through middle school and beyond. “I like your place,” she says, walking around my studio and examining the paintings I have hanging on the walls. “That’s some pretty cool art you’ve got

there. Where did you get these from?” “I painted them,” I tell her, pulling on my boots. We’re going out to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. I’m dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a black top, and it feels just like old times. “You did?” Leah gives me an astonished look. “Since when do you paint?” “It’s a recent development,” I say, grabbing my trench coat. It’s already fall, and it’s starting to get chilly. I had gotten used to the tropical climate of the island, and even sixty degrees feels cold to me. “Well, shit, Nora, this is really good stuff,” she says, coming up to one of the explosion paintings to take a closer look. Those are the only ones I have up—my Julian portraits are private. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” “Thanks.” I grin at her. “Ready to go?”

WE HAVE A GREAT DINNER. LEAH TELLS ME ABOUT GOING TO COLLEGE AT MICHIGAN AND ABOUT JASON, her new boyfriend. I listen attentively, and we joke about boys and their inexplicable need to do keg stands. “When are you applying to college?” she asks when we’re mid-way through dessert. “You were going to go local at first. Are you still planning to do that?” I nod. “Yes, I think I’m going to apply for the spring semester.” Although I can now afford to go to any university, I have no desire to change my plans. The money sitting in my bank account doesn’t seem quite real to me, and I’m strangely reluctant to spend it. “That’s awesome,” Leah says, grinning. She seems a little hyper, like she’s overly excited about something. I soon learn what that something is. “Hey, Nora,” a familiar voice says behind me, just as we’re getting ready to pay our bill. I jump up, startled. Turning, I stare at Jake—the boy I had been on the date with that fateful night when Julian took me. The boy Julian had hurt to keep me in line. He looks almost the same: shaggy sun-streaked hair, warm brown eyes, a great build. Only the expression on his face is different. It’s drawn and tense, and the

wariness in his gaze is like a kick to my stomach. “Jake…” I feel like I’m confronting a ghost. “I didn’t know you were in town. I thought you were away at Michigan—” And then I realize the truth. Turning, I look accusingly at Leah, who gives me a huge smile in response. “I hope you don’t mind, Nora,” she says brightly. “I told Jake I was coming to see you this weekend, and he asked to join me. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that, given everything—” her face reddens a bit, “—so I just mentioned that we’d be here tonight.” I blink, my palms beginning to sweat. Leah doesn’t know about the beating Jake received because of me. That little tidbit is something I disclosed only to the FBI. She’s probably afraid that seeing Jake might bring back painful memories of my abduction, but she can’t possibly guess at the nauseating swirl of guilt and anxiety I feel right now. Jake knows I’m responsible for the assault, however. I can see it in the way he looks at me. I force myself to smile. “Of course I don’t mind,” I lie smoothly. “Please, have a seat. Let’s get some coffee.” I motion toward the seat on the other side of our booth and sit down myself. “How have you been?” He smiles back at me, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners in the way I found endearing once. He’s still one of the cutest guys I’ve ever met, but I no longer feel any attraction to him. The crush I had on him before pales in comparison to my allconsuming Julian obsession—to the dark and desperate craving that makes me toss and turn at night. When I can’t sleep, I often think about the things Julian and I used to do together—the things he made me do… the things he trained me to want. In the dark of the night, I masturbate to forbidden fantasies. Fantasies of exquisite pain and forced pleasure, of violence and lust. I ache with the need to be taken and used, hurt and possessed. I long for Julian—the man who awakened this side of me. The man who is now dead. Pushing that excruciating thought aside, I focus on what Jake is telling me. “—couldn’t go into that park for months,” he says, and I realize that he’s talking about his experience after my abduction. “Every time I did, I thought about you and where you might be… The police said it was like you vanished off the face of the planet—”

I listen to him, shame and self-loathing coiling deep inside my chest. How can I feel this way about a man who did such a terrible thing and hurt so many people in the process? How sick am I to love someone capable of such evil? Julian was not a tortured, misunderstood hero forced to do bad things by circumstances beyond his control. He was a monster, pure and simple. A monster that I miss with every fiber of my being. “I’m so sorry, Nora,” Jake says, distracting me from my self-flagellation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you that night—” “Wait… What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “Are you crazy? Do you know what you were up against? There’s no way you could’ve done anything—” “I should’ve still tried.” Jake’s voice is heavy with guilt. “I should’ve done something, anything…” I reach out across the table, impulsively covering his hand with my own. “No,” I say firmly. “You’re in no way to blame for this.” I can see Leah out of the corner of my eye; she’s twiddling with her phone and trying to pretend she’s not here. I ignore her. I need to convince Jake that he didn’t screw up, to help him move past this. His skin is warm under my fingers, and I can feel the vibrating tension within him. “Jake,” I say softly, holding his gaze, “nobody could’ve prevented this. Nobody. Julian has—had—the kind of resources that would make a SWAT team jealous. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine. You got dragged into this because of me, and I am truly sorry.” I’m apologizing for more than that night in the park, and he knows it. “No, Nora,” he says quietly, his brown eyes filled with shadows. “You’re right. It’s his fault, not ours.” And I realize that he’s offering me absolution, too—that he also wants to free me from my guilt. I smile and squeeze his hand, silently accepting his forgiveness. I wish I could forgive myself so easily, but I can’t. Because even now, as I sit there holding Jake’s hand, I can’t stop loving Julian. No matter what he had done.

26

N ora “YOU KNOW, I THINK HE’S STILL REALLY INTO YOU,” LEAH SAYS surprised he didn’t ask you out right then and there.”

AS SHE DRIVES ME HOME.

“I’M

“Ask me out? Jake?” I give her an incredulous stare. “I’m the last girl he’d want to date.” “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she says thoughtfully. “You guys might’ve only been on one date, but he was seriously depressed when you disappeared. And the way he was looking at you tonight…” I let out a nervous laugh. “Leah, please, that’s just crazy. Jake and I have a complex history. He wanted closure tonight, that’s all.” The idea of dating Jake—of dating anyone—feels strange and foreign. In my mind, I still belong to Julian, and the thought of letting another man touch me makes me inexplicably anxious. “Yeah, closure, right.” Leah’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “The entire evening he was staring at you like you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. It’s not closure he wants from you, I guarantee that.” “Oh, come on—” “No, seriously,” Leah says, glancing at me as she stops at a stoplight. “You should go out with him. He’s a great guy, and I know you liked him before…” I look at her, and the urge to make her understand wars with my deep-seated need to protect myself. “Leah, that was before,” I say slowly, deciding to disclose some of the truth. “I’m not the same person now. I can’t date a guy like Jake… not after Julian.”

She falls silent, turning her attention back to the road as the light changes to green. When she stops in front of my apartment building, she turns toward me. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That was stupid and inconsiderate of me. You seem so okay that I forgot for a moment…” She swallows, tears glistening in her eyes. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you—you know that, right?” I nod, giving her a smile. I’m lucky to have a friend like her, and someday soon, I may take her up on her offer. But not yet—not while I feel so raw and shredded inside.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS CRAWL BY AT A SNAIL’S PACE. I EXIST MOMENT TO MOMENT, TAKING IT ONE DAY at a time. Every morning, I write out a list of tasks that I want to accomplish that day and diligently adhere to it, no matter how much I may want to crawl under my bed covers and never come out. Most of the time, my lists include mundane activities, such as eating, running, going to work, doing grocery shopping, and calling my parents. Occasionally, I add more ambitious projects as well, such as applying to college for the spring semester —which I do, as I told Leah I would. I also sign up for shooting lessons. To my surprise, I turn out to be pretty good at handling a gun. My instructor says I’m a natural, and I start doing research on what I need to do to acquire a firearms license in Illinois. I also tackle self-defense classes and start learning a few basic moves to protect myself. I will never be able to win against someone like Julian and the men who took me and Beth, but knowing how to shoot and fight makes me feel better, more in control of my life. Between all those new activities, my work, and my art, I’m too busy to socialize, which suits me just fine. I’m not in the mood to make new friends, and all of my old ones are away. Jake and Leah are both back at Michigan. He pings me on Facebook, and we chat a few times. He doesn’t ask me out, though. I’m glad. Even if he wasn’t going to college three-and-a-half hours away, it would never work out between us. Jake is smart enough to realize that nothing good could ever come out of getting involved with someone like me—someone who, for all intents and purposes, is still Julian’s captive. I dream of him almost every night. Like an incubus, my former captor comes to

me in the dark, when I’m at my most vulnerable. He invades my mind as ruthlessly as he once took my body. When I’m not reliving his death, my dreams are disturbingly sexual. I dream of his mouth, his cock, his hands. They’re everywhere, all over me, inside me. I dream of his terrifyingly beautiful smile, of the way he used to hold and caress me. Of the way he used to torture me until I forgot everything and lost myself in him. I dream of him… and wake up wet and throbbing, my body empty and aching for his possession. Like an addict going through a withdrawal, I am desperate for a fix, for something to take the edge off my need. I am not ready to date, but my body doesn’t care about that—and finally, I decide to give in. Dressing up, I grab my old fake ID and head to a local bar.

THE MEN SWARM AROUND ME LIKE FLIES. IT’S EASY, SO FUCKING EASY. A GIRL ALONE IN A BAR— that’s all the encouragement they need. Like wolves scenting prey, they sense my desperation, my desire for something more than a cold, lonely bed tonight. I let one of them buy me drinks. A shot of vodka, then one of tequila… By the time he asks me if I want to leave, everything around me is fuzzy. Nodding, I let him lead me to his car. He’s a good-looking man in his thirties, with sandy hair and blue-gray eyes. Not particularly tall, but reasonably well built. He’s an attorney, he tells me as he drives us to a nearby motel. I close my eyes as he continues talking. I don’t care who he is or what he does. I just want him to fuck me, to fill that gaping void inside. To take away the chill that has seeped deep into my bones. He rents a room at the front desk, and we go upstairs. When we get into the room, he takes off my coat and begins to kiss me. I can taste beer and a hint of tacos on his tongue. He presses me to him, his hands hot and eager as they begin to explore my body—and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. “Stop.” I shove him away as hard as I can. Taken by surprise, he stumbles back a couple of steps. “What the fuck—” He gapes at me, mouth open in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, grabbing my coat. “It’s not you, I promise.” And before he can say a word, I run out of the room. Catching a taxi, I go home, sick from the alcohol and utterly miserable. There is no fix for my addiction, no way to quench my thirst. Even drunk, I can’t bear another man’s touch.

27

N ora IT STARTS OFF AS ANOTHER EROTIC DREAM. Strong, hard hands slide up my naked body, callused palms scratching my skin as he squeezes my breasts, his thumbs rubbing against my peaked, sensitive nipples. I arch against him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the heavy weight of his powerful body pressing me into the mattress. His muscular legs force my thighs apart, and his erection prods at my sex, the broad head sliding between the soft folds and exerting light pressure on my clit. I moan, rubbing against him, my inner muscles clenching with the need to take him deep inside. I’m soaking wet and panting, and my hands grasp his tight, muscular ass, trying to force him in, to get him to fuck me. He laughs, the sound a low, seductive rumble in his chest, and his big hands grasp my wrists, pinning them above my head. “Miss me, my pet?” he murmurs in my ear, his hot breath sending erotic chills down the side of my body. My pet? Julian never talks in my dreams— I gasp, my eyes popping open… and in the dim early morning light, I see him. Julian. Naked and aroused, he’s sprawled on top of me, holding me down on my bed. His dark hair is cut shorter than before, and his magnificent face is taut with lust, his eyes glittering like blue jewels. I freeze, staring up at him, my heart thudding heavily in my ribcage. For a moment, I think that I’m still dreaming—that my mind is playing cruel tricks on

me. My vision dims, blurs, and I realize that I literally stopped breathing for a moment, that the shock has driven all air out of my lungs. I inhale sharply, still frozen in place, and he lowers his head, his mouth descending on mine. His tongue slips between my parted lips, invading me, and the hauntingly familiar taste of him makes my head spin. There is no longer any doubt in my mind. It’s really Julian—he’s as alive and vital as ever. Fury, sharp and sudden, spikes through me. He’s alive—he’s been alive all along! The entire time while I mourned him, while I tried to mend my shattered soul, he’s been alive and well, undoubtedly laughing at my pathetic attempts to get on with my life. I bite his lip, hard, filled with the savage need to hurt him—to rip his flesh as he ripped apart my heart. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth, and he jerks back with a curse, his eyes darkening with anger. I’m not afraid, however. Not anymore. “Let me go,” I hiss furiously, struggling against his hold. “You fucking asshole! You bastard! You were never dead! You were never fucking dead…” To my complete humiliation, the last phrase escapes as a choked sob, my voice breaking at the end. His jaw tightens as he stares at me, the sensuous perfection of his lips marred by the bloody mark from my teeth. He holds me effortlessly, his hard cock poised at the soft entrance to my body. Enraged, I twist to the side, trying to bite him again, and he transfers my wrists into his left palm, restraining me with one hand while grabbing my hair with the other. Now I can’t move at all; all I can do is glare at him, tears of rage and bitter frustration burning my eyes. Unexpectedly, his expression softens. “Looks like my little kitten grew some claws,” he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I think I like it.” I literally see red. “Fuck you!” I shriek, bucking against him, heedless of our naked bodies rubbing together. “Fuck you and what you like—” His mouth swoops down on me, swallowing my angry words, and my teeth snap at him in another biting attempt. He jerks away at the last second, laughing softly. At the same time, the head of his cock begins to push inside me. Maddened beyond bearing, I scream—and his right hand releases my hair, slapping over my mouth instead. “Shhh,” he whispers in my ear, ignoring my muffled cries. “We wouldn’t want your neighbors to hear, now would we?”

At this moment, I couldn’t care if the whole world heard us. I’m filled with the primitive need to lash out at him, to hurt him as he hurt me. If I had a gun with me, I would’ve gladly shot him for the agony he put me through. But I don’t have a gun. I don’t have anything, and he slowly pushes deeper into my vulnerable opening, his thick cock stretching me, penetrating me with its heated hardness. I’m still wet from my earlier ‘dream,’ but I’m also tense with anger, and my body protests the intrusion, all of my muscles tightening to keep him out. It’s like our first time again—except that the twister of emotions in my chest right now is far more complex than the fear I once felt. My struggles gradually dying down, I gaze up at him mutely, reeling from the shock of his return. When he’s all the way inside me, he stops, slowly lifting his hand from my mouth. I remain silent, tears spilling out of the corners of my eyes. Lowering his head, he kisses me gently, as though apologizing for taking me so ruthlessly. My lungs cease to work; as always, this peculiar mix of cruelty and tenderness turns me inside out, wreaking havoc on my already-conflicted mind. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my tear-wet cheek. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You were mine to protect and I fucked up. I fucked up so fucking bad…” He exhales softly. “I never meant to leave you, never meant to let you go—” “But you did.” My voice is small and hurt, like that of a wounded child. “You let me think you were dead—” “No.” He lets go of my wrists and props himself up on his elbows, framing my face with his big hands. His eyes burn into mine so intensely, I feel like he’s consuming me with his gaze. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.” My hands slowly lower to his shoulders. “What was it like then?” I ask bitterly. How could he have done this to me? How could he have stolen me, taken everything from me, only to abandon me so cruelly? “I’ll explain everything,” he promises, his voice low and thick with lust. There’s sweat beading up on his brow, and I can feel his cock throbbing deep within me. He’s holding on to his control by a shred. “But right now, I need you, Nora. I need this…” He thrusts his hips forward, and I moan as he hits my G-spot, sending a blast of sensation through my nerve endings. “That’s right,” he whispers harshly, repeating the motion. “I need this. I want to feel your tight little pussy sheathing me like a glove. I want to fuck you, and I

want to fucking devour you. Every single inch of you is mine, Nora, only mine…” He lowers his head again, taking my mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss as he continues thrusting into me with a slow, relentless rhythm. My own breathing picks up, a rush of heat flooding my body. My fingers tighten on his shoulders, and my legs wrap around his muscular thighs, taking him deeper into me. After months of abstinence, it’s almost too much, but I welcome the slight burn, the exquisite pleasure-pain of his possession. I can feel the tension growing inside me, the delicious prickling of pre-orgasmic bliss, and then I explode with a strangled cry, my inner muscles clamping tightly around his thick cock. “Yes, baby, that’s it,” he groans hoarsely, his pace picking up, and then, with one last, powerful thrust, he finds his own peak, his shaft pulsing deep within me. I can feel the warmth of his seed releasing inside me, and I hold him close as he collapses on top of me, his large body heavy and covered with sweat.

“DO YOU WANT COFFEE OR TEA?” I ASK, GLANCING AT JULIAN AS I PUTTER AROUND THE TINY KITCHEN in the corner of my studio. He’s sitting at the table by the wall, wearing a pair of jeans—the only thing he deigned to put on after his shower. His bronzed, rippled torso draws my eyes, and my hand shakes slightly as I reach for a cup. With his hair cut short, his cheekbones appear sharper, his features even more chiseled than before. Frowning, I take a closer look. He seems thinner than I recall him being, almost as if he lost some weight. Ignoring my staring, Julian leans back in the flimsy chair I bought at IKEA, stretching out his long legs. His feet are bare and strikingly masculine. “Coffee would be great,” he says lazily, watching me with a heavy-lidded gaze. He reminds me of a panther patiently stalking its prey. I swallow, placing the cup on the counter and reaching for the coffeemaker. Unlike him, I’m wearing jeans, thick socks, and a fleece sweater. Being fully dressed makes me feel less vulnerable, more in control. The whole thing is surreal. If it weren’t for the slight soreness between my thighs, I would’ve been convinced that I am hallucinating. But no, my captor—the man who had been the center of my existence for so long—is here in my tiny apartment, dominating it with his powerful presence. After the coffee is ready, I pour each of us a cup and join him at the table. I feel off-balance, like I’m walking on a tightrope. One second I want to scream with joy

that he’s alive, and the next I want to kill him for putting me through this torture. And through it all, at the back of my mind is the knowledge that neither of those is an appropriate response for this situation. By all rights, I should be trying to escape and call the police. Julian doesn’t seem the least bit afraid of that possibility. He’s as comfortable and self-assured in my studio as he was on his island. Picking up his cup, he takes a sip of the coffee and looks at me, a mesmerizing half-smile playing on his beautiful lips. I curve my hands around my own cup, enjoying the warmth between my palms. “How did you survive the explosion?” I ask quietly, holding his gaze. His mouth twists slightly. “I very nearly didn’t. When they saw that they were losing, one of those suicidal motherfuckers set off a bomb. Two of my men and I happened to be near the ladder to the basement, and we dove into the opening at the last minute. A section of the floor collapsed on me, knocking me out and killing one of the men who was with me. Luckily for me, the other one—Lucas—survived and remained conscious. He managed to drag both of us into the drainpipe, and there was enough fresh air coming in from the outside that we didn’t die of smoke inhalation.” I draw in a shaky breath. The drainpipe… That was the only place I hadn’t looked that horrific day when I spent hours combing through the burning ruins of the building. I had been so dazed and shellshocked, it hadn’t even occurred to me to check there for survivors. “By the time Lucas got us both to a hospital, I was in pretty bad shape,” Julian continues, looking at me. “I had a cracked skull and several broken bones. The doctors put me in a medically induced coma to deal with the swelling in my brain, and I didn’t regain consciousness until a few weeks ago.” Lifting his hand, he touches his short hair, and I realize the reason for his new haircut. They must’ve shaved his head in the hospital. My hand trembles as I lift my cup to take a sip. He had almost died after all—not that it makes his absence for the past few weeks any more forgivable. “Why didn’t you contact me at that point? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?” How could he let my torture continue even a day longer than necessary? He tilts his head to the side. “And then what?” he asks, his voice dangerously silky. “What would you have done, my pet? Rushed to my side to be with me in Thailand? Or would you have told your pals at the FBI where I could be found, so they could get me while I was weak and helpless?”

I inhale sharply. “I wouldn’t have told them—” “No?” He shoots me a sardonic look. “You think I don’t know that you talked to them? That they now have my name and picture?” “I only spoke to them because I thought you were dead!” I jump to my feet, nearly upending my coffee cup. All of my anger suddenly surfaces. Furious, I grip the edge of the table and glare at him. “I never betrayed you, even though I should have—” He rises to his feet, unfolding his tall, muscular body with athletic grace. “Yes, you probably should have,” he agrees softly, his gaze darkening as we stare at each other across the table. “You should’ve turned me in at that clinic in the Philippines and run as far and fast as you can, my pet.” I run my tongue over my dry lips. “Would that have helped?” “No. I would’ve found you anywhere.” My stomach twists with excitement and a dollop of fear. He’s not joking. I can see it on his face. He would’ve come for me, and no one could’ve stopped him. “Who are you?” I breathe, staring at him incredulously. “Why was there no record of you in any of the government databases? If you’re a big-time arms dealer, why hasn’t the FBI heard about you before?” He looks at me, his eyes strikingly blue in his darkly tanned face. “Because I have a wide network of connections, Nora,” he says quietly. “And because, as part of my interactions with my clients, I occasionally come across some information that the United States government finds valuable—information that relates to the safety and security of the American public.” My jaw drops. “You’re a spy?” “No.” He laughs. “Not in the traditional sense of the word. I’m not on anyone’s payroll—we simply exchange favors. I help your government, and in return, they make me invisible to all. Only a few of the highest-level officials in the CIA know that I exist at all.” He pauses, then adds softly, “Or at least, that was the case before the FBI got their hands on you, my pet. Now it’s a bit more complicated, and I’ll have to call in quite a few of those favors to get this information erased.” “I see,” I say evenly. My head is spinning. The man who kidnapped me is working with my government. It’s almost more than I can process right now. He smiles, visibly enjoying my confusion. “Don’t over-think it, my pet,” he advises, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Just because I help prevent an

occasional terrorist attack doesn’t make me a good guy.” “No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.” Turning away, I walk over to the small window and gaze outside. The sun is just beginning to come up, and there is a light layer of snow on the ground. The first snow of the season—it must’ve fallen overnight. I don’t hear him moving, but suddenly he’s behind me, his large arms folding around me, pressing me against his body. I can smell the clean male scent of his skin, and some of the residual tension drains out of me. Julian is alive. “So where do we go from here?” I ask, still staring at the snow. “Are you taking me back to the island?” He’s silent for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “I can’t. Not without Beth there.” There is a tight note in his voice, and I realize that he’s missing her too, that he feels her loss just as acutely. I turn around in his embrace and look up at him, placing my hands on his chest. “I’m glad those motherfuckers are dead.” The words come out in a low, fierce hiss. “I’m glad you killed them all.” “Yes,” he says, and I see a reflection of my rage and pain in the hard glitter of his eyes. “The men who hurt her are dead, and I’m taking steps to wipe out their entire organization. By the time I’m done, Al-Quadar will be nothing more than a file in government archives.” I hold his gaze without blinking. “Good.” I want them all destroyed. I want Julian to tear them apart and make them feel Beth’s agony. In this moment, we understand each other perfectly. He’s a killer, and that’s exactly what I need him to be. I don’t want a sweet, gentle man with a conscience— I want a monster who will brutally avenge Beth’s death. A faint smile lifts the corners of his lips. Bending down, he kisses me lightly on the forehead, then releases me to walk over to the bed, where the rest of his clothes are. Frowning, I watch as he pulls on a long-sleeved T-shirt, socks, and a pair of boots. “Are you leaving?” I ask, feeling like a cold fist is squeezing my heart at the thought. “No,” he replies, putting on his leather jacket and walking over to my closet. “We are leaving.” Opening the closet door, he pulls out my winter coat and warm boots and tosses them to me.

I catch the coat on auto-pilot and put it on. “Are you kidnapping me again?” I ask, pulling on the boots. “I don’t know.” Coming up to me, he cups my face in his hand, his thumb rubbing lightly against my lower lip. “Am I?” I don’t know either. For the first time in months, I feel alive. I feel emotions again, sharp and bright. Fear, excitement, exhilaration. Love. It’s not the sweet, tender kind of love I always dreamed of, but it’s love. Dark, twisted, and obsessive, it’s both a compulsion and an addiction. I know the world will condemn me for my choices, but I need Julian as much as he needs me. “What if I don’t want to go with you?” I don’t know why I feel the need to ask. I already know the answer. He smiles. Dropping his hand from my face, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small syringe, showing it to me. “I see,” I say calmly. He’s come prepared for any eventuality. He puts the syringe away and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a moment, then I put my hand in his large palm. He curls his fingers around mine, and his eyes look impossibly blue in that moment, almost radiant. We walk out together, holding hands like a couple. He leads me to a car that’s waiting for us—a black car with window glass that looks to be unusually thick. Likely bulletproof. He opens the door for me, and I climb inside. As the car takes off, he pulls me closer to him, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. For the first time in months, I feel like I’m home.

KEEP ME TWIST ME: BOOK 2

I THE ARRIVAL

1

J ulian THERE ARE DAYS WHEN THE URGE TO HURT, TO KILL, IS TOO STRONG TO BE DENIED. DAYS WHEN THE thin cloak of civilization threatens to slip at the least provocation, revealing the monster inside. Today is not one of those days. Today I have her with me. We’re in the car on the way to the airport. She’s sitting pressed against my side, her slim arms wrapped around me and her face buried in the crook of my neck. Cradling her with one arm, I stroke her dark hair, delighting in its silky texture. It’s long now, reaching all the way down to her narrow waist. She hasn’t cut her hair in nineteen months. Not since I kidnapped her for the first time. Inhaling, I draw in her scent—light and flowery, deliciously feminine. It’s a combination of some shampoo and her unique body chemistry, and it makes my mouth water. I want to strip her bare and follow that scent everywhere, to explore every curve and hollow of her body. My cock twitches, and I remind myself that I just fucked her. It doesn’t matter, though. My lust for her is constant. It used to bother me, this obsessive craving, but now I’m used to it. I’ve accepted my own madness. She seems calm, content even. I like that. I like to feel her cuddled against me, all soft and trusting. She knows my true nature, yet she still feels safe with me. I have trained her to feel that way.

I have made her love me. After a couple of minutes, she stirs in my arms, lifting her head to look at me. “Where are we going?” she asks, blinking, her long black lashes sweeping up and down like fans. She has the kind of eyes that could bring a man to his knees—soft, dark eyes that make me think of tangled sheets and naked flesh. I force myself to focus. Those eyes fuck with my concentration like nothing else. “We’re going to my home in Colombia,” I say, answering her question. “The place where I grew up.” I haven’t been there for years—not since my parents were murdered. However, my father’s compound is a fortress, and that’s precisely what we need right now. In the past few weeks, I’ve implemented additional security measures, making the place virtually impregnable. Nobody will take Nora from me again—I’ve made sure of that. “Are you going to be there with me?” I can hear the hopeful note in her voice, and I nod, smiling. “Yes, my pet, I’ll be there.” Now that I have her back, the compulsion to keep her near is too strong to deny. The island had once been the safest place for her, but no longer. Now they know of her existence—and they know she’s my Achilles’ heel. I need to have her with me, where I can protect her. She licks her lips, and my eyes follow the path of her delicate pink tongue. I want to wrap her thick hair around my fist and force her head down to my lap, but I resist the urge. There will be plenty of time for that later, when we’re in a more secure—and less public—location. “Are you going to send my parents another million dollars?” Her eyes are wide and guileless as she looks at me, but I can hear the subtle challenge in her voice. She’s testing me—testing the bounds of this new stage of our relationship. My smile broadens, and I reach over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want me to send it to them, my pet?” She stares at me without blinking. “Not really,” she says softly. “I would much rather call them instead.” I hold her gaze. “All right. You can call them once we get there.” Her eyes widen, and I see that I surprised her. She was expecting that I would keep her captive again, cut off from the outside world. What she doesn’t realize is that it’s no longer necessary.

I’ve succeeded in what I set out to do. I’ve made her completely mine. “Okay,” she says slowly, “I’ll do that.” She’s looking at me like she can’t quite figure me out—like I’m some exotic animal she’s never seen before. She often looks at me like that, with a mixture of wariness and fascination. She’s drawn to me—she’s been drawn to me from the very beginning—yet she’s still afraid of me on some level. The predator in me likes that. Her fear, her reluctance—they add a certain edge to the whole thing. It makes it that much sweeter to possess her, to feel her curled up in my arms every night. “Tell me about your time at home,” I murmur, settling her more comfortably against my shoulder. Brushing back her hair with my fingers, I look down at her upturned face. “What have you been up to all these months?” Her soft lips curve in a self-deprecating smile. “You mean, besides missing you?” A warm sensation spreads through my chest. I don’t want to acknowledge it. I don’t want it to matter. I want her to love me because I have a sick compulsion to own all of her—not because I feel anything in return. “Yes, besides that,” I say quietly, thinking of the many ways I’m going to fuck her when I get her alone again. “Well, I met with some of my friends,” she begins, and I listen as she gives me a general overview of her life over the past four months. I already know much of this, since Lucas had taken the initiative to put a discreet security detail on Nora while I had been in a coma. As soon as I woke up, he gave me a thorough report on everything, including Nora’s daily activities. I owe him for that—and for saving my life. Over the past few years, Lucas Kent has become an invaluable part of my organization. Few others would’ve had the balls to step up like that. Even without knowing the full truth about Nora, he had been smart enough to infer that she means something to me and take steps to ensure her safety. Of course, the one thing he didn’t do was restrict her activities in any way. “So did you see him?” I ask casually, lifting my hand to play with her earlobe. “Jake, I mean?” Her body turns into stone in my arms. I can feel the rigid tension in each muscle. “I ran into him briefly, after dinner with my friend Leah,” she says evenly, looking

up at me. “We had some coffee together, the three of us, and that was the only time I saw him.” I hold her gaze for a second, then nod, satisfied. She didn’t lie to me. The reports had mentioned that particular incident. When I first read about it, I wanted to kill the boy with my bare hands. I still might do that, if he approaches Nora ever again. The thought of another man near her fills me with white-hot fury. According to the reports, she didn’t date during our time apart—with one notable exception. “How about that lawyer?” I ask softly, doing my best to control the rage boiling inside me. “Did the two of you have a good time?” Her face turns pale underneath her golden skin tone. “I didn’t do anything with him,” she says, and I can hear the apprehension in her voice. “I went out that night because I was missing you, because I was tired of being alone, but nothing happened. I had a couple of drinks, but I still couldn’t go through with it.” “No?” Much of the anger drains out of me. I can read her well enough to know when she’s lying—and right now she’s telling the truth. Still, I make a mental note to have this investigated further. If the lawyer touched her in any way, he’ll pay. She looks at me, and I can feel her own tension dissipating. She can discern my moods like no one else. It’s as if she’s attuned to me on some level. It’s been that way with her from the very beginning. Unlike most women, she’s always been able to sense the real me. “No.” Her mouth tightens. “I couldn’t let him touch me. I’m too fucked up to be with a normal man now.” I lift my eyebrows, amused despite myself. She’s no longer the frightened girl I brought to the island. Somewhere along the way, my little pet grew some sharp claws and was starting to learn how to use them. “That’s good.” I run my fingers playfully across her cheek, then bend my head to inhale her sweet scent. “Nobody is allowed to touch you, baby. Nobody but me.” She doesn’t respond, just continues looking at me. She doesn’t need to say anything. We understand each other perfectly. I know I will kill any man who lays a finger on her, and she knows it too. It’s strange, but I’ve never felt possessive about a woman before. This is new territory for me. Before Nora, women were all interchangeable in my mind—just soft, pretty creatures passing through my life. They came to me willingly, wanting

to be fucked, to be hurt, and I indulged them, satisfying my own physical needs in the process. I fucked my first woman when I was fourteen, shortly after Maria’s death. She was one of my father’s whores; he sent her to me after I dispatched two of the men who murdered Maria by castrating them in their own homes. I think my father was hoping the lure of sex would be enough to distract me from my path of vengeance. Needless to say, his plan didn’t work out. She came into my room wearing a tight black dress, her makeup perfectly done and her lush, full mouth painted a glossy red. When she began to strip in front of me, I reacted just like any teenage boy would—with instant, violent lust. But I wasn’t any teenage boy at that point. I was a killer; I had been one since I was eight. I took the whore roughly that night, partly because I was too inexperienced to control myself, partly because I wanted to lash out at her, at my father, at the whole fucking world. I took my frustrations out on her flesh, leaving behind bruises and bite marks—and she came back for more the next night, this time without my father’s knowledge. We fucked like that for a month, with her stealing into my room every chance she got, teaching me what she liked… what she claimed many women liked. She didn’t want sweet and gentle in bed; she wanted pain and force. She wanted someone to make her feel alive. And I found that I liked that. I liked hearing her scream and beg as I hurt her and made her come. The violence crawling under my skin had found another outlet, and it was one I used every chance I got. It wasn’t enough, of course. The rage dwelling deep within me couldn’t be pacified so easily. Maria’s death changed something inside me. She had been the only pure, beautiful thing in my life, and she was gone. Her death accomplished more than my father’s training ever could: it killed any remaining conscience I might’ve possessed. I was no longer a boy reluctantly following in my father’s footsteps; I was a predator who craved blood and vengeance. Ignoring my father’s orders to let the matter drop, I hunted down Maria’s killers one by one and made them pay, drinking in their screams of agony, their pleas for mercy and for quicker death. After that, there were retaliations and counter-retaliations. People died. My father’s men. His rival’s men. The violence kept escalating until my father decided to pacify his associates by removing me from the business. I was sent away, to Europe and Asia… and there I found dozens more women like the one who had introduced me to sex. Beautiful, willing women whose proclivities mirrored my

own. I gave them their dark fantasies, and they gave me momentary pleasure—an arrangement that suited my life perfectly, especially after I came back to take up the reins of my father’s organization. It wasn’t until nineteen months ago, during a business trip to Chicago, that I found her. Nora. My Maria reincarnated. The girl I intend to keep forever.

2

N ora SITTING THERE IN JULIAN’S EMBRACE, I FEEL THE FAMILIAR HUM OF EXCITEMENT MIXED WITH trepidation. Our separation hasn’t changed him one bit. He’s still the same man who almost killed Jake, who didn’t hesitate to kidnap a girl he wanted. He’s also the man who nearly died rescuing me. Now that I know what happened to him, I can see the physical signs of his ordeal. He’s leaner than before, his tan skin stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones. There is a ragged pink scar on his left ear, and his dark hair is extrashort. On the left side of his skull, the growth pattern of that hair is a bit uneven, as though it’s concealing a scar there as well. Despite those tiny imperfections, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s alive. Julian is alive, and I’m with him again. It still seems so surreal. Up until this morning, I thought he was dead. I was convinced he had died in the explosion. For four long, excruciating months, I had been forcing myself to be strong, to get on with my life and try to forget the man sitting next to me right now. The man who stole my freedom. The man I love. Raising my left hand, I gently trace the outline of his lips with my index finger. He’s got the most incredible mouth I have ever seen—a mouth made for sin. At my touch, his beautiful lips part, and he catches the tip of my finger with his sharp

white teeth, biting down on it lightly, then sucking my finger into his mouth. A tremor of arousal runs through me as his warm, wet tongue laves my finger. My inner muscles clench, and I can feel my underwear getting damp. God, I’m so easy when it comes to him. One look, one touch, and I want him. My sex feels swollen and slightly sore after the way he fucked me earlier, but my body aches for him to take me again. Julian is alive, and he’s taking me away again. As that fact begins to sink in, I pull my finger away from his lips, a sudden chill feathering over my skin and cooling my desire. There’s no turning back now, no possibility of changing my mind. Julian is again in charge of my life, and this time I’d willingly flown into the spider’s web, placing myself at his mercy. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had been unwilling, I remind myself. I remember the syringe in Julian’s pocket, and I know that the outcome would’ve been the same regardless. Conscious or sedated, I would’ve been accompanying him today. For some messed-up reason, that fact makes me feel better, and I place my head back on Julian’s shoulder, letting myself relax against him. It’s futile to fight against one’s destiny, and I’m starting to accept that fact.

WITH TRAFFIC, OUR RIDE TO THE AIRPORT TAKES A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR. TO MY SURPRISE, WE DON’T go to O’Hare. Instead we end up at a small airstrip where a sizable plane awaits our arrival. I can make out the letters ‘G650’ on its tail. “Is that yours?” I ask as Julian opens the car door for me. “Yes.” He doesn’t look at me or elaborate further. Instead his gaze appears to be scanning our surroundings, as though looking for hidden threats. There is an alertness to his manner that I don’t remember seeing before, and for the first time, I realize that the island was his sanctuary as well, a place where he could truly relax and let down his guard. As soon as I climb out, Julian grips my elbow and ushers me toward the plane. The driver follows us. I didn’t see him before, as a panel separated the backseat area of the car from the front, so now I sneak a glance at him as we walk toward the plane. The guy must be one of Julian’s Navy SEALs. His blond hair is cut short, and his pale eyes are ice-cold in his square-jawed face. He’s even taller than Julian, and he moves with the same athletic, warrior-like grace, his every movement carefully

controlled. There is a huge assault rifle in his hands, and I have no doubt that he knows exactly how to use it. Another dangerous man… one that many women would undoubtedly find attractive, with his regular features and muscular body. He doesn’t appeal to me, but I’m spoiled. Few men can hold a candle to Julian’s darkangel allure. “What kind of a plane is this?” I ask Julian as we walk up the steps and enter a luxurious cabin. I don’t know anything about private jets, but this one looks fancy. I’m doing my best not to gawk at everything, but I’m failing miserably. The creamcolored leather seats inside are huge, and there is an actual couch with a coffee table in front of it. There is also an open door leading to the back of the airplane, and I catch a glimpse of a king-size bed sitting there. My mouth falls open in shock. The plane has a bedroom. “It’s one of the higher-end Gulfstreams,” he replies, turning me so he can help me take off my coat. His warm hands brush against my neck, sending a pleasant shiver through me. “An ultra-long-range business jet. It can take us directly to our destination without needing to make a fuel stop.” “It’s very nice,” I say, watching as Julian hangs my coat in the closet by the door and then takes off his own jacket. I can’t take my eyes off him, and I realize that a part of me still fears that this is not real—that I’ll wake up and find out that this was all just a dream… that Julian had truly died in the explosion. The thought causes a shudder to run through me, and Julian notices my involuntary movement. “Are you cold?” he asks, stepping toward me. “I can have the temperature adjusted.” “No, I’m fine.” Nevertheless, I enjoy Julian’s warmth as he pulls me toward him and rubs my arms for a few seconds. I can feel the heat of his body seeping through my clothes, chasing away the memory of those awful months when I thought I’d lost him. Wrapping my arms around Julian’s waist, I hug him fiercely. He’s alive, and I have him with me. That’s all that matters now. “We’re ready for takeoff.” An unfamiliar male voice startles me, and I let go of Julian, looking back to see the blond driver standing there, watching us with an unreadable expression on his hard face. “Good.” Julian keeps his arm around me, pressing me against his side when I try to step away. “Nora, this is Lucas. He’s the one who dragged me out of the warehouse.”

“Oh, I see.” I beam at the man, my smile wide and genuine. This man had saved Julian’s life. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lucas. I can’t even begin to thank you for what you did—” His eyebrows arch a little, as though I said something that surprised him. “I was just doing my job,” he says, his voice deep and slightly amused. The corner of Julian’s mouth lifts in a faint smile, but he doesn’t respond to that. Instead he asks, “Is everything ready for us at the estate?” Lucas nods. “All set.” Then he looks at me, his face as expressionless as before. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nora.” And turning around, he disappears into the pilot’s area at the front. “He drives and flies planes for you?” I ask Julian after Lucas is gone. “He’s very versatile,” Julian says, leading me toward the plush seats. “Most of my men are.” As soon as we sit down, a strikingly beautiful dark-haired woman comes into the cabin from somewhere in the front. Her white dress appears to have been poured on her curves, and with the full layer of makeup she has on, she looks as glamorous as a movie star—except for the tray with a champagne bottle and two glasses she’s holding in her hands. Her gaze lands on me briefly before sliding over to Julian. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Esguerra?” she asks as she bends down to place the tray on the table between our seats. Her voice is soft and melodic, and the hungry way she looks at Julian sets my teeth on edge. “This should suffice for now. Thank you, Isabella,” he says, giving her a brief smile, and I feel a sudden sharp stab of jealousy. Julian told me once that he hadn’t fucked anyone else since meeting me, but I still can’t help wondering if he had sex with this woman at some point in the past. She looks like a bombshell, and her manner makes it clear she would be more than willing to bring Julian anything he wants—including herself, naked on a silver platter. Before my thoughts can travel any further down that road, I take a deep breath and force myself to look out the window at the slowly falling snow. A part of me knows that this whole thing is insane, that it’s illogical to feel so possessive about Julian. Any rational woman would be overjoyed to have her kidnapper’s attention deflected away from her, but I’m no longer rational when it comes to him. Stockholm Syndrome. Capture-bonding. Traumatic bonding. My therapist had used all of these terms during our few brief sessions together. She had been trying

to get me to talk about my feelings for Julian, but it had been too painful for me to discuss the man I’d thought I lost, so I stopped going to her. I did look up the terms later, though, and I can see why they would be applicable to my experience. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, though, or if it even matters at this point. Naming something doesn’t make it go away. Whatever the cause of my emotional attachment to Julian, I can’t turn it off. I can’t make myself love him any less. By the time I turn back to face Julian, the flight attendant is gone from the main cabin. I can hear the jet engines roaring to life, and I automatically fasten my safety belt, as I’d been taught to do my whole life. “Champagne?” he asks, reaching for the bottle at the table. “Sure, why not,” I say, and watch him deftly pour me a glass. He hands it to me, and I sit back in my spacious seat, sipping the bubbly drink as the plane starts rolling. My new life with Julian has begun.

3

J ulian SIPPING FROM MY OWN GLASS, I STUDY NORA AS SHE LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW AT THE RAPIDLY shrinking ground below. She’s wearing jeans and a blue fleece sweater, her small feet clad in a pair of chunky-looking black sheepskin boots. Uggs, I think they’re called. Despite that off-putting footwear, she still looks sexy—though I far prefer seeing her in summer dresses, her smooth skin glowing in the sun. Watching her calm expression, I wonder what she’s thinking, if she has any regrets. She shouldn’t. I would’ve taken her regardless. As though sensing my gaze on her, she turns toward me. “How did they find out about me?” she asks quietly. “The men who kidnapped me, I mean. How did they learn of my existence?” At her question, my entire body tenses. My mind flashes back to those hellish hours after the attack on the clinic, and for a moment, I’m gripped by that same volatile mix of burning fury and paralyzing fear. She could’ve died. She would’ve died, if I hadn’t found her in time. Even if I’d given them what they wanted, they would’ve still killed her to punish me for not giving in to their demands sooner. I would’ve lost her, just like I lost Maria. Just like we both lost Beth. “It was the nursing assistant at the clinic.” My voice comes out sounding cold and distant as I place my champagne glass back on the tray. “Angela. She was on Al-Quadar’s payroll all along.”

Nora’s eyes glitter brightly. “That bitch,” she whispers, and I can hear the pain and anger in her voice. Her hand shakes as she puts down her own glass on the table. “That fucking bitch.” I nod, trying to control my own rage as images from the video Majid sent me slide through my mind. They tortured Beth before killing her. They made her suffer. Beth, whose life had held nothing but suffering since her asshole of a father sold her to a brothel across the Mexican border at the age of thirteen. Who had been one of the very few people whose loyalty I never questioned. They made her suffer… and now I will make them suffer worse. “Where is she now?” Nora’s question brings me out of a pleasurable reverie where I have each member of Al-Quadar strung up and at my mercy. When I look at her blankly, she clarifies, “Angela.” I smile at her naïve question. “You don’t have to worry about her, my pet.” All that remains of Angela are ashes, scattered on the lawn of the clinic in the Philippines. Peter’s brand of questioning is brutal but effective, and he always disposes of the evidence afterwards. “She paid for her betrayal.” Nora swallows, and I know she understands exactly what I mean. She’s no longer the same girl I met in that club in Chicago. I can see the shadows in her eyes, and I know I’m responsible for putting them there. Despite my best efforts to keep her sheltered on the island, the ugliness of my world touched her, tainted her innocence. Al-Quadar will pay for that as well. The scar on my head begins to throb, and I touch it lightly with my left hand. My head still aches occasionally, but other than that, I’m almost back to my normal self. Considering that I spent a good portion of the last four months as a vegetable, I’m quite content with this state of affairs. “Are you all right?” There is a concerned expression on Nora’s face as she reaches up to touch the area above my left ear. Her slender fingers are gentle on my scalp. “Does it still hurt?” Her touch sends pleasure streaking down my spine. I want this from her. I want her to care about my well-being. I want her to love me even though I stole her freedom—even though, by all rights, she should hate me. I have no illusions about myself. I’m one of those men they show on the news— the ones that everyone fears and despises. I took a young woman because I wanted her and for no other reason.

I took her, and I made her mine. I make no excuses for my actions. I feel no guilt either. I wanted Nora, and now she’s here with me, looking at me like I’m the most important person in her world. And I am. I am exactly what she needs now… what she craves. I will give her everything, and I will take everything from her in return. Her body, her mind, her devotion—I want it all. I want her pain and her pleasure, her fear and her joy. I want to be her entire life. “No, it’s fine,” I say in response to her earlier question. “It’s almost healed.” She pulls her fingers away, and I catch her hand, not ready to forego the pleasure of her touch. Her hand is slim and delicate in my grasp, her skin soft and warm. She tries to tug it away reflexively, but I don’t let her, my fingers tightening around her small palm. Her strength is insignificant compared to mine; she can’t make me release her unless I choose to let her go. She doesn’t really want me to let her go, anyway. I can feel the excitement rising within her, and my body hardens, a dark hunger awakening within me again. Reaching across the table, I slowly and purposefully unbuckle her safety belt. Then I stand up, still holding her hand, and lead her to the bedroom at the back of the airplane.

SHE’S SILENT AS WE ENTER THE ROOM AND I CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND US. THE AREA IS NOT soundproof, but Isabella and Lucas are at the front of the plane, so we should have some privacy. I don’t normally care if someone hears or sees me having sex, but what I do with Nora is different. She’s mine, and I don’t intend to share her. In any way. Letting go of her hand, I walk over to the bed and sit down on it, leaning back and crossing my legs at the ankles. A casual pose, though there’s nothing casual in the way I feel as I look at her. The desire to possess her is violent, all-consuming. It’s an obsession that goes beyond a simple sexual need, though my body burns for her. I don’t just want to fuck her; I want to imprint myself on her, to mark her from the inside out, so that she will never belong to any man but me. I want to own her completely. “Take off your clothes,” I order, holding her gaze. My dick is so hard, it’s as

though it’s been months, instead of hours, since I had her. It takes all of my selfrestraint not to rip off her clothes, bend her over the bed, and pound into her flesh until I explode. I control myself because I don’t want a quick fuck. I have other things in mind for today. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stay still, watching as she slowly begins to disrobe. Her face is flushed, her breathing coming faster, and I know she’s already aroused, her pussy hot and slick, primed for me. At the same time, I can feel the hesitation in her movements, see the wariness in her eyes. There is a part of her that still fears me, that knows what I’m capable of. She’s right to be afraid. There is something within me that thrives on the pain of others, that wants to hurt them. That wants to hurt her. She takes off her fleece sweater first, revealing a black tank top underneath. Her pink bra straps peek through, and the innocent color excites me for some reason, sending a fresh surge of blood straight to my cock. The tank top comes off next, and by the time she’s pulled off her boots and jeans, I’m all but ready to explode. In her pink matching bra-and-panties set, she’s the most delectable creature I have ever seen. Her petite body is fit and toned, the muscles in her arms and legs subtly defined. Despite her slenderness, she is undeniably feminine, her ass perfectly curved and her small breasts surprisingly round. With her long hair flowing down her back, she looks like a Victoria’s Secret model in miniature. The only flaw is a small scar on the right side of her flat stomach—the reminder of her appendectomy. I have to touch her. “Come here,” I say hoarsely, my cock straining painfully against the fly of my jeans. Staring at me with her huge dark eyes, she approaches cautiously, uncertainly, as though I might attack her at any time. I suck in another deep breath to prevent myself from doing exactly that. Instead, when she reaches me, I lean forward and firmly grip her waist, drawing her toward me so that she’s standing between my legs. Her skin is cool and smooth to the touch, her ribcage so narrow that I can almost encircle her waist with my hands. It would be so easy to damage her, to break her. Her vulnerability turns me on almost as much as her beauty.

Reaching up, I find the clasp of her bra and release her breasts from their confinement. As the bra slips down her arms, my mouth goes dry and my entire body tightens. Even though I’ve seen her naked hundreds of times, each time is a revelation. Her nipples are small, pinkish-brown in color, and her breasts are the same light golden hue as the rest of her body. Unable to resist, I cup those soft, round mounds in my hands, squeezing them, kneading them. Her flesh is sleek and firm, her nipples stiff against my palms. I can hear the catch in her breathing as my thumbs rub across those hardened peaks, and my hunger intensifies. Releasing her breasts, I hook my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and push it down her legs, then cup her sex with my right hand. My middle finger pushes into her small opening, and the warm moisture I find there makes my cock jerk. She gasps as my callused thumb presses against her clit, and her hands reach up to grab my shoulders, her sharp little nails digging into my skin. I can’t wait any longer. I must have her. “Get on the bed.” My voice is thick with lust as I withdraw my hand from her pussy. “I want you on your stomach.” She scrambles to obey as I rise to my feet and begin to disrobe. I’ve trained her well. By the time I’ve removed my own clothes, she’s lying on her stomach fully naked, a pillow propping up her curvy little ass. Her arms are folded under her head, and her face is turned toward me. She’s watching me with those thickly lashed eyes of hers, and I can sense her nervous anticipation. She both desires and fears me in this moment. It turns me on, that look, but it also awakens another kind of hunger in me. A darker, more perverse need. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the belt from my jeans lying on the floor. Picking it up, I wind the buckle end around my right hand and approach the bed. Nora doesn’t move, though I can see the anxious tension in her body. My lips twitch. Such a good girl. She knows it would go worse for her if she resists. Of course, by now she also knows that I will temper her pain with pleasure, that she will derive enjoyment from this too. Pausing at the edge of the bed, I extend my free hand and trail my fingers along her spine. She trembles under my touch, a reaction that sends dark excitement surging through me. This is exactly what I want, what I need—this deep, twisted connection that exists between us. I want to drink in her fear, her pain. I want to

hear her screams, feel her helpless struggles—and then have her melt in my arms as I bring her to ecstasy again and again. For some reason, this small girl brings out the worst in me, makes me forget whatever shreds of morality I possess. She’s the only woman I’ve ever forced into my bed, the only one I’ve wanted this much… and in such a wrong way. Having her here, at my mercy, is beyond heady—it’s the most powerful drug I’ve ever tasted. I’ve never felt this way about another human being before, and the knowledge that she’s mine, that I can do anything I want to her, is a rush unlike any other. With all those other women, it was a game we played, a way to scratch a mutual itch, but with Nora, it’s different. With her, it’s something more. “Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the soft skin of her thighs and buttocks. Soon it will be marked, but for now I’m enjoying its smoothness. “So very, very beautiful…” Bending over her, I press a gentle kiss to the base of her spine, inhaling her warm female scent and letting the anticipation build. A shiver ripples through her, and I smile, adrenaline surging through my veins. Straightening, I take a step back and swing the belt. I don’t use a lot of force, but she still jumps when the belt lands on the round globes of her ass, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She doesn’t try to move or crawl away; instead her small fists grip the sheets tightly, and her eyes squeeze shut. I swing harder a second time, then again and again, my movements taking on a hypnotic, trance-like rhythm. With each stroke of the belt, I sink deeper and deeper into the blackness, my world narrowing until all I see, all I hear, all I feel is her. The reddening of her tender flesh, the pained gasps and sobs that issue from her throat, the way her body quivers and trembles under each stroke of my belt—I drink it all in, letting it feed my addiction, soothe the desperate hunger gnawing at my insides. Time blurs and stretches. I don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours. When I finally stop, she’s lying limp and unmoving, her buttocks and thighs covered with pink welts. There is a dazed, almost blissful expression on her tear-wet face, and her slender body is shaking, small tremors rippling over her skin. Letting the belt drop to the floor, I carefully pick her up and sit down on the bed, holding her cradled on my lap. My own heart is hammering in my chest, my mind still reeling from the incredible rush I just experienced. She shudders, hiding her face against my shoulder, and begins to cry. I stroke her hair, slowly, soothingly, letting her come down from her endorphin-induced high as I come down from mine.

This is what I need now—to comfort her, to feel her in my arms. I want to be her everything: her protector and her tormentor, her joy and her sorrow. I want to bind her to me physically and emotionally, to brand myself so deeply on her mind and soul that she will never think about leaving me. As her sobs begin to ease, my sexual hunger returns. My soothing caresses become more purposeful, my hands starting to roam over her body with an intent to arouse, not just to calm. My right hand slips between her thighs, my fingers pressing against her clit, and at the same time, my other hand grips her hair and pulls on it, forcing her to meet my gaze. She still looks dazed, her soft lips parted as she stares at me, and I lean down, taking her mouth in a deep, thorough kiss. She moans into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders, and I can feel the heat rising between us. My balls draw up tightly against my body, my cock aching for her slick, warm flesh. I stand up, still holding her in my arms, and place her on the bed. She winces, and I realize the sheets are rubbing against her welts, hurting her. “Turn over, baby,” I whisper, wanting only her pleasure now. She obediently rolls over onto her stomach, in the same position as before, and I position her so that she’s on her hands and knees, her elbows bent. On all fours, with her ass tilted up and her back slightly arched, she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can see everything—the folds of her delicate pussy, the tiny hole of her anus, the delicious curves of her cheeks, pink with marks from the belt. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest, and my cock is throbbing painfully as I grasp her hips, line the head of my dick up against her opening, and push inside. Hot, wet flesh envelops me, sheathing me in tight, slick perfection. She moans, arching toward me, trying to take me deeper, and I oblige, withdrawing partially and then slamming back in. A cry escapes her throat, and I repeat the move, my spine prickling with pleasure at the clinging grip of her tight channel. Waves of heat roll through me, and I begin to thrust with abandon, barely cognizant of my fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips. Her moans and cries increase in volume, and then I feel her peaking, her inner muscles contracting around my cock, milking it. Unable to hold on any longer, I explode, my vision blurring from the force of my release as my seed erupts into her warm depths. Panting, I collapse onto my side, pulling her with me. Our skin is damp with sweat, gluing us together, and my heart is racing. She’s breathing heavily too, and I can feel her pussy clenching around my softening cock as one last orgasmic shudder ripples through her.

We lie joined together as our breathing begins to ease. I’m holding her spooned against me, the soft curve of her ass pressing into my groin, and a sense of peace, of contentment, slowly steals over me. It’s always like that with her. Something about her calms my demons, makes me feel almost normal. Almost… happy. It’s not something I can explain or rationalize; it’s just there. It’s what makes my need for her so acute, so desperate. So dangerously fucked up. “Tell me you love me,” I murmur, stroking her outer thigh. “Tell me you missed me, baby.” She shifts in my arms, turning over to face me. Her dark eyes are solemn as she meets my gaze. “I love you, Julian,” she says softly, her delicate palm curving around my jaw. “I missed you more than life itself. You know that.” I do—but I still need this from her. In recent months, the emotional aspect has become as necessary to me as the physical. It amuses me, this strange quirk of mine. I want my little captive to love me, to care about me. I want to be more than just the monster of her nightmares. Closing my eyes, I draw her deeper into my embrace and let myself relax. In a few hours, she’s going to be mine in every sense of the word.

4

N ora I MUST’VE FALLEN ASLEEP IN JULIAN’S ARMS BECAUSE I WAKE UP WHEN THE PLANE BEGINS TO DESCEND. Opening my eyes, I stare at the unfamiliar surroundings, my body sore and aching from the sex we just had. I had forgotten what it was like with Julian, how devastating and cathartic the roller coaster ride of pain and ecstasy could be. I feel both empty and exhilarated at the same time, wrung out, yet invigorated by the maelstrom of emotions. Sitting up gingerly, I wince as my bruised bottom touches the sheets. That had been one of the more intense belting sessions; I won’t be surprised if these bruises last a while. Casting a glance around the room, I spot a door that I assume leads to the bathroom. Julian is not in the room, so I get up and go over there, feeling the need to wash up. To my surprise, the bathroom contains a small shower, as well as a real sink and toilet. With all these amenities, Julian’s jet seems more like a flying hotel than any commercial plane I’ve been on. There is even a plastic-wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash tucked inside a little shelf on the wall. I use all three and follow up with a quick shower. Then, feeling infinitely more refreshed, I go back into the bedroom to get dressed. When I enter the main cabin, I see Julian sitting on the couch, an open laptop on the table in front of him. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up, exposing tan, muscular forearms, and there is a frown of concentration on his face. He looks serious—and so devastatingly beautiful that my breath catches for a moment. As though sensing my presence, he looks up, his blue eyes gleaming. “How are

you, my pet?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, and I feel a hot flush moving over my entire body in response. “I’m fine.” I don’t know what else to say. My butt hurts because you whipped me, but that’s okay because you trained me to enjoy it? Yeah, sure. His lips curl in a slow smile. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I was just about to come get you. You should get into your seat—we’ll be landing soon.” “Okay.” I follow his suggestion, trying not to flinch at the pain caused by the simple act of sitting down. I will definitely have bruises for the next few days. Strapping myself in, I look out the window, curious about our destination. As the plane breaks through the cloud cover, I see a large city spread out below, with mountains looming on the edge of it. “What city is that?” I ask, turning towards Julian. “Bogotá,” he replies, closing his laptop. Picking it up, he walks over to sit down next to me. “We’ll only be there for a few hours.” “You have business there?” “You could say that.” He looks vaguely amused. “There is something I’d like to get done before we fly to the estate.” “What?” I inquire warily. An amused Julian is rarely a good sign. “You’ll see.” And opening the laptop again, he focuses on whatever he was doing before.

A BLACK CAR SIMILAR TO THE ONE THAT DROPPED US OFF AT THE AIRPORT WAITS FOR US WHEN WE GET off the plane. Lucas assumes the role of our driver again, while Julian continues working on his laptop, seemingly absorbed in his task. I don’t mind. I’m too busy staring at everything as we drive through the crowded streets. Bogotá has a certain ‘Old World’ vibe that I find fascinating. I can see traces of its Spanish heritage everywhere, mixed with a uniquely Latino flavor. It makes me crave arepas—corn cakes that I used to get from a Colombian food truck in downtown Chicago. “Where are we going?” I ask Julian when the car pulls up in front of a stately old church in a wealthy-looking neighborhood. Somehow I hadn’t pictured my captor as the church-going type. Instead of answering, he climbs out of the car and extends his hand to me.

“Come, Nora,” he says. “We don’t have a lot of time.” Time for what? I want to question him further, but I know it’s futile. He’s not going to answer me unless he feels like it. Placing my hand in Julian’s large palm, I climb out of the car and let him lead me toward the church building. For all I know, we’re meeting some of his associates here—though why he wants me with him for that is anyone’s guess. We enter through a little side door and find ourselves in a small, but beautifully decorated room. Old-fashioned wooden benches line the sides of it, and there is a pulpit with an intricate cross toward the front. For some reason, the sight of it makes me nervous. An insane, improbable thought occurs to me, and my palms begin to sweat. “Um, Julian…” I look up to find him gazing at me with a strange smile. “Why are we here?” “Can’t you guess, my pet?” he says softly, turning to face me. “We’re here to get married.” For a moment, all I can do is stare at him in mute shock. Then a nervous laugh escapes my throat. “You’re joking, right?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Joking? No, not at all.” He reaches for my hand again, and I feel him sliding something onto my left ring finger. My heart racing, I look down at my left hand in numb disbelief. The ring looks like something a Hollywood star might wear—a thin, diamond-encrusted band with a large, round stone sparkling in the center. It’s both delicate and ostentatious, and the fit is utterly perfect, as though it had been made just for me. The room fades in front of my eyes, spots of light dancing in the corners of my vision, and I realize that I literally stopped breathing for a few seconds. Desperately sucking in air, I look up at Julian, my entire body beginning to shake. “You… you want to marry me?” My voice comes out in a kind of horrified whisper. “Of course I do.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Why else would I bring you here?” I have no response to that; all I can do is stand there and stare at him, feeling like I’m hyperventilating. Marriage. Marriage to Julian. It simply doesn’t compute. Marriage and Julian are so far apart in my mind, they might as well be on opposite poles of the planet. When I think of marriage, it’s in the context of a pleasant, yet distant future—a future that involves a doting husband and two noisy children. In that picture, there is a dog and a house in the

suburbs, soccer games and school picnics. There is no killer with the face of a fallen angel, no beautiful monster to make me scream in his arms. “I can’t marry you.” The words tumble out before I can think better of it. “I’m sorry, Julian, but I can’t.” His face turns black. In a flash, he’s on me, one arm wrapped around my waist, pressing me against him, and the other hand gripping my jaw. “You said you loved me.” His voice is soft and even, but I can feel the dark rage underneath. “Was that a lie?” “No!” Shaking, I hold Julian’s furious gaze, my hands pushing helplessly against his powerful chest. I can feel the weight of the ring on my finger, and it adds to my panic. I don’t know how to explain, how to make him understand something that I can barely comprehend myself. I want to be with Julian. I can’t live without him, but marriage is something else entirely, something that doesn’t belong in our twisted relationship. “I do love you! You know that—” “So why would you refuse?” he demands, his eyes dark with fury. His grip on my jaw tightens, his fingers biting into my skin. My eyes begin to burn. How can I explain my reluctance? How can I say that he’s not someone I can picture as my husband? That he’s part of a life I never imagined, never wanted, and that marrying him would mean giving up that vague, far-off dream of a normal future? “Why do you want to marry me?” I ask desperately. “Why do you want something so traditional? I’m already yours—” “Yes, you are.” He leans down until his face is mere inches from mine. “And I want a legal document to that effect. You will be my wife, and no one will be able to take you from me.” I stare at Julian, my chest tightening as I begin to understand. This is not a sweet, romantic gesture on his part. He’s not doing this because he loves me and wants to start a family. That’s not the way Julian operates. Marriage would legitimize his possession of me—it’s as simple as that. It would be a different form of ownership, a more permanent one… and something within me shudders at the very idea. “I’m sorry,” I say evenly, gathering my courage. “I’m not ready for this. Can we discuss it again at some point later?” His expression hardens, his eyes turning into chips of blue ice. Abruptly releasing me, he takes a step back. “All right.” His voice is as cold as his gaze. “If that’s how you want to play it, my pet, we’ll do it your way.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a smartphone and begins typing on it. A sick sensation curls low in my stomach. “What are you doing?” When he doesn’t answer, I repeat my question, trying not to sound as panicked as I feel. “Julian, what are you doing?” “Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” he finally replies, looking up at me as he pockets his phone. “You still dream of him, don’t you? Of that boy you once wanted?” My heart stops beating for a second. “What? No, I don’t! Julian, I promise you, Jake has nothing to do with this—” He interrupts with a curt, dismissive gesture. “I should’ve removed him from your life a long time ago. Now I will remedy that oversight. Maybe then you will accept that you are with me now, not him.” “I am with you!” I don’t know what to say, how to convince Julian not to do it. Stepping toward him, I grip his hands, the heat of his skin burning my frozen fingers. “Listen to me, I love you, only you… He doesn’t mean anything to me—he hasn’t for a long time!” “Good.” His expression doesn’t soften, though his fingers fold around mine, imprisoning them in his grasp. “Then you shouldn’t care what happens to him.” “No, that’s not how it works! I care because he’s a human being, an innocent bystander in all of this, and for no other reason!” I’m shaking so hard now, my teeth are chattering. “He doesn’t deserve to be punished for my sins—” “It doesn’t matter to me what he deserves.” Julian’s voice lashes at me like a whip as he uses his grip on my hands to pull me closer. Leaning down, he grits out, “I want him out of your mind and out of your life, do you understand me?” The burning in my eyes intensifies, my vision blurring from unspilled tears. Through the haze of panic clouding my mind, I realize there’s only one thing I can do to stop this—only one way I can prevent Jake’s death. “All right,” I whisper in defeat, staring at the monster I’d fallen in love with. “I will do it. I will marry you.”

THE NEXT HOUR FEELS SURREAL. After calling off his henchmen, Julian introduces me to a wizened old man wearing a Catholic priest’s robes. The man doesn’t speak English, so I nod and

pretend to follow along as he chatters at me in rapid-fire Spanish. It’s embarrassing to admit, but the only Spanish I know is from my classes in high school. When I was growing up, my parents spoke English in the house, and I didn’t spend enough time with my abuela to pick up anything more than a few basic phrases. When my introduction to the priest is over, Julian leads me to another room—a small office that has a desk and two chairs. As soon as we get there, two young women enter the room. One of them brings in a long white dress, while the other one carries shoes and accessories. They’re friendly and excited, chatting with me in a mix of Spanish and English as they start doing my hair, and I try to respond in kind. However, my answers come out awkward and wooden, the growing knot of dread in my chest preventing me from acting like the eager young bride they expect to see. Noticing my lack of enthusiasm, Julian shoots me a dark glare, then disappears, leaving the women to fuss over me. By the time they’re done prettifying me, I’m both mentally and physically exhausted. Even though Chicago and Bogotá are in the same time zone, I feel jetlagged and utterly drained. A strange numbness steals over me, easing the churning tension in my stomach. It’s happening. It’s really happening. Julian and I are getting married. The panic that gripped me earlier is gone, having mellowed into a type of weary resignation. I don’t know what I expected from a man who held me captive for fifteen months. A reasonable discussion on the pros and cons of getting married at this point in our relationship? I mentally snort. Yeah, sure. In hindsight, it’s clear that our four-month separation had dulled my memories of those initial terrifying weeks on the island—that I had somehow managed to romanticize my abductor in my mind. I had foolishly begun to think that things could be different between us, to believe I had some say in my life. “All done.” The woman who was working on my hair gives me a beaming smile, interrupting my thoughts. “Beautiful, señorita, very beautiful. Now, please, the dress, and then we make your face nice.” They give me silk undergarments to go with the dress, and then tactfully turn away, giving me some privacy. Not wanting to drag it out, I swiftly change and pull on the dress—which, like the ring, fits me perfectly. Now all that remains is makeup and accessories, and the two women make short work of that. Ten minutes later, I’m ready for my wedding. “Come look,” one of them says, leading me toward the corner of the room.

There is a full-length mirror there that I hadn’t noticed before, and I stare in stunned silence at my reflection, hardly recognizing the image I see. The girl in the mirror is beautiful and sophisticated, with her hair styled in an artful updo and her makeup tastefully done. The mermaid-style dress is just right for her slim frame, with a sweetheart bodice exposing the graceful slope of her neck and shoulders. Teardrop-shaped diamond earrings decorate her small earlobes, and a matching necklace sparkles around her neck. She’s everything a bride should be… especially if one ignores the shadows in her eyes. My parents would’ve been so proud. The thought pops out of nowhere, and I realize for the first time that I’m getting married without my family there, that my parents won’t get to see their only child on that special day. A dull ache spreads through my chest at the thought. There will be no wedding-dress shopping with my mom, no cake-tasting with my dad. No bachelorette party with my friends at an all-male strip club. I try to imagine how Julian might react to something like that, and an unexpected snicker escapes my lips. I have a strong suspicion those poor strippers would leave the club in body bags if I so much as ventured near them. A knock on the door interrupts my semi-hysterical musings. The women rush to answer it, and I hear Julian speaking to them in Spanish. Turning toward me, they wave goodbye and quickly leave. As soon as they’re gone, Julian enters the room. Despite everything, I can’t help staring at him. Dressed in a crisp black tuxedo that hugs his tall, powerful frame to perfection, my husband-to-be is simply breathtaking. My mind flashes to our sex session on the plane, and wet heat gathers between my thighs even as my bruises begin to throb at the reminder. He’s studying me too, his gaze hot and proprietary as it moves over my body. “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony?” I inject as much sarcasm into my voice as I can, trying to ignore the effect he has on my senses. At this moment, I hate him almost as much as I love him, and the fact that I want to jump his bones bothers me to no small degree. I should be used to it by now, but I still find it disturbing, the way my brain and my body don’t communicate in his presence. A small smile tugs at the corner of his sensual mouth. “It’s okay, my pet. I think you and I are past such concerns. Are you ready?”

I nod and walk toward him. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable; one way or another, we’re getting married today. Julian offers me his arm, and I loop my hand through the crook of his elbow, letting him lead me back into the beautiful room with the pulpit. The priest is already waiting for us, as is Lucas. There is also a sizable camera sitting on top of a tall tripod. “Is that for wedding pictures?” I ask in surprise, stopping in the entryway. “Of course.” Julian’s eyes gleam at me. “Memories and all that good stuff.” Uh-huh. I can’t fathom why Julian wants this—the dress, the tux, the church. The entire thing is confusing to me. We’re not entering into a loving union; he’s simply binding me to him tighter, formalizing his ownership. All these accoutrements are meaningless, especially since Lucas is the only one who’ll witness the event. The thought makes my chest ache again. “Julian,” I say quietly, looking up at him, “can I call my parents now? I want to tell them about this. I want to let them know I’m getting married.” I’m almost certain he will refuse my request, but I feel compelled to ask regardless. To my surprise, he smiles at me. “If you wish, my pet. In fact, after you talk to them, they can watch our ceremony on a live video feed. Lucas can set that up for us.” I gape at him in shock. He wants my parents to watch the wedding? To see him —the man who kidnapped their daughter? For a moment, I feel like I entered an alternate universe, but then the sheer genius of his plan dawns on me. “You want me to introduce you to them, don’t you?” I whisper, staring at him. “You want me to tell them that I came with you of my own free will, to show them how happy we are together. Then you won’t have to worry about the authorities or anyone else coming after you. I’ll be just another girl who fell for a handsome, wealthy man and ran off with him. These pictures… that video… it’s all about staging a show…” His smile widens. “How you act and what you say to them is entirely up to you, my pet,” he says silkily. “They can witness a joyous occasion, or you can tell them you were abducted again. It’s your choice, Nora. You can do whatever you wish.”

5

J ulian HER DARK EYES ARE WIDE AND UNBLINKING AS SHE STARES AT ME, AND I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HER choice will be. As far as her parents are concerned, she’ll be the happiest bride in the world. She’ll put on the best act of her life. Anger and something else—something I don’t care to examine closely—churns in my gut at the thought. Rationally I understand her hesitation. I know what I am, what I have done to her. A smart woman would run as fast as she could—and Nora has always been smarter, more perceptive than most. She’s also young. I forget that sometimes. In the comfortable world of middleclass America, few women get married at her age. It’s possible that marriage is not something she thought about yet; in fact, it’s likely, given that she had been in high school when I met her. Rationally I understand all that… but rationality has nothing to do with the savage emotions seething under my skin. I want to string her up, whip her, and then fuck her until she’s raw and begging for mercy—until she admits that she’s mine, that she can’t fucking live without me. I don’t do any of that, though. Instead I smile coolly and wait for her decision. She inclines her head in a small nod. “All right.” Her voice is barely audible. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell them all about our love affair.” I conceal my satisfaction. “As you wish, my pet. I’ll have Lucas set up a secure connection for you.”

And leaving her standing there, I walk over to Lucas to discuss the logistics of that specific operation.

I ASK PADRE DIAZ TO GIVE US AN HOUR BEFORE STARTING THE CEREMONY AND THEN SIT DOWN ON ONE of the benches, giving Nora some privacy to talk to her parents. Of course, I’m monitoring her conversation through a little bluetooth device in my ear, but she doesn’t need to know that. Leaning back against the wall, I get comfortable and prepare to be entertained. Her mother picks up on the first ring. “Hi Mom… it’s me.” Nora’s voice is cheerful and upbeat, practically brimming with excitement. I stifle a smile; she’s going to be even better at this than I thought. “Nora, honey!” Gabriela Leston’s voice is filled with relief. “I’m so glad you called. I tried calling you five times today, but your phone kept going to voicemail. I was about to go over there in person—oh, wait, what number are you calling from?” “Mom, don’t freak out, but I’m not at home, okay?” Nora’s tone is soothing, but I wince internally. I don’t know much about normal parents, but I’m pretty sure saying the words ‘don’t freak out’ ensures that they do exactly that. “What do you mean?” Her mother’s voice immediately sharpens. “Where are you?” Nora clears her throat. “Um, I’m in Colombia, actually.” “WHAT?” I flinch at the earsplitting shout. “What do you mean, you’re in Colombia?” “Mom, you don’t understand, it’s great news…” And Nora launches into an explanation of how we had fallen in love on the island, how devastated she had been when she’d thought I was dead—and how ecstatic she was to learn that I’m alive. After she’s done, there is only silence on the phone. “Are you telling me that you’re with him now?” her mother finally asks, her voice hoarse and strained. “That he came back for you?” “Yes, exactly.” Nora’s tone is jubilant. “Don’t you see, Mom? I couldn’t really talk to you about any of this before because it was too difficult—because I thought

I’d lost him. But now we’re together again, and there’s something… something amazing that I have to tell you.” “What is it?” Her mother sounds understandably wary. “We’re getting married!” There is another long silence on the other end of the line. Then: “You’re getting married… to him?” I suppress another smile as Nora starts trying to convince her mother that I am not as bad as they think—that it was a combination of unfortunate circumstances that resulted in her kidnapping and that things are very different between us now. I’m not sure if Gabriela Leston is buying this, but she doesn’t really need to. The recording of this conversation will be distributed to key individuals in certain government agencies, helping soothe their ruffled feathers. I’m too valuable for them to fuck with, but it still doesn’t hurt to play along. Perception is everything, and Nora as my wife is much more palatable to them than Nora as my captive. I could’ve married her earlier, but I was trying to keep her hidden, keep her safe. That’s why I abducted her and took her to my island: so no one would find out about her existence and her importance to me. Now that the secret is out, however, I want the entire world to know that she’s mine—that if they dare touch her, they will pay. News of my vendetta against Al-Quadar is starting to filter through the sewers of the underworld, and I’ve made sure that the rumors are even more brutal than the reality. It’s those rumors that will keep Nora’s family safe—that and the security detail I put on her parents. It’s unlikely anyone would try to get to me through my in-laws —I’m not exactly known as a family man—but I am not taking any chances. The last thing I want is for Nora to grieve for her parents the way she’s still grieving for Beth. By the time Nora is wrapping up her conversation, Padre Diaz starts getting impatient. I give him a warning look, and he immediately stops fidgeting, all visible traces of annoyance fading from his features. The good Padre has known me since I was a boy, and he knows when he should exercise caution. When I glance in Nora’s direction again, she waves to me, motioning for me to approach. I get up and walk over to her, turning off my bluetooth device on the way. As I get close, I hear her saying, “Listen, Mom, let me introduce you to him, okay? I’ll ask him to put us on video—that way it’ll be almost like we’re all meeting in person… Yeah, we’ll connect with you in a couple of minutes.” And hanging up, she looks up at me expectantly.

“Lucas.” I barely raise my voice, but he’s already there, carrying a laptop with a secure connection. Placing it on a windowsill, he props it up so that the little camera points at us. A minute later, the video call is established, and Gabriela Leston’s face fills the screen. Tony Leston—Nora’s father—is behind her. Both pairs of dark eyes immediately turn toward me, studying me with a peculiar mix of hostility and curiosity. “Mom, Dad, this is Julian,” Nora says softly, and I incline my head with a small smile. Lucas walks back to the other end of the room, leaving us alone. “It’s very nice to meet you both.” I purposefully keep my voice cool and steady. “I’m sure Nora has already filled you in on everything. I apologize for the speed with which this is happening, but I would love it if you could be a part of our wedding. I know it would mean a great deal to Nora to have her parents present, even if it is remotely.” There is nothing I can say to the Lestons to justify my actions or make them like me, so I don’t even try. Nora is mine now, and they will have to learn to accept that fact. Nora’s father opens his mouth to say something, but his wife elbows him sharply. “All right, Julian,” she says slowly, staring at me with eyes eerily similar to her daughter’s. “So you are marrying Nora. May I ask where you’re going to be living after that, and whether we’re going to see her again?” I smile at her. Another smart, intuitive woman. “For the first few months, we’ll probably be here, in Colombia,” I explain, keeping my tone light and friendly. “There are certain business matters that I have to take care of. After that, however, we’d be more than happy to come for a visit—or to have you visit us.” Gabriela nods. “I see.” The tension on her face remains, though relief briefly flickers in her eyes. “And what about Nora’s future plans? What about college?” “I will make sure she gets a good education and has a chance to pursue her art.” I give the Lestons a level look. “Of course, I’m sure you realize that Nora doesn’t need to worry about money anymore. Neither do you. I am more than comfortable, financially, and I always take care of my own.” Tony Leston’s eyes narrow with anger. “You can’t buy our daughter—” he starts saying, only to be elbowed into silence again by his wife. Nora’s mother clearly has a better grasp on the situation; she realizes that this conversation could just as easily not be happening. I lean closer to the camera. “Tony, Gabriela,” I say quietly, “I understand your concern. However, in less than a half hour, Nora will be my wife—my

responsibility. I can assure you that I will take care of her and do my best to ensure her happiness. You have nothing to worry about.” Tony’s jaw tightens, but he remains silent this time. It’s Gabriela who speaks next. “We would appreciate it if we could talk to her on a regular basis,” she says evenly. “To make sure she’s as happy as she seems today.” “Of course.” I have no problem making that concession. “Now, the ceremony is starting in a few minutes, so we need to set up a better video feed for you. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” I say politely, then close the laptop. Turning, I see Nora watching me with some bemusement. In the long white dress and with her hair all done, she looks like a princess—which I suppose makes me the evil dragon stealing her away. Inexplicably amused by the thought, I lift my hand and run my fingers down her baby-soft cheek. “Are you ready, my pet?” “Yes, I think so,” she murmurs, staring up at me. They did something to her eyes, those women I hired, making her eyes seem even larger and more mysterious. Her mouth also looks softer and shinier than usual, utterly fuckable. A sharp surge of lust catches me off-guard, and I force myself to take a step back before I do something sacrilegious at my own wedding. “The video is all set up,” Lucas informs me, coming up to us. “Thank you, Lucas,” I say. Then, turning toward Nora, I take her hand and lead her toward Padre Diaz.

6

N ora THE CEREMONY ITSELF TAKES ONLY ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES. COGNIZANT OF THE CAMERA us, I smile widely and do my best to look like a happy, glowing bride.

TRAINED ON

I still don’t fully understand my own reluctance. After all, I’m marrying the man I love. When I thought he was dead, I wanted to die myself, and it took all of my strength to survive from one day to the next. I don’t want to be with anyone but Julian… and yet I can’t shake the chill deep inside. He handled my parents smoothly, I will give him that. I’m not sure what I had been expecting, but the calm, almost civil conversation that took place hadn’t been it. He had been in control the entire time, his matter-of-fact attitude leaving no room for tearful accusations and recriminations. He had apologized for the rushed wedding, but not for abducting me in the first place—and I know it’s because he feels no guilt about that. In his mind, he has a right to me. It’s as simple as that. After a lengthy speech in Spanish, Padre Diaz begins speaking to Julian. I catch a few words—something about spouse, love, protection—and then I hear Julian’s deep voice responding “Sí, quiero.” It’s my turn next. Looking up at Julian, I meet his gaze. There is a warm smile on his lips, but his eyes tell a different story. His eyes reflect hunger and need, and underneath it all, a dark, all-consuming possessiveness. “Sí, quiero,” I say quietly, repeating Julian’s words. Yes, I do. Yes, I want. My rudimentary Spanish is good enough to translate that at least. Julian’s smile deepens. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out another ring—a slim, diamond-studded band that matches my engagement ring—and slides it onto

my nerveless finger. Then he presses a platinum band into my palm and extends his left hand to me. His palm is almost twice the size of mine, his fingers long and masculine. He has a man’s hands—strong and roughened with calluses. Hands that can pleasure or hurt with equal ease. Taking a deep breath, I slide the wedding band onto Julian’s left ring finger and look up at him again, only half-listening as Padre Diaz concludes the ceremony. Staring at Julian’s beautiful features, all I can think about is that it’s done. The man who kidnapped me is now my husband.

AFTER THE CEREMONY, I SAY GOODBYE TO MY PARENTS, ASSURING THEM THAT I WILL SPEAK TO THEM again soon. My mom is crying, and my dad is wearing a stony expression that usually means he’s extremely upset. “Mom, Dad, I promise I’ll be in contact,” I tell them, trying to hold back my own tears. “I won’t disappear on you again. Everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about…” “I promise she will call you very soon,” Julian adds, and after a few more tearful goodbyes, Lucas disconnects the video feed. The next half hour is spent taking pictures all over the beautiful church. Then we change back into our regular clothes and head back to the airport. At this point, it’s evening and I’m completely exhausted. The stress of the past couple of hours, combined with all the travel, has made me nearly comatose, and I close my eyes, leaning back against the black leather seat as the car winds its way through the dark streets of Bogotá. I don’t want to think about anything; I just want to empty my mind and relax. Shifting, I try to find a better position, one that doesn’t place too much weight on my still-tender bottom. “Tired, baby?” Julian murmurs, placing his hand on my leg. His fingers squeeze lightly, massaging my thigh, and I force my heavy eyelids to open. “A bit,” I admit, turning toward him. “I’m not used to this much flying—or marrying.” He grins at me, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Well, luckily you won’t have to go through this experience again. The marrying, I mean. I can’t promise anything about the flying.”

Maybe I’m overly tired, but that strikes me as ridiculously funny for some reason. A giggle escapes my throat, first one, then another, until I’m laughing uncontrollably, all but rolling on the backseat of the car. Julian watches me calmly, and when my laughter finally begins to quiet down, he pulls me into his lap and kisses me, claiming my mouth with a long, fierce kiss that literally steals my breath away. By the time he lets me come up for air, I can barely remember my own name, much less what I was laughing about before. We’re both panting, our breath intermingling as we stare at each other. There’s hunger in his gaze, but there’s also something more—an almost violent longing that goes deeper than simple lust. A strange tightness squeezes my chest, and I feel like I’m falling further, losing even more of myself. “What do you want from me, Julian?” I whisper, lifting my hand to cradle the hard contours of his jaw. “What do you need?” He doesn’t answer, but his large hand covers mine, holding it pressed against his face for a few moments. He closes his eyes, as though absorbing the sensation, and when he opens them, the moment is gone. Shifting me off his lap, he drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders and settles me comfortably against his side. “Get some rest, my pet,” he murmurs into my hair. “We still have a ways to go before we get home.”

I FALL ASLEEP ON THE PLANE AGAIN, SO I HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG THE awake after we land, and I follow him sleepily off the plane.

FLIGHT IS. JULIAN SHAKES ME

Warm, humid air hits me as soon as we disembark, so thick it feels like a damp blanket. Bogotá had been much warmer than Chicago, with the temperature somewhere in the high sixties, but this… this feels like I stepped into a wet sauna. With my winter boots and a fleece sweater, I feel like I’m being cooked alive. “Bogotá is at a much higher elevation,” Julian says, as though reading my mind. “Down here, it’s tierra caliente—the low-elevation hot zone.” “Where are we?” I ask, waking up a bit more. I can hear the chirping of insects, and the smell in the air is that of lush green vegetation, of the tropics. “Which part of the country, I mean?” “The southeast,” Julian replies, leading me toward an SUV waiting on the other side of the runway. “We’re actually right on the edge of the Amazon rainforest.” I lift my hand to rub at the corner of my eye. I don’t know much about

Colombian geography, but that sounds very remote to me. “Are we near some villages or towns?” “No,” Julian says. “That’s the beauty of this location, my pet. We’re completely isolated and safe. Nobody will bother us here.” We reach the car, and he helps me inside. Lucas joins us a couple of minutes later, and then we’re off, driving down an unpaved road through a heavily wooded area. It’s pitch-black outside, the headlights of the car our only source of illumination, and I peer curiously through the darkness, trying to discern our destination. All I can see, however, are trees and more trees. Abandoning that futile effort, I decide to get more comfortable instead. It’s cooler in the car with the air conditioning working full-blast, but I’m still too hot, so I take off my sweater. Thankfully, I’m wearing a tank top underneath. As the chilly air blows across my heated skin, I sigh with relief, fanning myself to accelerate the cooling process. “I have clothes for you here that are more weather-appropriate,” Julian says, observing my actions with a half-smile. “I probably should’ve thought to bring them with me, but I was far too eager to retrieve you.” “Oh?” I glance at him, absurdly pleased by his admission. “I came after you as soon as I could,” he murmurs, his eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the car. “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone for long, did you?” “No, I didn’t,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. If there’s one thing I’ve always been sure of, it’s that Julian wants me. I’m not sure if he loves me—if he’s capable of loving anyone—but I’ve never doubted the strength of his desire for me. He risked his life for me back at that warehouse, and I know he would do so again. It’s a certainty that goes bone-deep and fills me with a peculiar sense of comfort. Closing my eyes, I lean back against the seat with another sigh. The dichotomy of my emotions makes my head hurt. How can I be upset with Julian for forcing me to marry him and at the same time be glad that he couldn’t wait to abduct me again? What sane person feels that way? “We’ve arrived,” Julian says, interrupting my musings, and I open my eyes, realizing that the car had stopped. In front of us is a sprawling two-story mansion surrounded by several smaller structures. Bright outdoor lights illuminate everything in the vicinity, and I can see

wide green lawns and lush, meticulously maintained landscaping. Julian wasn’t exaggerating when he called this place an estate. I can also see some of the security measures, and I gaze around curiously as Julian helps me out of the car and leads me toward the main building. On the far edges of the property, there are towers spaced a few dozen yards apart, with armed men visible at the top of each one. It’s almost as if we’re in prison, except that these guards are meant to keep the bad people out, not in. “You grew up here?” I ask Julian as we approach the house. It’s a beautiful white building with stately columns at the front. It reminds me a bit of Scarlett O’Hara’s plantation from Gone with the Wind. “I did.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “I spent most of my time here until I was about seven or eight. After that, I was usually in the cities with my father, helping him with business.” After we walk up the porch steps, Julian stops at the doorway and bends down to lift me into his arms. Before I can say anything, he carries me over the threshold, setting me back on my feet once we’re inside. “No reason why we can’t observe this little tradition,” he murmurs with a mischievous grin, maintaining his hold on my sides as he looks down at me. My lips twitch in an answering smile. I can never resist Julian when he’s being playful like this. “Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re Mr. Traditional today,” I tease, purposefully trying not to think about the forced nature of our marriage. It’s important for my sanity to keep the good times separate from the bad, to live in the moment as much as possible. “And here I thought you just felt like picking me up.” “I did,” he admits, his grin widening. “It’s the first time my inclinations and tradition have coincided, though, so why don’t we go with ‘observing tradition’?” “I’m game,” I say softly, gazing up at him. In this moment, my mind is firmly in the ‘good times’ camp, and I would gladly go along with anything he wants, do anything he wants. “Señor Esguerra?” An uncertain female voice interrupts us, and I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing there. She’s wearing a black short-sleeved dress, with a white apron wrapped around her rounded frame. “Everything is ready, just as you requested,” she says in accented English, watching us with barely restrained curiosity. “Should I serve you dinner?” “No, thank you, Ana,” Julian replies, his hand resting possessively on my hip.

“Just bring a tray with some sandwiches to our room, please. Nora is tired from our travels.” Then he looks down at me. “Nora, this is Ana, our housekeeper. Ana, this is Nora, my wife.” Ana’s brown eyes widen. Apparently the ‘wife’ bit is as much of a shock to her as it had been to me. She recovers quickly, though. “Very pleased to meet you, Señora,” she says, giving me a wide smile. “Welcome.” “Thank you, Ana. It’s nice to meet you too.” I smile back, ignoring the sharp pain squeezing my chest. This housekeeper is nothing like Beth, but I can’t help thinking of the woman who had become my friend—and of her cruel, pointless death. No, don’t go there, Nora. The last thing I need is to wake up screaming from another nightmare. “Please make sure we’re not disturbed tonight,” Julian instructs Ana, “unless it’s something urgent.” “Yes, Señor,” she murmurs, and disappears through the wide double doors leading out of the entryway area. “Ana is one of the staff here,” Julian explains as he guides me toward a wide, curved staircase. “She’s been with my family in one capacity or another for most of her life.” “She seems very nice,” I say, studying my new home as we walk up the stairs. I’ve never been inside such a lavish residence, and I can hardly believe I’m going to be living here. The decor is a tasteful mix of old-fashioned charm and modern elegance, with gleaming wooden floors and abstract art on the walls. I suspect the gilded picture frames alone are more expensive than anything I had in my studio apartment back home. “How many people are on the staff?” “There are two who always take care of the house,” Julian answers. “Ana, whom you’ve just met, and Rosa, who’s the maid. You’ll probably meet her tomorrow. There are also several gardeners, handymen, and others who oversee the property as a whole.” Pausing in front of one of the doors upstairs, he opens it for me. “Here we are. Our bedroom.” Our bedroom. That has a very domestic ring to it. On the island, I had my own room, and even though Julian slept with me most nights, it still felt like my private space—something I apparently wouldn’t have here. Stepping inside, I cautiously survey the bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, it has an opulent, old-fashioned feel to it, despite several modern touches. There is a thick blue rug on the floor, and a massive fourposter bed in the center. Everything is done in shades of blue and cream, with some gold and bronze mixed in. The drapes covering the windows are thick and heavy, like in a luxury hotel, and there are a few more abstract paintings on the walls. It’s beautiful and intimidating, like the man who is now my husband. “Why don’t we take a bath?” Julian says softly, stepping up behind me. His powerful arms fold around me, his fingers reaching for my belt buckle. “I think we could both use one.” “Sure, that sounds good,” I murmur, letting him undress me. It makes me feel like a doll—or maybe a princess, given our surroundings. As Julian tugs off my shirt and pushes down my jeans, his hands brush against my bare skin, causing tingles of heat to ripple down to my core. Our wedding night. Tonight is our wedding night. My breathing quickens from a combination of arousal and nerves. I don’t know what Julian has in store for me, but the hard ridge pressing against my lower back leaves no doubt that he intends to fuck me again. When I am completely naked, I turn to face him and watch as he takes off his own clothes, his well-defined muscles gleaming in the soft light coming from the recessed ceiling. His body is slightly leaner than before, and there is a new scar near his ribcage. Still, he’s the most striking man I have ever seen. He’s already fully erect, his thick, long cock jutting out at me, and I swallow, my sex clenching at the sight. At the same time, I am cognizant of a faint soreness deep inside and the continued tenderness of my bruised bottom. I want him, but I don’t know if I can handle any more pain today. “Julian…” I hesitate, unsure how to best phrase it. “Is there any way… Can we —?” He steps toward me, framing my face with his large hands. His eyes glitter brightly as he looks down at me. “Yes,” he whispers, understanding my unspoken question. “Yes, baby, we can. I will give you the wedding night of your dreams.”

7

J ulian BENDING DOWN, I HOOK MY ARM UNDER HER KNEES AND PICK HER UP. SHE BARELY WEIGHS ANYTHING, her small frame impossibly light as I carry her to the bathroom, where Ana prepared the jacuzzi for us. My wife. Nora is now my wife. The fierce satisfaction I feel at the thought makes no sense, but I don’t intend to dwell on it. She’s mine, and that’s all that matters. I will fuck her and pamper her, and she will fulfill my every need, no matter how dark and twisted. She will give me all of herself, and I will take it. I will take it all, and then I’ll demand more. Tonight, though, I will give her what she wants. I will be sweet and gentle, as tender as any husband with his new bride. The sadist inside me is quiescent for now, content. There will be plenty of time later to punish her for her reluctance at the church. At this moment, I have no desire to hurt her—I just want to hold her, to stroke her silky skin and feel her shuddering with pleasure in my arms. My cock is hard, throbbing with need, but the hunger is different now, more controlled. Reaching the large round jacuzzi, I step in and lower both of us into the bubbling water, sitting down with Nora ensconced on my lap. She lets out a blissful sigh and relaxes against me, closing her eyes and putting her head on my shoulder. Her glossy hair tickles my skin, the long ends floating in the water. I shift slightly, letting the strong jets pummel my back, and feel the tension gradually draining out of me despite my lingering arousal. For a couple of minutes, I am content to just sit there, holding her cradled in my arms. Despite the sweltering heat outside, the temperature inside the house is cool,

and the hot water feels good on my skin. Soothing. I imagine it feels good to Nora too, easing the soreness from the bruises I inflicted earlier. Lifting my hand, I lazily stroke her back, marveling at the smoothness of her golden skin. My dick twitches, clamoring for more, but I’m in no rush this time. I want to prolong this moment, to heighten the anticipation for us both. “This is nice,” she murmurs after a while, tilting her head back to gaze at me. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the water and her lids are partially lowered, making her look like she’s already been thoroughly fucked. “I wish I could take a bath like this every day.” “You can,” I say softly, shifting her off my lap so she’s facing me and reaching under the water to pick up her right foot. “You can do whatever you want here. It’s your home now.” Applying light pressure to her sole, I begin to massage it the way she likes, enjoying the quiet moans that escape her lips at my touch. Her feet are small and pretty, like the rest of her. Sexy even, with the pink polish on her slender toes. Giving in to a sudden urge, I lift her foot to my mouth and suck on it lightly, swirling my tongue around each toe. She gasps, staring at me, and I can hear her breathing picking up, see her eyes darkening with arousal. This turns her on, I realize, and the knowledge makes my dick harden further. Holding her gaze, I reach for Nora’s other foot and give it the same treatment. Her toes curl at the touch of my tongue and her breathing becomes unsteady, her own tongue coming out to moisten her lips. The ache in my groin intensifying, I release her foot and slowly slide my hand up the inside of her leg, feeling her thigh muscles quivering with tension as I approach her sex. My fingers brush against her pussy, parting the soft folds. Then I push the tip of my middle finger into her small opening, using my thumb to press on her clit at the same time. Inside, she’s impossibly hot and slick, her inner walls gripping my finger so tightly that my cock jumps in response. She lets out a soft moan, lifting her hips toward me, and my finger slides deeper into her, causing a choked cry to issue from her throat. She scoots back reflexively, as though trying to pull away, but I wrap my free hand around her arm and pull her toward me, gathering her against my side. “Don’t fight it, baby,” I murmur, holding her still as I begin to fuck her with my finger, my thumb applying even, rhythmic pressure to her clit. “Just let yourself feel… Yes, that’s it…” Her head falls back and her eyes close, an expression of intense rapture appearing on her face as she lets out another moan.

Beautiful. She’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t tear my gaze away, drinking in the sight of her coming apart in my arms. Her slim body arches and tightens, and then she cries out as her flesh ripples around my finger in release, the squeezing motion making my dick throb in agonized need. I can’t take this much longer. Withdrawing my finger, I slide my hands under her body and pick her up as I rise to my feet. She opens her eyes and loops her arms around my neck, watching me intently as I step out of the jacuzzi and begin carrying her back to the bedroom. We’re both dripping with water, but I can’t bear to stop for even a moment. I don’t give a fuck about getting our sheets wet right now—I don’t give a fuck about anything except her. Reaching the bed, I put her down, my hands shaking with violent lust. On any other night, I would already be inside her, pounding her tight little pussy until I explode, but not tonight. Tonight is for her. Tonight I will give her what she asked for—a wedding night with a lover, not a monster. She watches me, her dark eyes slumberous with desire as I climb onto the bed between her legs and bend over her soft, tender flesh. Ignoring my aching cock, I begin with small kisses on the insides of her thighs and then move up until I reach my goal: her wet cleft, pink and swollen from her earlier orgasm. Pulling her folds apart with my fingers, I lick the area directly around her clit, tasting her essence, then push my tongue inside, penetrating her as deeply as I can. She shudders, her hands finding their way down to my head, and I feel her nails digging into my skull. One of her fingers brushes against my scar, sending a bolt of pain through me, but I ignore that too, focusing solely on pleasuring her, on making her come. I revel in every drop of moisture I wring from her body, every gasp and moan that escapes her lips as my tongue works over the bundle of nerves at the peak of her sex. She begins to tremble, her thighs vibrating with tension, and I taste a spurt of salty-sweet moisture as she comes with a helpless cry, her hips lifting off the bed and her pussy grinding against my tongue. When she finally goes limp, breathing heavily from her release, I crawl over her and kiss the delicate shell of her ear. I’m not done with her yet, not by a long shot. “You’re so sweet,” I whisper, feeling her shiver at the heat of my breath. My cock throbs harder at her response, my balls full to bursting, and my next words come out low and rough, almost guttural. “So fucking sweet… I want to fuck you so badly, but I won’t—” I tongue the underside of her earlobe, causing her hands to clutch convulsively at my sides, “—not until you come for me again. You think you can come for me, baby?”

“I… I don’t think so…” She gasps, twisting in my arms as my mouth moves down to the smooth column of her throat, leaving a warm, damp trail on her skin. “Oh, I think you can,” I murmur, my right hand slipping down her body to feel her soaking-wet pussy. As my lips travel over her shoulders and upper chest, I massage her swollen clit with my fingers, and she begins to pant again, her breathing becoming erratic as my mouth approaches her breasts. Her rosy nipples are hard, practically begging for my touch, and I close my lips over one taut bud, sucking on it strongly. She lets out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a whimper, and I turn my attention to the other nipple, sucking on it until she’s trembling underneath me, the moisture from her sex inundating my hand. Before she can reach her peak, however, I slither down her body and taste her again, my tongue pushing inside her just as her contractions begin anew. I lick her until her orgasm is fully over, then I move up over her again, supporting myself with my right elbow. Using my left hand, I grasp her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes look unfocused, clouded with the aftermath of pleasure, and I lower my head, claiming her mouth with a deep, thorough kiss. I know she can taste herself on my lips, and the thought excites me, causing my pulse to spike. At the same time, her arms fold around my neck, embracing me, and I feel her breasts pushing against my chest, her nipples like hard little pebbles. Holy fuck. I have to have her. Now. My self-control fraying, I continue kissing her as I use my knees to spread open her thighs. Pressing the head of my cock against her opening, I slide my left hand into her hair to cradle the back of her skull. Then I begin to push into her body. She’s small inside too, her pussy tighter than any I’ve known before. I can feel her wet flesh gradually engulfing me, stretching for me, and my spine tingles, my balls drawing up against my body. I’m not even fully inside her yet, and I’m about to explode from the mind-numbing pleasure. Slow, I harshly remind myself. Go slow. She tears her mouth away from mine, her breath coming in soft little pants against my ear. “I want you,” she whispers, her legs coming up to clasp my hips. The movement brings me deeper into her, making me groan in desperate need. “Please, Julian…” Her words destroy whatever shreds of restraint I still possess. To hell with going slow. A low growl vibrates deep within my chest, and my hand fists in her hair as I begin to thrust into her, savagely, relentlessly. She cries out, and her arms tighten

around my neck, her body eagerly welcoming my ruthless assault. My mind explodes with sensations, with overwhelming ecstasy. This, right here, is what I want, what I need. Why I will never let her go. Our bodies strain together on the bed, wet sheets tangling around our limbs as I lose myself in her, in the sounds and smells of hot, no-holds-barred sex. Nora is like liquid fire in my arms, her slim body arching against me, her legs twining around my thighs. Each thrust brings me deeper into her until I feel like we’re fusing together, melding into one another. She reaches her peak first, her pussy squeezing me even tighter. I hear her strangled cry as she bites my shoulder in the throes of her orgasm, and then I’m there, shuddering over her as my seed shoots out in continuous heated spurts. Breathing harshly, I sink down on top of her, my arms no longer able to support my weight. Every muscle in my body is shaking from the force of my release, and I’m covered with a thin veil of sweat. After a few moments, I muster the strength to roll over onto my back, pulling her to lie on top of me. It shouldn’t be this intense again, not after the way we fucked earlier, but it is. It always is. There’s never a moment when I don’t want her, when I don’t think about her. If I ever lost her— No. I refuse to think about that. It won’t happen. I won’t let it. I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Safe from everyone but me.

8

N ora WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, JULIAN IS ALREADY GONE. Climbing out of bed, I head straight for the shower, feeling grimy and sticky after last night. We both fell asleep right after sex, too worn out to bother washing up or changing the wet sheets. Then, just before dawn, Julian woke me up by sliding inside me again, his skilled fingers bringing me to orgasm before I was fully awake. It’s as if he can’t get enough of me after our long separation, his already-strong libido going into overdrive. Of course, I can’t get enough of him either. A smile curves my lips as I remember the searing passion of last night. Julian promised me the wedding night of my dreams, and he certainly delivered. I don’t even know how many orgasms I’ve had over the past twenty-four hours. Of course, now I’m even more sore, my insides raw from so much fucking. Still, I feel immeasurably better today, both physically and mentally. The bruises on my thighs are less tender to the touch, and I’m no longer feeling quite as overwhelmed. Even the idea of being married to Julian doesn’t seem as frightening in the morning light. Nothing has truly changed, except that now there is a piece of paper joining us together, letting the world know that I belong to him. Captor, lover, or husband—it’s all the same; the label doesn’t alter the reality of our dysfunctional relationship. Stepping under the shower spray, I tilt my head back, letting the hot water flow over my face. The shower is as luxurious as the rest of the house, the circular stall big enough to accommodate ten people. I wash and scrub every inch of my body

until I begin to feel human again. Then I go back into the bedroom to get dressed. I find an enormous closet in the back of the room, filled mostly with light summer clothes. Remembering the stifling heat outside, I select a simple blue sundress, then slide my feet into a pair of brown flip-flops. It’s not the most sophisticated outfit, but it’ll do. I’m ready to explore my new home.

THE ESTATE IS HUGE, MUCH BIGGER THAN I THOUGHT YESTERDAY. BESIDES THE MAIN HOUSE, THERE are also barracks for the two-hundred-plus guards who patrol the perimeter, and a number of houses occupied by other employees and their families. It’s almost like a small town—or maybe some type of military compound. I learn all this from Ana over breakfast. Apparently Julian left instructions that I was to be fed and shown around when I woke up. Julian himself is occupied with work, as usual. “Señor Esguerra has an important meeting,” Ana explains, serving me a dish she calls Migas de Arepa—scrambled eggs made with pieces of corn cakes and a tomato-onion sauce. “He asked me to look after you today, so please let me know if you need anything. After breakfast I can have Rosa give you a tour if you like.” “Thank you, Ana,” I say, digging into my food. It’s incredibly delicious, the sweetness of the arepas complementing the zesty flavor of the eggs. “A tour would be great.” We chat for a bit as I finish up my meal. In addition to learning about the estate, I find out that Ana has lived in this house most of her life, having started as a young maid working for Julian’s father. “That’s how I learned English,” she says, pouring me a cup of frothy hot chocolate. “Señora Esguerra was American, like you, and she didn’t speak any Spanish.” I nod, remembering Julian telling me about his mother. She had been a model in New York City before marrying Julian’s father. “So you knew Julian when he was a child?” I ask, sipping the hot, rich drink. Like the eggs, it’s unusually flavorful, with hints of clove, cinnamon, and vanilla. “I did.” Ana stops there, as though afraid of saying too much. I give her an encouraging smile, hoping to prod her into telling me more, but she begins to clear off the dishes instead, signaling an end to the conversation. Sighing, I finish my hot chocolate and get up. I want to learn more about my

husband, but I have a feeling Ana may be just as close-mouthed on this topic as Beth. Beth. The familiar pain shoots through me again, bringing with it a burning rage. Memories of her violent death are never far from my mind, threatening to drown me in hate if I let them. When Julian first told me about what he did to Maria’s attackers, I had been horrified… but now I understand it. I wish I could somehow lay my hands on the terrorist who killed Beth, make him pay for what he did to her. Even the knowledge that he’s dead doesn’t pacify my anger; it’s always there, eating at me, poisoning me from within. “Señora, this is Rosa,” Ana says, and I turn toward the dining room entrance to see a young dark-haired woman standing there. She looks to be about my age, with a round face and a bright smile. Like Ana, she’s wearing a short-sleeved black dress with a white apron. “Rosa, this is Señor Esguerra’s new wife, Nora.” Rosa’s smile brightens further. “Oh, hello, Señora Esguerra, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her English is even better than Ana’s, her accent barely noticeable. “Thank you, Rosa,” I say, taking an immediate liking to the girl. “It’s very nice to meet you too. And, please, call me Nora.” I look toward the housekeeper. “You too, please, Ana, if you don’t mind. I’m not used to the ‘Señora’ bit.” And it’s true. It’s especially strange to hear myself addressed as Señora Esguerra. Does this mean that Julian’s last name is now mine? We haven’t discussed this yet, but I suspect Julian would want to follow tradition in this case as well. Nora Esguerra. My heart beats faster at the thought, some of yesterday’s irrational fear returning. For nineteen-and-a-half years, I have been Nora Leston. It’s a name that I’m used to, that I’m comfortable with. The idea of changing it makes me deeply uneasy, as though I’m losing another part of myself. As though Julian is stripping me of everything that I used to be, transforming me into someone I barely recognize. “Of course,” Ana says, interrupting my anxious musings. “We’re happy to call you anything you wish.” Rosa nods vigorously in agreement, beaming at me, and I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. “Thank you.” I manage to give them a smile. “I appreciate it.” “Would you like to see the house before we go outside?” Rosa asks, smoothing her apron with her palms. “Or would you prefer to start outdoors?” “We can start indoors, if that’s okay with you,” I tell her. Then I thank Ana for the breakfast, and we begin the tour.

Rosa shows me the downstairs first. There are over a dozen rooms, including a large library stocked with a variety of books, a home theater with a wall-sized TV, and a sizable gym filled with high-end exercise equipment. I’m also pleased to discover that Julian remembered my painting hobby; one of the rooms is set up as an art studio, with blank canvasses lined up in front of a huge south-facing window. “Señor Esguerra had all of this put in a couple of weeks before you came,” Rosa tells me, leading me from room to room. “So everything is brand-new.” I blink, surprised to hear that. I had assumed that the art studio was new, since Julian is not into painting, but I didn’t realize he’d redone the entire house. “He didn’t have a pool put in too, did he?” I joke as we walk down the hall. “No, the pool was already there,” Rosa says in absolute seriousness. “But he did have it renovated.” And leading me toward a screened back porch, she shows me an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by tropical greenery. In addition to the pool itself, there are lounge chairs that look amazingly comfortable, huge umbrellas that provide shade from the sun, and several outdoor tables with chairs. “Nice,” I murmur, feeling the hot, humid air on my skin. I have a feeling the pool will come in quite handy in this weather. Going back indoors, we head upstairs. Besides the master suite, there are a number of bedrooms, each one bigger than my entire apartment back home. “Why is the house so big?” I ask Rosa after we view all the lavishly decorated rooms. “There are only a few people living here, right?” “Yes, that’s true,” Rosa confirms. “But this house was built by the older Señor Esguerra, and from what I understand, he entertained a lot here, frequently inviting his business associates to stay over.” “How did you come to work here?” I give Rosa a curious look as we go down the curving staircase. “And learn to speak English so well?” “Oh, I was born here, on the Esguerra estate,” she says breezily. “My father was one of the older Señor’s guards, and my mother and older brother also worked for him. Señor’s wife—she was American, you see—taught me English when I was a child. I think she was maybe a bit bored here, so she gave lessons to the entire household staff and anyone else who wanted to learn the language. Then she insisted that we speak only English in the house, even among ourselves, so we could practice.” “I see.” Rosa seems chattier than Ana, so I ask her the same question I posed to the housekeeper earlier. “If you grew up here, did you know Julian back then?”

“No, not really.” She glances at me as we exit the house onto the front porch. “I was very young, only four years old when your husband left the country, so I don’t remember much from when he was a boy. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I saw him here for only a short time after…” She swallows, looking down at the ground. “After it all happened.” “After his parents’ death?” I ask quietly. I remember Julian telling me that his parents were killed, but he never explained how it happened. He just said it was one of his father’s rivals. “Yes,” Rosa says somberly, her bright smile nowhere in sight. “A few years after Julian left, one of the North Coast cartels tried to take over the Esguerra organization. They struck at many of its key operations and even came here, to the estate. A lot of people died that day. My father and brother, too.” I stop in my tracks, staring at her. “Oh God, Rosa, I’m sorry…” I feel terrible that I brought up such a painful subject. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that people here might’ve been impacted by the same events that had shaped Julian. “I’m so sorry—” “It’s okay,” she says, her expression still strained. “It happened almost twelve years ago.” “You must’ve been very young then,” I say softly. “How old are you now?” “Twenty-one,” she replies as we begin walking down the porch steps. Then she shoots me a curious look, some of her somberness fading. “What about you, Nora, if you don’t mind me asking? You seem young as well.” I grin at her. “Nineteen. Twenty in a few months.” I’m glad she feels comfortable enough with me to ask personal questions. I don’t want to be ‘Señora’ here, don’t want to be treated like some lady of the manor. She grins back, her former zest for life apparently restored. “I thought so,” she says with evident satisfaction. “Ana thought you were even younger when she saw you last night, but she’s almost fifty and everyone our age looks like a baby to her. My guess this morning was twenty, and I was right.” I laugh, charmed by her frankness. “You were, indeed.” During the rest of the tour, Rosa peppers me with questions about me and my life back in the States. She’s apparently fascinated with America, having watched a number of American movies in an effort to improve her English. “I hope to go there someday,” she says wistfully. “See New York City, walk in Times Square among all the bright lights…”

“You should definitely go,” I tell her. “I only visited New York once, and it was great. Lots of things to do as a tourist.” As we talk, she shows me around the estate, pointing out the guards’ barracks that Ana mentioned earlier, and the men’s training area on the far side of the compound. The training area consists of an indoor fighting gym, an outdoor shooting range, and what appears to be an obstacle course on a large, grass-covered field. “The guards like to keep in top shape,” Rosa explains as we pass by a group of hard-faced men practicing some type of martial arts. “Most of them are former military, and all are very good at what they do.” “Julian trains with them too, right?” I ask, watching in fascination as one man knocks out his opponent with a powerful kick to the head. I know a little selfdefense from the lessons I took back home, but it’s kid stuff compared to this. “Oh, yes.” Rosa’s tone is somewhat reverential. “I’ve seen Señor Esguerra on the field, and he’s as good as any of his men.” “Yes, I’m sure he is,” I say, remembering Julian rescuing me from the warehouse. He had been completely in his element, arriving in the night like some angel of death. For a moment, the dark memories threaten to swamp me again, but I push them away, determined not to dwell on the past. Turning away from the fighters, I ask Rosa, “Do you know where he is today, by any chance? Ana said he’s in a meeting.” She shrugs in response. “He’s probably in his office, in that building over there.” She points toward a small modern-looking structure near the main house. “He had it remodeled as well, and he’s been spending a lot of time there since his return. I saw Lucas, Peter, and a few others go in there this morning, so I assume Julian is meeting with them.” “Who’s Peter?” I ask. I already know Lucas, but I’m hearing Peter’s name for the first time. “He’s one of Señor Esguerra’s employees,” Rosa replies as we walk back toward the house. “He came here a few weeks ago to oversee some of the security measures.” “Oh, I see.” By the time we arrive at the house, my clothes are sticking to my skin from the extreme humidity. It’s a relief to be back indoors, where the air-conditioning keeps the temperature nice and cool. “That’s Amazonia for you,” Rosa says, smiling as I gulp down a glass of cold water I grab from the kitchen. “We’re right next to the

rainforest, and it’s always like a steam bath outside.” “Yeah, no kidding,” I mutter, feeling in dire need of another shower. It had been hot on the island as well, but the breeze coming from the ocean had made it tolerable, even pleasant. Here, however, the heat is almost smothering, the air still and thick with moisture. Placing the empty glass on the table, I turn toward Rosa. “I think I might use that pool you showed me,” I tell her, deciding to take advantage of the amenities. “Would you like to join me?” Rosa’s eyes widen. She’s clearly surprised by my invitation. “Oh, I’d love to,” she says sincerely, “but I need to help Ana prepare lunch and then clean the bedrooms upstairs…” “Of course.” I feel slightly embarrassed because, for a moment, I forgot that Rosa is not here solely to keep me company—that she has actual duties and responsibilities around the house. “Well, in that case, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it.” She grins at me. “It was my pleasure, happy to do it anytime.” And as she busies herself in the kitchen, I head upstairs to change into a swimsuit.

9

J ulian I FIND NORA BY THE POOL, LOUNGING WITH A BOOK UNDER ONE OF THE UMBRELLAS. HER SLIM LEGS are crossed at the ankles, and she’s wearing a strapless white bikini, her golden skin gleaming with droplets of water. She must’ve been swimming recently. Hearing my footsteps, she sits up and places her book on a side table. “Hi,” she says softly when I approach her lounge chair. Her sunglasses are too big for her small face, making her look a bit like a dragonfly, and I make a mental note to buy her a more fitting pair on the next trip to Bogotá. “Hello, my pet,” I murmur, sitting down on her chair. Raising my hand, I pull the sunglasses off her nose and lean forward to take her mouth in a short, deep kiss. She tastes like sunlight, her lips soft and yielding, and my cock instantly stiffens, reacting to the proximity of her almost-naked body. Tonight, I promise myself as I reluctantly lift my head. I will have her again tonight. “What was your meeting about this morning?” she asks, her breathing slightly uneven after the kiss. Her dark eyes hold curiosity and just a hint of caution as she looks at me. She’s testing the waters again, trying to determine how much I’m willing to share with her now. I consider that for a moment. It’s tempting to continue keeping her in the dark. Despite everything, Nora is still so naïve, so ignorant of the real world. She got a small taste of it back in that warehouse, but it was nothing compared to the things I deal with every day. I want to continue shielding her from the brutal nature of my reality, but there is no safety in ignorance any longer—not when my enemies know about her. Besides, I have a feeling my young wife is tougher than her delicate

appearance would suggest. She has to be, to survive me. Arriving at a decision, I give her a cool smile. “We just got intelligence on two Al-Quadar cells,” I say, watching her reaction. “Now we’re figuring out how we can wipe them out and capture some of their members in the process. The meeting was to coordinate the logistics of that operation.” Her eyes widen slightly, but she does a good job of controlling her shock at my revelations. “How many cells are there?” she asks, shifting forward in the chair. I can see her right palm curling into a fist next to her leg, though her voice remains calm. “How big is their organization?” “Nobody knows, except their top leaders. That’s why it’s so hard to eradicate them—they’re scattered all over the world, like vermin. They made a mistake, though, when they tried to play hardball with me. I am very good at exterminating vermin.” Nora swallows reflexively, but continues holding my gaze. Brave girl. “What did they want from you?” she asks. “Why did they decide to play hardball?” I hesitate for a second, then decide to fill her in. She might as well know the full story at this point. “My company developed a new type of weapon—a powerful explosive that’s almost impossible to detect,” I explain. “A couple of kilos is all it would take to blow up a mid-sized airport, and a dozen kilos could take out a small city. It’s got the explosive force of a nuclear bomb, but it’s not radioactive, and the substance that it’s made of resembles plastic, so it can be molded into nearly anything… even children’s toys.” She stares at me, her face turning pale. She’s beginning to understand the implications of this. “Is that why you didn’t want to give it to them?” she asks. “Because you didn’t want to place such a dangerous weapon in the hands of terrorists?” “No, not really.” I give her an amused look. It’s sweet of her to ascribe noble motives to me, but she should know better at this point. “It’s simply that the explosive is difficult to produce in large quantities, and I already have a long list of buyers waiting. Al-Quadar was at the very bottom of that list, so they would’ve had to wait years, if not decades, to get it from me.” To Nora’s credit, her expression doesn’t change. “So who is at the top of your list?” she says evenly. “Some other terrorist group?” “No.” I laugh softly. “Not even close. It’s your government, my pet. They put in

an order so large, it will keep my factories busy for years.” “Oh, I see.” Initially she appears relieved, but then a puzzled frown creases her smooth forehead. “So legitimate governments buy things from you too? I thought the US military developed their own weapons…” “They do.” I grin at her naïveté. “But they would never pass up a chance to get their hands on something like this. And the more they buy, the less I can sell to others. It’s an arrangement that works well for everyone.” “But why don’t they just take it from you by force? Or simply shut down your factories?” She stares at me in confusion. “In general, if they know of your existence, why do they allow you to produce illegal weapons?” “Because if I didn’t do it, somebody else would—and that person might not be nearly as rational and pragmatic as I am.” I can see the disbelieving look on Nora’s face, and my grin widens. “Yes, my pet, believe it or not, the US government would rather deal with me, who bears America no particular ill will, than to have someone like Majid in charge of a similar operation.” “Majid?” “The motherfucker who killed Beth.” My voice hardens, my amusement disappearing without a trace. “The one responsible for stealing you at the clinic.” Nora tenses at the mention of Beth, and I see her hands balling into fists again. “The Suit—that’s what I called him in my mind,” she murmurs, her gaze appearing distant for a moment. “Because he was wearing a suit, you see…” She blinks, then focuses her attention on me again. “That was Majid?” I nod, keeping my expression impassive despite the rage churning inside me. “Yes. That was him.” “I wish he hadn’t died in the explosion,” she says, surprising me for a moment. Her eyes glitter darkly in the sunlight. “He didn’t deserve such an easy death.” “No, he didn’t,” I agree, now comprehending her meaning. Like me, she wishes that Majid had suffered. She hungers for revenge; I can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. It makes me wonder what would happen if she somehow ended up with Majid at her mercy. Would she be able to truly hurt him? To inflict such pain that he would beg for death? It’s an idea I find more than a little intriguing. “Did you ever bring Beth here?” she asks, interrupting that train of thought. “To this compound, I mean?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Before she came to stay on the island, Beth traveled with me, and I didn’t come here for a long time.” “Why not?” I shrug. “It wasn’t my favorite place, I guess,” I say casually, ignoring the dark memories that flood my mind at her innocent question. The estate was where I’d spent most of my childhood, where my father’s belt and fists reigned supreme until I was old enough to fight back. It was where I killed my first man—and where I came to retrieve my mother’s bloodied corpse twelve years ago. It wasn’t until I renovated the house completely that I could stand the thought of coming to live here again, and even then, it’s only Nora’s presence that makes it bearable for me to be here. She places her hand on my knee, bringing me back to the present. “Julian…” She pauses for a moment, as though unsure whether to proceed. Then she apparently decides to forge ahead. “There’s something I would like to ask you,” she says quietly, but firmly. I lift my eyebrows. “What is it, my pet?” “I took lessons back home,” she says, her hand unconsciously tightening on my knee. “Self-defense and shooting, that sort of thing… and I’d like to resume them here, if possible.” “I see.” A smile curves my mouth. My earlier speculations had been right, it seems. She’s not the same frightened, helpless girl I brought to the island. This Nora is stronger, more resilient… and even more appealing. I remember reading about her lessons in Lucas’s report, so her request is not totally unexpected. “You would like me to train you how to fight and use weapons?” She nods. “Yes. Or maybe have someone else teach me, if you’re busy.” “No.” The thought of any one of my men laying his hands on her, even in a teaching capacity, makes me see red. “I will teach you myself.”

I DECIDE TO START NORA’S TRAINING THAT AFTERNOON, AFTER I CATCH UP ON A FEW BUSINESS EMAILS. For some reason, I like the idea of teaching her self-defense. I don’t intend for her to ever be in a dangerous situation again, but I still want her to know how to protect herself if the need arises. The irony of what I’m doing doesn’t escape me. Most people would say I’m the one she needs protection from, and they would probably be right. I don’t give a

fuck, though. Nora is mine now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe— even if it involves teaching her how to kill someone like me. When I’m done with my emails, I go searching for her back at the house. This time I find her in the house gym, running on the treadmill at full speed. Judging by the sweat trickling down her slender back, she’s been going at this pace for a while. Making sure not to startle her, I come up to her from the side. Spotting me, she reduces the speed on the treadmill, slowing down to a jog. “Hi,” she says breathlessly, reaching for a small towel to wipe her face. “Is it time for the training?” “Yes, I have a couple of hours now.” My words come out low and husky as a familiar surge of arousal hardens my cock. I love seeing her like this, all out of breath, with her skin damp and glowing. It reminds me of how she looks after a particularly messy bout of sex. Of course, the fact that she’s wearing only a pair of running shorts and a sports bra doesn’t help. I want to lick the droplets of sweat off her smooth, flat belly, then throw her on the nearest mat for a quick fuck. “Excellent.” She gives me a huge smile and hits the ‘Stop‘ button on the treadmill. Then she hops off the machine, grabbing her water bottle. “I’m ready.” She looks so excited that I decide to hold off on the mat fucking for now. Delayed gratification can be a good thing, and I did carve out this time specifically for her training. “All right,” I say. “Let’s go.” And taking her hand, I lead her out of the house. We go to the field where I usually work out with my men. At this time of day, it’s too hot for serious exercise, so the area is largely empty. Still, as we pass by, I see a few of the guards surreptitiously staring at Nora. It makes me want to rip their eyes out. I think they can tell—because they look away as soon as they glance at me. I know it’s irrational to be this possessive of her, but I don’t care. She belongs to me, and they all need to know that. “What are we doing first?” she asks as we approach a storage shed in the corner of the training field. “Shooting.” I give her a sideways look. “I want to see how good you are with a gun.” She smiles, her eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I’m not bad,” she says, and the confidence in her voice makes me grin. It seems that my pet learned a few things in my absence. I can’t wait to see her demonstrate her new skills.

Inside the shed are some weapons and training gear. Going in, I select a few of the most commonly used guns—everything ranging from a 9mm handgun to an M16 assault rifle. I even grab an AK-47, although she might be too small to use it with ease. Then we go outside to the shooting range. There are a number of targets set up at different intervals. I have her begin with the closest target: a dozen empty beer cans propped on a wooden table some fifty feet away. Handing her the 9mm, I instruct her on how to use it and then have her aim at the cans. To my shock, she hits ten of the twelve cans on her first try. “Dammit,” she mutters, lowering the weapon. “I can’t believe I missed those two.” Surprised and impressed, I have her try out the other guns. She’s comfortable with most types of handguns and hunting rifles, hitting most of the targets again, but her arms shake when she tries to aim the AK-47. “You would have to get stronger to use that one,” I tell her, taking the assault rifle from her. She nods in agreement, reaching for her water bottle. “Yes,” she says between sips. “I want to get stronger. I want to be able to handle all these weapons, same as you.” I can’t help laughing at that. Despite her generally easygoing nature, Nora has a strong competitive streak. I’ve noticed it before, when we did that three-mile race on the island. “Okay,” I say, still chuckling. Taking the bottle from her, I drink some water and then return it to her. “I can train you to get stronger as well.” After she practices shooting a few more times, we return the guns to the shed. Then I take her to the indoor training gym, to show her some basic fighting moves. Lucas is there, sparring with three of the guards. Seeing us enter the room, he stops and respectfully nods at Nora, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her face. He knows by now how I feel about her, and is smart enough not to display any interest in her slim, half-naked form. His sparring partners, however, are not that wise, and it takes a murderous glare from me for them to stop gaping at her. “Hi Lucas,” Nora says, ignoring this little interplay. “It’s good to see you again.” Lucas gives her a carefully neutral smile. “You too, Mrs. Esguerra.” To my annoyance, Nora visibly flinches at the moniker, and my mild irritation

with the guards morphs into sudden anger at her. Her reluctance to marry me earlier is like a festering splinter at the back of my brain, and it doesn’t take much to bring back the way I felt at the church. For all of her supposed love for me, she still refuses to accept our marriage, and I’m no longer inclined to be reasonable and forgiving. “Out,” I bark at Lucas and the guards, jerking my thumb toward the door. “We need this space.” They clear out within seconds, leaving me and Nora alone. She takes a step back, suddenly looking wary. She knows me well, and I can tell she senses something amiss. As usual, she can guess what it is. “Julian,” she says cautiously, “I didn’t mean to react like that. I’m just not used to being called that, that’s all…” “Is that right, my pet?” My voice is like brushed silk, reflecting none of the simmering fury inside. Stepping toward her, I lift my hand and slowly trace my fingers over her jawline. “Would you prefer not to be called that? Perhaps you wish I hadn’t come back for you at all?” Her huge eyes grow even larger. “No, of course not! I told you, I want to be here with you—” “Don’t lie to me.” The words come out cold and sharp as I drop my hand. It infuriates me that I care about this at all, that I let something as insignificant as Nora’s feelings bother me. What does it matter if she loves me? I shouldn’t want that from her, shouldn’t expect it. And yet I do—it’s part of this fucked-up obsession I have with her. “I’m not lying,” she denies vehemently, taking a step back. Her face is pale in the dim light of the room, but her gaze is direct and unwavering as she stares at me. “I shouldn’t want to be with you, but I do. Do you think I don’t realize how wrong this is? How messed-up? You kidnapped me, Julian… You forced me.” The accusation hangs between us, stark and heavy. If I were a different man, a better man, I would look away. I would feel remorse for what I’d done. But I don’t. I’m not into self-deception. I never have been. When I abducted Nora, I knew that I crossed a line, that I sank to a new low. I did it with the full knowledge of what that makes me: an irredeemable beast, a destroyer of innocence. It’s a label I’m willing to live with to have her.

I would do anything to have her. So instead of looking away, I hold her gaze. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I did.” My anger is gone, replaced by an emotion I don’t want to analyze too closely. Taking a step toward her, I lift my hand again and stroke the plush softness of her lower lip with my thumb. Her lips part at my touch, and the hunger that I’ve been suppressing all day sharpens, clawing at my insides. I want her. I want her, and I’m going to take her. After this, she will have no doubt that she belongs to me.

10

N ora STARING UP AT MY HUSBAND, I FIGHT THE URGE TO BACK AWAY. I SHOULDN’T HAVE LET JULIAN SEE MY reaction to my new name, but I had been enjoying the shooting session—and Julian’s company—so much that I had forgotten the reality of my new situation. Hearing ‘Mrs. Esguerra’ fall from Lucas’s lips startled me, bringing back that disconcerting feeling of lost identity, and, for a moment, I had been unable to hide my dismay. That moment was all it took to transform Julian from a laughing, teasing companion to the terrifying, unpredictable man who first brought me to his island. I can feel the rapid beating of my pulse as his thumb caresses my lips, his touch gentle despite the darkness gleaming in his eyes. He doesn’t seem upset by my reckless accusations; if anything, he looks calmer now, almost amused. I’m not sure what I thought would happen when I threw the words at him, but I hadn’t expected him to admit his crimes so easily, without even a hint of guilt or regret. Most people try to justify their actions to themselves and others, twisting the facts to suit their purposes, but Julian is not most people. He sees things as they are; he’s just not bothered by the idea of committing acts most people would cringe at. Instead of a deluded psycho who thinks he’s doing the right thing, my new husband is simply a man without a conscience. A man whom I both love and fear right now. Without saying another word, Julian lowers his fingers and grips my upper arm, leading me toward one of the wide wrestling mats near the wall. As we walk, I catch a glimpse of the bulge in his shorts, and my breathing speeds up from a

combination of anxiety and involuntary desire. Julian intends to fuck me, right here and now, where anyone can walk in on us. An uncomfortable mixture of lust and embarrassment makes my skin burn. Logic tells me this is not likely to be one of our more vanilla encounters, but my body doesn’t know the difference between a punishment fuck and tender lovemaking. All it knows is Julian, and it’s conditioned to crave his touch. To my surprise, Julian doesn’t fall on me right away. Instead he releases my arm and looks at me, his sensuous mouth twisted into a cold, slightly cruel smile. “Why don’t you show me what you learned in those self-defense classes of yours, my pet?” he says softly. “Let’s see some of the moves they taught you.” I stare at him, my heart climbing into my throat as I realize what Julian wants. He wants me to fight him, to resist—even though it won’t change the outcome. Even though it’ll only make me feel helpless and defeated when I lose. “Why?” I ask in desperation, trying to put off the inevitable. I know Julian is just toying with me, but I don’t want to play this game, not after everything that has occurred between us. I want to forget those early days on the island, not relive them in this twisted way. “Why not?” He begins to circle around me, causing my anxiety to spike. “Isn’t that why you took those classes, so you could protect yourself from men like me? Men who want to take you, to abuse you?” My breathing accelerates further, adrenaline flooding my system as an involuntary fight-or-flight response kicks in. Instinctively I turn, trying to keep him in sight at all times, as if he were a dangerous predator—because he is one right now. A beautiful, deadly predator who is intent on me as his prey. “Go ahead, Nora,” he murmurs, stopping so that my back is against the wall. “Fight.” “No.” I try not to flinch when he reaches for me, his hand closing around my wrist. “I’m not doing this, Julian. Not like this.” His nostrils flare. He’s not used to me denying him anything, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he will do. My heart is beating painfully in my chest, and a thin trickle of sweat slides down my back as I hold his gaze. By now I know Julian wouldn’t truly harm me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t punish me for my defiance.

“All right,” he says softly. “If that’s how you want it.” And using his grip on my wrist, he twists my arm upwards, forcing me down to my knees. With his free hand, he unzips his shorts, letting his erection spring free. Then he wraps my hair around his fist and pushes my mouth toward his cock. “Suck it,” he orders roughly, staring down at me. Relieved by the simple task, I gladly obey, closing my lips around the thick column of his sex. He tastes like salt and man, the tip of his shaft damp with precum, and some of my anxiety fades, edged out by growing desire. I love pleasuring him like this, and as Julian’s grip on my wrist slackens, I use both hands to cup his balls, kneading and massaging them with firm pressure. He groans, closing his eyes, and I begin to move my mouth back and forth, using a sucking motion to bring him deeper into my throat each time. The way he holds my hair hurts my scalp, but the discomfort only enhances my arousal. Julian was right when he said I have masochistic tendencies. Whether by nature or by nurture, I get off on pain now, my body craving the intensity of these types of sensations. Looking up at him, I drink in the tortured expression on his face, enjoying the small taste of power he allows me. Today, though, he doesn’t let me set the pace for long. Instead he pushes his hips forward, forcing his cock further into my throat, and I gag, spitting up some saliva. That seems to please him, and he mutters thickly, “Yes, that’s it, baby,” opening his eyes to watch me as he begins to fuck my face with a hard, relentless rhythm. I choke again, and more saliva dribbles out, coating my chin and his cock with viscous moisture. He releases me then, but before I can catch my breath, he pushes me down on the mat, face first, causing me to fall onto my hands. Then he gets behind me, and I feel him pulling my shorts and underwear down to my knees. My sex clenches in hungry anticipation… but that’s not where he wants me today. It’s the other opening that holds his attention, and I tense instinctively as I feel the head of his cock pressing between my cheeks. “Relax, my pet,” he murmurs, grasping my hips to hold me in place as he begins to push in. “Just relax… Yes, there is a good girl…” I take small, shallow breaths as I try to follow Julian’s advice, fighting the urge to tighten up as he slowly begins to penetrate my ass. I know from experience this will hurt a lot less if I’m not so tense, but my body seems determined to fight this intrusion. After months of abstinence, it’s almost as if I’m a virgin there again, and I feel a heavy, burning pressure as my sphincter is forcefully stretched open.

“Julian, please…” The words come out in a low, pleading whisper as he ruthlessly pushes deeper, the saliva coating his cock acting as makeshift lube. My insides twist, and sweat breaks out all over my body as the tight ring of muscle finally gives in, letting his massive cock slide all the way in. Now he’s throbbing deep inside me, making me feel unbearably full, engulfed and overtaken. “Please what?” he breathes, sliding one muscular arm under my hips to hold me in place. At the same time, his other hand grabs my hair again, forcing my body to arch backwards. The new angle deepens the penetration, and I cry out, beginning to shake. It’s too much, I can’t take it, but Julian is not giving me a choice. This is my punishment, being fucked like an animal on a dirty mat, with no care or preparation. It should make me feel sick, killing all traces of desire, but somehow I’m still turned on, my body eager for whatever sensations Julian chooses to dole out. “Please what?” he repeats, his voice low and rough. “Please fuck me? Please give me more?” “I… I don’t know…” I can hardly speak, my senses overwhelmed. He stills then, not moving, and I’m grateful for that small mercy, as it gives me a chance to adjust to the brutal hardness lodged within me. I try to steady my breathing, to relax, and the pain gradually begins to lessen, transforming into something else—a sizzling heat that permeates my nerve endings. He starts to move again, his thrusts slow and deep, and the heat intensifies, centering low in my core. My nipples tighten, and a rush of wetness inundates my sex. Despite the discomfort, there is something perversely erotic about being taken like this, about being possessed in a way that’s so dirty and forbidden. Closing my eyes, I begin to get into the primal rhythm of his movements, the thrust and drag that makes my insides churn with agony and pleasure. My clit swells, becoming more sensitive, and I know it will take only a few light touches to make me come, to relieve the tension building within me. But he doesn’t touch my clit. Instead his hand releases my hair and slides down to my neck. Then he grips my throat, forcing me to rise up so that I’m standing on my knees, my back slightly arched. My eyes pop open and my hands automatically fly up, clutching at his strangling fingers, but there’s nothing I can do to loosen his hold. In this position, he’s even deeper inside me, and I can barely breathe, my heart beginning to pound with a new, unfamiliar fear. He leans forward then, and I can feel his lips brushing against my ear. “You are mine for the rest of your life,” he whispers harshly, the warmth of his breath making my skin prickle with goosebumps. “Do you understand me, Nora? All of you —your pussy, your asshole, your fucking inner thoughts… It’s all mine to use and

abuse as I will. I own you, inside and out, in every way possible…” His sharp teeth sink into my earlobe, causing me to gasp at the sudden pain. “Do you understand me?” There is a dark note in his voice that scares me. This is new—he’s never done this to me before—and my pulse soars sky-high as his fingers tighten around my throat, slowly but inexorably cutting off my air supply. Rising panic sends adrenaline surging through my veins. “Yes…” I manage to rasp out, my fingers now clawing at his hand, trying to pry it away. To my horror, I start seeing stars, the room blurring and going dark in front of my eyes. Surely he doesn’t mean to kill me… Surely he doesn’t mean to kill me… I am terrified, yet for some strange reason, my sex throbs and electric shivers run over my skin as my arousal spirals inexorably higher. “Good. Now tell me… whose wife are you?” His fingers tighten further, and the stars go supernova as my brain struggles to get enough oxygen. My body is on the brink of suffocation, yet it’s more alive in this moment than it’s ever been, every sensation sharpened and refined. The burning thickness of his cock inside my ass, the heat of his breath on my temple, the pulsing of my engorged clit—it’s too much and not enough at the same time. I want to scream and struggle, but I can’t move, can’t breathe… and as if from far away, I hear Julian demanding again, “Whose?” Right before I pass out, his grip on my throat eases, and I choke out, “Yours”… even as my body convulses in a paroxysm of agonized ecstasy, the orgasm sudden and startlingly intense as much-needed oxygen rushes into my lungs. Frantically gulping in air, I slump against him, trembling all over. I can’t believe I came like this, without Julian touching my sex at all. I can’t believe I came while being afraid of dying. After a moment, I become conscious of his lips grazing my sweat-dampened cheek. “Yes,” he murmurs, his hand now gently stroking my throat, “that’s right, baby…” He’s still buried inside me, his hard cock splitting me apart, invading me. “And what’s your name?” “Nora,” I gasp out hoarsely, quivering as his fingers trail down from my neck to my breasts. I’m still wearing my sports bra, and his hand burrows under the tight material, cupping my breast. “Nora what?” he persists, his fingers pinching my nipple. It’s erect and sensitive from my orgasm, and his touch sends a fresh ripple of heat down to my core. “Nora what?” “Nora Esguerra,” I whisper, closing my eyes. It’s a fact I will never forget now—

and as Julian resumes fucking me again, I know that Nora Leston will never exist again. She is gone for good.

II THE ESTATE

11

N ora OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS, I SLOWLY ACCLIMATE TO MY NEW HOME. THE ESTATE IS A fascinating place, and I spend much of my time exploring it and meeting its inhabitants. Besides the guards, there are a few dozen people living here, some by themselves, others with their families. They all work for Julian in one capacity or another, from the oldest generation to the youngest. Some—like Ana and Rosa— take care of the house and the grounds, while others are involved in Julian’s business. He may have only recently returned to the compound, but many of his employees have lived here since the time when Juan Esguerra—Julian’s father— reigned as one of the most powerful drug lords in the country. To an American like myself, such loyalty to an employer is unfathomable. “They’re well paid, provided with free housing, and your husband even hired a teacher for their children a few years ago,” Rosa explains when I ask her about this unusual phenomenon. “He might not have been here much in person, but he’s always been good at taking care of his people. They’re all free to leave if they want, but they know they’re unlikely to find anything better. Besides, here they’re protected, but out there, they and their families are fair game for nosy policemen or anyone else seeking information on the Esguerra organization.” Giving me a wry smile, she adds, “My mother says that once you’re a part of this life, you’re always a part of this life. There’s no going back.” “So why did they choose this life?” I ask, trying to understand what would make one move to a weapons dealer’s isolated compound on the edge of the Amazon rainforest. I don’t know many sane people who would do something like that

willingly—particularly if they knew there was no easy way to return home. Rosa shrugs. “Well, everybody has a different story. Some were wanted by the authorities; others made enemies of dangerous people. My parents came here to escape poverty and provide a better life for me and my brothers. They knew they were taking a risk, but they felt they had no other choice. To this day, my mother is convinced that they made the right decision for themselves and their children.” “Even after—?” I start asking, then shut my mouth when I realize that I’m about to bring up painful memories for Rosa again. “Yes, even after,” she says, understanding my half-spoken question. “There are no guarantees in life. They could’ve died anyway. My father and Eduardo—my oldest brother—were killed doing their jobs, but at least they had jobs. Back at my parents’ village, there were no jobs, and the cities were even worse. My parents did whatever they could to keep food on the table, but it wasn’t enough. When my mother became pregnant with me, Eduardo, who was twelve at the time, went to Medellín seeking to become a drug mule—just so that our family wouldn’t starve. My father went after him to stop him, and that’s when the two of them ran into Juan Esguerra, who was in the city for negotiations with the Medellín Cartel. He offered both my father and brother a job in his organization, and the rest is history.” She stops and smiles at me before continuing, “So you see, Nora, working for Señor Esguerra was the best alternative for my family. As my mother says, at least I never had to sell myself for food, the way she did in her youth.” Rosa says that last part without any bitterness or self-pity. She’s simply stating facts. Rosa genuinely considers herself lucky to have been born on the Esguerra estate. She’s grateful to Julian and his father for providing her family with a good living, and, despite her longing to see America, she doesn’t mind living in the middle of nowhere. To her, this compound is home. I learn all of this during our walks. While Rosa doesn’t like jogging, she’s more than happy to take a brisk walk with me in the morning, before it gets too hot and muggy. It’s something we started doing on my third day here, and it’s quickly becoming part of my daily routine. I like spending time with Rosa; she’s bright and friendly, reminding me a bit of my friend Leah. And Rosa seems to enjoy my company as well—although I’m sure she would be nice to me regardless, given my position here. Everybody on the estate treats me with respect and politeness. After all, I’m the Señor’s wife. After the incident at the gym, I have done my best to accept the fact that I’m married to Julian—that the beautiful, amoral man who abducted me is now my

husband. It’s an idea that still disturbs me on some level, but with each day that passes, I grow more and more accustomed to it. My life changed irrevocably when Julian stole me, and that far-off ‘normal’ future is a dream I should’ve given up a long time ago. Clinging to it while falling in love with my kidnapper had been as irrational as developing feelings for him in the first place. Instead of a house in the suburbs and two-point-five kids, my future now holds a heavily guarded compound near the Amazon jungle and a man who both excites and terrifies me. It’s impossible for me to imagine having children with Julian, and I dread the fact that in a few short months, the three-year birth control implant I got at seventeen will cease to be effective. At some point, I will need to bring up this issue with Julian, but for now I’m trying not to think about it. I’m no more ready to be a mother than I was to be a wife, and the possibility of having that choice forced on me makes me break out in a cold sweat. I love Julian, but raising children with a man who thinks nothing of kidnapping and killing? That’s a whole other matter. My parents and friends back home aren’t helping. I spoke once with Leah, telling her about my hasty marriage, and her reaction had been shocked, to say the least. “You married that arms dealer?” she exclaimed incredulously. “After everything he’s done to you and Jake? Are you insane? You’re only nineteen—and he should be in jail!” And no matter how much I tried to spin everything in a positive light, I could tell she got off the phone thinking that my abduction left me a few cards short of a full deck. My parents are even worse. Every time I talk to them, I have to fend off their probing questions about my unexpected marriage and Julian’s plans for our future. I don’t blame them for adding to my anxiety; I know they’re worried sick about me. The last time we had a video call, my mom’s eyes were red and swollen, as though she’d been crying. It’s obvious that the hastily concocted story I told them at my wedding has done little to alleviate their concerns. My parents know how my relationship with Julian began, and they’re having a hard time believing I could be happy with a man they see as pure evil. And yet I am happy, my fretting about the future aside. The icy emptiness inside me is gone, replaced by a dazzling abundance of emotions and sensations. It’s as though the black-and-white movie of my life has been redone in technicolor. When I’m with Julian, I’m complete and content in a way that I don’t fully understand and can’t quite come to terms with. It’s not like I was miserable before I

met him. I had great friends, a loving family, and the promise of a good, if unexceptional, life ahead of me. I even had a crush—Jake—who gave me the proverbial butterflies in my stomach. It makes no sense that I somehow needed something as perverse as this relationship with Julian to enrich my life and give me that which I was missing. Of course, I’m no shrink. Perhaps there is an explanation for my feelings—some childhood trauma that I’ve repressed, or a chemical imbalance in my brain. Or maybe it’s just Julian and the deliberate way he’s been molding my physical and emotional responses since those early days on the island. I am cognizant of his conditioning methods, but my recognition of them doesn’t alter their effectiveness. It’s strange to know that you’re being manipulated, and at the same time enjoy the results of that manipulation. But enjoy them I do. Being with Julian is thrilling—both frightening and exhilarating, like riding a wild tiger. I never know which side of him I will see at any given moment: the charming lover or the cruel master. And as messed-up as it is, I want both—I am addicted to both. The light and the dark, the violence and the tenderness—it all goes together, forming a volatile, dizzying cocktail that plays havoc with my equilibrium and makes me fall even deeper under Julian’s spell. Of course, the fact that I see him now every day doesn’t help. On the island, Julian’s frequent absences gave me time to recover from the potent effect he has on my mind and body, enabling me to maintain some emotional balance. Here, however, there is no respite from the magnetic pull he exerts on me, no way to shield myself from his intoxicating allure. With each day that passes, I lose a little more of my soul to him, my need for him growing, rather than decreasing with time. The only thing that keeps me from freaking out is the knowledge that Julian is drawn to me just as strongly. I don’t know if it’s my resemblance to Maria or just our inexplicable chemistry, but I know the addiction works both ways. Julian’s hunger for me knows no bounds. He takes me a couple of times every night—and often during the day as well—yet I get the sense he still wants more. It’s there in the intensity of his gaze, in the way he always touches me, holds me. He can’t keep his hands off me—and that makes me feel better about my own helpless attraction to him. He also seems to enjoy spending time with me outside of the bedroom. True to his promise, Julian has begun training me, teaching me how to fight and use different weapons. After the initial rocky start, he turned out to be an excellent

instructor—knowledgeable, patient, and surprisingly dedicated. We train together nearly every day, and I’ve already learned more in these couple of weeks than in the prior three months in my self-defense courses. Of course, it would be a misnomer to call what he teaches me self-defense; Julian’s lessons have more in common with some kind of assassin bootcamp. “You aim to kill every time,” he instructs during one afternoon session where he makes me throw knives at a small target on the wall. “You don’t have the size or the strength, so for you, it’s all about speed, reflexes, and ruthlessness. You need to catch your opponents off-guard and eliminate them before they realize how skilled you are. Every strike has to be deadly; every move has to count.” “What if I don’t want to kill them?” I ask, looking up at him. “What if I just want to wound them, so I can run away?” “A wounded man can still hurt you. It doesn’t take much strength to squeeze a trigger or stab you with a knife. Unless you have a good reason for wanting your enemy alive, you aim to kill, Nora. Do you understand me?” I nod and throw a small, sharp knife at the wall. It thuds dully against the target, then falls down, having barely scratched the wood. Not my best attempt, but better than my prior five. I don’t know if I can do what Julian says, but I do know that I never want to feel defenseless again. If it means learning the skills of an assassin, I’m happy to do it. It doesn’t mean I will ever use them, but just knowing that I can protect myself makes me feel stronger and more confident, helping me cope with the residual nightmares from my time with the terrorists. To my relief, those have gotten better as well. It’s like my subconscious knows that Julian is here—that I’m safe with him. Of course, it also helps that when I do wake up screaming, he’s there to hold me and chase the nightmare away. The first time it happens is the third night after my arrival at the estate. I dream of Beth’s death again, of the ocean of blood that I’m drowning in, but this time, strong arms catch me, save me from the vicious rip current. This time, when I open my eyes, I’m not alone in the darkness. Julian has turned on the bedside lamp and is shaking me awake, a concerned expression on his beautiful face. “I’m here now,” he soothes, pulling me into his lap when I can’t stop trembling, tears of remembered horror running down my face. “All is well, I promise…” He strokes my hair until my sobbing breaths begin to even out, and then he asks softly, “What’s the matter, baby? Did you have a bad dream? You were screaming my name…”

I nod, clinging to him with all my strength. I can feel the warmth of his skin, hear the steady beating of his heart, and the nightmare slowly begins to recede, my mind coming back to the present. “It was Beth,” I whisper when I can speak without my voice breaking. “He was torturing her… killing her.” Julian’s arms tighten around me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his rage, his burning fury. Beth had been more than a housekeeper to him, though the precise nature of their relationship had always been something of a mystery to me. Desperate to distract myself from the bloody images still filling my mind, I decide to satisfy the curiosity that had gnawed at me all through my time on the island. “How did you and Beth meet?” I ask, pulling back to look at Julian’s face. “How did she come to be on the island with me?” He looks at me, his eyes dark with memories. Before, whenever I would ask these types of questions, he would brush me off or change the topic, but things are different between us now. Julian seems more willing to talk to me, to let me more fully into his life. “I was in Tijuana seven years ago for a meeting with one of the cartels,” he begins speaking after a moment. “After my business was concluded, I went looking for entertainment in Zona Norte, the red-light district of the city. I was passing by one of the alleys when I saw it… a screaming, crying woman huddled over a small figure on the ground.” “Beth,” I whisper, remembering what she told me about her daughter. “Yes, Beth,” he confirms. “It wasn’t any of my business, but I’d had a couple of drinks and I was curious. So I came closer… and that’s when I saw that the small figure on the ground was a child. A beautiful baby girl with red curly hair, a tiny replica of the woman crying over her.” A savage, furious glint enters his eyes. “The child was lying in a pool of blood, with a gunshot wound in her small chest. She had apparently been killed to punish her mother, who didn’t want to let her pimp offer the child to some clients with more unique tastes.” Nausea, sharp and strong, rises in my throat. Despite everything I’ve been through, it still horrifies me to know that there are such monsters out there. Monsters far worse than the man I’ve fallen in love with. No wonder Beth saw the world in shades of black; her life had been overtaken by darkness. “When I heard the full story, I took Beth and her daughter with me,” Julian continues in a low, hard voice. “It still wasn’t any of my business, but I couldn’t let

this type of thing slide—at least not after seeing that child’s body. We buried the daughter in a cemetery just outside Tijuana. Then I took a couple of my men, and Beth and I came back to look for the pimp.” A small, vicious smile appears on his lips as he says softly, “Beth killed him personally. Him and his two thugs—the ones who helped murder her daughter.” I inhale slowly, not wanting to start crying again. “And she came to work for you after that? After you helped her like that?” Julian nods. “Yes. It wasn’t safe for her to stay in Tijuana, so I offered her a job as my personal cook and maid. She accepted, of course—it was far better than being a streetwalker in Mexico—and she traveled with me everywhere after that. It wasn’t until I decided to acquire you that I offered her the opportunity to stay permanently on the island and, well, you know the rest of the story.” “Yes, I do,” I murmur, pushing against his chest to extricate myself from his embrace—an embrace that suddenly feels suffocating rather than comforting. The ‘acquire you’ part of the story is an unpleasant reminder of how I came to be here… of the fact that the man by my side ruthlessly planned and carried out my abduction. On the spectrum of evil, Julian may not be all the way on the black side, but he’s not very far from it. Still, as days go on, my nightmares slowly ease. As perverse as it is, now that I’m back with my kidnapper, I’m starting to heal from the ordeal of being stolen from him. Even my art has become more peaceful. I still feel compelled to paint the flames of the explosion, but I have begun to get interested in landscapes again, capturing on canvas the wild beauty of the rainforest that encroaches on the borders of the property. As before, Julian encourages my hobby. In addition to setting up the studio for me, he retained an art instructor—a thin, elderly man from the south of France who speaks English with a thick accent. Monsieur Bernard had taught in all the best art schools in Europe before retiring in his late seventies. I have no idea how Julian persuaded him to come to the estate, but I’m thankful for his presence. The techniques he teaches me are far more advanced than what I had learned through my instructional videos before, and I’m already starting to see a new level of sophistication in my art—as does Monsieur Bernard. “You have talent, Señora,” he says with his heavy French accent, examining my latest attempt at painting a sunset in the jungle. The trees look dark against the glowing orange and pink of the setting sun, with the edges of the painting blurred out and out of focus. “This has a—how do you say it? An almost sinister feel to it?”

He glances at me, his faded gaze suddenly sharp with curiosity. “Yes,” he continues softly after studying me for a few moments. “You have talent and something more —something inside you that comes out through your art. A darkness I rarely see in one so young.” I don’t know how to respond to that, so I simply smile at him. I am not sure whether Monsieur Bernard knows about my husband’s profession, but I’m almost certain the elderly instructor has no idea how my relationship with Julian began. As far as the world is concerned now, I’m the pampered young wife of a handsome, rich man, and that’s all there is to it.

“I’VE ENROLLED YOU FOR THE WINTER QUARTER AT STANFORD,” JULIAN SAYS CASUALLY OVER DINNER one night. “They have a new online program. It’s still in the experimental stages, but the early feedback is quite good. It’s all the same professors; it’s just that the lectures are recorded, instead of being live.” My jaw drops. I’m enrolled at Stanford? I had no idea college of any kind—much less a top ten university—was even on the table. “What?” I say incredulously, putting down my fork. Ana had prepared a delicious meal for us, but I no longer have any interest in the food on my plate, all my attention focused on Julian. He smiles at me calmly. “I promised your parents you would get a good education, and I’m delivering on that promise. You don’t like Stanford?” Stunned, I stare at him. I don’t have an opinion about Stanford because I had never even entertained the possibility of going there. My grades in school had been good, but my SAT scores weren’t sky-high, and my parents couldn’t have afforded such an expensive school anyway. Community college followed by a transfer to one of the state colleges was going to be my path to getting a degree, so I never looked at Stanford or any school of its caliber. “How did you get me in?” I finally manage to ask. “Isn’t their admission rate in the single digits? Or is the online program less competitive?” “No, it’s even more competitive, I believe,” Julian says, filling his plate with a second serving of chicken. “I think they’re only taking a hundred students for the program this year, and there were about ten thousand applicants.” “Then how did you—” I begin saying, then shut up as I realize that getting me into an elite school is child’s play to someone with Julian’s wealth and connections. “So I start in January?” I ask instead, excitement trickling through my veins as the

shock begins to wear off. Stanford. Oh my God, I will be going to Stanford. I should probably feel guilty that I didn’t get in on my own merit—or at least be outraged at Julian’s high-handedness—but all I can think about is my parents’ reaction when I tell them the news. I will be going to freaking Stanford! Julian nods, reaching for more rice. “Yes, that’s when the winter quarter begins. They should email you an orientation packet in the next couple of days, so you’ll be able to order your textbooks once you find out the class requirements. I’ll make sure they’re delivered to you here in time.” “Wow, okay.” I know it’s not an appropriate response for something of this magnitude, but I can’t think of anything more clever to say. In less than two weeks, I will be a student at one of the most prestigious universities in the world—the last thing I expected when Julian came for me again. Granted, it will be an online program, but it’s still far better than anything I could’ve dreamed of. A number of questions occur to me. “What about my major? What will I be studying?” I ask, wondering if Julian made that decision for me too. The fact that he took the matter of my college education into his own hands doesn’t surprise me; after all, this is the man who abducted me and forced me to marry him. He’s not exactly big on giving me choices. Julian gives me an indulgent smile. “Whatever you want, my pet. I believe there is a common set of subjects you’ll need to take, so you won’t need to decide your major for a year or two. Do you have some ideas of what you want to study?” “No, not really.” I had been planning to take classes in different areas to figure out what I wanted to do, and I’m glad that Julian left me this option. In high school I had done equally well in most subjects, which made it hard to narrow down my career options. “Well, you still have time to figure it out,” Julian says, sounding for all the world like a guidance counselor. “There is no rush.” “Right, uh-huh.” A part of me can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Less than two hours ago, Julian cornered me by the pool and fucked my brains out on one of the lounge chairs. Less than five hours ago, he taught me how to disable a man by stabbing him in the eye with my fingers. Two nights ago, he tied me to our bed and whipped me with a flogger. And now we’re discussing my potential major in college? Trying to wrap my mind around such a strange turn of events, I ask Julian on autopilot, “So what did you study in college?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that I have no idea if Julian even went to college—that I still know very little about the man I sleep with every night.

Frowning, I do some quick mental math. According to Rosa, Julian’s parents were killed twelve years ago, at which point he took over his father’s business. Given that about twenty months had passed since Beth told me that Julian was twentynine, he had to be somewhere around thirty-one today—which meant he took over his father’s business at nineteen. For the first time, it dawns on me that Julian had been right around my age when he took his father’s place as the head of an illegal drug operation and transformed it into a cutting-edge—though equally illegal—weapons empire. To my surprise, Julian says, “I studied electrical engineering.” “What?” I can’t hide my shock. “But I thought you took over your father’s business really young—” “I did.” Julian gives me an amused look. “I dropped out of Caltech after a year and a half. But while I was there, I studied electrical engineering through an accelerated program.” Caltech? I stare at Julian with newfound respect. I’ve always known that he’s smart, but engineering at Caltech is a whole different level of brilliance. “Is that why you chose to go into arms dealing? Because you had a background in engineering?” “Yes, partly. And partly because I saw more opportunities there than in the drug trade.” “More opportunities?” Picking up my fork, I twirl it between my fingers as I study Julian, trying to understand what would make one abandon one criminal enterprise for another. Surely someone with his level of intelligence and drive could’ve chosen to do something better—something less dangerous and immoral. “Why didn’t you just get your degree from Caltech and do something legitimate with it?” I ask after a few moments. “I’m sure you could’ve gotten any job you wanted—or maybe started your own business if you didn’t like the corporate world.” He looks at me, his expression unreadable. “I thought about it,” he says, shocking me yet again. “When I left Colombia after Maria’s death, I wanted to be done with that world. For the rest of my teenage years, I tried my hardest to forget the lessons my father taught me, to keep the violence within me under control. That’s why I enrolled in Caltech—because I thought I could take a different path… become someone other than who I was meant to be.” I stare at him, my pulse quickening. This is the first time I’ve heard Julian admit

to ever wanting something different than the life he’s currently leading. “So why didn’t you? Surely there was nothing tying you to that world once your father was dead…” “You’re right.” Julian gives me a thin smile. “I could’ve ignored my father’s death and let the other cartel take over his organization. It would’ve been easy. They had no idea where I was or what name I was using at that point, so I could’ve started fresh, finishing college and getting a job with one of the Silicon Valley start-ups. And I probably would’ve done that—if they hadn’t also killed my mother.” “Your mother?” “Yes.” His beautiful features twist with hatred. “They gunned her down right here on the estate, along with dozens of others. I couldn’t ignore that.” No, of course he couldn’t. Not somebody like Julian, who had already killed for revenge. Remembering the story he told me about the men who murdered Maria, I feel a chill rippling over my skin. “So you came back and killed them?” “Yes. I gathered all of my father’s remaining men and hired some new ones. We attacked in the middle of the night, striking at the cartel leaders right in their homes. They weren’t expecting such fast retaliation, and we caught them offguard.” His lips curl into a dark smile. “By the time the morning came, there were no survivors—and I knew I had been foolish to think that I could ignore what I am… to imagine that I could be something other than the killer I was born to be.” The chill running over my skin transforms into full-on goosebumps. This side of Julian terrifies me, and I clasp my hands together under the table to prevent them from shaking. “You told me you saw a therapist after your parents’ death. Because you wanted to kill more.” “Yes, my pet.” There is a savage gleam in his blue eyes. “I killed the cartel leaders and their families, and when it was all over, I thirsted for more blood… more death. The craving inside me only intensified during the years that I’d been away; leading a so-called ‘normal’ life made it worse, not better.” He pauses, and I shudder at the black shadows I see in his gaze. “Seeing a therapist was a last-ditch attempt to fight against my nature, and it didn’t take me long to realize that it was futile—that the only way to move forward was to embrace it and accept my fate.” “And you did that by going into arms dealing.” I try to keep my voice steady. “By becoming a criminal.” At that moment, Ana comes into the dining room and begins to clear the dishes

off the table. Watching her, I slowly rub my arms, trying to dispel the coldness within me. In a way, it makes it worse, the fact that Julian had a choice and that he consciously chose to embrace the darkest part of himself. It tells me there is no hope for redemption, no chance of making him see the error of his ways. It’s not that he never knew there was an alternative to a life of crime; on the contrary, he had experienced such an alternative and decided to reject it. “Would you like anything else?” Ana asks us, and I shake my head mutely, too disturbed to think about dessert. Julian, however, asks for a cup of hot chocolate, sounding as unruffled as ever. When Ana exits the room, Julian smiles at me, as though sensing the direction of my thoughts. “I was always a criminal, Nora,” he says softly. “I killed for the first time when I was eight, and I knew then that there would be no going back. I tried to bury that knowledge for a while, but it was always there, waiting for me to come to my senses.” He leans back in his seat, his posture indolent, yet predatory, like the lazy sprawl of a jungle cat. “The truth of the matter is I need this kind of life, my pet. The danger, the violence—and the power that comes with it all—they suit me in a way that a boring corporate job could never have.” He pauses, then adds, his eyes glittering, “They make me feel alive.”

WHEN WE GET TO THE BEDROOM THAT EVENING, I GO TO TAKE A QUICK SHOWER WHILE JULIAN responds to a couple of urgent work emails on his iPad. By the time I come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my damp body, he’s put the tablet away and is beginning to undress. As he pulls off his shirt, I sense an unusual excitement within him, a pent-up energy in his movements that hadn’t been there before. “What happened?” I ask warily, our earlier conversation fresh in my mind. Things that excite Julian are, more often than not, something that would make me shudder. Pausing by the bed, I adjust the towel, strangely reluctant to bare myself to his gaze quite yet. He gives me a brilliant smile as he sits down on the bed to take off his socks. “Do you remember when I told you we had some intelligence on two Al-Quadar cells?” When I nod, he says, “Well, we succeeded in destroying them and even captured three terrorists in the process. Lucas is having them brought here for questioning, so they’ll be arriving in the morning.” “Oh.” I stare at him, my stomach churning with an unsettling mix of emotions. I understand what ‘questioning’ implies in Julian’s world. I should be horrified and

disgusted by the idea that my husband will most likely torture those men—and I am—but deep inside, I also feel a kind of sick, vengeful joy. It’s an emotion that disturbs me a lot more than the thought of Julian interrogating them tomorrow. I know these men are not the same ones who murdered Beth, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about them. There is a part of me that wants them to pay for Beth’s death… to suffer for what Majid did. Apparently misinterpreting my reaction, Julian rises to his feet and says softly, “Don’t worry, my pet. They won’t hurt you—I’ll make sure of that.” And before I can respond, he pushes down his jeans to reveal a growing erection. At the sight of his naked body, a wave of desire washes over me, heating me from the inside out despite my mental turmoil. Over the past couple of weeks, Julian has regained some of the muscle he lost during his coma, and he’s even more stunning than before, his shoulders impossibly broad and his skin darkly tanned from the hot sun. Raising my eyes to his face, I wonder for the hundredth time how someone so beautiful can carry such evil inside—and whether some of that evil is beginning to rub off on me. “I know they won’t hurt me here,” I say quietly as he reaches for me. “I’m not afraid of them.” A sardonic half-smile appears on his lips as he tugs the towel off my body, dropping it carelessly on the floor. “Are you afraid of me?” he murmurs, stepping closer to me. Lifting his hands, he cups my breasts in his large palms and squeezes them, his thumbs playing with my nipples. As he gazes down at me, I notice an amused, yet slightly cruel glint in his blue eyes. “Should I be?” My heartbeat picks up, my core clenching at the feel of his hard cock brushing against my stomach. His hands are hot and rough on the sensitive skin of my bare breasts, and I inhale sharply as my nipples tighten under his touch. “Are you going to hurt me tonight?” “Is that what you want, my pet?” He pinches my nipples forcefully, then rolls them between his fingers, causing me to bite back a moan of pleasure tinged with pain. His voice deepens, turning dark and seductive. “Do you want me to hurt you… to mark your soft skin and make you scream?” I lick my lips, tremors of heat and anxious excitement running through my body. I should be frightened, particularly after our conversation tonight, but I’m desperately aroused instead. As perverse as it is, I want this too—I want the ferocity of his desire, the cruelty of his affection. I want to lose myself in the twisted rapture of his embrace, to forget about right and wrong and simply feel.

“Yes,” I whisper, for the first time admitting to my own dark needs—to the aberrant craving he has instilled in me. “Yes, I do…” Heat flares in his eyes, savage and volcanic, and then we’re tumbling to the bed in a primal tangle of limbs and flesh. There’s no trace of the deceptively gentle lover now, or of the sophisticated sadist who manipulates my mind and body every night. No, this Julian is pure male lust, untamed and uncontrolled. His hands roam over my body, and his mouth is on me, licking, sucking, and biting every inch of my flesh. His left hand finds its way between my thighs, and one big finger pushes into me, making me gasp as he ruthlessly drives it in and out of my wet, quivering sex. He’s rough, but the heat inside me only intensifies, and I rake my nails down his back, desperate for more as we roll on the bed, going at each other like animals. I end up on my back, pinned by his muscled body, my arms stretched above my head and my wrists caught in the iron grip of his right hand. It’s the position of the conquered, yet my heart pounds with anticipation rather than fear at the look of predatory hunger on his face. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says harshly, his knees wedging between my thighs and spreading them wide. There’s no seduction in his voice now, only raw, aggressive need. “I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy—and then I’m going to fuck you more. Do you understand me?” I manage a tiny nod, my chest heaving as I stare up at him. My breathing is coming fast and hard, and my skin burns where his body touches me. For a moment, I can feel the throbbing length of his erection brushing against the inside of my thigh, the broad head smooth and velvety, and then he grasps his cock with his free hand and guides it to my entrance. I’m wet, but nowhere near ready for the brutal thrust with which he joins our bodies, and a shock of pain lashes at my nerve endings as he slams into me, nearly splitting me in half. A cry escapes my throat and my inner muscles tighten, resisting the vicious penetration, but he doesn’t give me any time to adjust. Instead he sets a hard, bruising pace, claiming me with a violence that leaves me shaken and breathless, helpless to do anything but accept the relentless pounding of my body. I don’t know how long he fucks me like this—or how many times I come from the battering force of his thrusts. All I know is that by the time he reaches his peak, shuddering over me, I’m hoarse from screaming and so sore that it hurts when he pulls out of me, the wetness of his semen stinging my abraded flesh.

I’m also too worn out to move, so he gets up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a cool, wet towel. Pressing it against my swollen sex, he gently cleans me, then goes down on me, his lips and tongue forcing my exhausted body into another orgasm. And then we sleep, entwined in each other’s arms.

12

J ulian THE NEXT MORNING I WAKE UP WHEN THE SUNLIGHT TOUCHES MY FACE. I DELIBERATELY LEFT THE drapes open last night, wanting to get an early start on the day. Light works better than any alarm with me, and it’s far less disruptive to Nora, who’s sleeping draped across my chest. For a few minutes, I just lie there, luxuriating in the feel of her warm skin pressed against mine, in the soft exhalations of her breath and the way her long lashes lie like dark crescents on her cheeks. I had never wanted to sleep with a woman before her, had never understood the appeal of having another person in your bed for anything but fucking. It was only when I acquired my captive that I learned the simple pleasure of drifting off to sleep while holding her sleek little body… of feeling her next to me throughout the night. Taking a deep breath, I gently shift Nora off me. I need to get up, though the temptation to lie there and do nothing is strong. She doesn’t wake up when I sit up, just rolls onto her side and continues sleeping, the blanket sliding off her body and leaving her back largely exposed to my gaze. Unable to resist, I lean over to kiss one slender shoulder and notice a few scratches and bruises marring her smooth skin— marks that I must’ve inflicted on her last night. It turns me on, seeing them on her. I like the idea of branding her in some way, of leaving signs of my possession on her delicate flesh. She already wears my ring, but it’s not enough. I want more. With each passing day, my need for her grows, my obsession with her intensifying rather than lessening with time. It disturbs me, this development. I had been hoping that seeing Nora every day

and having her as my wife would quell this desperate hunger I feel for her all the time, but just the opposite seems to be happening. I resent every minute that I spend away from her, every moment that I’m not touching her. Just like with any addiction, I seem to require larger and larger doses of my chosen drug, my dependence on her increasing until I’m constantly craving my next fix. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost her. It’s a fear that makes me wake up in a cold sweat at night and assaults my mind at random times throughout the day. I know that she’s safe here on the estate—nothing short of a direct attack by a fullfledged army can penetrate my security—but I still can’t help worrying, can’t help fearing that she’ll be taken from me somehow. It’s insane, but I’m tempted to keep her chained to my side at all times, so I would know she’s okay. Casting one last look at her sleeping form, I get up as quietly as I can and head into the shower, forcing my thoughts away from my obsession. I will see Nora again this evening, but first, there is an overnight delivery that requires my attention. As my mind turns to the upcoming task, I smile with grim anticipation. My Al-Quadar prisoners are waiting.

LUCAS HAD THEM BROUGHT TO A STORAGE SHED ON THE FAR EDGE OF THE PROPERTY. THE FIRST THING I notice as I walk in is the stench. It’s an acrid combination of sweat, blood, urine, and desperation. It tells me that Peter has already been hard at work this morning. As my eyes adjust to the dim light inside the shed, I see that two of the men are tied to metal chairs, while the third is hanging from a hook in the ceiling, strung up by a rope binding his wrists above his head. All three of them are covered in dirt and blood, making it difficult to tell their age or nationality. I approach one of the seated ones first. His left eye is swollen shut, and his lips are puffy and encrusted with blood. His right eye, though, is glaring at me with fury and defiance. A young man, I decide, studying him closer. Early twenties or late teens, with a straggly attempt at a beard and close-trimmed black hair. I doubt he’s anything more than a foot soldier, but I still intend to question him. Even small fish can occasionally swallow useful bits of information—and then regurgitate them if prompted properly. “His name is Ahmed,” a deep, faintly accented voice says behind me. Turning, I see Peter standing there, his face as expressionless as always. The fact that I didn’t spot him right away doesn’t surprise me; Peter Sokolov excels at lurking in the shadows. “He was recruited six months ago in Pakistan.”

An even smaller fish than I expected, then. I’m disappointed, but not surprised. “What about this one?” I ask, walking to the other man in a chair. He appears a bit older, closer to thirty, his thin face clean-shaven. Like Ahmed, he’s been roughed up a bit, but there is no fury in his gaze as he looks at me. There is only icy hatred. “John, also known as Yusuf. Born in America to Palestinian immigrants, recruited by Al-Quadar five years ago. That’s all I got out of that one thus far,” Peter says, pointing at the man hanging on the hook. “John himself hasn’t talked to me yet.” “Of course.” I stare at John, inwardly pleased by this development. If he’s trained to withstand a significant amount of pain and torture, then he’s at least a mid-level operative. If we manage to crack him, I’m certain we’ll be able to get some valuable insights. “And this one is Abdul.” Peter gestures toward the hanging man. “He’s Ahmed’s cousin. Supposedly, he joined Al-Quadar last week.” Last week? If that’s true, the man is all but useless. Frowning, I walk up to him to take a closer look. At my approach, he tenses, and I see that his face is one massive, swollen bruise. He also reeks of urine. As I pause in front of him, he begins to babble in Arabic, his voice filled with fear and desperation. “He says he told us all he knows.” Peter comes to stand next to me. “Claims he only joined his cousin because they promised to give his family two goats. Swears he’s not a terrorist, never wanted to hurt anyone in his life, has nothing against America, et cetera, et cetera.” I nod, having gathered that much myself. I don’t speak Arabic, but I understand some of it. A cold smile stretches my lips as I take a Swiss army knife out of my back pocket and pull out a small blade. At the sight of the knife, Abdul yanks frantically at the ropes holding him up, and his pleas grow in volume. He’s clearly as green as they come—which makes me inclined to believe that he’s telling the truth about not knowing anything. It doesn’t matter, though. All I need from him is information, and if he can’t provide it, he’s a dead man. “Are you sure you don’t know anything else?” I ask him, slowly twirling the knife between my fingers. “Perhaps something you might’ve seen, heard, come across? Any names, faces, anything of that sort?” Peter translates my question, and Abdul shakes his head, tears and snot running down his battered, bloodied face. He babbles some more, something about knowing

only John, Ahmed, and the men who were killed during their capture yesterday. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ahmed glaring at him, no doubt wishing that his cousin would keep his mouth shut, but John doesn’t seem alarmed by Abdul’s verbal diarrhea. John’s lack of concern only confirms what my instincts are telling me: that Abdul is telling the truth about not knowing anything else. As though reading my mind, Peter steps next to me. “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” His tone is casual, like he’s offering me a cup of coffee. “I’ll do it,” I reply in the same manner. There is no room for softness in my business, no place for sentimentality. Abdul’s guilt or innocence doesn’t matter; he allied himself with my enemies and, by doing so, signed his own death warrant. The only mercy I will grant him is that of a swift end to the misery of his existence. Ignoring the man’s terrified pleas, I slice my blade across Abdul’s throat, then step back, watching as he bleeds out. When it’s over, I wipe the knife on the dead man’s shirt and turn to the two remaining prisoners. “All right,” I say, giving them a placid smile. “Who’s next?”

TO MY ANNOYANCE, IT TAKES MOST OF THE MORNING TO BREAK AHMED. FOR A NEW RECRUIT, HE’S surprisingly resilient. He ultimately gives in, of course—they all do—and I learn the name of the man who acts as an intermediary between their cell and another one that’s run by a more senior leader. I also learn of a plan to blow up a tour bus in Tel-Aviv—information that my contacts in the Israeli government will find quite useful. I let John watch the whole process, up until the moment Ahmed takes his last breath. Even though John may be trained to withstand torture, I doubt he’s psychologically prepared to see his colleague taken apart piece by piece, all the while knowing that he, John, will be next. Few people are capable of maintaining their cool in a situation like that—and I know that John is not one of them when I catch his gaze dropping to the floor during a particularly gruesome moment. Still, I know it will take us at least a few hours to extract anything from him, and I can’t neglect my business for the rest of the day. John will have to wait until this afternoon, after I’ve had lunch and caught up on some work. “I can start if you’d like,” Peter says when I tell him this. “You know I can do this on my own.” I do know that. In the year that he’s worked for me, Peter has proven himself

more than capable in this area. However, I prefer to be hands-on whenever possible; in my line of work, micromanaging often pays off. “No, that’s okay,” I say. “Why don’t you take a lunch break as well? We’ll resume this at three.” Peter nods, then slips out of the shed, not even bothering to wash the blood off his hands. I’m more fastidious about these matters, so I walk over to a bucket of water sitting by the wall and rinse the worst of the gory residue off my hands and face. At least I don’t need to worry about my clothes; I deliberately wore a black Tshirt and shorts today, so the stains wouldn’t be visible. This way, if I run into Nora before I have a chance to change, I won’t give her nightmares. She knows what I’m capable of, but knowing and seeing are two very different things. My little wife is still innocent in some ways, and I want her to keep as much of that innocence as possible. I don’t see her on my way home, which is probably for the best. I always feel more feral immediately after a kill, edgy and excited at the same time. It used to bother me, this enjoyment I get out of things that would horrify most people, but I no longer worry about it. It’s who I am, who I was trained to be. Self-doubt leads to guilt and regret, and I refuse to entertain those useless emotions. Once inside the house, I take a thorough shower and change into fresh clothes. Then, feeling much cleaner and calmer, I go down to the kitchen to grab a quick lunch. Ana isn’t there when I walk in, so I make myself a sandwich and sit down to eat at the kitchen table. I have my iPad with me, and for the next half hour, I deal with manufacturing issues at my factory in Malaysia, catch up with my Hong Kongbased supplier, and shoot an email to my contact in Israel about the upcoming bombing. When I’m done with lunch, I still have a number of phone calls to make, so I head to my office, where I have secure lines of communication set up. I run into Nora on the porch as I exit the house. She’s coming up the stairs, talking and laughing with Rosa. Dressed in a patterned yellow dress, with her hair loose and streaming down her back, she looks like a ray of sunshine, her smile wide and radiant. Spotting me, she stops in the middle of the stairs, her smile turning a bit shy. I wonder if she’s thinking about last night; my own thoughts certainly turned in that direction as soon as I saw her.

“Hi,” she says softly, looking at me. Rosa stops too, inclining her head at me respectfully. I give her a curt nod of acknowledgment before focusing on Nora. “Hello, my pet.” The words come out unintentionally husky. Apparently sensing that she’s in the way, Rosa mumbles something about needing to help out in the kitchen and escapes into the house, leaving Nora and me alone on the porch. Nora grins at her friend’s prompt departure, then walks up the remaining steps to stand next to me. “I got the orientation packet from Stanford this morning and already registered for all the classes,” she says, her voice filled with barely suppressed excitement. “I have to say, they work fast.” I smile at her, pleased to see her so happy. “Yes, they do.” And they should— given the generous donation one of my shell corporations made to their alumni fund. For three million dollars, I expect the Stanford admissions office to bend over backwards to accommodate my wife. “I’m going to call my parents tonight.” Her eyes are shining. “Oh, they’re going to be so surprised…” “Yes, I’m sure,” I say dryly, picturing Tony and Gabriela’s reaction to this. I’ve listened to a few more of Nora’s conversations with them, and I know they didn’t believe me when I said that Nora would get a good education. It will be useful for my new in-laws to learn that I keep my promises—that I’m serious when it comes to taking care of their daughter. It won’t change their opinion of me, of course, but at least they’ll be a bit calmer about Nora’s future. Nora grins again, likely picturing the same thing, but then her expression turns unexpectedly somber. “So did they already arrive?” she asks, and I hear a trace of hesitation in her voice. “The Al-Quadar men you’ve captured?” “Yes.” I don’t bother to sugarcoat it. I don’t want to traumatize her by letting her see that side of my business, but I’m not going to hide its existence from her either. “I’ve begun interrogating them.” She stares at me, her earlier excitement nowhere in sight. “Oh, I see.” Her eyes travel over my body, lingering on my clean clothes, and I’m glad that I took the precaution to shower and change earlier. When she lifts her eyes to meet my gaze, there is a peculiar look on her face. “So did you learn anything useful?” she asks softly. “By interrogating them, I mean?” “Yes, I did,” I say slowly. It surprises me that she’s curious about this, that she’s not acting as appalled as I would’ve expected. I know she hates Al-Quadar for what they did to Beth, but I still would’ve expected her to cringe at the thought of

torture. A smile tugs at my lips as I wonder just how dark my pet is willing to go these days. “Do you want me to tell you about it?” She surprises me again by nodding. “Yes,” she says quietly, holding my gaze. “Tell me, Julian. I want to know.”

13

N ora I DON’T KNOW WHAT DEMON PROMPTED ME TO SAY THAT, AND I HOLD MY BREATH, WAITING FOR JULIAN to laugh at me and refuse. He has never been keen on telling me much about his business, and though he has opened up to me since his return, I get the sense that he’s still trying to shield me from the uglier parts of his world. To my shock, he doesn’t refuse or mock me in any way. Instead he offers me his hand. “All right, my pet,” he says, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “If you’d like to learn, come with me. I have some calls to make.” My heart pounding, I tentatively put my hand in his and let him lead me down the stairs. As we walk toward the small building that serves as Julian’s office, I can’t help wondering if I’m making a mistake. Am I ready to give up the questionable comfort of ignorance and dive head first into the murky cesspool of Julian’s empire? Truthfully, I have no idea. Yet I don’t stop, don’t tell Julian that I changed my mind… because I haven’t. Because deep inside, I know that burying my head in the sand changes nothing. My husband is a dangerous, powerful criminal, and my lack of knowledge about his activities doesn’t alter the fact that I’m dirty by association. By willingly going into his arms every night—by loving him despite everything he’s done—I am implicitly condoning his actions, and I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. I might have started off as Julian’s victim, but I don’t know if I can claim that dubious distinction anymore. Syringe or not, I went with him knowing full well what he was and what kind of life I was signing up for. Besides, a dark curiosity is riding me now. I want to know what he learned this

morning, what kind of information his brutal methods availed him. I want to know what phone calls he’s planning to make and to whom he’s planning to speak. I want to know everything there is to know about Julian, no matter how much the reality of his life horrifies me. When we come up to the office building, I see that the door is made of metal. Just like on the island, Julian opens it by submitting to a retina scan—a security measure that no longer surprises me. Given what I now know about the types of weapons Julian’s company produces, his paranoia appears quite justified. We go inside, and I see that it’s all one big room, with a large oval table near the entrance and a wide desk with a bunch of computer screens at the back. Flatscreen TV monitors line the walls, and there are comfortable-looking leather chairs around the table. Everything seems very high-tech and luxurious. To me, Julian’s office looks like a cross between an executive conference room and some place I imagine the CIA might meet to strategize. As I stand there, gaping at everything, Julian places his hands on my shoulders from behind. “Welcome to my lair,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening for a brief moment. Then he lets go of me and walks over to sit down behind the desk. I follow him there, driven by burning curiosity. There are six computer monitors sitting on the table. Three of them are showing what appears to be a live feed from various surveillance cameras, and two are filled with different charts and blinking numbers. The last computer is the one closest to Julian, and it’s displaying some type of unusual-looking email program. Intrigued, I take a closer look, trying to figure out what I’m seeing. “Are you monitoring your investments?” I ask, peering at the two computers with the blinking numbers. I’m far from a stock guru, but I’ve seen a couple of movies about Wall Street, and Julian’s setup reminds me of the traders’ desks they had there. “You could say that.” When I turn to look at him, Julian leans back in his chair and smiles at me. “One of my subsidiaries is a hedge fund of sorts. It dabbles in everything from currencies to oil, with a focus on special situations and geopolitical events. I have some very qualified people running it, but I find that stuff quite interesting and occasionally like to play with it myself.” “Oh, I see…” I stare at him, fascinated. This is yet another side of Julian I knew nothing about before. It makes me wonder how many more layers I’m going to uncover with time. “So who are you planning to call?” I ask, remembering the phone calls he mentioned earlier.

Julian’s smile widens. “Come here, baby, have a seat,” he says, reaching out to grab my wrist. Before I know it, he’s got me sitting on his lap, his arms effectively caging me between his chest and the edge of the desk. “Just sit here and be quiet,” he whispers in my ear, and quickly types something on his keyboard while I sit there, breathing in his warm scent and feeling his hard body all around me. I hear a few beeps, then a man’s voice comes from the computer. “Esguerra. I was wondering when you would be in touch.” The speaker has an American accent and sounds well educated, if a bit stuffy. I immediately picture a middle-aged man in a suit. A bureaucrat of some kind, but a senior one, judging from the confidence in his voice. One of Julian’s government contacts, perhaps? “I assume our Israeli friends filled you in already,” Julian says. Holding my breath, I listen intently, not wanting to miss anything. I don’t know why Julian decided to let me learn this way, but I’m not about to quibble. “I don’t have much to add,” Julian continues. “As you already know, the operation was a success, and I now have a couple of detainees that I’m milking for information.” “Yes, so we’ve heard.” There is silence for a second, then the man says, “We would appreciate hearing this kind of news first next time. It would’ve been nice if the Israelis had heard about the bus from us, rather than the other way around.” “Oh, Frank…” Julian sighs, wrapping his arm around my waist and shifting me slightly to the left. Feeling off-balance, I clutch at Julian’s arm, trying not to make any sounds as he settles me more comfortably on his leg. “You know how these things work. If you’d like to be the one spoon-feeding the Israelis, I need a little something to sweeten the deal.” “We already wiped away all traces of your misadventure with the girl,” Frank says evenly, and I tense, realizing he’s referring to my abduction. A misadventure? Really? For a second, irrational fury spikes through me, but then I take a calming breath and remind myself that I don’t actually want Julian punished for what he did to me—not if it means being separated from him again. Still, it would’ve been nice if they had at least acknowledged that Julian committed a crime instead of calling it a fucking ‘misadventure.’ It’s stupid, but I feel disrespected somehow—like I don’t even matter. Oblivious to my stewing over his word choice, Frank continues, “There’s nothing more we can give you at this point—” “Actually, you can,” Julian interrupts. Still holding me tightly, he strokes my

arm in a proprietary, soothing gesture. As usual, his touch warms me from within, takes away some of my tension. He probably understands why I’m upset; no matter how you slice it, it’s insulting to have your kidnapping talked about so casually. “How about a little tit for tat?” Julian continues softly, addressing Frank. “I let you be the heroes next time, and you let me in on some back-channel action with Syria. I’m sure there are a few tidbits you’d like to leak… and I’d love to be the one to help you out.” There is another moment of silence, then Frank says gruffly, “Fine. Consider it done.” “Excellent. Until next time then,” Julian says and, reaching forward, clicks on the corner of the screen to disconnect the call. As soon as he’s done, I twist around in Julian’s arms to look at him. “Who was that man?” “Frank is one of my contacts at the CIA,” Julian replies, confirming my earlier supposition. “A paper pusher, but one who’s quite good at his job.” “Ah, I thought so.” Beginning to feel restless, I push at Julian’s chest, needing to get up. He releases me, watching with a faint smile as I back up a couple of steps, then prop my hip against the desk and give him a questioning look. “What was that about Israelis and the bus? And Syria?” “According to one of my Al-Quadar guests, there is an attack planned on a tour bus in Tel-Aviv,” Julian explains, leaning back in his chair. “I notified the Mossad —the Israeli intelligence agency—about it earlier today.” “Oh.” I frown. “So why did Frank object to that?” “Because the Americans have a savior complex—or would like the Israelis to think they do. They want this information to be coming from them instead of me, so that the Mossad owes them a favor.” “Ah, I see.” And I do. I’m beginning to understand how this game works. In the shadowy world of intelligence agencies and off-the-record politics, favors are like currency—and my husband is rich in more ways than one. Rich enough to ensure that he would never be prosecuted for petty crimes like kidnapping or illegal arms dealing. “And you want Frank to give you some info to leak to Syria, so they owe you a favor, right?” Julian grins at me, white teeth flashing. “Yes, indeed. You’re a quick study, my pet.”

“Why did you decide to let me listen in today?” I ask, eyeing him curiously. “Why today of all days?” Instead of responding, he rises to his feet and comes toward me. Stopping next to me, he bends forward and places his hands on the desk on both sides of my body, trapping me again. “Why do you think, Nora?” he murmurs, leaning closer. His breath is warm against my cheek, and his arms are like steel beams surrounding me. It makes me feel like a small animal caught in a hunter’s snare—an unsettling sensation that nonetheless turns me on. “Because we’re married?” I guess in an uneven voice. His face is mere inches from mine, and my lower belly tightens with a strong surge of arousal as he nudges his hips forward, letting me feel his hardening erection. “Yes, baby, because we’re married,” he says huskily, his eyes darkening with lust as my peaked nipples brush against his chest, “and because I think you’re no longer as fragile as you seem…” And lowering his head, he captures my mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss, his hands sliding up my thighs with familiar intent.

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, I LEARN MORE ABOUT JULIAN’S DARK EMPIRE, AND I BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND how little most people know about what goes on behind the scenes. None of what I hear in Julian’s office ever shows up on the news… because if it did, heads would roll, and some very important people would end up in jail. Amused by my continued interest, Julian lets me listen in on more conversations. Once I even get to watch a video conference from the back of the room, where I can’t be seen by the camera. To my shock, I recognize one of the men on the video feed. It’s a prominent US general—someone I’ve seen a couple of times on popular talk shows. He wants Julian to move his manufacturing operations from Thailand out of fear that political instability in the region could derail the next shipment of the new explosive—the shipment that’s supposed to go to the US government. My former captor hadn’t been lying when he said he has connections; if anything, he’d understated the extent of his reach. Of course, politicians, military leaders, and others of their ilk are but a small fraction of the people Julian deals with on a daily basis. The majority of his interactions are with clients, suppliers, and various intermediaries—shady and

usually frightening individuals from all over the world. His acquaintances range from Russian mafia and Libyan rebels to dictators in obscure African countries. When it comes to selling weapons, my husband is very egalitarian. Terrorists, drug lords, legitimate governments—he does business with them all. It turns my stomach, but I can’t bring myself to stay out of Julian’s office. Every day I follow him there, driven by morbid curiosity. It’s like watching some kind of undercover exposé; the things I learn are both fascinating and disturbing. It takes Julian three days, but he manages to break the last Al-Quadar prisoner. How, he doesn’t tell me and I don’t ask. I know it’s through torture, but I don’t know the particulars. I just know that the information he extracts results in Julian locating two more Al-Quadar cells—and the CIA owing him another favor. Now that Julian has decided to let me into that portion of his life, we spend even more time together. He likes having me in his office. Not only is it convenient for when he wants sex—which is at least once during the day—but he also seems to enjoy the speed with which I’m learning. I’m sharp, he says. Intuitive. I see things as they are instead of as I want them to be—a rare gift, according to Julian. “Most people wear blinders,” he tells me over lunch one day, “but not you, my pet. You face reality head-on… and that’s what lets you see beneath the surface.” I thank him for the compliment, but inwardly I wonder if it’s necessarily a good thing, seeing beneath the surface like that. If I could pretend to myself that at the core, Julian is a good man—that he is simply misunderstood and can ultimately be reformed—it would be so much easier for me. If I were blind to my husband’s nature, I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about my feelings for him. I wouldn’t worry that I’m in love with the devil. But I do see him for what he is—a demon in a handsome man’s disguise, a monster wearing a beautiful mask. And I wonder if that means that I’m a monster too… that I’m evil for loving him. I wish I had Beth to talk to about this. I know she wasn’t exactly an expert on normal, but I still miss her unorthodox views on things, the way she could turn everything on its head and have it make some kind of twisted sense. I’m pretty sure I know what she would say in regard to my situation. She would tell me I’m lucky to have someone like Julian—that we are meant to be together and everything else is bullshit. And she would probably be right. When I think back to those lonely, empty months before Julian’s return—when I had my freedom and normal life, but didn’t

have him—all my doubts fade away. No matter what he is or what he does, I would sooner die than go through that soul-crushing misery again. For better or worse, I’m no longer complete without Julian, and no amount of self-flagellation can alter that fact.

A WEEK AFTER JULIAN’S CONVERSATION WITH FRANK, I KNOCK ON THE HEAVY METAL DOOR AND WAIT for him to let me in. I had spent the morning walking with Rosa and preparing for my upcoming classes, while Julian went in without me to do some paperwork for his offshore accounts. Apparently, even crime lords have to deal with taxes and legal matters; it appears to be a universal evil that no one can avoid. When the door swings open, I’m surprised to see a tall, dark-haired man sitting across the large oval table from Julian. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, just a few years older than my husband. I have seen him walking around the estate before, but I’ve never had an occasion to interact with him in person. From a distance, he’d reminded me of a sleek, dark predator—an impression that’s only strengthened by the way he’s looking at me now, his gray eyes tracking my every move with a peculiar mix of watchfulness and indifference. “Come in, Nora,” Julian says, gesturing for me to join them. “This is Peter Sokolov, our security consultant.” “Oh, hi. It’s very nice to meet you.” Walking over to the table, I give Peter a cautious smile as I sit down next to Julian. Peter is a good-looking man, with a strong jaw and high, exotically slanted cheekbones, but for some reason, he makes the fine hair at the back of my neck stand up. It’s not what he says or does—he nods at me politely while sitting there, his pose deceptively calm and relaxed—it’s what I see in his steel-colored eyes. Rage. Pure, undiluted rage. I sense it within Peter, feel it emanating from his pores. It’s not anger or a momentary flare-up of temper. No, this emotion goes deeper than that. It’s a part of him, like his hard-muscled body or the white scar that bisects his left eyebrow. For all his cold, carefully controlled demeanor, the man is a deadly volcano waiting to explode. “We were just finishing up,” Julian says, and I catch a note of displeasure in his voice. Tearing my eyes away from Peter, I see a tiny muscle flexing in Julian’s jaw. I must’ve stared at Peter for too long without realizing it, and my husband

misinterpreted my involuntary fascination as interest. Shit. A jealous Julian is never a good thing. In fact, it’s a very, very bad thing. As I rack my brain trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation, Peter rises to his feet. “We can resume this tomorrow if you’d like,” he says calmly, addressing Julian. I can’t help noticing that unlike most on the estate, Peter doesn’t defer to my husband. Instead he speaks to Julian as an equal, his demeanor respectful, yet utterly self-assured. I catch a faint Eastern European accent in his speech, and I wonder where he’s from. Poland? Russia? Ukraine? “Yes,” Julian says, getting up as well. His expression is still dark, but his voice is now smooth and even. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Peter disappears, leaving us alone, and I slowly rise to my feet, my palms beginning to sweat. I didn’t do anything wrong, but convincing Julian of that won’t be easy. His possessiveness borders on the obsessive; sometimes I’m surprised he doesn’t keep me locked away in his bedroom, so that other men will never see me. Sure enough, as soon as the door closes behind Peter, Julian steps toward me. “Did you like Peter, my pet?” he says softly, crowding me with his powerful body until I’m forced to back up against the table. “Do you have a thing for Russian men?” “No.” I shake my head, holding Julian’s gaze. I’m hoping he can see the truth on my face. Peter might be handsome, but he’s also scary—and the only scary man I want is the one glaring at me right now. “Not even a little bit. That’s not why I was looking at him.” “No?” Julian’s eyes narrow as he grasps my chin. “Why then?” “He frightened me,” I admit, figuring that honesty is the best policy here. “There’s something about him that I found disturbing.” Julian studies me intently for a second, then releases my chin and steps back, causing me to let out a relieved breath. Storm averted. “As insightful as always,” he murmurs, his voice holding a note of rueful amusement. “Yes, you’re right, Nora. There is indeed something disturbing about Peter.” “What is his deal?” I ask, my curiosity reawakening now that Julian is no longer angry with me. I know Julian doesn’t employ choirboys, but what I sensed in Peter is different, more volatile. “Who is he?” Julian gives me a small, grim smile and walks over to sit down behind his desk.

“He’s former Spetsnaz—Russian Special Forces. He was one of the best until his wife and son were killed. Now he wants revenge, and he came to me hoping that I can help him.” I feel a flicker of pity. It’s not only rage then; Peter is also filled with grief and pain. “Help him how?” I ask, leaning back against the table. Julian’s security consultant didn’t strike me as someone who’d need help with many things. “By using my connections to get him a list of names. Apparently, there were some NATO soldiers involved, and the cover-up is a mile deep.” “Oh.” I stare at Julian, feeling uneasy. I can only imagine what Peter intends to do with those soldiers. “So did you give him this list?” “Not yet. I’m working on it. A lot of this information seems to be classified, so it’s not easy.” “Can’t you ask your contact at the CIA to help you?” “I did ask him. Frank is dragging his feet because there are some Americans on that list.” Julian looks annoyed for a brief second. “He’ll come through eventually, though. He always does. I just need to have something the CIA wants badly enough.” “Right, of course,” I murmur. “A favor for a favor… Is that why Peter is working for you? Because you promised him this list?” “Yes, that’s our deal.” Julian smiles sharply. “Three years of loyal service in exchange for getting him those names at the end. I also pay him, of course—but Peter doesn’t care about money.” “What about Lucas?” I ask, my thoughts turning to Julian’s right-hand man. “Does he also have a story?” “Everybody has a story,” Julian says, but he sounds distracted now, his attention straying to the computer screen. “Even you, my pet.” And before I can pry further, he busies himself with emails, putting an end to our discussion for the day.

14

J ulian THE NEXT FEW WEEKS COME AS CLOSE TO DOMESTIC BLISS AS I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED. OTHER THAN one day trip to Mexico for a negotiation with the Juarez cartel, I spend all my time on the estate with Nora. With her classes having started, Nora’s days are filled with textbooks, papers, and tests. She’s so busy that she often studies late into the evening—a practice that I dislike, but don’t put a stop to. She seems determined to prove that she can hold her own with the students who got into the Stanford program on their own merit, and I don’t want to discourage her. I know she’s doing this partly for her parents—who continue to worry about her future with me—and partly because she’s enjoying the challenge. Despite the added stress, my pet seems to be thriving these days, her eyes bright with excitement and her movements filled with purposeful energy. I like that development. I like seeing her happy and confident, content with her life with me. Though the monster inside me still gets off on her pain and fear, her growing strength and resilience appeal to me. I never wanted to break her, only to make her mine—and it pleases me to see her becoming my match in more ways than one. Although schoolwork consumes much of her time, Nora continues her tutelage with Monsieur Bernard, saying that she finds it relaxing to draw and paint. She also insists that I continue giving her self-defense and shooting lessons twice a week— a request that I’m more than happy to fulfill, as it gives us more time together. As the training progresses, I see that she’s better with guns than with knives, though she’s surprisingly decent with both. She’s also becoming quite good at certain

fighting moves, her small body slowly but surely turning into a lethal weapon. She even manages to bloody my nose one time, her sharp elbow connecting with my face before I have a chance to block her lightning-fast strike. It’s an achievement she should be proud of, but, of course, being the good girl that she is, Nora is immediately horrified and remorseful. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” She rushes to me, grabbing a towel to stop the bleeding. She appears so distraught that I burst out laughing, though my nose throbs like a son of a bitch. This is what I get for being distracted during training. She’d managed to catch me off-guard at a moment when I was looking at her breasts and fantasizing about pulling up her sports bra. “Julian! Why are you laughing?” Nora’s voice rises in pitch as she presses the towel to my face. “You should see a doctor! It could be broken—” “It’s fine, baby,” I reassure her between bouts of laughter, taking the towel from her shaking hands. “I can promise you I’ve had worse. If it were broken, I’d know it.” My voice sounds nasal due to the towel pressed against my nose, but I can feel the cartilage with my fingers, and it’s straight, undamaged. I’ll have a black eye, but that’s about it. If I hadn’t deflected to the right at the last second, though, her move could’ve crushed my nose completely, forcing fragments of bone into my brain and killing me on the spot. “It’s not fine!” Nora steps away, still looking extremely upset. “I could’ve seriously hurt you!” “Wouldn’t I have deserved it?” I say, only half-teasing. I know there is a part of her that still resents me for the way I took her—that will always resent me for that. If I were her, I wouldn’t apologize for causing me pain. I’d look for opportunities to kick my ass any chance I got. She glares at me, but I see that she’s beginning to calm down now that the immediate shock is over. “Probably,” she says in a more level tone of voice. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer. I’m stupid and irrational like that, you see.” I grin at her, lowering the towel. The bleeding is almost over; as I had suspected, it was only a mild hit. “You’re not stupid,” I say softly, stepping closer to her. Though my nose still hurts, there is a new, growing ache in a much lower region of my body. “You’re exactly as I want you to be.” “Brainwashed and in love with my kidnapper?” she asks drily as I reach for her, dropping the bloodied towel on the floor. “Yes, exactly,” I murmur, pulling off her sports bra to bare her small, perfectly

shaped breasts. “And very, very fuckable…” And as I tug her down to the mat, my injury is the last thing on my mind.

AS NORA’S SEMESTER PROGRESSES, WE DEVELOP A ROUTINE. I USUALLY WAKE UP BEFORE HER AND GO for a training session with my men. When I return, she’s awake, so we eat breakfast, and then I head into the office while Nora goes for a walk with Rosa and listens to the online lectures. After a few hours, I come back to the house, and we have lunch together. Then I go back to my office, and Nora either meets Monsieur Bernard for her art lesson or joins me in the office, where she studies quietly while I work or conduct meetings. Even though she appears not to be paying attention at those times, I know that she does—because she often asks me follow-up questions about the business at dinner. I don’t mind her curiosity, even though I know she silently condemns what I do. The idea that I supply weapons to criminals and the often-brutal methods I use to maintain control over the business are anathema to Nora. She doesn’t understand that if I didn’t do this, someone else would, and the world would not necessarily be safer or better. Drug lords and dictators would get their weapons one way or another. The only question is who would profit from it—and I would prefer that person to be me. I know Nora doesn’t agree with that reasoning, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need her approval—all I need is her. And I have her. She’s with me so much that I’m beginning to forget what it feels like not to have her by my side. We’re rarely apart for more than a few hours at a time, and when we are, I miss her so intensely, it’s like a physical ache in my chest. I have no idea how I had been able to leave her alone on the island for days or even weeks at a time. Now I don’t even like to see Nora go for a run without me, so I do my best to accompany her when she sprints around the estate in late afternoon. I do that because I want my wife’s company, but also to make sure that she’s safe. Though my enemies can’t steal her here, there are snakes, spiders, and poisonous frogs in the area. And in the nearby rainforest, there are jaguars and other jungle predators. The chances of her getting stung or seriously hurt by a wild animal are small, but I’m not willing to risk it. I can’t bear the thought of any harm coming to her. When Nora had her appendicitis attack, I’d nearly gone out of my mind with panic—and that was before my addiction to her reached this new, utterly insane level.

My fear of losing her is starting to border on the pathological. I recognize that, but I don’t know how to control it. It’s a sickness that seems to have no cure. I worry about Nora constantly, obsessively. I want to know where she is at every moment of every day. She’s rarely out of my sight, but when she is, I can’t concentrate, my mind conjuring up deadly accidents that could befall her and other frightening scenarios. “I want you to put two guards on Nora,” I tell Lucas one morning. “I want them to tail her whenever she walks around the estate, so they can make sure nothing happens to her.” “All right.” Lucas doesn’t blink at my unusual request. “I’ll work with Peter to free up two of our best men.” “Good. And I want them to text me a report on her every hour on the dot.” “Consider it done.” The guards’ hourly reports keep my fears at bay for a couple of weeks—until I get an email that turns my world upside down.

“MAJID IS ALIVE,” I TELL NORA AT DINNER, CAREFULLY WATCHING HER REACTION. “I from one of Peter’s contacts in Moscow. He’s been spotted in Tajikistan.”

JUST HEARD

Her eyes widen in shock and dismay. “What? But he died in the explosion!” “No, unfortunately he didn’t.” I do my best to keep my rage under control. The fact that Beth’s murderer is alive makes my blood boil with pure acid. “It turns out he and four others left the warehouse two hours before I got there. You didn’t see him there when I came for you, right?” “No, I didn’t.” Nora frowns. “I assumed he was outside, guarding the building or something…” “That’s what I thought, too. But he wasn’t. He was nowhere near the warehouse when the explosion occurred.” “How do you know this?” “The Russians captured one of the four men who left with Majid that night. They caught him in Moscow, plotting to blow up the subway.” Despite my best efforts, fury seeps into my voice, and I can see the corresponding tension in Nora. If there’s any topic that can move my pet to anger, it’s that of Beth’s murderers. “They interrogated him and learned that he’s been in hiding in Eastern Europe and

Central Asia for the past few months, along with Majid and the three others.” Before Nora can respond, Ana walks into the dining room. “Would you like some dessert?” the housekeeper asks us, and Nora shakes her head, her soft mouth drawn in a tight line. “None for me, thanks,” I say curtly, and Ana disappears, leaving us alone once again. “So what now?” Nora asks. “Are you going to track him down?” “Yes.” And when I do, I’m going to take him apart, one piece of flesh and bone at a time—but I don’t tell Nora that. Instead I explain, “His cohort admitted to last seeing Majid in Tajikistan, so that’s where we’ll start our search. Apparently, he’s managed to gather a sizable group of new followers in the last few months, injecting fresh blood into Al-Quadar.” That last tidbit worries me quite a bit. Though we’ve done serious damage to the terrorist group over the past couple of months, the Al-Quadar organization is so spread out that there could still be a dozen functional cells throughout the world. Combined with the new recruits, these cells could be just powerful enough to be dangerous—and, according to the intelligence Peter got from his contacts, Majid is getting ready for something big… something in Latin America. He’s preparing to strike back at me. He won’t penetrate the security of the estate, of course, but just the possibility of these motherfuckers coming within a hundred miles of Nora makes me livid with rage and awakens the fear that I can’t quite shake. The stark, irrational fear of losing her. There are two-hundred-plus highly trained men guarding the compound and dozens of military-grade drones sweeping the area. Nobody can touch her here, but that doesn’t change the way I feel, doesn’t quell the primitive panic gnawing at my insides. All I want to do is grab Nora and carry her as far away as possible, to a place where no one will ever find her… where she will be mine and mine alone. But there is no place like that anymore. My enemies know about her, and they know that she’s important to me. I’ve proven that by coming after her before. If they still want the explosive—and I am certain that they do—they will try to get her, again and again, until they are completely wiped out. Overkill or not, given this new information, I need to take additional precautions to ensure Nora’s safety.

I need to make sure I always have a connection to her. “What are you thinking?” Nora asks, a concerned expression on her face, and I realize that I’ve been staring at her for a couple of minutes without saying anything. I force myself to smile. “Nothing much, my pet. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.” “Why wouldn’t I be safe?” She looks more puzzled than worried. “Because there is a rumor Majid may be planning something in Latin America,” I explain as calmly as I can. I don’t want to frighten her, but I do want her to understand why I have to take these precautions. Why I have to do what I’m about to do to her. “You think they’re coming here?” Her face pales a bit, but her voice remains steady. “You think they’re going to try to attack the estate?” “They might. It doesn’t mean they will succeed, but they will most likely try.” Reaching across the table, I close my fingers around her delicate hand, wanting to reassure her with my touch. Her skin is chilled, betraying her agitation, and I massage her palm lightly to warm it up. “That’s why I want to make sure that I can always find you, baby—that I can always know where you are.” She frowns, and I feel her hand growing even colder before she pulls it out of my grasp. “What do you mean?” Her voice is even, but I can see the pulse at the base of her throat beginning to quicken. As I had anticipated, she’s not overjoyed with the idea. “I want to put some trackers on you,” I explain, holding her gaze. “They will be embedded in a couple of places on your body, so if you’re ever stolen from me, I would be able to locate you right away.” “Trackers? You mean… like GPS chips or something? Like something you would use to tag cattle?” My lips tighten. She’s going to be difficult about this, I can already tell. “No, not like that,” I say evenly. “These trackers are currently classified and intended specifically for human use. They will have GPS chips, yes, but they will also have sensors that measure your heart rate and body temperature. This way I will always know if you’re alive.” “And you will always know where I am,” she says quietly, her eyes dark in her pale face.

“Yes. I will always know where you are.” The thought fills me with immense relief and satisfaction. I should’ve done this weeks ago, as soon as I retrieved her from Illinois. “It’s for your own safety, Nora,” I add, wanting to emphasize that point. “If you had these trackers when you and Beth were taken, I would’ve found you right away.” And Beth would still be alive. I don’t say that last part, but I don’t need to. At my words, Nora flinches, like I just struck her a blow, and pain flashes across her face. She recovers her composure a second later, however. “So let me get this straight…” She leans forward, placing her forearms on the table, and I see that her fingers are tightly laced together, her knuckles white with tension. “You want to implant some chips inside my body that will tell you where I am all the time—just so I’ll be safe on a remote compound that has more security than the White House?” Her tone is heavy with sarcasm, and I feel my temper rising in response. I indulge her in many things, but I will not take risks with her safety. It would’ve been easier if she’d chosen to cooperate, but I’m not about to let her reluctance deter me from doing the right thing. “Why, yes, my pet, that’s right,” I say silkily, getting up from my chair. “That’s exactly what I want. You’re getting these trackers today. Now, in fact.”

15

N ora STUNNED, I STARE AT JULIAN, MY HEARTBEAT ROARING IN MY EARS. A PART OF ME CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S going to do this to me against my will—tag me like some dumb animal, depriving me of any semblance of privacy and freedom—while the rest of me is screaming that I’m an idiot, that I should’ve known that a tiger doesn’t change his stripes. It’s just that the last few weeks had been so different from anything we’ve had together before. I’d begun to imagine that Julian was opening up to me, that he was truly letting me into his life. Despite his dominance in the bedroom and the control he exerts over all aspects of my life, I’d started to feel less like his sex toy and more like his partner. I let myself believe that we were becoming something like a normal couple, that he was beginning to genuinely care for me… to respect me. Like a fool, I bought into the delusion of a happy life with my kidnapper—with a man utterly lacking in conscience or morals. How stupid, how gullible of me. I want to kick myself and cry at the same time. I’ve always known what kind of man Julian is, but I still let myself get taken in by his charm, by the way he seemed to want me, need me. I allowed myself to think I could be something more than a possession to him. Realizing that I’m still sitting there, reeling from the painful disillusionment, I push back my chair and get up to face Julian from across the table. The kicked-inthe-stomach sensation is still there, but now so is anger. Pure and intense, it’s spreading through my body, sweeping out the remnants of shock and hurt. These trackers have nothing to do with my safety. I know the extent of the security measures on the estate, and I know that the chances of anyone being able

to take me again are beyond minuscule. No, the renewed terrorist threat is just a pretext, a convenient excuse for Julian to do what he’s probably been planning to do all along. It gives him a reason to increase his control over me, to bind me to him so tightly that I will never so much as take a breath without his knowledge. The trackers will make me his prisoner for the rest of my life… and as much as I love Julian, that is not a fate I’m willing to accept. “No,” I say, and I’m surprised at how calm and steady my voice sounds. “I’m not getting these implants.” Julian raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” His eyes glint with anger and a faint hint of amusement. “And how would you prevent it, my pet?” I lift my chin, my heartbeat accelerating further. Despite all the hours of training in the gym, I’m still no match for Julian in a fight. He can subdue me in thirty seconds flat—not to mention he has all these guards under his command. If he’s set on forcing these trackers on me, I won’t be able to stop him. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. “Fuck you,” I say, clearly enunciating each word. “Fuck you and these chips of yours.” And operating on pure adrenaline-driven instinct, I shove the dinner plates across the table at Julian and bolt for the door. The plates crash to the floor with a shattering noise, and I hear Julian cursing as he jumps back to avoid getting splattered with food. He’s distracted for a moment, and that’s all the time I need as I sprint to the door and out into the foyer. I don’t know where I’m going, nor do I have anything resembling a plan. All I know is that I can’t stay there and meekly go along with this new violation. I can’t be Julian’s submissive little victim again. I hear him chasing after me as I run through the house, and I have a sudden flashback to my first day on the island. I ran then too, trying to escape from the man who would become my entire life. I remember how terrified I felt, how woozy from the drugs he’d given me. That was the day Julian had first introduced me to the devastating pleasure-pain of his touch, the day I first realized I was no longer in charge of my life. I don’t know why I let this tracker thing surprise me. Julian has never once expressed regret over taking away any of my choices, has never apologized for kidnapping me or forcing me to marry him. He treats me well because he wants to, not because there are any adverse consequences to doing otherwise. There’s no one to stop him from doing anything he wants with me, no safe word that I can use to

enforce my limits. I may be his wife, but I’m still his captive in every way that counts. I’m at the front door now, and I grab the handle, pulling it open. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ana standing near the wall, gaping at me as I fly out the door with Julian hot on my heels. I’m running so fast that I feel only a flash of embarrassment at the notion of her seeing us like this. I think our housekeeper suspects the BDSM-y nature of our relationship—my summer clothes don’t always hide the marks Julian leaves on my skin—and I hope she chalks this up to nothing more than a kinky game. I have no idea where I’m heading as I sprint down the front steps, but that doesn’t matter. All I want is to evade Julian for a few moments, to buy myself some time. I don’t know what it will gain me, but I know that I need this—that I need to feel like I did something to defy him, that I didn’t bow down to the inevitable without a fight. I’m halfway across the wide green lawn when I feel Julian gaining on me. I can hear his harsh breathing—he must be going at his top speed as well—and then his hand closes around my left upper arm, spinning me around and yanking me into his hard body. The impact stuns me for a moment, knocking the breath out of my lungs, but my body reacts on autopilot, my self-defense training kicking in. Instead of attempting to pull away, I drop down like a stone, trying to pull Julian off-balance. At the same time, my knee comes up, aiming for his balls, and my right fist flies straight at his chin. Anticipating my move, he twists at the last moment, turning so that my fist misses his face and my knee connects with his thigh instead. Before I get a chance to try anything else, he drops me, letting my back hit the grass, and immediately pins me down with his full weight, using his legs to control mine and catching my wrists to stretch my arms up above my head. I’m now completely incapacitated, as helpless as ever, and Julian knows it. A soft chuckle escapes his throat as he meets my furious gaze. “Dangerous little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, settling more comfortably on top of me. To my annoyance, his breathing is already beginning to return to normal, and his blue eyes are glowing with unconcealed amusement and delight. “You know, if I hadn’t been the one to teach you that move, my pet, it might’ve actually worked.” My chest heaving, I glare up at him, seething with an urge to do something

violent to him. The fact that he’s enjoying this only intensifies my fury, and I buck upward with all my strength, trying to throw him off me. It’s futile, of course; he’s more than twice my size, every inch of his powerful body packed with steely muscle. All I succeed in doing is amusing him further. Well, that, and arousing him—as evidenced by the hardening bulge against my leg. “Let go of me,” I hiss between clenched teeth, sharply cognizant of my body’s automatic response to that hardness—to his body pressing against me this way. Being held down like this is something I associate with sex these days, and I hate that I’m turned on right now, my core pulsing with heated need despite my anger and resentment. It’s yet another thing I have no control over; my body is conditioned to respond to Julian’s dominance no matter what. His sensuous lips curl into a satisfied half-smile. The bastard is undoubtedly aware of my involuntary arousal. “Or what, my pet?” he breathes, staring at me as he pries my tense legs apart with his knees. “What are you going to do?” I glare at him defiantly, doing my best to ignore the threat of his rock-hard erection pressing against my entrance. Only his jeans and my flimsy underwear separate us now, and I know Julian can get rid of these barriers in a heartbeat. The only obstacle to him fucking me right now—and the one I’m counting on—is the fact that we’re in full view of all the guards and whoever else happens to be strolling by the house at this particular moment. Exhibitionism is not Julian’s thing —he’s too possessive for that—and I feel reasonably certain he won’t take me out in the open like this. He may do other things to me, but I’m safe from sexual punishment for now. That fact and my anger spur my reckless reply. “Actually, the real question is what are you going to do, Julian?” I say, my voice low and bitter. “Are you going to drag me kicking and screaming to get these trackers put in? Because that’s what you’ll have to do, you know—I’m not going to go along with this like some good little captive. I’m done playing that role.” His smile disappears, replaced by a look of ruthless determination. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Nora,” he says harshly and rises to his feet, hauling me up with him. I struggle, but it’s pointless; within a second, he has me lifted up in his arms, one of his hands restraining my wrists and the other arm tightly hooked under my knees, essentially immobilizing my legs. Incensed, I arch my spine, trying to break his grip, but he’s holding me too securely for that. All I succeed in doing is tiring

myself out, and after a couple of minutes, I stop, panting in frustrated exhaustion as Julian begins walking back toward the house, carrying me like a helpless child. “You can scream if you want,” he informs me as we approach the porch steps. His voice is calm and detached, and his face is empty of all emotion as he glances down at me. “It won’t change anything, but you’re welcome to try.” I know he’s probably using reverse psychology on me, but I remain silent as he pushes open the front door with his back and enters the house. My earlier anger is fading, a kind of weary resignation taking its place. I’ve always known that fighting Julian is pointless, and what happened today only confirms that fact. I can resist all I want, but it will avail me nothing. As Julian carries me into the foyer, I see Ana still standing there, staring at us in shock and fascination. She must’ve stayed to watch the conclusion of the chase through the window, and I can feel her gaze following us as Julian walks past her without a word. Now that the immediate rush of adrenaline has passed, I am aware of a deep flush of embarrassment. It’s one thing for Ana to notice a few faint bruises on my thighs, but it’s another thing entirely for her to see us like this. I’m sure she’s seen worse—after all, she works for a crime lord—but I still can’t help feeling uncomfortably exposed. I don’t want people on the estate to know the truth about my relationship with Julian; I don’t want them to look at me with pity in their eyes. I had plenty of that back home in Oak Lawn, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience. “Are you just going to shove the trackers in?” I ask Julian as he brings me into our bedroom. “With no anesthesia or anything?” My tone is deeply sarcastic, but I am genuinely wondering about that. I know my husband enjoys inflicting pain on me sometimes, so it’s not entirely out of the question that this will be some type of a sexual thing for him. Julian’s jaw flexes as he lowers me to my feet. “No,” he says curtly, releasing me and stepping back. My eyes immediately stray to the door, but Julian is between me and the exit as he walks over to a small commode and rummages through the drawers. “I’ll make sure you don’t feel a thing.” And as I watch, he pulls out a small, very familiar-looking syringe. My insides grow cold. I recognize that syringe—it’s the one he had in his pocket when he came back for me, the one he would’ve used on me if I hadn’t gone with him of my own volition. “Is that how you drugged me when you stole me from the park?” My voice is

even, betraying little of the fact that I’m crumbling inside. “What kind of drug is that?” Julian sighs, looking inexplicably weary as he comes toward me. “It has a long, complicated name that I don’t remember off the top of my head—and yes, it’s what I used to bring you to the island. It’s one of the best drugs of its kind, with very few side effects.” “Few side effects? How lovely.” Taking a step back, I cast a frantic glance around the room, looking for something I can use to defend myself. There’s nothing, though. Other than a jar of hand creme and a box of tissues on the bed stand, the room is immaculately neat, free of clutter. I keep backing away until my knees hit the bed, and then I know I have nowhere else to go. I’m trapped. “Nora…” Julian is less than a foot from me now, the syringe in his right hand. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Harder than it has to be? Is he fucking serious? A fresh spurt of fury gives me renewed strength. I throw myself on the bed and roll across it, hoping to make it to the other side so I can dash for the door. Before I get to the edge, however, Julian is on top of me, his muscular body pressing me into the mattress. With my face buried in the fluffy blanket, I can hardly breathe, but before I get a chance to panic, Julian shifts most of his weight off me, enabling me to turn my head to the side. As I suck in air, I feel him moving—he’s uncapping the syringe, I realize with an icy shudder—and I know I have only seconds before he drugs me again. “Don’t do this, Julian.” The words come out in a desperate, broken plea. I know begging him is futile, but there is nothing else I can do at this point. My heart pounds heavily in my chest as I play my last card. “Please, if you care for me at all —if you love me—please don’t do this…” I can hear his breath catching, and for a moment, I feel a spark of hope—a spark that’s immediately extinguished as he gently moves my tangled hair off my neck, exposing my skin. “It’s really not going to be that bad, baby,” he murmurs, and then I feel a sharp prick in the side of my neck. Immediately my limbs grow heavy, my vision dimming as the drug kicks in. “I hate you,” I manage to whisper, and then the darkness claims me again.

16

J ulian I HATE YOU… IF YOU LOVE ME, DON’T DO THIS… As I pick up her unconscious body, Nora’s words echo in my mind, repeating over and over like a glitchy record. I know it shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does. With just a couple of sentences, she somehow managed to flay me open, to break through the wall that has encased me since Maria’s death—the wall that has enabled me to keep a distance from everyone and everything except her. She doesn’t truly hate me. I know that. She wants me. She loves me or, at the very least, thinks she does. Once all of this is over, we’re going to go back to the life we’ve had for the past couple of months, except I will feel better, more secure. Less afraid of losing her. If you love me, don’t do this… Fuck. I don’t know why I care that she said that. I certainly don’t love her. I can’t. Love is for those who are noble and selfless, for people who still have some semblance of a heart. That’s not me. It’s never been me. What I feel for Nora is nothing like the soft, flowery emotion depicted in all the books and movies. It’s deeper, far more visceral than that. I need her with a violence that twists my guts, with a longing that both demolishes and uplifts me. I need her like I need air, and I would do whatever it takes to keep her with me. I would die for her, but I would never let her go. Cradling her small, limp body in my arms, I carry her out of the bedroom to the

living room. David Goldberg, our resident doctor, is already there, waiting with his medical bag and supplies on the couch. I’d asked him to stop by earlier today, so he can do the procedure as soon as possible after dinner, and I’m glad that he’s on time. I only gave Nora a quarter of the drug that was in the syringe, and I want to make sure everything is done before she wakes up. “She’s already under?” Goldberg asks, getting up to greet us. A short, balding man in his forties, he’s one of the most talented surgeons I’ve ever met. I pay him an arm and a leg to treat minor injuries, but I consider it worth it. In my line of work, one never knows when a good doctor will come in handy. “Yes.” I carefully put Nora down on the couch. Her left arm hangs off the edge, so I gently arrange her in a more comfortable pose, making sure that her dress covers her slim thighs. Goldberg won’t care either way—he’s far more likely to get a hard-on for me than for my wife—but I still don’t like the idea of exposing her unnecessarily, even to a man who’s openly gay. “You know, I could’ve just numbed the area,” he says, pulling out the tools he needs. All of his movements are practiced and efficient; he’s a master at what he does. “It’s a simple procedure—nothing that requires the patient to be unconscious.” “It’s better this way.” I don’t explain further, but I think Goldberg gets it, because he doesn’t say anything else. Instead he puts on his gloves, takes out a large syringe with a thick hypodermic needle, and approaches Nora. I step back to give him some room. “How many trackers would you like? One or more?” he asks, glancing in my direction. “Three.” I’ve thought about this before, and that’s what makes the most sense to me. If she’s ever stolen, my enemies might think to look for a locator chip on her body, but they’re unlikely to look for three of them. “Okay. I will put one in her upper arm, one in her hip, and one in her inner thigh.” “That should work.” The trackers are tiny, about the size of a grain of rice, so Nora won’t even feel them there after a few days. I’m also planning to have her wear a special wristband as a decoy; it will have a fourth tracker in it. This way, if her abductors find the wristband tracker, they might be foolish enough to get rid of it and not look for any on her body. “Then that’s what I’ll do,” Goldberg says and, swabbing Nora’s upper arm with a

disinfecting solution, presses the needle to her skin. A small droplet of blood wells up as the needle goes in, depositing the tracker; then he disinfects the area again and tapes a small bandage over it. The implant in her hip is next, followed by one in her inner thigh. It takes less than six minutes between the start and the end of the procedure, and Nora sleeps peacefully through it all. “All done,” Goldberg says, pulling off his gloves and packing up his bag. “You can take off the bandages in an hour, once the bleeding stops, and put on regular Band-Aids. Those areas might be tender for a couple of days, but there shouldn't be any scarring, particularly if you keep the insertion points clean in the meantime. If anything, call me, but I don’t anticipate any problems.” “Excellent, thank you.” “My pleasure.” And with that, Goldberg packs up his bag and exits the room.

NORA REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS AROUND THREE IN THE MORNING. I’m sleeping lightly, so I wake up as soon as she begins to stir. I know she’ll have a headache and some nausea from the drug, and I have a water bottle prepared in case she’s thirsty. I expect the side effects to be mild, since I gave her a small dose. When I took her from the park, I had to give her a lot more to make sure she stayed under for the full twenty-hour-plus trip to the island, so she should recover much faster today. I hate you. Fuck, not again. I push away the memory of her small, accusing whisper and focus on the present. I can feel her stirring next to me, a small sound of discomfort escaping her throat as the mattress rubs against the tender spot in her upper arm. That sound does something to me, gets under my skin for some reason. I don’t want Nora in pain—not from this, at least—and I reach for her, pulling her closer to me so I can hug her from the back. She stiffens at my touch, rigid tension spreading through her body, and I know that she’s awake now, that she remembers what happened. “How are you feeling?” I ask, keeping my voice low and soothing as I stroke the smooth curve of her outer thigh with my hand. “Do you want some water or anything?”

She doesn’t say anything, but I feel her head moving slightly, and I interpret that as a nod. “All right then.” Reaching back with my hand, I grab the water bottle, fumbling a bit in the dark. Propping myself up on one elbow, I turn on the bedside lamp, so I can see, and hand the bottle to Nora. She blinks a few times, squinting at the light, and takes the water from me, her slender fingers curving around the bottle as she sits up. The movement causes the blanket to slide down, exposing her upper body. I undressed her before putting her in bed, so she’s naked now, with only her thick hair hiding her pretty, pink-tipped breasts from my gaze. Familiar lust stirs within me, but I push it down, wanting to make sure she’s okay first. I let her take a few sips of the water before asking again, “How are you feeling?” She shrugs, her eyes not meeting mine. “Fine, I guess.” Her hand lifts across her body to her upper arm, touching the Band-Aid there, and I see her shiver slightly, as though she’s cold. “I have to use the bathroom,” she says suddenly and, not waiting for my response, climbs out of bed. I catch a brief glimpse of her rounded little ass before she disappears through the bathroom door, and my dick jumps, ignoring my mind’s directive to be still for once. Sighing, I lie back on the pillow to wait for her. Who am I kidding? My pet always has that effect on me. I can no more ignore seeing her naked than I can stop breathing. Almost involuntarily, my hand slips under the blanket, my fingers curling around my hard shaft as I close my eyes and imagine her hot, velvety inner walls gripping my cock, her pussy wet and deliciously tight… I hate you. Fuck. My eyes fly open, some of the heat inside me cooling. I’m still hard, but now the lust is intermixed with a strange heaviness in my chest. I don’t know where this is coming from. I should feel happier now that the trackers are in, but I don’t. Instead I feel like I lost something… something I didn’t even know I had. Annoyed, I close my eyes again, this time purposefully focusing on the growing ache in my balls as I pump my fist up and down my dick, letting the hunger build. Even if she does hate me, so what? She probably should hate me, given everything I’ve done to her. I’ve never let such concerns stop me from doing what I wanted, and I’m not about to start now. Nora will get used to the trackers just as she got used to being mine, and if the compound security is ever breached, she’ll thank her lucky stars for my foresight.

Hearing the door open, I open my eyes and see her emerging from the bathroom. She still doesn’t look at me directly. Instead she keeps her eyes on the floor as she scurries to the bed and climbs under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Then she stares blankly at the ceiling, as if I don’t even exist. She might as well have slapped my face with her indifference. The lust inside me turns sharper, darker. I won’t stand for this kind of behavior, and she knows it. The urge to punish her is strong, nearly irresistible, and it’s only the knowledge that she’s already hurt that prevents me from tying her up and giving in to my sadistic inclinations. Still, I’m not going to let her get away with this. Not tonight, not ever. Throwing off my blanket, I sit up and command sharply, “Come here.” She doesn’t move for a moment, but then her eyes lift to my face. There’s no fear in her gaze, no emotion of any kind, in fact. Her huge dark eyes are lifeless, like those of a beautiful doll. The heaviness in my chest region grows. “Come here,” I repeat, the harshness of my tone masking the intensifying turmoil within me. “Now.” She obeys, her conditioning finally kicking in. Pushing away her blanket, she comes to me on all fours, crawling across the bed with her back arched and her ass slightly raised. It’s exactly the way I like her to move in the bedroom, and my breathing quickens, my cock swelling to an almost painful thickness. I’ve trained her well; even distressed, my pet knows how to please me. “Good girl,” I murmur, reaching for her as soon as she’s within my grasp. Sliding my left hand into her hair, I wrap my right arm around her waist and pull her into my lap, gathering her against me. Then I slant my mouth across hers, kissing her with a hunger that seems to emanate from the very core of my being. She tastes like minty toothpaste and herself, her lips soft and receptive as I plunder the silky depths of her mouth. As the kiss goes on, her eyes close, and her hands come up to rest tentatively at my sides. I can feel her nipples pebbling against my chest, and the realization that she’s responding the same as always sends a wave of relief through me, alleviating much of my uncharacteristic unease. Whatever strange mood she’s in, she’s still mine in all the ways that matter. Still kissing her, I lean forward until we’re both lying flat on the bed, with me covering her. I’m careful to handle her gently, so I don’t put any pressure on the Band-Aid-covered areas. The monster inside me may crave her pain and tears, but

that desire pales in comparison to my overwhelming need to comfort her, to take away that lifeless look in her eyes. Reining in my own lust, I set about caring for her the only way I know how. I kiss her all over, tasting her soft, warm skin as I make my way from the delicate curve of her ear down to her little toes. I massage her hands, arms, feet, legs, and back, enjoying her quiet moans of pleasure as I rub out all stiffness in her muscles. Then I bring her to orgasm with my mouth and my fingers, delaying my own release until my balls almost turn blue. When I finally enter her body, it’s like coming home. Her hot, slick sheath welcomes me, squeezes me so tightly that I nearly explode on the spot. As I begin to move inside her, her arms close around my back, embracing me, holding me close —and then we detonate together at the end, our bodies straining together in violent, mind-shattering bliss.

17

N ora I WAKE UP LATER THAN USUAL, MY HEAD AND MOUTH FEELING LIKE THEY’VE BEEN STUFFED WITH cotton. For a moment, I struggle to remember what happened—did I somehow have too much to drink?—but then memories of last night seep into my mind, twisting my stomach into knots and flooding me with confused despair. Julian made love to me last night. He made love to me after violating me—after drugging me and forcing the trackers on me against my will—and I let him. No, I didn’t just let him; I reveled in his touch, allowing the blazing heat of his caresses to burn away the frozen hurt inside me, to make me forget, if only for a moment, about the ragged wound he inflicted on my heart. I don’t know why this, out of all the horrible things Julian has done, affects me so strongly. In the grand scheme of things, putting the trackers under my skin— allegedly to keep me safe—is nothing compared to kidnapping me, beating up Jake, or blackmailing me into marriage. These trackers are not even necessarily forever. Theoretically, if I ever make it off the estate, I can go to a doctor and have the implants removed, so I may not even be stuck with them for the rest of my life. My fear yesterday definitely had an irrational component to it; I was reacting on instinct and not thinking things through. Nonetheless, it felt like a part of me died last evening—like the prick of that syringe killed something inside me. Maybe it’s because I had begun to feel that Julian and I were growing closer, that we were becoming more like a regular couple. Or maybe because my Stockholm Syndrome—or whatever psychological issue I have—made me imagine rainbows and unicorns where there were none. Whatever the reason, Julian’s actions felt like the most agonizing betrayal. When I regained

consciousness last night, I felt so devastated that I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But Julian didn’t let me. He made love to me. He made love to me when I thought he would whip me—when I expected him to punish me for not being his compliant little pet. He gave me tenderness when I expected cruelty; instead of taking me apart, he made me feel whole again, even if it was only for a few hours. And now… now I miss him. Without him by my side, the coldness within me is beginning to creep back, the pain slowly returning to choke me from the inside. The fact that Julian did this to me against my objections—that he did this even though I begged him not to—is almost more than I can handle. It tells me that he doesn’t love me—that he may never love me. It tells me that the man I’m married to may never be anything more than my captor.

AT BREAKFAST JULIAN IS NOT THERE, A FACT THAT CONTRIBUTES TO MY GROWING DEPRESSION. I’VE gotten so used to having most of my meals with him that his absence feels like a rejection—though how I can still crave his company after everything is beyond my comprehension. “Señor Esguerra grabbed a quick snack earlier,” Ana explains, serving me eggs mixed with refried beans and avocado. “He received some news that he had to deal with right away, so he’s not able to join you this morning. He apologized for that and told me that you can come to the office whenever you’re ready.” Her voice is unusually warm and kind, and there is sympathy on her face as she looks at me. I don’t know if she knows all the details about what happened last night, but I have a feeling she overheard the gist of it. Embarrassed, I lower my gaze to my plate. “Okay, thank you, Ana,” I murmur, staring at the food. It looks as delicious as usual, but I have no appetite this morning. I know I’m not sick, but I feel that way, with my stomach churning and my chest aching. The fresh implants in my thigh, hip, and upper arm throb with a nagging pain. All I want to do is crawl under the covers and sleep the day away, but unfortunately, that’s not an option. I have a paper to do for my English Literature class, and I’m two lectures behind for my Calculus class. I did cancel my morning walk with Rosa, though; I have no desire to see my friend while I’m feeling this way. “Would you like some hot chocolate or anything? Maybe coffee or tea?” Ana

asks, still hovering by the table. Normally, when Julian and I are eating together, she makes herself scarce, but for some reason, she seems reluctant to leave me alone this morning. I look up from my plate and force myself to give her a smile. “No, I’m okay, Ana, thanks.” Picking up my fork, I spear some eggs and bring them to my mouth, determined to eat something to alleviate the concern I see on the housekeeper’s softly rounded face. As I chew, I see Ana hesitating for a moment, as though she wants to say something else, but then she disappears into the kitchen, leaving me to my breakfast. For the next few minutes, I make a serious attempt to eat, but everything tastes like sand and I finally give up. Getting up, I head to the porch, wanting to feel the sun on my skin. The coldness inside me seems to be spreading with each moment, my depression deepening as the morning wears on. Stepping out the front door, I walk over to the edge of the porch and lean on the railing, breathing in the hot, humid air. As I gaze out onto the wide green lawn and the guards in the distance, I feel my vision blurring, hot tears welling up and beginning to slide down my cheeks. I don’t know why I’m crying. Nobody died; nothing truly terrible has happened. I’ve been through so much worse in the past two years, and I’ve coped with it—I’ve adjusted and survived. This relatively minor thing shouldn’t make me feel like my heart has been ripped out. My growing conviction that Julian is not capable of love shouldn’t destroy me like this. A hand gently touches my shoulder, startling me out of my misery. Swiftly wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I turn around and am surprised to see Ana standing there, an uncertain expression on her face. “Señora Esguerra… I mean, Nora…” She stumbles over my name, her accent thicker than usual. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you had a minute to talk?” Taken aback by the unusual request, I nod. “Of course, what is it?” Ana and I are not particularly close; she’s always been somewhat reserved around me, polite but not overly friendly. Rosa told me that Ana is like that because that’s what Julian’s father demanded of his staff, and the habit is difficult for her to break. Looking relieved by my response, Ana smiles and walks up to join me at the

railing, placing her forearms on the painted white wood. I give her a questioning look, wondering what she wants to discuss, but she seems content to just stand there for a moment, her gaze trained on the jungle in the distance. When she finally turns her head to look at me and speaks, her words catch me off-guard. “I don’t know if you know this, Nora, but your husband lost everybody he’s ever cared about,” she says softly, no trace of her customary reserve in sight. “Maria, his parents… Not to mention many others he knew both here on the estate and out in the cities.” “Yes, he told me,” I say slowly, eyeing her with some caution. I don’t know why she’s suddenly decided to talk to me about Julian, but I’m more than happy to listen. Maybe if I understand my husband better, it will be easier for me to maintain my emotional distance from him. Maybe if he’s not such a puzzle, I won’t be drawn to him as strongly. “Good,” Ana says quietly. “Then I hope you understand that Julian didn’t mean to hurt you last night… that whatever he did was because he cares for you.” “Cares for me?” The laugh that escapes my throat is sharp and bitter. I don’t know why I’m talking about this with Ana, but now that the floodgates have been opened, I can’t seem to close them again. “Julian doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” “No.” She shakes her head. “You’re wrong, Nora. He does. He cares about you very much. I can see it. He’s different with you than with others. Very different.” I stare at her. “What do you mean?” She sighs, then turns to face me fully. “Your husband was always a dark child,” she says, and I see a deep sadness in her gaze. “A beautiful boy, with his mother’s eyes and her features, but so hard inside… It was his father’s fault, I think. The older Señor never treated him like a child. From the time Julian was old enough to walk, his father would push him, make him do things that no child should do…” I listen raptly, hardly daring to breathe as she continues. “When Julian was little, he was afraid of spiders. We have big ones here, very scary ones. Some poisonous ones. When Juan Esguerra found out, he led his fiveyear-old son into the forest and made him catch a dozen large spiders with his bare hands. Then he made the boy kill them slowly with his fingers, so Julian would see what it’s like to conquer his fears and make his enemies suffer.” She pauses, her mouth tight-lipped with anger. “Julian didn’t sleep for two nights after that. When his mother found out, she cried, but there was nothing she could do. Señor’s word

here was law, and everyone had to obey.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat and look away. What I just learned only adds to my despair. How can I expect Julian to love someone after being raised that way? The fact that my husband is a stone-cold killer with sadistic tendencies is not surprising; the only wonder is that he’s not even worse. It’s hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Sensing my distress, Ana lays her hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting, like that of my mom. “For the longest time, I thought Julian would grow up to be just like his father,” she says when I turn to look at her. “Cruel and uncaring, incapable of any softer emotion. I thought that until I saw him with a kitten one day when he was twelve. It was a tiny creature, all fluffy white fur and big eyes, barely old enough to eat on its own. Something happened to its mother, and Julian found the kitten outside and brought it in. When I saw him, he was trying to coax it to drink milk, and the expression on his face—” She blinks, her eyes looking suspiciously wet. “It was so… so tender. He was so patient with the kitten, so gentle. And I knew then that his father hadn’t succeeded in breaking Julian completely, that the boy could still feel.” “What happened to that kitten?” I ask, bracing myself. I’m prepared to hear another horror story, but Ana just shrugs in response. “It grew up in the house,” she says, gently squeezing my arm before taking her hand away. “Julian kept it as his pet, named it Lola. He and his father had a fight about that—the older Señor hated animals—but by then Julian was old enough, and tough enough, to stand up to his father. Nobody dared to touch the little creature for as long as it was under Julian’s protection. When he left for America, he took the cat with him. As far as I know, it lived a nice long life and passed away from old age.” “Oh.” Some of my tension fades. “That’s good. Not good that Julian lost his pet, I mean, but that it lived for a long time.” “Yes. It’s good indeed. And you know, Nora, the way he looked at that kitten…” She trails off, gazing at me with a strange smile. “What?” I ask warily. “He looks at you like that sometimes. With that same kind of tenderness. He might not always show it, but he treasures you, Nora. In his own way, he loves you. I truly believe that.”

I press my lips together, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to flood my eyes again. “Why are you telling me this, Ana?” I ask when I’m certain I can speak without breaking down. “Why did you come out here?” “Because Julian is the closest thing I have to a son,” she says softly. “And because I want him to be happy. I want both of you to be happy. I don’t know if this changes anything for you, but I thought you should know a little more about your husband.” Reaching out, she squeezes my hand and then walks back inside the house, leaving me standing by the railing, even more confused and heartsick than before.

I DON’T JOIN JULIAN IN THE OFFICE THAT AFTERNOON. INSTEAD I LOCK MYSELF IN THE LIBRARY AND work on the paper, trying not to think about my husband and how much I want to be sitting by his side. I know that just being near him would make me feel better, that his presence alone would help with my hurt and anger, but some masochistic impulse keeps me away. I don’t know what I’m trying to prove to myself, but I’m determined to keep my distance for at least a few hours. Of course, there’s no avoiding him at dinner. “You didn’t come today,” he observes, watching me as Ana ladles us some mushroom soup for an appetizer. “Why not?” I shrug, ignoring the imploring look Ana gives me before going back to the kitchen. “I wasn’t feeling well.” Julian frowns. “You’re sick?” “No, just a bit under the weather. Plus I had a paper to finish and some lectures to catch up on.” “Is that right?” He stares at me, his eyebrows drawn together. Leaning forward, he asks softly, “Are you sulking, my pet?” “No, Julian,” I reply as sweetly as I can, dipping my spoon in the soup. “Sulking would imply that I’m mad at something you did. But I don’t get to be mad, do I? You can do whatever you want to me, and I’m supposed to just accept it, right?” And taking a sip of the richly flavored soup, I give him a saccharine smile, enjoying the way his eyes narrow at my response. I know I’m tugging on a tiger’s tail, but I don’t want a sweet, gentle Julian tonight. It’s too misleading, too unsettling for my peace of mind. To my frustration, he doesn’t take the bait. Whatever anger I managed to

provoke is short-lived, and in the next moment, he leans back, a slow, sexy smile teasing at the corners of his lips. “Are you trying to guilt me, baby? Surely you know by now that I’m beyond that kind of emotion.” “Of course you are.” I meant the words to sound bitter, but they come out breathless instead. Even now, he has the power to make my senses whirl and spin with nothing more than a smile. He grins, knowing full well how he affects me, and dips his own spoon into the soup. “Just eat, Nora. You can show me how mad you are in the bedroom, I promise.” And with that tantalizing threat, he begins consuming his soup, leaving me no choice but to follow his lead. As we eat, Julian peppers me with questions about my classes and how my online program is going so far. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say, and I soon find myself talking to him about my difficulties with Calculus—has a more boring subject ever been invented?—and discussing the pros and cons of taking a Humanities course next semester. I’m sure he must find my concerns amusing—after all, it’s just school—but if he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead he makes me feel like I’m talking to a friend, or maybe a trusted advisor. That’s one of the things that make Julian so irresistible: his ability to listen, to make me feel important to him. I don’t know if he does it on purpose, but there are few things more seductive than having someone’s undivided attention—and I always have that with Julian. I’ve had it since day one. Evil kidnapper or not, he’s always made me feel wanted and desired, like I’m the center of his world. Like I genuinely matter. As the dinner continues, Ana’s story plays over and over in my mind, making me viciously glad that Juan Esguerra is dead. How could a father do that to his son? What kind of monster would purposefully try to mold his child into a killer? I picture twelve-year-old Julian standing up to that brute for a defenseless kitten, and I feel an unwitting flash of pride at my husband’s courage. I have a feeling keeping that pet against his father’s wishes had been far from easy. I’m still nowhere near ready to forgive Julian, but as we make our way through the second course, I consider the possibility that something other than Julian’s stalker tendencies was behind his desire to implant those trackers in me. Could it be that instead of not caring for me, he cares too much? Could his love be that dark and obsessive? That twisted? I’d known, of course, about Maria’s death and that of his parents, but I never put the two events together, never thought of it as Julian losing everyone he’s ever cared about. If Ana is right—if I truly am that special to

Julian—then it’s not particularly surprising that he’d go to such lengths to ensure my safety, especially since he almost lost me once. It’s insane and scary, but not particularly surprising. “So what was so urgent this morning?” I ask, finishing my second serving of the baked salmon dish Ana prepared as the main course. My appetite is back with a vengeance, all traces of my earlier malaise gone. It’s amazing what even a little bit of Julian’s company does to me; his proximity is better than any mood-boosting drug on the market. “When you couldn’t join me for breakfast, I mean?” “Oh, yes, I’ve been meaning to tell you about that,” Julian says, and I see a gleam of dark excitement in his eyes. “Peter’s contacts in Moscow got us permission to move in with an operation to extract Majid and the rest of the AlQuadar fighters from Tajikistan. As soon as we’re ready—hopefully in a week or so —we’ll be making our move.” “Oh, wow.” I stare at him, both excited and disturbed by the news. “When you say ‘we,’ you mean your men, right?” “Well, yes.” Julian appears puzzled by my question. “I’m going to take a group of about fifty of our best soldiers and leave the rest to guard the compound.” “You’re going to go on this operation yourself?” My heart skips a beat as I wait anxiously for his answer. “Of course.” He looks surprised that I would think otherwise. “I always go on these types of missions myself if I can. Besides, I have some business in Ukraine that’s best handled in person, so I’ll deal with that on the way back.” “Julian…” I feel sick all of a sudden, all the food I’ve eaten sitting in my stomach like a rock. “This sounds really dangerous… Why do you have to go?” “Dangerous?” He laughs softly. “Are you worried about me, my pet? I can assure you, there’s no need. The enemy is going to be outnumbered and outgunned. They don’t stand a chance, believe me.” “You don’t know that! What if they set off a bomb or something?” My voice rises as I remember the horror of the warehouse explosion. “What if they trick you in some way? You know they want to kill you—” “Well, technically, they want to force me to give them the explosive,” he corrects me, a dark smile curving his lips, “and then they want to kill me. But you have nothing to worry about, baby. We’ll scan their quarters for any signs of bombs before we go in, and we’ll all be wearing full-body armor that can withstand all but

a rocket blast.” I push my plate away, not the least bit reassured. “So let me get this straight… You’re forcing me to wear trackers here, where nobody can touch a single hair on my head, and you’re planning to traipse off to Tajikistan to play ‘capture the terrorist’?” Julian’s smile disappears, his expression hardening. “I’m not playing, Nora. AlQuadar represents a very real threat, and it’s one that I need to eliminate as quickly as possible. We need to strike at them before they come after us, and this is the perfect opportunity to do that.” I glare at him, the sheer unfairness of the whole thing making my blood pressure rise. “But why do you have to go in person? You have all these soldiers and mercenaries at your command—surely they don’t need you there—” “Nora…” His voice is gentle, but his eyes are hard and cold, like icicles. “This is not up for debate. The day I start fearing my own shadow is the day I need to leave this business for good—because it will mean that I have grown soft. Soft and lazy, like the man whose factory I took when I was first starting out…” He smiles again at my look of shock. “Oh, yes, my pet, how do you think I switched from drugs to weapons? I took over someone’s existing operation and built on it. My predecessor also had soldiers and mercenaries at his command, but he was little more than a glorified paper pusher and everyone knew it. He didn’t keep tight reins on his organization, and it was a simple matter to bribe a few people and overthrow him, taking his rocket factory for my own.” Julian pauses to let me digest that for a second, then adds, “I’m not going to be that man, Nora. This mission is important to me, and I have every intention of overseeing it myself. Majid will not survive this time—I will make sure of that.”

18

J ulian AFTER DINNER IS OVER, I LEAD NORA TO OUR BEDROOM, MY HAND RESTING ON THE SMALL OF HER BACK as we walk up the stairs. She’s quiet, like she’s been ever since I explained to her about the upcoming mission, and I know that she’s still upset with me, both about the trackers and the trip itself. I find her concern touching, even sweet, but I have no intention of passing up this opportunity to lay my hands on Majid. My pet doesn’t understand the dark thrill of being in the middle of action, of feeling the jolt of adrenaline and hearing the whizzing of bullets. She doesn’t realize that to someone like me the sight of blood and the sound of my enemies’ screams are a turn-on, that I crave them almost as much as sex. This trait of mine is why one shrink thought I might be borderline sociopathic… well, this and my general lack of remorse. It’s a label that’s never particularly bothered me—at least not once I got past my youthful delusion that I could someday lead a ‘normal’ life. As we enter the bedroom, the hunger that I’ve been restraining since yesterday intensifies, the monster inside me demanding his due. The distance I’m sensing from Nora only makes it worse. I can feel the barriers she’s trying to erect between us, the way she’s trying to shut me out of her thoughts, and it maddens me, feeding the sadistic yearning coiling within. I am going to smash those barriers tonight. I am going to tear them down until she has no defenses left—until I own her mind fully again. She excuses herself to go take a quick shower, and I let her, walking over to the bed to wait for her return. I am already semi-hard, my cock stirring in anticipation

of what I’m going to do to her, and my pants are starting to feel uncomfortably tight. Hearing the water turn on, I undress, then reach into the bedside drawer and pull out an assortment of tools I plan to use on her tonight. True to her word, Nora doesn’t take long. Five minutes, and she’s coming out of the bathroom, a plush white towel wrapped around her petite body. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her golden skin is damp, droplets of water still clinging to her neck and shoulders. She must’ve taken off the Band-Aids in order to shower, because I can see a tiny scab and some bruising on her arm where the tracker went in. The sight of it fills me with an odd mixture of emotions —relief that I can now always keep an eye on her and something that tastes strangely like regret. Her gaze flicks toward the bed, and she stops dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she takes in the objects I laid out. I smile, enjoying the startled expression on her face. We haven’t played with toys in a while—at least not to this extent. “Drop the towel and get on the bed,” I command, getting up and reaching for the blindfold. She looks up at me, her lips parted and her skin softly flushed, and I know that she’s excited by this too—that her needs now mirror mine. There’s only a hint of hesitation in her movements as she unwraps the towel and lets it fall to the floor, leaving her standing there fully naked. As I feast my eyes on her slim, shapely body, my balls tighten and my heartbeat picks up. Rationally I know there must be women more beautiful than Nora out there, but if there are, I can’t think of any. From the top of her head down to her dainty toes, she fits my preferences to a tee. My body craves her with an intensity that seems to be growing stronger every day, with a desperation that almost consumes me. She climbs onto the bed, getting into a kneeling position with her feet tucked underneath her tight, round ass. Her movements are fluid and graceful, like those of a sleek little cat. Getting on my knees behind her, I move her hair off her shoulder and gently kiss her neck, enjoying the way her breathing changes in response. She smells like warm female skin and flower-scented body wash, a mixture that makes my head spin and my dick throb with need. Some nights this is all I want from her—the sweetness of her response, the feel of her in my arms. Some nights I want to treat her like the fragile, breakable creature she is. Tonight, however, I want something different.

Pulling back, I tie the blindfold around her eyes, making sure she can’t see anything. I want her to focus solely on the sensations she’ll be experiencing, to feel everything as acutely as possible. Next, I pick up a pair of padded handcuffs and snap them around her wrists, securing her hands behind her back. “Um, Julian…” Her tongue comes out to moisten her lower lip. “What are you going to do to me?” I smile, the tiny hint of fear in her voice turning me on even more. “What do you think I’m going to do to you, my pet?” “Flog me?” she guesses, her voice low and a bit husky. I can see her nipples growing taut as she speaks, and I know the idea is not exactly repellent to her. “No, baby,” I murmur, reaching for one of the other items I have prepared—a pair of nipple clamps connected by a thin metal chain. “You’re not healed enough for that yet. I have other things in mind for you today.” And picking up the clamps, I wrap my arms around her from the back and pinch her left nipple between my fingers. Then I apply one of the clamps to the hard bud, tightening the screw until her breath hisses out between her teeth. “How does it feel?” I ask softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her ear as I reach for her right nipple. Her bound hands, curled tightly into fists, press into my stomach, reminding me of her helplessness. “I want to hear you describe it…” She draws in a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. “It hurts—” she begins to say, then cries out sharply as I apply the second clamp to her nipple and tighten it the same way. “Good…” I lightly bite her earlobe. My erection brushes against her lower back, the contact sending vibrations of pleasure down to my balls. “And now?” “It—it hurts even more…” Her words come out in a ragged whisper. Her back is tense against me, and I know that she’s telling the truth, that her sensitive nipples are likely in agony from the vicious bite of the toy. I’ve used nipple clamps on her before, on the island, but those were a gentler version, capable of applying only light pressure. These are much more hardcore, and I smile darkly as I imagine how much they’ll hurt when they come off. Cupping the undersides of her breasts with my hands, I squeeze them lightly, molding the soft flesh with my fingers. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” I murmur as she jerks in pain, the movement of my hands pulling on the chain between her nipples. “My poor baby, so sweet, yet so abused…”

Releasing her breasts, I run my hand down her smooth, flat stomach until I reach the soft folds between her legs. As I had suspected, despite the pain—or more likely, because of it—she’s soaking wet, her pussy already liquid with need. My cock throbs in response. The sight of her restrained, with her delicate nipples clamped and hurting, appeals to me in a way that my old shrink would’ve undoubtedly found disturbing. Doing my best to control my hunger, I touch her small clit with my thumb, pressing on it lightly, and she moans, leaning back against my chest, her hips lifting up in a silent plea for more. “Tell me what you’re feeling now.” I deliberately keep the pressure on her clit feather-light. “Tell me, Nora.” “I… I don’t know…” “Tell me how those little nipples feel. I want to hear you say it.” I accompany the demand with a firm pinch of her clit, causing her to cry out and buck against me from the sudden pain. “They—they still hurt,” she gasps when she recovers, “but it’s different now, less sharp and more like a steady throb…” “Good girl…” I stroke her swollen clit gently as a reward. “And what does it feel like when I touch you like this?” Her small pink tongue comes out again, flicking over her bottom lip. “It feels good,” she whispers, “really good… Please, Julian…” “Please what?” I prod, wanting to hear her beg. She has the perfect voice for begging, sweet and innocently sexy. Her pleading affects me in a way that’s just the opposite of what she intends—it makes me want to torment her more. “Please touch me…” She lifts her hips again, trying to intensify the pressure on her sex. “Touch you where?” I move my hand, depriving her of my touch altogether. “Tell me exactly where you want me to touch you, my pet.” “My… my clit…” The words come out on a breathless moan. I can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, and I know that my torture is having an effect on her, that the sensations she’s feeling are as intense as I intended. “All right, baby.” I touch her again, pressing my fingers into her slick folds to stimulate the bundle of nerves with light, even strokes. “Like that?” “Yes.” She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling as her orgasm approaches. “Yes, just like that…” Her voice trails off, her body tightening like a

string, and then she cries out, jerking in my arms as she reaches her peak. I hold her through it, keeping the pressure on her clit steady until her contractions abate, and then I reach for another item I have prepared. It’s a dildo this time, one that’s roughly the size of my own dick. Made of a special blend of silicone and plastic, it’s designed to imitate the feel of human flesh, right down to the skin-like texture on the outside. It’s as close as I will let Nora get to experiencing another man’s cock. Holding her against me with one arm, I bring the dildo to her sex and position the broad head at her slick, quivering opening. “Tell me what you’re feeling now,” I order her, and begin to push the object in. She gasps, her breathing quickening again, and I feel her squirming as the large toy slowly enters her pussy. Her fingers clench and unclench against my stomach in an agitated tempo, her nails scratching my skin. “I—I don’t…” “You don’t what?” My tone sharpens as her sentence trails off. “Tell me how it feels to you.” “It feels… thick and hard.” The tremor in her voice stiffens my cock further, making it pulse with hungry need. “And?” I prompt, pushing the object deeper. The dildo looks almost too big for her delicate body to accept, and the sight of her tight sheath gradually engulfing it is almost painfully erotic. “And—” she exhales sharply, her head falling back against my shoulder, “—and it feels like it’s stretching me and filling me…” “Yes, baby, that’s right.” By now the dildo is all the way inside her, with only the end sticking out. I reward her for her honesty by rubbing her clit with my fingers, spreading wetness from her dripping opening all around her soft folds. When she’s panting again, her hips undulating against my hand, I stop before she can come and release her from my hold, moving back a bit. Then I push her forward, pressing her face against the mattress, and pull her legs out from underneath her, making her lie flat on her belly. As much as I want to continue playing with her, I can no longer wait to fuck her. Deprived of my touch and with her clamped nipples rubbing painfully against the sheets, she whimpers, trying to roll over onto her side. I don’t let her, holding her down with one hand as I shove a pillow under her hips with another. Then I grab lube and squirt it directly on the small, puckered opening between her ass cheeks, right above where the edge of the dildo is protruding from her stretched,

glistening pussy. She tenses, now realizing my intentions, and I slap her ass with one hand, quelling any protest she might’ve been trying to make. “Easy now. You need to tell me how it feels, do you understand me, my pet?” She whimpers as I straddle her and press the tip of my cock to her tight little asshole, but I feel her trying to relax underneath me, just like I taught her. Anal sex is something she’s still not entirely comfortable with, and her reluctance pleases me in some perverse way. It shows me both how far I’ve come with her training and how far I still have to go. “Do you understand?” I repeat in a harsher tone when she remains silent, breathing heavily into the mattress, her bound hands tightly clenched behind her back. I desperately want to shove my cock in all the way, but I settle for just nudging her with it, smearing the lube all around her back opening. Tonight I want to get inside her mind just as much as I want to get inside her body, and I won’t settle for anything less. “Yes…” Her words are muffled by the blanket as I press forward and begin to penetrate her ass, ignoring her attempts to squirm away. “It feels… oh God… I can’t… Julian, please, it’s too much—” “Tell me,” I order, continuing to press in, pushing past the resistance of her sphincter. With her pussy already filled with the dildo, her ass is so tight around my cock that I’m shaking from the effort it’s taking to control myself. My voice is thick with lust when I rasp out, “I want to hear everything.” “It—it burns…” She’s panting, and I can see droplets of sweat gathering between her shoulder blades, strands of her long hair sticking to her damp skin. “Oh fuck… I’m too full… It’s too intense…” “Yes, that’s good… Continue talking…” I’m now almost all the way in, and I can feel my dick rubbing against the dildo as only a thin wall separates it from the toy. She’s trembling underneath me now, her body overwhelmed by the sensations, and I stroke her back in a soothing motion as I press forward one last inch, bottoming out deep within her body. She makes an incoherent noise, her shoulders beginning to shake, and her muscles tighten around my cock in a futile effort to push me out. The movement shifts the dildo within her, and she cries out, her shaking intensifying. “I can’t… Julian, please, I can’t…” I groan, explosive pleasure zinging through my balls as her ass squeezes my

dick. My control dissolving, I withdraw from her halfway and then plunge back in, reveling in the feel of her body’s resistance, in the almost agonizing tightness of her hot, smooth passage around my shaft. She screams into the blanket as I begin to drive into her in earnest, a mix of sobs and gasping pleas escaping her throat as I set a hard, rhythmic pace. Leaning forward, I brace myself over her with one hand and slide the other under her hips, finding her sex. Now every thrust of my hips presses her clit against my fingers, and her screams take on a different note, that of unwilling pleasure, of ecstasy mixed with pain. I can feel the dildo shifting and moving as I fuck her, and my orgasm boils up with sudden intensity, my spine tightening as my balls draw up flush against my body. Just as I’m about to erupt, her ass clamps down on me, and I realize with dark pleasure that she’s coming too, that her muscles are spasming around my cock as she cries out underneath me. And then the orgasm hits me, a shockwave of pleasure ripping through my body as jets of my seed spurt out into her hot depths, leaving me stunned and breathless from the force of my release. When my heart no longer feels like it’s about to explode, I carefully withdraw from her ass and pull the dildo from her pussy. She lies there limp and pliant, small sobs still shaking her frame as I unlock the handcuffs and massage her delicate wrists. Next, I untie the blindfold, sliding it out from under her. The silky piece of cloth is drenched from Nora’s tears, and as I gently turn her over, I see wet streaks on her blanket-creased cheeks. She blinks at me, squinting against the bright light, and I reach for her nipples, releasing first one, then the other from the clamps. She doesn’t react for a moment, but then her entire body jolts as blood rushes back to the abused buds. A moan escapes her throat, and fresh tears well up in her eyes as her hands go up to cover her breasts, cradling them protectively against the pain. “Shh,” I soothe, leaning down to kiss her. Her lips taste salty from her tears, and a tiny flame of arousal reignites within me. My cock, now flaccid, twitches, her pain and tears turning me on despite my extreme satiation. I’m not up for round two quite yet, though, and instead of deepening the kiss, I reluctantly lift my head and gaze down at her. She stares up at me, her eyes slightly unfocused, and I know she’s still recovering from the intensity of the experience I put her through. In this moment, she’s utterly defenseless, both mind and body unshielded, and I use her weakened state to press my advantage. “Tell me how you feel now,” I murmur, raising one hand to tenderly caress her jaw. “Tell me, baby.” She closes her eyes, and I see a single tear roll down her cheek. “I feel… empty and full at the same time, destroyed, yet replenished,” she whispers, her words

barely audible. “I feel like you shredded me into pieces and then remade those pieces into something else, something that’s no longer me… something that belongs to you…” “Yes.” I absorb her words hungrily. “And what else?” She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze, and I see a strange sort of hopelessness etched into her face. “And I love you,” she says quietly. “I love you even though I see you for what you are—even though I know what you’re doing to me. I love you because I’m no longer capable of not loving you… because you’re now part of me, for better or for worse.” I hold her gaze, the dark empty corners of my soul sucking in her words like a desert plant takes in water. Her love may not be freely given, but it’s mine. It will always be mine. “And you are part of me, Nora,” I admit, my voice low and unusually hoarse. This is the closest I can come to telling her how much she means to me, how deep my longing for her runs. “I hope you know that, my pet.” And before she can respond, I kiss her again, then slide my arms under her body, pick her up, and carry her to the bathroom to wash up.

19

N ora THE WEEK BEFORE JULIAN’S DEPARTURE IS BITTERSWEET. I STILL HAVE NOT ENTIRELY FORGIVEN HIM FOR the forced tracker implants—or for the bracelet embedded with yet another tracker he made me start wearing a couple of days later. Nevertheless, ever since Julian’s words that evening, I’ve been feeling infinitely better. I know what he said is not exactly a declaration of undying love, but from a man like Julian, it might as well be. Ana is right: Julian lost everyone who has ever mattered to him. Everyone except me, that is. The fact that he clings to me with such brutal possessiveness may be overwhelming at times, but it’s also an indication of his feelings. His love for me is wrong and perverse in many ways, but it’s no less real because of that. Of course, knowing this makes my fear for Julian’s safety on the upcoming trip even more intense. As his departure time approaches, my joy over his confession fades, and anxiety takes its place. I don’t want Julian to leave. Every time I think of him going on this mission, I’m gripped by a suffocating sense of dread. I know there is an irrational component to my fear, but that doesn’t lessen it in any way. Aside from the very real danger Julian will face, I’m simply afraid to be alone. We’ve spent so little time apart in the past couple of months that the thought of being without him for even a few days makes me feel deeply stressed and uneasy. It doesn’t help that I have exams and papers galore, or that my parents have been steadily pressuring me to come for a visit—something that Julian won’t allow

until the Al-Quadar threat is fully contained. “You can’t leave the estate, but they can come visit us here if you’d like,” he tells me during shooting practice one afternoon. “I would advise against it, though. Right now your parents are more or less off the radar, but the more contact I appear to have with your family, the more danger they’ll be in. It’s up to you, though. Just say the word, and I’ll send a plane for them.” “No, that’s okay,” I say hastily. “I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to them.” And raising my gun, I start shooting at the beer cans on the far edge of the field, letting the now-familiar jolt of the weapon take away some of my frustration. I realized that my parents are in danger a couple of days after we came to the estate. To my relief, Julian told me that he’d already put a discreet security detail on them—highly trained bodyguards whose job is to protect my family while letting them go about their lives. The alternative, he explained, is to bring them to the estate with us—a solution that my parents rejected as soon as I brought it up. “What? We’re not moving to Colombia to live with an illegal arms dealer!” my dad exclaimed when I told him about the potential danger. “Who does that bastard think he is? I just got a new job—not to mention, we can’t leave all of our friends and relatives!” And that was as far as that got. I can’t say I blame my parents for not wanting to move halfway across the world to be with me in my abductor’s compound. They’re still young, both in their early forties, and they’ve always led active, busy lives. My dad plays lacrosse nearly every weekend, and my mom has a group of girlfriends who get together for wine and gossip on a regular basis. My parents are also still very much in love with each other, with my dad constantly surprising my mom with little gifts of flowers, chocolate, or a dinner out. Growing up, I had no doubt that they both loved me, but I also knew that I wasn’t the absolute epicenter of their lives. No, if what Julian says is true—and I’m inclined to trust him on this—it’s best if my parents don’t appear to have too close of a connection to the Esguerra organization. Their ability to lead a normal life depends on it.

ON

THE NIGHT BEFORE JULIAN IS SCHEDULED TO LEAVE,

I

ASK

ANA

TO PREPARE A SPECIAL DINNER FOR

us. I recently discovered that Julian has a weakness for tiramisu, so that is our dessert for tonight. For the main course, Ana makes lasagna the same way that Julian’s mother used to make it. The housekeeper told me it was his favorite dish when he was a boy. I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like a good meal will suddenly convince Julian to forego the cruel pleasure of getting his hands on Majid. I know my husband well enough to understand that nothing can dissuade him from that. Julian is used to danger. I think he even craves it to some extent. I’m not foolish enough to think that I can domesticate him with one dinner. Still, I want this evening to be special. I need it to be special. I don’t want to think about terrorists and torture, abduction and mind fuckery. For just one night, I want to pretend that we’re a regular couple, that I’m simply a wife who wants to do something nice for her husband. Before dinner, I take a shower and blow-dry my long brown hair until it’s smooth and shiny. I even apply a little eyeshadow and lipgloss. I don’t normally put this much effort into my appearance, since Julian is already insatiable as is, but tonight I want to look extra pretty for him. My dress for the evening is a strapless little number, ivory with a black trim at the waist, and my shoes are sexy black peep-toe pumps. Underneath, I’m wearing a black strapless pushup bra and a matching thong, the most wicked lingerie set I have in my wardrobe. I’m going to seduce Julian tonight, for no other reason other than because I want to. He gets delayed by some last-minute logistics, so I end up waiting for him at the candle-lit dinner table for a few minutes, anxiety and excitement battling for supremacy in my chest. Anxiety because I feel sick thinking about tomorrow, and excitement because I can’t wait to spend time with Julian. When he finally walks into the room, I stand up to greet him, and his gaze fastens on me with breathtaking intensity. Stopping a few feet away, he runs his eyes over my body. When he lifts his eyes back to my face, the fire that burns in the blue depths sends an electric tingle straight to my core. A slow, sensual smile curls his lips as he says softly, “You look gorgeous, my pet… Absolutely gorgeous.” A flush of pleasure warms my skin at the compliment. “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes glued to his face. He changed for dinner as well, putting on a light blue polo shirt and a pair of gray khaki pants that fit his tall, broad-shouldered body like they were made for him. With his dark, lustrous hair back to its former length, Julian can easily pass for a model or a movie star vacationing on a golf resort. My

voice sounds breathless as I say, “You look pretty amazing yourself.” His smile widens as he approaches the table and stops in front of me. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, his strong fingers curving around my bare shoulders as he lowers his head and captures my mouth in a deep, yet incredibly tender kiss. I melt on the spot, my neck arching back under the hungry pressure of his lips, and it’s not until Ana pointedly clears her throat behind us that I regain my senses enough to realize that we’re not in our own bedroom. Embarrassed, I push him away, and Julian lets me, releasing me and stepping back with a smile. “Dinner first, I guess,” he says wryly and, walking around the table, takes a seat across from me. Ana, her cheeks slightly red, serves us lasagna, pours us each a glass of wine, and disappears before I have a chance to do more than say a quick thank-you. “Lasagna…” Julian sniffs appreciatively at the food. “I can’t remember the last time I had this.” “Ana told me your mother used to make it for you when you were little,” I say softly, watching as he takes the first bite. “I hope you still like it.” His eyes lift from his plate, his gaze locking on mine as he chews the food. “You arranged this?” he asks after he swallows, and there is a strange note in his voice. He gestures toward the wine and the candles burning on the outer edges of the table. “It wasn’t Ana who set all of this up?” “Well, she did all the work,” I admit. “I merely asked her for a few things. I hope you don’t mind.” “Mind? No, of course not.” His voice still sounds a bit odd, but he doesn’t question me further. Instead he begins to eat in earnest, and the conversation turns to my upcoming exams. After we’re done with the lasagna, Ana brings out the dessert. It looks as rich and scrumptious as any I’ve seen in an Italian restaurant, and I watch Julian’s reaction as Ana places it on the table in front of him. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead he gives Ana a warm smile and thanks her for the efforts. It’s not until she leaves the room that he turns to look at me. “A tiramisu?” he says softly, his eyes reflecting the dancing light from the candles. “Why, Nora?” I shrug. “Why not?” He studies me for a moment, his gaze unusually thoughtful as it lingers on my

face, and I wait for him to press further. But he doesn’t. Instead he picks up his fork. “Why not indeed,” he murmurs and turns his attention to the mouthwatering dessert. I follow his lead, and soon our plates are all but licked clean.

WHEN WE GET UPSTAIRS, JULIAN LEADS ME TO THE BED. INSTEAD OF UNDRESSING ME RIGHT AWAY, however, he captures my face between his palms. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, baby,” he whispers, his eyes dark with some indefinable emotion. I smile up at him, my hands coming up to rest on his waist. “Of course…” My heart feels like it’s about to overflow with happiness. “It’s my pleasure.” He looks as though he’s about to say something else, but then he just slants his mouth across mine and begins to kiss me with deep, almost desperate passion. My eyes drift shut as pleasure spirals through me. His lips are unbelievably soft, his tongue skillfully caressing mine, and the rich, dark taste of him makes my head spin. As we kiss, his hands slide around my back, pressing me closer to him. The hardness of his erection against my belly sends a spear of heat straight to the center of my sex, and I clutch at his sides, my knees weakening as his lips wander from my mouth to my earlobe and then down to my neck. “You are so fucking hot,” he mutters thickly. His breath almost burns my sensitive skin, and I moan, my head falling back as he arches me over his arm to nibble at the tender area just above my collarbone. My nipples tighten, and my sex begins to ache with the familiar pulsing tension as Julian licks my skin, then blows cool air over the wet spot, sending erotic chills all over my body. Before I can recover, he tugs me upright, spinning me around so that I’m standing with my back to him. Then his hands are on the back of my dress, pulling down the zipper. The little dress falls to the floor, leaving me wearing nothing but my black heels, push-up bra, and thong. Julian sucks in an audible breath, and I turn around, giving him a slow, teasing smile. “You like?” I murmur, taking a couple of steps back to give him a better view. The expression on his face makes my pulse quicken with excitement. He’s looking at me like a starving man looks at a piece of cake, with agonized longing and naked lust. His eyes say that he wants to devour me and savor me at the same time… that I’m the hottest woman he’s ever seen in his life. Instead of answering, he steps toward me and reaches behind my back to

unhook my bra. As soon as my breasts are free, he covers them with his warm palms, his thumbs rasping across my hardened nipples. “You are fucking exquisite,” he whispers roughly, staring down at me, and I draw in a shaky breath, his words and the touch of his hands making my insides quiver. “You’re all I can think about, Nora… all I can focus on…” His confession turns my bones to jelly. The knowledge that I have this effect on him—that this powerful, dangerous man is just as consumed by me as I am by him —makes my heart pound in a wild, erratic rhythm. Regardless of how it all began, Julian is now mine, and I want him as much as he wants me. Emboldened, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his head down toward me. As our lips meet, I put everything I have into that kiss, letting him feel how much I need him, how much I love him. My hands slide into his thick, silky hair as his arms close around my back, pressing me against him, and my peaked nipples rub against the ribbed cotton of his shirt, reminding me of the tantalizing contrast between my near-nakedness and his clothed state. His hard erection pushes into my belly, and the heat within me spikes as our mouths mesh in a symphony of lust, coming together with explosive yearning. I’m not sure how we end up on the bed, but I find myself there, my hands frantically tearing at Julian’s clothes as he rains hot kisses on my chest and stomach. His hand closes around my thong, ripping it off with a single motion, and then his fingers push into my opening, two big fingers penetrating me with a roughness that makes me gasp and arch against him. “You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, thrusting his fingers deeper into me before pulling them out and bringing them to my face. “Taste how much you want me.” Unbearably aroused, I close my lips around his fingers, sucking them into my mouth. They’re coated with my moisture, but the taste doesn’t repel me. If anything, it turns me on, makes me burn even hotter. Julian groans as I suck on his fingers, swirling my tongue around them as if they were his cock, and then he pulls his hand away. Rearing up, he pulls his shirt over his head with a single motion, exposing the rippling muscles underneath. His pants are next, and I catch a brief glimpse of his erection before he climbs on top of me, his powerful hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them next to my shoulders. Then his eyes lock on mine, and he pushes my thighs apart with his knees, pressing the head of his cock against my opening. My heart thrumming with anticipation, I hold his gaze. His face is taut with lust, his jaw clenched tight as he slowly penetrates me. I expected him to take me roughly, but he’s careful tonight, working his thick cock into me with a

deliberateness that’s both arousing and frustrating. There’s no pain as my body stretches to accept him, only pleasurable fullness, but some sick part of me now wants the roughness, the violence. “Julian…” I run my tongue over my lips. “I want you to fuck me. Really fuck me.” To emphasize my request, I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him all the way into me. We both groan at the intense sensation, and I see his pupils dilating until only a thin rim of blue remains around the black circle. “You want me to fuck you?” His voice is guttural, so filled with hunger that I can barely make out the words. His hands tighten on my wrists, almost cutting off my circulation. “To really fuck you?” I nod, my pulse somewhere in the stratosphere. It still feels wrong to admit this about myself, to acknowledge that I need something I once dreaded. To know that I’m asking my kidnapper to abuse me. Julian inhales sharply, and I can feel the dam of his control cracking. His mouth descends on mine, his lips and tongue now savage, almost vicious. This kiss devours me, steals my breath and soul. At the same time, his cock withdraws from me nearly all the way and then slams back in with a hard, brutal thrust that splits me in half—and sets my nerve endings on fire. I cry out into his mouth, my legs wrapping tighter around his firm, muscled ass as he begins to fuck me without restraint. It’s a possession as violent as any rape, but I revel in it, my body loving the ferocious assault. It’s what I want now, what I need. I may have bruises tomorrow, but for the moment, all I can feel is the massive tension gathering within me, the pressure coiling deep within my sex. Each ruthless thrust winds me tighter and tighter, until I feel like I will shatter… and then I do, an explosion of pleasure rocketing through my body as I fly apart in Julian’s arms, utterly swamped by the dark bliss. He comes then too, his head thrown back in pained ecstasy, each muscle in his neck tightly corded as he grinds his cock deeper into me with a harsh cry. The pressure of his groin against my clit prolongs my contractions, wringing every drop of sensation from my body, leaching all remnants of strength from my muscles. In the aftermath, he rolls off me and gathers me against him, cradling me from behind. And as our breathing begins to slow, we drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

20

J ulian THE NEXT MORNING I WAKE UP BEFORE NORA, AS USUAL. SHE’S SLEEPING IN HER FAVORITE POSITION: draped across my chest, one of her legs resting on top of mine. Quietly extricating myself from her, I head into the shower, trying not to think of the temptation of her sexy little body lying there, all soft and warm from sleep. It’s unfortunate, but I don’t have time to sate myself with her this morning; the plane is already waiting for me on the landing strip. She managed to surprise me last night. All week long I’d sensed a slight, almost imperceptible distance from her. I may have broken through her barriers that night, but she rebuilt them to a small degree. She hadn’t been pouting or giving me the silent treatment, but I could tell that she hadn’t fully forgiven me either. Until last evening. I thought I didn’t need her forgiveness, but the light, almost euphoric feeling in my chest today says otherwise. My shower takes less than five minutes. Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I walk over to the bed to give Nora a kiss before I leave. Leaning over her, I brush my lips against her cheek, and in that moment, her eyes flutter open. Her lips curve upward in a sleepy smile. “Hi…” “Hi yourself,” I say huskily, reaching over with my hand to brush a tangled strand of hair off her face. Fuck, she does things to me. Things that no small girl should be able to do. I’m about to finally get revenge on the man who killed Beth and stole Nora from me, and all I can think about is climbing back into bed with her.

She blinks a few times, and I see her smile fading as she remembers that today is not just any morning. All traces of sleepiness disappear from her face as she sits up and stares at me, heedless of the blanket falling down and exposing her naked torso. “You’re leaving already?” “Yes, baby.” Trying to keep my eyes off her round, perky breasts, I sit down on the bed next to her and clasp her hand between both of my palms, rubbing it softly. “The plane is already fueled up and waiting for me.” She swallows. “When are you going to be back?” “If all goes well, in about a week. I have to meet with a couple of officials in Russia first, so I won’t get to Tajikistan right away.” “Russia? Why?” A small frown bisects her forehead. “I thought you were going to take care of some business in Ukraine on your way back.” “I was, but things changed. Yesterday afternoon I received a call from one of Peter’s contacts in Moscow. They want me to meet with them first, or else they won’t let us get to Tajikistan.” “Oh.” Nora looks even more concerned now, her frown deepening. “Do you know why?” I have some suspicions, but none that I want to share with her at the moment. She’s far too worried as is. Russians have always been unpredictable, and the increasingly volatile situation in that region doesn’t help matters. “I’ve had some interactions with them in the past,” I say noncommittally, and get up before she has a chance to question me further. “I have to go now, baby, but I’ll see you in a few days. Good luck with your tests, okay?” She nods, her eyes suspiciously bright as she looks at me, and unable to resist, I bend down and kiss her one last time before walking out of the room.

MOSCOW IN MARCH IS COLDER THAN A WITCH’S TIT. THE COLD SEEPS THROUGH MY THICK LAYERS OF clothing and settles deep within my bones, making me feel as if I’ll never get warm again. I have never particularly liked Russia, and this visit only solidifies my negative opinion of the place. Freezing. Dirty. Corrupt. I can deal with the last two, but all three combined is too much. No wonder Peter

was glad to remain behind to watch the compound. The bastard knew exactly what I would be getting into. I could see the smirk on his face as he watched the plane take off. After the tropical heat of the jungle, the bone-chilling temperatures of Moscow in the last grip of winter feel downright painful—as do my negotiations with the Russian government. It takes nearly an hour, ten different appetizers, and half a bottle of vodka before Buschekov gets to the point of the meeting. The only reason I tolerate this is because it takes about this long for my feet to defrost from the sub-zero chill outside. The traffic on the way to the restaurant was so bad that Lucas and I ended up getting out of the car and walking eight blocks, freezing our asses off in the process. Now, however, I’m finally able to move my toes—and Buschekov seems ready to talk business. He’s one of the unofficial officials here: a person who wields significant influence in the Kremlin, but whose name never comes up on the news. “I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you,” Buschekov says after the waiter clears off some of the empty platters. Or, rather, our interpreter says that after Buschekov says something in Russian. Since neither Lucas nor I understand more than a few words of the language, Buschekov hired a young woman to translate for us. Pretty, blond, and blue-eyed, Yulia Tzakova looks to be only a couple of years older than my Nora, but the Russian official assured me that the girl knows how to be discreet. “Go on,” I say in response to Buschekov’s statement. Lucas sits next to me, silently consuming his second serving of caviar-stuffed blinis. He’s the only one I brought with me to this meeting. The rest of my men are stationed nearby in case of any difficulties. I doubt the Russians will try anything at the moment, but one can never be too cautious. Buschekov gives me a thin-lipped smile and responds in Russian. “I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties in our region,” Yulia translates. “We would like you to assist us in resolving this matter.” “Assist you how?” I have a good idea of what the Russians want, but I still want to hear him lay it all out. “There are certain parts of Ukraine that need our help,” Yulia says in English after Buschekov answers. “But, world opinion being what it is right now, it would be problematic if we went in and actually gave that help.” “So you would like me to do it instead.”

He nods, his colorless eyes trained on my face as Yulia translates my statement. “Yes,” he says, “we would like a sizable shipment of weapons and other supplies to reach the freedom fighters in Donetsk. It cannot be traced back to us. In return, you would be paid your usual fee and granted safe passage to Tajikistan.” I smile at him blandly. “Is that all?” “We would also prefer it if you avoided any dealings with Ukraine at this time,” he says without blinking. “Two chairs and one ass and all that.” I assume that last statement makes more sense in Russian, but I understand the gist of what he’s saying. Buschekov is not the first client to demand this from me, and he won’t be the last. “I’m afraid I will require additional compensation for that,” I say calmly. “As you know, I don’t usually take sides in these types of conflicts.” “Yes, so we’ve heard.” Buschekov picks up a piece of salted fish with his fork and chews it slowly as he looks at me. “Perhaps you might reconsider that position in our case. The Soviet Union may be gone, but our influence in this region is still quite substantial.” “Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m here right now?” The smile that I give him now has a sharper edge. “But neutrality is an expensive commodity to give up. I’m sure you understand.” Something icy flickers in Buschekov’s gaze. “I do. I’m authorized to offer you twenty percent more than the usual payment for your cooperation in this matter.” “Twenty percent? When you’re cutting my potential profits in half?” I laugh softly. “I don’t think so.” He pours himself another shot of vodka and swirls it around the glass, regarding me thoughtfully. “Twenty percent more and the captured Al-Quadar terrorist remitted into your custody,” he says after a few moments. “This is our final offer.” I study him while I pour myself some vodka as well. Truthfully, this is better than I had been hoping to get out of him, and I know better than to push too far with the Russians. “We have a deal then,” I say and, lifting my glass in an ironic toast, knock back the shot.

MY CAR IS WAITING FOR US ON THE STREET WHEN WE EXIT THE RESTAURANT. THE DRIVER FINALLY MADE it through the traffic, which means we won’t freeze on our way to the hotel.

“Would you mind giving me a lift to the nearest subway?” Yulia asks as Lucas and I approach the car. I can see her already beginning to shiver. “It should be about ten blocks from here.” I give her a considering look, then motion Lucas over with a short gesture. “Frisk her.” Lucas walks over and pats her down. “She’s clean.” “Okay, then,” I say, opening the car door for her. “Hop in.” She climbs in and settles next to me in the back, while Lucas joins the driver in the front. “Thank you,” she says with a pretty smile. “I really appreciate it. This is one of the worst winters in recent years.” “No problem.” I’m not in the mood to make small talk, so I pull out my phone and begin answering emails. There’s one from Nora, which makes me grin. She wants to know if I landed safely. Yes, I write back. Now just trying not to get frostbite in Moscow. “Are you staying here for long?” Yulia’s soft voice interrupts me as I’m about to pull up a report detailing Nora’s movements around the estate in my absence. When I glance up at her, the Russian girl smiles and crosses her long legs. “I could show you around town if you’d like.” Her invitation couldn’t be more blatant if she’d palmed my cock right then and there. I can see the hungry gleam in her eyes as she looks at me, and I realize that she’s one of those: a woman turned on by power and danger. She wants me because of what I represent—because of the thrill it gives her to play with fire. I have no doubt that she would let me do whatever I want to her, no matter how sadistic or depraved, and then she would beg for more. She’s exactly the type of woman I would’ve gladly fucked before meeting Nora. Unfortunately for Yulia, her pale beauty does nothing for me now. The only woman I want in my bed is the dark-haired girl who’s currently several thousand miles away. “Thanks for the invitation,” I say, giving Yulia a cool smile. “But we’ll be leaving soon, and I’m afraid I’m too exhausted to do your town justice tonight.” “Of course.” Yulia smiles back, unfazed by my rejection. She clearly has enough self-confidence not to be offended. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” And as the car rolls to a halt in front of the subway stop, she gracefully climbs out, leaving behind a faint trail of expensive perfume.

As the car begins moving again, Lucas turns around to face me. “If you don’t want her, I’d be happy to entertain her tonight,” he offers casually. “If that’s all right with you, of course.” I grin. Hot blondes have always been Lucas’s weakness. “Why not,” I say. “She’s all yours if you want her.” We don’t fly out until tomorrow morning, and I have plenty of security in place. If Lucas wants to spend the night fucking our interpreter, I’m not about to deny him that pleasure. As for me, I plan to use my fist in the shower while thinking of Nora, and then get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow is going to be an eventful day.

THE FLIGHT TO TAJIKISTAN FROM MOSCOW IS SUPPOSED TO TAKE A LITTLE OVER SIX HOURS IN MY Boeing C-17. It’s one of the three military airplanes that I own, and it’s big enough for this mission, easily fitting in all of my men and our equipment. Everyone, myself included, is dressed in the latest combat gear. Our suits are bulletproof and flame-retardant, and we’re fully armed with assault rifles, grenades, and explosives. It may be overkill, but I’m not taking chances with my men’s lives. I enjoy danger, but I’m not suicidal, and all the risks I take in my business are carefully calculated. Nora’s rescue in Thailand was probably the most perilous operation I’ve been involved with in recent years, and I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else. Only for her. I spend the majority of the flight going through the manufacturing specifications for a new factory in Malaysia. If all goes well, I may shift missile production there from its current location in Indonesia. The local officials in the latter region are getting too greedy, demanding higher bribes each month, and I’m not inclined to indulge them for much longer. I also answer a few questions from my Chicago-based portfolio manager; he’s working on setting up a fund-of-funds through one of my subsidiaries and needs me to give him some investment parameters. We’re flying over Uzbekistan, just a few hundred miles from our destination, when I decide to check in with Lucas, who’s piloting the plane. He turns toward me as soon as I enter the cabin. “We’re on track to get there in about an hour and a half,” he says without my asking. “There is some ice on the

landing strip, so they’re de-icing it for us right now. The helicopters are already fueled up and ready to go.” “Excellent.” The plan calls for us to land about a dozen miles from the suspected terrorist hideout in the Pamir Mountains and fly by helicopters the rest of the way. “Any unusual activities in that area?” He shakes his head. “No, everything is quiet.” “Good.” Entering the cabin, I sit down next to Lucas in the copilot’s seat and strap myself in. “How was the Russian girl last night?” A rare smile flashes across his stony face. “Quite satisfying. You missed out.” “Yes, I’m sure,” I say, though I don’t feel even the slightest flicker of regret. There’s no way some one-night stand can approximate the intensity of my connection with Nora, and I have no desire to settle for anything less than that. Lucas grins—an expression that’s even more uncommon on his hard features. “I have to say, I never expected to see you as a happily married man.” I raise my eyebrows. “Is that right?” This is probably the most personal observation he’s ever made to me. In all the years he’s been with my organization, Lucas has never before bridged the distance from loyal employee to friend—not that I’ve encouraged him to do so. Trust has never come easy to me, and there have been only a handful of individuals I’ve been able to call ‘friend.’ He shrugs, his face smoothing out into his usual impassive mask, though a hint of amusement still lurks in his eyes. “Sure. People like us aren’t generally considered good husband material.” An involuntary chuckle escapes my throat. “Well, I don’t know if, strictly speaking, Nora considers me ‘good husband material.’” A monster who abducted her and fucked with her head, sure. But a good husband? Somehow I doubt it. “Well, if she doesn’t, then she should,” Lucas says, turning his attention back to the controls. “You don’t cheat, you take good care of her, and you’ve risked your life to save her before. If that’s not being a good husband, then I don’t know what is.” As he speaks, I see a small frown appearing on his face as he peers at something on the radar screen. “What is it?” I ask sharply, all of my instincts suddenly on alert. “I’m not sure,” Lucas begins saying, and at that moment, the plane bucks so violently that I’m nearly thrown out of my seat. It’s only the seatbelt I’d strapped on out of habit that prevents me from hitting the ceiling as the plane takes a

sudden nosedive. Lucas grabs the controls, a steady stream of obscenities coming out of his mouth as he frantically tries to correct our course. “Shit, fuck, shit, shit, motherfucking shit—” “What hit us?” My voice is steady, my mind strangely calm as I assess the situation. There is a grinding, sputtering noise coming from the engines. I can smell smoke and hear screams in the back, so I know there’s a fire. It had to be an explosion. That means someone either shot at us from another plane or a surfaceto-air missile exploded in close vicinity, damaging one or more of the engines. It couldn’t have been a direct missile hit because the Boeing is equipped with an antimissile defense that’s designed to repel all but the most advanced weapons—and because we are still alive and not blown into pieces. “I’m not sure,” Lucas manages to say as he wrestles with the controls. The plane evens out for a brief second and then nosedives again. “Does it fucking matter?” I’m not sure, to be honest. The analytical part of me wants to know what—or who—is going to be responsible for my death. I doubt it’s Al-Quadar; according to my sources, they don’t have weapons this sophisticated. That leaves the possibility of error by some trigger-happy Uzbekistani soldier or an intentional strike by someone else. The Russians, perhaps, though why they would do this is anyone’s guess. Still, Lucas is right. I don’t know why I care. Knowing the truth won’t change the outcome. I can see the snowy peaks of Pamir in the distance, and I know we’re not going to make it there. Lucas resumes his cursing as he fights with the controls, and I grip the edge of my seat, my eyes trained on the ground rushing toward us at a terrifyingly rapid pace. There is a roaring sound in my ears, and I realize that it’s my own heartbeat— that I can actually hear the blood coursing through my veins as surging adrenaline sharpens all of my senses. The plane makes a few more attempts to come out of the nosedive, each one slowing our fall by a few seconds, but nothing seems able to arrest the lethal descent. As I watch us plummeting to our deaths, I have only one regret. I will never get to hold Nora again.

III THE CAPTIVE

21

N ora TWO DAYS WITHOUT JULIAN. I can’t believe it’s been two entire days without Julian. I’ve been going about my usual routine, but without him here, everything feels different. Emptier. Darker. It’s like the sun has hidden behind a cloud, leaving my world in shadow. It’s crazy. Utterly insane. I’ve been without Julian before. When I was on the island, he would leave on these trips all the time. In fact, he spent more time off the island than on it, and somehow I still managed to function. This time around, however, I have to constantly fight off a horrible feeling of unease, of anxiety that seems to worsen with every hour. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I tell Rosa during our morning walk. “I lived for eighteen years without him, and now all of a sudden, I can’t go for two days?” She grins at me. “Well, of course. The two of you are all but inseparable, so this doesn’t surprise me in the least. I’ve never seen a couple this much in love before.” I sigh, ruefully shaking my head. For all her seeming practicality, Rosa has a romantic streak as wide as the sea. A couple of weeks ago, I finally confided in her, telling her how Julian and I met and about my time on the island. She had been shocked, but not nearly as much as I would’ve been in her place. In fact, she seemed to think the whole thing was rather poetic. “He stole you because he couldn’t live without you,” she said dreamily when I

tried to explain to her why I still have reservations about Julian. “It’s like the kind of thing you read about in books or see in movies…” And when I stared at her, hardly able to believe my ears, she added wistfully, “I wish someone wanted me enough to steal me away.” So yes, Rosa is definitely not the person to knock some sense into me. She thinks my withering away without Julian is a natural result of our grand love affair, instead of something that likely requires psychiatric help. Of course, Ana is not much better either. “It’s normal to miss your husband,” the housekeeper tells me when I can barely force myself to eat at dinner. “I’m sure Julian misses you just as much.” “I don’t know, Ana,” I say doubtfully, pushing the rice around on my plate. “I haven’t heard from him all day. He responded to my email yesterday, but I sent him two emails today—and nothing.” This, more than anything, is what upsets me, I think. Julian either doesn’t care about the fact that I’m worried—or he’s not in a position to respond to me, being knee-deep in fighting terrorists. Either possibility makes me queasy. “He could be flying somewhere,” Ana says reasonably, taking my plate away. “Or be someplace with no signal. Truly, you shouldn’t worry. I know Julian, and he can take care of himself.” “Yes, I’m sure he can, but he’s still human.” He can still be killed by a stray bullet or an untimely bomb. “I know, Nora,” Ana says soothingly, patting my arm, and I see the same worry reflected in the depths of her brown eyes. “I know, but you can’t let yourself think bad thoughts. I’m sure you’ll hear from him in a few hours. He’ll contact you by morning at the latest.”

I SLEEP FITFULLY, WAKING UP EVERY COUPLE OF HOURS TO CHECK MY EMAIL AND PHONE. BY MORNING, there’s still no word from Julian, and I stumble wearily out of bed, bleary-eyed but determined. If Julian isn’t contacting me, I’m going to take matters into my own hands. The first thing I do is hunt down Peter Sokolov. He’s talking with a few guards on the far edge of the estate when I find him, and he seems surprised when I approach him and ask to speak to him privately. Nevertheless, he accommodates

my request right away. As soon as we’re out of earshot of the others, I ask, “Have you heard from Julian?” I still find the Russian man intimidating, but he’s the only one I know who may have answers. “No,” he responds in his accented voice. “Not since their plane took off from Moscow yesterday.” There is a hint of tension around his eyes as he speaks, and my anxiety triples as I realize that Peter is concerned too. “They were supposed to check in, weren’t they?” I say, staring up at his exotically handsome features. My chest feels like I can’t get enough air. “Something went wrong, didn’t it?” “We can’t assume that yet.” His tone is carefully neutral. “It’s possible they’re not responding to our calls because of security reasons—because they don’t want anyone to intercept their communications.” “You don’t really believe that.” “It’s unlikely,” Peter admits, his gray eyes cool on my face. “This is not the usual procedure in these types of cases.” “Right, of course.” Doing my best to battle the nauseating fear spreading through me, I ask evenly, “So what’s Plan B? Are you going to send in a rescue team? Do you have more men standing by that can act as backup?” Peter shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be done until we know more,” he explains. “I’ve already put out feelers in Russia and Tajikistan, so we should have a better idea of what happened soon. So far, all we know is that their plane took off from Moscow without any problems.” “When do you think you’ll hear back from your sources?” I’m trying to contain my panic, but some of it seeps through in my voice. “Today? Tomorrow?” “I don’t know, Mrs. Esguerra,” he says, and I see a hint of pity in those merciless gray eyes. “It could be at any time. I will let you know as soon as I hear something.” “Thanks, Peter,” I say and, not knowing what else to do, walk back to the house.

THE NEXT SIX HOURS GO BY AT A CRAWL. I PACE AROUND THE HOUSE, GOING FROM ROOM TO ROOM, unable to focus on any specific activity. Whenever I sit down to study or try to paint, a dozen different scenarios, each one more horrible than the next, start playing in my head. I want to believe that everything will be okay, that Julian’s

plane disappeared off the grid for some innocuous reason, but I know better than that. There are no fairy tales in the world Julian and I live in, only savage reality. I haven’t been able to eat anything all day, though Ana has tried tempting me with everything from steak to dessert. To pacify her, I eat a few bites of papaya around lunchtime and resume my aimless pacing around the house. By early afternoon, I’m literally sick from anxiety. My head is pounding, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself, the acid burning a hole in my insides. “Let’s go for a swim,” Rosa offers when she finds me in the library. I can see the concern on her face, and I know Ana probably sent her to distract me. Rosa is usually too busy with her duties to take off in the middle of the day, but she’s obviously making an exception today. The last thing I feel like doing is swimming, but I agree. Rosa’s company is better than driving myself insane with worry. As we exit the library together, I see Peter walking in our direction, a grave expression on his face. My heart stops for a moment, then begins slamming furiously against my ribcage. “What is it?” My tongue can barely form the words. “Did you hear anything?” “The plane went down in Uzbekistan, a couple of hundred miles from the Tajikistan border,” he says quietly, stopping in front of me. “It looks like there was a miscommunication, and the Uzbekistani military shot them down.” Blackness creeps in at the edges of my vision. “Shot them down?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from a distance, like the words belong to someone else. I am vaguely aware of Rosa placing a supportive arm around my back, but her touch does nothing to arrest the iciness spreading through me. “We’re looking for the wreckage right now,” Peter says, almost gently. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Esguerra, but I doubt they could’ve survived.”

22

N ora I’M NOT SURE HOW I GET TO THE BEDROOM, BUT I FIND MYSELF THERE, CURLED UP IN A BALL OF SILENT agony on the bed that Julian and I shared. I can feel soft hands on my hair, hear voices murmuring in Spanish, and I know both Ana and Rosa are there with me. The housekeeper sounds like she’s crying. I want to cry too, but I can’t. The pain is too raw, too deep to allow the comfort of tears. I thought I knew what it feels like to have your heart ripped out. When I mistakenly thought that Julian was dead, I had been devastated, destroyed. Those months without him had been the worst ones of my life. I thought I knew what it was like to feel loss, to know that I would never see his smile again or feel the warmth of his embrace. It’s only now that I realize that there are degrees of agony. That pain can range from devastating to soul-shattering. When I lost Julian before, he had been the center of my world. Now, however, he is my entire world, and I don’t know how to exist without him. “Oh, Nora…” Ana’s voice is thick with tears as she strokes my hair. “I’m sorry, child… I’m so sorry…” I want to tell her that I’m sorry too, that I know Julian mattered to her as well, but I can’t. I can’t speak. Even breathing seems to require exorbitant effort, as though my lungs have forgotten how to function. One tiny breath in, one tiny breath out—that’s all I seem capable of doing at the moment. Just breathing. Just not dying.

After a while, the quiet murmurs and soothing touches stop, and I realize that I’m alone. They must’ve covered me with a blanket before they left, because I can feel its soft fluffy weight on top of me. It should make me feel warm, but it doesn’t. All I feel is a frozen, aching void where my heart used to be.

“NORA, CHILD… COME, DRINK SOMETHING…” Ana and Rosa are back, their soft hands pulling me to a sitting position. A cup of hot chocolate is offered to me, and I accept it on autopilot, cradling it between my cold palms. “Just a sip,” Ana urges. “You haven’t eaten all day. Julian wouldn’t want this, you know that.” The jolt of agony at the mention of his name is so strong that the cup almost slips out of my grip. Rosa grabs for it, steadying my hands, and gently, but inexorably pushes the cup toward my lips. “Come on, Nora,” she whispers, her gaze filled with sympathy. “Just drink some.” I force myself to take a few sips. The rich, warm liquid trickles down my throat, the combined rush of sugar and caffeine chasing away some of my numb exhaustion. Feeling a fraction more alive, I glance at the window and realize with shock that it’s already dark—that I must’ve lain there for a few hours without registering the passage of time. “Any word from Peter?” I ask, looking back at Ana and Rosa. “Did they find the wreckage?” Rosa looks relieved that I’m talking again. “We haven’t seen him since the afternoon,” she says, and Ana nods, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “Okay.” I take a few more sips of the hot chocolate and then hand the cup back to Ana. “Thank you.” “Can I get you something to eat?” Ana asks hopefully. “A sandwich perhaps, or some fruit?” My stomach roils at the thought of food, but I know that I need to eat something. I can’t die alongside Julian, no matter how appealing that option seems at the moment. “Yes, please.” My voice sounds strained. “Just a piece of toast with cheese, if you don’t mind.” Jumping off the bed, Rosa gives me a huge, approving smile. “There we go. See,

Ana, I told you she’s a fighter.” And before I can change my mind about the meal, she runs out of the room to grab the food. “I’m going to shower,” I tell Ana, getting up as well. All of a sudden, I have a strong urge to be alone—to be away from the smothering concern I see on Ana’s face. My body feels cold and brittle, like an icicle that might shatter at any moment, and my eyes are burning with unshed tears. Just focus on breathing. Just one tiny breath after another. “Of course, child.” Ana gives me a kind, weary smile. “You go right ahead. The food will be waiting for you when you come out.” And as I make my escape into the bathroom, I see her quietly slipping out of the room.

“NORA! OH MY GOD, NORA!” Rosa’s screams and frantic knocking on the bathroom door startle me out of my numb, almost catatonic state. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing under the hot spray, but I immediately jump out. Then, wrapping a towel around myself, I race to the door, my wet feet sliding on cold tiles. My heart hammering in my throat, I yank open the door. “What is it?” “He’s alive!” Rosa’s scream nearly deafens me with its high-pitched volume. “Nora, Julian is alive!” “Alive?” For a moment, I can’t process what she’s saying, my brain sluggish from hunger and grief. “Julian is alive?” “Yes!” she squeals, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down. “Peter just got word that they found him and a few of his men alive. They’re being taken to the hospital as we speak!” My knees buckle, and I sway on my feet. “To the hospital?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “He’s really alive?” “Yes!” Rosa pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, then releases me, stepping back with a giant grin on her face. “Isn’t that amazing?” “Yes, of course…” My head is spinning with joy and disbelief, my pulse racing a mile a minute. “You said he’s being taken to a hospital?” “Yes, that’s what Peter said.” Rosa’s expression sobers a bit. “He’s talking to

Ana downstairs. I didn’t stay to listen—I wanted to give you the news as soon as possible.” “Of course, thank you!” I’m electrified all of a sudden, all traces of my mental fog and despair falling away. Julian is alive and being taken to a hospital! Running to the closet, I pull out the first dress I find and throw it on, dropping the towel on the floor. Then I dash to the door and fly down the stairs, with Rosa hurrying after me. Peter is in the kitchen next to Ana. The housekeeper’s eyes widen as she sees me barreling toward them, my feet bare and my hair dripping-wet from the shower. I probably look like a crazy woman, but I don’t give a damn. All I care about is finding out more about Julian. “How is he?” I pant, skidding to a stop a foot away from the two of them. “What kind of condition is he in?” An expression shockingly similar to a smile flickers across Peter’s hard face as he looks at me. “They’re going to run some tests at the hospital, but right now it looks like your husband survived a plane crash with nothing worse than a broken arm, a couple of cracked ribs, and a nasty gash on his forehead. He’s unconscious, but that appears to be mostly due to blood loss from his head wound.” And as I stare at Peter in open-mouthed incredulity, he explains, “The plane fell in a heavily wooded area, so the trees cushioned much of the impact. The pilot’s cabin—where Esguerra and Kent were sitting—got ripped off by the force of the impact, and that seems to have saved their lives.” The smile disappears then, and his metallic eyes darken. “Most of the others died, though. The fuel was in the back, and it exploded, destroying that portion of the plane. Only three of the soldiers back there survived, and they’re badly burned. If it weren’t for the combat gear they were all wearing, they would not have survived either.” “Oh my God.” A wave of horror washes over me. Julian is alive, but nearly fifty of his men perished. I’ve had minimal interaction with most of the guards, but I’ve seen many of them around the estate. I know them, if only by sight. They were all strong, seemingly indestructible men. And now they’re dead. Gone—just as Julian would’ve been if he hadn’t been up front. “What about Lucas?” I ask, starting to shake with delayed reaction. It’s beginning to hit me that Julian was in a plane crash and survived. That, like a cat with nine lives, he beat the odds yet again. “Kent has a broken leg and a severe concussion. He was also unconscious when

they were found.” Relief spirals through me, and my eyes, burning with dryness before, fill with sudden tears. Tears of gratitude, of joy so intense that it’s impossible to contain. I want to laugh and sob at the same time. Julian is alive, and so is the man who once saved his life. “Oh, Nora, child…” Ana’s plump arms close around me as my tears overflow. “It will be all right now… Everything will be all right…” Shaking with repressed sobs, I let her hold me for a moment in a motherly embrace. Then I pull away, smiling through the tears. For the first time, I believe that it will be all right. That the worst is now over. “How soon can we fly out?” I ask Peter, wiping at the wetness on my cheeks. “Can the plane be ready in an hour?” “Fly out?” He gives me a strange look. “We can’t fly out, Mrs. Esguerra. I’m under strict orders to remain on the estate and make sure that you are safe here.” “What?” I stare at him incredulously. “But Julian is hurt! He’s in the hospital, and I’m his wife—” “Yes, I understand.” Peter’s expression doesn’t change, his eyes cool and veiled as he looks at me. “But I’m afraid Esguerra will quite literally murder me if I allow you to be in danger.” “Are you telling me that I can’t go see my husband who was just in a plane crash?” My voice rises as a wave of sudden fury sweeps through me. “That I’m supposed to sit here and do nothing while Julian is lying injured half a world away?” Peter doesn’t appear impressed with my outburst. “I will do my best to arrange a secure phone call and perhaps a video connection for you,” he says calmly. “I will also keep you informed of any developments in regards to his health. Beyond that, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do at the moment. I am currently working to tighten security around the hospital where Esguerra and the others are being taken, so hopefully he will return here safe and sound, and you will see him shortly.” I want to scream, yell, and argue, but I know it won’t do any good. I have about as much leverage over Peter as I do over Julian—which is none at all. “Fine,” I say, taking a deep breath to calm myself. “You do that—and I want to know as soon as he regains consciousness.” Peter inclines his head. “Of course, Mrs. Esguerra. You will be informed right away.”

23

J ulian I FIRST BECOME AWARE OF THE NOISES. LOW FEMININE MURMURS INTERMINGLED WITH RHYTHMIC beeping. A hum of electricity in the background. All of this overlaid with a throbbing pain in the front of my skull and a strong antiseptic odor in my nostrils. A hospital. I’m in a hospital of some kind. My body hurts, the pain seemingly everywhere. My first instinct is to open my eyes and seek answers, but I lie still, letting the recollections come to me. Nora. The mission. Flying to Tajikistan. I relive it all, the remembered sensations sharp and vivid. I see myself talking to Lucas in the cabin, feel the plane bucking underneath us. I hear the sputtering whine of the engines and experience the gut-churning sensation of falling from the sky. I endure the paralysis of fear in those last few moments as Lucas tries to level out the plane above the tree line to buy us precious seconds—and then I feel the bone-jarring impact of the crash. Beyond that, there is nothing else, just darkness. It should’ve been the permanent darkness of death, yet I’m alive. The pain in my battered body tells me so. Continuing to lie still, I assess my new situation. The voices around me—they’re speaking in a foreign language. It sounds like a mixture of Russian and Turkish. Likely Uzbek, given where we were flying at the time of the crash. It’s two women speaking, their tone casual, almost gossipy. Logic tells me they are probably nurses at this hospital. I can hear them moving about as they chat with one another, and I carefully crack open one eye to look at my surroundings.

I’m in a drab room with pale green walls and a small window on the far wall. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling emit a low buzzing sound—the hum of electricity I’d noticed earlier. A monitor is hooked up to me, with an IV line connected to my wrist. I can see the nurses on the other side of the room. They’re changing the sheets on an empty bed that’s standing there. A thin curtain separates my area from that bed, but it’s drawn open, enabling me to see the room fully. Other than the two nurses, I’m alone. There’s no sign of any of my men. My pulse jumps at the realization, and I do my best to steady my breathing before they notice. I want them to continue thinking that I’m unconscious. There doesn’t seem to be any overt threat, but until I know what happened to the plane and how I ended up here, I don’t dare drop my guard. Cautiously flexing my fingers and toes, I close my eyes and take mental stock of my injuries. I feel weak, like I lost a lot of blood. My head throbs, and I can feel a heavy bandage over my forehead. My left arm—which aches mercilessly—is immobilized, as if it’s in a cast. My right one seems fine, however. It hurts to breathe, so I assume my ribs are damaged in some way. Beyond that, I can feel all of my appendages, and the pain in the rest of my body feels more like scrapes and bruises than broken bones. After a few minutes, one of the nurses leaves while the other one walks over to my bed. I remain still and quiet, feigning unconsciousness. She adjusts the sheet covering me, then checks the bandage on my head. I can hear her humming softly under her breath as she turns to leave as well, and at that moment, heavier footsteps enter the room. A man’s voice, deep and authoritative, asks a question in Uzbek. I crack open my eyes again to steal a glance at the doorway. The new arrival is a lean middle-aged man wearing a military officer’s uniform. Judging by the insignia on his chest, he must be fairly high up. The nurse answers him, her voice soft and uncertain, and then the man approaches my bed. I tense, prepared to defend myself if necessary despite the weakness in my muscles. However, the man doesn’t reach for a weapon or make any threatening moves. Instead he studies me, his expression oddly curious. Going on instinct, I open my eyes fully and look at him, my body still coiled for a potential strike. “Who are you?” I ask bluntly, figuring that the direct approach is best at this point. “Where is this place?” He looks startled, but recovers his composure almost right away. “I’m Colonel Sharipov, and you are in Tashkent, Uzbekistan,” he answers, taking half a step

back. “Your airplane crashed, and you were brought here.” He has a thick accent, but his English is surprisingly good. “The Russian embassy has been in contact about you. Your people are sending another plane to pick you up.” He knows who I am then. “Where are my men? What happened to my plane?” “We’re still investigating the cause of the crash,” Sharipov says, his eyes shifting slightly to the side. “It’s unclear at this point—” “Bullshit.” My voice is deadly quiet. I can tell when someone is lying, and this fucker is definitely trying to blow smoke up my ass. “You know what happened.” He hesitates. “I’m not authorized to discuss the investigation—” “Did your military fire a missile at us?” I use my right arm to prop myself up into a sitting position. My ribs protest the movement, but I ignore the pain. I may feel as weak as an infant, but it’s never a good idea to seem that way in front of an enemy. “You might as well tell me now because I will learn the truth one way or another.” His face tightens at my implied threat. “No, it was not us. Right now, it appears that one of our missile launchers was used, but nobody issued the order to shoot down your plane. We received word from Russia that you would be passing through our airspace, and we were told to let you through.” “You have an idea of who is responsible, though,” I observe coldly. Now that I’m sitting up, I don’t feel quite as vulnerable—though I would feel even better if I had a gun or a knife. “You know who used the launcher.” Sharipov hesitates again, then reluctantly admits, “It’s possible that one of our officers may have been bribed by the Ukrainian government. We’re looking into that possibility now.” “I see.” It all finally makes sense. Somehow Ukraine got word of my cooperation with the Russians and decided to eliminate me before I became a threat. Those fucking bastards. This is why I try not to take sides in these petty conflicts—it’s too costly, in more ways than one. “We have stationed a few soldiers on this floor,” Sharipov says, changing the topic. “You will be safe here until the Russian envoy arrives to bring you to Moscow.” “Where are my men?” I repeat my earlier question, my eyes narrowing as I see Sharipov’s gaze slide away again. “Are they here?” “Four of them,” he admits quietly, looking back at me. “I am afraid the rest

didn’t make it.” I keep my expression impassive, though it feels like a sharp blade is twisting in my insides. I should be used to it by now—to people dying around me—but somehow it still weighs on me. “Who are the survivors?” I ask, keeping my voice level. “Do you have their names?” He nods and rattles off a list of names. To my relief, Lucas Kent is among them. “He regained consciousness briefly,” Sharipov explains, “and helped identify the others. Besides you, he’s the only one who wasn’t burned by the explosion.” “I see.” My relief is replaced by slowly building rage. Nearly fifty of my best men are dead. Men I’ve trained with. Men I’ve gotten to know. As I process that fact, it occurs to me that there is only one way the Ukrainian government would’ve known about my negotiations with the Russians. The pretty Russian interpreter. She was the only outsider privy to that conversation. “I need a phone,” I tell Sharipov, swinging my feet to the floor and standing up. My knees shake a bit, but my legs are able to hold my weight. This is good. It means I’m capable of walking out of here under my own steam. “I need it right now,” I add when he just gapes at me as I pull the IV needle out of my arm with my teeth and peel the monitor sensors off my chest. My hospital gown and bare feet undoubtedly look ridiculous, but I don’t give a fuck. I have a traitor to deal with. “Of course,” he says, recovering from his shock. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cell phone and hands it to me. “Peter Sokolov wanted to talk to you as soon you woke up.” “Good. Thanks.” Placing the phone in my left hand, which protrudes from the cast, I begin to punch in numbers with my right. It’s a secure line that moves through so many relays, it would take a world-class hacker to trace it to its destination. As I hear the familiar clicks and beeps of the connection, I reclaim the phone with my right hand and tell Sharipov, “Please ask one of the nurses to get me some regular clothes. I’m tired of wearing this.” The colonel nods and walks out of the room. A second after he leaves, Peter’s voice comes on the line: “Esguerra?” “Yes, it’s me.” My grip on the phone tightens. “I assume you heard the news.” “Yes, I heard.” A pause on the line. “I had Yulia Tzakova detained in Moscow. It

seems like she’s got some connections that our Kremlin friends overlooked.” So Peter is already on top of this. “Yes, it seems like it.” My voice is even, though anger boils within me. “Needless to say, we’re scrapping the mission. When are we getting picked up?” “The plane is on its way. It should be there in a few hours. I sent Goldberg along in case you could use a doctor.” “Good thinking. We’ll be waiting. How is Nora?” There is a brief moment of silence. “She’s better now that she knows you’re alive. She wanted to fly out there as soon as she heard.” “You didn’t let her, though.” It’s a statement, not a question. Peter knows better than to fuck up like that. “No, of course not. Do you wish to see her? I may be able to set up a video connection with the hospital.” “Yes, please set it up.” What I really want is to see her and hold her in person, but the video will have to do for now. “In the meantime, I’m going to check on Lucas and the others.”

BECAUSE OF THE BULKY CAST ON MY ARM, IT’S A STRUGGLE TO PUT ON THE CLOTHES THE NURSE BRINGS me. The pants go on without any issues, but I end up having to rip out the left sleeve to get the cast through the armhole. My ribs hurt like hell, and every movement requires tremendous effort as my body wants nothing more than to lie back down on the bed and rest. I persist, though, and after a few tries, finally succeed in clothing myself. Thankfully, walking is easier. I can maintain a regular stride. As I exit the room, I see the soldiers Sharipov mentioned earlier. There are five of them, all dressed in army fatigues and toting Uzis. Seeing me emerge into the hallway, they silently fall into step behind me, following me as I head over to the Intensive Care Unit. Their expressionless faces make me wonder if they’re there to protect me or to protect others from me. I can’t imagine the Uzbekistani government is thrilled to have an illegal arms dealer in their civilian hospital. Lucas is not there, so I check on the others first. As Sharipov told me, they are all badly burned, with bandages covering most of their bodies. They’re also heavily sedated. I make a mental note to transfer a huge bonus into each of their bank accounts to compensate them for this, and to have them seen by the best plastic

surgeons. These men knew the risks when they came to work for me, but I still want to make sure they’re taken care of. “Where is the fourth man?” I ask one of the soldiers accompanying me, and he directs me to another room. When I get there, I see that Lucas is asleep. He doesn’t look nearly as bad as the others, which is a relief. He’ll be able to return with me to Colombia once the plane arrives, whereas the burned men will have to stay here for at least a few more days. Coming back to my room, I find Sharipov there, placing a laptop on the bed. “I was asked to give this to you,” he explains, handing me the computer. “Excellent, thank you.” Taking the laptop from him with my right hand, I sit down on the bed. Or, more appropriately, collapse on the bed, my legs shaking from the strain of walking all over the hospital. Thankfully, Sharipov doesn’t see my ungainly maneuver, as he’s already heading out the door. As soon as he’s gone, I go on the internet and download a program designed to conceal my online activities. Then I go to a special website and put in my code. That brings up a video chat window, and I put in yet another code there, connecting to a computer back at the compound. Peter’s image appears first. “Finally, there you are,” he says, and I see the living room of my house in the background. “Nora is coming down.” A moment later, Nora’s small face shows up on the screen. “Julian! Oh my God, I thought I would never see you again!” Her voice is filled with barely contained tears, and there are wet tracks on her cheeks. Her smile, however, radiates pure joy. I grin at her, all my anger and physical discomfort forgotten in a sudden surge of happiness. “Hi baby, how are you?” She gapes at me. “How am I? What kind of question is that? You’re the one who was just in a plane crash! How are you? Is that a cast on your arm?” “It appears to be.” I lift my right shoulder in a brief shrug. “It’s my left arm, though, and I’m right-handed, so it’s not a big deal.” “What about your head?” “Oh, this?” I touch the thick bandage around my forehead. “I’m not sure, but since I’m walking and talking, I assume it’s something minor.” She shakes her head, staring at me with disbelief, and my grin broadens. Nora probably thinks I’m trying to be all macho in front of her. My pet doesn’t realize that these kinds of injuries truly are minor for me; I’ve had worse from my father’s

fists as a child. “When are you coming home?” she asks, bringing her face closer to the camera. Her eyes look enormous this way, her long lashes spiky with residual wetness. “You are coming home now, right?” “Yes, of course. I can’t exactly go after Al-Quadar like this.” I wave my right hand toward the cast. “The plane is already on its way to get me and Lucas, so I’ll be seeing you very soon.” “I can’t wait,” she says softly, and my chest tightens at the raw emotion I see on her face. A feeling very much like tenderness winds through me, intensifying my longing for her until I ache with it. “Nora—” I begin saying, only to be interrupted by a sharp crack outside. It’s followed by several more, a rapid-fire burst of noise that I recognize right away. Gunshots. The guns are using silencers, but nothing can quiet the deafening bang of a machine gun going off. Immediately, there are screams and answering gunfire. Un-silenced this time. The soldiers stationed on the floor must be responding to whatever threat is out there. In a millisecond, I’m off the bed, the laptop sliding to the floor. Adrenaline rockets through me, speeding up everything and at the same time slowing my perception of time. It feels like things are happening in slow motion, but I know that it’s just an illusion—that it’s my brain’s attempt to deal with intense danger. I operate on instinct honed by a lifetime of training. In an instant, I assess the room and see that there’s no place to hide. The window on the opposite wall is too small for me to fit through, even if I were inclined to risk falling from the third floor. That leaves only the door and the hallway—which is where the gunshots are coming from. I don’t bother trying to figure out who’s attacking. It’s immaterial at the moment. The only thing that matters is survival. More gunfire, followed by a scream right outside. I hear the heavy thump of a body falling nearby, and I choose that moment to make my move. Pushing open the door, I dive in the direction of the thumping sound, using the momentum of the dive to slide on the linoleum floor. My cast knocks against the wall as I bump into the dead soldier, but I don’t even register the pain. Instead I pull him over me, using his body as a shield as bullets begin flying all around me.

Spotting his weapon on the floor, I grasp it with my right hand and begin firing shots into the other end of the hallway, where I see masked men with guns crouched behind a hospital gurney. Too many. I can already see that. There are too fucking many of them and not enough bullets in my gun. I can see the bodies littering the hallway—the five Uzbekistani soldiers have been mowed down, as well as a few of the masked attackers—and I know it’s futile. They will get me too. In fact, it’s surprising that I’m not already riddled with holes, human shield or not. They don’t want to kill me. I realize that fact just as my gun bucks one last time, discharging the last round of bullets. The floor and walls around me are destroyed from their bullets, but I’m unscathed. Since I don’t believe in miracles, that means the attackers are not aiming at me. They’re aiming all around me, to keep me contained in one spot. Rolling the dead man off me, I slowly get to my feet, keeping my gaze trained on the armed figures at the far end of the hallway. The gunfire stops as I begin to move, the silence deafening after all the noise. “What do you want?” I raise my voice just enough to be heard on the other end of the hallway. “Why are you here?” A man rises up from behind the gurney, his weapon trained on me as he begins to walk in my direction. He’s masked like all the others, but something about him seems familiar. As he stops a few feet away, I see the dark glitter of his eyes above the mask, and recognition spears through me. Majid. Al-Quadar must’ve heard that I’m here, within their reach. I move without thinking. I’m still holding the now-empty machine gun, and I lunge at him, swinging the gun as I would a bat, arching it deceptively high before jabbing it low. Even with my injuries, my reflexes are excellent, and the butt of the weapon makes contact with Majid’s ribs before I’m thrown back against the wall, my left shoulder exploding in agony. My ears are ringing from the blast as I slide down the wall, and I realize that I’ve been shot—that he managed to fire his weapon before I could inflict real damage. I can hear yelling in Arabic, and then rough hands grab me, dragging me along the floor. I struggle with all of my remaining strength, but I can feel my body

beginning to shut down, my heart laboring to pump its dwindling supply of blood. Something presses down on my shoulder, exacerbating the fiery pain, and black spots cover my vision. My last thought before I lose consciousness is that death will likely be preferable to what awaits me if I survive.

24

N ora I DON’T REALIZE THAT I’M SCREAMING UNTIL A HAND SLAPS OVER MY MOUTH, MUFFLING MY HYSTERICAL shrieks. “Nora. Nora, stop it.” Peter’s steady voice pulls me out of the vortex of horror, dragging me back to reality. “Calm down and tell me exactly what you saw. Can you calm down enough to talk?” I manage a small nod, and he releases me, stepping back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rosa and Ana standing a few feet away. Ana’s hands are clamped over her mouth, tears running down her cheeks again, and Rosa looks scared and distraught. “I didn’t—” I can barely force the words through my swollen throat, “—I didn’t see anything. I just heard it. We were talking, and then all of a sudden, there were gunshots and—and screaming, and then more gunshots. Julian—” My voice breaks as I speak his name. “Julian must’ve dropped the computer because everything went topsy-turvy on the screen, and then all I could see was the wall, but I heard it —the gunfire, the screams, more gunfire…” I am not conscious of sobbing uncontrollably until Peter’s hands close around my shoulders and gently guide me toward the couch. He forces me to sit down as I begin to shake, the terror of what I just witnessed combining with memories from a few months earlier, when I had been taken by AlQuadar in the Philippines. For a few horrifying moments, the past and the present merge, and I’m again in that clinic, hearing those gunshots and feeling fear so intense that my mind can’t register it. Only now it’s not Beth and I who are in

danger. It’s Julian. They came for him—and I know exactly who they are. “It’s Al-Quadar.” My voice is hoarse as I get up, ignoring the tremors that continue to rack my body. “Peter—it’s Al-Quadar.” He nods in agreement, and I see that he’s already on his phone. “Da. Da, eto ya,” he says, and I realize that he’s speaking Russian. “V gospitale problema. Da, seychas-zhe.” Lowering the phone, he tells me, “I just notified the Uzbekistani police of the events in the hospital. They’re on their way, as are more soldiers. They’ll be there within minutes.” “It will be too late.” I don’t know where my certainty comes from, but I can feel it deep within my bones. “They have him, Peter. If he’s not dead yet, he will be very shortly.” He looks at me, and I can see that he knows it too—that he knows how hopeless the whole thing is. We’re dealing with one of the most dangerous terrorist organizations in the world, and they have the man who’s been hunting them down and decimating their ranks. “We’re going to track them down, Nora,” Peter says quietly. “If they haven’t killed him yet, there’s a chance we may be able to retrieve him.” “You don’t really believe that.” I can see it on his face. He’s just saying it to placate me. Majid’s people have been able to evade detection for months, and it’s only the lucky capture of that terrorist in Moscow that led to the discovery of their whereabouts. They will disappear again, hiding somewhere else now that they know their location in Tajikistan has been compromised. They will disappear, and so will Julian. Peter gives me an indecipherable look. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. The fact is that they want something from your husband: the explosive. They wanted it before, and I’m certain that they want it now. It would be very foolish of them to kill him right away.” “You think they’re going to torture him first.” Bile rises in my throat as I remember Beth’s screams, the blood spreading everywhere as Majid systematically cut off bits and pieces of her body. “Oh my God, you think they’re going to torture him until he breaks and gives them this explosive.” “Yes,” Peter says, his gray eyes steady on my face as Ana begins to sob quietly

into Rosa’s shoulder. “I do. And that gives us time to find them.” “Not enough time.” I stare at him, sick with terror. “Not nearly enough time. Peter, they’re going to torture him and kill him while we look for them.” “We don’t know that for sure,” he says, pulling out his phone again. “I’m going to throw all of our resources at this. If Al-Quadar so much as blips on the radar someplace, we’ll know it.” “But that could take weeks—even months!” My voice rises as hysteria grabs hold of me again. I can feel my grip on sanity slipping as the roller coaster of grief, joy, and terror I’ve been riding for the past couple of days plunges me into a bottomless pit of despair. It was only yesterday that I thought I’d lost Julian again, only to learn that he’s alive. And now, just when it seemed like the worst was over, fate has dealt us the cruelest blow of all. The monsters who murdered Beth are going to take Julian from me too. “It’s the only option we have, Nora.” Peter’s voice is soothing, like he’s talking to a fractious child. “There is no other way. Esguerra is tough. He may be able to hang on for a while, no matter what they do to him.” I take a deep breath to regain control of myself. I can break down later, when I’m alone. “Nobody is tough enough to withstand nonstop torture.” My voice is almost even. “You know that.” Peter inclines his head, conceding my point. From what I heard about his unique skills, he knows better than anyone how effective torture can be. As I look at him, an idea enters my head—an idea that I never would’ve entertained before. “The terrorist they captured,” I say slowly, holding Peter’s gaze. “Where is he now?” “He’s supposed to be remitted into our custody, but for now he’s still in Moscow.” “Do you think he might know something?” My hands twist in the skirt of my dress as I stare at Julian’s torturer-in-chief. A part of me can’t believe I’m about to ask him to do this, but my voice is steady as I say, “Do you think you could make him talk?” “Yes, I’m sure I could,” Peter says slowly, looking at me with something resembling respect. “I don’t know if he’ll know where they might go next, but it’s worth a shot. I will fly out to Moscow immediately and see what I can find out.” “I’m coming with you.”

His reaction is immediate. “No, you’re not,” he says, frowning at me. “I’m under explicit orders to keep you safe here, Nora.” “Your boss has just been captured and is about to be tortured and killed.” My voice is sharp and biting as I enunciate every word. “And you think my safety is a priority right now? Your orders no longer apply because they have Julian. They no longer need me for leverage over him.” “Well, actually, they would love to have you for leverage over him. They could break him much faster if they had you as well.” Peter shakes his head, his expression regretful but determined. “I’m sorry, Nora, but you need to stay here. If we do end up rescuing your husband, he would be very displeased to learn that I allowed you to be in danger.” I turn away, shaking, terror and frustration mingling together and feeding on each other until it feels like I will burst from it all. I feel helpless. Utterly and completely useless. When I had been taken, Julian came for me. He rescued me— but I can’t do the same for him. I can’t even get off the estate. “Nora…” It’s Rosa. I can feel her hand on my arm as I blindly stare out the window, my mind running through all the dead ends like a rat in a maze. “Nora, please… Come, let’s get you a bite to eat…” I shake my head in curt denial and pull my arm away, keeping my gaze trained on the green lawn outside. There’s something nibbling at the edge of my brain, some errant, half-formed thought that I can’t quite grasp. It has to do with something Peter said, something he mentioned in passing… I hear him leaving the room, his footsteps quiet in the hallway, and suddenly it hits me. Spinning around, I sprint after him, ignoring the shock on Rosa’s face as I push her out of the way. “Peter! Peter, wait!” He stops in the hallway, giving me a cool look as I skid to a stop next to him. “What is it?” “I know,” I gasp out. “Peter, I know exactly what to do. I know how to get Julian back.” His expression doesn’t change. “What are you talking about?” I draw in a gulping breath and begin to explain my plan, speaking so fast I’m tripping over the words. I can see him shaking his head as I speak, but I persist anyway, driven by a sense of urgency more intense than anything I’ve ever

experienced. I need to convince Peter that I’m right. Julian’s life depends on it. “No,” he says when I’m done. “This is insane. Julian would kill me—” “But he might be alive to kill you,” I interrupt. “There’s no other option. You know that as well as I do.” He shakes his head, and the look he gives me is genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, Nora—” “I will give you the list,” I blurt out, grasping at the only straw I can think of. “I will give you the list of names before your three years are up if you do this. Julian will hand it over as soon as he gets it into his hands.” Peter stares at me, his expression changing for the first time. “You know about the list?” he asks, his voice pulsing with such anger that I have to fight the urge to step back. “The list Esguerra promised me?” I nod. “I do.” Under any other circumstances, I would be terrified to provoke this man, but I’m beyond fear at the moment. A recklessness born of desperation drives me now, giving me uncharacteristic courage. “And I know that you won’t get it if Julian dies,” I continue, pressing my point. “All this time you’ve been working for him will be in vain. You’ll never be able to get revenge on the people who killed your family.” His impassive look disappears completely, his face transforming into a mask of blazing fury. “You don’t know shit about my family,” he roars, and this time I do take a step back, my self-preservation instinct belatedly kicking in as I see his hands tightening into fists. “You fucking dare taunt me with them?” He takes a step toward me as I back away, my heart hammering in my chest. Then, with a sharp, violent motion, he twists and punches the wall, his fist breaking through the drywall. I flinch, jumping back, and he punches the wall again, taking his rage out on it as he undoubtedly wants to do on me. “Peter…” My voice is low and soothing, like I’m talking to a wild animal. I can see Rosa and Ana in the doorway, looking terrified, and I try to diffuse the situation. “Peter, I’m not taunting you—I’m just pointing out the facts. I want to help you, but first you need to help me.” He glares at me, his chest heaving with rage, and I see him struggling to regain control. I’m shaking on the inside, but I keep my gaze steady on his face. Don’t show fear. Whatever you do, don’t show fear. To my intense relief, his breathing gradually begins to slow, the fury twisting his features ebbing as he brings himself back from whatever dark place his mind was in.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments, his voice strained. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” He takes one deep breath, then another, and I see his usual controlled mask sliding into place. “How do I know you’ll be able to keep your promise about the list?” he says in a more normal tone of voice, his anger seemingly gone. “You’re asking me to do something that Esguerra will hate. How do I know he’ll come through with the list if I do this?” “I will make him give it to you.” I have no idea how I can make Julian do anything, but I don’t let any of my doubts show. “I swear to you, Peter. Help me with this, and you can have your revenge before your three years here are up.” He stares at me, and I can practically feel his internal debate. He knows my arguments are sound. If he does what I ask, he stands a chance of getting that list of names sooner. If Julian dies, he won’t get the list at all. “Fine,” he says, apparently reaching a decision. “Get ready then. We’re leaving in an hour.”

WHEN WE LAND IN A SMALL AIRPORT NEAR CHICAGO, THERE IS A THICK LAYER OF SNOW ON THE ground, making me grateful that I decided to wear my old Uggs. It’s already evening, and the wind is bitterly cold, biting through my winter coat. I barely register the discomfort, however, all my thoughts consumed by the ordeal to come. There is no bulletproof car waiting for us. Nothing to draw attention to our arrival. Peter calls a taxi for me, and I get into the back of the car by myself, while he heads back to the plane. The driver, a kindly middle-aged man, tries to chat me up, likely in the hopes of figuring out who I am. I’m sure he thinks I’m a celebrity of some kind, arriving on a private jet like that. I give monosyllabic responses to all his questions, and he quickly catches on to my desire to be left alone. The rest of the drive passes in silence as I stare out the window at the night-darkened roads. My head pounds from stress and jet lag, and my stomach roils with nausea. If I hadn’t forced myself to eat a sandwich on the plane, I would probably be passing out from exhaustion. When we get to Oak Lawn, I direct the taxi to my parents’ house. They’re not expecting me, but that’s for the best. It makes the whole thing look more authentic, less like a setup. The driver helps me unload a small suitcase I packed for the occasion, and I pay him, tipping him an extra twenty bucks for my earlier rudeness. He drives off, and I

wheel my suitcase to the door of my childhood home. Stopping in front of the familiar brown door, I ring the doorbell. I know my parents are home because I see the lights in the living room. It takes them a couple of minutes to get to the door—a couple of minutes that feel like an hour in my exhausted state. My mom opens the door, and her jaw goes slack with astonishment as she sees me standing there, my hand resting on the handle of the suitcase. “Hi, Mom,” I say, my voice shaking. “Can I come in?”

25

J ulian AT FIRST, THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS AND PAIN. PAIN THAT TEARS AT ME. PAIN THAT SHREDS ME FROM within. The darkness is easier. There is no pain in that, only oblivion. Still, I hate the nothingness that consumes me when I’m in that dark void. Hate the blankness of non-existence. As time passes, I come to crave the pain because it’s the opposite of that blankness—because feeling something is better than feeling nothing. Gradually, the dark void recedes, lessens its hold on me. Now, alongside the pain, there are memories. Some good, some bad—they come at me in waves. My mother’s gentle smile as she reads me a bedtime story. My father’s hard voice and harder fists. Running through the jungle after a colorful butterfly, as happy and carefree as only a child can be. Killing my first man in that jungle. Playing with my cat Lola, then fishing and laughing with a bright-eyed, twelve-year-old girl… with Maria. Maria’s body broken and violated, her light and innocence forever destroyed. Blood on my hands, the satisfaction of hearing her murderers’ screams. Eating sushi in the best restaurant in Tokyo. Flies buzzing over my mother’s corpse. The thrill of closing my first deal, the lure of money pouring in. More death and violence. Death I cause, death I revel in. And then there is her. My Nora. The girl I stole because she reminded me of Maria. The girl who is now my reason for existing. I hold the image of her in my mind, letting all the other memories fade into the

background. She’s all I want to think about, all I want to focus on. She makes the hurt go away, makes the darkness disappear. I may have brought her suffering, but she’s brought me the only happiness I’ve known since my early years. As time crawls by, I become aware of other things. Besides the pain, there are sounds and sensations. I hear voices and feel a cold breeze on my face. My left shoulder burns, my broken arm throbs, and I’m dying of thirst. Still, I seem to be alive. I twitch my fingers to verify that fact. Yes, alive. Almost too weak to move, but alive. Fuck. The rest of the memories flood in, and before I even open my eyes, I know where I am, and I know I probably shouldn’t have fought the darkness. Oblivion would’ve been better than this. “Welcome back,” a man’s voice says softly, and I open my eyes to see Majid’s smiling face hovering over me. “You’ve been under long enough. It’s time for us to begin.”

THEY DRAG ME ALONG A HARD CEMENT FLOOR OF WHAT APPEARS TO BE SOME KIND OF A CONSTRUCTION site. From the looks of it, it’s going to be an industrial building, and the room they haul me into has no windows, only a doorway. I think about fighting, but I’m too weak from my injuries to have any chance of success, so I decide to bide my time and conserve what little strength I have left. I’m guessing I will need it to cope with what they have in store for me. They begin by stripping me naked and stringing me up with a rope that they loop over a beam in the unfinished ceiling. They’re not gentle about it, and the cast on my left arm breaks as they tie my wrists together and draw my bound arms up over my head. The agonizing pain in my injured arm and shoulder makes me pass out, and it’s not until they throw ice-cold water on my face that I regain consciousness again. In a way, I admire their methods. They know what they’re doing. Take away a man’s clothes, and he immediately feels more vulnerable. Keep him cold, weak, and injured, and he’s already at a disadvantage, his psyche as battered as his body. They are starting off on the right foot. If I hadn’t put others through this myself, I would’ve been begging and pleading right about now. As it is, my body is in a complete fight-or-flight mode. The knowledge that I’m

so close to death—or at least to excruciating pain—makes my heart pound with a sickeningly fast rhythm. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me shake, but I can feel small tremors running over my skin, both from the cold water they poured on me in an already-freezing room and from a surfeit of adrenaline. They’ve strung me up so high that only the tips of my toes touch the ground, and with the majority of my weight being supported by my tied wrists, my wounded arm and shoulder are already screaming in agony. As I hang there, trying to breathe through the pain, Majid approaches me, a smug smile creasing his face. “Well, if it isn’t Esguerra himself,” he drawls, his British accent making him sound like some Middle Eastern version of James Bond. “How nice of you to pay our corner of the world a visit.” I don’t say anything, just gaze at him contemptuously, knowing that will irritate him more than anything. I know what he’s going to demand, and I have no intention of giving it to him—not when he’s going to kill me in the most painful way possible anyway. Sure enough, my lack of response provokes him. I can see the flare of rage in his eyes. Majid Ben-Harid thrives on the fear and misery of others. I understand that about him because I’m the same way. And because we’re such kindred souls, I know how to spoil the fun for him. He’s going to destroy my body, but he won’t enjoy it quite as much as he’d like. I won’t let him. It’s small consolation for the fact that I’m going to die a torturous death, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. His smug smile gone, Majid steps toward me. “I see you’re not up for chitchat,” he says, bringing a large butcher knife up to my face. “Let’s cut to the chase then.” He runs the tip of the blade down my cheek, cutting just deep enough for blood to run down my chin in a thin trickle. “You give me the location of your explosive factory, as well as all the security details, and I—” he leans so close that I can see the black of his pupils in the mud-brown irises of his eyes, “—I will make your death quick. If you don’t… well, I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on the alternative. What do you say? Do you want to make it easy for us or hard? Because the outcome will be the same either way.” I don’t respond, and I don’t flinch away, not even when that blade continues its painful, cutting journey down my neck, chest, and stomach, leaving a bloody trail wherever it touches my skin. It doesn’t matter what I choose because Majid has no intention of honoring any

promises he makes to me. He’ll never give me a quick death—not even if I handdeliver the explosive to him tomorrow. I’ve caused too much damage to Al-Quadar over the past few months, foiled too many of their plans. As soon as I give him what he wants, he’ll take me apart in the most excruciating manner possible, just to show his troops how he metes out punishment to those who cross him. That’s what I would do in his place, at least. The knife stops just below my ribs, the sharp point digging into my flesh, and I can see Majid’s eyes gleaming with vicious pleasure. “Well?” he whispers, pressing it in a fraction of an inch. “Play or no play, Esguerra? It’s really up to you. I can begin by harvesting some organs, just to make it extra profitable for us—or if you’d prefer, I can start lower, with your wife’s favorite part…” I suppress an instinctive male urge to shudder at that last bit and keep my expression calm, almost amused. I know he won’t do anything too damaging at first —because if he did, I would bleed out right away. I’ve already lost too much blood, so it won’t take much to send me under. The last thing Majid would want is to deprive himself of a conscious victim. If he’s serious about getting that explosive, he’ll have to start small and work up to the brutality he just threatened me with. “Go ahead,” I say coolly. “Do your best.” And giving him a mocking smile, I wait for the torture to begin.

26

N ora THE EVENING OF MY ARRIVAL HOME IS A NONSTOP STREAM what happened and how I managed to come back.

OF CRYING, HUGS, AND QUESTIONS ABOUT

I tell my parents as much of the truth as I can, explaining about the plane crash in Uzbekistan and Julian’s subsequent capture by the terrorist group he’s been fighting. As I speak, I can see them battling shock and disbelief. Terrorists and planes downed by missiles are so far outside of the normal paradigm of their lives that I know it’s hard for them to process. It was difficult for me once, too. “Oh, Nora, honey…” My mom’s voice is soft and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry—I know you loved him, despite everything. Do you know what’s going to happen now?” I shake my head, trying to avoid looking at my dad. He thinks this is a good development; I can see it on his face. He’s relieved that I’m most likely rid of the man he considers to be my abuser. I’m certain both of my parents think Julian deserves this, but my mom is at least attempting to be sensitive to my feelings. My dad, though, can hardly hide his satisfaction at this turn of events. “Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you came home.” My mom reaches out to take my hand. Her dark eyes are swimming with fresh tears as she gazes at me. “We’re here for you, honey, you know that, right?” “I do, Mom,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion. “That’s why I came back. Because I missed you… and because I couldn’t be alone on that estate.” That much is true, but that’s not the real reason I’m here. I can’t tell my parents the real reason.

If they knew I came home to get kidnapped by Al-Quadar, they would never forgive me for that.

DESPITE MY EXHAUSTION, I BARELY SLEEP THAT NIGHT. I KNOW IT’LL TAKE SOME TIME FOR AL-QUADAR to respond to my presence in town, but I’m still consumed by dread and nervous anticipation. Every time I drift off, I have nightmares, only in these dreams it’s not Beth who’s being cut into pieces—it’s Julian. The bloody images are so vivid that I wake up nauseated and shaking, my bedsheets drenched with sweat. Finally, I give up on sleep altogether and pull out the art supplies I brought with me in my suitcase. I’m hoping that painting will prevent me from dwelling on the fact that my nightmares may be playing out at this very moment in some Al-Quadar hideout thousands of miles away. As the light of the rising sun filters into the room, I stop to examine what I painted. It looks abstract at first—just swirls of red, black, and brown—but a closer inspection reveals something different. All the swirls are faces and bodies, people tangled together in a paroxysm of violent ecstasy. The faces reveal both agony and pleasure, lust and torment. It’s probably my best work to date, and I hate it. I hate it because it shows me how much I’ve changed. How little of the old me remains. “Wow, honey, this is amazing…” My mom’s voice startles me out of my musings, and I turn around to see her standing in the doorway, gazing at the painting with genuine admiration. “That French instructor of yours must be really good.” “Yes, Monsieur Bernard is excellent,” I agree, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice. I’m so tired that I just want to collapse, but that’s not an option at the moment. “You didn’t sleep well, did you?” My mom furrows her forehead, looking worried, and I know I didn’t succeed in hiding my tiredness from her. “Were you thinking about him?” “Of course I was.” A sudden swell of anger sharpens my voice. “He’s my husband, you know.” She blinks, clearly taken aback, and I immediately regret my harsh tone. This situation is not my mom’s fault; if anyone is blameless in all this, it’s my parents.

My temper is the last thing they deserve… particularly since my desperate plan will likely cause them even more anguish. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, going over to give her a hug. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “It’s okay, honey.” She strokes my hair, her touch so gentle and comforting that I want to weep. “I understand.” I nod, even though I know she can’t possibly comprehend the extent of my stress. She can’t—because she doesn’t know that I’m waiting. Waiting to be taken by the same monsters who have Julian. Waiting for Al-Quadar to snap at the bait.

THE MORNING DRAGS BY. IT’S A SATURDAY, SO BOTH OF MY PARENTS ARE HOME. THEY’RE HAPPY about that, but I’m not. I wish they were at work today. I want to be alone if—no, when—Majid’s goons come for me. It had been relatively safe to spend the night, since Al-Quadar would need time to put whatever plan they have into action, but now that it’s morning, I don’t want my parents near me. The security detail Julian put in place around my family would ensure their safety, but those same bodyguards may also interfere with my abduction—and that’s the last thing I want. “Shopping?” My dad gives me a strange look when I announce my intention to hit the stores after breakfast. “Are you sure, honey? You just got home, and with everything going on—” “Dad, I’ve been in the middle of nowhere for months.” I give him my best menjust-don’t-get-it look. “You have no idea what that’s like for a girl.” Seeing that he’s unconvinced, I add, “Seriously, Dad, I could use the distraction.” “She’s got a point,” my mom chimes in. Turning toward me, she gives me a conspiratorial wink and tells my dad, “There’s nothing like shopping to take a woman’s mind off things. I’ll go with Nora—it’ll be just like the old times.” My heart sinks. I can’t have my mom coming along if the point is to have my parents away from potential danger. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mom,” I say regretfully, “but I already promised Leah I’d meet her. It’s spring break, you know, and she’s home.” I had seen an update to that effect on Facebook earlier this morning, so I’m only partially lying. My friend is indeed in town—I just hadn’t made any plans to see her today.

“Oh, okay.” My mom looks hurt for a moment, but then she shakes it off and gives me a bright smile. “No worries, honey. We’ll see you after you catch up with your friends. I’m glad you’re distracting yourself like that. It’s for the best, really…” My dad still looks suspicious, but there is nothing he can do. I’m an adult, and I’m not exactly asking for their permission. As soon as breakfast is over, I give them each a kiss and a hug and walk over to the bus stop on 95th street to get on the bus going to the Chicago Ridge Mall.

COME ON, TAKE ME ALREADY. FUCKING TAKE ME ALREADY. I have been wandering through the mall for hours, and to my frustration, there is still no sign of Al-Quadar. They either don’t know that I’m here, or they don’t care about me now that they have Julian. I refuse to entertain the latter possibility because if it’s true, Julian is as good as dead. The plan has to work. There is no other alternative. Majid simply needs more time. Time to sniff out that I’m here alone and unprotected—a convenient tool that they can use to force Julian to give them what they want. “Nora? Holy shit, Nora, is that you?” A familiar voice yanks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around to see my friend Leah gaping at me with astonishment. “Leah!” For a second, I forget all about the danger and rush forward to embrace the girl who had been my best friend for ages. “I had no idea you would be here!” And it’s true—despite my lie to my parents this morning, I had not expected to run into Leah like that. In hindsight, though, I probably should have, since we used to hang out at this mall nearly every weekend when we were younger. “What are you doing here?” she asks when we get the hug out of the way. “I thought you were in Colombia!” “I was—I mean, I am.” Now that the initial excitement is over, I’m realizing that running into Leah could be problematic. The last thing I want is for my friend to suffer because of me. “I’m just here for a brief visit,” I explain hurriedly, casting a worried look around. All seems to be normal, so I continue, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was home, but things were kind of hectic and, well, you know how it is…” “Right, you must be busy with your new husband and stuff,” she says slowly,

and I can feel the distance between us growing even though we haven’t moved an inch. We haven’t spoken since I told her about my marriage—just exchanged a few brief emails—and I see now that she still questions my sanity… that she no longer understands the person I’ve become. I don’t blame her for that. Sometimes I don’t understand that person either. “Leah, babe, there you are!” A man’s voice interrupts our conversation, and my heart jumps as a familiar male figure approaches Leah from behind me. It’s Jake—the boy I once had a crush on. The boy Julian stole me from that fateful night in the park. Only he’s not a boy anymore. His shoulders are heavier now; his face is leaner and harder. At some point in the past few months, he’s become a man—a man who only has eyes for Leah. Stopping next to her, he bends down to give her a kiss and says in a low, teasing voice, “Babe, I got you that present…” Leah’s pale cheeks turn beet-red. “Um, Jake,” she mumbles, tugging on his arm to draw his attention to my presence, “look who I just ran into.” He turns toward me, and his brown eyes go round with shock. “Nora? What— what are you doing here?” “Oh, you know… just—just some shopping…” I hope I don’t sound as dumbfounded as I feel. Leah and Jake? My best friend Leah and my former crush Jake? It’s as if my world just tilted on its axis. I had no idea they were dating. I knew Leah broke up with her boyfriend a couple of months ago because she mentioned it in an email, but she never told me she’d hooked up with Jake. As I look at them, standing next to each other with identical uncomfortable expressions on their faces, I realize it’s not altogether illogical. They both go to the University of Michigan, and they have an overlapping circle of friends and acquaintances from our high school. They even have a traumatic experience in common—having their friend/date abducted—that could’ve brought them closer together. I also realize in that moment that all I feel when I look at them is relief. Relief that they seem happy together, that the darkness from my life didn’t leave a permanent stain on Jake’s. There’s no regret for what might have been, no jealousy—only an anxiety that grows with every minute Julian spends in AlQuadar’s hands. “I’m sorry, Nora,” Leah says, giving me a wary look. “I should’ve told you about

us earlier. It’s just that—” “Leah, please.” Pushing aside my stress and exhaustion, I manage to give her a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to explain. Really. I’m married, and Jake and I only had one date. You don’t owe me any explanations… I was just surprised, that’s all.” “Do you want to, um, grab some coffee with us?” Jake offers, sliding his arm around Leah’s waist in a gesture that strikes me as unusually protective. I wonder if it’s me he’s protecting her from. If so, he’s even smarter than I thought. “We could catch up since you’re in town and all,” he continues, and I shake my head in refusal. “I’d love to, but I can’t,” I say, and the regret in my voice is genuine. I desperately want to catch up with them, but I can’t have them near me in case AlQuadar chooses this particular moment to strike. I have no idea how the terrorists would get to me in the middle of a crowded mall, but I’m certain they’ll find a way. Glancing down at my phone, I pretend to be dismayed at the time and say apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m already running late…” “Is your husband here with you?” Leah asks, frowning, and I see Jake’s face turning white. He probably didn’t consider the possibility of Julian being nearby when he extended his invitation to me. I shake my head, my throat tightening as the horrible reality of the situation threatens to choke me again. “No,” I say, hoping I sound halfway normal. “He couldn’t make it.” “Oh, okay.” Leah’s frown deepens, a puzzled look entering her eyes, but Jake regains some of his color. He’s obviously relieved that he won’t be confronted by the ruthless criminal who’s caused him so much grief. “I really have to run,” I say, and Jake nods, his grip on Leah’s waist tightening to keep her close. “Good luck,” he says to me, and I can tell he’s glad I’m leaving. He’s been raised to be polite, however, so he adds, “It was good seeing you,” though his eyes say something different. I give him an understanding smile. “You too,” I say and, waving goodbye to Leah, I head for the mall exit.

I FORGET ABOUT JAKE AND LEAH AS SOON AS I STEP OUT INTO THE PARKING LOT. PAINFULLY ALERT, I scan the area before reluctantly pulling out my phone and calling for a cab. I would hang out at the mall longer, but I don’t want to chance running into my friends again. My next stop will be Michigan Avenue in Chicago, where I can browse some high-end stores while praying that I get taken before I completely lose my mind. The cold wind bites through my clothes as I stand there waiting, my thighlength peacoat and thin cashmere sweater offering little protection from the chilly temperature outside. It takes a solid half hour before the cab finally pulls up to the curb. By that time, I’m half-frozen, and my nerves are stretched so tightly I’m ready to scream. Yanking the door open, I climb into the back of the car. It’s a clean-looking cab, with a thick glass partition separating the front seat from the back and the windows in the back lightly tinted. “The city, please.” My voice is sharper than it needs to be. “The stores on Michigan Avenue.” “Sure thing, miss,” the driver says softly, and my head snaps up at the hint of accent in his voice. My eyes lock with his in the front mirror, and I freeze as a bolt of pure terror shoots down my spine. He could’ve been one of a thousand immigrants driving a cab for a living, but he’s not. He’s Al-Quadar. I can see it in the cold malevolence of his gaze. They have finally come for me. It’s what I have been waiting for, but now that the moment is here, I find myself paralyzed by a fear so intense, it chokes me from within. My mind flashes into the past, and the memories are so vivid, it’s almost as if I’m there again. I feel the pain of barely healed stitches in my side, see the dead bodies of the guards at the clinic, hear Beth’s screams… and then I taste vomit at the back of my throat as Majid touches my face with a blood-covered finger. I must’ve gone as pale as a sheet because the driver’s gaze hardens, and I hear the faint click of car door locks being activated. The sound galvanizes me into action. Adrenaline pumping in my veins, I dive for the door and jerk at the handle while screaming at the top of my lungs. I know it’s useless, but I need to try—and, more importantly, I need to give the appearance of trying. I can’t sit calmly while they take me back to hell. I can’t let them find out that this time I want to go back there.

As the car begins moving, I continue wrestling with the door and banging on the window. The driver ignores me as he peels out of the parking lot at top speed, and none of the mall visitors seem to notice anything wrong, the tinted windows of the car hiding me from their gaze. We don’t go far. Instead of getting out onto the highway, the car swings around to the back of the building. I see a beige van waiting for us, and I struggle harder, my nails breaking as I claw at the door with a desperation that’s only partially feigned. In my rush to rescue Julian, I hadn’t fully considered what it would mean to be taken by the monsters of my nightmares—to go through something so horrific again—and the terror that swamps me is only slightly lessened by the fact that this situation is of my own doing. The driver pulls up next to the van, and the locks click open. Pushing open the door, I scramble out on all fours, scraping my palms on rough asphalt, but before I can get to my feet, a hard arm clamps around my waist and a gloved hand slaps over my mouth, muffling my screams. I hear orders being barked out in Arabic as I’m carried to the van, kicking and struggling, and then I see a fist flying toward my face. There’s an explosion of pain in my skull, and then there’s nothing else.

27

J ulian I DRIFT IN AND OUT OF CONSCIOUSNESS, THE PERIODS OF WAKEFUL AGONY INTERSPERSED WITH SHORT stretches of soothing darkness. I don’t know if it’s been hours, days, or weeks, but it feels like I’ve been here forever, at the mercy of Majid and the pain. I haven’t slept. They don’t let me sleep. I gain respite only when my mind shuts down from the torment, and they have ways of bringing me back when I’m under for too long. They waterboard me first. I find it funny, in a kind of perverse way. I wonder if they’re doing it because they know I’m part-American, or if they just think it’s an efficient method of breaking someone without inflicting severe damage. They do it a few dozen times, pushing me to the brink of death and then bringing me back. It feels like I’m drowning over and over again, and my body fights for air with a desperation that seems out of place given the situation. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if they accidentally drowned me; my mind knows that, but my body struggles to live. Every second with that wet rag on my face feels like an eternity, the trickle of water somehow more terrifying than the sharpest blade. They pause every once in a while and throw questions at me, promising to stop if only I would answer. And when my lungs feel like they’re bursting, I want to give in. I want to put an end to this—yet something inside me won’t let me. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of winning, of letting them kill me while knowing that they achieved what they wanted. As my body strains for air, my father’s voice comes to me. “Are you going to cry? Are you going to cry like your mama’s pretty boy or face

me like a man?” I’m four years old again, cowering in the corner as my father kicks me repeatedly in the ribs. I know the right answer to his question—I know I need to face him—but I’m scared. I’m so scared. I can feel the wetness on my face, and I know it will make him angry. I don’t mean to cry. I haven’t truly cried since I was a baby, but the pain in my ribs makes my eyes water. If my mother were here, she’d hold me and kiss me, but she doesn’t come near me when my father is in this kind of mood. She’s too afraid of him. I hate my father. I hate him, and I want to be like him all at once. I don’t want to be scared. I want to be the one with the power, the one everyone’s afraid of. Rolling up into a little ball, I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the betraying moisture off my face, and then I get to my feet, ignoring my fear and the ache in my bruised ribs. “I’m not going to cry.” Swallowing the knot in my throat, I look up to meet my father’s angry gaze. “I’m never going to cry.” Curses in Arabic. More wetness on my face. My mind is violently wrenched back to the present as I convulse, gagging and sucking in air when the soaked rag is removed. My lungs expand greedily, and through the ringing in my ears, I hear Majid yelling at the man who almost killed me. Well, fuck. Looks like this portion of the fun is over. They start with the needles next. Long, thick needles that they drive under my toenails and fingernails. I’m able to bear this better, my mind divorcing itself from my tortured body and taking me back to the past. I’m nine now. My father brought me to the city for negotiations with his suppliers. I’m sitting on the steps, guarding the entrance to the building, a gun tucked into my belt underneath my T-shirt. I know how to use this gun; I already killed two men with it. I threw up after the first one, earning myself a beating, but the second kill had been easier. I didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger. A few teenage boys walk out onto the street. I recognize their tattoos; they’re part of a local gang. My father probably used them at some point to distribute his product, but right now they appear to be bored and at loose ends. I watch as they meander up and down the street, kicking at some broken bottles and ribbing each other. A part of me envies their easy camaraderie. I don’t have a

lot of friends, and the boys I occasionally play with all seem to be afraid of me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the Señor’s son, or if they’ve heard things about me. I don’t usually mind their fear—I encourage it, in fact—but sometimes I wish I could just play like a regular kid. These teenage boys haven’t heard about me, though. I can tell because when they spot me sitting there, they smirk and walk toward me, thinking they’ve found easy prey to bully. “Hey,” one of them calls out. “What’s a little boy like you doing here? This is our neighborhood. You lost, kid?” “No,” I say, replicating their smirks. “I’m about as lost as you… kid.” The boy who spoke to me swells up with anger. “Why you little shit—” He starts toward me, and immediately freezes when I point my gun at him without blinking. “Try it,” I invite him softly. “Come closer, why don’t you?” The boys begin to back away. They’re not completely dumb; they see that I know how to handle the weapon. My father and his men come out at that moment, and the boys scatter like a pack of rats. When I tell my father what happened, he nods approvingly. “Good. You don’t back down, son. Remember that—you take what you want, and you never back down.” Cold water in my face, followed by a brutal slap, and I’m back in the present. They have me tied to a chair now, my wrists bound behind my back and my ankles tied to the chair legs. My fingers and toes throb with agony, but I’m still alive—and for now unbroken. I can see the frustrated fury on Majid’s face. He’s not happy with the progress thus far, and I have a feeling he’s about to amp up his efforts. Sure enough, he approaches me, his knife clutched in his fist. “Last chance, Esguerra…” He stops in front of me. “I’m giving you one last chance before I start cutting off some useful body parts. Where is the fucking factory, and how do we get in?” Instead of answering, I gather whatever little saliva remains in my mouth and spit at him. The red-tinted spittle splatters all over his nose and cheeks, and I watch with satisfaction as he wipes it off with his sleeve, his body vibrating with rage at the insult.

I don’t have a chance to enjoy his reaction for long, though, because he fists his hand in my hair and yanks on it, causing my neck to bend painfully backwards. “Let me tell you what’s about to happen, you piece of shit,” he hisses, pressing the blade against my jaw. “I’m going to start with your eyes. I’m going to cut your left eyeball in half—and then I’m going to do the same with your right. And when you’re blind, I’m going to start trimming your dick, inch by inch, until there’s only a tiny stub left… Do you understand me? If you don’t start talking now, you will never see or fuck again.” Fighting the urge to throw up, I remain silent as he pushes the knife upward, toward the thin skin under my left eye. The blade cuts through my cheek on the way, and I feel the warmth of the blood trickling down my cold skin. I know he’s not bluffing, but I also know that giving in will not change the outcome. Majid will torture me to get answers—and once he gets them, he will torture me even more. Glaring at my lack of reaction, Majid presses the knife deeper into my skin. “Last fucking chance, Esguerra. Do you want to keep your eye or not?” I don’t respond, and he drags the knife higher, causing my eyelids to squeeze shut reflexively. “All right then,” he whispers, enjoying my body’s involuntarily panic as I try to jerk out of his reach… and then I feel a nauseating explosion of pain as the blade punctures through my eyelid and penetrates deep into my eye.

I MUST’VE LOST CONSCIOUSNESS AGAIN BECAUSE THERE’S MORE COLD WATER BEING THROWN AT ME. I’M shivering, my body going into shock from the excruciating agony. I can’t see anything out of my left eye—all I feel there is a burning, leaking emptiness. My stomach roils with bile, and it takes all of my effort not to vomit all over myself. “How about the second eye, Esguerra, hmm?” Majid smiles at me, his bloodied knife held tightly in his fist. “Would you like to be blind while we take your dick off, or would you rather see it all? Of course, it’s not too late to stop all this… Just tell us what we want to know, and we might even let you live—since you’re so brave and all.” He’s lying. I can hear it in the gloating tone of his voice. He thinks he’s got me nearly broken, so desperate to stop the pain that I will believe anything he says. “Fuck you,” I whisper with my remaining strength. You don’t back down. You never back down. “Fuck you and your pathetic little threats.”

His eyes narrow with rage, and the knife flashes toward my face. I squeeze my remaining eye shut, preparing for the agony… but it never comes. Surprised, I peel open my uninjured eyelid and see that Majid got distracted by one of his minions. The man seems excited, pointing toward me as he chatters in rapid Arabic. I strain to make out some of the words I know, but he’s speaking too fast. Judging by the smile spreading across Majid’s face, however, whatever he’s saying is good news for Majid—which means it’s probably bad news for me. My supposition is confirmed when Majid turns toward me and says with a cruel smirk, “Your other eye is safe for now, Esguerra. There is something I really want you to see in a few hours.” I glare at him, unable to hide my hatred. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but the pit of my stomach tightens as the terrorists file out of the windowless room. There’s only one thing that would persuade me to give in—and she is safe and sound in my compound. They can’t possibly be talking about Nora, not with all the security I have around her. It’s some new mind game they’re playing with me, trying to make me think they have something worse in store for me than what I’ve already suffered. It’s a delay tactic, a way to prolong my suffering—nothing more. I have no intention of falling for their trick, but as I wait there, bound and in the worst pain of my life, I’m not strong enough to stop the anxiety from creeping up on me. I should be grateful for this respite from torture, but I’m not. I would gladly let Majid cut off every one of my limbs if only I could be certain that Nora is safe. I don’t know how much time passes while I wait in torment, but finally I hear voices outside. The door opens, and Majid drags in a small figure dressed in a pair of Uggs and a man’s shirt that hangs down to her knees. Her hands are bound behind her back, and there is a bloody stain on the underside of her left arm. My stomach drops and cold horror spreads through my veins as Nora’s dark eyes lock on my face. My worst fear has come to pass. They have the only person who matters to me in the whole fucking world. They have my Nora—and this time, I can’t rescue her.

28

N ora TREMBLING FROM HEAD TO TOE, I STARE AT JULIAN, MY CHEST SQUEEZING WITH AGONY AT THE SIGHT. There is a rough, dirty-looking bandage on his shoulder, with blood seeping out of it, and his naked body is a mass of cuts, bruises, and scrapes. His face is even worse. Below the old bandage on his forehead, there isn’t a spot left that isn’t discolored or swollen. The most horrifying thing of all, however, is the huge bleeding gash running through his left cheek and all the way up into his eyebrow—a mess of ragged flesh where his eye used to be. Where his eye used to be. They cut out his eye. I can’t even begin to process that at the moment, so I don’t try. For now, Julian is alive, and that’s all that matters. He’s tied to a metal chair, his legs bound apart and his arms restrained behind his back. I can see the shock and horror on his bloodied face as he takes in my presence, and I want to tell him that everything will be all right—that this time I am saving him—but I can’t. Not yet. Not until Peter has a chance to get here with the reinforcements. My bruised cheekbone is throbbing where they hit me, and the underside of my left arm is burning with pain from the open wound there. They stripped off my clothes and cut out my birth control implant while I was knocked out, probably fearing that it was a tracker of some kind. I hadn’t expected that—I figured, if anything, they would find one of the real trackers—but it worked out even better than I’d hoped. After cutting out the implant and seeing that it was nothing more

than a simple plastic rod, they must’ve dismissed me as a threat, thinking that I am exactly what I was pretending to be: a naïve girl who went to see her parents, oblivious of any remaining danger. It makes me glad that I had the foresight to leave the bracelet tracker at the estate, so as not to arouse their suspicions. To my relief, it doesn’t seem like they touched me much in other ways. At least, if they did anything more than cop a feel while I was unconscious, I feel no evidence of it. There is no soreness or stickiness between my legs, no pain of any kind. My skin is crawling at the knowledge that they had me naked, but it could’ve easily been much worse. When I woke up, I was already wearing someone’s shirt and my own Ugg boots. They must be saving all the drama for when I’m in front of Julian. This was the part of my plan that Peter found most risky: that time from my capture until my arrival at their hideout. “You know that they can search every inch of you and find all three of the tracking devices Julian placed on you,” he told me before we left the estate. “And then you’ll both be lost to us. You do understand what they will do to you to make Julian talk, right?” “Yes, I do, Peter.” I gave him a grim smile. “I understand perfectly. There is no other choice, though, and the trackers are tiny, the insertion wounds nearly invisible at this point. They may find one or two, but I doubt they’ll find all three— and if they do, by the time they do, you may have a fix on their location.” “Maybe,” he said, his eyes speaking volumes about his opinion on my sanity, “or maybe not. There are a hundred things that can go wrong between the time you get taken and when they bring you to Julian.” “It’s a risk I’ll have to take,” I told him, bringing the discussion to an end. I knew how dangerous it would be for me to act as a human tracking device to locate the terrorists, but I couldn’t see any other way to get to Julian in time—and judging by his current state, I was nearly too late as is. I see Julian attempting to compose himself, to hide his visceral reaction to my presence, but he’s not entirely successful. After the initial shock passes, his jaw tightens, and his undamaged eye begins to glitter with violent rage as he takes in my semi-dressed state. His powerful muscles bunch, straining against the restraints. He looks like he wants to rip apart everyone in the room, and I know that the ropes tying him to the chair are the only thing preventing him from launching a suicidal attack on our captors. The other terrorists must be thinking the same thing, because two of them step closer to Julian, clutching their weapons just in case.

Looking delighted with this turn of events, Majid laughs and drags me to the middle of the room, his grip on my arm excruciatingly tight. “You know, your dumb little whore all but fell into my lap,” he says conversationally, fisting his hand in my hair and forcing me down to my knees. “We found her shopping in your absence, like all those greedy American bitches. Figured we’d bring her here, so you can see her pretty little face before I carve it up… Unless you want to start talking?” Julian remains silent, glaring at Majid with murderous hatred, while I take small, shallow breaths to cope with my terror. My eyes are watering from the pain in my scalp, and the fear pulsing through me feels almost like a living thing. With my hands restrained behind my back, there’s nothing I can do to prevent Majid from hurting me. I have no idea how long it’s going to take Peter to arrive, but there’s every chance he might not make it in time. I can see the rust-colored stains on the blade hanging loosely from Majid’s belt, and nausea rises in my throat as I realize that it’s Julian’s blood. If we’re not rescued soon, it will be my blood, too. To my horror, Majid reaches for that blade, still holding my hair in that painful grip. “Oh, yes,” he whispers, pressing the flat edge against my neck, “I think her head will make a nice little trophy—after I cut it up a bit, of course…” He pushes the knife upward, and I freeze in terror as I feel the blade cutting into the soft skin under my chin, followed by the stomach-churning sensation of warm liquid trickling down my neck. The growl that emanates from Julian doesn’t resemble anything human. Before I can do more than gasp, he surges forward, using the balls of his feet to propel himself and the chair off the floor. His action is so sudden and violent that the two men standing next to him don’t react in time. Julian literally crashes into one of them, bringing the armed terrorist down to the floor, and, with one twist of his body, drives the metal leg of the chair into the man’s throat. The next few seconds are a blur of blood and screams in Arabic. Majid releases his hold on me and yells out some orders, galvanizing the others into action as he springs into the fray himself. Still tied to the chair, Julian is dragged off the injured man’s body, and I watch in horrified fascination as the man Julian attacked writhes on the floor, clutching his throat as rattling, gurgling sounds escape from his mouth. He’s dying—I can see it in the weakening spurts of blood coming from the ragged wound in his neck—yet his agony doesn’t seem to touch me. It’s as though I’m watching a movie instead of observing a human being bleeding to death in front of my eyes.

Majid and the other terrorists rush to his aid, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but it’s too late. The man’s frantic grip on his throat eases, his eyes glazing over, and the stench of death—of evacuated bowels and violence—fills the room. He’s dead. Julian killed him. I should be disgusted and appalled, but I’m not. Maybe those emotions will hit me later, but for now, all I feel is a strange mixture of gladness and pride: gladness that one of these murderers is dead, and pride that Julian was the one to kill him. Even tied up and weakened by torture, my husband managed to take down one of his enemies—an armed man who was stupid enough to stand within Julian’s lethal reach. My lack of empathy disturbs me on some level, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. Whether Julian intended to create a distraction or not, the end result is that nobody is paying attention to me at the moment—and as soon as I realize it, I spring into action. Jumping to my feet, I cast a frantic glance around the room. My gaze lands on a small knife on a table near the wall, and I leap toward it, my pulse racing. The terrorists are all gathered around Julian on the other side of the room, and I hear grunts, curses, and the sickening sound of fists hitting flesh. They’re punishing Julian for this murder—and, for now, ignoring me. Turning my back to the table, I manage to palm the knife and wedge the blade underneath the duct tape they wrapped around my wrists. My hands are trembling, causing the sharp blade to nick my skin, but I ignore the pain, trying to saw through the thick tape before they realize what’s happening. My grip is slippery with sweat and blood, but I persist, and finally, my hands are free. Shaking, I survey the room again, and spot an assault rifle leaning negligently against the wall. One of the terrorists must’ve left it there in the confusion resulting from Julian’s unexpected attack. My heart throbbing in my throat, I inch along the wall toward the weapon, desperately hoping that the terrorists won’t glance in my direction. I have no idea what I’m going to do with one gun against a roomful of men armed to their teeth, but I have to do something. I can’t stand by and watch them beat Julian to death. My hands close around the weapon before anyone notices anything, and I suck

in a shaking breath of relief. It’s an AK-47, one of the assault rifles I practiced with during my training with Julian. Gripping the heavy weapon, I lift it and point in the direction of the terrorists, trying to control the adrenaline-induced trembling in my arms. I’ve never shot at a person before—only at beer cans and paper targets— and I don’t know if I have what it takes to pull the trigger. And as I’m trying to work up the courage to act, a blinding explosion rocks the room, knocking me off my feet and onto the floor.

I DON’T KNOW IF I HIT MY HEAD OR WAS MERELY DAZED BY THE EXPLOSION, BUT THE NEXT THING I’M aware of is the sound of gunfire outside the walls. The entire room is filled with smoke, and I cough as I instinctively attempt to get to my feet. “Nora! Stay down!” It’s Julian, his voice hoarse from the smoke. “Stay down, baby, do you hear me?” “Yes!” I yell back, intense joy filling every cell of my body as I realize that he’s alive—and in a good enough condition to speak. Keeping low to the ground, I peer out from behind the table that fell next to me, and see Julian lying on his side on the other end of the room, still tied to the metal chair. I also see that the smoke is coming in from the vent in the ceiling, and that the room is empty except for the two of us. The battle, or whatever is happening, is taking place outside. Peter and the guards must have arrived. Almost crying with relief, I grab the AK-47 lying next to me, lower myself onto my stomach, and begin to belly-crawl toward Julian, holding my breath to avoid inhaling too much smoke. At that moment, the door swings open, and a familiar figure steps into the room. It’s Majid—and in his right hand, he’s holding a gun. He must’ve realized that Al-Quadar were losing and came back to kill Julian. A surge of hatred rises in my throat, choking me with bitter bile. This is the man who murdered Beth… who tortured Julian and would’ve done the same thing to me. A vicious, psychotic terrorist who had undoubtedly murdered dozens of innocent people. He doesn’t see me there, all his attention on Julian as he lifts his gun and points

it at my husband. “Goodbye, Esguerra,” he says quietly… and I squeeze the trigger of my own weapon. Despite my prone position, my aim is accurate. Julian had me practice shooting sitting, lying down, and even running at some point. The assault rifle bucks in my shaking arms, slamming painfully against my shoulder, but the two bullets hit Majid exactly where I intended—in his right wrist and elbow. The shots throw him back against the wall and knock the gun out of his grasp. Screaming, he clutches at his bleeding arm, and I get up, heedless of the danger posed by the bullets flying outside. I can hear Julian yelling something at me, but his exact words don’t register through the ringing in my ears. In this moment, it’s as though the entire world fades away, leaving me alone with Majid. Our eyes meet, and for the first time, I see fear in his dark, reptilian gaze. He knows that I am the one who shot him, and he can read the cold intent on my face. “Please, don’t—” he begins saying, and I squeeze the trigger again, discharging five more bullets into his stomach and chest. In the brief silence that follows, I watch as Majid’s body slides down the wall, almost in slow motion. His face is slack with shock, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are open, staring at me with a kind of numb disbelief. He moves his lips, as though to say something, and a rattling gurgle escapes his throat as more blood bubbles up out of his mouth. Lowering the gun, I step closer to him, drawn by a strange compulsion to see what I have wrought. Majid’s eyes plead with mine, begging for mercy without words. I hold his gaze, stretching out the moment… and then I aim the AK-47 at his forehead and pull the trigger again. The back of his head explodes, blood and bits of brain tissue splattering against the wall. His eyes glaze over, the whites around the irises turning crimson as blood vessels burst in his eyes. His body goes limp, and the smell of death, sharp and pungent, permeates the room for the second time today. Except it’s not Julian who’s the killer this time. It’s me. My hands are steady as I lower the weapon again, watching the blood trickle down the wall behind Majid. Then I walk toward Julian, kneel down beside him, and carefully place the gun on the floor as I begin to work on untying his ropes.

Julian is silent as I free him from his bonds, and so am I. The sounds of gunfire outside are beginning to die down, and I’m hoping that means Peter’s forces are winning. Either way, though, I’m ready for whatever may come, a strange calm engulfing me despite our still-precarious situation. When Julian’s arms and legs are free, he kicks the chair away and rolls onto his back, his right hand closing around my wrist. His left arm, still partially in a cast, is immobile at his side, and there’s more blood on his face and body from the beating he just received. His grip on my wrist, however, is surprisingly strong as he pulls me closer, forcing me down on the floor next to him. “Stay down, baby,” he whispers through swollen lips. “It’s almost over… Please, stay down.” I nod and stretch out next to him on the right, being careful not to aggravate his injuries. With the door open, some of the smoke in the room is beginning to clear out, and I can breathe freely for the first time since the explosion. Julian releases my wrist and slides his arm under my neck, gathering me against him in a protective embrace. My hand accidentally brushes against his ribs, causing him to hiss in pain, but when I try to scoot back, he merely holds me tighter. When Peter and the guards step through the door a few minutes later, they find us lying in each other’s arms, with Julian pointing the AK-47 at the door.

29

J ulian “HOW IS SHE?” LUCAS ASKS, SITTING DOWN ON THE CHAIR NEXT TO MY BED. THERE IS A THICK bandage on his head, and he has to use crutches for his broken leg. Other than that, he’s already on the mend. He was unconscious in another room when Al-Quadar attacked the Uzbekistani hospital and thus missed all the fun. “She’s… okay, I think.” I press a button to get the bed into a half-sitting position. My ribs ache at the motion, but I ignore the discomfort. Pain has been my constant companion since the crash, and I’m more or less used to it at this point. Ever since our rescue from that construction site in Tajikistan five days ago, Nora and I have been recuperating in a special facility in Switzerland. It’s a private clinic staffed with top doctors from all over the world, and I’ve had Lucas personally supervise the security here. Of course, with the most dangerous cells of Al-Quadar eliminated, there’s less of an immediate threat, but it still pays to be cautious. I’ve had all of my injured men transferred here as well, so they could recover faster and in a nicer environment. The room Nora and I share is state-of-the-art, equipped with everything from video games to a private shower. There are two adjustable beds—one for me and one for Nora—with Egyptian cotton sheets and memory foam mattresses on each. Even the heart-rate monitors and IV drips positioned around the beds look sleek, more decorative than medical. The whole setup is so luxurious, I can almost forget I’m in yet another hospital. Almost, but not quite. If I never set foot inside a hospital again, I will die a happy man.

To my tremendous relief, all of Nora’s injuries turned out to be minor. The wound on her arm needed a few stitches, but the blow to her face left only a nasty bruise on her cheekbone. The doctors also confirmed that she hadn’t been sexually assaulted, despite her state of undress. Within a few hours of our arrival here, Nora was pronounced healthy and ready to go home. I, on the other hand, am a bit worse off, though not nearly as fucked up as I could’ve been. They’ve already performed two operations on me—one to minimize the scarring on my face, and the second one to put a prosthetic eye into the vacant eye socket, so I don’t resemble a cyclops. I will never be able to see out of my left eye again—at least not until bionic eye technology advances further—but the surgeons have assured me that I’m going to look nearly normal once everything is healed. My other injuries aren’t too bad either. They had to reset my broken arm and wrap it in a new cast, but the gunshot wound in my left shoulder is healing nicely, as are my cracked ribs. I still have some crusted blood under my fingernails and toenails from the needle torture, but it’s gradually getting better. The beating Majid’s men gave me at the end bruised my kidneys a bit. However, thanks to Peter’s prompt arrival, I escaped other internal injuries and more broken bones. When all is said and done, I will have a few more scars—and potentially some weakness in my left arm—but my appearance won’t scare little children. I’m grateful for that. I’ve never been particularly vain about my looks, but I want to make sure that Nora still finds me attractive, that I don’t disgust her with my touch. She’s assured me that my scars and bruises don’t bother her, but I don’t know if she really means it. Because of my injuries, we haven’t had sex since our rescue, and I won’t know how she truly feels until I have her in my bed again. In general, I’m not sure how Nora has been feeling for the past five days. With all the surgeries and doctors in the way, we haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened. Whenever I bring it up, she changes the topic, as though she wants to forget the whole thing. I would let her—except she’s also been unusually quiet. Withdrawn in some way. It’s as if the trauma she’s gone through has caused her to retreat within herself… to shut down her emotions in some manner. “So she’s handling it?” Lucas asks, and I know he’s talking about Majid’s death. All of my men know about the way Nora gunned him down, and about her role in my rescue. They admire her for being so brave, whereas I’m battling a daily urge to throttle her for risking her life. And Peter—well, that’s a whole other matter. If he hadn’t disappeared promptly after bringing us to the clinic, I would’ve torn his

head off for placing her in that kind of danger. “She is,” I say in response to Lucas’s question. My concerns about Nora’s mental state are not something I want to share with him. “She’s handling it about as well as can be expected. The first kill is never easy, of course, but she’s tough. She’ll get through it.” “Yes, I’m sure she will.” Reaching for his crutches, Lucas gets up and asks, “How soon do you want to head back to Colombia?” “Goldberg says we can leave tomorrow. He wants me to stay here one more night, to make sure everything is healing properly, and then he’ll oversee my care back at the compound.” “Excellent,” Lucas says. “I will make the arrangements then.” He hobbles out of the room, and I reach for my laptop to check on Nora’s whereabouts. She went to get a snack from the cafe on the first floor of the clinic, but she’s already been gone longer than ten minutes, and I am beginning to get worried. Logging in, I pull up the report from the trackers and see that she’s standing in the hallway, about fifty feet away from the room. The dot showing her location is stationary; she must be chatting with someone there. Relieved, I close the laptop and place it back on the bedstand. I know my fear for her is excessive, but I can’t control it. Seeing Majid’s knife at Nora’s throat had been the worst experience of my life. I had never been so terrified as when I saw the blood trickling down her smooth skin. I literally saw a wall of red at that moment, the rage pumping through me giving me a surge of strength I hadn’t known I possessed. Killing that terrorist hadn’t been a conscious decision; the need to protect Nora had overwhelmed both my instinct for self-preservation and common sense. If I had been thinking more clearly, I would’ve come up with some other way to get Majid’s attention away from Nora until the reinforcements could arrive. I had begun to suspect the rescue plan as soon as Majid mentioned shopping. It made a terrible kind of sense: Nora knew that my enemies would want her as leverage, and she knew that she had the trackers. I couldn’t believe that she would put herself out there like that—or that Peter would let her—but it was the only thing that could explain how Al-Quadar were able to lay their hands on her in my absence.

Instead of staying safe at the estate, Nora risked her life to save mine. Knowing what Majid was capable of, she faced her nightmares to rescue me— the man she has every reason to hate. I don’t know if I believed that she truly loved me until that moment… until I saw her standing there, scared, yet determined, her small body swathed in a man’s shirt ten sizes too big for her. Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before; even when I was a child, my mother would slink away at the first sign of my father’s temper, leaving me to his tender mercies. Other than the guards I hired, nobody had ever protected me. I had always been on my own. Until her. Until Nora. As I’m remembering how fierce she looked with her gun pointed at Majid, the door to the room opens, and the subject of my musings walks in. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a brown long-sleeved top, her thick hair caught in a ponytail behind her back and her feet clad in ballet-type flats. The bruise on her cheekbone is still there, but she covered it up with some makeup today, probably so she could video-chat with her parents without worrying them. She’s been talking to them almost daily since our arrival at the clinic. I think she feels guilty about scaring them with her disappearance again. She’s also munching on an apple, her white teeth biting into the juicy fruit with evident enjoyment. My heart begins to thump heavily in my ribcage as my chest expands with joy and relief. It’s like that every time I see her now, my reaction the same whether she’s been gone fifteen minutes or several hours. “Hi.” She walks over and gracefully perches on the right side of my bed. Leaning down, she presses her soft lips to my cheek in a brief kiss, then lifts her head to smile at me. “Want some apple?” “No, thanks, baby.” My voice turns husky as her touch makes me painfully aware of the fact that I haven’t fucked her since leaving the estate. “It’s all yours.” “All right.” She bites into the apple. “I ran into Dr. Goldberg in the hallway,” she says after swallowing. “He said you’re getting better, and we can go home tomorrow.” “Yes, that’s right.” I watch her tongue flick out to clean up a tiny piece of fruit from her lower lip, and a bolt of heat tightens my balls. I am definitely getting

better—or at least my cock believes that I am. “We’ll leave as soon as he okays it.” Nora bites off another piece of apple and chews it slowly, studying me with a peculiar expression. “What is it, baby?” Reaching for her free hand, I bring her delicate palm up to my face and rub the back of her hand against my cheek. I know I’m probably scratching her soft skin with my stubble—I haven’t shaved in over a week—but I can’t resist the lure of her touch. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” She puts the apple core down on a napkin on the bedstand. “We should talk about Peter,” she says quietly. “And about the promise I made to him.” I tense, my grip on her palm tightening. “What promise?” “The list.” Her fingers twitch in my grasp. “The list of names you promised him for the three years of service. I told him I’d give it to him as soon as you had it—if he helped me rescue you.” “Fuck.” I stare at her in disbelief. I had been wondering how she’d persuaded Peter to disobey a direct order, and here is my answer. “You promised you’d help him get revenge if he assisted you in that insanity?” Nora nods, her eyes trained on mine. “Yes. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. He knew that if you died, he wouldn’t get the list at all—and I told him he’d get it earlier if he helped me.” My eyebrows snap together as a wave of fury rolls through me. That Russian motherfucker put my wife in mortal danger, and that’s not something I can ever forgive or forget. He might’ve saved my life, but he had risked Nora’s in order to do it. If he hadn’t disappeared after carrying out the rescue, I would’ve killed him for that. And now Nora wants me to give him that list? Not fucking likely. “Julian, I promised him,” she insists, apparently sensing my unvoiced reply. Her gaze is filled with uncharacteristic determination as she adds, “I know you’re mad at him, but the whole plan was my idea—and he didn’t want to do it at first.” “Right. Because he knew your safety should’ve been his top priority.” Realizing I’m still squeezing her palm, I release her hand and say harshly, “The bastard’s lucky he’s still alive.” “I understand that.” Nora gives me a level look. “So does Peter, believe me. He knew you’d react like this—which is why he left after dropping us off here.” I inhale, trying to hang on to my temper. “And good riddance to him. He knows

I’ll never trust him now. I ordered him to keep you safe on the estate, and what did he do?” I glare at her as the memory of her getting dragged into that windowless room, bloodied and scared, scrapes at my brain. “He fucking hand-delivered you to Majid!” “Yes, and by doing so, saved your life—” “I don’t care about my fucking life!” I sit up all the way, ignoring the jolt of pain in my ribs. “Don’t you get it, Nora? You are the only person I care about. You—not me, not anyone else!” She stares at me, and I see her large eyes beginning to glisten with moisture. “I know, Julian,” she whispers, blinking. “I know that.” I look at her, and the anger drains out of me, replaced by an inexplicable need to make her understand. “I don’t know if you do, my pet.” My voice is quiet as I reach for her hand again, needing its fragile warmth. “You are everything to me. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t want to survive—I wouldn’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.” Her lips tremble, the tears pooling in her eyes before spilling over. “I know, Julian…” Her fingers curl around my palm, squeezing it tightly. “I know, because it’s the same for me. When I thought your plane went down—” she swallows, her voice breaking, “—and then afterwards, when I heard the gunshots during our call…” I draw in a breath, her distress making my chest hurt. “Don’t, baby…” I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss the inside of her palm. “Don’t think about it anymore. It’s over—there’s nothing more to fear. Majid is gone, and we’re on the verge of completely eradicating Al-Quadar…” As I speak, I see her expression flattening, her gaze growing strangely shuttered. It’s as if she’s trying to pull back her emotions, to build some kind of a mental wall to protect herself. “I know,” she says, and her lips stretch into the kind of empty smile I’ve often seen her wear since our rescue. “It’s done. He’s dead.” “Are you sorry about that?” I ask, lowering her hand. I need to understand the source of her withdrawal, to get to the bottom of whatever is causing her to shut down like this. “Are you sorry you killed him, baby? Is that why you’ve been upset the last few days?” She blinks, as if startled by my question. “I’m not upset.” “Don’t lie to me, my pet.” Releasing her hand, I gently grasp her chin and look into her shadowed eyes. “Do you think I don’t know you by now? I can see that

you’ve been different since Tajikistan, and I want to understand why.” “Julian…” Her voice holds a pleading note. “Please, I don’t want to talk about this.” “Why not? Do you think I don’t get it? Do you think I don’t know what it’s like to kill for the first time and live with the knowledge that you took a human life?” I pause, watching for a reaction. When I see none, I continue, “We both know that Majid deserved it, but it’s normal to feel like shit afterwards. You need to talk about it, so you can begin to come to terms with everything that happened—” “No, Julian,” she interrupts, the careful blankness of her gaze giving way to a sudden flare of anger. “You don’t get it. I know Majid deserved to die, and I’m not sorry that I killed him. I have no doubt that the world is a better place without him.” “So what is it then?” I’m beginning to suspect where this is heading, but I want to hear her say it. “I killed him,” she says quietly, looking at me. “I stood next to him, looked him in the eye, and pulled the trigger. I didn’t kill him to protect you, or because I had no other choice. I killed him because I wanted to.” She pauses, then adds, her eyes glittering, “I killed him because I wanted to see him die.”

30

N ora JULIAN STARES AT ME, THE EXPRESSION ON HIS BANDAGED FACE UNCHANGED AT MY REVELATION. I want to look away, but I can’t, his grip on my chin forcing me to hold his gaze as I lay bare the awful secret that’s been eating at me since our rescue. His lack of reaction makes me think he doesn’t fully understand what I’m saying. “I killed him, Julian,” I repeat, determined to make him comprehend now that he forced me to talk about this. “I murdered Majid in cold blood. When I saw him step into the room, I knew what I wanted to do, and I did it. I shot the weapon out of his hand—and when he was unarmed, I shot him again in the stomach and chest, making sure not to hit him in the heart, so he’d live a couple of minutes longer. I could’ve killed him right away, but I didn’t.” My hands squeeze into fists on my lap, my nails digging painfully into my skin as I confess, “I kept him alive because I wanted to look him in the face when I took his life.” Julian’s unbandaged eye gleams a deeper blue, and I feel a wave of burning shame. I know it doesn’t make sense—I know I’m talking to a man who’s committed crimes far worse than this—but I don’t have the excuse of his fuckedup upbringing. Nobody forced me to become a killer. When I shot Majid that day, I did it of my own initiative. I killed a man because I hated him and wanted to see him die. I wait for Julian to respond, to say something either dismissive or condemning, but he asks softly instead, “And how did you feel when it was over, my pet? When he lay there dead?” His hand releases my chin and moves down to rest on my leg,

his large palm covering most of my thigh. “Were you glad to see him like that?” I nod, dropping my gaze to escape his penetrating stare. “Yes,” I admit, a shudder rippling through me as I remember the almost-euphoric high of seeing the bullets from my gun tearing through Majid’s flesh. “When I saw the life leave his eyes, I felt strong. Invincible. I knew he could no longer hurt us, and I was glad.” Gathering my courage, I look up at him again. “Julian… I blew a man’s brains out— and the scary thing is I don’t regret it at all.” “Ah, I see.” A smile tugs at his partially healed lips. “You think you’re a bad person because you feel no guilt over killing a murderous terrorist—and you believe you should.” “Of course I should.” I frown at the inappropriate amusement in his voice. “I killed a man—and you yourself said that it’s normal to feel shitty about it. You felt bad after your first kill, right?” “Yes.” Julian’s smile takes on a bitter edge. “I did. I was a child, and I didn’t know the man I was forced to shoot. He was someone who had double-crossed my father, and to this day, I have no idea what kind of person he was… whether he was a hardened criminal or just someone who got mixed-up with bad company. I didn’t hate him—I had no opinion about him, really. I killed him to prove that I could do it, to make my father proud of me.” He pauses, then continues, his expression softening, “So you see, my pet, it was different. When you killed Majid, you rid the world of evil, whereas I… well, that’s a whole other story. You have no reason to feel bad about what you did, and you’re smart enough to know it.” I look at him, my throat tightening as I imagine eight-year-old Julian pulling that trigger. I don’t know what to say, how to assuage his guilt over that long-ago event, and anger at Juan Esguerra fills my chest. “You know, if your father were alive, I would shoot him too,” I say savagely, causing Julian to let out a delighted chuckle. “Oh, yes, I’m sure you would,” he says, grinning at me. The expression should’ve looked grotesque on his bruised and swollen face, but somehow it looks sexy instead. Even beat-up, bandaged like a mummy, and with several days’ worth of dark stubble on his jaw, my husband radiates an animal magnetism that transcends mere looks. The doctors told us that his face will be nearly normal once everything is healed, but even if it isn’t, I strongly suspect Julian will be just as seductive with an eye patch and some scars. As though in response to my thoughts, his hand on my thigh moves higher, toward the juncture between my legs. “My fierce little darling,” he murmurs, his

grin fading as a familiar heated gleam appears in his uncovered eye. “So delicate, yet so ferocious… I wish you could’ve seen yourself that day, baby. You were magnificent when you faced Majid, so brave and beautiful…” His fingers press roughly on my clit through my jeans, and I suck in a startled breath, my nipples hardening as a surge of liquid need dampens my sex. “Yes, that’s right, baby,” he whispers, his fingers moving upward to my zipper. “You with that weapon was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” The zipper slides down with a metallic hiss, the sound strangely erotic, and my core clenches with a sudden desperate ache. “Um, Julian…” My breathing is uneven, my heartbeat speeding up as Julian’s hand delves into the open fly of my jeans. “What—what are you doing?” His lips curve in a wicked half-smile. “What does it look like I’m doing?” “But… but you can’t…” The sentence devolves into a moan as his fingers boldly push into my underwear and cup my sex, his middle finger slipping between my wet folds to massage my throbbing clit. The heat that blasts through my nerve endings feels almost like an electric spark, every hair on my body standing up in response to the zing of pleasure. I gasp, feeling the tension gathering inside me, but before I can reach my peak, Julian’s fingers withdraw, leaving me hovering on the edge. “Take off your clothes, then climb on top,” he orders hoarsely, pulling back the blanket to reveal a hospital gown tented with a massive erection. “I need to fuck you. Now.” I hesitate for a moment, worried about his injuries, and Julian’s jaw tightens in displeasure. “I mean it, Nora. Take those clothes off.” Gulping, I jump off the bed, unable to believe that I feel the compulsion to obey him even now. His left arm is in a cast, he can barely move without pain, and yet my instinctive response is to fear him—to want him and fear him at the same time. “And lock the door,” he commands as I begin to pull my shirt up. “I don’t want to be interrupted.” “Okay.” Leaving my shirt on, I hurry over to the door to turn the lock that gives us privacy. Every step I take reminds me of the pulsing heat between my legs, my tight jeans rubbing against my sensitized clit and adding to my arousal.

When I return, Julian is in a semi-reclining position on the bed, his gown untied at the front and his hand stroking his erect cock. There is a stiff bandage around his ribs, but it does nothing to detract from the raw power of his muscular body. Even wounded, he manages to dominate the room, his appeal as magnetic as ever. “Good girl,” he murmurs, watching me with a heavy-lidded stare. “Now strip for me, baby. I want to see your sexy little ass wriggling out of those jeans.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip, the heat in his gaze turning me on even more. “All right,” I whisper, and turning my back to him, I bend forward and slowly pull down my jeans, making sure to sway my hips from side to side as I expose my thong-clad ass to his eyes. When the jeans are all the way down to my ankles, I turn back to face him and kick off my shoes, then step out of my jeans, leaving them lying on the floor. Julian watches my movements with undisguised lust, his breathing becoming heavy as the tip of his cock starts to glisten with moisture. He’s no longer touching himself, his hands clutching the sheets instead, and I know it’s because he’s close to coming, the hard column of his sex jutting up in defiance of gravity. Keeping my eyes trained on him, I proceed to take off my shirt, pulling it up over my head in a slow, teasing motion. Underneath, I’m wearing a silky white bra that matches my thong. I bought several outfits online earlier in the week, and I’m glad I decided to get a few nicer underwear sets. I love to see that look of uncontrollable hunger on Julian’s face—the expression that says he would move mountains to have me at that moment. As the shirt falls to the floor, he says roughly, “Come here, Nora.” His gaze devours me, consumes me. “I need to touch you.” I inhale, my sex flooding with wetness as I take a couple of steps toward the bed, pausing in front of him. He reaches for me, smoothing his palm over my ribcage, and then moves his hand higher, toward my bra. His fingers close around my left breast, kneading it through the silky material, and I gasp as he pinches my nipple, causing it to stiffen further. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” His hand leaves my body, making me feel bereft for a moment, and I hurriedly unclasp my bra and push the thong down my legs before stepping out of it. “Good. Now straddle me.” Biting my lip, I climb onto the bed, straddling Julian’s hips. His cock brushes against the inside of my thighs, and I grasp it in my right hand, guiding it toward

my aching entrance. “Yes, that’s it,” he mutters, reaching out to grip my hip as I begin to lower myself onto his shaft. Releasing his cock, I use my palms to brace myself on the bed, and he groans, “Yes, take me in, my pet… All the way…” Using his grip on my hip, he pushes me lower, forcing his cock deeper into me, and I moan at the exquisite stretching sensation, my body adjusting to being filled and penetrated by his thick length. It feels like the sweetest of reliefs, the pleasure-pain of his possession acute and achingly familiar all at once. As I watch him, drinking in the look of tormented pleasure on his face, it suddenly dawns on me that this could just as easily not be happening—that instead of lying underneath me, Julian could be six feet underground, his powerful body mangled and destroyed. I am not cognizant of having made any sounds, but I must have, because Julian’s eye narrows, his hand tightening on my hip. “What is it, baby?” he asks sharply, and I realize that I’ve begun to shake, chills wracking my body at the image of him lying there cold and broken. My desire evaporates, replaced by remembered terror and dread. It’s as if I’ve been doused with ice water, the horror of what we’ve been through bubbling up and choking me from within. “Nora, what is it?” Julian’s hand slides up to my throat, gripping the nape of my neck to bring my face closer to his. His eye bores into me as my hands clutch convulsively at the sheets on each side of his chest. “What is it? Tell me!” I want to explain, but I can’t speak, my throat closing up as my heartbeat spikes, cold sweat drenching my body. All of a sudden, I can’t breathe, toxic panic clawing at my chest and constricting my lungs, and I begin to hyperventilate as black dots encroach on the edges of my vision. “Nora!” Julian’s voice reaches me as if from afar. “Fuck… Nora!” A stinging blow across my face snaps my head to the side, and I gasp, my hand flying up to cradle my left cheek. The shock of pain startles me out of my panic, and my lungs finally begin working, my chest expanding to let in much-needed air. Panting, I turn my head to stare incredulously at Julian, the darkness in my mind receding as reality pushes back in. “Nora, baby…” He’s gently rubbing my cheek now, soothing the pain he inflicted. “I’m so sorry, my pet. I didn’t want to slap you, but you looked like you were having a panic attack. What happened? Do you want me to call for a nurse?” “No—” My voice breaks as sobs rise up, bursting out of my throat. Tears begin

to flow down my face as I realize that I completely freaked out—and that it happened during sex. Julian’s cock is still buried inside me, only slightly softer than before, and yet I am shaking and crying, like a crazy person. “No,” I repeat in a choked voice. “I’m all right… Really, I’ll be fine…” “Yes, you will be.” His voice takes on a hard, commanding tone as his hand moves down to grip my throat. “Look at me, Nora. Now.” Unable to do anything else, I obey, meeting his gaze with my own. His eye glitters a bright, fierce blue. As I look at him, my breathing begins to slow, my sobs easing and my desperate panic fading. I am still crying, but silently now, more as a reflex than anything else. “Okay, good,” Julian says in that same harsh tone. “Now you’re going to ride me —and you will not think of whatever got you so upset. Do you understand me?” I nod, his instructions calming me further. As my anxiety melts away, other sensations start to creep in. I become aware of the clean, familiar scent of his body, the crisp feel of his leg hair pressing against my calves… The way his cock feels inside me, warm, thick, and hard. My body responds again, further distracting me from my panic. Taking a deep breath, I begin to move, rising up and then lowering myself onto his shaft, my core growing wet and soft as pleasure starts to curl low in my belly. “Yes, just like that, baby,” Julian murmurs, his hand sliding down my body to press against my clit, intensifying the tension growing inside me. “Fuck me. Ride me. Use me to forget your demons.” “Yes,” I whisper. “I will.” And keeping my eyes on his face, I pick up the pace, letting the physical pleasure carry me away from all the darkness, the inferno of our passion burning away the memories of icy horror within. When we come, it’s within seconds of each other, our bodies as attuned to each other as our souls.

THAT EVENING I GO TO SLEEP IN JULIAN’S BED, NOT MY OWN. THE cautioning me not to jostle his ribs or face during the night.

DOCTORS OKAYED IT AFTER

I lie on his right, my head pillowed on his uninjured shoulder. I should be asleep, but I’m not. My mind is buzzing, humming like a beehive. A million thoughts are running through my head, my emotions oscillating from elation to sadness.

We’re both alive and more or less intact. We’re together again, having both survived against all odds. I no longer have any doubts that in some fucked-up way, we’re meant to be. For better or worse, we fit each other now, our twisted, damaged parts locking together like a jigsaw puzzle. I have no idea what the future holds, whether things can ever truly be all right again. I still need to convince Julian to honor my promise to Peter—and I need to ask the doctors for a morning-after pill, given the fact that neither one of us remembered to use protection earlier today. I don’t know if it’s possible to get pregnant so quickly after losing the implant, but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. The possibility of a child—of a helpless baby subjected to our kind of life—horrifies me now more than ever. Maybe I will change my mind with time. Maybe in a few years, I will feel differently. Less scared. For now, though, I am sharply cognizant of the fact that our life will never be a fairy tale. Julian is not a good man—and I’m no longer a good woman. That should worry me… and maybe tomorrow it will. At this moment, however, feeling his warmth surrounding me, I am only aware of a deepening sense of peace, of a certainty that this is right. That this is where I belong. Raising my hand, I trace my fingers across his half-healed lips, feeling the sensual shape of them in the darkness. “Will you ever let me go?” I murmur, remembering our long-ago conversation. His lips twitch in a faint smile. He remembers too. “No,” he replies softly. “Never.” We lie in silence for a few moments, and then he asks quietly, “Do you want me to let you go?” “No, Julian.” I close my eyes, a smile curving my own lips. “Never.”

HOLD ME TWIST ME: BOOK 3

I THE RETURN

1

J ulian A GASPING CRY WAKES ME UP, DRAGGING ME OUT OF RESTLESS SLEEP. MY UNINJURED EYE FLIES OPEN on a rush of adrenaline, and I jackknife to a sitting position, the sudden movement causing my cracked ribs to scream in protest. The cast on my left arm bangs into the heart-rate monitor next to the bed, and the wave of agony is so intense that the room spins around me in a sickening swirl. My pulse is pounding, and it takes a moment to realize what woke me. Nora. She must be in the grip of another nightmare. My body, coiled for combat, relaxes slightly. There’s no danger, nobody coming after us right now. I’m lying next to Nora in my luxurious hospital bed, and we’re both safe, the clinic in Switzerland as secure as Lucas can make it. The pain in my ribs and arm is better now, more tolerable. Moving more carefully, I place my right hand on Nora’s shoulder and try to gently shake her awake. She’s turned away from me, facing in the opposite direction, so I can’t see her face to check if she’s crying. Her skin, however, is cold and damp from sweat. She must’ve been having the nightmare for a while. She’s also shivering. “Wake up, baby,” I murmur, stroking her slender arm. I can see the light filtering through the blinds on the window, and I know it must be morning. “It’s just a dream. Wake up, my pet…” She stiffens under my touch, and I know she’s not fully awake, the nightmare still holding her captive. Her breathing is coming in audible, gasping bursts, and I can feel the tremors running through her body. Her distress claws at me, hurting

me worse than any injury, and the knowledge that I’m again responsible for this— that I failed to keep her safe—makes my insides burn with acidic fury. Fury at myself and at Peter Sokolov—the man who allowed Nora to risk her life to rescue me. Before my cursed trip to Tajikistan, she had been slowly getting over Beth’s death, her nightmares becoming less frequent as the months wore on. Now, however, the bad dreams are back—and Nora is worse off than before, judging by the panic attack she had during sex yesterday. I want to kill Peter for this—and I might, if he ever crosses my path again. The Russian saved my life, but he endangered Nora’s in the process, and that’s not something I will ever forgive. And his fucking list of names? Forget it. There is no way I’m going to reward him for betraying me like this, no matter what Nora promised him. “Come on, baby, wake up,” I urge her again, using my right arm to lower myself back down on the bed. My ribs ache at the movement, but less fiercely this time. I carefully shift closer to Nora, pressing my body against hers from the back. “You’re okay. It’s all over, I promise.” She draws in a deep, hiccuping breath, and I feel the tension within her easing as she realizes where she is. “Julian?” she whispers, turning around to face me, and I see that she’s been crying after all, her cheeks coated with moisture from her tears. “Yes. You’re safe now. Everything is fine.” I reach over with my right hand and trail my fingers over her jaw, marveling at the fragile beauty of her facial structure. My hand looks huge and rough against her delicate face, my nails ragged and bruised from the needles Majid used on me. The contrast between us is glaring— though Nora is not entirely unscathed either. The purity of her golden skin is marred by a bruise on the left side of her face, where those Al-Quadar motherfuckers hit her to knock her out. If they weren’t already dead, I would’ve ripped them apart with my bare hands for hurting her. “What did you dream about?” I ask softly. “Was it Beth?” “No.” She shakes her head, and I see that her breathing is beginning to return to normal. Her voice, however, still holds echoes of horror as she says hoarsely, “It was you this time. Majid was cutting out your eyes, and I couldn’t stop him.” I try not to react, but it’s impossible. Her words hurl me back to that cold, windowless room, to the nauseating sensations I’ve been trying to forget for the

past several days. My head begins to throb with remembered agony, my halfhealed eye socket burning with emptiness once again. I feel blood and other fluids dripping down my face, and my stomach heaves at the recollection. I’m no stranger to pain, or even to torture—my father believed that his son should be able to withstand anything—but losing my eye had been by far the most excruciating experience of my life. Physically, at least. Emotionally, Nora’s appearance in that room probably holds that honor. It takes all of my willpower to wrench my thoughts back to the present, away from the mind-numbing terror of seeing her dragged in by Majid’s men. “You did stop him, Nora.” It kills me to admit this, but if it weren’t for her bravery, I would probably be decomposing in some dumpster in Tajikistan. “You came for me, and you saved me.” I still have trouble believing that she did that—that she voluntarily placed herself in the hands of psychotic terrorists to save my life. She didn’t do it out of some naïve conviction that they wouldn’t harm her. No, my pet knew exactly what they were capable of, and she still had the courage to act. I owe my life to the girl I abducted, and I don’t quite know how to deal with that. “Why did you do it?” I ask, stroking the edge of her lower lip with my thumb. Deep down, I know, but I want to hear her admit it. She gazes at me, her eyes filled with shadows from her dream. “Because I can’t survive without you,” she says quietly. “You know that, Julian. You wanted me to love you, and I do. I love you so much I would walk through hell for you.” I take in her words with greedy, shameless pleasure. I can’t get enough of her love. I can’t get enough of her. I wanted her initially because of her resemblance to Maria, but my childhood friend had never evoked even a fraction of the emotions Nora makes me feel. My affection for Maria had been innocent and pure, just like Maria herself. My obsession with Nora is anything but. “Listen to me, my pet…” My hand leaves her face to rest on her shoulder. “I need you to promise me that you will never do something like that again. I’m obviously glad to be alive, but I would sooner have died than had you in that kind of danger. You are never to risk your life for me again. Do you understand me?” The nod she gives me is faint, almost imperceptible, and I see a mutinous gleam

in her eyes. She doesn’t want to make me mad, so she’s not disagreeing, but I have a strong suspicion she’s going to do what she thinks is right regardless of what she says right now. This obviously calls for more heavy-handed measures. “Good,” I say silkily. “Because next time—if there is ever a next time—I will kill anyone who helps you against my orders, and I will do it slowly and painfully. Do you understand me, Nora? If anyone so much as endangers a hair on your head, whether it’s to save me or for any other reason, that person will die a very unpleasant death. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes.” She looks pale now, her lips pressed together as if to contain a protest. She’s angry with me, but she’s also scared. Not for herself—she’s beyond that fear now—but for others. My pet knows I mean what I say. She knows I’m a conscienceless killer with only one weakness. Her. Gripping her shoulder tighter, I lean forward and kiss her closed mouth. Her lips are stiff for a moment, resisting me, but as I slide my hand under her neck and cup her nape, she exhales and her lips soften, letting me in. The surge of heat in my body is strong and immediate, her taste causing my cock to harden uncontrollably. “Um, excuse me, Mr. Esguerra…” The sound of a woman’s voice is accompanied by a timid knock on the door, and I realize it’s the nurses making their morning rounds. Fuck. I’m tempted to ignore them, but I have a feeling they’ll just come back again in a bit—possibly when I’m balls-deep inside Nora’s tight pussy. Reluctantly releasing Nora, I roll over onto my back, sucking in my breath at the jolt of pain, and watch as Nora jumps off the bed and hurriedly pulls on a robe. “Do you want me to open the door for them?” she asks, and I nod, resigned. The nurses have to change my bandages and make sure I’m well enough to travel today, and I have every intention of cooperating with their plans. The sooner they’re done, the faster I can get out of this fucking hospital. As soon as Nora opens the door, two female nurses come in, accompanied by David Goldberg—a short, balding man who’s my personal doctor at the estate. He’s an excellent trauma surgeon, so I had him oversee the repairs on my face, to make sure the plastic surgeons at the clinic didn’t fuck anything up. I don’t want to repel Nora with my scars if I can help it.

“The plane is already waiting,” Goldberg says as the nurses begin to unwrap the bandages on my head. “If there are no signs of infection, we should be able to head home.” “Excellent.” I lie still, ignoring the pain resulting from the nurses’ ministrations. In the meantime, Nora grabs some clothes from the closet and disappears into the bathroom that adjoins our room. I hear the water running and realize she must’ve decided to use this time to take a shower. It’s probably her way of avoiding me for a bit, since she’s still upset over my threat. My pet is sensitive to violence being doled out to those she views as innocent—like that stupid boy Jake she kissed the night I took her. I still want to rip out his insides for touching her… and someday I probably will. “No sign of infection,” Goldberg tells me when the nurses are done removing the bandages. “You’re healing well.” “Good.” I take slow, deep breaths to control the pain as the two nurses clean the sutures and rebind my ribs. I’ve been taking half of my prescribed dose of painkillers for the past two days, and I’m definitely feeling it. In another couple of days, I’ll go off the painkillers completely to avoid becoming dependent on them. One addiction is plenty for anyone. As the nurses are wrapping up, Nora comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blouse. “All clear?” she asks, glancing at Goldberg. “He’s good to go,” he replies, giving her a warm smile. I think he likes her— which is fine with me, given his homosexual orientation. “How are you feeling?” “I’m fine, thanks.” She lifts her arm to show a large Band-Aid over the area where the terrorists cut out her birth control implant by mistake. “I’ll be happy when the stitches are out, but it doesn’t bother me much.” “Great, glad to hear it.” Turning toward me, Goldberg asks, “When should we plan to head out?” “Have Lucas get the car ready in twenty minutes,” I tell him, carefully swinging my feet to the floor as the nurses exit the room. “I’ll get dressed, and we’ll go.” “Will do,” Goldberg says, turning to leave the room. “Wait, Dr. Goldberg, I’ll walk out with you,” Nora says quickly, and there’s something in her voice that catches my attention. “I need something from downstairs,” she explains.

Goldberg looks surprised. “Oh, sure.” “What is it, my pet?” I stand up, ignoring my nakedness. Goldberg politely averts his eyes as I catch Nora’s arm, preventing her from walking out. “What do you need?” She looks uncomfortable, her gaze shifting to the side. “What is it, Nora?” I demand, my curiosity piqued. My grip on her arm tightens as I pull her closer. She looks up at me. Her cheeks are tinged with color, and there is a defiant set to her jaw. “I need the morning-after pill, okay? I want to make sure I get it before we leave.” “Oh.” My mind goes blank for a second. Somehow I hadn’t thought about the fact that with her implant gone, Nora can get pregnant. I’ve had her in my bed for almost two years, and during that entire time, she’s been protected by the implant. I’m so used to that, it hadn’t even occurred to me that we need to take precautions now. But it had clearly occurred to Nora. “You want the morning-after pill?” I repeat slowly, still trying to process the idea that Nora—my Nora—could be pregnant. Pregnant with my child. A child that she clearly doesn’t want. “Yes.” Her dark eyes are huge in her face as she stares up at me. “It’s unlikely from just one time, of course, but I don’t want to risk it.” She doesn’t want to risk being pregnant with my child. My chest feels oddly tight as I look at her, seeing the fear she’s trying so hard to conceal. She’s worried about my reaction to this, afraid I’ll prevent her from taking this pill. Afraid I’ll force an unwanted child on her. “I’ll be right outside,” Goldberg says, apparently sensing the rising tension in the room, and before I can say a word, he slips out the door, leaving us alone. Nora lifts her chin, meeting my gaze head on. I can see the determination on her face as she says, “Julian, I know we never talked about this, but—” “But you’re not ready,” I interrupt, the tightness in my chest intensifying. “You don’t want a baby right now.” She nods, her eyes wide. “Right,” she says warily. “I’m not even done with

school yet, and you’ve been injured—” “And you’re not sure if you want to have a child with a man like me.” She swallows nervously, but doesn’t deny it or look away. Her silence is damning, and the tightness in my chest morphs into a strange aching pain. Releasing her arm, I step back. “You can tell Goldberg to get you the pill and whatever birth control he thinks is best.” My voice sounds unusually cold and distant. “I’ll wash up and get dressed.” And before she can say anything else, I go into the bathroom and close the door. I don’t want to see the look of relief on her face. I don’t want to think about how that would feel.

2

N ora STUNNED, I WATCH JULIAN’S NAKED FORM DISAPPEAR INTO THE BATHROOM. HE’S HAMPERED BY HIS injuries, his movements stiffer than usual. Still, there is a certain grace to the way he walks. Even after his hellish ordeal, his muscular body is strong and athletic, the white bandage around his ribs emphasizing the width of his shoulders and the bronzed hue of his skin. He didn’t object to the morning-after pill. As that fact sinks in, my knees go weak with relief, the adrenaline-induced tension draining out in a sudden whoosh. I had been almost certain he would deny me this; the expression on his face as we spoke had been shuttered, unreadable… dangerous in its opaqueness. He had seen right through my flimsy excuses about my school and his injuries, his undamaged eye gleaming with a cold blue light that made my stomach knot in dread. But he didn’t deny me the pill. On the contrary, he suggested I get a new method of birth control from Dr. Goldberg. I feel almost light-headed with joy. Julian must be on board with the no-kids bit, his strange reaction notwithstanding. Not wanting to question my good fortune, I hurry out of the room to grab Dr. Goldberg. I want to make sure I get what I need before we leave the clinic. Birth control implants aren’t easy to come by in our jungle compound.

“I TOOK THE PILL,” I TELL JULIAN WHEN WE’RE COMFORTABLY ENSCONCED ON HIS PRIVATE JET—THE same plane that took us from Chicago to Colombia after Julian returned for me in December. “And I got this.” I raise my right arm to show him a tiny bandage where the new implant went in. My arm aches dully, but I’m so happy to have the implant that I don’t mind the discomfort. Julian looks up from his laptop, his expression still closed off. “Good,” he says curtly, and resumes working on the email to one of his engineers. He’s outlining the exact specifications of a new drone he wants designed. I know this because I asked him about it a few minutes ago, and he explained what he’s doing. He’s been much more open with me in the past couple of months—which is why I find it odd that he seems to want to avoid the topic of birth control. I wonder if he doesn’t want to discuss it because of Dr. Goldberg’s presence. The short man is sitting at the front of the jet, more than a dozen feet from us, but we don’t have total privacy. Either way, I decide to let it go for now and bring it up again at a more opportune moment. As the plane ascends, I entertain myself by watching the Swiss Alps until we get above the clouds. Then I lean back and wait for the beautiful flight attendant— Isabella—to come around with our breakfast. We left the hospital so quickly this morning that I only managed to grab a cup of coffee. Isabella comes into the cabin a few minutes later, her bombshell body squeezed into a tight red dress. She’s holding a tray with coffee and a platter of pastries. Goldberg appears to have fallen asleep, so she heads toward us, her lips curved in a seductive smile. The first time I saw her, when Julian came back for me in December, I was insanely jealous. Since then I’ve learned that Isabella has never had a relationship with Julian and is actually married to one of the guards at the estate—two facts that have gone a long way toward soothing the green-eyed monster within me. I’ve only seen the woman once or twice in the past couple of months; unlike most of Julian’s employees, she spends the majority of her time outside the compound, working as his eyes and ears at several high-end private jet companies. “You’d be surprised how loose-lipped people get after a couple of drinks at thirty thousand feet,” Julian explained once. “Executives, politicians, cartel bosses… They all like having Isabella around, and they don’t always watch what they say in her presence. Thanks to her, I’ve gotten everything from insider trading tips to intel about drug deals in the area.” So yeah, I’m no longer quite as jealous of Isabella, but I still can’t help feeling

that her manner with Julian is a little too flirtatious for a married woman. Then again, I’m probably not the best judge of appropriate married-woman behavior. If I were to stare at any man longer than a second, I would be signing his death warrant. Julian takes possessiveness to a whole new level. “Would you like some coffee?” Isabella asks, stopping next to his seat. She’s more circumspect in her staring today, but I still feel the urge to slap her pretty face for the come-hither smile she gives my husband. Okay, so Julian is not the only one with possessiveness issues. As messed up as it is, I feel proprietary about the man who abducted me. It makes no sense, but I gave up trying to make sense of my crazy relationship with Julian a long time ago. It’s easier to just accept it. At Isabella’s question, Julian looks up from his laptop. “Sure,” he says before glancing in my direction. “Nora?” “Yes, please,” I say politely. “And a couple of those croissants.” Isabella pours us each a cup, sets the pastry platter on my table, and sashays back to the front of the plane, her lushly curved hips swaying from side to side. I experience a moment of envy before reminding myself that Julian wants me. He wants me too much, in fact, but that’s a whole other issue. For the next half hour, I read quietly as I eat my croissants and sip my coffee. Julian appears to be concentrating on his drone design email, so I don’t bother him; instead, I do my best to focus on my book, a sci-fi thriller I bought at the clinic. My attention, however, keeps wandering, my thoughts straying every couple of pages. It feels odd to be sitting here reading. Surreal, in a way. It’s as if nothing had happened. As if we hadn’t just survived terror and torture. As if I hadn’t blown a man’s brains out in cold blood. As if I hadn’t almost lost Julian again. My heart starts beating faster, the images from this morning’s nightmare invading my mind with startling clarity. Blood… Julian’s body cut and mangled… His beautiful face with vacant eye sockets… The book slips out of my shaking hands, falling to the floor as I attempt to suck in air through a suddenly constricted throat. “Nora?” Strong, warm fingers close around my wrist, and through the panicked

haze veiling my vision, I see Julian’s bandaged face in front of me. He’s gripping me tightly, his laptop forgotten on the table next to him. “Nora, can you hear me?” I manage to nod, my tongue coming out to wet my lips. My mouth is dry with fear, and my blouse is sticking to my back from perspiration. My hands are clutching the edge of the seat, my nails digging into the soft leather. A part of me knows that my mind is playing tricks on me—that this extreme anxiety is unfounded—but my body is reacting as if the threat is real. As if we’re back at that construction site in Tajikistan, at the mercy of Majid and the other terrorists. “Breathe, baby.” Julian’s voice is soothing as his hand comes up to gently cradle my jaw. “Breathe slowly, deeply… There’s a good girl…” I do as he says, keeping my eyes on his face as I take deep breaths to manage my panic. After a minute, my heartbeat slows, and my hands uncurl from the edge of my seat. I’m still shaking, but the suffocating fear is gone. Feeling embarrassed, I wrap my fingers around Julian’s palm and pull his hand away from my face. “I’m okay,” I manage to say in a relatively steady voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He stares at me, his eye glittering, and I see a mixture of rage and frustration in his gaze. His fingers are still gripping mine, as if reluctant to let go. “You’re not okay, Nora,” he says harshly. “You’re anything but okay.” He’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but he’s right. I haven’t been okay since Julian left the estate to hunt down the terrorists. I’ve been a mess since his departure—and I seem to be even more of a mess now that he’s back. “I’m fine,” I say, not wanting him to think me weak. Julian was tortured, and he seems to be handling it, whereas I’m falling apart for no good reason. “Fine?” His eyebrows snap together. “In the past twenty-four hours, you’ve had two panic attacks and a nightmare. That’s not fine, Nora.” I swallow and look down at my lap, where his hand is holding mine in a tight, possessive grip. I hate the fact that I can’t just brush this stuff off, the way Julian seems to. Sure, he still has some nightmares about Maria, but this ordeal with the terrorists appears to have hardly fazed him. By all rights, he should be the one freaking out, not me. I was barely touched, whereas he’d undergone days of torment. I’m weak, and I hate it.

“Nora, baby, listen to me.” I look up, drawn by the softer note in Julian’s voice, and find myself captured by his gaze. “This is not your fault,” he says quietly. “Any of it. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re traumatized. You don’t need to pretend with me. If you start to panic, tell me, and I’ll help you through it. Do you understand me?” “Yes,” I whisper, strangely relieved by his words. I know it’s ironic that the man who brought all the darkness into my life is helping me cope with it, but it’s been that way from the beginning. I’ve always found solace in my captor’s arms. “Good. Remember that.” He leans over to kiss me, and I meet him halfway, cognizant of his injured ribs. His lips are unusually tender as they touch mine, and I close my eyes, my remaining anxiety fading as heated need warms my core. My hands find themselves on the back of his neck, and a moan vibrates low in my throat as his tongue invades my mouth, his taste familiar and darkly seductive at the same time. He groans as I kiss him back, my tongue curling around his. His right arm wraps around my back, bringing me closer to him, and I feel the growing tension in his powerful body. His breathing speeds up, and his kiss turns hard, devouring, making my body throb in response. “Bedroom. Now.” His words are more of a growl as he tears his mouth away and rises to his feet, dragging me up off my seat. Before I can say anything, he wraps his fingers around my wrist and marches me toward the back of the plane. I give mental thanks that Dr. Goldberg is sound asleep and Isabella went back to the front of the plane; nobody’s there to see Julian dragging me off to bed. As we enter the small room, he kicks the door shut behind us and pulls me toward the bed. Even injured, he’s incredibly strong. His strength both arouses and intimidates me. Not because I’m afraid he’ll hurt me—I know he will, and I know I’ll enjoy it—but because I’ve seen what he can do. I’ve seen him kill a man with nothing more than a leg of a chair. The memory should disgust me, but somehow it’s exciting as well as scary. Then again, Julian is not the only one who’s taken a life this week. We’re both killers now. “Strip,” he commands, stopping a couple of feet from the bed and releasing my

wrist. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are ripped out to accommodate the cast on his left arm, and with the bandage across his face, he looks wounded and dangerous at the same time—like a modern-day pirate after a raid. His right arm is bulging with muscle, and his uncovered eye is startlingly blue in his tanned face. I love him so much it hurts. Taking a step back, I begin to undress. My blouse is first, followed by my jeans. When I’m wearing only a white thong and a matching bra, Julian says hoarsely, “Climb on the bed. I want you on all fours, with your ass toward me.” Heat slithers down my spine, intensifying the growing ache between my legs. Turning, I do as he says, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. I remember the last time we had sex on this plane—and the bruises that decorated my thighs for days afterwards. I know Julian is not well enough for anything that strenuous, but that knowledge doesn’t diminish my trepidation or my hunger. With my husband, fear and desire go hand in hand. When I’m positioned to Julian’s satisfaction, with my ass at the height of his groin, he steps closer to me and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, pulling it down to my knees. I quiver at his touch, my sex clenching, and he groans, his hand trailing up my thigh to delve between my folds. “Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he whispers roughly as he pushes two large fingers into me. “So wet for me, and so tight… You want this, don’t you, baby? You want me to take you, to fuck you…” I gasp as he curls those fingers, hitting a spot that makes my whole body go taut. “Yes…” I can barely speak as waves of heat wash over me, clouding my mind. “Yes, please…” He chuckles, the sound low and filled with dark delight. His fingers withdraw, leaving me empty and pulsing with need. Before I can object, I hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down and feel the smooth, broad head of his cock brushing against my thighs. “Oh, I will,” he murmurs thickly, guiding himself toward my opening. “I will please you so fucking well”—the tip of his cock penetrates me, making my breath catch in my throat—“you’ll scream for me. Won’t you, baby?” And not waiting for my response, he grips my right hip and pushes in all the way, startling a gasping cry out of my throat. As always, his entry batters my senses, his thickness stretching me nearly to the point of pain. If I hadn’t been so turned on, he would’ve hurt me. As it is, his roughness only adds a delicious edge,

intensifying my arousal and inundating my sex with more moisture. With my underwear down around my knees, I can’t open my legs any wider, and he feels enormous inside me, every inch of him hard and burning hot. I expect him to set a brutal pace to match that first thrust, but now that he’s in, he moves slowly. Slowly and deliberately, his every movement calculated to maximize my pleasure. In and out, in and out… It feels like he’s stroking me from the inside, teasing out every bit of sensation my body is capable of producing. In and out, in and out… I’m close to orgasm, but I can’t get there, not with him moving at this snail’s pace. In and out… “Julian,” I groan, and he slows his pace even more, causing me to whimper in frustration. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs, withdrawing almost all the way. “Tell me exactly what you want.” “Fuck me,” I breathe out, my hands fisting in the sheets. “Please, just make me come.” He chuckles again, but the sound is strained, his breathing turning heavy and uneven. I feel his cock thickening further inside me, and I squeeze my inner muscles around it, willing him to move just a little faster, to give me that extra bit I need… And he finally does. Holding my hip, he picks up the pace, fucking me harder and faster. His thrusts reverberate through me, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating out from my core. My hands clutch at the sheets, my cries growing in volume as the tension inside me becomes unbearable, intolerable… and then I splinter into a million pieces, my body pulsing helplessly around his massive shaft. He groans, his fingers digging into my flesh as his grip on my hip tightens, and I feel him grinding against my ass, his cock jerking inside me as he finds his release. When it’s all over, he withdraws from me and takes a step back. Shaking from the intensity of my orgasm, I collapse onto my side and turn my head to look at him. He’s standing there with his jeans unzipped, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His gaze is filled with lingering desire as he stares at me, his eye glued to my thighs, where his seed is slowly leaking out of my opening. I flush and glance around the room, searching for a tissue. Thankfully, there is a box on a shelf near the bed. I reach for it and use a tissue to wipe away the evidence

of our joining. Julian observes my actions silently. Then he steps back, his expression growing shuttered again as he tucks his softening cock back inside his jeans and pulls up the zipper. Grabbing the blanket, I draw it up to cover my naked body. I feel cold and exposed all of a sudden, the heat inside me dissipating. Normally, Julian would hold me after sex, reinforcing our closeness and using tenderness to balance out the roughness. Today, however, he doesn’t seem inclined to do that. “Is everything okay?” I ask hesitantly. “Did I do something wrong?” He gives me a cool smile and sits down on the bed next to me. “What could you have done wrong, my pet?” Looking at me, he lifts his hand and picks up a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. Despite the playfulness of his gesture, there is a hard gleam in his eye that deepens my unease. I experience a sudden flash of intuition. “It’s the morning-after pill, isn’t it? Are you upset because I took it?” “Upset? Because you don’t want a child with me?” He laughs, but there is a harshness to the sound that twists my stomach into knots. “No, my pet, I’m not upset. I would make an awful father, and I know it.” I stare at him, trying to understand why his words are making me feel guilty. He’s a killer and a sadist, a man who ruthlessly abducted me and kept me captive, and yet I feel bad—as if I inadvertently hurt him. As if I truly did something wrong. “Julian…” I don’t know what to say. I can’t lie that he would make a good father. He would see right through me. So instead I ask cautiously, “Do you want to have children?” Then I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. He looks at me, his expression unreadable once more. “No, Nora,” he says quietly. “The last thing you and I need are children. You can have all the birth control implants you want. I won’t force you to get pregnant.” I exhale in sharp relief. “Okay, good. So then why—” Before I can conclude the question, Julian rises to his feet, signaling an end to our discussion. “I’ll be in the main cabin,” he says evenly. “I have some work to do. Come join me when you get dressed.”

And with that, he disappears from the room, leaving me lying in bed naked and confused.

3

J ulian I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF REVIEWING MY PORTFOLIO MANAGER’S WRITE-UP ON A POTENTIAL INVESTMENT when Nora quietly takes her seat next to me. Unable to resist the lure of her presence, I turn to look at her, watching as she begins reading her book. Now that I’ve had a few minutes apart from her, the irrational need to lash out and hurt her is gone. In its place is an inexplicable sadness… an odd and unexpected sense of loss. I don’t understand this. I didn’t lie to Nora when I said I don’t want children. I’ve never given the subject much thought, but now that I’m considering it, I can’t even imagine being a father. What would I do with a child? It would be just one more weakness for my enemies to exploit. I have no interest in babies, nor do I know how to raise them. My parents certainly weren’t role models in that regard. I should’ve been glad that Nora doesn’t want kids, but instead, when she brought up the morning-after pill, it felt like a kick to the gut. Like a rejection of the worst kind. I had been trying not to think about it, but seeing her wipe my seed off her thighs brought back those unwelcome emotions, reminded me that she doesn’t want this from me. That she’ll never want this from me. I don’t understand why that matters. I never planned to start a family with Nora. Marriage had been a way to cement our bond, nothing more. She’s my pet… my obsession and my possession. She loves me because I’ve made her love me, and I want her because she’s necessary to my existence. Children are not a part of this

dynamic. They can’t be. Catching me looking at her, Nora gives me a tentative smile. “What are you working on?” she asks, placing her book face down on her lap. “Still the drone design?” “No, baby.” I force myself to focus on the fact that she came for me in Tajikistan —that she loves me enough to do something so insane—and my mood begins to lift, the lingering tightness in my chest fading. “What is it then?” she persists, and I smile involuntarily, amused by her inquisitiveness. Nora is no longer content to be on the fringes of my life; she wants to know everything, and she’s growing bolder in her quest for answers. If this were anyone else, I’d be annoyed. With Nora, however, I don’t mind. I enjoy her curiosity. “I’m going over a prospective investment,” I explain. She looks intrigued, so I tell her that I’m reading about a biotech startup that specializes in brain chemistry drugs. If I decide to proceed, I would be a so-called angel investor—one of the first to fund the company. Venture capital is something that’s always interested me; I like to stay on top of innovation in all kinds of fields and profit from it to the best of my ability. She listens to my explanation with evident fascination, those dark eyes of hers focused on my face the entire time. I like it, the way she absorbs knowledge like a sponge. It makes it fun for me to teach her, to show her different parts of my world. The few questions she asks are insightful, showing me that she understands exactly what I’m talking about. “If that drug can erase memories, couldn’t it be used to treat PTSD and such?” she asks after I describe to her one of the startup’s more promising products, and I agree, having arrived at the same conclusion just minutes earlier. I hadn’t anticipated this when I kidnapped her—the sheer enjoyment I would get out of spending time with her. When I first took her, I saw her solely as a sexual object, a beautiful girl who obsessed me so much I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. I didn’t expect her to become my companion as well as my bedmate, didn’t realize I would enjoy simply being with her. I didn’t know she would come to own me as much as I own her. It really is for the best that she remembered to take the pill. Once we’re both healed, our life can go back to normal.

Our normal, at least. I will have Nora with me, and I won’t let her out of my sight ever again.

IT’S DARK home.

WHEN WE LAND.

I

LEAD A SLEEPY

NORA

OFF THE PLANE, AND WE GET IN THE CAR TO DRIVE

Home. It’s strange thinking of this place as home again. It was my home when I was a child, and I hated it. I hated everything about it, from the humid heat to the pungent smell of moist jungle vegetation. Yet when I got older, I found myself drawn to places just like this—to tropical locations that reminded me of the jungle where I grew up. It took Nora’s presence here to make me realize I didn’t hate the estate after all. This place was never the object of my hatred—it was always the person it belonged to. My father. Nora nestles closer to me in the backseat, interrupting my musings, and yawns delicately into my shoulder. The sound is so kitten-like that I laugh and wrap my right arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. “Sleepy?” “Hmm-mm.” She rubs her face against my neck. “You smell good,” she mumbles. And just like that, my cock turns rock-hard, reacting to the feel of her lips brushing against my skin. Fuck. I blow out a frustrated breath as the car stops in front of the house. Ana and Rosa are standing on the front porch, ready to greet us, and my dick is bursting out of my pants. I shift to the side, trying to ease Nora away from me so my erection can subside. Her elbow brushes against my ribs, and I tense in pain, mentally cursing Majid to hell and back. I can’t fucking wait to heal. Even sex earlier today hurt, especially when I set a harder pace at the end. Not that it lessened the pleasure much—I’m pretty sure I could fuck Nora on my deathbed and enjoy it—but it still annoyed me. I like pain with sex, but only when I’m the one doling it out. On the plus side, my erection is no longer quite as visible. “We’re there,” I tell Nora as she rubs her eyes and yawns again. “I’d carry you over the threshold, but I’m afraid I might not make it this time.”

She blinks, looking confused for a moment, but then a wide smile spreads across her face. She remembers too. “I’m no longer a new bride,” she says, grinning. “So you’re off the hook.” I grin back at her, unusual contentment filling my chest, and open the car door. As soon as we climb out, we’re attacked by two crying women. Or, more precisely, Nora is attacked. I just watch in bemusement as Ana and Rosa hug her, laughing and sobbing at the same time. After they’re done with Nora, they turn toward me, and Ana sobs harder as she catches a glimpse of my bandaged face. “Oh, pobrecito…” She lapses into Spanish like she sometimes does when she’s upset, and Nora and Rosa try to soothe her, saying that I’ll recover, that the important thing is that I’m alive. The housekeeper’s concern is both touching and disconcerting. I’ve always been vaguely aware that the older woman cares about me, but I didn’t realize her feelings are this strong. For as long as I can recall, Ana has been a warm, comforting presence at the estate—someone who fed me, cleaned after me, and bandaged my childhood scrapes and bruises. I’ve never let her get too close, though, and for the first time I feel a twinge of regret about that. Neither she nor Rosa, the maid who’s Nora’s friend, try to hug me like they did my wife. They think I wouldn’t welcome it, and they’re probably right. The only person I want affection from—no, crave affection from—is Nora, and that’s a recent development. After the three women are done with their emotional reunion, we all head into the house. Despite the late hour, Nora and I are hungry, and we devour the meal Ana prepared for us with record speed. Then, replete and exhausted, we go upstairs to our bedroom. A quick shower and an equally quick fuck later, I drift off to sleep with Nora’s head pillowed on my uninjured shoulder. I’m ready for our normal life to resume.

THE SCREAM THAT WAKES ME UP IS BLOODCURDLING. FULL OF off the walls and floods my veins with adrenaline.

DESPERATION AND TERROR, IT BOUNCES

I’m on my feet and off the bed before I even realize what’s happening. As the sound dies down, I grab the gun hidden in my nightstand and simultaneously hit the light switch with the back of my hand.

The nightstand lamp turns on, illuminating the room, and I see Nora huddled in the middle of the bed, shaking under the blanket. There’s no one else in the room, no visible threat. My racing heartbeat begins to slow. We didn’t get attacked. The scream must’ve come from Nora. She’s having yet another nightmare. Fuck. The urge to do violence is almost too strong to be contained. It fills every cell of my body until I’m shaking with rage, with the need to kill and destroy every motherfucker responsible for this. Starting potentially with myself. Turning away, I draw in several deep breaths, trying to hold back the churning fury within me. There’s no one I can lash out at here, no enemy I can crush to take the edge off my temper. There’s only Nora, who needs me to be calm and rational. After a few seconds pass and I’m certain I won’t hurt her, I turn back to face her and put the gun back into the nightstand drawer. Then I climb back on the bed. My ribs and shoulder ache dully, and my head throbs from my sudden movements, but that pain is nothing compared to the heaviness in my chest. “Nora, baby…” Leaning over her, I pull the blanket off her naked body and place my right hand on her shoulder to shake her awake. “Wake up, my pet. It’s just a dream.” Her skin is clammy to the touch, and the whimpering noises she’s making pain me more than any of Majid’s torture. Fresh rage wells up, but I suppress it, keeping my voice low and even. “Wake up, baby. You’re dreaming. It’s not real.” She rolls over onto her back, still shaking, and I see that her eyes are open. Open and unseeing as she gasps for air, her chest heaving and her hands clutching at the sheets in desperation. She’s not having a dream—she’s in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, likely one caused by her nightmare. I want to throw my head back and roar out my rage, but I don’t. She needs me now, and I won’t let her down. Not ever again. Rising to my knees, I straddle her hips and bend down to grasp her jaw in my right hand. “Nora, look at me.” I make the words a command, my tone harsh and

demanding. “Look at me, my pet. Now.” Despite her panic, she obeys, her conditioning too strong to be denied. Her eyes flick up to meet my gaze, and I see that her pupils are dilated, her irises nearly black. She’s also hyperventilating, her mouth open as she tries to draw in enough air. Fuck and double fuck. My first instinct is to hold her against me, to be gentle and calming, but I remember her panic attack during sex the night before and the way nothing seemed to help her then. Nothing except violence. So instead of murmuring useless endearments, I lean down, propping myself up on my right elbow, and take her mouth in a hard, brutal kiss, using my grip on her jaw to keep her still. My lips smash against hers, and my teeth sink into her lower lip as I roughly push my tongue inside, invading her, hurting her. The sadistic monster inside me thrills with delight at the metallic taste of her blood, while the rest of me aches at her mind’s agony. She gasps into my mouth, but the sound is different now, more startled than desperate. I can feel her chest expanding as she draws in a full breath, and I realize that my crude method of reaching her is working, that she’s now focusing on the physical rather than the mental pain. Her fists uncurl, her hands no longer grasping at the sheets, and she stills underneath me, her body tensing with a different sort of fear. A fear that arouses the darkest, most predatory part of me—the part that wants to subjugate and devour her. The rage that still simmers within me adds to this hunger, mingling with it and feeding upon it until I become this need, this mindless, terrible craving. My focus narrows, sharpens, until all I’m aware of is the silky feel of her lips, flavored with blood, and the curves of her naked body, small and helpless underneath mine. My cock stiffens to a painful hardness as she grabs my right forearm with both of her hands and makes a soft, agonized sound in the back of her throat. Suddenly, the kiss is no longer enough. I have to have all of her. Letting go of her jaw, I push myself up with one arm, rising onto my knees. She stares up at me, her lips swollen and tinged with red. She’s still panting, her chest rising and falling in rapid tempo, but the unseeing look in her eyes is gone. She’s with me—she’s fully present—and that’s all my inner demon requires at the moment.

I climb off her in one swift motion, ignoring the pang of pain in my ribs, and reach into the bedside drawer again. Only this time, instead of a gun, I pull out a braided leather flogger. Nora’s eyes widen. “Julian?” Her voice is breathless with remnants of her panic. “Turn over.” The words come out rough, betraying the violent need raging inside me. “Now.” She hesitates for a moment, then rolls over onto her stomach. “On your knees.” She gets on all fours and turns her head to look at me, awaiting further instructions. Such a well-trained pet. Her obedience heightens my lust, my desperate hunger to possess her. The position showcases her ass and exposes her pussy, causing my dick to swell up even more. I want to swallow her whole, lay claim to every inch of her. My muscles tense, and almost without thinking, I swing the flogger, letting the leather threads bite into the smooth skin of her buttocks. She cries out, her eyes closing as her body stiffens, and the darkness inside me takes over, obliterating all remnants of rational thought. I watch, almost as if from a distance, as the flogger kisses her skin again and again, leaving pink marks and reddening streaks on her back, ass, and thighs. She flinches at the first few strokes, crying out in pain, but as I find a rhythm, her body begins to relax into the strokes, anticipating rather than resisting the sting. Her cries soften, and her pussy folds begin to glisten with moisture. She’s responding to the flogging as if to a sensual caress. My balls tighten as I drop the flogger and crawl up behind her, looping my right forearm under her hips to drag her toward me. My cock presses against her entrance, and I groan as I feel her slick heat rubbing against the tip, coating it with creamy moisture. She moans, arching her back, and I push into her, forcing her flesh to engulf me, to take me in. Her pussy is unbelievably tight, her inner muscles squeezing me like a fist. It doesn’t matter how often I fuck her; each time, it’s new in some way, the sensations sharper and richer than in my memory. I could stay inside her forever, feeling her softness, her moist heat. Except I can’t—the primitive urge to move, to thrust into her, is too strong to be denied. My heartbeat drums loudly in my ears, my body pulsing with savage need.

I hold still for as long as I can, and then I begin to move, each thrust causing my groin to press against her pink, freshly flogged ass. She moans with every stroke, her body tightening around my invading cock, and the sensations build upon each other, intensifying to an unbearable degree. My skin prickles from my impending orgasm, and I begin to drive into her faster, harder, until I feel her contractions begin, her pussy rippling around me as she screams out my name. It’s the last straw. The orgasm I’ve been holding off overtakes me with explosive force, and I erupt deep inside her with a hoarse groan, stunning pleasure rocketing through my body. It’s a bliss unlike any other—an ecstasy that goes far beyond physical satisfaction. It’s something I’ve experienced only with Nora. Will ever experience only with Nora. Breathing heavily, I withdraw from her body, letting her collapse on the bed. Then I lower myself onto my right side and gather her against me, knowing she needs tenderness after brutality. And in a way, I need it too. I need to comfort her, to soothe her. To bind her to me when she’s at her most vulnerable, so I can ensure her love. It might be cold-blooded, but I don’t leave important things like that to chance. She turns around to face me and buries her face in the crook of my neck, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. “Hold me, Julian,” she whispers, and I do. I will always hold her, no matter what.

II THE HEALING

4

N ora “JULIAN, DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE?” Entering my husband’s office, I walk over to his desk. He looks up to greet me, and I marvel yet again at the tremendous progress he’s made in his recovery over the past six weeks. His arm cast is gone now, as are all the bandages. Julian tackled healing the same way as he approaches any goal: with single-minded ruthlessness and determination. As soon as Dr. Goldberg approved removal of the cast, Julian dove headfirst into physical therapy, spending hours each day on exercises designed to restore mobility and function to the left side of his body. With his scars beginning to fade, there are days when I almost forget that he was so badly injured—that he had gone through hell and emerged relatively unscathed. Even his eye implant doesn’t seem jarring to me anymore. Our stay at the clinic in Switzerland and all the procedures cost Julian millions—I saw the bill in his inbox—but the doctors did a phenomenal job with his face. The implant matches Julian’s real eye so perfectly that when he looks at me straight on, it’s almost impossible to tell that it’s fake. I have no idea how they managed to make it that exact shade of blue, but they did, right down to every striation and natural color variation. The fake pupil even shrinks in bright light and dilates when Julian is excited or aroused, thanks to a biofeedback device Julian wears as a watch. The watch measures his pulse and skin conductance and sends the information to the implant, allowing for the most natural-looking responses. The only thing the implant doesn’t do is replicate normal eye motion… or allow Julian to see from it.

“That part—the connection to the brain—will take a few more years,” Julian told me a couple of weeks ago. “They’re working on it now in a lab in Israel.” So yeah, the implant is remarkably lifelike. And Julian is learning to minimize the weirdness of only one eye moving by turning his entire head to look at something straight on—like the way he’s looking at me now. “What is it, my pet?” he asks, smiling. His beautiful lips are fully healed now, and the fading scars on his left cheek add a dangerous, yet appealing edge to his looks. It’s as if a bit of his inner darkness is visible on his face now, but instead of repelling me, it draws me to him even more. Probably because I need that darkness now—it’s the only thing keeping me sane these days. “Monsieur Bernard just told me that he has a friend who’d be interested in displaying my paintings,” I say, trying to sound like world-class art instructors give me those kinds of news all the time. “He apparently owns an art gallery in Paris.” Julian’s eyebrows rise. “Is that right?” I nod, barely able to contain my excitement. “Yes, can you believe it? Monsieur Bernard sent him photos of my latest works, and the gallery owner said they’re exactly what he’s been looking for.” “That’s wonderful, baby.” Julian’s smile widens, and he reaches over to pull me down into his lap. “I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you.” I want to jump up and down, but I settle for looping my arms around his neck and planting an excited kiss on his mouth. Of course, as soon as our lips touch, Julian takes over the kiss, turning my spontaneous expression of gratitude into a prolonged sensual assault that leaves me breathless and dazed. When he finally lets me come up for air, it takes me a second to remember how I ended up on his lap. “I’m so proud of you,” Julian repeats, his voice soft as he looks at me. I can feel the bulge of his erection, but he doesn’t take it further. Instead, he gives me a warm smile and says, “I will have to thank Monsieur Bernard for taking those photos. If the gallery owner does end up displaying your work, perhaps we’ll take a little trip to Paris.” “Really?” I gape at him. This is the first time Julian’s indicated that we might not be staying on the estate all the time. And to go to Paris? I can hardly believe my ears.

He nods, still smiling. “Sure. Al-Quadar is no longer a threat. It’s as safe as it’s ever likely to be, so with sufficient security, I don’t see why we can’t visit Paris in a bit—especially if there’s a compelling reason to do so.” I grin at him, trying not to think about how Al-Quadar stopped being a threat. Julian hasn’t told me much about that operation, but the little I do know is enough. When our rescuers raided the construction site in Tajikistan, they uncovered a tremendous amount of valuable information. After our return to the estate, every person even remotely connected to the terrorist organization was eliminated, some quickly and others slowly and painfully. I don’t know how many deaths took place in recent weeks, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the body count is well into the triple digits. The man who’s holding me right now is responsible for what amounts to a mass slaughter—and I still love him with all my heart. “A trip to Paris would be amazing,” I say, pushing aside all thoughts of AlQuadar. Instead, I focus on the mind-boggling possibility that my paintings might be displayed in an actual art gallery. My paintings. It’s so hard to believe that I ask Julian cautiously, “You didn’t tell Monsieur Bernard to do this, right? Or somehow bribe this friend of his?” Since Julian used his financial clout to get me into the highly selective online program at Stanford University, I wouldn’t put anything past him. “No, baby.” Julian’s smile broadens. “I didn’t have anything to do with this, I promise. You have a genuine talent, and your instructor knows it.” I believe him, if only because Monsieur Bernard has been raving about my paintings in recent weeks. The darkness and complexity that he saw in my art early on is even more visible now. Painting is one of the ways I’ve been dealing with my nightmares and panic attacks. Sexual pain is another—but that’s a whole other matter. Not wanting to dwell on my fucked-up mental state, I jump off Julian’s lap. “I’m going to tell my parents,” I say brightly as I head for the door. “They’ll be very excited.” “I’m sure they will be.” And giving me one last smile, he turns his attention back to his computer screen.

MY

VIDEO CHAT WITH MY PARENTS TAKES CLOSE TO AN HOUR.

AS

ALWAYS,

I

HAVE TO SPEND A SOLID

twenty minutes assuring my mom that I’m safe, that I’m still at the estate in Colombia, and that no one is coming after us. After I disappeared from the Chicago Ridge Mall, my parents have become convinced that Julian’s enemies are everywhere, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. If I don’t call or email my parents daily nowadays, they go into complete panic mode. Not that they think I’m safe with Julian, of course. In their minds, he’s no different than the terrorists who kidnapped me. In fact, I think my dad believes Julian is worse—given that my husband stole me away not once, but twice. “A gallery in Paris? Why, that’s wonderful, honey!” my mom exclaims when I finally get around to sharing my news with her. “We’re so happy for you!” “Are you still focusing on your classes?” my dad asks, frowning. He’s less enthusiastic about my painting. I think he’s afraid I will abandon all thoughts of college and become a starving artist—a fear that’s beyond illogical, given the circumstances. If there’s one thing I don’t need to worry about these days, it’s money. Julian recently told me that he set up a trust fund in my name and also named me as the sole beneficiary in his will. This way, if anything happens to him, I’ll still be taken care of—by which he means I’ll have enough money to run a small country. “Yes, Dad,” I say patiently. “Don’t worry—I’m still focusing on school. I told you, I’m just taking a lighter load this quarter. I’ll make up for it by taking a couple of classes in the summer.” The lighter load is something Julian insisted on when we returned, and despite my initial objections, I’m glad he did. For some reason, everything feels harder this quarter. My papers take me forever to write, and studying for exams is exhausting. Even with the lighter load, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, but that’s not something I want to tell my parents. It’s bad enough that Julian is worried. So worried, in fact, that he brought a shrink to the estate for me. “Are you sure, honey?” my mom asks, peering at me with concern. “Maybe you should take the summer off, relax for a couple of months. You look really tired.” Shit. I was hoping the dark circles under my eyes wouldn’t be as noticeable on video. “I’m fine, Mom,” I say. “I just stayed up late studying and painting, that’s all.” I also woke up in the middle of the night screaming and couldn’t fall back asleep until Julian whipped and fucked me, but my parents don’t need to know that. They wouldn’t understand that pain is therapeutic for me now, that I’ve grown to need

something I once dreaded. That the cruel side of Julian is something I’ve wholeheartedly embraced. As we wrap up the conversation, I remember something Julian promised me once: that he’d take me to visit my family when the danger from Al-Quadar subsided. My heart jumps in excitement at the thought, but I decide to keep quiet until I have a chance to ask Julian about it at dinner. For now, I just tell my parents that we’ll speak again soon, and log off from the secure connection. There are now two things I need to discuss with Julian tonight… and both will be somewhat tricky.

“A TRIP TO CHICAGO?” JULIAN LOOKS VAGUELY SURPRISED WHEN I BRING IT UP. “BUT YOU SAW YOUR parents less than two months ago.” “Right, for all of one evening before Al-Quadar kidnapped me.” I blow on my cream-of-mushroom soup before dipping my spoon into the hot liquid. “I was also worried sick about you, so I’m not sure that evening counts as quality time with my family.” Julian studies me for a second before murmuring, “All right. You may have a point.” Then he starts eating his own soup while I stare at him, hardly able to believe he would agree so easily. “So we’ll go?” I want to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. He shrugs. “If you want. After your exams are over, I’ll take you there. We’ll have to beef up the security around your parents, of course, and take a few extra precautions, but it should be possible.” I begin to smile, but then I remember something he told me once. “Do you think our going there would put my parents in danger?” I ask, my stomach twisting with sudden nausea. “Could they become a target if you’re seen as being in close contact with them?” Julian gives me an even look. “It’s a possibility. A remote possibility, but it’s not completely out of the question. There was obviously much greater danger when the terrorists were out for blood, but I do have other enemies. None so determined—at least as far as I know—but there are plenty of individuals and organizations who’d love to get their hands on me.” “Right.” I swallow a spoonful of soup and immediately regret it, as the creamy

liquid makes me feel even more nauseated. “And you think they might use my parents as leverage?” “It’s unlikely, but I can’t completely rule it out. This is why I’ve had the security detail on your family from the start. It’s a precaution, nothing more—but it’s a necessary precaution, in my opinion.” I take a deep breath, doing my best to ignore the churning in my belly. “So would our going to Chicago increase the danger to them or not?” “I don’t know, my pet.” Julian looks faintly regretful. “My best guess is no, but there are no guarantees.” I pick up a glass and take a sip of water, trying to get rid of the sickeningly fatty taste of soup on my tongue. “What if I go by myself?” I suggest without much thought. “Then nobody will think you’re in any way close to your in-laws.” Julian’s face darkens in an instant. “By yourself?” I nod, instinctively tensing at the shift in his mood. Even though I know Julian wouldn’t harm me, I can’t help being wary of his temper. I may be with him willingly now, but he still has absolute control over my life—just as he did when I was his captive on the island. In all the ways that count, he’s still my dangerous, amoral kidnapper. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself.” Julian’s voice is soft, but the look in his eyes is hard, like steel. “If you want me to take you to Chicago, I’ll do it—but you’re not stepping a foot off this estate without me. Do you understand me, Nora?” “Yes.” I take a few more sips of water, still feeling the aftertaste of soup in my throat. What the hell did Ana put in it this evening? Even the smell of it is unpleasant. “I understand.” My words come out sounding calm rather than resentful—mostly because I’m feeling too sick to get angry at Julian’s autocratic attitude. Downing the rest of my water, I say, “It was just a suggestion.” Julian stares at me for a few moments, then gives a minute nod. “All right.” Before he has a chance to say anything more, Ana walks into the room, carrying our next course—fish with rice and beans. Seeing my nearly untouched soup, she frowns. “You don’t like the soup, Nora?” “No, it’s delicious,” I lie. “I’m just not that hungry and wanted to save room for the main course.” Ana gives me a concerned look, but clears off our dishes without further

comment. My appetite has been unpredictable since our return, so this is not the first time I’ve left a meal untouched. I haven’t weighed myself, but I think I’ve lost at least a couple of pounds in recent weeks—which is not necessarily a good thing in my case. Julian frowns also, but doesn’t say anything as I start playing with the rice on my plate. I really, really don’t want food right now, but I force myself to pick up a forkful and put it in my mouth. The rice also tastes too rich, but I determinedly chew and swallow, not wanting to have Julian focus on my lack of eating. I have something more important to discuss with him. As soon as Ana leaves the room, I put my fork down and look at my husband. “I got another message,” I say quietly. Julian’s jaw tightens. “I know.” “You’re monitoring my email now?” My stomach roils again, this time with a mix of nausea and anger. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the trackers still implanted in my body, but something about this casual invasion of privacy really upsets me. “Of course.” He doesn’t look the least bit apologetic or remorseful. “I figured he might contact you again.” I inhale slowly, reminding myself that arguing about this is futile. “Then you know Peter won’t leave us alone until you give him that list,” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “Somehow he knows that you got it from Frank last week. His message said, ‘It’s time to remember your promise.’ He won’t go away, Julian.” “If he keeps harassing you via email, I’ll make sure he goes away for good.” Julian’s tone hardens. “He knows better than to try to get to me through you.” “He saved your life and my life,” I remind him for the dozenth time. “I know you’re mad that he disobeyed your orders, but if he hadn’t, you’d be dead.” “And you wouldn’t be having these nightmares and panic attacks.” Julian’s sensuous lips flatten. “It’s been six weeks, Nora, and you haven’t gotten any better. You barely sleep, hardly eat, and I can’t remember the last time you went for a run. He should’ve never put you in that kind of danger—” “He did what was necessary!” Slapping my palms on the table, I rise to my feet, no longer able to sit still. “You think I’d be feeling better if you died? You think I wouldn’t have nightmares if Majid mailed us your body in pieces? My fucked-up head is not Peter’s fault, so stop blaming him for this mess! I promised him that

list, and I want to give it to him!” By the time I get to the last sentence, I’m full-on yelling, too angry to care about Julian’s temper. He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. “Sit down, Nora.” His voice is dangerously soft. “Now.” “Or what?” I challenge, feeling uncharacteristically reckless. “Or what, Julian?” “Do you really want to go there, my pet?” he asks in that same soft tone. When I don’t respond, he points at my chair. “Sit down and finish the meal Ana prepared for you.” I hold his gaze for a few more seconds, not wanting to give in, but then I lower myself back into my chair. The surge of defiant anger that came upon me so suddenly is gone, leaving me drained and wanting to cry. I hate the fact that Julian can win a fight so easily, that I’m still not fearless enough to test his limits. Not over something as minor as finishing a meal, at least. If I’m going to defy him, it will be over something that matters. Dropping my gaze to my plate, I pick up my fork and spear a piece of fish, trying to ignore my growing queasiness. My stomach churns with every bite, but I persist until I finish nearly half of my portion. Julian, in the meantime, polishes off everything on his plate, his appetite obviously unaffected by our argument. “Dessert? Tea? Coffee?” Ana asks when she comes back to clear off our plates, and I mutely shake my head, not wanting to prolong the ordeal of this tense meal. “I’ll pass too, thanks, Ana,” Julian says politely. “Everything was wonderful, as usual.” Ana beams at him, clearly pleased. I’ve noticed that Julian has made it a point to praise her more often since our return—that in general, his manner toward her is slightly warmer these days. I don’t know what caused the change, but I know Ana appreciates it. Rosa told me the housekeeper has been all but dancing on air in recent weeks. As Ana begins clearing off the table, Julian gets up and walks around to offer me his arm. I loop my hand through the crook of his elbow, and we head upstairs in silence. As we walk, my heart starts beating faster and my queasiness intensifies. Tonight’s argument only confirms what I have known for a while: Julian is never going to see reason on the issue of Peter’s list. If I’m to keep my promise, I will have to take matters into my own hands and brave the consequences of my husband’s displeasure.

Even if the thought of that literally makes me sick.

5

J ulian AS SOON WE ENTER THE BEDROOM, NORA EXCUSES HERSELF TO FRESHEN UP. She disappears into the bathroom, and I undress, enjoying the freedom of having both arms unencumbered by a cast. My left shoulder still aches during exercise, but I’m regaining my strength and range of motion. Even the loss of my eye doesn’t bother me that much; the headaches and eye strain are lessening by the day, and I’ve learned to compensate for the blind spot to my left by turning my head more frequently. All in all, I’m pretty much back to normal—but I can’t say the same about Nora. Every time I wake up to her screams, every time she starts hyperventilating out of nowhere, a toxic mixture of rage and guilt blankets my chest. I’ve never been prone to dwelling on the past, but I can’t help wishing that I could somehow rewind the clock, undo the unintended consequences of my fucked-up choices. That I could have Nora—my Nora—back. She slips out of the bathroom a few minutes later, already showered and wearing a white fleece robe. Her smooth skin is glowing from the hot water, and her long, dark hair is piled haphazardly on top of her head, exposing her slender neck. A neck that’s beginning to look far too delicate, almost frail from her weight loss. “Come here, baby,” I murmur, patting the bed next to me. I had contemplated punishing her for her outburst at dinner, but all I want to do now is hold her. Well, fuck her and hold her, but the fucking can wait.

She walks toward me, and I reach for her as soon as she’s within arm’s length. She feels disturbingly light as I tug her down to my lap, the shadows under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. She’s completely worn out, and I don’t know what to do. The therapist I brought to the estate three weeks ago appears to be useless, and Nora refuses to take the anti-anxiety meds the doctor prescribed for her. I could force her, of course, but I distrust those pills myself. The last thing I want is to get Nora hooked on them. The only thing that seems to help her—temporarily, at least—is an emotional release achieved through sexual pain. It’s something she requires now, something she begs for nearly every night. My pet has become as addicted to receiving pain as I am to giving it—and that development both pleases and devastates me. “You barely ate again,” I say softly, settling her more comfortably on my knees. Reaching up, I free her hair from the clip holding it up, and watch the dark mass spill down her back in a thick, glossy stream. “Why, baby? Is there something wrong with Ana’s cooking?” “What? No—” she begins saying, but then she corrects herself. “Well, maybe. I just didn’t like the soup today. It was too rich.” “I’ll ask Ana not to make it in the future, then.” I distinctly remember Nora eating the soup and loving it before, but I decide against reminding her of that. I don’t care what she eats, as long as she stays healthy. “Just please don’t tell her that I complained.” Nora’s gaze fills with worry. “I wouldn’t want her to be offended.” “Of course.” A smile tugs at my lips. “I’ll take your secret to the grave, I promise.” An answering smile appears on her face, lighting up her features, and I feel much of the lingering tension between us dissipating. “Thank you,” she whispers, staring at me. Then, placing one small hand on my shoulder and another on the back of my neck, she closes her eyes and presses her soft lips to mine. I inhale sharply, my body tightening with instant lust. Her breath is sweet and minty, her slight weight warm in my arms. I can feel her slender fingers on my skin, smell her delicate scent, and my spine prickles with growing hunger, my cock hardening against the curve of her ass. This time, though, the hunger doesn’t come with the need to hurt her. Instead,

it’s tinged with tenderness. The darker impulses are there, but they’re overshadowed by my stark awareness of her fragility. Tonight, more than ever, I want to protect her, heal her from the wounds she should’ve never sustained. I want to be her hero, her savior. For just one night, I want to be the husband of her dreams. Closing my eyes, I focus on her taste, on the way her breathing changes as I deepen the kiss. The way her head falls back and her body melts against mine, her fingernails gently scratching at my scalp as her hand slides into my hair. She’s my world, my everything, and I want her so much I ache with it. She’s still bundled in her fleecy robe, the material soft on my bare thighs and cock. As good as it feels, however, I know her naked flesh will feel even better, so I grasp the tie at her waist, pulling on it. At the same time, I lift my head and open my eyes to look at her. As the tie unravels, her robe parts, exposing a V of smooth, tan skin. I can see the inside curves of her breasts and the taut flatness of her belly, but her nipples and lower body are still covered, as if by design. It’s an erotic visual, made even more sensual by the way she’s breathing, her ribcage moving up and down in a fast, panting rhythm. Her lips are reddened from the kiss, and her skin is softly flushed. My little pet is turned on. As if sensing my gaze on her, she opens her eyes, her long lashes sweeping up. We look at each other, and the aching need inside me grows. It’s a feeling that’s somehow different from the lust surging through my body, a complex want that’s layered on top of my usual obsessive craving. A yearning that terrifies me with its intensity. “Tell me you love me.” All of a sudden, I need this from her. “Tell me, Nora.” She doesn’t blink. “I love you.” My arms tighten around her. “Again.” “I love you, Julian.” She holds my gaze, her eyes soft and dark. “More than anything else in the world.” Fuck. My chest constricts, the ache intensifying rather than easing. It’s too much, yet somehow not enough. Bending my head, I claim her lips again, putting all the things I can’t express in

words into that kiss. I feel her breathing growing shallow, and I know I’m holding her too tightly, but I can’t help it. Mixed with the overwhelming longing is a strange, irrational fear. Fear that I might lose her. That she might slip away, like some beautiful, ephemeral dream. No. I angle my head to delve deeper into her mouth, letting her taste, her scent, absorb me, chasing away the shadows. She won’t slip away. I won’t let her. She’s real, and she’s mine. I kiss her until we’re both gasping for air, until the fear inside me abates, burned away by the scorching heat. Then I make love to her, as tenderly as I can. When I drift off to sleep some time later, it’s with Nora cocooned safely in my embrace.

6

N ora IT TAKES ALL OF MY WILLPOWER TO REMAIN AWAKE AS I HEAR JULIAN’S BREATHING TAKE ON THE EVEN rhythm of sleep. My own eyelids feel heavy, my body lethargic from exhaustion and sexual satiation. All I want to do is close my eyes and let the comforting darkness swallow me, but I can’t. There’s something I must do first. I wait until I’m certain Julian is asleep, and then I carefully wriggle out of his hold. To my relief, he doesn’t stir, so I get up and find the robe that had fallen on the floor during sex. Quietly putting it on, I pad barefoot into the bathroom. My stomach, still unsettled from dinner, roils with nausea again, and I have to swallow several times to keep the food from coming back up. It’s probably not the best idea to do this when I’m feeling sick. I know that—but I also know that if I don’t do this now, I may not have the courage to attempt it later. And I need to do this. I need to fulfill my promise, to repay the debt I owe Peter. It’s important to me. I don’t want to be the girl who can’t take any action on her own, the wife who always lives in her husband’s shadow. I don’t want to be Julian’s helpless little pet for the rest of my life. Splashing cold water on my face, I take several deep breaths to quell my nausea and walk back into the bedroom. The shades are open just a sliver, but the moon is full tonight, and there’s enough light for me to see where I’m going. My destination is the dresser, on top of which Julian’s laptop is sitting. He

doesn’t always bring the computer into the bedroom, but he did tonight—which is another reason why I don’t want to wait to implement my plan. The plan itself is beyond simple. I’m going to take the laptop, access Julian’s email, and send the list to Peter. If everything goes well, Julian won’t find out about this for a while. And by the time he does, it will be too late. I will have repaid my debt to Julian’s former security consultant, and my conscience will be clear. Well, as clear as it can be knowing that Peter will likely kill the people on that list in horrifying ways. No, don’t think about it. I remind myself that those people are responsible for the deaths of Peter’s wife and son. They’re not innocent civilians, and I shouldn’t think of them as such. The only thing I should worry about at the moment is getting the list to Peter without waking up Julian. I walk across the room as quietly as I can, my heart thumping heavily in my chest. When I reach the dresser, I stop and listen. All is quiet. Julian must still be asleep. Biting my lip, I reach for the laptop and pick it up. Then I pause to listen again. The room is still silent. Exhaling slowly, I walk back toward the bathroom, cradling the laptop against my chest. When I get there, I slip inside, lock the door behind me, and sit down on the edge of the Jacuzzi. So far, so good. Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I open the laptop. A password request box pops up. I take another deep breath, fighting my worsening nausea. I expected this. Julian is paranoid about security and changes his password at least once a week. However, the last time he changed it was the day after Frank, Julian’s CIA contact, emailed him the list. Julian changed it when I was already hatching my plan—and I made sure I was nearby when he did so. I didn’t stare at his laptop, of course. That would’ve been suspicious. Instead, I quietly filmed him with my smartphone while pretending to be checking my email. Now if only I interpreted the recorded keystrokes correctly… Holding my breath, I put in “NML_#042160” and hit “enter.”

The computer screen blinks… and I’m in. My breath whooshes out in relief. Now all I need to do is find the email from Frank, open the attachment, log into my own email, and send the list to the same email address that Peter has been contacting me from. Should be easy enough, especially if I can keep my dinner down. “Nora?” A knock startles me so much that I almost drop the computer. My lungs seize with panic, and I freeze, staring at the door. Julian knocks again. “Nora, baby, are you all right?” He doesn’t know I have his computer. The realization causes me to start breathing again. “Just using the bathroom,” I call out, hoping Julian doesn’t hear the adrenalineinduced shakiness in my voice. At the same time, I open Julian’s email program and begin searching for Frank’s name. “I’ll be out soon.” “Of course, baby, take your time.” The words are accompanied by the fading sound of footsteps. I let out a relieved breath. I have a few more minutes. I begin scanning through the emails containing the word “Frank.” There are over a dozen from last week, but the one I want should have a little attachment icon next to it… Aha! There. Quickly, I open it. It’s a spreadsheet containing names and addresses. Automatically, I glance through them. There are over a dozen rows, and the addresses run the gamut from cities in Europe to various towns in the United States. One in particular jumps out at me: Homer Glen, Illinois. It’s a place near Oak Lawn, my hometown. Less than a forty-minute drive from my parents’ house. Stunned, I read the name next to the address. George Cobakis. Thank God. It’s nobody I know. “Nora?” Julian’s voice is back, and the tense note in it makes my heart jump into my throat. His next words confirm my fear. “Nora, do you have my computer?” “What? Why?” I hope I don’t sound as guilty as I feel. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Frantically, I save the list to the desktop and open a new browser.

“Because my laptop is missing.” His voice is tight with the beginnings of fury. “Are you in there with it?” “What? No!” Even I can hear the lie in my voice. My hands are beginning to shake, but I get to the Gmail page and begin putting in my username and password. The doorknob rattles. “Nora, open the door. Right now.” I don’t respond. My hands are shaking so much that I mistype the password and have to put it in again. “Nora!” Julian bangs on the door. “Open this fucking door before I break it down!” I’m finally in my Gmail. My heart hammering in my chest, I search for the last email from Peter. Bang. The door shakes from a hard kick. My nausea intensifies, my pulse racing as I find the email. Bang. Bang. More kicks against the door as I click “reply” and attach the list. Bang. Bang. Bang. I hit “Send”—and the door flies off the hinges, crashing to the floor in front of me. Julian is standing there naked, his eyes like icy blue slits in his beautiful face. His powerful hands are clenched into fists, and his nostrils are flared, spots of color burning high on his cheekbones. He’s magnificent and terrifying, like an enraged archangel. “Give me the laptop, Nora.” His voice is frighteningly calm. “Now.” Bile rises in my throat, forcing me to swallow convulsively. Standing up, I walk over to him on trembling legs and hand over the computer. He takes it from me with one hand and, before I can back away, wraps the other one around my right wrist, shackling me to him. Then he looks at the screen. I see the exact moment when he realizes what I did. “You sent it to him?” Setting the computer down on the bathroom counter, he grabs my other arm and drags me closer to him. His eyes burn with fury. “You fucking sent it to him?” He gives me a hard shake, his fingers biting into my skin. My stomach somersaults, nausea washing over me in sickening wave. “Julian,

let go—” And jerking out of his hold with desperation-fueled strength, I dive for the toilet bowl, just barely reaching it before I throw up.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THIS NAUSEA?” D R . GOLDBERG TAKES with Julian pacing around the room like a caged jaguar.

MY PULSE AS

I

LIE ON THE BED,

“I don’t know,” I say, my eyes tracking Julian’s movements. He’s wearing a Tshirt and jeans now, but his feet are still bare. He’s making circles in front of the bed, every muscle in his body taut and his jaw tightly clenched. He’s either still mad at me, or madly worried about me. I’m guessing it’s a combination of the two. Within minutes of my throwing up, he had the doctor in our room and me bundled comfortably on the bed. It reminds me of how quickly he acted when I got appendicitis on the island. “I think I just ate something bad or maybe caught a virus,” I say, turning my attention back to the doctor. “I started feeling sick at dinner.” “Uh-huh.” Dr. Goldberg takes out a plastic-wrapped needle with a tube attached to a vial. “May I?” “Okay.” I don’t particularly want him to take my blood, but I have a feeling Julian won’t let me refuse. “Go ahead.” The doctor finds a vein in my arm and slides the needle in while I look away. I’m still slightly nauseous and don’t want to test my stomach’s fortitude with the sight of blood. “All done,” he says after a moment, removing the needle and swabbing my skin with an alcohol-scented cotton ball. “I’ll run the tests and let you know what I find.” “She’s also constantly tired,” Julian says in a low voice, stopping next to the bed. He’s not looking at me, which annoys me a bit. “And she’s sleeping poorly, with the nightmares and all.” “Right.” The doctor rises to his feet, clutching the vial. “I need to run this to my lab. I’ll be back within the hour.” He hurries out of the room, and Julian sits down on the bed, looking at me. His face is unusually pale, a frown etched into his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick, Nora?” he asks quietly, reaching out to pick up my hand. His

fingers are warm on my palm, his grip gentle despite the turmoil I sense within him. I blink in surprise. I thought he would question me about Peter’s list, not this. “It wasn’t too bad at dinner,” I say carefully. “I felt better after I took a shower and we… well, you know.” I wave my free hand in a gesture meant to encompass the bed. “We fucked?” Julian’s tense expression eases slightly, unexpected amusement flickering in his eyes. “Right.” Heat crawls up my body at the mental images his words bring up. Apparently, I’m not too sick to be turned on. “That made me feel better.” “I see.” Julian regards me speculatively, stroking the inside of my wrist with his thumb. “And you decided that since you were feeling so well, you were going to hack into my computer.” And there it is. The reckoning I anticipated. Except Julian doesn’t seem as angry as before, his touch on me soothing rather than punishing. It looks like food poisoning—or whatever I’ve got—has its perks. I offer him a cautious smile. “Well, yeah. I figured it was as good of an opportunity as any.” I don’t bother apologizing or denying my actions. There’s no point. It’s done. I paid my debt to Peter. “How did you know my password?” Julian’s thumb continues moving over my wrist in a circular motion. “I never told you what it was.” “I filmed you when you were changing it a few days ago. After I found out that Frank came through on the list.” The corners of Julian’s mouth twitch, almost imperceptibly. “That’s what I thought. I was wondering why you were on your phone so much that day.” I lick my lips. “Are you going to punish me?” Julian seems more amused than angry at the moment, but I can’t imagine he’ll let me off scot-free. “Of course, my pet.” There’s no trace of hesitation in his voice. My pulse jumps. “When?” “When I choose.” His eyes gleam as he releases my hand. “Now, would you like some water or anything?” “Some crackers and chamomile tea would be nice,” I say on autopilot, staring at him. I’d expected this, of course, but I still can’t help feeling anxious.

“I’ll get that for you.” Julian gets up. “Be back in a few.” He disappears through the door, and I close my eyes, my earlier tiredness returning now that the adrenaline rush is over. Maybe I’ll just catch a quick nap before Julian comes back… A knock on the door startles me again, causing me to jerk to a sitting position. “Yes?” “Nora, this is David Goldberg. May I come in?” “Oh, sure.” I lie back down, my heart still beating too fast. “Did you already run the tests?” I ask as the doctor enters the room. “Yes.” There is an odd expression on his face as he stops next to the bed. “Nora, you’ve been fatigued lately, right? And unusually stressed?” “Yes.” I frown, starting to feel uneasy. “Why?” “Have you noticed anything else? Mood swings? Atypical food cravings or dislikes? Maybe some tenderness in your breasts?” I stare at him, a cold fist seizing my chest. “What are you saying?” The symptoms he’s listing—surely he can’t mean… “Nora, the blood tests I ran showed a strong presence of the hCG hormone,” Dr. Goldberg says gently. “You’re pregnant.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “Given the timing of the implant removal, my best guess is you’re about six weeks along.”

7

J ulian CARRYING THE TRAY WITH TEA AND CRACKERS, I WALK UP THE STAIRS TOWARD THE BEDROOM. I SHOULD be furious with Nora, but instead, my worry for her is tinged with reluctant admiration. She defied me. She locked herself in the bathroom and hacked into my computer to pay a debt that she believed was owed. She had to know that she would be caught, but she did it anyway—and I can’t help respecting her for it. I would’ve done the same thing in her shoes. In hindsight, I should’ve expected this. She’s been adamant about wanting to get the list to Peter, so it’s not all that surprising that she decided to act on her own. From the very beginning, I’ve sensed a quiet, stubborn strength within her, a steel core that belies her delicate appearance. My pet might be compliant much of the time, but that’s only because she’s smart enough to choose her battles—and I should’ve known she’d choose to fight this one. As I approach the bedroom, I hear voices and recognize Goldberg’s slightly nasal pitch. He’s back with the test results, and Nora sounds upset. Fuck. Fear, icy and sharp, bites at me. If it’s something serious, if she’s truly sick… Picking up my pace, I reach the door in two long steps. Tea sloshes over the rim of the cup, but I barely notice, all my focus on Nora. Gripping the tray with one hand, I push open the door and step in.

She’s sitting on the bed, her eyes huge in her colorless face as Goldberg says, “I’m afraid it is possible—” My heart freezes. “What’s possible?” I ask sharply. “What’s wrong?” Goldberg turns to look at me. “Oh, there you are.” He sounds relieved. “I was just explaining to your wife that the morning-after pill is only ninety-five-percent effective when taken within twenty-four hours, and even though the likelihood of conception was low given the timing of the implant removal, there was still a small chance of pregnancy—” “Pregnancy?” I feel like he’s speaking a foreign language. “What are you talking about?” Goldberg sighs, looking tired. “Nora is six weeks pregnant, Julian. It looks like the morning-after pill didn’t work.” I stare at him, stunned, and he says, “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. Why don’t I leave the two of you to discuss this, and I’ll answer any questions you might have in the morning? For now, the best thing for Nora would be to get some rest. Stress is not good in her condition.” I nod, still mute with shock, and he swiftly departs, leaving me alone with Nora. Nora, who’s sitting there like a wax doll, her face nearly as white as the robe she’s wearing. Hot liquid spills over my hand, burning me, and I realize that I forgot about the tray I’m holding. The pain clears my mind, and I finally process the meaning of Goldberg’s words. Nora is pregnant. Not sick. Pregnant. The icy fear eases, replaced by a new, entirely foreign emotion. Placing the tray with the half-full cup of tea on the nightstand, I sit down next to my wife and wrap my hands around her small palms. “Nora.” I pull on her hands to get her to face me, and see that she’s still shellshocked, her gaze blank and distant. “Nora, baby, talk to me.” She blinks, as if coming back to herself, and her hands jerk in my grasp. I release her and watch as she scoots back, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes lock with mine, and we stare at each other in silence as seconds tick by.

“Did you do this?” she finally asks, her voice a strained whisper. “Did you ask Dr. Goldberg to give me a placebo instead of the morning-after pill? Is the new implant in my arm a fake?” “No.” I don’t bother being outraged at her accusation. If I’d wanted her pregnant, I might’ve considered doing something along those lines, and Nora is smart enough to know that. “No, my pet. This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you.” She nods, and I know she believes me. There is no reason for me to lie. She’s mine to do with as I please. If I had impregnated her on purpose, I wouldn’t deny it. “Come here,” I murmur, reaching for her. She’s stiff as I pull her closer, but I ignore her resistance. I need to hold her, to feel her in my arms. Her hair tickles my chin as I pull her onto my lap and inhale deeply, closing my eyes. Nora is not sick. She’s carrying my baby. It seems surreal, unnatural. She’s tiny in my embrace, barely bigger than a child herself. Yet she’s going to be a mother—and I’m going to be a father. A father, like the man who gave me life and molded me into what I am today. Unbidden, an old memory comes to me. “Catch!” He throws the ball at me, laughing. I jump for it, and my five-year-old hands close around it, snatching it from mid-air. “I got it!” I feel so proud of myself, so full of joy. “Father, I caught it on the first try!” “Good job, son.” He grins at me, and in that moment, I love him. His approval matters to me more than anything else in the world. I forget about the frequent bite of his belt, about all the times he yelled at me and called me worthless. He’s my father, and in that moment, I love him. My eyes fly open, and I stare blankly at the wall, still holding Nora. I can’t believe I ever loved that man. He’s been the subject of my hatred for so long, I’d forgotten there were those kinds of moments. I’d forgotten there were times he made me happy. Would I make my child happy? Or would he or she hate me? I told Nora I would make an awful father, but I have no idea if that’s the truth. For the first time, I try to imagine myself holding a newborn baby, playing with a chubby-cheeked toddler,

teaching a five-year-old how to swim… The pictures come to me with surprising ease, filling me with an unsettling mixture of fear and longing. With a desire for something I’ve never known. A stifled sob startles me, and I realize that it’s Nora. She’s crying, her slim body shaking in my arms. I can feel the wetness from her tears on my neck, and it burns me like acid. For a moment, I had forgotten how much she doesn’t want this child. How much she doesn’t want a child with me. “Hush, my pet.” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I can’t help it. The unpleasant tightness in my chest is back, and with it, the irrational urge to hurt her. Fighting it, I say in a softer tone, “This is not the end of the world, believe me.” She stills, falling silent for a moment, but then another sob racks her body. And another. I can’t take it anymore. Her misery is like a hot knife plunging into my side— agonizing and maddening at the same time. Thrusting my hand into her hair, I close my fist around the silky strands and pull her head back, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes, wide and shocked, meet mine. I can see the tears sparkling on her lashes, and the sight enrages me further, awakening the beast inside. Her lips tremble, parting as if she would speak, but I lower my head, swallowing her words with a deep, hard kiss. Lust, sharp and strong, kindles in my veins, hardening my cock and clouding my brain. I want her, and I want to punish her at the same time. I can feel her struggling against me, taste the salt from her tears, and it spurs me on, heightening the twisted hunger. I’m not sure how we end up on the bed, with her stretched helplessly beneath me, but the clothes we’re wearing seem like an intolerable barrier, so I tear them off, feeling more animal than man. My fingers close around her wrists, transferring both of them into my left hand, and my knees push between her thighs, parting them roughly. I can hear Nora pleading, begging me to stop, but I can’t. The need to possess her is like a fire under my skin, burning away all rational thought. Grasping my cock with my free hand, I guide it to her opening and penetrate her in one deep thrust, taking her body as I long to claim her heart and soul.

She’s small and tight around me, her muscles clenching desperately to keep me out, but the squeezing pressure only intensifies my violent urge to fuck her. Her resistance maddens me, drives me to take her harder, to batter her with my cock as I hold her pinned under my body. Every thrust is a merciless claim, a brutal conquest of that which already belongs to me. I fuck her for what feels like hours, cognizant of nothing but the ferocious hunger seething under my skin. It’s not until I collapse on top of her, breathing heavily from an explosive orgasm, that the fog of lust clears from my mind, and I realize what I’ve done. Releasing her wrists, I push up onto my elbows and gaze down at her, my cock still buried inside her body. She’s lying underneath me, her eyes squeezed shut and her face pale. I can see a smear of blood on her lower lip. I either cut it with my teeth or she bit it in pain. As I stare at her, she slowly opens her eyes, meeting my gaze… and for the first time in decades, I taste the bitter ashes of remorse.

8

N ora MY MIND IS BLANK, EMPTIED OF ALL THOUGHT AS I LOOK AT JULIAN. I’M VAGUELY AWARE THAT HE’S still inside me, but that’s all I can process at the moment. I feel broken, destroyed, the raw soreness of my body amplified by the deep, stabbing pain in my soul. I don’t know why this bout of rough sex felt so much like a violation. Why it reminded me of those early days on the island, when Julian was my cruel captor instead of the man I love. Only a couple of days ago, he tortured me with a flogger and nipple clamps, and I reveled in it, begging for more. I begged today too, but it wasn’t for more. Sex wasn’t what I wanted—not with my heart breaking for the tiny life growing inside me. For the innocent child conceived by two killers. “Nora…” Julian’s voice is an aching whisper. The pain in it tugs at what remains of my heart. I want to hate him for hurting me, but I can’t. It’s part of his nature. It’s who he is. It’s why any child of ours is doomed. I hold his gaze, feeling like I’m crumbling into pieces. “Let me go, Julian. Please.” “I can’t.” His face twists, the scars around his eye standing out in stark relief. “I can’t, Nora.” I swallow painfully, knowing he’s not talking about our physical position. “I’m not asking that of you. Please, I just— I just need a moment.” He withdraws from me, rolling over onto his back, and I turn away onto my side,

gathering my knees to my chest. The nausea that plagued me earlier is gone, but I feel weak. Exhausted. My body aches from Julian’s hard use, and a sense of hopelessness engulfs me, adding to my growing despair. I’m barely cognizant of Julian getting up. It’s only when he presses a warm washcloth between my legs that I realize he must’ve gone to the bathroom and returned. I don’t have the energy to move, so I lie still and let him clean the residue of sex off my thighs. Afterwards, he pulls me into his embrace and covers us both with a blanket. As the familiar warmth of his body seeps into me, lulling me to sleep, I dream that I feel the brush of his lips against my temple and hear a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“AS I BEGAN TO EXPLAIN LAST NIGHT, THIS PREGNANCY WAS IMPROBABLE, BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE,” DR. Goldberg says as I sit down on the couch next to Julian. “The morning-after pill is ineffective about five percent of the time, and your probability of being able to conceive a few days after the removal of the old implant was also somewhere in the five-percent range, so if you do the math…” He shrugs, giving me a sheepish smile. “What about the fact that Nora is still on birth control?” Julian asks, frowning. “She has a new implant in her arm—she’s had it for weeks.” “Right.” The doctor nods. “We’ll have to remove that as soon as possible and have Nora start taking prenatal vitamins.” He pauses, then adds delicately, “That is, if you want to keep the baby.” “We do,” Julian responds before I can process the question. “And we want to make sure the child is healthy.” He reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers around my palm, squeezing it possessively. “And Nora, of course.” Finally comprehending Dr. Goldberg’s words, I glance at Julian. His jaw is set in hard, uncompromising lines. Abortion hadn’t occurred to me as an option, but I’m surprised Julian is so vehemently against it. He claimed not to want children, and I can’t imagine he’d be hypocritical enough to have moral or religious objections to the procedure. “Of course,” the doctor says. “Obstetrics is not my specialty, but I can examine Nora and remove the implant, and prescribe her the appropriate vitamins. I can also recommend an excellent obstetrician who might agree to oversee Nora’s pregnancy here. I already emailed you her contact info.”

“Good.” Releasing my hand, Julian gets up, looking restless and tense. “I want the absolute best care for Nora.” “You’ll have it,” Dr. Goldberg promises, rising to his feet as well. Turning toward me, he says, “At least this explains something.” “Explains what?” I stand up too, uncomfortable being the only one sitting. “Your persistent nightmares and panic attacks.” The doctor gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s not uncommon for pregnancy hormones to amplify anxiety, particularly in the wake of traumatic events.” “Oh.” I stare at him. “So I’m not just overreacting to what happened?” “You’re not,” Dr. Goldberg assures me. “Depression and anxiety can happen to pregnant women with much less provocation. You do need to take it easy and relax as much as possible, though, both for your sake and that of the baby. Acute stress during pregnancy can lead to all sorts of complications, including a miscarriage.” “I will make sure she rests and doesn’t stress.” Julian reaches for me again, intertwining his fingers with mine. It’s as if he can’t bear not to touch me today. “What about food, drinks?” “I’ll give you a list of what to avoid,” Dr. Goldberg says. “You probably know about alcohol and caffeine, but there are a few more things, like sushi and seafood high in mercury.” “All right.” Julian turns his head to look at me. “Baby, would you be okay with the doctor examining you now and removing the implant?” His voice is unusually soft, his gaze filled with indefinable emotion. “Um, sure.” I see no reason to procrastinate, and I like that Julian asked, instead of just ordering the examination in his usual autocratic manner. “Good.” He lifts my hand—the one he’s holding—and presses a kiss to the back of my wrist before letting it go. “I’ll be back in a bit.” I nod, and Julian quietly exits the room, closing the door behind him. “All right, Nora.” Dr. Goldberg smiles at me, reaching for his bag and pulling out latex gloves. “Shall we begin?”

AFTER THE DOCTOR LEAVES, I CHANGE INTO A SWIMSUIT AND GO TO THE BACK PORCH, GRABBING MY Psychology textbook on the way. Pregnancy or not, I have an exam to study for, and I’m determined to do so—if for no other reason than to distract myself from the

situation. My arm once again sports a tiny, Band-Aid-covered wound, and I try to ignore the faint ache there, not wanting to focus on the fact that my birth control implant is gone… and the reason why. It’s strange, but the broken feeling of last night is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a kind of distant hurt. I should probably be traumatized and angry at Julian, but I’m not. Like the days right after my abduction, last night feels like it belongs to a different era, to a time before we became who we are. I know I’m playing that game with myself again—the one where I exist solely in the moment and push all the bad stuff into a separate corner of my brain—but I need that game to stay sane. I need that game because I can’t stop loving my captor, no matter what he does. It doesn’t help that the Julian of this morning is a far cry from the brutal savage of last night. From the moment I woke up, he’s been treating me like I’m made of crystal. Breakfast in bed followed by a foot rub, constant little kisses and affectionate gestures—if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s feeling guilty. Of course, I do know better. Only a thin line separates the monster of last night from the tender lover of this morning. Guilt is an emotion that’s as foreign to my husband as pity for his enemies. When I get to the back porch, I grab a lounge chair under an umbrella and make myself comfortable. As always, the air outside is hot and humid, so thick it’s almost smothering. I don’t mind, though. I’m used to it. If it gets unbearable, I’ll jump into the pool. For now, I open my textbook and begin re-reading the chapter on neurotransmitters. I’m only halfway through when a moving shadow makes me look up. It’s Julian. Dressed in a pair of black swim trunks, he’s standing next to my chair, his gaze traveling over me with unabashed hunger. I lick my lips, staring up at him. In the bright sunlight, he’s almost unbearably beautiful, the new scars somehow only adding to his stark masculinity. From his shoulders to his calves, every inch of his body is packed with lean, hard muscle. His powerful chest is dusted with dark hair, and his abs are clearly defined, with a line of hair trailing down from his navel into his shorts. He’s stunning, more gorgeous than any man I’ve known—and I want him. I want him despite last night, despite everything. “How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “Any nausea?

Tiredness?” “No.” I sit up, swinging my feet to the ground, and put down the textbook. “I’m okay today.” Julian sits down next to me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Good,” he says softly. “I’m glad.” “Did you come out for a swim?” I try to ignore the warmth pooling between my thighs at his touch. “I thought you would go to your office.” “I did, just for a few minutes, but I’m taking the rest of the day off.” “Really?” Julian’s days off are so rare they’re practically nonexistent. “Why?” He gives me a wry smile. “I couldn’t focus.” “Oh.” I regard him cautiously. “Do you want to go for a swim then? I was thinking of diving in after I finished this chapter, but I can go now.” “Sure.” Julian rises to his feet and offers me his hand. “Let’s go.” I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the pool. As we approach the water, he suddenly bends down, slides his arm under my knees, and picks me up. Startled, I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Julian! Don’t throw me in! I like to walk in slowly—” “I wouldn’t throw you in, my pet,” he murmurs, holding me as he descends into the pool. His eyes gleam with unexpected humor. “What kind of monster do you think I am?” “Um, do I have to answer that?” I can’t believe I’m in the mood to tease him, but I feel ridiculously lighthearted all of a sudden. Some weird hormonal fluctuation, no doubt, but I don’t mind. I’ll take lighthearted over depressed any day of the week. “You do have to answer,” he says, a wicked grin appearing on his face. The water is now up to his waist, and he stops, holding me against his chest. “Or else…” “Or else what?” “This.” Julian lowers me a few inches, letting my dangling feet touch the water. He tries for a menacing scowl, but I can see the corners of his mouth twitching with a suppressed smile. “Are you threatening me with a dunking, sir?” Wiggling my right foot in the water, I give him a look of mock reproof. “I thought we just established that you wouldn’t throw me in?”

“Who said anything about throwing?” He steps further into the pool, letting the water creep higher up my calves. His fake scowl disappears, edged out by a darkly sensual smile. “There are other ways to deal with naughty girls.” “Oh, do tell…” My inner muscles clench at the images flooding my mind. “What kind of ways?” “Well, for starters”—he bends his head, his lips nearly touching mine as I hold my breath in anticipation—“some cooling off is required.” And before I can react, he sinks down, lowering us both into the water—which immediately engulfs me up to my chin. “Julian!” Laughing in outrage, I release my grip on his neck and push at his shoulders. The pool is heated, but the water is still cool compared to my sunwarmed skin. “You said you wouldn’t!” “I said I wouldn’t throw you,” he corrects, his wicked grin returning. “I didn’t say anything about carrying you in.” “Okay, that’s it.” I succeed at slipping out of his hold and putting a couple of feet of distance between us. “You want war? You have it, mister!” Scooping up water with my palm, I throw it at him and watch, laughing, as it hits him square in the face. He wipes the water away, blinking in stunned disbelief, and I back away, laughing even harder. Recovering from his shock, he begins to advance toward me. “Did you just splash me?” His voice is low and threatening. “Did you just throw water in my face, my pet?” “What? No!” I mockingly bat my eyelashes as I attempt to retreat to the deeper end of the pool. “I wouldn’t dare—” My words end in a squeal as Julian lunges for me, closing the distance between us in a blink of an eye. At the last moment, I manage to jump out of his reach and start swimming away, still laughing hysterically. I’m a good swimmer, but less than two seconds pass before Julian’s steely fingers close around my ankle. “Gotcha,” he says, dragging me toward him. When I’m close enough, he grabs my arm to bring me to a vertical position and wraps his muscular arms around my back, grinning at my ineffective attempts to push him away. “Okay, you got me,” I concede, laughing. “Now what?”

“Now this.” Bending his head, he kisses me, the warmth from his large body counteracting the coolness of the water. As his tongue invades my mouth, I tense involuntarily, memories of last night surfacing with sudden clarity. For a few dark moments, I relive the terrible feeling of helplessness, of painful betrayal, and I know I wasn’t entirely successful at compartmentalizing the good and the bad. As much as I’d like to pretend that today is a day like any other, it’s not, and no amount of playful laughter changes the fact that the evil in Julian’s soul will never be completely eradicated. That the monster will always lie in wait. And yet, as he continues kissing me, the heat of desire grows within me, luring me under its spell. He’s tender with me now, and my body softens, basking in that tenderness, in the insidious warmth of his embrace. I want to believe in the illusion of his caring, in the mirage of his twisted love, and so I let the dark memories fade, leaving me in the brighter present. Leaving me with the man I love.

9

J ulian NORA AND I END UP SWIMMING AND PLAYING IN THE POOL UNTIL ANA COMES LOOKING FOR US, SAYING that lunch is ready. By then I’m starving, and I’m guessing Nora must be hungry as well. I’m also suffering from blue balls from all that making out, but that’s something that will have to wait until later. I want Nora to eat even more than I want to fuck her. Seeing my pet like this—so happy, vibrant, and carefree—has gone a long way toward easing the heavy pressure in my chest, but it hasn’t removed it completely. The look on her face after I took her… It haunts me, invading my thoughts despite my best efforts to put it out of my mind. I know I’ve done worse to her in the past, but something about last night felt worse. It felt like I wronged her. Perhaps it’s because she’s now completely mine. I no longer have to condition her, to mold her into what I need her to be. She loves me enough to risk her life for me, enough to want to be with me of her own free will. Everything I’ve done to her in the past was calculated to a certain extent, but last night I hurt her without meaning to. I hurt her when all I wanted was to hold her, heal her. I hurt the woman who’s carrying my child—and even if Nora seems to have forgiven me for that, I can’t forgive myself. “What can I get for you, Nora?” Ana asks when we’re seated at the dining room table. The older woman is beaming at my wife, as happy as I’ve ever seen her.

“Some toast? Maybe a little plain rice?” Nora’s eyes widen at the housekeeper’s words, but she manages to say calmly, “I’ll have whatever you prepared, Ana. I’m better today, really.” Despite my earlier thoughts, I can’t help smiling. Goldberg must’ve let something slip, or else Ana overheard us talking this morning. That’s why Ana’s smile is wide enough to swallow up her whole face: she knows about Nora’s pregnancy and is overjoyed at the news. At Nora’s reassurance, Ana’s expression brightens even more. “Oh, good. I realize now that you must’ve been baby-sick yesterday. It happens, you know,” she says in a conspiratorial tone. “Right around six weeks is when they say it starts.” “Oh, great.” Nora tries to keep the glumness out of her voice, but she’s not entirely successful. “Looking forward to it.” “I’ll make sure you have the best care, baby,” I murmur, reaching across the table to cover Nora’s delicate hand with mine. “I’ll get you whatever you need to feel well.” I already contacted the obstetrician Goldberg recommended, emailing her while Nora was having her examination. I might not have planned to have this child, but now that it’s here, the thought of something happening to it is unbearable. When Goldberg hinted at the possibility of abortion today, it was all I could do not to rip his throat out. Planned or not, this child is my flesh and blood, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm it. Nora gives me a small smile. “I’m sure it will be fine. Women have children all the time.” Despite her reassuring words, her voice sounds strained, and I know she’s still uneasy with this development. Uneasy with the fact that she’s carrying my baby. Taking a deep breath, I suppress the instinctive swell of anger. On a rational level, I understand her fear. Nora loves me, but she’s not blind to my nature. She can’t be, especially after last night. “Yes, it will be fine,” I say evenly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll make sure of it.” And for the remainder of the meal, we avoid the topic, both of us more than happy to focus on something else.

I SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY WITH NORA, COMPLETELY IGNORING THE WORK THAT’S WAITING FOR ME. For the first time in ages, I can’t bring myself to care about manufacturing issues in Malaysia or the fact that the Mexican cartel is demanding lower prices on customized machine guns. The Ukrainians are trying to make amends and bribe me out of my alliance with the Russians, Interpol is up in arms about the CIA sending me Peter Sokolov’s list, a new terrorist group in Iraq wants to get on the waiting list for the explosive, and I don’t give a fuck about any of that. All that matters to me today is Nora. After lunch, we go for a walk around the estate, and I show her some of my favorite boyhood haunts, including a small lake on the edge of the property where I once encountered a jaguar. “Really? A jaguar?” Nora’s eyes are wide as we exit the forested area and emerge onto a small, grassy clearing in front of the lake. The tall trees surrounding it provide both shade and privacy from the guards—which is why I frequently spent time there as a child. “They come out of the jungle sometimes,” I say in response to Nora’s question. “It’s rare, but it happens.” “How did you get away from it?” She gives me a concerned look. “You said you were only nine.” “I had a gun with me.” “So you killed it?” “No. I shot a tree next to it and scared it off.” I could’ve killed it—my aim was excellent by then—but the thought of harming the fierce creature had been repellent for some reason. It wasn’t the jaguar’s fault it had been born a predator, and I didn’t want to punish it for having the misfortune of wandering into human territory. “What did your parents say when you told them about it?” Nora sits down on a broken tree trunk and looks up at me. Her smooth shoulders gleam with the light reflected off the lake. “Mine would’ve been terrified for me.” “I didn’t tell them.” I sit down next to her and, unable to resist, bend my head to press a kiss to her right shoulder. Her skin smells delicious, and the hunger ignited by our play at the pool returns, my body hardening at her proximity once more. “Why not?” she asks huskily, turning to look at me as I lift my head. “Why

didn’t you tell them?” “My mother was already frightened of the jungle, and my father would’ve been upset that I didn’t bring him the jaguar’s pelt. So there was no point in telling either of them,” I explain. Reaching for her hair, I thread my fingers through the thick, silky mass, enjoying the sensuous feel of it sliding through my hands. My cock is stiff with need, but this is as far as I intend to take it for now. There won’t be sex until tonight, when she’s comfortable in our bed and I can be sure I won’t hurt her. “Oh.” Nora tilts her head, moving it closer to my hands, and regards me through half-closed eyelids. Her expression is reminiscent of a cat being petted. “What about your friends? Did you tell them what happened?” “No,” I murmur, my arousal growing despite my good intentions. “I didn’t tell anyone.” “Why not?” Nora all but purrs as I slide my fingers through her hair again, lightly massaging her scalp in the process. “You didn’t think they would believe you?” “No, I knew they would believe me.” I withdraw my hands from her hair as my need intensifies, threatening my self-control. “I just didn’t have close friends, that’s all.” Something uncomfortably close to pity flickers in her gaze, but she doesn’t say anything or ask any follow-up questions. Instead, she leans closer and presses her lips to mine, her small hands coming up to rest on both sides of my face. Her touch is strangely innocent and uncertain, as if she’s kissing me for the first time. Her lips just barely graze mine, each touch a hint, a promise of more to come. I can almost taste her, almost feel her, and the urge to fuck her is so strong I shudder with it. It’s only the memory of last night—of the wounded, betrayed look in her eyes—that enables me to stay still and accept her not-quite-kisses, my hands resting on her shoulders. I know I should stop her, push her away, but I can’t. Her hesitant kisses are the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. When I think I can’t bear much more, her hot little mouth moves to my jaw and then trails down my neck, kissing and nibbling with the same torturous gentleness. Her hands release my face and slide down my body, her fingers closing around the bottom edge of my shirt. She begins to lift the shirt, and I groan as her knuckles brush against my naked sides, her touch leaving my skin burning in its wake.

“Nora…” I suck in my breath as she scoots down and kneels between my spread legs, her face at the level of my navel. “Nora, baby, you need to stop teasing me.” She ignores my directive, keeping my shirt bunched up. “Who’s teasing?” she whispers, looking up at me. And before I can respond, she leans in and places a warm, damp kiss on my stomach. Fuck. My entire body jerks, my balls tightening on a savage surge of lust. The sight of her kneeling there pushes my buttons in all the wrong ways, calling to my darkest desires. My hands knot into fists, and I take short, deep breaths, reminding myself that she’s fragile right now. That she’s pregnant with my child, and I can’t take her like an animal again. Except she’s licking my stomach now. Fucking licking it. Tracing each muscle indentation with her tongue, like she’s trying to imprint it on her memory. “Nora.” My voice is hoarse. “Baby, that’s enough.” She pulls back, looking up at me through those long, thick lashes of hers. “Are you sure?” she murmurs, still not letting go of my shirt. “Because I think I want more.” And leaning in again, she scrapes her teeth over my lower abs, then sucks on the spot, her mouth hot and wet on my bare skin. Skin that’s right next to the throbbing cock still confined in my shorts. Fucking hell. “Nora…” I can barely form the words, my fingers digging into the bark of the tree in an effort not to grab her. “You don’t want this, baby, stop it—” “Who said that I don’t want it?” Moving back, she looks up at me again, her gaze dark and heated. “I do want it, Julian… You made me want it.” I suck in a hard breath, my cock jerking as she releases my shirt and reaches for my belt buckle instead. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Her lips curve up. “Yes, Julian, you do.” She succeeds in undoing the belt, and her hand delves into my shorts, her slender fingers closing around my swollen length and squeezing lightly. “Don’t you?” I nearly explode, my hands reaching for her before I even realize what I’m doing. “Yes…” My voice is closer to a growl as I drag her onto my lap, forcing her to straddle my legs. “I want to hurt you, fuck you, take you in every way possible and then some. I want to mark your pretty skin and hear you scream as I drive deep into your pussy and make you come all over my cock. Is that what you want to hear, my pet?” Gripping her arms tightly, I glare at her. “Is that what you want?”

She runs her tongue over her lips, her eyes gleaming with a peculiar darkness. “Yes.” Her voice is whisper-soft. “Yes, Julian. That’s exactly what I want.” Fuck. I close my eyes, literally shaking with lust. With the way she’s straddling my lap in her dress, only a tiny thong separates her pussy from my dick. If I shift her up a few inches, I could be inside her, pounding her tight little body… The temptation is unbearable. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand. I force myself to do the mental count until I regain a modicum of control. Then I open my eyes and meet her gaze again. “No, Nora.” My voice is almost steady as I let go of her arms and move my hands up to cup her face in my palms instead. “That’s not how this is going to go.” She blinks, looking taken aback. “What—” I bend my head, cutting her off with a kiss. Slowly and deeply, I invade her mouth, tasting her, stroking her with my tongue. Then I fist my hand in her hair and push her down between my legs, enjoying the look of shock on her small face. “You’re going to suck my cock,” I say harshly. “And then, if you’re a good girl, you’ll get your reward. Understand?” Nora’s eyes widen, but she complies right away. Pulling my dick out of my shorts, she closes her lips around it and begins to stroke it rhythmically with her hand. The interior of her mouth is hot, silky, and wet, almost as delicious as her pussy, and the pressure of her hand is nothing short of perfect. I’m so near the edge all it takes is a couple of minutes, and the orgasm boils out of my balls, blasting ecstasy through my nerve endings. Groaning, I grip her hair and push deeper into her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop. Then I pull out, kneel on the ground next to her, and make her lie down on the grass. “Spread open your legs,” I order, tugging her dress up to expose her lower body. She does as I instruct, her gaze filled with anticipation and a hint of wariness. I place my hands on her sleek, tan thighs and stroke them, enjoying the delicate texture of her skin. Then I bend down, hook my fingers into her pink thong, and pull it aside, exposing her glistening pussy lips. “You have such a sexy pussy, baby.” The words come out low and raspy as my hunger, just barely quelled, returns with a vengeance. Bending lower, I inhale her sweet, musky scent. “Such a beautiful, wet little pussy.”

Her breathing hitches, a moan vibrating in her throat as I press my lips to her folds, kissing them lightly. “Julian, please.” She sounds tortured. “Please, I—I need you.” “Yes.” I let my breath wash over her sensitive flesh. “I know you do.” I give her slit a long, slow lick. “You’ll always need me, won’t you?” “Yes.” She pushes her hips up, begging. “Always.” “Then, my pet, here’s your reward.” Pressing my tongue to her clit, I begin pleasuring her in earnest, drinking in her pleas and moans. When she finally shudders and cries out in release, I lap at her a few more times, drawing out her orgasm, and then I move up to lie beside her on the grass, folding my left arm under my head as a pillow and arranging her head on my right shoulder. We lie like that for a while, gazing out at the shimmering water of the lake and listening to the quiet chirping of insects. I still want her, but the desire is more mellow now. More controlled. I didn’t hurt her this time, but the heaviness in my chest is still there, still weighing on me. Finally, I can no longer remain silent. “Nora, last night… it wasn’t because of Peter’s list.” I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell her this, but I do. I want her to understand that I didn’t intend to punish her at that moment, that the pain I inflicted was not part of some cruel design. I don’t know why that would matter to her, coming from her kidnapper, or what the distinction really is, but I need her to know this. “It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t acknowledge my words in any way, but after a few moments, she turns in my arms and rests her right hand on my chest, directly over my heart.

10

N ora OVER THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, I DO MY BEST TO MANAGE THE NEW REALITY OF MY SITUATION. OR, precisely, to go about my life and pretend that nothing’s happening.

MORE

The nausea comes and goes. I’ve found that eating small, frequent meals helps, as does sticking to plainer foods. Under Ana’s and Julian’s watchful eyes, I dutifully take prenatal vitamins and avoid the foods on Dr. Goldberg’s list, but I try not to dwell on those things. Until the baby bump shows up, I intend to act as if everything’s normal. Thankfully, my body is cooperating for now. My breasts have gotten a little bigger, and they’re more sensitive, but that’s the only change I’ve detected. My stomach is still flat, and I haven’t gained any weight. If anything, because of my unsettled tummy, I lost a couple of pounds—a fact that worries Julian, who’s doing his best to coddle me into madness. “I don’t need to rest,” I protest in exasperation as he once again tries to make me nap in the middle of the day. “Really, I’m fine. I slept ten hours last night. How much sleep does a person need?” And it’s true. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been sleeping much better. As strange as it is, knowing that my anxiety has a hormonal cause has alleviated it to a large extent, significantly reducing my nightmares and panic attacks. My shrink tells me it’s because I’m less worried about my head being messed up from everything that’s happened. Apparently, stressing about being overly stressed is particularly bad for the psyche, whereas less convoluted stress factors—like having a child with a sadistic arms dealer—are less anxiety-provoking.

“The human brain is highly unpredictable,” Dr. Wessex says, looking at me through her trendy Prada glasses. “What you think scares you might not be what weighs on your subconscious at all. You may worry about this baby, but it doesn’t frighten you as much as the thought that you might never get a grip on your anxiety. If your panic attacks stem from pregnancy, then you know it’s a temporary issue—and that helps you feel less anxious about it.” I nod and smile, as if that makes perfect sense. I do that a lot when I talk to her. If Julian didn’t insist that I continue my twice-weekly therapy sessions, I would’ve already stopped them. It’s not that I dislike Dr. Wessex—a tall, stylish woman in her mid-forties, she’s quite competent and seemingly nonjudgmental—but I find that talking to her just highlights the insanity that is my relationship with Julian. Why, yes, Doctor, my husband—you know, the man who hired you and insisted you come out to the middle of nowhere—kept me captive on his island for fifteen months, and now I’m so brainwashed I can’t live without him and crave abusive sex. Oh, and we’re having a baby. Nothing fucked up about that, of course. Just your regular, run-of-the-mill crime family. Yeah, sure. In any case, trying to get me to take naps is the least egregious example of Julian’s excessive coddling. He also monitors my diet, makes sure that the exercise routine I resumed is fully doctor-approved, and worst of all, treats me with kid gloves in bed. No matter how much I try to provoke him, he won’t do more than hold me down in bed. It’s as if he’s afraid to unleash the brutality within himself, to lose control again. “I told you, the obstetrician said rougher sex is okay as long as there’s no spotting or leaking of amniotic fluid,” I tell Julian after he takes me gently yet again. “I’m healthy, everything’s normal, so there’s really no harm.” “I’m not taking any chances,” he replies, kissing the outer rim of my ear, and I know he has no intention of listening to me on the topic. A part of me still can’t believe that I want this from him, that I miss the dark edge to our lovemaking. It’s not that I’m ever left unsatisfied—Julian makes sure I have at least a couple of orgasms every night—but something within me craves the intoxicating blend of pleasure-pain, the endorphin rush I get from truly intense sex. Even the fear he makes me feel is addictive in some way, whether I want to admit it or not. It’s sick, but the night we learned about my pregnancy—the night he forced me —has featured in my fantasies more than once in recent days.

What Dr. Wessex would say about that I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out. It’s enough that the memory of that trauma, just like the recollections of my time on the island, have somehow taken on an erotic overtone in my mind. It’s enough to know that I’m completely twisted. Of course, Julian’s uncharacteristic gentleness in bed is not the only issue. Another casualty of his smothering concern for me is my self-defense training. It’s particularly frustrating because for the first time in weeks, I have energy. Sleeping well has reduced my fatigue, and schoolwork no longer tires me as much. I’ve even been able to resume running—after first pre-clearing the activity with the doctor, of course—but Julian refuses to let me do anything that could possibly result in bruises. Shooting is also out of the question; apparently, firing a gun releases lead particles that could, in some unknown quantity, harm the unborn baby. There are so many restrictions it makes me want to scream. “You know this is only temporary, Nora,” Ana says when I make the mistake of expressing my frustration to her at breakfast. “Just a few more months, and you’ll have a baby in your arms—and then it will all be worth it.” I nod and paste a smile on my face, but the housekeeper’s words don’t cheer me up. They fill me with dread. In a little over seven months, I will be responsible for a child—and the idea terrifies me more than ever.

“YOU STILL HAVEN’T TOLD YOUR PARENTS ABOUT THE BABY?” ROSA GIVES ME AN ASTONISHED LOOK AS we leave the house to go for our morning walk. “No,” I say, sipping a fruit smoothie with powdered vitamins. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” “But I thought you talk to them every day.” “I do, but the subject hasn’t come up.” I probably sound defensive, but I can’t help it. In terms of things I dread, telling my parents about my pregnancy is right up there with childbirth. “Nora…” Rosa stops under a thick, vine-draped tree. “Are you worried they won’t be happy for you?”

I picture my dad’s probable reaction to learning that his not-quite-twentyyear-old daughter is pregnant with her kidnapper’s child. “You could say that.” “But why wouldn’t they be happy?” My friend looks genuinely confused. “You’re married to a wealthy man who loves you and who’ll take good care of you and the child. What more could they want?” “Well, for one thing, for me not to be married to said man at all,” I say drily. “Rosa, I told you our story. My parents aren’t exactly Julian’s biggest fans.” Rosa waves a dismissive hand. “All that is—how do you say it?—water under the bridge. Who cares how it all began? What matters is the present, not the past.” “Oh, sure. Seize the day and all that.” “There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Rosa says as we resume our walk. “You should talk to your parents, Nora. It’s their grandchild. They deserve to know.” “Yeah, I’ll probably tell them soon.” I take another sip of my smoothie. “I’ll have no choice.” We walk in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Rosa asks quietly, “You really don’t want this child, do you, Nora?” I stop and look at her. “Rosa . . .” How do I explain my concerns to a girl who grew up on the estate and who thinks that this kind of life is normal? That my relationship with Julian is romantic? “It’s not that I don’t want a baby. It’s just that Julian’s world—our world—is too fucked up to bring a child into it. How could somebody like Julian make a good father? How could I make a good mother?” “What do you mean?” Rosa frowns at me. “Why wouldn’t you make a good mother?” “I’m in love with a crime lord who abducted me, and who kills and tortures people as part of his business,” I say gently. “That hardly qualifies me to be a good parent. A case study for one of Dr. Wessex’s papers, maybe, but not a good parent.” “Oh, please.” Rosa rolls her eyes. “A lot of men do bad things. You Americans are so sensitive. Señor Esguerra is far from the worst there is, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for caring about him. That doesn’t make you bad in any way.” “Rosa, it’s not just that.” I hesitate, but then decide to just say it. “When we were in Tajikistan, I killed a man.” I exhale slowly, reliving the dark thrill of pulling the trigger and watching Majid’s brains splatter all over the wall. “I shot him in cold blood.” “So what?” She hardly blinks. “I’ve killed too.”

I gape at her, stunned into silence, and she explains, “It was when the estate was attacked. I found a gun, hid in the bushes, and shot at the men attacking us. I wounded one and killed another. I later learned that the wounded one died too.” “But you were only a child.” I can’t get over my shock. “You’re telling me you killed two people when you were what—ten, eleven?” “Almost eleven,” she says, shrugging. “And yes, I did.” “But… but you seem so—” “Normal?” she supplies, looking at me with a strange smile. “Nice? Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I killed to protect those I care about. I killed men who came here to bring us death and destruction. It’s no different from cutting off the head of the snake that wants to bite you. If I hadn’t killed them, more of our people would’ve died. Maybe they would’ve killed my mother, as well as my father and brother.” I don’t know what to say to that. I could never have imagined that Rosa— cheerful, round-cheeked Rosa—was capable of something like that. I’ve always thought that evil leaves a trace. I see it in Julian, etched so deeply into his soul that it’s a part of him. I see it in myself now, too. But I don’t see it in Rosa. Not at all. “How do you not let it affect you?” I ask. How do you retain your innocence? She looks at me, and for the first time, she appears older than her twenty-one years. “You can choose to let the black stuff tarnish you, Nora, or you can brush it off,” she says quietly. “I chose the latter. I killed, but that’s not who I am. I don’t let that act define me. It happened, and it’s done. It’s in the past. I can’t change the past, so I’m not going to dwell on it. And neither should you. Your present, your future—that’s what matters.” I bite my lip, my eyes beginning to burn with incipient tears. “But what kind of future can this child have with parents like us, Rosa? Look at what’s happened to me and Julian over the past two years. How can I be sure my baby won’t be kidnapped or tortured by Julian’s enemies?” “You can’t be sure.” Rosa’s gaze is unflinching. “Nobody can be sure of anything. Bad things can happen to anyone, anywhere. There are soldiers who live to a ripe old age, and office workers who die young. There’s no rhyme or reason to life, Nora. You can choose to live every moment in fear, or you can enjoy life. Enjoy what you have with Julian. Enjoy this baby you have growing inside you. It’s a gift, not a curse, to bring forth life. You might not have chosen to bring a child into this world, but it’s here now, and all you can do is love it. Treasure it. Don’t let your fears spoil it for you.” She pauses, and then adds softly, “Don’t let your soul get

tarnished by what you can’t change.”

11

J ulian “SO WHAT’S THE DAMAGE?” I ASK LUCAS AS WE LEAVE THE TRAINING AREA. I’M BREATHING HARD, MY muscles are sore, and my left shoulder is aching, but I feel satisfied. I’m nearly back to my former fighting shape—as the three guards limping away can testify. “There was another hit in France, and two more in Germany.” Lucas wipes the sweat off his face with a balled-up towel. “He’s not wasting any time.” “I didn’t think he would.” Given Peter Sokolov’s singular focus on revenge, I know it’s only a matter of time before he eliminates the rest of the men on that list. “How did he do it this time?” “The French guy was found floating in a river, with marks of torture and strangulation, so I’m guessing Sokolov must’ve kidnapped him first. For the Germans, one hit was a car bomb, and the other one a sniper rifle.” Lucas grins darkly. “They must not have pissed him off as much.” “Or he went for expediency.” “Or that,” Lucas agrees. “He probably knows Interpol is on his tail.” “I’m sure he does.” I try to imagine what I would do if someone hurt my family, and a shudder of fury ripples through me. I can’t even imagine what Peter must be feeling—not that it excuses his endangering Nora to get this fucking list. I still want to kill him for that. “By the way,” Lucas says casually, “I’m having Yulia Tzakova brought here from Moscow.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “The interpreter who betrayed us to the Ukrainians? Why?” “I want to personally interrogate her,” Lucas says, draping the towel around his neck. “I don’t trust the Russians to do a thorough job.” His expression is as impassive as ever, but I see a hint of excitement in his pale gaze. He’s looking forward to this. I narrow my eyes, studying him. “Is it because you fucked her that night in Moscow?” The Russian girl came on to me first, but I passed on her invitation—and then Lucas expressed an interest in her. “Is that what this is about?” His mouth hardens. “She fucked me over. Literally. So yeah, I want to get my hands on the little bitch. But I also think she might have some useful info for us.” I consider that for a moment, then nod. “In that case, go for it.” It would be hypocritical of me to deny Lucas some fun with the pretty blonde. If he wants to personally make her pay for the plane crash, I see no harm in that. She would’ve been dead before long in Moscow anyway. “Did you already negotiate this with the Russians?” I ask as we resume walking. Lucas nods. “Initially, they tried to say they’d only deal with Sokolov, but I convinced them it wouldn’t be wise to get on your bad side. Buschekov saw the light when I reminded him of the recent troubles at Al-Quadar.” “Good.” If even the Russians are inclined to accommodate me, then my vendetta against the terrorist organization achieved its intended effect. Not only is Al-Quadar utterly decimated, but my reputation is substantially enhanced. Few of my clients are likely to double-cross me now—a development that promises to be good for business. “Yes, it’s helpful,” Lucas echoes my thoughts. “She’ll be arriving here tomorrow.” I raise my eyebrows, but decide against commenting on the speed of this development. If he wants to play with the Russian girl this badly, it’s his business. “Where are you going to keep her?” I ask instead. “In my quarters. I’ll be interrogating her there.” I grin, picturing the interrogation in question. “All right. Enjoy.” “Oh, I will,” he says grimly. “You can bet on it.”

AFTER I TAKE A SHOWER, I GO LOOKING FOR NORA. OR, RATHER, I CHECK MY COMPUTER FOR THE location of her embedded trackers and go directly to the library, where she must be studying for her finals. I find her sitting at a desk facing away from me, typing furiously on her laptop. Her hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, and she’s wearing a huge T-shirt that falls down to her knees. My T-shirt, from the looks of it. She’s started doing that lately when she has to study. Claims my T-shirts are more comfortable than her dresses. I don’t mind in the least. Seeing her dressed in my clothes only emphasizes the fact that she’s mine. Both she and the baby she’s carrying. She doesn’t react as I step into the room and walk up to her. When I reach her, I see why. She’s wearing headphones, her smooth forehead wrinkled in concentration as she pounds at the keyboard, her fingers flying over the keys with startling speed. For a second, I consider leaving her to it, but it’s too late. Nora must’ve seen me out of the corner of her eye, because she looks up and gives me a dazzling smile, removing her headphones. “Hi.” Her voice is soft and a little husky. “Is it dinnertime already?” “Not quite.” I smile back and place my hands on the nape of her neck. Her muscles feel tight, so I begin kneading them with my thumbs. “I just did a few rounds with my men and came here to take a shower before I go back to my office. Figured I’d check on you on the way.” “Oh.” She arches into my touch, closing her eyes. “Oh, yeah, right there… Oh, that’s so good…” She sounds like I’m fucking her, and my response is instantaneous. I get hard. Very hard. Fuck. Drawing in a breath, I rein in my lust, like I’ve been doing for the past two weeks. When I take her tonight, it will again be in a careful and controlled manner. Regardless of the provocation, I will not risk damaging the baby. “Is that your Psychology paper?” I keep my tone even as I continue to massage her neck. “You seem to be really into it.”

“Oh, yeah.” She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at me. “It’s on Stockholm Syndrome.” My hands still. “Is that right?” She nods, a dark little smile curving her lips. “Yes. Interesting subject, don’t you think?” “Yes, fascinating,” I say drily. My pet is definitely getting bolder. Taunting me— likely in the hopes that I’ll punish her. And I want to. My hands itch to bend her over my knee, hike up that giant Tshirt, and spank her perfectly shaped ass until it’s pink and red. My cock throbs at the image, especially when I imagine spreading open her cheeks afterwards and penetrating her tight little asshole— Fucking stop thinking about it. I see Nora’s smile deepen as her eyes flick down to the bulge in my jeans. The little witch knows exactly what she’s doing to me, what kind of effect she’s having on my body. “Yes, I’m loving it,” she murmurs, her gaze returning to my face. “I’m learning so much about the topic.” I inhale slowly and resume rubbing her neck. “Then you’ll have to educate me, my pet,” I say calmly, as if my body isn’t raging with the need to fuck her. “I’m afraid I skipped Psychology at Caltech.” Nora’s smile turns sardonic. “You’re just a natural then, aren’t you?” I hold her gaze silently, not bothering to reply. There’s no need for words. I saw her, I wanted her, and I took her. It’s as simple as that. If she wants to label our relationship, to make it fit some psychobabble definition, she’s free to do so. She’ll just never be free of me. After a few moments, she sighs and closes her eyes, leaning into my touch again. I can feel her muscles slowly relaxing as I massage her shoulders and neck. The challenging expression fades from her face, leaving her looking peculiarly young and defenseless. With her eyelashes fanning over her smooth cheeks, she seems as innocent as a newborn fawn, untouched by anything bad in life. Untouched by me. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if things were different. If I were just a boy she met in school, like that Jake I took her from. Would she love me more? Would she love me at all? If I didn’t take her the way I did, would she have been mine?

It’s foolish to wonder about that, of course. I might as well speculate about time travel or what I’d do if the world came to an end. My reality doesn’t allow for whatifs. What if my parents didn’t die and I finished Caltech? What if I’d refused to kill that man when I was eight? What if I’d been able to protect Maria? If I think about all that, I’ll go insane, and I refuse to let that happen. I am what I am, and I can’t change. Not even for her.

“I TALKED TO MY PARENTS THIS AFTERNOON,” NORA SAYS AS WE SIT DOWN TO DINNER THAT EVENING. “They asked me again about visiting them.” “Did they now?” I give her a sardonic look. “And is that all you talked to them about?” Nora looks down at her salad plate. “I’m going to tell them soon.” “When?” It pisses me off that she keeps acting like the baby doesn’t exist. “When you deliver?” “No, of course not.” She looks up and frowns at me. “How do you know I didn’t tell them yet, anyway? Are you listening in on my conversations?” “Of course.” I don’t listen in on everything, but I’ve eavesdropped a few times. Just enough to know that her parents remain in blissful ignorance of the latest development in their daughter’s life. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have Nora think all her conversations are monitored. “Did you expect me not to?” Her lips tighten. “Yes, perhaps. Privacy being a basic human right and all that.” “There’s no such thing as a basic human right, my pet.” I want to laugh at her naïveté. “That’s a made-up construct. Nobody owes you anything. If you want something in life, you have to fight for it. You have to make it happen.” “Like you made my captivity happen?” I give her a cool smile. “Precisely. I wanted you, so I took you. I didn’t sit around pining and wishing.” “Or dwelling on the construct of human rights, apparently.” Her voice holds just the faintest edge of sarcasm. “Is that how you will raise our child? Just take what you want and don’t worry about hurting people?” I inhale slowly, noting the tension in her features. “Is that what worries you, my

pet?” “A lot of things worry me,” she says evenly. “And yes, raising a child with a man who lacks a conscience is fairly high on the list.” For some reason, her words sting. I want to reassure her, tell her that she’s wrong to worry, but I can’t lie to her any more than I can lie to myself. I have no idea how I’m going to raise this child, what kind of lessons I’m going to impart. Men like me—men like my father—aren’t meant to have children. She knows it, and I know it too. As though sensing my thoughts, Nora asks quietly, “Why do you even want this baby, Julian? Why is it so important to you?” I look at her silently, unsure how to answer the question. There’s no good reason for this child to be as important to me as it is. No reason for me to want it as badly as I do. I should’ve been upset—or at the very least, annoyed—by Nora’s pregnancy, but instead, when Goldberg gave us the news, the emotion I felt was so foreign that I didn’t recognize it at first. It was joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. For a brief, blissful moment, I was truly happy. When I don’t respond, Nora exhales and looks down at her plate again. I watch as she cuts a piece of tomato and begins to eat her salad. Her face is pale and strained, yet each of her movements is so graceful and feminine that I’m hypnotized, completely absorbed by the sight of her. I can watch her for hours. When I first brought her to the island, the mealtimes were my favorite part of the day. I loved interacting with her, seeing her battle her fear and try to maintain her composure. Her stoic, fragile bravery had delighted me almost as much as her delicious body. She’d been terrified, yet I could see the calculation behind her timid smiles and shy flirting. In her own quiet way, my pet has always been a fighter. “Nora…” I want to take away her stress, her understandable worry, but I can’t lie to her. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. So when she looks up, I say only, “This baby is part you, part me. That’s reason enough for me to care.” And when she continues to look at me, her expression unchanging, I add quietly, “I’m going to do the best I can for our child, my pet. That much I can promise you.”

The corners of her lips lift in a fleeting smile. “Of course you will, Julian. And so will I. But will that be enough?” “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” I respond, and as Ana brings out the next course, we focus on the food and let the topic rest.

12

N ora “DID YOU SEE THE GIRL WHO WAS BROUGHT HERE THIS MORNING?” ROSA walk. “Ana said she was handcuffed and everything.”

ASKS DURING OUR USUAL

“What?” I give Rosa a startled look. “What girl? I went for a quick run before breakfast, and I didn’t see anything.” “I didn’t see anything either. Ana told me she spotted her, and she’s really blond and beautiful. Apparently, Lucas Kent is keeping her in his quarters.” Rosa is clearly relishing imparting this bit of gossip. “Ana thinks she might’ve betrayed Señor Esguerra in some way.” “Really?” I frown. “I don’t know anything about any of this. Julian didn’t mention it to me.” In general, since I hacked into Julian’s computer, he’s been telling me less about his business. I don’t know if that’s because he now distrusts me or because he’s trying to keep me as calm as possible in light of the pregnancy. I suspect it’s the latter, given how overprotective he is these days. “Do you want to walk by Kent’s house to see?” Rosa’s eyes glitter with excitement. “Maybe we can peek in his window.” I gape at her. “Rosa!” This is the last thing I would’ve expected from her. “We can’t do that.” “Come on,” my friend cajoles. “It’ll be fun. Don’t you want to see who this blond girl is and why Kent’s got her?” “I can just ask Julian about it. He’ll tell me.” Rosa gives me a pleading look. “Yes, but I might die of curiosity before he does. I

just want to see what Kent’s doing with her, that’s all.” “Why?” I have no desire to see Julian’s right-hand man torture some unfortunate woman, and I have no idea why Rosa wants to witness something so disturbing. “If she betrayed Julian, it won’t be pretty.” My stomach lurches at the thought. Today is not one of my better days, nausea-wise. Rosa flushes. “Just because. Come on, Nora.” Grabbing my wrist, she begins to tug me in the direction of the guards’ quarters. “Let’s just go over there. You’re pregnant, so no one will get mad at you for snooping.” I let myself get towed behind her, flabbergasted by her inexplicable desire to play spy. Normally, Rosa displays little interest in matters concerning my husband’s criminal activities. I can’t fathom what’s behind her unusual behavior, unless… “Are you interested in Lucas?” I blurt out, stopping and bringing us both to a halt. “Is that what this is all about?” “What? No!” Rosa’s voice takes on a higher pitch. “I’m just curious, that’s all.” I stare at her, noting the brighter blush staining her cheeks. “Oh my God, you are interested.” Rosa huffs and lets go of my wrist, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not.” I hold up my palms in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay, okay. If you say so.” Rosa glares at me for a moment, but then her shoulders slump and her arms drop to her sides. “Okay, fine,” she says glumly. “So maybe I do find him attractive. Just a little bit, okay?” “Okay, of course,” I say with a reassuring smile. With his blond hair and fierce, square-jawed face, Lucas Kent reminds me of a Viking warrior—or at least Hollywood’s depiction of one. “He’s a good-looking man.” Rosa nods. “He is. He doesn’t know that I exist, of course, but that’s to be expected.” “What do you mean?” I frown at her. “Have you ever tried talking to him?” “Talking about what? I’m just the maid who cleans the main house and occasionally brings the guards some treats from Ana.” “You can ask him what his favorite food is,” I suggest. “Or how his day went. It doesn’t have to be anything complicated. Just a simple hello would probably put you on his radar.” As I say this, I realize that being on the radar of a man like Lucas

Kent may not be the best thing for Rosa—or any woman, really. Before I can take back my suggestion, Rosa sighs and says, “I’ve said hello to him before. I just don’t think he sees me, Nora. Not like that. And why would he? I mean, look at me.” She gestures derisively toward herself. “What are you talking about?” I still don’t think getting Lucas’s attention would be a positive development in Rosa’s life, but I can’t let that comment slide. “You’re very attractive.” “Oh, please.” Rosa gives me an incredulous look. “I’m average at best. Someone like Kent is used to supermodels—like that blond girl he’s got with him now. I’m not his type.” “Well, if you’re not his type, then he’s a fool,” I say firmly, and mean it. With her pleasantly round face, warm brown eyes, and bright smile, Rosa is quite pretty. She also has the kind of figure I’ve always envied: lush and curvy, with a nipped-in waist and full breasts. “You’re a beautiful girl—a guy would have to be blind not to see that.” She snorts. “Right. That’s why my love life is so great.” “Your love life is limited by the borders of this estate,” I remind her. “Besides, didn’t you tell me you dated a couple of the guards?” “Oh, sure.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Eduardo and Nick—but that doesn’t mean anything. Guards are limited in their selection too, and they’re not that picky. They’ll fuck anything that moves.” “Rosa.” I give her a reproving look. “Now you’re just exaggerating.” She grins. “Okay, maybe. I should probably say ‘anything female that moves’— though I hear Dr. Goldberg gets some action, too. Rumor has it tattooed guys are his fave.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. I shake my head, involuntarily grinning back, and we both burst into laughter at the image of the staid doctor getting it on with one of the big, tatted-up guards. “Okay, now that we’ve established you’re crushing on Mr. Blond and Dangerous,” I say a couple of minutes later when we stop laughing and resume walking toward the guards’ housing, “can you please tell me again why you want to spy on him with this chick?” “I don’t know,” Rosa admits. “I just do. It’s sick, I know, but I just want to see what he’s like with another woman.” “Rosa…” I still don’t get it. “If she arrived here in handcuffs, they’re not exactly

having a romantic date. You know that, right?” “Yes, of course.” She sounds remarkably flippant. “He’s probably doing something horrible to her.” “And you want to see that why?” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hoping that seeing him like that will help me get over this silly crush. Or maybe I’m just morbidly curious. Does it really matter?” “No, I guess not.” I hurry to keep up with her fast stride. “But I can tell you right now that Dr. Wessex would have a lot of fun with you.” “Oh, I’m sure,” she says and grins at me again. “It’s a good thing you’re the one in therapy then, isn’t it?”

THE GUARDS’ BARRACKS ARE ON THE VERY EDGE OF THE COMPOUND, RIGHT NEXT TO THE JUNGLE. Mixed in with the cluster of small, boxy buildings are a few regular-sized houses. From my earlier explorations, I know that they’re occupied by some of the higherranked employees in Julian’s organization and guards who have families. As we approach, Rosa makes a beeline for one of those larger homes, and I follow her, half-running to keep up. My stomach is beginning to feel unsettled, and I’m already regretting that I gave in to this insanity. “This is it,” she says in a hushed tone as we go around the side of the house. “His bedroom is here.” “And you know this how?” She grins at me. “I might’ve been out here a time or two before.” “Rosa…” I’m discovering a whole new side to my friend. “You’ve spied on the poor man before?” “Just once or twice,” she whispers, crouching under a window as I hang back a few feet and observe. “Now, shhh.” She presses her finger to her lips in a silencing gesture. I lean against a tree trunk, cross my arms, and watch as she slowly rises and peeks into the window. I’m astounded that she’s bold enough to do this in broad daylight. Even though this side of Lucas’s house faces the forest, there are plenty of guards in the area, and they could theoretically spot us hanging around.

Before I can voice that concern to Rosa, she turns toward me with a disappointed look on her face. “They’re not there,” she says in a low voice. “I wonder where they could be.” “Maybe he took her elsewhere,” I say, relieved by this development. “Let’s go.” “Hold on, let me just check something.” Still crouching, she moves toward a window further to the left. I reluctantly trail after her, increasingly nauseous and uncomfortable with the situation. Another minute, I promise myself, and I’ll head back. Just as I’m about to tell her that I’m leaving, Rosa lets out a soft gasp and waves for me to come closer. “There,” she says in an excited whisper, pointing at the window. “He’s got her right there.” Now my own curiosity kicks in. Bending down, I make my way to where Rosa is hiding and crouch next to her. “What is he doing?” I whisper, almost afraid to know. “I don’t know,” she whispers back, turning to look at me. “He’s not in the room. She’s alone there.” “What is she doing then?” “See for yourself. She’s not looking this way.” I hesitate for a moment, but the temptation proves to be too much. Holding my breath, I rise just enough to see over the lower rim of the window, barely cognizant of Rosa peeking in next to me. As I feared, the view inside makes my stomach flip. The room I’m looking at is large and sparsely furnished. Judging by the black leather sofa near the wall and the TV on the opposite side, it must be Lucas’s living room. The walls are painted white, and the carpet is gray. It’s a starkly masculine room, functional and uncompromising, but it’s not the decor that catches my attention. It’s the young woman in the middle. Completely naked, she’s tied to a sturdy wooden chair, her feet spread apart and her hands bound behind her back. Her head is lowered, her tangled blond hair concealing her face and much of her upper body. All I can see of her are narrow feet and long pale limbs covered with bruises. Limbs that appear far too thin for a girl of her height.

As I stare in horrified fascination, she lifts her head in a sudden jerky movement and looks directly at me, her blue eyes sharp and clear in her delicately featured face. I instantly duck, my pulse racing from a burst of adrenaline. Rosa, however, is still looking in the window, her expression that of avid curiosity. “Rosa,” I hiss, grabbing her arm. “She saw us. Let’s go.” “Okay, okay,” my friend concedes, letting me tug her away. “Let’s go.” We head back toward our usual path in silence. Rosa appears to be deep in thought, and I can’t bring myself to speak, my nausea intensifying with every step. As we pass by a set of rose bushes, I kneel down and throw up while Rosa holds my hair and repeatedly apologizes for causing me distress in my condition. I wave her apologies away, shakily getting back on my feet. What disturbs me the most is not the fact that I saw a woman bound and likely about to be tortured. It’s that the sight didn’t shock me as it should have.

JULIAN DOESN’T JOIN ME FOR DINNER THAT NIGHT. ACCORDING TO ANA, HE HAS AN EMERGENCY CALL with one of his Hong Kong associates. I consider going to his office to listen in, but decide to use the time to call my parents instead. “Nora, honey, when are we going to see you again?” my mom asks for the dozenth time after I give her a quick update on my classes. My dad is traveling for business, so it’s just the two of us on video chat today. “I miss you so much.” “I know, Mom. I miss you too.” I bite the inside of my cheek, my eyes suddenly burning with tears. Fucking pregnancy hormones. “I told you, Julian said we’ll be able to come at some point soon.” “When?” my mom asks in frustration. “Why can’t you just give us a date?” Because I’m pregnant, and my overprotective kidnapper/husband refuses to even talk about going anywhere right now. “Mom…” I take a breath, trying to gather my courage. “I think there’s something you should know.” My mom leans closer to the camera, instant worry creasing her forehead. “What is it, honey?” “I’m eight weeks pregnant. Julian and I are having a baby.” As soon as the words are out, I feel like a slab of granite was lifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized until this moment how heavily this secret weighed on me.

My mom blinks. “What? Already?” “Um, yeah.” This is not the reaction I was expecting. Frowning, I lean closer to the camera. “What do you mean, already?” “Well, your dad and I figured that with the two of you being married and all…” She shrugs. “I mean, we were hoping it wouldn’t happen for a while, and you’d get to finish school first—” “You figured I’d have children with Julian?” I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. “And you’re okay with that?” My mom sighs and leans back, regarding me with a weary expression. “Of course we’re not okay with that. But we can’t live our lives in denial, no matter how much your dad might want to try. Obviously, this is not what we wanted for you, but—” She stops and heaves another sigh before saying, “Look, honey, if this is what you want, if he really does make you as happy as you say, then it’s not our place to interfere. We just want you happy and healthy. You know that, right?” “I do, Mom.” I blink rapidly, trying to contain a fresh influx of emotional tears. “I do.” “Good.” She smiles, and I’m pretty sure I see her eyes glistening with tears of her own. “Now tell me all about it. Have you been sick? Have you been tired? How did you find out? Was it an accident?” And for the next hour, my mom and I talk about babies and pregnancy. She tells me all about her own experience—I was an oops baby for her and Dad, conceived during their honeymoon—and I explain that I hurt my arm when I was abducted by the terrorists and had to have the implant out for a short time. It’s the closest I can come to the truth: that Al-Quadar cut the implant out of my arm because they mistook it for a tracking device. My parents know about my abduction from the mall—I had to explain my disappearance to them somehow—but I didn’t tell them the full story. They have no idea that their daughter acted as bait to save her abductor’s life and killed a man in cold blood. By the time we finally wrap up our conversation, it’s dark outside, and I’m beginning to feel tired. As soon as we disconnect, I shower, brush my teeth, and get in bed to wait for Julian. After a while, my eyelids grow heavy, and I feel the lethargy of sleep stealing over me. As my mind begins to drift, an image appears in front of my eyes: that of a girl bound and helpless, tied to a chair in the middle of a large, white-walled room.

Her hair, however, is not blond. It’s dark… and her belly is swollen with child.

13

J ulian IT’S NEARLY MIDNIGHT BY THE TIME I FINISH WORK AND GET TO OUR BEDROOM. ENTERING THE ROOM, I turn on the bedside lamp and see that Nora is already asleep, curled up under the blanket. I shower and join her there, pulling her naked body to me as soon as I get under the sheets. She fits me perfectly, her curvy little ass nestling against my groin and her neck pillowed on my outstretched arm. My other arm, bent, rests on her side, my hand cupping one small, firm breast. A breast that feels a little plumper than before, reminding me that her body is changing. It’s bizarre how erotic I find that knowledge, how the thought of Nora growing round with child turns me on. I’ve never thought of pregnant women as being sexy, but with my wife, I find myself obsessed with her still-slim body, fascinated by its possibilities. My sex drive, always strong, is through the roof these days, and it’s all I can do not to attack her constantly. If not for my twice-daily jerk-off sessions, I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself. Even now, after I just masturbated in the shower, lying wrapped around her like this is torture. I’m not willing to move away, though. I need to feel her against me, even if all I’m going to do is cuddle her. She needs rest, and I have every intention of letting her sleep. However, as I settle more comfortably on the pillow, she stirs in my arms and says sleepily, “Julian?” “Of course, baby.” I give in to temptation and nuzzle the soft skin behind her ear as I slide my hand from her breast to the warm folds between her legs. “Who else could it be?”

“I—I don’t know…” Her breathing catches as I find her clit and press on it. “What time is it?” “It’s late.” I push one finger into her to test her readiness, and my dick throbs at the slickness I feel in her tight, hot channel. “I should let you go back to sleep.” “No.” She gasps as I curve my finger inside her, hitting her G-spot. “I’m okay, really.” “Are you?” I can’t resist tormenting her a little. I have to rein in my sadistic urges these days, but hearing her beg is not something I can pass up. Lowering my voice, I murmur, “I’m not so sure. I think I should stop.” “No, please don’t.” She moans as I circle her clit with my thumb and simultaneously rub my hard-on on her ass. “Please don’t stop.” “Tell me what you want me to do to you then.” I continue circling her clit. She feels like live fire in my arms, her body warm and sleek. Her hair smells flowery from her shampoo, and her inner walls flex around my finger, as if trying to suck it deeper into her pussy. “Tell me exactly what you want, my pet.” “You know what I want.” She’s panting now, her hips shimmying as she tries to force my fingers into a steady rhythm. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.” “How hard?” My voice roughens as dark, depraved images invade my mind. There are so many dirty things I want to do to her, so many ways I want to take her. Even after all this time, there is an innocence to her that makes me want to corrupt her. Makes me want to push her to the limits. “Tell me, Nora. I want to hear every detail.” “Why?” she asks breathlessly, grinding her pelvis against my hand. Her pussy is dripping now, coating my fingers with her wetness. “You won’t do what I want.” “You don’t get to ask why.” Stilling my hand, I let some of the darker craving seep into my voice. “Now tell me.” “I—” She sucks in her breath as I resume playing with her clit. “I want you to fuck me so hard it hurts.” Her voice quavers as I push a second finger into her, stretching her small opening. “I want you to tie me up and make me do what you want.” “Do you want me to fuck your ass?” Her pussy clenches around my fingers as a shudder ripples through her body. “I —” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know.” If my balls didn’t feel like they’re about to explode, I’d find her evasiveness

amusing. One of these days I’m going to make her admit that she’s grown to like anal sex, that she enjoys being taken that way. In fact, I’m going to make her beg for my cock in her little asshole. For now, though, all this talk is just that: talk. As much as I’d love to fuck every one of her tight holes, I can’t. I won’t risk the baby for momentary pleasure. This verbal interlude will have to be enough until Nora gives birth. Withdrawing my fingers from her body, I grip my dick and guide it to her warm, wet pussy. She moans as I begin to push into her. With both of us lying on our sides and with her legs closed, the fit is even tighter than usual, and I go slowly, ignoring the savage lust pounding through my veins. Do not hurt her. Do not hurt her. The words are like a mantra in my brain. She arches her back, curving her spine to better accommodate me, and I slide my hand to the front of her sex, seeking out the small bud peeking through her folds. As my fingers make contact with her clit, she gasps out my name, and I feel her spasming around me, her inner muscles contracting as she finds her release. My heart thumping heavily in my chest, I take deep breaths and hold still, trying to contain my own impending explosion. When the urge to come abates slightly, I begin to thrust into her, rubbing her engorged clit at the same time. She lets out an incoherent noise, something between a moan and a gasp, and her body tenses in my embrace. As I continue to fuck her in short, shallow strokes, she tenses even more, crying out, and I feel her swollen flesh clamping down on me as she reaches her second peak. The sensation of her milking my cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through me, hurling me into a sudden climax. Groaning harshly, I grind my pelvis against her, burrowing deep into her pussy as my seed bursts out with violent, orgasmic force. Afterwards, we lie there trying to catch our breath, our bodies glued together with sweat. As my heart rate slowly returns to normal, a feeling of satiation, of relaxed contentment, spreads through me. I know I should get up and bring Nora to the shower for a quick rinse, but it feels too good to just lie there, holding her as my cock softens inside her body. Closing my eyes, I let myself luxuriate in the moment, my thoughts drifting as I start to sink into the heavy nothingness of sleep. “Julian?” Nora’s soft voice jolts me out of my near-slumber, sending my heartbeat spiking. “What is it, baby?” My tone is sharp with sudden worry. “Are you okay?”

She lets out a heavy sigh and turns around in my arms, moving back to look at me. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” I exhale slowly, too relieved—and sexually replete—to get annoyed at her exasperated tone. “What is it then?” I ask more calmly, bringing the blanket up to cover her. The room is cool from air conditioning, and I know Nora gets chilly when she’s tired. She sighs again as I tuck the blanket around her. “You know I’m not made of glass, right?” I don’t bother replying to that. Instead, I stare at her, eyes narrowed, until she blows out a breath and says, “I just wanted to let you know that I talked to my parents, that’s all.” “About the baby?” “Yes.” A pleased smile curves her lips. “Mom reacted surprisingly well.” “She’s a smart woman, your mother. What about your father?” “He wasn’t on the call, but Mom said she’ll talk to him.” “Good.” I find it strangely satisfying, knowing that Nora finally took this step. It means she’s that much closer to acceptance, to finally admitting that the baby is a fact of our lives. “Now you can stop worrying about it.” “Right.” Her eyes gleam black in the soft light of the bedside lamp. “The hard part is over. Now all I need to do is give birth and raise the child.” Her tone is light, but I can hear the fear underneath the sarcasm. She’s terrified about the future, and as much as I want to reassure her, I can’t tell her that everything will be all right. Because deep inside, I’m just as terrified as she is.

GIVEN THE LATE NIGHT already stirring.

IN THE OFFICE,

I

SLEEP LONGER THAN USUAL, AND WHEN

I

WAKE UP,

NORA

IS

Hearing my movements, she rolls over in bed and gives me a sleepy smile. “You’re still here.” “I am.” Giving in to a momentary impulse, I pull her close, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Sometimes it feels like the time we have together is not enough. Even though I see her every day, I want more.

I constantly want more with her. She drapes her leg over my thigh and burrows even closer, rubbing her nose against my chest. My body reacts predictably, my morning erection stiffening to a painful hardness. Before I can do anything, however, she distracts me by speaking. “Julian…” Her voice is muffled. “Who’s the woman in Lucas’s house?” Surprised, I pull back to look at her. “How do you know about that?” “Rosa and I saw her yesterday.” Nora seems reluctant to meet my gaze. “We were, um… passing by.” She glances up at me through her lashes. “Were you now?” Propping myself up on my elbow, I study her, noting the flush on her face. “And why were you passing by? You don’t normally walk in that area.” “We did yesterday.” Pulling the blanket around herself, Nora sits up and gives me a determined look. “So who is she? What did she do?” I sigh. I didn’t want Nora exposed to that drama, but it looks like I can’t avoid it. “The girl is the Russian interpreter who sold us out to the Ukrainians,” I explain, carefully watching Nora’s reaction. My pet is just getting over her nightmares, and the last thing I want is to trigger a relapse. As I speak, Nora’s eyes grow wide. “She’s responsible for the plane crash?” “Not directly, but the information she gave to the Ukrainians led to it, yes.” If Lucas hadn’t decided to take charge of the situation, I would’ve sent someone to Moscow to take care of the traitor—if the Russians hadn’t done it for me first, that is. As Nora digests that information, I see her expression changing, darkening. It’s fascinating to observe. Her soft lips stiffen, and her gaze fills with pure hatred. “She almost killed you,” she says in a choked voice. “Julian, that bitch almost killed you.” “Yes, and she killed nearly fifty of my men.” It’s that loss that eats at me more than anything—and I know it eats at Lucas as well. Whatever punishment he decides to dole out to his prisoner will be no less than she deserves, and I see that Nora is reaching the same realization. As I watch, she jumps off the bed, leaving the blanket there. Grabbing her robe, she pulls it on before starting to pace around the room, visibly agitated. The brief glimpse of her naked body arouses me again, but I keep my gaze focused on her face as I get up. “Does it bother you, my pet?” I ask. Nora stops pacing, her eyes straying to my

lower body before she looks up at me. “Is that why you want to know about her?” “Of course it bothers me.” Nora’s voice is filled with a tension I can’t quite define. “There’s a woman tied up on our compound.” “A female traitor,” I correct. “She’s hardly an innocent victim.” “Why couldn’t you let the Russian authorities take care of it?” Nora steps closer. “Why did you need to bring her here?” “Lucas wanted this. He has a bit of a… personal… relationship with her.” Nora’s eyes widen with comprehension. “He had an affair with her?” “More of a one-night stand, but yes.” I walk toward the bathroom, and Nora follows me there. When I turn on the shower and begin brushing my teeth, she picks up her own toothbrush and does the same. I can see that she still looks agitated, so after I rinse out the toothpaste, I say, “If this really bothers you, I can have him take her away somewhere.” Nora puts down her toothbrush and gives me a sarcastic look. “So he could torture her with no one the wiser? How would that make it better?” I shrug, walking over to the shower stall. “You wouldn’t see it.” I leave the stall door open, so I can talk to her. The shower is spacious enough that no water will get out. “Right, of course.” She stares at me as I begin to lather up. “So if I don’t see it, it’s not happening.” I let out another sigh. “Come here, baby.” Ignoring the soap covering my hands, I reach for her and tug her into the stall with me. Then I take off her robe and throw it on the floor outside the stall. She doesn’t resist as I bring her under the hot spray with me. Instead, she closes her eyes and stands still as I pour shampoo into my palm and begin massaging it into her scalp. Even wet, her hair feels good to the touch, thick and silky around my fingers. It’s strange how much I enjoy taking care of her like this. How the simple act of washing her hair both soothes me and turns me on. At moments like these, it’s easier to forget the violence within me, to quell the cravings I can’t give in to for months to come. “What difference does it make whether Lucas is the one to mete out punishment, or if it’s the Russians?” I ask when I’m done lathering her hair. Nora’s not saying anything, but I know she’s still thinking about the interpreter, obsessing

about her fate. “The outcome would be the same. You know that, my pet, right?” She nods silently, then tilts her head back to rinse off the shampoo. “So why are you dwelling on it?” I reach for the hair conditioner as she wipes the water off her face and opens her eyes to look at me. “Do you want her to walk free?” “I should.” She stares at me as I begin working the conditioner into her hair. “I shouldn’t want her to suffer like this.” My lips curl with savage amusement. “But you do, don’t you? You want revenge just as much as I do.” Her agitation makes sense to me now. As with the man she killed, Nora’s middle-class sensibilities are clashing with her instincts. She knows what society dictates she should feel, and it bothers her that the actual emotions she’s experiencing are quite different. It’s not human nature to turn the other cheek, and my pet is starting to realize that. Nora closes her eyes again and moves her head under the spray. The water cascades down her face, turning her lashes into long, dark spikes. “I wanted to die when I thought you were dead,” she says, her voice barely audible through the running water. “It was even worse than when I lost you that first time. When I saw the girl, I figured she did something to harm your business, but I didn’t realize she’d caused the crash.” I picture how Nora must’ve felt that day, and an acute ache spreads through my chest. I’d go insane if I ever thought I’d lost her. “Baby…” Stepping closer, I use my back to shield her from the spray and cup her face in my palms, staring down at her. “It’s over. That episode in our lives is over, okay? It’s in the past.” She doesn’t reply, so I bend my head and take her mouth in a deep, slow kiss, comforting her the only way I know how.

14

N ora I’M LOSING MYSELF. SLOWLY AND SURELY, I’M BEING DRAWN INTO JULIAN’S DARK ORBIT, SUCKED IN BY the twisted morass that is this estate. I’ve known this for a while, of course. I’ve been observing my own transformation with a kind of distant horror and curiosity. Things that once seemed abhorrent to me are now part of my everyday life. Murder, torture, illegal arms dealing—intellectually, I still condemn it all, but it no longer bothers me as it once did. My moral compass has been gradually tilting off-course, and I’ve been letting it happen. I’ve been letting Julian’s world change me without so much as putting up a fight. Even before I knew what the blond girl had done, her plight didn’t affect me on any kind of deep emotional level. Like Rosa, I had been morbidly curious rather than appalled. And now that I know she’s the interpreter who nearly killed Julian, the hatred surging through my veins leaves little room for pity. I understand that it’s wrong to let Lucas punish her in this manner, but I don’t feel the wrongness of it. I want her to suffer, to pay for the agony she put us through. The fact that I can think at all right now, much less analyze my disconcerting emotions, is bizarre. I’m in the shower, and Julian is kissing me, drugging my senses with his touch. His hands are cradling my face, and my body is responding to him as always, the warm water sluicing over my skin adding to the burning heat within me. My thoughts, however, are cold and clear. There’s only one solution I can see, only one way I can attempt to salvage what remains of my soul.

I have to get away. Not permanently. Not forever. But I have to leave, even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. I need to regain my sense of perspective, re-immerse myself in the world outside our compound. If not for my own sake, then for the tiny life I’m carrying. “Julian…” My voice shakes when he finally releases my lips and slides one hand down my back, making my sex pulse with need. “Julian, I want to go home.” He stops abruptly and lifts his head, still holding me against him. His gaze hardens, the heat of desire morphing into something cold and menacing. “You are home.” “I want to see my parents,” I insist, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. With Julian’s powerful body surrounding me and the steam from the shower fogging up the stall, I feel like I’m trapped in a bubble of naked flesh and lust. My body clamors for his touch, but my mind screams that I can’t give in. Not with so much at stake. A muscle starts ticking in his jaw. “I told you I’ll take you at some point. But not now. Not in your condition.” “Then when?” I force myself to hold his gaze. “When I have an infant to care for? Or a toddler? How about when the child is full-grown? Do you think it’ll be safe for me to go then?” Julian’s lips thin into a hard, dangerous line. Backing me up against the shower wall, he grasps my wrists and pins them above my head. “Don’t push me, my pet,” he murmurs, his erection pressing into my stomach. “You won’t like the consequences.” Despite my determination, a tendril of fear coils in my chest. I know Julian won’t hurt me right now, but physical punishment is not the only weapon in my husband’s arsenal. Images of Jake’s brutal beating flash through my mind, bringing with them a sickening chill. “Don’t,” I whisper as he leans down and brushes his lips against my ear, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the threat of his body looming over me. “Julian, don’t do this.” He straightens, his eyes like hard blue gems. “Don’t do what?” Transferring my wrists into one of his large palms, he trails his free hand over my breasts and down my belly, his fingers grazing over my burning skin. “Don’t—” My voice breaks, his touch making my core throb with need despite

the lingering chill. “Don’t let it be like this.” His hand comes up, his fingers catching my jaw in an inescapable grip. “Like what?” he asks, his tone deceptively even. “Like you’re mine?” My breath catches. “I’m your wife, not your slave—” “You’re whatever I wish you to be, my pet. I own you.” The casual cruelty of his words hits me like a blow, knocking all air out of my lungs. Something of my reaction must’ve shown because his grip on me eases, his tone softening slightly as he says, “This is your home, Nora. Here. With me. Not out there.” “They’re my parents, Julian. My family. Just like you are my family now. I can’t spend my whole life locked in a cage for my safety. I’ll go crazy.” I can feel tears gathering behind my eyelids, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. The last thing I want is to show what an emotional mess I am these days. Stupid pregnancy hormones. Julian stares at me, his eyes glittering with frustration, and then, with an abrupt movement, he releases me, stepping back. Turning off the water, he steps out of the stall, grabbing a towel with barely controlled violence. His cock is still hard, and the fact that he’s not already on me is surprising, even considering his new, treatNora-like-glass approach. Moving cautiously, I follow him out of the shower, my wet feet sinking into the plush softness of the bathroom mat. “Can you please—” I begin, but Julian is already stepping toward me with the towel. Wrapping it around me, he pats me dry before stepping back to grab another towel for himself. “What does all this have to do with Yulia Tzakova?” His words stop me in my tracks as I’m about to leave the bathroom. When I turn toward him in confusion, he clarifies, “The Russian interpreter you saw yesterday. Does she have anything to do with your sudden desire to see your parents?” I consider denying it for a second, but Julian can tell when I’m lying. “In a way,” I say carefully. “I just need some time away from here, a change of scenery. I need a breather, Julian.” I swallow, holding his gaze. “I need it badly.” He stares at me, and then, without saying another word, goes into the bedroom to get dressed.

AT BREAKFAST, JULIAN

IS SILENT, SEEMINGLY ABSORBED WITH EMAILS ON HIS IPAD.

I

FEEL IGNORED—

an unfamiliar sensation for me. Usually, when we have meals together, I have Julian’s undivided attention, and the fact that he’s focusing on something else bothers me far more than is reasonable. I debate trying to break the silence, but I don’t want to make things worse. As it is, this morning’s argument probably killed my chances of getting off the estate. I should’ve waited until a more appropriate time to bring up the visit to my parents; blurting it out in the middle of a make-out session hadn’t been the smartest move. Of course, there’s no guarantee that a different approach would’ve altered the outcome. Once Julian makes a decision, I have little chance of changing his mind, especially if the matter concerns my safety. I fought him on the trackers, and they’re still embedded in my body. Julian will never let me remove them, just as he might never let me off the compound. For all intents and purposes, he does own me, and there’s nothing I can do about that fact. Trying not to give in to the dull despair pressing down on me, I finish my eggs and get up, not wanting to linger in the tense atmosphere. Before I can step away from the table, however, Julian looks up from his iPad and gives me a sharp look. “Where are you going?” “To study for my exams,” I reply cautiously. “Sit.” He gestures imperiously toward my chair. “We’re not done yet.” Suppressing a flare of anger, I return to my seat and cross my arms. “I really have to study, Julian.” “When is your last final?” I stare at him, my pulse accelerating as a tiny bubble of hope forms in my chest. “It’s flexible with the online program. If I finish all the lectures early, I can take the exams right away.” “So early June?” he presses. “No, sooner.” I place my sweaty palms on the table. “I can potentially be done in the next week and a half.” “Okay.” He looks down at the iPad again and types something as I watch him, hardly daring to breathe. After a minute, he looks up again, pinning me with a hard blue gaze. “I’m only going to tell you this once, Nora,” he says evenly. “If you disobey me, or do anything to endanger yourself while we’re in Chicago, I will punish you. Do you understand me?” Before he even finishes speaking, I’m halfway around the table, nearly knocking

over his chair as I leap on him. “Yes!” I don’t even know how I end up on his lap, but somehow I’m there, my arms wrapped around his neck as I rain kisses all over his face. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He lets me kiss him until I run out of breath, and then he frames my face with his big hands, gazing at me intently. I can see the gleam of desire in his eyes, feel the hard bulge pressing into my thighs, and I know we’re going to continue what we started this morning. My body begins to pulse in anticipation, my nipples tightening under the fabric of my dress. As if sensing my growing arousal, Julian smiles darkly and rises to his feet, holding me against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this, my pet,” he murmurs as he carries me toward the stairs. “You don’t want to disappoint me, believe me.” “I won’t,” I vow fervently, winding my arms around his neck. “I promise you, Julian, I won’t.”

III THE TRIP

15

N ora I’M GOING HOME. OH MY GOD, I’M GOING HOME. Even now, as I look out the window of the plane at the clouds below, I can hardly believe this is happening. Only two weeks have passed since our conversation at breakfast, and here we are, on our way to Oak Lawn. “This plane is nothing like what I’ve seen on TV,” Rosa says, gazing around the luxurious interior of the cabin. “I mean, I knew we wouldn’t be flying on a regular airline, but this is really nice, Nora.” I grin at her. “Yes, I know. The first time I saw it, I had the same reaction.” I sneak a quick glance at Julian, who’s sitting on the couch with his laptop, seemingly ignoring our conversation. He told me he’s planning to meet with his portfolio manager while we’re in Chicago, so I’m guessing he’s going over prospective investments in preparation. It’s either that or the latest drone design modification from his engineers; that project has been taking up a lot of his time this week. “My first time flying, and it’s on a private jet. Can you believe it? The only way this could be better is if we were going to New York,” Rosa says, bringing my attention back to her. Her brown eyes are bright with excitement, and she’s practically bouncing in her plush leather seat. She’s been like this for several days, ever since I got Julian to agree to have her come with us to America—something my friend has been dreaming about for years. “Chicago is pretty nice too,” I say, amused at her unintentional snobbery. “It’s a cool city, you’ll see.”

“Oh, of course.” Realizing she insulted my home, Rosa flushes. “I’m sure it’s great, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she says quickly, looking distraught. “I know you’re only bringing me along because you’re nice, and I’m ecstatic to be going—” “Rosa, you’re coming along because I need you,” I interrupt, not wanting her to go into this in front of Julian. “You’re the only one Ana trusts to make my morning smoothies, and you know I need those vitamins.” Or at least that’s what I told my obsessively protective husband when I asked to have Rosa come with us. I’m fairly certain I could’ve made the smoothies myself— or just swallowed the vitamin pills—but I wanted to make sure he’d allow my friend to join us. To this day, I’m not sure if he agreed because he believed me, or because he didn’t have any objections to begin with. Either way, I don’t want Rosa to inadvertently rock the boat… or the private jet, as the case may be. It still doesn’t feel entirely real, the fact that we’re on our way to see my parents. The past two weeks have simply flown by. With all the exams and papers, I barely had time to think about the upcoming trip. It wasn’t until three days ago that I was able to catch my breath and realize that the trip was, in fact, happening, and Julian had already made all the necessary preparations, beefing up the security around my parents to White House levels. “Oh, yes, the smoothies,” Rosa says, shooting a cautious look in Julian’s direction. She finally caught on. “Of course, I forgot. And I’ll be helping to unpack all the art supplies, so you don’t overtire yourself.” “Right, exactly.” I give her a conspiratorial grin. “Can’t have me lifting heavy canvases and all that.” At that moment, the plane shakes, and Rosa’s face turns white, her excitement evaporating. “What—what is that?” “Just turbulence,” I say, breathing slowly to combat an immediate swell of nausea. I’m still not entirely out of the morning-sickness phase, and the plane’s jerky motion is not helpful. “We won’t crash, will we?” Rosa asks fearfully, and I shake my head to reassure her. When I glance over at Julian, however, I see that he’s looking at me, his face unusually tense and his knuckles white as he grips the computer. Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and get up, wanting to go over to him. If Rosa is afraid of crashing, I can only imagine how Julian must feel, having experienced a crash less than three months ago.

“What are you doing?” Julian’s voice is sharp as he stands up, dropping the computer on the couch. “Sit down, Nora. It’s not safe.” “I just—” Before I finish speaking, he’s already next to me, forcing me back into the seat and strapping me in. “Sit,” he barks, glaring at me. “Did you not promise to behave?” “Yes, but I just—” At the expression on Julian’s face, I fall silent before muttering, “Never mind.” Still glaring at me, he steps back and takes a seat across from me and Rosa. She looks uncomfortable, her hands twisting in her lap as she gazes out the window. I feel bad for her; I’m sure it’s awkward to see her friend being treated like a disobedient child. “I don’t want you to fall if the plane hits an air pocket,” Julian says in a calmer tone when I show no further signs of trying to get up. “It’s not safe to be walking around the cabin during turbulence.” I nod and focus on breathing slowly. It helps with both nausea and anger. Sometimes I forget the facts and start thinking that we have a normal marriage, a partnership of equals, instead of… well, whatever it is we have. On paper, I might be Julian’s wife, but in reality, I’m far closer to his sex slave. A sex slave who’s desperately in love with her owner. Closing my eyes, I find a comfortable position in the middle of the spacious leather seat and try to relax. It’s going to be a long flight.

“WAKE UP, BABY.” WARM “We’re here.”

LIPS BRUSH AGAINST MY FOREHEAD AS MY SEATBELT IS UNBUCKLED.

I open my eyes, blinking slowly. “What?” Julian smiles at me, his blue gaze filled with amusement as he stands in front of me. “You slept the entire way. You must’ve been exhausted.” I had been a bit tired—the aftermath of all the studying and packing—but an eight-hour nap is a new record for me. Must be those pregnancy hormones again. Covering a yawn with my hand, I get up and see Rosa already standing by the

exit, holding her backpack. “We landed,” she says brightly. “I barely felt the plane touch down. Lucas must be an amazing pilot.” “He is good,” Julian agrees, wrapping a cashmere shawl around my shoulders. When I give him a questioning look, he explains, “It’s only sixty-eight degrees outside. I don’t want you to get cold.” I suppress the urge to snicker. Only someone from the tropics would consider sixty-eight degrees “cold”—though, to be fair, it probably is a bit chilly for the short-sleeved dress I’m wearing. Chicago weather in late May is unpredictable, with cool spring days interspersed with summer-like heat. Julian himself is dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt. “Thank you,” I say, looking at him. On some level, I do find his concern touching, even if he takes it too far these days. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the feel of his large hands on my shoulders makes me want to melt against him, even with Rosa standing only a few feet away. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says huskily, holding my gaze, and I know he feels it too—this deep, inexplicable pull we have toward one another. I don’t know if it’s chemistry or something else, but it ties us together more securely than any rope. The clanging of the plane door opening snaps me out of whatever spell I was under. Startled, I step back, grabbing the shawl so it doesn’t fall. Julian gives me a look that promises a continuation of what we started, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me. “Is it okay for me to go down?” Rosa asks, and I turn to see her waiting impatiently by the open door. “Sure,” Julian says. “Go ahead, Rosa. We’ll be right there.” She disappears through the exit, and Julian steps closer to me, making my breath catch in my throat. “Are you ready?” he asks softly, and I nod, mesmerized by the warm look in his eyes. “In that case, let’s go,” he murmurs, taking my hand. His big, masculine palm engulfs my fingers completely. “Your parents await.”

THE CAR THAT TAKES US FROM THE AIRPORT TO MY PARENTS’ HOUSE IS A LONG, MODERN-LOOKING LIMO with unusually thick glass. “Bulletproof?” I ask when we get in, and Julian nods, confirming my guess. He’s

sitting in the back with me and Rosa, while Lucas is driving, as usual. I wonder if the blond man resents this trip for taking him away from his Russian toy. The last I heard, the interpreter was still alive—and still held prisoner in Lucas’s quarters. Julian told me that Lucas assigned two guards to watch over her in his absence and make sure she’s all right. Apparently, he doesn’t want anyone else to have the privilege of torturing the girl. That whole situation makes me sick, so I try not to think about it. The only reason I even know as much as I know is because Rosa refuses to leave it alone, constantly begging me to ask Julian for updates. Her strange obsession with Julian’s right-hand man worries me, even though I’m coming to the conclusion that Rosa was right about Lucas having zero interest in her. Still, as much as I don’t want her to get involved with him, I also don’t want her to be heartbroken—and I’m afraid things are trending in that direction. “Are you sure your parents don’t mind us coming so late?” Rosa asks, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s almost nine in the evening.” “No, they’re really anxious to see me.” I glance down at my phone, which pings with yet another text from Mom. Picking it up, I skim the message and tell Rosa, “My mom already has the table set.” “And they don’t mind me tagging along?” She chews on her lower lip. “I mean, you’re their daughter, so of course they want to see you, but I’m just the maid—” “You’re my friend.” Impulsively, I reach across the limo aisle and squeeze Rosa’s hand. “Please stop worrying about it. You’re not imposing.” Rosa smiles, looking relieved, and I glance at Julian to see his reaction. His face is impassive, but I catch a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. My husband is clearly not worried about imposing on my parents so late in the evening. And that makes perfect sense. Why would something like that faze him when he unapologetically abducted their daughter? This should be an interesting dinner indeed.

“NORA, HONEY!” AS SOON AS MY PARENTS’ DOOR SWINGS OPEN, I’M ENVELOPED IN A SOFT, PERFUMED embrace. Laughing, I hug my mom and then my dad, who’s standing right behind her. He holds me tightly for a few moments, and I feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. When he pulls back to look at me, there is a sheen of moisture in his eyes. “We

are so glad to see you,” he says in a low, deep voice, and I smile up at him through my own veil of tears. “Me too, Dad. Me too. I really missed you and Mom.” As soon as I say that, I remember that I’m not alone. Turning, I see that my mom is looking at Rosa and Julian, her smile now stiff and unnatural. I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “Mom, Dad, you already know Julian. And this is Rosa Martinez. She’s my best friend on the estate.” I invited Lucas to join us for dinner as well, but he refused, explaining that he’s part of the security detail tonight and needs to remain outside. My mom nods cautiously at Julian. Then her smile warms a fraction as she looks at my friend. “It’s nice to meet you, Rosa. Nora told us all about you. Please, come in.” She steps back to welcome them, and Rosa walks in, smiling uncertainly. She’s followed by Julian, who strolls in looking as cool and confident as ever. “Gabriela. It’s so good to see you.” Giving my mom a dazzling smile, my former captor leans down to brush his lips against her cheek in a European gesture. When he straightens, she looks flushed, like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Leaving her to recover, Julian turns his attention to my dad. “It’s a pleasure meeting you in person, Tony,” he says, extending his hand. “Likewise,” my dad says, his jaw tight as he takes Julian’s proffered hand in a white-knuckled handshake. “I’m glad you were finally able to make it out here.” “Yes, so am I,” Julian says smoothly, releasing my dad’s hand. I notice red finger marks on his hand where my dad purposefully squeezed too hard, and my heart skips a beat. However, when I sneak a glance at my dad’s hand, I realize with relief that there’s no corresponding damage there. Julian must’ve forgiven my dad this small act of aggression—or at least I’m hoping that’s the case. As we walk toward the dining room, I steal covert looks at my husband’s handsome profile. Having my former captor in my childhood home is beyond strange. I’m used to being with him in exotic, foreign locations, not Oak Lawn, Illinois. Seeing Julian in my parents’ house is a bit like encountering a wild tiger in a suburban mall—it’s bizarre in a scary way. “Oh, honey, you’re so thin,” my mom exclaims, eyeing me critically as we enter the dining room. “I knew you wouldn’t start rounding out with the baby yet, but

you look like you’ve lost weight.” “I know,” Julian says, placing a hand on my lower back. His touch both warms and discomfits me, coming as it does in front of my parents. “With the nausea, it’s been tough getting her to eat well. At least she stopped losing weight. You should’ve seen her four weeks ago.” “Was it really bad, honey?” my mom asks sympathetically when we stop in front of the table. She’s keeping her eyes on my face, clearly determined to ignore Julian’s possessive gesture. My dad, however, grits his teeth so hard I can practically hear the grinding noise. “It got better once we learned that I’m pregnant. I started eating plainer foods at regular intervals, and it seemed to help,” I explain, flushing. It’s odd to talk about my pregnancy in front of my dad. We had danced around the issue during our video chats, with Dad gruffly asking after my health and me brushing off his inquiries. I know he hates the fact that I’m pregnant at my age, and despises the whole situation with Julian. My mom probably feels the same, but she’s much more diplomatic about it. “I hope you can eat tonight,” my mom says worriedly. “Your dad and I prepared a lot of food.” “I’m sure I’ll manage, Mom.” Smiling, I sit down in the chair Julian pulls out for me. “Everything looks delicious.” And it’s true. My parents have outdone themselves. The table has everything from my dad’s rosemary chicken—a recipe he only uses for special occasions—to my grandmother’s tamales and my favorite dish of roasted lamb chops. It’s a feast, and my stomach growls in appreciation at the delicious smells emanating from the glass-covered platters. Julian takes a seat to the left of me, and Mom and Dad sit down across from us. “Come, sit next to me on this side,” I tell Rosa, patting the empty chair to my right. I can see my friend still doesn’t feel comfortable, convinced she’s somehow imposing. Her usual bright smile is uncertain and a bit shy as she sits down next to me, smoothing her palms over the front of her blue dress. “This table is amazing, Mrs. Leston,” she says in her softly accented voice. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” My mom beams at her. “Your English is so good. Where did you learn to speak like that? Nora told me you’ve never been to the US before.”

“No, I haven’t.” Looking pleased at the compliment, Rosa explains how Julian’s mother taught her American English when she was a child. My parents listen to her story with interest, asking a number of follow-up questions, and I use this opportunity to excuse myself to visit the restroom. When I return a few minutes later, the atmosphere at the table is thick with tension. The only person who appears at ease is Julian, who’s leaning back in his chair and regarding my parents with an inscrutable gaze. My dad is visibly bristling, and my mom has her hand on his elbow in a classic calming gesture. Poor Rosa looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. I sit down and debate asking what happened, but I have a feeling it would stir up the hornet’s nest even more. “How’s the new job going, Dad?” I ask brightly instead. My dad takes a deep breath, then another, and attempts something that’s supposed to be a smile. It looks more like a grimace, but I give him credit for trying. Before he can answer my question, Julian leans forward, placing his forearms on the table, and says, “Tony, you may not be aware of this, but your daughter is now one of the wealthiest women in the world. She will want for nothing, regardless of her choice of profession or lack thereof. I understand that having a child during college is not optimal, but I would hardly call it ‘destroying her life,’ particularly in this situation.” My dad’s chest swells with fury. “You think the child is the only problem? You stole—” “Tony.” My mom’s voice is soft, but the inflection in it makes Dad stop midsentence. She then turns toward Julian. “I apologize for my husband’s bad manners,” she says evenly. “Obviously, we’re well aware of your ability to provide for Nora financially.” “Good.” Julian gives her a cool smile. “And are you also aware that Nora is becoming a sought-after artist?” I pause in the middle of reaching for a lamb chop and gape at Julian. A soughtafter artist? Me? “I know that a gallery in Paris expressed some interest in her paintings,” my mom says cautiously. “Is that what you mean?” “Yes.” Julian’s smile sharpens. “What you may not know, however, is that the owner of that gallery is one of the leading art collectors in Europe. And he’s very intrigued by Nora’s work. So intrigued, in fact, that he just sent me an offer to

purchase five of her paintings for his personal collection.” “Really?” I can’t hide the eagerness in my voice. “He wants to buy them? For how much?” “Fifty thousand euros—ten per painting. Though I’m sure we can negotiate for more.” I stop breathing for a moment. “Fifty thousand?” I would’ve been ecstatic to get five hundred dollars. Hell, I would’ve taken fifty bucks. Just the fact that someone wants my doodles is beyond belief. “Did you say fifty thousand euros?” “Yes, baby.” Julian’s gaze warms as he looks at me. “Congratulations. You’re about to make your first big sale.” “Oh my God,” I breathe out. “Oh. My. God.” I can see the same shock reflected on my parents’ faces. They, too, are stunned by this turn of events. Only Rosa seems to take this development in stride. “Congratulations, Nora,” she exclaims, grinning. “I told you those paintings are amazing.” “When did you get this offer?” I ask Julian when I can speak again. “Right before we got here.” Julian reaches over to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “I was going to tell you later tonight, but I figured your parents might want to know too.” “Yes, we definitely do,” my mom says, finally recovering from her shock. “That’s… that’s incredible, honey. We’re so proud of you.” My dad nods, still mute, but I can see that he’s just as impressed. And possibly beginning to change his mind about the potential of my hobby. “Dad,” I say softly, looking at him, “I don’t intend to drop out of college. Even with the baby on the way, okay? Please, don’t worry about me. Truly, I’m all right.” My dad stares at me, then at Julian, and then at me again. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for the platter with the lamb chops and pushes them toward me. “Go ahead, honey,” he says quietly. “You must be hungry after the long trip.” I gladly take the offering, and everyone else begins loading their plates. The rest of the dinner goes about as well as could be expected. While there are a few tense silences, the majority of the meal is spent in relatively civil conversation. My mom asks about life on the estate, and Rosa and I show her some photos on

Rosa’s phone. In the meantime, my dad gets into a political discussion with Julian. To everyone’s surprise, the two of them turn out to have the same cynical views on the situation in the Middle East, though Julian’s knowledge of geopolitics far exceeds that of my dad’s. Unlike my parents, who get their news from the media, Julian is part of the news. He shapes the news, in fact, though few outside the intelligence community know that. I have to give my parents their due. For people who believe that Julian belongs behind bars, they are surprisingly gracious hosts. I suspect it’s because they’re afraid of losing me if they alienate Julian. My mom would dine with the devil himself if that would ensure continued contact with her only daughter, and my dad tends to follow her lead when it comes to difficult situations. Still, they watch Julian during the meal, eying him as warily as they would observe a savage creature. He’s smiling, his potent charm turned on full-blast, but I know they can sense his ever-present aura of danger, the shadow of violence that clings to him like a dark cloak. When we get to coffee and dessert, Julian gets an urgent text from Lucas and excuses himself to step outside for a few minutes. “It’s nothing serious,” he tells me when I give him a worried look. “Just a small business matter that needs my attention.” He walks out of the house, and Rosa chooses that moment to visit the restroom, leaving me alone with my parents for the first time since our arrival. “A business matter?” my dad asks incredulously as soon as Rosa is out of earshot. “At ten-thirty at night?” I shrug. “Julian deals with people in different timezones. It’s ten in the morning somewhere.” I can see that my dad wants to question me further, but thankfully, my mom jumps in. “Your friend is really nice,” she says, nodding toward the hallway where Rosa went. “It’s hard to believe she grew up like that.” She lowers her voice. “With criminals, I mean.” “Yes, I know.” I wonder what my parents would think if they knew that Rosa had killed two men. “She’s wonderful.” “Nora, honey…” My mom casts a furtive glance around the empty room, then leans forward, lowering her voice further. “I know we don’t have much time right now, but tell us one thing. Are you truly happy with him? Because now that you’re

both on US soil, the FBI might be able to—” “Mom, I can’t live without him. If anything happened to him, I’d want to die.” The stark truth escapes my lips before I can think of a gentler way to say it. I soften my tone. “I don’t expect you to understand, but he’s everything to me now. I truly love him.” “And does he love you back?” my dad asks quietly. He looks older in this moment, aged by the sorrowful pity I see in his eyes. “Is someone like that even capable of loving you, honey?” I open my mouth to reassure him, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to say the words. I want to believe that in his own way Julian does love me, but there is a tiny kernel of doubt that’s always present with me. My dad hit the nail on the head. Is Julian capable of love? Truthfully, I still don’t know.

16

J ulian THE BLACK LINCOLN IS ALREADY WAITING WHEN I STEP OUTSIDE. “I told them you were busy, but they insisted on this meeting,” Lucas says, melting out of the shadows near the house. “I figured it was best to let you know.” I nod and walk over to the car. The window in the back rolls down. “Let’s take a ride,” Frank says, unlocking the door. “We need to talk.” I give him a hard look. “I don’t think so. If you want to talk, we’re going to do it right here.” Frank studies me, likely wondering how much he can push me, and I see the exact moment he decides not to annoy me further. “All right.” He climbs out of the car, his gray suit stretching across his round stomach. “If you don’t mind the nosy neighbors, sure.” I scope out our surroundings with a practiced glance. Unfortunately, he’s right. There’s already a curtain twitching across the street. We’re beginning to attract attention. “There is a small park around the block,” I say, reaching a decision. “Why don’t we walk in that direction? You have exactly fifteen minutes.” Frank nods, and the black Lincoln pulls away, likely to circle the block. I have no doubt there is additional security staying out of sight, just like my men. There is no way the CIA would leave one of their own with me without protection.

“All right, talk,” I say as we start in the direction of the park. I gesture for Lucas to follow at some distance. “Why are you here?” “The better question is: why are you?” Frank’s voice is edged with frustration. “Do you know how much trouble your presence is causing us? The FBI knows you’re in their jurisdiction, and they’re going apeshit—” “I thought you took care of that.” “I did, but Wilson refuses to let it drop. He and Bosovsky are sniffing around, trying to dig up a cover-up. It’s a fucking mess, and your visit isn’t helping.” “How is this my problem?” “We don’t want you in this country, Esguerra,” Frank says as we round the corner. “You have no reason to be here.” “No?” I quirk an eyebrow. “My wife’s parents are here.” “Your wife?” Frank snorts. “You mean that eighteen-year-old you kidnapped?” Nora is twenty now—or will be in a couple of days—but I don’t correct him. Her age is hardly the main issue. “That’s the one,” I say coolly. “As you know full well, since you dragged me from dinner with her parents… my in-laws.” Frank gives me an incredulous stare. “Are you fucking serious? Where do you get the balls to look these people in the eye? You abducted their daughter—” “Who is now my wife.” My tone sharpens. “My relationship with her parents is none of your fucking business, so stay out of it.” “I will—if you stay out of this country.” Frank stops, breathing heavily from keeping up with my longer stride. “I’m not kidding about this, Esguerra. We can delete files and records, but we can’t erase people. Not in this matter.” “You’re telling me the CIA can’t silence two nosy FBI agents?” I give him a cold look. “Because if they’re the only issue—” “They’re not,” Frank interrupts, quickly realizing where I’m going with this. “It’s not just the FBI, Esguerra.” He reaches up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “There are higher-ups who are nervous about your presence here. They don’t know what to expect.” “Tell them to expect me to visit with my in-laws and leave.” For once, I’m being entirely truthful with Frank. “I’m not here to conduct business, so your higher-ups don’t need to worry.” Frank doesn’t look like he believes me, but I don’t give a fuck. If the CIA knows

what’s good for them, they’ll keep the FBI off my back. I’m here for Nora, and anyone who doesn’t like it can go straight to hell.

WHEN I RETURN TO THE HOUSE, I FIND NORA ARGUING WITH ROSA ABOUT CLEANING UP THE TABLE. “Rosa, please, today you’re the guest,” Nora says, reaching for the platter with the remnants of the lamb. “Please, just sit, and I’ll help my mom—” “No, no, no,” Rosa objects, walking around the table and picking up dirty dishes. “You have the baby to worry about. Please, this is my job. Let me help.” “I’m ten weeks along, not nine months—” “She’s right, baby,” I say, stepping up to Nora and plucking the platter from her hands. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want you overtiring yourself.” Nora starts to argue, but I’m already carrying the platter to the kitchen, where Nora’s parents are packing away the leftovers. As I walk in, Gabriela’s eyes widen, but she accepts the platter from me with a quiet “thank you.” I smile at her and walk back to the dining room for more dishes. It takes a few more trips for Rosa and me to clear off the table and bring everything to the kitchen. Nora sits on the living room couch, watching us work with a mixture of exasperation and curiosity. Finally, the table is clean, and the Lestons come out of the kitchen to join us. I take a seat next to Nora on the couch and pick up her hand, bringing it to my lap so I can play with her fingers. “Gabriela, Tony, thank you for a wonderful dinner,” I say when Nora’s parents sit down next to Rosa on the second couch. “I apologize that I had to step out and missed dessert.” “I saved you a slice of cake,” Nora says as I massage her palm. “Mom packed it for us to go.” I give her mother a warm smile. “Thank you for that, Gabriela. I appreciate it.” Gabriela inclines her head. “Of course. It’s unfortunate that your business took you away so late in the evening.” “Yes, it is,” I agree, pretending not to notice the inquiry implicit in her statement. “And you’re right, it is getting late…” I glance down at Nora, who’s covering a yawn with her free hand.

“Nora says you’re staying at a house in Palos Park,” Tony says, watching us with an unreadable expression. “Is that where you’re sleeping tonight?” “Yes, that’s right.” The house is on the far edge of the community, with enough empty acreage surrounding it that Lucas was able to implement the required security features. “That’s where we’ll be staying for the duration of our visit.” “The two of you are welcome to use Nora’s room if you wish,” Gabriela offers, sounding uncertain. “Thank you, but we wouldn’t want to impose. It would be better if we had our own space for these two weeks.” Still holding Nora’s hand, I get up and give the Lestons a polite smile. “Speaking of which, I believe it’s time for us to go. Nora needs her rest.” “Nora is fine,” the subject of my concern mutters as I usher her toward the exit. “I’m capable of staying up past ten, you know.” I stifle a grin at the grumpy note in her voice. My pet doesn’t like to admit that she tires easily these days. “Yes, I’m aware. But your parents need their rest too. Tomorrow is Thursday, isn’t it?” “Oh, right, of course.” Stopping before we reach the front door, Nora turns to her parents. “I forgot that the two of you have work tomorrow,” she says contritely. “I’m sorry. We probably should’ve left earlier—” “Oh, no, honey,” her mother protests. “We’re so happy to have you here, and we told you to come this evening. When are we seeing you next?” Nora looks up at me, and I say, “Tomorrow evening, if that works for the two of you. This time dinner will be at our house.” “We’ll be there,” Tony says, and I watch both Lestons hug and kiss Nora as they say their goodbyes.

17

N ora WHEN WE GET INTO THE LIMO, I REALIZE THAT I AM TIRED, THE TENSE EXCITEMENT OF THE EVENING dissipating and leaving me drained. Rosa again takes a seat across the aisle from us, and Julian pulls me close to him, draping his arm over my shoulders. As his warm masculine scent surrounds me, I relax against his side, letting my thoughts drift. My former captor and I just had dinner with my parents. Like a family. It’s so absurd I still can’t believe it happened. I’m not sure what I imagined when Julian agreed to take me for a visit, but this wasn’t it. I guess on some level, I had simply refused to think about how something like this might go—my kidnapper sitting down to a civilized meal with my family. It was like a wall I’d put up in my mind, so I wouldn’t have to worry. When I had thought of going back home, I had pictured myself with my parents… just the three of us, as though Julian would stay in the background, remaining part of my other, darker life. It was ridiculous to think that way, of course. Julian never stays in the background. He dominates whatever situation he’s in, bends it to his will. And even in this—in my relationship with my parents—he’s taken charge, inserting himself into our family on his own terms, perfectly comfortable where other men would cringe in shame. Apparently, a conscience is a useful thing to lack. “How are you feeling, my pet?” At Julian’s murmured question, I tilt my head to look up at him, realizing I’ve been silent for the past few minutes. “I’m okay,” I say, cognizant of Rosa’s

presence a couple of feet away. “Just digesting everything.” “Oh?” Julian gives me an amused look, loosening his grip on me so I can sit more comfortably. “Food-wise or thought-wise?” “Both, I guess.” I smile, realizing my unintentional joke. “It was a good meal.” “Yes, it was.” Even in the dim interior of the car, I can see the sensuous curve of his mouth. “Your parents did a good job.” I nod. “They definitely did.” I wonder what it must’ve been like for them, having dinner with the man who abducted their daughter. With the criminal who’s now their son-in-law and father of their grandchild. Sighing, I snuggle back against Julian’s side and close my eyes. The insanity of my life has reached a whole new level.

IT TAKES LESS THAN TWENTY MINUTES TO REACH THE WEALTHY COMMUNITY OF PALOS PARK. GROWING up, I’ve always known of its existence, driving past it on the way to the Tampier Lake preserve. The residents of Palos Park tend to be lawyers and doctors, and I’ve never heard of anyone renting a house there for a couple of weeks. Of course, Julian isn’t just anyone. The house he chose is on the very edge of the community, isolated by a tall, wrought-iron fence. Once we get past the electronic gates, we drive down a winding driveway for another couple of hundred yards before reaching the house itself. Inside, the house is luxuriously appointed, nearly as nice as our mansion at the estate. From gleaming parquet floors to modern art on the walls, everything about our vacation residence screams “extreme wealth.” “How much did you pay for this?” I ask as we walk through an enormous dining area. “I didn’t realize a house like this could be for rent.” “It’s not,” Julian says casually. “I bought it.” My jaw falls open. “What? When? You said you rented it.” “I said I got a house for our visit,” he corrects. “I never said how I got it.” “Oh.” I feel foolish at my assumption. “So when did you have a chance to buy it?” “I began making the arrangements right after we agreed on this trip. It took

almost a week for the prior owner to move out, but the house is now ours.” Ours. The word rolls so easily off his tongue that it doesn’t register for a second. Then I process what he said. “We own this house?” I ask carefully. “As in, both of us?” “Technically, one of our shell corporations owns it, but I made you a fiftypercent shareholder in that corporation, so yes, we own it,” Julian says as we enter a spacious bedroom with a four-poster bed. “Julian…” Stopping in front of the bed, I look up at him. “Why did you do this? I mean, the trust fund was more than enough—” “Because you belong to me.” He steps closer, a familiar heat igniting in his gaze as he reaches for the buttons of my dress. His fingers brush against my naked skin, making my nipples pebble with need. “Because I want to take care of you, spoil you, make sure you’ll never want for anything in your life…” Despite his tender words, his eyes gleam darker as he finishes unbuttoning the dress and lets it fall to the floor. “Any other questions, my pet?” I shake my head, staring up at him. I’m now wearing only a blue thong and a matching bra, and the way he’s looking at me reminds me of a hungry lion about to pounce on a gazelle. He may want to take care of me, but at this particular moment, he also wants to devour me. “Good.” His voice is a deep, menacing purr. “Now turn around.” My pulse quickening in nervous anticipation, I do as he says. Even though I crave the darkness now, there is a tiny, instinctual curl of fear in my belly. Julian has always been unpredictable. For all I know, the domesticity of this evening reawakened his sadistic desires, unleashing the demon he’s kept in check these recent weeks. A warm, treacherous throb begins between my thighs at the thought. As I stand there, I hear a quiet rustling, and then a soft cloth covers my eyes. A blindfold, I realize, holding my breath. Deprived of my vision, I feel infinitely more vulnerable. My right hand twitches with the sudden urge to lift my arm and tear off the piece of cloth. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Julian catches my arm, his fingers like steel cuffs on my wrist. Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “Who said you could do that, my pet?” I shiver at the heat of his breath. “I just—” “Quiet.” His command vibrates through me, adding to the heated pulsing

between my legs. “I will tell you when to speak.” Releasing my wrist, he pushes me forward, causing me to stumble and land face down on the bed. “Don’t move,” he orders, stepping closer. I obey, hardly breathing as he runs his hands over me, starting with my shoulders and ending with my thighs. His touch is gentle, yet somehow invasive, like that of a stranger. Or maybe it just feels that way because of the blindfold. I can sense him behind me, but I can’t see anything, and he’s touching me like he would an object… doing with me whatever he pleases. I can feel the calluses on his large, warm palms, and the memory of our first time together flashes through my mind, making my belly tighten with anxiety and dark need. When he’s done stroking me, he rolls me over onto my back and rearranges me on the bed, placing a pillow under my head. Then he grabs my arm, and I feel him looping a rough-textured rope around my wrist. He secures the other end of that rope to what I can only assume is one of the bed posts. After that, he walks around the bed and does the same with my other arm. I’m left lying there like some kind of a sexual sacrifice, my arms stretched out diagonally and the blindfold still covering my eyes. I’m even more helpless than usual, and that fact both alarms and thrills me, like most of my interactions with Julian. For other couples, this is only pretend. But for us, it’s as real as it gets. I don’t have the option to say no. Julian will take me whether I want it or not, and perversely, that knowledge deepens the needy ache in my sex. “You’re beautiful.” His harsh whisper is accompanied by a feather-light brush of his fingers over the sensitive skin of my stomach. “And all mine. Aren’t you, my pet?” “Yes.” My breathing turns uneven as his fingers approach the top of my thong. “Yes, all yours.” The mattress dips as he climbs onto the bed and straddles my legs. The material of his jeans feels rough on my naked thighs, reminding me that he’s still fully clothed. “That’s right. . .” He leans down, the buttons of his shirt pressing into my stomach as he covers me with his hard, broad chest. His teeth graze over my earlobe, causing gooseflesh to rise over my arms as he murmurs into my ear, “Nobody will ever have you but me.” I suppress a shudder even as my core floods with liquid heat. From a different man, this would be just possessive pillow talk, but from Julian, it’s both a threat and a statement of fact. If I were ever so foolish as to allow another man to touch me, Julian would kill him without a second thought.

“I don’t want anyone but you.” It’s true, yet my voice shakes as Julian kisses my neck, then sucks on the tender flesh under my ear. “You know that.” He chuckles softly, the deep, masculine sound reverberating through me. “Yes, my pet. I do.” He climbs off me, and I sense him moving to the foot of the bed. When he catches my right ankle, I know why. He’s going to tie my legs as well. The rope is looped around my ankle as I lie there, my heart racing. Julian rarely restrains me so thoroughly. He doesn’t have to. Even if I were inclined to fight, he’s strong enough to control me without ropes and chains. Of course, I’m not inclined to fight. Not when I know what he’s capable of, what he’s willing to do to possess me. When my right leg is secured, he reaches for my left. His hands are strong and sure as he wraps the rope around my ankle and ties the other end to the remaining bedpost, leaving me lying there with my legs spread open. It’s a disconcerting position, and as soon as Julian moves back, I instinctively try to bring my legs together. I can’t close them more than an inch, of course. Like the ropes around my wrists, the ankle restraints hold me tightly in place without cutting off my circulation. My kidnapper may not be into traditional BDSM, but he certainly knows how to tie someone up. “Julian?” It occurs to me that I’m still wearing my underwear, both the bra and the thong. “What are you going to do to me?” He doesn’t respond. Instead, I feel the mattress dip again as he gets up, and then I hear his footsteps and the sound of the door closing. He walked out of the room, leaving me tied to the bed. My heart starts beating faster. I flex my arms, testing the rope again even though I know it’s futile. As expected, there’s almost no give in the restraints; the rope bites painfully into my skin when I try to pull on it. I’m nearly naked and alone, blindfolded and tied up in this unfamiliar house. And even though I know Julian won’t let anything bad happen to me, I can’t help the tension that invades my body as seconds tick by with no sign of his return.

After a couple of minutes, I test the rope again. Still no give in it… and still no sign of Julian. I force myself to take a breath and slowly let it out. Nothing terrible is going on; nobody is hurting me. I don’t know what game Julian is playing, but it doesn’t seem particularly brutal. But you want brutal, a small, insidious voice inside my head reminds me. You want pain and violence. I quiet that voice and focus on remaining calm. Julian’s mercurial approach to lovemaking may excite me, but it also frightens me. The sane part of me, at least. I want pain, yet I dread it in equal measures. It’s always that way nowadays. It’s as if I’ve been split in two, the remnants of the person I used to be warring with who I am now. Another few minutes crawl by. “Julian?” I can no longer remain silent. “Julian, where are you?” Nothing. No response of any kind. I rub the back of my head against the sheets, trying to dislodge the blindfold, but it doesn’t budge more than an inch. Frustrated, I yank at the restraints with all my strength, but all I succeed in doing is hurting myself. Finally, I give up and try to relax, ignoring the anxiety creeping through me. A few more minutes pass. Just when I think I might go out of my mind, the door creaks open, and I hear the soft sound of footsteps. “Julian, is that you?” I can’t hide the relief in my voice. “What happened? Where did you go?” “Shhh.” The sound is followed by a tickling sensation across my lips. “Who told you that you could speak, my pet?” My pulse jumps at the cold note in his voice. Is he punishing me for something? “What—” “Hush.” His fingers press on my lips, silencing me. “Not another word.” I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling dry. He’s not touching me anywhere but my lips, yet my body ignites, my earlier arousal returning despite my growing nervousness. Or maybe because of it. It’s impossible to tell. “Suck on my fingers.” His whispered command is accompanied by increasing

pressure on the seam of my lips. “Now.” Obediently, I open my mouth and suck two of his large fingers in. They taste clean and slightly salty, the edges of his short nails rough against the tender roof of my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his fingers as I would over his cock, and his hand jerks, as though the sensation is just as intense for him. Just as I’m starting to get into it, Julian withdraws his fingers and runs them down the front of my body, leaving a cool, damp trail on my skin. I shiver in response, my inner muscles tensing as his fingers circle my navel, his nails scraping lightly over my belly. Lower, I will him silently, please, just go a bit lower, but he lifts his hand instead, depriving me of his touch. I open my mouth to plead with him, but then I remember that he doesn’t want me to speak. Swallowing, I suppress the words, not wanting to displease him when he’s in this unpredictable mood. If Julian is indeed punishing me for something, I don’t want to provoke him further. So instead of begging, I lie still, waiting, my breathing fast and shallow as I try to listen to his movements. I can’t hear anything. Is he just standing there watching me? Staring at my semi-naked body stretched out and restrained on the bed? Finally, I hear something. A scraping noise, as if he picked up something from the nightstand. I wait, listening tensely, and then I feel it. Something cold and hard sliding under the tight band of my bra, pressing between my breasts. I almost flinch in shock, but manage to remain still, my heart beating frantically. Snip. The noise is unmistakeable. It’s the sound of metal cutting through thick fabric. Julian just used scissors on the front of my bra. I allow myself a small exhalation of relief, but then I tense again as I feel the cold scissors sliding down my body. Snip. Snip. Both sides of my thong are cut, the dull edge of the scissors pressing into my hipbones. I feel the warmth of Julian’s hand as he pulls the mangled scrap of fabric off my body, and then I hear him suck in a breath. He’s looking at me. I know it. I picture what he’s seeing as I lie there naked, with my legs wide open, and

a flush heats up my skin at the pornographic image in my mind. “You’re already wet.” His voice, low and thick with lust, makes me burn even more. “Your pussy is dripping for me.” He accompanies the words with a butterflysoft touch on my aching clit. His fingertips feel rough on my sensitive flesh, yet fire rockets through my veins, filling me with desperate need. Unbidden, a moan escapes my throat, and I lift my hips toward him, silently begging for more. This time, he answers my plea. I feel the mattress dip again as he climbs onto the bed, settling between my legs. His hands, large and strong, grip the top of my thighs, and then he lowers his head to my sex. I feel his hot breath wash over my open folds. I almost whimper in anticipation, but I hold back at the last second, not wanting to do anything to cause Julian to change his mind. I want his touch. I need it. It’s agonizing to be without it. And then I feel it—the soft, wet pressure of his tongue between my folds, the pressure that both quenches and intensifies the ache. He doesn’t lick me; he just holds his tongue against my clit, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough. I rock my hips in small, spasmodic movements, creating the exact rhythm I need, and the tension within me grows, the pleasure gathering in a hot, pulsing ball within my core. His tongue moves then, his lips closing around my clit in a strong sucking motion, and the ball bursts, shards of ecstasy blasting through my nerve endings as I cry out, no longer able to stay silent. Before my orgasm is completely over, he starts licking me. Just soft, gentle licks that extend the pleasurable aftershocks coursing through my body. It feels good, even with my clit swollen and sensitized, so I lie there, enjoying it, limp and content from my release. It’s not until a minute later that I realize that the pleasure is sharpening again, growing stronger, transforming into that aching tension. I gasp, arching toward his mouth, needing more pressure to bring me over the edge, but he keeps touching me with those light licks, his tongue just barely grazing over my clit. “Please, Julian…” The words escape before I can remember the restriction on speaking, but to my relief, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he keeps licking me, his tongue moving in a rhythm that slowly and torturously winds me tighter, pushing me closer but not letting me get what I need. I try to push my hips higher, but I can’t gain much leverage, stretched and spread as I am. All I can do is endure, utterly at the mercy of whatever pleasure-torment Julian chooses to dole out.

Just when I think I can’t bear much more, he shifts to the side, moving his right hand from my thigh to my throbbing sex. His large, blunt fingers probe my entrance, and I moan as he pushes two of them in, penetrating me with startling swiftness. I’m almost there, it’s nearly what I need… and then his thumb presses hard on my clit. I fly apart, acute pleasure rippling through my body as I convulse, gasping and crying out. “Yes, that’s it, baby,” he murmurs. His hand leaves me, and I hear the sound of a zipper coming down. I register it only dimly. I feel drunk on orgasms, worn out by the brutal intensity of it all. My heart is pounding as if I ran a race, and my bones feel like they’ve turned to jelly. There’s no way I could possibly want more, yet when he covers me with his large body, a tiny twitch of renewed sensation makes my belly tighten. He’s naked, having already removed his clothes, and I can feel his heat, his hardness. His raw male power. Even if I weren’t restrained, I’d feel helpless and small, surrounded as I am by him, but with the rope on my ankles and wrists, that feeling is magnified. I can hardly breathe under his weight, but it doesn’t matter. Even air feels optional at the moment. All I need is Julian. He shifts on top of me, propping himself up on his elbows. The hard, smooth tip of his erection brushes against my inner thigh as he lowers his head to kiss me, and I tense with anticipation as I feel him beginning to press in. I’m wet and slick from the orgasms, my body primed for his possession, yet I still feel the stretch as his thick cock forces apart my inner walls, the sensation stopping just short of pain. His tongue invades my mouth at the same time, and I can’t even moan as he begins to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic. It’s overwhelming, the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body completely dominates and claims mine. I can’t see, can’t move. I’m drowning, and he’s my only salvation. I don’t know how long it takes before the pulsing tension coils in my core once more. All I know is when Julian comes, I come with him, shuddering and crying out in his embrace. Afterwards, he removes the blindfold and the ropes and carries me to the shower. I’m so exhausted I can barely stand, so Julian washes me, taking care of me as if I were a child. When he brings me back to bed, he pulls me into his arms, and as I fall asleep, I hear him say softly, “I will give you the world, my pet. The whole

fucking world—just as long as you’re mine.”

18

J ulian I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING TO THE FAMILIAR FEEL OF NORA SPRAWLED ON TOP OF ME. AS USUAL, she’s sleeping with her head pillowed on my chest and one of her slim legs draped across my thighs. I can feel the soft, plump weight of her breasts against my side, hear her even breathing, and my cock stiffens as recollections of last night invade my mind in graphic detail. I don’t know why I occasionally feel this urge to torment her, to hear her beg and plead. Why the sight of her bound to my bed gives me such satisfaction. When we were driving from her parents last night, I planned to take her gently and have her go to sleep, but when I saw her standing next to that four-poster bed, my good intentions went up in smoke. Something about the way she had been looking at me sharpened the dangerous hunger inside, bringing the darkness to the surface. What I wanted to do to her only began with ropes, and if I hadn’t made myself walk out of the room after tying her up, I would’ve broken the vow I made to myself the night I hurt her. The vow to keep violence out of our bedroom for the next few months. Thankfully, leaving her for a bit and taking a cold shower in one of the guest rooms seemed to do the trick, taking the edge off the craving. When I came back, I was more in control, able to settle for torturing her with pleasure instead of pain. A change in Nora’s breathing brings my attention back to her. She shifts on top of me, making a soft noise, and rubs her cheek against my chest. “You didn’t get up yet,” she murmurs sleepily, and I smile, a peculiar sense of wellbeing spreading through me at the pleased note in her voice.

“No, not yet,” I confirm, stroking her smooth, naked back. “I will in a few moments, though.” “Do you have to?” Her words are muffled. “You make a nice pillow.” “I’m glad I can be of use.” At my dry tone, she moves her head, looking up at me through her long, dark lashes. “Does it bother you? That I sleep on top of you like this?” “No.” I grin at her question. “Do you think I’d let you if it did?” She blinks. “No. Of course you wouldn’t.” Moving off me, she sits up, pulling the blanket up around her. “We should probably get up. I wanted to go for a run before breakfast.” I sit up too. “A run?” “Yes. It’s safe here, isn’t it?” “Not as safe as at the compound.” The idea of her running out there makes me uneasy, even with all the security measures and no obvious threat in sight. If anything were to happen to her… “Julian, please.” Nora begins to look upset. “I’m just going to run here, in Palos Park. I won’t go far, but I can’t stay cooped up in this house for two weeks—” “I’ll go with you.” I get up and walk over to the closet to find a pair of running shorts. “Get dressed. We should hurry. I’m guessing Rosa is already preparing breakfast.”

WE START THE RUN WITH AN EASY JOG TO WARM UP. IT’S A BRISK SIXTY DEGREES OUT, BUT MOVING keeps me from feeling the chill, even though I’m not wearing a shirt. I debate having Nora put on more layers, but she looks comfortable in her cropped leggings and a T-shirt, so I decide to let it slide. As we exit our driveway and turn onto the street, I keep a careful eye on neighbors’ cars pulling out of their garages and people stepping out for their own morning run. Being around so many strangers makes me uneasy. My men are strategically positioned all around the community, so I know we’re safe, but I can’t help watching for signs of danger. “You know nobody’s going to jump at us from the bushes, right?” Nora says, obviously noticing my preoccupation with our surroundings. “It’s not that kind of neighborhood.”

I glance at her. “I know. I vetted it.” She smiles and picks up speed. “Of course you did.” I match her pace, and we run at a fast clip for the next several blocks. A light sheen of perspiration appears on Nora’s face, making her golden skin glow, and I find myself increasingly distracted by the sight of her. She always looks sexy when she runs, her petite body athletic and feminine at the same time. The tight, round muscles of her ass bunch and flex with every step she takes, and I can’t help picturing my hands squeezing those globes as I slam my cock into her. Fuck. At this rate, I’m going to need another cold shower. “What are you doing after breakfast?” Nora asks breathlessly as we pass a jogging couple. “Do you have some work to do?” “I have that meeting with my portfolio manager in the city,” I reply, trying to control the urge to turn and glare at the male jogger. The fucker eyed Nora a bit too appreciatively when we ran past him. “I’ll be back before dinner.” “Oh, that’s good.” She’s beginning to pant as she speaks. “I want to get a haircut today, and maybe meet with Leah and Jennie.” “What?” I turn my head to stare at her as we round the corner. “Where exactly are you planning to do these things?” “At the Chicago Ridge Mall. I messaged Leah and Jennie last week, letting them know I’d be in town, and they said they were going to come in today and stay for the long Memorial Day weekend.” She says it all in one long breath, then gulps in more air and gives me an imploring look. “You don’t mind if I see them, right? I haven’t seen Jennie in two years, and Leah—” She abruptly falls silent, and I know it’s because she was going to say she saw Leah the last time she was in that cursed mall, when Peter let her act as bait for Al-Quadar. My pet doesn’t realize I already know about that meeting—and about Jake’s presence that day. “You’re not going to that mall.” I know I sound harsh, but I can’t help it. Just the thought of her wandering around that place by herself is enough to make me see red. “It’s too crowded to be safe.” “But—” “If you want to meet with your friends, you can do so here at the house or at some restaurant in Oak Lawn—after I make sure it’s secure.” Nora’s lips tighten, but she wisely doesn’t voice any objections. She knows this is as far as she can push me. “Okay, I’ll ask them to meet me at Fish-of-the-Sea,”

she says after a minute. “What about my haircut?” I eye the long, thick ponytail hanging down her back. It looks beautiful to me, especially with the end swinging back and forth over her shapely ass. “Why do you need one?” “Because”—she pants as we pick up the pace—“I haven’t had so much as a trim in two years.” “So?” I still don’t see the problem. “I like your hair long.” “You are such a guy.” She can barely speak but somehow manages to roll her eyes. “I need to shape this mess. It’s driving me crazy.” “I don’t want you cutting it short.” I don’t know why I care all of a sudden, but I do. “If you trim it, don’t take off more than a couple of inches.” Nora gives me an incredulous look as we stop to let a car pull out of the driveway in front of us. “Really? Why?” “I told you. I like it long.” She rolls her eyes again as we resume running. “Yeah, okay. I wasn’t going to shave it off or anything. I just want to get some layers put in.” “No more than a couple of inches,” I repeat, giving her a hard look. “Uh-huh, sure.” I get the impression she’s doing a third eye-roll in her head. “So I’ll go for the haircut then?” “Not at the Chicago Ridge Mall. Find a quiet place nearby, and I’ll have my men secure it.” “Okay,” she gasps as we begin a full-out sprint. “It’s a deal.”

BEFORE I LEAVE FOR THE CITY, I MAKE SURE NORA IS FULLY SET WITH HER PLANS FOR THE DAY. I assign a dozen of my best men to be her security detail and give them orders to be as unobtrusive as possible. She probably won’t even notice their presence, but they’ll make sure nobody suspicious gets within three hundred feet of her. “I’ll be fine,” she says when I hesitate in the hallway before leaving the house. “Really, Julian. It’s just a haircut and lunch with the girls. I promise everything will be all right.” I take a deep breath and release it. She’s right. I’m being paranoid at this point. The precautions I’m taking are the best way to keep her safe outside the compound.

Of course, I could always keep her inside the compound for the rest of her life—that would be optimal for my peace of mind—but Nora wouldn’t be happy that way, and her happiness matters to me. It matters far more than I would’ve ever expected. “How are you feeling?” I ask, still reluctant to go for some reason. “Any nausea? Tiredness?” I glance at her stomach—a stomach that’s still flat in the tight jeans she’s wearing. “No, nothing.” She gives me a reassuring smile when I look up to meet her gaze. “Not even a hint of nausea. I’m as healthy as a horse.” “All right then.” Stepping toward her, I lift my hand to lightly stroke her cheek. “Be careful, baby, okay?” “Okay,” she whispers, looking up at me. “You too, Julian. Stay safe, and I’ll see you soon.” And before I can step away, she rises up on her tiptoes and plants a brief, burning kiss on my lips.

19

N ora “ROSA, ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT TO GO WITH ME?” “No, no, I told you—I have a lot to do before dinner. Señor Esguerra is trusting me to impress your family with this meal, and I don’t want to disappoint him. You go ahead, have fun catching up with your friends.” Rosa practically shoos me out of the enormous kitchen. “Go, or you’ll be late for your hair appointment.” “All right, if you’re sure.” Shaking my head at Rosa’s stubborn sense of duty, I head to the main entrance, where a car is already waiting for me. Thankfully, it’s not the limo, but a regular-sized black Mercedes. I won’t stand out too much, though this car, like the limo, also looks to be equipped with bulletproof glass. The driver is a tall, thin man I’ve seen around the estate, but never spoken to. Julian told me this morning that his name is Thomas. Thomas doesn’t introduce himself or say much this time either, all his attention focused on the road. As we leave the driveway, I see two black SUVs pull out behind us and follow us at some distance. It makes me feel like I’m the First Lady—or maybe a mafia princess. The latter is probably a better comparison. It takes less than a half hour to get to the hair salon. It’s not an upscale place, but it has a good reputation in the area, and most importantly, Julian deemed its location easy to secure. I hadn’t expected to get an appointment so easily, but they’d had a cancellation this morning and were thus able to fit me in at eleven. “Just a little trim, please,” I request after a tattooed, purple-haired lady shampoos my hair and leads me to one of the cutting stations. “No more than a couple of inches.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “Look at how thick it is. You should at least get some layers put in.” I frown, studying my reflection in the mirror. “Will it still be long?” “Of course. You won’t lose any of the length—it’ll just be shaped nicely. The shortest layers, those around your face, will be well below your shoulders.” “In that case, go for it.” I try to sound decisive, even though I feel nothing of the kind. It’s hard to disobey Julian, even in this small thing, and that makes me determined to do so. “Let’s layer up this mess.” As the hairstylist bustles around me, tugging and snipping at my hair, I watch the other people in the salon. After weeks of isolation on the estate, it feels odd to be among so many strangers. Nobody is paying me much attention, but I still feel uncomfortably exposed, as though everyone is staring at me. I’m also somewhat anxious. I know nobody here means me any harm, so the feeling is illogical, but some of Julian’s paranoia is rubbing off on me. Still, being here on my own is exciting. I know Julian’s men are outside, so I don’t truly have any freedom, but it feels like I do. It feels like I’m a regular girl, out for a day of grooming and hanging out with her friends. “All done,” the stylist announces after a few minutes. “Now we just blow-dry, and you’ll be all set.” I nod, trying to avoid looking at the long locks scattered all over the floor. It seems like a lot of hair, though the wet strands I see in the mirror don’t appear particularly short. “So, what do you think?” she asks after my hair is dry. She hands me a mirror. “How do you like it?” I turn in the swiveling chair, studying my new hairstyle from all angles. It looks like a shampoo ad—long, dark, and sleek, with the shorter layers around my face adding some flattering volume. “Perfect.” I hand back the mirror with a smile. “Thank you so much.” Disobeying Julian seems to agree with me. Looks-wise, at least.

I STILL HAVE SOME TIME TO KILL BEFORE MEETING LEAH AND JENNIE, SO I GO ALL OUT AND GET A MANIpedi at the same salon. In the middle of the pedi, my phone dings with an incoming

message from Julian. You’re still there? he texts. Thomas says it’s been almost two hours. Getting nails painted, I respond. How are things with you? Probably not as colorful as with you. I grin and put my phone away. This all feels so wonderfully normal, even with the oversight from Thomas. It’s like we’re just a couple, with nothing dark and messed up in our lives. Impulsively, I fish my phone out of my purse again. Love you, I text, adding a smiley face at the end for emphasis. There’s no answer, but I didn’t expect any. Julian would never acknowledge his feelings for me—whatever those may be—in a text. Still, my heart feels just a bit heavier as I put the phone away and pick up a gossip magazine instead. Half an hour later, I’m as polished and shiny as the models in the magazine. My hair streams down my back in a smooth, glossy curtain, and my nails are prettier than they’ve been in months. Adding a generous tip, I pay and exit the salon, ready for the continuation of my day. As expected, Thomas is waiting for me outside. I don’t see any of the others from the security team, but I know they’re there, guarding me from out of sight. Still, their lack of visible presence adds to the illusion of normality, and my spirits lift again as we drive to the seafood restaurant where Leah and Jennie agreed to meet me for lunch. They’re already there when I walk in, and the first few minutes are filled with hugs and excited exclamations over how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other. I had been afraid that things might be tense with Leah after our last run-in at the mall, but my worries appear to have been unfounded. With the three of us together, it’s like our high school days all over again. “Oh gosh, Nora, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” Jennie exclaims when we’re all seated. “Either that, or living in the jungle is agreeing with you.” “Why, thank you,” I say, laughing. “You look pretty great yourself. When did you decide to go red? I love that color on you.” Jennie grins, her green eyes sparkling. “When I started college. I decided it was time for a change, and it was either red or blue.” “I convinced her to go red,” Leah says with a mischievous smile. “Blue wouldn’t

have matched her Irish complexion.” “Oh, I don’t know,” I say with a straight face. “I hear smurfs are all the rage lately.” Leah bursts into laughter, and Jennie and I join in. It feels so good to be back with the two of them. I’ve hung out with Leah a couple of times since my abduction, but I haven’t seen Jennie in almost two years. She was studying abroad when I was home for those four months after the warehouse explosion, so we’ve never gotten a chance to reconnect beyond a few Facebook messages. “Okay, Nora, spill,” Jennie says after the waiter takes our orders. “What’s it like being married to a modern-day Pablo Escobar? The rumors I hear are beyond bizarre.” Leah chokes on her water, and I burst out laughing again. I’d forgotten Jennie’s propensity for shocking people. “Well,” I say when I calm down enough to speak, “Julian deals in weapons, not drugs, but otherwise, being married to him is quite nice.” “Oh, come on. Quite nice?” Jennie gives me an exaggerated frown. “I want all the gory details. Does he sleep with a machine gun under his pillow? Eat puppies for breakfast? I mean, the dude kidnapped you, for Pete’s sake! Give us all the juicy —” “Jennie,” Leah cuts in sharply. She doesn’t look the least bit amused. “I don’t think this is a joking matter.” “It’s okay,” I reassure her. “Really, Leah, it’s fine. Julian and I are married now, and we’re happy together. We truly are.” “Happy?” Leah stares at me like I’ve grown horns. “Nora, you know what he’s capable of, what he’s done. How can you be happy with a man like that?” I look back at her, not knowing how to respond. I want to say that Julian is not that bad, but the words stick in my throat. My husband is that bad. In fact, he’s probably worse than Leah thinks. She doesn’t know about the mass eradication of Al-Quadar in recent months or the fact that Julian has been a killer since childhood. Of course, she also doesn’t know that I’m a killer. If she did, she’d probably think Julian and I deserve each other. To my relief, Jennie comes to my rescue. “Stop being such a party pooper,” she says, poking Leah in the ribs. “So she’s happy with him. That’s better than being

miserable, right?” Leah’s fair complexion reddens. “Of course. Sorry, Nora.” She attempts a weak smile. “I guess I just have a hard time understanding it all. I mean, here you are, finally back in the US, and you’re planning to go back to Colombia with him.” “That’s what happens when people marry,” Jennie says before I can respond. “They live together. Like you and Jake. It’s only natural that Nora would go back with her husband—” “You and Jake are living together?” I interrupt, looking at Leah in shock. “Since when?” “Since two weeks ago,” Jennie says gleefully. “Leah didn’t tell you?” “I was going to tell you today,” Leah says to me. She looks uncomfortable. “I wanted to tell you in person.” “Why? They just had one date,” Jennie says reasonably. “It’s not like they were boyfriend-girlfriend.” “Jennie’s right,” I say. “Really, Leah, I’m happy for the two of you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff like that. I won’t flip out, I promise.” I give her a big smile before asking, “Are you renting an apartment off-campus?” “We are,” Leah says, looking relieved at my question. “We both had roommate issues, so we decided living together might be the best option.” “Makes sense to me,” Jennie says, and for the next few minutes, we discuss the pros and cons of living with boyfriends versus roommates. “What about you, Jennie?” I ask after the waiter brings our appetizers. “Any boyfriends on the horizon for you?” “Ugh, no.” Jennie makes a disgusted face. “There are barely a dozen okaylooking guys at Grinnell, and they’re all taken. The two of you should’ve talked some sense into me when I decided to go to college in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, it’s worse than being in high school.” “No!” I widen my eyes in mock horror. “Worse than being in high school?” “Nothing’s worse than being in high school,” Leah says, and the two of them begin to argue about the comparative availability of guys in a suburban high school versus a tiny liberal arts college. As the meal proceeds, we talk about anything and everything except my relationship with Julian. Leah tells us about an internship she got at a Chicago law

firm, and Jennie shares amusing stories about her recent vacation in Curaçao. “They had an oil-processing plant right next to our hotel. Can you believe it?” she complains, and Leah and I agree that even a salt-water infinity pool—a cool feature of Jennie’s hotel—can’t make up for something as atrocious as an oil refinery in a vacation spot. Eventually, the conversation turns to my life on the estate, and I tell them all about my online classes at Stanford, the art lessons I’m getting from Monsieur Bernard, and my growing friendship with Rosa. “I wanted her to join us today, but she couldn’t,” I explain, feeling slightly guilty about that. “My parents are coming over for dinner, and Julian asked Rosa to help with the meal.” As I say that, I realize how spoiled I sound—and from the envious looks on Jennie and Leah’s faces, they realize it too. “Wow,” Jennie says, shaking her head. “No wonder you’re happy with this guy. He treats you like a freaking princess. If someone gave me Stanford, servants, and a huge estate, I wouldn’t mind getting kidnapped either.” “Jennie!” Leah gives her an appalled look. “You don’t mean that.” “No, I probably don’t,” Jennie agrees, grinning. “Still, Nora, you have to admit, the whole thing is kind of cool.” I shrug, smiling. “Kind of cool” is one way to describe it. Messed up and complicated is another—but I’m happy to stick with Jennie’s description for now. “Wait, did you say your parents are coming over for dinner?” Leah asks, as if just now processing that part of my statement. “Like, to have dinner with you and him?” “Yes,” I say, enjoying the expressions on both of my friends’ faces. “We had dinner at my parents’ house last night, so today they’re coming over to our place.” And as Leah and Jennie continue to stare at me in shock, I explain that Julian purchased a house in Palos Park, so we’d have someplace secure to stay during our visits. “Girl, I have to say, you live in a whole other world now,” Jennie says, shaking her head. “Private island, an estate in Columbia, now this…” “None of that makes up for the fact that he’s a psychopath,” Leah says, giving Jennie a sharp look before turning to me. “Nora, how are your parents dealing with him?” “They’re… dealing.” I don’t know how else to describe the wary acceptance on my parents’ part. “It’s obviously not easy for them.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Jennie says. “They’re troopers, your parents. Mine would’ve gone nuts.” “I don’t think ‘going nuts’ would’ve helped matters,” Leah says astutely. “I’m sure Nora’s parents are just happy to have her back.” I start to reply, but at that moment, both Jennie and Leah look up, gaping at something behind me. Instinctively, I turn, my heartbeat spiking—and look up straight into my former captor’s blue gaze. He’s standing over me, his hand resting casually on the back of my chair and his lips curved in a dangerously sexy smile. “Mind if I join you, ladies?” he asks, looking amused. “Julian.” I jump in my seat, startled and more than a little flustered. “What are you doing here?” “My meeting ended early, so I figured I’d swing by and see if you’re ready to go home,” he says. “But I see you’re not done yet.” “Um, no. We were just about to get dessert.” I cast an uncertain glance at Leah and Jennie, and see that they’re both staring at Julian. Leah looks like she’s ready to bolt, while Jennie’s expression is a mixture of fascination and awe. Shit. So much for a normal lunch with my friends. Turning my attention back to Julian, I say reluctantly, “I mean, I could be done if—” “No, no, please join us if you have time,” Jennie jumps in, apparently recovering from her shock. “They have great cheesecake here.” “Well, in that case, I must stay,” Julian says smoothly, taking a seat next to me. “I wouldn’t want to deprive Nora of such a delicacy.” He smiles at me. “Your hair looks great, by the way, baby. You were right about the layers.” “Oh.” Remembering my small act of rebellion, I touch my hair, feeling the shorter strands. His approval is both a disappointment and a relief. “Thanks.” “It does look nice on her,” Leah says hoarsely, and I see that her eyes look less panicked now. Clearing her throat, she adds unnecessarily, “The new haircut, I mean.” Julian’s smile broadens. “Yes. She looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?” “Yes, gorgeous,” Jennie echoes, except she’s looking at Julian instead of me. She seems mesmerized, and I can’t blame her. With the scars on his face nearly gone and his eye implant indistinguishable from the real thing, Julian is as magnificent as ever, his masculine beauty dark and striking.

Finally gathering my scattered wits, I say, “Sorry, I’ve forgotten to introduce everyone. Julian—these are my friends Leah and Jennie. Leah, Jennie—this is Julian, my husband.” “It’s nice to meet you both,” Julian says with easy charm. “Nora’s told me quite a bit about you.” “Oh?” Leah frowns. Unlike Jennie, she doesn’t seem dazzled by his looks. “Like what?” “Like the fact that the two of you have been friends since middle school,” Julian says. “Or that you, Jennie, were Nora’s date to the sophomore homecoming dance.” I blink, surprised. I had mentioned this to Julian at some point, but I didn’t expect him to remember such trivia. “Oh, wow,” Jennie breathes, her eyes still glued to Julian’s face. “I can’t believe she’s told you all that.” Leah’s mouth tightens, and she motions at the waiter. “A slice of cheesecake, please, and then the check,” she requests when he comes over. “Their portions are huge,” she explains, even though nobody objected to the size of her order. “We can all split it.” “That’s fine with me,” I say. I’m surprised Leah is willing to stay long enough to eat the cheesecake. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d walked out right then and there. I know she’s aware of what happened to Jake, and the fact that she’s willing to be somewhat civil to Julian speaks volumes about her commitment to our friendship. “So tell me,” Julian says when the waiter departs, “how was your lunch so far? Did Nora already tell you the big news?” I freeze, horrified that he’s outing me like this. Telling my friends about the baby was something I’d planned to do much later, when it was inevitable. Not today, when I could still pretend to be a carefree college girl. “What big news?” Jennie asks eagerly, leaning forward. Her eyes are wide with curiosity. “Nora didn’t tell us anything.” “She didn’t tell you about the gallery owner in Paris?” Julian gives me a sidelong look. “The one who put in an offer to buy her paintings?” “What?” Leah exclaims. “When did this happen, Nora?” “Um, just yesterday,” I mumble, a wave of relief sweeping away the sick feeling

in my stomach. “Julian told me about it, but I haven’t seen the offer yet.” “Wow, congratulations.” Jennie beams at me. “So you’re about to be a famous artist, huh?” “I don’t know about famous—” I begin, but Julian cuts me off. “She is,” he says firmly. “The gallery owner is offering ten thousand euros for each of the five paintings.” And amidst my friends’ exclamations of excitement, he explains that the gallery owner is a known art collector, and that my paintings are already gaining notoriety in Paris due to Monsieur Bernard’s connections. In the middle of all this, our cheesecake slice arrives. Leah had been right to order only one; the slice is nearly the size of my head. The waiter brings out four little plates, and we split the cake as Julian answers Jennie’s questions about the Paris art scene and France in general. “Wow, Nora, what an exciting life you’re about to start,” Jennie says, reaching for the check that the waiter brought. “You’ll tell us when you have your first show, right?” “I’ve got this,” Julian says, picking up the check before Jennie can touch it. And before my friends can utter a word of protest, he hands two one-hundred-dollar bills to the waiter, saying, “Keep the change.” “Oh, thank you,” Jennie says as the ecstatic-looking waiter hurries away. “You didn’t have to do that. You just had a bite of the cheesecake, not any of the food.” “Please let us pay you for our portion,” Leah says stiffly, reaching for her wallet, but Julian waves her off. “Please, don’t worry. It’s the least I can do for Nora’s friends.” Rising to his feet, he extends his palm toward me. “Ready, baby?” “Yes,” I say, placing my hand in his. My few hours of freedom are over, but somehow I don’t mind. As exciting as the day had been, it feels comforting to be claimed by Julian again. To be back where I belong.

20

J ulian “WHY DID YOU COME TO MEET ME?” NORA ASKS AS WE GET her friends. “Were you afraid I might run away?”

INTO THE CAR AFTER SAYING GOODBYE TO

“You wouldn’t have gotten far if you tried.” Turning to face her, I run my fingers through her hair. It’s a bit shorter at the front, but still long and even silkier than usual. “I wasn’t going to run.” Nora frowns up at me. “I don’t want to run away from you. Not anymore.” “I know that, my pet.” I force myself to stop touching her hair before I develop a fetish. “I wouldn’t have brought you to America otherwise.” “So why did you come get me? I would’ve been home in an hour anyway.” I shrug, not wanting to admit how much I missed her. My addiction is completely out of control. No matter what I’m doing, I’m constantly thinking about her. Even a few hours apart are intolerable these days, as ridiculous as that may be. “Okay, well, I’m glad Leah didn’t freak out too much,” Nora says when I remain silent. “I thought she’d run or call the police when you first showed up.” She looks down, then glances up. “If you hadn’t mentioned the big news, things would’ve been very awkward.” “Really?” I say silkily. “Maybe I should’ve told them the really big news.” It was what I’d originally intended—to ask if Nora had already told them about the baby— but the horrified expression on her face gave away the truth before any of her friends could speak.

Nora reaches for my hand, her slender fingers curving around my palm. “I’m glad you didn’t.” She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for that.” “Why didn’t you tell them?” I ask, placing my other palm over her small hand. “They’re your friends—I would’ve expected you to share such things with them.” “I’m going to tell them.” She looks uncomfortable. “Just not yet.” “Are you afraid they’ll judge you?” I frown at her, trying to understand. “We’re married. This is only natural. You know that, right?” “They will judge me, Julian.” Her soft lips twist. “I’ll be a mother at twenty. Girls my age don’t do marriage and babies. At least most that I know don’t.” “I see.” I study her thoughtfully. “What do they do? Parties? Clubs? Boyfriends?” She lowers her gaze. “I’m sure you think it’s silly.” It is, yet it isn’t. It still catches me off-guard sometimes, how young she is. How limited her experience has been. I can’t remember ever being that young. By the time I was twenty, I was already at the helm of my father’s organization, having seen most of the world and done things that would make hardened mobsters shudder. Youth had skipped me by, and I keep forgetting that Nora still retains some of hers. “Is that what you want?” I ask when she looks up at me again. “To go out? To have fun?” “No—I mean, that would be nice, but I know it’s not realistic.” She draws in a deep breath, her hand twitching in my grasp. “It’s fine, Julian. Really. I’m going to tell them soon. I just didn’t want our lunch today to be all about that.” “Okay.” Releasing her hand, I drape my arm over her shoulders and draw her closer. “Whatever you think best, my pet.”

TO MY SATISFACTION, THE SECOND DINNER WITH NORA’S PARENTS GOES SMOOTHLY. NORA GIVES THEM a tour of the house while I catch up on some work, and by the time I join everyone for dinner, the Lestons seem much less tense than before. “Wow, look at this table,” Gabriela says when we all sit down. “Rosa, you prepared all this?” Rosa nods, smiling proudly. “I did. I hope you all enjoy it.”

“I’m sure we will,” I say. The table is covered with dishes ranging from a white asparagus salad to the traditional Colombian recipe of Arroz con Pollo. “Thank you, Rosa.” “I’m still stuffed from that cheesecake,” Nora says, grinning, “but I’ll try to do this meal justice. Everything looks delicious.” As we dig into the food, the conversation revolves around Nora’s day with her friends and the latest local gossip. Apparently, one of the Leston’s divorced neighbors started dating a woman ten years his senior, while the man’s miniature Chihuahua got into an altercation with another neighbor’s Persian cat. “Can you believe it?” Tony Leston says, chuckling. “That cat outweighs the dog by a good ten pounds.” Nora and Rosa laugh while I observe the Lestons with bemusement. For the first time, I understand why Nora wanted to visit here so badly, what she meant when she said she needed a breather from the estate. The life Nora’s parents lead—the life she used to lead before she met me—is so different I might as well be visiting another planet. A planet populated by people blissfully ignorant of the realities of the world. “What are you doing on Saturday, honey?” Gabriela asks, smiling warmly at her daughter. “Do you already have plans?” Nora looks puzzled. “Saturday? No, not yet.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, Saturday. You mean my birthday?” I suppress a flare of annoyance. I’d been hoping to surprise Nora again— preferably with a better outcome this time. Oh, well. Nothing to be done now. Leaning back in my chair, I say, “We do have something planned for the evening, but not during the day.” “Wonderful.” Nora’s mother beams at her. “Why don’t you come over for lunch then? I’ll make all of your favorite dishes.” Nora glances at me, and I give her a small nod. “We’d be happy to, Mom,” she says. Gabriela’s smile dims slightly at the “we,” so I lean forward and say to Nora, “I’m afraid I have some work to do, baby. Why don’t you spend some time with your parents by yourself?” “Oh, sure.” Nora blinks. “Okay.” Tony and Gabriela look ecstatic, and I resume eating, tuning out the rest of their

conversation. As much as I dislike the idea of being away from Nora, I want her to have some tension-free time with her parents—something that can only be achieved without my presence. I want my pet to be happy on her birthday, no matter what it takes.

AFTER THE LESTONS LEAVE, NORA HEADS INTO THE SHOWER, AND I PULL OUT MY PHONE TO CHECK MY messages. To my surprise, there is an email from Lucas. It’s just one line: Yulia Tzakova escaped. Sighing, I put the phone away. I know I should be furious, but for some reason, I’m only mildly annoyed. The Russian girl won’t get far; Lucas will hunt her down and bring her back as soon as we return. For now, though, I picture his rage—the rage I can sense in the terse words of the email—and chuckle. If the plane crash hadn’t killed so many of my men, I’d almost feel sorry for the girl.

21

N ora “AN EYE FOR AN EYE.” MAJID’S EYES BURN WITH HATRED AS HE COMES TOWARD ME, STEPPING OVER Beth’s mangled body. The blood is ankle-deep as he walks, the dark liquid sloshing around his feet in a malevolent swirl. “A life for a life.” “No.” I’m standing there shaking, the fear pulsing inside me in a sickening beat. “Not this. Please, not this.” It’s too late, though. He’s already there, pressing his knife against my stomach. Smiling cruelly, he looks behind me and says, “The head will make a nice little trophy—after I cut it up a bit, of course…” “Julian!” My scream echoes through the room as I jump off the bed, trembling with icy terror. “Baby, are you okay?” Strong arms close around me in the darkness, pulling me into a hard, warm embrace. “Shh…” Julian soothes as I begin to sob, clinging to him with all my strength. “Did you have another dream?” I manage a small nod. “What kind of dream, my pet?” Sitting down on the bed, Julian pulls me into his lap and strokes my hair. “The old one about me and Beth?” I bury my face against his neck. “Sort of,” I whisper when I can speak. “Except Majid was threatening me this time.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Threatening the baby inside me.” I can feel Julian’s muscles tensing. “He’s dead, Nora. He can’t hurt you

anymore.” “I know.” I can’t stop crying. “Believe me, I know.” One of Julian’s hands moves down to my belly, warming my chilled skin. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, gently rocking me back and forth. “Everything will be okay.” I hold onto him tightly, trying to quiet my sobs. I want to believe him so badly. I want the last few weeks to be the norm, not the exception, in our lives. Shifting on Julian’s lap, I feel a growing hardness pressing into my hip, and for some reason, it eases my fear. If there’s anything I can be sure of, it’s our bodies’ desperate, burning need for one another. And suddenly, I know exactly what I need. “Make me forget,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Please, just make me forget.” Julian’s breathing alters, his body tensing in a different way. “Gladly,” he murmurs, turning to place me on the mattress. And as he drives into me, I wrap my legs around his hips, letting the power of his thrusts push the nightmare out of my mind.

I WAKE UP LATE ON FRIDAY MORNING, MY EYES GRITTY FROM MY MIDDLE-OF-THE-NIGHT CRYING BOUT. Dragging myself out of bed, I brush my teeth and take a long, hot shower. Then, feeling infinitely better, I go back into the bedroom to get dressed. “How are you doing, my pet?” Julian steps into the room just as I zip up my shorts in front of the mirror. He’s already dressed, his tall, muscular frame making the dark jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing look like something out of GQ. “I’m fine.” Turning, I give him a sheepish smile. “I don’t know why I had that dream last night. I haven’t had one in weeks.” “Right.” Leaning against the wall, Julian crosses his arms and gives me a penetrating look. “Did anything happen yesterday? Anything that could’ve triggered a relapse?” “No,” I say quickly. The last thing I want is for Julian to think I can’t be on my own for a few hours. “Yesterday was an awesome day. I think it’s just one of those things. Maybe I ate too much at dinner or something.” “Uh-huh.” Julian stares at me. “Sure.”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, turning back toward the mirror to brush my hair. “It was just a stupid dream.” Julian doesn’t say anything, but I know I haven’t managed to allay his concerns. All through breakfast, he watches me like a hawk, undoubtedly looking for signs of an incipient panic attack. I do my best to act normal—a task greatly helped by Rosa’s easy chatter—and when we’re done eating, I suggest we go for a walk in the park. “Which park?” Julian frowns. “Any local park,” I say. “Whichever one you think is most secure. I just want to get out of the house, get some fresh air.” Julian looks thoughtful for a second; then he types something on his phone. “All right,” he says. “Give my men a half hour to prepare, and we’ll head out.” “Will you come with us, Rosa?” I ask, not wanting to exclude my friend again, but to my surprise, she shakes her head. “No. I’m going to the city,” she explains. “Señor Esguerra”—she glances at Julian—“said he’s fine with that as long as I take one of the guards with me. I don’t need as much security as the two of you, so I figured I’d use the day to explore Chicago.” She pauses and gives me a concerned look. “You don’t mind, do you? Because I don’t have to go—” “No, no, you should definitely go. Chicago is a great city. You’ll have fun.” I give her a big smile, ignoring the sudden wash of envy. I want Rosa to have this kind of freedom; there’s no reason for her to be stuck in the suburbs. There’s no reason for her to be confined like me.

THE DRIVE TO THE PARK TAKES LESS THAN THIRTY MINUTES. AS WE APPROACH, I REALIZE WHERE WE’RE going, and my stomach tightens. I know this park. It’s the one where I was walking with Jake the night Julian kidnapped me. The memories that come are sharp and vivid. In a dark flash, I relive the terror of seeing Jake unconscious on the ground and feeling the cruel prick of the needle on my skin. “Are you okay?” Julian asks, and I realize I must’ve gone pale. His eyebrows come together. “Nora?”

“I’m fine.” I attempt to smile as the car comes to a stop at the curb. “It’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing.” His blue eyes narrow. “If you’re not feeling well, we’re going back to the house.” “No.” I grab the door handle and tug at it frantically. The atmosphere in the car feels heavy all of a sudden, thick with memories. “Please, I just want some fresh air.” “All right.” Apparently sensing my state, Julian motions to the driver, and the door locks click open. “Go ahead.” I scramble out of the car, the anxious feeling in my chest easing as soon as I step outside. Taking a deep breath, I turn to see Julian climb out of the car behind me, his face taut with worry. “Why did you choose this park?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. “There are others in the area.” He looks puzzled for a second; then understanding displaces worry on his face. “Because I had already scoped out this place,” he says, stepping toward me. His hands close around my upper arms as he gazes down at me. “Is that what’s bothering you, my pet? My choice of location?” “Yes, somewhat.” I take another deep breath. “It brings back certain… memories.” “Ah, of course.” Julian’s eyes gleam with sudden amusement. “I guess I should’ve been more cognizant of that. This just happened to be the easiest park to secure, since I had all the schematics from before.” “From when you stole me.” I stare up at him. Sometimes his total lack of repentance still catches me off-guard. “You scoped out the park two years ago for my kidnapping.” “Yes.” His beautiful lips curl in a smile as he releases my arms and steps back. “Now, are you feeling better, or should we go back?” “No, let’s take a walk,” I say, determined to enjoy the day. “I’m fine now.” Julian takes my hand, lacing my fingers through his, and we enter the park. To my relief, in the daylight everything looks different than it did on that fateful evening, and it’s not long before the dark memories recede, retreating back to that forbidden, closed corner of my brain. I want to keep them there, so I focus on the bright sunlight and the warm spring

breeze. “I love this weather,” I say to Julian as we pass by a playground. “I’m glad we came out.” He smiles and brings my hand up to brush a kiss across my knuckles. “Me too, baby. Me too.” As we walk, I see that the park is unusually busy for a Friday. There are older couples, moms and nannies with their charges, and a good number of people my age. I’m guessing they’re college students, home for the long weekend. Here and there, I also spot a few military-looking types doing their best to blend in. Julian’s men. They’re here to protect us, but their presence is also a stark reminder that I’m still a prisoner in a way. “How were you able to find me?” I ask when we sit down on a bench. I know I should stop dwelling on the past, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking of those early days. “After our first meeting at the club, I mean?” Julian turns to look at me, his expression unreadable. “I sent a guard to follow you home.” “Oh.” So simple, yet so diabolical. “You already knew you wanted to steal me?” “No.” He clasps both of my hands between his palms. “I hadn’t come to that decision yet. I told myself I just wanted to know who you were, to make sure you got home safely.” I stare at him, both fascinated and disturbed. “So when did you decide to abduct me?” His eyes gleam a bright blue. “It was later, when I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I went to your graduation because I told myself you couldn’t possibly be the way I remembered you, the way you appeared in the pictures I had my guards take. I told myself that if I saw you in person again, this obsession would disappear… but of course it didn’t.” His lips curl with irony. “It got worse. It’s still getting worse.” I swallow, unable to look away from the dark intensity in his gaze. “Do you ever regret it? Taking me the way you did?” “Regret that you’re mine?” He lifts his eyebrows. “No, my pet. Why would I?” Why, indeed. I don’t know what other answer I expected. That he fell in love with me and now regrets having caused me suffering? That I came to mean so much to him that he now sees his actions as wrong?

“No reason,” I say quietly, pulling my hands out of his grasp. “I was just wondering, that’s all.” His expression softens slightly. “Nora…” I lean in, but before he can continue, we’re interrupted by a burst of childish laughter. A tiny girl with blond pigtails waddles toward us, a large green ball clutched tightly in her chubby hands. “Catch!” she shrieks, launching the ball at Julian, and I watch in amazement as Julian extends his hand to the side and deftly catches the awkwardly thrown object. The toddler laughs in joy and waddles toward us faster, her short legs pumping as she runs. Before I can say anything, she’s already at our bench, grabbing Julian’s legs as casually as if he were a tree. “Hi,” she drawls, giving Julian a dimpled smile. “Can I please have my ball back?” She pronounces each word with a clarity that would do an older child proud. “I want to play more.” “Here you go.” Julian smiles as he hands it back to her. “You can definitely have it back.” “Lisette!” A harried-looking blond woman jogs up to us, her face flushed. “There you are. Don’t bother these strangers.” Grabbing the child by the arm, she gives us an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. She ran off before I could—” “No worries,” I reassure her, grinning. “She’s adorable. How old is she?” “Two-and-a-half going on twenty,” the woman says with visible pride. “I don’t know where she gets it from; God knows her dad and I barely finished high school.” “I can read,” Lisette announces, staring at Julian. “What about you?” Julian moves off the bench and crouches down on one knee in front of the girl. “I can too,” he says gravely. “But not everybody can, so you’re definitely ahead of the game.” The toddler beams at him. “I can also count to a hundred.” “Really?” Julian cocks his head to the side. “What else can you do?” Seeing that we don’t mind the child’s presence, the blond woman visibly relaxes and lets go of her daughter’s arm. “She knows all the words to that Frozen song,” she says, smoothing the child’s hair. “And can actually sing along.” “Can you really?” Julian asks the little girl with apparent seriousness, and she enthusiastically nods before belting out the song in a high-pitched, childish voice.

I grin, expecting Julian to stop her at any moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he listens attentively, his expression approving without being patronizing. When Lisette finishes with the song, he applauds and asks her about her favorite Disney movies, prompting the child to launch into excited chatter about Cinderella and The Little Mermaid. “I’m sorry,” her mother apologizes to me again when Lisette shows no signs of stopping. “I don’t know what’s come over her today. She’s never this chatty with strangers.” “It’s okay,” Julian says, rising fluidly to his feet when Lisette pauses to catch her breath. “We don’t mind. You have a wonderful daughter.” “Do you have any children of your own?” Lisette’s mother asks, smiling at him with the same adoring expression as her daughter. “You’re so good with her.” “No”—Julian’s gaze flicks down to my stomach—“not yet.” “Oh!” The woman gasps, giving us a huge, delighted smile. “Congratulations. The two of you will have beautiful babies, I just know it.” “Thank you,” I say, feeling my face turn hot. “We’re looking forward to it.” “Well, we must be off,” Lisette’s mother says, grabbing her daughter’s arm again. “Come, Lisette, sweetie, say goodbye to the nice young couple. They have things to do, and we need to go eat lunch.” “Goodbye.” The toddler giggles, waving at Julian with her free hand. “Have a nice day.” Smiling, Julian waves back at her, and then turns to face me. “That lunch doesn’t sound like a bad idea. What do you think, my pet? Ready to go home?” “Yes.” I step closer to Julian and loop my hand through the crook of his elbow. My chest aches strangely. “Let’s go home.” On our drive back, for the first time ever, I allow myself a small daydream. A fantasy in which Julian and I are a normal family. Closing my eyes, I picture my former captor as he was in the park today: a dangerous, darkly beautiful man kneeling next to a precocious little girl. Kneeling next to our child. A child that, for the duration of this fantasy, I crave with all my being.

22

J ulian ON SATURDAY MORNING, I GET UP EARLY AND MAKE MY WAY DOWN TO THE KITCHEN. ROSA IS ALREADY there, and after I verify that she has everything under control, I go back upstairs to Nora. She’s still sleeping when I enter the bedroom. Approaching the bed, I carefully pull the blanket off her, doing my best not to wake her up. She mumbles something, rolling over onto her back, but doesn’t open her eyes. She looks unbelievably sexy, lying there naked like that, and I try to ignore the hard-on in my pants as I pick up the bottle of warm massage oil I brought from the kitchen and pour the liquid into my palm. I begin with her feet, since I know how much my pet enjoys a foot rub. As soon as I touch her sole, her toes curl, and a sleepy moan escapes her lips. The sound makes me even harder, but I resist the urge to climb on the bed and bury myself in her tight, delicious body. This morning, her pleasure is all that matters. I rub one foot first, giving equal attention to each toe, then switch my focus to the other foot before working my way up to her slim calves and thighs. By then, Nora is all but purring, and I know she’s awake even though her eyes are still closed. “Happy birthday, baby,” I murmur, leaning over her to massage the oil into her smooth, taut belly. “Did you sleep well?” “Mmm.” The inarticulate sound seems to be all she’s capable of as I move my hands to her breasts. Her peaked nipples press into my palms, all but begging me

to suck them. Unable to resist the temptation, I bend down and take one into my mouth, pulling on it with a strong sucking motion. Gasping, she arches up, her eyes flying open, and I turn my attention to her other breast, my oil-slick fingers slipping down her body to stimulate her clit. “Julian,” she moans, her breathing coming faster as I push two fingers into her tight, hot channel and curl them inside her. “Oh my God, Julian!” Her words end on a soft cry as her body goes taut, and then I feel her pulsing in release. When her contractions ease, I withdraw my fingers from her swollen flesh and trail them up her ribcage. “Turn over, baby,” I say softly. “I’m not done with you yet.” She obeys, and I reach for the massage oil again. Pouring a generous amount into my hand, I massage it into her neck, arms, and back, enjoying her continued moans of pleasure. By the time I get to the firm curves of her ass, I’m breathing heavily myself, my cock like an iron spike in my pants. Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her thighs and lean forward, covering her with my body. “I want to fuck you,” I whisper in her ear, knowing she can feel the hard pressure of my erection against her ass. “Do you want that, baby? Do you want me to take you and make you come again?” She shudders underneath me. “Yes. Please, yes.” A dark smile forms on my lips. “Your wish is my command.” Unzipping my pants, I pull out my cock and slide my left arm under her hips, elevating her ass for a better angle. On a different day, I’d pour the oil over her tiny asshole and take her there, reveling in her reluctance, but not today. Today, I’m going to give her only what she wants. Pressing my cock to her small, slick entrance, I begin to push in. Soft, wet heat engulfs me as I work my way deeper into her body. Despite the lust pounding through me, I move slowly, letting her adjust to my size. When I’m all the way in, she moans, clenching around me, and I nearly combust at the squeezing sensation, my balls tightening against my body. “Julian…” She’s panting again, squirming underneath me as I begin to thrust in slow, controlled movements. “Julian, please, let me come…” Her begging pushes me over the edge, and with a low growl, I begin to fuck her harder, pounding into her tight, silky flesh. I can hear her cries, feel her body squeezing me even more, and when her contractions begin anew, I explode with a hoarse groan, my seed spurting into her spasming pussy.

Afterwards, I stretch out beside her and gather her into my arms. “Happy twentieth birthday, baby,” I murmur into her tangled hair, and she laughs softly, the sound full of delight.

“OH, JULIAN, YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T HAVE,” NORA PROTESTS AS I pendant in place around her neck. “It’s gorgeous, but—”

LOCK THE DELICATE DIAMOND

“But what?” I step back, admiring how the crescent-shaped stone looks against her golden skin in the mirror. She turns away from the mirror to face me, her eyes dark and serious. “You already made the day so special for me, with the massage and the pancakes Rosa made for breakfast. You didn’t need to get me such an expensive gift as well. Especially since I’ve never had a chance to get you anything for your birthday.” “My birthday is in November,” I say, amused. “Last November you didn’t even know that I survived the explosion, so there’s no way you could’ve gotten anything for me. And the year before, well…” I smile, remembering how much she resented me her first few months on the island. “Right.” Nora’s gaze is unblinking. “The year before, I had other things on my mind.” I laugh. “I’m sure. In any case, don’t worry about it. I don’t celebrate my birthday.” “Why not?” Her eyebrows pull together in a puzzled frown. “You don’t like birthdays?” “Not my own, no.” My parents routinely forgot it when I was a child, and I’d learned to forget it as well. “In any case, that has nothing to do with this gift. If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.” “No.” Nora clutches the necklace possessively. “I love it.” “Then it’s yours.” Stepping toward her, I tilt her chin up with my fingers and press a brief kiss to her lips before stepping back. “Now you should get ready. Your parents are waiting to have lunch with you.” She blinks, staring at me. “What are we doing tonight? You told them we already have plans.” “We do. I’m taking you to a restaurant in the city.” I pause, looking at her. “Unless you want to do something else? It’s your choice.”

“Really?” Her face lights up with excitement. “In that case, can we do something crazy?” “Such as?” “Can we go to a nightclub after dinner?” My first inclination is to say no, but I bite back the words. “Why?” I ask instead. She shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know. I just think it would be fun. I haven’t been to a club since—” She falls silent, biting her lip. “Since you met me.” She nods, and I recall the conversation we had after lunch with her friends. There had been a certain wistfulness in Nora’s voice when she spoke of going out and having fun, a longing for things she thought she’d never experience. “Which club do you want to go to?” I ask, unable to believe I’m even entertaining the idea. Nora’s eyes brighten. “Any club,” she says quickly. “Whichever one you think is safest. I don’t care where we go, just as long as there’s music and dancing.” “How about the one where we met?” I suggest reluctantly. “My men are familiar with it from before, so it’ll be easier—” “Yes, perfect,” she interrupts, beaming at me. “Can we take Rosa with us? I know she would love it too.” My expression must reflect my thoughts because she swiftly clarifies, “Just to the club, not dinner. I also want the dinner to be just the two of us.” I sigh. “Sure. I’ll have one of the guards drive her, so she can meet us at the club after dinner.” Nora squeals and throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you! Oh, I can’t wait. This is going to be so great.” And as she heads out for lunch with her parents, I get together with Lucas to figure out how to secure a popular Chicago nightclub on a Saturday night.

“WOW, JULIAN, THIS IS AMAZING,” NORA EXCLAIMS AS WE WALK INTO THE HIGH-END FRENCH restaurant I chose for our dinner. “How did you get a reservation? I heard people have to wait for months…” Then she stops and rolls her eyes. “Oh, never mind. What am I saying? Of course you of all people can get a reservation.”

I smile at her obvious excitement. “I’m glad you like it. Let’s hope the food is as good as the ambience.” The waiter leads us to our table, which is in a private nook at the back of the restaurant. Instead of wine, I order sparkling water for both of us, and also request the tasting menu after first explaining the restrictions associated with Nora’s pregnancy. “Very good, sir,” the waiter says, bowing slightly, and before we know it, the first course is on our table. As we nibble on asparagus risotto and langoustine ravioli, Nora tells me about her lunch and how happy her parents were to celebrate this birthday with her. “They got me a new set of paint brushes,” she says, grinning. “I’m guessing that means my dad’s no longer as skeptical about my hobby.” “That’s good, baby. He shouldn’t be. You have an amazing talent.” “Thank you.” She gives me a glowing smile and reaches for her water glass. As we talk, I find myself unable to look away from her. She’s radiant tonight, more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Her strapless blue dress is sexy and elegant at the same time—though much too short for my peace of mind. When I saw her coming down the stairs tonight, in that dress and her silvery high-heeled shoes, it was all I could do not to drag her back upstairs and fuck her for three days straight. It doesn’t help that she used some kind of make-up that makes her lips shiny and extra-lush. Every time she wraps those lips around a fork, I picture her sucking my cock and my pants get uncomfortably tight. “You know, you never told me what you were doing in that club when we first met,” she says when we’re halfway through the third course. “Why were you in Chicago, in general? Most of your business is outside the US, isn’t it?” “Yes,” I say, nodding. “I wasn’t here for business in that sense. An acquaintance of mine recommended this hedge fund analyst to me, so I was interviewing him for the position of my personal portfolio manager.” “Oh.” Nora’s eyes widen. “Is that the guy you were meeting with the other day?” “Yes. I liked what I saw two years ago, so I hired him. And then I decided to go out and see a bit of the city—which is how I ended up in that club.” “You weren’t worried about security back then?” “I had a few of my men with me, but no, Al-Quadar wasn’t yet a major threat,

and besides, I didn’t have you to worry about.” It wasn’t until I acquired Nora that I became this paranoid about safety. My pet doesn’t know how vulnerable she makes me, doesn’t realize the lengths to which I would go to protect her. If I had been certain that Majid would let her go unharmed, I would’ve given him the explosive and whatever else Al-Quadar demanded. I would’ve done anything to get her back. “Were you planning to hook up with some woman that night?” Nora asks, taking a sip from her glass. Her tone is casual, but the look in her eyes is anything but. I smile, pleased by her apparent jealousy. “Perhaps,” I tease. “That’s why most men go to clubs, you know. It’s not for the dancing, I assure you.” “So did you?” She leans forward, her small hand tightening around her fork. “Did you pick up someone after I left?” I’m tempted to tease her some more, but I can’t bring myself to be that cruel. “No, my pet. I returned to my hotel room alone that night, unable to think of anything but this beautiful, petite girl I met.” I also dreamed of her. Of her face that was so much like Maria’s . . . of her silky skin and delicate curves. Of the dark, twisted things I wanted to do to her. “I see.” Nora relaxes, a smile appearing on her face. “And the next day? Did you go out again?” “No.” I reach for a crab-stuffed fig. “I didn’t see the point.” Not when I was so obsessed I spent hours looking through the pictures my guards took of her. Not when I already knew I’d never want any woman this much again.

23

N ora BY THE TIME WE WALK OUT OF THE RESTAURANT, I FEEL LIKE I’M IN SEVENTH HEAVEN. OUR DINNER tonight was the closest thing we’ve had to a real date, and for the first time in months, I’m feeling hopeful about the future. We may never be “normal,” but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy. As we drive to the club, I allow myself that daydream again, the one where Julian and I are a family. It feels more real now, more substantial. For the first time, I can picture us raising our child together. It wouldn’t be easy, and we’d constantly be surrounded by guards, but we could do it. We could make it work. We’d live on the estate most of the time, but we’d travel too. We’d visit my parents and friends, and we’d go to places in Europe and Asia. I would have a career as an artist, and Julian’s business would be something that’s in the background of our lives, instead of front and center. It wouldn’t be the kind of life I dreamed of when I was younger, but it would be a good life nonetheless. It takes us half an hour to get to the club in downtown traffic. When we exit the car, Rosa is already standing there, waiting for us. Seeing me, she grins and runs up to the car. “Nora, you look gorgeous,” she exclaims before turning to Julian. “And you too, Señor.” She gives us a huge, beaming smile. “Thank you so much for taking me with you tonight. I’ve been dying to go to a real American nightclub.” “I’m glad you were able to come,” I tell her, smiling. “You look amazing.” And she does. In sexy red heels and a short yellow dress that plays up her curves, Rosa

looks hot enough to be a pinup girl. “Do you really think so?” she says eagerly. “I got this dress in the city on Thursday. I was worried it might be too much.” “There’s no such thing,” I say firmly. “You look absolutely phenomenal. Now, come, let’s go dance.” And grabbing her arm, I lead her to the club entrance, with an amused-looking Julian following on our heels. Despite the club’s location in an older, seedier part of downtown Chicago, there is a long line of people waiting by the door. The place must be even more popular now than it was two years ago. As we walk by, the men eye both me and Rosa, while the women gawk at Julian. I don’t blame those women, even though some dark part of me wants to gouge their eyes out. My husband dressed up tonight, putting on a sharply tailored blazer and dark designer jeans, and he looks effortlessly hot, like a movie star coming out of a film premiere. Of course, movie stars don’t usually conceal guns and knives under their stylish jackets, but I’m trying not to think about that. One word from Julian to the bouncer, and we’re inside, bypassing the waiting crowd. Nobody checks our IDs, not even at the bar where Julian buys Rosa a drink. I wonder if it’s because Julian’s men already warned the club management about us. Either way, it’s pretty neat. It’s only ten o’clock, but the club is already hopping, the latest pop and dance hits blaring from the speakers. Even though I’ve had no alcohol, I feel high, drunk with excitement. Laughing, I grab Rosa and Julian and drag them both to the dance floor, where tons of people are already grinding against one another. When we get to the middle of the dance floor, Julian spins me around and pulls me against him, holding me from the back as we begin moving to the music. I instantly realize what he’s doing. With the way he’s holding me, I’m facing Rosa, and the three of us are sort of dancing together, but it’s Julian’s big body that surrounds me. Nobody can touch me, either on purpose or by accident, not without going through him first. Even in the middle of a crowded dance floor, I belong to Julian and Julian alone. Rosa grins, apparently also realizing Julian’s agenda. She’s even more excited than me, her eyes sparkling as she shakes her booty to the latest Lady Gaga song. Before long, a couple of good-looking young guys sidle up to her, and I watch, grinning, as she begins to flirt with them and gradually moves away from me and Julian.

As soon as she’s occupied, Julian turns me around to face him. “How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, his deep voice cutting through the blasting music. The colored lights flicker over his face, making him look surreally handsome. “Any tiredness? Nausea?” “No.” Smiling, I vigorously shake my head. “I’m perfect. Better than perfect, in fact.” “Yes, you are,” he murmurs, pulling me tighter against him, and I flush all over as I feel the hard bulge in his pants. He wants me, and my body responds immediately, the pulsing beat of the music echoing the sudden ache in my core. We’re surrounded by people, but all of them seem to fade away as we stare at one another, our bodies beginning to move together in a primal, sexual rhythm. My breasts swell, my nipples pebbling as I press my chest against his, and even through the layers of clothing we’re wearing, I can feel the heat coming off his large body… the same kind of heat that’s building within myself. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, staring down at me. His hips rock back and forth as we sway together, driven as much by our need for each other as the music’s beat. “You can’t wear this fucking dress ever again.” “The dress?” I stare up at him, my body burning. “You think it’s the dress?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them to meet my gaze. “No,” he says hoarsely. “It’s not the dress, Nora. It’s you. It’s always fucking you.” I half-expect him to drag me away then, but he doesn’t. Instead, he loosens his grip on me, putting a couple of inches of space between us. I can still feel his body against mine, but the raw sexuality of the moment is reduced, enabling me to breathe again. We dance like that for a few more songs, and then I begin to feel thirsty. “Can I please get some water?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard above the music, and Julian nods, leading me toward the bar. As we pass by Rosa, I see that she’s still dancing with those two guys, seemingly content to be sandwiched between them. I give her a wink and a discreet thumbs-up, and then we’re out of the dancing, writhing crowd. Julian gets me a glass filled with ice water, and I gratefully chug it down, feeling parched. He smiles as he watches me drink, and I know he’s remembering it too— our first meeting, right here by this bar. As we turn to go back to the dance floor, I see Rosa walking toward the back,

where the bathrooms are. She waves at me, grinning, and I wave back before turning to Julian. “Let’s dance some more,” I say, grabbing his hand, and we dive back into the crowd just as a new song begins. A few minutes later, I start to feel it—the familiar sensation of an overly full bladder. “I have to pee,” I tell Julian, and he grins, leading me off the dance floor again. We walk together to the back of the club, and I get in line to the girls’ bathroom while Julian leans against the wall, watching as I wait my turn in the shadowed, circular hallway leading to the restrooms. I wonder if he’s guarding me even here and almost snicker at the idea of him being worried enough to accompany me to the ladies’ room. Thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he stays by the entrance to the narrow hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. The line is long, and it takes almost fifteen minutes to get to my destination. When my turn finally comes, I step into the small three-stall room and do my business. It’s only when I’m washing my hands that it occurs to me that Rosa disappeared in this direction, and I haven’t seen her come out since. Pulling out my phone from my tiny purse, I text Julian: Did Rosa walk by you? Do you see her anywhere? There’s no immediate answer, so I step out of the bathroom, about to head back, when a flash of something red a dozen feet away catches my attention. Frowning, I walk deeper into the circular hallway, past the restrooms, and then I see it. A red, high-heeled shoe lying discarded on the floor. My heart skips a beat. Bending down, I pick it up, and a chill skitters down my spine. There’s no doubt now. It’s Rosa’s shoe. My pulse speeding up, I straighten, looking around, but I don’t see her anywhere. With the way the hallway curves, even the bathroom line is out of sight now. Dropping the shoe, I pull out my phone again. There is a text from Julian in response to mine: No, I don’t see her. I begin to type out a reply, but at that moment, a door I hadn’t noticed before

swings open a few feet away. A short, skinny guy steps out, closing the door behind him, and leans against the door frame. A young guy, I realize, looking at him. More like a boy in his teens, his pale, freckled face unmarred by the slightest hint of stubble. His posture is casual, almost lazy, but something about the way he glances at me gives me pause. “Excuse me.” I approach him carefully, wrinkling my nose at the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes coming off him. “Have you seen my friend? She’s wearing a yellow dress—” He spits on the floor in front of me. “Get the fuck outta here, bitch.” I’m so startled I step back. Then anger blasts through me, mixing with adrenaline. “Excuse me?” My hands curl into fists. “What did you just call me?” The teenager’s posture changes, becoming more combative. “I said—” And at that moment, I hear it. A woman’s scream behind the door, followed by the sound of something falling. My adrenaline levels surge. Without thinking, I step forward and swing upward with my right fist, just as Julian taught me. The momentum of my move adds to the force of the blow, and the guy gasps as my fist slams into his solar plexus. He starts to double over, and at that moment, my knee comes up, crushing his balls. He bends over with a high-pitched scream, clutching his crotch, and I grab the back of his neck, using the momentum to pull him forward as I stick my right foot out. It works even better than in training. He pitches forward, arms flailing, and his head hits the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Then he slides to the floor, his body limp and unmoving in front of me. Shaking, I gape at it. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I took down a guy in a fight—even if that guy was a drunk teenage boy. Another scream behind the door snaps me out of my daze. I recognize that voice now, and a fresh burst of adrenaline sends my heartbeat soaring. Operating solely on instinct, I jump over the young guy’s fallen body and push open the door.

The room inside is long and narrow, with another door at the far end. A stained couch is by that door—and on that couch is my friend, struggling and sobbing under a man. For a second, I’m too frozen to react, and then I notice streaks of red on the bright yellow of Rosa’s torn dress. A hot, dark rage explodes in my chest, sweeping away all remnants of caution. “Let her go!” I yell, rushing into the room. Startled, the guy jumps off Rosa, and then, as if recalling his vile agenda, grabs her by the hair and drags her off the couch. “Nora!” Rosa screams hysterically, pointing at something behind me. Horrified, I spin around, but it’s too late. The other man is already on me, the back of his hand flying toward my face. The blow knocks me into the wall, the impact of the hit jarring every bone in my back. Dazed, I sink down to the floor, and through the ringing in my ears, I hear a man’s voice say, “You can fuck that one if you want. I’ll take my turn with this one in the car.” And as rough hands start tearing at my clothes, I see Rosa’s attacker dragging her toward the door on the far side of the room.

24

J ulian BORED, I STEP AWAY FROM THE WALL AND PEER INTO THE HALLWAY. NORA IS ALREADY AT THE FRONT of the line, so I lean back against the wall and prepare to wait some more. I also make a mental note never to return to this club. These lines must be a regular occurrence here, and I find it ridiculous that they haven’t put in a bigger restroom for the women. Taking out my phone, I check my email for the third time. As expected, nothing’s happened since three minutes ago, so I put the phone away again and consider walking over to the bar to get myself a drink. I’ve been abstaining all night to keep my reflexes sharp in case of danger, but one beer shouldn’t impact anything. Still, I decide against it. Even though several of my guards are sprinkled throughout the club, I don’t feel comfortable having Nora out of sight for more than a couple of minutes. I would’ve even waited in that line with her, but the curving hallway is so narrow that there’s only room for the women and the occasional man pushing his way through. So I wait, amusing myself by watching the dancers on the floor. With all the grinding bodies, the atmosphere is heavily sexual, but the flickering lights and pulsing beat do nothing for me. Without Nora in my arms to excite me, I might as well be standing on a street corner watching grass grow. My phone vibrates in my pocket, distracting me from my thoughts. Pulling it out, I look at Nora’s message and frown. Did Rosa walk by you? Do you see her anywhere?

Stepping away from the wall again, I glance into the hallway. I don’t see either Rosa or Nora there, but the girl who was behind Nora in line is still waiting her turn. Satisfied that Nora must be inside the bathroom, I turn to survey the club, searching for a yellow dress in the crowd. It’s hard to see, with all the people and the dim lighting, but Rosa’s dress is bright enough that I should be able to spot her. I don’t see anything, though. Not by the bar and not on the dance floor. Starting to feel uneasy, I push through the crowd to get to the other side of the bar and look again. Nothing. No yellow dress anywhere. My unease morphs into full-blown alarm. Grabbing the phone again, I check the location of Nora’s trackers. She’s still in the bathroom or right next to it. Feeling marginally calmer, I message Lucas to put the men on alert and text Nora my response before pushing my way back toward the restrooms. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I need to have Nora with me. Right now. My instincts are screaming that something’s wrong, and I won’t relax until I have her securely by my side. When I get to the hallway, I see that the line of women is even longer now, and there’s even a line to the men’s room. The narrow hallway is completely blocked, so I begin to shove people aside, ignoring their shouts of outrage. Nora is not in this line, though the trackers indicate she’s nearby. She’s also not in the women’s bathroom, I realize as I pass by it. According to my tracking app, she’s about thirty feet ahead, a bit to the left of the curving hallway. The crowd clears out past this point, and I pick up the pace, my worry intensifying. A second later, I see it. A man’s body on the floor, next to a closed door. My blood turns to ice, the fear sharp and acrid on my tongue. If somebody took Nora, if she’s been harmed in any way— No. I can’t allow myself to go there, not when she needs me. An icy calm engulfs me, blocking out the fear. Crouching down, I grab the knife from my ankle holster and slide it into my belt buckle for easy access. Then, rising to my feet, I take out my gun and step over the body, ignoring the blood trickling

from the man’s forehead. According to the app, Nora is only a few feet to the left of me—which means she’s behind that door. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step into the room. Immediately, a muffled cry to my right catches my attention. Spinning, I see two figures struggling by the wall… and all traces of calm flee. Nora—my Nora—is fighting with a man twice her size. He’s on top of her, one of his hands muffling her screams and the other hand tearing at her clothes. Her eyes are wild and furious, her fingers curved into claws as she rakes at his face and neck, leaving bloody streaks across his skin. A red fog descends on me, a rage more violent than anything I’ve known. One leap, and I’m on top of them, dragging the man off Nora. I don’t shoot—too risky with her near—but the knife is in my hand as I pin him to the floor, my left forearm crushing his throat. He’s choking, his eyes bulging as I raise the knife and plunge it into his side, again and again. Hot blood spurts out, spraying all over me, and I smell his terror, his knowledge of impending death. His hands beat at me, but I don’t feel the blows. Instead, I watch his eyes as I stab him again and again, reveling in his dying struggles. “Julian!” Nora’s cry snaps me out of my bloodlust, and I spring to my feet, leaving her attacker’s twitching body on the floor. She’s shaking, mascara and tears streaming down her face as she tries to stand up, holding the wall for support. Fuck. Sickening fear fills my chest. I rush to her and gather her against me, frantically patting her down in search of injuries. Nothing feels broken, but her lower lip is split and puffy, and her dress has a small rip at the top. And the child— No, I can’t think about that now. “Baby, are you hurt?” My voice is barely recognizable as my own. “Did he hurt you?” She shakes her head, her eyes still wild. “No!” She twists in my arms, pushing at me with surprising strength. “Let me go! We have to go after her!” “What? Who?” Startled, I move back, holding her by one arm so she wouldn’t fall. “Rosa! He’s got her, Julian! He grabbed her and dragged her out that way.” Nora jabs her free hand in the direction of the door in the back. “We must go after her!”

She sounds hysterical. “Another man took her?” “Yes! He said—” Nora’s voice catches on a sob. “He said he was going to take his turn in the car. There were two of them here, and one took Rosa!” I stare at her, a new fury building inside me. I may not be close to Rosa, but I like the girl and she’s under my protection. The idea that someone dared to do this, to assault her and Nora this way— “Hurry!” Nora implores, frantically tugging on the arm I’m holding to pull me toward the door. “Come on, Julian, we have to hurry! He just dragged her out that way, so we can still catch up!” Fuck. I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body vibrating with tension. I’ve never been so torn in my life. Nora is hurt, and everything inside me screams that she’s my first priority, that I should grab her and rush her to safety as quickly as possible. But if what she says is true, then the only way to save Rosa is to act immediately— and it’ll take my men at least a few minutes to get to where we are. “Please, Julian!” Nora begs, sobbing, and the panic in her eyes decides it for me. “Stay here.” My voice is cold and sharp as I release her arm and step back. “Do not move.” “I’m coming with you—” “Like hell you are.” Pulling out my gun, I thrust it into her hands. “Wait for me here, and shoot anyone you don’t recognize.” And before she can argue with me, I stride swiftly toward the back door, messaging Lucas about the situation on the way.

25

N ora AS SOON AS JULIAN DISAPPEARS THROUGH THE DOOR, I SINK TO THE FLOOR, CLUTCHING THE GUN HE gave me. My legs are trembling and my head is spinning, waves of nausea rolling through me. I feel like I’m hanging on to my sanity by a thread. Only the knowledge that Julian is on his way to rescue Rosa keeps me from slipping into complete hysteria. Drawing in a shuddering breath, I wipe at the moisture on my face with the back of my hand, and as I lower my arm, a streak of red catches my attention. Blood. There’s blood on me. I stare at it, repulsed yet fascinated. It has to be from the man Julian killed. Julian was covered in blood when he touched me, and it’s all over me now, the streaks of red on my arms and chest reminiscent of one of my paintings. Strangely, the analogy calms me a bit. Drawing in another breath, I look up, turning my attention to the dead man lying a few feet away. Now that he’s not attacking me, I realize with shock that I recognize him. He’s one of the two young men Rosa was dancing with. Does that mean that the second attacker is the other man? I frown, trying to remember the second man’s features, but he’s just a blur in my mind. I also don’t recall ever seeing the teenage guy who was guarding the entrance to this room. Was he with Rosa’s dancing companions? If so, why? None of this makes any sense. Even if the three of them are serial rapists, how could they have thought they’d get away with such a brutal assault in a club? Of course, the motivations of the dead man don’t matter anymore. I know he’s

dead because his body is no longer twitching. His eyes are open and his mouth is slack, a trickle of blood running down his cheek. He stinks of death too, I realize— of blood, feces, and fear. As the sickening smell registers, I scoot away, crawling a few feet to huddle closer to the couch. Another man was killed in front of me. I wait for horror and disgust, but they don’t come. Instead, all I feel is a kind of vicious joy. As if on a movie screen, I see Julian’s knife rising and falling, sinking into the man’s side again and again, and all I can think is that I’m glad the man is dead. I’m glad Julian gutted him. It’s odd, but my lack of empathy doesn’t bother me this time. I can still feel the man’s hands on my body, his nails scraping my skin as he ripped at my clothes. He’d managed to pin me down while I was dazed from his blow, and even though I struggled as hard as I could, I knew I was losing. If Julian hadn’t come when he did — No. I shut that down mid-thought. Julian did come, so there’s no need to dwell on the worst. All things considered, I’ve gotten off with minimal damage. My split lip throbs and my back feels like one giant bruise, but it’s nothing irreparable. My body will heal. I’ve been hit before and survived. The real question is: will Rosa? The thought of her hurt, broken and violated, fills me with rage. I want Julian to slaughter the other man as savagely as he killed this one. In fact, I want to do it myself. I would’ve insisted on coming along, but arguing with Julian would’ve only slowed down Rosa’s rescue. For now, all I can do is wait and hope that Julian brings her back. Spotting my little purse on the floor, I crawl over to pick it up. Every movement hurts, but I want that purse with me. It has my phone, which means I can reach Julian. And that’s important—because it suddenly dawns on me that Rosa is not the only one in danger at the moment. So is my husband. No. I push that thought away too. I know what Julian is capable of. If anyone is equipped to handle this, it’s the man who kidnapped me. Julian’s life has been steeped in violence from childhood; killing a scumbag or two must be like cutting grass for him. Unless said scumbag is armed or has buddies.

No. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to entertain such thoughts. Julian will return with Rosa, and all will be well. It has to be. We’re going to be a family, build a life together… A family. My eyes pop open, my hand flying to my stomach as I gasp out loud. For the first time, it strikes me that without Julian’s intervention, Rosa and I might not have been the rapists’ only victims. If I had been brutalized, knocked around some more, there’s no telling what might’ve happened to the baby. The terrifying thought steals my breath away. I begin to shake again, fresh tears forming in my eyes. I don’t even know why I’m crying. Everything is fine. It has to be. Clutching my purse, I focus on the door in the back. Any second now, Julian will walk through it with Rosa, and our lives will go back to normal. Any second now. The seconds tick by slowly. So slowly that it’s all I can do not to scream. I stare at the door until the tears stop and my eyes begin to burn from dryness. No matter how much I try, I can’t keep the dark imaginings away, and the fear inside me feels like it’s going to swallow me from within, eat away at me until there’s nothing left. Finally, the door starts to creak open. I jump to my feet, aches and pains forgotten, but then I recall Julian’s parting words. He’s not the only one who might walk through that door. Lifting the gun he gave me, I take aim with trembling hands and wait.

26

J ulian AS SOON AS I SEND MY MESSAGE TO LUCAS, I OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP OUT INTO THE ALLEY BEHIND the club. Immediately, the smell of garbage hits my nostrils, mixing with the pungent odor of urine. It must’ve rained while we were inside because the potholeridden asphalt is wet, the light from a distant street lamp reflecting in the oilylooking puddles. Reining in my violent rage and worry, I methodically scan my surroundings. Later I will let myself think about Nora’s tear-streaked face and how badly I fucked up, but for now I need to focus on saving Rosa. I owe her and Nora that much. I don’t see anyone nearby, so I wind my way through the dumpsters, heading toward the street. A few rats scurry away at my approach. I wonder if they can sense the thrum of violence in my veins, the lust for blood that intensifies with every step I take. One death was not enough. Not nearly enough. My footsteps echo wetly as I round the corner, turning onto a narrow side street, and then I see it. Two figures struggling by a white SUV some thirty yards away. I can see the yellow of Rosa’s dress as the man tries to drag her into the car, and black rage surges through me again. Pulling out my knife, I sprint toward them. I know the exact moment Rosa’s attacker sees me. His eyes widen, his face

twisting with fear, and before I can react, he shoves Rosa at me and scrambles into the car. I put on a burst of speed, managing to catch Rosa before she falls, and she clutches at me, sobbing hysterically. I try to soothe her while extricating myself from her clinging grip, but it’s too late. The car starts up with a roar, and the tires squeal as Rosa’s assailant slams on the gas, escaping like the coward that he is. Fuck. I stare after the disappearing car, panting. I know my men are stationed at the intersection ahead, but a public shootout would draw too much attention. Holding Rosa with one arm, I pull out my phone and tell Lucas to follow the white car. Then I turn my attention to the sobbing woman in my arms. “Rosa.” Ignoring the adrenaline pumping through me, I gently pull her away from me to view the extent of her injuries. One side of her face is swollen and crusted with blood, and there are scratches and bruises all over her body, but to my relief, I don’t see any broken bones. She looks so shaken, though, that I pitch my voice low, speaking to her as I would to a child. “How badly are you hurt, sweetheart?” “He… they…” She seems to be incoherent as she stands there trembling, her dress ripped open, and I grit my teeth, fighting a fresh swell of fury. I can already see that whatever happened to her is not something she’ll easily get over. “Come, sweetheart, let me take you back to Nora.” I keep my voice soft and soothing as I bend down to pick her up. Her shaking intensifies as I swing her up into my arms, and I clench my jaw tighter, walking back toward the alley as quickly as I can. When we’re in front of the door to the club, I lower Rosa to her feet. Then, holding her elbow for support, I carefully usher her through the doorway. We’re greeted by the sight of Nora pointing the gun in our direction. The second she spots us, however, her face lights up and she lowers the weapon. “Rosa!” She drops the gun and runs across the room to us. “You got her, Julian! Oh, thank God, you got her!” Reaching us, she rises on her tiptoes and hugs me fiercely before wrapping her arms around Rosa and guiding her to the couch. I can hear her murmuring reassurances as Rosa clings to her, crying, and I use the opportunity to call for our car to come around to the alley.

A couple of minutes later, the car is ready. “Come, baby. We have to go, get you both to the hospital,” I say softly, approaching the couch, and Nora nods, her arms still wrapped around Rosa’s shaking frame. My wife seems much calmer now, her earlier hysteria nowhere in sight. Still, I have to fight the urge to grab her and make sure she’s as all right as she seems. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that Rosa will fall apart without Nora’s help. Thankfully, my pet seems up to the task of dealing with her traumatized friend. That steel core I’ve always sensed within her has never been more evident than it is now. Even with the rage scorching my insides, I feel a flash of pride as I watch Nora get Rosa off the couch and lead her toward the exit into the alley. Lucas is leaning against the car, waiting for us. As his gaze falls on Rosa, I can see his face changing, his impassive expression transforming into something dark and frightening. “Those fuckers,” he mutters thickly, walking around the car to open the door for us. “Those motherfucking fuckers.” He can’t seem to stop staring at Rosa. “They’re going to fucking die.” “Yes, they will,” I agree, watching with some surprise as he carefully separates Rosa from my wife and guides the crying girl into the car. His manner is so uncharacteristically caring that I can’t help wondering if there’s something between the two of them. That would be odd, given his fixation on the Russian interpreter, but weirder things have happened. Shrugging mentally, I turn to Nora, who’s standing by the open car door, her left hand gripping the top of the door frame. She seems lost in her own world, her gaze strangely distant as she lifts her right hand and places it on her belly. “Nora?” I step toward her, a sudden fear gripping my chest, and at that moment, I see her face go chalk-white.

27

N ora THE CRAMPING SENSATION I BEGAN TO FEEL A FEW SECONDS AGO SUDDENLY INTENSIFIES, TURNS INTO A sharp pain. It lances across my stomach, stealing my breath just as Julian steps toward me, his face tight with worry. Gasping, I double over, and instantly I feel his strong hands on me, lifting me off my feet. “Hospital, now!” he barks at Lucas, and before I can blink, I find myself inside the car, cradled on Julian’s lap as we screech out of the alley. “Nora? Nora, are you all right?” Rosa’s voice is filled with panic, but I can’t reassure her at the moment, not with my insides cramping and twisting. All I can do is take short, gasping breaths, my hands digging convulsively into Julian’s shoulders as he rocks me back and forth, his big body tense underneath me. “Julian.” I can’t help crying out as a particularly vicious cramp rips through my belly. I can feel a hot, slippery wetness on my thighs, and I know if I look down, I’ll see blood. “Julian, the child…” “I know, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead, rocking me faster. “Hang on. Please, hang on.” We fly through the dark streets, the streetlights and traffic lights blurring in front of my eyes. I can hear Rosa talking to me, her soft hands smoothing over my hair, and I’m aware of a vague sense of guilt that she has to deal with this after everything she’s been through. Mostly, though, what I feel is fear. A hideous fear that it’s too late, that nothing will ever be all right again.

“I’M SO SORRY, MRS. ESGUERRA.” THE YOUNG DOCTOR STOPS NEXT TO MY BED, HER HAZEL EYES filled with sympathy. “As you might’ve guessed, you miscarried. The good news—if there can be any at a time like this—is that you were still in your first trimester, and the bleeding has already stopped. There might be some spotting and discharge for the next few days, but your body should return to normal fairly quickly. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t be able to try for another child soon… if you wish to do so, of course.” I stare at her, my eyes feeling like they’ve been scraped with sandpaper. I can’t cry anymore. I’ve cried all the tears within me. I’m aware of Julian’s hand holding mine as he sits on the edge of the bed, of the continued dull cramping in my belly, and all I can think is that I lost the baby. I lost our baby, and it’s all my fault. “Where’s Rosa?” My throat is so swollen I have to force the words out. “Is she all right?” “She’s in the room next to you,” the doctor says softly. She’s unusually pretty, with a pale, heart-shaped face framed by wavy chestnut hair. “Would you like to speak to her?” “Are they done with her examination?” Julian’s voice is as hard as I’ve ever heard it. His face and hands are clean now—he used bottled water to wipe most of the blood off us before we got out of the car–but his gray jacket is stained brown. I wonder what the doctors think of our appearance, whether they realize that not all of the blood on us is mine. “Yes, they’re done.” The doctor hesitates for a second. “Mr. Esguerra, your friend said she doesn’t want to press charges or speak to the police, but that’s something we strongly recommend in cases like these. At the very least, she should let our sexual assault nurse examiner collect the evidence. Perhaps you can talk to Ms. Martinez, help us convince her—” “Do any of her injuries require hospitalization?” Julian interrupts, his hand tightening around my fingers. “Or can she go home with us?” The doctor frowns. “She can go home, but—” “And my wife?” He gives the young woman a piercing look. “You’re certain there are no injuries beyond the bruises?” “Yes, as I explained to you earlier, Mr. Esguerra, all the tests came back

normal.” The doctor meets his gaze without flinching. “There’s no concussion or any kind of internal injuries, and there’s no need for a D&C—dilation and curettage —procedure when the loss happens so early in the pregnancy. I recommend that Mrs. Esguerra take it easy for the next few days, but after that she can return to her normal activities.” Julian glances down at me. “Baby?” His tone softens a fraction. “Do you want to stay here until morning just in case, or would you rather go home?” “Home.” I swallow painfully. “I want to go home.” “Mrs. Esguerra…” The doctor places her hand on my forearm, her slender fingers warm on my skin. When I look up at her, she says gently, “I know it’s little consolation for your loss, but I want you to know that the vast majority of miscarriages cannot be prevented. It’s possible that the incident with you and your friend was a factor in this unfortunate event, but it’s just as likely that there was some kind of chromosomal abnormality that would’ve caused this to happen regardless. Statistically speaking, some twenty percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage, and up to seventy percent of first-trimester miscarriages occur because of those abnormalities—not something the mother did or didn’t do.” I take in her words dully, my gaze slipping from her face to the name tag pinned to her chest. Dr. Cobakis. Something about that seems familiar, but I’m too tired to figure out what. Listlessly, I look up again. “Thank you,” I murmur, hoping she leaves the topic alone. I understand what she’s trying to do. The doctor’s probably run into this before—a woman’s automatic tendency to blame herself when something goes wrong with her pregnancy. What she doesn’t realize is that in my case, I am to blame. I insisted on going to that club. What happened to Rosa and the baby is my fault and no one else’s. The doctor gives my forearm a gentle squeeze and steps back. “I’ll get your friend ready for discharge while you get dressed,” she says, and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Julian for the first time since our arrival at the hospital. As soon as the doctor is gone, he releases my hand and leans over me. “Nora…” In his gaze, I see the same agony that’s tearing me up inside. “Baby, are you still in pain?” I shake my head. The physical discomfort is nothing to me now. “I want to go

home,” I say hoarsely. “Please, Julian, just take me home.” “I will.” He strokes the uninjured side of my face, his touch warm and gentle. “I promise you, I will.”

28

J ulian I’VE NEVER KNOWN AN EMPTINESS LIKE THIS BEFORE, A BURNING VOID THAT PULSES WITH RAW When I lost Maria and my parents, there had been rage and grief, but not this.

PAIN.

Not this awful emptiness mixed with the strongest bloodlust I’ve ever known. Nora is still and silent as I carry her up the stairs to our bedroom. Her eyes are closed, her lashes forming dark crescents on her colorless cheeks. She’s been like that—all but catatonic from blood loss and exhaustion—since we left the hospital. As I lay her on the bed, I catch sight of her bruised cheekbone and split lip, and have to turn away to regain control. The violence seething within me feels so toxic, so corrosive, that I can’t touch Nora right now—not without it marking her in some way. After a few moments, I feel calm enough to face the bed. Nora hasn’t moved, still lying where I placed her, and I realize she’s fallen asleep. Inhaling slowly, I bend over her and begin to undress her. I could let her sleep until morning, but there are traces of dried blood on her clothes, and I don’t want her to wake up like that. She’ll have enough to deal with in the morning. When she’s naked, I take off my own clothes and scoop her up, cradling her small, limp body against my chest as I walk to the bathroom. Entering the shower stall, I turn on the water, still holding her tightly. She wakes up when the warm spray hits her skin, her eyes flying open as she convulsively clutches at my biceps. “Julian?” She sounds alarmed.

“Shh,” I soothe. “It’s okay. We’re home.” She looks a bit calmer, so I place her on her feet and ask softly, “Can you stand on your own for a minute, baby?” She nods, and I make quick work of washing her and then myself. By the time I’m done, she’s swaying on her feet, and I see that it’s taking all her strength to remain upright. Swiftly, I bundle her into a large towel and carry her back to bed. She passes out before her head touches the pillow. I tuck a blanket around her and sit next to her for a few moments, watching her chest rise and fall with her breathing. Then I get up and get dressed to go downstairs.

ENTERING THE LIVING ROOM, I SEE THAT LUCAS IS ALREADY WAITING FOR ME. “Where’s Rosa?” I ask, keeping my voice level. Later I will think about our child, about Nora lying there so hurt and vulnerable, but for now I push it all out of my mind. I can’t afford to give in to my grief and fury, not when there is so much to be done. “She’s asleep,” Lucas responds, rising from the couch. “I gave her Ambien and made sure she took a shower.” “Good. Thank you.” I cross the room to stand next to him. “Now tell me everything.” “The clean-up crew took care of the body and captured the kid Nora knocked out in the hallway. They’re holding him in a warehouse I rented on the South Side.” “Good.” My chest fills with savage anticipation. “What about the white car?” “The men were able to follow it to one of the residential high-rises downtown. At that point, it disappeared into a parking garage, and they decided against pursuing it there. I’ve already run the license plate number.” He pauses at that point, prompting me to say impatiently, “And?” “And it seems like we might have a problem,” Lucas says grimly. “Does the name Patrick Sullivan mean anything to you?” I frown, trying to think where I’ve heard it before. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.” “The Sullivans own half of this town. Prostitution, drugs, weapons—you name it, they have their fingers in it. Patrick Sullivan heads up the family, and he’s got

just about every local politician and police chief in his pocket.” “Ah.” It makes sense now. I haven’t had dealings with the Sullivan organization, but I’d made it my business to know potential clients in the US and elsewhere. Sullivan’s name must’ve come up in my research—which means we might indeed have a problem. “What does Patrick Sullivan have to do with this?” “He has two sons,” Lucas says. “Or rather, he had two sons. Brian and Sean. Brian is currently marinating in lye at our rented warehouse, and Sean is the owner of the white SUV.” “I see.” So the fuckers who attacked Rosa and my wife are connected. More than connected, in fact—which explains their idiotic arrogance in assaulting two women at a public club. With their daddy running this town, they must be used to being the biggest sharks in the pool. “Also,” Lucas continues, “the kid we’ve got strung up in that warehouse is their seventeen-year-old cousin, Sullivan’s nephew. His name is Jimmy. Apparently, he and the two brothers are close. Or were close, I should say.” My eyes narrow in sudden suspicion. “Do they have any idea who we are? Could they have singled out Rosa to get at me?” “No, I don’t think so.” Lucas’s face tightens. “The Sullivan brothers have a nasty history with women. Date-rape drugs, sexual assault, gang bangs of sorority girls—the list goes on and on. If it weren’t for their father, they’d be rotting in prison right now.” “I see.” My mouth twists. “Well, by the time we’re done with them, they’ll wish they were.” Lucas nods grimly. “Should I organize a strike team?” “No,” I say. “Not yet.” I turn and walk over to stand by the window, gazing out into the dark, tree-lined yard. It’s four in the morning, and the only light visible through the trees comes from the half-moon hanging in the sky. This community is a quiet, peaceful place, but it won’t stay that way for long. Once Sullivan figures out who killed his sons and nephew, these neat, landscaped streets will run red with blood. “I want Nora and her parents taken to the estate before we do anything,” I say, turning back to face Lucas. “Sean Sullivan will have to wait. For now, we’ll focus on the nephew.” “All right.” Lucas inclines his head. “I’ll begin making the arrangements.”

He walks out of the room, and I turn to look out the window again. Despite the half-moon, all I see out there is the darkness.

29

N ora “NORA, HONEY…” A FAMILIAR GENTLE TOUCH PULLS ME OUT OF MY RESTLESS SLUMBER. FORCING MY heavy eyelids open, I stare uncomprehendingly at my mom, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking my hair. My head aches so much that it takes me a few moments to process her presence in our bedroom—and notice her red-rimmed, swollen eyes. “Mom?” Holding the blanket, I sit up, suppressing a groan at the pain caused by the movement. My back feels stiff and sore, and my lower abdomen is cramping dully. “What are you doing here?” “Julian called us this morning,” she says, her voice shaking. “He said you and Rosa were attacked at a club last night.” “Oh.” A flash of anger wakes me fully. How dare Julian worry my parents like this? I would’ve come up with something less frightening to tell them, some gentler way to explain the loss of the baby. The loss of the baby. The agony is so sharp and sudden that I can’t hold it in. A raw, jagged sob bursts out of my throat, bringing with it a flood of burning tears. Shaking, I clamp my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The pain wells up and spills out, the tears like acid on my skin. I can feel my mom’s arms around me, hear her crying, and I know I have to stop, but I can’t. It’s too much, the grief, the knowledge that I did this. Suddenly, it’s no longer my mom who holds me. Instead, I’m bundled in the blanket on Julian’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around me as he cradles me

against him, rocking me like a child. I can hear my dad’s voice, the timbre low and soothing, and I know Dad is consoling Mom, trying to calm her in her pain. At some point, he and Julian must’ve come into the room, but I don’t know how or when it happened. Eventually, Julian carries me to the shower. It’s there, away from my parents’ eyes, that I’m finally able to regain control. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as Julian towels me off and dresses me in a thick, terrycloth robe. “I’m so sorry. Where’s Rosa? How is she?” “She’s all right,” he says quietly. His eyes are bloodshot, making me suspect he didn’t sleep much last night. “Well, as all right as can be expected. She’s still in her room, but Lucas spoke to her and said she’s doing better. And you have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Nothing.” I shake my head, the awful guilt seizing me again. “I need to go see her—” “Wait, Nora.” He grabs my arm just as I’m about to rush back into the bedroom. “Before you do, there’s something you and I need to discuss with your parents.” “My parents?” He nods, looking down at me. “Yes. That’s why I called them here. We all need to talk.”

“THE SULLIVAN CRIME FAMILY?” MY DAD’S VOICE RISES INCREDULOUSLY. “YOU’RE the men who attacked my daughter are part of the mob?”

TELLING ME THAT

“Yes,” Julian says, his face hard and expressionless. He’s sitting next to me on the couch, his left hand resting on my knee. “It’s something I discovered last night, after we returned from the hospital.” “We need to go to the police right away.” My mom leans forward, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “Those monsters need to pay for this. If you know who they are—” “They’ll pay, Gabriela.” Julian’s gaze turns to steel. “You don’t have to worry about that.” “It’s because of you, isn’t it?” my dad says savagely, getting up in a sharp motion. “They came after you—” “No,” I interrupt, shaking my head. I’m still reeling from what I just learned, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that for once, Julian’s business is not at

fault. “It was random, Dad. They had no idea who Rosa and I were. They were just”—I shudder, remembering—“just doing it for fun.” “Fun?” My dad stares at me, his features tense with anger as he sits down again. “Those assholes thought hurting two women would be fun?” “Well, technically, they wanted only Rosa,” I say dully. “I just happened to intervene.” Julian’s hand tightens on my knee as he glances in my direction. For the first time this morning, I see a flash of fury behind his emotionless facade. I have no doubt that he blames me for this—for using my birthday to manipulate him into going to that club, for trying to rescue Rosa on my own. For losing our child… the one I didn’t even know I wanted until it was too late. I have no idea what my punishment will be, but whatever it is, it’ll be more than deserved. “We have to go to the police,” my mom says again. “We need to report—” “No.” This time, it’s Julian who rises to his feet and begins to pace in front of the couch. “That wouldn’t be wise.” “Why?” my dad asks sharply. “This is what civilized people do in this country. They go to the authorities—” “The authorities are in Sullivan’s pocket.” Julian stops to give my dad a harsh look. “And even if they weren’t, we might as well send Sullivan an email saying who we are.” “Right.” I jump to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sore muscles. Finally, my sluggish brain connects all the dots, and I realize why Julian brought my parents here. If the man Julian gutted last night is indeed the head mobster’s son, then my husband isn’t the only dangerous criminal out for vengeance. “Mom, Dad, we can’t do that.” My mom looks startled. “But, Nora—” “It will be best if the two of you come visit us for a bit,” Julian says, walking over to stand next to me. “Just until we get this situation sorted out.” “What?” My mom gapes at us. “What do you mean? Why? Oh.” She abruptly falls silent. “You did something to one of those men last night, didn’t you?” she says slowly, looking at Julian. “You don’t want them to know who we are because… because—”

“Because one of Sullivan’s sons is dead, yes.” Julian might as well be corroborating the weather report. “They’ll be looking for us, and when they figure out who we are, they’ll come after you and Tony.” My mom visibly blanches, and my dad rises to his feet. “You’re saying the mob is after us?” His voice is filled with angry disbelief. “That they might attack us because… because you—” “Killed one of Sullivan’s sons for trying to hurt Nora, yes.” Julian’s voice is the coldest I’ve ever heard it. “We can worry about casting blame later. For now, since I don’t want Nora grieving for her parents, I suggest you notify your employers of your upcoming vacation and start packing.” “When are we leaving?” my mom asks, her face pale as she stands up as well. “And how long will this vacation be?” “Gabs, you’re not seriously thinking—” my dad begins, but my mom places her hand on his arm. “I am.” My mom’s voice is steady now, her gaze filled with resolve. “I don’t want this any more than you do, but you’ve heard about the Sullivans. They’re bad news, and if Julian says we’re in danger—” “You trust this murderer?” My dad turns to glare at her. “You think we’ll be safer with him?” “Than here with the mob seeking vengeance? Yes, I think we will be,” my mom retorts. “We don’t exactly have many options, do we?” “We can go to the police or the FBI—” “No, Tony, we can’t, not if what Julian says is true.” “Well, obviously he would be against going to the police—” As they argue, I feel my headache intensifying. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Mom, Dad, please.” I step forward, ignoring the pounding in my temples. “Just come with us for a while. It doesn’t have to be forever. Right, Julian?” I glance at my husband for confirmation. Julian nods coolly. “Like I said, just until I get this situation straightened out. Hopefully no more than a month or two.” “A month or two? How exactly will you straighten this out in just a month or two?” my mom asks while my dad stands there, vibrating with tense anger. “Do you really want to know, Gabriela?” Julian asks softly, and my mom turns

even paler. “No, that’s okay.” She sounds slightly hoarse. Clearing her throat, she asks, “So what do we tell our work? How do we explain such a long vacation on short notice? I mean, it’s really more of a leave of absence—” “You can tell them the truth: that your daughter suffered a miscarriage and needs you for the next few weeks.” Julian’s harsh words make me flinch. Noticing my reaction, he reaches for me, his fingers curving around my palm as he says to my mom in a softer tone, “Or you can come up with some other story. It’s really up to you.” “Okay, we’ll do that,” my mom says quietly, looking at us, and when I glance at my dad, I see that the anger has left his face. Instead, he seems to be holding back tears. Catching my gaze, he steps toward me. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says quietly, his deep voice filled with sorrow. “I didn’t have a chance to say it yet, but I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, and then I have to turn away so I don’t start crying again. Immediately, Julian’s arms close around me, bringing me into his embrace. “Tony, Gabriela,” I hear him say softly. His hand rubs soothing circles on my back as I stand there, fighting tears, my face pressed against his chest. “I think it’s best if Nora rests for now. Why don’t the two of you discuss this, and we can talk some more later today? Ideally, I want you and Nora to fly out tomorrow, before Sullivan figures out who we are.” “Of course,” my mom says quietly. “Come, Tony, we have a lot to do.” And before I can turn around, I hear their footsteps heading out of the room. When they’re gone, Julian loosens his hold and pulls back to gaze at me. “Nora, baby—” “I’m okay,” I interrupt, not wanting his pity. The guilt that I managed to push aside for the past hour is back, stronger than ever. “I’m going to go talk to Rosa now.” Julian studies me for a moment and then steps back, letting me go. “All right, my pet,” he says softly. “Go ahead.”

30

J ulian AS I WATCH NORA EXIT THE ROOM, I’M COGNIZANT OF A THICK, HEAVY PRESSURE IN MY CHEST. SHE’S trying to hide her pain, to be strong, but I can tell that what happened is ripping her apart. Her breakdown this morning was just the tip of the iceberg, and the knowledge that I’m to blame for this—that I’m to blame for everything—adds to the violent rage churning in my gut. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so fucking eager to please her, to make her happy by giving in to her every whim, none of this would’ve happened. I should’ve listened to my instincts and kept her on the estate, where nobody could’ve touched her. At the very least, I should’ve denied her request to go to that accursed club. But I didn’t. I let myself get soft. I let my obsession with her cloud my judgment, and now she’s paying the price. If only I hadn’t let her go alone to that restroom, if only I’d chosen a different club… The poisonous regrets swirl in my brain until I feel like my head will explode. I need to find an outlet for my fury, and I need to do so now. Turning, I head for the front door. “I brought the cousin here,” Lucas says as soon as I step out onto the driveway. “I figured you might not want to go all the way to Chicago today.” “Excellent.” Lucas knows me too well. “Where is he?” “In that van over there.” He points at a black van parked strategically behind the trees farthest from the neighbors. Filled with dark anticipation, I walk toward it, with Lucas accompanying me.

“Has he given us any info yet?” I ask. “He gave us access codes to his cousin’s parking garage and building elevators,” Lucas says. “It wasn’t difficult to get him to talk. I figured I’d leave the rest of the interrogation to you, in case you wanted to speak to him in person.” “That’s good thinking. I definitely do.” Approaching the van, I open the back doors and peer into the dark interior. A skinny young man is lying on the floor, gagged. His ankles are tied to his wrists behind his back, contorting him into an unnatural position, and his face is bloodied and swollen. A strong scent of piss, fear, and sweat wafts toward me. Lucas and my guards did a solid job of working him over. Ignoring the stench, I climb into the van and turn around. “Are the walls soundproof?” I ask Lucas, who remains on the ground. He nods. “About ninety percent.” “Good. That should suffice.” I close the doors behind me, locking me in with the boy—who immediately begins to writhe on the floor, making frantic noises behind the gag. Pulling out my knife, I crouch next to him. His struggles intensify, panicked noises growing in volume. Ignoring the terrified look in his eyes, I grab his neck to hold him still and wedge the knife between the gag and his cheek, slicing through the piece of cloth. A trickle of blood runs down his cheek where the knife cut him, and I watch it, relishing the sight. I want more of his blood. I want to see this van covered with it. As if sensing my thoughts, the teenager begins to blubber. “Please don’t do this, man,” he begs, sobbing. “I didn’t do nothing! I swear, I didn’t do nothing—” “Shut up.” I stare at him, letting the anticipation build. “Do you know why you’re here?” He shakes his head. “No! No, I swear,” he babbles. “I don’t know nothing. I was in this club, and there was this girl, and I don’t know what happened ’cause I just woke up in this warehouse, and I didn’t do nothing—” “You didn’t touch the girl in the yellow dress?” I cock my head to the side, twirling the knife between my fingers. I know exactly how cats feel when they play with mice; this kind of thing is fun. The young man’s eyes widen. “What? No! Fuck, no! I swear, I didn’t have nothing to do with that! I told Sean it was a bad idea—”

“So you knew they were going to do it?” Instantly realizing what he’s admitted to, the boy starts babbling again, tears and snot running down his battered face. “No! I mean, they don’t ever tell me nothing until they do it, so I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know until we were there, and they said to watch the door, and I told them it’s not fair, and they said I should just do it, and then this other girl came, and I told her to go away—” “Shut up.” I press the sharp edge of the knife against his mouth. He falls silent instantly, his eyes white with fear. “All right,” I say softly, “now listen to me carefully. You’re going to tell me where your cousin Sean eats, sleeps, shits, fucks, and whatever else he does. I want a list of every place he might ever visit. Got it?” He gives a tiny nod, and I move the knife away. Immediately, the boy starts spewing out names of restaurants, clubs, underground fighting gyms, hotels, and bars. I use my phone to record all that, and when he’s done, I smile at him. “Good job.” His cracked lips quiver in a weak attempt at an answering smile. “So now you’re going to let me go, right? ’Cause I swear I didn’t have nothing to do with that.” “Let you go?” I look down at the knife in my hand, as if considering his words. Then I look up and smile again. “Why? Because you betrayed your cousin?” “But… but I told you everything!” His eyes are showing white again. “I don’t know nothing else!” “Yes, I know.” I press the knife against his stomach. “And that means you’re useless to me now.” “I’m not!” he begins yelling. “You can ransom me! I’m Jimmy Sullivan, Patrick Sullivan’s nephew, and he’ll pay to have me back! He will, I swear—” “Oh, I’m sure he will.” I let the knife’s tip dig in, enjoying the sight of blood welling up around the blade. Tearing my eyes away from it, I meet the young man’s petrified gaze. “It’s too bad for you that his money is the last thing I need.” And as he lets out a terrified scream, I slice him open, watching the blood spill out in a dark, beautiful river of red.

AFTER I WIPE MY HANDS ON THE TOWEL SOMEONE THOUGHTFULLY LEFT IN THE VAN, I OPEN THE DOOR and jump out. Lucas is waiting for me, so I tell him to dispose of the body and head back into the house.

It’s strange, but I don’t feel much better. The kill should’ve relieved some of the pressure, eased the burning need for violence, but instead, it seems to have only added to it, the emptiness inside me growing and darkening with every moment. I want Nora. I need her more than ever. But when I enter the house, the first thing I do is head into the shower. I’m covered in blood and gore, and I don’t want her to see me like this. Like the savage murderer her parents accused me of being. When I emerge, the first thing I do is check the tracking app for Nora’s location. To my intense disappointment, she’s still in Rosa’s room. I contemplate going there to retrieve her, but I decide to give her a few more minutes and catch up on some work in the meantime. When I open my laptop, I see that my inbox is filled with the usual messages. Russians, Ukrainians, the Islamic State, supplier contract changes, a security leak at one of the Indonesian factories… I scan it all with disinterest until I come upon an email from Frank, my CIA contact. Opening it, I read it swiftly—and my insides grow cold.

31

N ora “HEY THERE.” BALANCING A TRAY WITH TEA AND to Rosa’s bedroom and approach her bed.

SANDWICHES IN MY HANDS,

I

PUSH OPEN THE DOOR

She’s lying on her side, facing away from the door, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. Setting the tray down on the nightstand, I sit down on the edge of her bed and gently touch her shoulder. “Rosa? Are you okay?” She rolls over to face me, and I almost flinch at the bruising on her face. “Pretty bad, huh?” she asks, noticing my reaction. Her voice sounds a little scratchy, but she looks remarkably calm, her eyes dry in her swollen face. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s good,” I say carefully. “How are you feeling?” “Possibly better than you,” she says quietly, looking at me. “I’m so sorry about the baby, Nora. I can’t even imagine what you and Julian must be going through.” I nod, trying to ignore the stab of agony in my chest. “Thank you.” I force a smile to my lips. “Now, are you hungry? I brought you something to eat.” Wincing, she sits up and glances dubiously at the tray. “You made this?” “Of course. You know I’m capable of boiling water and putting cheese on bread, right? I used to do it all the time before Julian kidnapped me and made me live in luxury.” A ghost of a smile flits across Rosa’s battered lips. “Ah, yes. Those dark times in the past when you had to fend for yourself.” “Exactly.” I reach for a steaming cup of tea and carefully hand it to Rosa. “Here

you go. Chamomile with honey. Should cure all ills, according to Ana.” Rosa takes a small sip and raises an eyebrow at me. “Impressive. Almost as good as Ana’s.” “Hey now.” I give her an exaggerated frown. “Almost? And here I thought I had this tea-making thing down.” Her smile is a shade brighter this time. “You’re very close, I promise. Now let me try one of those sandwiches. I have to say, they look appetizing.” I give her a plate and watch as she eats her sandwich. “You’re not joining me?” she asks halfway, and I shake my head. “No, I grabbed a little something in the kitchen earlier,” I explain. “I shouldn’t be hungry either,” Rosa says after she polishes off most of her sandwich. “Lucas brought me an omelet earlier this morning.” “He did?” I blink at her in surprise. “I didn’t know he can cook.” “I didn’t know either.” She takes the last few bites and hands the plate back to me. “That was really good, Nora, thank you.” “Of course.” I stand up, ignoring the painful stiffness in my back. “Can I get anything else for you? Maybe a book to read?” “No, that’s okay.” Wincing again, she pushes the blanket off, revealing a long T-shirt, and swings her feet to the floor. “I’m going to get up. I can’t stay in bed all day.” I frown at her. “Of course you can. You should rest today, take it easy.” “Like you’re resting?” She gives me a sardonic look and walks over to the dresser on the other side of the room. “I’m done lounging in bed. I want to talk to Lucas and find out what’s being done about the fuckers who attacked us.” I look at her. “Rosa…” I hesitate, uncertain whether to proceed. “You want to know what happened last night with those guys, right?” She pulls on a pair of jeans and stops to look at me, her eyes glittering. “You want to know what they did to me before you got there.” “Only if you want to tell me,” I say quickly. “If you don’t feel comfortable—” She holds up her hand, silencing me mid-sentence. Then she takes a deep breath and says, “They followed me to the bathroom.” There’s only a hint of brittleness in her voice. “When I came out, they were there, both of them, and the older one, Sean, said there’s a VIP room in the back that they want to show me. You

know, like they sometimes have in the movies?” I nod, feeling a growing lump in my throat. “Well, idiot that I am, I believed them.” She turns away, reaching into the dresser. I watch in silence as she pulls off her T-shirt and puts on a bra, followed by a black, long-sleeved shirt. There are scratches and bruises on her smooth skin, some in the shape of finger marks, and I have to hide my reaction as she turns back to face me and says, “I told them earlier that this was my first visit to this country, so I thought they wanted to show me a good time.” “Oh, Rosa…” I step toward her, my chest aching, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t.” She swallows. “Just let me finish.” I stop a couple of feet from her, and she continues after a moment. “As soon as we got past the bathrooms, out of sight of the people standing in line, the younger one, Brian, jumped me and dragged me into that room. There was this teenage guy too, and he watched the whole thing before Sean told him to go stand out in the hallway and make sure no one came in. I think they were going to”—she stops to compose herself for a second—“going to give him a turn after they were both done.” As she speaks, the rage I felt in the club returns. It had gotten subsumed beneath the weight of grief, pushed aside by the agony of my own loss, but now I’m aware of it again. Sharp and burning hot, the anger fills me until I’m all but shaking with it, my hands clenching and unclenching by my sides. “I think you know the rest of the story,” Rosa continues, her voice growing more brittle by the second. “You came in just as I was trying to fight off Sean. If it hadn’t been for you…” Her face crumples, and this time I can’t hang back. Closing the distance between us, I embrace her, holding her as she begins to shake. Underneath my anger, I feel helpless, utterly inadequate to the task at hand. What happened to Rosa is every woman’s worst nightmare, and I have no idea how to console her. To an outsider, what Julian did to me on the island might seem the same, but even during that traumatic first time, he had given me some semblance of tenderness. I’d felt violated, but also cherished, as incongruous as that combination might be. I’ve never felt the way Rosa must be feeling now. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry. Those bastards will pay. We’ll make them pay.”

She sniffles and pulls away, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Yes.” Her voice is choked as she steps back. “I want them to, Nora. I want it more than anything.” “Me too,” I whisper, staring at her. I want Rosa’s attackers dead. I want them eliminated in the most brutal way possible. It’s wrong, it’s sick, but I don’t care. Images of the man Julian killed last night float through my mind, bringing with them a peculiar sense of satisfaction. I want the other one—Sean—to pay the same way. I want to unleash Julian on him and watch my husband work his savage magic. A knock on the door startles us both. “Come in,” Rosa calls out, using her sleeve to wipe the tears from her face. To my surprise, Julian enters the room, his expression tense and oddly worried. He’s changed clothes since this morning, and his hair looks wet, as though he just took a shower. “What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, my heart rate spiking. “Did something happen?” “No,” Julian says, crossing the room. “Not yet. But we may need to expedite your departure.” He stops in front of me. “I just learned that an artist’s sketch of the three of us is being circulated in the local FBI’s office. The brother who got away must have a good memory for faces. The Sullivans are looking for us, and if they’re as well connected as we think, we don’t have much time.” Fear wraps like barbed wire around my chest. “Do you think they already know about my parents?” “I have no idea, but it’s not entirely out of the question. Call them now, and tell them to pack what they can. We’ll pick them up in an hour, and I’ll bring all of you to the airport.” “Wait a minute.” I stare at Julian. “All of us? What about you?” “I need to deal with the Sullivan threat. Lucas and I will remain behind along with most of the guards.” “What?” I find it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “What do you mean, you’ll remain behind?” “I need to clean up this mess,” Julian says impatiently. “Now, are we going to waste time talking about this, or are you calling your parents?” I swallow the bitter objections rising in my throat. “I’m going to call them now,”

I say tightly, reaching for my phone. Julian is right; now is not the time to argue about this. However, if he thinks I’m going to meekly go along with this, he’s deeply mistaken. I will do whatever it takes not to lose him again.

32

J ulian THE DRIVE TO NORA’S PARENTS’ HOUSE PASSES IN TENSE SILENCE. I’M BUSY COORDINATING THE security logistics with my team, and Nora is furiously texting with her parents, who seem to be bombarding her with questions about the sudden change of plans. Rosa watches us both quietly, the black-and-blue swelling on her face hiding her expression. As soon as we arrive, Nora hurries into the house, and I follow her in, not wanting to leave her alone for even a half hour. Rosa remains in the car with Lucas, explaining that she doesn’t want to be in the way. When I walk in, I see that Rosa was right to stay outside. Inside, the Lestons’ place is a madhouse. Gabriela is rushing around, trying to stuff as many items as possible into a huge suitcase, and her husband is speaking loudly on the phone, explaining to someone that yes, he has to leave the country now, and no, he’s sorry he couldn’t give more notice. “They’re going to fire me,” he mutters darkly as he hangs up, and I resist the urge to say that no job is worth his life. “If they fire you, I’ll help you find another position, Tony,” I say instead, sitting down at the kitchen table. Nora’s father shoots me an angry glare in response, but I ignore him, focusing on the dozens of emails that managed to pile up in my inbox in the last few hours. Forty minutes later, Nora finally gets the Lestons to stop packing. “We have to go, Mom,” she insists as her mother remembers yet another thing

she forgot to take. “We have bug spray at the compound, I promise. And whatever else you need, we’ll order and have it delivered for you. We don’t live in a complete wilderness, you know.” Gabriela seems mollified by that, so I help her close the huge suitcase and haul it out to the car. The thing weighs at least two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, and I grunt with effort as I lift it into the trunk of the limo. In the meantime, Nora’s father brings out a second, smaller suitcase. “I’ll take it,” I say, reaching for it, but he jerks it away. “I’ve got it,” he says sharply, so I step away to let him handle it on his own. If he wants to continue stewing, that’s his business. Once everything is loaded, Nora’s parents climb into the car, and Rosa goes to sit in the front next to Lucas. “To give the four of you more room,” she explains, as though the back of the limo can’t easily accommodate ten people. “Do all these cars need to be here?” Nora’s mother asks as I take a seat next to Nora. “I mean, is it really that unsafe?” “Probably not, but I don’t want to risk it,” I say as we pull out of the driveway. In addition to the twenty-three guards split between seven SUVs—all of which are currently idling on this quiet block—I also have a stash of weapons under our seat. It’s overkill for a peaceful trip to Chicago, but now that there’s trouble, I’m worried that it’s not enough. I should’ve brought more men, more weapons, but I didn’t want Frank and company thinking I was here to do a deal. “This is insane,” Tony mutters, looking out the back window at the procession of cars following us. “I can’t even imagine what our neighbors are thinking.” “They’re thinking you’re a VIP, Dad,” Nora says with forced cheerfulness. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it must be like for the President, always traveling with the Secret Service?” “No, I can’t say I have.” Nora’s father turns back to face us, his expression softening as he looks at his daughter. “How are you feeling, honey?” he asks her. “You should probably be resting instead of dealing with this craziness.” “I’m fine, Dad.” Nora’s face tightens. “And I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” “Of course, honey,” her mother says, blinking rapidly—I presume to stop herself from crying. “Whatever you wish, my love.” Nora attempts to give her mother a smile, but fails miserably. Unable to resist, I

reach out and drape my arm over her shoulders, pulling her against me. “Relax, baby,” I murmur into her hair as she nestles against my side. “We’ll be there soon, and you can sleep on the plane, okay?” Nora lets out a sigh and mumbles into my shoulder, “Sounds good.” She seems tired, so I stroke her hair, enjoying its silky softness. I could sit like this forever, feeling the warmth of her small body, smelling her sweet, delicate scent. For the first time since the miscarriage, some of the heaviness in my chest lifts, the dark, bitter grief easing slightly. The violence still pulses in my veins, but the awful emptiness is filled for the moment, the painful void no longer expanding within. I don’t know how long we sit like this, but when I glance across the limo aisle, I see Nora’s parents watching us strangely. Gabriela, especially, seems fascinated. I frown at them and position Nora more comfortably at my side. I don’t like that they’re witnessing this. I don’t want them to know how much I depend on my pet, how desperately I need her. At my glare, they both look away, and I resume stroking Nora’s hair as we get off the interstate onto a two-lane highway. “How much longer until we get there?” Nora’s father asks a couple of minutes later. “We’re going to a private airport, right?” “Right,” I confirm. “We’re not too far now, I believe. There’s no traffic, so we’ll be there in about twenty minutes. One of my men has gone ahead to prepare the plane, so as soon as we get there, we’ll be able to take off.” “And we can depart like this? Without going through customs?” Nora’s mother asks. She still seems to be unusually interested in the way I’m embracing Nora. “Nobody will prevent us from re-entering the country or anything?” “No,” I say. “I have a special arrangement with—” Before I can finish explaining, the car picks up speed. The acceleration is so sharp and sudden that I barely manage to remain upright and hold on to Nora, who gasps and clutches at my waist. Her parents aren’t so lucky; they fall onto their sides, nearly flying off the long limo seat. The panel separating us from the driver rolls down, revealing Lucas’s grim face in the rearview mirror. “We have a tail,” he says tersely. “They’re onto us, and they’re coming with everything they’ve got.”

33

N ora MY HEART STOPS BEATING FOR A SECOND; THEN ADRENALINE EXPLODES IN MY VEINS. Before I have a chance to react, Julian is already in motion. Unbuckling my seatbelt, he grabs my arm and drags me off the seat onto the limo floor. “Stay there,” he barks, and I watch in shock as he lifts the seat, revealing an enormous stash of weapons. “What—” my mom gasps, but at that moment, the limo swerves, knocking me against the side of the stuffed leather seat. My parents cry out, clutching desperately at each other, and Julian grabs the edge of the raised seat to prevent himself from falling. And then I hear it. The rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire. Somebody is shooting at us. “Gabriela!” My dad’s face is stark white. “Hold on to me!” The limo swerves again, causing my mom to let out a frightened scream. Somehow Julian remains upright, bending over the stash as the limo accelerates even more. From my position on the floor, all I can see through the windows are the tree tops flashing by. We must be flying down this highway at breakneck speed. Another burst of gunfire, and the trees flash by faster, the greenery blurring in my vision. I can hear the drumming of my pulse; it almost drowns out the squeal of tires in the distance.

“Oh my God!” At my mom’s panicked screech, I grab onto a seat and rise up on my knees to look out the back window. The sight that greets me is like something out of a Fast and Furious movie. Behind our guards’ seven SUVs, there’s a whole cavalcade of cars. About a dozen are SUVs and vans, but there are also three Hummers with giant guns mounted on their roofs. Men with assault rifles are hanging out of the cars’ windows, exchanging fire with our guards—who are doing the same. As I watch in shock, I see one of the pursuers’ cars gain on the last of our SUVs and smash into its side in an apparent effort to force it off the road. Both cars waver off course, sparks flying where their sides scrape together, and I hear another burst of gunfire, followed by the pursuers’ car careening off the road and flipping over. One down, fifteen-plus to go. The math is crystal-clear in my mind. Fifteen cars versus eight, counting our limo. The odds are not in our favor. My heart beats wildly as the high-speed battle continues, the cars smashing together amidst a hail of bullets. Boom! The deafening sound vibrates through me, rattling every bone in my body. Stunned, I watch the guards’ SUV in the back fly up, exploding in mid-air. Its gas tank must’ve been hit, I think dazedly, and then I hear Julian shouting my name. My ears ringing, I turn and see him thrusting something bulky at me. “Put this on!” he roars before throwing two of the same items at my parents. Bulletproof vests, I realize in disbelief. He just handed us bulletproof vests. The thing is heavy, but I manage to get it on, even with the limo swerving all over the place. I can hear my parents frantically instructing one another, and I turn to see Julian already wearing his own vest. He’s also holding an AK-47—which he thrusts into my hands before turning to lift a big, unusual-looking weapon out of the stash. I stare at it, puzzled, but then I recognize what it is. A handheld grenade launcher. Julian had shown it to me once on the estate. Shaking off my shock, I climb up on the seat, cradling the assault rifle with unsteady hands. I have to do my part, no matter how terrifying it may be. But before I can roll down the window and start shooting, Julian pulls me down to the floor again.

“Stay down,” he roars at me. “Don’t fucking move!” I nod, trying to control my rapid breathing. The adrenaline sizzling through me both speeds everything up and slows it down, my perception foggy and sharp at the same time. I can hear my mom sobbing and Rosa and Lucas yelling something at the front, and then I see Julian’s face change as he turns toward the front window. “Fuck!” The expletive bursts out of his throat, terrifying me with its vehemence. Unable to stay still, I rise up on my knees again . . . and my lungs cease working. On the road ahead of us, just a few hundred feet away, is a police blockade—and we’re barreling toward it at race-car speed.

34

J ulian THE COLD, RATIONAL PART OF MY MIND INSTANTLY REGISTERS TWO THINGS: THERE’S NOWHERE FOR US to turn, and the four police cars blocking our way are surrounded by men wearing SWAT gear. They were expecting us—which means they’re in Sullivan’s pocket and here to kill us all. The thought fills me with terrified rage. I’m not afraid for myself, but the knowledge that Nora may die today, that I may never hold her again— No. Fuck, no. Ruthlessly, I push the paralyzing thought aside and quickly assess the situation. In less than twenty seconds, we’ll reach the police barricade. I know what Lucas intends: to ram into the two cars that have the widest gap between them. The gap is only two feet wide, but we’re going 120 miles an hour and the car is heavily armored, which means momentum is on our side. All we need to do is survive the collision. Gripping the grenade launcher in my right hand, I yell at Nora’s parents, “Brace yourselves!” and drop to the floor, surrounding Nora with my body. A few seconds later, our limo slams into the police cars with bone-jarring force. I can hear Nora’s parents screaming, feel the inertia of the impact dragging me forward, and I tense every muscle in my body in an effort to stop the slide. It works, barely. My left shoulder slams into the side of the seat, but I keep Nora safe underneath me. I have no doubt I’m crushing her with my weight, but it’s

better than the alternative. I can hear the metallic ding of bullets hitting the side and windows of the car, and I know they’re firing at us. If we were in a regular car, we’d already be riddled with holes. As soon as I feel the limo speeding up again, I jump to my feet, noting out of the corner of my eye that Nora’s parents seem to have survived the impact. Tony is cradling his arm with a pained grimace, but Gabriela seems merely dazed. I don’t have time to look closer, though. If we’re to have any chance of surviving this, we need to take care of Sullivan’s men, and we need to do it now. The grenade launcher is still in my hand, so I press a button on the side of the door to activate the hidden opening in the roof. Then I stand up in the middle of the aisle, my head and shoulders sticking out of the car. Lifting the weapon, I point it at the cars pursuing us—which now include one police cruiser on top of the fifteen Sullivan vehicles. No, thirteen Sullivan vehicles, I correct myself after doing a quick count. My men managed to take out two more of them in the last couple of minutes. It’s time to even out the odds some more. Bullets whizz by my head, but I ignore them as I aim carefully. I only have six shots in this launcher, so I have to make each one count. Boom! The first shot goes off with a hard kick. The recoil hits my shoulder, but the grenade finds its target—the police cruiser that’s right on our tail. The car flies up, exploding in the air, and lands on its side, burning. One of the Hummers slams into it, and I watch in grim satisfaction as both cars blow up, causing one of Sullivan’s vans to careen off the road. Eleven enemy vehicles left. I aim again. This time my target is more ambitious: one of the remaining Hummers farther back. It has a single-shot grenade launcher mounted on its roof; that’s what took out one of our SUVs earlier, and I know they’ll use the weapon again as soon as they reload. Boom! Another hard recoil—and to my disgust, I miss. At the last second, the Hummer swerves sharply, ramming into one of our SUVs with brutal force. I watch in helpless rage as my men’s car flips over, rolling off the road. We’re now down to five guard SUVs and our limo. Pushing aside all traces of emotions, I aim the next shot at a closer van. Boom! This time, I’m spot-on. The vehicle flips, exploding in the process, and the two

Sullivan SUVs directly behind it smash into it at full speed. Eight enemy vehicles left. I point the launcher again, doing my best to compensate for the constant zigzagging of the limo. I know that Lucas is weaving all over the road in an effort to make us a more difficult target, but that also makes them more difficult targets for me. Boom! I take the shot, and another Sullivan SUV explodes, taking out the one behind it in the process. Six enemy vehicles left, and I have two more grenades to launch. Taking a deep breath, I aim again—and at that moment, both Hummers spit fire. Two of our SUVs fly into the air, rolling off the side of the road. Three guard SUVs left. Suppressing my fury, I hold the weapon steady and aim at the Hummer that’s gaining on us. One, two… boom! The grenade hits its target, and the massive car careens off the road, smoke rising from its hood. One Hummer and four enemy SUVs left. I have one last grenade. Taking a deep breath, I aim, but before I can squeeze the trigger, one of the enemy cars swerves and crashes into another. My men must’ve shot the driver, improving our chances some more. The Sullivan forces are now down to one Hummer and two SUVs. Relieved, I take aim again… and then I hear it. The unmistakable roar of helicopter blades in the distance. Looking up, I see a police chopper coming from the west. Fuck. It’s either more dirty cops, or the US authorities caught wind of this skirmish. Either way, it doesn’t bode well for us.

35

N ora AS THE NEW SOUND REACHES MY EARS, MY ADRENALINE LEVELS SPIKE. I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE to feel like this—numb and acutely alive at the same time. My heart is racing a million miles a minute, and my skin is tingling with prickles of icy fear. However, the panic that gripped me earlier is gone; it disappeared at some point between the second and third explosion. Apparently one can get used to anything, even cars blowing up. Gripping the weapon Julian gave me, I hold on to the seat with my free hand, unable to look away from the battle taking place outside the car window. The road behind us is like something out of a war zone, with crashed and burning cars littering the empty stretch of narrow highway. It’s as if we’re in a video game, except the casualties are real. Boom! One press of a controller button, and a car goes flying. Boom! Another car. Boom! Boom! I catch myself mentally directing each grenade, as though I can guide Julian’s aim with my thoughts. A game. Just a realistic shooting game with stunning sound effects. If I frame it like that, I can cope. I can pretend there aren’t dozens of burning corpses behind us, both on our side and on theirs. I can tell myself the man I love isn’t standing in the middle of the limo holding a grenade launcher, his head and upper body exposed to the hail of gunfire outside. Yes, a game—in which there’s now a helicopter. I can hear it, and when I climb up on the seat and lean closer to the window, I can see it too.

It’s a police chopper, heading directly for us. It should be a relief that the authorities are trying to intercede—except the blockade we just went through didn’t seem like an attempt to restore law and order. I saw the police cruiser pursuing us right alongside Sullivan’s forces; they weren’t trying to arrest all the criminals involved in this deadly chase. They were trying to take us out. A new wave of terror washes over me, puncturing my false calm. This is not a game. There are people dying all around us, and if it weren’t for the armor on this limo and Lucas’s driving skills, we’d already be dead too. If it were just me, it wouldn’t matter as much. But everyone I love is in this car. If something happens to them— No, stop. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate, and I force the thought away. I can’t afford to panic now. Glancing toward the front, I see my parents huddling together on the seat, gripping their seatbelts. They’re so pale, they look almost green. I think they’re both in shock now, since my mom is no longer screaming. The limo takes a sharp right turn, nearly throwing me off the seat. “I’m going for the hangar!” Lucas yells from the front, and I realize we just turned off the highway onto an even narrower road. The small airport looms directly ahead, beckoning with the promise of salvation. The roar of the helicopter is directly above us now, but if we can get to our plane and take off— Boom! My vision goes dark, all sounds fading for a second. Gasping, I clutch at the edge of the seat, desperately trying to hang on as the limo swerves and speeds up even more. As my senses return, I realize that the guards’ SUV directly behind us was hit. There’s now a gaping, smoking hole in its roof. I watch in horrified shock as it careens into another one of our cars, colliding with it with shattering force. Tires squeal, and then both cars are rolling off the road in a tangle of crushed metal. The police chopper shot at us, I realize with a jolt of panic. It shot at us and took out two of our cars, leaving only one guard vehicle to protect us. Turning, I cast a frantic glance at the front window again. The hangar where our plane is parked is close, so close. Just a few hundred yards, and we’ll be there. Surely we can survive that long— Boom! My ears ringing, I twist to see the Hummer behind us go up in flames. Julian must’ve hit it, I realize with relief. There’s just the helicopter and two SUVs pursuing us now, and we still have guards in that last SUV. Another couple of shots like that, and we’ll be safe—

“Nora!” Powerful arms wrap around my waist, dragging me down to the floor. A furious Julian is kneeling over me, his face like thunder. “I fucking told you to stay down!” In a split second, I register two things: he’s uninjured, and his hands are empty. The grenade launcher must be out of ammunition. Boom! A blast rocks the limo, sending us both flying. I’m vaguely aware that Julian twists around me, protecting me with his body, but I still feel the brutal impact as we slam into the partition. All air leaves my lungs, and the interior of the car spins around me, my vision blurring as something sharp bites at my skin. My head is pounding from the inside, as though my brain is struggling to get out. “Nora!” Julian’s voice reaches through the ringing whine in my ears. Dazed, I try to focus in on him. As some of the blurriness clears, I realize we’re on the floor again, with him lying on top of me. His face is covered with blood; it’s trickling down, dripping on me. He’s also saying something, but his words don’t register in my mind. All I see is the vicious, deadly red of his blood. “You’re hurt.” The terrified croak bears little resemblance to my voice. “Julian, you’re hurt—” He grips my jaw, hard, stunning me into silence. “Listen to me,” he grits out. “In exactly a minute, I’m going to need you to run. Do you understand me? Run straight for the fucking plane and don’t stop, no matter what.” I stare at him, uncomprehending. Drip. Drip. Drip. The red drops keep coming down. I can feel the wetness on my face, taste the metallic warmth on my lips. His eyes are bright blue amidst all that red, blue and incredibly beautiful… “Nora!” he roars, shaking me. “Do you understand me?” Some of the ringing in my skull abates, and the meaning of his words finally reaches me. Run. He wants me to run. “What about—” you, I want to say, but he cuts me off. “You’ll take your parents, and you will all fucking run.” His voice is sharp enough to cut through steel, his gaze burning into me. “You’ll have the gun with you, but I don’t want you playing hero. Do you understand, Nora?” I manage a small nod. “Yes.” Through the pounding in my temples, I realize the

car is still going, still driving despite whatever it was that hit us. I can hear the helicopter hovering over us, but we’re alive for now. “Yes, I understand.” “Good.” He holds my gaze for a couple of moments longer, and then, as if unable to resist, he lowers his head and takes my mouth in a hard, searing kiss. I taste the salt and metal of his blood, and the unique flavor that is Julian, and I want him to keep kissing me, to make me forget the nightmare we’re in. All too soon, though, his lips move over to my neck, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he whispers in my ear, “Please get yourself and your parents to the plane, baby. Thomas is already there, and he can pilot the plane if need be. Lucas will take care of Rosa. This is our only chance to get out of this alive, so when I tell you to run, you run. I’ll be right behind you, okay?” And before I can say anything, he jumps up and pulls me to my knees, handing me the AK-47 that I’d dropped. My head spins from the sudden movement, but I shake off the dizziness, gripping the weapon with all my strength. Everything feels off, my body strangely uncooperative, but I’m able to focus enough to see that the rear window is gone and there’s smoke rising from the back of the car. To my relief, my parents are still strapped into their seats, bleeding and dazed-looking but alive. The back window must’ve shattered, sending fragments of glass flying into the car—which explains the blood on them and Julian. The limo begins slowing down, and Julian grips my jaw again, bringing my attention back to him. “In ten seconds,” he says harshly, “I’m going to open this door and come out. In that moment, you escape through the other door. Understand, Nora? You jump out and run like hell.” I nod, and when he releases me, I turn to my parents. “Take off your seatbelts,” I say hoarsely. “We’re going to make a run for the plane as soon as the car stops.” My mom doesn’t react, her face blank with shock, but my dad begins fumbling with the seatbelt buckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hangar coming up, and I frantically begin helping my parents, determined to free them before the car stops. I succeed in unbuckling my mom’s seatbelt, but my dad’s seems stuck, and we both desperately tug at it, our hands in each other’s way as the limo barrels through a tall, open gate into a warehouse-like building. “Hurry!” Julian shouts as the limo screeches to a halt. I’m nearly thrown again, but I manage to hang on to the seatbelt strap. “Now, Nora!” Julian yells, throwing open his door. “Go now!”

The seatbelt buckle finally pops loose, and I grab my dad’s hand as he grabs my mom’s. Pushing open the opposite door, we scramble out of the car, falling onto our hands and knees. My heart pounding, I swivel my head, looking for our plane, and then I see it. It’s standing near the exit on the opposite side of the hangar, with a dozen other planes between us and it. “This way!” I jump to my feet, tugging at my dad. “Come on, we have to go!” We start running. Behind us, there is another screech of brakes, followed by a furious burst of gunfire. Twisting my head, I see Julian and Lucas shooting at an SUV that just barreled into the building behind us. Rosa is running too; she’s right on our heels. My heart hammering, I slow down, everything inside me screaming to turn back, to help Lucas and Julian, but then I recall his words. Our best chance of survival lies in getting everyone to that plane. Even with my help, my parents are barely functioning as is. So I suppress the urge to rush back toward the limo and instead yell, “Hurry!” to Rosa, who’s nearly caught up with us. Then the four of us are running again, my dad towing my mom along. He’s deathly pale and his eyes look wild, but he’s putting one foot in front of another, and that’s all I need him to do at the moment. If we get through this, I’ll worry about the impact on my parents’ psyche and agonize about my role in all this. For now, our only task is survival. Still, even knowing this, I can’t stop myself from casting frantic glances behind us as we run. Fear for Julian is a giant knot in my stomach. I can’t imagine losing him again. I don’t think I’d survive it. The first time I glance back, I see that Julian and Lucas took shelter behind the limo and are exchanging fire with men hiding behind the SUV. There are already two corpses on the ground, and a bloody hole in the SUV’s windshield. Even in my panic, I feel a flash of pride. My husband and his right-hand man know what they’re doing when it comes to taking lives. The second glance I steal reveals an even better situation. Four enemy corpses and Lucas making his way around the limo to get at the remaining shooter while Julian provides cover fire. By the third glance, the final shooter is eliminated, and the gunfire stops, the hangar oddly silent after all the racket. I see Lucas and Julian on their feet,

apparently uninjured, and tears of joy start rolling down my cheeks. We did it. We survived. We’re already by the plane, and I see Thomas, the driver from my hair appointment, standing by the open door. “Please get them inside,” I tell him in a shaking voice, and he nods, shepherding my parents and Rosa up the stairs. “I’ll be with you in a second,” I tell my dad when he tries to get me to join them. “I just need a moment.” Liberating myself from his grip, I turn back toward the limo. “Julian!” Raising the AK-47 above my head, I wave at him with the weapon. “Over here! Come, let’s go!” He looks at me, and I see a huge smile light up his face. Half-laughing, half-crying, I begin to run toward him, cognizant of nothing but my joy—and then the wall next to the limo explodes, sending him and Lucas flying.

36

J ulian PAIN. DARKNESS. For a second, I’m back in that windowless room, with Majid’s knife slicing through my face. My stomach heaves, vomit rising in my throat. Then my mind clears, and I become cognizant of a dull ringing in my ears. That didn’t happen in Tajikistan. I didn’t feel this hot there, either. Too hot. So hot I’m burning. Fuck! A spurt of adrenaline chases away all traces of mental fog. Moving with lightning speed, I roll several times, putting out the flames eating at my vest. Nausea grips at my insides, my head throbbing with agony, but when I stop, the fire is gone. Panting furiously, I lie still and try to regain my senses. What the fuck just happened? The ringing in my head eases slightly, and I pry open my eyelids to see burning pieces of rubble all around me. An explosion. It must’ve been an explosion. As soon as the realization comes to me, I hear it. A burst of gunfire, followed by answering shots. My heart stops beating. Nora! The jolt of panic is so intense, it supersedes everything. No longer cognizant of

pain, I surge to my feet, stumbling as my knees buckle for a second before stiffening to support my weight. Whipping my head from side to side, I look for the source of gunshots, and then I see it. A small figure darting behind a large plane after letting loose another volley of shots. Behind her is a group of four armed men, all dressed in SWAT gear. In a split second, I take in the rest of the scene. The hangar wall near the limo is gone, blown into pieces, and through the opening, I see the police chopper sitting on the grass, its blades now still and silent. My men in that last SUV must’ve lost the fight, leaving us exposed to Sullivan’s remaining forces. Before that thought is fully formed in my mind, I’m already on the move. The limo is burning next to me, but the fire is in the front, not the back, so I still have a few seconds. Leaping toward the car, I wrench open one of the doors and climb inside. The weapons are still in the stash, so I grab two machine guns and jump out, knowing the car could blow up at any moment. As I do so, I notice Lucas struggling to get to his feet a dozen yards away. He’s alive; I register that with a distant sense of relief. I don’t have time to dwell on it more. A hundred yards away, Nora is weaving around the planes, exchanging shots with her pursuers. My tiny pet against four armed men—the thought fills me with sickening terror and rage. Gripping both weapons, one in each hand, I begin running. The second I have a clear line of sight at Sullivan’s men, I open fire. Rat-tat-tat! One man’s head explodes. Rat-tat-tat! Another man goes down. Realizing what’s happening, the two surviving men turn around and begin firing at me. Ignoring the bullets whizzing around me, I continue running and shooting, doing my best to zig-zag around the planes. Even with the vest protecting my chest, I’m far from immune to gunfire. Rat-tat-tat! Something slices across my left shoulder, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Cursing, I grip the guns tighter and return fire, causing one of the men to jump behind a small service truck. The second one continues shooting at me, and as I run, I see Nora step out from behind one of the planes and take aim, her eyes dark and enormous in her pale face. Pop! The shooter’s head explodes with a bang. Her bullet hit its target. Twisting,

she turns and fires at the one hiding behind the truck. Using the distraction she’s providing, I change my course, snaking around the truck where the remaining man is taking shelter. As I come up behind him, I see him aiming at Nora—and with a bellow of rage, I squeeze the trigger, peppering him with bullets. He slides down the side of the truck, a bloody mass of lifeless meat. There are no more shots, the resulting silence almost startling. Panting, I lower my guns and step out from behind the truck.

37

N ora AS JULIAN EMERGES FROM BEHIND THE TRUCK, BLOODIED BUT ALIVE, I DROP THE AK-47, MY FINGERS no longer able to hold on to the heavy weapon. The emotion filling my chest goes beyond happiness, beyond relief. It’s elation. Stunning, savage elation that we killed our enemies and survived. When the wall exploded and armed men ran into the hangar, I thought that Julian had been killed. Gripped by blinding fury, I opened fire on them, and when they began shooting at me, I ran mindlessly, operating on pure instinct. I knew I wouldn’t last more than a couple of minutes, and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to live long enough to kill as many as I could. But now Julian is here, in front of me, as alive and vital as ever. I don’t know if I run toward him, or if he runs toward me, but somehow I end up in his embrace, held so tightly that I can barely breathe. He’s raining hot, burning kisses all over my face and neck, his hands roaming over my body in search of injuries, and all the horror of the past hour disappears, pushed away by wild joy. We survived, we’re together, and nothing will ever tear us apart again.

“THESE TWO WERE NEAR THE CHOPPER,” LUCAS SAYS WHEN WE COME OUT OF THE HANGAR IN SEARCH of him. Like Julian, he’s bloodied and unsteady on his feet, but no less deadly for that—as evidenced by the state of the two men lying on the grass. They’re both groaning and crying, one clutching his bleeding arm and the other attempting to

contain blood spurting out of his leg. “Is that who I think it is?” Julian asks hoarsely, nodding toward the older man, and Lucas smiles savagely. “Yes. Patrick Sullivan himself, along with his favorite—and last remaining—son Sean.” I gaze at the younger man, now recognizing his contorted features. It’s Rosa’s assailant, the one who got away. “I’m guessing they came in the chopper to observe the action and swoop in at the right time,” Lucas continues, grimacing as he holds his ribs. “Except the right time never came. They must’ve learned who you were and called in all the cops who owed them favors.” “The men we killed were cops?” I ask, beginning to shake as my adrenalinefueled high starts to fade. “The ones in the Hummers and the SUVs, too?” “Judging by their gear, many of them were,” Julian replies, wrapping his right arm around my waist. I’m grateful for his support, as my legs are beginning to feel like cooked noodles. “Some were probably dirty, but others just blindly following orders from their higher-ups. I have no doubt they were told we were highly dangerous criminals. Maybe even terrorists.” “Oh.” My head starts hurting at the thought, and I suddenly become aware of all my aches and bruises. The pain hits me like a tidal wave, followed by an exhaustion so intense that I lean against Julian, my vision going gray. “Fuck.” With that muttered expletive, my world tilts, turning horizontal, and I realize that Julian picked me up, lifting me against his chest. “I’m going to take her to the plane,” I hear him saying, and I use all of my remaining strength to shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Please let me down,” I request, pushing at his shoulders, and to my surprise, Julian complies, carefully setting me on my feet. He keeps one arm around my back, but lets me stand on my own. “What is it, baby?” he asks, looking down at me. I gesture toward the two bleeding men. “What are you going to do with them? Are you going to kill them?” “Yes,” Julian says. His blue eyes gleam coldly. “I will.” I take a slow breath and release it. The girl Julian brought to the island would’ve objected, offered him some reason to spare them, but I’m not that girl anymore.

These men’s suffering doesn’t touch me. I’ve felt more sympathy for a beetle turned onto its back than for these people, and I’m glad Julian is about to take care of the threat they present. “I think Rosa should be here for this,” Lucas says. “She’ll want to see justice served.” Julian glances at me, and I nod in agreement. It may be wrong, but in this moment, it seems right for her to be here, to see the one who hurt her come to this end. “Bring her here,” Julian orders, and Lucas heads back into the hangar, leaving Julian and me alone with the Sullivans. We watch our captives in grim silence, neither one of us feeling like speaking. The older man is already unconscious, having passed out from heavy bleeding, but Rosa’s attacker is quite vocal in his pleas for mercy. Sobbing and writhing on the ground, he promises us money, political favors, introduction to all the US cartels… whatever we want if only we would let him go. He swears he won’t touch any woman again, says it was a mistake—he didn’t know, didn’t realize who Rosa was… When neither Julian nor I react, his bargaining attempts turn into threats, and I tune him out, knowing nothing he says will change either of our minds. The anger within me is ice-cold, leaving no room for pity. For what he’s done to Rosa and for the child we lost, Sean Sullivan deserves nothing less than death. A minute later, Lucas comes back, leading a shaky-looking Rosa out of the hangar. The second she lays eyes on the two men, however, her face regains color and her gaze hardens. Approaching her attacker, she stares down at him for a couple of seconds before raising her eyes to us. “May I?” she asks, holding out her hand, and Lucas smiles coldly, handing her his rifle. Her hands steady, she aims at her assailant. “Do it,” Julian says, and I watch yet another man die as his face is blown apart. Before the echo from Rosa’s shot fades, Julian steps toward unconscious Patrick Sullivan and releases a round of bullets into his chest. “We’re done here,” he says, turning away from the corpse, and the four of us walk back to the plane.

ON THE WAY HOME, THOMAS PILOTS THE PLANE WHILE LUCAS RESTS IN THE MAIN CABIN WITH JULIAN,

myself, and Rosa. Upon seeing all of us alive, my mom breaks down in hysterical sobs, so Julian leads my parents into the plane’s bedroom, telling them to take a shower and relax there. I want to go see how they are, but the combination of exhaustion and post-adrenaline slump finally catches up to me. As soon as we’re in the air, I pass out in my seat, my hand held tightly in Julian’s grip. I don’t remember landing or getting to the house. The next time I open my eyes, we’re already in our bedroom at home, and Dr. Goldberg is cleaning and bandaging my scrapes. I vaguely recall Julian washing the blood off me on the plane, but the rest of the trip is a blur in my mind. “Where are my parents?” I ask as the doctor uses tweezers to get a small piece of glass out of my arm. “How are they feeling? And what about Rosa and Lucas?” “They’re all sleeping,” Julian says, watching the procedure. His face is gray with exhaustion, his voice as weary as I’ve ever heard it. “Don’t worry. They’re fine.” “I examined them upon arrival,” Dr. Goldberg says, bandaging the sullenly bleeding wound on my arm. “Your father bruised his elbow pretty badly, but he didn’t break anything. Your mother was in shock, but other than a few scratches from the broken glass and a bit of whiplash, she’s fine, as is Ms. Martinez. Lucas Kent has a couple of cracked ribs and a few burns, but he’ll recover.” “And Julian?” I ask, glancing at my husband. He’s already clean and bandaged, so I know the doctor must’ve seen to him while I was sleeping. “A mild concussion, same as you, along with first-degree burns on his back, a few stitches in the arm where a bullet grazed him, and some bruising. And, of course, these little wounds from the flying glass.” Taking another piece of glass out of my arm, the doctor pauses, looking at us both as if trying to decide how to proceed. Finally, he says quietly, “I heard about the miscarriage. I’m so sorry.” I nod, fighting to contain a sudden swell of tears. The pity in Dr. Goldberg’s gaze hurts more than any shard of glass, reminding me of what we lost. The agonizing grief I’d buried during our fight for survival is back, sharper and stronger than ever. We might’ve survived, but we didn’t emerge unscathed. “Thank you,” Julian says thickly, getting up and walking over to stand by the window. His movements are stiff and jerky, his posture radiating tension. Apparently realizing his blunder, the doctor finishes treating me in silence and departs with a murmured “good night,” leaving us alone with our pain.

As soon as Dr. Goldberg is gone, Julian returns to the bed. I’ve never seen him this tired. He’s all but swaying as he walks. “Did you sleep at all on the plane?” I ask, watching as Julian pulls off the T-shirt and sweatpants he must’ve changed into when we got home. My chest aches at the sight of his injuries. “Some bruising” is a serious understatement. He’s black and blue all over, with much of his muscular back and torso wrapped in white gauze. “No, I wanted to keep an eye on you,” he replies wearily, climbing onto the bed next to me. Lying down facing me, he drapes one arm over my side and draws me closer. “I guessed you might be concussed from that tumble you took in the car,” he murmurs, his face mere inches from mine. “Oh, I see.” I can’t look away from the intense blue of his gaze. “But you also have a concussion, from the explosion.” He nods. “Yes, I figured as much. Another reason for me to stay awake earlier.” I stare at him, my ribcage tightening around my lungs. I feel like I’m drowning in his eyes, getting sucked deeper into those hypnotic blue pools. Unbidden, recollections of the explosion slither into my mind, bringing with them the full horror of these recent events. Julian flying from the blast, Rosa’s rape, the miscarriage, my parents’ terrified faces as we speed down the highway amidst a hail of bullets… The horrible scenes jumble together in my brain, filling me with suffocating grief and guilt. Because I dragged us to that club, in a span of two short days I lost my baby and nearly lost everyone else who matters to me. The tears that come feel like blood squeezed out of my soul. Each drop burns through my tear ducts, the sounds bursting out of my throat hoarse and ugly. My new world isn’t just dark; it’s black, utterly without hope. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to curl into a ball, to make myself as small as possible to keep the pain from exploding outward, but Julian doesn’t let me. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me as I break apart, his big body warming me as he strokes my back and whispers into my hair that we survived, that everything will be all right and we’ll soon go back to normal… The low, deep sound of his voice surrounds me, filling my ears until I can’t help but listen, the words providing comfort despite my awareness of their falseness. I don’t know how long I cry like this, but eventually the worst of the pain ebbs, and I become cognizant of Julian’s touch, of his enormous strength. His embrace, once my prison, is now my salvation, keeping me from drowning in despair.

As my tears ease, I become aware that I’m holding him just as tightly as he’s gripping me, and that he also seems to derive comfort from my touch. He’s consoling me, but I’m consoling him in return—and somehow that fact lessens my agony, lifting some of the dark fog pressing down on me. He’s held me while I cried before, but never like this. Directly or indirectly, he’s always been the cause of my tears. We haven’t been united in our pain before, have never gone through joint agony. The closest we’ve come to experiencing loss together was Beth’s gruesome death, but even then, we didn’t have a chance to mourn together. After the warehouse explosion, I mourned Beth and Julian on my own, and by the time he came back for me, there was more anger than grief within me. This time, it’s different. My loss is his loss. More his loss, in fact, since he wanted this child from the very beginning. The tiny life that was growing within me —the one he guarded so fiercely—is gone, and I can’t even imagine how Julian must feel. How much he must hate me for what I’ve done. The thought shatters me again, but this time, I manage to hold the agony in. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but for now, he’s comforting me, and I’m selfish enough to accept it, to rely on his strength to get me through this. Letting out a shuddering sigh, I burrow closer to my husband, listening to the strong, steady beating of his heart. Even if Julian hates me now, I need him. I need him too much to ever let him go.

38

J ulian AS NORA’S BREATHING SLOWS AND EVENS OUT, HER BODY RELAXES AGAINST MINE. AN OCCASIONAL shudder still ripples through her, but even that stops as she sinks deeper into sleep. I should sleep too. I haven’t closed my eyes since the night before Nora’s birthday—which means I’ve been awake for over forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours that count among the worst of my life. We survived. Everything will be all right. We’ll soon go back to normal. My reassurances to Nora ring hollow in my ears. I want to believe my own words, but the loss is too fresh, the agony too sharp. A child. A baby that was part me and part Nora. It should’ve been nothing, just a bundle of cells with potential, but even at ten weeks, the tiny creature had made my chest overflow with emotion, twisting me around its minuscule, barely formed finger. I would’ve done anything for it, and it hadn’t even been born. It died before it had a chance to live. Dark, bitter fury chokes me again, this time directed solely at myself. There are so many things I could’ve—should’ve—done to prevent this outcome. I know it’s pointless to dwell on it, but my exhausted brain refuses to let it go. The useless what-ifs keep spinning round and round, until I feel like a hamster in a wheel, running in place and getting nowhere. What if I’d kept Nora on the estate? What if I’d gotten to the bathroom faster? What if, what if… My mind spins faster, the void

looming underneath me once more, and I know if I didn’t have Nora with me, I’d tumble into madness, the emptiness swallowing me whole. Tightening my grip on her small, warm body, I stare into the darkness, desperately wishing for something unattainable, for an absolution I don’t deserve and will never find. Nora sighs in her sleep and rubs her cheek on my chest, her soft lips pressing against my skin. On a different night, the unconscious gesture would’ve turned me on, awakening the lust that always torments me in her presence. Tonight, however, the tender touch only intensifies the pressure building in my chest. My child is dead. The stark finality of it hits me, smashing through the shields numbing me since childhood. There’s nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do. I could annihilate all of Chicago, and it wouldn’t change a thing. My child is dead. The pain rushes up uncontrollably, like a river cresting over a dam. I try to fight it, to hold it back, but it just makes it worse. The memories come at me in a tidal wave, the faces of everyone I’ve lost swimming through my mind. The baby, Maria, Beth, my mother, my father as he had been during those rare moments when I loved him… The surge of grief is overwhelming, crowding out everything but awareness of this new loss. My child is dead. The anguish sears through me, excruciating but somehow purifying too. My child is dead. Shaking, I hold on to Nora as I stop fighting and let the pain in.

IV THE AFTERMATH

39

N ora TWO Lawn.

WEEKS AFTER OUR ARRIVAL HOME,

JULIAN

DEEMS IT SAFE FOR MY PARENTS TO RETURN TO

OAK

“I’ll have extra security around them for a few months,” he explains as we walk toward the training area. “They’ll need to put up with some restrictions when it comes to malls and other crowded places, but they should be able to return to work and resume most of their usual activities.” I nod, not particularly surprised to hear that. Julian has been keeping me informed of his efforts in this area, and I know the Sullivans are no longer a threat. Utilizing the same ruthless tactics he employed with Al-Quadar, my husband accomplished what the authorities have been unsuccessfully trying to do for decades: he rid Chicago of its most prominent crime family. “What about Frank?” I ask as we pass two guards wrestling on the grass. “I thought the CIA didn’t want any of us coming back to the country.” “They relented yesterday. It took some convincing, but your parents should be able to return without anyone standing in their way.” “Ah.” I can only imagine what kind of “convincing” Julian had to do in light of the devastation we left behind. Even the cover-up crew dispatched by the CIA hadn’t been able to keep the story of our high-speed battle under wraps. The area around the private airport might not have been densely populated, but the explosions and gunfire hadn’t gone unnoticed. For the past couple of weeks, the clandestine Chicago operation to “apprehend the deadly arms dealer” has been all anyone’s talked about on the news.

As Julian speculated in the car, the Sullivans had indeed called in some serious favors to organize that attack. The police chief—formerly a Sullivan mole and currently bloody goo swimming in lye—took the information the Sullivans dug up about us and used the “arms dealer smuggling explosives into the city” pretext to hurriedly assemble a team of SWAT operatives. The Sullivan men joining them were explained away as “reinforcements from another area,” and the entire rushed operation was kept secret from the other law enforcement agencies—which is how they were able to catch us off-guard. “Don’t worry,” Julian says, misreading my tense expression. “Besides Frank and a few other high-level officials, nobody knows your parents were involved in what happened. The extra security is just a precaution, nothing more.” “I know that.” I look up at him. “You wouldn’t let them return if it weren’t safe.” “No,” Julian says softly, stopping at the entrance to the fighting gym. “I wouldn’t.” His forehead gleams with sweat from the humid heat, his sleeveless shirt clinging to his well-defined muscles. There are still a few half-healed scars from the shards of glass on his face and neck, but they do little to detract from his potent appeal. Standing less than two feet away and watching me with his piercing blue gaze, my husband is the very picture of vibrant, healthy masculinity. Swallowing, I look away, my skin crawling with heat at the memory of how I woke up this morning. We might not have had intercourse since the miscarriage, but that doesn’t mean Julian has been abstaining from sex with me. On my knees with his cock in my mouth, tied down with his tongue on my clit… The images in my mind make me burn even as the ever-present guilt presses down on me. Why does Julian keep being so nice to me? Ever since our return, I’ve been waiting for him to punish me, to do something to express the anger he must feel, but so far, he’s done nothing. If anything, he’s been unusually tender with me, even more caring in some ways than during my pregnancy. It’s subtle, this shift in his behavior—a few extra kisses and touches during the day, full-body massages every evening, asking Ana to make more of my favorite foods… It’s nothing he hasn’t done before; it’s just that the frequency of these little gestures has gone up since we came back from America. Since we lost our child. My eyes prickle with sudden tears, and I duck my head to hide them as I slip past Julian into the gym. I don’t want him to see me crying again. He’s had plenty of

that in the past couple of weeks. That’s probably why he’s holding off on punishing me: he thinks I’m not strong enough to take it, afraid I’ll turn back into the panicattack-stricken wreck I was after Tajikistan. Except I won’t. I know that now. Something about this time is different. Something within me is different. Walking over to the mats, I bend over and stretch, using the time to compose myself. When I turn back to face Julian, my face shows nothing of the grief that ambushes me at random moments. “I’m ready,” I say, positioning myself on the mat. “Let’s do this.” And for the next hour, as Julian trains me how to take down a two-hundredpound man in seven seconds, I succeed in pushing all thoughts of loss and guilt out of my mind.

AFTER THE TRAINING SESSION, I RETURN TO THE HOUSE TO SHOWER AND THEN GO DOWN TO THE POOL to tell my parents the news. My muscles are tired, but I’m humming with endorphins from the hard workout. “So we can return?” My dad sits up in his lounge chair, distrust warring with relief on his face. “What about all those cops? And those gangsters’ connections?” “I’m sure it’s fine, Tony,” my mom says before I can answer. “Julian wouldn’t send us back if it weren’t all taken care of.” Dressed in a yellow one-piece swimsuit, she looks tan and rested, as though she’s spent the past couple of weeks on a resort—which, in a way, is not that far from the truth. Julian has gone out of his way to ensure my parents’ comfort and make them feel like they’re truly on vacation. Books, movies, delicious food, even fruity drinks by the pool—it’s all been provided for them, causing my dad to admit reluctantly that my life at an arms dealer’s compound is not as horrible as he’d imagined. “That’s right, he wouldn’t,” I confirm, sitting down on a lounge chair next to my mom’s. “Julian says you’re free to leave whenever you want. He can have the plane ready for you tomorrow—though, obviously, we’d love it if you stayed longer.” As expected, my mom shakes her head in refusal. “Thank you, honey, but I think we should head home. Your dad’s been anxious about his job, and my bosses have been asking daily when I’ll be able to return…” Her voice trailing off, she gives me

an apologetic smile. “Of course.” I smile back at her, ignoring the slight squeezing in my chest. I know what’s behind their desire to leave, and it’s not their jobs or their friends. Despite all the comforts here, my parents feel confined, hemmed in by the watch towers and the drones circling over the jungle. I can see it in the way they eye the armed guards, in the fear that crosses their faces when they pass by the training area and hear gunshots. To them, living here is like being in a luxurious jail, complete with dangerous criminals all over the place. One of those criminals being their own daughter. “We should go inside and pack,” my dad says, rising to his feet. “I think it’s best if we fly out first thing tomorrow morning.” “All right.” I try not to let his words sting me. It’s silly to feel rejected because my parents want to return home. They don’t belong here, and I know it as well as they do. Their bodies might’ve healed from the bruises and scratches they sustained during the car chase, but their minds are a different matter. It will take more than a few hours of therapy with Dr. Wessex for my suburban parents to get over seeing cars blow up and people die. “Do you want me to help you pack?” I ask as my dad drapes a towel around my mom’s shoulders. “Julian’s talking to his accountant, and I don’t have anything to do before dinner.” “It’s okay, honey,” my mom says gently. “We’ll manage. Why don’t you take a swim before dinner? The water’s nice and cool.” And leaving me standing by the pool, they hurry into the air-conditioned comfort of the house.

“THEY’RE LEAVING TOMORROW MORNING?” ROSA LOOKS SURPRISED WHEN I INFORM HER OF MY parents’ upcoming departure. “Oh, that’s too bad. I didn’t even have a chance to show your mom that lake you were telling them about.” “That’s okay,” I say, picking up a laundry basket to help her load the washer. “Hopefully, they’ll come visit us again.” “Yes, hopefully,” Rosa echoes, then frowns as she sees what I’m doing. “Nora, put that down. You shouldn’t—” She abruptly stops. “Shouldn’t lift heavy things?” I finish, giving her an ironic smile. “You and Ana

keep forgetting that I’m no longer an invalid. I can lift weights again, and fight and shoot and eat whatever I want.” “Of course.” Rosa looks contrite. “I’m sorry”—she reaches for my basket—“but you still shouldn’t do my job.” Sighing, I relinquish it to her, knowing she’ll only get upset if I insist on helping. She’s been particularly touchy about that since our return, determined not to have anyone treat her any differently than before. “I was raped; I didn’t have my arms amputated,” she snapped at Ana when the housekeeper tried to assign her lighter cleaning tasks. “Nothing will happen to me if I vacuum and use a mop.” Of course that made Ana burst into tears, and Rosa and I had to spend the next twenty minutes trying to calm her down. The older woman has been very emotional since our return, openly grieving my miscarriage and Rosa’s assault. “She’s taking it worse than my own mother,” Rosa told me last week, and I nodded, not surprised. Though I’d only met Mrs. Martinez a couple of times, the plump, stern woman had struck me as an older version of Beth, with the same tough shell and cynical outlook on life. How Rosa managed to remain so cheerful with a mother like that is something that will always be a mystery to me. Even now, after everything she’s been through, my friend’s smile is only a bit more brittle, the sparkle in her eyes just a shade less bright. With her bruises nearly healed, one would never know that Rosa survived something so traumatic—especially given her fierce insistence on being treated as normal. Sighing again, I watch as she loads the washer with brisk efficiency, separating out the darker clothes and placing them into a neat pile on the floor. When she’s done, she turns to face me. “So did you hear?” she says. “Lucas located the interpreter girl. I think he’ll go after her after he flies your parents home.” “He told you that?” She nods. “I ran into him this morning and asked how that’s going. So yeah, he told me.” “Oh, I see.” I don’t see, not in the least, but I decide against prying. Rosa’s been increasingly closemouthed about her strange non-relationship with Lucas, and I don’t want to press the issue. I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready—if there’s anything to tell, that is. She turns back to start the washer, and I debate whether I should share with her what I learned yesterday… what I still haven’t shared with Julian. Finally, I decide

to go for it, since she already knows part of the story. “Do you remember the pretty young doctor who treated me at the hospital?” I ask, leaning against the dryer. Rosa turns back toward me, looking puzzled at the change of topic. “Yes, I think so. Why?” “Her last name is Cobakis. I remember reading it on her name tag and thinking that it seemed familiar, like I’d come across it before.” Now Rosa looks intrigued. “And did you? Come across it, that is?” I nod. “Yes. I just couldn’t remember where—and then yesterday, it came to me. There was a man by the name of George Cobakis on the list I gave to Peter.” Rosa’s eyes widen. “The list of people responsible for what happened to his family?” “Yes.” I take a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure, so I checked my email last night, and sure enough, there it was. George Cobakis from Homer Glen, Illinois. I noticed that name originally because of the location.” “Oh, wow.” Rosa stares at me, mouth open. “You think that nice doctor is somehow connected to this George?” “I know she is. I looked up George Cobakis last night, and she came up in search results. She’s his wife. A local newspaper wrote about a fundraiser for veterans and their families, and they had their picture in there as a couple who’s done a lot for that organization. He’s apparently a journalist, a foreign correspondent. I can’t imagine how his name ended up on that list.” “Shit.” Rosa looks both horrified and fascinated. “So what are you going to do?” “What can I do?” The question has been tormenting me ever since I learned of the connection. Before, the names on that list were just that: names. But now one of those names has a face attached to it. A photo of a smiling dark-haired man standing next to his smart, pretty wife. A wife whom I’d met. A woman who’ll be a widow if Julian’s former security consultant gets his revenge. “Have you spoken to your husband about this?” Rosa asks. “Does he know?” “No, not yet.” Nor am I sure that I want Julian to know. A few weeks ago, I told Rosa about the list I sent to Peter, but I didn’t tell her that I did it against Julian’s

wishes. That part—and what happened after we learned of my pregnancy—is too private to share. “I’m guessing Julian will say there’s nothing to be done now that the list is in Peter’s hands,” I say, trying to imagine my husband’s reaction. “And he’ll probably be right.” Rosa gives me a steady look. “It’s unfortunate that we met the woman and all, but if her husband was somehow involved in what happened to Peter’s family, I don’t see how we can interfere.” “Right.” I take another deep breath, trying to let go of the anxiety I’ve been feeling since yesterday. “We can’t. We shouldn’t.” Even though I gave Peter that list. Even though whatever’s going to happen will be my fault once again. “This is not your problem, Nora,” Rosa says, intuiting my concern. “Peter would’ve learned about those names one way or another. He was too determined for it not to happen. You’re not responsible for what he’s going to do to those people—Peter is.” “Of course,” I murmur, attempting a smile. “Of course, I know that.” And as Rosa resumes sorting through the laundry, I change the topic to our newest guard recruits.

40

J ulian AFTER WRAPPING UP THE CONVERSATION WITH MY ACCOUNTANT, I GET UP AND STRETCH, FEELING THE loosening of tension in my muscles. Immediately, my thoughts turn to Nora, and I pull up her location on my phone. I do that at least five times a day now, the habit as deeply ingrained as brushing my teeth in the morning. She’s in the house, which is exactly where I expected her to be. Satisfied, I put the phone away and close my laptop, determined to be done for the evening. Between all the paperwork for a new shell corporation and the interviews I’ve been conducting with potential guard replacements, I’ve been working upward of twelve hours a day. Once, that wouldn’t have mattered—business was all I had to live for —but now work is an unwelcome distraction. It prevents me from spending time with my beautiful, strangely distant wife. I’m not sure when I first noticed it, the way Nora’s eyes constantly slide away from mine. The way she withholds something of herself even during sex. At first, I ascribed her withdrawn manner to grief and the aftermath of trauma, but as the days wore on, I realized there’s something more. It’s subtle, barely discernible, this distance between us, but it’s there. She talks and acts as if things are normal, but I can tell they’re not. Whatever secret she’s keeping from me, it’s weighing on her, causing her to erect barriers between us. I could sense them during our training today, and it solidified my determination to get to the bottom of the matter. According to the doctors, she’s finally fully healed from the miscarriage—and one way or another, tonight she’s going to tell me everything.

AT DINNER, I WATCH NORA AS SHE INTERACTS WITH HER PARENTS, HUNGRILY TAKING IN EVERY MINUTE movement of her hands, every flicker of her long eyelashes. I would’ve thought it impossible, but my obsession with her has reached a new peak since our return. It’s as if all the grief, rage, and pain inside me coalesced into one heart-ripping sensation, a feeling so intense it tears me from within. A longing that’s entirely focused on her. As we finish the main course, I realize I’ve hardly said a word, spending most of the meal absorbed in the sight of her and the sound of her voice. It’s probably just as well, given that it’s Nora’s parents’ last evening here. Although her father is no longer openly hostile toward me, I know both Lestons still wish they could free their daughter from my clutches. I would never let them take her from me, of course, but I don’t have a problem with the three of them spending some time on their own. To that end, as soon as Ana brings out the dessert, I excuse myself by saying I’m full and go to the library, letting them finish the meal without me. When I get there, I take a seat on a chaise by the window and spend a few minutes answering emails on my phone. Then the puzzle of Nora’s uncharacteristic distance creeps into my mind again. The way she’s been these past couple of weeks reminds me of when I first forced the trackers on her. It’s as if she’s upset with me —except this time, I have no idea why. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realize that it’s already been a half hour since I left the table. Hopefully, Nora’s already gone upstairs. When I check her location, however, I see she’s still in the dining room. Mildly annoyed, I contemplate getting a book to read while I wait, but then I get a better idea. Pulling up a different app on my phone, I activate the hidden audio feed from the dining room, put on my Bluetooth headset, and lean back in the chaise to listen. A second later, Gabriela’s frustrated voice fills my ears. “—people died,” she argues. “How can that not bother you? There were police officers among those criminals, good men who were just following orders—” “And they would’ve killed us by following those orders.” Nora’s tone is unusually sharp, causing me to sit up and listen more intently. “Is it better to die by

the bullet of a good man than to defend yourself and live? I’m sorry that I’m not showing the remorse you expect, Mom, but I’m not sorry that all of us are alive and well. It’s not Julian’s fault that any of that happened. If anything—” “He’s the one who killed that gangster’s son,” Tony interrupts. “If he’d done the civilized thing, called nine-one-one instead of resorting to murder—” “If he’d done the civilized thing, I would’ve been raped and Rosa would’ve suffered even more before the police got there.” There is a hard, brittle note in Nora’s voice. “You weren’t there, Dad. You don’t understand.” “Your dad understands perfectly well, honey.” Gabriela’s voice is calmer now, edged with weariness. “And yes, maybe your husband couldn’t stand by and wait for the cops to arrive, but you know as well as I do that he could’ve abstained from killing that man.” Abstained from killing the man who hurt and nearly raped Nora? My blood boils with sudden fury. The fucking bastard’s lucky I didn’t castrate him and stuff his balls into his bowels. The only reason he died so easily was because Nora was there, and my worry for her was greater than my rage. “Maybe he could’ve.” Nora’s tone matches her mother’s. “But there’s every reason to believe the Sullivans would’ve walked free, given their connections. Is that what you want, Mom, for men like that to continue doing this to other women?” “No, of course not,” Tony says. “But that doesn’t give Julian the right to set himself up as judge, jury, and executioner. When he killed that man, he didn’t know who he was, so you can’t use that excuse. Your husband killed because he wanted to and for no other reason.” For a few tense seconds, there’s silence in my headset. The fury inside me grows, the anger coiling and tightening as I wait to hear what Nora has to say. I don’t give a fuck what Nora’s parents think about me, but I very much care that they’re trying to turn their daughter against me. Finally, Nora speaks. “Yes, Dad, you’re right, he did.” Her voice is calm and steady. “He killed that man for hurting me without giving it a second thought. Do you want me to condemn him for that? Well, I can’t. I won’t. Because if I could’ve, I would’ve done the same thing.” Another prolonged silence. Then: “Honey, when you left the plane and there were all those gunshots, was that you?” Gabriela asks quietly. “Did you shoot anyone?” A short pause, then an even softer, “Did you kill anyone?”

“Yes.” Nora’s tone doesn’t change. I can picture her sitting there, facing her parents without flinching. “Yes, Mom, I did.” A sharply indrawn breath, then another few beats of silence. “I told you, Gabs.” It’s Tony who speaks now, his voice weighed down by sadness. “I told you she must’ve. Our daughter’s changed—he’s changed her.” There’s a scraping noise, like that of a chair moving across the floor, and then a shaky, “Oh, honey.” It’s followed by a choked sob and Nora’s voice murmuring, “Don’t cry, Mom. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. I’m so sorry…” I can’t bear to listen anymore. Jumping off the chaise, I stride out of the library, determined to collect Nora and bring her upstairs. This guilt-tripping is the last thing she needs, and if I have to protect her from her own parents, so be it. As I walk, I hear them speak again, and I slow down in the hallway, listening despite myself. “You didn’t disappoint us, honey,” Nora’s father says thickly. “It’s not that, not at all. It’s just that we see now that you’re no longer the same girl… that even if you came back to us, it wouldn’t be the same.” “No, Dad,” Nora replies quietly. “It wouldn’t be.” A couple more seconds pass, and then her mother speaks again. “We love you, honey,” she says in a low, strained voice. “Please, don’t ever doubt that we love you.” “I know, Mom. And I love you, both of you.” Nora’s voice cracks for the first time. “I’m sorry that things have worked out this way, but I belong here now.” “With him.” Curiously, Gabriela doesn’t sound bitter, just resigned. “Yes, we see that now. He loves you. I never would’ve thought I’d say that, but he does. The way the two of you are together, the way he looks at you…” She lets out a shaky laugh. “Oh, honey, we’d give an arm and a leg for it to be someone else for you. A good man, a kind man, someone who’d hold down a normal job and buy you a house near us—” “Julian did buy me a house near you,” Nora says, and her mother laughs again, sounding a little hysterical. “That’s true,” she says when she calms down. “He did, didn’t he?” Now the two women laugh together, and I let out a relieved breath. Maybe Nora doesn’t need my interference after all.

Another sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and then Tony says gruffly, “We’re here for you, honey. No matter what, we’re always here for you. If anything ever changes, if you ever want to leave him and come home—” “I won’t, Dad.” The quiet confidence in Nora’s voice warms me, chasing away the remnants of my anger. I’m so pleased that I nearly miss it when she adds softly, “Not unless he wants me to.” “Oh, he won’t,” Nora’s father says, and he does sound bitter. “That much is obvious. If that man had his way, you’d never be more than ten feet away from him.” I only half-listen to his words, mulling over Nora’s strange statement instead. Not unless he wants me to. She sounded almost as if she’s afraid that’s the case. Or is it that she wants it to be the case? An ugly suspicion snakes through me. Is that why she’s been so distant in recent days—because she wants me to let her go? Because she no longer wants to be with me and hopes that I’ll let her leave as a way to atone for what happened? My chest tightens with sudden pain even as a new kind of anger kindles within me. Is that what my pet expects? Some sort of grand gesture where I give her freedom? Where I beg her for forgiveness and feign regret for having taken her in the first place? Fuck that. I tear the headset out of my ear, dark fury rolling through me as I turn and take the stairs two steps at a time. If Nora thinks I’m that far gone, she couldn’t be more mistaken. She’s mine, and she’ll stay that way for the rest of our lives.

41

N ora TIRED YET HYPER AFTER TALKING TO MY PARENTS, I WALK UP THE STAIRS TOWARD OUR BEDROOM. Though a part of me still wishes I could’ve shielded my family from my new life, I’m relieved that they now know the truth. That they know the woman I’ve become and still love me. Reaching the bedroom, I open the door and step inside. No lights are on in the room, and as I close the door behind me, I wonder where Julian might be. While I’m glad I got the chance to clear the air with my parents, the fact that he left dinner without a good explanation worries me. Did something happen, or did he simply get tired of us? Did he get tired of me? Just as the devastating thought crosses my mind, I notice a dark shadow standing by the window. My pulse jumps, my skin prickling with primitive terror as I fumble for the light switch. “Leave it.” Julian’s voice comes out of the darkness, and my knees almost buckle with relief. “Oh, thank God. For a second, I didn’t realize it was—” I begin, and then his harsh tone registers. “You,” I finish uncertainly. “Who else would it be?” My husband turns and crosses the room, approaching me with the silent gait of a predator. “It’s our bedroom. Or have you forgotten that?” He places his hands on both sides of the wall behind me, caging me in.

I draw in a startled breath, pressing my palms against the cold wall. Julian is clearly in a mood, and I have no idea what set him off. “No, of course not,” I say slowly, staring at his shadowed features. There’s so little light that all I can make out is the faint glitter of his eyes. “What do you—” He steps closer, molding his lower body to mine, and I gasp as I feel his hard cock against my belly. He’s naked and already aroused, his hot male scent surrounding me as he holds me trapped in place. Even through the separating layer of my dress, I can feel the lust pulsing within him—lust and something much, much darker. My body awakens with a jolt, my pulse quickening on a surge of fear. This must be it: the punishment I’ve been expecting. With the doctors having deemed me healed earlier today, my reprieve is over. “Julian?” His name comes out on a choked breath as he grips the nape of my neck, his long fingers nearly encircling my throat. His huge body is all muscle, hard and uncompromising around me. One squeeze of those steely fingers, and he’d crush my throat. The thought chills me, yet a hollow ache coils in my core, my nipples peaking with harsh arousal. The anger coming off him is palpable, and it calls to something savage inside me, fueling the dark fire simmering within. If he’s decided to finally punish me, I’m going to make damn sure I get what I deserve. He leans into me, his breath warm on my face, and at that moment, I make my move. My right hand forms a fist at my side, and I swing upward with all my strength, striking the underside of his chin. At the same time, I twist to the right, breaking his grip on my neck, and duck under his extended arm, whirling around to hit him in the back. Except he’s no longer there. In the half-second it took me to turn, Julian moved, as quick and deadly as any assassin. Instead of connecting with his back, the sharp edge of my palm slams into his elbow, and I cry out as the impact sends a shock of pain through my arm. “Fuck!” His furious hiss is accompanied by a blurringly fast movement. Before I can react, he’s got me encircled in his arms, my wrists crossed in front of my chest and his left leg wrapped around my knees to prevent me from kicking. With him holding me from behind, I can’t bite him, and my attempts to head-butt his chin fall woefully short as he keeps his face out of my reach. All that training, and he subdued me in three seconds flat.

Frustration mingles with adrenaline, adding to the fury brewing inside me. Fury at him for taunting me with tenderness these two weeks, and most of all, fury at myself. My fault, my fault, it’s all my fault. The words are a vicious drumbeat in my mind. Guilt, bitter and thick, rises in my throat, choking me as it mixes with the aching grief. Rosa. Our baby. Dozens of men dead. The sound that bursts out of my throat is something between a growl and a sob. Despite the futility of it, I begin to fight, bucking and twisting in Julian’s iron hold. I don’t have much leverage, but with one of his legs restraining mine, my frantic, jerky movements are enough to push him off-balance. With a loud curse, he falls backward, still gripping me tightly. His back takes the brunt of the fall. I hardly feel the impact as he grunts and immediately rolls over, pinning me to the hard wooden floor. Disregarding his heavy weight on top of me, I continue fighting, struggling with all my strength. The cold wood presses into my face, but the discomfort barely registers. My fault, my fault, all my fault. Half-panting, half-sobbing, I try to kick back, to scratch him, to make him feel even a tiny fraction of the pain consuming me inside. My muscles scream with strain, but I don’t stop—not when Julian wrenches my wrists back and ties them at the small of my back with his belt, and not even when he drags me up by my elbow and hauls me to the bed. I fight as he tears off my dress and underwear, as he fists his hand in my hair and forces me up on my knees. I fight as though I’m fighting for my life, as though the man holding me is my worst enemy instead of my greatest love. I fight because he’s strong enough to take the fury inside me. Because he’s strong enough to take it away from me. As I writhe in his brutal hold, his knee forces apart my legs, and his cock presses against my entrance. In one savage thrust, he penetrates me from behind, and I cry out at the pain, at the unutterable relief of his possession. I’m wet, but not enough, not nearly enough, and each punishing thrust scrapes me raw, hurting me, healing me. My thoughts scatter, the chant inside my mind disappearing, and all that’s left is the feel of his body inside mine, the pain and the agonizing pleasure of our need. I’m rushing toward orgasm when Julian begins talking to me, growling that he’ll always keep me, that I’ll never belong to anyone but him. There is a dark threat

implicit in his words, a promise that he’ll stop at nothing. His ruthlessness should terrify me, yet as my body explodes in release, fear is the last thing on my mind. All I’m cognizant of is sheer and utter bliss. He flips me onto my back then, releasing my wrists, and I realize that at some point, I did stop fighting. The fury’s gone, and in its place is deep exhaustion and relief. Relief that Julian still wants me. That he’ll punish me, but won’t send me away. So when he grips my ankles and props them on his shoulders, I don’t resist. I don’t fight when he leans forward, nearly folding me in half, and I don’t struggle when he scoops the abundant moisture from my sex and smears it between my ass cheeks. It’s only when I feel his thickness poised at that other opening that I utter a wordless sound of protest, my sphincter tightening as my hands move to push against his hard chest. It’s a weak, mostly symbolic gesture—I can’t possibly move Julian off me that way—but even that slight hint of resistance seems to enrage him. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he growls, and in the faint light from the window, I see the dark glitter of his eyes. “You don’t get to deny me this, to deny me anything. I own you… every inch of you.” He presses forward, his massive cock forcing me open as he whispers harshly, “If you don’t relax that ass, my pet, you’ll regret it.” I shudder with perverse arousal, my nails digging into his chest as the tight ring of muscle gives in to the merciless pressure. The burning invasion is agonizing, my insides roiling as he pushes in deeper and deeper. It’s been months since he’s taken me like this, and my body’s forgotten how to handle this, how to relax into the overly full sensation. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I attempt to breathe through it, to remain strong, but tears, stupid, betraying tears, come anyway, trickling out from the corners of my eyes. It’s not the pain that makes me cry, though, or my body’s twisted response to it. It’s the knowledge that my punishment isn’t over, that Julian still hasn’t forgiven me. That he may never forgive me. “Do you hate me?” The question escapes before I can hold it back. I don’t want to know, but at the same time, I can’t bear to keep silent. Opening my eyes, I stare at the dark figure above me. “Julian, do you hate me?” He stills, his cock lodged deep within me. “Hate you?” His big body tenses, his

lust-roughened voice filling with disbelief. “What the fuck, Nora? Why would I hate you?” “Because I miscarried.” My voice quavers. “Because our child died because of me.” For a second, he doesn’t respond, and then, with a low curse, he pulls out, making me gasp in pain. “Fuck!” He releases me, moving back on the bed. The sudden absence of his heat and his heavy weight over me is startling, as is the light from the bedside lamp he turns on. It takes a moment before my eyes adjust to the brightness and I make out the expression on his face. “You think I blame you for what happened?” he asks hoarsely, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes burn with intensity as he stares at me, his cock still fully erect. “You think it was somehow your fault?” “Of course it was.” I sit up, feeling the stinging soreness deep inside, where he was just buried. “I’m the one who wanted to go to Chicago, to go to that club. If not for me, none of this would’ve—” “Stop.” His harsh command vibrates through me even as his features contort with something resembling pain. “Just stop, baby, please.” I fall silent, staring at him in confusion. Wasn’t that what this whole scene was about? My punishment for disappointing him? For endangering myself and our child? Still holding my gaze, he takes a deep breath and moves toward me. “Nora, my pet…” He takes my face in his large palms. “How could you possibly think that I hate you?” I swallow. “I’m hoping you don’t, but I know you’re angry—” “You think I’m angry because you wanted to see your parents? To go out dancing and have fun?” His nostrils flare. “Fuck, Nora, if the miscarriage is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have let you go to that bathroom on your own—” “But you couldn’t have known—” “And neither could you.” He takes a deep breath and lowers his hands to my lap, clasping my palms in his warm grasp. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says roughly. “None of it was your fault.” I dampen my dry lips. “So then why—”

“Why was I angry?” His beautiful mouth twists. “Because I thought you wanted to leave me. Because I misinterpreted something you said to your parents tonight.” “What?” My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “What did I— Oh.” I recall my offhand comment, born of fear and insecurity. “No, Julian, that’s not what I meant,” I begin, but he squeezes my hands before I can explain further. “I know,” he says softly. “Believe me, baby, now I know.” We stare at each other in silence, the air thick with echoes of violent sex and dark emotions, with the aftermath of lust and pain and loss. It’s strange, but in this moment, I understand him better than ever. I see the man behind the monster, the man who needs me so much he’ll do anything to keep me with him. The man I need so much I’ll do anything to stay with him. “Do you love me, Julian?” I don’t know what gives me the courage to pose the question now, but I have to know, once and for all. “Do you love me?” I repeat, holding his gaze. For a few moments, he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. His grip on my hands is tight enough to hurt. I can feel the struggle within him, the longing warring with the fear. I wait, holding my breath, knowing he may never open himself up like this, may never admit the truth even to himself. So when he speaks, I’m almost caught off-guard. “Yes, Nora,” he says hoarsely. “Yes, I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. I didn’t know it, or maybe I just didn’t want to know it, but it’s always been there. I spent most of my life trying not to feel, trying not to let people get close to me, but I fell for you from the very beginning. It just took me two years to realize it.” “What made you realize it?” I whisper, my heart aching with relieved joy. He loves me. Up until this moment, I didn’t know how desperately I needed the words, how much their lack weighed on me. “When did you know?” “It was the night we came back home.” His muscular throat moves as he swallows. “It was when I lay here next to you. I let myself truly feel it then—the pain of losing our baby, the pain of losing all those other people in my life—and I realized I’d been trying to protect myself from the agony of losing you. Trying to keep myself from loving you so it wouldn’t destroy me. Except it was too late. I was already in love with you. I had been for a long time. Obsession, addiction, love—it’s all the same thing. I can’t live without you, Nora. Losing you would destroy me. I can survive anything but that.”

“Oh, Julian…” I can’t imagine what it took for this strong, ruthless man to admit this. “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” “I know you’re not.” His eyes narrow, all traces of vulnerability fading from his features. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll ever let you go.” A shaky laugh escapes my throat. “Of course. I know that.” “Ever.” He seems to feel the need to emphasize that. “I know that too.” He stares at me then, his hands holding mine, and I feel the pull of his wordless command. He wants me to admit my feelings too, to bare my soul to him as he’s just bared his to me. And so I give him what he demands. “I love you, Julian,” I say, letting him see the truth of that in my gaze. “I’ll always love you—and I don’t want you to ever let me go.” I don’t know if he moves toward me then, or if I make the move first, but somehow his mouth is on mine, his lips and tongue devouring me as he holds me in his inescapable embrace. We come together in pain and pleasure, in violence and passion. We come together in our kind of love.

THE NEXT MORNING, I STAND NEXT TO THE RUNWAY AND WATCH AS THE PLANE CARRYING MY PARENTS home takes off. When it’s nothing more than a small dot in the sky, I turn to Julian, who’s standing beside me holding my hand. “Tell me again,” I say softly, looking up at him. “I love you.” His eyes gleam as he meets my gaze. “I love you, Nora, more than life itself.” I smile, my heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. The shadow of grief is still with me, as is the lingering feeling of guilt, but the darkness no longer clouds everything. I can picture a day when the pain will fade, when all I’ll feel is contentment and joy. Our troubles aren’t over—they can’t be, with us being who we are—but the future no longer frightens me. Soon, I’ll need to bring up the pretty doctor and Peter’s plan for revenge, and at some point later, we’ll have to discuss the possibility of another child and how to deal with the ever-present danger of our lives.

For now, though, we don’t need to do anything but enjoy each other. Enjoy being alive and in love.

EPILOGUE THREE YEARS LATER

J ulian “NORA ESGUERRA!” As the president of Stanford University calls out her name, I watch my wife walk across the stage, garbed in the same black cap and gown as the rest of the graduates. The robe billows around her petite frame, hiding the small, but already visible bump of her stomach—the child we both eagerly await this time. Stopping in front of the university official, Nora shakes his hand to the sound of applause and then turns to smile for the camera, her delicate face glowing in the bright morning sun. The flash goes off, startling me even though I knew it was coming. Catching myself clutching the gun at my waist, I force my hand to uncurl and move away from the weapon. With a hundred of our best guards securing the field, my gun isn’t necessary. Still, I feel better having it on me—and I know Nora is glad her semi-automatic is tucked inside her purse. Though the opening of her second art show in Paris went off without a hitch last year, we’re both more than a little paranoid today, determined to do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our unborn daughter. Another flash goes off beside me. Glancing at the seats to my right, I see Nora’s parents taking pictures with their new camera. They look as proud as I feel. Sensing my gaze on them, Nora’s mother looks in my direction, and I give her a warm smile before turning my attention back to the stage. The next graduate is already up, but I don’t notice who it is. All I see is my pet, carefully making her way down the left side of the stage. The leather folder with the

diploma is in her hands, and the tassel on her cap is hanging on the other side of her face, signifying her new diploma-recipient status. She’s beautiful, even more beautiful than at her high school graduation five years earlier. As she makes her way through the rows of graduates and their families, our eyes meet, and I feel my heart expanding, filling with the mixture of dark possessiveness and tender love she always evokes in me. My captive. My wife. My entire world. I will love her to the end of time, and I will never, ever let her go.

CAPTURE ME: THE COMPLETE TRILOGY

CAPTURE ME CAPTURE ME: BOOK 1

I THE ASSIGNMENT

1

Y ulia THE TWO MEN IN FRONT OF ME EMBODY DANGER. THEY EXUDE IT. ONE BLOND, ONE DARK—THEY should’ve been polar opposites, but they’re similar somehow. They give off the same vibe. The vibe that makes me go cold inside. “I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you,” says Arkady Buschekov, the Russian official beside me. His faded, colorless gaze is trained on the darkhaired man’s face. Buschekov says it in Russian, and I immediately repeat his words in English. My translation is smooth, my accent undetectable. I’m a good interpreter, even if that’s not my real job. “Go on,” the dark-haired man says. Julian Esguerra is his name, and he’s a bigtime arms dealer. I know that from the folder I studied this morning. He’s the important one here today, the one they want me to get close to. It shouldn’t be a hardship. He’s a strikingly handsome man, his eyes blue and piercing in his darkly tanned face. If it weren’t for that chill-inducing vibe, I’d be genuinely attracted to him. As it is, I’ll be faking it, but he won’t know. They never know. “I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties in our region,” Buschekov says. “We would like you to assist us in resolving this matter.” I translate his words, doing my best to conceal my growing excitement. Obenko was right. There is something brewing between Esguerra and the Russians. Obenko suspected as much when he heard the arms dealer was visiting Moscow.

“Assist you how?” Esguerra asks. He looks only vaguely interested. As I translate his words for Buschekov, I sneak a glance at the other man at the table—the one with blond hair cut in a short, almost military style. Lucas Kent, Esguerra’s right-hand man. I’ve been trying not to look at him. He unnerves me even more than his boss. Thankfully, he’s not my target, so I don’t need to feign interest in him. For some reason, though, my eyes keep being drawn to his hard features. With his tall, powerfully muscled body, square jaw, and fierce gaze, Kent reminds me of a bogatyr —a noble warrior of Russian folk tales. He catches me looking at him, and his pale eyes flash as they lock on my face. I quickly look away, suppressing a shudder. Those eyes make me think of the slivers of ice outside, blue-gray and freezing cold. Thank God he’s not the one I need to seduce. It will be much, much easier to fake it with his boss. “There are certain parts of Ukraine that need our help,” Buschekov says. “But, world opinion being what it is right now, it would be problematic if we went in and actually gave that help.” I swiftly translate what he said, my attention once more on the information I’m supposed to retrieve. This is important; this is the primary reason I’m here today. Seducing Esguerra is secondary, though likely still unavoidable. “So you would like me to do it instead,” Esguerra says, and Buschekov nods as I translate. “Yes,” Buschekov says. “We would like a sizable shipment of weapons and other supplies to reach the freedom fighters in Donetsk. It cannot be traced back to us. In return, you would be paid your usual fee and granted safe passage to Tajikistan.” When I convey the words to him, Esguerra smiles coldly. “Is that all?” “We would also prefer it if you avoided any dealings with Ukraine at this time,” Buschekov says. “Two chairs and one ass and all that.” I do my best to translate the last part, though it doesn’t sound nearly as punchy in English. I also commit every single word to memory, so I can convey it to Obenko later today. This is exactly what my boss was hoping I’d hear. Or rather, what he feared I’d hear. “I’m afraid I will require additional compensation for that,” Esguerra says. “As you know, I don’t usually take sides in these types of conflicts.”

“Yes, so we’ve heard.” Buschekov brings a piece of selyodka—salted fish—to his mouth and chews it slowly, looking at the arms dealer. “Perhaps you might reconsider that position in our case. The Soviet Union may be gone, but our influence in this region is still quite substantial.” “Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m here right now?” Esguerra’s smile is reminiscent of a shark’s. “But neutrality is an expensive commodity to give up. I’m sure you understand.” Buschekov’s gaze turns colder. “I do. I’m authorized to offer you twenty percent more than the usual payment for your cooperation in this matter.” “Twenty percent? When you’re cutting my potential profits in half?” Esguerra laughs softly. “I don’t think so.” After I translate, Buschekov pours himself some vodka and swirls it around the glass. “Twenty percent more and the captured Al-Quadar terrorist remitted into your custody,” he says after a few moments. “This is our final offer.” I translate his words and sneak another glance at the blond-haired man, inexplicably curious to see his reaction. Lucas Kent hasn’t said a word this whole time, but I can sense him watching everything, absorbing everything. I can sense him watching me. Does he suspect anything, or is he simply attracted? Either way, it worries me. Men like that are dangerous, and I have a feeling this one may be more dangerous than most. “We have a deal then,” Esguerra says, and I realize that this is it. What Obenko was afraid of is coming to pass. The Russians are going to get the weapons to the so-called freedom fighters, and the clusterfuck in Ukraine will reach epic proportions. Oh, well. That’s Obenko’s problem, not mine. All I need to do is smile, look pretty, and translate—which I do for the rest of the meal.

WHEN THE MEETING CONCLUDES, BUSCHEKOV STAYS IN THE RESTAURANT TO TALK TO THE OWNER, AND I exit with Esguerra and Kent. As soon as we step outside, the frigid cold bites at me. The coat I’m wearing is stylish, but it’s no match for the Russian winter. The chill goes straight through the wool and into my bones. Within seconds, my feet turn to icicles, the thin soles of

my high-heeled shoes doing little to protect them from the freezing ground. “Would you mind giving me a lift to the nearest subway?” I ask as Esguerra and Kent approach their car. I know I’m visibly shivering, and I’m counting on the fact that even ruthless criminals won’t let a pretty woman freeze for no good reason. “It should be about ten blocks from here.” Esguerra studies me for a second, then motions to Kent. “Frisk her,” he orders curtly. My heart rate speeds up as the blond man comes up to me. His hard face is emotionless, his expression not changing even when his big hands travel over my body from head to toe. It’s a classic patdown—he doesn’t try to feel me up or anything—but when he’s done, I’m shivering for a different reason, the chill inside me exacerbated by a surge of unwelcome awareness. No. I force my breathing to even out. This is not the reaction I need. He’s not the man I need to be reacting to. “She’s clean,” Kent says, stepping away from me, and I do my best to control my relieved exhalation. “Okay, then.” Esguerra opens the car door for me. “Hop in.” I climb in and take a seat next to him in the back, giving mental thanks that Kent joined the driver at the front. I’m finally in a position to make my move. “Thank you,” I say, giving my warmest smile to Esguerra. “I really appreciate it. This is one of the worst winters in recent years.” To my disappointment, there isn’t even a flicker of interest on the arms dealer’s handsome face. “No problem,” he says, pulling out his phone. A smile appears on his sensuous lips as he reads whatever message is there and begins typing a response. I study him, wondering what could’ve put him in such a good mood. A deal gone right? A better-than-expected offer from a supplier? Whatever it is, it’s distracting him from me, and that’s not good. “Are you staying here for long?” I ask, making my voice soft and seductive. When he glances at me, I smile again and cross my legs—the length of which is emphasized by the silky black tights I’m wearing. “I could show you around town if you’d like.” As I speak, I look him in the eye, making my gaze as welcoming as I can. Men can’t tell the difference between this and genuine desire; as long as a woman looks like she wants them, they believe she does.

And to be fair, most women would want this man. He’s more than handsome— gorgeous, really. Women would kill for a chance to be in his bed, even with that dark, cruel edge I sense within him. The fact that he doesn’t do anything for me is my problem, one I’ll need to work on if I’m to complete my mission. I don’t know if Esguerra senses something off or if I’m just not his type, but instead of taking me up on my offer, he gives me a cool smile. “Thanks for the invitation, but we’ll be leaving soon and I’m afraid I’m too exhausted to do your town justice tonight.” Shit. I conceal my disappointment and smile back. “Of course. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” There’s nothing else I can say without raising suspicion. The car stops in front of my subway stop, and I climb out, trying to think how I’m going to explain my failure in this department. He didn’t want me? Yes, that would go over well. Heaving a sigh, I wrap my coat tighter around my chest and hurry into the underground metro station, determined to at least get out of the cold.

2

Y ulia THE FIRST THING I DO UPON ARRIVING HOME IS CALL MY BOSS AND CONVEY EVERYTHING I’VE LEARNED. “So it’s as I suspected,” Vasiliy Obenko says when I’m done. “They’re going to use Esguerra to arm those fucking rebels in Donetsk.” “Yes.” I kick off my shoes and walk into the kitchen to make myself tea. “And Buschekov demanded exclusivity, so Esguerra’s now fully allied with the Russians.” Obenko lets out a string of curses, most of which involve some combination of fucking, sluts, and mothers. I tune him out as I pour water into an electronic kettle and turn it on. “All right,” Obenko says when he calms down a little. “You’re seeing him tonight, right?” I take a breath. Now comes the unpleasant part. “Not exactly.” “Not exactly?” Obenko’s voice goes dangerously quiet. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “I offered, but he wasn’t interested.” It’s always best to tell the truth in these types of situations. “Said they’re leaving soon, and he was too exhausted.” Obenko starts cursing again. I use the time to tear open a tea bag, drop it into a cup, and pour boiling water over it. “You’re sure you’re not going to see him again?” he asks after he’s done with his cursing fit. “Reasonably sure, yes.” I blow on my tea to cool it down. “He just wasn’t

interested.” Obenko goes silent for a few moments. “All right,” he says finally. “You fucked up, but we’ll deal with that another time. For now, we need to figure out what to do about Esguerra and the weapons that will flood our country.” “Eliminate him?” I suggest. My tea is still a bit too hot, but I take a sip anyway, enjoying the warmth going down my throat. It’s a simple pleasure, but the best things in life are always simple. The smell of lilacs blooming in the spring, the softness of a cat’s fur, the juicy sweetness of a ripe strawberry—I’ve learned to treasure these things in recent years, to squeeze every ounce of joy out of life. “Easier said than done.” Obenko sounds frustrated. “He’s better protected than Putin.” “Uh-huh.” I take another sip of tea and close my eyes, savoring the taste this time. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” “When did he say he was leaving?” “He didn’t specify. He just said ‘soon.’” “All right.” Obenko seems impatient all of a sudden. “If he contacts you, let me know immediately.” And before I can reply, he hangs up.

SINCE I HAVE THE EVENING OFF, I DECIDE TO INDULGE IN A BATH. MY BATHTUB, LIKE THE REST OF THIS apartment, is small and dingy, but I’ve seen worse. I spruce up the ugliness of the cramped bathroom by putting a couple of scented candles on the sink and adding bubbles to the water, and then I get in, letting out a blissful sigh at the warmth engulfing my body. If I had my way, I’d always be warm. Whoever said hell is hot was wrong. Hell is cold. Russian-winter cold. I’m enjoying my soak when the doorbell rings. Instantly, my heartbeat spikes and adrenaline blasts through my veins. I’m not expecting anyone—which means it could only be trouble. Jumping out of the tub, I wrap a towel around myself and run out of the bathroom into the main room of my studio apartment. The clothes I took off are

still lying on the bed, but I don’t have time to put them on. Instead, I throw on a robe and grab a gun from the drawer in my nightstand. Then I take a deep breath and approach the door, aiming the weapon at it. “Yes?” I call out, stopping a couple of feet from the apartment entrance. My door is reinforced steel, but the keyhole is not. Someone could shoot through it. “It’s Lucas Kent.” The deep voice speaking English startles me so much, the gun wavers in my hand. My pulse jumps another notch, and a peculiar weakness seizes my knees. Why is he here? Does Esguerra know anything? Did someone betray me? The questions blaze through my mind, making my heart race even faster, but then the most reasonable course of action comes to me. “What is it?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice steady. There’s one explanation for Kent’s presence that doesn’t involve me getting killed: Esguerra’s changed his mind. In which case, I need to act like the innocent civilian I’m supposed to be. “I’d like to talk to you,” Kent says, and I hear a hint of amusement in his voice. “Are you going to open the door, or are we going to continue talking through three inches of steel?” Shit. That doesn’t sound like Esguerra’s sent him for me. I quickly evaluate my options. I can stay locked inside the apartment and hope he won’t be able to find his way in—or get me when I come out, as I will inevitably have to—or I can take the chance that he doesn’t know who I am and play it cool. “Why do you want to talk to me?” I ask, stalling for time. It’s a reasonable question. Any woman in this situation would be wary, not just one who has something to hide. “What do you want?” “You.” The one word, uttered in his deep voice, hits me like a fist. My lungs stop working, and I stare at the door, seized by irrational panic. I wasn’t wrong then, when I wondered whether he might be attracted to me—whether the reason he kept looking at me might be as simple as human biology in action. Yes, of course. He wants me. I force myself to start breathing again. This should be a relief. There’s no reason to panic. Men have wanted me since I was fifteen, and I’ve learned to cope with it. To turn their lust to my advantage. This is no different.

Except Kent is harder, more dangerous than most. No. I silence that small voice and take a deep breath, lowering my weapon. As I do, I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. My blue eyes are wide in my pale face, and my hair is messily pinned up, wet tendrils trailing down my neck. With the terrycloth robe wrapped carelessly around me and the gun in my hands, I look nothing like the fashionable young woman who tried to seduce Kent’s boss. Reaching a decision, I call out, “Just a minute.” I could try to deny Lucas Kent entry to my apartment—it wouldn’t be that suspicious for a woman alone—but the smarter thing would be to use this opportunity to get some information. At the very least, I can try to find out when Esguerra’s leaving and tell Obenko, partially making up for my earlier failure. Moving quickly, I hide the gun in a drawer underneath the hallway mirror and unpin my hair, letting the thick blond strands stream down my back. I’ve already washed off my makeup, but I have clear skin and my eyelashes are naturally brown, so it’s not too bad. If anything, I look younger, more innocent this way. More like “the girl next door,” as Americans like to say. Confident that I’m reasonably presentable, I approach the door and unlock it, trying to ignore the heavy, frantic beating of my heart.

3

Y ulia HE STEPS INTO MY he just comes in.

APARTMENT AS SOON AS THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN.

NO

HESITATION, NO GREETING—

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 winter 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.”

And then he touches me for real, his big, hard palm cupping my breast. His fingers are callused, rough. Cold from being outside. His thumb flicks over my hardened nipple, and I feel a pull deep within my core, a coiling of need that feels as foreign as his touch. Fighting the urge to flinch away, I dampen my dry lips. “You’re very direct, aren’t you?” “I don’t have time for games.” His eyes gleam as his thumb flicks over my nipple again. “We both know why I’m here.” “To have sex with me.” “Yes.” He doesn’t bother to soften it, to give me anything but the brutal truth. He’s still holding my breast, touching my naked flesh as though it’s his right. “To have sex with you.” “And if I say no?” I don’t know why I’m asking this. This is not how it’s supposed to go. I should be seducing him, not trying to put him off. Yet something within me rebels at his casual assumption that I’m his for the taking. Other men have assumed this before, and it didn’t bother me nearly as much. I don’t know what’s different this time, but I want him to step away from me, to stop touching me. I want it so badly that my hands curl into fists at my sides, my muscles tensing with the urge to fight. “Are you saying no?” He asks the question calmly, his thumb now circling over my areola. As I search for a response, he slides his other hand into my hair, possessively cupping the back of my skull. I stare at him, my breath catching. “And if I were?” To my disgust, my voice comes out thin and scared. It’s as if I’m a virgin again, cornered by my trainer in the locker room. “Would you leave?” One corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. “What do you think?” His fingers tighten in my hair, the grip just hard enough to hint at pain. His other hand, the one on my breast, is still gentle, but it doesn’t matter. I have my answer. So when his hand leaves my breast and slides down my belly, I don’t resist. Instead, I part my legs, letting him touch my smooth, freshly waxed pussy. And when his hard, blunt finger pushes into me, I don’t try to move away. I just stand there, trying to control my frantic breathing, trying to convince myself that this is no different from any other assignment.

Except it is. I don’t want it to be, but it is. “You’re wet,” he murmurs, staring at me as he pushes his finger deeper. “Very wet. Do you always get so wet for men you don’t want?” “What makes you think I don’t want you?” To my relief, my voice is steadier this time. The question comes out soft, almost amused as I hold his gaze. “I let you in here, didn’t I?” “You came on to him.” Kent’s jaw tightens, and his hand on the back of my head shifts, gripping a fistful of my hair. “You wanted him earlier today.” “So I did.” The typically masculine display of jealousy reassures me, putting me on more familiar ground. I manage to soften my tone, make it more seductive. “And now I want you. Does that bother you?” Kent’s eyes narrow. “No.” He forces a second finger into me and simultaneous presses his thumb against my clit. “Not at all.” I want to say something clever, come up with some snappy retort, but I can’t. The jolt of pleasure is sharp and startling. My inner muscles tighten, clutching at his rough, invading fingers, and it’s all I can do not to moan out loud at the resulting sensations. Involuntarily, my hands come up, grabbing at his forearm. I don’t know if I’m trying to push him away or get him to continue, but it doesn’t matter. Under the soft wool of his sweater, his arm is thick with steely muscle. I can’t control its movements—all I can do is hold onto it as he pushes deeper into me with those hard, merciless fingers. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, holding my gaze, and I gasp as he begins flicking his thumb over my clit, side to side, then up and down. His fingers curl inside me, and I suppress a moan as he hits a spot that sends an even sharper pang of sensation to my nerve endings. A tension begins to coil inside me, the pleasure gathering and intensifying, and with shock I realize I’m on the verge of orgasm. My body, usually so slow to respond, is throbbing with aching need at the touch of a man who scares me—a development that both astonishes and unnerves me. I don’t know if he sees it on my face, or if he feels the tightening in my body, but his pupils dilate, his pale eyes darkening. “Yes, that’s it.” His voice is a low, deep rumble. “Come for me, beautiful”—his thumb presses hard on my clit—“just like that.”

And I do. With a strangled moan, I climax around his fingers, the hard edges of his short, blunt nails digging into my rippling flesh. My visions blurs, my skin prickling with heated needles as I ride the wave of sensations, and then I sag in his grasp, held upright only by his hand in my hair and his fingers inside my body. “There you go,” he says thickly, and as the world comes back into focus, I see that he’s watching me intently. “That was nice, wasn’t it?” I can’t even manage a nod, but he doesn’t seem to need my confirmation. And why would he? I can feel the slickness inside me, the wetness that coats those rough male fingers—fingers that he withdraws from me slowly, watching my face the whole time. I want to close my eyes, or at least look away from that penetrating gaze, but I can’t. Not without letting him know how much he frightens me. So instead of backing down, I study him in return, seeing the signs of arousal on his strong features. His jaw is clenched tight as he stares at me, a tiny muscle pulsing near his right ear. And even through the sun-bronzed hue of his skin, I can see heightened color on his blade-like cheekbones. He wants me badly—and that knowledge emboldens me to act. Reaching down, I cup the hard bulge at the crotch of his jeans. “It was nice,” I whisper, looking up at him. “And now it’s your turn.” His pupils dilate even more, his chest inflating with a deep breath. “Yes.” His voice is thick with lust as he uses his grip on my hair to drag me closer. “Yes, I think it is.” And before I can reconsider the wisdom of my blatant provocation, he lowers his head and captures my mouth with his. I gasp, my lips parting from surprise, and he immediately takes advantage, deepening the kiss. His hard-looking mouth is surprisingly soft on mine, his lips warm and smooth as his tongue hungrily explores the interior of my mouth. There’s skill and confidence in that kiss; it’s the kiss of a man who knows how to please a woman, how to seduce her with nothing more than the touch of his lips. The heat simmering within me intensifies, the tension rising inside me once more. He’s holding me so close that my bare breasts are pressing against his sweater, the wool rubbing against my peaked nipples. I can feel his erection through the rough material of his jeans; it pushes into my lower belly, revealing how much he wants me, how thin his pretense of control really is. Dimly, I realize the robe fell off my shoulders, leaving me completely naked, and then I forget all about it as he makes a low growling sound deep in his throat and pushes me against

the wall. The shock of the cold surface at my back clears my mind for a second, but he’s already unzipping his jeans, his knees wedging between my legs and spreading them open as he raises his head to look at me. I hear the ripping sound of a foil packet being opened, and then he cups my ass and lifts me off the ground. Instinctively, I grab at his shoulders, my heartbeat quickening as he orders hoarsely, “Wrap your legs around me”—and lowers me onto his stiff cock, all the while holding my gaze. His thrust is hard and deep, penetrating me all the way. My breathing stutters at the force of it, at the uncompromising brutality of the invasion. My inner muscles clench around him, futilely trying to keep him out. His cock is as big as the rest of him, so long and thick it stretches me to the point of pain. If I hadn’t been so wet, he would’ve torn me. But I am wet, and after a couple of moments, my body begins to soften, adjusting to his thickness. Unconsciously, my legs come up, clasping his hips as he instructed, and the new position lets him slide even deeper into me, making me cry out at the sharp sensation. He begins to move then, his eyes glittering as he stares at me. Each thrust is as hard as the one that joined us together, yet my body no longer tries to fight it. Instead, it brings forth more moisture, easing his way. Each time he slams into me, his groin presses against my sex, putting pressure on my clit, and the tension in my core returns, growing with every second. Stunned, I realize I’m about to have my second orgasm... and then I do, the tension peaking and exploding, scattering my thoughts and electrifying my nerve endings. I can feel my own pulsations, the way my muscles squeeze and release his cock, and then I see his eyes go unfocused as he stops thrusting. A hoarse, deep groan escapes his throat as he grinds into me, and I know he’s found his release as well, my orgasm driving him over the edge. My chest heaving, I stare up at him, watching as his pale blue eyes refocus on me. He’s still inside me, and all of a sudden, the intimacy of that is unbearable. He’s nobody to me, a stranger, yet he fucked me. He fucked me, and I let him because it’s my job. Swallowing, I push at his chest, my legs unwrapping from around his waist. “Please, let me down.” I know I should be cooing at him and stroking his ego. I should be telling him how amazing it was, how he gave me more pleasure than anyone I’ve known. It wouldn’t even be a lie—I’ve never come twice with a man before. But I can’t bring myself to do that. I feel too raw, too invaded.

With this man, I’m not in control, and that knowledge scares me. I don’t know if he senses that, or if he just wants to toy with me, but a sardonic smile appears on his lips. “It’s too late for regrets, beautiful,” he murmurs, and before I can respond, he lets me down and releases his grip on my ass. His softening cock slips out of my body as he steps back, and I watch, my breathing still uneven, as he casually takes the condom off and drops it on the floor. For some reason, his action makes me flush. There’s something so wrong, so dirty about that condom lying there. Perhaps it’s because I feel like that condom: used and discarded. Spotting my robe on the floor, I move to pick it up, but Lucas’s hand on my arm stops me. “What are you doing?” he asks, gazing at me. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that his jeans are still unzipped and his cock is hanging out. “We’re not done yet.” My heart skips a beat. “We’re not?” “No,” he says, stepping closer. To my shock, I feel him hardening against my stomach. “We’re far from done.” And using his grip on my arm, he steers me toward the bed.

4

Y ulia MY MIND IN TURMOIL, I SIT ON THE EDGE OF THE BED AND WATCH LUCAS UNDRESS. First, he pulls off his sweater, revealing a tight T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest. Next, he takes off his shoes and pushes down his jeans and black briefs. His legs are as powerful as they’d appeared through his clothes, thick with muscle and as darkly tanned as his face. His cock, already hard again, is jutting out from a nest of brownish-blond hair at his groin, and as he pulls off his T-shirt, I see sharply defined abs and sculpted chest. Lucas Kent has the body of an athlete, beautiful in its uncompromising strength. As I watch him, I become aware of a strange urge to touch him. Not in an effort to please him or because it’s expected of me, but because I want to. I want to know how his muscles feel under my fingertips, whether his bronzed skin is smooth or rough. I want to lick his neck, tongue the hollow above his collarbone, and find out how that warm-looking skin tastes. It makes no sense, but I want him. I want him even though I’m sore from his rough fucking, even though he should be an assignment, nothing more. He steps out of his jeans and briefs and kicks them aside, then comes toward me. I don’t move as he approaches me. I hardly even breathe. When he’s next to me, he stops and sinks to his haunches. “Lie back,” he murmurs, grasping my calves, and before I have a chance to realize what he’s doing, he pulls me toward him, not stopping until my ass is partially hanging off the mattress. “What are you—” I begin to say, but he ignores me, using one strong hand to push me down on the mattress. I fall onto my back, my heart hammering, and then

I feel it. His warm breath on my sex as he pulls my thighs apart. My breathing quickens again, heat surging through my body as he presses a kiss to my closed folds, his lips soft and gentle. There’s barely any pressure on my clit, but I’m so sensitive from my earlier orgasms that even that light touch sends my nerves zinging. I gasp, arching toward him, and he laughs softly, the low, masculine sound creating vibrations that travel through my flesh, adding to the growing ache within me. “Lucas, wait.” My voice is breathless, panicked from the need he’s invoking within me. The ceiling blurs in front of my eyes. “Wait, don’t—” He ignores me once again, his tongue sweeping over my slit and delving into my opening. As he begins to fuck me with his tongue, I forget what I was going to say. I forget everything. My eyes squeeze shut, and the world around me disappears, leaving only darkness and the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of my soaked pussy. The fire burning within me is white-hot, my flesh so swollen and sensitized that his tongue feels as big as a cock. Except it’s softer, more flexible—and as he moves that tongue higher, circling my clit, I tense, feeling like a string being wound tighter and tighter. “Lucas, please...” The words come out in a begging moan. I don’t know what I’m asking for, but he seems to—because he closes his lips around my throbbing clit and sucks on it. Lightly, gently, using only his lips as his tongue laves the underside of it. And it’s enough. It’s more than enough. My toes curl, the tension gathering into a pulsing ball in my sex as I arch up—and then I come with a choked cry, the orgasm blasting through me with stunning force. Every cell in my body fills with the pulsing pleasure of release, and my heart gallops in my chest. Before I can recover, he flips me onto my stomach, bending me over the edge of the bed. Then I hear another foil packet ripping and a second later, he drives into me, his thick cock spearing me, stretching me once more. I gasp, my hands fisting the sheets as he takes me with a hard, fast rhythm, pounding into me so hard it should hurt—except my body is beyond that now. All I feel is need. I’m awash in it, drunk on the sensations he’s wringing from my flesh. As he thrusts into me, his movements force my sex against the edge of the mattress, putting rhythmic pressure on my clit, and I explode again, screaming his name. But he doesn’t stop. He just keeps fucking me, his fingers digging into my hips as he drives into me, again and again.

I WAKE UP TANGLED WITH HIM, OUR BODIES GLUED TOGETHER WITH STICKY SWEAT. I DON’T REMEMBER falling asleep in his embrace, but it must’ve happened, because that’s where I am now, surrounded by his powerful body. It’s dark, and he’s asleep. I can hear his even breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest as my head rests on his shoulder. My mouth is dry and my bladder is full, so I try to wiggle out from under his heavy arm—which immediately tightens around me. “Where are you going?” Lucas’s voice is hoarse, roughened with sleep. “To the bathroom,” I explain cautiously. “I have to pee.” He lifts his arm and moves his leg off my calves. “All right. Go.” I scoot away from him and sit up, wincing at the soreness I feel deep inside. I don’t know how long he fucked me that second time, but it could’ve easily been an hour or more. I lost count of how many times I came, the orgasms melding together into one never-ending wave of peaks and valleys. My legs are unsteady as I stand up, my inner thighs aching from being stretched wide. After fucking me from behind, he turned me over and grabbed my ankles, holding my legs open as he drove into me, thrusting so deeply that I begged him to stop. He didn’t, of course. He just shifted his hips, changing the angle of his strokes to hit that sensitive spot within me, and I forgot all about the pain, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of his hard possession. Inhaling deeply, I force myself back to the present, my bladder reminding me of another overwhelming need. Shakily, I walk to the bathroom and relieve myself. Then I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and splash cold water on my face, trying to regain my equilibrium. Everything is fine, I tell myself as I stare at my pale face in the mirror. Everything is going according to plan. Great sex is a bonus, not a problem. So what if this ruthless stranger can make me respond this way? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just fucking, a meaningless physical act. Except with him it isn’t meaningless. No. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force that voice away and splash more water on my face, washing away the doubts. I have a job to do, and there’s nothing wrong with treating this night as a perk of that job. There’s nothing wrong with letting myself feel pleasure—as long as I don’t let it

mean anything. Feeling marginally more like myself, I make my way back to the bed, where Lucas is waiting for me. As soon as I lie down next to him, he pulls me against him, curving his body around me from the back and covering us both with a blanket. I let out a sigh of enjoyment as his warmth surrounds me. The man is like a furnace, generating so much heat that I instantly feel toasty, the ever-present chill inside my apartment forgotten. “When are you leaving?” I ask softly as he arranges me more comfortably, settling my head on his outstretched arm and draping his other arm over my hip. This is what I need to know from him, what I owe Obenko for my failure, yet something tightens within me as I wait for Lucas’s answer. That pang of emotion—it can’t be regret at the thought of him leaving. That wouldn’t make sense. Lucas nuzzles my ear. “In the morning,” he whispers, his teeth grazing over my earlobe. His breath sends a warm shiver through me. “I have to be out of here in a couple of hours.” “Oh.” Ignoring the irrational twinge of sadness, I do quick mental math. According to the digital clock on my nightstand, it’s a little after four a.m. If he has to leave my apartment around six, then their plane must be departing at eight or nine in the morning. Obenko doesn’t have much time to do whatever he plans to do to Esguerra. “You can’t stay longer?” I turn my head to brush my lips against Lucas’s outstretched arm. It’s the kind of question a woman who has feelings for a man might ask, so I’m not afraid it would raise his suspicions. He chuckles softly. “No, beautiful, I can’t. You should be glad of that”—his arm on top of me shifts, his hand sliding down to palm my sex—“given how sore you said you are.” I swallow, remembering how toward the end of that marathon sex session I pleaded for mercy, my insides raw from so much fucking. Incredibly, I feel a twinge of renewed sensation at the memory—and at the touch of that big, strong hand between my legs. “I am sore,” I whisper, hoping he would stop and at the same time, hoping he wouldn’t. To my relief and disappointment, he moves his hand back to my hip, even

though I feel his cock stirring against my ass. The man is a sexual machine, unstoppable in his lust. According to the file I’ve been given, he’s thirty-four years old. Most men past their teenage years don’t want to have sex three times a night. Once, twice maybe. But three times? His cock shouldn’t harden with so little provocation. It makes me wonder how long it’s been since Lucas Kent’s had a woman. “Are you going to return any time soon?” I ask, pushing that thought aside. It’s ridiculous, but the idea of him being with other women—of him giving them the kind of pleasure he gave me—makes my chest tighten in an unpleasant way. “I don’t know,” he says, shifting so that his semi-hard erection is wedged more comfortably against my ass. “Maybe one day.” “I see.” I stare into the darkness, battling the part of me that wants to bawl like a child deprived of her favorite toy. This is not real, none of it is real. Even if I were truly an interpreter, I’d know this is nothing more than a one-night stand. But I’m not the carefree, easy girl I’m pretending to be. I didn’t have sex with him for fun; I did it to get information—and now that I have it, I need to get it to Obenko right away. As Lucas’s breathing evens out, signifying that he’s asleep again, I carefully reach for my phone. It’s sitting on the nightstand less than a couple of feet away, and I manage to grab it without disturbing Lucas, who’s still holding me against him. Ignoring the growing ache in my chest, I type out a coded message to Obenko, letting him know that Kent is with me and what time they’re planning to depart. If my boss is planning to strike at Esguerra, now is as good a time as any, since at least one man from Esguerra’s security team is out of the way. As soon as the text message goes out, I erase it from my phone and put the device back on the nightstand. Then I close my eyes and force myself to relax against Lucas’s hard body. My assignment is done, for better or for worse.

5

L

ucas

I WAKE UP TO THE UNFAMILIAR FEEL OF A SLENDER BODY IN MY ARMS AND THE FAINT SMELL OF PEACHES in my nostrils. Opening my eyes, I see tangled blond hair spread across the pillow in front of me and a slim, pale shoulder peeking out from under the blanket. For a moment, the sight startles me, but then I remember. I’m with Yulia Tzakova, the interpreter the Russians hired for yesterday’s meeting. Memories of last night rush into my brain, making my blood surge. Fuck, it had been hot. More than hot. Scorching. Everything about her had been perfect, the sex so intense that just thinking of it makes me hard. I don’t know what I had been expecting when I showed up on her doorstep, but what happened last night wasn’t it. I had watched her all through the meeting, enjoying the way she translated so effortlessly, her voice smooth and unaccented. It wasn’t a surprise that she caught my attention. I’ve always liked tall, leggy blondes, and Yulia Tzakova is as beautiful as they come, with her clear blue eyes and fine bone structure. She didn’t really eat during the meal, just nibbled on a couple of the appetizers, but she drank tea, and I found myself staring at her pink, glossy lips touching the rim of her porcelain cup... at the smooth white column of her throat moving as she swallowed. I wanted to feel those lips closing around the base of my cock and see her throat move as she swallowed my cum. I wanted to strip off her elegant clothes and bend her over the table, to fist that long, silky hair as I drove into her, fucking her until she screamed and came.

I wanted her—and she seemed to have eyes only for Esguerra. Even now, the knowledge that she came on to my boss leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It shouldn’t matter. Esguerra’s always been a chick magnet, and I’ve never minded that. It amuses me, in fact, the way women throw themselves at him, even when they suspect what he’s really like. Even his new wife—a pretty, petite American girl he kidnapped almost two years ago—seems to have fallen for him. It’s only logical that Yulia would try for him—or at least that’s what I told myself as I watched her eye Esguerra all through the meeting. If she wanted him, she was welcome to him. Except he didn’t want her. It surprised me, that last part, even though over the past two years I haven’t actually seen him hook up with any woman. He would just go to his private island all the time. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I learned he kept his American girl there, the one he ended up marrying. The girl—Nora— must’ve been taking care of his needs all along. Must still be taking care of them exceptionally well, given that Esguerra didn’t spare Yulia so much as a glance. I was tempted to forget the interpreter as well—except he asked me to frisk her. She stood there shivering in her elegant coat, and I got a chance to feel her, to run my hands over her body in search of weapons. There were none, but her breathing changed as I touched her. She didn’t look at me, didn’t move, but I could feel a slight hitch in her breathing and see her pale cheeks brighten with a hint of color. Up until then, I didn’t think she was aware of me as a man at all, but that moment made me realize that she was—and that she was fighting the attraction for some reason. So when Esguerra turned down her invitation, I made the impulsive decision to take her for myself. Just for one night, just to appease the craving. It wasn’t difficult to get her address—all it took was one call to Buschekov—and then I showed up on her doorstep, expecting to see the same put-together, confident young woman who flirted with my boss. Except that wasn’t who greeted me. It was a girl who looked barely out of her teens, her beautiful face devoid of any makeup and her tall, slender body swathed in a decidedly inelegant robe. She let me into her apartment after I explicitly told her what I wanted, but the look in her wide blue eyes was that of a hunted rabbit. For a minute, I doubted whether she wanted me there at all; she seemed as nervous as said rabbit confronting a fox. Her anxiety was so palpable, I wondered if I’d made a mistake coming to her, if I’d somehow misread either the extent of her experience or the level of her interest in me.

Just one touch, I told myself as she took my coat. Just one touch, and if she didn’t want me, I’d leave. I’d never forced a woman in my life, and I didn’t intend to start with this girl—a girl who seemed oddly innocent despite her corrupt Kremlin connections. A girl I wanted more with every second. I told myself I’d stop with that one touch, but as soon as I touched her, I knew I’d lied. Her creamy skin had been baby soft, the bones of her jaw so delicate they were almost fragile. My hand looked brown and rough against her pale perfection, my palm so big I could’ve crushed her face with one hard squeeze of my fingers. She froze at my touch, and I could see the pulse beating at the side of her neck. When I’d patted her down earlier, she smelled expensive, like some fancy perfume, but that was no longer the case. Standing there in front of me, her cheeks colored pink, she smelled like peaches and innocence. Logically, I knew it had to be some soap from her bath, but my mouth still watered with the urge to lick her, to taste that clean, fruit-scented flesh. To see what was hidden under her big, unsexy robe. She said something about a drink, or maybe it was coffee, but I barely heard her words, all my attention on the strip of pale skin visible at the top of her robe. “No,” I said on autopilot, “no coffee,” and then I reached for the tie of her robe, my hands acting seemingly of their own accord. The garment fell apart at a light tug, revealing a body straight out of my wet dreams. High, full breasts tipped by hard pink nipples, a waist small enough to span with my hands, gently curving hips, and long, long legs. And between those legs, not even a hint of hair, just the smooth, bare mound of her pussy. My dick got so hard it hurt. She pinkened even more, a flush appearing on her face and chest, and whatever self-control I still had evaporated. I touched her breast, flicked my thumb over her nipple, and watched her pupils expand, turning her blue eyes darker. She was responding to me. Still scared, perhaps, but responding. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I couldn’t have walked away at that point if a bomb had gone off next to us. “You’re very direct, aren’t you?” she whispered, staring up at me, and I told her I didn’t have time for games. It was true—if only because the lust I felt was more intense, more violent than anything I’d known before. At that moment, I would’ve

done anything to have her, crossed any line... committed any crime. “And if I say no?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly, and it took everything I had to ask if she was, in fact, saying no. I managed to keep my tone calm, gently circling her nipple with my thumb as I slid my hand into her hair, but she didn’t give me a straight answer. Instead, she asked me what I’d do in that case, whether I would leave. “What do you think?” I asked, stalling as I tried to figure out the answer, but she didn’t reply. She must’ve sensed the violent hunger brewing within me and decided to stop teasing me. I could see the acceptance in her eyes, feel the way she swayed toward me, as if granting me permission. And so I touched her, felt the soft, warm heat between her legs. Penetrated her tight pussy with my finger and felt the wetness there. She did want me—unless that wetness wasn’t for me. Unless she was thinking of Esguerra at that moment. The thought filled me with black rage. “Do you always get so wet for men you don’t want?” I asked, unable to conceal my irrational jealousy, and she said she did want me. She’d wanted Esguerra before, and now she wanted me. “Does that bother you?” she asked, and for the first time since my arrival at her apartment, she seemed like the experienced, confident woman from the restaurant instead of the scared girl who greeted me at the door. The dichotomy both fascinated and aroused me, even as rage continued to burn in my veins. “No,” I said, pushing another finger into her slick channel and finding her clit with my thumb. “Not at all.” Her eyes went soft, unfocused, and I could feel her pussy squeezing my fingers, getting even wetter at my touch. Her hands grabbed my arm as though she wanted to stop me, but her body welcomed my touch. I watched her carefully, observing every flicker of expression on her face, listening to every gasp and moan as I worked my fingers inside and around her pussy. She was responsive, so fucking responsive that it took me no time at all to learn what she liked, what made her cream around my fingers. I could feel her body beginning to tighten, see her breathing coming faster, and my cock got so hard it felt like it would burst. “Yes, that’s it.” I pressed hard on her clit. “Come for me, beautiful, just like that.” And she did. Her gaze turned distant, unseeing, and her pussy rippled around

my fingers. I held her until her contractions stopped, my hand still grasping her silky hair, and then I said with satisfaction, “There you go. That was nice, wasn’t it?” She didn’t answer me at first, and for a moment, I wondered again if I’d misread her, if I was somehow forcing her into this. But then she reached out and boldly cupped my balls through my jeans. “It was nice,” she whispered, looking up at me. “And now it’s your turn.” It was all the invitation I needed. I felt like a beast unleashed, but somehow I managed to kiss her in a semi-civilized manner, tasting her lips instead of devouring them, as everything inside me clamored to do. Her mouth was delicious, like warm tea and honey, and for a minute, I was able to maintain some semblance of control, to pretend I wasn’t a lust-filled savage. Except I was—and when her robe fell off her shoulders, I snapped, pushing her against the wall. It was only by the habit of two decades that I remembered to put on a condom, and then I was lifting her and telling her to wrap her legs around me as I thrust into her, unable to wait even a second longer. She was tight around me, so unbelievably tight and hot that I almost came right then and there, especially when her pussy clenched around me, her body tensing at my entry. Worried that I’d hurt her, I stopped for a moment, waiting until her legs came up to clasp my hips, and then I began fucking her in earnest, driven by a hunger more powerful than anything I’d experienced before. I wanted to be so deep inside I’d never come out, to take her so hard I’d leave my imprint on her flesh. I watched her as I fucked her, and I knew the exact moment she reached her peak. Her eyes widened, as though in surprise, and then I felt her pussy undulating, spasming around my cock. The sensation was so intense I couldn’t hold back my own orgasm. It washed over me uncontrollably, rocketing out from my balls, and I ground my pelvis into her, needing to be as deep as humanly possible, to meld with her in this explosive, mind-bending pleasure. It was the best climax of my life. I felt high, consumed with her taste, her feel, and for a few moments, I thought it was the same for her—but then she pushed at me. “Please, let me down,” she said, looking distressed, and it was like a bucket of ice water thrown over my head. I gave her two orgasms, and she was looking at me like I raped her. Like I fucking assaulted her in a back alley. Something inside me twisted and hardened. Curving my lips in a sardonic smile,

I said, “It’s too late for regrets, beautiful.” Lowering her to her feet, I forced my hands away from her firm, shapely ass. My cock slipped out of her as I stepped back, and the condom, filled with my seed, began to feel loose. I pulled it off, dropping it on the floor. Her eyes followed the movement, and I saw a flush creep across her face again. She was embarrassed by what happened, I realized, and my anger intensified. She invited me in, said she wanted me—her body fucking told me she wanted me—and now she was acting like it was all some big mistake. Like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Well, fuck that, I decided, my blood boiling with a mixture of fury and renewed lust. If she thought I’d let her get away with that shit, she was very much mistaken. And for the rest of the night, I dedicated myself to showing her just how mistaken she was. I licked her pussy and fucked her until she begged me to stop, until her voice was hoarse from screaming my name and my dick was raw from pounding into her tight flesh. I made her come half a dozen times before I allowed myself my second release, and then I had to restrain myself from taking her for the third time when she woke up to use the restroom. I had to restrain myself because somehow, impossibly, I wanted more. I still want more. Son of a bitch. I told Yulia I might return one day, but if this insane hunger doesn’t go away, I’ll have to come back to Moscow sooner than planned—maybe as soon as we’re done in Tajikistan. Yes, that’s it, I decide as I get up and start getting dressed. I’ll do my job, and then, if the Russian girl is still on my mind, I’ll come back for her.

6

Y ulia I PRETEND TO BE ASLEEP AS LUCAS GETS DRESSED AND QUIETLY LETS HIMSELF OUT OF MY APARTMENT. When he closes the door behind him, I hear the automatic lock click into place. I’m grateful that he set it. In Moscow, it’s not safe to leave the door open for even a few minutes. Criminals are bold, resourceful, and seemingly omnipresent. I lie with my eyes closed for another minute to make sure Lucas is not coming back, and then I jump out of bed, ignoring the twinge of soreness between my legs. Automatically, my thoughts turn to the source of that soreness, and I’m once again cognizant of that strange pang of sadness. Odds are, I’ll never see Lucas Kent again. Stop it, I scold myself. There’s no reason to dwell on him. We had sex, nothing more. What I need to do now is find out if Obenko had a chance to strike at Esguerra while Kent was out of the way. If so, my gig here will finally be up. My cover is strong, but once the Russians realize there’s been a leak, I’ll fall under suspicion. I call Obenko while I’m getting dressed. “Anything new?” I ask when he picks up. “We have a plan,” he says. “We were able to track down Esguerra’s Boeing C-17 —it’s the only private plane of that size scheduled to take off in the next couple of hours. Our contact in Uzbekistan will take care of the rest.” I pause in the middle of zipping up my boots. “What do you mean?” “The Uzbekistani military will fire a missile when they fly over their airspace,” Obenko says. “Accidentally, of course. The Russians won’t be pleased, but they

won’t go to war over one arms dealer. Our contact will get jail time and a demotion, but his family will be well compensated for his trouble.” “You’re going to shoot down Esguerra’s plane?” A cold knot forms in my throat. I don’t care what happens to Esguerra, but the thought of Lucas dying in a tangle of crushed metal or being blown into bits... “Yes. It would be too risky to attack him here. He has four dozen mercenaries with him. There’s no way we can get to him otherwise.” “I see.” I feel cold all over, as though someone walked over my grave. “So they’ll all die.” “If everything goes according to plan, yes. We’ll eliminate the threat in one shot and without any casualties on our end.” “Right.” I try to inject a note of appropriate enthusiasm into my voice, but I don’t know if I succeed. All I can think about is Lucas’s big body burned and broken, his pale eyes staring unseeing at the sky. It shouldn’t matter—he’s nothing to me —but I can’t get that gruesome image out of my mind. “We need to exfiltrate you,” Obenko says, bringing my attention back to him. “If the Russians begin really digging and our Uzbekistani contact decides to talk, it won’t take them long to figure out how the information got to us. It’s unfortunate, but we always knew this was a risk with this specific assignment.” “All right.” I squeeze my eyes shut and rub the bridge of my nose. “Where do I meet the team?” “Take the train to Kon’kovo. We’ll have a car ready for you there.” And the phone goes silent in my hand.

IT TAKES ME LESS THAN TWENTY MINUTES TO PACK. I’VE LIVED IN MOSCOW FOR SIX YEARS, BUT I’VE acquired few possessions I care about. Some makeup, a hairbrush, a change of underwear, my fake passport, my gun—that’s all that goes into my large Gucci handbag. I also make sure that the clothes I’m wearing—designer jeans tucked into knee-high flat boots, a cashmere sweater, and a thick, well-fitting parka—are both warm and stylish. In case anyone sees me leaving the apartment, I’ll look much as they’d expect: a young woman heading off to work, bundled up against the brutal cold. After I’m done packing, I wipe down the entire apartment to erase my fingerprints and walk out, carefully locking the door behind me. I no longer care if

thieves break in, but there’s no need to make it easy for them. Nobody seems to be watching the apartment as I exit onto the street, but I still keep a wary eye on my surroundings, making sure I’m not being followed. As I approach the metro station, thoughts of Lucas intrude again, making me shiver despite my warm clothing. I should be happy—I’ve been looking forward to exfiltration for months—but I can’t get my mind off Lucas’s fate. Will he die fast or slowly? Is it going to be the missile that kills him, or the crash itself? Will he stay conscious long enough to realize he’s about to die? Will he guess I had something to do with what happened? The knot in my throat expands, making me feel like I’m choking. For one insane moment, I’m seized by an overwhelming urge to call him, to warn him not to get on that plane. I actually reach for the phone in my bag before I jerk my hand away, sticking it in my pocket instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chide myself as I walk down the stairs into the metro station. I don’t even have Kent’s number. And even if I did, warning him would mean betraying Obenko and my country. Betraying Misha. No, never. I take a steadying breath, ignoring the crush of Moscow commuters all around me. At this point, the operation is out of my hands. Even if I wanted to change something, I can’t. Obenko and his team are in control now, and the best I can hope for is a speedy exit from Russia. Besides, even if Lucas Kent wasn’t affiliated with the arms dealer who just became Ukraine’s enemy, there’s no room in my life for romance of any kind. Whether Kent is dead or alive shouldn’t matter—because either way, I won’t see him again. The approach of the train drags me out of my dark musings. The people around me press forward, pushing their way onto the crowded train, and I hurry to make sure I squeeze in before the doors close. Thankfully, I make it. Grabbing onto a rail, I wedge myself into a space between two middle-aged women and do my best to ignore a leer from an old man sitting in front of me. Another couple of hours, and I won’t need to put up with the Moscow metro system. I’ll be on my way to Kiev, where I belong. I close my eyes and try to focus on that—on coming home.

On being near Misha, even if I can’t meet with him in person. My baby brother is fourteen now. I’ve seen his photos; he’s a handsome teenage boy, his blue eyes bright and mischievous. In all the pictures, he’s always laughing, hanging out with his friends and his girlfriends. He’s social, Obenko tells me. Outgoing. Happy with the life they’ve given him. Each time I receive one of those pictures, I stare at it for hours, wondering if he remembers me. If he’d recognize me if I approached him on the street. It’s unlikely —he was only three when he was adopted—but I still like to imagine that some part of him would know me. That he’d recall the way I took care of him that one brutal year in the orphanage. A crackling announcement interrupts my musings. Opening my eyes, I realize that the train is slowing down. “We apologize for the delay,” the conductor repeats loudly as the train comes to a complete halt. “The issue should get resolved shortly.” The passengers around me groan in unison. The middle-aged woman to my left begins swearing, while the one to my right mutters something about corrupt officials pocketing public funds instead of fixing things. It’s not the first delay this month; the extreme temperatures this winter have taken a toll on both roads and underground metro tracks, exacerbating the commuting nightmare that is Moscow at rush hour. I suppress my own sigh of impatience and check my phone. As expected, I have zero bars. The thick walls of the tunnel block out all cell phone reception, so I can’t notify my handlers of the delay. Great. Just great. I put the phone away, trying not to give in to my frustration. With any luck, this problem is something that requires a little welding, rather than something more serious. Last month, a burst pipe snarled traffic all over Moscow, causing metro delays of three hours or more. If it’s something along those lines again, I might not get to my pickup location until late this afternoon. Against my will, my thoughts turn to Lucas again. By late afternoon, his plane will likely be flying over the Uzbekistani airspace. He might even be dead by then. My stomach churns with acid as I picture his body torn into pieces, destroyed by the explosion and the crash.

Stop it, Yulia. The churning in my stomach intensifies, turning into an empty rumble, and I realize with relief that I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. I was in such a rush to pack and get going that I didn’t have so much as a bite of an apple. No wonder I’m feeling sick. It has nothing to do with Kent and everything to do with the fact that I’m hungry. Yes, that’s it, I tell myself. I’m just hungry. Once the train starts moving again and I get to my destination, I’ll grab some food and everything will be fine. I’ll be safely in Kiev, and I won’t think of Lucas Kent ever again.

7

L

ucas

BY THE TIME I GET TO THE PLANE, THE WHOLE TEAM, INCLUDING ESGUERRA, IS ALREADY ON BOARD AND dressed in combat gear. The suits are bulletproof and flame-retardant—which makes them ridiculously expensive. I’m grateful Esguerra insists on them for every mission; they help minimize casualties among our men. I’m the last one on board, and I’m piloting the plane, so as soon as I get suited up, we take off for Tajikistan, where the terrorist organization of Al-Quadar has its latest stronghold. Esguerra sniffed it out recently, and since the idiots fucked with him by kidnapping his wife a few months back, he’s determined to wipe them off the map. The Russians granted us safe passage—that’s what that meeting with Buschekov was about—so I’m not expecting any trouble. Still, I keep an eye on the radar as we get farther away from Moscow and closer to Central Asia. In this part of the world, one can never be too careful. Once we’re at our cruising altitude, I put the plane on autopilot and check all of my weapons, taking each one apart to clean it before putting it back together. It’s one of the first things I learned in the Navy: make sure your guns are good to go before every battle. Esguerra’s equipment is top notch, and I’ve never had it malfunction on me, but there’s always a first time. Satisfied that everything is in good shape, I put the weapons away and glance at the radar again. Nothing out of the ordinary. Leaning back in my seat, I stretch out my legs. I can already feel it—the beginnings of the adrenaline burn, the buzz of excitement deep in my veins.

The anticipation that grips me before every fight. My mind and body are already preparing for it, even though we still have a few hours before we get to our destination. This is what I was made for, what I love to do. Fighting is in my blood. That’s why I enlisted in the Navy right out of high school, why I couldn’t stand the thought of following the path my parents laid out for me. College, law school, joining my grandfather’s prestigious law firm—I couldn’t imagine myself doing any of those things. I would’ve suffocated in that kind of life, choked to death in the stuffy, elite boardrooms of Manhattan. My family didn’t understand, of course. For them, corporate law—and the money and prestige that comes with it—is the pinnacle of success. They couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to do anything else, why I’d want to be anything other than their golden child. “If you don’t want to go into law, you could try for medical school,” my father said when I expressed my concerns to him in eleventh grade. “Or if you don’t want to be in school for so long, you could go into investment banking. I can get you an internship at Goldman Sachs this summer—it would look great on your Princeton application.” I didn’t take him up on his offer. I didn’t know at that point where I belonged, but I knew it wasn’t at Goldman Sachs, and it wasn’t at Princeton or the prep school my parents paid through the nose to have me attend. I was different from my classmates. Too restless, too full of pent-up energy. I played every sport there was, took every martial art class I could find, but it wasn’t enough. Something was still missing. I discovered what that something was late one night during my senior year, when I was stumbling home drunk from a party in Brooklyn. In an empty subway station, I was attacked by a group of thugs hoping to score some easy cash off a kid from the Upper East Side. They were armed with knives, and I had nothing, but I was too drunk to care. Whatever training I received in those martial art classes kicked in, and I found myself in the first real fight of my life. A fight where I ended up knifing a man and seeing his blood spill over my hands. A fight where I learned the extent of the violence living within me.

WE’RE

FLYING OVER

UZBEKISTAN,

JUST A FEW HUNDRED MILES FROM OUR DESTINATION, WHEN

Esguerra comes into the pilot’s cabin. Hearing the door open, I turn to face him. “We’re on track to get there in about an hour and a half,” I say, preempting his question. “There is some ice on the landing strip, so they’re de-icing it for us right now. The helicopters are already fueled up and ready to go.” We need those helicopters to get to the Pamir Mountains, where we suspect the terrorist hideout to be. “Excellent,” Esguerra says, his blue eyes gleaming. “Any unusual activities in that area?” I shake my head. “No, everything is quiet.” “Good.” He enters the cabin and sits down in the copilot’s seat. “How was the Russian girl last night?” he asks, buckling his seatbelt. I feel a momentary stab of jealousy, but then I remember how Yulia responded to me all night long. “Quite satisfying,” I say, smiling at the images filling my mind. “You missed out.” “Yes, I’m sure,” he says, but I can see that he’s not the least bit sorry. The man is obsessed with his young wife. I have a feeling the most beautiful woman in the world could parade naked in front of him, and he wouldn’t so much as blink. Esguerra’s been well and truly caught—and by a girl he’s been keeping captive, no less. The thought makes me grin. “I have to say, I never expected to see you as a happily married man,” I tell him, amused by the idea. Esguerra lifts his eyebrows. “Is that right?” I shrug, my grin fading. I’m not exactly friends with my boss—I’ve never known Esguerra to be particularly friendly with anyone—but for some reason, he seems more approachable today. Or maybe I’m just in a good mood, thanks to one gorgeous interpreter. “Sure,” I say to Esguerra. “People like us aren’t generally considered good husband material.” In fact, I can’t think of two individuals less suited to domestic life. Esguerra chuckles. “Well, I don’t know if, strictly speaking, Nora considers me ‘good husband material.’” “Well, if she doesn’t, then she should.” I turn back to the controls. “You don’t

cheat, you take good care of her, and you’ve risked your life to save her before. If that’s not being a good husband, then I don’t know what is.” As I speak, I notice a flicker of movement on the radar screen. Frowning, I peer at it closer. “What is it?” Esguerra’s tone sharpens. “I’m not sure,” I begin saying, and at that moment, a violent jolt rocks the plane, nearly throwing me out of my seat. The plane tilts, angling down sharply, and adrenaline explodes in my veins as I hear the frantic beeping of controls gone haywire. We’ve been hit. The thought is crystal clear in my mind. Grabbing the controls, I try to right the plane as we plunge through a thick layer of clouds. My heartbeat is rocket fast, its pounding audible in my ears. “Shit, fuck, shit, shit, motherfucking shit—” “What hit us?” Esguerra sounds calm, almost disinterested. I can hear the engines grinding and sputtering, and then the smell of smoke reaches me, along with the sound of screams. We’re on fire. Fucking fuck. “I’m not sure,” I manage to say. The plane is nosediving, and I can’t get it to straighten out for longer than a second. “Does it fucking matter?” The plane shakes, the engines emitting a terrifying sputtering noise as we head straight for the ground below. The peaks of Pamir Mountains are already visible in the distance, but we’re too far to make it there. We’re going to crash before we reach our goal. Fuck, no. I’m not ready to die. Cursing, I resume wrestling with the controls, ignoring the readouts that inform me of the futility of my efforts. The plane evens out under my guidance, the engines kicking in for a brief moment, but then we nosedive again. I repeat the maneuver, calling on all my years of piloting experience, but it’s futile. All I manage to do is slow our descent by a few seconds. They say your life flashes in front of your eyes before your death. They say you think of all the things you could’ve done differently, all the things you haven’t had

a chance to do. I don’t think about any of that. I’m too consumed with surviving for as long as I can. Beside me Esguerra is silent, his hands gripping the edge of his seat as the ground rushes toward us, the small objects below looming ever larger. I can make out the trees—we’re over a forest now—and then I see individual branches, stripped of leaves and covered with snow. We’re close now, so close, and I make one last attempt to guide the plane, directing it to a cluster of smaller trees and bushes a hundred yards away. And then we’re there, crashing through the trees with bone-shattering force. Strangely, my last thought is of her. The Russian girl I’ll never see again.

II THE DETAINMENT

8

Y ulia SEVEN AND A HALF HOURS. The train was stuck in that tunnel for seven and a half hours. The relief I feel as the doors finally open at the next station is so strong, I actually shake with it. Or maybe I shake from hunger and thirst. It’s impossible to tell. Stepping out of the cursed train, I push through the herd of exhausted, stressedout commuters and take the escalator upstairs. I need to call Obenko immediately; my handlers must be going mad with worry. “Yulia? What the fuck?” As expected, Obenko’s furious. “Where are you?” “At Rizhskaya.” I name the train station some twenty stops away from my destination. “I was on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line.” “Ah, fuck. You got stuck because of that idiot.” “Yeah.” I lean against an icy wall at the top of the stairs as people hurry past me. According to the last update from the train conductor, the reason for the delay was a hostage situation two trains ahead of us. A Chechen national got the bright idea to strap on a homemade bomb and threaten to blow himself up if his demands weren’t met. The police managed to subdue him, but it took them hours to do it safely. Considering the seriousness of the situation, it’s a miracle we were able to get off the train before nightfall. “All right.” Obenko sounds a bit calmer. “I’ll get the team to return to the pickup location. Are the trains running again?” “Not the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line. They said it’ll resume running later tonight.

I’m going to have to take a taxi.” I shift from foot to foot, my bladder reminding me that it’s been hours since I’ve had access to a bathroom. I need that, and food, with extreme urgency, but first, there’s something I must know. “Vasiliy Ivanovich,” I say hesitantly, addressing my boss by his full name and patronymic, “did the operation... succeed?” “The plane was shot down an hour ago.” My knees buckle, and for a dizzying moment, the station blurs out of focus. If it hadn’t been for the wall at my back, I would’ve fallen over. “Were there any survivors?” My voice sounds choked, and I have to clear my throat before continuing. “That is... are you sure the target’s been eliminated?” “We haven’t received the casualty report yet, but I don’t see how Esguerra could’ve survived.” “Oh. Good.” Bile rises in my throat, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Swallowing thickly, I manage to say, “I have to go now, find that taxi.” “All right. Keep us posted if there are any issues.” “Will do.” I press the button to hang up and lean my head back against the wall, taking in gulps of cold air. I feel sick, my stomach roiling with acid and emptiness. I have a fast metabolism, and I’ve never handled hunger well, but I don’t recall ever feeling this bad from lack of food. Pale blue eyes blank and unseeing. Blood running down a hard, square jaw... No, stop. I force myself to straighten away from the wall. I won’t allow myself to go there. I’m just hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. Once I address these problems, everything will be fine. It has to be.

BEFORE TRYING TO CATCH A TAXI, I HEAD TO A SMALL COFFEE SHOP NEXT TO THE STATION AND USE their restroom. I also get a cup of hot tea and scarf down three meat-filled pirozhki —small savory pies. Then, feeling much more human, I go outside to see if I can find a taxi. The streets around the station are a nightmare. The traffic appears to be at a complete standstill, and all the taxis look occupied. It’s not unexpected, given what happened with the trains, but still extremely annoying. I begin walking briskly in the hopes that I can get to a less trafficky location on

foot. There’s no point in getting into a car, only to crawl two blocks in two hours. Now that the plane has gone down, I need to get to my handlers as quickly as possible. The plane. I suck in my breath as the sickening images invade my mind again. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about this. I’d known Lucas for less than twenty-four hours, and I’d spent most of that time being afraid of him. And the rest of that time screaming in pleasure in his arms, a small voice reminds me. No, stop. I pick up my pace, zigzagging around slower-moving pedestrians. Don’t think about him, don’t think about him... I let the words echo in my mind in tempo with my steps. You’re going home to Misha... I pick up my pace some more, almost running now. Moving this fast not only gets me to my destination quicker, but it also keeps me warm. Don’t think about him, you’re going home... I don’t know how long I walk like this, but as the streetlights turn on, I realize it’s already getting dark. Checking my phone, I see that it’s nearly six p.m. I’ve been at it for two and a half hours, and the traffic around me is as bad as ever. Stopping, I look around in frustration. I’ve been walking along major avenues to maximize my chances of catching a cab, but that appears to have been a faulty strategy. Perhaps what I should do is get away from the main zones of traffic and try my luck on smaller streets. If I find a car there, the driver may be able to take me out of the city via some more obscure routes. I’ll pay him whatever extra money he demands. Turning onto one of the cross streets, I see a park a block away. I decide to cut diagonally across it, and then go up one of the smaller avenues on the other side of it. I’ll still be heading in the right direction, but I’ll be away from the busiest area. Maybe I’ll find a bus there, if not a cab. There’s got to be some way I can get to my destination in the next few hours. My phone vibrates in my bag, and I fish it out. “Yes?” “Where are you?” Obenko sounds as frustrated as I feel. “The team leader is getting nervous. He wants to be across the border by the time the Kremlin learns what happened.” “I’m still in the city, walking for now. The traffic is impossible.” The snow

crunches under my feet as I enter the park. They didn’t bother to clear it here, so all the walking paths are covered with a thick icy layer. “Fuck.” “Yeah.” I try not to slip on the ice as I step over a pile of dog shit. “I’m doing my best to get there tonight, I promise.” “All right. Yulia...” Obenko pauses for a second. “You know we’re going to have to pull the team if you don’t get there by morning, right?” His voice is quiet, almost apologetic. “I know.” I keep my tone level. “I’ll be there.” “Good. Make sure you do that.” He hangs up, and I walk faster, driven by increasing anxiety. If the team leaves without me and I get caught, I’m as good as dead. The Kremlin isn’t known to be kind to spies, and the fact that our agency is completely off the books makes the matters ten times worse. The Ukrainian government won’t negotiate to get me back, because they have no idea that I exist. I’m almost out of the park when I hear drunk male laughter and the sound of shoes crunching on snow. Glancing behind me, I see a small group of men some hundred meters back, with bottles clutched in their gloved hands. They’re weaving all over the walking path, but their attention is unmistakably focused on me. “Hey, young lady,” one of them yells out, slurring his words. “Wanna come party with us?” I look away and start walking even faster. They’re just drunks, but even drunks can be dangerous when it’s six against one. I’m not afraid of them—I have my gun and my training—but I don’t need trouble this evening. “Young lady,” the drunk yells, louder this time. “You’re being rude, you know that?” His friends laugh like a pack of hyenas, and the drunk yells again, “Fuck you, bitch! If you don’t want to party, just motherfucking say so!” I ignore them and continue on my way, snaking my left hand into my handbag to feel for my gun, just in case. As I exit the park and step onto the street, the sound of their voices fades, and I realize they’re no longer following me. Relieved, I take my hand out of my bag and continue up the street at a slightly

slower pace. My legs are aching, and I feel like a blister is forming on the side of my heel. My flat boots are way more comfortable than heels, but they’re not made for three hours of speed-walking. I’m in a more residential area now, which is both good and bad. The traffic here is better—only a few cars pass me on the street—but the streetlights are sparse, and the area is all but deserted. Distant male laughter reaches my ears again, and I force myself to go faster, ignoring the discomfort of tired muscles. I walk about five blocks before I see it: a cab stopping next to a curb across the street some fifty meters ahead. A short, thin man is getting out. Relieved, I yell, “Wait!” and sprint toward the car just as he begins closing the door. I’m almost next to the cab when I see lights out of the corner of my eye and hear the roar of an engine. Reacting in a split second, I throw myself to the side, hitting the ground as a car barrels past me. As I roll on the icy asphalt, I hear the driver hooting drunkenly, and then something hard slams into the side of my head. My last thought as my world goes black is that I should’ve shot those drunks after all.

9

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ucas

VOICES. DISTANT BEEPING. MORE VOICES. The sounds fade in and out, as does the buzzing in my ears. My head feels thick and heavy, the pain enveloping me like a blanket of thorns. Alive. I’m alive. The realization seeps into me slowly, in stages. Along with it comes a sharp throbbing in my skull and a surge of nausea. Where am I? What happened? I strain to make out the voices. It’s two women and a man, judging by the differences in pitch. They’re speaking in a foreign language, something I don’t recognize. My nausea intensifies, as does the throbbing in my head. It takes all my strength to pry open my eyelids. Above me, a fluorescent light flickers, its brightness agonizing. Unable to bear it, I close my eyes. A female voice exclaims something, and I hear rapid footsteps. A hand touches my face, a stranger’s fingers reaching for my eyelids. Bright light shines into my eyes again, and I tense, my hands bunching into fists as agony spears through me again. My instinct is to fight, to lash out at whoever this is, but something is preventing me from moving my arms. “Careful now.” The male voice speaks English, albeit with a thick foreign accent.

“The nurse is just checking on you.” The hand leaves my face, and I force my eyes to remain open despite the pain in my skull. Everything looks blurry, but after I blink a few times, I’m able to focus on the man standing next to the bed. Dressed in a military officer’s uniform, he looks to be in his early fifties, with a lean, sharp-featured face. Seeing me looking at him, he says, “I’m Colonel Sharipov. Can you please tell me your name?” “Where am I? What happened?” I ask hoarsely, trying to move my arms once more. I can’t—and I realize it’s because I’m restrained, handcuffed to the bed. When I try to move my legs, I can move my right, but not my left. There’s something bulky and heavy keeping it still, and tugging on it makes me hiss in pain. “You’re in a hospital in Tashkent,” Sharipov says, answering my first question. “You have a broken leg and a severe concussion. I would advise you not to move.” Tashkent. That means I’m in Uzbekistan, the country bordering our destination of Tajikistan. As I process that, some of the fogginess in my mind dissipates, and I remember what happened. The screams. The smell of smoke. The crash. Fuck. “Where are the others?” Abruptly enraged, I tug at my wrist restraints. “Esguerra and all the rest?” “I will tell you in a moment,” Sharipov says. “First, I must know your name.” The pounding agony in my skull isn’t letting me think. “Lucas Kent,” I grit out. There’s no point in lying. He didn’t seem surprised when I mentioned Esguerra— which means he already has some idea of who we are. “I’m Esguerra’s second-incommand.” Sharipov studies me. “I see. In that case, Mr. Kent, you’ll be pleased to know that Julian Esguerra is alive and here in the hospital as well. He has a broken arm, cracked ribs, and a head wound, which doesn’t appear to be too serious. We’re waiting for him to regain consciousness.” My head feels like it’s about to explode, yet I’m aware of a flicker of relief. The guy is an amoral killer—some might say a psychopath—but I’ve gotten to know him over the years and I respect him. It would be a shame if he were killed by some

stray missile. Which reminds me— “What the fuck happened? Why am I restrained?” The colonel looks at me steadily. “You’re restrained for your own safety and that of the nurses, Mr. Kent. Your occupation is such that we didn’t feel comfortable putting the staff here at risk. It’s a civilian hospital and—” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I clench my teeth. “I promise not to harm the nurses, okay? Remove these fucking cuffs. Now.” We have a stare-off contest for a few seconds. Then Sharipov makes a short, jerky motion with his head and says something to one of the nurses in a foreign language. The dark-haired woman comes over and unlocks the cuffs, giving me wary looks the whole time. I ignore her, keeping my focus on Sharipov. “What happened?” I repeat in a somewhat calmer tone, bringing my hands together to rub at my wrists as the nurse skitters away to the other side of the room. The pounding in my head worsens from the movement, but I persist in my questioning. “Who shot down the plane, and what happened to the other men?” “I’m afraid that the exact cause of the crash is being investigated at the moment,” Sharipov says. He looks vaguely uncomfortable. “It’s possible there was a... miscommunication.” “A miscommunication?” I give him an incredulous glare. “Did you shoot at us? You know we were to be granted safe passage through the region, right?” “Of course.” He looks even more uncomfortable now. “Which is why we’re currently conducting an investigation. It’s possible that an error was made—” “An error?” The screams, the smoke... “A fucking error?” My brain feels like a drummer took up residence in my skull. “Where the fuck are the others?” Sharipov flinches, almost imperceptibly. “I’m afraid there were only three survivors besides Esguerra and yourself. They’re still unconscious. I’m hoping you can help us identify them.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulls out his phone and shows me the screen. “This is the first one.” My guts twist. I know the man in that photo. John “The Sandman” Sanders, a British ex-con. Handy with knives and grenades. I’ve trained with him, played pool with him. He was fun, even when he was piss-drunk. He might not be as fun anymore. Not with half of his face cooked extra crispy.

“The plane exploded,” Sharipov says, likely in response to my expression. “He has third-degree burns over most of his body. He’ll need extensive skin grafts—if he survives at all. Do you know his name?” “John Sanders,” I say hoarsely, reaching up to take the phone. My body protests the movement, my temples throbbing with nauseating pain again, but I need to see the others. Bringing the phone closer, I click to the next photo. This face is nearly unrecognizable—except for the scar at the corner of his left eye. He’s a recent recruit, someone I debated bringing on this mission. “Jorge Suarez,” I say evenly before moving on to the next picture. This time I can’t even venture a guess. All I see is burned flesh. “He’s still alive?” I glance up at Sharipov. I can feel the churning in my guts worsening, and I know it’s only partially because of my concussion. The colonel nods. “He’s in a critical condition, but he might pull through. If you look at the next picture, it shows his lower body. It’s not as burned.” Fighting my nausea, I do as he says and study the hairy legs covered by strips of torn protective suit. The explosion must’ve blasted through the protective gear; the material is meant to withstand a brief exposure to fire, not a plane blowing up. It’s hard to say who the man is from just his legs. Unless... I narrow my eyes, peering closer at the picture, and then I see it. A tattoo of a bird behind one of the ragged pieces of the combat suit. “Gerard Montreau,” I say with certainty. The young Frenchman is the only one with that tattoo on the team. Lowering the phone to my chest, I look up at Sharipov. “Why am I not burned? How did I escape the explosion? And what about Esguerra? Is he—” “No, he’s fine,” Sharipov reassures me. “Or at least, not burned. The two of you were in the pilot’s cabin, which got separated from the main body of the plane during the crash. The back of the plane exploded, but the fire didn’t reach you.” The throbbing in my head becomes unbearable, and I close my eyes, trying to process everything. Five men out of fifty. That’s all that remains of our group. The rest are dead. Burned or blown to bits. I can imagine their terror as the fire engulfed the back of the plane. The fact that there are any survivors is nothing short of a miracle—not that the three men in the pictures will see it that way. An error. What fucking bullshit.

I’m going to get to the bottom of this, but first, I need to do my job. Forcing my eyelids apart again, I squint at Sharipov, who’s cautiously reaching for the phone I’m still holding. What the fuck does the man think I’ll do? Strangle him while lying incapacitated in their hospital? I won’t—unless I learn he’s responsible for this “error.” “You need to get some bodyguards for Esguerra,” I say, gripping the phone tighter. “He’s not safe here.” The colonel frowns at me. “What do you mean? The hospital is perfectly safe—” “He has many enemies, including Al-Quadar, the terrorist group whose stronghold is right across your border. You need to arrange for protection, and you need to do it right now.” Sharipov still looks doubtful, so I add, “Your Kremlin allies will not be pleased if he’s killed or taken while in your custody. Especially after this unfortunate ‘error.’” Sharipov’s mouth tightens, but after a moment, he says, “All right. I’ll have a few soldiers brought in. They’ll make sure no one unauthorized comes near your boss.” “Good. Use more than a few. Forty or fifty would be good. Those terrorists have a real hard-on for him.” My head is in absolute agony, and the leg that’s in the cast is beginning to ache like only a broken bone can. “Also, you need to put me in touch with Peter Sokolov—” “We’ve already talked to him. He knows where you are, and he’s sending a plane to retrieve you and the others. Now, please.” Sharipov extends his hand palm-up. “Give me back my phone, Mr. Kent.” I open my mouth to insist on speaking to Peter myself, but before I can say anything, I feel something sharp prick my arm. Immediately, a heavy lassitude spreads through me, dulling the pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a nurse step back, holding a syringe. “What the—” I begin, but it’s too late. The darkness descends, and I’m not aware of anything else.

10

Y ulia “I TOLD YOU, I’M FINE.” Ignoring the nurse’s squawking protests, I remove the IV needle from my wrist and stand up. I’m dizzy and my head is aching, but I need to get moving. Judging by the sunlight streaming in through the hospital window, it’s already morning or later. The exfiltration team likely left already, but on the off chance they didn’t, I need to get in touch with Obenko right away. “Where’s my bag?” I ask the nurse, frantically scanning the room. “I need my bag.” “What you need is to lie down.” The red-headed nurse steps in front of me, folding her arms in front of her massive chest. “You have an egg-sized lump on your head from bumping into that pole, and you’ve been out cold since you were brought in last night. The doctor said we’re to monitor you for the next twenty-four hours.” I glare at her. My head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, but staying here means signing my death warrant. “Where is my bag?” I repeat. I’m uncomfortably aware that I’m wearing only a hospital gown, but I’ll worry about clothes—and the headache from hell—later. The woman rolls her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. If I get you your bag, will you lie down and behave?” “Yes,” I lie, and watch as she walks to a cabinet on the other side of the room. Opening the cabinet door, she takes out my Gucci handbag and comes back.

“Here you go.” She thrusts the bag into my hands. “Now lie down before you fall down.” I do as she says, but only because I need to conserve my strength for the journey ahead. It’s been less than ten minutes since I woke up here, and I’m shaking from the strain of standing. I probably do need to be under medical observation, but there’s no time for that. I have to get out of Moscow before it’s too late. The nurse begins to change the sheets on an empty bed next to mine, and I take out my phone to call Obenko. It rings and rings and rings... Shit. He’s not picking up. I try again. Come on, come on, pick up. Nothing. No answer. Growing desperate, I try his number for the third time. “Yulia?” Thank God. “Yes, it’s me. I’m in a hospital in Moscow. I almost got hit by a car— long story. But I’m leaving now and—” “It’s too late, Yulia.” Obenko’s voice is quiet. “The Kremlin knows what happened, and Buschekov’s people are looking for you.” An icy chill spreads through me. “So quickly?” “One of Esguerra’s people is well connected in Moscow. He mobilized them as soon as he learned about the missile.” “Shit.” The nurse gives me a dirty look as she gathers the sheets into a big pile on the empty bed. “I’m sorry,” Obenko says, and I know he means it. “The team leader had to pull his people out. It’s not safe for any of us in Russia right now.” “Of course,” I say on autopilot. “He did the right thing.” “Good luck, Yulia,” Obenko says, and I hear the click as he disconnects. I’m on my own.

I WAIT UNTIL THE NURSE LEAVES interference this time.

WITH THE PILE OF SHEETS, AND THEN

I

GET UP AGAIN, WITHOUT ANY

The panic circling through me is stronger than any painkiller. I’m barely cognizant of my headache as I walk over to the cabinet that held my bag and look inside. As I’d hoped, my clothes are there too, folded neatly. I cast a quick look at the room entrance to verify that the door is closed, then strip off my hospital gown and put on the clothes I was wearing earlier. As I do so, I realize the lump on my head is not my only injury. The entire right side of my body is bruised, and I have scrapes all over. That stupid drunk. I so should’ve shot him and his hyena friends when I had the chance. No. I draw in a calming breath. Anger is pointless now. It’s a distraction I can’t afford. There’s still a small chance I may be able to get out of Russia. I can’t give up hope. Not yet, at least. I pull my hair up into a bun to make the long blond locks less noticeable, and then I do a swift check of the contents of my bag. Everything is there, except cash in the wallet and my gun. But that’s to be expected. I’m lucky the bag itself wasn’t stolen while I was unconscious. The lining at the bottom of the bag has some emergency cash sewn into it, and the thieves didn’t find it, as confirmed by the lack of rips inside. Gripping the bag tightly, I walk to the door and step out into the hallway. The nurse is nowhere in sight, and nobody pays me any attention as I approach the elevator. Well, one elderly man in a wheelchair gives me an appreciative once-over, but there’s no suspicion in his gaze. He’s just looking, likely reliving his youth. The elevator doors open with a soft ding, and I step inside, my heart beating much too fast. Despite the ease of my getaway thus far, my skin is crawling, all my instincts warning me of danger. My room is on the seventh floor of the building, and the ride down is torturously slow. The elevator stops on each floor, with patients and nurses coming in and out. I could’ve taken the stairs, but that might’ve drawn unnecessary attention to me. Nobody uses those stairwells unless they have to. Finally, the elevator doors open on the first floor. I step out, surrounded by several other people—and at that moment I see them.

Three policemen entering the elevator on the opposite side of the hallway. Shit. I duck my head and hunch my shoulders, trying to make myself look shorter. Don’t stare at them. Don’t stare at them. I keep my gaze on the floor and stay close to a tall, heavyset man who lumbered out of the elevator ahead of me. He walks slowly and so do I, doing my best to look like I’m with him. They would be looking for a woman on her own, not a couple. Thankfully, my unwitting companion heads for the exit, and there are enough people around us that he doesn’t pay me much attention. His massive bulk provides some cover, and I use it as much as I can, maintaining my stooped posture. Walk faster. Come on, walk faster, I silently beg the man. Every muscle in my body is tense with the urge to run, but that would destroy any chance I have of leaving this hospital undetected. At the same time, I know I need to be out of here within minutes. As soon as those policemen realize I’m not on the seventh floor, they’ll put the entire hospital on alert. Finally, the man and I are by the exit, and I see a cab pull up next to the curb. Yes! I’m due for a little luck. Leaving the man behind without a second glance, I hurry to the cab and get in just as the woman inside climbs out. “The Lubyanka station, please,” I tell the driver as the door is closing. I say it in case the woman is paying attention. That way, if she’s questioned later, she’ll tell them my supposed destination and, hopefully, muddy the trail a bit. The driver nods and pulls away from the curb. As soon as we’re on the street, I say, “Oh, actually, I forgot. I’m supposed to pick up something at the Azimut Moscow Olympic Hotel. Can you please drop me off there instead?” He shrugs. “Sure, no problem. You pay, I take you wherever you want.” “Thank you.” I lean back against the seat. I’m too anxious to relax fully, but the worst of the tension drains out of me. I’m safe for the moment. I bought myself some time. There’s a car rental near that hotel. Once I get there, I’ll find myself a disguise and get a car. They’ll be watching airports, trains, and public transportation, but there’s a small chance I can make it to the Ukrainian border via some less popular roads. The drive seems to take forever. The traffic is bad, but not nearly as horrible as yesterday. Still, with the driver braking and accelerating every couple of minutes—

and the numbing effect of adrenaline wearing off—my headache comes back in full force, as does the pain from all the bruises and scrapes. On top of everything, I become aware of a gnawing emptiness in my stomach and a cottony dryness in my mouth. Of course. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since yesterday afternoon. To distract myself from my misery, I think of Misha as he was in the last picture Obenko sent me. My baby brother had his arm around a pretty brunette girl—his current girlfriend, according to Obenko. The girl was smiling up at Misha with adoration that bordered on worship, and he looked as proud as only a teenage boy can. For you, Misha. I close my eyes to hold on to the picture in my mind. You’re worth it. “Well, that’s not good,” the driver mutters, and I open my eyes to see the cars coming to a complete stop ahead of us. “Wonder if there was an accident or something.” He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, peering into the distance. “Is it an accident?” I ask, resigned. It’s like the fates are conspiring to keep me in Moscow. It’s not enough that Russia has winters brutal enough to decimate its enemies’ armies; now it has spy-detaining traffic, too. “No,” the driver says, pulling his head back inside the car. “Doesn’t look like it. I mean, there are a bunch of police cars and all, but I don’t see any ambulances. Could be a blockade, or they caught someone—” I’m out of the car before he finishes speaking. “Hey!” he yells, but I’m already running, weaving my way through the stopped cars. Whatever discomfort I was feeling earlier is gone, chased away by a sharp surge of fear. A police blockade. Somehow they triangulated my location—or maybe they just blocked all the major roads in the hopes of catching me. Either way, I’m screwed, unless I can get out of this city. My heart pounds in a heavy staccato rhythm as I sprint for the street, heading toward a narrow alley I spotted earlier. They’ll have trouble following me there in a car, and if I’m lucky, I may be able to evade them long enough to find another cab. Anything to buy myself more time. Behind me, I hear shouts and the sound of running footsteps. “Stop!” a male

voice yells. “Stop now! You’re under arrest!” I ignore the order, picking up my pace instead. The cold air hurts my lungs as I push my leg muscles to their limits. The alley looms ahead of me, narrow and dark, and I force myself to keep running at the same speed, to keep going without so much as a glance back. “Stop, or I will shoot!” The voice sounds more distant, giving me a grain of hope. Maybe I’ll be able to outrun him. I’ve always been fast, my long legs giving me an advantage over shorter people. A shot rings out, the bullet whizzing past me and plowing into the building ahead. Shit. He is shooting. I don’t know why that surprises me. The Moscow police aren’t exactly known for caring about the citizens they’re supposed to be protecting. They’re tools of their corrupt government, nothing more. It shouldn’t shock me that they’d risk the welfare of innocent citizens to catch me. Another shot, and the snow explodes off the ground a few feet ahead of me. I hear terrified screams and see people diving for cover on the sidewalk. Ignoring the commotion, I sprint into the alley. Straight ahead are two large dumpsters, and behind them, a metal fire ladder going up the side of the building. A third shot, and the bullet ricochets off the dumpster, narrowly missing me. The cop, or whoever’s chasing me, has good aim. I’m almost at the ladder, and I jump up as high as I can, managing to catch the bottom rung of the ladder with my hands. Then, using the momentum of my jump, I swing my legs up and catch the metal bar with my feet. Hooking my knees over the metal bar, I use all my strength to pull myself up high enough to grab the next rung of the ladder with my left hand. It works, and I pull myself up into a sitting position before starting to climb. Another shot, and the wall in front of me explodes, shards of brick flying everywhere. Shit, shit, shit. I scramble up the ladder as fast as I can without slipping on the icy metal bars. There are shouts and curses below me, and then I feel the ladder shaking as another person jumps on it. I guess they decided to try capturing me alive. I don’t look down as I continue my perilous climb. I’ve never liked heights, so I pretend it’s a training exercise and a thickly padded mat is waiting for me below.

Even if I fall, I’ll be okay. It’s a complete lie, of course, but it serves to keep me going despite my heart trying to leap out of my throat. Before I know it, I’m at the roof, and I jump off the ladder onto the flat surface. The building I’m on is shaped like a square with a hole for a large yard in the middle —a typical Soviet-era structure that occupies an entire block. I pause just long enough to spot another ladder on the other side of the square, and then I start running again, heading toward that ladder. “Stop!” someone yells again, and I realize with a jolt of fear that they’re already up here, right on my heels. Unable to resist, I cast a frantic glance behind me and see two men running after me. They’re wearing police uniforms, and one of them is holding a gun. They’re both big men, seemingly fast and strong. I won’t be able to outrun them for long. Changing my strategy, I put on a burst of speed and use the two-second lead I gain to zip behind a concrete smoke stack. Leaning against it, I gasp for air, desperately trying not to make any noise as I catch my breath. Three seconds later, I hear the men’s footsteps. Time to go on the offensive. As the first cop barrels past me, I stick my foot out. He trips, falling with a loud curse, and I hear the gun sliding across the icy roof. The shooter’s down and disarmed. Before his partner has a chance to react, I jump out in front of him, my right hand balled into a fist. He automatically ducks to the left as I swing it at him, and I use the momentum of his movement to punch upward with my left hand. My left fist slams into his chin, and he stumbles back, grunting. Without pausing, I dive for the gun, and see the other policeman doing the same. We collide, rolling, and for a second, my fingers brush against the weapon. Yes! I grab it, and as the cop attempts to pin me down, I pull the trigger. He screams, clutching his shoulder, and I push him off me, the adrenaline giving me almost superhuman strength. I’m already up on my knees when the second cop throws himself at me, his hand brutally squeezing my wrist. “Drop the weapon, bitch,” he hisses, and at that moment, I hear more footsteps. “You got her, Sergey?” one man yells, and I see five more cops show up, their

weapons drawn. There’s no point in fighting anymore, so I let my grip on the gun slacken. It falls to the roof with a dull thud as Sergey spins me around and handcuffs my wrists behind my back. I’m caught. Now I can give up hope.

11

L

ucas

“THEY DID WHAT?” My voice is a low hiss as I sit up, ignoring the nurse’s hands fluttering around me in an attempt to get me to lie still. The rage blasting through me chases away all remnants of wooziness from the drug she gave me earlier. I have no idea how long I was out, but it was clearly too fucking long. “The terrorists attacked the hospital a few hours ago,” Sharipov repeats, his face tense and tired. “It seems we underestimated their capabilities—and their desire to get at your boss. As we didn’t find his body among the dead, we can only assume that they took him.” “They took Esguerra?” It takes everything I have not to leap out of bed and strangle the colonel with my bare hands—which are still unrestrained, I note with some corner of my brain. “You fucking let them take him? I told you to put security around him—” “We did. We had several of our best soldiers standing guard—” “Several? It should’ve been several dozen, you fucking idiots!” The nurse flinches at my roar and jumps well out of my reach. Smart woman. At this moment, I’d gladly strangle her too. Sharipov’s jaw tightens. “As I said, we underestimated this particular terrorist organization. We won’t make this mistake again. It was a bloodbath. They wounded dozens of patients and hospital staff on the way out and killed all the soldiers assigned to guard duty.”

“Fuck.” I punch the mattress so hard, the pillow bounces. “Were you at least able to follow them?” Majid wouldn’t be stupid enough to take Esguerra to the AlQuadar compound in the Pamir Mountains; he must know by now that we’ve sniffed out its location. Sharipov prudently steps back. “No. The police were notified right away, and we sent for more soldiers, but the terrorists got away before we could get to the hospital.” “Son of a bitch.” If it weren’t for the cast immobilizing my leg, I’d be out of bed and punching the colonel’s weary face. As is, I have to settle for slamming my fist into the cheap mattress again. My head throbs with the violent movement, but I don’t give a fuck. Esguerra was taken while I lay here, drugged and oblivious. I failed at my job, and I failed badly. “Give me the phone,” I say when I’m calm enough to speak. “I need to talk to Peter Sokolov.” Sharipov nods and takes the phone out of his pocket. “Here you go.” He offers it to me cautiously. “We already spoke to him, but you’re welcome to do so as well.” Fighting the urge to grab Sharipov’s hand and break his arm, I take the phone and punch in the numbers for a secure connection that takes me through a number of relays. To my annoyance, Peter doesn’t pick up. Sharipov is watching me, so I conceal my frustration as I try again. And again. And again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Sharipov says on my fifth attempt. “Feel free to contact whomever you need.” He departs, and I resume trying Peter’s number, driven by increasing anger and worry. Esguerra’s Russian security consultant always carries his phone with him, and I have no idea why he’s suddenly out of reach. Could there have been an attack on Esguerra’s estate in Colombia? The mere possibility makes me see red. Just when I’m about to give up, the call connects. “Yes?” The faintly accented voice is unmistakably Peter Sokolov’s. “It’s Kent.” “Lucas?” The Russian sounds surprised. “You’re awake?” “Fuck, yeah, I’m awake. Where are you? Why didn’t you pick up?”

There’s a short pause on the line. “I just landed in Chicago.” “What?” That’s the last thing I expected to hear. “Why?” “Esguerra’s wife. She wants to be Al-Quadar bait.” “What?” I almost jump off the bed, the cast be damned. “Yeah, I know. That was my reaction too. Turns out Esguerra, that obsessive bastard, implanted some trackers in her. If they take her to use as leverage against Esguerra, we’ll have a fix on their location.” “Fuck.” The plan is brilliant, and dangerous as hell. If the terrorists find those trackers in her, Esguerra’s pretty little wife will pray for death. And if Esguerra somehow survives, he’ll dismember Peter—slowly—for using the girl like that. “Nora came up with this?” “She did.” There’s a hint of admiration in the Russian’s cool voice. “I don’t know what hold he’s got over her, but she’s pretty determined. I was against it at first, but she convinced me.” I inhale and let the air out slowly. I should be surprised—Esguerra did kidnap the girl, after all—but I’m not. However their relationship started, it’s obvious that whatever’s between them now is mutual. I’m tempted to rip into Peter for going against Esguerra’s orders, but that would be a waste of time and energy. What he’s set in motion can’t be undone. “So what’s the exact plan?” I ask instead. “Are you going to hang out in Chicago to make sure they take the bait?” “No. I’m heading to Tajikistan right away. The rescue team is already on the way there. As soon as Majid’s men bring her over, we’ll come for her—and for Esguerra.” “You know they might not bring her to him. A video of her getting tortured would be just as effective as the real thing.” “I know.” Of course he does. Like me, he’s used to life-and-death gambles. I could point out the risks from now ’til eternity, and it wouldn’t change anything. The plan will either work or it won’t, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Did you figure out what happened?” I ask, changing the topic. “Sharipov said it may have been some kind of error on their part.” “An error?” I can hear Peter’s derisive snort over the phone. “More like lax security. One of their officers has been in the Ukrainians’ pocket for years, and the idiots had no clue until he fired a missile at your plane.”

“Ukraine?” It makes sense; now that Esguerra’s sided with the Russians, the Ukrainians would want to eliminate him. Except... how could they have found out about our conversation so quickly? Was the restaurant in Moscow bugged? Did Buschekov play for both sides? Or did— “It was the interpreter,” Peter says, voicing my next guess. “I had her detained in Moscow as soon as I learned what happened.” A loud beep sounds in my ear, and I realize I squeezed the phone so hard I nearly crushed one of the volume buttons. “What the fuck—” “Sorry. Pressed the wrong button.” My voice is cold and steady, even as burning lava moves through my veins. “The interpreter is a Ukrainian spy?” “It appears that way. We’re still digging into her background, but so far at least half of her story appears to have been fabricated.” “I see.” I force myself to unclench my fingers before I crush the phone completely. “That’s how they were able to act so quickly.” “Yes. They somehow figured out exactly when you’d be passing through the Uzbekistani airspace and activated their agent there.” The phone emits another angry beep as my hand tightens involuntarily. I know exactly how they figured out the timing: I all but told the spying bitch our departure time. “Lucas?” “Yeah, I’m here.” I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so furious. Yulia Tzakova—if that’s even her real name—had played me for a fool. Her initial reluctance, her peculiar air of innocence—it had all been an act. She had probably been hoping to get close to Esguerra, and when she couldn’t get him, she settled for me. “I have to go now,” Peter says. “I’ll contact you again when we land. Get some rest and heal up; there’s nothing else for you to do right now. I’ll keep you apprised of any new developments.” He disconnects, and I force myself to lie down, my headache worsened by my burning rage. If Yulia Tzakova ever crosses my path again, she will pay. She will pay for everything.

I’M STILL LIVID WITH FURY WHEN SHARIPOV RETURNS TO RECLAIM bed, I sit up and glare at him. “A fucking error, huh?”

HIS PHONE.

AS

HE APPROACHES MY

Raising his hand, the colonel rubs the bridge of his nose. “We’re questioning the officer responsible right now. It’s not yet clear whether—” “Take me to him.” Looking taken aback, Sharipov lowers his hand. “I can’t do that,” he says. “This is a matter for our military.” “Your military fucked up big time. You had a traitor in charge of your missile defense system.” The colonel opens his mouth, but I forestall his objections. “Take me to him,” I demand again. “I need to question him myself. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to assume that others in your military or your government were involved in the missile strike.” I pause. “And maybe even in this terrorist attack on the hospital.” Sharipov’s eyes widen at my implied threat. If the Uzbekistani government is found to have ties to a terrorist organization like Al-Quadar, that could be disastrous for the country. I wouldn’t be surprised if the colonel is aware of our connections in the US and Israel. By denying me a chance to interrogate one treasonous officer, the Uzbekistani government might be making an enemy of the powerful Esguerra organization and getting a worldwide reputation for associating with terrorists. “I have to discuss this with my superiors,” Sharipov says after a second. “Please, let me have my phone.” I hand it to him and watch as he leaves the room, already dialing someone. I wait, confident of the outcome, and sure enough, he returns a few minutes later, saying, “All right, Mr. Kent. We’ll have our officer brought here within the next hour. You can talk to him, but that’s all. Our military will handle it from there.” I give him a grim look. The only thing their military will handle is the traitor’s body, but Sharipov doesn’t need to know that yet. “Bring him,” is all I say, and then I lie back and close my eyes, hoping the throbbing pain in my skull subsides in the next hour. I may not be able to lay my hands on the interpreter right now, but I can certainly get my pound of flesh here.

WHEN THE TRAITOR ARRIVES, THE NURSES GIVE ME CRUTCHES AND LEAD ME TO ANOTHER HOSPITAL room. It takes me a few minutes to get the hang of walking with the crutches—the fucking headache certainly doesn’t help—and by the time I get there, they have the guy sitting on a bed, with Colonel Sharipov and an M16-toting soldier flanking his sides. “This is Anton Karimov, the officer responsible for the unfortunate incident with your plane,” Sharipov says as I hobble toward them. “You are welcome to ask him whatever questions you have. His English is not as good as mine, but he should understand you.” One of the nurses drags a chair over, and I sit down on it, studying the profusely sweating man in front of me. In his early forties, Karimov is on the plump side, with a thick black mustache and a receding hairline. He’s still in his army uniform, and I can see circles of sweat staining his underarms. He’s nervous. No, more than that. He’s terrified. “Who are the people who paid you?” I ask when the nurses leave the room. I decide to start off easy, as it might not take much to crack this man. “Who gave the order to shoot down our plane?” Karimov visibly cringes. “N-nobody. Just a mistake. I clean the controls—” I cut him off by lifting one of my crutches and putting the far end against his groin. Though I apply the lightest pressure to his balls, the man turns sickly pale. “Who gave the order to shoot down our plane?” I repeat, looking at him. I can see that Sharipov is uneasy with my method of questioning, but I ignore him. Instead, I push the wooden stick forward, applying greater pressure to Karimov’s crotch. “N-nobody,” Karimov gasps, scooting back to get out of the stick’s reach. “I clean the—” I lunge forward. He lets out a high-pitched squeal as I pin his balls to the mattress with the stick. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who paid you?” “Mr. Kent, this is not acceptable,” Sharipov says, stepping between me and the prisoner. “We told you, questions only. If you do not stop—” Before he finishes speaking, I’m already on my feet, propping myself up on one crutch as I lash out at the armed soldier with another. He doesn’t so much as lift his

M16 before I hit him in the knee and he pitches forward, enabling me to grab his weapon. In the next second, I have the assault rifle pointed at Sharipov. “Get out,” I say, jerking my chin toward the door. “You and the soldier both. Get the fuck out.” Sharipov steps back, his face turning red. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing—” “Out.” I lift the weapon to point it between his eyes. “Now.” Sharipov’s jaw clenches, but he does as I say. The soldier limps out behind him, shooting me a venomous look behind his shoulder. I have no doubt they’ll come back with reinforcements, but it will be too late by then. As soon as the door closes behind them, I turn my attention to Karimov. “Now,” I say, my tone almost pleasant as I point the gun at the traitor. “Where were we?” The man’s eyes are wild with fear. “It—it was mistake. I said it before. Nobody pay me. Nobody—” I squeeze the trigger and watch the bullets tear through his knee. The gunshots and the resulting screaming aggravate my headache, which adds to my rage. “I told you not to lie to me,” I roar when the man’s screams die down a notch. “Now, who paid you?” “I d-don’t know!” He’s sobbing and clutching his knee as his blood soaks the hospital bed. “It was all email! All email!” “What email?” “M-my Yahoo! They transfer money to my bank for years and then they ask favors. S-small favors. I not meet them. Never meet them—” “You don’t know who they are?” “N-no,” he sobs out, trying to stop the bleeding with his pudgy hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know...” Shit. I’m inclined to believe him. He’s too much of a coward not to give them up to save his skin, and they probably knew better than to trust him. We’ll hack into his email, but I doubt there’ll be many clues there. Hearing shouts and running footsteps in the hallway, I press the gun to Karimov’s sweaty forehead. “Last chance,” I say grimly. “Who are they?” “I don’t know!” His wail is full of desperation, and I know he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t know anything, which makes him useless. I’m tempted to save him for

Esguerra or Peter’s amusement, but it’ll take too much effort to get him out of the country. That means there’s only one thing left for me to do. Squeezing the trigger, I pepper Karimov with bullets and watch his body slam against the wall, blood and bits of brains spraying everywhere. Then I lower the weapon and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm the pounding pain in my head. When Sharipov’s troops burst into the room a few seconds later, I’m sitting in the chair, the empty weapon lying at my feet. “I apologize about the mess,” I say, leaning on the crutches to stand up. “We’ll pay for the clean-up of this room.” And ignoring the horror on everyone’s faces, I start hobbling toward the door.

12

Y ulia “WHICH ORGANIZATION DO YOU BELONG TO?” BUSCHEKOV LEANS FORWARD, HIS EYES TRAINED ON ME with the intensity of a snake hypnotizing its prey. I stare back at the Russian official, barely registering his question. I can’t decide if his eyes are yellowish gray or pale hazel; whatever color his irises are, they manage to blend with the yellowish-gray whites around them, producing the illusion of a complete lack of eye color. In general, everything about Arkady Buschekov is yellowish gray, from his skin tone to the wispy hair plastered against his shiny skull. “Which organization do you belong to?” he repeats, his gaze boring into me. I wonder how many people have caved from that stare alone; if I believed in x-ray vision, I’d swear he’s looking straight into me. “Who sent you here?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, unable to keep my exhaustion out of my voice. It’s been over twenty-four hours since my capture, and I’ve neither slept nor had anything to eat or drink. They’re wearing me down this way, undermining my willpower. It’s a standard interrogation technique here. The Russians consider themselves too civilized to resort to outright torture, so they use these “softer” methods—things that mess with your psyche rather than cause lasting harm to your body. “You know, Yulia Andreyevna”—Buschekov addresses me by my name and fake patronymic—“the Ukrainian government has disavowed any connection with you.” He leans even closer, making me want to shrink back into my seat. At this distance,

I can smell the salted fish and garlic potatoes he must’ve eaten for lunch. “Unless some unofficial agency in Ukraine claims you, we’ll have no choice but to presume that you’re a Russian citizen, as your false background indicates,” he continues. “You understand what that means, right?” I do. If treason is the charge they levy against me, I’ll be executed. That’s no reason for me to talk, though. Obenko won’t come forward to claim me, not even if I expose our off-the-books agency. One operative is nothing in the grand scheme of things. When I remain silent, Buschekov sighs and leans back in his seat. “All right, Yulia Andreyevna. If that’s how you wish to play it.” He snaps his fingers at the wall-wide mirror to the left of me. “We’ll talk again soon.” He rises to his feet and walks to the door in the corner. Stopping in front of it, he looks back at me. “Think about what I said. This can go very badly for you if you don’t cooperate.” I don’t respond. Instead, I look down at my hands, which are handcuffed to the table in front of me. I hear the door open and shut as he walks out, and then I’m alone, except for the people watching me through the mirror.

THE HOURS DRAG BY, EACH SECOND MORE TORTUROUS THAN THE NEXT. THE THIRST THAT TORMENTS ME is comparable only to the hunger that gnaws at my insides. I try to lay my head down on the desk to sleep, but every time I do so, an ear-piercing alarm blares through the speakers, startling me awake. The screeching noise is impossible to ignore, even in my exhausted state, and eventually I stop trying, doing my best to zone out for a few precious moments while sitting upright in my chair. I know what they’re doing, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. People who haven’t experienced prolonged sleep deprivation don’t understand that it’s genuine torture, that every part of one’s body begins to shut down after a while. I’m nauseated and cold all over, and everything hurts—my stomach, my muscles, my skin, my bones... even my teeth. The headache from earlier is a blaze of agony in my skull, and my lips are cracking from lack of water. How long has it been since Buschekov left me alone? Several hours? A day? I don’t know, and I’m losing the will to care. If there’s any silver lining to all this, it’s that I don’t need to use the bathroom. I’m too dehydrated, and my stomach is too empty. Not that this saved me from humiliation. Upon arrival, they stripped me and went over every inch of my body. Even now that I’m dressed in a gray prison

jumpsuit, I feel horribly naked, my skin crawling at the memory of the guards’ latex-covered fingers invading me all over. I close my eyes for a second, and the screeching alarm blares to life, jolting me awake. Opening my eyes, I attempt to swallow, to gather what little moisture remains in my mouth so I can wet my throat. I feel as though I’ve been eating sand. Swallowing hurts even more than not swallowing, so I give up, focusing on just surviving from moment to moment. They won’t let me die like this, not when they hope to get some information from me, so all I need to do is hang on until they bring me some water. Until they return to question me again. My mind drifts, going over the last few days. There’s no reason not to think of Lucas now, so I let the memories come. Sharp and bittersweet, they fill me, taking me away from my aching, exhausted body. I remember the way he kissed me, the way he fit against me and inside me. I recall his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin against mine. He’d looked at me while he was fucking me, his gaze possessing me with its intensity. Did it mean anything to him, the night we spent together? Or was I just a casual lay, a way to scratch an itch while passing through Moscow? My dry eyes burn as I stare, unseeing, at the wall in front of me. Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter. It never mattered, but now it has zero relevance. Lucas Kent is dead, his body likely blown into pieces. The room blurs in front of me, fading in and out of focus, and I realize I’m shaking, my breathing shallow and my heart beating painfully fast. I know it’s probably from dehydration and lack of sleep, but it feels like something within me is breaking, the pressure around my chest hard and crushing. I want to curl up into a ball, to shrink into myself, but I can’t, not with my hands cuffed to the table and feet chained to the floor. All I can do is sit and grieve for something I never had—and now would never know.

13

L

ucas

AFTER MY INTERROGATION OF KARIMOV, SHARIPOV ASSIGNS TEN ARMED SOLDIERS TO STAND GUARD over me and accompany the nurses when they take care of me. I know he’s tempted to do more, like throw me in prison, but he doesn’t dare. Peter’s already worked some magic with his Russian connections, so everyone at this hospital is on their best behavior, the minor matter of armed guards excluded. I don’t mind my entourage. Now that I’ve had a chance to release some of my rage, I’m a tiny bit calmer, and I spend the time between Karimov’s death and Esguerra’s rescue learning how to move around on crutches. According to the doctors, it’s a clean tibial break, so the cast should come off in six to eight weeks. That gives me a small measure of comfort, lessening my anger and frustration at being stuck in the hospital while others are doing my job. Peter keeps me updated, so I know Al-Quadar took the bait. Now it’s just a matter of waiting for Nora to be brought to wherever the terrorist cell is hiding Esguerra. Feeling cautiously optimistic, I make arrangements for the two of them to be brought to a private clinic in Switzerland after the rescue. I have a feeling they’ll need it. I also strategize with Peter about the best way to extract Esguerra out of whatever hole they’re keeping him in, and regularly check on the burned men, who are at this point stable but drugged unconscious to ease their suffering. They’ll need multiple skin grafts—an expense Esguerra needs to authorize when he returns. With all that activity, I don’t spend much time resting in bed, which upsets the doctors taking care of me. They claim I need to lie still and not stress in order to let my concussion heal. I ignore them. They don’t understand that I need to keep busy,

that even the worst headache is better than lying there and thinking about her. The Russian interpreter / Ukrainian spy. Yulia. Just thinking her name makes my blood pressure spike. I don’t know why I can’t put her betrayal out of my mind. It’s not even a betrayal as such. Rationally, I understand she didn’t owe me any loyalty. I came to her apartment to use her body, and she ended up using me instead. That makes her my enemy, someone I should want to kill, but it doesn’t mean she betrayed me. I shouldn’t give her any more thought than I give Al-Quadar. I shouldn’t, but I do. I think about her constantly, remembering the way she looked at me and how her breath caught when I first touched her. How she clung to me as I drove into her, her pussy tight and slick around my cock. She wanted me—that much I’m sure of— and sex with her had been the hottest thing I’d experienced in years. Maybe ever. Fuck. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I need to forget the girl. She’s in the hands of the Russian government, which means she’s no longer my problem. One way or another, she’ll pay for what she’s done. It’s a thought that should comfort me, but it enrages me more instead.

“WE GOT THEM.” At the sound of Peter’s voice, I get up, too tense to sit still. “How are they?” It’s a struggle to hold on to the phone while balancing on crutches, but I manage. “Esguerra’s pretty fucked up. They did a number on his face—I think he lost an eye. Nora seems okay. She took out Majid. Blew his brains out before we got there.” Peter sounds admiring. “Gunned him down cold, if you can believe that.” “Damn.” I can’t form that picture in my mind, so I don’t even try. Instead, I focus on the first part of his statement. “Esguerra’s lost an eye?” “Seems like it. I’m not a doctor, but it looks bad. Hopefully, they can fix it in that Swiss place.” “Yeah.” If they can do it anywhere, the clinic in Switzerland would be it. It’s

known for treating celebrities and the obscenely wealthy of all persuasions, from Russian oil tycoons to Mexican drug lords. A stay there begins at thirty thousand Swiss francs a night, but Julian Esguerra can easily afford it. “He wants you and the others transferred to that clinic, by the way,” Peter says. “We’ll send a plane for you shortly.” “Ah.” I’d expected nothing less, but it’s still nice to hear that. Recuperating at the ritzy Swiss clinic should be much better than being stuck in this shit hole. “He didn’t rip into you for letting Nora get taken?” “I didn’t really talk to him. I’m keeping my distance.” “Peter...” I hesitate for a second, then decide the guy deserves a fair warning. “Esguerra’s not very rational when it comes to his wife. There’s a chance he’ll—” “Rip out my liver barehanded? Yeah, I know.” The Russian sounds more amused than concerned. “Which is why I’m dropping them off at the clinic and leaving. They’re all yours now.” “Leaving? What about your list?” It’s no secret that in exchange for three years of service, Esguerra promised to get Peter the names of people responsible for what happened to his family. “Don’t worry about that.” Peter’s voice cools to arctic levels. “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” “All right, man.” This is probably my cue to message the guards to detain Peter. Esguerra would undoubtedly praise me for that, but I can’t bring myself to betray the Russian like that. Though we haven’t been working together that long, I’ve grown to admire the man. He’s a cold-blooded motherfucker, and that makes him excellent at what he does. And frankly, he’s dangerous enough that I don’t want to risk the lives of any more of our men. “Good luck,” I say, and mean it. “Thanks, Lucas. You too. Hope you and Esguerra heal up soon.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving me to wait for the plane and try not to think about Yulia.

WE STAY AT THE SWISS CLINIC FOR ALMOST A WEEK. DURING THAT TIME, ESGUERRA UNDERGOES TWO surgeries—one to fix his cut-up face and the other to put a prosthetic eye into his left eye socket. “They said the scars will be barely visible after a while,” his wife tells me when I

run into her in the hallway. “And the eye implant should look very natural. In a few months, he’ll be almost back to normal.” She pauses, studying me with her large dark eyes. “How are you, Lucas? How’s your leg feeling?” “It’s fine.” I’ve been refusing painkillers, so it actually hurts like a motherfucker, but Nora doesn’t need to know that. “I got lucky. We both did.” “Yeah.” Her slender throat works as she swallows. “What’s the prognosis on the others?” “They’ll live until the next surgery.” That’s about the only positive thing I can say about the three burned men. “The doctors say they’ll each need about a dozen operations.” She nods somberly. “Of course. I hope the surgeries go well. Please give them my best wishes if you speak to them.” I incline my head. There isn’t much chance of that, since they’re completely doped up, but I don’t see any need to tell her that. The petite young woman in front of me is already dealing with enough shit. Esguerra said she’s handling it, but I wonder. Not many nineteen-year-olds from the American suburbs blow open a terrorist’s head. I’m about to continue on my way when Nora asks quietly, “Have you heard from Peter?” Her expression as she stares up at me is hard to decipher. “No, I haven’t,” I tell her honestly. “Why?” She shrugs. “Just curious. We do owe him our lives.” “Right.” I have a feeling there’s more to this, but I don’t pry. Instead, I incline my head at her again and continue hobbling to my room. As I fall asleep that night, the blond spy invades my thoughts again, and my cock hardens despite my lingering headache. It’s been like that every night for the past week. Random images from our night together come to me when my guard is down—when I’m too tired to fight them off. I keep recalling the tight clasp of her pussy, the cries that escaped her throat as I fucked her, the way she smelled, the way she tasted... It’s gotten so bad I’ve considered getting a hooker, but for some reason, the idea doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t just want sex. I want sex with her. Furious, I get up, grab my crutches, and hobble to the bathroom to jerk off again. If all goes well, tomorrow we’ll be back in Colombia, and this chapter of my life will be over.

Maybe then I’ll forget Yulia once and for all.

III THE PRISONER

14

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MY FINGERS HOVER OVER THE KEYBOARD OF MY LAPTOP AS I STARE AT THE SCREEN, DEBATING THE wisdom of what I’m about to do. Then I take a deep breath and start typing. My email to Buschekov is short and to the point: Esguerra requests to have Yulia Tzakova remitted into his custody for further interrogation. I click “send” and get up, reveling in the freedom of moving without crutches. It’s been two weeks since I’ve gotten the cast off, and I still feel exhilarated every time I stand up and walk unassisted. Leaving my library/office, I head into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Cooking is a skill I’ve never been able to master, so my sandwich is beyond simple: ham, cheese, lettuce, and mayo between two slices of bread. I sit down at the table to eat, so I don’t overtax my leg. Though it’s healing well, I still have to fight a tendency to limp. It’s only been two months since the break, and the bone needs longer to mend completely. As I eat, my thoughts turn to the Russians’ probable response to my email. I can’t imagine Buschekov will be pleased to lose his prisoner, but at the same time, I don’t think he’ll push back too hard. Esguerra’s weapons are the best in the business, and with the conflict in Ukraine escalating, the Kremlin needs our covert deliveries to the rebels more than ever. One way or another, they’ll honor Esguerra’s—but really, my—request. Which means that after two months of obsessing about her, I’m going to get my hands on Yulia Tzakova.

I can’t fucking wait.

OVER THE NEXT TWO DAYS, I EXCHANGE HALF A DOZEN EMAILS WITH BUSCHEKOV. AS I’D SUSPECTED, he’s not too happy, initially going so far as to say he’ll only talk to Peter Sokolov about the matter. “Sokolov is currently unavailable,” I tell Buschekov when we get on a video call. The Russian official is once again using an interpreter—a middle-aged woman this time. “I’m the one speaking for Esguerra in all matters now, and he wants Tzakova in his custody as soon as possible, along with whatever information you’ve been able to uncover about her thus far.” “That’s impossible,” Buschekov retorts once the translator conveys my words. “It’s a matter of national security—” “Bullshit. All we require are the files on her background. That has nothing to do with Russian national security.” Buschekov doesn’t say anything for a few moments after the woman translates, and I know he’s considering how to best handle me. “Why do you need her?” he finally asks. “Because we want to track down the individual or the specific organization responsible for the missile strike.” Or at least that’s what I tell myself: that I want to interrogate the girl personally to find the motherfuckers who shot down our plane. Buschekov’s colorless eyes are unblinking. “You don’t need Tzakova for that. We’ll share that information with you as soon as we have it.” “So you don’t have it. After two months.” I’m both surprised and impressed that they haven’t managed to break the girl. Her training must’ve been top notch to withstand such lengthy interrogation. “We’ll have it soon.” Buschekov folds his arms in front of his chest. “There are ways to accelerate information retrieval, and we’ve just received authorization to use them.” My stomach muscles tighten. I’ve been trying not to think of what they might be doing to her in Moscow, but every so often, those thoughts creep in along with memories of our night together. I want Yulia to suffer, but the idea of some faceless Russian guards abusing her stirs something dark and ugly within me.

“I don’t care about your authorizations.” I force my voice to remain calm as I lean closer to the camera. “What you’ll do is remit her into our custody. If you wish to maintain our business relationship, that is.” He stares at me, and I know he’s thinking this over, wondering if I’m bluffing. And I am—Esguerra didn’t authorize any of this—but Buschekov doesn’t know that. As far as the Russian official is concerned, I represent the Esguerra organization, and I’m about to pull the plug on what has been a mutually beneficial association. “It wouldn’t go well for you, you know,” Buschekov says finally. “If you were to go against us like that.” “Maybe.” I don’t blink at the not-so-veiled threat. “Maybe not. Esguerra’s enemies rarely fare well.” I’m referring to Al-Quadar, which has been completely decimated since our return. We’ve been at war with the terrorist group for a number of months, ever since they tried to get a certain explosive from Esguerra by kidnapping Nora. However, things have really escalated since we came back from Tajikistan. We’ve gone after the terrorists’ suppliers, financiers, and distant relatives; nobody even remotely connected to the group has escaped our wrath. The body count is coming up on four hundred, and the intelligence community has taken notice. Buschekov doesn’t respond for a few tense moments, and I wonder if he’s going to call my bluff. But then he says, “All right. You’ll have her within a month.” “No.” I hold Buschekov’s gaze as the woman translates my words. “Sooner. We’re sending a plane for her tomorrow.” “What? No, that—” “Should be enough time to get everything ready,” I interrupt the translator. “Remember, we expect to get her and the files. You don’t want to disappoint us, believe me.” And before he can voice any further protests, I disconnect from the video call.

THE NEXT MORNING, I TRAIN WITH ESGUERRA AND THE CREW, AS USUAL. LIKE ME, HE’S ALMOST BACK to normal, having kicked ass with our three new recruits. Since my leg is still healing, I’m sticking to boxing and target practice, and I’m more than a little envious that he’s able to spar properly.

As we leave the training area, I fill him in on the latest developments with Peter Sokolov. Turns out the Russian somehow got his list from Esguerra, and is now going through the names and systematically eliminating them one by one. “There was another hit in France, and two more in Germany,” I tell Esguerra, using a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. This area of Colombia, near the Amazon rainforest, is always hot and humid. “He’s not wasting any time.” “I didn’t think he would,” Esguerra says. “How did he do it this time?” “The French guy was found floating in a river, with marks of torture and strangulation, so I’m guessing Sokolov must’ve kidnapped him first. For the Germans, one hit was a car bomb, and the other one a sniper rifle.” I grin. “They must not have pissed him off as much.” “Or he went for expediency.” “Or that,” I agree. “He probably knows Interpol is on his tail.” “I’m sure he does.” Esguerra looks distracted, so I decide it’s as good a time as any to bring up the Yulia situation. “By the way,” I say, keeping my tone casual, “I’m having Yulia Tzakova brought here from Moscow.” Esguerra stops and stares at me. “The interpreter who betrayed us to the Ukrainians? Why?” “I want to personally interrogate her,” I explain, draping the towel around my neck. “I don’t trust the Russians to do a thorough job.” Esguerra narrows his eyes, his prosthetic eerily lifelike. “Is it because you fucked her that night in Moscow? Is that what this is about?” A wave of anger makes my jaw tighten. “She fucked me over. Literally.” That much I’m comfortable admitting. “So yeah, I want to get my hands on the little bitch. But I also think she might have some useful info for us.” Or at least I’m hoping she does, so I can justify this insane obsession with her. Esguerra studies me for a second, then nods. “In that case, go for it.” We resume walking, and he asks, “Did you already negotiate this with the Russians?” I nod. “Initially, they tried to say they’d only deal with Sokolov, but I convinced them it wouldn’t be wise to get on your bad side. Buschekov saw the light when I reminded him of the recent troubles at Al-Quadar.” “Good.” Esguerra looks grimly pleased. In the world of illegal arms dealing,

reputation is everything, and the fact that the Russians backed down bodes well for our relationships with clients and suppliers. “Yes, it’s helpful,” I say before adding, “She’ll be arriving here tomorrow.” Esguerra’s eyebrows lift. “Where are you going to keep her?” he asks. It’s a measure of his trust in me that he doesn’t question my initiative. Ever since I saved his life in Thailand, he’s been giving me tremendous leeway. “In my quarters,” I say. “I’ll be interrogating her there.” He grins, and I know he understands. “All right. Enjoy.” “Oh, I will,” I say darkly. “You can bet on it.” I’m literally counting down the hours until Yulia is on the plane. I considered flying to Moscow myself to get her, but after some deliberation, I decided to send Thomas, a former Navy pilot, and a few other men I trust. It would’ve looked strange if I’d gone; as Esguerra’s second-in-command, I’m needed on the estate, not handling minor tasks like spy retrieval. “If there’s any trouble, notify me immediately,” I told Thomas, though I’m confident there won’t be. In less than twenty-four hours, Yulia Tzakova will be here. She’ll be my prisoner, and nobody will save her from me.

15

Y ulia THE HEAVY METAL DOOR AT THE END OF THE HALLWAY respond to that noise as if to an electric shock.

CLANGS, AND

I

JERK AWAKE, CONDITIONED TO

They’re coming for me again. I begin to shake—yet another conditioned response. As much as I want to remain strong, they’re getting to me, breaking me down piece by piece. Every grueling interrogation, every humiliation great and small, every day that blends into night as I sit there without food and sleep—it all adds up, destroying my willpower bit by tiny bit. And I know they’re only getting started. Buschekov implied as much the last time he had me in that mirrored room. Trying to control my breathing, I sit up on my cot, pulling a thin, dirty blanket around myself. Outside, it might be May, but in this prison, it’s still winter. The chill here is everlasting. It permeates the gray stone walls and rusted metal bars, seeps in through the cracks in the floor and ceiling. There are no windows anywhere, so the sun never warms these rooms. I reside in fluorescent grayness, the cold walls around me pressing closer each day. Footsteps. Hearing them, I slide my sock-covered feet into my boots. My socks are dirty, as is the jumpsuit I’m wearing. I haven’t had a shower in three weeks, and I undoubtedly stink to high heaven. It’s one of those small humiliations designed to make one feel less than human. “Yulechka...” A familiar singsong voice makes me shake even more. Igor is the guard I hate most, the one with the grabbiest hands and the nastiest-smelling

breath. Even with the cameras everywhere, he manages to find opportunities to touch me and hurt me. “Yulechka,” he repeats, approaching my cell, and I see the glee in his beady brown eyes. He’s using the most familiar form of my name, one that would normally be an endearment spoken by parents and other family members. On his thick lips, it sounds dirty and perverted, like he’s a pedophile talking to a child. “Are you ready, Yulechka?” Staring at me, he reaches for the lock on the cell door. I fight the urge to shrink back against the wall. Instead, I stand up and throw off my blanket. He’d welcome any excuse to lay hands on me, so I don’t give him one. I just walk over to the metal bars and stand there waiting, my stomach twisting with nausea. “You’re wanted out there again,” he says, reaching for my arm. I almost puke as he grabs my wrist, his fingers thick and oily on my skin. He snaps a handcuff on that wrist and then grabs my other arm, stepping closer. “They said you won’t be coming back here,” he whispers, and I feel one of his hands squeezing my ass, his fingers digging painfully into the crack. “It’s too bad. I’ll miss you, Yulechka.” Vomit rises in my throat as I smell his breath—stale cigarettes mixed with rotting teeth. It takes everything I have not to shove him away. Fighting means he’ll get to touch me even more; I know that from experience. So I just stand there and wait for him to release me. He won’t rape me—that’s one humiliation I’ve been spared, thanks to the cameras—so all I need to do is remain still and not throw up. Sure enough, after a few seconds, he snaps the second handcuff on my wrist and steps back, disappointment darkening his features. “Let’s go,” he barks, grabbing my elbow, and I gulp in air untainted by his stench, desperately hoping my stomach will settle down. I’ve thrown up once before, when they fed me greasy meat after starving me for three days, and they made me clean it up with the blanket that’s still on my cot. To my relief, my nausea recedes as Igor marches me down the hall, and I register what he said. You won’t be coming back. What does that mean? Are they moving me to another facility, or did they finally decide it wasn’t worth it, trying to get anything out of me? Am I about to be executed? Is that what Buschekov was hinting at when he said he was about to get

some new authorization? My heartbeat picks up, a fresh wave of nausea moving through me. I’m not ready for this. I thought I was, but now that the moment is here, I want to live. I want to live to see Misha. Except if I give the Russians what they want, I won’t see Misha ever again. Obenko’s sister and her family will be forced to go into hiding, and my brother along with them. Misha’s happy life will be over, and it’ll all be my fault. No. My resolve firms again. It’s better that I die. At least then I’ll be out of this hellhole once and for all.

DESPITE MY DETERMINATION, MY LEGS FEEL LIKE GELATIN AS IGOR LEADS ME DOWN AN UNFAMILIAR hallway. We’re moving away from the interrogation room, which means the guard wasn’t lying. Something different is happening today. “This way,” Igor says, tugging me toward a set of double doors. As we approach, they swing open for us, and I blink at the sudden flood of blinding light. Sunlight. It’s warm and pure on my skin, so unlike the cold fluorescence of the prison lights. The air wafting in through those doors is different too. It’s fresher, full of scents that speak of city in the spring and have nothing to do with desperation and human suffering. “Here she is,” Igor says, pushing me through the doors, and to my shock, a woman’s voice repeats his words in Russian-accented English. Squinting against the overwhelming brightness, I turn my head to see a short middle-aged woman standing next to five men in a narrow courtyard. Beyond them is a thick wall with barbed wire at the top and several armed guards. “Who are you?” I ask the woman in English, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns to look at one of the men—a tall, thin one who seems to be their leader. “You can go now, thank you,” he says to her, speaking American English without an accent, and I realize she must be an interpreter. She nods at him and hurries toward the gate on the other side of the courtyard.

The man steps toward me, and I see an expression of disgust cross his narrow face. He must’ve smelled my lack of showers. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from Igor. “Where are you taking me?” I’m trying to stay calm. This is not at all what I was expecting. What could Americans want from me? Unless... Could they be with— “Colombia,” the man says, confirming my horrified guess. “Julian Esguerra requests the honor of your presence.” And before I can process this new blow, he drags me toward the gate.

I DON’T KNOW AT WHAT POINT I START FIGHTING—WHETHER IT’S ONCE WE’RE BEYOND THE PRISON gate or when we approach the black van. All I know is that a beast wakes up inside me, and I lash out at the man holding me with all my remaining strength. I have no idea how the arms dealer could be alive, and at this moment, I don’t care. The panicked animal inside me cares only about avoiding the terrible torment that awaits at the end of this journey. I’ve read the file on Esguerra, and I’ve heard the rumors. He’s not only a ruthless businessman. He’s also a sadist. My hands are cuffed, so I use my feet, kicking out at the leader’s knee at the same time as I crouch and twist, breaking his hold on my arm. He cries out, cursing, but I’m already rolling on the ground, away from the five men. I don’t get far, of course. Within a second, they’re on me, two big men pinning me to the ground and then jerking me up to my feet. I continue to fight them, kicking and biting and screaming as they shove me into the back of the van. It’s only when the doors close and the van starts moving that I stop struggling, exhausted and shaking all over. My breathing is harsh and loud, and my heart slams against my ribcage in a terrified tempo. “Hijo de puta, she stinks,” the man holding me mutters, and my cheeks flame with embarrassment, as if it’s my fault I’ve been reduced to this disgusting creature. They gag me then, probably to stop me from screaming again, and cuff my wrists to my ankles before throwing me in the corner of the van and sitting down a couple of feet away. They don’t touch me beyond that, and after a few minutes, some of my blind panic recedes and I begin thinking again.

Julian Esguerra wants me delivered to him. That means he didn’t die from the missile strike. How is that possible? Did Obenko lie to me, or did Esguerra somehow get lucky? And if the arms dealer survived, what about the rest of his crew? What about Lucas Kent? A familiar ache pierces my chest as I think his name. I’d only known him for that one night, but I’ve grieved for him, cried for him in the cold confines of my cell. Could he possibly be alive? And if he’s alive, am I going to see him again? Will he be the one who tortures me? No. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think of that right now. I need to take it one minute at a time, same as I did in that interrogation room. It’s likely that the next several hours are my last ones without extreme pain—if not my last ones overall— and I can’t spend that precious time worrying about the future. I can’t spend it thinking about a man who’s most likely dead. So instead of Lucas Kent, I think of my brother again, of his sunny smile and the way his small, pudgy arms embraced me when he was little. I was eight years old when he was born, and our parents were afraid I would resent the intrusion of a new baby into our close-knit family. But I didn’t. I fell in love with Misha from the moment I met him in the hospital, and when I held him for the first time and felt how tiny he was, I knew it would be my job to protect him. “It’s wonderful that Yulia loves her brother so much,” my parents’ friends would tell them. “Look how well she takes care of him. She’ll make a wonderful mother one day.” My parents would nod, beaming at me, and I would redouble my efforts to be a good sister, to do whatever I could to ensure my baby brother was happy, healthy, and safe. The van comes to a halt, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I realize with a jolt of panic that we’ve arrived. “Let’s go,” the group leader says when the van doors open, and I see that we’re on a landing strip in front of a Gulfstream private jet. I can’t walk with my wrists cuffed to my ankles, so the man who complained about my smell earlier carries me out of the van and onto the plane, the interior of which is as luxurious as anything I’ve seen. “Where do you want her?” he asks the leader, and I see his dilemma. The wide seats in the cabin are upholstered with cream-colored leather, as is the couch next

to the coffee table. Everything here is clean and nice, whereas I’m filthy. “There,” the leader says, pointing to a seat by the window. “Diego, cover it with a sheet.” A dark-haired man nods and disappears into the back of the plane. He returns a minute later with what appears to be a bed sheet. He drapes it over the seat, and the man holding me deposits me there. “Do you want the gag removed and her ankles uncuffed?” he asks the leader, and the thin man shakes his head. “No. Let the bitch sit like this. It’ll teach her a lesson.” And with that, they turn away, leaving me to stare out the window and try to keep my mind off what awaits me when the plane lands.

16

Y ulia “COME ON, LET’S “We’re here.”

GO.”

ROUGH

HANDS LIFT ME OFF THE SEAT, STARTLING ME OUT OF UNEASY SLEEP.

Here? My heartbeat jumps as I realize we’ve already landed. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point during the flight, my exhaustion outweighing my anxiety. It’s another man carrying me now—Diego, the leader called him. His grip on me is not especially gentle as he holds me in front of his chest. However, I’m glad they’re not making me walk. After spending the whole flight with my ankles and wrists cuffed together, I’m not sure my cramping muscles would be up for the task. Not to mention that I’m so hungry I feel sick and dizzy. They took off my gag and gave me some water mid-way through the flight, but they didn’t bother feeding me. As soon as Diego exits the plane, a wave of warm humidity washes over me, making me feel like I just entered a Russian bathhouse—or maybe a rainforest. The latter is probably a better comparison, given the thick, vine-draped trees surrounding the air strip. Despite the terror circling through my veins, I’m dazzled by the greenery around me. I love nature—I always have, ever since I was a small child—and this place appeals to me on every level. The air is rich with the scent of tropical vegetation, insects are chirping in the grass, and the sun is bright despite a few clouds in the sky. For a couple of blissful moments, I feel like I’m in paradise. Then I hear a car approaching and reality crashes in. The owner of this paradise is going to torture and kill me.

My empty stomach clenches. I don’t want to give in to the fear, but I can’t help the dread that spreads through me as the car—a black SUV—stops in front of the plane. The driver’s door opens, and a tall, broad-shouldered man steps out, the sun glinting off his short, light-colored hair. I stop breathing, my eyes glued to his hard features. Lucas Kent. He’s alive. His pale eyes lock on mine, and the world around me recedes, blurring out of focus. I forget all about my hunger and discomfort, about the cuffs restraining me and my fear of the future. All I’m cognizant of is the stark, irrational joy that Lucas is alive. He starts walking toward me, and I force myself to breathe again. He’s even bigger than I remembered, his shoulders wide and thick with muscle. Dressed in a sleeveless camo shirt and ripped jeans, with an assault rifle slung across his torso, he looks exactly like what he is: a ruthless mercenary working for a crime lord. “I’ll handle it from here, Diego,” he says, approaching me, and I begin to shake as he reaches for me, his gaze sliding away from mine. Diego hands me over without a word, and my shaking intensifies as I feel Lucas’s hands on me again, his touch burning me even through the rough material of my prison jumpsuit. Stepping back, he turns and begins carrying me to the car, holding me flush against his chest. He evidences no disgust at my unwashed state, and a shudder ripples through me as I feel the heat of his body seeping into me, melting some of the residual chill inside. I should be terrified, but instead I feel that awareness again—that irrational attraction I’ve only experienced with him. At the same time, a pressure gathers behind my temples, and my eyes prickle, as though I’m about to cry. Alive. He’s alive. It doesn’t seem real. None of this seems real. My reality is a gray, smelly cell in a Russian prison. It’s Igor’s greasy hands and Buschekov’s mirrored interrogation room. It’s hunger, thirst, and longing—longing for the life I lost when my parents’ car slid on black ice, for the brother I only saw in pictures, and for the man I’d known just one day. For the man I thought I’d killed—the one holding me right now.

Could all of this be a dream? A fantasy concocted in my exhausted, sleepdeprived mind? Could I even now be passed out at the interrogation table, with that screeching alarm about to jerk me back to consciousness? Lucas’s face blurs in front of my eyes, and I realize I am crying, fat, ugly tears welling up and spilling down my cheeks. Embarrassed, I automatically try to wipe them away, but my hands, still cuffed to my ankles, can’t reach that far. The motion ends up being jerky and awkward, and I see Lucas’s face turn to stone as he glances down at me. “You fucking bitch,” he says so softly that I can barely hear him. “You think you can manipulate me with your tears?” His grip on me tightens, turning hard and punishing as he stops in front of the SUV and glares down at me, as if waiting for a response. When I don’t give him one, his features harden further. “You’re going to pay for what you did,” he promises, his voice filled with quiet fury. “You’re going to pay for everything.” And with that, he jerks open the car door and throws me onto the back seat. As my back hits the cushioned leather, I know that I was wrong. This is not a dream. It’s a nightmare.

THE RIDE TAKES ONLY A FEW MINUTES. LUCAS DRIVES SILENTLY, NOT SAYING ANYTHING ELSE TO ME, and I use the time to compose myself. Strangely, thinking of his threat helps me control my tears, my stunned joy turning into cold fear as I process the fact that Lucas Kent is alive—and that he will indeed be the one to make me pay. Does that mean the plane crash happened after all? If so, how did he and Esguerra survive? I want to ask Lucas that, but I can’t bring myself to break the silence, not when I feel his rage pulsing in the air like a malevolent force waiting to be unleashed. He took off his weapon, setting it on the front seat next to him, but that doesn’t lessen the threat emanating from him. He can kill me with his bare hands if he’s so inclined. As the car leaves the heavily wooded area, I see a big white house in the distance. It’s surrounded by manicured green lawns that form a contrast to the untamed jungle behind us. Farther back, I see guard towers spaced a few dozen meters apart. The sight doesn’t surprise me; Esguerra’s file said that his Colombian estate is heavily fortified despite its remote location on the edge of the Amazon rainforest.

We don’t go to the big house; instead, we turn and drive along the jungle to a cluster of smaller houses and boxy, one-story buildings. It must be where the guards and others on the Esguerra compound live, I realize as I see armed men— and an occasional woman—going in and out of the dwellings. The car stops in front of one of the individual houses, the one with a front porch, and Lucas exits, leaving the gun in the car. He slams the door behind him, and I flinch, trying not to give in to the anxiety choking me from within. The fear is thick and bitter in my throat. It’s worse somehow that it’s Lucas who’ll do those terrible things to me, that he’ll be the one to rip out my fingernails or cut me open piece by piece. It’s worse because there were times in that Moscow prison when I used to imagine I was with him, when I fantasized that he was holding me and I was safe in his strong embrace. Lucas walks around the car and opens the back door. Reaching in, he grabs me and drags me out, still not saying a word as he lifts me against his chest and slams the door closed with his foot. His hold on me is again harsh and punishing, and I know it’s only the start. My fantasies are about to shatter under the weight of reality. He carries me up the porch stairs, walking as easily as if I weigh nothing. His strength is tremendous, only there’s no safety in it. Not for me, at least. Maybe for some woman in the future, someone he’ll care about and want to protect. Someone he won’t hate as much as he hates me. As he pushes open the front door and turns sideways to carry me through the doorway, I catch a glimpse of curious faces staring up at us from the street. There are several men and a middle-aged woman, and for one absurd moment, I’m tempted to beg them for help, to plead with them to save me. The urge fades as quickly as it comes. These people aren’t some innocent passersby. They’re employees of a sadistic arms dealer, and they’re fully complicit in whatever fate is about to befall me. So I stay silent as Lucas carries me into the house and once again shuts the door behind him with his foot. He’s not looking at me, so I use the opportunity to study him, noting the granite set of his jaw. He’s still furious, the rage radiating off him like heat off a flame. It makes me wonder why he’s so mad. Surely this sort of thing —making Esguerra’s enemies pay—is routine for him. I would’ve expected cold detachment, not this volcanic anger.

Come to think of it, I would’ve expected him to take me to some warehouse or a storage shed, some place they wouldn’t mind dirtying with blood and bodily fluids. Instead, I find myself inside a residential home, albeit one with only basic furnishings. One black leather sofa, a flatscreen TV, gray carpet, and white walls— the room he carries me through is not luxurious, but it’s certainly no torture chamber. Could this be Lucas’s house? And if so, why am I here? I don’t have time to dwell on it for long because he brings me into a large, white-tiled bathroom. There is a massive tub, a glass-walled shower stall, and a sink next to a toilet. Definitely not a torture chamber. “Why did you bring me here?” My voice is hoarse, scratchy from disuse. I haven’t spoken since Esguerra’s men stopped me from screaming back in Moscow. “It’s your house, isn’t it?” Lucas’s jaw muscle flexes, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he carries me into the shower stall, sets me down on the tiled floor, and pulls out a key. Grabbing my handcuffs, he unlocks them and detaches them from the ankle cuffs, which he unlocks next. Then he yanks me to my feet. “You need a fucking shower,” he says harshly. “Take those clothes off. Now.” My knees buckle, my leg muscles unable to bear the sudden strain of standing, even as my aching back weeps in gratitude at finally being straight again. My head spins from chronic hunger and exhaustion, and it’s only Lucas’s grip on my arm that prevents me from sinking back down to the floor. A shower? He wants me to take a shower? Before I can process that odd demand, he lets out an impatient noise and grabs the zipper of my jumpsuit, pulling it down roughly. “Wait, I can—” I try to reach for the zipper with one trembling hand, but it’s too late. Lucas spins me around, flattening my face against the shower wall, and yanks the jumpsuit down to my knees, leaving me wearing nothing more than a pair of loose, high-waisted panties and a stretched-out sports bra—the only underwear allowed at the prison. Within a second, he rips those off me as well and spins me around to face him. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” His fingers catch my jaw in a hard grip as he holds my upper arm with his other hand. “You’ll do what I say, understand?” His eyes glint with icy rage and something more. Lust.

He still wants me. My heart pounds in a furious rhythm as the fact that I’m naked in front of him again sinks in. I should’ve expected this, but for some reason, I didn’t. In my mind, what happened between us before was entirely separate from the punishment he’s about to dole out, but I should’ve known better. For men like Lucas Kent, violence and sex go hand in hand. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his fingers digging painfully into my jaw, and I blink affirmatively, the only movement I’m capable of. Apparently, that’s enough, because he releases me and steps back. “Wash yourself,” he orders, stepping out of the stall and closing the glass door behind him. “You have five minutes.” And crossing his arms in front of his massive chest, he leans back against the wall and stares at me, waiting.

17

L

ucas

SHE REACHES FOR THE FAUCET, HER ENTIRE BODY SHAKING, AND I SEE THE EFFORT EACH MOVEMENT IS costing her. She’s weak and thin, infinitely more fragile than the last time I saw her, and the fact that this disturbs me enrages me even more. I expected to feel lust and hatred, to revel in her suffering even as I slaked my hunger on her deceitful flesh. I planned to treat her like my fucktoy until my obsession with her faded, and then do whatever it took to find the puppet masters pulling her strings. I didn’t count on this pale, bedraggled creature and how seeing her this way would make me feel. Did they starve her? Apparently so, because I can see each of her ribs. Her stomach is concave, her hipbones are jutting out, and her limbs are painfully skinny. She must’ve lost at least fifteen pounds in the last two months, and she’d already been slender. She manages to turn on the water, and I force myself to remain still as she reaches for the shampoo. She’s not looking at me, all her attention focused on her task, and I feel a fresh wave of rage, mixed with lust and that disconcerting something. Something that feels suspiciously like protectiveness. Fuck. I clench my teeth, determined to resist the bizarre urge to step into the shower and gather her against me. Not to fuck her, though my body is eager to do that as well, but to hold her.

To hold and comfort her. Infuriated, I shift against the wall, watching as she begins to lather her hair. Despite her extreme thinness, her body is graceful and feminine. Her breasts are smaller than before, but they’re still surprisingly full, her nipples drawn into taut pink buds as she stands under the water spray. I can see soft-looking blond fuzz between her legs; after nearly two months of no razor or wax, her pussy must be back to its natural state. My cock, semi-aroused from stripping her naked, hardens fully, and I imagine myself stepping into that shower, unzipping my jeans, and driving into her tight heat with no preliminaries. Just taking her, like the fucktoy I intended her to be. And there’s nothing stopping me from doing that. She’s my prisoner. I can do anything I want to her. I’ve never forced a woman, but I’ve never wanted and hated one at the same time either. How would fucking her be any worse than slicing up her delicate flesh to make her talk? It wouldn’t be. She’s mine to hurt in any way I please. Except hurting her is not what I want to do right now. The violence seething inside me is not for her. It’s for those who hurt her. When I saw her in Diego’s grip, her long hair lank and dull around her pale face, I felt a rage unlike any other. And when she began crying, it was all I could do not to cradle her against me and promise that no one will ever hurt her again. Not even me. The urge maddened me then, and it maddens me now. I have no doubt the witch knew what she was doing to me with those tears, just as she knew how to extract information out of me that night in Moscow. Her frail appearance is just that: an appearance. That beautiful blond exterior conceals a trained agent, a spy who’s as skilled at mind games as she is at foreign languages. “Your five minutes are up,” I say, straightening away from the wall. She’s washed her hair and her body, and is now just standing under the water with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. “Get out.” My voice is harsh, reflecting none of the turmoil I’m feeling. I won’t let her fuck with me again. At my words, she jumps, her eyes flying open, and reaches back to turn off the shower. She’s still shaking, though not as badly as before, and I wonder how much of that is an act and how much is actual weakness. Pulling open the shower door, I grab a towel and throw it at her. “Dry yourself.”

She obeys, toweling off her hair and then her body. As she does so, I notice bruises covering her legs and ribcage and bluish circles under her weary eyes. Damn her. She’s not faking that. “That’s enough.” Suppressing the illogical pang of pity, I yank the towel away from her and hang it on a hook. “Let’s go.” Her eyes plead with me as I grab her arm, but I ignore their silent entreaty, my hold on her unnecessarily rough. I can’t give in to this weakness, to this obsession that seems to be completely out of control. Over the past two months, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t stop wanting her, but this is something else entirely. She stumbles as I tug her through the doorway, and I stop to pick her up, telling myself that it will be easier to carry her than to drag her. As I swing her up against my chest, I feel the soft press of her breasts and smell her scent, now clean and mixed with the aroma of my body wash. Lust surges through me again, pushing aside my awareness of her too-light weight, and I welcome it. This is exactly what I need: to want her and nothing else. And for that, I can’t have her as this frail, pathetic waif. I need her stronger. The bedroom was my destination, but I change my course, heading for the kitchen instead. I can feel her breathing fast—she’s probably afraid—but she doesn’t struggle. She undoubtedly realizes how pointless it would be in her weakened state. When we reach the kitchen, I set her down in a chair and take a step back. Immediately, she draws her knees up against her chest, concealing much of her naked body. Her eyes are big and scared as she stares at me, her wet hair plastered against her back and shoulders. “You’re going to eat,” I tell her, approaching the fridge. Opening it, I take out turkey, cheese, and mayo, and place everything on the counter next to the loaf of bread sitting there. As I make the sandwich, I keep an eye on her, making sure she’s not attempting anything—which she’s not. She’s just sitting there, watching warily as I smear the mayo on both slices of bread, slap on some cheese and turkey, and place everything on a plate. “Eat,” I say, putting the plate in front of her. She runs her tongue over her lips. “May I have some water, please?”

Of course. She must be thirsty as well. Without answering, I walk over to the sink, pour a glass of water, and bring it to her. “Thank you.” Her voice is quiet as she accepts my offering, her slender fingers wrapping around the glass and brushing against mine in the process. A frisson of electricity races up my spine at that accidental touch, and my jeans become uncomfortably tight again, my cock straining against the zipper. Her eyes flick down for a second before returning to my face, and I see her pupils dilating. She’s aware of my lust for her, and it frightens her. Her hand holding the glass trembles slightly as she drinks, and her other arm tightens around her drawn-up knees. Good. I want her afraid. I want her to know that I may want her body, but I won’t show her mercy. She won’t be able to manipulate me ever again. While she’s drinking, I sit down across the table and lean back in the chair, linking my hands behind my head. “Eat. Now,” I order again when she puts down her glass, and she obeys, her straight white teeth sinking into the sandwich with unconcealed eagerness. Despite her obvious hunger, she eats slowly, thoroughly chewing each bite. It’s a smart move; she doesn’t want to get sick from eating too much too fast. “So,” I say when she’s eaten about a quarter of her meal, “what’s your real name?” She pauses mid-bite and puts down her sandwich. “Yulia.” Her eyes hold mine without blinking. “Don’t lie to me.” I unlink my hands and lean forward. “A spy wouldn’t use her real name.” “I didn’t say it’s Yulia Tzakova.” She picks up the sandwich again and consumes another bite before explaining, “Yulia is a common name in Russia and Ukraine, and it happens to be my birth name. It’s the Russian version of Julia.” “Ah.” That makes sense, and I’m inclined to believe her. It’s always easier to stick close to your real identity when going undercover. “So, Yulia, what is your real last name then?” “My last name doesn’t matter.” Her soft lips twist. “The girl it belonged to no longer exists.” “Then there’s no harm in telling me what it is, is there?” Despite myself, I’m intrigued. Whether it matters or not, I want to know her last name.

I want to know everything about her. She shrugs and bites into her sandwich again. I can tell she has no intention of answering me. My teeth grind together, but I remind myself to be patient. The Russians hadn’t been able to get anything useful out of her in two months, so I certainly can’t expect to crack her in the first hour. Priority number one is having her eat and regain her strength. Answers will come later. I’ll get them out of her, one way or another. For now, I mentally go through the information Buschekov emailed me on her. There isn’t much that they were able to uncover. All she’s admitted is that she’s twenty-two, not twenty-four as listed in her fake passport, and she was born in Donetsk, one of the embattled areas in eastern Ukraine. The Ukrainian government refused to claim her as one of their own, so the organization she works for must be private or strictly off the books. Her degree in English Language and International Relations from Moscow State University is apparently real; there is a record of Yulia Tzakova graduating from there two years ago, and Buschekov was able to track down professors and classmates who verified that she did, in fact, attend classes. Did the Ukrainians recruit her at the university, or did they plant her there? It’s not out of the question that she’s been working for them since her teens. Agents rarely get recruited that young, but it does happen. “How long have you been doing this?” I ask when she’s nearly done with her sandwich. Her pale cheeks have a bit of color in them now, and she looks less shaky. “Spying for Ukraine, that is?” Instead of answering, Yulia takes a sip of water, puts down her glass, and looks straight at me. “May I use the restroom, please?” My hands tighten on the table. “Yes—when you answer my question.” She doesn’t blink. “I’ve been doing it for a while,” she says evenly. “Now, may I please pee in the toilet? Or should I do it here?” The rage smoldering within me flares brighter, and I give in to it. In an instant, I’m next to her, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet. She cries out in pain, her hands clutching at my wrist, but I don’t give her a chance to start fighting. In less than two seconds, I have her folded over the table, her arm twisted behind her back and her face pressed against the table surface. The plate with the remnants of the sandwich slides off the table, shattering on the floor, but I don’t give a fuck.

She’s going to learn an important lesson right now. “Say that again.” I lean over her, trapping her naked body underneath me. I can hear her fast, shallow breathing, feel the curve of her ass pressing into my crotch, and my cock hardens as dark sexual images invade my mind. In this position, all I need to do is open my fly, and I’ll be inside her. The temptation is almost unbearable. “Since I was eleven.” Her voice is thin, muffled against the table. “I’ve been doing it since I was eleven.” Eleven? Stunned, I release her and step back. What kind of agency recruits a child? Before I can digest her revelation, she scoots off the table and faces me. “Please, Lucas.” Her face is pale again, her lips trembling. “I really need to go to the restroom.” Fuck. I grab her arm. “You have five minutes,” I warn as I march her back to the bathroom. “And do not lock the door. I have the key.” She nods and disappears into the bathroom, her half-dry hair streaming down her slender back. Shaking my head, I go back to the kitchen to clean up. I don’t want her to cut her bare feet on the shards of the broken plate.

18

Y ulia MY KNEES SHAKING, I COLLAPSE AGAINST THE CLOSED BATHROOM DOOR AND TRY TO CALM MY FRANTIC breathing. What nearly happened in that kitchen shouldn’t have freaked me out so much, but it was too close to before... too close to that dark place I’ve fought so hard to escape. The position—on my stomach and helpless, with a man who’s determined to punish me on top—had been all too familiar, and I panicked. I panicked like that fifteen-year-old I thought I’d buried. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been someone else—anyone else. I could’ve put up that steel mental wall, the one that kept me sane before. If fear and disgust were all I felt for Lucas, it would’ve been easier. If I hadn’t had those stupid fantasies about him in prison, it would’ve been less devastating. Taking deep breaths, I force myself to straighten away from the door and use the toilet. I have only a couple of minutes before Lucas returns for me, and I can’t afford to waste them this way. As I wash my hands and brush my teeth, I stare in the mirror, trying to convince myself that I can do this—that I can withstand whatever punishment he chooses to dole out, even if it’s of a sexual variety. “Your time’s up.” His deep voice startles me, and I realize I’ve been just standing there, letting the water run. “Come out.” Panic floods my veins. “Just a second,” I call out. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for him. For the first time in weeks, I’ve eaten a normal meal and had a shower, and somehow that makes it worse. Because

now that I feel semi-human, I’m keenly aware of my nakedness and how much I am at the mercy of a man who wants to hurt me. My heart pounding, I scan the bathroom. Lucas wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave a weapon lying around, but I don’t need much. My gaze falls on the plastic toothbrush I just used, and I grab it. Using both hands, I snap the handle in half. As I’d hoped, one side ends up sharp and jagged, and I clutch it tightly, concealing it in my right hand. Taking another deep breath, I open the door and step out. “All done,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the strain in my voice. “Let’s go.” Lucas grabs my left arm, and I stumble, on purpose this time. He turns to steady me, and in that moment I strike upward with my makeshift weapon, aiming for his kidney. I shut off the part of my brain that cringes at the thought of hurting him, the part where those fantasies still live, and I let my training take over. He twists at the last moment, his reflexes razor sharp, and I graze his torso instead of stabbing him. The broken toothbrush catches on his shirt, forcing me to let go of it, but I don’t let that stop me. He’s still holding my arm, so I drop to the floor, letting my full weight hang on that arm, and kick up with my right leg. My foot connects with his jaw, the impact sending a shock of pain through me, but he reels back—which gives me the split second I need to twist free of his hold. Scrambling to my feet, I sprint for the kitchen, desperate to grab a knife, but before I can take more than two steps, he tackles me from behind. I manage to turn, half-rolling as we land on the carpet, and my elbow slams into his hard stomach. The impact makes my arm go numb. He continues rolling without so much as a grunt, and a moment later has me pinned down, his hands capturing both of my wrists and lifting them above my head at the same time as his powerful legs anchor mine to the floor. I can’t move. I’m once again helpless underneath him. Breathing hard, I stare up at him, my insides squeezing with dread as I wait for his retaliation. Our fight aroused him; I can feel the hard bulge in his jeans against my naked stomach. Or maybe he’s still hard from earlier. Either way, I know how he’s going to punish me. He’s also breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling above me. I can see the rage burning in his pale eyes—rage and something far more primal. To my shock, a tiny tendril of heat snakes through me, my mind transposing the

horror of my current predicament with the stunning pleasure of that night. I lay underneath him then, too, and my body doesn’t seem to understand that it was different. That the man on top of me doesn’t only want my body. He wants revenge. He lowers his head, and I freeze, scarcely breathing as his lips brush my left ear. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, the damp heat of his breath burning my skin. “I was going to give you more time, let you get stronger, but no more...” His mouth presses against my neck, and I feel his tongue flicking over the delicate area, as though tasting it. “You’ve used up all my patience, beautiful.” I shudder, trying to arch away from that hot, wicked mouth, but I have nowhere to go. He’s all around me, his muscular body large and heavy on top of mine. The brief burst of energy I felt after my meal is gone, my strength nonexistent after weeks of deprivation. Exhausted, I stop struggling—and realize that the tendril of heat is expanding in my core, making me slick with unwelcome need. “Lucas, please.” I don’t know why I’m begging. I just tried to wound him; he won’t show me mercy ever again. “Please, don’t do this.” My body’s irrational response should’ve made this easier to bear, but it just highlights my helplessness, my complete lack of control. I can’t face this with him. It would destroy me. “Please, Lucas...” He shifts on top of me, his mouth still hovering near my ear. “Don’t do what?” he murmurs, transferring both of my wrists into one of his large palms. Moving his free hand, he wedges it between us, his fingers slipping between my thighs to find my sex. “This?” His thumb presses on my clit as his index finger penetrates me. I jerk at the invasion, the heat inside morphing into a pulsing ache. My nipples tighten, and I feel myself getting even slicker, my body eager for an act that would leave my soul in pieces. “Don’t. Please don’t.” Tears, stupid, pathetic tears, come, and I can’t contain them. They spill out and roll down my temples, making me burn with embarrassment at my weakness. “No, please...” His finger advances deeper into me, and the old memories crowd in, taking me back to that dark, suffocating place. My breathing turns into frantic pants, my voice rising in pitch. “Please, Lucas, don’t!” To my surprise, he stills, and then with a curse, he rolls off me, rising fluidly to his feet. “Get up,” he snarls, grabbing my arms to pull me up. As soon as I’m vertical, he drags me into the living room and pushes me onto the couch, gritting out, “If you move a muscle...”

Dazed, I watch as he disappears around the corner and reappears a moment later carrying a chair and a coil of rope. He places both in the middle of the room. I haven’t moved—I’m shaking too hard for that—and I don’t put up any resistance as he picks me up, deposits me into the chair, and binds my arms behind my back, securing them against the chair’s sturdy wooden frame. Then he uses additional rope to tie my ankles to the legs of the chair, leaving them spread apart. When he’s done, he stands up and stares at me. The bulge in his jeans is still present, but the heat in his eyes has cooled, turning them into familiar slivers of ice. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he says harshly. “When I return, you better be ready to talk.” And before I can respond, he strides out of the room, leaving me tied up, naked, and alone.

19

L

ucas

I ENTER THE BATHROOM AND CLOSE THE DOOR IN A CONTROLLED slam too hard. Control—that’s what I need right now.

MOTION, MAKING SURE IT DOESN’T

Control and distance from her. My cock is like a spike in my jeans, my balls so full I feel like I could blow any second. I’ve never come so close to fucking a woman and then stopped. I’ve never denied myself something I wanted so badly. She had been right there, stretched out underneath me, her long, slender body naked and vulnerable. I could’ve fucked her any way I chose, taking my rage out on her delicate flesh while slaking the hunger plaguing me for so long. Instead, I let her go. Son of a fucking bitch. I stare in the mirror, seeing the fury and frustration on my face. She wanted me —I felt how wet she was, how her body was responding to me—and I still let her go. Despite my body’s burning need, I couldn’t bring myself to rape her. Disgusted with my weakness, I look away, running my hand over my short hair. Rape is no worse than the crimes I’ve committed in recent years. In Esguerra’s service, I’ve killed and tortured both men and women, and I’ve felt no qualms. Taking Yulia should’ve been the easiest thing in the world—I’ve dreamed of fucking her every night over the last two months—yet I stopped myself. I stopped myself because the terror in her voice had been real, and I couldn’t

ignore it. Gritting my teeth, I lift my shirt and examine my ribcage. There’s no blood where Yulia’s weapon grazed me, but there is an angry red scratch. She had probably been aiming for my kidney. If I hadn’t been fast enough, I would be bleeding out in hellish pain on that floor—assuming she didn’t slit my throat immediately. As it is, my jaw throbs where her foot struck me, reminding me how treacherous—and dangerous—she is. It would’ve been smarter to leave her with the Russians. No. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, my entire body tenses in rejection. Now that I finally have her in my possession, the idea of someone else tormenting her is unbearable. Everything inside me screams that she’s mine—mine to fuck, mine to punish in any way I choose. Nobody else will lay hands on her ever again. Unzipping my jeans, I pull out my engorged cock and close my fist around it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine that I’m inside her and it’s her inner walls gripping my dick so tightly. With the pornographic images filling my mind, it takes less than a minute for me to come, my seed spurting into the clean white bowl of the sink.

20

Y ulia I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO REALIZE THAT THE REPRIEVE IS REAL, BUT EVENTUALLY I CALM down enough to stop shaking. He didn’t go through with it. He didn’t force me. I still can’t believe it. I know how hard he was—I felt it. There was no reason for him to show me mercy. I’m not some woman he picked up in a bar; I’m the enemy who just tried to injure him. He should’ve gloried in my pathetic begging and used the weakness I revealed to break me completely. That’s what I would’ve expected him to do, at least. Lowering my head, I stare at my naked legs, trying to understand why he stopped. Lucas Kent is not a novice to this life—far from it. According to his file, he joined the United States Navy right after high school and entered the SEAL training program several months later. There wasn’t much in that file on his assignments— only that they were usually classified and extremely dangerous missions—but the reason for him leaving was listed. It was a murder charge eight years into his service. The man holding me captive killed his commanding officer and disappeared into the jungles of South America. There’s a four-year gap in the file after that, but eventually, Lucas Kent resurfaced as Esguerra’s trusted and extremely deadly second-in-command. A tingle runs down my arms, and some sixth sense makes me look up. Two pairs of dark eyes are watching me from the window, one huge and fringed

by thick lashes, and the other slightly almond-shaped. It’s two young women, I realize as the owner of the thick lashes ducks out of sight, leaving me staring at the braver intruder. The remaining girl is about my age and looks Colombian, her bronzed, round face framed by smooth dark hair. She’s pretty—and extremely curious about me, judging by her arrested stare. I don’t have time to register more because a second later, she ducks and disappears too. Confused, I continue staring at the window, waiting, but they don’t return. Instead, I hear footsteps and turn my head to see Lucas entering the room with another chair. Placing it in front of me, he sits down on it and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “All right, Yulia.” His gaze is hard as it travels down my naked body and then returns to my face. “Why don’t you begin by telling me your story.” My reprieve is over. Trying to remain calm, I moisten my lips. “May I please have some water?” I’m thirsty—and desperate to put off the interrogation for as long as possible. He doesn’t move. “Talk and I’ll give it to you.” I swallow, noting the implacable set of his jaw. “What do you want to know?” Perhaps there are some basics I can share with him, just like I shared with the Russians. I can admit to being a spy for the Ukrainians—he already knows that much—and I can give him a little bit of my background. Maybe that information will buy me some time without pain. “You said you started at eleven.” He watches me coldly, without so much as a hint of the lust that burned between us. “Tell me about them—the people who recruited you.” So much for hoping I can stall him with innocuous revelations. “I don’t know much about them,” I say. “They would send me on assignments; that’s all.” His eyes narrow. He knows I’m lying. “Is that right?” His voice is deceptively soft. “And was enrolling in Moscow State University an assignment?” “It was.” There’s no point in denying it. “They falsified my documents and enrolled me in the university so I could live in Moscow and get close to key people in the Russian government.”

“Get close how?” He leans forward, and I see something dark flash in his pale eyes. “How exactly did they want you to carry out your assignment, beautiful?” I don’t answer, but I can see that he knows. How else does a young woman insinuate herself into top government circles? “How many?” Lucas’s voice is sharp enough to slice me into pieces. “How many did you have to fuck to ‘get close’?” “Three.” Two lower-level officials and one of Buschekov’s friends—which is how I got the job as Buschekov’s interpreter. “I had to sleep with three of them.” I stare directly at Lucas, ignoring the ball of shame lodged deep in my chest. “Esguerra would’ve been the fourth, but I ended up with you instead.” His eyes narrow further, and my pulse spikes with cold fear. I don’t know why I’m taunting him like this. Getting Lucas angry is a bad idea. I need to be pacifying him, buying myself more time. It doesn’t matter that the contempt on his face is like a knife stabbing into my liver. An actual knife would be much, much worse. He stands up abruptly, looming over me, and I try not to flinch as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes glint at me, rage flickering in their blue-gray depths again. For a moment, I’m convinced he’s going to hit me, but he grips a fistful of my hair instead, forcing my head to arch back more. “Did you want them?” His fingers tighten in my hair, making my eyes sting at the pain in my scalp. “Did your pussy cream for them too?” “No.” I’m telling the truth, but I can see that he doesn’t believe me. “It wasn’t like that with them. It was just something I had to do.” I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him. I don’t want him to know that he was in any way special, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to lie about this. “It was my job.” “Just like I was your job.” He stares down at me, and I catch a glimpse of the dark lust lurking underneath his anger. “You gave me your body to get information.” I don’t deny it, and I see his chest expanding as he draws in a breath. I brace myself for hurtful words of condemnation, but they never come. Instead, his painful hold on my hair eases a fraction, as though he realizes my neck can’t stay bent like that. “Yulia...” There is a strange note in his voice. “How old were you when you slept with the first one of the three?”

I blink, caught off-guard by the question. “Sixteen.” Or at least that was when our relationship began. Boris Ladrikov, a short, slightly balding member of the State Duma, had been my first boyfriend, and our affair lasted for the better part of three years. He introduced me to all the important people, including Vladimir, who had become my next assigned lover. “Sixteen?” Lucas repeats, and I notice a muscle ticking near his ear. He’s furious, and I have no idea why. “How old was your target?” “Thirty-eight.” I don’t know why Lucas is asking all these irrelevant questions, but I’m happy to answer them for as long as it keeps him away from more important topics. “He thought I was eighteen; the identity I assumed was two years older.” I expect Lucas to drill me on this some more, but to my surprise, he releases my hair and steps back. “That’s enough for now,” he says, and I catch that odd note in his voice again. “We’ll resume this in a bit.” Without saying another word, he turns and leaves the room. A minute later, I hear the front door open and close, and I know I’m alone again.

21

L

ucas

A CHILD. SHE HAD BEEN A FUCKING CHILD WHEN THEY PLANTED HER IN MOSCOW AND FORCED HER TO sleep with sleazy government assholes. The rage blasting through me feels hot enough to incinerate my insides. It had taken every ounce of my self-control to conceal my reaction from Yulia. If I hadn’t left the house when I did, I would’ve put my fist through a wall. The impulse is still with me an hour later, so I hammer the sandbag in front of me, channeling my fury into each blow. I can see the other men giving me inquiring looks; I’ve been at it for the past forty minutes without so much as a water break. “Lucas, you crazy gringo, what’s gotten into you?” A man’s voice breaks my concentration, and I spin around to see Diego standing there. The tall Mexican is grinning, his teeth flashing white in his bronzed face. “Shouldn’t you be saving some of that energy for your prisoner?” “Fuck you, pendejo.” Annoyed at the interruption, I grab the water bottle off the floor and take a swig. I normally like Diego, but right now I’m tempted to use him as my punching bag. “My prisoner is none of your fucking business.” “I helped deliver her here, so she’s kind of my business,” he objects, but the grin leaves his face. He can tell I’m in a mood. “She’s the bitch who caused that crash, right?” I wipe the dripping sweat off my forehead. “What makes you say that?” I’d been under the impression that only Esguerra, Peter, and I knew of Yulia’s involvement. Diego shrugs. “We got her from a Russian prison, and everyone knows the

Ukrainians were behind it. It just seemed to fit. Plus, it seemed kind of personal for you, so...” His voice trails off as I give him a hard look. “Like I said, she’s none of your fucking business,” I say coldly. The last thing I want is to discuss Yulia with the other men. What should’ve been the easiest thing in the world—revenge—has turned into a mess of epic proportions. The girl tied to the chair in my living room is not what I thought she was, and I have no fucking clue what to do about that. “Yeah, okay, no worries.” Diego grins again. “Just tell me: did you fuck her already? Even with the prison smell, I could tell she’s a hot piece—” My fist slams into his face before he finishes speaking. It’s not a conscious action on my part; the fury filling me is simply too explosive to contain. He stumbles back from the force of my blow, and I follow, leaping and tackling him to the ground. My leg protests the sudden movement, but I ignore the pain, raining blow after blow on Diego’s shocked face. “Kent, what the fuck?” Steely hands grab my arms and drag me off my victim, resisting my attempts to throw them off. “Calm down, man!” “What’s going on here?” Esguerra’s voice is like a splash of icy water on the flames of my rage. As my mind clears, I realize that Thomas and Eduardo are holding my arms while our boss is standing a dozen feet away, at the entrance of the training gym. “Just a little disagreement.” I manage to keep my voice steady despite the bloodlust still surging through me. Seeing that I’m no longer fighting them, Thomas and Eduardo release me and step back, their expressions carefully neutral. Knowing I need to say something, I turn to the guard I assaulted. “Sorry, Diego. You caught me at a bad time.” “Yeah, no kidding,” he mutters, getting to his feet with some effort. His nose is bleeding, and his left eye is already swelling up. “I’ve got to put some ice on this.” He hurries out of the gym, and Esguerra gives me a questioning look. I shrug, as though the problem is too minor to explain, and to my relief, Esguerra doesn’t pursue it. Instead, he informs me about a call with our Hong Kong supplier later this evening—he thinks it’s a good idea for me to be present—and then heads back to his office, leaving me to shoot beer cans with the guards and try not to think about my captive.

22

Y ulia I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I SIT THERE, TRYING TO FIND A COMFORTABLE POSITION ON THE HARD CHAIR, but eventually, a quiet rapping on the window draws my attention. Startled, I look up and see the girl who was watching me before—the one with the rounded face. She’s standing outside, her nose pressed to the glass as she stares at me. I don’t see her friend, so she must’ve come alone this time. “Hello?” I call out, unsure whether she speaks English or would even be able to hear me through the glass. “Who are you?” She hesitates for a second, then asks, “Where’s Lucas?” Her voice is barely audible through the window, but I can tell that her English is of the American variety, with only a trace of a Spanish accent. “I don’t know. He left a little while ago,” I say, studying her as thoroughly as she’s studying me. It’s not a fair exchange; all I see of her is her head, while she’s looking at me in my birthday suit. Still, I note her regular features and full lips, filing the information away in my mind in case I need it later. Who is she? Could she be Lucas’s girlfriend? There was no mention of significant others in his file, but Obenko wouldn’t know about Lucas’s relationships on this estate. For all I know, my captor could have a wife and three kids here. A pretty young girlfriend is a no-brainer; Lucas is a virile, highly sexual man who’d have no trouble attracting women, even in a place as remote as this compound. The more I consider it, the more it makes sense to me. This, right here, is why he didn’t fuck me earlier. It wasn’t because of my pleas—it was because he didn’t want to be unfaithful.

“What do you want?” I ask the girl, trying to ignore the irrational sense of betrayal at this realization. She doesn’t seem disturbed at seeing me naked and tied up, so she obviously knows what her boyfriend is up to. “Why are you here?” She opens her mouth as though to respond, but ducks out of sight instead. A moment later, I hear the front door opening and realize why. Lucas is back. A hum of awareness flutters through me as I hear his footsteps. He enters the room, stopping directly in front of me, and I see that his tan skin is glowing with perspiration. His sleeveless shirt is plastered against his muscular chest, a V of sweat visible in the middle. He looks powerfully, uncompromisingly male, and as I meet his icy gaze, I become cognizant of a heated ache between my legs. As unbelievable as it is, I want him. With effort, I tear my eyes away from his face, afraid he’ll realize what I’m feeling. Nothing about my interactions with him makes sense. I just realized he has a girlfriend, and even if he didn’t, how can I want a man I fear? And why hasn’t he hurt me yet? My gaze falls on his knuckles, and I tense as I see bruises there. He just beat someone up. I want to ask him about it, but I stay silent and look down at my knees. He’s still angry—I can sense it—and I don’t want to provoke him. I also don’t bring up the girlfriend, though I’m dying to confront him about it. For some reason, the darkhaired girl didn’t want him to know she was spying on me, and I don’t want to sell her out for now. I need whatever tiny advantage I can get. “Are you hungry?” Lucas asks, and I look up, surprised by the question. “I could eat,” I say cautiously. I’m actually starving, my body demanding sustenance after weeks of nonstop hunger, but I don’t want him to use that against me. I also really have to pee—a fact I’ve been trying not to focus on too much. He stares at me, then nods, as though coming to a decision. Turning, he disappears down the hallway to the bathroom, and then I hear water running. Is he taking a shower? Three minutes later, he reappears, dressed in a pair of black cotton shorts and a fresh T-shirt. His muscular neck is gleaming with droplets of water, and he smells like the body wash I used earlier, confirming my guess about the shower.

Crouching in front of me, he deftly unties my ankles and then walks around to untie my arms. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my elbow to pull me to my feet. “You can use the bathroom, and then I’ll feed you.” He leads me to the bathroom, and I walk alongside him, too shocked to think about another escape attempt. “Go on,” he says, giving me a push when we get to the bathroom, and I step inside, deciding not to question my good fortune. As I wash my hands, I see a new, unbroken toothbrush sitting on the counter. For a second, I’m tempted to repeat my earlier stunt, but I decide against it. If I couldn’t get him with the element of surprise, I certainly won’t be able to overpower him now that he’s aware of my capabilities. Besides, he said he would feed me, and my stomach is doing cartwheels at the mere thought of food. “Hands,” Lucas says, grabbing my wrists as soon as I step out of the bathroom, and I open my palms, showing him that they’re empty. He gives me an approving nod. “Good girl.” I raise my eyebrows at his odd behavior, but he’s already leading me to the kitchen. “Sit,” he says, pointing at a chair, and I obey, watching as he takes out the same ingredients he used at lunch and begins making two sandwiches. As he works, I quickly scan the kitchen, trying to locate anything that could be used as a weapon. To my disappointment, I don’t see a rack of knives or anything along those lines. The countertops are empty and clean, with the exception of the sandwich makings. He’s not wearing a gun either; he must have all his weapons stashed somewhere else, like in his car. “Here,” he says, putting a plate in front of me, and I notice that it’s paper, not ceramic like the one that broke earlier. The knife that he used to spread the mayo is plastic too. He’s being cautious around me now. I have no doubt that if I searched through the drawers, I’d find something, but Lucas would be on me before I so much as opened a drawer. My hands may be untied, but escape is as impossible as ever. I run my tongue over my dry lips. “May I please have—” “Water? Here you go.” He pours water from the sink into a paper cup, places it in front of me, and sits down across the table with his own sandwich. I have a million questions for him, but I make myself drink my water and eat

most of my sandwich before I give in to the impulse. The last thing I want is to upset him and lose out on this meal. Finally, I can’t wait any longer. “Why are you doing this?” I ask as he finishes his food. My stomach is full to the point of bursting, and I can feel myself getting stronger as my body absorbs the calories. “What do you want from me?” Lucas looks up, his features taut, and I realize he was just staring at my breasts —which are visible through my long hair. Heat climbs up my neck, and my nipples tighten, responding to the unconcealed desire in his eyes. I’ve been naked in front of him all day, and I’m getting desensitized to it, but that doesn’t mean the situation isn’t intensely sexual. As I hold his gaze, it dawns on me that part of the reason for his silence during dinner must’ve been the distraction of my unclothed body. He still wants me, and I don’t know if the knowledge terrifies or excites me. “Tell me about them,” he says abruptly. “Tell me about the people who recruited you, who made you do this.” And here it is: the true reason he’s being nice to me. He’s playing good cop to the Russians’ bad one, the savior to their villain. It’s so close to my fantasies that I want to cry. Except he’s not interested in saving me; he wants to get answers— answers that I can’t and won’t give. “What happened that day?” I ask instead. This question has been plaguing me ever since I learned that he and Esguerra are alive. “How did you survive?” Lucas’s jaw hardens, and the desire in his gaze fades. “You mean with the plane crash?” “So there was a plane crash?” I hadn’t been sure, though I figured his desire to make me pay meant that something had happened. Lucas leans forward, his hands crushing his empty paper plate. “Yes, there was a crash. Didn’t your superiors keep you informed?” I fight the urge to flinch at the renewed fury in his voice. “They did, but I thought they might’ve had wrong information.” “Because we survived.” I nod, holding my breath. He stares at me for a second, then stands up and walks around the table. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my arm again. “We’re done here.”

And dragging me back to the living room, he ties me up in the chair and leaves again, the front door slamming loudly behind him.

23

L

ucas

AS ESGUERRA DISCUSSES THE LATEST TRANSPORTATION CONCERNS WITH OUR HONG KONG SUPPLIER, I sit silently, my attention only partially on the video call. I don’t understand how one young woman can tie me into knots like this. One minute I want to take care of her, get her strong and healthy, and the next I’m torn between fucking her and killing her on the spot. A child prostitute. That’s essentially what they made her. They took her at eleven, trained her, and set her loose in Moscow at sixteen with instructions to get close to the highest circles of Russian government. Just thinking about it makes me sick. I don’t know what infuriates me more: that they did this to her, or that she was involved in the plane crash that killed forty-five of our men and left three more burned beyond recognition. How is it possible to hate someone and want to avenge the wrongs done to her at the same time? “Thank you for your time, Mr. Chen,” Esguerra says, uncharacteristically polite, and I see the wizened old man on the screen nodding as he parrots back the words. It’s important to observe the niceties in that part of the world, even when dealing with criminals. As soon as Esguerra disconnects, I get up, impatient to get back to Yulia. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, and he nods, still working on his computer. “See you,” he says as I walk out.

It’s dark when I step outside—dark, warm, and humid. Esguerra’s office is a small building near the main house, which is a bit of a hike from the guards’ quarters, where I reside. I could’ve driven here, but I enjoy walking, and after sitting still for two hours, I’m eager to stretch my legs and clear my mind. Before I take a dozen steps, I hear a woman calling my name and turn to see Esguerra’s maid, Rosa, hurrying across the wide lawn. She’s holding what looks like a covered pot against her chest. “Lucas, wait!” She sounds out of breath. I stop, curious to find out what she wants. I vaguely recall Eduardo talking about her. He might’ve been dating her at the time. From what he said, she was born on this estate; her parents worked for Juan Esguerra, my boss’s father. I’ve seen her around and exchanged greetings with her a number of times, but I’ve never really spoken to the girl. “Here,” she says, stopping in front of me and handing me the pot. “Ana wanted you to have this.” “She did?” Surprised, I take the heavy offering. The aroma seeping through the lid is rich and savory, making my mouth water. “Why?” Esguerra’s housekeeper occasionally sends some cookies or extra fruit to the guards, but this is the first time she’s singled me out like this. “I don’t know.” For some reason, Rosa’s rounded cheeks turn pink. “I think she just made some extra soup, and Nora and the Señor didn’t want it.” “I see.” I don’t see, but I’m not about to argue with what smells like a delicious meal. “Well, I’ll gladly eat it if they don’t want it.” “They don’t. It’s for you.” She gives me a hesitant smile. “I hope you like it.” “I’m sure I will,” I say, studying the maid. She’s pretty, with lush curves and sparkling brown eyes, and as I watch her flush deepen under my gaze, it dawns on me that the middle-aged housekeeper might not have been the one behind this. Rosa’s interested in me. I’m suddenly sure of that. Doing my best to conceal my discomfort, I wish her a good night and turn away. A couple of months ago, I would’ve been flattered and gladly accepted the invitation evident in the girl’s shy smile. Now, however, all I can think about is the long-legged blonde waiting for me at home and the dirty, savage things I want to do to her. “Bye,” Rosa calls out as I resume walking, and I give her a neutral smile over my

shoulder. “Thanks for the soup,” I say, but she’s already hurrying back to the house, her maid’s black dress billowing around her like a shroud.

AS SOON AS I GET HOME, I PUT THE POT IN THE REFRIGERATOR AND THEN GO TO THE LIVING ROOM. I find my prisoner exactly where I left her: tied up in the chair in the middle of the room. Yulia’s head is lowered, her long blond hair veiling most of her upper body. She doesn’t move as I approach, and I realize she must’ve fallen asleep. Crouching in front of her, I begin untying her ankles, trying to ignore my reaction to her nearness. With her legs bound apart, I can see the tender folds between her thighs, and I recall with sudden vividness how her pussy tasted—and felt around my cock. Fuck. I look down at my hands, determined to focus on my task. It doesn’t help. As my fingers brush over her silky skin, I notice that her feet are long and slender, like the rest of her. Despite her height, her build is delicate, her ankles so narrow I can encircle each one with my thumb and index finger. It would take no effort at all to break those fragile bones. The thought cuts through my haze of lust, and I seize upon it, welcoming the distraction. That’s what I need: to think of her as an enemy, not as a desirable woman. And as an enemy, she’d be easy to torment. With just a bit of pressure, I could snap her feet in half. I know, because I’ve done it. A couple of years ago, a Thai missile manufacturer double-crossed us, and we retaliated by killing his entire family. The man’s wife tried to hide her husband and teenage sons, but we tortured their location out of her, breaking every bone in her legs in the process. We haven’t had trouble in Thailand since. That’s what I should do with Yulia: hurt her, make her reveal her secrets, and then kill her. That’s what Esguerra expects me to do. That’s what I’d planned to do after I had my fill of her. Her leg twitches, tensing in my grasp, and I look up to find Yulia awake, her blue eyes locked on my face. “You’re back,” she says quietly, and I nod, rendered mute by a brutal spike of renewed lust. My cock, already semi-stiff, turns into an iron rod in my shorts, and I

realize that my right hand is sliding up her inner calf, as though of its own accord. Higher, higher... I can feel her tensing even more, sense her breathing changing as her pupils expand, and I know she’s scared. Scared and maybe something else, judging by the color creeping up her face. Unable to resist the dark compulsion, I let my hand continue on its journey, my fingers trailing over the pale curve of her knee and the softness of her inner thigh. Her leg muscles are so tightly bunched they vibrate under my touch, and under the veil of her hair, her nipples harden, drawing into taut pink buds. Her throat works as she swallows. “Lucas—” I don’t hear what she’s about to say because at that moment, my phone buzzes loudly in my pocket. Son of a bitch. Livid with frustration, I yank my hand away from Yulia’s thigh and pull out my phone. Glancing down, I see a message from Diego. Potential problem at North Tower One. I want to throw the phone against the wall, but I resist the urge. Instead, I get up and walk to my office, so Yulia wouldn’t overhear me. Taking a breath to calm myself, I call Diego. “What is it?” I bark as soon as he picks up. “What’s so important?” “We detained a trespasser near the north border. He says he’s a fisherman, but I’m not so sure.” I tamp down my anger. Diego did well to alert me, even if his interruption came at a shitty time. “All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I return to the living room and swiftly untie Yulia, doing my best to ignore my raging erection. “Do you need the bathroom?” I ask, pulling her to her feet, and she nods, looking bewildered. “Let’s go then.” I drag her down the hallway and practically shove her into the restroom. “Be quick about it.” She comes out five minutes later, her face freshly washed and her breath smelling like toothpaste. I check her hands to make sure they’re empty, and then I lead her to the bedroom. Keeping a careful eye on her, I grab a blanket and throw it on the floor near the foot of the bed. Then I reach into the nightstand drawer, take out a coil of rope I’d prepared earlier, and tell Yulia, “Get down on the blanket.”

She freezes, and I see her staring at the rope I’m holding. “Get down,” I repeat, reaching for her. “On the blanket. Now.” She tenses as I pull her toward the blanket, and for a second, I’m sure she’s going to try to fight me. Instead, she complies stiffly, folding her long legs underneath her. “Lie down.” I release her arm to press down on her shoulder. My dick throbs at the feel of her soft skin, and I have to inhale deeply to fight the urge to take her before I go. With the way I’m feeling, I wouldn’t need more than a couple of minutes to blow my load, and the temptation to spread open her legs and fuck her is all but impossible to resist. If I didn’t want more than a rough quickie, I would already be inside her. “Lucas.” Her lips tremble as she looks up at me. “Please, I—” “Lie the fuck down. Now,” I bark, losing my patience. If I have to force her down, I will take her. Her face pale, Yulia obeys, stretching out on the blanket. As soon as she’s horizontal, I kneel beside her, grab her wrists, and raise them above her head. Careful not to cut off her circulation, I wrap the rope tightly around her wrists and tie the other end of it on the leg of the bed. Then I repeat the maneuver with her ankles and the other leg of the bed, ignoring her stiffness. The end result is her stretched out on her side on the blanket, ankles and wrists tied to the opposite sides of the bed. Getting up, I view my handiwork. With the bed as heavy as it is, Yulia is even more securely tied than she was in the chair—and she’s in a better position to sleep if the trespasser situation takes longer than I expect. Before I leave, I take a pillow and bend down to stuff it under her head. Her hair is all over her face, so I brush the silky blond strands away, trying to ignore the lust pounding through me. She stares up at me, her eyes like deep blue pools, and I almost groan when her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. “I’ll be back soon,” I say, forcing myself to straighten and step away from her. And before I can change my mind about the quickie, I exit the room and head over to North Tower One.

24

Y ulia MY PULSE RACING, I HOLD MY BREATH AS I LISTEN TO THE SOUND OF LUCAS’S DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS. He’ll be back soon, he said. Does that mean he went to take a shower, or did he leave to go somewhere? No matter how much I strain, I can’t hear the front door opening, but that doesn’t mean anything. The bedroom is probably too far away from the entrance. After a few more minutes of silence, I shift on the blanket, trying to ease the strain in my shoulders. With my hands tied to one leg of the bed and my ankles to the other, I can’t move more than a couple of centimeters in any direction, and the stretched-out position is only a shade more comfortable than sitting in the chair. Growing frustrated, I test my bonds. As expected, there’s no give in them, and the wooden king-sized bed is so heavy it might as well be welded to the floor. Every pull on the rope makes it cut into my skin, so I stop tugging on it. Inhaling slowly, I try to relax, but I’m too anxious. Where is Lucas? Why did he leave me here like this? When he got the rope and told me to get down on the blanket, I was sure he was going to force me, girlfriend or no girlfriend. I could see his erection, feel the intense hunger in his touch, and it was only the knowledge that it would be infinitely worse if I fought that made me comply with his orders. If I did as he demanded, I hoped he wouldn’t be as rough. Except he didn’t touch me. He just tied me to the bed and left me lying here on the blanket. He even gave me a pillow, as though my comfort matters to him.

As though I’m not someone he ultimately plans to kill. Another few minutes tick by with no sign of Lucas, and I decide that he did leave the house after all. It must be because of that text message he got. Is it workrelated or personal? Does it have something to do with that mysterious girlfriend of his? She knows I’m here. She’s seen me sitting in his house naked. Could she have called Lucas to her because she suspects something’s going on between us? Because she doesn’t want her boyfriend toying with his captive like this? Irrationally, the thought makes my insides twist. I don’t know why I care that Lucas has a girlfriend. We’re not in a relationship, at least not in a romantic sense. He brought me here to torment me, to make me pay for what I’ve done. If anyone has a claim on him, it would be that girl, not me. I’m the other woman—the one he may want, but will never love. Closing my eyes, I try to relax again. Exhaustion presses down on me like a layer of bricks, but for some reason, sleep refuses to come. The draft from the airconditioning is cold on my bare skin, and my shoulders ache from having my arms extended up like that. As ridiculous as it is, a small part of me wishes that Lucas were here—that I were even now lying in his hard embrace. The fantasy is so alluring that I give into it, like I did in that prison. In my dream, none of this is real. Lucas doesn’t hate me. There was no plane crash, and we’re not on opposing sides. He’s just holding me, kissing me... making love to me. In my dream, he’s mine and I’m his—and there’s nothing keeping us apart.

25

L

ucas

BY THE TIME I GET TO THE GUARD TOWER, DIEGO AND THE OTHERS HAVE STRUNG UP THE TRESPASSER IN a small shed nearby. It’s pitch-black outside, and there’s no electricity in the shed, so I bring a battery-operated lantern with me to inspect the intruder. As I shine the light on him, I see that he’s an average-looking Colombian man, likely in his early thirties. His clothes look cheap and rather dirty—though that could be from struggling with our guards. He’s also gagged, likely to prevent him from annoying the guards with his pleading. I step back and turn to Diego. The young Mexican is sporting a mean black eye— a reminder of my earlier outburst over Yulia. For a moment, I consider apologizing more sincerely, but decide that now’s not the time. “Where did you find him?” I ask instead. “He was by the river,” Diego says, keeping his tone low. “He had a boat, and he claims he was fishing.” “But you don’t believe him.” “No.” Diego glances at the guy. “His boat doesn’t have a scratch on it. It’s brand new.” “I see.” Diego’s right to be suspicious. Few fishermen around these parts can afford a new boat. “All right. Ungag him, and let’s see what he says.”

IT’S

TWO IN THE MORNING BY THE TIME THE TRESPASSER FINALLY BREAKS.

I

DON’T ENJOY TORTURE AS

much as Esguerra does, so I let the guards have a go at the guy first. They pummel him, breaking a few ribs, and then I ask him what he’s doing here. He tries to lie, claiming he came to the estate by accident, but after I do a few rounds with my switchblade, he begins to sing and tells us all about his employer, a powerful drug lord from Bogotá. “Do these cabrons never learn?” Diego says in disgust when the man’s speech devolves into sobbing pleas for mercy. “You’d think they’d know better than to try this shit. Sending this joker to find holes in our security—could they be any stupider?” “They could.” I step toward the blubbering man and slice my knife across his throat, putting him out of his misery. “They could try attacking us here.” “True.” Diego steps back to avoid the spray of blood. “Do you want his body shipped to his patrón or taken to the incinerator?” “The incinerator.” I wipe the switchblade on my shirt—it’s so bloody that an extra stain is nothing—and close the knife before putting it away. “Let his boss wonder.” “Okay.” Diego motions to the two other guards, and they drag the body out of the shed. The place will need to be cleaned, but that’s a task for the next shift. I wait for the new guards to arrive and give them those instructions before heading out to my car. Diego walks out beside me, so I ask, “Need a ride?” “Sure. I was going to walk, but a ride sounds good.” He shoots me a grin. “Get myself to bed faster.” “Yeah.” Before we get in the car, I take out a rolled-up towel I keep for these occasions and spread it on the driver’s seat. Diego isn’t as dirty as I am, so I let him get in the passenger seat as is. It’s a short drive, but Diego manages to talk my ear off on the way. He’s hyper, like some guys get after a kill. It’s as if he needs to reinforce that he’s alive, that it’s not his body that’s about to be incinerated out there. I know how he feels because a version of the same excitement is humming in my veins. It’s not as extreme as it was with my first few kills—you can get used to anything, even taking lives—but I still feel sharply alive, all my senses heightened by the proximity of death. “Listen, man,” Diego says when I stop in front of his barracks building, “I just want to say I didn’t mean anything earlier today with that girl of yours. You were right—it’s none of my business.”

“She’s not my girl.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know them to be a lie. Yulia may not be “my girl,” but she’s mine. She’s been mine from the moment I laid eyes on her in Moscow. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Grinning, Diego opens the door and jumps out. “See you tomorrow.” He shuts the door, and I drive off. Loose gravel shoots out behind my car as I floor the gas, filled with sudden impatience. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to claim what’s mine.

BEFORE I GO INTO THE BEDROOM, I TAKE A LONG SHOWER, WASHING OFF ALL TRACES OF BLOOD AND dirt. The warm water takes some of the edge off, but the dark thrum of adrenaline is still there as I step out of the stall and towel off, my cock hardening with anticipation. I don’t bother to get dressed before I leave the bathroom. The air is cool on my still-damp skin as I walk down the hallway, and my heartbeat quickens as I picture Yulia lying there, naked, tied up, and completely at my mercy. I’ve never wanted a woman in that position before, but everything about my prisoner brings out my basest instincts. I want her bound and helpless. I want her to know she can’t get away. It’s dark in the bedroom when I step in, so I reach for the light switch. When the bedside lamp comes on, I see Yulia there, stretched out on the blanket in front of me. Her naked body is long and sleek as she lies on her side, her back toward me. Even after her weight loss, her ass is nicely curved, and her pale skin looks like alabaster against the dark blanket. She doesn’t move as I approach, and I see that she’s asleep, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. Her plump, round breasts move with her steady breathing, her nipples soft and pink in her repose. The lust that’s been building all day roars back, more violent than ever. Kneeling beside her, I run my hand over the side of her body, stroking her from shoulder to mid-thigh. Even bruised in a few places, her skin is gorgeous, so soft and smooth it makes me want to taste her all over. Giving in to the urge, I lean over her, trapping her between my arms, and lower my head to take her nipple into my mouth. It immediately contracts, hardening as I

suck on it, and I feel her tensing underneath me, the rhythm of her breathing changing as she wakes up. Lifting my head, I look down at her, meeting her gaze. There’s fear in her eyes, but there’s also something more—something that turns me on unbearably. Desire. Slowly, using every ounce of willpower to control myself, I trail my right hand over her waist and hip. She doesn’t make a sound, but I see her eyes darkening as my hand moves lower to cup the firm, round curve of her ass. Her skin is cool and smooth to the touch, her flesh resilient as I lightly squeeze her ass cheek. She feels good, so fucking good that my cock is all but ready to explode, and my hand shakes with lust as I move it lower, slipping my fingers under the curve of her ass and between her thighs. Yes, that’s it. A savage triumph fills me as I reach her folds and feel the wetness at the rim of her opening. Her pussy’s ready for me, just like it was the first time I touched her. Still holding her gaze, I push my finger into her tight heat and feel her shudder as she suppresses a soft gasp. “You want me, don’t you?” My voice is low and hoarse. “You want this.” I find her clit with my thumb and press on it, watching her reaction. She seems to have stopped breathing, her eyes enormous in her thin face as she stares up at me. “Say it.” I curl my finger inside her and put more pressure on her clit. “Tell me you fucking want this.” She swallows, her pale throat moving, and I feel her pussy squeezing my finger as a long shudder ripples through her. “Lucas, please...” “Fucking say it,” I grit out, but she shuts her eyes, turning her face away from me. She’s breathing fast now, her chest expanding and contracting in a frantic rhythm, and I feel her muscles clenching as I push a second finger into her, stretching her tight channel. She’s fighting me, denying me. My hunger turns dark, lust intermingling with rage and frustration. How fucking dare she do this to me? She’s mine—her body’s mine to do with what I will. I don’t have to give her a choice. She’s my prisoner, my spoils of war, and I’ve been more than patient with her. “Look at me.” Keeping my hand on her sex, I rise up on my knees and grab her jaw with my other hand, forcing her to face me. “Don’t play games with me,” I

growl when she opens her eyes. “You’ll lose, do you understand me?” She blinks, and I feel her inner muscles rippling around my fingers. She’s dripping wet, her body welcoming my touch. “Yes.” “Yes, what?” It’s all I can do to keep talking instead of fucking her right then and there. My thumb moves over her clit, forcing a gasp out of her. “Yes, what?” “Yes, I—” She sucks in a breath, her voice shaking. “I understand.” “Good. Now stop lying and answer the fucking question.” I curl both fingers inside her, wringing another ripple out of her. “Do you want me?” Her nod is faint, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. I release her face and withdraw my fingers from her pussy, my balls ready to burst. I’m tempted to take her right on this blanket, but I’ve been imagining her in my bed all these weeks, and that’s where I want her this time. Too impatient to bother with the knots in the rope, I get up and go to the laundry room, where I left my bloodied clothes. Thirty seconds later, I return with my switchblade. Approaching Yulia’s legs, I open the knife. Her eyes widen with sudden fear, but I just cut through the rope, freeing her ankles. “Lie still,” I order, getting up to walk around her. A second later, her arms are free too. Not wanting a weapon near her, I go to the other side of the room and put the knife into the top drawer of my dresser before turning to face her. Yulia’s already on her knees, about to get up, but I don’t give her a chance. Closing the distance between us, I bend down and lift her up against my chest. I know she can get on the bed herself, but I need to touch her, to feel her. I can see the pulse beating in her throat as I place her on the white sheets, and my lust intensifies. Mine. She’s mine. The words are a primal drumbeat in my mind. I’ve never felt so possessive about a woman, have never wanted to claim one so badly. The desire is purely visceral, a need that’s as dark and ancient as the urge to kill. I’ve already had her that one night in Moscow, but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. Watching her, I reach into the bedside drawer and pull out a foil packet. Ripping it with my teeth, I take out the condom and roll it onto my throbbing cock. Her gaze

follows my fingers, and I see her body tensing even more. With fear, with lust? I don’t know, and I’m past the point of caring. “Come here,” I order, climbing onto the bed. I don’t know what I expect when I reach for her, but what happens isn’t it. The moment I touch her, Yulia wraps her arms around my neck and presses her lips to mine.

26

Y ulia I DON’T KNOW WHAT MAKES ME KISS LUCAS AT THAT MOMENT, BUT AS SOON AS OUR LIPS MEET, MY anxiety melts away, replaced by aching need. I want him—this hard, confusing man who is my captor. With my fantasies fresh in my mind, I want him more than I fear him. The panic I felt earlier today is absent, the dark memories quiescent as he bears me down to the mattress, his hands sliding into my hair. I arch against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth and exploring it hungrily. He tastes like heat and raw passion, like my dreams and my nightmares. He consumes me, and I consume him in return, my hands moving frantically over his muscular back, his neck, his short hair. I know he’ll most likely kill me in the not-toodistant future—I know the hands cradling my head might one day crack my skull— but at this moment, none of that matters. I’m living solely in the present, where his touch is bringing me pleasure instead of pain. His lips drift over to my ear, and I feel his teeth grazing my neck before he sucks on the tender skin. My entire body erupts in goosebumps, the pleasure sharp and electrifying as his right hand slides down my side, traveling over the curve of my waist and hip before delving between our bodies to find my sex. Unerringly, his fingers hone in on my clit, and the ache inside me intensifies, the tension becoming unbearable. I cry out his name, shocked by the intensity of the sensations, but it’s too late. I’m already coming, my body having been poised on the edge too long.

He pets me through the shattering waves of pleasure, his fingers stroking my folds until my orgasm ends, and then he grabs my leg and drapes it over his hip, opening me wide. His cock presses against my inner thigh, thick and unyielding, and a tendril of fear invades me again as I meet his glittering gaze. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says, his voice low and guttural. “You’re mine, do you understand me? Mine.” Stunned, I attempt to process the claim, but in that moment, Lucas kisses me again and my eyes drift shut, my ability to think evaporating. His body is a warm steel cage on top of me, his scent and taste overwhelming my senses. I can’t take a breath without inhaling him, can’t feel anything but the devouring force of his mouth and the hardness of his erection at the entrance to my body. I clutch at his sides, my nails digging into his skin, and then I feel it—his thick cock pushing into me, penetrating me. His left hand tightens in my hair, preventing me from turning away from his mouth, and I can’t even cry out as he stretches me, invading my body as if it’s his right. He goes deep, so deep it should hurt, and it does—except there’s pleasure too, pleasure and a strange kind of relief. Relief that in this moment, I truly belong to him. When he’s in all the way, he lifts his head, letting me catch my breath, and I open my eyes, meeting his gaze once more. His lips are shiny from kissing me, and his sun-burnished skin is drawn tight over his harshly beautiful features. I can feel him lodged inside me, the heat of him burning me from within, and my body softens for him, embracing him with more wetness. “Yulia,” he whispers, staring down at me, and I know that he feels it too, this pull, this visceral connection between us. He may have all the power, but in this moment, he’s as vulnerable as I am, caught in the grip of the same madness. I don’t know whether he realizes it too, but suddenly, his jaw hardens, his gaze growing cold and shuttered. Without saying another word, he reaches down with his left hand to grab one of my wrists and pin it above my head. Next, he repeats the maneuver with his right hand, leaving me stretched out underneath him, unable to move or touch him in any way. Leaving me helpless under a man who wants to punish me. “Lucas, wait,” I whisper, feeling the dark prickles of panic, but it’s too late. Holding my wrists above my head, he begins to move inside me, his eyes glinting with icy fury. His thrusts are hard, merciless, stealing my breath and wringing pained cries from my throat. He’s not making love; he’s taking my body, claiming it

as brutally as any conqueror. I begin to fight him then, the panic spreading as the old memories flood in, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m pinned, invaded, and the man above me has no mercy. His body takes mine, over and over again, and I feel myself sliding into that cold, dark place, the one from which I fought so hard to emerge. The lines between the present and the past blur, and I hear Kirill’s cruel, taunting voice, smell the suffocating stench of his cologne as he crushes me into the floor. The horror begins to engulf me, but before I’m completely lost, Lucas transfers my wrists into one of his big hands and reaches between us with the other, finding my clit once more. His touch is skilled, unerring, and the stunning pleasure wrenches me back into the present, making me aware of the tension building within me again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to twist away, to escape, but there’s nowhere to go. There’s only his cock inside me and his fingers on my clit, pain and pleasure tangling together in a vicious erotic spiral. There was never pleasure with Kirill, never anything but awful pain, and the shock of the dual sensation keeps me grounded in the moment, reminding me that the man on top is not my trainer. It’s Lucas, another man who hates me. Except my body doesn’t know that, doesn’t realize that the way he touches me shouldn’t cause me pleasure. Despite the roughness of his thrusts, Lucas’s fingers on my clit are gentle, and the pleasure intensifies, chasing away the darkness. Gasping and panting, I arch up, frantic pleas tearing from my throat, and he presses harder on my clit, pushing me to that sharp, volcanic edge. “Come for me, beautiful,” he rasps out, lowering his face to my neck, and to my shock, I feel myself peaking. Explosive ecstasy wells up and radiates out to every cell in my body, all of my muscles quivering with sensations as I spasm around his thick cock. Stunned, I cry out his name, and at that moment, I hear his breathing changing, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His hand tightens around my wrists as he thrusts deeply one last time and halts, his hips moving in a circular, grinding motion. I feel his cock pulsing within me, and I know he came too. Desperately sucking in air, I turn my head to the side, unwilling to face him or the confusing jumble of feelings in my chest. I’m shattered, undone by both the pain and the pleasure. He’s still inside me, his cock only marginally softer than before. I feel the stickiness of sweat gluing our bodies together, hear the harsh bellows of his breathing, and strange, unwelcome tears burn my eyes. If I had any doubts about the reality of what’s happening, they’re gone. This act,

this soul-tearing thing that happened between us, impresses upon me more than ever the fact that Lucas is alive. He’s alive, and I’m his prisoner. The tears threaten to spill out, and I squeeze my eyelids tighter, determined to prevent that from happening. I can’t allow myself the luxury of crying. Whatever this means, whatever Lucas has in store for me, I have to bear it. I have to be strong because this is only the start. My captivity is just beginning.

BIND ME CAPTURE ME: BOOK 2

I HIS CAPTIVE

1

Y ulia PRISONER. CAPTIVE. With Lucas’s heavily muscled weight pinning me to the bed, I feel that reality more acutely than ever. My wrists are restrained above my head, and my body is invaded by a man who just showed me both heaven and hell. I can feel Lucas’s cock softening inside me, and my eyes burn with unshed tears as I lie there, my face turned away to avoid looking at him. He took me, and once more, I let him. No, I didn’t just let him—I embraced him. Knowing how much my captor hates me, I kissed him of my own accord, giving in to dreams and fantasies that have no place in my life. Giving in to my desire for a man who’s going to destroy me. I don’t know why Lucas hasn’t done it yet, why I’m in his bed instead of strung up in some torture shed, broken and bleeding. This is not what I expected when Esguerra’s men brought me here yesterday and I realized that the man whose death I thought I caused was alive. Alive and determined to punish me. Lucas stirs on top of me, his heavy weight lifting slightly, and I feel the cool breeze from the air conditioning on my sweat-dampened skin. My inner muscles tighten as his cock slips out of me, and I become aware of a deep soreness between my legs. My throat constricts, and the burn behind my eyelids intensifies. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I repeat the words like a mantra, focusing on keeping the

tears under control. It’s harder than it should be, and I know it’s because of what just transpired between us. Pain and pleasure. Fear and lust. I never knew the combination could be so devastating, never realized that I could soar right after being plunged into the abyss of my past. I never imagined I could come mere moments after remembering Kirill. Just thinking of my trainer’s name makes the knot in my throat expand, the dark memories threatening to well up again. No, stop. Don’t think about that. Lucas shifts again, lifting his head, and I exhale in relief as he releases my wrists and rolls off me. The prickling sensation behind my eyes recedes as I take in a full breath, filling my lungs with much-needed air. Yes, that’s it. I just need some distance from him. Gulping in another breath, I turn my head to see Lucas get up and remove the condom. Our eyes meet, and I catch a hint of confusion in the blue-gray coolness of his gaze. In the next moment, however, the emotion is gone, leaving his squarejawed face as hard and uncompromising as ever. “Get up.” Lucas reaches for me and grabs my arm. “Let’s go.” He drags me off the bed. I’m too shaky to resist, so I just stumble along as he marches me down the hallway. A few moments later, he stops in front of the bathroom door. “Do you need a minute?” he asks, and I nod, grateful for the offer. I need more than a minute—I need an eternity to recover from this—but I will settle for a minute of privacy if that’s all I can get. “Don’t try anything,” he says as I close the door, and I take his warning to heart, doing nothing more than using the toilet and washing my hands as quickly as I can. Even if I could find something to fight him with, I don’t have the strength right now. I’m drained, both physically and emotionally, my body aching nearly as much as my soul. It was too much, all of it: the brief connection I thought we had, the way he suddenly became cold and cruel, the memories combined with the devastating pleasure. The fact that Lucas took me even though he has that other girl, the dark-haired one who spied on me from the window.

My throat closes up again, and I have to choke back a sob. I don’t know why this thought, of all things, is so painful. I have no claim on my captor. At best, I’m his toy, his possession. He’ll play with me until he gets bored, and then he’ll break me. He’ll kill me without a second thought. You’re mine, he said as he was fucking me, and for a brief moment, I thought he meant it. I thought he felt as drawn to me as I am to him. Clearly, I was wrong. A thin film of moisture veils my vision, and I blink to clear it from my eyes. The face staring back at me from the bathroom mirror is gaunt and starkly pale. Two months in the Russian prison took their toll on my appearance. I don’t even know why Lucas wants me right now. His girlfriend is infinitely prettier, with her warm complexion and vibrant features. A hard knock startles me. “Your minute’s up.” Lucas’s voice is harsh, and I know I can’t delay facing him any longer. Taking a breath to calm myself, I open the door. He’s standing at the entrance, waiting for me. I expect him to lead me back, but he steps into the bathroom instead. “Get in,” he says, pushing me toward the shower. “We’re going to wash up.” We? He’s coming in with me? My insides clench, heat spreading over my skin at the image, but I obey. I don’t have a choice, but even if I did, the memory of my showerless weeks at the Moscow prison is still horribly fresh in my mind. If my captor wants me to take five showers a day, I’ll gladly do so. The shower stall is big enough to accommodate both of us, the glass enclosure clean and modern. In general, everything about Lucas’s house is clean and modern, completely different from the tiny Soviet-era apartment in Moscow where I used to reside. “Your bathroom is nice,” I say inanely when he turns on the water. I don’t know why I choose this topic of all things, but I need to distract myself somehow. We’re in the shower, naked together, and even though we just had sex, I can’t stop staring at him. His sharply defined muscles bunch with every movement, and his heavy sac hangs between his legs, where his semi-hard cock is glistening with traces of his seed. He’s not the only man I’ve seen naked, but he’s by far the most magnificent. “You like the bathroom?” Lucas turns to face me, letting the water spray hit his broad back, and I realize I’m not the only one aware of the sexual charge in the air.

It’s there in the heavy-lidded gaze that travels over my body before returning to my face, in the way his big hands curl, as if to stop themselves from reaching for me. “Yes.” I try to keep my tone casual, as though it’s not a big deal that we’re standing here together after he fucked my brains out and sent my emotions into a tailspin. “I like the simplicity of your decor.” It makes for a nice change from the complexity of the man himself. He stares at me, his pale eyes more gray than blue in this light, and I see that unlike me, he’s not willing to be distracted. He wanted us to take a shower together for a reason, and that reason becomes obvious as he reaches for me and pulls me under the water spray with him. “Get down.” He accompanies the order with a hard push on my shoulders. My legs fold, unable to withstand the force of his hands pressing down, and I find myself on my knees in front of him, my face at the level of his groin. His broad back deflects most of the water spray, but the droplets still reach me, forcing me to close my eyes as he grips my hair and pulls my head close to his hardening cock. “If you bite me…” He leaves the threat unsaid, but I don’t need to know the specifics to understand that such action wouldn’t go well for me. I want to tell him that the warning isn’t necessary, that I’m too shattered for battle right now, but he doesn’t give me a chance. As soon as my lips part, he thrusts his cock in, going so deep that I almost choke before he takes it out. Gasping, I brace myself on the steely columns of his thighs, and he pushes back in, slower this time. “Good, that’s a good girl.” His grip in my hair eases as I close my lips around his thick shaft and hollow out my cheeks, sucking on him. “Exactly like that, beautiful…” Bizarrely, his words of encouragement send a spiral of heat through my core. I’m still wet from our fucking, and I feel that slickness as I press my thighs together, trying to contain the ache within. I can’t possibly want him again. My sex is raw and swollen, my insides tender from his harsh possession. I also remember that encroaching darkness, the memories that came so close to sucking me in. Being with a man like this—when I’m completely in his power and he wants to punish me—is my worst nightmare, yet with Lucas none of that seems to matter. I’m still turned on. His fingers fist in my hair as he thrusts into my mouth, developing a rhythm, and I do my best to relax my throat muscles. I know how to give a good blow job, and I use that skill now, cupping his balls with both hands as I create suction with

my lips. “Yes, that’s it.” His voice is thick with lust. “Keep going.” I obey, squeezing his balls tighter as I take him even deeper into my throat. Strangely, I don’t mind giving him this pleasure. Though I’m on my knees, I feel more in control now than I have at any moment since my arrival this morning. I’m letting him do this, and there’s power in that, though I know it’s mostly an illusion. I’m his prisoner, not his girlfriend, but for the moment, I can pretend that I am, that the man thrusting his cock between my lips regards me as something more than a sexual object. “Yulia…” He groans my name, adding to the illusion, and then he thrusts in all the way and stops, spurting thick jets of cum into my throat. I focus on breathing and not choking as I swallow, my hands still cradling his tightly drawn balls. “Good girl,” he whispers, letting me get every drop, and then he strokes my hair, his touch as gentle as I’ve ever felt. I should’ve found his approval humiliating, but I revel in the small tenderness, soaking it up with desperate need. I feel tired, so tired that all I want to do is stay like this, with him stroking my hair as I drift off into nothingness. All too soon, he helps me to my feet, and I open my eyes when the water spray starts hitting me in the chest instead of my face. Lucas doesn’t speak, but when he pours body wash into his palm and applies it to my skin, his touch is still gentle and soothing. “Lean back,” he murmurs, stepping behind me, and I lean on him, resting my head against his strong shoulder as he washes my front, his big hands soaping my breasts, belly, and the tender place between my legs. He’s taking care of me, I realize dreamily, my mind beginning to drift as I close my eyes to enjoy the attention. All too soon, I’m clean, and he steps back, directing the spray at me to rinse me off. I sway slightly, my legs barely able to hold me up as Lucas turns off the water and guides me out of the shower. “Come, let’s get you into bed. You’re about to fall over.” He wraps a thick towel around me and picks me up, carrying me out of the bathroom. “You need sleep.” He brings me to the bedroom and lowers me to the bed. I blink at him, my thoughts slow and sluggish. He’s not going to tie me up on the floor next to the bed?

“You’re going to sleep with me,” he says, answering my unspoken question. I blink at him again, too tired to analyze what all of this means, but he’s already taking a pair of handcuffs out of his nightstand drawer. Before I can wonder about his intentions, he snaps one handcuff around my left wrist and attaches the second one to his own. Then he lies down, stretching out behind me, and curves his body around mine from the back, draping his cuffed left arm over my side. “Sleep,” he whispers in my ear, and I comply, sinking into the warm comfort of oblivion.

2

L

ucas

YULIA’S BREATHING EVENS OUT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, HER BODY TURNING BONELESS AS SHE FALLS asleep in my embrace. Her hair is wet from the shower, the moisture seeping into my pillow, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m too focused on the woman in my arms. She smells like my body wash and herself, a unique, delicate scent that still somehow reminds me of peaches. Her slender body is soft and warm, the curve of her ass cushioning my groin. My body hums with contentment as I lie there, but my mind refuses to relax. I fucked her. I fucked her, and it was once again the best sex I’ve ever had, surpassing even that time with her in Moscow. When I entered her, the intensity of the sensations took my breath away. It didn’t feel like sex—it felt like coming home. Even now, remembering what it was like to slide into her tight, warm depths makes my cock twitch and my chest ache with something indefinable. I don’t want this with her, whatever “this” is. It should’ve been so simple: fuck her, get her out of my system, and then punish her, extracting information from her in the process. She killed men I’d worked and trained with for years. She nearly killed me. The idea that I can feel anything but hatred and lust for Yulia infuriates me. It took everything I had to ignore the softness in her gaze and treat her like the prisoner she is—to fuck her roughly instead of making love to her. I knew I was

hurting her—I felt her struggling as I drove mercilessly into her—but I couldn’t let her know how she affects me. I couldn’t give in to this insane weakness. Except I did exactly that when she sucked my cock without a hint of protest, milking me with her mouth like she couldn’t get enough. She gave me pleasure after I treated her like a whore, and that damnable need came over me again. The need to hold her and protect her. She knelt in front of me, her wet, spiky lashes fanning across her pale cheeks as she swallowed every drop of my cum, and I wanted to cradle her, to take her in my arms and make her promises I should never keep. I settled for washing her, but I couldn’t bring myself to tie her up and make her sleep on the floor—just like I couldn’t bring myself to truly hurt her earlier. What a fucking mess. She’s been here less than twenty-four hours, and the fury that’s burned inside me for two months is already beginning to cool, her vulnerability getting to me like nothing else. I shouldn’t care that she’s weak and starved, that her body is a shadow of its former self and her blue eyes are ringed with exhaustion. It shouldn’t matter to me that she was recruited at eleven and sent to work as a spy in Moscow at sixteen. None of those facts should make a difference to me, but they do. Fucking hell. I close my eyes, telling myself that whatever it is I’m feeling is temporary, that it will pass once I’ve had my fill of her. I tell myself this even though I know I’m lying. It’s not going to be that simple, and I should’ve known it.

A STRANGE NOISE STARTLES ME OUT OF DEEP SLEEP. MY EYES SPRING OPEN, ALL TRACES OF SLEEPINESS gone as adrenaline rockets through me. I tense, preparing for a fight, and then I recall that I’m not alone. There’s a woman lying in my arms, her left wrist handcuffed to mine. I exhale slowly, realizing the noise came from her. She shifts restlessly, and I hear it again. A soft whimper that ends as a choked cry.

“Yulia.” I place my left hand on her shoulder, bringing her arm up with it. “Yulia, wake up.” She twists, struggling with sudden ferocity, and I realize she’s not awake yet. She’s half-crying, half-gasping, and yanking at the handcuffs with all her strength. Son of a bitch. I grab her left wrist to stop her from hurting us both and roll on top of her, using my weight to immobilize her. “Calm down,” I whisper in her ear. “It’s just a dream.” I expect her to stop struggling then, to wake up and realize what’s going on, but that’s not what happens. She turns into a wild animal instead.

3

Y ulia “IT’S YOUR FAULT, BITCH. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.” A heavy body presses me into the floor, cruel hands tearing at my clothes, and then there’s pain, brutal, searing pain as he thrusts into me, telling me that it’s my punishment, that I deserve to pay. “Don’t!” I scream, fighting, but I can’t move, can’t breathe underneath him. “Stop, please stop!” “Calm down,” he whispers in my ear in English. “Just calm the fuck down.” The incongruity of Kirill speaking English jolts me for a second, but I’m in too much of a panic to analyze it fully. The pain of the violation and the shame are like a vise crushing my chest. I’m suffocating, spinning into the cold darkness, and all I can do is fight, scream and fight. “Yulia. Fuck, stop that!” His voice is deeper than I remembered, and he’s speaking English again. Why is he doing that? We’re not in training right now. The oddity nags at me, and I realize it’s not the only thing that’s strange. He’s not wearing cologne either. Confused, I still underneath him and realize I’m not actually in pain. He’s on top of me, but he’s not hurting me. Reality shifts and realigns, and I remember. Kirill was seven years ago. I’m not in Kiev—I’m in Colombia, captive of another man who wants to punish me for what I’ve done.

“Yulia.” Lucas’s quiet voice is near my ear. “Can I let you go?” “Yes,” I whisper into the pillow. My muscles are trembling from overexertion, and my breathing is labored, as if I’ve been running. I must’ve been fighting Lucas instead of the phantom in my nightmare. “I’m fine now. Really.” Lucas rolls off me, and I feel a tug on my left wrist, where the handcuffs still join us. My skin underneath the metal is stinging and raw. I must’ve been yanking on the shackle during the fight. He stretches away from me, and a second later, a soft light comes on, illuminating the room. The sight of the clean white walls serves as additional proof that I was dreaming and Kirill is nowhere near me. Lucas reaches into the nightstand and extracts a key to unlock the handcuffs. When he puts the key back in the drawer, I automatically note its location, though my teeth are already beginning to chatter. I haven’t had a nightmare this strong and realistic in years, and I’ve forgotten how bad it can be. Lucas turns to face me. “Yulia.” His gaze is somber as he reaches for me. “What happened?” I let him draw me into his lap, so I can feel the heat of his body on my frozen skin. I can’t stop trembling, the shadow of the nightmare still hovering over me. “I —” My voice cracks. “I had a bad dream.” “No.” He tilts my chin up with one hand, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Tell me why you had this dream. What happened to you?” I clamp my lips shut, fighting an illogical urge to obey that quiet command. Something about the way he’s holding me—almost like a parent comforting a child —makes me want to confide in him, tell him things I’ve only shared with the agency therapist. “What happened?” Lucas presses, his tone softening, and I feel a swell of longing, a desire for the connection I imagined between us before. Except maybe I didn’t imagine it. Maybe there’s something there. I so badly want there to be something there. “Yulia.” Curving his palm over my jaw, Lucas strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Tell me. Please.” It’s that last word that breaks me, coming as it does from a man so hard and domineering. There’s no anger in the way he’s touching me, no violent lust. It’s true that he hurt me earlier, but he also gave me pleasure and some semblance of

tenderness afterwards. And right now he’s not demanding answers from me—he’s asking. He’s asking, and I can’t refuse him. Not while I feel so lost and alone. “All right,” I whisper, looking at the man I dreamed about for the last two months. “What do you want to know?”

4

L

ucas

“HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN IT HAPPENED?” I ASK, MOVING MY HAND TO THE BACK OF HER NECK TO massage the tense muscles there. Yulia’s body is shaking as I hold her in my lap, and a fresh surge of rage knots my insides. Someone hurt her, badly, and I’m going to make that person pay. “Fifteen,” she answers, and I hear the catch in her voice. Fifteen. I force myself to remain still and not give in to the volcanic violence boiling within me. I’d suspected it was something like that. Her voice as she screamed had been high-pitched, almost childish, the words tumbling out in either Russian or Ukrainian. “Who was he?” Keeping my voice even, I continue my little massage. It seems to be soothing her, easing some of her trembling. Her face color matches my white sheets, her blue eyes dark in the dim light of the bedside lamp. She might be twenty-two, but at this moment, she looks impossibly young. Young and incredibly fragile. “His name—” She swallows. “His name was Kirill. He was my trainer.” Kirill. I make a mental note of that. I’ll need his last name to mobilize a search, but at least I already have something. Then the second part of what she said sinks in. “Your trainer?” She averts her gaze. “One of them. His specialty was hand-to-hand combat.”

Motherfucker. A fifteen-year-old girl—hell, even a grown man—wouldn’t have stood a chance. “And the people you work for allowed this?” The rage creeps into my voice, and she flinches, almost imperceptibly. Not wanting to frighten her, I take a deep breath, trying to regain control. She’s still looking away from me, her eyes trained on some spot to the left of me, so I slide my hand into her hair and gently cup her skull, bringing her attention back to me. “Yulia, please.” With effort, I even out my tone. “Did they sanction this?” “No.” Her lips curl with bitter irony. “That’s the thing. They didn’t.” “I don’t understand.” She laughs, the sound raw and full of pain. “They should’ve just sanctioned it. Then he wouldn’t have been angry like that.” My blood feels both hot and icy. “Tell me.” “He started coming on to me when I turned fifteen, right after I got my braces off.” Her gaze drifts away from mine again. “I was an ugly child, you see—tall, skinny, and awkward—but when I grew up, I looked better. Boys started liking me, and men began noticing me as well. It happened almost overnight.” “And he was one of the men.” She nods, returning her attention to me. “Yes. He was one of the men. It wasn’t a big deal at first. He’d hold me a little longer on a mat, or he’d make me practice a move a few extra times so he could touch me. I didn’t even realize he was interested, not until—” She stops abruptly, a tremor running over her skin. “Not until what?” I prompt, trying to remain calm enough to listen. “Not until he cornered me in the locker room.” She swallows again. “He caught me after a shower, and he touched me. All over.” Motherfucking piece of shit. I want to kill the man so badly I can taste it. “What happened then?” I force myself to ask. It’s not the end of the story, I can tell that much. “I reported him.” A shudder runs through Yulia’s slim body. “I went to the head of the program and told him about Kirill.” “And?” “And they fired him. They told him to go away and have nothing to do with me ever again.”

“But he didn’t.” “No,” she agrees dully. “He didn’t.” I take a breath and brace myself. “What did he do to you?” “He came to the dormitory where I lived, and he raped me.” Her voice is flat, and her gaze slides away from me again. “He said he was punishing me for what I did.” The words knock the breath out of me. The parallels don’t escape me. I, too, planned to use sex as punishment, sating my lust on her body and showing her how little she meant to me at the same time. In fact, that’s what I did earlier tonight, when I took her roughly, ignoring her struggles. “Yulia…” For the first time in years, I feel the bitter lash of self-hatred. No wonder she panicked when I had her pinned on the hallway floor. “Yulia, I—” “The doctors said I was lucky the other trainees found me when they did,” she continues, as though I hadn’t spoken. “Otherwise, I’d have bled out.” “Bled out?” A swell of rage tightens my throat. “The fucker hurt you that badly?” “I was hemorrhaging,” she explains, her face oddly calm as she meets my gaze again. “It was my first time, and he was rough. Very rough.” The motherfucking bastard’s death will be slow. Very slow. I picture myself using some of Peter Sokolov’s techniques on the trainer, and the fantasy steadies me enough that I can ask evenly, “What is his last name?” Yulia blinks, and I see some of her unnatural calm dissipating. “His name doesn’t matter.” “It matters to me.” I clasp her shoulders, feeling the delicacy of her bones. “Come on, sweetheart. Just tell me his name.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she repeats. Her gaze hardens as she adds, “He doesn’t matter. He’s dead. He’s been dead for six years.” Fuck. So much for that fantasy. “Did you kill him?” I ask. “No.” Her eyes glitter like shards of broken glass. “I wish I had. I wanted to, but the head of our program sent an assassin for him instead.”

“So they deprived you of vengeance.” I know most people would be glad that a young girl didn’t get a chance to commit murder, but I’ve never believed in turning the other cheek. There’s a certain satisfaction in revenge, a sense of closure. It doesn’t undo the past, but it can help one feel better about it. I know, because it helped me. Yulia doesn’t respond, and I realize I’ve hit a sore spot. She resents them for this, this agency she refuses to speak about—this “head of the program,” who should’ve protected her from the trainer to begin with. Would she give them up if I asked her about them now? She’s raw and vulnerable after reliving her painful past. I would be a real bastard to take advantage of that. Except if I do, I could have the information I need, and I wouldn’t have to hurt her. I would keep her safe, and nobody would hurt her ever again. Yesterday, I would’ve pushed the thought aside, dismissing it as a weakness, but no more. I have been lying to myself all these weeks, and it’s time to admit it. I won’t be able to torture her. When I try to picture myself using my knife on her the way I did on that trespasser, my stomach turns. Even before her nightmare, I couldn’t bring myself to treat Yulia like I would a real prisoner, and now that I know how much she’s already suffered, the idea of causing her more pain makes me physically ill. Reaching a decision, I say quietly, “Tell me about the program.” This is my best chance to get the required information, and I have to use it, even if it means exploiting Yulia’s vulnerability. Still holding her gaze, I move one of my hands to her nape and rub it gently. “Who are the people who recruited you?” She freezes on my lap, and I see a flash of pain contort her features before they smooth into a beautiful mask. “The program?” Her voice sounds cold and distant. “I don’t know anything about it.” And pushing me away, she leaps off the bed and sprints out of the room.

5

Y ulia I RUN DOWN THE HALLWAY, coating my tongue.

MY BARE FEET SILENT ON THE CARPET.

BETRAYAL

IS A BITTER, OILY SLIME

Fool. Idiot. Dura. Debilka. I castigate myself in two languages, unable to find enough words to cover my stupidity. How could I have trusted Lucas for even a second? I know what he wants from me, but I still gave in to that stupid longing, to fantasies that should’ve died out the moment I realized he was alive. The man I dreamed about in prison has never been anything but a figment of my imagination. The interrogation technique he used on me is beyond basic. Step one: Get close to your enemy and understand what makes her tick. Step two: Lend a sympathetic ear and pretend like you care. It’s the oldest trick in the book, and I fell for it. I had been so starved for human warmth I let an enemy see into my soul. “Yulia!” I can hear Lucas running after me, but I’m already by the bathroom. Darting in, I close the door and lock it, then lean against it, hoping to keep him from breaking it down for at least a few moments. “Yulia!” He bangs his fist on the door, and I feel it shaking, echoing the quaking of my body. I feel cold again, the chill from the nightmare returning. Why did I tell Lucas about Kirill? I never trusted anyone but the agency therapist with the full story. Obenko knew, of course—he was the one who ordered the hit on Kirill—but I never spoke about it with him. Outside mandated therapy sessions, I never spoke about it with anyone until

Lucas. “Yulia, open this door.” He stops banging, his tone turning calm and cajoling. “Come out, and we’ll talk.” Talk? I want to laugh, but I’m afraid it’ll come out as a sob. When I was first recruited, the agency therapist expressed a concern that I wouldn’t be sufficiently detached for the job, that losing my family at a young age made me susceptible to emotional manipulation. It was a weakness I’ve worked hard to overcome, but apparently not hard enough. A tender touch, a show of anger on my behalf, and I turned to putty in Lucas Kent’s hands. “Yulia, there’s nothing in that room for you. Come out, sweetheart. I won’t do anything to you, I promise.” Sweetheart? A spark of anger ignites in me, chasing away some of the icy chill. How much of an idiot does he think I am? Stepping back, I turn and unlock the door. Lucas is right: there’s nothing in this bathroom for me but self-recriminations and bitterness. I can’t change what happened. I can’t take back the fact that I trusted a man who desires nothing more than revenge. What I can do, however, is turn the tables. When the door opens, I look up at Lucas and let the tears stinging my eyes finally fall.

6

L

ucas

SHE STANDS IN THE DOORWAY, LOOKING SO BEAUTIFUL AND VULNERABLE THAT MY HEART SQUEEZES IN my chest. Her eyes are glittering with tears, and as I reach for her, she wraps her arms around her naked torso in a defensive gesture. “No, come here, sweetheart.” I unwrap her arms and pull her toward me, doing a quick visual scan of her hands to make sure she’s not concealing a weapon. No matter how fragile Yulia appears, I can’t forget that she’s a trained agent who’s already tried to kill me. To my relief, she’s unarmed, so I fold my arms around her, pressing her against my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry.” The feel of her bare skin against mine makes my body stir again, and I have to focus to ignore the press of her nipples against my chest. I don’t want to get distracted by lust, not after what I’ve just learned. I know I’m being irrational. It shouldn’t matter that she’s been abused. Some of the most twisted individuals I know have had a rough past, and I’ve never been inclined to cut them any slack. If they fucked up, they paid. Nobody gets a free pass with me, yet that’s precisely what I’m planning to give her. My one-eighty turn is so sudden I want to laugh at myself. She’s been here less than twenty-four hours, and my plans for her have already gone up in smoke. I suppose I should’ve expected this, given that I haven’t been able to get Yulia out of my mind for the last two months, but the intensity of my need and the inconvenient feelings that came with it still blindsided me. She killed dozens of our men and nearly killed me.

The thought that always enraged me now brings up only echoes of my former fury. She was doing her job, carrying out the assignment she’d been entrusted with. I’ve always known it was nothing personal, but that didn’t matter to me before. An eye for an eye—that’s the way Esguerra and I have always operated. You cross us, you pay. Except I don’t want to make Yulia pay anymore. She’s been through enough, first at the Russian prison, then at my hands. Instead of her, I’ll focus my vengeance on the ones who are truly responsible: the agency that gave her that assignment. “Let’s go back to bed,” I say, pulling back to gaze down at Yulia. She’s stopped trembling, though her face is still wet with tears. “It’s early.” She gives a curt shake of her head. “No, I can’t sleep. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.” “All right.” The sun’s already starting to come up, so I figure it’s not a big deal. “Do you want something to eat?” She extricates herself from my hold and takes a step back. “Another sandwich?” Her voice still sounds shaky, but there’s a tiny note of amusement there too. “I have soup,” I say, trying to keep my eyes off her slim, naked body. She blinks. “What kind of soup?” “I’m not sure. I forgot to look inside the pot before putting it in the fridge. It’s something from Esguerra’s house. His maid gave it to me last night.” A small, surprising smile curves Yulia’s lips. “Really? Do they also feed you scraps from their table?” “No.” I chuckle at her not-so-subtle jab. “I wish they would, though. Esguerra’s housekeeper is amazing in the kitchen, and I can’t cook worth shit.” Yulia arches her delicate eyebrows. “Seriously? I can.” “Oh?” I find myself enjoying the unexpected banter. “Did they teach you that in spy school?” “No, I taught myself some basic recipes when I first arrived in Moscow. I was living off a student stipend, so I didn’t have a lot of money for eating out. Later on, I discovered I liked cooking, so I started experimenting with more advanced recipes.” The reminder of the fucked-up nature of her job kills my lighter mood. “You weren’t getting a salary?” “What?” She looks taken aback. “No, of course I was. It was being deposited into

my bank account in Ukraine. I just couldn’t use those funds—I had to live like a student, else I wouldn’t have passed the Kremlin’s background checks.” Of course. Undercover living at its finest. “All right,” I say, forcing my tone to lighten. “Let’s try the soup for now. Maybe later you can show me your cooking skills.”

THE SOUP ROSA GAVE ME IS DELICIOUS, FILLED WITH MUSHROOMS, RICE, BEANS, AND CHUNKS OF LAMB. As we eat, I observe Yulia, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with her now. Keep her naked and tied up in my house forever? To my shock, the idea holds a certain dark appeal. For the first time, I understand why Esguerra kept his wife, Nora, on his private island for the first fifteen months of their relationship. It’s as secure and isolated as one can get—a perfect place for a woman who may not necessarily want to be there. If I had an island, I’d keep Yulia there, with nothing but her long blond hair to cover her. Her spoon clinks against her ceramic bowl—I don’t have paper plates for soup— and I tense, my gaze jumping to her hand. She’s just eating, though, her attention seemingly focused on her meal. Despite her calm demeanor, I don’t relax. She’s going to try something, I’m sure of it. I may have decided against making her pay, but that doesn’t mean I trust Yulia or expect her to trust me. Even if I told her I no longer plan to punish her, she wouldn’t believe me. Given a chance, she’d escape in a heartbeat, and the fact that she’s being so docile worries me. It’s a good thing I took the precaution of stashing all weapons from my house in the trunk of my car; it would’ve been too risky to have guns around when I let her eat untied like this. Naked and untied. I try not to get distracted by the sight of her nipples peeking through the veil of her hair, but it’s impossible. Under the table, my cock feels like it’s made of stone. I took the time to throw on a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt before leading Yulia to the kitchen, but I didn’t give her any clothes, and I’m starting to think that keeping her undressed like this is not such a good idea. As if sensing my thoughts, Yulia tucks her hair behind her ear, causing it to shift and mostly cover her breasts. I let out a sigh of relief and resume eating as my arousal slowly subsides.

“You know, you never told me what happened that day with your plane,” she says midway through her soup, and I see that her blue eyes are trained on my face, studying me. Once again, I’m reminded that I’m up against a skilled professional. She might’ve seemed fragile after her nightmare, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a deep reservoir of strength. She must have it, else she couldn’t have done her job after that brutal attack. “You mean after they shot the missile at us?” I push my empty bowl aside. The fact that she can talk so calmly about the crash brings back some of my anger, and it’s all I can do to keep my voice even. Yulia’s hand tightens around her spoon, but she doesn’t back down. “Yes. How did you survive it?” I take a deep breath. As much as I hate talking about this, I want her to know what happened. “Our plane was equipped with an anti-missile shield, so it wasn’t a direct hit,” I say. “The missile exploded outside our plane, but the blast radius was so wide that it damaged our engines and caused the back of our plane to catch fire.” Or at least that’s the theory our engineers have come up with based on the remnants of the plane. “We crashed, but I was able to guide us to a cluster of thin trees and bushes. They softened our landing somewhat.” I pause, trying to keep my fury under control. Still, my voice is hard as I say, “Most of the men in the back didn’t survive, and the three who did are still in the hospital with third-degree burns.” Her face whitens as I speak. “So was your boss at the front with you?” she asks, putting down her spoon. “Is that how the two of you survived?” “Yes.” I take another breath to battle the memories. “Esguerra came into the pilot’s cabin to talk to me right before it happened.” Yulia’s forehead creases with tension. “Lucas, I—” she begins, but I raise my hand. “Don’t.” My voice is razor sharp. If she starts lying right now, I may not be able to control myself. She freezes and looks down at the table, instantly falling silent. I can feel her fear, and I force myself to take another breath and unclench my hands—which had unconsciously curled into fists on the table. When I’m sure I’m not going to snap, I continue. “So yeah, we were both at the front, and we survived,” I say in a calmer tone. “Esguerra was nearly killed afterwards, though. Al-Quadar sniffed out that he was in a hospital in Tashkent,

not far from their stronghold, and they came for him.” Yulia’s head jerks up, her eyes wide. “The terrorists got your boss?” “Just for a couple of days. We got him back before they did too much damage.” I don’t go into the details of the rescue operation and how Esguerra’s wife risked her life to save him. “His eye was the main casualty.” “He lost an eye?” She looks stunned, and her reaction awakens the old seedling of jealousy in me. “Yes.” The word comes out sharp. “But don’t worry—he got an implant, so he’s still as pretty as ever.” She falls silent again, looking down at her bowl. It’s still half-full, so I say gruffly, “Eat. Your soup is getting cold.” Yulia obeys, picking up her spoon. After a few spoonfuls, however, she looks up at me again. “He must hate me a lot,” she says softly. “Your boss, I mean.” I shrug. “Not as much as he hates Al-Quadar. Or I should say, hated Al-Quadar.” She blinks. “They’re gone?” “We wiped them out,” I say, watching her reaction. “So yes, they’re gone.” She flinches, so subtly that I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been staring at her. “The whole organization? All their cells?” She sounds incredulous. “How is that possible? Weren’t governments worldwide hunting them for years?” “They were, but governments are always… constrained.” I smile grimly. “When you’re trying to be better than the thing you’re hunting, it’s hard to do what it takes. They have their hands tied by laws and budgets, by public opinion and democracy. Their constituents don’t want to see stories on the news about children killed in drone strikes or terrorists’ families abused during interrogations. A little waterboarding, and everyone’s up in arms. They’re too soft for this fight.” “But you and Esguerra are not.” Yulia puts down her spoon, her hand unsteady. “You’re willing to do what it takes.” “Yes, we are.” I can see the judgment in her eyes, and it amuses me. My spy is still an innocent in some ways. “The Al-Quadar stronghold in Tajikistan was one of the last big cells remaining, and from there, it was just a matter of finding the few that were still scattered around the world. It wasn’t difficult once we threw all our resources at it.”

She stares at me. “I see.” “Eat your soup,” I remind her, seeing that she’s not eating again. Yulia picks up her spoon, and I get up to get myself another bowl. By the time I return to the table, I see that she has nearly finished her portion. “Do you want more?” I ask, and she shakes her head, once again letting me catch a glimpse of her nipples. “I’m full, thank you.” “Okay.” I force myself to start eating instead of staring at Yulia’s breasts. When I look up again, she has her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped tightly around them. It makes me wonder if she saw the lust on my face and was reminded of her nightmare. Thinking about that—about what happened to her at fifteen—infuriates me all over again. I want to dig up Kirill’s corpse and shred it into pieces. I know it’s ironic as hell that I’m outraged over a rape when I’ve done things most people would deem a thousand times worse, but I can’t be rational about this. I can’t be rational about her. “So, Lucas, what made you decide to work here?” Yulia asks, dragging me out of my thoughts, and I realize she’s trying to feel me out, to understand me better so she can manipulate me. I can deflect her question, but she was open with me earlier, so I figure I owe her some answers. A little honesty will do no harm. “Esguerra pays well, and he’s fair to his people,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “What else can one ask for?” “Fair?” Yulia frowns. “That’s not your boss’s reputation. ‘Ruthless’ is how most people would describe him, I think.” I chuckle, inexplicably amused by that. “Yeah, he’s a ruthless bastard, all right. However, he generally keeps his word, which makes him fair in my book.” “Is that why you’re loyal to him? Because he keeps his word?” “Among other reasons.” I also appreciate Esguerra’s loyalty to his own. He’s taken care of the people on this estate after his parents’ death, and I admire that. But all I say is, “A seven-figure salary helps for sure.” Yulia studies me, and I wonder what she sees. An amoral mercenary? A monster? A man just like Kirill? For some reason, this last bit bothers me. I may not be much

better, but I don’t want her to see me that way. I don’t want to feature in her nightmares. “So when did you meet Esguerra?” she asks, still in her information-gathering mode. “How did you end up working for him?” “They didn’t tell you that?” I imagine she must’ve been briefed extensively on my boss, since he was her original assignment. And possibly on me, since I accompanied him. “No,” Yulia replies. “That wasn’t in either of your files.” So she did study up on us. “What was in my file?” I ask, curious. “Just the basics. Your age, where you went to school, that sort of thing.” She pauses. “Your discharge from the Navy.” Of course. I shouldn’t be surprised she knows about that. “Anything else?” “Not really.” Yulia pauses again, then says quietly, “It didn’t even mention whether you’re married or otherwise attached.” A peculiar warmth unfurls in my chest. Pushing my empty bowl aside, I lean forward to rest my forearms on the table. “I’m not,” I say, answering the question she didn’t pose. “In fact, I haven’t been with anyone but you since Moscow.” Yulia gives me an unreadable look. “You haven’t?” “No.” I don’t bother explaining how I’ve been too obsessed with her to think about any other woman. Getting up, I take the bowls to the sink, then turn to face her. “Let’s go, beautiful. Breakfast is over.”

7

Y ulia AS LUCAS LEADS ME TO THE LIVING ROOM, I REFLECT ON WHAT I JUST LEARNED. WHAT LUCAS TOLD ME about Al-Quadar fits perfectly with the information in Esguerra’s file. Lucas’s boss is merciless with his enemies, and I’m one of them. By all rights, I should’ve already been killed in some gruesome way, yet I’m alive, fed, and unharmed. Now that I’m thinking more clearly, I realize Lucas’s decision to manipulate me emotionally rather than torturing me physically is a stroke of unbelievable luck. My feelings may be wounded, but my body is whole, some minor soreness aside. I have no doubt that he’s playing me, but it’s possible that at least some of his game is real. It’s possible that his desire for me is temporarily stronger than his hate. I tested that theory when I came out of the bathroom, first by showing vulnerability, then by being subtly friendly. When my captor seemed to respond well to that, I brought up the plane crash, a topic that had provoked him before. The fact that he didn’t attack me—that he actually conversed with me, telling me some of his story—is beyond encouraging. It means that some of the sympathy he displayed earlier may be genuine. Feeling hopeful, I glance at Lucas as he walks beside me. He has a fresh coil of rope in his hands, and when we stop in front of the chair where he had me tied before, I do my best to assume a vulnerable expression. “Do you really need me naked?” I ask, letting my eyes glisten with tears. It’s easy to bring them up; my emotions are still ricocheting from hurt to anger to lingering longing for comfort. “It’s cold when the air conditioning comes on.”

He hesitates, and I give him a desperate, pleading look. I’m only half-acting. It’s a small thing, clothes, but being dressed would make me feel more human. More importantly, though, Lucas granting me this request would mean that my strategy of playing on his emotions is working. “All right,” he says, giving in as I hoped. “Come with me.” Leaving the rope on the chair, he takes my arm and brings me to the bedroom. “Here,” he says, handing me a T-shirt. “You can wear this for now.” Trying to hide my ecstatic relief, I accept the piece of clothing and pull it over my head, noting the heat in Lucas’s eyes as he watches me do so. It’s a man’s shirt —his shirt—and it’s long enough to cover me to mid-thigh. “All right, let’s go,” he says when I’m dressed, and leads me back to the chair. As he ties me up, I look at his big, sun-darkened hands looping the rope around my ankles and wonder if he’s feeling the same electric tingle that I am. It’s fucked up that I still want him, but it may also aid me in escape. It may help propagate this new, more amicable dynamic between us. When he’s done tying me up, Lucas stands up and says, “I have to get some things done. I’ll be back in a few hours.” “Okay, sure,” I say, keeping a poker face. With a lingering glance at me, Lucas departs, and I let my relieved smile break across my face.

AFTER A WHILE, MY EBULLIENT FEELING FADES, REPLACED BY A COMBINATION OF BOREDOM AND discomfort. The chair is hard under my butt, and the ropes bite into my skin every time I try to change my position. The minutes begin to stretch, passing by slowly and monotonously. I keep looking at the window, waiting for the mystery girl to return, but she doesn’t. There’s only an occasional lizard running over the window screen. Sighing, I look down and ponder the other tidbit that gave me hope. If Lucas didn’t lie, my dark-haired visitor wasn’t his girlfriend. He doesn’t have a girlfriend at all. The knowledge is like a balm to my ragged feelings. I don’t know why it matters to me whether Lucas is single, married, or hooking up with a dozen women, but the fact that he’s not cheating on that girl with me makes me feel better about last

night. I didn’t wrong another woman. Whatever’s going on with me and Lucas is just between the two of us. Nobody else is going to get hurt. Of course, I have to allow for the possibility that he lied, that this is all part of his interrogation technique, but I’m inclined to believe him on this. There are no signs of a woman’s presence in his house: no decorations or picture frames, no hair dryers or feminine products in the bathroom. This place is a bachelor residence, right down to the almost-bare fridge, and if I hadn’t been so terrified and exhausted yesterday, I would’ve noticed that obvious fact. Yawning, I look at the window again. Another lizard runs by. I watch it and wonder what it’s like out there, in the jungle beyond these walls. Every part of me aches to be out there, to feel the warm sun on my skin and hear the singing of birds. The small glimpse I got yesterday hadn’t been enough. I want to be outside. I want to be free. Soon, I promise myself, shifting in the hard chair. I now understand the game Lucas is playing, and I can play along. I’ll be his sex doll for as long as he lusts after me, and I’ll seem weak and open. I’ll tell him everything except the information he seeks, and I’ll let him think that he’s prying the secrets out of me, that his soft interrogation is working. This way, he won’t resort to harsher methods for a while, and I’ll use this time to formulate a real escape plan, something more promising than a desperate attack with a broken toothbrush. I’ll also work on building a bond with Lucas. Lima Syndrome. That’s what they call the psychological phenomenon where the captor sympathizes with the captive so much that he releases said captive. I studied it during training, as there was a high probability I’d be captured one day. Lima Syndrome is not as common as its inverse, Stockholm Syndrome, where the captive falls for his or her captor, but it does occur. I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll be able to get Lucas to release me, but it’s possible that I could get him to lower his guard and do little things that would make my escape easier. Like letting me wear clothes. Yawning again, I watch yet another lizard scurry across the window, and I imagine that I’m small and green. Small enough to slip out of my bonds and slither through the vents. If I could do that, I’d be the best spy in the world.

It’s a silly thought, but it comforts me, taking my mind off what awaits me if my plan fails. My eyelids grow heavy, and I don’t fight it. As I nod off, I dream of little green lizards and my baby brother, who’s laughing and chasing them around a jungle park. It’s my most joyful dream in years.

“YULIA.” I wake up instantly, my heart jumping, and look up. Lucas is back—and he’s not alone. In addition to my captor, there is a short, balding man standing in front of me, his brown eyes regarding me with a detached curiosity. His clothes are casual, but the bag in his hands appears to be a medical kit. My stomach drops. I was wrong about Lucas waiting to use the harsher methods. Before I can panic, the short man smiles at me. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Dr. Goldberg. If you don’t mind, I’d like to examine you.” Examine me? “To make sure you’re not injured,” the doctor explains, undoubtedly reading my confused expression. “If you don’t mind, that is.” Right, okay. I take a deep breath, my fear easing. “Sure. Go right ahead.” I’m tied to a chair wearing nothing but Lucas’s T-shirt, and the man is asking if I’d mind a doctor’s examination? What would he do if I said I minded? Apologize for the intrusion and go away? Apparently oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice, the doctor turns to Lucas and says, “I’d like the patient to be untied, if possible.” Lucas frowns, but kneels in front of me and begins working on the rope around my ankles. Glancing at the doctor, he says tersely, “I’m going to stay here. She’s creative with household items.” “But—” At a hard look from Lucas, the doctor falls silent. Lucas finishes untying my ankles and moves around me to undo my hands. I wiggle my feet surreptitiously, restoring circulation, and think longingly about the bathroom. I don’t know how long I’ve been tied up, but my bladder’s convinced it’s been

forever. “I need to pee,” I tell Lucas, figuring I have nothing to lose by being honest. “Would it be okay if I went to the bathroom before the examination?” Lucas’s frown deepens, but he gives a curt nod. “Let’s go,” he says when he’s done with the rope. Grabbing my arm, he pulls me up, his grip as rough as upon my arrival. Startled, I nearly stumble as he drags me down the hallway, the gentleness of this morning nowhere in sight. My anxiety returns. Was I wrong about him, or did something happen? Does this examination have something to do with it? Before I can analyze my captor’s alarming behavior, he pushes me into the bathroom and says harshly, “You have one minute and not a second longer.” And on that note, he slams the door shut.

8

L

ucas

WHEN I BRING YULIA BACK INTO THE LIVING ROOM, GOLDBERG HAS HER STAND WHILE HE FEELS HER pulse and listens to her breathing with a stethoscope. “Good, good,” he mutters under his breath, jotting down something in his notebook. He bends down to look at a big bruise on her knee, and Yulia shoots me an anxious glance. I can see that she wants answers, but I don’t give her any reassurance. I don’t want the doctor to know how much I’ve softened toward my captive. After a minute, Goldberg stops and gives Yulia a smile. “Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he says cheerfully. “You’re underweight and a little malnourished, but a few good meals should fix that. Now, I’d like to take some blood if you don’t mind. Please, have a seat.” He points toward the couch, and Yulia glances at me again. “Sit,” I bark, doing my best to ignore the distressed look that steals over her face as she complies. Goldberg pulls on a pair of latex gloves and takes out a syringe with an attached vial. “This won’t be too bad,” he promises. I wonder if he’s trying to compensate for my harsh manner. He’s not usually this gentle with the guards—though, granted, none of them have Yulia’s fragile beauty. She doesn’t wince or make a sound as the needle sinks into her skin, her expression one of stoic endurance. I, on the other hand, have to fight an irrational urge to tear Goldberg away from her.

I hate to see someone hurting her, even if it’s the doctor I brought here myself. “All done,” Goldberg says, taking the needle out and pressing a small sterile pad to the wound. “I’ll take this to my lab for analysis. Now, one last thing…” He gives me an imploring look, and I respond with a curt shake of my head. I’m not leaving him alone with Yulia; he’ll have to do the exam with me present. Goldberg sighs and turns his attention back to her. “I have to perform a gynecological examination,” he says apologetically. “To make sure you’re okay.” “What?” Yulia’s eyes widen. “Why?” “Just do it.” I make my voice as hard as I can. I’m not about to explain that I’m worried I hurt her last night with my roughness. She had been wet, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t tear her or bruise her internally. Her face is bright pink as she lies down on the couch, obeying Goldberg’s instructions. As the doctor pulls up her shirt and takes out a speculum, I force myself to stand still instead of ripping into the man for touching her. Goldberg is gay, but seeing his hands on her still awakens something savage in me—something that makes me want to murder any man who touches what’s mine. The exam takes less than a minute. I watch Yulia carefully to make sure she doesn’t lash out at the doctor, but she lies still, her knees bent and her eyes trained on the ceiling. Only her hands betray her agitation; they’re clenched into whiteknuckled fists at her sides. When Goldberg is done, he carefully pulls down Yulia’s shirt and steps away. “All done,” he says, addressing us both. “Everything seems fine. The IUD is in place, so you have nothing to worry about.” IUD? I frown at the doctor, but he’s already explaining, “An intrauterine contraceptive device. Birth control.” “I see.” I give Yulia a speculative glance. If she’s protected and the doctor determines she’s clean, I could fuck her without a rubber. My cock twitches with instant arousal. She sits up on the couch, staring straight ahead, and I see that her cheeks are still flaming with color. I want to embrace her and assure her that everything’s okay, that I didn’t do this to humiliate her, but now is not the time. As far as the doctor knows, she’s a prisoner I despise, and I have to treat her as such.

AFTER THANKING GOLDBERG, I USHER HIM OUT AND RETURN TO THE LIVING ROOM, WHERE YULIA IS still sitting on the couch. Her face is back to its normal porcelain shade, but her eyes are glittering brightly. She’s upset—I can feel it, even though her expression is outwardly calm. “Yulia.” As I approach, she looks away, her hair rippling down her back in a golden cloud. “Yulia, come here.” She doesn’t respond, even when I reach for her and pull her up, forcing her to stand and face me. She also doesn’t look at me, her eyes focused on something just beyond my right ear. Aggravated, I grip her jaw, turning her face so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “I needed to make sure you’re okay,” I say harshly. It still bothers me on some level that I feel this way about her, that I want to heal her and keep her safe instead of hurting her. It’s a weakness, this obsession of mine, and I can’t help the anger that seeps into my tone as I say, “You could’ve had internal injuries.” Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You just wanted to make sure you don’t have to wear a condom.” Her accusation is so close to my earlier thought that I wonder for a second if I said it out loud. Something must’ve shown on my face because Yulia lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, exactly.” “That’s not why—” I cut myself off. I don’t owe her any explanations. If I want to have her examined so I can fuck her without a rubber, that’s my prerogative. I may no longer plan to torture her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what she’s done. By her own actions, she’s placed herself in this situation, and now she’s mine. I own her, for better or for worse. “I’m clean,” I say instead. A better man would undoubtedly leave her alone after what she told me, but I’m not that man. I want her too much to deny myself. “I had all my blood work done after the crash, and I’m completely safe.” Her jaw clenches. “Congratulations.” The sarcasm that drips from her voice sets my teeth on edge and arouses me at the same time. Everything about the girl is a contradiction designed to drive me mad. Compliant yet defiant, fragile yet strong. One minute I want to break her,

make her acknowledge that she needs me, and the next I want to wrap her in a cocoon and make sure nothing bad can ever touch her again. The only thing I don’t want to do is let her go. “Lucas.” She sounds anxious as I draw her toward me. “Wait, I—” I cut her off by slanting my mouth across hers. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, I wrap my other arm around her waist, drawing her flush against me. My balls tighten as my stiff cock pushes against her flat stomach, my everpresent lust for her flaring uncontrollably. I sweep my tongue across her lips, feeling their plush softness, and then I push into her mouth, invading the deliciously warm depths. She moans in response, her hands clutching at my sides, and I drink in the small sound, feeling her slender body softening and melting against mine. Fucking hell, I want her. Every inch of her, from head to toe. It’s wrong, it’s fucked up, it’s inconvenient, but I can’t stop myself. The hunger burns inside me, overpowering whatever scruples I still possess. I know I’m a bastard for coercing her after what she’s been through, but I can’t stay away. Maybe if she didn’t want me, it would be different, but she does. Even through two layers of clothing, I can feel her hard nipples pressing against my chest, can taste the sweetness of her response as her tongue coils eagerly around mine. She’s not pushing me away—if anything, she’s trying to get closer—and the mindless craving overtakes me, the savage in me taking control. I don’t know how we end up on the couch, but I find myself propped up on one elbow on top of her, her T-shirt bunched around her waist as I slide my free hand down her body to cup her sex. She’s already wet, her folds slick and hot as I push two fingers into her, stretching her for my cock. At the same time, I grind the heel of my palm against her folds, putting pressure on her clit. Her inner walls spasm around my fingers as she moans my name, her neck arching and her nails raking down my back, and I know I can’t wait any longer. Pulling my fingers out, I unzip my pants to free my aching erection, and push into her wet heat. It’s like entering heaven. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning bell rings, reminding me about a condom, but I’m too far gone to withdraw. The clasp of her body is sheer perfection, so silky and tight that I can’t stop myself from plunging in all the way, as deep as I can go. She cries out, arching underneath me, and I lower my head to kiss her, capturing the sound as I take in her taste and scent, reveling in the sensory pleasure of possessing her, of taking her for my own.

Mine, she’s mine. The satisfaction the thought gives me is deep and primal, having nothing to do with logic and reason. I’ve fucked dozens of women without ever wanting to claim them, but that’s precisely what I want to do with her. Fucking Yulia is about more than just sex. It’s about tying her to me, binding her so tightly she’ll never be able to leave. Lifting my head, I stare down at her, my cock throbbing deep inside her body. Her eyes are closed, her parted lips are swollen from my kisses, and her skin is glowing with warm color. She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s mine. “Yulia.” She opens her eyes, and I realize I spoke her name out loud. Her gaze is unfocused, her pupils dilated as she stares up at me. She looks dazed, overcome by the same need that’s incinerating my insides, and the sight tempers my savage lust, filling me with a peculiar tenderness. Lowering my head, I take her mouth again, swallowing her needy moan as I begin to thrust in and out, moving slowly so I can feel every inch of her tight warmth. I’ve never had sex bareback before, and the sensations are incredible. Her pussy is soft and silky, a slick, delicate sheath that appears to have been made just for me. Her inner walls clasp me, embracing me with creamy moisture as I slide in and out, and I focus on the soft clues of her breathing to gauge her response. The primitive, possessive hunger that gripped me earlier is still there, but now it’s reined in by the need to please her, to make her feel at least a fraction of the ecstasy she gives me. Continuing to thrust in a slow, steady rhythm, I move my mouth from her lips to her neck and nibble on the tender skin there. At the same time, I slide my hand under her shirt and gently squeeze her breast. “Lucas. Oh God, Lucas…” My name is a breathless plea on her lips as I scrape my teeth over her neck and catch her nipple between my fingers, twisting it lightly. She’s writhing with need now, her slim legs wrapping around my hips to draw me in deeper as her hands clutch at my sides. I can feel her quivering, her body wound as tightly as a spring, and I pick up my thrusting pace, sensing that she’s close. When her orgasm hits, it’s like a quake that reverberates through my body. She tenses, arching beneath me with a cry, and her inner muscles ripple around my cock, the squeezing pressure so strong that it hurls me over the edge. My balls tighten, and then the orgasm sweeps through me, the pleasure dark and intense, shattering in its raw power.

Groaning, I thrust deeper into her and hold her tightly as my cum bursts out into her hot, spasming depths.

9

Y ulia BREATHING HARD, I LIE UNDER LUCAS, that is sex with my captor.

MY HEART POUNDING IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE DEVASTATION

Why is it always like this with him, with this difficult, dangerous man who hates me? I’m far from inexperienced. It’s true that I’ve survived sex at its ugliest, but I’ve also known its more pleasant variations. My second assignment—Vladimir Vashkov, a trim forty-something FSB liaison—prided himself on being a good lover, and he introduced me to real orgasms, teaching me about arousal and pleasure. I thought I was able to handle anything a man could throw at me in bed, but clearly I was wrong. I can’t handle Lucas Kent. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had taken me roughly again. Lust— pounding, punishing lust—is what I expected when he reached for me. And it’s what he gave me at first, kissing me by force, using my body’s reaction to override my defenses. I was prepared for that after the last time, but I wasn’t prepared for his gentleness. I didn’t expect him to treat me like I matter. “Yulia.” He lifts his head, gazing down on me, and my cheeks heat up as our eyes meet. With the fog of lust receding, I become aware that he’s still deep inside me—and that I’m holding him there, my legs wrapped so tightly around his hips that he can’t move. My flush intensifying, I unlock my ankles and lower my legs. I also change my grip on his sides to push him away instead of holding on to him. I can’t play Lucas’s

game right now. It feels too real. He leans down to brush a kiss on my lips and then carefully disengages from me. As he pulls out, I feel a warm, sticky wetness between my thighs. His seed. He fucked me without a condom after all. Irrational bitterness seizes me, chasing away the remnants of my post-coital glow. “You should’ve waited for the blood test,” I say, pulling my shirt down as Lucas pushes away from me and stands up, getting off the couch. Squeezing my legs together, I give him a hard look. “I have AIDS and syphilis, you know.” “Do you now?” He sounds more amused than worried as he puts away his cock and zips up his jeans. His eyes gleam as he looks at me. “Anything else? Maybe gonorrhea?” “No, just herpes and chlamydia.” I smile at him sweetly, propping myself up on one elbow. “But you’ll learn all of that soon, when the test results come back. Now, may I please have a towel or a tissue? I wouldn’t want to soil your nice carpet.” To my disappointment, he doesn’t rise to my bait. Instead, he laughs and disappears into the kitchen, only to return a second later with a paper towel. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to me. Then he watches with undisguised interest as I sit up and wipe away the wetness on my thighs, doing my best to keep my shirt down as I do so. “Good job,” he says when I’m done. “Now, are you hungry? I think it’s time for a second breakfast.” I frown, more than a little frustrated that he’s being so calm. I don’t know why I want to yank at a tiger’s tail, but I do. I hate what he did to me; that impersonal doctor’s examination had been humiliating and dehumanizing. And then to come up with that bullshit excuse about potential internal injuries, as though I couldn’t see straight through him. As though I don’t know that I’m his sex doll for as long as he cares to play with me. “I’m not hungry,” I say, but right away realize I’m lying. My body is desperate for calories after being starved for so long. “Wait, no, actually—” Before I can finish my sentence, I hear a faint buzzing sound and see Lucas reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, looks at it, and lets out a quiet

curse. “What is it?” I ask, but he’s already grabbing my arm and pulling me off the couch. “Esguerra needs me,” he says, leading me down the hall. “Use the restroom if you need to, and then I have to tie you up again. We’ll eat when I return.” And just like that, he’s my unfeeling captor once more.

10

L

ucas

JULIAN ESGUERRA IS ALREADY IN HIS OFFICE WHEN I STEP IN, THE FLATSCREEN MONITORS ON THE WALL displaying news from all over the world. I take note of the Bloomberg one, where a reputable economist is forecasting another market crash. It may be time to catch up with my investment manager. I walk past a large oval conference table and approach Esguerra’s wide desk, which is populated with several computer screens. He’s on the phone, so he gestures for me to take a seat in one of the high-end leather chairs. I do so and wait for him to wrap up his conversation. Given the mention of Israeli border security, I’m guessing he’s talking with his contact at the Israeli intelligence agency, the Mossad. After a minute, Esguerra hangs up and turns his attention to me. “How’s the interrogation going?” he asks. “Any progress so far?” “A little,” I say with a shrug. “Nothing worth mentioning yet.” I don’t usually keep secrets from my boss, but I don’t want to discuss Yulia with him until I figure out the best way to approach the topic. Out of everyone on the estate, he’s the only one with the power to take her away from me—which means I need to tread carefully. Esguerra’s harsh reputation is well deserved. “Good.” He seems satisfied with my answer. “Now, on to the reason I wanted you here…” “An urgent security matter, you said.”

“Yes.” He leans back, interlocking his hands behind his head. “Nora and I will be taking a trip to the States to visit her family. I’m going to need you to make sure we—and they—are fully protected for the duration.” “You’re going to visit your wife’s parents? In Oak Lawn?” I’m convinced I must’ve misheard him, but he nods. “We’ll be there for two weeks,” he says. “And I want the security to be topnotch.” “All right,” I say. I’m fairly certain Esguerra’s lost his mind, but it’s not my place to say so. If he wants to enter a country where he’s technically wanted by the FBI and spend two weeks with the parents of a girl he kidnapped, married, and impregnated, that’s his business. My job is to ensure he can do it safely. “The new recruits are already far in their training, so we can take some of the more experienced guys with us,” I say, thinking out loud. “Two dozen should probably suffice.” “That sounds about right. Also, I want armored vehicles for all of us, and a good supply of ammo.” I nod, already thinking through the logistics of that. Some would say Esguerra’s being paranoid—bulletproof cars are hardly a necessity in the Chicago suburbs— but I don’t blame him for being cautious. Al-Quadar may have been squashed for now, but there are plenty of others who’d love to get their hands on him and his pretty young wife. “I’ll make the arrangements,” I say, even as my chest tightens at the realization of what this trip will mean. For two whole weeks, I’m going to be separated from my captive. “How long do you think it’ll take to set everything up?” Esguerra asks. “Nora should be done with her exams in about a week and a half.” “I’m guessing about two weeks.” Two weeks during which I’ll still have Yulia. “Procuring the cars and all the weapons will take some time, especially if we don’t want to set off any alarms at the FBI or CIA.” “Good thinking. We definitely don’t want that.” Unlocking his hands from behind his head, Esguerra leans forward. “All right. Two weeks should be good. Thanks.” I incline my head and stand up so I can leave and start making calls, but before I

can turn away, Esguerra says, “Lucas, there’s one more thing.” I stop, my attention caught by an unusual note in his voice. “What is it?” “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but my wife and her friend saw Yulia Tzakova in your house yesterday morning. Nora mentioned it to me today.” “What?” That’s the last thing I expected him to say. “Why were Nora and her friend—Wait, what friend?” “Rosa, our maid,” Esguerra says. “They’ve become close in recent months. I have no idea what they were doing over there, but you need to make sure your house is secure.” He pauses and gives me a grim look. “I don’t want Nora exposed to anything disturbing in her condition. Do you understand me?” “Perfectly.” I keep my voice even. “I’ll keep an eye out for any visitors, I promise.” And the next time I see Esguerra’s maid, I’m going to have a little talk with her.

11

Y ulia “HEY.” A quiet rapping on the window draws my attention. Startled, I look up and see the dark-haired young woman from before—the one I thought was Lucas’s girlfriend. “Hey,” she repeats, pressing her nose against the window. “What’s your name?” “I’m Yulia,” I say, deciding I have nothing to lose by talking to the girl. At least I’m not naked this time. “Who are you?” “Yulia,” she repeats, as though committing my name to memory. “You’re the spy who caused the plane crash.” She says that as a statement, not a question. I look at her silently, letting none of my thoughts show. I have no idea who she is or what she wants from me, and I’m not about to say anything that would get me in trouble. She nods, as if satisfied by my non-response. “Why did Lucas bring you here?” Instead of answering, I say, “Who are you? What do you want?” I expect her not to answer either, but she says, “My name is Rosa. I work over at the main house.” Her name sounds familiar. I frown, and instantly, it comes to me. Lucas mentioned a Rosa this morning. She must be the one who gave Lucas that pot of soup.

“What do you want?” I ask, studying the girl. “I don’t know,” she surprises me by saying. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.” I blink. “Why?” “Because you killed all those guards and almost killed Lucas and Julian.” Her expression doesn’t change, but I hear the tightness in her voice. “And because for some reason, Lucas has you in his house instead of strung up in the shed, where they take traitors like you.” So I’m right to be cautious. The girl hates me for what happened—and possibly has a thing for Lucas. “Do you like him?” I ask, deciding to be blunt. “Is that why you’re here?” She flushes brightly. “That’s none of your business.” “You’re here to look at me, which makes it my business,” I point out, amused. The girl looks to be only a little younger than me, but she seems so naïve it’s as if decades separate us instead of years. Rosa stares at me, her brown eyes narrowed. “Yes, you’re right,” she says after a moment. “I shouldn’t be here.” Turning quickly, she ducks out of sight. “Rosa, wait,” I call out, but she’s already gone.

AT LEAST TWO HOURS PASS BEFORE LUCAS RETURNS, AND MY STOMACH IS PAINFULLY HOLLOW BY THEN. According to the clock on the wall, it’s one in the afternoon when the front door opens—which means my early breakfast of Rosa’s soup was nearly seven hours ago. Despite my hunger, a prickle of awareness dances over my skin as Lucas approaches, walking with the athletic, loose-limbed gait of a warrior. Like yesterday, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a sleeveless shirt, and his body looks impossibly strong, his well-defined muscles flexing with each movement. I’m again reminded of an ancient Slavic hero—though a Viking raider comparison would likely be more apt. “Let me guess,” he says, kneeling in front of me. His blue-gray eyes glint at me. “You’re starving.” “I could eat,” I say as he unties my ankles. I could also use a form of entertainment that doesn’t include watching lizards, and a more comfortable chair, but I’m not about to complain about such minor things. After my stint in the

Russian prison, my current accommodations are positively luxurious. Lucas chuckles, rising to his feet, and walks around me to free my arms. “Yeah, I bet you could.” His big hands are warm on my skin as he undoes the knots. “I can hear your stomach rumbling from here.” “It does that when I don’t eat,” I say, an inexplicable smile tugging at my lips. I try to contain it, but it breaks through, the corners of my mouth inexorably tilting upwards. It’s bizarre. I can’t possibly be genuinely happy to see him, can I? It’s because he’s about to feed me, I tell myself, managing to wrestle the smile off my face by the time Lucas removes the rope and tugs me to my feet. It’s because I’m subconsciously associating his arrival with good things: food, restroom, not being tied up. Even orgasms, as unsettling as those may be. It’s only my second day here, but my body is already becoming conditioned to regard my captor as a source of pleasure, much like Pavlov’s dogs learned to salivate at the sound of a bell. I know that one day soon Lucas may hurt me, but the fact that he hasn’t so far has gone a long way toward soothing my fear of him. There’s no point in being terrified if torture and death aren’t imminent. “Come,” Lucas says, his fingers an unbreakable shackle around my wrist as he leads me to the kitchen. “We still have some soup, and I can make us a sandwich.” “All right,” I say. I’m hungry enough to eat wallpaper, so the sameness of the meals is not a problem. Still, as we stop in front of the table, I can’t help offering, “Do you want me to try making something for dinner? I really can cook.” He releases my wrist and looks at me, his lips curving slightly. “Oh, yeah. You and knives. I could see that working out.” He pulls out a chair for me. “Sit down, baby. I’m going to make those sandwiches.” Baby? Sweetheart? It’s all I can do not to react as he takes out the sandwich ingredients and pours soup into bowls. It’s a small thing, those pet names, but it’s a reminder of what passed between us earlier. Of the way he caught me at my weakest and tried to make me crack. Lucas turns away, focusing on microwaving the soup, and I take a calming breath. This is not worth getting agitated about. The invasive doctor exam, yes, but not this. I need to be playing along, acting like I’m starting to trust him. That way, when I slowly open up to him, it will be believable. The emotional bond between us will feel real.

“So,” Lucas says, placing one soup bowl in front of me, “how is it that you speak English so well? You don’t have an accent.” He takes a seat across from me, his pale eyes regarding me with impassive curiosity. And so the gentle interrogation begins. I blow on my soup to cool it down, using the time to gather my thoughts. “My parents wanted me to learn English,” I say after swallowing a spoonful, “so I took extra classes, beyond what they taught us in school. It’s easy not to have an accent if you learn a language as a child.” “Your parents?” Lucas raises his eyebrows. “Were they preparing you to be a spy?” “A spy? No, of course not.” I eat another spoonful, ignoring the ache of old memories. “They just wanted me to be successful—to get a job in some international corporation or something along those lines.” “But they were okay with you being recruited?” He frowns. “They were dead.” The words come out harsher than I intended, so I clarify in a calmer tone, “They died in a car crash when I was ten.” He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Yulia. I’m sorry. That must’ve been rough.” He’s sorry? I want to laugh and tell him he has no clue, but I just swallow and look down, as if the subject pains me too much. And it does—I’m not acting this time. Talking about the loss of my parents is like picking at a barely healed scab. I could’ve lied, made up a story, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as effective. I want Lucas to see me this way, real and hurting. He needs to believe I’m someone he can crack without resorting to brutality or torture. He needs to see me as weak. “Are you—” He reaches across the table to touch my hand, his fingers warm on my skin. “Yulia, are you an only child?” Still looking at the table, I nod, letting my hair conceal my expression. My brother is the one piece of my past Lucas can’t have. Misha is too closely associated with Obenko and the agency. Lucas withdraws his hand, and I know he believes me. And why wouldn’t he? I’ve been completely truthful with him up until now. “Did any of your relatives take you in?” he asks next. “Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?”

“No.” I raise my head to meet his gaze. “My parents didn’t have any siblings, and they had me in their mid-thirties—really late for their generation in Ukraine. By the time the accident happened, I had one grandfather who was dying of cancer, and that’s it.” It’s the truth once again. Lucas studies me, and I see that he already knows the answer to what he’s about to ask. “You ended up in an orphanage, didn’t you?” he says quietly. “Yes. I ended up in an orphanage.” Looking down, I force myself to resume eating. My stomach is in knots, but I know I need food to regain my strength. He doesn’t ask me anything else while we finish the soup, and I’m grateful for that. I hadn’t expected this part to be so difficult. I thought I’d gotten past it after all these years, but even a brief mention of the orphanage is enough for the memories to flood in, bringing with them the old feelings of grief and despair. When we’re done with the soup, Lucas gets up and washes our bowls. Then he pours us two glasses of water, makes the sandwiches, and places my portion in front of me. “Is that where they recruited you? At that orphanage?” he asks quietly, taking his seat, and I nod, purposefully not looking at him. We’re getting too close to the topic I can’t discuss with him, and we both know it. I hear him sigh. “Yulia.” I look up to meet his gaze. “What if I told you that I want the past to be the past?” he asks, his deep voice unusually soft. “That I no longer plan to make you pay for following orders and just want to find the ones truly responsible—the ones who gave you those orders?” I stare at him blankly, as though trying to process his words. I had expected this, of course. It’s the logical next move. First, sympathy and caring—some of it genuine, perhaps—then an offer of immunity if I give up my employers. Bringing me to his house, washing me, feeding me—it was all leading up to this. Only sex wasn’t part of the equation; the intimacy between us is too raw, too powerful to be staged. He fucked me because he wanted me, but everything else is part of the game. “You’re going to let me go?” I say, sounding appropriately incredulous. Only a total idiot would fall for his non-promise, and hopefully, Lucas doesn’t consider me quite that stupid. He’ll have to work to convince me that I can trust him—and during that time, I’ll be working on getting him to lower his guard. To my surprise, Lucas shakes his head. “I can’t do that,” he says. “But I can promise not to hurt you.”

I run my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. This is not what I was expecting; freedom is always the carrot dangled in front of prisoners. “What exactly are you saying?” He holds my gaze, and my heartbeat accelerates at the dark heat in his eyes. “I’m saying that I want you, and that if you tell me about your associates, I’ll keep you safe from them—and from anyone else wishing to harm you.” My insides twist with an unsettling mix of fear and longing. “I don’t understand. If you’re not going to let me go…” He looks at me silently, letting me draw my own conclusion. My pulse is a rapid drumbeat in my ears as I pick up my glass of water, noting with a corner of my eye that my hand is not entirely steady. I gulp down the water, more to buy myself time than out of any extreme thirst. Then I force myself to put down the glass and look at him. “You’re offering me protection in exchange for sex,” I say, my voice wavering slightly. Lucas inclines his head. “You could think of it like that.” “What about your boss?” I can’t believe this turn of conversation. “Isn’t he expecting you to hack me into pieces, or whatever it is you typically do to make people talk? Isn’t that why he had me brought here?” “I had you brought here, not Esguerra.” I gape at him, caught off-guard once more. “What?” “I wanted you.” Lucas leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We had that one night, and it wasn’t enough. It’s true that I wanted to punish you for what happened, but even more than that, I wanted you.” His voice roughens. “I wanted you in my bed, on the floor, up against a wall, any fucking way I could get you.” “You brought me here for sex?” This goes beyond anything I could’ve imagined. “You took me out of prison so you could fuck me?” His gaze darkens. “Yes. I told myself I did it for revenge, but it was to get you.” “I—” Unable to sit still, I stand up, no longer the least bit hungry. My voice is choked as I say, “I need a minute.” On shaky legs, I walk over to stand by the kitchen window. The sun outside is bright over exotic tropical vegetation, but I can’t focus on the natural beauty in front of me. I’m too stunned by Lucas’s revelations.

Is he telling me the truth, or is this just another attempt to throw me off-kilter and get answers? A startlingly different interrogation technique that uses our mutual attraction as the base? I’m used to men wanting me, but this is something else entirely. What Lucas is saying indicates a degree of obsession that would be frightening if it were real. As I stand there trying to come to grips with his revelations, I hear his footsteps. The next moment, his large hands grip my shoulders. He’s already aroused; I feel his erection pressing into my ass as he draws me against his hard body. “This doesn’t have to be bad for you, beautiful.” His breath is warm on my cheek as he bends his head and brushes his lips against my temple. “You could be safe here, with me.” A tremor of treacherous arousal ripples through me, my nipples tightening under my shirt. “How?” I whisper, closing my eyes. His chest is hard, sculpted muscle under my back, his strength terrifyingly seductive. It’s as if he’s tapped into my deepest desires—into my longing for safety in his embrace. “How can you promise that when your boss could have me killed in an instant?” “He won’t touch you.” Lucas’s powerful arms fold around me, restraining and comforting all at once. “I won’t let him. Esguerra owes me, and you’re the favor I’m going to collect.” “Lucas, this—” My head falls back onto his shoulder as he nuzzles my ear, the bulge in his jeans pressing into me more insistently. “This is insane.” “I know.” His voice is a rough growl in my ear. “You think I don’t fucking know that?” Releasing me, he spins me around and grips my hips, pulling me to him again. Startled, I open my eyes to see savage need tightening his features. He drags me to the right and presses me against the wall next to the window, his lower body pinning me in place. “You think I haven’t told myself that a million times?” His cock presses into my stomach as his gaze burns into me. His pupils are dilated, and there’s a vein throbbing in his forehead. He’s not acting. Far from it. My breath hitches, arousal mixing with a primitive feminine fear. The man in front of me is not about to listen to reason—and my body may not want him to. “Lucas.” Fighting the drugging pull of his nearness, I wedge my hands between

us and press my palms against his chest. “Lucas, I think we need to talk—” “You want to talk about this?” He rocks his hips in a crude, suggestive motion, his cock thrusting against my lower belly through two layers of clothing. His hand catches my jaw, holding my face immobile as he leans in, his lips hovering centimeters from mine. I freeze in anticipation, my heart hammering, and at that moment, a flicker of motion catches my attention. Startled, I glance toward the window and see a flash of dark hair ducking out of sight. “What is it?” Lucas’s tone is sharp as he registers my distraction. Following my gaze, he looks at the window and lets out a low curse before releasing me and stepping toward it. As he leans closer to the glass, I slip around him, putting the table between us. My body is thrumming with heat, but I’m glad for the reprieve. I need to digest what Lucas told me, and I can’t do that while he’s fucking my brains out. The untouched sandwich on the table draws my attention. I’m no longer hungry, but I pick up the sandwich and bite into it just as Lucas turns to face me, his lips a thin, hard line. “Who was that?” I ask, my words muffled by a mouthful of food. I need time, and this is the only way I can think of to extend my reprieve. Chewing determinedly, I wave my sandwich at the window. “Did someone come see you?” His jaw muscle flexes. “No. Not exactly.” Lucas stalks around the table and takes a seat on the other side, his pale eyes boring into me. “You saw someone out there. Who was it?” I swallow, the sandwich dry and tasteless in my mouth. “I don’t know. I only saw the person’s hair from the back,” I say truthfully. What I don’t say, however, is that I have a very good reason to suspect who the owner of that hair might be. “Male? Female?” Lucas presses. “Hair long? Short?” I deliberately take another bite of the sandwich and chew it as I mull his question over. “A woman,” I say when I can speak again. He wouldn’t believe me if I pretended not to notice something so obvious. “Hair in a bun, and I think she was wearing a dark dress.” Lucas nods, as if I confirmed his suspicion. “All right,” he says, his expression smoothing out. Then he picks up his own sandwich and starts eating it, watching me the entire

time.

12

L

ucas

WE FINISH THE MEAL IN SILENCE, THE AIR ACROSS THE TABLE THICK WITH SEXUAL TENSION. AS I WATCH Yulia consume the last crumbs of her meal, my cock strains in the tight confines of my jeans, throbbing painfully. If Rosa hadn’t chosen that unfortunate moment to play stalker, I would already be inside Yulia, nailing her against the wall. I shocked my prisoner. I can see it in the heightened color of her cheeks and the way her gaze slides away from mine. Did she believe me? Did she realize I was being sincere? The solution to the dilemma of what to do with her came to me as I was walking home, and I knew instantly that was the only way. I’m going to do exactly as my instincts demand and keep Yulia. Once, such an action would’ve been unimaginable. When I was in high school, if someone told me that I would so much as think about holding a woman against her will, I would’ve laughed. Even when I was in the Navy, long after I knew I was capable of doing whatever the job required without a flicker of remorse, I still clung to the morals of my childhood, trying to resist the pull of darkness within myself. It was only when I became a wanted man that I fully understood my nature and the extent of my willingness to cross lines I once viewed as sacred. Keeping Yulia for my own is nothing in the grand scheme of things, and it’s certainly better than the fate I originally planned for her. “So how exactly would this work?” she asks, finally breaking the silence. Her eyes lock on my face. “You’re going to keep me tied up in the chair all day and handcuffed to you all night?”

I smile at her, anticipation sizzling through my veins. “Only if that turns you on, beautiful. If not, I think we can work out a better arrangement.” I’m already thinking of the tracker implants Esguerra used on his wife. I could do something similar with Yulia, making sure at least one of the trackers is implanted where it would be all but impossible to remove. First, though, I’ll need to make sure the agency she works for is wiped out; otherwise, Yulia could use their resources to disappear, trackers or not. “You’ll untie me?” Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. “And let me go outside?” “I will.” Once her agency is destroyed and I have the trackers in her, that is. “But you need to tell me about your employers first. Who is the head of the program?” She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she rises to her feet and carries both of our empty paper plates to the garbage can in the corner. I watch her, making sure she doesn’t try anything, but she just throws out the plates and returns to the table. Stopping next to her chair, she looks at me. “How do I know I can trust you? Once I tell you what you want to know, you could just kill me.” “I could, but I won’t.” I get up and approach her side of the table. Stopping in front of her, I run my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek. “I want you too much for that.” The color in Yulia’s face deepens. “So, what? You’re going to spare me because you want to fuck me?” There’s disbelief mixed with derision in her voice. “Do you always let your dick decide who lives and who dies?” I chuckle, not the least bit offended. “No, beautiful. Just when he’s this insistent.” In fact, I can’t remember ever being swayed from my course of action by a woman. I’ve always enjoyed sex and female companionship, but the need for it has never been a ruling force in my life. My last longer-term relationship—a threemonth affair in Venezuela—was before I started working with Esguerra, and I haven’t thought about that girl in years. My more recent encounters have been more along the lines of a one-night stand, or at best, a few days of casual fun. Yulia gives me a dubious look, her eyebrows arching, and I can’t wait any longer. She’s mine, and I’m going to do what my body’s been clamoring for during the past hour.

“Let’s go,” I say, my fingers closing around her slender arm. “I think it’s time we commenced our arrangement.”

SHE’S SILENT AS I LEAD HER INTO THE BEDROOM, HER LONG, SLEEK LEGS DRAWING MY ATTENTION AS we walk. I suppose I’ll need to get her some clothes of her own soon, but for now, I like seeing her in my shirt, as baggy as it is on her slim frame. I know that by the moral standards of my childhood, what I’m doing to her is wrong. She’s my prisoner, and I’m not giving her any choice in this. I’m coercing her into a relationship she may not want, despite her physical response and seeming willingness to accept my touch. It would be tempting to justify my actions by telling myself that her job makes her fair game for such treatment, but I know better. She was forced into this life by circumstances beyond her control, and I’m a cruel bastard for taking advantage of her. As I strip off Yulia’s shirt, pulling it over her head, I wait for my conscience to rear up, but all I’m cognizant of is a powerful craving for her. The things I’ve done in the past eight years—the things I’ve had to do to survive—rid me of whatever morals my family managed to instill, ripping away the layer of civilization that had always been skin-deep. The man who stands before Yulia now bears no resemblance to the boy who left his upper-middle-class home sixteen years earlier, and my conscience remains dormant as I drop the shirt on the floor and rake my gaze over my captive’s naked body. “Lie down,” I tell her, my voice roughening with lust. “I want you on your back.” She hesitates, and I wonder if she’s going to fight me after all. It would be pointless—even at her full strength, she’d be no match for me—but I wouldn’t put it past her to try something anyway. To my relief, she doesn’t. Instead, she climbs onto the bed and lies down, watching me. I approach her, my cock swelling even more. Though Yulia is still overly thin, her body is gorgeously proportioned, with a tiny waist, feminine hips, and high, round breasts. Her bright golden hair is like a halo on the pillow, framing a face that appears to be straight out of some fashion magazine. With her finely drawn features, thickly lashed eyes, and perfect skin, she’s almost too pretty to fuck. “Almost” being the key word.

Still, I rein in my savage lust. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s had too much of that, at my hands and at those of others. Just thinking about that—about other men touching her—makes me murderous with fury. If a man ever lays a hand on Yulia again, he’ll pay with his life. Climbing onto the bed, I throw my knee over her thighs and cage her between my arms. I’m determined to control myself this time, so I hold myself raised on all fours without touching her. Her chest is rising and falling with shallow breaths as she stares up at me, and I know she’s nervous. Nervous and aroused, judging by her erect nipples and flushed skin. “You’re gorgeous,” I murmur, bending over one of those tender nipples. She doesn’t move, but I can feel the tension in her body as I press my mouth to the pink aureola. The nipple contracts further at my touch, and I close my lips around the taut peak, sucking on it gently. She gasps, her hands curling into fists at her sides, and her eyes close, her head arching back on the pillow. “Yes, utterly gorgeous,” I whisper, turning my attention to the other nipple. It tastes like her, like warm feminine skin and peaches. After I suck on it, I blow cool air over the distended bud and am rewarded with a small moan. I move on to the rest of her breasts then, nibbling and sucking on the plump, delicate flesh, touching her with nothing but my mouth. Her body is a sensuous feast, every curve, dip, and hollow silky-soft, her scent intoxicating. Even with the lust raging inside me, I can’t help lingering over the underside of her breasts, her ribcage, her navel… Moving lower, I taste the tender flesh at the top of her slit, and then push my tongue between her pussy folds. She cries out, tensing, and I feel her hands on my head, her nails digging into my scalp as I find her clit and press my tongue against it. She’s wet—I can taste her arousal—and the uniquely female flavor sends a surge of blood straight to my cock. My balls tighten, drawing close to my body, and my arms tremble with the urge to grab her and thrust inside her, to take her as I’ve been dying to do since the interruption in the kitchen. “Lucas.” The word is a breathless gasp as she twists underneath me, her hips rising in a silent plea as her nails rake over my hair. “Oh, God, Lucas…” Ruthlessly tamping down my own need, I focus on her, using my mouth to keep her on the edge without sending her over. I lave every inch of her pussy with my tongue, then capture her labia in my mouth and suck on the tender folds, knowing the pulling motion will squeeze her clit. Her cries grow louder, her nails sharper on

my skull, and I fist my hands in the sheets to keep from reaching for her. I want to give her this pleasure first, make her feel some of the hunger that consumes me around her. “Lucas!” She’s thrashing now, her heels digging into the mattress on each side of me, and I know she can’t bear much more. Sliding my hand between her thighs, I push two fingers into her and suck on her clit at the same time. Her back bows as she cries out, and I feel her clenching on my fingers, her flesh rippling around me in release. I wait just long enough to feel her contractions begin to ease, and then I move up her body. Holding myself up on my elbows, I push her legs apart with my knees and line my cock up against her opening. “Yulia.” I wait for her to open her eyes, her gaze still dazed and unseeing, and then I give in to my own desperate need, driving into her in a single deep thrust. She gasps, her hands moving up to clutch my sides, and I’m finally lost. Mindless lust descends on me, and I begin pounding into her, taking her hard and fast. Vaguely, I’m aware that her legs fold around my hips and she starts matching me thrust for thrust, but I’m too far gone to slow down. She’s wet, soft, and tight around me, her inner muscles squeezing my cock, and the tension that builds inside me is uncontrollable, volcanic. It grows and intensifies, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, and then the sensations finally crest, the orgasm hitting me with brutal intensity. Grasping her tightly, I groan as I jet my seed into her body in a series of long, draining spurts. To my shock, she cries out again, and I feel her tightening around me once more, her body spasming in her second climax. My cock jerks with an answering aftershock, and then I collapse to the side, pulling her to lie on top of me. There are no thoughts in my mind except one. I’m never letting her go.

13

Y ulia “YOU FUCKED ME WITHOUT A CONDOM AGAIN,” I SAY WHEN I CAN FIND THE BREATH TO SPEAK. I’M lying next to Lucas, my head resting on his shoulder as I wait for my galloping heartbeat to slow. My captor chuckles, the sound a masculine rumble in his chest. “Oh, yes. I forgot about your million diseases. Well, you’ll be glad to hear that I got the test results back from Goldberg, and you only have crabs.” “What?” Horrified, I jerk to a sitting position, but he’s already laughing, deep guffaws escaping his throat as he sits up as well. “You asshole!” Furious, I grab a pillow and smack him with it, wishing it had a brick inside it. “That’s not funny!” Laughing even harder, Lucas grabs me and wrestles me back down to the mattress, rolling on top of me to hold me in place. With maddening ease, he captures my wrists, pinning them above my head as he subdues my kicking legs with his powerful thighs. “Actually,” he says, grinning, “I thought it was hilarious.” “Oh, really?” Unable to throw Lucas off, I use the only weapon I have left. Lifting my head, I sink my teeth into the muscular junction between his shoulder and neck. “Ouch! You little animal.” Transferring my wrists into his left hand, he fists my hair with his right, pulling my head down on the mattress. To my annoyance, he’s still grinning, not the least bit fazed by the red mark my teeth left on his skin. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Is that right?” Despite my helpless position, the old memories are dormant, leaving me free to focus on my anger. “Why’s that?” “Because”—he lowers his head, bringing his mouth close to my ear—“you made me want you.” And raising his head to meet my gaze, he nudges his hardening cock against my thigh, leaving no doubt of his meaning. Incredulous, I stare at him, seeing the now-familiar glow of heat in his wintry eyes. “Are you kidding me? Again?” “Yes, beautiful.” His mouth curves in a darkly carnal smile as he wedges his knee between my thighs, forcing them open. “Again and again.”

IT’S WELL OVER AN HOUR BEFORE I’M ABLE TO TAKE REFUGE IN THE BATHROOM AND GATHER MY scattered thoughts. My body is sore and aching, worn out by the endless orgasms, and the residue of sex is crusted on my thighs. After I take care of my most pressing needs, I turn on the shower to take a quick rinse. Before I can get in, the door opens and Lucas steps in, still fully nude. “Good idea,” he says, glancing at the running water. “Let’s go in.” Horrified, I gape at my insatiable jailer. “You can’t possibly.” He grins, white teeth flashing. “I could, but I won’t. I know you need a break. Come here, baby.” Grasping my arm, he pulls me into the stall. “It’s just a shower, I promise.” He’s true to his word, his big hands soaping me without lingering more than a few moments on my breasts and sex. Even so, I’m aware of a slow heated pulse between my thighs as he washes me thoroughly, his fingers sliding between my folds and up into the crevice of my ass. Shocked, I clench my buttocks as the tip of his finger presses into that hole, and he lets out a soft laugh, releasing me when I push at him. “All right, I can wait,” he says agreeably, and I turn away, my stomach roiling at the knowledge that it’s only a matter of time before he takes me that way too, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. Thankfully, Lucas finishes washing himself quickly and steps out of the stall. “Come out when you’re ready,” he says as he towels off, and then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the shower. Exhausted, I slump against the wall, letting the water beat down on my chest.

My nipples are painfully sensitive, as is my swollen, aching sex. Prior to meeting Lucas, I had no idea that pleasure could be so draining, that it could take everything out of me, both physically and mentally. I can’t resist him, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s my captor. Even if I were free, I’d never be able to deny him. Protection in exchange for sex. The words circle through my mind, filling me with a confusing mix of outrage and longing. Is it possible he meant it? Did he really bring me halfway across the globe to be his sex toy? It seems ridiculous—except I felt the strength of his desire for me. Even now, my body aches from his relentless passion. Would Lucas really do that? Let bygones be bygones and simply keep me if I tell him about my agency? When I was thinking of establishing a bond with him earlier, I was hoping to buy myself some time without pain and a shot at escape before I’m killed. However, if what he says is true, my not-so-terrible captivity could go on indefinitely—or at least until Esguerra demands my head on a platter. No matter what Lucas says about favors owed, I don’t believe his boss will spare me forever. Sooner or later, Esguerra will want to get his pound of flesh, and then I’m dead. And even if, by some miracle, Lucas really can protect me, he won’t do so for long. He’ll throw me to the wolves once he realizes I’m not going to give him the answers he seeks. Straightening away from the wall, I turn off the water and step out of the stall. As I towel off, I try to figure out if this turn of events changes anything and decide that it doesn’t. All it means is I’ve gotten incredibly lucky. I will have time to plan my escape.

14

L

ucas

WHEN YULIA COMES OUT OF THE BATHROOM, I GIVE HER A CLEAN T-SHIRT TO WEAR AND TAKE HER back to the living room, my body humming with the bone-deep satisfaction only sex with her can bring. “Do you like to watch TV?” I ask as I tie her ankles to the chair. I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed and content. Soon, I’ll get the answers I need, and I’ll be able to give her more freedom. For now, the least I can do is alleviate her probable boredom. “TV?” Yulia gives me a bewildered look. “Sure. Who doesn’t?” “Any preferences? Shows? Movies? News channels?” “Um, anything, really.” “Okay.” Finished with the rope, I turn her chair to face the large television on the opposite wall. “How about Modern Family? It’s light and funny. Have you seen it?” “No.” She’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted green whiskers. “Okay, then.” Suppressing a smile, I turn on the TV and select the first season of the show from the files I’ve stored on there. “I have some work to do before dinner, but this should keep you entertained.” “Sure,” she says, looking so adorably confused that I can’t help myself. Bending down, I press a kiss to her parted lips, swallowing her startled gasp. The delicious warmth of her mouth makes my cock twitch, and I force myself to straighten and step back before I get carried away.

As unbelievable as it is, I want Yulia again. Inhaling deeply, I turn away, determined to regain control. “I’ll see you soon,” I tell her over my shoulder and stride out of the house. As much as I’d like to spend all day fucking my prisoner, there’s work to be done.

I SPEND THE FIRST COUPLE OF HOURS IN ESGUERRA’S OFFICE, IRONING OUT THE LOGISTICAL DETAILS OF his Chicago protection with him and the guards I’m planning to bring with us. There’s a lot to coordinate, as Nora’s parents will need extra protection during and after our visit, in case some of Esguerra’s business associates decide that using his in-laws as leverage is a good idea. It’s doubtful—everyone knows what happened to Al-Quadar when they tried it with his wife—but it’s always good to be cautious. Some people’s stupidity verges on suicidal. Just as we’re about to finish, Esguerra’s wife walks in. Her dark eyes widen when she sees us all sitting there. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—” “What is it, baby?” Esguerra rises to his feet and comes toward her, his eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. “Is everything okay? How are you feeling?” Nora shoots me and the guards an embarrassed look before turning her attention to her husband. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she says hurriedly. “I wanted to ask you about something, but it can wait.” “Are you sure?” Esguerra’s voice softens, as it often does when he speaks to his petite wife. “I can step out—” “No, please don’t. Really, it’s not important.” Rising on tiptoes, she presses a quick kiss to his jaw. “I’m going to be by the pool. Come find me when you’re done.” “All right.” Nora steps out and Esguerra gazes after her, frowning. I can see that he wants to follow her, but doesn’t want to seem even more obsessed with her than we already know him to be. If he were anyone else, the guards would rib him about this for weeks to come. Instead, we all keep our faces expressionless as our boss returns to the table. It doesn’t take long to finish hammering out the security logistics. As soon as we’re done, the guards return to their duties, and Esguerra heads out to find his

wife, leaving me alone in his office to catch up on a couple of emails. I decide to use this opportunity to video call our Hong Kong supplier and procure the tracker implants for Yulia. To my disappointment, the old man informs me that he’s only going to be able to get them to me in two weeks—exactly when we’ll be in Chicago. “Is there any way you can do it sooner?” I ask, not liking the idea of leaving Yulia unsecured for so long, but the man just shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not. The ones Mr. Esguerra got that time were a prototype, and we’ll need to manufacture the ones for you from scratch. The coating is highly specialized, so it will have to be custom-ordered—” “Never mind. I understand.” I’ll just have to assign some trustworthy men to watch over my prisoner in my absence. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Chen.” Disconnecting from the video call, I get up and exit Esguerra’s office. There’s one more thing I have to take care of today.

ANA, ESGUERRA’S MIDDLE-AGED HOUSEKEEPER, OPENS THE DOOR FOR ME. “Hello, Señor Kent,” she says in her accented English. “Are you looking for Señor Esguerra? He just went upstairs to take a shower.” “No, I’m not looking for him.” I smile at the older woman. “May I come in?” “Of course.” She steps back, letting me into a large, luxurious foyer. “Nora is by the pool. Would you like to speak to her?” “No, actually.” I pause, looking around before glancing back at the housekeeper. “Is Rosa here? I’d like to ask her something.” “Oh.” Ana seems startled, but recovers quickly, saying, “Yes, she’s in the kitchen, helping me with dinner. Come, this way.” She leads me through a set of double doors and past a wide curving staircase. When we enter the kitchen, I’m greeted by a mouthwatering smell of roasted garlic. Rosa herself is standing next to a gleaming sink with her back turned to us, cutting up vegetables. “Rosa,” Ana calls out to the girl. “You have a visitor.” The maid turns toward us, and I see her brown eyes widen as a flush spreads across her face. “Lucas.” “Hello, Rosa,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “Do you have a minute?”

She nods and quickly wipes her hands on a towel. “Yes, of course.” A bright smile appears on her lips. “What can I do for you?” I turn to look at the housekeeper, but Ana is already hurrying away, having correctly deduced that I want privacy. “Thank you for the soup,” I say, deciding to ease into it. “It was excellent.” “Oh, good.” Her smile widens. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. It’s my mother’s recipe.” “Wait.” I frown. “You made it, not Ana?” Rosa turns beet red. “I did—I’m sorry I lied to you earlier. It was just that—” “Rosa,” I interrupt, holding up my hand. I want to spare the girl any unnecessary awkwardness. “Thank you. It was a wonderful soup, but I’d rather you didn’t make it again for me. Or anything else for that matter, all right?” She looks like I just slapped her across the face. “Of c-course,” she stammers. “I’m sorry, I—” “And I need you to stay away from my house,” I continue, ignoring the tears pooling in the girl’s eyes. I’d sooner face a dozen terrorists than do this, but I have to drive the point home. “It’s not safe for you. My prisoner is dangerous.” “I just—” “Look,” I say, feeling like I was just cruel to a child, “you’re a beautiful girl, and very sweet, but you’re much too young for me. You’re what, eighteen, nineteen?” Rosa’s chin lifts. “Twenty-one.” “Right.” It strikes me that she’s only a year younger than Yulia, but I’ve never thought of the Ukrainian spy as being too young for me. Still, I continue without missing a beat. “I’m thirty-four. You should find someone closer to your own age. A nice guy who’ll appreciate you.” “Of course.” To my surprise, the maid regroups, pulling herself together with startling composure. Her tears dry up, and she gives me a steady smile, though a flush still colors her cheeks. “You don’t have to worry, Lucas. I won’t bother you anymore.” I frown, unsure whether I can take her at face value, but she’s already turning away, her attention on the vegetables once more.

II THE BREAKING

15

Y ulia OVER THE NEXT WEEK, LUCAS AND I SETTLE INTO AN UNEASY ROUTINE. HE HAS SEX WITH ME EVERY chance he gets—which is at least a couple of times at night and once during the day —and we eat all of our meals together in the kitchen. The rest of the time I spend watching TV while tied to the chair, or sleeping cuffed at Lucas’s side. “Do you think it would be possible for me to read something?” I ask after two days of binging on TV shows. “I love books, and I miss reading them.” “What kind of books?” Lucas appears unusually interested. “All kinds,” I answer honestly. “Romance, thrillers, science fiction, nonfiction. I’m not picky—I just love the feel of a book in my hands.” “All right,” he concedes, and the next day, he takes me to a small room next to the bedroom. Like the rest of his home, it’s sparsely furnished. However, it’s much cozier, boasting a desk, three tall bookshelves filled with books, and a plush armchair next to a bay window that faces the forest. “Is this your library?” I ask, surprised. I’ve always thought of my captor as a soldier, someone more interested in guns than books. It’s easier to imagine Lucas wielding a machete than peacefully reading in this room. “Of course it’s mine.” Leaning against the door frame, he gives me an amused look. “Who else’s would it be?” “And you’ve read all of these?” I approach the shelves, studying the titles. There must be hundreds of books there, many of them mysteries and thrillers. I also see a number of biographies and nonfiction works that range from popular science to

finance. “Most of them,” Lucas replies. “I tend to order in bulk, so I always have something new to read when I have downtime.” “I see.” I don’t know why I’m so shocked to discover this aspect of him. I’ve always suspected that Lucas is keenly intelligent, but somehow I’ve let myself buy into the stereotype of a hardened mercenary, a man whose life revolves around weapons and fighting. The fact that he went straight from high school to the Navy only added to that impression. I underestimated my opponent, and I need to be careful not to do that again. Stopping in front of the bay window, I turn to look at him. “When did you manage to acquire all these books?” I ask. “I thought you spent a few years on the run after you left the Navy.” Lucas’s gaze hardens for a second, but then he nods. “Yes, I did. I keep forgetting how much you know about me.” He crosses the room to stand in front of me. “I got most of these books within the past year, after Esguerra decided we should make this compound our permanent home. Before that, we were traveling all over the world, so I kept a few dozen of my favorites in storage. And before that, I didn’t own many belongings at all—made it easier to move around.” “But that’s not what you want anymore,” I guess, studying him. “You want to own things, to have a home.” He stares at me, then lets out a bark of laughter. “I suppose. I never thought of it that way, but yeah, I guess I got a little tired of never sleeping in the same bed twice. And owning things?” His voice deepens as his gaze travels over me. “Yeah, there’s something to that. I like having things I can call my own.” My cheeks heat up as I look away, pretending I’m interested in the view outside the bay window. Lucas’s extreme possessiveness hasn’t escaped my notice. I know my captor believes he owns me, and for all intents and purposes, he does. He controls every aspect of my life: what I eat, when I sleep, what I wear, even when I go to the bathroom. When I’m not tied up, I’m with him, and for much of that time, we’re in bed, where he does whatever he pleases with me. If I didn’t want him as intensely as he wants me, it would be hell. “Yulia…” Lucas’s voice holds a familiar heated note as he steps behind me. His big hand gathers my hair to move it to one side, exposing my neck. Leaning down, he kisses the underside of my ear and slides his free hand under the man’s shirt I’m wearing as a dress. Delving between my legs, he finds my sex, and I can’t

suppress a moan as he penetrates me with two fingers, stretching me for his possession. And for the next hour, as Lucas fucks me bent over the arm of the chair, books are the furthest thing from our minds.

AFTER THAT TIME IN THE LIBRARY, THE QUALITY AND VARIETY OF MY ENTERTAINMENT IMPROVES. Instead of watching TV all day, I spend a portion of my alone time reading by the bay window. I also gain the concession of a more comfortable seat and having my hands handcuffed in the front—that way, I can actually hold and read a book. Every morning after breakfast, Lucas secures me to the armchair with ropes, leaving my handcuffed hands just enough range to turn the pages, and I read there until lunch, at which point he comes to feed me and let me stretch my legs. “You know, I’m not a dog who uses the bathroom on a schedule,” I dare to complain one day. “What if I really have to go, and you’re not home?” To my relief, he doesn’t point out how spoiled I’ve become. Instead, later that day, he gives me a small device that resembles an old-fashioned pager. “If you press this button, I’ll get a text,” he explains. “And if I can, I’ll come to you. Or send someone else to help you.” “Thank you,” I say, feeling genuinely grateful and increasingly hopeful. Maybe one day he really will let me go, or at least give me enough freedom to enable my escape. Of course, I know I can’t rely on that. Every day, Lucas spends a portion of the mealtimes interrogating me, and even though I’ve successfully stonewalled him thus far, I’m afraid he’ll eventually lose patience and resort to more surefire methods of extracting information. It hasn’t been that long, and I can already feel his frustration growing. “You don’t owe them a damn thing,” he says furiously when I refuse to talk about the agency for the fifth time. “They took you when you were a fucking child. What kind of bastards send a sixteen-year-old to a corrupt city like Moscow and tell her to sleep her way to government secrets? Fuck, Yulia”—he slaps his palm on the table—“how can you be loyal to those motherfuckers?” How, indeed. I want to scream at him, tell him that he doesn’t understand anything, but I remain silent, looking down at my plate. There’s nothing I can say

that won’t expose Misha to danger and ruin his life. My loyalty is not to Obenko, the agency, or even Ukraine. It’s to my brother—the only family I have left. To my relief, Lucas lets my non-response slide, ultimately changing the topic to the plot of a post-apocalyptic thriller I read that day. We discuss it in great detail, as we frequently do with books and movies, and we both agree that the author did a good job of explaining why the scientists couldn’t prevent the Gray Goo from taking over the world. The meal concludes on an amicable note, but my determination to escape is reinforced. Eventually, Lucas will get fed up with my silence, and I don’t want to be around when he does.

16

Y ulia AS I PLAN MY ESCAPE, I REALIZE THAT I’M FACED WITH THREE MAJOR OBSTACLES: THE FACT THAT I’M tied up when Lucas is not around, the military-level security of the compound, and Lucas himself. Any of those three would be enough to contain me, but when all three are combined, escape is all but impossible. On the surface, it shouldn’t be difficult. When Lucas is home, he usually keeps me untied, letting me eat at the table and even do a few stretches and body-weight exercises to keep fit. However, he always keeps a watchful eye on me during those times, and I know I won’t win in a physical battle with him. Even if I managed to grab a knife, he’d probably wrestle it away from me before I could inflict a serious injury. A gun would be a different matter, but I haven’t seen anything more deadly than a kitchen knife inside the house. I know Lucas usually carries weapons—I saw him with an assault rifle that first day—but he must leave them in the car or some other location outside. Contrary to appearances, I’m more likely to escape when he’s not around. To that end, every time Lucas ties me up, I test the rope to see if he left some slack in it, and every time, I discover he didn’t. The bonds are always just tight enough to keep me restrained without cutting off my circulation. I don’t want to leave betraying marks on my skin, so I don’t tug at the rope too hard. Even if I managed to get free, I’d still need to get past guard towers and through a jungle patrolled by Esguerra’s men and high-tech drones—assuming Lucas didn’t catch me before I got that far. For me to stand a chance, I need my captor far away, and I need to know the

patrol schedule. I begin by trying to get the latter out of Lucas when we’re lying in bed, relaxed and satisfied after a lengthy sex session. “How did you get this?” I ask as I trace my fingers over a bruise on his ribcage. “The compound wasn’t attacked, was it?” My concern is only partially feigned; the idea of Lucas getting hurt in any way bothers me. He seems invulnerable, every inch of his body packed with hard muscle, but I know that won’t save him from a bomb or a gun. In his line of work, life expectancy is much shorter than average—a fact that makes me sick with worry when I dwell on it too much. “No, nobody would attack the compound,” Lucas says, a smile curving his lips. “I got this bruise in training, that’s all.” “I see.” Acting on some irrational impulse, I press a small kiss to the injured area before looking up to meet his gaze. “Why wouldn’t someone attack the compound? Doesn’t your boss have a lot of enemies?” “Oh, he does.” Lucas’s eyes darken as he slides his hand into my hair and guides me lower, toward his stomach. “But they would be suicidal to come here. The security is too tight. And now”—he pushes my head toward his rising erection—“I want something else that’s tight.” Hiding my disappointment, I close my lips around his cock and apply the strong suction he likes. Lucas is too smart to give me the security details I need—which means I’ll have to figure out something else.

AS THE DAYS DRAG ON WITHOUT ME GETTING ANY CLOSER TO A VIABLE ESCAPE PLAN, I CONSOLE MYSELF with the knowledge that I’m using the time to recover from my ordeal at the Russian prison and rebuild my strength. Between sitting most of the day and consuming every bite of food—no matter how boring—Lucas puts in front of me, I’m steadily putting on weight, my body regaining the curves it lost during my weeks of near-starvation. By the time I’ve been in Lucas’s house nine days, I’m no longer a skeleton—and I’m desperate for something other than sandwiches and cold cereal with milk. “You know, you seriously should let me try cooking,” I say after yet another sandwich for lunch. “I can make omelets, soup, chicken, lamb, mashed potatoes,

salad, rice, dessert—anything you want, really. If you don’t trust me with a knife, you can help me by cutting things up. I’ll just add seasoning and things like that. You’ll be perfectly safe—unless you store rat poison in your kitchen.” He laughs, making me think he’s going to ignore my offer, but that afternoon, he brings in several boxes of food, including all kinds of fruits and vegetables, two types of fresh fish, several whole chickens, a dozen lamb chops, and an entire collection of spices. “Where did all of this come from?” I ask, eying the bounty in astonishment. There’s enough in those boxes to feed five people—assuming one knows how to prepare it all, of course. “Esguerra gets weekly deliveries, so I took some for us,” Lucas says. “I figure it’s time to test your cooking skills.” I can’t conceal my startled joy. “You’d trust me to cook?” “I’d trust you to direct me.” He grins. “You’ll sit there”—he points at the kitchen table—“and tell me exactly what to do. I’ll follow your orders, and who knows? Maybe I’ll learn something.” “Okay,” I agree, more than a little excited by the prospect of ordering Lucas about. “I can do that. Let’s start by putting everything away, and tonight, we’ll make lamb chops with garlic-dill potatoes and green salad.”

17

L

ucas

AS I PEEL POTATOES AND CHOP GARLIC UNDER YULIA’S chair, her blue eyes bright with amusement.

GUIDANCE, SHE LOUNGES IN THE KITCHEN

“You know you don’t have to take half the potato off with the skin, right?” Grinning, she glances at the pile of mangled potatoes on the counter. “Haven’t you ever done this before?” “No,” I say, doing my best not to cut too deeply into my current root vegetable. It’s harder than it seems. “And now I know why.” “They didn’t make you peel potatoes in the Navy?” “No, that’s a thing of the past. We had private contractors who handled the mess halls.” “I see. Well, you need a potato peeler,” she says, crossing her long legs. “Like with everything else, a specialized tool helps.” “A peeler. Got it.” I make a mental note to order one. I also do my best to keep my eyes off those bare, distracting legs. Four days ago, I finally got Yulia some clothes of her own, but they’re of the skimpy summer variety, and I’m now realizing my mistake. In a white midriff-baring top and tiny jean shorts, Yulia’s no-longer-starved body is impossible to ignore. “Okay, that’s enough potatoes, I think,” she says, getting up. Her flip-flops— the only shoes I got her—make a slapping noise on the tile floor as she comes toward me. “Now we need to take the garlic, mix it with dill, salt, and pepper, and

place everything on a frying pan. You have oil, right?” “Oil. Check.” I grab a bottle of olive oil from a cabinet to my left. “Do I pour it over the potatoes?” She props her hip on the edge of the countertop. “You’re kidding me, right?” I frown, not appreciating the mockery. She bursts out laughing. “Lucas, seriously. Have you never fried anything in your life?” “Nothing that was edible afterwards,” I grudgingly admit. “I may have tried it once or twice and given up.” “Okay.” Yulia manages to stop laughing long enough to explain, “You pour oil into the frying pan. No, not so much—” She seizes the bottle from me before I can pour out more than a quarter of its contents. Laughing hysterically, she grabs a paper towel and dips it in the oil, mopping up the excess. “We’re not deep-frying the poor potatoes,” she explains when she’s able to talk again. “All right,” I say, watching as she picks up the potatoes and the garlic and deposits everything into the oiled pan. Her movements are fast and sure, her slim hands moving with graceful economy. She wasn’t lying when she said she knows what she’s doing. “I wish we had fresh dill,” she says, grabbing one of the bottles from the spice rack. “But I think the dried one will also work. Next time, if you like this dish, do you think you could get us some fresh herbs?” “Sure.” Fresh herbs. I make another mental note. “I can get us anything.” “Great. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll season this myself. The potatoes won’t be any good if you dump the entire salt shaker in.” She looks like she’s about to start laughing again. “Be my guest,” I say, moving the knife I used to peel the potatoes behind me. “This mess is all yours.” And for the next half hour, I watch as Yulia whirls around the kitchen, humming under her breath. She seasons and fries the potatoes, bathes lamb chops in some kind of marinade, and washes greens for the salad. She’s practically vibrating with excited energy, and for the first time, I realize how little I’ve seen this side of her— how subdued she usually is in my presence. It’s not surprising, of course. Though I haven’t hurt her, she’s my prisoner, and I

know she still doesn’t trust me. No matter how much I push for answers, she either changes the topic or refuses to respond. It frustrates me, but I force myself to remain patient. Once Yulia realizes I truly don’t intend to harm her, she’ll hopefully see the light and give up the people who fucked up her life. For now, all I can do is keep her reasonably comfortable—and restrained—until the trackers I ordered arrive. “All done,” she says when the oven alarm goes off. Smiling brightly, she bends to take out the lamb chops, and my cock hardens at the sight of her ass in those tiny shorts. If the lamb didn’t smell so delicious, I would’ve dragged Yulia to bed right then and there. As it is, while she carries the dish to the table, I have to take several deep breaths to control myself. It’s ridiculous. I’ve always had a strong sex drive, but around Yulia, I’m like a randy teenager watching his first porn. I want to fuck her all the time, and no matter how often I take her, the desire doesn’t diminish. If anything, it grows stronger. It takes a few more breaths before my erection subsides enough for me to help her set the table. By then, Yulia’s got the salad arranged prettily in a bowl and the frying pan with the potatoes sitting on a neatly folded towel in the middle of the table. I presume the latter is to keep the hot pan from burning the table surface—a clever solution my parents’ housekeeper used as well. Finally, we both sit down to eat. “Yulia, this is amazing,” I say after demolishing half of my plate in under a minute. “The best I’ve had in a long, long time.” She gives me a happy smile and picks up her lamb chop. “I’m glad you like it.” “Like it? I love it.” I can’t remember the last time I had a meal this satisfying. The savory potatoes are perfect with the rich lamb and the crisp, lemony greens of the salad. “If I could eat this three times a day, I would.” Yulia’s smile widens. “Good. I thought about making dessert too, but I figured we’ll be too full from this. We’ll just have some grapes instead.” “Whatever you say,” I mumble through a mouthful of potatoes. “It’s all good.” She laughs and digs into her own food. We eat in easy, companionable silence, and when most of the food is demolished, I put away the leftovers and wash the dishes. I do it automatically, without thinking, and it’s only when I sit down to eat

the grapes that it strikes me how content I feel. No, more than content. I’m fucking happy. Between the meal, Yulia’s bright smile, and the anticipation of taking her to bed, I’m thoroughly enjoying this evening. And it’s not just today, I realize as I grab a handful of grapes. This past week, ever since I decided to keep Yulia, has been my happiest in recent memory. “So, Lucas,” Yulia says before I can digest the revelation, “tell me something…” Her soft lips twitch with a poorly suppressed smile. “How did you get this far in life without ever peeling a potato?” I pop a grape into my mouth as I consider her question. “I suppose I had a pampered upbringing,” I say after swallowing the grape. “We had a housekeeper, so neither of my parents did any chores, and they didn’t force me to do them. Later on, when I was in the Navy, we ate whatever was served to us, and after that…” I shrug, recalling the hardscrabble days of camping out in the jungle with small groups of men as lawless and desperate as myself. “I guess I just saw food as sustenance. As long as I didn’t go hungry, I didn’t think about it much.” “I see.” She eyes me thoughtfully. “What made you decide to leave home? It’s a big leap to go from a family with a housekeeper to enrolling in the Navy.” “I suppose it was.” My parents certainly thought I’d gone insane. “It just seemed like the right thing to do at that point in my life.” “Why?” Yulia seems genuinely puzzled. “You don’t have a draft in the United States. Did you feel called to defend your country?” I chuckle. “Something like that.” I’m not about to tell her about the thug I killed in that Brooklyn subway station, or the sick rush I got from seeing his blood spill over my hands. She already fears me; she doesn’t need to know I became a killer at seventeen. “That’s very admirable of you,” Yulia says, and I can hear the skepticism in her voice. “Very self-sacrificing.” “Yeah, well, someone had to do it.” I bite on another grape, letting the cold, sweet juice trickle down my throat. I want her to drop this topic, so I add, “Just like someone had to be a spy, right?” Predictably, she clams up, her face assuming the shuttered expression she

always wears when I get too close to that subject. “Would you like some tea?” she asks, rising to her feet. “I saw there was some Earl Gray in one of those boxes.” I lean back in my chair, watching her. “Sure.” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had tea, but I got it because I remembered Yulia drinking it at the Moscow restaurant where we first met. “I could go for a cup.” She puts on some water to boil and readies two cups for us, her movements as graceful as usual. Everything about her is graceful, reminding me of a dancer. “Did you ever do ballet?” I ask as the thought occurs to me. “Or is that a stereotype about Eastern European girls?” Yulia turns to face me with a cup in each hand. “It is a stereotype,” she says, her tense expression fading. “In my case, though, it’s true. My parents had me take ballet lessons from the time I was four. They thought it would help me overcome my shyness.” “You were shy as a child?” “Very.” She walks back to the table. “I wasn’t a cute kid—far from it. Other children often mocked me.” “Really? I can’t imagine you as anything but beautiful.” I accept the cup Yulia hands to me. “How does one go from a not-cute kid to the hottest woman I’ve ever seen?” Warm color sweeps over her high cheekbones. “I’m not exactly Helen of Troy.” She sits down, cradling her cup. “My mom was pretty, though, so I think I got some of her genes. They just kicked in later, after I went through puberty. Oh, and braces helped, too.” She gives me a wide smile that shows off her straight white teeth. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say wryly. “Total ugliness to total gorgeousness, just like that.” She shrugs, blushing again, and I have a sudden mental image of her as that shy child. “I bet you were cute,” I say, studying her. “All that blond hair and big blue eyes. You just didn’t realize it. That’s why they took you from the orphanage, isn’t it? Because they saw your potential?” Yulia stiffens, and I know I ventured too close to the forbidden subject again. My mood darkens as I reflect on the fact that over the last several days, I’ve made zero progress with her. She may smile at me, cook for me, and willingly take me into her body, but she still doesn’t trust me one bit.

“Yulia.” I move my tea to the side. “You know this can’t go on forever, right? You’re going to have to talk to me one day.” She looks down into her cup, her body language all but screaming for me to back off. “Yulia.” Holding on to my temper by a thread, I get up and walk over to pull her to her feet. Holding her arms, I stare into her mutinous gaze. “Who are they?” She remains silent, her thick eyelashes lowering to conceal her thoughts. “Why won’t you tell me about them?” She doesn’t answer, her eyes trained somewhere on my neck. My grip on her arms tightens, and she flinches, tensing in my hold. Realizing I’m inadvertently hurting her, I force myself to unlock my fingers and drop my hands. I’m getting angry, which is not good. The fact that I’m not willing to torture her means I have to gain her trust to get answers, and this is not the way to do it. Taking a breath to regain control, I lift my hand and tuck her hair behind her ear, being careful to keep the gesture gentle and nonthreatening. “Yulia.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers. “Sweetheart, they don’t deserve your loyalty. They ruined your life. What they did to you was wrong, don’t you see that? I told you I’ll protect you—from them and from anyone else who wants to harm you. You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. I’m not going to turn on you once I have this information—you have my word on that.” Her eyelashes sweep up as she meets my gaze. “So what are you going to do if I tell you about them? What’s going to happen to the agency?” I suppress my pleased smile. This is the closest she’s come to giving in. “We’re going to take care of them.” “The way you took care of Al-Quadar?” Her eyes are wide with what appears to be curiosity and hope. “You’ll wipe them out?” “Yes, you’ll be safe from them. By the time we’re done, nobody connected to the organization will be around to hurt you.” I intend my words as a reassurance, a promise of better things to come, but as I speak, I see color leaching from Yulia’s face. She steps out of my reach, her lashes descending to hide her gaze again, and a sudden suspicion stirs within me. “Yulia.” I catch her arm as she turns away. Spinning her around to face me, I stare at her pale face. “Are you protecting them? Are you protecting someone

there?” She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the tension on her face, the fear that she’s trying so hard to hide. This goes beyond simple loyalty to an employer, beyond concern for coworkers. She’s terrified for them—like someone would be for a person one loves. Stunned, I release her arm and step back. I don’t know why this possibility never occurred to me. I’d been so hung up on the idea that they fucked up her life, I never wondered whether there might be someone Yulia cares about in Ukraine. Whether she might have a lover who’s not an assignment.

I SPEND THE REST OF THE EVENING FUNCTIONING ON AUTOPILOT. ESGUERRA AND I HAVE ANOTHER late-night call with Asia, so I tie Yulia up in my office, letting her read while I take care of business. She’s unusually wary around me, watching me like I might attack her at any moment, and her fear adds to the rage bubbling deep within my chest. It takes everything I have to hand her a book and walk out of the room without grabbing her and demanding answers. Without resorting to violence that I can’t and won’t use on her. As I listen to our Malaysian suppliers argue over the quality of the latest batch of plastic explosives, I try to keep my thoughts from straying to my captive, but it’s impossible. Now that the idea is lodged in my mind, I can’t push it away. A lover. A man Yulia cares about and wants to protect. The mere thought of that fills me with murderous fury. Who is he? Another operative from her agency? Someone she met during her training, perhaps? It’s not out of the question. She would’ve been very young when she met him, but girls that age fall in love all the time. He could’ve been another trainee, someone she felt close to because they shared the same experiences. Or he might’ve been older—an instructor or an already-trained agent. Kirill couldn’t have been the only one who noticed the ugly duckling blossoming into a swan. The more I think about it, the more likely it seems. They could’ve met during her training and continued their romance later on. Just because Yulia’s job involved getting close to men for information doesn’t mean she couldn’t have had a genuine relationship on the side. And if she did have one, another agent would’ve been the most logical choice for a lover. Someone from her organization would’ve understood her profession, forgiven her for doing what she had to do.

Accepted that she let me fuck her while she was in love with him. The pencil I’ve been toying with during the call snaps in my hands, the crack startlingly loud in the pause during the conversation. Esguerra lifts his eyebrows, shooting me a cool glance, and I force my hands to unclench from the broken pieces of the pencil. I can’t give in to this anger. I can’t allow myself to lose control. I need to figure out a new strategy, something that doesn’t rely on Yulia ultimately trusting me. If I’m right about her lover, she’ll never give me the answers I seek. She’ll protect her agency because he’s part of it.

YULIA IS STILL READING WHEN I STEP INTO MY OFFICE, HER BLOND HEAD BENT OVER THE OPEN PAGES OF a Michael Crichton techno-thriller. She’s holding the book on her lap—the only position the ropes securing her to the armchair allow. At the sound of my entry, she looks up, her gaze filled with wariness. She’s expecting me to push for information, and her fear is like gasoline on the flames of my fury. Far be it from me to disappoint my prisoner. “Why are you protecting them?” I cross the room and stop in front of her. My voice is cold, though the anger coursing through my veins is hot enough to burn. “What do they mean to you?” Yulia’s gaze drops to my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t lie to me.” I crouch in front of her, so we’re at the same eye level. Extending my hand, I grip her jaw and force her to look at me. “You don’t want us to go after your agency. Why?” She’s silent as she holds my gaze. “Is there someone there you’re protecting?” Her eyes widen slightly, and I catch a glimpse of panic in their blue depths. “No, of course not,” she says quickly. She’s lying. I know she is, but I play along. “Then why won’t you talk to me?” “Because they don’t deserve your vengeance.” Her words tumble out, fast and desperate. “They were just doing their job, protecting our country.” “So it’s all about patriotism for you? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Of course.” A pulse is throbbing visibly in her throat. “Why else would I do this?” “Maybe because they took you when you were a fucking child.” My hand tightens on her jaw. “Because the only choice they gave you was to whore for them or rot in the orphanage.” Yulia flinches at my harsh words, her eyes filling with tears, and I stop, fighting a swell of rage. Realizing my fingers are digging into her skin, I unclench my hand and lower it to my lap. My palm immediately curls into a fist, and she shrinks back against the chair, as if afraid I’ll hit her. I relax my hand with effort. “Yulia.” I manage to moderate my tone. “They’re fucking monsters. I don’t know why you can’t see it.” She closes her eyes, and I see a tear trickling down her cheek. “It’s not that simple,” she whispers, opening her eyes to look at me again. “You don’t understand, Lucas.” “No?” Unable to resist, I raise my hand and wipe the streak of wetness off her face. My touch is almost gentle, the worst of my violent anger receding at the sight of her tears. “Then explain it to me, beautiful. Make me understand.” “I can’t.” Another tear escapes, undoing my work. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” “Can’t or won’t?” There’s only one reason I can think of for her continued silence. My suspicions were correct. Yulia has someone there she’s protecting— someone she can’t tell me about because she knows what will happen if I learn of his existence. Because she knows he’ll die at my hand. She doesn’t answer my question. Instead, she says quietly, “May I please use the restroom? I really have to go.” I stare at her, my fury deepening. In less than five days, I’m going to Chicago, and I’m still no closer to getting real answers. I will never get any closer for as long as she loves him. As I look at her tear-streaked face, an idea comes to me, one I would’ve once dismissed as too cruel. Now, however, with this new knowledge fueling my rage, I can’t see any other way. I can’t keep Yulia locked up in my house forever; at some point, I’ll have to give her more freedom, and when I do, I need to be certain there’s nowhere she can run and hide.

I need to make sure she can’t go back to him. Reaching into my pocket, I take out my switchblade and cut through her ropes while she watches me, pale and visibly terrified. Schooling my face into a hard, impassive mask, I take hold of her slim arm and pull her to her feet. “Let’s go,” I say, my voice like ice. As I lead her down the hallway, my resolve firms. It’s time for the gloves to come off. One way or another, Yulia is going to talk tonight.

18

Y ulia MY PULSE HAMMERS WITH ANXIETY AS WE WALK SILENTLY TO THE BATHROOM. I CAN FEEL LUCAS’S anger. It’s different from what I’ve seen from him before—colder and more controlled. He’s both furious and resolved, and that frightens me more than if he had just exploded at me. He lets me go into the bathroom alone as usual, and I close the door behind me, leaning against it to gather my thoughts and calm my frantic heartbeat. The food I ate at dinner is like a brick in my stomach. I haven’t felt the bite of terror in over a week, and I’ve forgotten how powerful it can be. He lied. He lied when he promised not to hurt me. I could see the dark intent on his face, feel the barely restrained violence in his touch. He’s going to do something to me tonight—something terrible. Feeling sick, I use the toilet and wash my hands, going through the motions despite my panic. The knowledge of Lucas’s betrayal is like a spear through my chest. In the beginning, I suspected he may be playing me, but as the days went on, I slowly began to lose my natural distrust of him, to believe that the bizarre domesticity of our arrangement might continue for some time. To hope he truly won’t hurt me. Dura. Dura, dura, dura. The Russian word for fool is like a jackhammer in my skull. How could I have been such an idiot? I know what Lucas is. I see the demons that drive him. My captor is a man who walked away from a good, safe home to embark on a life of danger and violence, and he didn’t do it out of love for his country.

He did it because it’s his nature—because he needed to find an outlet for the darkness within. I’ve known others like him. My instructors. Obenko himself. They all share this trait, this inability to be part of a peaceful society and abide by its laws. It’s what makes them so good at their jobs—and so dangerous. When conscience is nonexistent, it’s easy to do what needs to be done. “Yulia.” A knock on the door startles me, and I realize I’ve just been standing there, absorbed in thought. “Are you done?” Lucas’s deep voice breaks my paralysis, and I spring into action, my fear drowned under a wave of adrenaline. “Almost,” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over the running water. “Just need to wash my face.” Leaving the faucet on to mask the sounds of my movements, I kneel and open the cabinet under the sink. There, among extra toilet paper rolls and tubes of toothpaste, is the object I hid for just such an eventuality. It’s a small metal fork I snitched from the kitchen two days ago, slipping it into my shorts pocket while Lucas was washing the dishes. He’d left it inside the kitchen drawer that holds napkins and other small items, likely without realizing it was there. I took it while getting fresh napkins for the table and hid it here, hoping I’d never need to use it. Well, I need it now. The little fork is not much of a weapon, but it’s sturdier than a plastic toothbrush. Ignoring the part of me that revolts at the idea of injuring Lucas, I take the fork, slip it into the back pocket of my shorts, and close the cabinet. I can’t allow him to break me. My brother’s life depends on it.

LUCAS TAKES ME TO THE BEDROOM, ONCE AGAIN LEADING ME THERE WITHOUT SPEAKING. I DON’T MAKE the mistake of jumping him as soon as I come out—I won’t catch him by surprise the second time. Instead, I walk as calmly as I can, trying not to focus on the little fork burning a hole in my pocket. I know Lucas always looks at my hands, so I keep them loose and relaxed at my sides, fighting the instinct that screams to protect myself, to strike now. “Strip,” Lucas says, stopping in front of the bed. His pale eyes are hooded as he

releases my arm and steps back. I can feel the hunger within him. It’s dark and potent, despite the cold anger evident in the hard lines of his face. This won’t be a tender lovemaking session. He’s going to hurt me. It takes everything I have to reach for the edge of my short tank top and pull it up over my head, baring my breasts to his gaze. My throat is so tight I can scarcely breathe, but I drop the tank top and face him without flinching. The worst thing I can do is show him how terrified I am—and how desperate. “The rest,” Lucas prompts when I pause. His expression is unchanging, but I see the growing bulge in his jeans. “Get it all off—or I will.” His arm muscles flex, betraying his impatience. I force my lips into a teasing smile. “Oh, yeah?” Slowly, very slowly, I reach for my zipper, praying that my hands don’t shake. “And how exactly are you going to do that?” At my challenge, Lucas’s nostrils flare and he does precisely what I counted on. He reaches for me and hooks his fingers through the top of my shorts, yanking me against his hard body. I gasp playfully, as if excited by his roughness, and while he’s distracted, I slip my right hand into my back pocket, grab the fork, and strike. In a blur of motion, my hand flashes toward his face, the fork targeting his eye at the same time as my knee jerks up, aiming for his balls. Each injury might disorient him for a few crucial moments, and the two together should give me enough time to run. It should’ve worked—with any other man, it would’ve worked—but Lucas is not like any other man. As fast as I am, he’s even faster. In a split second, he jerks back. The fork grazes his cheekbone and my knee hits his inner thigh, and then he’s on me, twisting my right arm behind my back in a swift, merciless motion. His fingers squeeze my wrist, making my hand go numb. The fork slips out of my fingers, and in the next instant, I’m on my stomach on the bed, his big body pinning me down. I can feel his erection throbbing against my ass, sense the rage and lust radiating from him, and the old fear flares, the memories washing over me in a sickening tide. No. Please, no. I can’t move, can’t breathe. I’m pinned, helpless as rough male hands rip away my clothes. The man on top of me wants to punish me, to hurt me. I struggle, but I can’t do anything, and the dark panic engulfs me, sends me spinning out of control. “No, please, no!” I’m scarcely aware of my screams and cries, of the pleas that

tear from my throat. All I can feel are his hands dragging my shorts down my legs and his knees digging into my thighs to hold me restrained. There’s no tenderness in his touch, nothing but raw, vengeful lust, and the terror is all-consuming as his fingers invade my body, thrusting in violently as I scream and sob in pain. “Stop, please stop!” It’s no longer Lucas on top of me, no longer the man who gave me pleasure. It’s the brutal monster of my nightmares, the one who ripped me apart body and soul. The edges of my consciousness recede, spiraling into the past. “Don’t! Please stop!” The monster doesn’t stop, doesn’t listen. “Who am I?” he growls, his fingers relentless. “What is my name?” “No, stop!” I thrash under him, mindless with fear. I don’t understand what he’s saying, what he wants from me. I need to get away. I need him to release me. “Let me go!” “Tell me my name, and I’ll stop.” There’s something wrong with that statement, something that should give me pause, but I can’t think, can’t concentrate on anything but the dark, swirling terror. “Let me go!” His fingers push in deeper, his voice hard and cruel. “Tell me my name.” “Kirill!” I scream, desperate for any hope, no matter how slim. I’d do anything, say anything to make him stop. He doesn’t stop. “My full real name.” “Kirill Ivanovich Luchenko!” “Who am I?” “My trainer!” The darkness consumes me, destroys me. “Please, stop!” “Your trainer where?” “At UUR!” “What is UUR?” His body presses down on me, suffocating me with its weight. “What does it stand for, Yulia?” “Ukrainskoye—” The oddity of it all finally penetrates my terror, and I freeze, my mind flitting in agony between the present and the past. It doesn’t make sense. Everything is different, everything is wrong. The fingers inside me are rough, but they’re not ripping me apart, and there’s no cologne. There’s no cologne.

“What does it stand for?” the man repeats, and for the first time, I hear the strain in his familiar deep voice. A voice that’s speaking English. No. Oh God, no. The realization is like an arrow puncturing my lungs. It’s not Kirill on top of me. It’s Lucas. It’s always been Lucas. He made my nightmare come true, and I broke. I told him everything.

19

L

ucas

YULIA STILLS UNDERNEATH ME, HER SLIM BODY WRACKED BY VIOLENT TREMORS, AND I KNOW SHE’S NO longer there, in that old place of her terrors. She’s back here with me. It should feel good, this victory. Her former trainer’s name and the agency’s initials are a solid lead. Our hackers will scour the net, and it’s only a matter of time before they locate Yulia’s bosses and her lover. I’ve fulfilled the task I set out to complete. Except for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a victory. My chest aches dully as I withdraw my fingers from Yulia’s body, and there’s an emptiness inside me, a void where rage and jealousy used to live. I hurt her. Not much—maybe not at all, in the physical sense. She hadn’t been totally dry, and I was careful not to injure her. But I hurt her nonetheless. I took the horror of her past and used it to break her. Knowing her fear of sexual violence, I let her get scared enough to attack, and then I retaliated in the way she dreads most. I recreated the conditions of her nightmare to bring back that terrified fifteenyear-old girl. “Yulia.” I move off her and sit up, the ache in my chest intensifying when she just lies there, trembling. Extending my hand, I gently stroke her back, unable to find the right words. Her skin is cold and clammy under my fingertips, her breathing unsteady. “Sweetheart…”

She twists away, her body contorting into a small ball of naked limbs. Her shorts are still around her knees, but she doesn’t seem aware of that. She’s just rolling up tighter and tighter, as if trying to make herself disappear. “Come here, baby.” I can’t help reaching for her. She’s stiff as I draw her into my lap, every muscle in her body rigid with tension. I know my touch is the last thing she wants right now, but I can’t let her deal with this on her own. Even knowing about her love for another man, I can’t leave Yulia alone. Her face is wet against my shoulder as I hold her, stroking her back, her hair, the sleek muscles of her calves. The peach scent of her skin teases my nostrils, but my lust for her is muted for the moment, leaving me free to focus on her comfort. With her knees drawn up to her chest, Yulia seems no bigger than a child, her entire body fitting on my lap. Her fragility weighs on me, adding to the heavy pressure around my heart. I don’t know what to do, so I just hold her, letting my warmth soothe her chilled flesh. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight me, and it’s enough for now. It has to be enough. “I’m sorry,” I murmur when her shaking begins to ease. The words probably sound as hollow to her as they do to me, but I persist, needing her to understand. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but we had to move past this standoff. You would’ve never trusted me enough to tell me about UUR. And now it’s over. It’s done. I promised I wouldn’t harm you if you talked, and I won’t. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” Once her lover is dead, she’s going to be mine and mine alone. Yulia doesn’t say anything, but after a few more minutes, her breathing normalizes and her shaking stops. Even her skin feels warmer, though her body is still rigid in my embrace. “Are you tired, baby?” I whisper, moving my hand over her back in small, soothing circles. “Do you want to go to sleep?” She doesn’t answer, but I feel her stiffening even more. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you,” I say, guessing at the source of her tension. “We’ll just go to sleep, okay?” Still no response, but I’m not expecting any at this point. Cradling her against my chest, I get up and carry her to her side of the bed, then gently place her on top of the sheets. Yulia immediately rolls away from me, wrapping herself in the blanket, and I let her be while I take off my clothes and get the handcuffs.

Lying down beside her, I pull away the blanket and reach for her left wrist. “Come here, sweetheart. You know the drill.” She doesn’t resist when I snap the handcuffs around her wrist and mine. It should’ve been uncomfortable to sleep like this, with our left wrists locked together, but I’ve gotten so used to it that it feels entirely natural. As soon as I have Yulia secured, I pull her against my chest, holding her from the back. When my groin presses against her ass, I feel rough material against my bare cock and realize she managed to pull up her shorts while I was undressing. I consider letting her sleep like this, but after shifting a few times in search of a better position, I reach for the shorts’ zipper. “I’m just going to hold you,” I promise, tugging the shorts down her legs while she lies rigid and unresisting. “You’ll be more comfortable as well.” Kicking the shorts away, I pull her back into the spooning position, marveling at the perfect way her naked body fits into my arms. Before I met Yulia, I didn’t get the appeal of cuddling with a woman, but now I can’t imagine not holding her as I fall asleep. Of course, normally I hold Yulia after sex, I realize as my cock stiffens against her ass. Sleeping is a lot easier after I’ve fucked her a couple of times. Oh, well. I take a deep breath and picture myself crawling through the mud in the mountains of Afghanistan, with icy sleet soaking through my clothes. When that doesn’t work, I think of my parents and the way they never touched or smiled at each other, substituting politeness for caring and mutual ambition for a family bond. The latter memory does the trick, and my erection subsides enough for me to relax. As I sink into the soothing darkness of sleep, I dream of peach pies, angels with long blond hair, and a smile. Yulia’s bright, genuine smile.

20

Y ulia “IT’S YOUR FAULT, BITCH. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.” Dimly, I’m aware that the words are strangely distant, but the terror still engulfs me, pressing down on me like a smothering blanket. I can feel him over me, and I scream, struggling to avoid the violation, the awful pain. “No, please, no!” “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re just having a bad dream.” Strong arms tighten around me, pressing me against a hard, warm body, and the suffocating terror eases, the cruel voices receding. Sobbing with relief, I try to turn, to face the person holding me, but something hard tugs at my left wrist. The handcuffs. “Lucas?” “Yeah, it’s me.” Warm lips brush my temple as a big hand smoothes back my hair. “I’ve got you. You’re all right now. You’re fine.” He’s got me. Something should worry me about that statement, but at this moment, all I’m aware of is its seductive comfort. Lucas’s powerful arms are around me, holding me, protecting me in the darkness, and the horror of the dream grows more distant, sinking back into the mire of the past. There’s no Kirill. There’s just Lucas, and nobody can take me away from him. “Baby, you’ve got to stop moving like that.” His voice is hoarse, strained, and I realize I’m rocking against him in an attempt to burrow even deeper into his

embrace. In the process, my ass is shimmying against his groin—with a predictable result. The horror flickers distantly, the panic returning for a moment, and I try to turn again, to hide my face against his broad chest, but the handcuffs are in the way. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe.” There’s a tug and a quiet snick as the key turns, unlocking the cuffs. “You don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay.” It’s okay. The panic retreats, especially when I’m able to wrap my arms around Lucas’s muscular torso and inhale his familiar scent. He smells like his body wash and warm male skin, like safety, strength, and comfort. Burying my face in his chest, I throw my leg over his hip, wanting to wrap myself around him like a vine, and I hear him groan as his hard cock presses into my belly. Something about that should worry me too, but with my mind still wrestling with the dream, I can’t figure out what. I just want him closer—as close as two people can possibly get. “Fuck me,” I whisper, slipping one hand between our bodies to cup his tightly drawn balls. “Please, Lucas, fuck me.” “You…” His voice sounds strangled. “You want me?” “Yes, please, Lucas.” I know it’s pathetic to beg, but I need him. I need him to chase away the horror. “Please”—I grab his cock and try to align it with my sex —“please fuck me. Please.” “Yeah. Oh, fuck, yeah.” He sounds incredulous as he rolls on top of me, his hips settling between my open thighs. “Whatever you want, beautiful. Whatever you fucking”—he thrusts in deep—“want.” We both groan when he’s seated to the hilt, his thickness stretching me to the limit. I’m not as wet as usual, but it doesn’t matter. The near-painful friction, the overwhelming force of his sudden entry—it’s exactly what I need. This is not about sex or pleasure. It’s about being his. “Yulia…” His voice is a tortured groan as he begins to move inside me. “Fuck, baby, you feel so amazing…” “Yes.” I wrap my legs around his muscular thighs, taking him even deeper. “Yes, just like that. Oh God, just like that.” He complies, his rhythm strong and steady, and I forget all about the initial discomfort. As he keeps thrusting, a wild heat ignites inside me, a need that’s

purely animalistic. I want him to fuck me so hard it hurts, to make me come so much I’ll forget my own name. I want his savagery to destroy my demons. “Harder,” I whisper, sinking my nails into his back. “Take me harder.” He tenses, a shudder running through his big body, and I feel his cock swelling even more. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and he picks up the pace, his muscled ass flexing under my calves as he jackhammers into me, each thrust so deep it almost cleaves me in two. It should be too much, too hard, but my body embraces him, the heat inside me blazing brighter with every bruising stroke. I can hear my own cries, feel the explosive pressure building, and all my fears evaporate, leaving nothing but scorching pleasure. “Lucas!” I don’t know if I scream his name, or if it’s only in my mind, but at that moment, he lets out a hoarse cry, and I feel him jetting into me as white-hot ecstasy rips through my nerve endings. The orgasm is so powerful my entire body arches upward and white flecks appear at the edges of my vision. It seems to go on forever, one pulsing spasm after another, but eventually, the waves of pleasure recede, and awareness slowly returns. Lucas is lying on top of me, his big body covered with sweat, but just as I register the heavy weight of his frame, he rolls off me, gathering me against him so that my head rests on his shoulder. We lie like that, both panting and too drained to move, and as my heartbeat begins to slow, the heavy lethargy of satiation steals over me. “Sleep tight, baby,” I hear him whisper as it pulls me under, and I close my eyes, knowing I’m safe. I belong to Lucas, and he’ll keep the bad dreams away.

“MORNING, BEAUTIFUL.” A TENDER KISS ON MY SHOULDER WAKES ME UP. “HOW ABOUT SOME TEA?” “What?” I pry open my eyelids and blink to clear the fog of sleep from my brain. I’m lying on my side, so I roll over onto my back and squint up at Lucas—who’s standing next to the bed, already dressed and with what appears to be a steaming cup in his hand. “Tea,” he says. His hard mouth is curved into a smile. “I made some for you. I hope I didn’t mess it up.” “Um…” My brain is still not fully functioning, so I sit up and try to make sense

of what’s happening. “You made me tea?” “Hmm.” Lucas sits down on the edge of the bed and carefully hands me the cup. “Here you go. I wasn’t sure how long it should steep, but there were instructions on the box, so hopefully, it’s right.” “Uh-huh.” I take the cup from him and take a few sips. The tea is hot enough to burn my tongue, but the familiar taste of Earl Gray revives me, chasing away the cotton-candy fuzz in my mind. Slowly, in bits and pieces, it all starts coming back to me. Lucas as Kirill. Telling him about UUR. The cup tilts in my hand, hot liquid spilling onto my naked breasts. Startled by the sudden pain, I look down and hear Lucas curse as he grabs the cup from me. He puts it on the nightstand before dabbing at my chest with a corner of the sheet. “Fuck. Yulia, are you okay?” I stare at him, my skin growing cold despite the burn from the tea. “You want to know if I’m okay?” I remember everything now. The way he broke me. The way he held me afterwards. The nightmare. Clinging to him in the darkness. Asking—no, begging him to fuck me. Lucas’s face tightens. “Did you get badly burned?” “No.” The chill within me deepens, numbing the sick terror flowing through my veins. “I didn’t get burned.” Not by tea, at least. Turning away, I lift the blanket, searching for the pair of shorts he kicked away when we were going to sleep. It’s something to focus on, something to do. Besides, I need those clothes. They’re a buffer, and I need that. I need to cling to something to stay sane. How could I have reached for Lucas after that awful dream, when just hours earlier he made it my reality? How could I have wanted a man who broke me in that manner? It’s like I blanked out about what he did, suppressed it all in my desperate need for comfort. In my weak, selfish neediness, I embraced the man who’s going to destroy my brother. “Yulia.” Lucas reaches for me, but I twist away. My fingers finally close around the shorts, and I grab them before jumping off the bed on the other side. I know I

have nowhere to go, but I can’t let him touch me yet. I’ll shatter all over again. “What are you doing?” he asks as I shimmy into the shorts and then get on all fours, looking for the top I dropped last night. “Yulia, what the fuck are you doing?” Ah-hah, there. Ignoring his question, I grab the tank top—if the lacy-edged sports bra can even be called that. All the clothes Lucas got me are like that: casual, yet ridiculously sexy. They’re better than nothing, though, so I pull on the tank top and get to my feet, doing my best not to look at him. That seems to irritate him. In a second, he crosses the room and stops in front of me, his fingers closing around my arm. “What the fuck, Yulia?” Lucas grips my chin with his free hand and forces me to look at him. “What game are you playing?” “Me?” As I meet his gaze, a tiny ember of anger flickers in the ashes of my despair. “You’re the game master, Kent. I’m just along for the ride.” His eyebrows snap together. “So last night was what? You going along for the ride?” “Last night was a moment of insanity.” That’s the only way I can explain it to myself, at least. My voice is hard and bitter as I add, “Besides, what do you care? You have what you need.” “Yes, I do.” His expression is unreadable. “I have enough to take down UUR.” A swirl of nausea makes me want to throw up. I don’t know if Lucas senses it, but he lets go of my chin and steps back. “You’ll be fine,” he says, his voice oddly strained. “I told you I’m not going to kill you or do anything to you once I got the information, and I won’t. There’s no reason for you to stress anymore. It’s done.” I stare at him, struck by the fact that the idea of Lucas killing me didn’t cross my mind either last night or this morning. I didn’t think about what’s going to happen to me at all. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that my captor doesn’t want me dead. I started trusting that his sexual obsession with me is real. “Look,” Lucas says when I remain silent, “things are going to get better. Once UUR is gone, I’ll give you more freedom. You’ll be able to walk around the estate on

your own, go anywhere you please.” “Really?” Despite my despair, I almost laugh out loud. “And what makes you think I won’t run?” The corners of his lips pull up in a dark smile. “Because you wouldn’t get far if you tried. I’m going to put some trackers on you.” My heart falters for a beat. “Trackers?” Lucas nods, releasing my arm. “Esguerra’s guys worked out a new prototype. For now, why don’t I give you a small taste of what your future will be like and take you outside after breakfast? We’ll go for a walk.” A walk outside. At any other point, I would’ve been ecstatic, but now, it’s all I can do to interact with him in a semi-normal manner. To act as if my whole world isn’t about to come crashing down. “Breakfast first, though,” Lucas says when I remain frozen. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the bathroom for your morning routine.” Bathroom. Breakfast. I want to scream that he’s insane, that I can’t possibly eat, but I keep my mouth shut and do as he says. I need to figure out what to do, how to fix the awful mess I’ve made. “What kind of trackers are you talking about?” I force myself to ask as we walk to the bathroom. “Implants or the exterior kind?” “Implants.” Lucas stops in front of the bathroom door and looks at me. “Just a few to keep you safe.” And ensure he’d always know where I am. “When are you going to put them on me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. If the trackers are going to be as difficult to remove as I suspect, escape will be all but impossible. “When I return from Chicago,” Lucas says. “I have a two-week trip coming up in five days. Unfortunately, the trackers won’t be here before then, so you’ll need to be restrained for the duration.” “You’re leaving?” My heartbeat kicks up with sudden hope. If he’s going to be gone… “Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll have a couple of guards I trust keep an eye on you.” He smiles, as if reading my mind. “They’ll make sure you’re safe and comfortable.” And still here when I return.

The unsaid words hang in the air as I step into the bathroom and quietly close the door behind me. Lucas’s plan to chain me to him should terrify me, but the nauseating fear I feel has nothing to do with my own fate. If Esguerra’s men come after UUR the way they’ve gone after other enemies, nobody connected to the agency will escape their wrath. Obenko’s entire family will be wiped out—and my brother along with them.

21

L

ucas

YULIA IS SILENT AND WITHDRAWN AS SHE MAKES US BREAKFAST, AND I HAVE NO DOUBT SHE’S THINKING about him—the man who holds her heart. She’s probably wondering what’s going to happen to him, beating herself up with the knowledge that she inadvertently betrayed him. I want to grab her and order her to put him out of her thoughts, but that would just make things worse. If she realizes I know about him, she might plead for his life, and I don’t want that. I’m going to kill the fucker no matter what, and I don’t want her unnecessarily upset. As it is, there’s no sign of yesterday’s joyous smile, no jokes or laughter as she moves about the kitchen, performing her task. With the fork incident fresh in my mind, I keep an extra-careful eye on her, making sure she doesn’t conceal anything else. I suppose it’s arrogant of me to let my prisoner walk around like this, untied and with access to things that could be used as weapons. I’m fairly sure I can contain her as long as I see her attack coming, but there’s always a chance she might catch me off-guard one day. She’s dangerous, but like a challenging mission, that fact only excites me. The breakfast Yulia makes is a simple one: an omelet with cheese and a bowl of strawberries for dessert. I could’ve theoretically made that, except my eggs would’ve been either rubbery or runny, and the cheese would’ve gotten burned on the edges of the frying pan. With Yulia, none of that happens. The omelet comes out light, fluffy, and perfectly cheesy, and even the strawberries taste better than I recall.

“This is amazing,” I tell her as I devour my portion, and Yulia nods in a quiet acknowledgement of my thanks. Aside from that, she doesn’t look at me or speak to me. It’s as if I don’t exist. Her behavior infuriates me, but I contain my anger. I know I deserve her silent treatment. I might not have hurt her physically, but that doesn’t lessen the severity of what I did. I tortured her, used her worst fear to break her. Annoyed by the sharp prickle of guilt, I get up and wash the dishes, using the routine task to distract me from my churning thoughts. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing Yulia a favor by getting her lover out of her life. It’s clear that he’s in no way worthy of her. He let her go to Moscow to sleep with other men, and he left her to rot in the Russian jail for two months. Agent or not, the man is a weakling, and she’s better off without him. When Yulia came on to me last night, I thought that by some miracle she forgave me and decided to forget her lover, but now I see that was just wishful thinking on my part. She’d been too traumatized to know what she was doing. “Ready for the walk?” I say, approaching the table. Yulia is sipping her tea and still not looking at me. “I have a call in less than two hours, so if you want to come out, we should go now.” She gets up, still silent, and I see that her face is ashen. She’s upset. No, more than upset—devastated. The guilt bites at me again, and I push it away with effort. “Come here,” I say, taking her hand. Her slender fingers are cold in my grasp as I lead her out of the kitchen. “We’ll go out back.” The bedroom has a door that opens into the backyard, and I use that entrance now to avoid prying eyes. I don’t want anyone seeing my prisoner outside and spreading rumors. Until I have something tangible to give Esguerra about UUR, I don’t want to broadcast our relationship. My boss does owe me a favor, but it’s better if it’s a combo deal—the heads of our enemies alongside the news that I want to keep Yulia for my own. “Sorry it’s so hot,” I say when we step out. It’s only eight-thirty in the morning, but it’s already like a steam bath. It’ll probably rain within the next hour, but for now, the sky is clear with just a few white clouds. “Next time, we’ll go earlier.”

“No, this is fine,” Yulia says, stopping in a clearing between the trees. Surprised, I glance at her and see that her face has a tinge of color now. As I watch, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. She looks like a plant absorbing the sunlight, and I realize that’s exactly what she’s doing: basking in the sun, taking its warmth into herself. “You like it here.” I don’t know why that surprises me. I suppose I pictured somebody from her part of the world being acclimated to the cold and hating the humid heat of the rainforest. “You like this weather.” She brings her head down and opens her eyes to look at me. “Yes,” she says quietly. “I do.” “I’m glad.” Squeezing Yulia’s hand, I smile at her. “It took me a while to get used to it, but now I can’t imagine living someplace cold.” She doesn’t smile back, but her hand feels warmer in my hold as we resume walking, going deeper into the forest that borders the compound. Esguerra’s estate is huge, extending for miles through the thick canopy of the rainforest. Back in the eighties, Juan Esguerra, Julian’s father, processed vast quantities of cocaine here, but few traces of that remain now. The jungle has already swallowed up the old shack-style labs, nature reclaiming its turf with brutal swiftness. “It’s so beautiful here,” Yulia says as we enter another clearing, and I see her looking at the tropical flowers that line a tiny pond a dozen feet away. She sounds oddly wistful. I release her hand and turn to face her. “It’s your new home.” Reaching up, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Once everything is settled, you’ll be able to come here whenever you want.” I intend that as a reassurance, a promise of good things to come, but her face tightens at my words, and I know she’s worrying about her lover again. Motherfucker. I wish the man was already six feet under, so she could move on from him. Reminding myself to be patient, I drop my hand and say, “This is one of several nice places on this estate. There’s also a pretty lake not too far away.” Yulia doesn’t reply. She turns away and walks over to the pond. Her flip-flops are barely visible as she stands in the thick grass. The sight of the green stalks brushing her ankles makes me realize that I should get her some sneakers for these walks. There are snakes here, and all kinds of bugs. Wildlife, too—some guards have reported seeing jaguars on the grounds.

Suddenly concerned, I join Yulia at the pond and inspect the grass nearby. There’s nothing particularly threatening, so I decide to let her be. She appears lost in thought as she gazes into the water, her smooth forehead creased in a faint frown. The sunlight makes her hair glow, and I notice for the first time that some of the strands are a near-white shade of gold, while others are a darker honey color. There are no roots showing, so her color must be entirely natural. “Were your parents this blond?” I wonder idly, stepping behind her. Unable to resist, I gather her hair in my hands, marveling at its thickness. “You don’t often see this shade with adults.” “My mom was.” Yulia doesn’t seem to mind my messing with her hair, so I indulge myself, running my fingers through the silky mass and then moving it to one side to expose her long, slender neck. “My dad’s color was more of a sandy brown, a few shades darker than your hair. He was really light when he was a kid, though.” “I see.” I lean down to breathe in her peach scent, but can’t resist the urge to nuzzle the tender spot under her right ear. Her skin is warm and delicate under my lips, and as I graze my teeth over her earlobe, I hear her breath hitch. Instantly, desire spikes through me, my body hardening with need. “Yulia…” I release her hair to cup her soft, round breasts. “I want you so fucking much.” She shivers, her lips parting on a silent moan as her head falls back against my shoulder and her eyes close. She might be upset about her lover, but she still wants me—that much is undeniable. Her nipples are stiff as they press into my palms through her tank top, and her pale skin is painted pink with a warm flush. Last night wasn’t an aberration after all. Yulia might not have forgiven me for my actions, but her body has. Still kissing her neck, I bend my knees and tug her down to the grass with me. Turning her to face me, I stretch out on my back and have her straddle me, her hands braced on my shoulders. Yulia’s eyes are open now, and she stares at me as I hold her hips and rock my pelvis upward, pressing my erection against her sex. Even through the layers of our clothing, it feels good to grind into her, especially when I see her blue eyes darken in response. “Come here,” I murmur, moving one hand up her back. Curving my fingers around her nape, I pull her head toward me and kiss her, swallowing her startled exhalation. She tastes like strawberries and herself, her tongue curling tentatively around mine as I deepen the kiss. I press her tighter against me, needing to get

closer, but our clothes are in the way. Growing impatient, I stop kissing her for a moment and move my hands down to grab the bottom of her tank top. With one smooth motion, I pull it off, exposing her gorgeous breasts—breasts that she immediately covers with her hands. “Lucas, wait.” Yulia casts an anxious glance behind us. “What if—” “Nobody will bother us here.” I reach for her shorts. “We’re too far off the beaten path.” “But the guards—” “The nearest guard towers are too far away to see us here.” I unzip her shorts and roll over, stretching her out on the grass. Tugging her shorts down her legs, I add with a dark smile, “We’re all alone, beautiful.” I take off my own clothes next, and Yulia watches me with a torn, almost tormented expression. I don’t know if she feels like she’s betraying him by wanting me, but I’m not about to put up with it. As soon as I’m naked, I cover her with my body and wedge my knees between her legs, spreading them open. “Look at me,” I order when she tries to close her eyes and turn her face away. Holding myself up on my elbows, I capture her face between my palms and repeat, “Look at me, Yulia.” Her sex is less than an inch from the tip of my cock, and the lust is beginning to cloud my brain. Before I can take her, though, I need this from her. I need to know she belongs to me. Yulia opens her eyes, and I see tears swimming there. She blinks rapidly, as if trying to contain them, but they spill out, streaking down her temples. At the sight of them, something squeezes inside me, a strange ache awakening deep within my chest. “Don’t,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss the moisture away. “Don’t, sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” The taste of salt on my lips makes the ache intensify. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. I’m going to take care of you.” Her tears don’t stop—they just keep coming—and I can’t restrain myself. The hunger inside me is like a demon clawing its way to the surface. Taking her mouth in a deep kiss, I thrust into her and feel her slick flesh enveloping me, squeezing me so tightly that I shudder with violent pleasure. She tenses underneath me, a raw, pained sound ripping from her throat, but I don’t stop. I can’t. The need to claim her is potent and primal, an instinct born in

the mists of time. She was made for me, this beautiful, broken girl. She was destined to be mine. Still kissing her, I drive into her, again and again, as deep as I can go, and eventually, I feel her hands on my back as she embraces me, holding me close. Binding me as tightly as I’ve bound her.

III THE RIFT

22

Y ulia OVER THE NEXT FOUR DAYS, WE SETTLE INTO A NEW ROUTINE. WHEN I’M NOT TIED UP, I COOK, WE EAT our meals together, and we go for early morning walks in the forest. And we fuck. We fuck a lot. It’s as if the knowledge that we’ll soon be separated makes Lucas even hungrier for me. He fucks me everywhere—the bedroom, the kitchen, up against a tree in the forest—and so frequently that by the end of the day, I’m raw and aching, my body sore and my soul torn by the knowledge that I’m sleeping with the enemy. No, not that I’m sleeping with the enemy—that I’m enjoying it. No matter what I tell myself, no matter how much I try to resist, I unravel at the seams the moment Lucas touches me. Maybe if he hurt me again, it would be different, but he doesn’t. His passion for me is forceful, even violent sometimes, but there’s no anger or intent to harm in it. And often—far too often for my sanity—there’s tenderness too. It’s as if he’s beginning to care about me, to want me for something more than sex. I try not to think about that—about his plans for me and the trackers he’s going to use, shackling me to him while he destroys everything I hold dear. Lucas hasn’t talked much about UUR, but from the little he let slip, I know he’s already set things in motion with some hackers. There’s a chance his search will set off alarms at the agency and they’ll have time to go into hiding, but there’s no guarantee of that. Obenko has never been up against an enemy as powerful and ruthless as the Esguerra organization, and there’s a very real possibility he’s outmatched.

If Lucas and his boss were able to take down Al-Quadar, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll do the same with my agency. I need to escape, or at least send them a message to warn them of what’s coming, but Lucas is as careful with his phone and laptop as he is with his guns. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to sneak into his office and crack the password on his computer, but I can’t count on that. There’s only one way I can possibly save Misha now. I have to tell Lucas about him. It’s a terrifying step for me. I don’t trust my captor—he’s already proven he’ll use my vulnerabilities against me—but I don’t see any other way. If I stay silent, Misha is as good as dead. I know I won’t be able to talk Lucas out of vengeance on UUR, but maybe he’d be willing to use whatever influence he has with Esguerra to spare my brother. Misha’s normal life is already forfeit, but there’s a chance I can keep him from getting killed. Before approaching Lucas with my request, I decide to fix the rift between us, to make things go back to the way they were before he broke me. I do it subtly to avoid raising his suspicions, but by the evening after our first walk, I respond to him in full sentences, and by the next day, I act almost as if nothing happened. I go down on him in the shower, ask him what he would like me to make for dinner, and resume talking to him about the books I’m reading. I even tell him about my first horrendous experience at ballet, when a teacher said in front of the whole class that I have the neck of an ostrich—which, of course, led to the other kids calling me “Ostrich” for years. Lucas laughs at that story, his light-colored eyes crinkling with amusement, and I smile at him, forgetting for a moment that he’s my enemy, that I’m not doing this for real. It’s shockingly easy to buy into my own act. When I’m not thinking about Misha’s imminent fate, I truly do enjoy Lucas’s company. For such a hard-edged man, my jailer is surprisingly easy to talk to—attentive and smart without being arrogant. Though Lucas never attended college, he’s well versed in a number of topics and can speak intelligently about everything from world politics and the stock market to cutting-edge developments in science and technology. “Where did you learn so much about investing?” I ask during a walk when the conversation turns to a finance book I read earlier this morning. Nassim Taleb’s The Black Swan is a strongly worded criticism of risk management in the finance industry, and it surprises me to discover that it’s one of Lucas’s favorite nonfiction works.

“Both of my parents are corporate lawyers on Wall Street,” he says. “I grew up with CNBC blaring in the background, and on my twelfth birthday, my father opened an investment account for me. You could say it’s in my blood.” “Oh.” Fascinated, I stop and stare at him. “Do you invest now?” Lucas nods. “I have a good-sized portfolio. I don’t manage it myself because I don’t have time to do it properly, but the guy I use is good. He’s actually Esguerra’s manager as well. I’ll probably visit him when we’re in Chicago.” “I see.” I don’t know why I’m surprised. It makes sense. I know Lucas’s background from his file. I guess I thought none of his upbringing rubbed off on him, but I should’ve known better, especially once I discovered all those books in his office. “Do you keep in touch with them?” I ask. “Your parents, I mean?” “No.” Lucas’s expression turns shuttered. “I don’t.” His file said as much, but I’d wondered if that was a cover he concocted to keep his family safe. Apparently not. I’m tempted to ask more, but I don’t want to pry— it’s important to stay in my captor’s good graces. For the rest of the walk, I let Lucas guide the conversation, and when we stop by the pond again, I sink to my knees and give him a blow job, using every skill I possess. His happiness is my top priority these days.

THE DAY BEFORE LUCAS’S DEPARTURE, I DECIDE IT’S TIME TO TELL HIM ABOUT MISHA. FOR LUNCH, I prepare what I discovered is Lucas’s favorite meal: roast chicken with mashed potatoes and apple pie for dessert. I also take special care to brush my hair until it’s silky smooth, and wear a short white sundress—the nicest outfit he got for me. When we sit down at the table, I see Lucas devouring me with his eyes, and I know that in this at least, I pleased him. Now I need to see how far his goodwill extends. As we eat, I try to figure out the best moment to broach the subject. Will he be in the best mood before or after dessert? Should I let him finish his chicken, or is it okay to bring up my brother now? While I’m debating that, Lucas says conversationally, “I did some research on your hometown of Donetsk recently. Is it true that for most people there, their native language is Russian, not Ukrainian?” I let out a relieved breath. This is as good a lead-in to this topic as any. “Yes, it’s

true,” I say, smiling. “My family spoke Russian at home. I studied Ukrainian in school, but I’m actually more fluent in English than in Ukrainian.” Lucas nods, as if I confirmed something he suspected. “That’s why they came to your orphanage, right? Because the kids there were already fluent in one of the languages they needed?” It takes everything I have to keep smiling. The reminder of the orphanage and UUR takes away my appetite, even though we’re getting closer to the subject I want to discuss. Moving my half-full plate aside, I say as calmly as I can manage, “Yes, that’s why. I was a particularly good candidate because I also knew English.” “And because you’re beautiful.” Lucas’s gaze cools unexpectedly. “Don’t forget that part.” I gather my courage. “Maybe,” I say carefully. “But they’re not all bad people. In fact—” Lucas holds up his hand, palm out. “Yulia, stop. I know what you’re going to say.” Stunned, I stare at him. “You do?” “You want me to spare one of them, right?” Lucas’s eyes once again remind me of winter ice. “That’s what all this”—he sweeps his hand in a gesture encompassing the table—“is about, isn’t it? The dress, the food, the pretty smiles? You think I don’t see right through you?” I swallow, my heart beginning to race. “Lucas, I just—” “Don’t.” His voice is as hard as the look on his face. “Don’t humiliate yourself. It’s not going to work. It’s out of my hands.” My stomach fills with lead. “What do you mean?” “Esguerra will never go for it, and I won’t use up my currency with him on this.” I stand up, reeling. “But—” “There’s nothing more to discuss.” Lucas gets up as well, his expression forbidding. “The only person from UUR who’ll be spared is you.” I step around the table, my shock transforming into cold terror. Surely he doesn’t mean this. “Lucas, please. You don’t understand. He’s innocent. He has nothing to do with this.” I grab his hand, squeezing it in desperation. “Please, I’ll do anything if you spare him. He’s just one person. All you need to do is let him live —”

Lucas wrenches his hand out of my grasp, cutting off my plea. “I told you. There’s nothing I can do for him.” There’s no pity on my captor’s face, no hint of mercy. “Esguerra decides these matters, not me. You’re shit out of luck, beautiful.” My vision darkens at the edges, blood pounding in my ears. “Please, Lucas—” I reach for him again, but he grabs my wrist and twists my arm upward, preventing me from touching him. “Do not fucking beg for him.” Squeezing my wrist painfully, Lucas pulls me to him, and I see scalding fury in the icy depths of his eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive yourself. Don’t you fucking get that? If you weren’t such a hot lay—” He stops, but it’s too late. I hear his message loud and clear, and the fragile remnants of my fantasies turn to dust.

23

L

ucas

YULIA’S EYES ARE ENORMOUS AS SHE STARES AT ME, HER SLENDER WRIST CAUGHT IN MY GRASP. SHE looks like I just tore her heart out, and something resembling regret cools the burning fog of rage surrounding me. Releasing her wrist, I say in a calmer tone, “Yulia, that’s not what I—” “Why don’t you just do it right now?” she interrupts, her gaze unflinching as she steps back. “Go ahead, kill me. You will anyway. When I’m no longer such a ‘hot lay,’ right?” “No, of course not.” My anger returns, only this time it’s directed at myself. “I told you—you’re safe with me.” “Not if your boss wants me dead.” Her upper lip curls. “Isn’t that what you just told me?” “That’s not what I meant.” I curse myself ten ways to Sunday. Esguerra seemed as good of an excuse as any to stop her from pleading for her lover, but I should’ve realized how Yulia would interpret my words. “I promised you I’ll protect you, and I’m going to keep that promise.” “Then why can’t you protect him?” Her gaze fills with desperate hope as she comes toward me again. “Please, Lucas. He’s an innocent—” “Stop.” I refuse to hear her beg for him. “I don’t give a fuck about his guilt or innocence. I told you—one person only. That’s the deal.” I expect Yulia to back down then, to accept that she lost, but she lifts her chin instead, her eyes like blue coals in her starkly pale face. “Then spare him. I want

Misha to be that person, not me.” Misha. I file that name away even as my ribcage tightens with renewed fury. She’s ready to die for him—for her weakling of a lover. “What you want doesn’t matter.” My words are as caustic as the jealousy burning my chest. “I decide who lives, not you.” She reacts like I just struck her. Her lips quiver, and she backs away, folding her arms around her middle. “Yulia.” I come after her, her pain cutting me like a blade, but she turns away to face the window as I approach. I lift my hand to lay it on her shoulder, but change my mind at the last moment. There’s nothing I can do to make her feel better, except the one thing I’m not willing to promise. I want this Misha dead, and I won’t let her manipulate me into sparing his life. Lowering my hand, I step back and survey Yulia’s rigid figure. My captive is even more gorgeous than usual today, her short white dress making her look innocently sexy. With her hair streaming down her back in a sleek waterfall, she’s temptation personified—and I know it’s on purpose. Like everything else Yulia has done over the last couple of days, her dressing up today is an attempt to save her lover. The thought fills me with bitter anger. Turning away, I pack up the remainder of the meal and wash the dishes, using the time to cool down. Yulia doesn’t move from her spot by the window, and when I approach, I see she’s still deathly pale, her gaze distant and unseeing. Steeling myself against an irrational urge to console her, I reach out to take her arm. “Let’s go. ” My voice is quiet. “I have to tie you up.” And holding her arm tightly, I lead Yulia to the library.

SHE DOESN’T SAY A WORD AS I SECURE HER IN THE ARMCHAIR, MAKING SURE THE ROPES DON’T CUT into her skin. When I’m done, I step back and look at her. “Which book do you want?” She doesn’t respond, her gaze trained on her lap. “Yulia. I asked you a fucking question.” She glances up, her eyes dulled with pain.

“What do you want to read?” I repeat, trying not to let her obvious distress get to me. “Which book?” She looks away, but not before I catch a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. Fuck. “All right, suit yourself.” I grab a random thriller off the shelves and place it on her lap. “I’ll be back before dinner.” Yulia doesn’t acknowledge my words in any way, and I leave before the fury simmering inside me boils over.

24

Y ulia I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT HIS GUILT OR INNOCENCE. IT’S OUT OF MY HANDS. IF YOU WEREN’T SUCH A hot lay… Lucas’s words echo in my mind, replaying on a sickening loop over and over again. He had been so cold, so cruel. It was as if the last two weeks had never happened, as if our time together meant nothing to him. My heart feels sliced into ribbons, the pain so vast it smothers me. I take in shallow breaths, trying to cope with the agony, but it just seems to grow and expand, sinking deeper into my chest. I failed. I failed my brother. Everything I’ve done from the moment Obenko approached me at the orphanage has been for Misha, and now it will all be for nothing. The man on whom I pinned my last hopes is a merciless monster, and I’m a gullible fool. Don’t humiliate yourself. It’s not going to work. Somehow Lucas knew about my brother. He knew I was going to ask him to spare Misha’s life. He knew I was trying to soften him up all these days, and he let me. He took everything I had to give, and then he drove a knife straight into my heart. A bitter bubble of laughter escapes me as I think of the genius of his sadistic plan. I have to admit, Lucas Kent’s idea of vengeance is exquisite. No physical

torture would’ve hurt as much as his blunt refusal to save my brother. My laughter turns into a sob, and I gulp it down, choking off the sound. Even to my own ears, I sound mad, hysterical. The agency therapist had been right. I’m not cut out for this job. I’m not like Lucas or Obenko. I don’t have what it takes to remain sufficiently detached. “Your loyalty to your brother is admirable, but it’s also your biggest weakness,” Obenko told me a couple of months into my training. “You cling to Misha because he’s a part of your past, but you can’t have a past anymore. You can’t have a family. You need to come to terms with that, or you won’t be able to cope with this life. There will be times when you’ll need to get close to people without letting them get close to you. You’ll need to be in control of your emotions. Do you think you’re capable of that?” “Of course I am,” I answered quickly, fearing he’d kick me out of the program and place my brother back in the orphanage. “Just because I love Misha doesn’t mean I’d get attached to anyone else.” And I worked hard to prove that. I was friendly with the other trainees, but I didn’t become friends with any of them. Same thing with the instructors. I kept my emotional distance from all of them. Even after the incident with Kirill, I did my best to deal with the trauma on my own. I was such a good, diligent trainee that Obenko gave me the Moscow assignment less than a year after Kirill’s assault. Another sobbing laugh rises in my throat. I swallow the hysterical sound, but I can’t control the tears that spill down my cheeks. I thought I was good at what I did. I smiled and flirted with my assigned lovers, but I never fell for them. Even with Vladimir, who taught me about sexual pleasure, I remained cool and detached. No one mattered to me except my brother. No one until Lucas. In my effort to get close to my captor, I opened myself up too much. I lost control of my emotions. I let a ruthless, treacherous man get close to me, and he used that closeness to devise the cruelest of all punishments. He figured out the best way to destroy me.

25

L

ucas

I HAVE A SHITLOAD TO DO BEFORE WE DEPART TOMORROW MORNING, BUT I GO TO THE GYM BECAUSE I can’t focus on anything, my thoughts occupied by Yulia and the agony in her gaze. As I pummel the sandbag, I try to push away images of her sitting there, so distant and wounded. She looked at me like I betrayed her—like I hurt her beyond belief. The bag sways from side to side as I ram my fists into it, landing one hard blow after another. The idea of her feeling betrayed by me makes me want to beat someone to a pulp. What the fuck did she expect? That she’d give me a couple of blow jobs and I’d happily save her lover? That I wouldn’t question her desire to spare this Misha’s life? An innocent, she called him, as if that would matter to me. As far as I’m concerned, the man deserves to die for nothing more than touching her. Add to that his being part of UUR, and he’ll be lucky if I kill him quickly. “Lucas. Hey, man. Are you almost done?” Diego’s question interrupts my mindless punching spree. Wiping sweat from my forehead, I turn to see the young Mexican standing there, his gloves already prepped. Behind him are a couple more guards waiting their turn. Judging by the looks on their faces and the soreness in my knuckles, I must’ve been working off my anger for quite some time. “It’s all yours,” I say, forcing myself to step away from the sandbag. “Go ahead.”

As I leave the gym, I debate going back to my house to take a shower, but I’m not calm enough to face Yulia yet. So instead, I make my way to Esguerra’s mansion to use the shower by the pool. He keeps a stash of T-shirts there in case of any unexpected bloody business, and I grab one of them to change into when I’m clean. I rinse quickly, and as I’m pulling on my shorts and a fresh T-shirt, I catch a glimpse of a familiar dark-haired figure hurrying into the house. Rosa. I’d all but forgotten about the maid. She must’ve taken my words to heart, as I haven’t seen her since our talk in Esguerra’s kitchen. Hopefully, I didn’t hurt the girl too badly, but it couldn’t be helped. I didn’t want her lurking anywhere near Yulia. Feeling marginally calmer after my hard workout, I head to Esguerra’s office for a call with the Israeli intelligence agency.

WE SPEND THE NEXT TWO HOURS TALKING WITH THE MOSSAD ABOUT THE RECENT DEVELOPMENTS IN Syria and the rest of the Middle East. As the call wraps up, I consider telling Esguerra what I’ve uncovered about UUR so far, but decide it’s not the right time. I’ll speak to him about Yulia and her agency when we return from Chicago. By then, I should have more concrete information, as the hackers are finally having some success sifting through the coded data in the Ukrainian government’s files. After the call is done, Esguerra and I go over last-minute logistics for tomorrow’s trip. “When we land, we’re going to go straight to Nora’s parents’ house,” Esguerra says. “They want to see her right away, even if it means a late dinner.” I’m long past wondering about the insanity of this trip, so I just say, “All right. I’ll be with the guard detail tomorrow night to make sure everyone knows what they’re doing.” “Good.” Esguerra pauses for a second. “You know Rosa is coming with us, right?” I actually didn’t know that. “She is? Why?” “Nora wants her company.” “Okay.” I don’t see how that changes anything. Unless… “Do I need to bring extra men to look out for her, or will she be with you and Nora most of the time?”

“She’ll be with us.” Esguerra seems vaguely amused. “All right, then, sounds like we’re all set. I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow.” “See you,” I say, and head over to the guards’ barracks for my meeting with Diego and Eduardo—the two guards I’m appointing as Yulia’s jailers in my absence.

“WALK ME THROUGH IT AGAIN,” I TELL EDUARDO AFTER I GIVE HIM AND DIEGO THE FULL LIST OF instructions concerning my captive. “How many times will you visit my house to let her use the bathroom and stretch her legs?” The Colombian rolls his eyes. “Three times in addition to releasing her during meals. We got it, Kent, I promise.” “And what will you do if she attempts to escape?” “We’ll restrain her, but not harm her in any way,” Diego says, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’ve got to chill out, man. We understand. We’re not going to touch a hair on her head other than to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. She’s going to have her books, her TV shows, and yes, I’ll take her out for a walk once a day.” “And we’ll keep our mouths shut about the whole thing,” Eduardo adds, parroting my exact words. “Nobody will hear a peep about your spy princess from us.” “Good.” I give them a hard look. “And food?” “We’ll bring her products from the main house and let her cook them,” Diego says, openly grinning now. “She’ll be the most well-fed, well-entertained prisoner in existence.” I ignore his ribbing. “And at night?” “I will shackle her wrist to the metal post you installed by the bed,” Eduardo says. “And I will not lay a hand on her. It’ll be as if she’s a sack of potatoes—but a really important one,” he adds quickly when my hand tightens into a fist. “Seriously, Kent, I’m just kidding. We’re going to take good care of your girl, I promise. You know you can trust us.” I do know that. That’s why I chose them for this task. Both guards have been working here for the past two years, and they’ve proven their loyalty. They might find my orders amusing, but they’ll do as I say. Yulia will be safe with them.

“Okay,” I say, nodding at them. “In that case, I will see you both tomorrow morning. Be at my house at nine sharp.” And leaving the guards’ barracks, I go to the training field to check on our new recruits.

26

Y ulia I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH TIME PASSES BEFORE I GET MY TEARS UNDER CONTROL, BUT BY THE TIME I open the book Lucas left for me, the sun is already setting outside. I stare at the words on the open page, but the text fades in and out, the letters jumbling together in front of my swollen eyes. I failed my brother. Because of me, he’s going to be killed. I attempt to focus on the book, to push the devastating knowledge away, but it’s all I can think about. Old memories press in, and I close my eyes, too tired to fight them off. “Please watch your brother,” my mother implores, her blue gaze filled with worry. “Check on him before you go to sleep, all right? He seemed a little feverish earlier, so if his forehead feels unusually warm, call us, all right? And don’t open the door for anyone you don’t recognize.” “I won’t, Mom. I know what to do.” I might be ten, but it’s not the first time I’ve stayed alone with Misha while my parents rushed to my grandfather’s sickbed. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.” Mom kisses me on the forehead, her floral perfume teasing my nostrils. “I know you will,” she murmurs, stepping back. “You’re my wonderful grown-up girl.” Her face is tense with stress, but the smile she directs at me is full of warmth. “We’ll be back as soon as your grandfather stabilizes a bit.” “I know, Mom.” I smile back at her, unaware that my life is about to change forever. “Go to Grandpa. I’ll watch over Misha, I promise.”

And I tried to do exactly that. When the policemen came to our apartment the next morning, I didn’t let them in until they showed me pictures of my parents’ bodies in the morgue, broken and bloodied from the car crash. I insisted that my brother stay with me when Child Services tried to separate us, claiming that a twoyear-old shouldn’t attend his parents’ funeral. And when Vasiliy Obenko approached me at the orphanage a year later, offering to have his sister and her husband adopt Misha if I joined his agency, I didn’t hesitate. I told the Head of UUR I’d do anything if he gave my brother a normal, happy life. Opening my eyes, I try to focus on the book again, but at that moment, a flash of movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. Startled, I look up and see a dark-haired woman standing in the middle of Lucas’s library. Rosa, I realize, my pulse jumping. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” I can’t hide the undertone of panic in my voice. My hands are handcuffed, and I’m bound to the chair with a thick layer of ropes. If she means to harm me, I can’t stop her. Rosa holds up a key ring. “In the main house, we have a spare key for every building in this compound, private houses included.” I don’t see any weapons on her, which is somewhat reassuring. “Okay, but why are you here?” I ask in a calmer tone. “I wanted to see you,” she says. “Tomorrow, we’re leaving for two weeks. Going to Chicago to visit Nora’s family.” “Nora’s family?” “Señor Esguerra’s wife,” Rosa clarifies. I frown in confusion. I now recall that Nora is the name of the American girl Esguerra kidnapped and married. Lucas didn’t tell me the reason for his upcoming trip, but I assumed it was business-related. I had no idea Lucas’s sadistic boss has any kind of relationship with his in-laws. “Anyways,” Rosa continues, “I wanted to see you in person before I left.” My confusion intensifies. “Why?” Rosa steps closer. “Because I don’t think you belong here.” Her hands are locked together in front of her black dress. “Because this isn’t right.” “What isn’t right?” Does she want me strung up in some torture shed like she’d

implied before? “You. This whole thing.” Her brown eyes regard me steadily. “It’s wrong that Lucas has you here like this. That he’s leaving you with Diego and Eduardo. They’re good guys, both of them. They like to play poker.” “Poker?” I’m completely lost. Rosa nods. “They play with the guards on North Tower Two. Every Thursday afternoon from two to six.” “They do?” My heartbeat kicks up again. Is Rosa telling me what I think she’s telling me? “Yes,” she says evenly. “It’s not a problem because the drones patrol the perimeter around the estate, and there are heat and motion sensors everywhere. Anything approaching the border of the estate, no matter how small or big, gets scanned and examined by our security software, and the guards get alerted if the computer thinks there’s a problem.” My pulse is now a frantic drumbeat. “I see.” Anything approaching, she said. That means the computer disregards things heading in the other direction. “How far is the northern border of the estate from here?” Rosa hesitates, and I kick myself for being too blunt. She clearly wants to pretend she’s just chatting with me, and whatever information I glean is something she’s giving by accident. “Two and a half miles,” she finally says, and I exhale in relief. I didn’t scare her off after all. “There’s a river that marks that border,” she continues, dropping all pretense. “Farther to the west, a small road crosses the river. It goes all the way north to Miraflores. Occasionally, we get some deliveries via that route.” She pauses, then adds, “The next delivery is scheduled for Thursday at three p.m.” “Thursday at three,” I repeat, hardly able to believe my luck. “As in, this Thursday afternoon. The day after tomorrow.” She nods. “We’re getting some food items brought in.” “Okay.” My mind is racing, sifting through the potential obstacles. “What about —” “I have to go now,” Rosa says, stepping even closer. “Lucas will be home soon.” She brushes her fingers over the book I’m holding, and her hand touches mine for a second. “Bye, Yulia,” she says quietly before turning and hurrying out of the room. Stunned, I look down and see two small objects on top of my book.

A razor blade and a hairpin.

27

L

ucas

IT’S AFTER EIGHT BY THE TIME I GET HOME. TO MY RELIEF, YULIA IS CALMLY READING IN HER ARMCHAIR when I step into the library. “Sorry it took so long,” I say, approaching the chair to untie her. “You must be starved—not to mention, needing the restroom.” She looks up at me, and I see that her eyes are slightly reddened, as if she’s been crying. She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t expect her to. I have a strong suspicion tonight’s dinner won’t be a particularly chatty affair. Bending down, I untie her and help her out of the armchair, ignoring the way she stiffens at my touch. “Come. It’s getting late.” Determined to maintain control of my temper, I lead her to the bathroom. I wait as Yulia uses the restroom, and then I bring her to the kitchen. I was hoping she’d make dinner despite being upset, but she just sits down at the table and stares straight ahead. “All right,” I say, not letting my irritation show. “You can sit if you want. I’ll heat up some leftovers.” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move as I set the table and prepare everything. Luckily, the chicken and mashed potatoes she made for lunch taste great even when warmed up in the microwave. Given Yulia’s withdrawn state, I half-expect her not to eat, but she digs into the food the moment I set the plate in front of her.

I guess her hunger is stronger than her anger with me. We demolish the chicken in silence; then I cut us each a slice of apple pie for dessert. I’m about to put Yulia’s slice on her plate when she startles me by saying, “None for me, thanks. I’m full.” “All right.” I conceal my pleasure at having her speak again. “Do you want any tea?” She nods and rises to her feet. “I’ll get it.” With those graceful, efficient movements I’ve come to know, she makes us each a cup and brings them over. Placing one cup in front of me, she sits down across the table and blows on her tea to cool it down. I do the same before taking a sip. The liquid is hot and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. I can almost see why Yulia likes it so much. We don’t speak as we drink our tea, but the silence doesn’t feel quite as strained as before. It gives me hope that this evening won’t be a total disaster. When we’re done with the tea, I take care of the cleanup while Yulia sits and watches me, her expression unreadable. Does she hate me? Wish she could stab me with the nearest fork? Hope I never return from this trip? The thought is more than a little unpleasant. Pushing it aside, I finish wiping the counters and approach Yulia. “I arranged for two guards to watch over you in my absence,” I say. “Diego and Eduardo. You’ve already met Diego—he’s the one who carried you off the plane.” “Yes, I remember him.” Yulia’s voice is quiet as she rises to her feet. “He seems like a decent-enough guy.” “He is—and so is Eduardo.” I stop in front of her. “They’ll take good care of you.” “Jail me, you mean,” she says evenly, looking up at me. “Whatever you wish to call it.” I lift my hand to pick up a lock of her hair. “They’ll make sure you have everything you need.” She nods and takes a small step back, her silky strands sliding out of my fingers. “All right.” “Come.” I catch her wrist before she can step out of my reach. “Let’s go to bed. I have to wake up early.” She stiffens, but allows me to lead her to the bathroom without an argument. I

let her in there to take a quick shower—I showered earlier, so I don’t need one— and then I take her to the bedroom. As we enter the room, my cock rises in anticipation and erotic images fill my mind. Fighting off the sudden surge of lust, I stop next to the bed and turn to face Yulia. Releasing her wrist, I frame her face with my palms, smoothing errant strands of hair back with my thumbs. She doesn’t move, just gazes at me mutely, her blue eyes large and shadowed in her delicate face. “Yulia…” I don’t know what I can say to her, how I can fix the situation, but I have to try. The thought of leaving for two weeks while things are so strained between us is unbearable. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” I say softly. “It can be… better.” She blinks, as if startled by my words, and I see a fresh sheen of moisture in her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she whispers, her hands coming up to curl around my wrists. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To hurt me? To punish me?” “No.” I let her pull my hands away from her face. “No, Yulia. I don’t want to hurt you, believe me.” Her eyebrows draw together as she releases my wrists. “Then how can you—” “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. It’s done. We’re going to move past this. Do you understand me?” My words come out unintentionally harsh, and I see her flinch as she takes a step back. I take a deep breath. The jealousy is still festering inside me, but I’m determined not to let it spoil our last night together. Forcing myself to move slowly and deliberately, I pull off my T-shirt and drop it on the floor, then remove my shoes, shorts, and underwear. Yulia watches me, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as her gaze falls on my growing erection. To my relief, I see the hardened peaks of her nipples through the white material of her dress. She might hate me, but she still wants me. “Come here.” Unable to hold off any longer, I reach for her, clasping her slim shoulders. She’s stiff as I pull her toward me, but I see the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. She’s far from immune to me, and I intend to use that. One way or another, tonight Yulia won’t be thinking of her lover. I bend my head, wanting to taste her soft lips, but at the last moment, she turns her head and my mouth grazes her jaw instead. I feel her shudder, and then she twists out of my grasp altogether and backs away. Her chest is heaving and her face

is flushed, her eyes glittering as she stares at me. “I can’t—” Yulia’s voice cracks. “I can’t do this, Lucas. Not after—” “Stop.” The unwanted jealousy returns, the pit of my stomach burning with anger as I come after her. “I told you I don’t want to discuss this.” She keeps backing away. “But—” “Not another word.” Her back meets the dresser, and I close the remaining distance between us, trapping her there. Placing my palms on the dresser on both sides of her head, I lean closer, breathing in her delicate scent. Every dark fantasy I’ve ever had slides through my mind, and my voice roughens as I whisper in her ear, “I’ve had enough of this. You’re mine now, and it’s time you learned what that means.”

28

Y ulia THE DAMP HEAT OF LUCAS’S BREATH ON MY EAR MAKES ME QUIVER, MY THIGHS CLENCHING convulsively to contain the growing ache between them. The treachery of my body adds to the tumult in my mind. I thought I’d have to force myself to endure his touch, but revulsion is the last thing I’m feeling. Even knowing he’s a heartless monster, I can’t stop wanting Lucas. His mouth trails over my jaw as he holds me caged against the dresser, and my heart rate accelerates as the hard length of his cock presses against my belly. “Don’t,” I whisper, my hands bunching into fists at my sides. I can feel the warmth of his powerful body surrounding me, pressing in on me, and my stomach twists with a combination of fear, shame, and longing. “Please… let me go.” Lucas ignores my words, moving his right hand to my shoulder. Hooking his fingers under the strap of my dress, he pulls it down. His mouth is now on my neck, teasing and nibbling, and my arousal intensifies as his hand slips into the bodice of my dress and cups my breast, the rough edge of his thumb rasping over my nipple. Heat blooms low in my core, my arousal intensifying even as self-loathing fills my chest. I don’t want to feel this for my cruel captor. I’m not fighting him because I can’t risk jeopardizing my upcoming escape, but I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I shouldn’t desire the man who plans to kill my brother. As if reading my thoughts, Lucas lifts his head to gaze down at me. There’s lust in his pale gaze and something else—something dark and intensely possessive. “No, beautiful,” he murmurs, his hand still on my breast. “I’m not letting you

go.” I begin to respond, but he lowers his head and slants his mouth across mine. His left hand grips my nape, holding me still, and his right hand moves down to pull up the skirt of my dress. In one yank, he rips off my thong. I hardly register the act; his kiss is too ravenous, too consuming. His lips and tongue steal my breath away, and it takes everything I have to remember why I shouldn’t want him. Desperate, I splay my palms on the dresser behind me to keep myself from reaching for him. It’s a small victory and one that doesn’t last long. Still devouring my mouth, Lucas turns around, dragging me along, and begins backing me toward the bed. The backs of my thighs hit the edge of the bed, and then I’m on my back, my dress hiked up above my waist and Lucas bending over me. His face is taut with hunger, his eyes glittering. Before I can recover from the kiss, he grips my knees, spreading them wide, and moves off the bed to crouch between my open legs. “No, please, not this.” I try to scramble backwards, but Lucas holds me tight, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed. His lips twitch with an ironic half-smile— he understands why I don’t want this pleasure—and then he buries his head between my thighs and swipes his warm, wet tongue along my slit. The lash of pleasure is almost brutal. My entire body arches up as he latches on to my clit and begins sucking on it in soft, rhythmic pulls. Gasping, I try to close my legs, to move away from the erotic torment, but Lucas’s grip is unbreakable and his rhythm doesn’t falter. I can feel the slickness of my arousal seeping out, and my nipples draw tight as unbearable pressure builds inside me, intensifying with every moment. He picks up the tempo of his sucking motions, his lips squeezing my clit with every pull, and a stifled cry escapes my throat as I feel the orgasm approaching. My brother’s killer… The words whisper through my mind as my body begins to contract in release. “No, stop!” Without thinking, I jackknife to a sitting position and twist to the side with all my strength, breaking his grip on my thighs. The suddenness of my resistance catches Lucas off-guard, and I manage to scramble on my knees almost all the way across the bed before he leaps after me, his fingers closing around my ankle at the last second. Acting on instinct, I turn and kick at him, aiming for his face, but he jerks to the side, causing my kick to miss. Before I can try again, he catches my other ankle and drags me across the bed toward him. “What the fuck, Yulia?” Controlling my flailing legs with his knees, Lucas pins

me down and captures my wrists to stretch my arms wide at my sides. His face is rigid with fury, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you that crazy about him?” I stare at him, breathing hard. My body is throbbing with frustrated arousal, and a toxic cocktail of fear, adrenaline, and anger is boiling in my chest. Fighting Lucas was a stupid move on my part, but coming in his arms would’ve been a horrible betrayal of my brother. “Of course I am,” I bite out, unable to restrain myself. “What the fuck did you expect?” Lucas’s fingers tighten around my wrists. “He’s nobody to you now.” Rage glitters in his eyes. “Nobody. You belong to me, understand?” I gape at my captor, uncomprehending. How can he expect me to forget my brother? I know Lucas is possessive, but this demand borders on insanity. Before I can gather my thoughts, Lucas’s face hardens. Moving swiftly, he drags my right arm over my body, joining my right wrist with the left one. I end up on my side, my wrists held in his left hand as he reaches over me for the nightstand, his heavy weight crushing me into the mattress. Air rushes out of my compressed lungs, but a moment later, he lifts himself up, relieving the pressure on my ribcage. Holding my wrists with his left hand, Lucas looms over me, his lower body pinning mine in place—and in his right hand, I see the reason for his action. He grabbed a coil of rope from the nightstand. A chill dances over my skin, my desire dampened by a spike of fear. “What are you doing?” The words come out in a frantic, pleading whisper. “Lucas, you don’t need to do this. I won’t fight anymore.” But it’s too late. He’s already winding the rope around my wrists, and the old anxiety rises up, choking me with memories of Kirill. The paralyzing terror of the past rushes toward me, but at that moment, Lucas leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’m not going to hurt you—but I will make you forget him.” I draw in a shaking breath, his words providing the modicum of reassurance I need to stay in the present. Not that my anxiety is lessened in any way; what he’s doing and saying is more than a little mad. I begin to struggle again, desperate to get away, but he’s too strong. Ignoring my attempts to throw him off, Lucas ties the rope tightly around my wrists and reaches down to grab my ankles. As he does so, his weight briefly lifts off my legs, and I manage to kick him in the side before he seizes my ankles. “Oh no, you don’t.” His voice is a low growl as he drags my ankles up, folding my body in half. I strike out with my bound hands, but I don’t have much leverage,

and the blow glances off his shoulder as he squeezes my calves in the crook of his muscular arm. With his hands free, he loops the other end of the rope around my ankles. His motions are swift and sure, utterly merciless. In a matter of seconds, he has me trussed up like a turkey, my ankles and wrists tied together in front of my body. With my dress flipped up and my underwear gone, my lower body is completely exposed. The vulnerability of my position propels my heart rate so high I feel dizzy. Blood pounds in my ears in a thundering roar as Lucas forces my bound wrists and ankles up above my head, stretching my hamstrings to their limits. He secures the rope to the metal pole he installed by the bed and moves down my folded-in-half body. His hands grip my quivering thighs, and I see him looking at me—at my wide-open pussy and ass. “What are you doing?” I can scarcely breathe through the growing panic in my chest. “Lucas, what are you doing?” He looks up to meet my gaze, his eyes burning with savage heat. “Whatever I want, baby. Whatever I fucking want.” And lowering his head between my legs, he latches onto my clit again.

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THE TASTE OF HER IS INTOXICATING, UNBEARABLY EROTIC. HER PUSSY IS DRIPPING WITH CREAM, AND the heated feminine scent of her makes my cock weep with pre-cum. I want to thrust into her, feel her slick tightness cradling me, but I also want something else —something Yulia’s withheld from me thus far. First, though, I need to finish what I started. Ignoring the lust burning in me, I suck on her clit using the same rhythm that brought her to the edge of climax before. I felt her beginning to spasm before she started fighting, and I know I would’ve had her in another second. She panicked—probably because she doesn’t want to betray him—but I’m not about to stand for it. She’s going to come tonight, again and again, until her lover is nothing but a distant memory. It takes less than a minute to bring Yulia to the brink this time; she’s already primed, her pink flesh swollen and sensitized from my earlier ministrations. She pleads with me, begging me to let her go, but I persist until I feel her pussy rippling under my tongue and hear her cry out in release. Then I begin again, sliding my finger into her spasming channel to stimulate her as I lick her clit. She comes hard and fast, her juices coating my hand, and I go for the third one, even though my cock is ready to burst. “No more,” she moans as I push two fingers into her wet heat, finding the spot inside that drives her wild. “Please, Lucas, no more…” But I’m not done yet. I’m far from done. Using the two fingers to fuck her, I close my lips around her clit again. My fingers drill her hard and fast, and her cries

grow in volume with every second. I feel her inner walls contracting in another orgasm, but I don’t stop. I keep going until I feel her come again—and then I scoop out the abundant moisture from her pussy and smear it on the tiny opening of her asshole. She doesn’t react at first, just lies there with her face flushed and her eyes closed as she attempts to catch her breath. With her ankles tied to her wrists and her pussy wet and swollen, she’s the epitome of helpless sensuality. Bondage isn’t normally my thing, but restraining Yulia is different. It’s not about kink; it’s about possession. After tonight, she’ll have no doubt that she’s mine. When her asshole is sufficiently lubed, I press the tip of my finger to the tight opening, watching her reaction. The one time I touched her ass in the shower, she tensed, and I realized she either has a problem with anal sex or is new to it. I hope it’s the latter, but I suspect it might be the former. Sure enough, as my finger pushes in the first quarter of an inch, Yulia’s ass cheeks clench, and her eyes fly open. “Don’t.” Her voice is strained. “Please don’t.” “Was it your trainer?” I keep my finger where it is, neither pressing forward nor retreating. “Did he hurt you this way too?” She stares at me, her chest heaving, and I see her mouth tremble before she presses her lips together. She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t need a verbal confirmation. The motherfucker did hurt her like this—and she’s afraid I will too. Something squeezes painfully inside me. I don’t deserve her trust, but a part of me wants it. It’s a desire that directly contradicts my primitive need to subdue her, to keep her at any cost. Even as I hold her bound and helpless, I don’t want her fearing me—not that way, at least. “I won’t hurt you,” I say quietly, holding Yulia’s gaze. The savage hunger pounding through me dies down to a muted roar as I withdraw the tip of my finger. “I promise you that.” She shudders with relief, her eyes closing, and I lower my head again, licking her pussy with gentle swipes of my tongue. Her flesh is pliant, still soft and wet. I know she’s nowhere near an orgasm now, and I don’t try to give her one. Instead, I

soothe her with my lips and tongue, giving her undemanding pleasure. I do this for what feels like hours, and eventually, I feel the remnants of terrified tension leave her body. Continuing to lick her, I move my mouth lower, to her creamy slit, and dip my tongue inside, tasting her there. She tenses in a different way, a moan escaping her lips, and I capitalize on her growing arousal by carefully rubbing her swollen clit with my fingers. She’s moaning in earnest now, and I move my tongue even lower, to the tight ring of muscle between her ass cheeks. Yulia stiffens for a second, but I just lick her there, tonguing her back opening and rubbing her clit until she’s panting and gasping, her hips rocking in an instinctive rhythm. I can sense that she’s on the verge, and I ruthlessly push her over, pinching her clit with a firm, steady pressure. Her body tightens, and I feel the ring of muscle pulsing and spasming under my tongue as she cries out in release. I lick her one last time, depositing as much saliva as I can, and then, using the distraction of her orgasm, I push my finger in again. It slides in easily before her body clamps down on it, and I keep it there, letting her adjust to the sensation as I sit up and shift closer, pressing my groin against her lower body. Her eyes are wide and dazed-looking, her lips parted as she stares at me, her chest rising and falling with panting breaths. “I won’t hurt you,” I repeat, keeping my finger inside her as I use my free hand to guide my cock to her pussy. “This is as far as we’ll go today.” Yulia doesn’t respond, but her eyes close, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as the tip of my cock enters her tight, slick heat. With my finger buried in her ass, I can actually feel my cock pushing into her, stretching her inner walls as I go deeper, and I groan at the exquisite pleasure of it, my balls tightening with explosive need. “Yes, baby, that’s it. Let me in deeper…” I’m barely cognizant of what I’m saying, my voice a feral rumble in my chest as her pussy sucks me in, engulfing my entire length. “Oh, fuck, yeah, just like that…” She cries out as I brace myself on the bed and begin thrusting, no longer able to restrain myself. Being inside her is paradise, and I never want to leave. If I had my way, I’d fuck Yulia forever. But all too soon, the pleasure intensifies, turning into razor-sharp ecstasy, and I feel the boil of incipient orgasm in my balls. My thrusting pace picks up—I’m all but jackhammering into her now—and I hear her cries growing louder, mixing with my own grunting groans. My vision blurs, my entire body seizing with intolerable tension, and through the hammering roar of

my heartbeat, I hear Yulia scream and feel her inner muscles clamp down on my cock and my finger. Dimly, I realize she’s coming, and then my own climax is upon me, my cum spurting out into her as my cock jerks uncontrollably, again and again.

30

Y ulia I’M DAZED AND SHAKING, MY HEART RATE SOMEWHERE IN THE STRATOSPHERE AS LUCAS SLOWLY withdraws his finger from my ass and pulls out of me. I’m so out of it I barely notice when Lucas unties me, lifts me into his arms, and carries me out of the room. It’s not until the water spray hits me that I realize we’re standing together in the shower, his arms wrapped around me from the back to prevent me from collapsing. My leg muscles are quivering from being stretched for so long, and my body is throbbing in the aftermath of his dual invasion. Lucas is kissing my neck as he holds me in front of him, and I’m letting him, my head resting on his shoulder as warm water cascades over our bodies. “Relax, beautiful.” His voice is a soft rumble in my ear as I attempt to pull away. His arms tighten around me, holding me in place. “We’re just going to take a nice shower together, that’s all.” I know I should protest, push him away, but I don’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Maybe I never did—because fighting Lucas means fighting myself as well. Something perverse in me is drawn to this cruel, dangerous man, has been drawn to him from the very beginning. Seeing that I’m no longer trying to pull away, Lucas makes sure I’m steady on my feet and carefully loosens his grip. “Let me wash you,” he murmurs, reaching for a bottle of body wash, and I stand like an obedient child as he lathers my whole body, washing me from head to toe. His soapy hands go everywhere, even into the place his finger invaded earlier, and I close my eyes, giving myself up to his gentle ministrations.

I’ll despise myself for this tomorrow, but tonight, I want his tenderness. I crave it. He kept his promise not to hurt me. I’m still vaguely surprised by that. When Lucas tied me up, I thought he’d do something horrible to me—and when he started touching my ass, I became sure of it. But other than the slight burn of the initial entry, his finger hadn’t hurt, and his tongue there had felt… interesting. The sensations had been strange and foreign, but nothing like the terrible pain Kirill had inflicted on me that day. The water spray stops, and I open my eyes, realizing Lucas turned off the shower. “Come, baby.” He guides me out of the shower stall and wraps a fluffy towel around me before briskly drying himself. “Let’s go to bed,” he says, stepping toward me. “You’re falling asleep on your feet.” He picks me up again, and I don’t protest as he carries me back to the bedroom. Even after the shower, I feel like I’m about to fall over. The orgasms Lucas forced on me have depleted me both emotionally and physically, and there’s nothing I want more than sleep. Sleep will be my escape for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, my tormentor will leave. He’ll be gone, and if Rosa gave me good information, so will I. The thought should fill me with joy, but as Lucas places me on the bed and handcuffs us together, happiness is the last thing I’m feeling. Even now, a part of me mourns the fantasy—the man I’d begun falling for before he shredded my heart.

LUCAS WAKES ME UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT BY THRUSTING INTO ME, HIS THICK COCK INVADING me from the back. I gasp, my eyes popping open at the sudden intrusion. I’m not as wet as before, but it doesn’t matter. My body responds to him instantly, my core flooding with liquid heat as he begins driving into me. There’s no finesse to this fucking, no attempt to make it anything but what it is. A hard, basic claiming. Our left wrists are still cuffed together, and the room is pitch black. I can’t see anything; I can only feel as he holds me against him, his arm a steely band around my ribcage. His hips hammer into me, and I take him in, unable to do anything

else. My breathing quickens, heat rippling over my skin in waves, and my inner muscles begin to tighten. “Tell me you’re mine.” Lucas’s hot breath washes over my neck. “Tell me you belong to me.” “I—” The intensity of the sensations overwhelms my sleep-fogged brain. “I’m yours.” “Again.” “I’m yours.” I gasp as his cock hits a spot inside me that ups the heat to a volcanic burn. “I’m yours.” “Yes, you are.” He moves his left hand to my sex, dragging my wrist along with it. “You’re mine and no one else’s.” “Yes, no one else’s…” I don’t know what I’m saying, but with his fingers touching my clit, I don’t care. Everything about this feels surreal, like some kind of a sex dream. I can feel Lucas’s muscled body surrounding me as his cock pumps into me, and the volcanic heat grows, burning away all thought and reason. Dazed, I cry out as the sensations crest, and then I’m coming, my inner muscles clamping around his hard shaft. Lucas groans too, and I feel his big body tensing and shuddering behind me. The warmth of his seed floods me, and my sex spasms with aftershocks, sparks of residual pleasure sizzling along my nerve endings. Breathing hard, I close my eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall against my back as his cock slowly softens inside me. I know I should get up and clean up, or at least reach for a tissue, but I’m too relaxed, too drained by the pleasure. I don’t want to do anything but lie in Lucas’s arms. He seems to be equally unwilling to move, and my lids grow heavy as my thoughts begin to drift. All my fears and worries feel unreal, distant from this moment and from us. In some faraway world, we’re enemies and he’s my captor, but I’m no longer in that brutal place. I’m here, warm and safe in my lover’s embrace. The veil of darkness wraps around me, and as I sink deeper into the haze of dreams, I hear him say softly, “I’m sorry, Yulia. Do you hate me?” “Never,” I whisper to my dream Lucas. “I love you. I’m yours.” And as sleep drags me under, I feel him kiss my temple and hold me tighter, as if afraid to let me go.

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YULIA’S BREATHING TAKES ON THE STEADY RHYTHM OF SLEEP, BUT I’M WIDE AWAKE, MY HEART pounding heavily in my chest. Did she mean it? Did she know what she was saying? Did she know it was me she was saying it to? I want to shake her awake and demand answers, but I resist the impulse. I don’t know what I would do if Yulia told me it was Misha she was dreaming about. The mere thought of it burns me like acid. If I found out she meant the words for him… No. I can’t go there. I don’t want Yulia looking at me like I’m a monster again. Tightening my arm around her ribcage, I brush my lips across her temple and close my eyes, trying to relax. It was most likely a slip of the tongue, something she mumbled by accident, but even if there’s some truth to her words, why should I care? Sex is what I want from her, sex and a certain basic companionship. Just because I want Yulia doesn’t mean I need her love. Forcing my breathing to slow, I will sleep to come, but the thought that she might love me is like a splinter in my brain. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to let it go—or to suppress the warm sensation that accompanies the idea. It’s an illogical reaction on my part. I know better than anyone how meaningless those words are. My parents used “I love you” as a platitude, as something to say to each other and to me at social functions. It was part of the glossy façade they presented to the public, and I’ve always known not to take them at face value. Same with the women I’ve slept with: more than one of them had used the words casually, throwing them out like one might say “hello” and “goodbye.” There’s

absolutely no reason for me to latch onto this one mumbled phrase from Yulia—a phrase that might not have even been meant for me. Unless it had been meant for me. Is that possible? It wouldn’t be casual for Yulia, that much I’m sure of. Given the circumstances, if she did fall in love with me, she’d resist letting me know for as long as possible—which means she probably didn’t realize what she was saying. Fuck. Clearly, I can’t let the matter rest. If Yulia loves me, I need to know, so I can stop obsessing about it. Sitting up, I lean over her and turn on the bedside lamp. She doesn’t so much as twitch at my movements. Her lips are slightly parted, and her lashes form dark crescents on her pale cheeks. With her face relaxed in sleep, she looks impossibly young—an innocent worn out by my harsh demands. I watch her for a few moments, then reach for the light and turn it off. Lying down, I mold my body against her slender form from the back and breathe in the sweet, peach-tinted scent of her hair. Soon, I promise myself as I close my eyes. When I return from Chicago, I’ll question her and find out the truth. My captive’s not going anywhere, and two weeks is not that long to wait.

THE CHIRPING OF MY PHONE ALARM DRAGS ME OUT OF DEEP SLEEP. SUPPRESSING THE URGE TO CRUSH the offending object, I reach for the nightstand on my right and turn off the alarm. Yawning, I take out the key I keep in that drawer and turn back to face Yulia—who woke up from my movements this time and is regarding me with a sleepy, halflidded gaze. “Hi, beautiful.” Unable to resist, I unlock the handcuffs and pull her into my lap. She’s soft and pliant, her skin deliciously warm as I hold her against me, and I have to fight the urge to throw her down for one last fuck. “I have to go,” I murmur instead, kissing the top of her head. There are so many things I want to say to her, so many questions I want to ask about last night, but I settle for saying, “Be good with Diego and Eduardo, okay?” She tenses slightly, but I feel her nod against my chest. “Yulia, about last night…” I slide my fingers into her hair and gently pull on it, needing to see her face, but she refuses to meet my gaze, her eyes trained

somewhere on my chin. I sigh and decide to let it go. Now is not the time to get into what Yulia may or may not have said to me when she was half-asleep. “I’ll miss you,” I say softly instead. Her lips tighten, her gaze dropping even lower, and I remind myself to be patient. I can wait two weeks. Brushing another kiss over the crown of her head, I reluctantly shift her off my lap and get up, doing my best to keep my eyes off her naked curves. Diego and Eduardo will be here in ten minutes, and I still need to shower and get dressed.

32

Y ulia “YULIA, YOU’VE ALREADY MET DIEGO, AND THIS IS EDUARDO,” LUCAS SAYS, GESTURING TOWARD TWO young guards. “They’ll be watching you in my absence.” I prop my hip against the kitchen table and nod at the two dark-haired men, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Diego is taller than Eduardo, but they’re both muscular and in good shape. Handsome in their own way, though I much prefer Lucas’s fierce, Viking-raider looks. “Hello,” I say, figuring I have nothing to lose by playing nice. “Hi, Yulia.” Diego grins at me, showing even white teeth. “I have to say, you look much… cleaner today.” His grin is contagious, and I find myself smiling back at him. “Showers have been known to do that,” I say wryly, and he laughs out loud, throwing his head back. Eduardo chuckles too, but when I sneak a glance at Lucas, I see that his face is dark, his eyebrows pulled together into a frown. Is he jealous of the guards he himself chose? “You remember my instructions, right?” Lucas snaps, glaring at the two men, and I realize that he’s indeed displeased with them. “All of them?” “Yes, of course,” Eduardo says quickly. Diego’s grin disappears, and both guards stand up straighter. “You have nothing to worry about,” the shorter man adds. “Good.” Lucas gives them a hard look before turning to me. “I’ll see you in two weeks, okay?” he says in a softer tone, and I nod, trying to avoid meeting his pale gaze.

I have a terrible suspicion my dream last night might not have been entirely in my imagination. Lucas pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something, but then he just turns and leaves, walking out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, I hear the front door close. My captor is gone. “So,” Diego says cheerfully, bringing my attention back to him. He’s grinning again, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “What’s for breakfast?”

I MAKE AN OMELET FOR MYSELF AND THE TWO GUARDS, BEING CAREFUL NOT TO DO ANYTHING suspicious. They may seem friendly, but I don’t mistake their smiles for anything but an amicable mask. Nice guys don’t work for illegal arms dealers, and these two have a good reason to hate me—if they know about my role in the plane crash, that is. “So, Yulia,” Eduardo says, gobbling down his omelet with evident gusto, “how did you learn to cook like this? Is that a Russian thing?” “I’m Ukrainian, not Russian,” I say. Though the difference in my hometown region is slight, I prefer to think of myself as belonging to the country of my employers. “And yes, it’s somewhat of an Eastern European ‘thing.’ Many people there still regard cooking as a necessary skill for a woman.” “Oh, it’s necessary, all right.” Diego forks the last bite of his omelet into his mouth and glances longingly at the empty frying pan. “Should be mandatory, as far as I’m concerned.” “Sure. Just like cleaning, laundry, and taking care of the kids, right?” I give the two men a syrupy-sweet smile. “If a woman looked like you, I’d do the laundry,” Eduardo says with apparent seriousness. “But cleaning… I guess help with that would be nice.” I laugh, unable to help myself. The guy’s not even trying to conceal his chauvinistic views. “I think what Eduardo’s trying to say is that Lucas is a lucky guy,” Diego says diplomatically, kicking the other guard under the table. “That’s all.” “Right.” I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m sure that’s it.”

“You bet.” Diego winks at me and gets up to throw out his paper plate. “Eduardo’s just spoiled,” he explains, returning to the table. “First his mamacita babied him, then his ex-girlfriend.” “Shut up,” Eduardo mutters, glowering at Diego. “Rosa didn’t baby me. She was just good at domestic things.” “Rosa?” My ears perk up at the familiar name. “Yeah, she’s Esguerra’s maid,” Diego says. “Sweet girl. Way too good for this guy here”—he jerks his thumb toward Eduardo—“so she dumped his ass months ago.” “Oh, I see,” I say, trying not to appear too interested. If Rosa had dated Eduardo at some point, that explains how she knows about their poker games. “Does Esguerra have many servants?” “Not really,” Eduardo answers, getting up to throw out his empty plate. He’s frowning; I guess the memory of being dumped by Rosa is not a pleasant one. “We should get going,” he says abruptly, then glances at me. “Are you almost done with your food, Yulia?” I nod, consuming the remnants of my omelet. “Yes.” I carry my plate to the garbage and dump it, then wash the frying pan and place it on a paper towel to dry. “All done.” “Good.” Diego smiles at me, his dark eyes gleaming. “Then go use the restroom, and we’ll take you on your morning walk.”

AS THE TWO MEN LEAD ME ON A BRISK STROLL THROUGH THE FOREST, I DECIDE THEY MOST LIKELY don’t know about my involvement in the plane crash that killed their colleagues. Or if they do, they’re excellent actors. They banter with me as easily as they do with each other, their manner friendly and relaxed. They don’t seem like killers—except I see the guns stuck in the waistband of their jeans. If they’re ordered to plant a bullet in my brain, I’m sure neither one will hesitate to do so. Our walk takes about twenty minutes, and then they bring me back to Lucas’s house. “All right, chica,” Diego says, leading me to Lucas’s library. “Your boyfriend said this is your usual spot. Grab whatever book you want, and then we have some work

to do.” “Boyfriend?” Startled, I look at the guard. “You mean, Lucas?” Diego grins. “That’s the one. Unless you have more than one around here?” I bite back a denial and grab a book at random. Lucas is definitely not my boyfriend, but if that’s what they think, it could play to my advantage. It could also explain why the two guards are being so nice to me, I realize as I walk over to the armchair. It’s generally smart to show respect to the girlfriend of one’s boss—even if that girlfriend is to be handcuffed and tied up most of the time. Sitting down, I place the book on my lap, take a deep breath, and extend my wrists toward Diego. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

33

L

ucas

OUR FLIGHT TO CHICAGO IS UNEVENTFUL. ESGUERRA STOPS BY THE PILOT’S CABIN EVERY COUPLE OF hours to check on things, but for the most part, he stays in the main cabin with his wife and Rosa, who’s accompanying them on this trip. “Nora is still sleeping,” he says, stopping by again an hour before we land. His dark eyebrows are drawn into a worried frown. “Do you think this is normal, to sleep this much?” “Pregnant women need a lot of rest, or so I’ve heard,” I say, concealing a smile. Esguerra’s acting like no woman has ever carried a baby before. “I’m sure it’s fine.” He nods and disappears back into the cabin. Probably to watch over Nora, I think with amusement before turning my attention back to the controls. After the crash, I’m leaving nothing to chance. We land at a small private airport just outside Chicago, where an armored limo is waiting for us on the runway. I’ve sent most of the guards ahead of us, and they’ve scrubbed this airport top to bottom, so I know it’s safe. Still, I automatically scan our surroundings for danger before walking over to the limo and getting into the driver’s seat. One can never be too careful in our line of work. As I drive the limo to Nora’s parents’ house, my thoughts turn to Yulia. Esguerra is in the back with Nora and Rosa, and everything is quiet on the road, so I decide to use this time to call Diego. “How’s it going?” I ask as soon as the guard picks up.

“Well, let’s see…” He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughing. “For breakfast, she made an amazing omelet. For lunch, she fed us the best chicken I’ve ever had, and for dinner, she’s grilling pork chops and baking a chocolate cake. So I’d say it’s going pretty well. Oh, and we took her for a walk this morning.” “She’s behaving? No escape attempts?” “Are you kidding me? Your girl’s a model prisoner. She even taught us a few swear words in Russian at lunch. Like yob tvoyu mat’—” “Excellent.” I grit my teeth, battling a swell of irrational jealousy. I know I can trust these two guards, but it still bothers me that they seem to be getting so chummy with my captive. Loyal or not, they’re still men, and I know how easy it is to get obsessed with Yulia. “Don’t forget to handcuff her to the bedside pole at night.” “You got it, man.” “Good.” I draw in a deep breath. “And, Diego, if you or Eduardo so much as lay a finger on her—” “We would never.” The young Mexican sounds insulted. “She’s yours, we know that.” “All right.” I force myself to relax my grip on the wheel. “Call me if anything comes up.” And disconnecting, I turn my attention back to the road.

ESGUERRA’S DINNER WITH HIS IN-LAWS PASSES WITHOUT AN INCIDENT UNTIL FRANK, ESGUERRA’S CIA contact, decides to pay us a visit. He insists on speaking with Esguerra, so I call my boss outside after first making sure our snipers are in position. If the US agency decides to double-cross us tonight, they’ll have a battle on their hands. Fortunately, Frank doesn’t seem to be suicidal. He sends his car away and goes for a walk with Esguerra. I follow at a small distance, keeping my hand on the gun inside my jacket. They don’t go far, just to the nearest park and back. “What did they want?” I ask Esguerra when Frank’s black Lincoln pulls away. “For us to stay the fuck out of their country,” Esguerra explains. “Apparently, the FBI is going apeshit—Frank’s words, not mine. They’re worried about why we’re here. Plus, there’s the whole matter of Nora’s abduction.”

“Right. So what did you tell him?” “That we’re not here on business, and that we’ll leave when we’re good and ready. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a family dinner to get back to.” He disappears back into the house, and I head to the limo, shaking my head in disbelief. My boss has balls, I have to give him that.

IT’S LATE BY THE TIME ESGUERRA’S DINNER IS OVER. FORTUNATELY, IT’S NOT A LONG DRIVE TO PALOS Park, a wealthy community where Esguerra bought a mansion on my recommendation. “It’ll be more secure than a hotel,” I told him when we began planning the trip two weeks ago. “This specific house is particularly good because it’s fenced in and has an electronic gate, not to mention a long driveway—optimal for privacy.” When we pull up to the mansion, Esguerra, Nora, and Rosa go inside while I check in with the guards to make sure they’re properly positioned and know what to do in case of emergencies. It takes me over an hour, and by the time I finally enter the house, I’m more than ready to hit the sack. First, though, I need to grab a bite to eat; the two energy bars I ate in the car were a shitty substitute for dinner. I clearly got spoiled by Yulia’s cooking. “Oh, hi, Lucas,” Rosa says when I enter the kitchen. Her cheeks flush as she looks at me. I must’ve caught her on her way to bed, because she’s wearing long pajamas and cradling a cup of steaming milk. “I didn’t realize you were still up.” “Yeah, I had to do some last-minute security checks,” I say, suppressing a yawn. “Why are you awake?” “I couldn’t sleep. Too many new impressions, I guess.” Her full lips curve in a wry smile. “I’ve never flown before—or been to America.” “I see.” Battling another yawn, I make my way over to the fridge and open it. It’s fully stocked already—I made the arrangements for food delivery myself—so I grab some cheese and a loaf of bread to make myself a sandwich. “Do you want me to make you something?” Rosa offers, watching me uncertainly. “I can whip up something in a minute.” “It’s nice of you to offer, thanks, but you should go to sleep.” I slap a slice of cheese on a piece of bread and bite into the dry sandwich. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of cooking to do tomorrow,” I say after I chew and swallow.

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.” She shrugs, then adds, “Though you’re probably right—I think Señor Esguerra is hoping to impress Nora’s parents tomorrow night.” “Hmm-mm.” I finish the rest of the sandwich in three bites and put the cheese back in the refrigerator. “Have a good night, Rosa,” I say, turning to leave. “You too.” She watches me walk out of the room, her expression oddly tense, but I’m too tired to wonder about what’s on her mind. When I get to my room, I take a quick shower and fall into bed. Surprisingly, sleep doesn’t come right away. Instead, I lie awake for several minutes, tossing and turning on a king-sized mattress that feels cold and far too empty. It’s been less than a day, and I already miss Yulia. Two weeks, I tell myself. I just need to get through the next two weeks. Then I’ll be home, and Yulia will be in my arms every night again.

34

Y ulia I STARE AT THE DARK CEILING, UNABLE TO CLOSE MY EYES DESPITE THE LATE HOUR. IT’S STRANGE BEING in Lucas’s bed without him… feeling the cold steel of the handcuffs anchoring me to the bedside pole instead of to his wrist. I’ve gotten used to sleeping tucked into his large warm body, and even with the blanket drawn up to my chin, I feel cold and exposed as I lie there alone, trying to relax enough to go to sleep. Diego and Eduardo have been good jailers so far. They adhered to the routine Lucas must’ve laid out to them, letting me eat, stretch, use the restroom, and read in the comfortable armchair. They also kept me company at mealtimes, though I suspect the food I cooked had a lot to do with that. By the time our dinner was over, I decided that I like both of them—as much as it’s possible to like mercenaries whose job is to keep you captive. Rosa was right about them being good guys; under different circumstances, we might’ve been friends. I hope Lucas won’t punish them too harshly for my escape—assuming I succeed tomorrow, that is. Thinking about tomorrow chases away whatever little sleepiness I was beginning to feel. To alleviate my anxiety, I mentally go over the details of my plan again. It’s simple: Right after lunch, I’ll use the tools Rosa gave me to free myself and make a run for the northern border of the estate, where the guards at North Tower Two might be distracted with their poker game. Diego and Eduardo will be at that poker game, so they won’t come looking for me until after six p.m. By then, I’ll be on the delivery truck—which, hopefully, will be far away from Esguerra’s compound at that point.

If all goes well, tomorrow evening I will no longer be Lucas Kent’s prisoner. I should be excited, but instead, there’s a hollow ache in my chest. The dream from last night—if it was a dream—is still painfully vivid in my mind. For a brief moment, I forgot who we are, what passed between us, and I told Lucas something I didn’t know myself until that moment. “Do you hate me?” he asked, and like an idiot, I said I loved him. I admitted my terrible, irrational weakness to a man who’s hurt me with every weapon I’ve given him. Maybe I didn’t say the words out loud. Maybe it was a dream—or, more precisely, a nightmare. Except if that’s the case, why did Lucas bring up last night when he was telling me goodbye? Why did he say that he’ll miss me? Groaning, I turn onto my side and punch the pillow with my free hand. I must be sick, or at least brainwashed by my captivity. I can’t be in love with a man who intends to destroy my brother. I can’t be the idiot who’s fallen for a killer with an ice rock instead of a heart. I’ll miss you. His deep voice whispers through my mind, and I squeeze my eyelids together, trying to shut it out. Whatever I’m feeling, whether it’s love or temporary insanity, will pass once I’m far away from here. I have to believe that, so I can focus on my escape.

BREAKFAST AND LUNCH DRAG BY WITH AGONIZING SLOWNESS. BY THE TIME DIEGO AND EDUARDO TIE me to the armchair and leave, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. I hope they couldn’t tell how anxious I am; I did my best to act normal, but I don’t know if I succeeded. After I hear the front door close behind them, I sit quietly for a few minutes, making sure they’re not coming back. When I’m satisfied that my jailers are gone, I begin to move. My heart is beating in a fast, desperate rhythm, and my palms are sweating as I carefully reach into the chair cushions for the items Rosa gave me. I fish out the hairpin first. With the ropes securing my upper arms to the chair, my range of motion is limited, but I manage to stick the pin into the lock of the cuffs. I’m far from an expert lock picker, but they taught us this during training, so after a few failed attempts, I succeed in opening the cuffs.

The razor blade is next. With my hands no longer stuck together, I wedge the tiny blade under the ropes around my upper arms and saw through them. It’s not an easy task—I’m bleeding from several cuts by the time I’m done with one thick rope—but I’m determined, and ten minutes later, I’ve sawed through enough ropes to be able to wiggle out of the chair. Step one of the plan complete. Next, I rush to the kitchen and grab two water bottles and a few energy bars I found in one of the cabinets. I don’t expect to be in the jungle for long, but it’s best to be prepared. At this time of day, the heat could dehydrate me in a matter of hours. I also take the sharpest kitchen knife I can find and slip the razor blade and the hairpin into the pocket of my shorts, just in case. I put the food and the knife in a backpack I find in Lucas’s closet, and then I head for the door in Lucas’s bedroom —the one that leads to the backyard and the jungle beyond. Holding my breath, I open the door and scan the area. There’s no sign of the guards, and all I hear are the usual nature noises. So far, so good. I step outside and close the door behind me. A wave of humid heat washes over me, making my clothes stick to my skin. I was right to take those water bottles. I’ll have to go north for two and a half miles and then west along the river to reach the dirt road Rosa mentioned, and I’ll need to drink on the way. Taking a breath to steady my nerves, I head toward the trees behind the house. My sneakers—the footwear Lucas got me for our walks—make almost no noise as I enter the thick jungle, and I exhale in relief as the canopy of trees closes over my head, concealing me from any potential eyes in the sky. Now I need to get to the border and locate the road by which the delivery truck will be leaving the estate at some point after three p.m. Sweat gathers under my arms and drips down my back as I walk briskly, trying not to step on any insects or snakes. Thin tree, thick tree, a cluster of bushes, a fallen log—these landmarks are how I track my progress. Focusing on my immediate surroundings helps me not think about the drones that might be hovering overhead or the guard towers I’ll have to pass on my way to the border. Rosa told me North Tower Two is the one where the guards play poker, but I have no idea how I’ll distinguish between that tower and some other one. If there’s a North Tower Two, there must be a North Tower One, and if I stumble upon the wrong tower, I’m screwed.

After a half hour, I take out the first bottle and gulp down most of the water, then wipe the sweat off my face with the bottom of my shirt. Even in the shorts and skimpy tank top I’m wearing, the heat is difficult to bear. Just a little longer, I tell myself. It can’t be that far to the river now. I just need to reach it and then follow it west until I get to the road. It’s at most another half hour of walking. “Alto!” At the harshly yelled Spanish command, I freeze, instinctively raising my hands. The water bottle falls out of my nerveless fingers. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. The male voice barks another command at me, and I turn around slowly on the assumption that that’s what he told me to do. A dark-haired musclebound man is standing a couple of meters in front of me, his M16 pointed at my chest. He’s dressed in camouflage pants and a sleeveless shirt, and I see a radio hanging on his hip. It’s one of the guards. He must’ve been patrolling the forest and spotted me. I’m so, so fucked. Glaring at me, the guard says something in Spanish, and I shake my head. “Sorry.” I moisten my parched lips. “I don’t speak much Spanish.” The young man’s glower deepens. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he says in heavily accented English. “I’m—” I swallow, feeling sweat trickling down my temples. “I’m staying with Lucas.” “Lucas Kent?” The guard looks confused for a moment; then his dark eyes widen. “You are the prisoner.” “Um, kind of. But now I’m his guest.” I attempt a shaky smile as I slowly lower my hands to my sides. “You know how that goes.” An understanding look comes over the guard’s face. “You are his puta.” I’m pretty sure he just called me a whore, but I nod and widen my smile, hoping it looks seductive rather than frightened. “He likes me,” I say, pulling my shoulders back to thrust my braless breasts forward. “You know what I mean?” The man’s gaze slides from my face to my sweat-dampened tank top. “Sí.” His voice is slightly hoarse. “I know what you mean.”

I take a step toward him, keeping the smile on my face. “He’s away,” I say, making sure to roll my hips. “Went on a trip with your boss.” “With Esguerra, yes.” The man seems hypnotized by my breasts, which sway with my movement. “On a trip.” “Right.” I take another step forward. “I got bored sitting at home.” “Bored?” The guard finally manages to tear his gaze away from my chest. His eyes are slightly glazed as he looks at my face, but his weapon is still pointed at me. “You should not be out here.” “I know.” I purposefully bite my lower lip. “Lucas lets me go out into the backyard. There was a pretty bird, I followed it, and I got lost.” It’s the stupidest story ever, but the guard doesn’t seem to think so. Then again, the fact that he’s staring at my lips like he wants to eat them may have something to do with that. “So, yes, maybe you can point me back to his house,” I continue when he remains silent. I risk another tiny step toward him. “It’s very hot today.” “Yes.” He lowers his weapon and takes hold of my left arm. “Come. I will take you there.” “Thank you.” I smile as brightly as I can and jab my right hand up, ramming the heel of my palm into the underside of his nose. There’s a crunching noise, followed by a spray of red. The guard stumbles back, reflexively clutching his broken nose, and I grab the barrel of his M16, kicking at his knee as I yank the assault rifle toward me. My foot connects with his knee, but the man doesn’t let go. Instead, he releases his nose and grips the weapon with both hands, pulling it—and me—toward him. He may not be as well trained as Lucas, but he’s still much stronger than me. Realizing I only have seconds before he wrestles me to the ground, I stop pulling and push the gun toward him instead, causing him to lose his balance for a moment. At the same time, I kick upward between his legs as hard as I can. My sneaker meets its target: the guard’s balls. A choked gasp escapes the man’s throat, followed by a high-pitched scream as he bends at the waist. His face turns sickly pale, and his grip on the gun loosens for a second—which is all the time I need. Jerking the heavy weapon out of the guard’s hands, I swing it at his head.

The rifle makes a loud thud as it meets his skull. The impact of the collision sends a shock of pain through my arms, but my opponent drops like a stone. I have no idea if he’s unconscious or dead, and I don’t waste time checking. If there are other guards in the vicinity, they might’ve heard his scream. Clutching the M16, I begin running. Tree. Bush. A gnarled root. An ant hill. The tiny landmarks blur in front of my eyes as I run, my breath rattling loudly in my ears. Every couple of minutes, I glance behind me for signs of pursuit, but none are evident, and after a few minutes, I risk slowing down to a jog. Where the hell is that river? Two and a half miles is about four kilometers; it shouldn’t take this long to get there. Before I have a chance to wonder if Rosa might’ve lied, the ground in front of me suddenly slopes downward at a sharp angle. I skid to a stop, barely managing to avoid tumbling down the incline, and through the thick tangle of bushes in front of me, I see a shimmer of blue below. The river. I’m at the northern border of Esguerra’s compound. My breath whooshes out in relief. I start forward to get a closer look—and freeze again. Less than a hundred meters to my left is a guard tower. The trees had obscured it from my view. I back up and crouch behind the nearest tree, desperately hoping the guards didn’t spot me yet. When I don’t hear shouts or gunshots, I risk peeking out to look at the tower again. The structure is tall and ominous, looming over the forest. At the top is a solid square enclosure with slits instead of windows, and around the enclosure is an open-air walkway. I don’t see any guards on the walkway, but they’re all probably inside, hiding from the stifling heat in the shade. There are no markings on the structure. It could be North Tower Two, or it could be some other one. There’s no way for me to know. I’ll be passing right by it if I head west, and if the guards inside the enclosure look outside, I’ll be caught in an instant. For a moment, I consider turning back and trying to locate the road when I’m

farther south, out of sight of this guard tower, but I decide against that. There could be more towers there. Plus, Rosa said the security software focuses on things approaching the estate. That means the computer might flag anything moving south from this point. I have to either cross the river here, or turn west now and attempt to find the road where it intersects with this river. I look at the river. With the thick bushes blocking my view, I can’t tell how wide or deep it is. It could easily have a strong current or, since it’s the Amazon rainforest, be teeming with crocodiles. If I were a particularly strong swimmer, I’d risk it, but crossing jungle rivers wasn’t a big part of my training. I glance at the tower again. Still no guards on the walkway. Could they be playing poker inside? I vacillate between my two options for a minute, debating the pros and cons of each, but ultimately, it’s the position of the sun that helps me make my decision. It’s moving lower in the sky, signifying that the afternoon is wearing on. I don’t have a watch, so I don’t know the time, but it’s probably getting close to three p.m. If I don’t locate the road soon, I risk missing the delivery truck, and then it won’t matter if the guards in the tower spot me or not. Once Diego and Eduardo realize I’m missing, I’ll be found in a matter of hours if I’m still in this jungle on foot. Trying to steady my shaking hands, I place the M16 on the ground. I’m much more likely to get shot if I’m visibly armed, and one assault rifle won’t help me against guards who are better armed and have the protection of the enclosure. With one last look at the river, I leave the shelter of my tree and head west, toward the tower. Thin tree. Thick tree. Root. Bush. A cluster of wild flowers. I stare at the plant life as I walk, the fear like icy fingers clawing at my chest. The tower looms closer— I can see it in my peripheral vision now—and I focus on not looking at it, on moving slowly and deliberately, just one foot in front of another. Thick tree. Another thick tree. A small ditch that I have to jump over. My heart feels like it might leap out of my throat, but I keep moving, keep not looking at the tower. It’s parallel to me, then slightly behind me, and I still keep my gaze trained ahead and walk at the same measured pace. My skin crawls and the back of my neck tingles as I cross a small clearing, but there are still no shouts or gunfire.

They don’t see me. This must be North Tower Two. I risk picking up my pace slightly, and when I glance back a couple of minutes later, the tower is no longer visible. I stop and lean against a tree trunk, my knees going weak with relief. I made it past the tower without getting shot. When my frantic heartbeat slows a little, I force myself to straighten and keep going. I don’t know how long it takes before I reach the road, but the sun is hovering lower in the sky when I find it. The road is not much—it’s just an unpaved path cutting through the jungle—but at the point where it meets the river, it widens onto a sturdy wooden bridge. I stop and listen, but all is silent. No sounds of a car approaching, no signs of the guards. I turn onto the bridge and start walking. Immediately, I realize I was right not to try crossing the river at the earlier location. The river is wide, and both banks are steep, almost cliff-like. Even if I made it across, I would’ve had trouble climbing up the other side. I keep walking, and soon the bridge—and Esguerra’s compound—is behind me. I try to keep to the tree line as much as I can while staying by the road. I don’t want to be spotted by any drones that might be patrolling the area, but I can’t chance missing the returning delivery truck. I walk for what feels like hours before I finally hear the rumble of a car engine. This is it. I take out the knife I stole from Lucas’s kitchen and stick it into the waistband of my shorts, covering the handle with the bottom of my tank top. I hope I won’t have to use the knife, but it’s best to be prepared. Ignoring the frantic hammering of my pulse, I step out onto the road and wait for the vehicle to approach. It’s a van, not a truck as I supposed. It stops in front of me, and the driver—a short middle-aged man with darkly bronzed skin—jumps out, staring at me in surprise. He asks something in Spanish, and I shake my head, saying, “Tourist. I’m an American tourist, and I got lost. Please help me.”

He looks even more surprised and says something in rapid-fire Spanish. I shake my head again. “Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.” He frowns and looks around, as if expecting a translator to jump out from the bushes. When nothing happens, he shrugs and motions for me to follow him to the car. I climb into the passenger seat next to him, making sure to keep my hand close to the knife at my side. The delivery man could be Esguerra’s employee, or he could be a civilian who just happens to deliver food to an arms dealer’s estate. Either way, if he tries anything—or attempts to call anyone—I’m ready. The driver starts the car, and the van begins moving, heading north on the dirt road. After a few minutes, the man puts on some music and starts humming along under his breath. I smile at him and move my hand off the knife handle. I made it. I escaped. Now I can warn Obenko and save my brother. “Goodbye, Lucas,” I whisper soundlessly as the van bumps along the unpaved road, carrying me away from my captor. Carrying me away from the man I love.

CLAIM ME CAPTURE ME: BOOK 3

I THE ESCAPE

1

L

ucas

“SAY THAT AGAIN?” I GRIP THE PHONE TIGHTER, NEARLY CRUSHING IT burning fury. “What the fuck do you mean she escaped?”

AS MY DISBELIEF MORPHS INTO

“I don’t know how it happened.” Eduardo’s voice is tense. “We came back to your house a half hour ago and found her missing. The handcuffs were on the floor of your library, and the ropes were sawed through with something small and sharp. We had the guards scour every inch of the jungle, and they found Sanchez unconscious by the northern border. He has a hell of a concussion, but we got him to wake up a few minutes ago. He says he came across her in the forest, but she surprised him and knocked him out. That was over three hours ago. We’re getting the drone feeds now, but it’s not looking good.” My rage deepens with every sentence the guard speaks. “How did she get her hands on ‘something small and sharp’? Or open the fucking handcuffs? You and Diego were supposed to watch her at all times—” “We did.” Eduardo sounds bewildered. “We checked her pockets after each meal, like you said, and we inspected the bathroom—the only place she’s been alone and untied—several times. There was nothing there she could’ve used. She must’ve concealed the tools somehow, but I don’t know how or when. Maybe she’s had them for a while, or maybe—” “Okay, let’s suppose you didn’t completely fuck up.” I take a breath to control the explosive anger in my chest. The important thing now is to get answers and figure out where the holes in our security are. In a calmer tone, I say, “How could she have gotten out without triggering the alarms or any of the guard towers

spotting her? We have eyes on every foot of that border.” There’s a prolonged silence. Then Eduardo says quietly, “I don’t know why none of the security alarms were triggered, but it’s possible there were a couple of hours when we didn’t have eyes on the border at all locations.” “What?” I can’t hold back my anger this time. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” “We did fuck up, Kent, but I swear to you, we had no idea the security software would let anything slide.” The young guard is speaking quickly now, as if anxious to get the words out. “It was just a friendly poker game; we didn’t know the computer wouldn’t—” “A poker game?” My voice goes deadly quiet. “You were playing poker while on duty?” “I know.” Eduardo sounds genuinely contrite. “It was stupid and irresponsible, and I’m sure Esguerra will have our hides. We just thought that with all the technology, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Just a way to get out of the afternoon heat for a couple of hours, you know?” If I could reach through the phone and crush Eduardo’s windpipe, I would. “No, I don’t know.” I’m all but biting out the words. “Why don’t you explain it to me, all nice and slow? Or better yet, put Diego on the line, so he can do it.” There’s another bout of silence. Then I hear Diego say, “Lucas, listen, man… I don’t even know what to say.” The guard’s normally upbeat voice is heavy with guilt. “I don’t know why she decided to go past that tower, but I’m looking at the footage from the drones now, and that’s exactly what she did. Just walked right by us, heading west, and then got on the bridge. It’s like she knew where to go and when.” A note of incredulity creeps into his tone. “Like she knew we’d be distracted.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fuck. If what he’s saying is true, Yulia’s escape is not dumb luck. Someone gave my captive key security details—someone intimately familiar with the guards’ schedule. “Did she come in contact with anyone?” The most logical possibility is that the traitor is either Diego or Eduardo, but I know the young guards well, and they’re both too loyal and too smart for this kind of double cross. “Did anyone talk to her besides the two of you?”

“No. At least, we didn’t see anyone.” Diego’s voice tightens as he catches on to my suspicion. “Of course, she was by herself for a large portion of the day; someone could’ve come to the house when we weren’t there.” “Right.” Hell, the traitor could’ve even approached Yulia before I left for Chicago. “I want you to pull up the drone footage on any and all activity around my house in the past two weeks. If anyone so much as stepped a foot on my porch, I want to know.” “You got it.” “Good. Now get going and track down Yulia. She couldn’t have gotten far.” Diego hangs up, clearly eager to make up for his and Eduardo’s blunder, and I put the phone back in my pocket, forcing my fingers to unclench from around the object. They’ll catch her and bring her back. I have to believe that, or I won’t be able to function this evening.

WHILE I WAIT FOR AN UPDATE FROM DIEGO, I DO THE ROUNDS WITH THE GUARDS, MAKING SURE they’re all in position at Esguerra’s new Chicago vacation home. The mansion is in the wealthy private community of Palos Park and well situated from a security standpoint, but I still check the newly installed cameras for blind spots and confirm the patrol schedules with the guards. I do this because it’s my job, but also because I need something to keep my mind off Yulia and the suffocating anger burning in my chest. She ran. The moment I was gone, she ran to her lover—to this Misha, whose life she begged me to spare. She ran even though less than two days ago she told me she loved me. The fury that fills me at the thought is both potent and irrational. I don’t even know if Yulia’s words had been meant for me; she mumbled them while halfasleep, and I didn’t have a chance to confront her. Still, the possibility that she might love me had kept me tossing and turning the night before my departure. For the first time in my life, I’d felt like I was close to something… close to someone. I love you. I’m yours. What a fucking liar. My ribcage tightens as I recall Yulia’s attempts to

manipulate me, to butter me up so I’d agree to save her lover’s life. From the very beginning, I’ve been just a means to an end for her. She slept with me in Moscow to get information, and she played the part of an obedient captive to facilitate her escape. The time we spent together meant nothing to Yulia, and neither do I. The buzzing of the phone in my pocket interrupts my bitter thoughts. Fishing it out, I see the encrypted number that’s our relay from the compound. “Yes?” “We have a problem.” Diego’s tone is clipped. “It looks like your girl timed her escape perfectly in more ways than one. There was a delivery of groceries to the compound this afternoon, and the Miraflores police just found the driver walking on the side of the road, a few kilometers outside town. Apparently, he picked up a beautiful American hitchhiker just north of our compound. He had no idea she was anything other than a lost tourist—that is, until she pulled out a knife and made him get out of the van. That was over an hour ago.” “Fuck.” If Yulia has wheels, her chances of eluding us go up exponentially. “Search all of Miraflores and find that van. Get the local police to help.” “We’re already on it. I’ll keep you posted.” I hang up and head back into the house. Esguerra’s in-laws are already pulling into the driveway for their dinner with my boss and his wife, and Esguerra is likely not in the mood to be bothered right now. Still, I have to let him know what happened, so I send a one-line email: Yulia Tzakova escaped.

2

Y ulia AS SOON AS I’M IN THE CITY BOUNDS OF MIRAFLORES, I PULL INTO A GAS STATION AND ASK THE attendant to use the landline in the tiny store. He understands enough of my English to let me do so, and I dial the emergency number all UUR agents have memorized. As I wait for the call to connect, I watch the door, my palms slick with sweat. Diego and Eduardo must know I’m missing by now, which means Esguerra’s guards are looking for me. I felt bad threatening the van’s driver and forcing him to get out of the car, but I needed the vehicle. As it is, I don’t have long before Esguerra’s men track me here—if they haven’t already. “Allo.” The Russian greeting, spoken in a mellow female voice, brings my attention back to the phone. “It’s Yulia Tzakova,” I say, giving my current identity. Like the operator, I’m speaking Russian. “I’m in Miraflores, Colombia, and need to speak to Vasiliy Obenko right away.” “Code?” I rattle off a set of numbers, then answer the operator’s questions designed to verify my identity. “Please hold,” she says, and there’s a moment of silence before I hear a click signifying a new connection. “Yulia?” Obenko’s voice is filled with disbelief. “You’re alive? The Russians’ report said you died in prison. How did you—”

“The report was false. Esguerra’s men took me.” I keep my voice low, cognizant that the attendant is eyeing me with increasing suspicion. I told him I’m an American tourist, and my speaking Russian undoubtedly confuses him. “Listen, you’re in danger. Everyone connected to UUR is in danger. You need to disappear and have Misha disappear—” “Esguerra got you?” Obenko sounds horrified. “Then how are you—” “There’s no time to explain. I escaped from his compound, but they’re looking for me. You need to disappear—you and everyone in your family. And Misha. They’ll be coming for you.” “They cracked you?” “Yes.” Self-loathing is a thick knot in my throat, but I keep my voice even. “They don’t know your current location, but they have the agency’s initials and one former agent’s real name. It’s only a matter of time before they track you down.” “Fuck.” Obenko goes silent for a moment, then says, “We need to get you out of there before you’re recaptured.” Before they have a chance to extract more information out of me, he means. “Yes.” The attendant is typing something on his cell phone while glancing at me, and I know I need to hurry. “I have a car, but I’ll need help getting out of the country.” “All right. Can you get closer to Bogotá? We may be able to call in some favors with the Venezuelan government and smuggle you out across the border.” “I think so.” The attendant puts down his phone and starts toward me, so I say quickly, “I’m on my way,” and hang up. The attendant is almost next to me, his forehead furrowed, but I hurry out of the store before he can grab me. Jumping into the van, I shut the door behind me and start the car. The attendant runs out behind me, but I’m already peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. When I’m back on the road, I assess my situation. There’s only a quarter tank of gas left in the van, and the attendant most likely reported me to the authorities— which means the vehicle became compromised faster than I expected. I’ll need a different set of wheels if I’m to make it out of Miraflores. My heart hammers as I step on the gas, pushing the old van to its limits while keeping a careful eye on the road. One kilometer, one-point-five kilometers, two kilometers… My anxiety intensifies with every moment that passes. How long

before Esguerra’s men hear about the strange blonde at the gas station? How long until they start looking for the van via satellites? I can’t have more than a half hour at this point. Finally, after another kilometer, I see it: a small unpaved road that appears to lead to a farm of some kind. Praying that my hunch is correct, I turn onto it, leaving the main road. A couple of hundred meters later, I spot a storage shed. It’s a dozen meters to the right, and behind it is a thickly wooded area. I turn toward it and park the van behind the shed, under the cover of the trees. If I’m lucky, it won’t be spotted for some time. Now I need to locate another vehicle. Leaving the shed, I walk until I come across a barn with an old, beaten-up tractor in front of it. I don’t see any people, so I approach the barn and peek inside. Jackpot. Inside the barn is a small pick-up truck. It looks old and rusty, but its windows are clean. Someone uses it regularly. Holding my breath, I slip into the barn and approach the truck. The first thing I do is search the nearby shelves for keys; sometimes people are stupid enough to leave them next to the vehicle. Unfortunately, this particular farmer doesn’t seem to be stupid. The keys are nowhere to be found. Oh, well. I glance around and see a rock holding down a piece of tarp. I grab the rock and use it to smash the truck’s window. It’s a brute-force solution, but it’s faster than picking the locks. Now comes the hard part. Opening the driver’s door, I climb onto the seat and remove the ignition cover under the wheel. Then I study the tangle of wires, hoping I remember enough of this to not disable the vehicle or electrocute myself. We covered hot-wiring in training, but I’ve never had to do it in the field, and I have no idea if it’ll work. Every car is a little different; there’s no universal color system for the wires, and older cars, like this pick-up truck, are particularly tricky. If I had any other option, I wouldn’t risk it, but this is my best bet right now. Here goes nothing. Steadying my breathing, I begin testing the different combinations of wires. On my third attempt, the truck’s engine sputters to life. I exhale a relieved breath, close the door, and drive out of the barn, heading back

toward the main road. With any luck, the truck’s owner won’t discover it missing for some time, and I’ll make it to the next town before I have to get another vehicle.

AS I DRIVE, MY THOUGHTS TURN TO LUCAS. DID THE GUARDS angry? Does he feel like I betrayed him by leaving?

TELL HIM ABOUT MY ESCAPE? IS HE

I love you. I’m yours. Even now, my cheeks flame as I remember those words, said in a dream that might not have been a dream. Until that night, I didn’t know how I felt, didn’t realize how attached I’d become to my jailer. There was so much wrongness between us, so much fear and anger and mistrust that it took me a while to understand this strange longing. To make sense of something so irrational and senseless. I’ll miss you. Lucas said that to me as he cuddled me on his lap the next morning, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears. Did he know what he was doing to me with his confusing words of caring? Was that incongruous tenderness part of his diabolical revenge? An even more sadistic way to wreck me without inflicting so much as a bruise? The road blurs in front of me, and I realize the tears I held back that day are rolling down my face, the adrenaline from my escape sharpening the remembered pain. I don’t want to think about how Lucas broke me, how he promised me safety and tore my heart to pieces instead, but I can’t help it. The memories loop through my mind, and I can’t shut them off. Something about Lucas’s behavior that last day keeps nagging at me, some discordant note I registered but didn’t process fully at the time. “Do not fucking beg for him,” Lucas snapped when I pleaded for my brother to be spared. “I decide who lives, not you.” There were other things he said, too. Hurtful things. Yet when he took me that night, there hadn’t been anger in his touch. Lust, yes. Insane possessiveness, definitely. But not anger—at least not the kind of anger I would’ve expected from a man who hates me enough to let my only family be murdered. And that “I’ll miss you” the following morning. It just didn’t fit. None of it fit—unless that’s how Lucas wanted it. Maybe he wasn’t done mind-fucking me yet.

My head begins to ache from the confusion, and I wipe the tears off my face before tightening my grip on the wheel. Whatever Lucas planned for me no longer matters. I escaped, and I can’t keep looking back. I have to keep moving forward.

3

L

ucas

I WAKE UP FRIDAY MORNING WITH A THROBBING HEADACHE THAT ADDS TO MY FURY. I’VE BARELY SLEPT —Diego and Eduardo kept sending me hourly updates on their search for Yulia— and it takes two cups of coffee before I start feeling semi-human. As I’m getting ready to leave the kitchen, Rosa walks in, dressed in jeans instead of her usual conservative maid’s outfit. “Oh, hi, Lucas,” she says. “I was just looking for you.” “Oh?” I try not to glower at the girl. I still feel bad that I had to squash her little crush on me. It’s not Rosa’s fault that my prisoner escaped, and I don’t want to take out my shitty mood on the girl. “Señor Esguerra said I can explore the city today if I take a guard with me,” Rosa says, watching me warily. She must’ve picked up on my anger despite my attempts to look calm. “Is there anybody you could spare?” I consider her request. Truthfully, the answer is no. I don’t want to take any guards away from Nora’s parents’ house, and fifteen minutes ago, Esguerra texted me that he’s taking Nora to a park, which means he’ll need at least a dozen of our men to be in position there. “I’m going to Chicago today,” I say after a moment of deliberation. “I have a meeting there. You can come with me if you don’t mind waiting for a bit. Afterwards, I’ll take you wherever you want to go, and by lunchtime, one of the other guys will be available to replace me—assuming you want to stay in the city longer than a couple of hours, that is.”

“Oh, I…” A flush darkens Rosa’s bronzed skin, even as her eyes brighten with excitement. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing? I don’t have to go today if—” “It’s all right.” I remember what the girl told me on Wednesday about having never been to the United States before. “I’m sure you’re eager to see the city, and I don’t mind.” Maybe her company will get my mind off Yulia and the fact that my prisoner is still on the loose.

ROSA CHATTERS NONSTOP AS trivia she’s read online.

WE DRIVE TO

CHICAGO,

TELLING ME ALL ABOUT THE VARIOUS

CHICAGO

“And did you know that it’s named the Windy City because of politicians who were full of hot air?” she says as I turn onto West Adams Street in downtown Chicago and pull into the underground parking garage of a tall glass-and-steel building. “It has nothing to do with the actual wind coming off the lake. Isn’t that crazy?” “Yes, amazing,” I say absentmindedly, checking my phone as I get out of the car. To my disappointment, there’s no new update from Diego. Putting the phone away, I walk around the car and open the door for Rosa. “Come,” I say. “I’m already five minutes late.” Rosa hurries after me as I walk to the elevator. She takes two steps for every one of mine, and I can’t help comparing her bouncy walk to Yulia’s long-limbed, graceful stride. The maid is not quite as petite as Esguerra’s wife, but she still looks short to me—especially since I’ve gotten used to Yulia’s model-like height. Fucking stop thinking of her. My hands clench in my pockets as I wait for the elevator to arrive, only half-listening to Rosa chattering about the Magnificent Mile. The spy is like a splinter under my skin. No matter what I do, I can’t get her off my mind. Compulsively, I pull out my phone and check it again. Still nothing. “So what is your meeting about?” Rosa asks, and I realize she’s staring up at me expectantly. “Is it something for Señor Esguerra?” “No,” I say, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “It’s for me.” “Oh.” She looks deflated at my curt reply, and I sigh, reminding myself that I shouldn’t take out my frustration on the girl. She has nothing to do with Yulia and

the whole fucked-up situation. “I’m meeting with my portfolio manager,” I say as the elevator doors slide open. “I just need to catch up on my investments.” “Oh, I see.” Rosa grins as we step into the elevator. “You have investments, like Señor Esguerra.” “Yes.” I press the button for the top floor. “This guy is his portfolio manager as well.” The elevator whooshes upward, all sleek steel and gleaming surfaces, and less than a minute later, we’re stepping out into an equally sleek and modern reception area. For a twenty-six-year-old guy born in the projects, Jared Winters certainly leads a good life. His receptionist, a slim Japanese woman of indeterminate age, stands up as we approach. “Mr. Kent,” she says, giving me a polite smile. “Please, have a seat. Mr. Winters will be with you in a minute. May I offer you and your companion some refreshments?” “None for me, thanks.” I glance at Rosa. “Would you like anything?” “Um, no, thank you.” She’s staring at the floor-to-ceiling window and the city spread out below. “I’m good.” Before I have a chance to sit down in one of the plush seats by the window, a tall, dark-haired man steps out of the corner office and approaches me. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Winters says, reaching out to shake my hand. His green eyes gleam coolly behind his frameless glasses. “I was just finishing up a call.” “No worries. We’re a bit late ourselves.” He smiles, and I see his gaze flick over to Rosa, who’s still standing there, seemingly mesmerized by the view outside. “Your girlfriend, I presume?” Winters says quietly, and I blink, surprised by the personal question. “No,” I say, following him as he walks back toward his office. “More like my assignment for the next couple of hours.” “Ah.” Winters doesn’t say anything else, but as we enter his office, I see him

glance back at Rosa, as if unable to help himself.

4

Y ulia “YULIA TZAKOVA?” My heart leaps into my throat as I spin around, my hand automatically clutching the knife tucked into my jeans. There is a dark-haired man standing in front of me. He looks average in every way; even his sunglasses and cap are standard issue. He could’ve been anyone in the busy Villavicencio marketplace, but he’s not. He’s Obenko’s Venezuelan contact. “Yes,” I say, keeping my hand on the knife. “Are you Contreras?” He nods. “Please follow me,” he says in Spanish-accented Russian. I drop my hand from the knife handle and follow the man as he begins winding through the crowd. Like him, I’m wearing a cap and sunglasses—two items I stole at another gas station on the way here—but I still feel like someone might point at me and yell, “That’s her. That’s the spy Esguerra’s men are looking for.” To my relief, nobody pays me much attention. In addition to the cap and sunglasses, I acquired a voluminous T-shirt and baggy jeans at that same gas station. With the shapeless clothes and my hair tucked into the cap, I look more like a teenage boy than a young woman. Contreras leads me to a nondescript blue van parked on the street corner. “Where’s the vehicle you used to get here?” he asks as I climb into the back. “I left it a dozen blocks from here, like Obenko instructed,” I say. I’ve spoken to my boss twice since my initial contact at Miraflores, and he gave me the location of

this meeting and orders on how to proceed. “I don’t think I was followed.” “Maybe not, but we need to get you out of the country in the next few hours,” Contreras says, starting the van. “Esguerra is expanding the net. They already have your picture at all the border crossings.” “So how are you going to get me out?” “There’s a crate in the back,” Contreras says as we pull out into the traffic. “And one of the border guards owes me a favor. With some luck, that will suffice.” I nod, feeling the cold air from the van’s AC washing over my sweaty face. I drove all night, stopping only to steal another car and get the clothes, and I’m exhausted. I’ve been on the lookout for the sound of helicopter blades and the whine of sirens every minute I’ve been on the road. The fact that I’ve gotten this far without incident is nothing short of a miracle, and I know my luck could run out at any moment. Still, even that fear is not enough to overcome my exhaustion. As Contreras’s van gets on the highway, heading northeast, I feel my eyelids closing, and I don’t fight the drugging pull of sleep. I just need to nap for a few minutes, and then I’ll be ready to face whatever comes next.

“WAKE UP, YULIA.” The hushed urgency of Contreras’s tone yanks me out of a dream where I’m watching a movie with Lucas. My eyes snap open as I sit up and quickly take in the situation. It’s already twilight, and we appear stuck in some kind of traffic. “Where are we? What is this?” “Roadblock,” Contreras says tersely. “They’re checking all the cars. You need to get in the crate, now.” “Your border guard isn’t—” “No, we’re still some twenty miles from the Venezuelan border. I don’t know what this roadblock is about, but it can’t be good.” Shit. I unbuckle my seatbelt and crawl through a small window into the back of the van. As Contreras said, there is a crate back there, but it looks far too small to

fit a person. A child, maybe, but not a woman of my height. Then again, in magic acts, they fit people into all kinds of seemingly too-small containers. That’s how the cut-in-half trick is often done: one flexible girl is the “upper body” and a second one is “legs.” I’m not as flexible as a typical magician’s assistant, but I’m far more motivated. Opening the crate, I lie down on my back and try to fold my legs in such a way that I’d be able to close the lid over me. After a couple of frustrating minutes, I concede that it’s an impossible task; my knees are at least five centimeters above the edge of the crate. Why did Contreras get a crate this small? A few centimeters deeper, and I would’ve been fine. The van begins moving, and I realize we’re getting closer to the checkpoint. At any moment, the doors at the back of the van will open, and I’ll be discovered. I need to fit into this fucking crate. Gritting my teeth, I turn sideways and try to wedge my knees into the tiny space between my chest and the side of the crate. They don’t fit, so I suck in a breath and try again, ignoring the burst of pain in my kneecap as it bumps against the metal edge. As I struggle, I hear raised voices speaking Spanish and feel the van come to a stop again. We’re at the checkpoint. Frantic, I turn and grab the lid of the crate, pulling it over me with shaking hands. There are footsteps, followed by voices at the back of the van. They’re going to open the doors. My heart pounding, I flatten myself into an impossibly tiny ball, squashing my breasts with my knees. Even with the numbing effects of adrenaline, my body screams with pain at the unnatural position. The lid meets the edge of the crate, and the van doors swing open.

5

L

ucas

MY MEETING WITH WINTERS TAKES JUST UNDER AN HOUR. WE GO OVER THE CURRENT STATE OF MY investments and discuss how to proceed given the recent froth in the market. In the time that Jared Winters has been managing my portfolio, he’s tripled it to just over twelve million, so I’m not particularly concerned when he says he’s liquidating most of my equity holdings and getting ready to short a popular tech stock. “The CEO is about to get in some serious legal trouble,” Winters explains, and I don’t bother asking how he knows that. Trading on insider information may be a crime, but our contacts at the SEC ensure that Winters’s fund is nowhere on their radar. “How much are you putting behind the trade?” I ask. “Seven million,” Winters replies. “It’s going to get ugly.” “All right,” I say. “Go for it.” Seven million is a sizable sum, but if the tech stock is about to drop as much as Winters thinks, it could easily be another triple or more. We go over a few more upcoming trades, and then Winters walks me out to the reception area, where Rosa is reading a magazine. “Ready to go?” I ask, and she nods. Getting up, she places the magazine back on the coffee table and beams at me and Winters. “Definitely ready.” “Thanks again,” I say, turning to shake Winters’s hand, but he’s not looking at me.

He’s staring at Rosa, his green gaze oddly intent. “Winters?” I prod, amused. He tears his eyes away from her. “Oh, yes. It was a pleasure,” he mutters, shaking my hand, and before I can say another word, he strides back into his office and shuts the door behind him.

AS I PROMISED ROSA, AFTER THE MEETING I TAKE HER SHOPPING ON THE MAGNIFICENT MILE—ALSO known as Michigan Avenue. As she tries on a bunch of dresses at a department store, I take a seat next to the fitting room and check my email again. This time, there’s a short message from Diego: Located the stolen pick-up truck at a gas station near Granada. No other cars reported stolen for now. Blockades up at all the major roads as per your instructions. I put the phone away, frustrated anger churning in my gut. They still haven’t found Yulia, and by now, she could be in another country. She has undoubtedly made contact with her agency, and depending on how resourceful they are, it’s entirely possible that they’ve smuggled her out. For all I know, she’s already on a plane, flying to her lover. “How do you like this?” Rosa asks, and I turn to see that she’s come out of the fitting room in a short, form-fitting yellow dress. “It’s nice,” I say on autopilot. “You should get it.” Objectively, I can see that the dark-haired girl looks good in that dress, but all I can think about right now is the fact that Yulia may be on her way to Misha… to the man she truly loves. “All right.” Rosa gives me a huge smile. “I will.” She hurries back into the fitting room, and I pull out my phone to fire off an email to the hackers looking into UUR. Even if Yulia managed to get away, she won’t stay free for long. No matter what it takes, I’ll find her, and she’ll never escape again.

6

Y ulia “SORRY ABOUT THAT,” CONTRERAS SAYS, PULLING THE LID be this tall. I’m glad you were able to fit in there.”

OFF MY CRATE.

“I

DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO

I groan as he pulls me out, my muscles cramping from being stuck in the tiny crate for the last hour. My knees feel like two giant bruises, and my spine is throbbing from being squashed against the side of the crate. I am, however, alive and across the Venezuelan border—which means it was all worth it. “It’s okay,” I say, rotating my head in a semi-circle. My neck is painfully stiff, but it’s nothing a good massage won’t cure. “It fooled the police and border patrol. They didn’t even try looking into the crate.” Contreras nods. “That’s why I brought it. It looks too small to fit a person, but when one is determined…” He shrugs. “Yeah.” I rotate my head again and stretch, trying to get my muscles working. “So what’s the plan now?” “Now we get you to the plane. Obenko has already arranged everything. By tomorrow, you should be in Kiev, safe and sound.”

OUR DRIVE TO THE SMALL AIRSTRIP TAKES LESS THAN AN HOUR, AND THEN WE’RE PULLING UP IN FRONT of an ancient-looking jet. “Here we are,” Contreras says. “Your people will take it from here.” “Thank you,” I say, and he nods as I open the door.

“Good luck,” he says in his Spanish-accented Russian, and I smile at him before jumping out of the van and hurrying to the plane. As I walk up the ladder, a middle-aged man steps out, blocking the entrance. “Code?” he says, his hand resting on a gun at his side. Eyeing the weapon warily, I tell him my identification number. Technically, eliminating me would accomplish the same thing as getting me away from Esguerra: I wouldn’t be able to spill any more UUR secrets. In fact, it would be an even neater solution… Before my mind can travel too far down that path, the man lowers his hand and steps aside, letting me enter the plane. “Welcome, Yulia Borisovna,” he says, using my real patronymic. “We’re glad you made it.”

7

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ucas

BY SATURDAY MORNING, I’M CONVINCED THAT YULIA MUST BE BACK IN UKRAINE. DIEGO AND Eduardo were able to track her as far as Venezuela, but her trail seems to have gone cold there. “I think she left the country,” Diego says when I call him for an update. “A private plane registered to a shell corporation filed a flight plan to Mexico, but there’s no record of it landing anywhere in that country. It must’ve been her people, and if that’s the case, she’s gone.” “That’s not a fact. Keep looking,” I say, even though I know he’s most likely right. Yulia got away, and if I’m to have any hope of recapturing her, I’ll have to widen the net and call on some of our international contacts. I consider bringing Esguerra up to speed on the whole situation, but decide to postpone it until Sunday. Today is his wife’s twentieth birthday, and I know he’s not in the mood to be bothered. All my boss cares about is giving Nora everything she wants—including a trip to a popular nightclub in downtown Chicago. “You do realize guarding that place will be a nightmare, right?” I tell him when he brings up the outing at lunchtime. “It’s too many people. And on a Saturday night—” “Yes, I know,” Esguerra says. “But this is what Nora requested, so let’s figure out a way to make it happen.” We spend the next two hours going through the club schematics and deciding

where to station all the guards. It’s unlikely that any of Esguerra’s enemies will catch wind of this, since it’s such a spur-of-the-moment event, but we still decide to position snipers in the buildings nearby and have the other guards within a oneblock radius of the club. My role will be to stay in the car and keep an eye on the club’s entrance, in case there’s any threat coming from that direction. We also work out a plan for securing the restaurant where Esguerra and his wife will have dinner before going to the club. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Esguerra says as we’re wrapping up. “Nora wants Rosa to join us at the club. Can you have one of the guards drive her there?” “Yes, I think so,” I say after a moment of consideration. “Thomas can bring the girl to the club before taking his position at the end of the block.” “That would work.” Esguerra rises to his feet. “I’ll see you tonight.” He leaves the room, and I go outside to assign the guards their tasks.

ESGUERRA’S DINNER OUTING PASSES WITHOUT AN INCIDENT, AND AFTERWARDS, I DRIVE HIM AND NORA to the club. Rosa is already waiting there, dressed in the yellow dress she bought on our shopping trip. The moment Nora steps out of the car, Rosa runs up to her, and I hear the two young women chattering excitedly as they head into the club. Esguerra follows them, looking mildly amused, and I stay in the car, settling in for what promises to be a long, boring night. After about an hour, I eat a sandwich I packed earlier and check my email. To my relief, there’s an update from our hackers. Finally broke through the Ukrainian government’s firewalls and deciphered some files, the email reads. UUR is an acronym for Ukrainskoye Upravleniye Razvedki, which roughly translates to “Ukrainian Intelligence Bureau.” It’s an offthe-books spy group that was established in response to their main security agency’s corruption and close ties to Russia. We’re now working on decoding a message that may point to two UUR field operatives and a location in Kiev. Smiling grimly, I write a reply and put away the phone. It’s only a matter of time before we take down Yulia’s organization. And once we do, she’ll have nowhere to run, no one to help her. No lover she could return to. My teeth clench as violent jealousy spears through me. Yulia could be with him already, with this Misha of hers. He could be holding her at this very moment.

He could even be fucking her. The thought fills me with blazing fury. If I had the man in front of me right now, I’d kill him with my bare hands and make Yulia watch. It would be her punishment for this latest betrayal. A buzzing vibration from my phone cuts into my vengeful thoughts. Grabbing it, I read Esguerra’s text, and my blood turns to ice. Nora and Rosa attacked, the message says. Rosa taken. I’m going after her. Alert the others.

8

Y ulia THE FAMILIAR SMELL OF CAR EXHAUST AND LILACS FILLS MY NOSTRILS AS THE CAR WEAVES THROUGH the busy Kiev streets. The man Obenko sent to pick me up at the airport is someone I’ve never seen before, and he doesn’t talk much, leaving me free to take in the sights of the city where I lived and trained for five years. “We’re not going to the Institute?” I ask the driver when the car makes an unfamiliar turn. “No,” the man replies. “I’m taking you to a safe house.” “Is Obenko there?” The driver nods. “He’s waiting for you.” “Great.” I take a steadying breath. I should be relieved to be here, but instead, I feel tense and anxious. And it’s not just because I screwed up and compromised the organization. Obenko doesn’t deal kindly with failure, but the fact that he extracted me from Colombia instead of killing me eases my worry in that regard. No, the main source of my anxiety is the empty feeling inside me, an ache that’s growing more acute with every hour without Lucas. I feel like I’m going through a withdrawal—except that would make Lucas my drug, and I refuse to accept that. Whatever I had begun to feel for my captor will pass. It has to, because there’s no other alternative. Lucas and I are over for good. “We’re here,” the driver says, stopping in front of an unassuming four-story apartment building. It looks just like every other building in this neighborhood: old

and rundown, the outside covered with a dull yellowish plaster from the Soviet era. The scent of lilacs is stronger here; it’s coming from a park across the street. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve enjoyed the fragrance that I associate with spring, but today it reminds me of the jungle I left behind—and, by extension, the man who held me there. The driver leaves the car by the curb and leads me into the building. It’s a walkup, and the stairwell is as rundown as the building’s exterior. When we walk past the first floor, I hear raised voices and catch a whiff of urine and vomit. “Who are those people on the first floor?” I ask as we stop in front of an apartment on the second floor. “Are they civilians?” “Yes.” The driver knocks on the door. “They’re too busy getting drunk to pay us much attention.” I don’t have a chance to ask more questions because the door swings open, and I see a dark-haired man standing there. His wide forehead is creased, and lines of tension bracket his thin mouth. “Come in, Yulia,” Vasiliy Obenko says, stepping back to let me enter. “We have a lot to discuss.”

OVER THE NEXT TWO HOURS, I GO THROUGH AN INTERROGATION AS GRUELING AS ANYTHING I’D experienced in the Russian prison. In addition to Obenko, there are two senior UUR agents, Sokov and Mateyenko. Like my boss, they’re in their forties, their trim bodies honed into deadly weapons over decades of training. The three of them sit across from me at the kitchen table and take turns asking questions. They want to know everything from the details of my escape to the exact information I gave Lucas about UUR. “I still don’t understand how he broke you,” Obenko says when I’m done recounting that story. “How did he know about that incident with Kirill?” My face burns with shame. “He learned about it as a result of a nightmare I had.” And because I had confided in Lucas afterwards, but I don’t say that. I don’t want my boss to know that he had been right about me all along—that when it mattered, I couldn’t control my emotions. “And in this nightmare, you what… spoke about your trainer?” It’s Sokov who asks me this, his stern expression making it clear that he doubts my story. “Do you usually talk in your sleep, Yulia Borisovna?”

“No, but these weren’t exactly usual circumstances.” I do my best not to sound defensive. “I was held prisoner and placed in situations that were triggers for me— that would be triggers for any woman who’d undergone an assault.” “What exactly were those situations?” Mateyenko cuts in. “You don’t look particularly maltreated.” I bite back an angry response. “I wasn’t physically tortured or starved, I already told you that,” I say evenly. “Kent’s methods of interrogation were more psychological in nature. And yes, that was in large part due to the fact that he found me attractive. Hence the triggers.” The two agents exchange looks, and Obenko frowns at me. “So he raped you, and that triggered your nightmares?” “He…” My throat tightens as I recall my body’s helpless response to Lucas. “It was the overall situation. I didn’t handle it well.” The agents look at each other again, and then Mateyenko says, “Tell us more about the woman who helped you escape. What did you say her name was?” Calling on every bit of patience I possess, I recount my encounters with Rosa for the third time. After that, Sokov asks me to go through my escape again, minute by minute, and then Mateyenko interrogates me about the security logistics of Esguerra’s compound. “Look,” I say after another hour of nonstop questions, “I’ve told you everything I know. Whatever you may think of me, the threat to the agency is real. Esguerra’s organization has taken down entire terrorist networks, and they’re coming after us. If you have any contingency measures in place, now is the time to implement them. Get yourselves and your families to safety.” Obenko studies me for a moment, then nods. “We’re done for today,” he says, turning toward the two agents. “Yulia is tired after her long journey. We’ll resume this tomorrow.” The two men depart, and I slump in my chair, feeling even emptier than before.

9

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AS SOON AS I READ ESGUERRA’S MESSAGE, I RADIO THE GUARDS AND ORDER HALF OF THEM TO HEAD TO the club. None of them had noticed any suspicious activity, which means that the threat, whatever it was, had come from within the club, not outside as we’d expected. I’m about to rush into the club myself when I get another text from Esguerra: Recovered Rosa. Follow the white SUV. I instantly radio the guards to do so, and at that moment, another message comes in: Bring the car to the alley out back. I start the car and zoom around the block, nearly running over a couple of pedestrians in the process. The alley at the back of the club is dark and stinks of garbage mixed with piss, but I barely register the ambience. Stepping out of the car, I wait, my hand on the gun at my side. A few seconds later, the men radio me that they located the white SUV and are following it. I’m about to give them further instructions when the door to the club swings open, and Nora comes out, her arms wrapped around Rosa. Esguerra follows them, his face twisted with rage. As the light from the car illuminates their figures, I realize why. Both women are shaking, their faces pale and streaked with tears. However, it’s Rosa’s state that sends my blood pressure through the roof. Her bright yellow dress is torn and stained with blood, and one side of her face is grotesquely swollen. The girl had been violently assaulted, just like Yulia seven years ago.

A crimson fog fills my vision. I know my reaction is disproportional—Rosa is little more than a stranger to me—but I can’t help it. The images in my mind are of a fragile fifteen-year-old, her slender body torn and bleeding. I can see the shame and devastation on Rosa’s face, and the knowledge that Yulia went through this makes my guts churn. “Those fuckers.” My voice is thick with rage as I step around the car to open the door. “Those motherfucking fuckers. They’re going to fucking die.” “Yes, they will,” Esguerra says grimly, but I’m not listening. Reaching for Rosa, I carefully pull her away from Nora. Esguerra’s wife doesn’t appear to be hurt as badly, but she’s still clearly shaken. Rosa sobs as I shepherd her into the car, and I do my best to be gentle with her, to comfort her as I couldn’t comfort Yulia all those years ago. As I buckle her in, I hear Esguerra say his wife’s name, his voice strangely tense, and I turn to see Nora double over next to the car. The baby, I realize in an instant, remembering her pregnancy, but Esguerra is already bundling her into the car and yelling for me to drive to the hospital, now.

WE GET TO THE HOSPITAL IN RECORD TIME, BUT LONG BEFORE ESGUERRA COMES OUT INTO THE WAITING room, I know that the baby didn’t make it. There was too much blood in the car. “I’m sorry,” I say, taking in my boss’s shattered expression. “How’s Nora?” “They stopped the bleeding.” Esguerra’s voice is hoarse. “She wants to go home, so that’s what we’ll do. We’ll take Rosa, too.” I nod. I told the hospital I’m Rosa’s boyfriend, so I’ve been getting regular updates on her condition. As expected, the girl has refused to talk to the police, and since none of her injuries are life-threatening, she doesn’t need to stay overnight. “All right,” I say. “You take care of your wife, and I’ll get Rosa.” Esguerra goes back to Nora, and I follow up with our cleanup crew, giving them instructions on what to do with the guy they found knocked out at the club. From the little I pieced together via Rosa’s hysterical explanations, the maid had been attacked in the back room of the club by two men she’d danced with earlier. Nora came to her rescue, knocking out a third guy who had been guarding the room. Esguerra made it there in the nick of time, killing one of the assailants, but the other one dragged Rosa outside and would’ve taken his turn in the car if Esguerra hadn’t saved her. It was that man who got away in the white SUV—the SUV whose

license plate I’m tracking now. Once we know his identity, the driver of that SUV is as good as dead. Putting the phone away, I go to get Rosa. When I walk into her room, I find her sitting on the bed in nurse’s scrubs; the hospital staff must’ve given them to her to replace her torn dress. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, and her face is bruised and pale. An image of Yulia flashes through my mind again, and I have to take a deep breath to suppress a swell of rage. Keeping my movements slow and gentle, I approach the bed. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, clasping Rosa’s elbow to help her to her feet. “I really am. Can you walk, or would you like me to carry you?” “I can walk.” Her voice is thin, high-pitched with anxiety, and I drop my hand when I realize my touch is upsetting her. “I’m fine.” It’s an obvious lie, but I don’t call her out on it. I just match my pace to her slower one, and lead her out to the car.

AN HOUR AFTER WE GET BACK TO ESGUERRA’S MANSION, MY BOSS COMES where I’m waiting to fill him in on the developing situation.

DOWN TO THE LIVING ROOM,

“Where’s Rosa?” he asks. His voice is calm, betraying nothing of the hollow agony I see in his gaze. He’s compartmentalizing to cope with what happened, choosing to focus on what needs to be done rather than dwelling on what can’t be fixed. “She’s asleep,” I answer, rising from the couch. “I gave her Ambien and made sure she took a shower.” “Good. Thank you.” Esguerra crosses the room to stand in front of me. “Now tell me everything.” “The cleanup crew took care of the body and captured the kid Nora knocked out in the hallway,” I say. “They’re holding him in a warehouse I rented on the South Side.” “Good. What about the white car?” “The men were able to follow it to one of the residential high-rises downtown. At that point, it disappeared into a parking garage, and they decided against pursuing it there. I’ve already run the license plate number.” “And?”

“And it seems like we might have a problem,” I say. “Does the name Patrick Sullivan mean anything to you?” Esguerra frowns. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.” “The Sullivans own half of this town,” I say, recounting what I just learned about our newest enemy. “Prostitution, drugs, weapons—you name it, they have their fingers in it. Patrick Sullivan heads up the family, and he’s got just about every local politician and police chief in his pocket.” “Ah.” There’s a flicker of recognition on Esguerra’s face. “What does Patrick Sullivan have to do with this?” “He has two sons,” I explain. “Or rather, he had two sons. Brian and Sean. Brian is currently marinating in lye at our rented warehouse, and Sean is the owner of the white SUV.” “I see,” Esguerra says, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. The rapists’ connection complicates matters, but it also explains why they attacked Rosa in such a public place. They’re used to their mobster father getting them out of trouble, and it never occurred to them that they might be crossing someone just as dangerous. “Also,” I say while Esguerra is digesting everything, “the kid we’ve got strung up in that warehouse is their seventeen-year-old cousin, Sullivan’s nephew. His name is Jimmy. Apparently, he and the two brothers are close. Or were close, I should say.” Esguerra’s blue eyes narrow. “Do they have any idea who we are? Could they have singled out Rosa to get at me?” “No, I don’t think so.” A fresh wave of anger makes my jaw clench. “The Sullivan brothers have a nasty history with women. Date-rape drugs, sexual assault, gang bangs of sorority girls—the list goes on and on. If it weren’t for their father, they’d be rotting in prison right now.” “I see.” Esguerra’s mouth twists coldly. “Well, by the time we’re done with them, they’ll wish they were.” I nod. The minute I learned about Patrick Sullivan, I knew we’d be going to war. “Should I organize a strike team?” I ask, gripped by familiar anticipation. I haven’t been in a good battle in a while. “No, not yet,” Esguerra says. He turns away and walks over to stand by the window. I don’t know what he’s looking at, but he’s silent for well over a minute

before he turns back to face me. “I want Nora and her parents taken to the estate before we do anything,” he says, and I see the harsh resolve on his face. “Sean Sullivan will have to wait. For now, we’ll focus on the nephew.” “All right.” I incline my head. “I’ll begin making the arrangements.”

10

Y ulia I SLEEP FITFULLY MY FIRST NIGHT AT THE SAFE HOUSE, WAKING UP EVERY COUPLE OF HOURS FROM nightmares. I don’t remember the exact details of those dreams, but I know Lucas is in them, and so is my brother. The scenes are a blur in my mind, but I recall bits and pieces involving trains, lizards, gunfire, and underneath it all, the delicate scent of lilacs. Around five in the morning, I give up trying to fall back asleep. Getting up, I put on a robe and wander into the kitchen to make myself some tea. Obenko is there, reading a newspaper, and as I enter, he looks up, his hazel eyes sharp and clear despite the early hour. “Jet-lagged?” he asks, and I nod. It’s as good of an explanation for my state as any. “Want some tea?” I offer, pouring water into a tea kettle and setting it on the stove. “No, thanks.” He studies me, and I wonder what he’s seeing. A traitor? A failure? Someone who’s now more of a liability than an asset? I used to care what my boss thought, craving his approval as I once craved my parents’, but right now, I can’t work up any interest in his opinion. There’s only one thing I care about this morning. “My brother,” I say, sitting down after I make myself a cup of Earl Grey. “How is he? Where’s your sister’s family now?” “They’re safe.” Obenko folds his newspaper. “We’ve relocated them to a

different location.” “Do you have any new pictures for me?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager. “No.” Obenko sighs. “We thought you were gone, and when you contacted us, I’m afraid taking photos wasn’t our main priority.” I take a scalding sip of tea to mask my disappointment. “I see.” Obenko lets out another sigh. “Yulia… It’s been eleven years. You need to let go of Misha. Your brother has a life that doesn’t involve you.” “I know that, but I don’t think a few pictures every now and then is too much to ask.” My tone is sharper than I intended. “It’s not like I’m asking to see him…” I pause as the idea takes hold of me. “Well, actually, since you don’t have the pictures, maybe I can just view him from a distance,” I say, my pulse accelerating in excitement. “I could use binoculars or a telescope. He would never know.” Obenko’s gaze hardens. “We’ve talked about this, Yulia. You know why you can’t see him.” “Because it would deepen my irrational attachment,” I say, parroting his words to me. “Yes, I know you said that, but I disagree. I could’ve died in that Russian prison, or been tortured to death by Esguerra. The fact that I’m sitting here today —“ “Has nothing to do with Misha and the agreement we made eleven years ago,” Obenko says. “You fucked up on this assignment. Because of you, your brother has already been uprooted, forced to change schools and give up his friends. You don’t get to make demands today.” My fingers tighten on the tea cup. “I’m not demanding,” I say evenly. “I’m asking. I know it was my mistake that led to this situation, and I’m sorry. But I don’t see how that’s relevant to the matter at hand. I spent six years in Moscow doing exactly what you wanted me to do. I sent you a lot of valuable intel. All I want in return is to see my brother from a distance. I wouldn’t approach him, wouldn’t speak to him—I would just look at him. Why is that a problem?” Obenko stands up. “Drink your tea, Yulia,” he says, ignoring my question. “There will be another debriefing at eleven.”

11

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I SPEND THE NIGHT COORDINATING WITH THE CLEANUP CREW AND PREPARING FOR OUR DEPARTURE. IF there’s any silver lining to this disaster, it’s that we’re going home early, and I will soon be able to hunt down Yulia with no distractions. First, though, I need to take care of the situation here. I begin by making breakfast for Rosa, who hasn’t come out of her room this morning. At first, I’m tempted to slap together a sandwich, but then I decide to try my hand at one of the omelets I’ve watched Yulia make. It takes me two attempts, but I succeed at producing something that resembles one of Yulia’s delicious confections. It doesn’t taste half-bad either, I decide, trying a bite before putting half of the omelet on a plate for Rosa. Holding the plate with one hand, I knock on the door of Rosa’s bedroom. After a couple of minutes, I hear footsteps, and she opens the door. She’s dressed in a long, shapeless T-shirt, and to my relief, her eyes are dry, though the bruising on her face looks even worse. “Hi,” I say, forcing a smile. “I made an omelet. Would you like some?” The maid blinks, looking surprised. “Oh… Sure, thanks.” She accepts the plate and glances at it. “That looks great, thank you, Lucas.” “You’re welcome.” I study her injuries, my stomach tightening at the sight. “How are you feeling?” Her face flushes, and she looks away. “I’m fine.” “Okay.” I can tell she doesn’t want company, so I say, “If you need anything,

just let me know,” and then I head back into the kitchen. I need to eat my own breakfast before tackling the next task.

BY THE TIME ESGUERRA COMES OUT OF THE HOUSE, EVERYTHING IS READY FOR HIM. “I brought the cousin here,” I say when my boss steps out onto the driveway. “I figured you might not want to go all the way to Chicago today.” “Excellent.” Esguerra’s eyes gleam darkly. “Where is he?” “In that van over there.” I point at a black van I parked behind the trees farthest from the neighbors. We walk toward it together, and Esguerra asks, “Has he given us any info yet?” “He gave us access codes to his cousin’s parking garage and building elevators,” I say. “It wasn’t difficult to get him to talk. I figured I’d leave the rest of the interrogation to you, in case you wanted to speak to him in person.” “That’s good thinking. I definitely do.” Approaching the van, Esguerra opens the back doors and peers into the dark interior. I know what he’s seeing: a skinny teenager, gagged and with his ankles tied to his wrists behind his back. He’s the third guy, the one Nora knocked out at the club yesterday. I’ve already had a couple of guards work him over, and now he’s ready for Esguerra. My boss doesn’t waste time. Climbing into the van, he turns around and asks, “Are the walls soundproof?” I nod. “About ninety percent.” I can smell the urine and sweat inside the van, and I know these odors will soon be overwhelmed by the coppery stench of blood. “Good,” Esguerra says. “That should suffice.” He closes the van doors, locking himself in with the boy, and a minute later, the sound of his victim’s pleas and screams fills the air. I tune them out, letting Esguerra have his fun while I read the latest update from Diego and Eduardo. They found a record of the private plane landing in Kiev, so Yulia is definitely out of Colombia. I forward Diego’s findings to the hackers, and when Esguerra is done, I wrap the teenager’s body in a plastic sheet and message the cleaning crew to come in.

HALF AN HOUR LATER, I’M WALKING another text from Esguerra.

BACK TOWARD THE HOUSE WHEN MY PHONE VIBRATES WITH

New development. Need to expedite the departure. My adrenaline spikes. Entering the house, I intercept Esguerra in the hallway. “What happened?” “Frank, our CIA contact, emailed me,” Esguerra says, pushing back his wet hair. He must’ve taken a shower to get rid of the Sullivan kid’s blood. “An artist’s sketch of myself, Nora, and Rosa is being circulated in the local FBI’s office. It had to have come from the Sullivan brother who got away in that white SUV. I’m guessing it won’t be long before the Sullivans find out who we are, and given what I did to the other Sullivan brother in the club and the cousin just now…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to. Esguerra and I both know Patrick Sullivan will be out for blood. “I’ll send Thomas to prepare the plane,” I say. “Do you think Nora’s parents can be ready to go in the next hour?” “They’ll have to be ready,” Esguerra says. “I want them and the women away before we do anything.” “How many guards should we send on the plane with them?” “Four, just in case,” Esguerra says after a moment of deliberation. “The rest can stay to be part of our strike team.” “All right. I’ll go tell the others and make sure Rosa is ready to go.”

WE ARRIVE AT ESGUERRA’S IN-LAWS’ HOUSE IN FULL FORCE, OUR LIMO FOLLOWED BY SEVEN ARMORED SUVs transporting twenty-three guards. The neighbors gape at us, and I feel a twinge of amusement at the thought of Nora’s parents trying to explain this to their suburban acquaintances. I’m sure the good people of Oak Lawn have heard rumors about Nora’s arms dealer husband, but hearing and seeing are two different things. Predictably, the parents aren’t ready yet, so Esguerra and his wife go in to round them up. Rosa stays in the car, explaining to Nora that she doesn’t want to be in the way. When we’re alone, I turn around and look at Rosa through the limo partition.

“Would you like some music?” I ask, but she shakes her head. She’s not speaking, just staring out the window, and I’m sure she’s thinking about what happened yesterday. Not wanting to discomfit her, I roll up the partition and use the time to check on the plane. Thomas assures me that it’s ready to go, so I double-check my weapons —an M16 slung across my chest and a Glock 26 strapped to my leg. I’d like to be even better armed, but I’m driving. Fortunately, Esguerra has an entire arsenal in the back under one of the seats. I’m hoping we won’t need it, but we’re prepared in case we do. Some forty minutes later, Esguerra comes out of the house, hauling a huge suitcase. He’s followed by Nora’s father with another suitcase, and finally, Nora and her mother. Though there’s plenty of room in the back, Rosa comes to sit at the front with me, explaining that she wants to give the four of them more room. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asks, glancing at me, and I give her a reassuring smile. “No, please have a seat.” I roll up the partition again, separating us from the main cabin, and start the car. “How are you doing?” “Fine.” Her voice is quiet but steady. I don’t press her for more, and we drive in comfortable silence for some time. It’s not until we pull off the interstate onto a two-lane highway that Rosa speaks again. “Lucas,” she says quietly. “I’d like to ask you for a favor.” Surprised, I glance at her before directing my attention back to the road. “What is it?” “If there’s ever a chance—” Her voice breaks. “If you ever get them, I want to be there. Okay? I just want to be there.” She doesn’t spell it out, but I understand. “You got it,” I promise. “I’ll make sure you see justice served.” “Thank you—” she begins, but at that moment, I catch a glimpse of movement in the side mirror, and my pulse leaps. On the narrow highway behind our SUVs is an entire cavalcade of cars, and they’re gaining on us quickly. I floor the gas pedal with a surge of adrenaline. The limo jerks forward, accelerating at a mad pace, and I lower the partition to meet Esguerra’s gaze in the

rearview mirror. “We have a tail,” I say tersely. “They’re onto us, and they’re coming with everything they’ve got.”

12

Y ulia “BAYU-BAYUSHKI-BAYU, NE LOZHISYA NA KRAYU…” MY MOM IS SINGING A RUSSIAN LULLABY TO ME, her voice soft and sweet as I snuggle deeper into the blanket. “Pridyot seren’kiy volchok, i ukusit za bochok…” Her crooning is off-key and the words are about a gray wolf that will bite my side if I lie too close to the edge of the bed, but the melody is warm and comforting, like my mom’s smile. I bask in it, savoring it for as long as I can, but with each word, my mom’s voice gets fainter and softer, until there’s only silence. Silence and cold, empty darkness. “Don’t go, Mom,” I whisper. “Stay home. Don’t go to Grandpa tonight. Please, stay home.” But there’s no response. There’s never a response. There’s only darkness and the sound of Misha crying. He’s feverish and wants our parents. I pick him up and rock him back and forth, the sturdy weight of his toddler’s body anchoring me in the sea of darkness. “It’s okay, Mishen’ka. It’s okay. We’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. We’ll be okay, I promise.” But he doesn’t stop crying. He cries all through the night. His screams get hysterical when the headmistress comes for him in the morning, and I know she did something to him. I saw the bruises on his legs when he came out of her office last evening. She hurt him somehow, traumatized him. He hasn’t stopped crying since. “No, don’t take him.” I struggle to hold on to Misha, but she pushes me away, taking my brother with her. I come after her, but two older boys block my way,

forming a human wall in front of me. “Don’t do it,” one of the boys says. “It won’t help.” His eyes are pitch black, like the darkness around me, and I feel myself spinning. I’m lost, so lost in that darkness. “I have a proposition for you, Yulia.” A man dressed in a suit smiles at me, his hazel eyes cold and calculating. “A deal, if you will. You’re not too young to make a deal, are you?” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “I’m eleven. I can do anything.” “Bayu-bayushki-bayu, ne lozhisya na krayu…” “It’s your fault, bitch.” Cruel hands seize me, dragging me into the darkness. “It’s all your fault.” “Pridyot seren’kiy volchok, i ukusit za bochok…” The melody trails off again, and I’m crying, crying and fighting as I fall deeper into the darkness. “Tell me about the program.” Strong arms catch me, imprisoning me against a muscular male body. I know I should be terrified, but when I look up and meet the man’s pale gaze, I’m suffused with heat. His face is hard, every feature carved from stone, but his blue-gray eyes hold the kind of warmth I haven’t felt in years. There’s a promise of safety there, and something else. Something I crave with all my soul. “Lucas…” I’m filled with desperation as I reach for him. “Please fuck me. Please.” He drives into me, his thick cock stretching me, spearing me, and the heat of him dispels the lingering coldness. I’m burning, and it’s not enough. I need more. “I love you,” I whisper, my nails digging into his muscled back. “I love you, Lucas.” “Yulia.” His voice is cold and distant as he says my name. “Yulia, it’s time.” “Please,” I beg, reaching for Lucas, but he’s already fading away. “Please don’t go. Stay with me.” “Yulia.” A hand lands on my shoulder. “Wake up.” Gasping, I sit up in bed and stare into Obenko’s cool hazel gaze. My heart is drumming in my throat, and I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat. Turning my head, I take in the sight of peeling wallpaper and gray light seeping through a dirty window. There’s no Lucas here, nobody to catch me in the darkness.

I’m in my bedroom at the safe house, where I must’ve fallen asleep before the debriefing. “Was I… Did I say anything?” I ask, trying to get my shaky breathing under control. The dream is already fading from my memory, but the bits and pieces I recall are enough to knot my insides. “No.” Obenko’s face is expressionless. “Should you have?” “No, of course not.” My frantic heartbeat is beginning to slow. “Give me a minute to freshen up, and I’ll be right out.” “All right.” Obenko walks out of my room, and I pull the blanket tighter around myself, desperate for what little comfort I can find.

13

L

ucas

AT THE EXPLOSION OF GUNFIRE, I GLANCE AT THE SIDE MIRROR AND SEE OUR GUARDS IN THE SUVS shooting at the pursuing vehicles. A bullet dings against the side of our car, and I swerve, making the limo a more difficult target. In the back, Nora’s parents scream in panic, and Esguerra jumps off the seat to get to his weapons stash. Fucking hell. My hands tighten on the wheel. This shouldn’t be happening. Not while we have civilians with us. Esguerra and I can handle this, but not Rosa and Nora—and certainly not Nora’s parents. If anything were to happen to them… I press harder on the gas pedal, pushing the speedometer past 100 miles per hour. More gunfire. In the side mirror, I see our men exchanging fire with the pursuers. All the way in the back, one of Sullivan’s cars careens into one of ours, trying to force it off the road, and there’s another burst of gunfire before the pursuers’ SUV skids off the road and flips over. Another car gains on one of our SUVs, smashing into its side. Behind it are at least a dozen vehicles—a mix of SUVs, vans, and Hummers with grenade launchers mounted on their roofs. No, not a dozen. They have as many as fifteen or sixteen cars versus eight of ours. Motherfucking fuck. I push the gas pedal again, and the speedometer climbs to 110. We need to go faster, but the armored limo is too heavy. It’s built for protection, not speed. One of our SUVs in the back flies up, exploding in mid-air. The blast is

deafening, but I ignore it, all my attention on the road ahead. I can’t think about the men we just lost or their families. If we’re to survive, I can’t afford the distraction. “Lucas.” Rosa sounds panicked. “Lucas, that’s—” “A police blockade, yes.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over the din of gunfire and explosions. There are four police cars blocking our way, and they’re surrounded by SWAT teams. They’re here for us—which means they must be in Sullivan’s pocket. In the back, Julian is shouting something at Nora, and in the rearview mirror, I see him dragging out bulletproof vests and a handheld grenade launcher. “We have to go through them,” I yell, keeping my foot on the gas. We’re seconds away now, rocketing toward the blockade at full speed. I aim the limo at the narrow gap between two police cars. For this, the heavy weight of the armored limo is an advantage. “Hold on!” I shout at Rosa, and then we’re crashing into the cars, the impact of the collision throwing me forward. I feel the seatbelt cutting into me, hear the SWAT team’s bullets hitting the side and windows of our car, and then we’re through, the limo barreling ahead as two more cars behind us collide and explode. Sullivan’s cars, I determine with relief a moment later. From what I can see in the side mirror, our SUVs are still intact. Beside me, Rosa is white with fear but seemingly uninjured. Before I can catch my breath, I hear a deafening boom and see the police cruiser behind us fly up, exploding in the air. It lands on its side, burning, and one of Sullivan’s Hummers slams into it. There’s another explosion, followed by a Sullivan van careering off the road. I grin savagely as I catch sight of Esguerra standing in the middle of the limo, his head and shoulders sticking out of the opening in the roof. My boss must be using the handheld grenade launcher from our stash. There’s another explosive boom as he fires the next shot, but no enemy vehicle goes belly-up this time. Instead, one of the Hummers swerves, ramming into one of our SUVs, and I see the guards’ car flip over, rolling off the road. Shit. My elation dissipates. Esguerra better get his aim straight, or we’re fucked. As if in response to my thoughts, there’s another boom, followed by a Sullivan van exploding behind us. Two Sullivan SUVs crash into it, but my satisfaction is

short-lived as I hear the ding of bullets against the side of our car. Swearing, I yank the wheel and begin zigzagging from side to side. Unlike the limo, Esguerra’s head is not bulletproof. “Come on, Esguerra,” I mutter, squeezing the wheel. “Fucking shoot them.” Boom! Another Sullivan SUV explodes, taking out the one behind it in the process. “He’s doing it,” Rosa says in a shaking voice. “They have only six cars left now.” I steal a glance in the mirror and verify that she’s right. Six enemy vehicles versus five of ours. We might make it yet. Suddenly, I see a flash of fire in the mirror. Two of our SUVs fly up in the air, and I realize the Hummers took them out. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Come on, Esguerra.” My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “Just fucking do it.” Boom! One of the Hummers veers off the road, smoke rising from its hood. “Señor Esguerra did it!” Rosa’s voice is filled with hysterical glee. “Lucas, he got it!” I don’t have a chance to reply before one of the enemy cars swerves and crashes into another. Our men must’ve shot the driver. “Three of them left, Lucas. Only three!” Rosa is all but jumping in her seat, and I realize she’s high on adrenaline. Past a certain point, one stops feeling fear, and it all becomes a game, a rush unlike any other. It’s what makes danger so addictive— for me, at least. I feel most alive when I’m close to death. Except that’s not true anymore, I realize with a jolt. The buzz is muted today, dulled by my worry for our civilians and my fury over our men’s deaths. Instead of excitement, there’s only a grim determination to survive. To live so I can catch Yulia and feel alive in a whole different way. “Lucas.” Rosa sounds tense all of a sudden. “Lucas, are you seeing that?” “What?” I say, but then the sound reaches my ears. It’s the faint but unmistakable roar of chopper blades. “It’s a police helicopter,” Rosa says, her voice shaking again. “Lucas, why is

there a helicopter?” I floor the gas pedal instead of answering her. There are only two possibilities: either the authorities heard about what’s happening, or it’s more dirty cops. My money’s on the last one, which means we’re beyond fucked. By my calculations, Esguerra only has one shot left in that grenade launcher of his, and there’s no way he can take down that chopper. “What are we going to do?” Rosa’s panic is evident. “Lucas, what are we—” “Quiet.” I floor the pedal, focusing on the structure looming ahead of us. We’re almost to the private airport now, and if we can get inside, we stand a chance. “I’m going for the hangar!” I yell to Esguerra, and take a sharp right turn toward the structure. At the same time, I floor the gas pedal, pushing the limo to its limits. We’re all but rocketing toward the hangar now, but the roar of the helicopter is getting inexorably louder. Boom! My ears ring from an explosion, and I swerve instinctively before righting the car and pressing on the gas again. Behind us, one of our SUVs careens into another, and they collide with a squeal of tires before rolling off the road. “They shot it.” Rosa sounds dazed. “Oh my God, Lucas, the helicopter shot it.” I shake my head, trying to get rid of the ringing in my ears, but before the noise dies down, there’s another deafening explosion. The Hummer behind us goes up in flames, leaving two enemy SUVs and the helicopter. Esguerra came through with one last shot. Before I can take a breath, a blast rocks the limo. My vision goes dark and my head spins, the ringing in my ears turning into a high-pitched, dizzying whine. Only decades of training enable me to keep my hands on the wheel, and as my vision clears, I register what Rosa is screaming. “We’re hit, Lucas! We’re hit!” Fuck, she’s right. There’s smoke rising from the back of the car, and the rear window is shattered. “Are Esguerra and his family—” I begin hoarsely, but then I see Esguerra pop up in the rearview mirror. He’s covered in blood but clearly alive. Pulling Nora up from the floor, he hands her an AK-47. Behind them, her parents look dazed and bloody, but conscious.

We’re almost to the hangar now, so I take my foot off the gas. I can hear Esguerra giving his wife instructions in the back. He wants her to take her parents and run for the plane as soon as we stop. “You run with them too, Rosa, you hear me?” I say, not taking my eyes off the road. “You get out, and you run.” “O-okay.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. We plow through the open gates of the hangar, and I slam on the brakes, bringing the limo to a screeching holt. “Run, Rosa!” I yell, unbuckling my seatbelt, and as she scrambles out of the car, I jump out on my side, grabbing my M16. “Now, Nora!” Esguerra yells behind me, throwing open the passenger door. “Go now!” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rosa running after Nora and her parents, but before I can verify they got to the plane, a Sullivan SUV squeals into the building. I open fire, and Esguerra joins in. The SUV’s windshield shatters as it screeches to a stop in front of us and armed men pour out. “Get back! Behind the limo!” I yell at Esguerra, covering his retreat. Then he covers me as I dive behind the limo myself. “Ready?” I say, and he nods. Synchronizing our movements, we pop up on each side of the limo and unleash a volley of shots before ducking back. “Four down,” Esguerra says, reloading his own M16. “I think there’s only one left.” “Cover me,” I say and crawl around the limo. I can feel the sweat dripping into my eyes as I slither on my stomach while Esguerra fires at the SUV to distract the guy. It takes almost a minute before I see an opening and fire at the shooter. My bullets hit him in the neck, setting off a geyser of blood. Breathing hard, I climb to my feet. After the nonstop racket of the battle, the silence feels like I’ve gone deaf. “Good job,” Esguerra says, coming out from behind the limo. “Now if our remaining men got the—” “Julian!” On the other side of the hangar, Nora is waving her AK-47 above her head. She looks overjoyed. “Over here! Come, let’s go!”

A huge smile lights up Esguerra’s face as she begins running toward him—and then a blast of searing heat sends me flying.

14

Y ulia THE SECOND “DEBRIEFING” IS EVEN MORE GRUELING THAN THE FIRST. OBENKO AND THE TWO AGENTS want me to go over every conversation with Lucas and describe each of our encounters in detail. They want to know how he kept me tied up, at what point he gave me clothes, what kind of meals I cooked, and what his sexual preferences are. I cooperate at first, but after a while, I begin stonewalling them. I can’t bear to have my relationship with my former captor dissected by these men. I don’t want them knowing about my feelings for Lucas or my fantasies about him. Those softer moments between us and the things he promised me—those are mine alone. What happened during my captivity was wrong and twisted, but it also meant something—to me, at least. “Yulia,” Obenko says after I evade yet another one of his questions. “This is important. The man with whom you spent two weeks is Esguerra’s second-incommand. From what you’re telling us, it sounds like he, not Esguerra, is the driving force behind them coming after us. It’s crucial that we understand exactly what he wants and how he thinks.” “I’ve already told you everything I know.” I try not to let my frustration bleed into my voice. “What more do you want from me?” “How about the truth, Yulia Borisovna?” Mateyenko gives me a penetrating look. “Did Kent send you here? Are you working for him now?” “What?” My jaw falls open. “Are you serious? I’m the one who warned you. Do you honestly think I would betray my brother’s adoptive family?” “I don’t know, Yulia Borisovna.” Mateyenko’s expression doesn’t change.

“Would you?” I rise to my feet. “If I were working for him, why would I tell you that he got this information from me? A double agent wouldn’t warn you that she’d cracked—she’d come to you as a hero, not a failure.” Next to Mateyenko, Sokov crosses his arms. “That would depend on how clever the double agent is, Yulia Borisovna. The best ones always have a story.” I turn to Obenko. “Is that what you believe as well? That I betrayed you?” “No, Yulia.” My boss doesn’t blink. “If I did, you’d already be dead. But I do think you’re hiding something. Aren’t you?” “No.” I hold his gaze. “I’ve told you everything. I don’t know anything else that could help us.” Obenko’s mouth tightens, but he nods. “All right, then. We’re done for the day.”

WHEN MATEYENKO AND SOKOV LEAVE, I GO BACK TO MY ROOM, A TENSION HEADACHE THROBBING IN my temples. I have no doubt Obenko meant what he said: if he thought I was a double agent, he would’ve killed me. After surviving Russian prison and Esguerra’s compound, I might die at the hands of my colleagues. Strangely, the thought doesn’t upset me much. The hollow chill that has settled in my chest numbs everything, even fear. Now that I’m here—now that I’ve done everything I can to ensure my brother’s safety—I can’t work up more than a smidgeon of interest in my own fate. Even the memory of Lucas’s cruelty feels distant and muted, as if it happened years ago instead of days. When I’m back in my room, I lie down and pull the blanket around me, but I can’t get warm. Only one thing could chase away this cold—and he’s thousands of miles away.

15

L

ucas

RAT-TAT-TAT! The sharp crackle of gunfire cuts through the darkness, bringing me back to my senses. My brain feels like it’s swimming in a thick, viscous fog. Groaning, I roll over onto my stomach, almost puking from the agony in my skull. Where’s Jackson? What happened? We were out on patrol and then… Fuck! Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I begin crawling on the sand, away from the gunfire. My whole body hurts, the sand particles pelting my eyes and filling my lungs. I feel like I’m made of sand, my skin ready to dissolve and blow away in the harsh, stinging wind. More gunfire, then a pained cry. Fear squeezes my chest. “Jackson?” “I’m hit.” Jackson’s voice is filled with shock. “Oh, fuck, Kent, they got me.” “Hang on.” I crawl back toward the gunfire, dragging my useless rifle. I ran out of ammo five minutes after we were ambushed, but I don’t want to leave the weapon for the hostiles. “I called it in. They’re coming for us.” Jackson coughs, but the sound turns into a gurgle. “Too late, Kent. It’s too fucking late. Get back.” “Shut up.” I crawl faster, the dim light of the moon illuminating a small mound next to our overturned Humvee. Jackson’s voice is coming from that direction, so I know it must be him. “Just hang on.”

“They’re not… They’re not coming, Kent.” Jackson is wheezing now. The bullet must’ve hit his lungs. “Roberts… He wanted this. He ordered this.” “What are you talking about?” I finally reach him, but when I touch him, all I feel is wet meat and fractured bone. I yank my hand away. “Fuck, Jackson, your leg —” “You have to”—Jackson sucks in a gurgling breath—“go. They’ll blow this place if they come. Roberts, he… I caught him. I was going to expose him. This isn’t Taliban. Roberts knew”—he coughs wetly—“knew we’d be here. This is his doing.” “Stop. We’re going to get through this.” I can’t think about what Jackson is saying, can’t process the implications of his words. Our commanding officer couldn’t have betrayed us like that. It’s impossible. “Just hang on, buddy.” “Too late.” Jackson gurgle-wheezes as I reach for him again. “Roberts…” He chokes, and I feel hot liquid coating my hands as I press them over his stomach. “Jackson, stay with me.” My heart beats in a sick, erratic rhythm. Not Jackson. This can’t be happening to Jackson. I increase the pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Come on, buddy, just stay with me. Help will be here soon.” “Run,” Jackson mumbles inaudibly. “He’ll kill…” He shudders, and I feel the moment it happens. His body goes limp, and the stench of evacuated bowels fills the air. “Jackson!” Keeping my hand on his stomach, I reach for his neck, but there’s no pulse. It’s over. My best friend is dead. Rat-tat-tat! The gunfire is back, and so is the syrupy fog in my brain. It’s also hot—far hotter than it should be at night in the desert. The heat is consuming me, eating away at me like— Fucking hell, I’m burning! Throwing myself to the side, I roll, not stopping until the burning heat recedes. My ribs scream in pain and my head spins, but the flames licking at my skin are gone. Panting, I open my eyes and stare at the tall ceiling above me. Ceiling, not night sky. My brain synapses finally connect and begin firing.

Afghanistan was eight years ago. I’m in Chicago, not Afghanistan, and whatever took me down has nothing to do with my old commander. Rat-tat-tat! I turn my head to see a small figure running on the other side of the hangar. Four men in SWAT gear are running after her. As I watch in disbelief, Esguerra’s wife turns and fires her AK-47 at the pursuers before darting behind one of the planes. Shit. I have to help Nora. Groaning, I roll over onto my side. There’s burning rubble all around me, and the limo is on fire. In the hangar wall behind the limo is a gaping hole through which I can see the police chopper. It’s sitting on the grass outside, its blades no longer turning. Sullivan’s henchmen must’ve taken out the guards in our last SUV before coming for us. As I struggle to my feet, I see Esguerra leap toward the burning limo. He survived, I realize with relief. Fighting a wave of dizziness, I take a step toward the car, ignoring the agonizing pain in my ribs. Before I can get there, Esguerra jumps out of the limo, holding two machine guns, and sprints after Nora’s pursuers. I’m about to go help him when I spot movement near the helicopter. Two men are climbing out, clearly intent on getting away. I react even before I consciously realize who they are. Lifting my weapon, I pepper them with bullets, purposefully aiming my shots away from critical organs. When I stop, the hangar is silent again, and I look back to see Esguerra embracing Nora, both of them seemingly unhurt. A vicious smile curves my lips as I turn and make my way to the two men I injured. It’s time for the Sullivans to get their due.

“IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?” ESGUERRA ASKS HOARSELY, NODDING TOWARD THE OLDER MAN, AND MY smile widens. “Yes. Patrick Sullivan himself, along with his favorite—and last remaining—son Sean.”

I shot Patrick through the leg and his son through the arm, and both men are rolling on the ground, blubbering in agony. Their pain helps soothe some of my raging fury. For what they did to Rosa and Nora, and for the guards who died today, these men will pay. “I’m guessing they came in the chopper to observe the action and swoop in at the right time,” I say, holding my aching ribs. “Except the right time never came. They must’ve learned who you were and called in all the cops who owed them favors.” “The men we killed were cops?” Nora asks, visibly trembling. She must be coming down from an adrenaline high. “The ones in the Hummers and the SUVs, too?” “Judging by their gear, many of them were.” Esguerra wraps a supportive arm around her waist. “Some were probably dirty, but others just blindly following orders from their higher-ups. I have no doubt they were told we were highly dangerous criminals. Maybe even terrorists.” “Oh.” Nora leans against her husband, her face suddenly turning gray. “Fuck,” Esguerra mutters, picking her up. Holding her against his chest, he says, “I’m going to take her to the plane.” To my surprise, Nora shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Please let me down.” She pushes at him with such determination that Esguerra complies, carefully setting her on her feet. Keeping one arm around her back, he gives her a concerned look. “What is it, baby?” Nora gestures toward our captives. “What are you going to do with them? Are you going to kill them?” “Yes,” Esguerra answers with no hesitation. “I will.” Nora doesn’t say anything, and I remember my promise to her friend. “I think Rosa should be here for this,” I say. “She’ll want to see justice served.” Esguerra looks at his wife, and she nods. “Bring her here,” Esguerra says, and despite the grimness of the situation, I feel a twinge of amusement as I walk back to the plane. Esguerra’s delicate little wife has acclimated to our world quite well. When I get to the plane, Rosa steps out to meet me, her face pale. “Lucas, are

they—” “Yes, come.” Carefully taking her arm, I lead her out of the hangar. As we step outside, I see that Patrick Sullivan has passed out on the ground, but his son is still conscious and pleading for his life. I glance at Rosa, and I’m pleased to see that her cheeks have regained some color. Approaching Sean Sullivan, she stares down at him for a couple of seconds before looking up at me and Esguerra. “May I?” she asks, holding out her hand, and I smile coldly as I hand her my rifle. Rosa’s hands are steady as she aims at her attacker. “Do it,” Esguerra says, and she pulls the trigger. Sean Sullivan’s face explodes, blood and bits of brain matter flying everywhere, but Rosa doesn’t flinch or look away. Before the sound of her shot fades, Esguerra steps toward unconscious Patrick Sullivan and releases a round of bullets into the older man’s chest. “We’re done here,” Esguerra says, turning away from the dead body, and the four of us return to the plane.

II THE LEAD

16

L

ucas

I SPEND THE WEEK AFTER OUR RETURN FROM CHICAGO DEALING WITH THE AFTERMATH OF THE TRIP AND recuperating from my injuries. According to Goldberg, our estate doctor, I have cracked ribs and a few first-degree burns on my back and arms—injuries that are beyond minor in light of the battle we survived. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” Diego says when I finally sit down with him and Eduardo to catch up on the Yulia situation. “All those guys…” “Yeah.” My teeth ache from clenching my jaw all day long. The faces of our dead men haunt me, just like those of the guards who died in the plane crash. Over the past couple of months, we’ve lost more than seventy of our people, and the mood on the compound is grim, to say the least. Between organizing funerals, finding new recruits, and cleaning up the mess in Chicago, I’ve been running on nothing but adrenaline fumes. “I hope you made the fuckers pay,” Eduardo says, his voice vibrating with fury. “If I’d been there—” “You’d be dead just like the others,” I say wearily. I’m in no mood to indulge the young guard’s bluster; my burns are mostly healed at this point, but my ribs hurt with every movement. “Tell me what you’ve learned thus far. Did you figure out if anyone had contact with my prisoner prior to the escape?” Diego and Eduardo exchange an odd look. Then Diego says, “Yes, but I don’t think it’s her.” I frown. “Her?”

“Rosa Martinez, the maid from the main house,” Eduardo says hesitantly. “She… Well, the drone footage showed her coming to your house a couple of times during those two weeks.” “Oh, yeah.” I chuckle humorlessly. “She had some kind of strange curiosity about Yulia.” I’m not about to tell the guards about Rosa’s possible crush on me. The girl seems to be past that now, and I don’t think she’d appreciate the others knowing about her feelings. She’s been through enough. “Oh, good. I’m glad you know about that.” Diego blows out a relieved breath. “We figured it’s unlikely to be her, but I wanted to let you know just in case. She’s the only one who came by your house on Tuesday, so…” He shrugs. “Wait, Tuesday? As in, the day before we left?” I’d warned Rosa away long before that, and I thought she’d listened. “She came to my house on Tuesday?” “That’s what the footage shows,” Eduardo says cautiously. “But it can’t be her. I know Rosa—we dated for some time. She’s not… she wouldn’t—” I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “I’m sure she’s not the one to blame,” I say, even as a hard knot forms in my chest. If Rosa came to my house after I warned her away, that changes things. My assumptions about the girl were wrong. “You did well telling me about this,” I say to the two guards. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about it for now. We don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea— Rosa herself included.” If there’s something more to her actions than a misplaced crush, I don’t want anyone to tip her off. Diego and Eduardo both nod, looking relieved as I dismiss them. When they’re gone, I pick up the phone and call the men we sent to Chicago. Esguerra’s CIA contacts did their best to cover up our high-speed battle, but it was impossible to conceal it all, and now every news outlet in Chicago is blaring with speculation about the clandestine operation to apprehend a dangerous arms dealer. The “arms dealer” story originated with the police chief, who had been in cahoots with Sullivan. The man used the information that Sullivan uncovered about us to come up with the tale of an arms dealer smuggling explosives into Chicago. Under that pretext, he assembled the SWAT team that helped Sullivan, and told everyone that Sullivan’s men were reinforcements from another division. The

operation was kept secret from other law enforcement agencies—which is why we didn’t have advance warning of the attack. So now there’s a shitload of work to be done. The police chief and any remaining Sullivan moles have to be taken care of, and the remnants of Sullivan’s organization must be wiped out before Nora’s parents can return home. As much as I’d like to tackle Rosa’s betrayal, I have more pressing matters to deal with first.

IT’S NOT UNTIL I’M LYING IN MY BED LATE THAT NIGHT THAT I HAVE A CHANCE TO THINK ABOUT ROSA again. Could she have done it? Could she have helped Yulia escape? If so, why? Out of jealousy or because someone got to the maid? Could Yulia’s agency have bribed or threatened Rosa? I mull over that possibility for a few minutes before deciding that it’s unlikely. The compound is isolated, and all emails and phone calls with the outside world are monitored. Esguerra is the only one whose communications are private, which means there’s no way UUR could’ve contacted Rosa without raising alarms in the system. Whatever Rosa did, she did of her own initiative. The knot in my chest tightens, the bitterness of betrayal mixing with the everpresent anger. Rage has been my companion since I learned of Yulia’s escape, and now I have a new target for my fury. If it weren’t for the fact that the maid has just been through an ordeal, I’d drag her in for questioning tomorrow. As it is, I’m going to give Rosa another week to heal and use the time to keep a close eye on her, just in case I’m wrong about her motivations. If she is on someone’s payroll, I’m going to find that out. In the meantime, I have to finish the cleanup in Chicago and locate Yulia, and I have to do it soon. Not having Yulia is messing with my head. Despite working to exhaustion, I can’t sleep at night. There are dozens of urgent business matters that should occupy my thoughts, but it’s not worry over finding new guards or containing media leaks that keeps me awake. No, what I think about when I lie in bed is her. Yulia. My beautiful, treacherous obsession. The moment I close my eyes, I see her—her eyes, her smile, her graceful walk. I remember her laughter and her tears, and I ache for her in a way that goes beyond

my cock’s craving for her silky flesh. As much as I’d like to fuck her, I also want to hold her, to hear her breathing next to me and smell the warm peach scent of her skin. I fucking miss her, and I hate her for it. Does she think about me at all, or is she too busy with the man she loves? I picture her lying in his arms, drowsy and replete after sex, and my fury edges into agony, tightening my chest until I can’t breathe. I’d take a dozen broken ribs, suffer a hundred burns to avoid this sensation. I’d do anything to have her back with me. I love you. I’m yours. Motherfucker. I turn on the bedside lamp and sit up, wincing at the pain in my ribs. Getting up, I walk to my library and grab a random book. It’s only when I return to my bed that I realize the book I took was the last one I saw Yulia reading. The tightness in my chest returns. I have to get her back. I simply have to.

17

Y ulia “I HAVE A NEW ASSIGNMENT house apartment.

FOR YOU,”

OBENKO

SAYS, WALKING INTO THE KITCHEN OF THE SAFE

Startled, I look up from my plate of cream-of-wheat kasha. “An assignment?” Over the past week, my boss has been busy erasing all traces of UUR’s existence from the net and reassigning key agents to lower-profile operations whenever possible. He’s also been studiously ignoring me—which is why I’m surprised to see him here this morning. Obenko takes a seat across from me at the table. “It’s in Istanbul,” he says. “As you know, the situation with Turkey and Russia is beginning to heat up, and we need someone on the ground.” I consume another spoonful of kasha to give myself time to think. “What do you want me to do in Istanbul?” I ask after I swallow. I have no appetite—I haven’t had one all week—but I force myself to eat to keep up appearances. I don’t want Obenko to know how listless I feel and speculate about the cause of my malaise. “Your assignment is to get close to a key Turkish official. To do that, you’ll matriculate at Istanbul University as part of a graduate student exchange program with the United States. We have already prepared your documents.” Obenko slides a thick folder toward me. “Your name is Mary Becker, and you’re from Washington D.C. You’re working on your Master’s in Political Science at the University of Maryland, and though your undergraduate degree is in Economics, you minored in Near Eastern Studies—hence your interest in a study abroad program in Turkey.”

The kasha I’ve eaten turns into a rock in my stomach. “So it’s another longterm play.” “Yes.” Obenko gives me a hard look. “Is that a problem?” “No, of course not.” I do my best to sound nonchalant. “But what about my brother? You said you’d get me the pictures.” Obenko’s mouth thins. “They’re in that folder as well. Take a look and let me know if you have any questions.” He gets up and walks out of the kitchen to make a call, and I flip open the folder, my hands shaking. I’m trying not to think about what this assignment will entail, but I can’t help it. My throat is cinched tight, and my insides churn with nausea. Not now, Yulia. Just focus on Misha. Ignoring the papers in the file, I find the photos clipped to the back of the folder. They’re of my brother—I recognize the color of his hair and the tilt of his head. The pictures were clearly taken in a rush; the photographer captured him mostly from the side and the back, with only one photo showing his face. In that picture, Misha is frowning, his youthful face looking unusually mature. Is he upset because his family had to relocate, or is something else behind his tense expression? I study the pictures for several minutes, my heart aching, and then I force myself to set them aside so I can look at my assignment. Ahmet Demir, a member of Turkish Parliament, is forty-seven years old and known to have a weakness for blond American women. Objectively speaking, he’s not a bad-looking man—a little balding, a little chubby, but with symmetrical features and a charismatic smile. Looking at his photo shouldn’t make me want to throw up, but that’s precisely how I feel at the prospect of getting close to him. I can’t imagine sleeping with this man—or any man who’s not Lucas. Feeling increasingly sick, I push the papers away and take several deep breaths. The last time I felt a dread this strong was before my first assignment, when I feared a man’s touch in the wake of Kirill’s attack. It was a phobia I battled through in order to do my job, and I’m determined to overcome whatever it is I’m feeling now. For Misha, I tell myself, picking up his pictures again. I’m doing it for Misha. Except this time, the words ring hollow in my mind. My brother is no longer a child, no longer a helpless toddler abused in an orphanage. The face in the photo is that of a young man, not a boy. Because of my mistake, his life has already been disrupted.

I don’t know what reason his adoptive parents gave him for changing their identities, but I have no doubt he’s stressed and upset. The carefree, stable life I wanted for him is no longer a possibility, and despite the black guilt gnawing at my chest, I’m aware of a sense of relief. What I feared has come to pass, and I can’t undo it. For the first time, I consider what would happen if I left UUR—if I simply walked away. Would they let me go, or would they kill me? If I disappeared, would Obenko’s sister and her husband continue treating my brother well? I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t; he’s been their adopted son for eleven years. Only monsters would throw him out at this point, and by all indications, Misha’s adoptive parents are decent people. They love Misha, and they wouldn’t harm him. I pick up the documents in the folder and study them. They look authentic—a passport, a driver’s license, a birth certificate, and a social security card. If I accept this assignment, I’ll start over as Mary Becker, an American grad student. I’ll live in Istanbul, attend classes, and eventually become Ahmet Demir’s girlfriend. My interlude with Lucas Kent will fade into the past, and I’ll move on. I’ll survive, like I always have. “Do you have any questions for me?” Obenko asks, and I look up to see him walk back into the kitchen. “Did you have a chance to look through the file?” “Yes.” My voice sounds hoarse, and I have to clear my throat before continuing. “I’ll need to brush up on a number of subjects before I go to Istanbul.” “Of course,” Obenko says. “You have a week before the start of the summer semester. I suggest you get busy.” He leaves the kitchen, and I pick up my half-full plate with unsteady hands. Carrying it over to the garbage, I dump the remnants of my breakfast, wash the plate, and walk to my room, a ghost of a plan forming in my mind. For the first time in my life, I may have a choice about my future, and I intend to seize the opportunity with both hands.

OVER THE NEXT WEEK, I LEARN THE BASICS OF TURKISH LANGUAGE AND CULTURE. I DON’T NEED TO know a lot, just enough to pass for an American graduate student interested in the subject. I also memorize Mary Becker’s background and brush up on American

college life. I prepare stories about my roommates and frat parties, read Economics textbooks, and come up with Mary’s interests and hobbies. Obenko and Mateyenko quiz me daily, and when they’re satisfied that I make a convincing Mary Becker, they buy me a plane ticket to Berlin. “You’ll travel as Elena Depeshkova to Berlin,” Obenko explains. “And as Claudia Schreider from Berlin to New York. Once you’re in the United States, your identity as Mary Becker will go into effect, and you’ll fly from there to Istanbul. This way, nobody will be able to connect you to Ukraine. Yulia Tzakova will disappear for good.” “Got it,” I say, slicking on a bright red lipstick in front of a mirror. I’ll be wearing a dark wig for Elena’s role, so I’ll need bolder makeup for that. “Elena, Claudia, then Mary.” Obenko nods and makes me repeat the names of all of Mary’s relatives, beginning with distant cousins and ending with parents. I don’t make a single mistake, and when he leaves that day, I know my hard work has paid off. My boss believes I’ll make an excellent Mary Becker. The next morning, Obenko drives me to the airport, dropping me off at the Departures area. I’m Elena now, so I’m wearing the wig and high-heeled boots that go well with my dark jeans and stylish jacket. Obenko helps me load my suitcases onto a cart before driving away, and I wave him goodbye as he disappears into the airport traffic. The minute his car is out of sight, I spring into action. Leaving my suitcases on the cart, I run to the Arrivals area and grab a cab. “Head toward the city,” I tell the driver. “I need to pull up the exact address.” He starts driving, and I take out my phone. Opening the tracking app I installed a couple of days ago, I locate a small red dot heading toward the city a kilometer or two ahead of us. It’s the tiny GPS chip I surreptitiously placed in Obenko’s phone back at the safe house. I may have no intention of carrying out the Istanbul mission, but I certainly found use for the surveillance equipment UUR gave me. “Take a left here,” I instruct the driver when I see the red dot turning left off the highway. “Then keep going straight.” I give him directions like this until I see Obenko’s dot come to a stop in the center of Kiev. Telling the driver to stop a block away, I take out my wallet and pay

him; then I jump out and walk the rest of the way, keeping a close eye on my app to make sure Obenko doesn’t go anywhere. I find Obenko’s car in front of a tall building. It looks like some kind of office space, with an international corporation’s logo blazing at the top and the first floor occupied by businesses ranging from a trendy coffee shop to a high-end clothing boutique. Slowly, I approach the building, scanning my surrounding every few seconds to make sure I’m not being watched. What I’m doing is a long shot: there’s zero guarantee Obenko will visit his sister any time soon. However, this is the only way I can think of to find Misha. Given their recent relocation, my brother’s adoptive parents are still getting settled into their new lives, and there’s a chance they might need something from Obenko, something that will necessitate him to visit them personally. If I follow my boss long enough, he might lead me to my brother. I know my plan is both desperate and borderline insane. Since I’m walking away from UUR, my best bet is to disappear somewhere in Berlin, or better yet, go all the way to New York. And I’m planning to do exactly that—after I see my brother with my own eyes. I can’t leave Ukraine without making sure Misha is okay. Two days, I tell myself. I will do this for a maximum of two days. If I still haven’t found my brother by then, I’ll leave. They won’t realize I didn’t board the plane until I don’t meet my handler in Istanbul in three days—which gives me a little over forty-eight hours to tail Obenko before getting out of the country. The dot on my phone indicates that Obenko is on the second floor of the building. I’m curious what he’s doing there, but I don’t want to expose myself by following him in. I doubt my brother’s family is here; Obenko would’ve relocated them out of the city—assuming they’d lived in the city before. My boss never disclosed their location to me for security reasons, but from the backgrounds in my brother’s pictures, I gathered that they’d lived in an urban environment, like Kiev. Entering the coffee shop, I order a pastry and a cup of Earl Grey and wait for Obenko’s dot to start moving again. When it does, I grab another cab and follow him to his next destination: our safe house. He stays at the apartment for several hours before the dot starts moving again. By then, I’ve had lunch at a nearby restaurant and swapped my dark wig for a red one I brought with me for this purpose. I’ve also changed my jeans for a long-

sleeved gray dress, and the high-heeled boots for flat booties—the most comfortable option “Elena” had in her carry-on bag. Obenko’s next destination appears to be another office building downtown. He stays there for a couple of hours before heading back to the safe house. I follow him again, feeling increasingly discouraged. This is clearly not the way to find my brother. My phone is beginning to run low on batteries, so I go to another coffee shop to charge it while Obenko is at the safe house. I also get online and buy a plane ticket to Berlin for the next morning to replace the one that has gone unused today. It’s time to admit defeat and disappear for good. Sighing, I order myself another tea and drink it as I read the news on my phone. Obenko seems to be settled in for the night, his dot sitting firmly in the safe house every time I check the app. Finishing my tea, I get up, deciding to go to a hotel and get some rest before the long journey tomorrow. Just as I step outside, however, my phone beeps in my bag, signifying movement on the app. My heart leaps. Fishing out the phone, I glance at the screen and see that Obenko’s dot is going north—possibly out of the city. This could be it. Instantly energized, I jump into a cab and follow Obenko. I know there’s a 99.9 percent chance this has nothing to do with my brother, but I can’t help the irrational hope that grips me as I watch Obenko’s dot heading farther north. “Are you sure you know where you’re going, young lady?” the cab driver says when we’re out of the city. “You said you were going to get directions from your boyfriend.” “Yes, he’s texting me as we speak,” I assure him. “It’s not much farther.” I’m lying through my teeth—I have no idea how far we’re going—but I’m hoping it’s not far. With all my cab rides, I’m running low on cash, and I’ll need whatever I still have to get to the airport tomorrow morning. “Fine,” the driver mutters. “But you better tell me soon, else I’m dropping you off at the nearest bus stop.” “Just another fifteen minutes,” I say, seeing the dot turn left and stop a halfkilometer later. “Turn left at the next intersection.” The driver shoots me a dirty look in the rearview mirror but does as I ask. The

road we end up on is dark and full of potholes, and I hear him curse as he swerves to avoid a hole wide enough to swallow our whole car. “Stop here,” I tell him when the tracker app says we’re two hundred meters away. Exiting the car, I approach the driver’s window and hand him a stack of bills, saying, “Here’s half of what I owe you. Please wait for me, and I’ll give you the rest when you bring me back to the city.” “What?” He glares at me. “Fuck, no. Give me the full amount, bitch.” I ignore him, turning to walk away, but he leaps out of the car and grabs my arm. Instinctively, I whirl around, my fist catching the underside of his chin as my knee hits him in the balls. He collapses to the ground, wheezing and clutching at his groin, and I bring my foot down on his temple, knocking him out. I feel awful hurting this civilian, but I can’t let him drive off in this cab. If he leaves, I’ll have no way of getting back to the city and I’ll miss my flight tomorrow morning. Pushing aside my guilt, I check the driver’s pulse to verify that he’s alive, grab the keys from the car in case he wakes up, and then head toward the blinking red dot on my phone map. A couple of minutes later, I come across what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Disappointed, I stare at it, debating whether I should even approach. Whatever Obenko is doing here is unlikely to involve my brother’s adoptive parents; my boss wouldn’t ask his sister to meet him in the middle of nowhere just to give her some documents. It’s far more probable that he’s in the middle of an operation, and the last thing I want is to stand in his way. Despite that, I take a step closer. Then another and another. My legs seem to be carrying me of their own accord. I’ve come this far, I reason to justify my compulsion. What’s another few minutes to confirm that I’ve wasted my time? There is a faint glow of light visible on one side of the warehouse, so I make my way there and crouch in front of a small, dirty window. Inside, I hear voices, and I hold my breath, trying to understand what they’re saying. “—getting good,” a man says in Russian. There’s something familiar about his voice, but I can’t place it. The wall is muffling the sound. “Really good. I think another couple of years, and they’ll be ready.” “Good,” another man replies, and this time, I recognize the speaker as Obenko. “We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Would you like a demonstration?” the original speaker says. “They’ll be happy to show you what they’ve learned thus far.” “Of course,” Obenko says, and then I hear a grunt, followed by the thump of something falling. The noises repeat again and again, and I realize I’m listening to a fight. Two or more people are engaged in hand-to-hand combat, which, combined with the bits I overheard, means only one thing. I’ve stumbled upon a UUR training facility. That’s it. I need to leave before I’m caught. I turn around, about to head back, when the original speaker laughs loudly and exclaims, “Good job!” I freeze in place, a sick feeling spreading through me. That voice. I know that voice. I’ve heard it in my nightmares over and over again. Cold sweat breaks over my skin as I turn, drawn to the window despite myself. It can’t be. It just can’t be. My pulse is a violent drumbeat, and my hands tremble as I place them on the wall next to the window. I’m imagining this. I’m hallucinating. I have to be. Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I edge to the left until I can see through the window. I know I’m taking a terrible risk, but I have to know the truth. I have to know if they lied to me. The scene that greets my eyes is straight out of my own training sessions. There are several teenagers of both genders standing in a semi-circle. Their backs are to me, and in front of them is a wide mat on which two men—or, rather, a man and a boy—are wrestling. Obenko is standing to the side, watching them with an approving smile. I notice all of this only briefly because my eyes are glued to the wrestling pair. With the two of them twisting and rolling on the mat, I can’t get a good look at either of them—at least until they stop, with the man pinning his younger opponent to the mat.

“Good job,” the man says, rising to his feet. Laughing, he extends his hand to help his defeated opponent. “You were excellent today, Zhenya.” The boy gets up as well, brushing the dirt off his clothes, but I’m not looking at him. All I see is the man standing next to him. He hasn’t changed much. His brown hair is thinner and has more gray in it, but his body is as strong and broad as I remember. His shoulders strain the seams of his sweat-soaked T-shirt, and his arms are as thick as drain pipes. Nobody could best Kirill in hand-to-hand combat seven years ago, and it seems he’s still undefeated. Alive and undefeated. Obenko lied to me. They all lied to me. My rapist wasn’t killed for what he did to me. He wasn’t even removed from his role as a trainer. A metallic taste fills my mouth, and I realize I bit through my lip. “It’s your fault, bitch. It’s all your fault.” Kirill’s massive body presses me into the floor, his hands cruelly tearing at my clothes. “You’re going to pay for what you did.” Acid rises in my throat, mixing with the bitterness of bile. I feel like I’m going to choke on my terror and hatred, but before the memories can suffocate me, someone else enters my field of vision. “It’s my turn,” a blond-haired boy says, approaching the mat. “Uncle Vasya, I want you to watch this.” He assumes a fighter’s stance opposite Kirill, and the fluorescent lights illuminate his face. It’s a face I know as well as my own—because I’ve spent hours staring at it in photos. Because every feature on that face is a masculine version of what I see in the mirror. My brother is standing in front of me, ready to spar with Kirill.

18

L

ucas

“IT’S DONE,” I SAY, ENTERING ESGUERRA’S they’re so inclined.”

OFFICE.

“YOUR

IN-LAWS CAN GO HOME TOMORROW IF

Over the past week, we’ve exterminated the remnants of Sullivan’s crime family, and the CIA has finally agreed to let Nora’s parents return to their home. After the media nightmare we caused, it took promises of major favors, but Esguerra’s contacts came through for us. “You got the police chief as well?” Esguerra asks. I nod, approaching his desk. “His body is dissolving in lye as we speak. He was the last of the moles—Chicago PD is now squeaky clean and vermin-free. Other than a few CIA higher-ups, nobody knows your in-laws were involved in this mess.” “Excellent.” Esguerra rubs his temples, and I see that he looks unusually tired. Like me, he’s been working nonstop since our return from Chicago. He doesn’t have to put in these hours—I’m overseeing most of the logistics of the cleanup— but work seems to be his way of coping with the miscarriage. “I’ll tell Nora. In the meantime, I want you to assign another dozen men to watch over her parents for the next few months. I’m not expecting any trouble, but it’s best to be safe.” “Got it,” I say. “You might also want to tell them to stay away from crowded places for a while, just in case.” “That’s a good idea.” Esguerra gives an approving nod. “As long as they’re able to return to work and resume their social lives, they shouldn’t mind the restrictions too much.”

“I’m sure you’ll miss them,” I say drily. Nora’s parents have been our reluctant guests for the last two weeks, and I imagine Esguerra must’ve found their disapproving presence wearing. To my surprise, my boss chuckles. “They’re not so bad. You know, family and all that.” “Right.” I try not to stare at him but fail. Esguerra’s changed; it’s obvious to me now. When I first met him, the word “family” would’ve never passed his lips. And now he’s putting up with in-laws who can’t stand his guts and bending over backward to keep his young wife happy. It’s both amusing and unsettling to observe, like seeing a jaguar playing with a house kitten. “You’ll understand someday,” Esguerra says, and I realize my expression must’ve given me away. “There’s more to life than this.” He waves at the flatscreen monitors behind him and the stack of papers on his desk. “Are you going to give it up then? Walk the straight and narrow?” I say, only half-kidding. Esguerra is certainly wealthy enough to do so. His net worth is in the billions; even if he never sold another weapon, he could live like a king for the rest of his life. Still, I’m not surprised when Esguerra shakes his head and says, “You know I can’t do that. Once in this life, always in this life. Besides”—he bares his teeth in a sharp smile—“I’d miss it. Wouldn’t you?” “Definitely,” I say, and we share a moment of grim understanding. The jaguar may play with the kitten, and even love said kitten, but he’ll always be a jaguar.

AS I LEAVE ESGUERRA’S OFFICE, MY PHONE VIBRATES and my lips curl in savage anticipation.

WITH AN INCOMING MESSAGE.

I

OPEN MY EMAIL,

Message decoded, the email from the hackers reads. A confirmed UUR black site is located twenty-five kilometers north of Kiev. They seem to be in the process of covering up their tracks, but they’re not fast enough. We’re getting closer to the two field operatives. Hope to have more news soon. At the bottom of the email is an attachment. It’s a grainy satellite photo with an X marking a spot on the map where, I presume, the black site facility is located.

We have a place to start. “Hi, Lucas,” a softly accented female voice says, and I turn to see Rosa approaching from the direction of the main house. She’s dressed in her usual maid’s outfit, with her dark hair pinned in a sleek knot. “How are you?” Rage surges through me, but I manage to say calmly, “I’m fine.” Her casual friendliness grates on me like chalk on glass. I’m tempted to string her up in the shed and interrogate her this very moment, but it would be smart to wait a little longer. Taking a steadying breath, I mimic her friendly tone and ask, “How’s everything with you?” She shrugs, her eyes dropping lower for a moment. “You know. Day by day.” “Right.” Despite everything, I feel a swell of pity. Though the bruises on Rosa’s face have faded, I remember how the girl looked after the club, and some of my anger cools. If I believed in karma, I’d be inclined to think she’s already been punished. “How are your ribs doing?” she asks, looking up at me again. There appears to be genuine concern in her gaze. “Are they still hurting?” “No, not as much as before,” I say, my anger easing a little. “It’ll be at least another month before I can resume training normally, but I’ve gotten to the point where I can breathe without pain.” “Oh, good.” Rosa smiles, then asks nonchalantly, “Any news on your escapee?” My fury returns in full force; it’s all I can do not to wring the girl’s neck. “Why, yes,” I say silkily. “I have just found her.” It’s a lie—I have no idea if the location the hackers uncovered will lead me to Yulia—but if Rosa is working with UUR, I want her to panic and reach out to them. “In fact,” I add, deciding to really frighten the maid, “I’ll be going after Yulia as soon as I drop off Nora’s parents.” “Oh.” Rosa blinks, and I see a shadow pass over her face. “That’s good.” “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” I give her my blandest smile. “I can’t wait. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check up on our new recruits.” And before she can respond, I turn away and head toward the training field. If I stay in Rosa’s presence a moment longer, I’ll kill the girl with my bare hands.

19

Y ulia MY BROTHER. Kirill is training my brother. I feel like I stepped into one of my nightmares. I need to back away, to leave before I’m seen, but I can’t move. My feet have grown roots, and my lungs scream for suddenly scarce air. Misha and Kirill. Student and teacher. I taste vomit and my vision darkens, fading at the edges. Run, Yulia. Go before it’s too late. I want to obey the voice in my head, but I’m paralyzed, frozen in place. Obenko didn’t just lie to me about Kirill’s death. He deceived me about everything. I try to suck in oxygen, but my throat is too tight. The window wavers in front of me, like the lens of a shaking camera, and I realize it’s because I’m trembling violently, my fingers icy and numb as my palms press against the wall. Run, Yulia. Now. The voice gets more insistent, and I force myself to take a tiny step back. But I still can’t look away from the horror in front of me. Go, Yulia! Run!

Before I can take another step, Misha glances at the window and freezes, staring straight at me. I see his blue eyes widen, and then he shouts, “Intruder!” and leaps toward the window. My paralysis finally breaks, and I turn and run. My legs are like wooden sticks, stiff and clumsy, and I can’t get enough air. It’s as if I’m moving through quicksand, every step requiring desperate effort. I know it’s shock weighing me down, but the knowledge doesn’t help. My muscles feel like they belong to a stranger, and my feet are numb as they touch the ground. The car. I need to get back to the car. I focus on that one goal, on putting one foot in front of the other and not thinking. As I run, I feel the stiffness in my muscles fading, and I know adrenaline is finally kicking in, overpowering my shock. “Yulia! Stop!” It’s Obenko. Hearing him fills me with such rage that all remnants of my sluggishness fade. Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, my legs pumping with increasing desperation. If they catch me, I’m dead, and then nobody will make Obenko pay for his monstrous betrayal. I will rot in a nameless grave while Kirill turns my brother into a conscienceless killing machine. “Yulia!” It’s a different voice calling my name. I recognize Kirill’s deeper tones, and sick terror explodes in my veins. The memories snake around me like poisonous vines. I try to push them away, but bits and pieces slip through, flashing through my brain in a disjointed reel. Entering my room in the dorm. A large hand closing over my mouth as I’m grabbed from behind. I run faster, the ground blurring in front of my eyes. My breath is coming in wheezing gasps, and my lungs are about to burst. Struggling. Falling to the floor. A man on top of me. Immobilized, helpless. I’m a dozen meters from the car, and I grip the keys in my pocket, preparing to jump in. Pop! Pop! The car window shatters, and I zigzag to avoid the next bullet.

“Do not shoot to kill!” Kirill roars behind me. His voice sounds closer; he’s gaining on me. “I repeat, do not shoot to kill!” The knowledge that he wants me alive is more terrifying than the idea of dying. Putting on another burst of speed, I leap for the car. The cab driver is on the ground, still unconscious, and I desperately hope none of the bullets hit him. I don’t have time to worry about it, though, because as I’m about to jam the keys into the door, a hand grips my shoulder. I whirl around, gripping the keys like a weapon, and jab upward, aiming at my attacker’s eye. He jerks back, and I drop down and roll under the car, registering only dimly the smaller frame and light hair of my opponent. It wasn’t Kirill who caught up with me; it was Misha. I scramble to my feet on the other side of the car and begin running again. Even through my terror, I’m aware of an illogical flash of pride. My brother is a fast runner. Obenko had never mentioned that. I hear him sprinting behind me, and I wonder if he knows who I am, if he realizes he’s killing his own sister. Is he in on Obenko’s deception, or did they lie to him too? “Grab her!” Kirill shouts, and a hard body hits me in the back, knocking me to the ground. I manage to twist in the air, so I land on top of Misha, and before he has a chance to act, I punch him in the jaw and jump up to resume running. Only it’s too late. As I turn, another body hits me, knocking me off my feet, and this time, I don’t have a chance to land a punch. In a flash, my arm is twisted behind my back, and my face is pressed into the gritty dirt as a massive weight presses me down. “Hello, Yulia,” my trainer whispers in my ear. “It’s good to see you again.”

20

L

ucas

ESGUERRA NOTIFIES ME THAT NORA’S PARENTS WISH TO FLY OUT FIRST THING IN THE MORNING, AND I decide to do exactly what I told Rosa: go to Ukraine directly after taking them home. I’m still not fully recovered, but the workload from the Chicago disaster is easing up, and my ribs can heal in Ukraine just as well as here. Now I need to break the news to Esguerra and fill him in on everything I’ve learned about UUR. “So let me get this straight,” Esguerra says when I stop by his office and explain about the black site. “You want to take a dozen of our best-trained men to conduct an operation in Ukraine when we’re still trying to recover from all the losses? What’s the urgency on this?” “They’re in the process of covering their tracks,” I say. “If we wait much longer, they’ll be much harder to track down.” I keep silent about the fact that every day that passes without Yulia is fucking torture, and I can’t sleep without her by my side. “So what?” Esguerra says, frowning. “We’ll get them eventually—when we’re stronger and have rebuilt our security team. We can’t spare a dozen guards right now. UUR is not an immediate threat to us the way Al-Quadar were. We’re going to make the Ukrainians pay for the crash, but we’ll do it when the time is right.” I take a deep breath. I know Esguerra has a point, but I can’t stay on the estate while Yulia is out there with this Misha of hers. “All right,” I say. “How about I go to Ukraine by myself, with just a couple of

guards? I could take Diego and Eduardo—surely you can spare the three of us.” Esguerra’s gaze sharpens. “Why? Is it because of the girl who escaped?” I hesitate for a moment, then decide to tell the truth. “Yes,” I say, watching Esguerra’s reaction. “I want her back.” “I thought you were just amusing yourself with her.” “I was—but I’m not done.” Esguerra stares at me. “I see.” “She’s mine,” I say, deciding it’s time to lay it out there. “I’m going to get her back, and I’m going to keep her.” “Keep her?” Esguerra’s expression doesn’t change, but I see a muscle twitch in his jaw as he leans forward in his seat. “What exactly do you mean by that?” I plant my feet wider apart and give him a level look. “It means I’m going to put trackers on her and keep her for as long as it suits me. I’m sure you won’t object to that.” The twitch in Esguerra’s jaw intensifies as we stare at each other, neither one backing down. The air thickens with tension, and I know that this is it: this is when I find out if my boss truly values my loyalty. Esguerra breaks the silence first. “So that’s it? You’re ready to forget about the crash?” “She was following orders,” I say. “And besides, who said she’s getting off scotfree?” For this new betrayal—for running to her lover—Yulia will pay. Esguerra holds my gaze for a few more seconds before getting up and walking around his desk. Stopping in front of me, he says quietly, “You and I both know I owe you for Thailand, and if this is what you want—if she is what you want—then I won’t stand in your way. But she’s bad news, Lucas. Do what you must to get her out of your system, but don’t forget what she is and what she’s done.” “Oh, don’t worry.” I give him a humorless smile. “I won’t.” I haven’t yet decided how I’m going to punish Yulia when I get her back, but I do know one thing. Her lover’s days are numbered.

THAT EVENING, I MAKE ARRANGEMENTS TO HAVE THOMAS—ANOTHER GUARD I TRUST—KEEP AN EYE on Rosa. I don’t tell him why; I just ask him to follow her discreetly and to monitor all her emails and calls. My top priority right now is finding Yulia, but I haven’t forgotten about the potential danger Rosa poses to us. When I’m back from Ukraine, I’m going to deal with her. First, though, I need to get Nora’s parents home and figure out how to get into Ukraine undetected. I start by reaching out to Buschekov, the Russian official we met with in Moscow. I don’t mention Yulia’s escape, but I do give him the information I’ve uncovered so far about UUR. The more pressure I can bring to bear on Yulia’s agency, the better. Unfortunately, Buschekov claims to be unable to help me with discreet entry into Ukraine, explaining that tensions are running too high between the two countries. I suspect he just doesn’t want to risk whatever agents he has in place there, but I don’t press him on this. If I had a firm lock on Yulia’s location, it would be different, but this black site is just a lead, and I need to preserve whatever goodwill we have with the Russians. That means there’s only one thing left to do. I contact Peter Sokolov, Esguerra’s former security consultant, and ask him for help. Peter saved Esguerra’s ass after the crash, but to do so, he let the terrorists take Nora, and my boss has sworn to kill him if he ever lays eyes on him again. I, however, do not share Esguerra’s feelings. In fact, I’m grateful that Esguerra is alive and well. I haven’t kept in touch with Peter, but I do have his email from before, so I send him a message explaining the situation. The Russian’s contacts in Eastern Europe are unparalleled; he’s the one who introduced us to Buschekov in the first place. He doesn’t respond right away, but I don’t expect him to. I know he’s busy with his vendetta against the people on his list. Still, I’m hoping he’ll spare a moment to check his email. All I need is to have a couple of air control officials in Ukraine look the other way when I land in Kiev. As one final step, I brief Diego and Eduardo on our upcoming mission. “It’s going to be just the three of us,” I explain, “so we’re going to keep a low profile. We don’t want anyone catching wind of our presence there until we’re gone. The goal is to find out what we can and get out of the county in one piece. Is that clear?” They both nod, and early the next morning, we load the plane with weapons,

body armor, falsified documents, and everything else we’d need in case things don’t go according to plan. Now I just need Peter to come through.

BY THE TIME WE LAND IN CHICAGO, THERE’S STILL NO ANSWERING EMAIL FROM SOKOLOV, SO I HAND Esguerra’s in-laws off to our Chicago security crew and instruct the guards to see them safely home. Both of Nora’s parents seem relieved to be back on US soil, and I suspect we won’t be seeing them in Colombia again any time soon. “So what’s the plan?” Diego asks when I return to the plane. “Are we flying to Kiev right away?” “We might stop over in London for a day or two,” I say. “I’m waiting on a lead.” As I speak, my phone vibrates with an incoming message. Opening my email, I read the response from Peter, and a smile spreads across my face. “Never mind,” I say, turning toward the pilot’s cabin. “We’re heading to Ukraine.”

21

Y ulia “SO, TELL plane?”

US,

YULIA,” OBENKO

SAYS, LEANING ON THE TABLE.

“WHY

DIDN’T YOU GET ON THAT

I remain silent and focus on taking small, even breaths. One inhale, one exhale. Then again and again. That’s all I can do at the moment. Anything else is beyond me. Somewhere out there, lurking at the edge of my consciousness, is the pain of betrayal, the kind of monstrous pain that will destroy me if I let it, and so I focus on the mundane, like my breathing and the flickering fluorescent lights above my head. My hands are handcuffed behind me, and my ankles are secured to my wrists with a long chain. I’m still wearing the dress they captured me in, but they took off my wig at some point. I have no idea when that happened or where I am, since I have only a vague recollection of the hours that followed my capture. I know this is an interrogation chamber of some kind, with a wall-sized mirror and hard metal furniture, but I don’t know if we’re still in Kiev. I think I was driven somewhere from the warehouse, so perhaps not, but either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not getting out of here alive. “Answer me, Yulia,” Obenko says in a harsher tone. “Why didn’t you fly out as you were supposed to, and how did you find the training facility? Are you working for Esguerra now?” I don’t respond, and Obenko’s eyes narrow. “I see. Well, if you don’t want to talk to me, perhaps you’ll talk to Kirill Ivanovich.” He rises to his feet and gives the mirror a small nod before stepping out of the room.

A minute later, my former trainer walks in, his thin lips curved in a hard smile. Despite my best efforts to remain calm, my throat closes and cold sweat dampens my armpits as he approaches the table and sits down across from me. “Why are you being so stubborn?” His knee brushes across my bare leg under the table, and I have to swallow to contain the vomit rising in my throat. “Are you a double agent, like they think you are?” I try to move my leg, to shift away from his touch, but the chain keeps me in place. From this distance, I can smell his cologne, and my breathing speeds up until I’m almost hyperventilating. Desperate to control myself, I look down at the table, focusing on the oily stains marring the metal surface. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “Yulia…” Kirill’s hand grips my knee under the table, his fingers digging into my thigh. “Are you working for Esguerra?” Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I can survive this. I can keep the pain at bay. Inhale. Exhale. His hand moves higher up my thigh. “Answer me, Yulia.” Inhale. Exhale. I feel the darkness approaching, the blankness that shielded me during my capture, and I embrace it for once, letting my mind flit away from this room, away from the encroaching agony. It’s not me chained to this chair—it’s just my body. It’s just bones and flesh that will soon cease to be animate. There’s nothing they can do to hurt me because I’m not here. I don’t exist in this place.

“—CATATONIC,” A MAN SAYS. HIS VOICE SOUNDS LIKE IT’S COMING THROUGH A THICK WALL OF water. I have trouble making out the words, and I struggle to push away the darkness as he says, “You’re not going to get any answers from her this way. Just end it. It’s obvious she’s gone rogue.” “We need to find out what she knows,” another man replies, and I recognize this voice as Obenko’s. “Besides, if she’s not a double agent, maybe this can still be fixed.” “You’re deluding yourself,” the original voice responds, and this time, I recognize it as belonging to Mateyenko, one of the senior agents who interrogated me after my return. “She’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Maybe not, but I have an idea,” Obenko says, and I hear the sound of retreating footsteps. My mind slowly begins to clear, and I open my eyes a sliver, peeking through my eyelashes. I’m still in the interrogation room, but I’m no longer chained at the table. Instead, I’m lying on my side on the cold cement floor next to the chair, my wrists still handcuffed behind my back. There are two men standing by the door—Kirill and Mateyenko. They’re speaking in low tones, occasionally glancing in my direction, and nausea twists my insides as darkness presses in again. Did Kirill touch me while I was out? Was he the one who unchained me and put me here? “She’s awake,” Mateyenko exclaims, striding toward me, and I stop fighting off the darkness. I’m not here. I don’t exist.

“YULIA.” A COOL HAND BRUSHES OVER MY FOREHEAD. “YULIA, ARE YOU AWAKE?” The wall of water is back, messing with my hearing, but something about that voice catches my attention. The darkness dissipates, the wall of water thinning, and I open my eyes. A blond boy is crouching over me, his eyes piercingly blue in his handsome face. We stare at each other for a second; then my brother jumps to his feet. “Uncle Vasya,” he yells. “She woke up.” I hear footsteps, and then strong hands drag me off the floor and place me back in the chair. My pulse jumps, but before my panic spirals out of control, I realize that Kirill is nowhere in sight. It’s just Obenko and me. “Where’s Misha?” I ask hoarsely. My throat feels coated with sand, and my mouth is woolly and dry. I must’ve been out for a while. “He stepped out so we could talk,” Obenko says. “So, Yulia, let’s talk.” “All right.” I become aware that I’m shivering and the tips of my fingers are numb and frozen. Despite that, my voice is steady as I say, “What do you want to talk about? The fact that you lied to me for eleven years?” My voice strengthens as

the residual fog in my brain clears. “That you stole my brother and are having him trained by a monster?” Obenko lets out a weary sigh. “There’s no need to be so dramatic. I didn’t lie to you—not about Misha, at least. I just didn’t tell you everything.” “What’s ‘everything’?” “Up until two years ago, Misha led exactly the kind of life we showed you in those pictures. He was a normal, happy, well-adjusted boy. Then things began to change. He started skipping school, getting into fights, shoplifting cigarettes…” Obenko grimaces. “My sister didn’t know what to do, so she reached out to me to see if I could talk some sense into him. But when I tried, I could see it wouldn’t work. Misha was too restless, too bored with his life.” Obenko looks at me. “Kind of like how I felt at his age.” “So you what?” My frozen hands clench behind my back. “Decided he should be a spy?” Obenko doesn’t blink. “He needed direction, Yulia. He needed a sense of purpose, and we could provide that. There are so many youths like him in our disillusioned country—boys who lose their way and never find it again. They don’t know what they’re doing with their lives, don’t care about anything but a momentary thrill. I didn’t want your brother to be like that.” “Right.” I feel like I’m about to choke. “You wanted him to be like you and Kirill.” “Yulia, listen, about Kirill…” Something resembling guilt shadows Obenko’s gaze. “You have to understand that we’re a small covert organization. We couldn’t afford to lose someone as skilled and experienced as Kirill. Not over one mistake.” “One mistake?” My voice cracks. “Is that what they’re calling brutal assault now?” Obenko sighs again, like I’m being unreasonable. “What happened with you was an isolated incident,” he says patiently. “It was the one and only time he lost control like that. I understand that it was a traumatic experience for you, but he’s an asset to our agency and our country. The best we could do was relocate him away from you—and make sure you could move past it.” “By telling me that he was dead? That you had him assassinated?” Obenko nods. “It was for your own good. That way you could forget him and move forward.”

“You mean, be of use to UUR.” Obenko doesn’t respond, and I know that’s exactly what he means. In his mind, I’m not a person. I’m a pawn on a chessboard—one that could function either as an asset or a liability. “Does Misha know?” I ask, staring at the man I’d once looked up to. “Does he know I’m his sister?” Obenko hesitates, then says, “Yes, Misha knows. He remembered you from the orphanage, so we had no choice but to tell him about you. He also knows that you turned on us—that whatever happened to you at Esguerra’s compound made you betray your own country.” My nails dig into my palms. “That’s a lie. I didn’t betray you.” “Then why did you follow me? Why did you slip me this?” Obenko places his hand on the table and uncurls his fist to show me the GPS chip I planted in his phone. After a moment of consideration, I decide I have nothing to lose by telling the truth. I’m already a liability in Obenko’s eyes. “Because I wanted to see Misha one last time,” I say evenly. “Because I couldn’t do this anymore.” “So you were going to walk away.” Obenko gives me an assessing look. “You know, I suspected that might be the case. You weren’t the same after you came back.” I shrug, not about to explain about my complex relationship with Lucas and my inability to take on another “assignment.” Whatever guilt I’d felt at abandoning UUR is gone, vaporized by the crushing blow of Obenko’s betrayal and Misha’s eager abandonment of the life I fought so hard to give him. I’ve spent eleven years protecting my brother, only to find out he’s going to end up like me. I suppose I should be devastated, but the pain is still distant, held at bay by a cold numbness that overpowers everything, even my fury. “I want to talk to him,” I say to Obenko. “I want to talk to Misha.” He studies me for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No, Yulia. You’ll only confuse the boy. He’s where he needs to be, mentally and emotionally, and whatever you plan to tell him will only make it harder for him. I don’t think you want that.” My upper lip curls. “So he doesn’t know what Kirill did or how you manipulated

me all those years.” Obenko doesn’t blink. “What Misha knows is that Kirill Ivanovich dedicated his life to this country, just like all of us at UUR—and that you left Misha when he was a baby. Everything else is a matter of opinion.” “Of course it is.” I should be enraged that my brother believes I’m a traitor who abandoned him in the orphanage, but it’s too much to absorb all at once. It feels like this is happening to someone else, like I’m watching a movie rather than living it. “So what will his opinion be of my disappearance?” Obenko sighs. “Yulia…” “Just tell me.” “You will have escaped,” Obenko says. “Disappeared to South America to be with your lover.” “Ah, yes. My lover, of course.” I think of Lucas and the way we parted, and sharp agony rips through me. “So when exactly am I going to make my grand escape?” I manage to say. “Today? Tomorrow?” “It doesn’t have to be this way, Yulia.” There’s genuine regret in Obenko’s eyes. “It’s not too late. We can start over and forget all this. If you prove yourself—” “Prove myself?” I can’t hold back a burst of bitter laughter. “By doing what? Fucking a few more men for you?” Obenko’s hand flexes on the table, but his tone remains unruffled. “By carrying out your assignment. You know how important what we do is—” “Yes, I do.” My mouth twists. “So important that you’d let a rapist train underage girls. So important that you’d lie, murder, and manipulate everyone… even your own adoptive nephew.” Obenko’s gaze hardens, and he gets up. “Suit yourself,” he says. “You have until tomorrow morning. If you decide to do the right thing, let me know.” He walks out of the room, and I remain at the table, listening to the sound of his departing footsteps.

AFTER ABOUT AN HOUR, MATEYENKO COMES IN TO UNLOCK MY HANDCUFFS AND BRING ME TO A windowless room that resembles a cell. It has a narrow cot with a thin blanket, a metal toilet without a lid, and a small rusted sink.

“Where is this place?” I ask, but the senior agent doesn’t respond. He just steps out and locks the door behind him, leaving me alone. I wait for a few minutes to make sure he doesn’t return, and then I use the toilet and wash my hands with the rusty water trickling from the faucet in the sink. I also consider drinking some of that water to quench my thirst, but decide against it. I’d rather not spend my last night puking my guts out. I walk over to the cot and lie down, staring at the ceiling. I know I won’t be able to fall asleep, so I don’t even try. My mind spins and whirls, cycling between bitter rage and numb despair. Three facts repeat over and over: Kirill is alive and training my brother to be a spy. My brother has been fed a bunch of lies about me. I will die tomorrow unless I agree to work for UUR. There’s nothing I can do about the first two problems, but the third one is within my control—if Obenko is to be believed, at least. Theoretically, I could agree to carry out my assignment, and if I prove myself, all will be forgiven. I could also promise to carry out the assignment, but run instead. It’s a tantalizing idea, except it won’t be easy. I admitted to wanting to disappear, so if they do decide to let me out into the field, I’ll be kept under close observation. They might even put some kind of trackers on me, the way Lucas planned to. My despair gives way to bitter amusement. It seems I’m destined to be a prisoner one way or another. A shiver rattles my body, and I realize I’m cold again, my hands and feet frozen and stiff. Rolling up into a small ball, I pull the blanket over my head and pretend I’m in a cocoon where nothing bad can ever touch me, where I can sleep and dream of a different life—a life where Lucas looks at me the way he did that last morning before his trip, and I don’t have to leave. A familiar pain pierces my chest, and I close my eyes, letting the memories come. Our relationship had been wrong in so many ways, yet there had been so much right about it too. And now… now none of the wrongness matters. All I’m left with are the memories and a potent, impossible longing to see him one last time before I die.

THE BLANKET IS PULLED OFF ME, AND STRONG HANDS TUG AT MY UNDERWEAR, TEARING IT OFF AS MY dress is flipped up. A heavy male body presses me down, and my wrists are pinned above my head. At first, I think I’m dreaming of Lucas, but then I smell it. Cologne. Lucas never wears cologne. My eyes snap open on a surge of panic, and a hoarse scream bursts from my throat—a scream that’s instantly muffled by a large palm over my mouth. “Quiet now,” Kirill whispers as I writhe hysterically, trying to throw him off. “We don’t want to disturb anyone, do we?” His hand over my mouth is crushing my jaw, and his other hand is squeezing my wrists so hard I feel my bones grinding against one another. With his legs pinning mine to the bed, I can’t move or kick, and nauseating terror rips through me as I feel his erection rubbing against my bare leg. “We’re going to have a little fun,” he says, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel excitement. “For old times’ sake.” And forcing his knee between my legs, he lowers his head.

22

L

ucas

I RAISE MY FIST, SIGNALING FOR DIEGO AND EDUARDO TO STOP AS I PEER THROUGH MY NIGHT VISION goggles at the building in front of us. For a black site, it’s surprisingly small—just a ramshackle one-story house in a heavily wooded rural area. “Are you sure this is the place?” Diego whispers, crouching next to me. “It doesn’t look like much.” “I’m guessing most of it is underground,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I see two SUVs in the shed in the back, and I don’t think Ukrainian villagers drive SUVs.” We left our own car in the woods a half-mile away to scope out the location and figure out our plan of action. Whatever we do, we need to be quick and discreet, so we can be out of the country before UUR realizes we were here. Thanks to Peter Sokolov’s contacts, we landed at a private airport undetected, and we have to be able to leave the same way. “Go around the back and keep an eye on the place from there,” I tell Eduardo, who has come up behind Diego. “I’m going to try to hack into their computers remotely.” He nods and disappears into the bushes, and I take out the device I brought with me. One of the benefits of working with Esguerra is having access to cutting-edge military intelligence technology—like this remote data skimmer. Opening my laptop, I sync it with the device and tell Diego, “Good news: we’re within range. Now we just need to let the hacking program do its magic.” It takes more than an hour to break through the firewalls, but gradually, my

screen fills with all kinds of data, including blueprints of the house and a live video feed of a dimly lit hallway. “Is that from inside their building?” Diego asks, looking over my shoulder. “You bet,” I say, watching as two men walk past the camera. One of them looks unusually young, barely a teenager, which throws me for a moment—until I remember that UUR is in the habit of recruiting children. I click on the next video feed and see what looks like an interrogation room. It’s empty except for a metal table and two chairs. Next, I access a camera in what must be a security room. There’s one heavily armed man sitting there in front of a row of computers. I click to the next feed, which shows yet another hallway, and several more feeds that reveal cell-like rooms. To my disappointment, all those rooms are empty. This facility must not be heavily used. I click through a few more camera feeds, comparing the rooms I see to the blueprints on my screen, and jot down notes on how everything is positioned. In the process, I come across two more men—one that’s built like a heavyweight wrestling champion and a leaner one who appears to be in his forties. “Only five agents so far, and one of them is a kid,” Diego says over my shoulder. “If that’s all, we might be able to take them.” “Right.” I click through a few more feeds, making notes on the interior of each room, and pause when I come back to one of the empty cells—or at least a cell I’d thought empty before. Now I see I was wrong: there’s a small mound on a cot covered by a blanket. “Is that—” “Yes, looks like they have a prisoner there,” I say, peering at the grainy feed. It’s definitely a person-sized mound; I should’ve noticed it the first time. “Hold on, let me see if I can get a clearer image.” Activating the hacking program’s remote control feature, I isolate the portion of surveillance mechanism that controls the camera in that room. Carefully, I angle it so it’s pointed directly at the cot. The person, whoever it is, is unmoving, as if passed out or asleep. “Okay, so six people,” Diego says, “if we count this prisoner as a threat. Pretty decent odds, especially if we catch them by surprise.” “Yes, I think so,” I say, clicking over to the next image. Originally, I planned for

us to just gather data and leave, but I can’t pass up this opportunity. It’s possible that one of these agents knows Yulia’s whereabouts. My ribs choose that moment to twinge with pain, but I ignore the dull ache. Even with me injured, we should be able to take five or six opponents. Turning on my earpiece, I say, “Eduardo, I need you to plant some explosives on the northwest and southwest corners of the house. Use enough to take down the walls but not destroy the whole house. We want to capture as many of them alive as we can.” “Got it,” Eduardo replies, and I turn to glance at Diego. “We’re going in right after the first blast,” I say. “Get ready.” He nods, taking out his M16, and I turn my attention back to the computer. Within a minute, the hacking program takes control of the surveillance feeds outside, replacing the image of Eduardo stealthily approaching the house with a nonthreatening view of night-darkened trees and bushes. Now we just need Eduardo to set the charges. As we wait for that, I check all the internal video feeds again. On the hallway feed, I see one of the men walk toward the cell with the prisoner. It’s the agent who’s built like a wrestler, alone this time. With mild interest, I watch him enter the cell, place his gun in the sink on the other side of the room, and step toward the covered figure on the cot. He bends over it and, to my surprise, unzips his jeans. What the fuck? My attention sharpens as he pulls the blanket off the figure— which I now see is female—and flips up her dress. With the way he’s standing, the camera doesn’t allow me to see much of the prisoner, yet my chest tightens with anxious premonition. “Kent?” Diego says, but I’m not listening to him. All my attention is on the computer screen as I frantically work to angle the camera. The man straddles the prisoner and grabs her wrists—thin, delicate wrists that look impossibly breakable in his bear-like grasp. The camera tilts, angling to the left, and I see tangled blond hair and a beautiful pale face. My heart stops for a split second; then feral fury blasts through me. Yulia. She’s here—and she’s being attacked.

23

Y ulia KIRILL’S BREATH IS HOT AND FETID ON MY FACE, AND HIS MASSIVE BULK IS LIKE A MOUNTAIN ON TOP OF me, crushing me into the cot. My insides heave with horror and disgust, and I feel my mind sliding toward the dark place where I don’t exist and can’t feel this. No. With stark clarity, I know that if I go there, I’m lost. I’ll never emerge from that darkness. I have to stay conscious. I have to fight. I can’t let him destroy me again. Suppressing my instinctive inclination to struggle, I let myself go limp, my wrists relaxing in Kirill’s brutal grip. I don’t react as he drags his tongue over my cheek, and I don’t tense as he parts my legs, settling heavily between them. He needs to think me dazed and tamed. It’s my only chance. I feel his cock, hard against my bare thigh, and nausea rises in my throat, my long-ago meal threatening to come up. Just a second longer, I tell myself, keeping my muscles relaxed. Don’t rush it. Wait for the right moment. The right moment arrives when he shifts on top of me and his face ends up directly over mine. I peer at him through a tiny crack between my eyelids, and when he lowers one hand to grab my breast, I strike. With all my strength, I jerk my head up, smashing my forehead straight into his nose. Blood spurts everywhere as Kirill recoils with a startled shout. Any other man would’ve clutched his broken nose, but he just rears up, snarling, “Bitch!” and

smashes his fist into my jaw. My head whips to the side, the blast of pain stunning me for a second. I see stars at the edge of my vision and taste coppery blood. But Kirill is not done with me yet. “Fucking bitch!” The next blow is to my stomach, his fist like a wrecking ball hitting my kidney. “Always thought yourself too good for me, did you?” I can’t reply; I can only wheeze through the agony as I curl up to protect myself. He let go of my wrists to hit me, I realize dazedly, and as he raises his fist again, I twist my upper body to the side. His fist grazes my cheekbone instead of shattering it as he’d likely intended, but my ears still ring from the blow. I twist again, trying to throw him off, but his lower body is like a boulder on top of me. Fight, Yulia, fight. The words are like a desperate chant in my mind. I strike upward with my fist and manage to hit his jaw, but his eyes just glitter brighter as he catches my wrists again. I can see the rage and madness in their dark depths, and I know I won’t walk away from this alive. “You’re going to pay for that,” he says in a low, guttural hiss, and I feel his hairy balls on my thigh as he forces my legs wider, his fingers cutting off all blood flow to my hands. His cock presses against my entrance, and I scream, bracing for the inevitable horror of violation. Boom! For a moment, I’m sure that he hit me again, that the deafening noise is my facial bones cracking, but the dust and plaster raining down on me dispel that impression. Kirill jumps off me with a curse, his cock sticking out of his unzipped pants, and staggers back a couple of feet as another explosion shakes the room. Seizing the chance, I roll off the cot and scramble to my feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in my face and side. There is a sharp crackle of gunfire above us. Kirill freezes in place, his gaze swinging madly between me and the door. He has to realize the facility is being attacked, and I feel his hatred for me warring with his sense of duty. He should be out there, defending his colleagues, but what he really wants is to make me suffer. The latter impulse seems to win out. “You fucking traitor,” he grits out, the veins in his forehead bulging, and then he steps toward me, his fist raised for a blow. Reflexively, I duck, and at that moment, another blast rattles the room, throwing Kirill off-balance and causing more plaster to rain down on us. A

creaking, groaning sound seems to emanate from the depths of the building itself, and one corner of the room suddenly crumbles, bricks and plaster falling in an avalanche less than a meter from me. Gasping, I jump to the side—and then I see it. A brick with a rusted metal rod embedded in it. I leap for it, sliding on my stomach across the debris-littered floor. Bits of rock and plaster scrape my bare legs and belly, but my hands close around the metal rod, and I jump up just in time to smash the brick across Kirill’s face as he rushes at me. He staggers back, catching himself on the sink, and I again hear the furious staccato of automatic gunfire above us. This time, though, the deafening noise doesn’t stop. Whoever the attackers are, they have serious firepower. I don’t get a chance to wonder about their identity, though, because I see Kirill reach into the sink and pull out a gun. Reacting in an instant, I let go of the heavy brick and throw myself to the side, rolling across the floor toward my attacker. I hear the shot, feel the burning sting of the bullet as it grazes my arm, and then I’m smashing into Kirill’s knees at full speed. He must not have fully recovered from my earlier hit, because he staggers back again, and his next shot goes wide. I scramble to my feet, my ears ringing from the shot and the gunfire above, and grab his right wrist, twisting it sideways in an effort to break his hold on the gun. In the next instant, I’m flying across the room. He backhanded me with his other hand, I comprehend hazily as I slam into a wall. Air whooshes from my lungs, and I wheeze in paralyzed agony as Kirill points the gun at me, his face twisted with manic rage. He’s going to kill me. The knowledge injects adrenaline straight into my brain. Without further thought, I throw myself at Kirill, my arms extended in a desperate grab, and my hand closes around the cold metal of the barrel. I feel it buck under my fingers, hear the deadly whine of the bullet, and then I’m falling. I’m falling, but I’m not dead. I land on top of Kirill, stunned, my hand still convulsively grasping the barrel. I can’t believe I’m alive. Instinctively, I yank at the gun, trying to pull it out of his grasp, and to my shock, I succeed. Clutching the weapon, I crawl backward off

Kirill’s massive body, and it’s only when I’m a couple of feet away that I understand what happened. A portion of the ceiling collapsed on top of him, knocking him out. There’s a thin trickle of blood on his temple, and plaster all around him. Kirill is unconscious, maybe even dead. Dizzily, I climb to my feet and point the weapon at him, trying to steady my violently shaking hand. My vision is blurry, and every thought seems to require inordinate effort. All I’m aware of is hatred. Black and potent, it pulses through my veins, taking away all rational thought. My finger tightens on the trigger, almost of its own volition, and I watch as the first shot rips a bloody hole in my rapist’s side. His body jerks, and I shoot again, pointing the gun between his legs. His deflated cock and balls explode in a spray of bloody meat. My dizziness intensifies, my head swimming with pain, and I clench my teeth, determined to remain conscious long enough to finish him off. A fresh burst of gunfire above draws my attention, and I realize suddenly that I still have no idea what’s happening or who the attackers are. Almost immediately, I recall something else. Misha. My brother was here earlier. Icy terror cuts through my haze. Could Misha still be here? Could he be upstairs, in that war zone with the unknown enemies? Before I can even process the thought, I’m already out the door, sprinting down the basement hallway. I have to get to Misha. If he’s still alive, I have to save him. As I round the corner to the stairs, I collide with a person running toward me. We crash into each other, and as we tumble to the floor, I realize with shock that it’s Misha—that my brother was sprinting toward me. He lands on top of me, and before I can catch my breath, he climbs to his feet, breathing heavily. “Misha!” Fighting my dizziness, I scramble to my feet. I’m still holding Kirill’s gun, but I manage to grab Misha’s arm before he can step away. “Are you hurt? Are you injured? What’s happening?” My questions come out in a frantic mix of Russian and Ukrainian, but Misha just shakes his head, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. He seems to be in shock; under the dirt and blood covering his

face, his cheeks look sickly pale. My heart hammers as I run my free hand over him, looking for gunshot wounds or broken bones, but other than a few scratches, he seems to be in one piece. Relieved, I grab his arm again and tug him into one of the rooms off the hallway. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” “You… they…” He seems to have trouble speaking. “They just—” “Yes, I know, come on.” I drag him into a small cell that resembles the one I was just in and look for a place to hide. There isn’t one, and my stomach sinks as the gunfire upstairs stops, and then resumes with even greater violence. “Misha.” Gripping my gun tightly in my right hand, I raise my left hand and gently touch his cheek. My baby brother is already a couple of inches taller than me, and if his lanky frame is anything to go by, he still has quite a bit of growing to do. He’s also shaking uncontrollably, his skin icy under my touch. “Mishen’ka, do you know a way out of here?” He swallows. “No.” “Okay.” I’m shaking myself, but I keep my voice calm so as not to add to his terror. “Do you know what’s going on upstairs? Who’s attacking?” “I don’t know.” His shaking intensifies. “They just… They killed Uncle Vasya and—” “Obenko is dead?” Despite everything, I feel a slight pang in my chest. Pushing the illogical emotion aside, I lower my hand and ask, “How many are there? Did any of them say anything?” Misha shakes his head again, his eyes brimming with tears. “They killed Uncle Vasya,” he whispers, as if unable to believe it. “And Agent Mateyenko.” His face crumples, just like it did when he was a toddler. “Oh, Misha…” I step closer, swallowing my own tears. “I’m sorry.” More than anything, I want to hug and console him, but there’s no time, so I say, “We have to figure out a way out. There must be—” I’m interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs. Misha tenses, and I see terror flash in his eyes. “They’re coming for us. They’re going to—” “Shh.” I hold up my finger to my lips as I step back and cast a desperate look around the room. I don’t know if Kirill’s gun was fully loaded when he got to my cell, but even if it was, there can’t be more than a couple of bullets left. Still, I could

potentially use those bullets as a distraction so Misha can get away. “Come,” I whisper, grabbing his arm. “The minute you see a chance to run, you run. Understand?” “But they’re—” “Quiet,” I hiss, towing him down the hallway. When we reach the next room, I shove my brother in there and whisper, “Don’t make a sound.” And gripping the gun with both hands, I turn back toward the stairs, ready to meet my fate.

24

L

ucas

YULIA. I have to get to Yulia. The thought hammers in my brain as I run down the stairs, ignoring the blood dripping down my arm. A bullet had grazed my shoulder and my ribs ache from all the movement, but I’m barely cognizant of the pain. The fight turned out to be lengthy and brutal; even caught off-guard and dazed by the bombs we set, the UUR operatives weren’t easy to take down. Being forced to exchange fire with them while Yulia was getting assaulted downstairs nearly drove me mad. As soon as we took out two of the three agents defending the house on the first floor, I sprinted to the basement stairs, leaving Diego and Eduardo to deal with the remaining shooter. I hope they’re able to capture him instead of killing him like we did the other two, but either way, it’s not worth me sticking around. Saving Yulia beats gathering intelligence any day. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I force myself to slow down. The young agent ran this way after we killed the second shooter, and Yulia’s assailant could be lying in wait for me here too. He couldn’t have missed the shots and explosions upstairs. Or so I’m hoping, at least. I gave the order to detonate the bombs before we were optimally positioned for that exact reason: I figured the man was unlikely to continue with Yulia once he realized they were under attack. Gripping my M16, I stop as I reach the corner. The hallway with all the rooms is to my right. If my recollection is correct, Yulia’s cell should be the fourth one on the left.

This is going to be tricky. I can’t shoot indiscriminately, like I did upstairs—not without risking Yulia’s life. Crouching, I risk a quick look around the corner. The hallway is empty. I risk a second glance, this time eyeballing the distance to the nearest cell with an open door. Ten feet. I can make it. Tightening my grip on the gun, I dive for the cell, rolling across the floor. I halfexpect to feel the bite of bullets, but nothing happens as I throw myself through the open door and leap to my feet, scanning the room for danger. Empty. No sign of anyone. I inhale to steady my racing heartbeat. The knowledge that Yulia is only a few rooms away from me is like a fire in my blood, but I know I need to be patient. Somewhere down here are two potentially dangerous opponents, and I have to be cautious if I’m to survive and get her back. Plastering myself against the wall next to the door, I study the hallway, all my senses on alert. I have no doubt they know I’m here, which means it’s just a matter of time before someone gets impatient and tries to take me out. To combat my own urge to act, I mentally count to ten, then do so again. By my third count, I hear a faint scrape and catch a flash of movement. It’s almost nothing—just a shadow changing shape inside one of the other doorways— but I know. This is the enemy. The safest move would be to pepper that doorway with bullets, but I can’t risk shooting Yulia by accident. As is, I can see that the bombs we set off did some damage down here. The floor is covered with plaster, and the ceiling lights are flickering madly. The idea of Yulia hurt in any way is intolerable, so I push the thought aside, along with the fear and rage clawing at my chest. I can’t focus on any of that, not until I have Yulia safely with me. Taking another breath, I mentally measure the distance to the other doorway. Seven feet, give or take a few inches. I allow myself one more steadying breath, and then I spring for it, covering the distance in three long strides. A shot rings out, but I’m already there, knocking the

gun out of the shooter’s hand as I tackle him to the floor and pin him with my assault rifle across his throat. No, I realize a split second later. Across her throat. Yulia is on her back underneath me, her blue eyes huge with shock. Her pale face is dirty and bruised, marred with blood and bits of plaster, but there’s no doubt that it’s her. “Lucas?” she chokes out, and I see her gaze suddenly flick to the right. I react instinctively. Clutching Yulia with one hand and the M16 with the other, I throw myself to the side and roll, pulling her with me. My ribs hurt like hell, but the brick that was about to connect with my head crashes into the floor instead, and I jump up to meet the new threat—the young agent I saw in the video feed. The boy has clearly had some training, and he’s fast. As I swing my weapon at his head, he ducks and simultaneously kicks out with his right leg. I jump back, causing his foot to miss my side, and before he can regroup, I thrust the gun forward, ramming the barrel into his solar plexus. His face turns ghostly white, and his knees buckle. He collapses to the floor, gasping for air, and I raise the gun to knock him out. But before I can bring the handle down on his head, I spot a flicker of movement at my side. It’s Yulia leaping at me, teeth bared. “Get away! Don’t hurt him!” Her scream verges on hysterical as I catch her midleap and twist to pin her against the wall. Her fist lands in my side, causing my ribs to scream in agony as I struggle to contain her without dropping my weapon. She grabs for the gun, trying to wrestle it away from me, and I grunt in pain as her elbow hits me in the ribs again. “Fucking hell, Yulia, stop!” I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t let her get that weapon. She’s already shot at me once; there’s no telling what she’d do with a fully loaded M16. As I’m wrestling with her, in my peripheral vision I see a shadow move across the hallway. If it’s the other agent joining the fight, I’m screwed. Steeling myself, I twist and slam my elbow into Yulia’s ribcage. It’s a carefully controlled blow—I use just enough force to knock the air out of her—and then I jump back and turn to face the boy, who’s still on the floor but beginning to recover from my hit.

His eyes widen as I raise the gun, pointing it straight at him, and for the first time, I get a good look at his features. Features that are oddly familiar. “No!” Before I have a chance to process what I’m seeing, Yulia slams into me, tackling me with such force that I stagger back before I can catch myself. Her face is twisted with terrified anger as she wrestles with me for the weapon, and I begin to get an inkling of what’s happening. “Misha!” she yells at the top of her lungs, followed by some Russian word, and my suspicion crystallizes into certainty as I see the boy struggle to his feet and rush at me, his teeth bared in a grimace that’s nearly identical to the one on Yulia’s face. Motherfucker. “Stop,” I snarl, yanking the gun out of Yulia’s hands with one hard pull. “I’m not going to fucking hurt him!” The boy crashes into me before I finish speaking, and I hit him in the throat, tempering the force of my blow to avoid crushing his trachea. Even with my light tap, he collapses, choking and gasping for air, and I’m left to deal with Yulia’s attack. She flies at me like a feral creature, all teeth and claws, her eyes wild with terror. She clearly didn’t believe my promise not to hurt the boy, whoever he is to her, and is fighting like a mama bear protecting her cub. Cursing, I block her attempt to knee me in the balls, and duck to avoid her swinging fist. Before she can lash out again, I catch her and pin her arms to her sides, squeezing her tightly. The M16 is still in my hand, but I don’t use it. I just hold Yulia against me, letting her tire herself out with her desperate struggles. She weakens faster than I expected, likely because she’s injured. Within a couple of minutes, she goes limp in my arms, her breathing fast and shaky. I feel her muscles quivering in exhaustion as I hold her, and despite the violent ache in my ribs, a familiar mix of lust and tenderness spreads through me, warming my chest and stiffening my cock. Yulia. I finally have my Yulia. Her breasts are soft against me, her body slim and delicate in my embrace. She smells of fear, sweat, and blood, but underneath it all is the faint scent of peaches

—a fragrance I’ll forever associate with her. I breathe it in, indulging myself for a moment, but then I recall the shadow I saw moving earlier. The other agent—Yulia’s attacker—is still on the loose. “Did he hurt you?” My voice thickens with spiking rage. “Did that bastard touch you?” Yulia’s whole body goes rigid, and then she starts struggling again. “Let me go.” Her words are muffled against my shirt. “Let me go, Lucas!” I tighten my arms around her, ignoring the pain the move causes me. “Answer me.” She stills, breathing rapidly, and I see the boy trying to get to his feet. I clench my jaw and turn Yulia so I have my M16 pointed at him. He freezes immediately, and I try to figure out how to proceed next. Everything in me demands that I rush into the hallway to capture the agent who assaulted her, but if I let go of Yulia, she’ll attack me again, and I don’t want to have to hurt her. Also, there’s the fucking kid. As I wrestle with my dilemma, I realize that I’m no longer hearing any gunfire— that, in fact, it’s been quiet for a couple of minutes. Just as the thought occurs to me, I hear running footsteps on the stairs, and a minute later, Eduardo bursts into the room, ready to take down our remaining opponents. “Wait,” I order as he points his weapon at the kid. “Don’t shoot him.” Yulia begins to struggle again, so I squeeze her tighter and whisper in her ear, “Calm down. We’re not going to hurt him. If I wanted him dead, he’d already be dead.” That seems to get through to her. She stops fighting, and I risk loosening my grip on her. When I see that she’s still not attacking, I release her and step back. At the last moment, I change my mind and grab her wrist with my left hand, anchoring her to me. There’s no way I’m chancing her escaping me ever again. “There’s one more down here somewhere,” I tell Eduardo in a hard voice. The thought of Yulia’s attacker on the loose is intolerable. “Find him and bring him to me.” Eduardo nods and disappears, and Yulia stares at me, trembling all over. She looks like she’s on the verge of either fainting or bolting. “You’re not—” Her voice breaks. “You’re not going to hurt Misha?”

I glance down at the boy, who’s wisely remaining motionless on the floor. “If that’s Misha, then no.” I take a calming breath, trying not to wince at the pain in my ribs. “Who is he to you?” Yulia’s eyes widen. “You don’t know? But you said—” “I think it’s possible I misunderstood,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Who is he? Your cousin?” She blinks. “My brother.” Now it’s my turn to be taken aback. “You said you were an only child.” “I lied,” she says. Then her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “But you said you knew. When I asked you not to kill him, you said you knew. What did you mean? Why did you—” “I thought he was your lover, okay?” Anger—at myself this time—clips my words. “Why did you lie about being an only child?” Yulia moistens her lips. “Because I didn’t trust you.” Of course—and apparently, with good reason. I force myself to take another breath. In a calmer tone, I ask, “Are you hurt? Did that fucker hurt you?” She stiffens again. “How do you—” “I hacked into this facility’s video feed,” I say. Releasing her wrist, I raise my hand to run my fingertips over the swelling on the left side of her face. “Did he do this?” I ask, trying to suppress my fury. “Did he hit you?” “He…” Yulia swallows. “I fought, so he hit me. Then you—” She stops. “How did you find this place?” I narrow my eyes, refusing to be distracted. “Did he rape you?” “He tried, but no.” Her gaze drifts down. “Not this time.” “This time?” I all but explode on the spot. “He hurt you before?” She looks up, seemingly startled. “I told you about that. You don’t remember?” “That was—” “Kirill, yes.” Her bruised lips flatten. “They lied to me about him. He was alive. Alive and training Misha…” She glances down at the boy, who’s been utterly silent during our conversation. I don’t know how much English he understands, but judging from the stunned look on his face, he must’ve gotten at least some of it. I can see Yulia is about to start talking to him, so I grip her chin firmly to bring

her attention back to me. “We’re going to get him,” I promise grimly. “He won’t get away this time.” To my surprise, Yulia’s mouth curves in a small smile as I lower my hand. “It’s okay. I took care of him.” “What?” “He’s dead—or will be shortly, if he’s not already.” Yulia’s smile sharpens. “He’s in my cell. Or at least his body should be there.” I’m about to tell her to take me there when Eduardo enters the room. “He’s gone,” the guard says with evident disgust. “The bastard somehow made it to one of the SUVs in the backyard and squealed out of here. There must’ve been another exit down here. He bled the whole way to the car, though, so he’s hurt pretty badly. Maybe he’ll bleed out on his own.” Yulia’s eyebrows draw together. “Who are you—” “He’s talking about Kirill.” I fight to keep my voice level. “I saw a shadow move in the hallway earlier, when you and Misha were doing your best to bash my head in. He must not have been hurt as badly as you thought, or else—” “I shot his cock and balls off.” Yulia’s curt statement makes me—and all the other males in the room—flinch instinctively. “Also, I put a bullet in his side,” she says, and before anyone can respond, she rushes out of the room, running down the hallway toward her cell. “Keep an eye on him,” I tell Eduardo, nodding at Yulia’s brother, and then I take off after her, determined not to let her out of my sight ever again.

25

Y ulia LUCAS IS HERE. HE PROMISED NOT TO HURT MY BROTHER. KIRILL MIGHT HAVE ESCAPED. I can’t process any of it, so I don’t even try. As I burst into the cell where Kirill attacked me, I see right away that Eduardo was right. Kirill is gone. There’s blood all over the place. I turn to follow the trail leading out of the room, but Lucas is already there, looming in the doorway like a human mountain. His hard jaw is shadowed with blond stubble, and his eyes are the color of an iced-over lake. With his SWAT-like gear and machine gun, he looks like the ultimate merciless soldier. I want to flee from him and jump into his arms at the same time. I do neither. Instead, I say dully, “He’s gone.” I know I’m stating the obvious, but all forms of higher thinking seem to be beyond me at the moment. My head is throbbing with pain, and my knees feel like they might buckle at any moment. The adrenaline that sustained me during my fight with Lucas is gone, leaving me trembling in the aftermath. Kirill almost raped me again. Lucas saved me. Lucas had thought Misha was my lover. I shake my head, a hysterical laugh escaping my throat. “Yulia…” Lucas reaches for me, frowning, and my laughter intensifies. I can’t stop laughing, not when he pulls me into his embrace, his M16 digging into my back, and not when he rocks me against him, whispering soothing nothings into

my ear. He promises that he’ll find Kirill for me, that he’ll make sure the fucker suffers, but I’m not listening to him. My mind is like a ping-pong ball, leaping from one insane fact to the next. Lucas is in Ukraine. My brother is here with me. Lucas doesn’t intend to kill him —though he did when he thought Misha was my lover. My hysterical laughter turns into equally hysterical sobbing. I know it’s pathetic, but I can’t stop. All the heartache and stress of the past few hours coalesce into an expanding ball in my throat, and no matter how much air I draw in, I can’t stop feeling like I’m suffocating. Misha could’ve been killed. He could still be killed if Lucas changes his mind. I want to plead for my brother’s life again, but all I can manage is a choked sound that devolves into another sob. “Hush, sweetheart, it’ll be all right…” Lucas’s voice is a soft rumble in my ear. “I’ll protect you from him, I promise.” Bending down, he picks me up, cradling me against his chest, and I wind my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his throat. Almost instantly, I feel calmer, my sobs easing as he carries me down the hallway. When we pass by the room where I left my brother, however, I see that it’s empty, and the choking sensation returns. “Where is he?” My voice takes on a higher pitch as I push at Lucas’s shoulders. “Where’s Misha?” “I assume Eduardo brought him upstairs, which is where I’m taking you now,” Lucas says, pressing me tighter against him. “Don’t worry, baby. He’s going to be fine, and so will you.” His words reassure me somewhat. I still don’t trust Lucas, but I don’t see what he has to gain by lying to me in this instance. As he told me, if he wanted Misha dead, he would’ve already killed him. “What are you going to do with him?” My tone is a tiny bit calmer as I pull back to look at my captor. “With us, I mean?” “You’re coming with me, and so is your brother.” Lucas’s eyes glitter as he takes the stairs two at a time. “Now relax—we’ll sort all the rest of it soon.” And before I can ask anything else, he steps out into the ruins of the first floor of the house.

THE NEXT SEVERAL HOURS ARE HAZY IN MY MIND. I RECALL SEEING OBENKO’S BLOODIED CORPSE AS Lucas carried me out of the wreckage, but I must’ve passed out soon after that because I don’t remember the drive to the airport or the plane taking off. My last semi-clear recollection is of my brother sitting in the car next to me, his eyes red and swollen and his hands handcuffed behind his back. A few times during the flight, Diego shakes me awake and makes me tell him my name and how many fingers he’s holding up. The first time that happens, I ask about my brother, and Diego points to a blanket-covered bundle on the couch across the cabin. “We gave him a sedative so he wouldn’t keep fighting us,” the guard explains. “Your brother didn’t take the other agents’ deaths well.” I try to get up to make sure Misha is all right, but my whole body lodges a violent protest, beginning with my skull, and I fall back into my plush seat with a pained groan, fighting a wave of nauseating dizziness. “Don’t try to move,” Diego says, buckling me in with the seatbelt. “Lucas thinks you might have a concussion. He said I’m to watch over you while he’s flying the plane.” “But Misha—” “He’s fine.” Diego walks over and pokes Misha’s shoulder. My brother makes an incoherent noise, and the guard says, “See? He’s sleeping. Now relax. We’re already over the Atlantic and should be home soon.” “Home?” I try to think through the throbbing pain in my temples. “Our compound.” The young Mexican grins. “The wind is at our back, so we’ll be landing in no time.” I want to argue that Esguerra’s compound is not my home, but the pain in my head intensifies, and I fade into unconsciousness again.

“—A LOT OF BRUISING ON HER BACK, FACE, AND STOMACH, AND YES, A MILD CONCUSSION. I’M GOING to give her some pain medication, so she can rest comfortably. There’s no need to wake her up; it’s not that severe of a head injury. Her body’s just been through a trauma and needs to heal. The more she sleeps, the better. I suggest you take it easy as well; you’re not doing your ribs any favors with all this activity.” The voice is somewhat familiar. Prying open my eyelids, I see Lucas standing

next to a short, balding man—the doctor who inspected me when I was first brought to the estate. What was his name? Stifling a groan, I turn my head to take in my surroundings and realize I’m in Lucas’s bedroom, lying on his large comfortable bed. I’m also clean and naked under the blanket. Lucas must’ve undressed and washed me while I was passed out. “Where’s Misha?” My words come out in a barely audible croak. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Where’s my brother?” Judging by drawn shades and bedroom lights being on, it’s already evening or maybe even night. Lucas and the doctor turn to face me at the same time. Lucas’s mouth is set in a hard line, but the moment I try to sit up, he crosses the room in a couple of strides and sits down on the edge of the bed. “You are to rest.” His tone is harsh, but his touch is gentle as he pushes me back down. “Don’t move.” He starts to get up again, and I grab his hand in desperation. “I need to see Misha.” Lucas hesitates for a moment, then says gruffly, “Fine. I’ll have him brought here. But you rest, understand?” I tighten my grip on Lucas’s hand. “Where are you holding him?” Now that we’re out of immediate danger, a new fear takes hold of me. My brother is here, in Esguerra’s compound, in the hands of men who can snuff out his life as easily as squashing a bug. If I hadn’t stopped Lucas in that basement, he would’ve likely killed Misha—just as he’d killed Obenko and the other agents. My captor is dangerous, and I can’t forget that. “Misha—or Michael, as he told us he prefers to be called—is staying in the guards’ barracks,” Lucas says, his jaw muscle flexing. He seems angry about something, but I have no idea what. “Diego and Eduardo are keeping an eye on him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll call Diego and have your brother brought here.” I release Lucas’s hand, and he gets up. “Give her the pain meds,” he instructs the doctor. “I’ll be back in a minute.” The man nods, and Lucas walks out after giving me one last hard look. Even with the pain squeezing my temples, I understand his silent warning: Behave or else. If he’d asked me, I could’ve told him that his caution is unwarranted. Not only am I feeling like a truck ran me over, but Lucas has my brother. Even if I wanted to

run, I wouldn’t go anywhere without Misha—which must be why Lucas had him brought here, I realize with a shudder. “Here you go,” the doctor says, extending his hand toward me, and I automatically accept the two pills he gives me. “Thank you, Dr. Goldberg,” I say, finally recalling his name. The short man gives me a kind smile and helps me sit up, putting two pillows under my back as I clutch the blanket to my chest. He also gives me a bottle of water, which I use to wash down the pills. There’s no point in resisting; the pills might cloud my mind, but the headache is doing that already. Even after sleeping the whole trip, I feel sluggish and exhausted, my body aching all over. “You should rest,” Dr. Goldberg says, then turns away to rummage in his bag as I tuck the blanket tighter around my naked chest, pinning it in place with my arms. As if obeying his instruction, my eyelids get progressively heavier, my thoughts beginning to drift as the doctor stands there, quietly humming under his breath. I’m almost asleep when I suddenly remember something he said earlier. “Is Lucas hurt?” I sit up straighter, my sleepiness fading in a rush of worry. “You mentioned his ribs.” Dr. Goldberg turns around, eyebrows arched in surprise. “Oh, that. Yes, cracked ribs take time to heal. He’s supposed to abstain from physical activity, not run around like Rambo.” I frown. “When did he crack his ribs?” From the way the doctor is talking, it sounds like an older injury. Dr. Goldberg gives me an owlish look. “You don’t know?” Then his face clears, and he shakes his head. “Of course you don’t know. What am I thinking?” “Did something happen here?” He hesitates, then says, “I think it’s best if Kent fills you in.” “Fills her in on what?” Lucas asks, walking into the room, and I see my brother come in after him, his hands handcuffed in front of his body. “Misha!” I almost jump from the bed, injuries be damned, but at the last moment, I remember that I’m naked under the blanket. Flushing, I tighten my arms at my sides and give my brother a smile instead. “How are you doing?” I ask in Russian. “Are you okay?” Misha stares at me, and I see color creep up his neck as he glances from me to

Lucas and then to Dr. Goldberg. I turn to my captor. “Lucas, would it be possible—” “You have five minutes,” he growls and strides out of the room. The doctor follows him out, closing the door behind him, and I find myself alone with my brother for the first time in eleven years.

26

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THE MOMENT THE DOOR TO THE BEDROOM CLOSES, I TURN TO GOLDBERG trackers. I want them implanted before you leave.”

AND SAY,

“PREPARE

THE

The doctor blinks at me. “Tonight? But—” “She’s already on pain meds, and as banged up as she is, she’ll hardly feel the discomfort.” I fold my arms across my chest. “You can use a local anesthetic to make sure there’s no pain when they go in.” Pausing, I frown at Goldberg. “Unless you think this will impede her recovery?” “No, but…” He gives me a wary look. “Don’t you think she’s been through enough?” “Excuse me?” Goldberg sighs and says, “Never mind. I can see you’re set on this. I’ll prepare for the procedure.” He walks over to the couch and sits, opening his doctor’s bag to take out a syringe with a thick needle and the sterilized implants I gave him earlier. The trackers are tiny, about the size of a grain of rice, but capable of transmitting a signal from anywhere in the globe. I watch him for a few moments, then walk over to the window and stare blindly outside, trying to contain the fury simmering in me. Kirill escaped. He hurt Yulia, and then he fucking escaped. I don’t know how he managed it—if Yulia was right about the damage she inflicted, he should’ve been at death’s door—

but the fucker drove away in the SUV, and we couldn’t give chase without alerting the authorities to our presence in their country. As is, given all the explosions and gunfire, it was bound to be only a matter of time before we got in trouble. Our safest bet had been to hightail it out of the country as fast as we could, and that’s exactly what we did. Of course, we only did that because Yulia had been injured, and I wanted to get her home as quickly as possible. Otherwise, I would’ve chased down the bastard and worried about getting out of the country later. Thinking about that—about Yulia beaten and nearly raped—sends fresh rage surging through me. I don’t know which one of us I’m angrier at: Yulia for lying about being an only child and running away, or myself for not doing proper due diligence before jumping to conclusions. Misha is her brother, not her lover. Her fucking teenage brother. During the flight, I had time to think about everything, and in hindsight, it’s obvious how my jealousy had blinded me to the truth. The idea of Yulia in love with another man had been so intolerable I refused to listen to her pleas. My obsession with her nearly got her killed. “Lucas?” Goldberg’s voice cuts into my thoughts. When I spin around to glare at him, the doctor says cautiously, “I think their five minutes are up. If you want me to do the procedure, I’m ready.” “All right.” I force my tone to even out. “Let’s go.” Misunderstanding or not, Yulia won’t escape from me ever again.

27

Y ulia THE SECOND THE DOOR CLOSES BEHIND THE DOCTOR, I SCOOT CLOSER TO THE EDGE OF THE BED, MAKING sure the blanket covers my chest. My head pounds with the movement, but I say, “Mishen’ka—” “It’s Mikhail—or Michael, since you’re so fond of the English language,” my brother snaps, his light-colored eyebrows drawing together in a ferocious frown. “I’m not a child.” “No, I can see that.” Ignoring the throbbing in my temples, I study his features, noticing the changes brought about by adolescence. At fourteen, he’s already begun the transition into manhood, his face leaner and harder than I recall seeing in pictures as recent as from a few months ago. Suppressing an irrational urge to cry, I begin again. “Michael”—the formal American version of his name feels foreign on my tongue—“I want to talk to you about… well, about everything.” He just stands there, looking tense and angry, so I plow on. “I’m sorry about Obenko—your uncle, that is. I know he meant a lot to you. And Mateyenko… They were good agents. They truly cared about their country, and I know Obenko cared about you…” I realize I’m rambling, so I take a breath and say, “Listen, I know the men holding us seem scary, but I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. Lucas said he won’t hurt you, and I—” “Is he your lover?” Misha’s cheeks redden as he asks the question, but he doesn’t look away, his gaze locked on me accusingly. I feel my own face heat up. This is not a conversation I want to be having with

my young brother. “He’s… It’s complicated. But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay?” “Yeah, like you made sure Uncle Vasya was safe.” Misha’s tone is harsh, but I sense the fear and grief underneath. The training he received in the last two years wouldn’t have prepared him for this. My baby brother might know how to fight and shoot a gun, but I doubt he’d seen death up close before yesterday. That part doesn’t come until later in the training program. “Michael…” I bite my lip, wondering how to best tackle Obenko’s lies. “I know your uncle has told you some things about me, and—” “Are you going to accuse him of being a liar too? Isn’t it enough that he’s dead because of you?” Misha’s face tightens, and his eyes gleam a shade too brightly. “These killers, they came after you. This all happened because of you.” “No, Misha—Michael—that’s not true.” My heart aches at his pain. “I escaped so I could warn Obenko about—” I cut myself off, realizing I’m about to scare my brother further. In a calmer tone, I say, “Look, I know how it must seem to you, but I swear, I came with the best intentions. Everything I’ve done since leaving the orphanage was so that—” “Oh, please.” Misha steps toward me, his handcuffed hands stiff in front of his body. “You left me there to rot. One day you were promising you’d always be there for me, and the next you were gone.” Shocked, I open my mouth, but he doesn’t give me a chance to reply. “You think I don’t remember?” His voice rises as he takes another step toward me. “Well, I do. I remember everything. You lied to me. You said we’d always be together, and then you left!” “That’s enough.” Lucas’s voice freezes us both in place as the door opens and my captor steps in. He’s followed by Dr. Goldberg, who’s wearing latex gloves and carrying a surgical tray with various-sized syringes and needles. My heart skips a beat, then leaps into overdrive. “What is this?” I can’t hide my panic as I look at Lucas. “You said—” “It’s the trackers I mentioned to you before,” Lucas says, crossing the room. Stopping in front of my bed, he glances at my brother, whose horrified gaze is locked on the tray. “She’ll be fine,” Lucas says, grabbing Misha’s arm and dragging him away from the bed. “No, wait.” Cold sweat breaks out all over my body as Dr. Goldberg picks up a

small syringe and comes toward me. I’m not ready for this battle. “Lucas, please, you don’t need these,” I plead as he tows my brother across the room, ignoring Misha’s attempt to drop to the floor and kick out his knees. “I won’t run, I promise. I’ll do anything you want…” Lucas stops in the doorway and pulls Misha against him in a chokehold. His muscled forearm is thicker than Misha’s neck. “I know,” he says, his arctic gaze pinning me in place. “You will. And right now, I want you to be a good girl and let the doctor give you some local anesthetic to make the insertion easier.” “But—” Misha’s face turns purple as Lucas tightens his arm, and I nod quickly, my eyes burning with helpless tears. “Okay, yes. I’ll do it. Just let him go.” “I will—when the implants are in.” Releasing Misha’s throat, Lucas grabs his shirt and drags him out of the room, shutting the door on the way. “I’m sorry,” the doctor says, leaning over me. His brown eyes are filled with sympathy. “I know this isn’t easy for you. If you could please lie down on your stomach…” My bruises ache dully as I obey, stretching out and turning over onto my stomach. The doctor pulls the blanket off me, and I feel a small pinch between my shoulder blades as the needle sinks into my skin. It’s followed by another pinch at my nape and a prick near my underarm. My skin grows numb, and I close my eyes, my tears dampening the sheets under my face. My captor is as cruel as ever, and this time, there’s no escape.

28

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“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US?” THE BOY ASKS IN ENGLISH, RUBBING HIS THROAT WITH HIS handcuffed hands. His gaze swings between me and the bedroom door, and I know he’s deciding whether he should attack me to try to save his sister. “Are you going to kill us?” His English is good, nearly as good as Yulia’s, which makes sense. UUR must’ve also taught him from an early age. “No, Michael,” I say. “Not if your sister does what she’s told.” I wouldn’t kill him—and I certainly wouldn’t kill Yulia—but it’s best if the kid doesn’t know that yet. He may be young, but he’s strong and skilled for his age. I’ll need leverage to keep him in line. Sure enough, the boy’s chin juts out belligerently. “If you’re not going to kill us, why did you bring us here? I’m not going to betray my country, so if you think you can get me to talk—” “I doubt a trainee would know anything worthwhile, so you can relax. Torture is not on the agenda today.” He glares at me, and I see him weighing the odds of winning against me in a fight. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” I step to the right so that I’m between him and the bedroom door. “I promised Yulia I wouldn’t hurt you, but if you keep attacking me…” I leave the threat unsaid, but the boy blanches and takes a step back. Satisfied, I gesture toward the couch. “Sit. You can watch some TV until Diego

returns.” The kid doesn’t move. “Why are you doing this to Yulia? What do you want from her?” “That’s none of your business.” My words come out harsher than I intended. I overheard the two siblings talking when I came in, and though I don’t understand Russian, it was obvious to me that Michael accused his sister of something. She’d looked hurt, devastated by whatever the boy said to her. It almost made me change my mind about forcing the implants on her today. Almost, but not really. The need to lock Yulia down, to chain her to me, is a compulsion I can’t fight. Not having her with me these last couple of weeks has been the worst form of torture, and I won’t put myself through it ever again. Esguerra definitely had the right idea when he used the implants on his wife. The trackers will keep me informed of Yulia’s whereabouts at all times. With the devices embedded in her neck and back, only a highly skilled surgeon would be able to remove them safely. “She’s my sister,” the boy snaps, his blue eyes—eerily like Yulia’s—burning with fury. “If you hurt her—” “You won’t be able to do anything about it,” I say, figuring it’s best to establish that right away. “The only reason you’re alive and well is because I’m keeping you that way. A lot of people on this compound died because of your agency, and my boss was nearly killed. Do you understand?” The kid stares at me for a few moments, then walks over to the couch and sits down, his shoulders rigid with tension. He gets it now. If something were to happen to me, he and Yulia would be goners. I suppose I should feel bad scaring the boy, but he needs to know the reality of his situation. So far, the kid has been nothing but trouble. He attacked Eduardo on the plane, landing a kick to his groin, and when Diego dropped him off at my house, the guard told me the boy tried to grab his weapon in the car on the way here. For his own safety, Yulia’s brother needs to accept his new circumstances. “Listen, Michael…” I approach the couch and pick up the remote control. “I don’t intend to harm Yulia—or you, for that matter. But you need to cooperate and stop fighting us.” The kid gives me a sullen look. “Fuck you.”

I should probably castigate him for his language, but I’ve said worse when I was his age. “What do you want to watch?” I ask, waving the remote at the TV. He doesn’t reply for a moment, then says in a low voice, “You killed my uncle.” I turn toward him in surprise. “Your uncle?” “Yeah.” The boy jumps to his feet, his hands clenched. “You know, the man whose head you shot off yesterday?” I frown. The story is more complicated than I thought. “He was one of the agents at the black site?” “Fuck you.” The kid plops down on the couch and stares straight ahead. “I hope you eat shit and die.” “Modern Family it is, then,” I say, turning on the TV and selecting the popular comedy. “Diego should be here any minute, but for now, I think that should hit the spot.” The show starts playing, and I walk over to the bedroom door and lean against the wall, keeping an eye on the boy while listening for sounds from the bedroom. Everything is quiet in there, and a few minutes later, Diego shows up. “Watch him carefully,” I tell the guard, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. “It seems we might’ve killed some of his family. I have to talk to Yulia to make sense of it all, but for now, keep an eye on him. The kid wants blood.” Diego nods, his face set in grim lines, and I know he understands. Nothing motivates quite like revenge. I walk them to the door, making sure the boy doesn’t try anything along the way, and then I return to the bedroom, where Goldberg is already packing up his bag. Yulia is lying on her stomach, stiff and silent, with square bandages marking the insertion sites. The blanket is folded down to her waist, exposing her slim back and the elegant line of her spine. Her face is turned away from me, her hair spread in a tangled blond cloud across the sheets, and my chest aches as I see the scrapes and bruises marring her smooth skin. Maybe I should’ve waited with the trackers after all. No. Shaking off the uncharacteristic self-doubt, I look at the doctor. “Did it go okay?” I ask, and Goldberg nods, picking up his bag. “Everything went fine,” he says, heading for the door. “The bleeding should

stop in about an hour, and you can replace the bandages with regular Band-Aids at that point if you want. If you keep the insertion points clean, there won’t be any scarring.” “Good. Thank you.” I approach the bed and sit down, waiting for the doctor to leave. As soon as I hear the front door close, I extend my hand and run my fingers over Yulia’s naked back, avoiding the bruised areas. Her skin is cool and silky, and I feel her quiver under my touch. Instantly, my body comes to life, my hunger for her awakening with savage fury. Cursing silently, I withdraw my hand, curling it into a fist to keep myself from reaching for her again. I can’t take her yet. She’s traumatized and hurt, too weak to handle my pent-up desire. I have to let her heal. To my surprise, Yulia rolls over onto her back and stretches her arms above her head—a move that draws my gaze to the soft, round globes of her breasts. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” she murmurs, and I see her nipples hardening, as if from arousal. My cock turns into a metal spike in my jeans. I know her nipples are most likely reacting to the cool air from the AC, but my mouth still waters with the urge to suck them, to lick the pale flesh around the pink aureolas and sink my teeth into the soft underside of her breasts. Only the black-and-blue marks on her face and stomach keep me from grabbing her then and there. With effort, I tear my gaze away from her breasts. “No,” I say hoarsely. I know I should get up, get away from the temptation, but I can’t move. I want her, and not just for sex. The longing that consumes me emanates from deep within my being. We’ve only been apart for two weeks, but it felt like years. “I’m not going to touch you today.” Yulia’s cracked lips twist, her eyes unnaturally bright, and I notice wet streaks on her cheeks. “No? I’m no longer pretty enough for you?” There’s a dark taunt in her voice, and I realize that she’s punishing me for the trackers, that this is her way of reclaiming control. Even knowing that, I rise to her bait. “You’re gorgeous, and you fucking know it,” I say harshly. If tormenting me like this makes Yulia feel better, I’ll allow it—if only to alleviate the uncomfortable prickling of guilt the sight of her tears generates. I should’ve fucking waited.

“So do it. Fuck me,” Yulia says, kicking off the rest of her blanket. She’s naked underneath—I undressed and bathed her when we arrived an hour ago—and my body tightens at the sight of her flat stomach and slim, shapely legs that seem to go on forever. And between those legs… Heat rises in me, my breathing turning fast and heavy as I look at the glistening pink folds between her thighs. “I’m not touching you,” I repeat, but even to my own ears, my words lack conviction. She’d been unconscious when I bathed her, and even that simple act had brought me to painful arousal. Yulia fully awake and taunting me with her body is like a defenseless mouse parading in front of a starved cat. “Why not?” She arches her back, thrusting her breasts upward in a porn star pose, and I bite back a tortured groan as her nipples draw my attention once more. “Isn’t this why you chased me down? So you could fuck me?” She’s right, except fucking is only part of it now. I want what we had before and more. I want all of her. Giving in to the vicious hunger riding me, I climb onto the bed and straddle her on all fours, caging her with my body without touching her. Her eyes widen, and I catch a glimmer of fear in her gaze. She didn’t expect me to take her up on her offer. A dark smile forms on my lips. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Yes, beautiful. I brought you here to fuck you—and I will. Soon. For now, we’re going to do something different.” A shudder runs through her as my breath warms her neck, and she lets out a quiet moan as I kiss the tender spot under her ear, then nibble on her delicate earlobe. Her hair tickles my face, and her peach-like fragrance fills my nostrils, making me burn with the need to possess her, to slide down my zipper and thrust inside her, sheathing myself in her soft, wet heat. The urge is almost unbearable, but I make myself move down her body, ignoring the insistent throbbing of my cock. I lick her neck, kiss her collarbone, and suck each erect nipple before tasting her flat, trembling belly. When my face is parallel to the V between her thighs, I bend my head and inhale deeply, breathing in her warm female scent. Yulia tenses, her thighs tightening to restrict my access to her sex, and I gently but firmly grasp her inner thighs, pulling her legs wide apart.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you,” I murmur, looking up at her. Her blue eyes are wide and uncertain, the porn-star act gone without a trace. I can sense her growing anxiety, and the image of Kirill attacking her flashes through my mind, cooling my lust by a small degree. For all her bravado, my beautiful spy is nowhere near ready to play these games. Keeping my gaze locked on her face, I press my mouth to her pussy, tasting her slick pink flesh. Yulia quivers, her slender hands knotting into fists at her sides, and I nibble on the soft folds around her clit, teasing and licking the sensitive area before swiping my tongue along her slit. She moans, closing her eyes, and I taste her growing arousal as her inner muscles clench helplessly under my tongue. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s it…” I breathe in her intoxicating scent again, then close my lips around her clit and lave the underside of it with my tongue before sucking on it with strong, pulling motions. She cries out, her hips lifting off the bed, and I feel the tension in her rising. My own body responds with a fresh surge of blood to my cock, and my balls tighten as I feel her contractions begin. I lick her until she’s limp and panting in the aftermath of her orgasm, and then I finally give in to my own need. Rising up on my knees, I unzip my jeans and close my fist around my swollen cock. A few hard jerks of my hand, and I’m coming too, my seed splattering all over her white belly and breasts. It’s not a particularly satisfying release—I’d much rather be inside her—but the sight of my cum on her body is erotic in its own way. On some primitive level, it marks her as my property. Yulia doesn’t move or speak as I climb off the bed and walk to the bathroom. She just watches me, her eyes half-closed, and when I return with a warm, wet towel a minute later, she remains silent, her expression unreadable as I clean her off. When I’m done, I undress and climb into bed next to her. Carefully, I draw her against me, trying not to put pressure on her injuries as I curve my body around hers from the back. My ribs ache, but I ignore the nagging pain. It feels too good to have her in my arms, to hold her and know that she’s mine. Yulia is stiff at first, but after a few moments, I feel the tension in her muscles slowly ebbing. In another minute, her breathing evens out, and I know healing sleep has claimed her again. My own eyelids grow heavy, and I brush my lips across her temple before closing my eyes. “Good night, beautiful,” I whisper, euphoric contentment spreading through me as she snuggles closer with a sleepy mumble.

I have my Yulia back, and I’m never losing her again.

III THE CARETAKER

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THE SUN IS IMPOSSIBLY BRIGHT IN THE SKY AS I WALK TOWARD ESGUERRA’S OFFICE, THE HUMID AIR making me sweat despite the early hour. Still, I feel lighter than I have in weeks, the knowledge that Yulia is sleeping in my bed filling me with an incandescent mix of satisfaction and relief. I found her. I have her. Even the knowledge that Kirill escaped is not enough to spoil my mood this morning. I left Diego to watch over sleeping Yulia so I could start the process of hunting Kirill, but I feel infinitely calmer after eight hours of sleep. So calm, in fact, that my pulse barely increases when I see Rosa walking across the lawn toward me. As she approaches, I see that she looks uneasy, her hands twisting fistfuls of her skirt at her sides. “I heard you were in another shootout in Ukraine,” she says, studying me with worried curiosity. “And that you found her. Is it true? Are you all right?” I nod, my good mood slipping away with every word she speaks. Before leaving the house, I skimmed Thomas’s report on Rosa and found that it contained no new information. The maid hasn’t reached out to anyone outside the compound, nor has anyone tried to contact her. If the girl is working with UUR or any of our enemies, she’s either really good at concealing it, or my original guess about jealousy was right. It’s time to deal with this problem once and for all. “Rosa,” I say softly, stepping closer to her. “Why did you help Yulia escape?”

The maid’s bronzed face turns pale. “Wh-what do you mean?” “Did someone pay you?” She takes a step back, her eyes huge. “No, of course not! I—” She makes a visible effort to compose herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says in an almost steady voice. “Whatever she’s told you is a lie. I had nothing to do with her escape.” I smile coldly. “Yulia didn’t say a word, but I find it interesting that you think she would have.” Rosa pales even more, and I see her hands tighten convulsively as she continues to back away. “Please, Lucas, it’s not what you think.” “No?” I close the distance between us and grab her upper arm before she can turn and run. “What is it then?” “It’s—” She clamps her lips shut and shakes her head, staring up at me. “I had nothing to do with her escape,” she repeats, lifting her chin, and I see that she has no intention of admitting anything to me. “All right,” I say, tightening my grip on her arm. “Since you’re Esguerra’s maid, let’s see what he has to say about all this.” And ignoring her terrified expression, I resume walking toward Esguerra’s office, dragging Rosa along at my side.

ESGUERRA’S FACE IS RIGID WITH FURY AS I PRESENT THE DRONE FOOTAGE. THE VIDEOS ARE LOW resolution and obscured by trees in a few places, but there’s no mistaking Rosa’s curvy figure in her maid’s outfit as she approaches my house. Rosa sits quietly, trembling from head to toe while Esguerra watches the videos on his computer. It’s not until he turns toward her that she begins crying. “Why?” His voice is like ice as he rises to his feet. “What did you hope to gain by this? You know what we do to traitors.” Rosa shakes her head, crying harder as Esguerra approaches her, and despite my own anger, I feel a flicker of pity for the girl. In the next second, however, I remember what almost happened to Yulia because of Rosa, and my pity disappears without a trace. Whatever my boss chooses to do to the maid will be no less than she deserves. “Please, Señor Esguerra,” she begs as he grips her elbow and drags her off the

chair where she was huddling. “Please, it wasn’t like that…” “What was it like, then?” I ask, fishing my Swiss knife out of my pocket and opening the blade. Stepping toward the maid, I twist my fist in her hair, pulling her head back as Esguerra holds her upright by her upper arms. “Why did you help my prisoner escape?” Tears streak down Rosa’s face and her mouth quivers as I press the blade against her throat, nicking her neck just enough for her to feel the first bite. “Don’t, please…” Her terror washes over me, but this time, it leaves me cold. I’m in my interrogation mode, and so is Esguerra. I see it in the hard gleam of his eyes. If the girl doesn’t talk in the next couple of minutes, the tiny wound I left on her neck will be the least of her worries. “Julian, did you see—” Nora freezes as she enters the office, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene. “Fuck,” Esguerra mutters, releasing Rosa abruptly. I barely catch her as she stumbles backward, crashing into me. Before she can get away, I secure the sobbing maid with my forearm across her throat and lower my knife. At the same time, Esguerra steps toward his wife, saying, “Nora, baby, go home. This is a security matter.” “A security matter?” Nora’s voice is thin as her gaze swings wildly between me and her husband. “What are you talking about?” “Rosa helped Lucas’s prisoner escape,” Esguerra explains tersely, taking Nora’s arm and putting his hand on her back to guide her out of the room. She digs in her heels, but her petite frame is no match for his strength, and he gently but firmly steers her toward the exit. “We’re interrogating her to find out more. It’s nothing you need to worry about, my pet.” “Are you insane?” Nora’s voice rises as she begins to struggle, and Esguerra stops, wrapping his arms around her from the back as she tries to kick, then headbutt him. “She’s my friend. Don’t touch her!” Esguerra’s only response is to lift his tiny wife against his chest and hold her tightly to restrain her flailing. Nora screams, bucking in his arms, and Rosa’s sobbing intensifies as Esguerra begins carrying Nora out. He’s almost at the door when Nora yells, “Stop, Julian! She didn’t do it. It was me—all me!” Rosa’s sobs cut off as suddenly as if she’d been muted, and Esguerra stops, lowering Nora to her feet.

“What?” His expression is thunderous as he grips his wife’s narrow shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” I very nearly ask the same question, but at the last moment, I keep my mouth shut. Given Nora’s unexpected involvement, it’s best if Esguerra handles it from here on. He’d gut me for so much as looking at his wife the wrong way. “I did it.” Nora raises her chin to meet her husband’s furious gaze. “I helped Yulia escape. So if you’re going to interrogate anyone, it should be me. She had nothing to do with it.” “You’re lying.” Esguerra’s voice is lethally soft. “I saw the drone footage. She went to Lucas’s house right before our departure.” Nora doesn’t miss a beat. “Right. Because I asked her to.” Rosa makes a choking sound, her hands clawing at my forearm, and I realize I inadvertently tightened my arm across her throat. Cursing silently, I lower my arm and push Rosa away from me, letting her collapse on the chair she was sitting on earlier. Esguerra’s wife is lying—I’m almost certain she’s lying—but I have no idea how to prove it. There was no reason for Nora to help Yulia; she doesn’t know the Ukrainian spy, and she certainly doesn’t have any feelings for me. “Why would you do this?” Esguerra demands. He’s clearly thinking along the same lines. “You despise this girl. You hate her for the crash, remember?” His eyes drill into Nora, but she doesn’t back down. “So what?” She twists out of Esguerra’s hold and steps back, her small chest heaving. “You know I had a problem with Lucas torturing a woman at his house— even that woman.” Recognition flickers across Esguerra’s face before his jaw tightens further, and I realize to my shock that Nora might’ve done it after all. Esguerra did mention that she and Rosa had been to my house the day Yulia arrived. If so, Nora might’ve seen Yulia sitting in my living room, naked and bound to a chair. It’s not inconceivable that the sight bothered the girl; for all her newfound toughness, Nora is a product of her upbringing—her soft American middle-class background. Most people new to this way of life would’ve objected to me torturing Yulia, and it’s possible Nora did too. Fucking hell. If Nora weren’t Esguerra’s wife… Esguerra himself looks on the verge of murder as he catches Nora’s arm and

drags her closer to him. “Walk me through this.” His blue eyes gleam with rage. “You instructed Rosa to do what, exactly?” Rosa begins crying again, and I spare her a glance before turning my attention back to the drama playing out in front of me. I’ve never seen Esguerra so mad at his wife before. If I were Nora, I’d be backpedaling right about now; the things I’ve seen her husband do would make serial killers squirm. Nora’s face is white as she stares up at Esguerra, but her voice barely shakes as she says, “I asked her to help Yulia escape. I didn’t tell her how to do it—she knows this place better than me, so I left the exact method up to her. Rosa didn’t want to do it, but I told her how much it bothered me, and with the baby and everything, she gave in to my request.” Manipulative little witch. I want to wring Nora’s neck and applaud in admiration at the same time. Mentioning the baby they just lost was a low blow, but it had the desired effect. Esguerra’s grip on Nora’s arm slackens, and pain flits across his face before he composes himself. When he speaks again, some of the lethal bite is gone from his voice. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it? If it bothered you that much, why didn’t you say something?” “I didn’t think it would’ve helped,” Nora says, and I see her big dark eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Julian. I wanted the girl gone by the time we returned, and I told Rosa to make it happen. I was sure you wouldn’t go along with it.” Her chin quivers as the tears spill over and roll down her cheeks. “Please, if you have to punish someone, it should be me, not Rosa. She was just being a good friend to me. Please, Julian.” She reaches up to touch his face with her free hand, and I avert my gaze as Esguerra catches her wrist and pulls her flush against him, his nostrils flaring. The tension between them turns thickly sexual, and I suddenly feel like an intruder, a peeping tom observing an intimate moment. Clearing my throat, I step toward Rosa and grab her upper arm, pulling her to her feet. “I’ll let you two figure this out,” I say, marching the maid toward the door. “In the meanwhile, I’ll have Rosa watched by the guards.” Neither Esguerra nor his wife justify my statement with a response, and as I exit the building, I hear the sound of something falling, followed by Nora’s choked cry. Rosa sucks in her breath—she must’ve heard it too—and her shoulders shake with a fresh bout of tears. “Don’t worry,” I say, giving the girl an icy look as I lead her away from the building. “Esguerra may be a sadist, but he won’t hurt her—much. You, on the

other hand, are still a question mark. If Nora lied to protect you…” I don’t complete my statement, but I don’t have to. We both know what Esguerra will do to Rosa if she allowed Nora to take the fall for her.

30

Y ulia I WAKE UP GROGGY AND CONFUSED, HURTING FROM HEAD TO TOE. GROANING, I STUMBLE OUT OF BED and make my way to the bathroom. Still half-asleep, I take care of business, and it’s only when I’m washing my face that it dawns on me that I’m alone—and untied. A soreness at the back of my neck reminds me of the reason for that: the tracker implants. Lucas must be certain I won’t be able to run away again. I lift my hand and touch the bandage on my nape, then turn to peer at my back in the mirror. Besides the spot I’m touching—and amidst a mottled canvas of bruises—there are two more areas where the trackers went in. The bandages on the wounds are simple Band-Aids now; Lucas must’ve changed them while I was sleeping. I vaguely recall the doctor giving instructions about that. I also remember what happened afterwards, and a violent blush sears my face, chasing away the remnants of my sleepiness. I’m not sure why I egged Lucas on like that, but at the time, it seemed to make sense. He clearly cares little about me as a person, and I wanted him to admit it. I wanted him to prove to me once and for all that I’m nothing more than a convenient body for him to fuck, a sexual object that he can and will hurt at will. Except he didn’t hurt me. He gave me pleasure, and then he took his own with his fist, leaving me covered with his seed. “Yulia?” A knock on the door startles me, and I turn, my pulse jumping into the stratosphere. The voice is not Lucas’s, and I’m completely naked. “Yes?” I call out, grabbing a big fluffy towel off the rack and wrapping it around

myself. “Lucas asked me to watch you this morning,” the man says, and I exhale in relief as I recognize Diego’s voice. “I hope I didn’t scare you. He said you might be sleeping for a while, and I was in the kitchen, grabbing myself a snack, when I heard the water running. You okay? Do you need anything?” “No, I’m fine, thanks,” I say, my heartbeat slowing a bit. “I’ll just, um… I’ll be right out.” “No problem. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.” I hear retreating footsteps. On autopilot, I brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair, untangling the wild blond mess. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even trying to look presentable. The face staring at me from the mirror is like something out of a nightmare. My lips are already beginning to heal, but the left side of my face, where Kirill hit me, is one giant ugly bruise. Smaller scrapes and bruises decorate the rest of my face and body —except for my back, which looks even worse than my face. No wonder I’m still in pain. Carefully, I rotate my neck from side to side, trying to ease the stiffness in my muscles. My head aches with the movement, but not as much as yesterday. The doctor had been right about the mildness of my concussion; I had passed out on the plane as much from shock and exhaustion as the head injury itself. Feeling marginally better, I tighten the towel around myself and walk to the bedroom to change. All the skimpy outfits that Lucas got for me are still there, and I select a pair of shorts and a T-shirt at random, grimacing in pain as I put the clothes on. When I finally make my way to the kitchen, I find Diego there, spreading cream cheese on a toasted bagel. “Hey,” he says, giving me his usual charming grin. “Are you hungry?” My stomach chooses that moment to rumble, and the young guard’s smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, putting his bagel down on his plate and getting up. “What would you like? Cereal, toast, fruit? Here, sit.” He gestures toward the table. “I’m under strict orders to make sure you don’t do anything strenuous today.” “Um, cereal would work.” I walk over to the table and sit down, feeling disoriented. It seems like only minutes ago, I was in Ukraine amidst gunfire and explosions, and now I’m in Lucas’s kitchen, talking about cereal with one of the

mercenaries who killed my UUR colleagues. My former UUR colleagues, I mentally correct myself. I ceased being part of the organization when I made the choice to disappear instead of carrying out my assignment. “Where’s my brother?” I ask, remembering what Lucas told me about the guards watching him. Diego gives me another grin. “He’s with Eduardo. The poor guy drew the short straw.” I blink. “Oh?” “Let’s just say your brother is not very happy to be here.” Diego walks over to the fridge and takes out a carton of milk. Pouring cereal into a bowl, he adds the milk, grabs a spoon, and brings the bowl to me. Before I can ask, he says, “But he’s okay, so don’t worry. Nobody’s going to hurt him.” I pick up my spoon, though I no longer feel hungry. My stomach is tight with anxiety. Of course Misha is not happy to be here. How could he be? His uncle was killed in front of his eyes, and he must be terrified out of his mind. And if Obenko didn’t lie about Misha’s relationship with his adoptive parents, they must be worried sick about him. Unless he lives at the UUR dorms, like other trainees? If that’s the case, they might not be aware of what happened yet, though I’m sure someone is bound to notify them soon. What a disaster—and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so weak, Lucas wouldn’t have known anything about UUR. I let my captor break me, and then I inadvertently led him to my brother—the very person I was trying to protect. I remember yesterday’s argument with Misha, the accusations he threw at me, and I want to curl up and cry. “Are you all right?” Diego sits down across from me and picks up his bagel. “You look really pale.” “I’m fine,” I say automatically, dipping my spoon into the cereal and bringing the soggy corn flakes to my lips. “Just a bit out of it.” “Of course.” Diego gives me a sympathetic grin. “Jet lag is a bitch, plus you got it pretty rough yesterday.” He focuses on his bagel, and I choke down a few bites of cereal before putting down my spoon. I didn’t lie about being out of it; my thoughts are all over the place, my mind jumping from one question to another. The future—especially my

brother’s future—is like a terrifying black hole looming in the distance, so I try to focus on the present and the near past. “How did you know where to find me?” I ask Diego when he’s done with his bagel. “In general, how did you locate that facility?” “Oh, yeah, that…” The guard gets up and takes his plate over to the sink. “I’m afraid your rescue was more or less luck on our end, but I’ll let Kent fill you in on that.” Great. Another person stonewalling me. Does every person on this compound regard me as Lucas’s property to such an extent that they can’t answer my questions on their own? Suppressing my frustration, I force myself to eat another spoonful of cereal before getting up to dump the rest of it in the garbage. “What are you doing? Here, I got it.” Diego intercepts me before I can get to the sink, grabbing the bowl out of my hands. “You need to rest today.” “I’m fine,” I say, then lean against the counter, the weakness in my knees belying my statement. “I want to see Misha—Michael, I mean. Can you bring him here or take me to him?” “Nope,” Diego says cheerfully. “Eduardo took him to the training gym an hour ago. Why don’t you rest for now, and then we’ll see what Kent says later?” The guard is smiling, but I can sense the steel underneath his easygoing facade. He’s not about to let me do anything other than rest and wait for Lucas to come home. I want to argue, but I know it’ll be useless. Besides, getting back in bed doesn’t sound all that unappealing. “All right,” I say. “Thank you for the breakfast.” Making my way back to the bedroom, I lie down, feeling as exhausted as if I just ran ten kilometers. My head is throbbing again, and my bruises ache. Even my throat is sore, and my skin feels tight and achy all over. On the nightstand next to the bed, I see the pain pills from yesterday, and after a moment of indecision, I reach for the bottle and extract two pills. Picking up a water bottle that someone thoughtfully left on the nightstand, I swallow the pills and wash them down with water before lying back and closing my eyes. There’s no point in fighting Lucas’s orders today. I need to save my strength for when it matters.

31

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ucas

AFTER BEING AWAY FOR SEVERAL DAYS, I HAVE A SHITLOAD OF WORK TO CATCH UP ON, AND I DON’T make it home until dinnertime. When I finally walk in, I see Diego watching TV on my couch. “How is she?” I ask, glancing at the bedroom. “Still sleeping?” Diego nods, rising to his feet. “Yeah. Like I told you in my texts, she slept through lunch, then woke up for an hour or so, read in bed, and then fell asleep again. I made a sandwich for her, but she left most of it untouched. Oh, and she kept asking to see her brother, but I said you have to authorize that.” “I see. Thank you for watching her. I’ll let you know if I need you tomorrow.” Diego grins. “No problem, man.” He leaves, and I enter the bedroom to check on Yulia. Excessive sleeping is not an uncommon reaction to physical trauma and extreme emotional stress—it’s the body’s way of letting itself heal—but her lack of appetite worries me. It’s dark in the room, so I make my way over to the bed and turn on a bedside lamp. Yulia doesn’t so much as twitch at the soft light. She’s lying on her back, the blanket pulled up to her chest and her face turned toward me. My chest tightens at the sight of her swollen jaw and darkened eye. With her slender hand lying palmup on the pillow, she looks achingly young and defenseless, a hurt child instead of a grown woman. If Kirill is still alive, he’ll wish he were dead ten times over by the time I’m done with him.

This morning, I sent out feelers to all our contacts in Europe and gave our hackers a new assignment: tracking down Kirill Luchenko. I also reached out to Peter Sokolov again to see if he knows anyone in Ukraine who can help. He responded right away, promising to look into it, so now it’s just a matter of time before we locate the fucker. Assuming he didn’t croak from his wounds, that is. Since Yulia shot his dick off, it might be touch and go for a while. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I reach over and stroke her upturned palm with the tip of my finger, feeling the warm softness of her skin. Like the girl herself, her hand is deceptively delicate, an embodiment of elegant femininity. But I know how dangerous it can be—and now Kirill does too. The fucking bastard will die a dickless eunuch. I really like that. Yulia’s fingers curl in response to my touch, and a small moan escapes her throat. She still doesn’t wake up, though, and some instinct makes me reach over and touch her forehead with the back of my hand. Fuck. She’s hot—much too hot. Her forehead is burning. In the next instant, I’m on my feet, pulling out my phone. Goldberg doesn’t pick up at first, so I call him again. Then again. On the third attempt, he picks up the phone. “What is it?” “Yulia is sick,” I say without preamble. “Something’s really wrong with her. I need you here. Now.” “On my way.” He hangs up, and I sit down on the bed and pick up Yulia’s hand, noticing the dry heat coming off her skin. My heart thuds with a dull, heavy rhythm as I lift her wrist up to my face and press my lips against her palm. “You’ll be all right,” I whisper, ignoring the sharp fear clawing at my insides. “You’ll be all right, baby. You have to be.”

“LOOKS LIKE A TYPE OF FLU,” GOLDBERG SAYS AFTER EXAMINING YULIA. “IT HIT HER HARD, PROBABLY because her immune system was already under stress from her injuries and everything. I’ll get her started on an antiviral and give her Tylenol to bring down the fever. Other than that, you just keep her comfortable and make sure she gets

enough fluids.” As he speaks, Yulia’s eyelids flutter open, and she stares at me in confusion. “Lucas?” Her voice is weak and raspy as she rolls over onto her side. “What—” “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re just feverish from the flu,” I say, sitting down on the bed next to her. Picking up the water bottle from the nightstand, I slide my arm under her upper back and help her sit up, propping her up on the pillows. Handing her the bottle and the pills Goldberg gives me, I murmur, “Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” I can feel the doctor’s amused gaze on me as he packs his bag, but I no longer give a fuck what he thinks or whom he tells about my weakness for Yulia. She’s mine, and it’s time everyone knew that fact. Yulia obediently swallows the pills and washes them down with all the water remaining in the bottle. “Where’s Misha?” she asks when she’s done, and I sigh, realizing this is going to be an ongoing battle. “Your brother had a very nice day with Eduardo,” I say, putting the empty bottle back on the nightstand as Goldberg discreetly slips out of the room. “They had a lengthy workout session where Michael worked off quite a bit of his aggression toward the guard, and now they’re eating dinner, I believe—which is what we should be doing. Are you hungry? I can heat up some chicken noodle soup. It’s canned, but—” “I’m not hungry,” she says, shaking her head. “I just want to see Misha.” “How about this: you take a shower, eat a little soup and drink some tea, and I’ll see what I can do about getting Misha over here again?” I want her to eat so she can recover, and this seems like the best way to go about it. “Okay.” Yulia pushes the blanket off her legs and starts to get up, but I catch her and lift her against my chest before she can do more than take a couple of shaky steps. She gives me a startled look, but winds her arms around my neck, holding on to me as I carry her to the bathroom. When I reach my destination, I carefully lower Yulia to her feet and begin to undress her, pulling off her T-shirt and shorts while she stands there mutely, her eyes glazed with fever. For some reason, I’m reminded of when she was first brought here, bedraggled and malnourished after the Russian prison. It seems impossible that only a month has passed since then—that I met her just three months ago.

It feels like I’ve been obsessed with my captive for a lifetime. “Do you need a moment?” I ask, and Yulia nods, the unbruised parts of her face reddening with a flush. “Okay. I’ll be right outside. Call out if you feel dizzy or anything.” I step out to let her use the restroom, and when I hear the shower turn on, I come back in. She’s already standing inside the glass stall, her hand shaking as she reaches for shampoo. “Here, let me help you,” I say, swiftly stripping off my own clothes and joining her in the shower. “I don’t want you to strain yourself.” “I’m okay,” she protests, but I take the shampoo from her hand and pour a small amount into my palm, then step under the spray to keep the water from hitting her in the face. As I lather her hair, she leans against me, closing her eyes, and I suppress a groan as her firm, curvy ass presses against my groin, taking me from semi-erect state to full-blown hardness. Up until then, I’d managed to keep my eyes off her naked body, my libido taking a back seat to my concern for her health, but this is too much. Even sick and hurt, she turns me on unbearably. Down. Fucking go down, I will my cock. My blood feels like molten lava in my veins as I turn Yulia toward the spray and rinse the shampoo from her hair before applying conditioner to the long blond strands. “Lucas…” Her voice is a shaky whisper as she turns to face me, her fever-bright eyes locking on my face. Water droplets cling to her brown lashes, emphasizing their length, and my lungs feel like I can’t get enough air as she reaches for me, her hand brushing over my abs before traveling downward to curl around my hard, aching cock. It takes all my strength to step out of her reach. “What are you doing?” I ask hoarsely, my stiff cock bobbing up to my navel as the water spray hits her in the chest. “You have the fucking flu.” She follows me, blinking the water out of her eyes. “Let me take care of you, at least like this.” Her fingers brush against my erection again, but I catch her wrist before she can wrap her hand around the shaft. “What the fuck, Yulia?” I stare down at her in disbelief, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the unnatural pallor of her skin. She’s about to collapse, and she wants to give me a handjob?

At my rejection, Yulia’s lips tremble, and she drops her gaze, her wrist going limp in my grasp. She looks utterly dejected, and as I stare at her bent head, a dark possibility occurs to me. “Are you doing this because you think you have to?” I ask, my voice roughening. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt your brother if you don’t have sex with me?” She looks up, her eyes swimming with tears, and I realize that’s exactly what she fears, that she thinks me capable of this. She’s not entirely wrong—I would use her brother to control her if I had to—but not for this. Not while she’s in this condition. “Yulia…” I gently cup her jaw, making sure I touch only the uninjured side of her face. “I’m not going to punish you for being sick, okay? I’m not that much of a monster. Your brother is safe. You can rest and recover without worrying about him.” “But—” “Shh.” I press the tips of my fingers to her lips. “He’ll be fine on one condition: that you stop stressing and let yourself heal. Do you think you can do that?” She nods slowly, and I lower my hand. “Good. Now, let’s wash the rest of you and get you into bed. Tonight, I’m taking care of you, okay?” Yulia nods again, and I rinse off her conditioner, then carefully wash her all over, ignoring my persistent arousal. I tell myself that I’m a doctor caring for a patient, that this is no different than washing a child, but my cock doesn’t buy it. Nonetheless, I manage to get through the shower without jumping her, and by the time I towel her off and bring her back to bed, I’m almost back in control. “Now soup and tea,” I say, propping her up on the pillows again, and she gives me a listless look, her pallor even more pronounced. “Okay,” she murmurs. “And then my brother, right?” “Yes,” I say, but by the time I return with the soup and tea, she’s already asleep, her skin burning even hotter.

32

Y ulia THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS PASS IN A FOG OF FEVER AND PAIN. MY BONES ACHE, AND MY THROAT FEELS like I swallowed a ball of fire. Even the roots of my hair hurt, the heat of the fever consuming from within. The illness takes everything out of me, leaving me weak and shaking, and the simplest activities—like going to the bathroom and showering—require Lucas’s help. I sleep for what feels like twenty hours a day, and if it weren’t for Lucas forcing water, tea, and soup on me at regular intervals, I’d sleep even more. But he keeps waking me up to spoon-feed me various liquids, and I’m too drained to resist his gentle but insistent brand of caregiving. He’s with me at night, his big body curved protectively around mine as we sleep, and he’s next to me during the day—all day. “Don’t you have someplace to be?” I croak out the first time I see my captor at my bedside, working on a laptop in an uncomfortable-looking chair. “You’re usually gone at this time.” Lucas’s hard mouth curves in a smile. “I’m taking a sick day. How are you feeling? Hungry? Thirsty?” “I’m okay,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “Just really, really tired.” The exhaustion seems to have settled deep in my bones, weighing me down like an anchor. Even this brief exchange has depleted my nonexistent energy, and I’m already almost asleep again when Lucas makes me sit up and drink roomtemperature water from a cup with a curved straw. Swallowing hurts my throat, but the liquid invigorates me enough that I ask about my brother. Lucas assures me that he’s fine, but when I continue to insist

that I see Misha, Lucas makes Eduardo take an impromptu two-minute video of my brother and email it to us. On the video, my brother is eating a burger and arguing with Diego about the merits of Krav Maga versus Tae Kwan Do. He looks neither afraid nor abused, which reassures me quite a bit. “I’ll bring him by when you’re a little stronger,” Lucas promises. “Goldberg said you should be through the worst of it by tomorrow.” But I’m not. The next day is even worse, my fever spiking uncontrollably, and I wake up mid-day to hear Lucas arguing with the doctor about whether I need to be hospitalized. Blearily, I open my eyes to see my captor pacing around the room, a thermometer clutched in his powerful fist. “Her fever is almost a hundred and four. What if it’s pneumonia or something like that?” “I told you, her lungs are clear,” Dr. Goldberg says with a hint of exasperation. “As long as you keep giving her enough liquids, she’ll be fine. You just need to let this illness run its course. The human body doesn’t handle extreme stress well, and from what you’ve told me, she’s been through more in the past three months than most people survive in a lifetime. She’s traumatized physically and mentally, and she needs rest and sleep to heal. In a way, this flu is her body’s way of telling her to slow down and take care of herself.” Lucas stops in front of the bed, his hands clenched. “If anything happens to her…” “Yes, I know, you’ll tear me limb from limb,” the doctor says wearily. “So you’ve said. Now if you don’t mind, I have a guard with a bullet in his leg who needs my attention. Call me if her fever goes higher, and for now, alternate her Tylenol with Advil.” He departs, and I close my eyes, sinking back into sleep.

THE FEVER CONTINUES FOR THREE MORE DAYS, SPIKING AND FALLING IN AN UNPREDICTABLE MANNER. Every time I wake up, feeling like I’m dying, Lucas is by my side, ready to feed me liquids, put a wet towel on my forehead, or carry me to the bathroom. “Are you sure you don’t have a nursing degree?” I joke weakly when he places me back in bed, having changed the sheets and fluffed up my pillows. “Because you’re really good at this.” Lucas smiles and tucks the blanket around me. “Maybe I’ll look into it if this gig

with Esguerra doesn’t work out.” I manage a tiny smile in return, and then I’m out again, too exhausted to cling to wakefulness for long. That night, the fever torments me nonstop, defying Lucas’s efforts to bring it down with Tylenol and cool towels. I toss and turn, alternately shivering and sweating as troubled dreams invade my mind. The wolf of the children’s lullaby comes to me, gnawing at my side, and I scream as his snout transforms into Kirill’s face—a face that explodes into bits as I shoot him, over and over again. Lucas shakes me awake, holding me on his lap until my hysterical sobbing subsides, but as soon as I fall asleep again, I see a variation of the same dream, only this time, my bullets miss Kirill and hit my brother while Kirill laughs, holding his bloodied cock. “Yulia, hush, sweetheart, don’t. He’s okay. Misha is okay.” The assurance, delivered in Lucas’s deep voice, calms me down until I’m swept into yet another twisted dream-memory, and the vicious cycle continues until my fever breaks in the morning. “I’m sorry,” I whisper when I wake up and see Lucas sitting next to me, his eyes ringed with dark circles and his hard jaw unshaven as he frowns at something on his laptop. “Did I keep you up all night?” He looks up from the computer. “No, of course not.” Despite his tired appearance, his pale eyes are sharply alert as he reaches over to the nightstand and hands me the cup with the straw. “How are you feeling?” “Like I couldn’t swat a fly,” I say hoarsely after sucking down the full cup of water. “But overall, better.” For the first time in days, my head doesn’t ache, and my skin feels like it actually wants to stay attached to my body. Even my throat is almost back to normal, and there’s a hollow sensation in my stomach that feels suspiciously like hunger. Lucas’s tense look eases as he places his laptop on the nightstand and gets up. “I’m glad. Another few hours like that, and I was flying you to a hospital, no matter what Goldberg said.” Leaning over me, he carefully picks me up and brings me to the bathroom, where he runs a bath for me since I’m too weak to stand in a shower stall. “Why are you doing this?” I ask when he’s done washing me from head to toe. Now that I’m feeling marginally more human, it dawns on me just how extraordinary Lucas’s actions over the past several days have been. I don’t know many husbands who would’ve cared for their wives with such dedication.

“What do you mean?” Lucas frowns as he wraps me in a thick towel and picks me up. “You needed a bath.” “I know, but you didn’t need to be the one to give it to me,” I say as he carries me back to the bedroom. “You could’ve had one of the guards help or—” I stop as his expression darkens. “If you think I’m letting another man touch you…” His voice is pure lethal ice, and despite myself, I shiver as he lays me back on the bed, stuffing two pillows under my back to prop me up to a half-sitting position. Leaning in, he growls, “You’re mine and mine alone, understand?” I nod warily. I’d let myself forget for a moment how dangerous—and insanely possessive—my captor can be. Straightening, Lucas makes a visible effort to get himself under control. His chest expands with a deep breath, and he asks in a calmer tone, “Are you hungry? Do you want some chicken broth?” I lick my cracked lips. “Yes. And maybe something like a sandwich?” His eyebrows lift. “Really? A sandwich? You must be on the mend. How about eggs? I tried making an omelet recently, and it didn’t come out awful.” “You did?” I stare at him. “Okay, sure, I’ll gladly have some eggs.” Lucas smiles and disappears through the doorway. Twenty minutes later, he comes back carrying a tray with a delicious-smelling omelet and a steaming cup of Earl Grey. “Here we are,” he says, placing the tray on the nightstand and picking up the plate with the fork. Spearing a piece of omelet, he holds up the fork and commands, “Open up.” “I can feed myself,” I begin, reaching for the plate, but he moves it out of my reach. “Too weak to swat a fly, remember?” He gives me a steely look. “Now sit back and open your mouth.” Sighing, I obey, feeling uncomfortably like a two-year-old as Lucas sits on the edge of the bed and feeds me with the nonchalant efficiency of a nurse. However, the glint in his eyes is distinctly un-nurselike, and to my shock, I realize he’s enjoying this on some level. He likes me helpless and dependent on him.

To test my theory, I watch him closely the next time he brings the fork to my mouth. And there it is: the moment my lips close around the fork, his gaze dips to my mouth and lingers there, his hand tightening on the handle of the utensil. The blanket bunched around my lap is blocking his lower body from my view, but I suspect that if I checked, I’d find him hard, his thick cock bursting out of the confines of his jeans. A spiral of heat snakes down my spine, and my nipples tighten under the blanket. My body’s reaction catches me off-guard. I’m hardly in shape to be thinking about sex. Nonetheless, I’m cognizant of a growing slickness between my thighs as Lucas continues feeding me, leaning over me each time he brings the food to my lips. The omelet is good—Lucas really did learn how to make it—but I barely register the rich, savory flavor, all my focus on the twisted eroticism of the situation. In a way, Lucas’s insistence on taking care of me is an extension of his desire to possess me, to control me completely. Weak and ill, I’m at his mercy more than ever, and for some perverse reason, the knowledge turns both of us on. Before long, the omelet is gone, and I slump back against the pillows, equal parts stuffed and exhausted by the simple act of eating. Arousal or not, I’m still not well. Lucas puts a straw in my tea and lets me drink down half a cup, and then I fade out again, my body demanding yet more rest.

WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN, I FEEL MODERATELY STRONGER, AND I REMEMBER SOME OF THE NIGHTMARES I had during the night. “Can I please see my brother?” I ask Lucas when he brings me a sandwich and a bowl of soup. “I’d really like to talk to him.” Lucas shakes his head. “You’re not well enough yet.” “I’m fine. Please, I really need to talk to him.” I put my hand on Lucas’s thigh, feeling the hard muscle through the rough material of his jeans. “I just want to see him with my own eyes.” “I don’t want you to tire yourself out,” Lucas says, but I can tell he’s wavering. “How about this?” I push myself up to a straighter sitting position. “I’ll eat, and then if I don’t fall back asleep, you’ll let him come by. Just for a little while. Please, Lucas.” His eyes narrow. “You’ll eat, and I’ll think about it.”

I nod eagerly and dig into my sandwich, consuming it in several big bites. Lucas insists on feeding me the soup himself, his pale eyes heavy-lidded as he brings the spoon to my mouth. I don’t object; I’m too excited by the idea of seeing Misha, and I don’t mind this weird kink my captor seems to have developed. Also, I don’t want Lucas to realize that I’m not as recovered as I thought. Once again, eating has tired me out, and I’m beginning to feel uncomfortably warm, as though the fever is returning. Fortunately, Lucas doesn’t catch on to that, so when I don’t fall asleep immediately after my meal, he messages Diego to bring Misha to see me. “I’m going to give you ten minutes with him,” Lucas says, dressing me in one of his T-shirts. “But the second you feel tired—” “I’ll end it and rest,” I say, curving my lips in what I hope is a bright, healthy smile. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.” Lucas frowns as he feels my forehead, but at that moment, there is a knock on the door. My brother and Diego are here. “Ten minutes,” Lucas warns, tucking the blankets around me. “I’ll be right outside, okay?” I nod. “Can you please put a chair a few feet away from the bed? I don’t want Misha to catch this bug.” Lucas does as I ask before leaving the room, and a few moments later, my brother walks in. “How are you feeling?” he asks in Russian as soon as he enters the bedroom, and I put my hand up, not wanting him to get too close. Though I suspect I’m past the contagious stage of this illness, I still feel more like a germ-infested rag than a person. “I’ve been better,” I say, waving Misha toward the chair Lucas prepared for him. My skin is hurting again, but my brother doesn’t need to know that. “How are you? How are they treating you?” Misha hesitates, then shrugs. “All right, I guess.” He sits down in the chair, and I notice that his hands are not handcuffed this time. “They let you walk around untied?” I ask, surprised, and my brother nods. “They don’t leave me alone with weapons, and I’m handcuffed at night, but yeah, I have some freedom.”

“Good.” I rack my brain for a good place to start, then decide to just come out with it. “Michael,” I say quietly, “where are your adoptive parents? How did you end up with UUR?” He gives me a stony look. “Uncle Vasya said he told you everything.” “He told me… some things. But I’d like to hear it from you.” After Obenko’s betrayal, I have zero trust in my former boss’s version of the story. “Do your parents know what you were doing? Did they agree to your training?” Misha looks at me silently. “Mishen’ka…” My bones ache as I sit up straighter. “All I want is to know a little bit about your life. You have no reason to believe me, but eleven years ago, I made a bargain with Vasiliy Obenko—your Uncle Vasya. I promised him I’d join UUR in exchange for his sister adopting you and providing you with a good life. That’s why I left: because I wanted you to have the kind of life we had before our parents were killed, the kind of life I couldn’t provide for you in the orphanage…” As I speak, Misha shakes his head. “You’re lying,” he says, jumping to his feet. “You left. Uncle Vasya told me you joined the program because you didn’t want the responsibility of a baby brother… because you were tired of being in the orphanage. He felt bad that you left me behind, and he told Mom about me and then…” He stops, his chest heaving. “He wouldn’t have lied to me about this. He wouldn’t have.” He repeats that as if trying to convince himself, and I realize that my brother is not as sure of Obenko as he appears. Has he already had a chance to witness the man’s ruthlessness? “I’m sorry,” I say, lying back against the pillows as my brief burst of energy wanes. “I wish that were true, but for your uncle, his country always came first. You know that, don’t you?” Misha’s lips flatten, and he shakes his head again. “No. He said you’re good at twisting things.” “Misha…” “It’s Michael.” He folds his arms across his chest. “And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” “Okay.” I’m still too sick to argue with a traumatized teenager. “Just tell me one thing… Are they good people, those adoptive parents of yours? Did they treat you well?” After a moment’s hesitation, Misha nods and sits down in the chair. “They did—

they are.” His gaze softens a little. “Mom makes potato pancakes on the weekends, and Dad plays table tennis. He’s really good at it. I used to play with him every evening when I was little.” Tears of relief fill my eyes at the genuine emotion in his voice. Whatever caused him to end up in UUR, Misha loves his adoptive parents—loves them like I loved our Mom and Dad. “Do you see them often?” Now that my brother is actually speaking to me, I find myself desperate to hear more about his life. “Since you started training, I mean? Are you staying at the dorms, or do you still live at home? What do your parents think of you doing this?” Misha blinks at my rapid-fire questions. “I… I see them once a month now,” he answers slowly. “And yes, I’m staying at the dorms. Mom didn’t want that, but Uncle Vasya said it would be best, said it would help me with the transition and everything.” I nod encouragingly, and he continues after a brief pause. “They’re mostly okay with me joining the agency. I mean, they understand that we serve our country.” His gaze slides away as he fidgets in the chair, and I read between the words. His parents might’ve understood, but they were less than happy to have their adolescent son recruited to the cause. “Do you think they’re worried about you?” Ignoring my growing exhaustion, I push myself to an upright sitting position again. “Would they have heard about what happened?” “They—” His voice cracks as he looks back at me, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, I think they must know by now. Someone would’ve notified Mom about Uncle Vasya.” “I’m sorry, Michael.” I bite my lip. “I’m really sorry that it happened like that. Believe me, if I could undo it—” “Don’t.” Misha stands up, his hands clenched. “Don’t pretend.” “I’m not—” “That’s enough.” Lucas’s voice is knife sharp as he enters the room, approaching my brother with furious strides. “I told you, you’re not allowed to upset her.” Grabbing Misha by the back of his shirt, he drags him toward the door, growling, “She’s sick. Which part of that don’t you understand?” “Lucas, stop.” I throw off my blanket, my pulse leaping in sudden fear. “Please,

he didn’t do anything.” Lucas instantly lets go of Misha and crosses the room toward me as I swing my feet to the floor, about to get up despite a wave of dizziness. “What are you doing?” Glaring at me, he grabs my legs and places them back on the bed, forcing me back into the half-sitting position on the pillows before caging me between his arms. His eyes gleam with fury as he leans in, his face centimeters from mine. “You are to rest, understand?” “Yes.” I swallow the knot in my throat. “I’m sorry.” Apparently that satisfies Lucas, because he straightens and turns toward my brother. “Let’s go,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the door, and Misha shoots me an apologetic look before exiting the room ahead of Lucas. Exhausted, I slide down the pillows and close my eyes. My brother is all right for now, but this is no place for him. I need to get him back to his parents. He has to go home.

33

L

ucas

AFTER I ESCORT MICHAEL OUT OF THE HOUSE AND HAND HIM OVER TO DIEGO, I RETURN TO THE bedroom to find Yulia asleep again. Though the bruises from Kirill’s assault are barely visible now, deep blue shadows lie under her eyes, and her face is pale and thin. She lost weight during the illness, and she once again looks disturbingly fragile, like a glass figurine that could shatter at the slightest touch. I must be a pervert, because I want her anyway. Taking a deep breath, I undress and climb into bed beside her. The pillows are all bunched up, so I arrange them more comfortably and lie down, pulling her against me. She’s still wearing the T-shirt, but I don’t mind the barrier between our bodies. It keeps my lust for Yulia under control, helps me maintain the illusion that I’m a dispassionate caretaker rather than a man who’s had to jerk off twice a day for the past week. Last night, I didn’t sleep, so I should be out like a light, but I’m wide awake as I feel the heat rising off her skin again. The fucking fever is back. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Yulia, but I couldn’t resist the plea in her big blue eyes. I still don’t know the full story with her brother—the boy refuses to answer any questions— but I know she loves him. She ran away to save him from me. Closing my eyes, I berate myself for the hundredth time for not listening to her. Over the past several days, I’ve had a chance to replay our pre-escape conversations in my mind, and I see that I have no one but myself to blame for the misunderstanding. If I’d let Yulia speak, I would’ve known who Misha was, and I

would’ve promised not to harm him. Even I have limits. Yulia mumbles something in her sleep, burrowing closer to me, and I kiss the delicate shell of her ear, my chest tightening as I feel her burning skin. She’s not nearly as sick as last night, but she’s still far from well. Carefully disentangling myself from her, I go to the bathroom and return with a cool wet towel. When I remove the T-shirt and run the towel over her body, Yulia wakes up, blinking at me with dazed blue eyes, but before I’m done wiping her down, she falls asleep again. I turn off the light and get in bed beside her again, pulling her into my arms. My body heat is not optimal right now, but I’ve noticed she sleeps better when I’m holding her. She’s less prone to nightmares that way. Closing my eyes again, I try not to think about the source of her nightmares, but it’s impossible. Yulia’s illness has derailed my normal work routine, but I’ve made sure that the search for Kirill is proceeding uninterrupted. Unfortunately, other than some vague rumors and a few false leads, there’s been nothing in the past few days. It’s like the bastard just vanished. It’s feasible he didn’t survive his wounds, but in that case, we should’ve found a body or heard something about a funeral. No, my gut instinct tells me Yulia’s former trainer is alive—likely in horrendous pain, but alive. I’ll have to step up my efforts to find him when Yulia is well. First, though, I need to get her well. Kissing her temple, I snuggle her closer, ignoring the lust stiffening my cock. With any luck, Yulia’s improved appetite means she’s on the mend, and I will soon have her strong and healthy again. If not, Goldberg will wish he’d never been born.

TO MY RELIEF, OVER THE NEXT TWO DAYS, YULIA’S RECOVERY CONTINUES WITH NO FURTHER RELAPSES. Her appetite returns with a vengeance, and I find myself scouring the Internet for simple but nutritious recipes. I’m still pretty terrible in the kitchen, but I’ve discovered that with enough focus and concentration, I can make basic dishes by following instructions and watching online videos—something I’ve never been motivated to do before. But with Yulia completely dependent on me, it feels wrong to feed her only sandwiches and cereal.

I want her to eat well so she regains her health. “What are you doing, man?” Diego asks when he enters my kitchen and sees me chopping up vegetables for stew. “I’ve never seen you cook before.” “Yeah, well, I’m expanding my skill set,” I say, depositing all the vegetables into a large pot before glancing at my open laptop for the next step in the process. “It’s never to late to learn, right?” “Uh-huh, sure.” Diego gives me a dubious look. “Why didn’t you just ask Esguerra’s housekeeper to make some extra food for you? She usually doesn’t mind.” “I’m not Ana’s favorite person right now,” I say, carefully measuring out a teaspoon of salt. “You know, with Rosa and all.” “Oh, right.” Diego sits down at the table and watches me with evident fascination. “She’s pretty upset about the whole thing, huh?” “You could say that again.” Though Nora’s intervention saved Rosa from our interrogation and subsequent punishment, the maid has been under house arrest for the past week while Esguerra is deciding what to do with her. If it weren’t for Nora’s friendship with the girl, it would’ve been easy, but Esguerra doesn’t want to upset his wife by executing her close friend. Besides, neither one of us is completely certain that Nora told the truth, which means there’s still a chance the maid could’ve been working for someone else. Now that Yulia is feeling better, I’m going to question her about that—and about everything else. “So that’s it? You’re a master chef now?” Diego says as I pour the suggested amount of water into the pot and cover it before turning on the stove. “Does that mean Eduardo and I can come over for dinner?” “Fuck, no. Make your own damned stew.” Diego bursts out laughing, but quickly sobers up when I turn to face him. “Enough chitchat,” I say, wiping my hands on a paper towel. “Fill me in on the new trainees and where we are with the recruiting efforts.” The guard launches into his daily report, and I sit down at the table, keeping an eye on the pot to make sure it doesn’t boil over.

WHEN THE STEW IS DONE, I CHECK ON YULIA AND FIND HER NAPPING IN THE ARMCHAIR IN THE library, dressed in another one of my T-shirts. I brought her here after lunch when she insisted on getting up, claiming she was tired of lying in bed all day. Judging by the book on her lap, she fell asleep while reading. Frowning, I brush my hand over her forehead to check for fever. To my relief, her skin feels normal to the touch. She’s still not fully recovered, but Goldberg was right not to let me panic. I glance at the clock. Four p.m. Plenty of time before dinner. Making a decision, I quietly exit the room and head outside. I need to do my rounds with the guards and catch up with Esguerra. With any luck, Yulia will nap for the next couple of hours while I do some work, and then we’ll have a nice meal together—our first normal meal since her return. I can’t fucking wait.

34

Y ulia AN UNNERVING SENSATION WAKES ME UP. IT’S ALMOST LIKE SOMEONE’S WATCHING ME, OR— Gasping, I sit up in the armchair and gape at the petite, golden-skinned girl standing in the middle of Lucas’s library. She’s wearing a light blue sundress, and her shiny dark hair streams over her slim bare shoulders. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before, though something about her delicate features is familiar. “Who are you?” I try to keep my voice level—not an easy feat with my heart pounding in my throat. I’m still weak from my illness, and though the doll-like creature in front of me doesn’t seem like much of a threat, I know looks can be deceiving. “What are you doing here?” “I’m Nora Esguerra,” she says in unaccented American English. Her dark, thickly lashed eyes regard me with cool derision. “You’ve met my husband, Julian.” I blink. That explains how she got into the house—she must have the same master keys as Rosa—and why she looks familiar. Her picture was in the files Obenko gave me in Moscow. Also, I’ve seen those dark eyes once before. “You were looking in the window the first day I was brought here,” I say, tugging Lucas’s T-shirt down to cover more of my thighs. Had I known I’d have visitors, I would’ve put on some real clothes. “With Rosa, right?” The girl nods. “Yes, we looked in on you.” She doesn’t apologize or explain, just studies me, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Okay, and you’re here today because…” I let my voice trail off.

“Because I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you, and this is the first time Lucas has left the house in several days,” she says, and approaches my armchair. Feeling uneasy, I stand up. Though my legs still feel like cooked noodles, I’ll be better able to protect myself on my feet—if the need arises. “What did you want to talk about?” I ask, keeping a careful eye on the girl’s hands. She doesn’t appear armed, but something about her posture tells me she might not need weapons to inflict harm. She’s had some fighting training, I can tell. “Rosa,” the girl says. Her small chin lifts as she gives me a hard look. “Specifically, what you’re going to tell Lucas and Julian about her.” I frown in confusion. “What do you mean?” “They’re going to want to know how you escaped and who helped you,” Nora says evenly. “And you’re going to say that it was Rosa acting on my instructions. Do you understand?” “What?” That’s the last thing I expected to hear. “You want me to blame you?” “I want you to tell the truth,” she says coolly. “And yes, that means telling everyone that Rosa was helping you on my request.” “She didn’t say anything about it being your request,” I say, my mind racing. It sounds like the maid is in trouble, and Esguerra’s wife is trying to protect her by admitting her own involvement. Except— “It doesn’t matter what Rosa said or didn’t say.” Nora’s voice tightens. “I’m telling you now that Rosa was acting on my orders, and that’s what you will say when Lucas and Julian ask you about it. Understand?” “Or what?” I can hear the threat in the girl’s tone, but I want to see how far she’d go. “Or what, Mrs. Esguerra?” “Or I will personally ensure that Julian flays every bit of flesh from your bones.” She gives me a cool smile. “In fact, I may do it myself.” I stare at her, trying to recall what I know about the girl. She’s young—a couple of years younger than me, according to Esguerra’s file—and recently married to the arms dealer. Before that, she was supposedly kidnapped by him; there was an FBI investigation that lasted more than a year. But regardless of her background, it’s obvious to me that she’s not all that different from her husband now. She’s not making an idle threat.

“All right,” I say slowly. “Let’s presume you did suggest to Rosa that she help me. Why? What would’ve been your motivation? Lucas will want to know.” “He’ll understand my motivation. All you need to do is tell the truth—the full truth, including my involvement.” My lips twist. “Right. And I assume the full truth doesn’t include your visit to me today.” “Correct.” Her dark gaze is unblinking. “There’s no reason for Rosa to pay for my actions. I’m sure you agree with that.” “I do.” If Esguerra’s wife wants her notoriously ruthless husband to think the whole thing was her idea, I have no intention of standing in her way—especially given this little chat. “Now, is that all, or can I help you with something else?” “That’s all,” she says, then turns and starts walking away. But before I can exhale in relief, she stops in the doorway and looks back at me. “Just one more thing, Yulia…” I lift my eyebrows, waiting. “From what Julian’s said, Lucas seems… unusually enamored with you.” Her voice is oddly flat. “It’s fortunate for you, given what’s occurred.” She’s talking about the plane crash, I realize. Esguerra’s wife would naturally blame me for that. At least I didn’t succeed in seducing her husband; I have a feeling if Nora knew Esguerra was my initial assignment, I might’ve woken up with my throat slit. “I’m sure you were just doing your job,” she continues in that same flat tone. “Carrying out your superiors’ orders.” I nod warily. I have no idea what she wants me to say. I didn’t know that my intel would be used to bring down her husband’s plane, but even if I did, I’m not sure that would’ve changed anything. I might’ve tried to get Lucas to stay off that plane, though he had still been a stranger to me at the time, but I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save Esguerra. I still wouldn’t. Given everything I know about the man, the world would be better off without him—and so would his wife. “Good. That’s what Lucas told Julian,” Nora says. “It wasn’t personal, so to speak.” I nod again, hoping she gets to the point soon. The lingering tiredness from the illness is making my legs tremble, and I’m sweating from the exertion of standing

for so long. I don’t want to show vulnerability in front of Esguerra’s wife, though. It would be like baring one’s throat to a small but deadly she-wolf. “Okay, Yulia…” The she-wolf’s eyes gleam with a peculiar light. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, for your sake, I hope you share Lucas’s feelings. Because if he ever withdraws his protection…” She doesn’t complete her sentence, but I understand her perfectly. My brother is not the only one who doesn’t belong on this estate. “Understood,” I manage to say calmly. “Anything else?” She gives me a tight smile. “No. That’s all. Hope you feel better soon.” She turns and disappears through the doorway, and I collapse back into the armchair, as exhausted as if I’d just fought a war.

35

L

ucas

IT TAKES ME LONGER THAN EXPECTED TO CATCH UP ON EVERYTHING I’VE NEGLECTED several days, and by the time I get home, it’s almost seven-thirty.

OVER THE PAST

The first thing I do upon entering the house is go to the library. To my surprise, Yulia is not there. “Lucas?” she calls out, and I realize her voice is coming from the kitchen. Frowning, I backtrack and go there. “What are you doing?” I say when I see her carrying two spoons to the kitchen table. Approaching her in two long strides, I grab the utensils from her hand and clasp her elbow. “You need to be resting.” “I’m all right,” she protests as I guide her to the table. “Really, Lucas, I’m much better. I got tired of sitting on my butt all day and wanted to set the table for dinner.” “Tough shit.” I pull out her chair. “Sit, and I’ll take care of that. Your only job right now is to recover, got it?” Yulia gives me an exasperated look but obeys. For the first time since her illness began, she’s wearing her normal clothes—a pair of jean shorts and a tank top—but the skimpy outfit only emphasizes the severity of her weight loss. Her stomach is concave, and her arms are reed thin. I don’t know why she’s pushing herself so hard, but I don’t like it. “You are not to move a muscle,” I say as I wash my hands and take out a pair of bowls. Yulia must’ve already turned on the stove to warm up the stew, because

when I check, I find it simmering on a low setting. I pour each of us a generous portion and bring the bowls over to the table. “I don’t want you to have another relapse,” I say, sitting down across from her. She sniffs at the stew instead of replying. “You made it?” she asks, looking up, and I nod, curious to see what she’ll think. I tasted it earlier and liked it, though I still have far to go before I can rival Yulia in the cooking department. She dips her spoon in and tries a little of the broth surrounding the veggies. “It’s good, Lucas,” she says, and I can’t suppress a smile at the surprise in her voice. “I’m glad you like it,” I say, digging into my own portion. “It wasn’t difficult to make, so I should be able to repeat it.” Yulia begins eating with evident enthusiasm, and I watch her, pleased to see her enjoying my efforts. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing her at my kitchen table, eating the food I made and wearing the clothes I got for her. I never thought of myself as the nurturing type, never considered that I might want to take care of someone, but that’s precisely what I want to do with her. It’s particularly strange because, this illness aside, Yulia is one of the most capable women I’ve met. She’s quiet as we make quick work of the stew, and I let her eat in peace, worried that even this meal might be too taxing for her. When we’re done, I clean up and make Yulia a cup of her favorite Earl Grey. “How are you feeling?” I ask when I bring it to the table, and she smiles, patting her flat belly. “Extremely full. The stew was amazing. Thank you for making it.” “My pleasure.” I grin as she stifles a yawn before sipping her tea. “Sleepy?” “Just food coma, I think,” she says with another almost-yawn. “I can’t possibly want to sleep. I’ve slept enough for a lifetime.” “Your body needed it,” I say, my amusement fading as I recall her nearcatatonic state after Kirill’s attack. “You’ve been through a lot.” She looks down at her cup. “Yeah, I guess.” “Yulia…” I sit down and reach across the table to cover her hand with mine. “What happened? How did you end up with Kirill?” Her slender fingers twitch under my palm, but she doesn’t look up. “Yulia.” I squeeze her hand lightly. “Look at me.”

She reluctantly meets my gaze. “Do you have any other siblings you’re hiding from me?” She shakes her head. “Anyone else you’re trying to protect?” She blinks. “No.” “Then tell me what happened. Why were you in that cell? Did they think you double-crossed them?” “They… it… It’s complicated, Lucas.” Her lips tremble for a second before she presses them together. “I see.” I get up and walk around the table. Yulia gives me a startled look when I pull her to her feet, but I just pick her up and walk to the living room, carrying her cradled against my chest. “What are you doing?” she asks when I sit down on the couch, holding her on my lap. She’s disturbingly light in my arms, as breakable as after her stint at the Russian prison. “I’m getting comfortable so you can tell me your complicated story,” I say, settling her more securely on my lap. Even after her weight loss, her ass is soft and curvy, and her hair smells sweet, like peaches mixed with vanilla. My body reacts instantly, but I ignore the spike of lust. Keeping one arm around her back, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with my free hand and say softly, “Talk to me, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you or your brother, I promise.” Yulia looks at me for a few moments, and I know she’s debating how much to trust me. I wait patiently, and finally, she murmurs, “Where do you want me to start?” “How about at the beginning? Tell me about Michael. When did you both get recruited by the agency?” Yulia takes a deep breath and launches into her story. I listen, my chest aching as she tells me about a ten-year-old girl whose parents left her to watch her twoyear-old brother on an icy winter night and never returned, about the police visit the next morning and the horrors of the orphanage that followed. “Nobody paid much attention to me—like I told you, I was skinny and awkward at that age, a real ugly duckling. But Misha was beautiful,” she says in a raw voice. “He could’ve starred in baby-product commercials. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. The headmistress kept bringing him to her office, and I’d see men,

different men each time, go in. I don’t know what they did to him, but there would be bruises on him, and blood occasionally. And he wouldn’t stop crying for days afterwards. I tried to report it, but nobody would listen. The country was in disarray —it still is—and nobody cared about the orphans. We were out of the way, and that was all that mattered.” Her eyes glitter fiercely as she says, “I would’ve done anything to get Misha out of there. Anything.” Fury is a pulsing beat in my skull, but I keep quiet and continue listening as Yulia tells me about a visit from a well-dressed man whose cold hazel eyes both scared her and gave her hope. “Vasiliy Obenko offered me a deal, and I took it,” she says. “It was the only way I could save Misha. We’d been at the orphanage for less than a year, and he was already a mess: acting out, crying at random times, disobeying his teachers… Even if a good family had come along, they wouldn’t have wanted to adopt a child with those kinds of behavioral issues, no matter how beautiful he was. I was so desperate I considered taking Misha and running away, but we would’ve starved on the streets or worse. The world isn’t kind to homeless children.” She draws in a shuddering breath, and I stroke her back, trying to keep my own hands from trembling with rage. I’m going to find the headmistress of that orphanage and make the childpimping bitch pay. “So yeah,” Yulia continues after a moment, “when Obenko came to recruit me in exchange for his sister and brother-in-law adopting Misha and providing him with a good home, I jumped at the opportunity. I knew there was a chance I was making a deal with the devil, but I didn’t care. I just wanted Misha to have a shot at a better life.” Of course. That explains so fucking much: her bizarre loyalty to an organization that abused her, her willingness to carry out “assignments” after what happened with Kirill. It was never about patriotism; all along, she’d been doing it for her brother. “And did Obenko uphold his part of the bargain?” My tone is relatively calm. “Sort of—well, I don’t know.” She bites her lip. “I’m still trying to untangle the truth from the lies. Misha was supposed to have a normal life, and it seems like he did—at least until a couple of years ago. His adoptive parents have nothing to do with the agency; Obenko’s sister is a nurse, and her husband is an electrical engineer. Part of the bargain was that I stay away from Misha and his new family, so I only saw him in pictures. I didn’t realize my brother had been recruited by UUR

until I followed Obenko to a warehouse on the outskirts of Kiev and saw Misha there, being trained by Kirill along with the other youths.” “The Kirill you thought was dead?” My rage intensifies as I picture her reaction to this double blow—to a betrayal so cruel even I can’t fathom it. Yulia nods, her gaze hardening as she tells me about her capture and subsequent interrogation at the hands of her own agency. “They thought I’d been turned, you see,” she says. “That I betrayed them.” “I don’t understand something.” I slide my hand under her hair and rest it on her nape, managing to keep my fury under control. “What prompted you to follow Obenko to that warehouse? Did you suspect something?” “No, not at all.” Her blue eyes are shadowed. “I started following Obenko in the hopes that he might eventually lead me to his sister’s family—to my brother. I wanted to see Misha just this once before—” She stops, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Before what?” Yulia doesn’t respond. “Before what, beautiful?” “Before I left for another assignment,” she whispers, blinking rapidly. Her words fill me with such violent jealousy that I almost miss it when she adds, almost inaudibly, “And disappeared for good.” “What?” My hand tightens on the back of her neck. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” She winces, and I gentle my grip, massaging the area I just abused. She still doesn’t say anything, however, and the seconds tick by, each one adding to my fury. “Yulia…” Only the knowledge of what happened the last time I let jealousy blind me stops me from exploding on the spot. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” “Nothing. I was just—” She closes her eyes for a second before opening them to meet my gaze. “I was going to walk away, okay?” Her voice shakes. “I couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t carry out another assignment for them. I was going to use the plane tickets and the identities they gave me to disappear and start over fresh.” “You were?” I lower my hand to the small of her back, some of my anger cooling. “Why? Why after all these years?”

She gives a tiny shrug and looks down, avoiding my gaze. “I figured my brother was safe at this point—it’s not like his adoptive parents would put him back in the orphanage after eleven years.” “I’m sure they wouldn’t have put him back after five years either.” I grip her chin to force her to look at me. I can feel her discomfort with the topic, and it makes me even more determined to unravel this mystery. “You didn’t know about Kirill and your brother yet. So why did you decide to run?” She remains silent. “Yulia…” I lean forward until our noses are almost touching. This close, her sweet scent is intoxicating. I breathe it in, feeling like I’m on the verge of losing control. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, and when I speak, the words come out rough and strained. “Why did you decide to run, beautiful? What changed?” Her lips part as she stares at me, and the temptation to kiss her, to taste the pink, lush softness of her mouth is unbearable. I’m hyperaware of her, of everything about her. The shallow, uneven rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her soft, smooth skin, the way her long brown lashes tangle with one another at the far corners of her eyes—it all lures me in, intensifying the hunger burning in my veins. Only the conviction that I must have this answer—that it’s something truly important—keeps me from giving in to my need. “Tell me, baby,” I whisper, moving my hand to stroke her cheek. “Why couldn’t you do it anymore?” Yulia’s breath hitches, her eyes filling with tears as she pushes at my shoulders, trying to twist away. Her distress is such that I almost let her go, but some instinct makes me hold on. “Shh,” I soothe, tightening my arm around her back to hold her still. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why you were going to leave.” “Lucas, please…” Her tears overflow, spilling down her cheeks as she stops pushing at me. “Please, don’t.” “Don’t what?” I feel like I’m tormenting a helpless kitten, but I can’t stop. Leaning closer, I kiss away the salty moisture on her cheeks and murmur, “Don’t ask? Why not? What don’t you want to tell me? What are you hiding?” Yulia closes her eyes, and I brush my lips across her trembling eyelids. “Come on, sweetheart,” I whisper, pulling back. “Just tell me. What changed for you? Why didn’t you want to do this?”

“Because I couldn’t.” Opening her eyes, she gazes at me, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “I just couldn’t do it anymore, okay?” “Why?” She tries to pull away, but I tighten my arm again, keeping her in place. “Why, Yulia?” I press. “Tell me.” “Because I fell in love with you!” With shocking strength, she pushes at my chest, and I’m so stunned that I loosen my grip, letting her scramble off my lap. The momentum propels her backward, nearly causing her to fall, but before I can grab at her, she catches her balance and sprints into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

36

Y ulia DURA! IDIOTKA! IMBECILE! DEBILKA! Sobbing, I shove a chair against the bedroom door, wedging the back under the doorknob to keep it jammed. My arms shake from overexertion and adrenaline, and regret is like a sledgehammer beating against my skull. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have admitted my feelings to Lucas again? The last time, at least, I thought I was dreaming, but I have no such excuse today. Fully awake and conscious, I gave in to Lucas’s relentless tenderness, crumpled under the merciless pull of his gentle demands. “Yulia!” The doorknob rattles as he pushes against the door. “What the fuck are you doing? Let me in.” My chest heaving, I back away from the door, pressing my fist against my mouth to muffle my sobs. Why did I do this again? Am I some kind of masochist? I know what I am to him: a sex toy, someone he wants to own and possess. If I had any doubts on that front, the trackers would’ve dispelled them. What he’s done is the closest thing to putting a dog leash on a human being, and no amount of sickroom care can make up for his intention to keep me prisoner until he tires of me. Love and captivity don’t mix—for most sane people, at least. “Yulia.” Lucas bangs his fist on the door. “Fucking let me in!” He kicks at it, and the chair makes a creaking sound as it moves a couple of centimeters across the carpet, letting the door open a crack. I cast a desperate glance around the room. I don’t know what I’m looking for,

but there’s nothing, so I continue edging backward as Lucas starts kicking at the door in earnest. The crack widens with each violent blow, and just as my trembling legs touch the bed behind me, the chair breaks and the door flies open. “Lucas, I—” I’m not sure what I’m planning to say, but he doesn’t give me a chance. Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, he’s on me, and my world goes topsy-turvy as I tumble backward onto the bed. He lands on top of me, and in a blink of an eye, he grabs my wrists, stretching my arms above my head. His pale eyes burn into mine as he presses me into the mattress, his muscular body hot and heavy on top of me. He’s already aroused—I can feel the hard swelling in his jeans — and I know there’s only one way this evening will end. My flu-induced respite is over. His hands tighten around my wrists, and dark anxiety beats at me, mixing with perverse excitement. I’m viscerally aware of my captor’s strength, of the power of his large male body. When Kirill had been on top of me like this, all I’d felt was terror and revulsion, but with Lucas, it’s infinitely more complicated. Underneath the instinctive fear and distrust, there’s a potent animal attraction mixed with a deeper longing, a desire for connection that makes no sense in the context of who and what we are. I’m in love with a man who has every reason to despise me—a man who scares me to my very soul. “Yulia…” he murmurs, staring down at me, and I draw in a shaking breath, feeling like I can’t get enough air. I feel torn in two: a part of me wants to run and hide, pretend this isn’t happening, but another part, the weaker part, wants to give in to him again, tell him how much he means to me and beg him to keep me forever. Beg him to love me like I love him—like I will always love him. “Yulia, sweetheart…” His gaze softens, and I realize I’m crying again, my entire body shaking with gasping sobs. “Hush, baby, it’s not that bad… You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.” But I can’t stop crying—not even when he kisses me, his tongue sweeping over my lips, and not when he releases my wrists and rolls off me to strip off my clothes. I can’t stop crying because he’s wrong. It won’t be okay. There’s no future for us, no hope for anything resembling a normal life. He’s an arms dealer’s second-incommand, a man with no conscience, and I’m his prisoner. There are no happily-ever-afters for people like us.

The pain of that knowledge is so consuming that I barely feel it when Lucas tears off my thong and climbs on top of me after taking off his own clothes. My chest is agonizingly tight, my vision blurred with tears. It’s only when he settles between my legs, his powerful thighs spreading mine apart, that the animal awareness returns, my body responding to him despite my distress. The tip of his cock nudges against my dampening folds, but instead of pushing forward, he stills, holding himself propped up on his elbows as he cradles my face between his large palms. “Yulia…” His eyes burn with dark hunger, his sun-bronzed skin stretched tight over his sharp cheekbones. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and guttural. “Nothing and no one will take you from me. No more lies, no more running, no more hiding. I’m going to take care of you and protect you. You and your brother both, do you understand?” I manage a small nod, my hands moving up to clutch at his sides. His hard body is vibrating like a string, his muscles coiled as if for a fight, and I know he’s struggling to control himself. On any other night, he would’ve already been inside me, but he’s trying to hold back, to go slowly because of my recent illness. Something about that loosens the tight knot in my chest, chases away the panic I was feeling. Maybe I’m not just a toy to him. He wouldn’t hold back if he didn’t care. “It’s okay, Lucas,” I whisper, blinking to clear away the tears. Given what he’s promising, letting him have my body is the least I can do. “I’m okay.” His pupils expand, darkening his blue-gray eyes, and then he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a deep, feral kiss. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, conquering and caressing at the same time, and my lower belly tightens as I feel the hard, insistent pressure of his cock. Heat builds inside me, centering between my legs, but a flutter of panic returns too. Despite my reassurances, I’m far from ready for this—emotionally, at least. Sex with my captor is never casual and easy. But it’s too late to express my hesitations. Lucas’s lips and tongue devour me, taking away my breath, and one of his hands moves down my body, kneading my breasts before traveling lower to touch my sex. His fingers find my clit, playing with it until I’m slick and throbbing, and then he grips his cock and guides it to my entrance, lifting his head to look at me at the same time. His eyes glitter as he holds my gaze, and we both inhale sharply as the smooth, broad head of his cock breaches me, stretching my tight flesh. I’d forgotten how

thick he is, how large all around. Despite my arousal, my inner muscles need to adjust to the feel of him inside me, and my breathing turns shallow as he presses deeper, his penetration slow and controlled but inexorable. When he’s all the way in, he pauses, holding himself still above me, and I see sweat droplets forming on his forehead. He’s still trying to rein himself in, to be as gentle as someone like him can be. “I love you,” I whisper, unable to hold back the words. At this moment, it doesn’t matter that he might not return my feelings, that the odds are stacked against us in every way. “I love you, Lucas, so much.” His gaze fills with volcanic heat, his powerful muscles bunching even tighter, and I see the last of his self-control disintegrate. “Yulia,” he groans, and then he withdraws and surges into me, thrusting so hard that air whooshes out of my lungs. It should’ve been too much, too overwhelming, but somehow it’s just right, and I wrap my legs and arms around him, holding on tight as he starts hammering into me, claiming me with feral intensity. “Lucas…” His name comes out on a ragged moan as the heat inside me coils and grows, transforming into an unbearable tension. “Oh God, Lucas…” Every muscle in my body vibrates from the agonizing pleasure, my heartbeat pounding audibly in my ears. The moment seems to stretch on forever, and then I climax with startling violence, my muscles clamping down on his shaft as every nerve ending in my body explodes with sensations. Lucas lowers his head, swallowing my cry with his mouth, and continues thrusting into me, riding me through the orgasm. He fucks me like a man possessed, his hand sliding into my hair to hold me in place for his voracious kiss, and I feel another orgasm building, each merciless stroke of his cock bringing me closer to the edge. But before I can go over, he stops and raises his head to look at me. “Say it again,” he rasps out, his eyes boring into mine. His skin glistens with sweat, his chest heaving with harsh breathing as his cock throbs deep inside me. “Tell me you love me.” “I love you,” I gasp, lifting my hips in a desperate attempt to reach the peak. “Please, Lucas, I love you!” He sucks in an audible breath, and I feel him swell inside me, growing even thicker and harder as he thrusts in one last time before throwing back his head with a savage groan. His cock jerks inside me, his seed spurting out in several warm bursts, and then he rolls his hips in a circular motion, grinding his pelvis against

my sex. To my shock, his movements push me over the edge, and I cry out, my nails digging into his back as a shattering wave of pleasure sweeps through me again, leaving me limp and shaking in its wake. “Fuck, baby,” Lucas groans, and I feel his cock spasm one last time before he withdraws and rolls off me. Like me, he’s covered in sweat and breathing hard, but somehow he finds the strength to pull me toward him, embracing me from behind. As my heartbeat slows and the post-orgasmic bliss begins to fade, I close my eyes, trying not to think about what I’ve done. Trying to ignore the terrifying power Lucas holds over me now.

37

L

ucas

WHEN MY BREATHING SLOWS AND MY MUSCLES START OBEYING MY INSTRUCTIONS, I GET UP AND CARRY Yulia to the bathroom for a quick rinse. She’s silent and withdrawn, all but swaying on her feet as I wash her, and I know I pushed too hard, took her too roughly too soon. I should’ve given her at least a couple more days to regain her strength, but instead, I attacked her like a rampaging caveman, making no allowances for her fragile state. Regret gnaws at me, mixing with worry for her health, but underneath the heavy press of guilt is a glow of hot, dark satisfaction. Beyond the aftermath of stunning pleasure, beyond the physical relief of sex, it’s a feeling that warms me from the inside out, making me feel like I’m on top of the world. Yulia loves me. There’s no doubt of that now. She loves me, not some dream phantom or lover I’d made up. It’s ridiculous, but I feel like I won a fucking lottery. When we’re both clean, I help Yulia out of the shower and towel her off before picking her up again. Taking care of her this way feels like the most natural thing now, and the glowing sensation intensifies when she wraps her arms around my neck and trustingly lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her back to the bedroom. “How are you feeling?” I ask, stopping next to the bed. Bending down, I place her gently on the sheets and clarify, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “No,” Yulia whispers, closing her eyes. She looks exhausted, and worry spears through me again. What if this causes her to relapse? I should’ve held back,

should’ve controlled myself better. Hell, I should’ve waited to get answers until she was completely well instead of giving in to my impatience. Pushing the guilt away, I turn off the light and climb into bed beside her, pulling her into my arms. The feel of her warm, slim curves turns me on again, but this time, I’m able to ignore my body’s reaction. “Goodnight, beautiful,” I whisper, reaching down to pull the blanket over us. “Sleep well.” Within a minute, Yulia’s breathing takes on the steady rhythm of sleep, and I close my eyes, the glow returning as I hold her tight. She loves me, and she’s mine. Life couldn’t get any better.

TO MY RELIEF, THE NEXT MORNING YULIA WAKES UP WITH NO SIGNS OF A RELAPSE. I’M IN THE KITCHEN making breakfast when she walks in, already dressed in a pair of shorts and a Tshirt, her hair brushed and her eyes bright and alert. “Hi,” she says softly, stopping in the doorway. A delicate flush colors her cheeks as she looks at me. “Are you home again today?” “Just for a bit,” I say, smiling at her. “How are you feeling?” “I’m okay.” She gives me a tentative smile in return. “Just a little hungry.” “Good. The omelet’s almost ready.” “Do you want some help?” she asks, coming up to the stove. “I can—” “Thank you, but I got it.” I wave her away. “If you want, make us both some tea, and I’ll have this on the table in no time.” Yulia does as I suggest, and five minutes later, we’re sitting down to eat. “I want to see Misha today,” she says after consuming half of her portion in record time. “Since I’m well and everything.” “I’m sure that can be arranged,” I say. “I’ll ask Diego to bring him over this afternoon.” I’m still mad at the little punk for upsetting her the other day, but I know I can’t keep her from him—not after what she told me last night. Yulia puts down her fork, her expression unreadable. “Lucas…” She reaches up to brush her fingers over the back of her neck. “Am I still a prisoner in this house, even with the trackers?”

I frown. “No, you’re not.” I’d already decided that I would give her freedom to roam around the estate once the trackers were in. “I told you that.” “Then why does Diego need to bring my brother over? Can’t I go see him on my own?” I hesitate, looking at her. Though in theory, I like the idea of granting Yulia some independence, now that the moment is here, I feel uneasy at the thought of her walking around the estate by herself. “You can,” I say finally. “But not today. I need to introduce you to more people here first. They need to know who you are and what you mean to me.” “Because of my connection to the crash,” she says, and I nod, relieved she understands. Though some of my unease stems from irrational possessiveness, there’s a reason to be cautious. The guards who died in the plane crash had friends and families, some of whom reside on the compound. And though Esguerra and I have done our best to keep the details of the crash under wraps, I know there are rumors about Yulia’s involvement. Until I publicly claim her as mine, she’s not safe on her own. “What about my brother?” she asks, picking up her tea, and I notice that she stopped eating, her blue eyes trained on me intently. “Is he in danger?” “No,” I reassure her. “Diego or Eduardo are with him at all times.” “So he is a prisoner?” I sigh. “Yulia, your brother is… well, it’s a fluid situation. Once we’re sure he won’t shoot anyone or try to run away, we’ll give him more freedom as well, okay? It’ll just take some time.” She takes a few sips of her tea and resumes eating, but I see a small frown etched into her forehead. She’s worried about Michael—the brother who doesn’t seem to appreciate the sacrifices she made for him. “What were you two arguing about?” I ask when we’re done with our food. “Your brother seemed angry with you for some reason.” Yulia finishes her tea, then says quietly, “He’s confused. Obenko fed him a bunch of lies about me when he recruited him, and he was his uncle, so…” She shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter, but I see the shadow of pain in her eyes. UUR’s betrayal goes deeper that I thought.

“So Michael doesn’t know what you did for him?” My hand tightens around my cup as I picture all the things I’m going to do to Yulia’s former colleagues. “I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter.” She attempts a smile. “Misha’s here now, so I just need to talk to him, straighten it all out.” “All right,” I say, coming to a decision. Rage beats in my chest, but I keep my voice level as I say, “Let’s go. I’ll take you to see him myself.” Yulia’s eyes widen. “Now? Don’t you have work?” “It’ll wait.” Putting down my cup, I stand up and walk around the table. “Do you feel up for a walk?” She immediately jumps to her feet. “Definitely,” she says, beaming. “Let’s go.”

WE LEAVE THE HOUSE THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR. AS WE STEP OUTSIDE, I squeezing her fingers lightly, and she gives me a wry look.

TAKE

YULIA’S

HAND,

“I’m not going to run, you know,” she says, and I smile, some of my anger fading. “It’s not to prevent you from running,” I say, tightening my grip on her hand. Yulia is mine now, and nobody’s going to hurt her again—not without answering to me, at least. “Ah.” She looks around at the guards and other passersby, most of whom are surreptitiously staring at us. “So this is strategic?” “Partially.” I’m holding Yulia’s hand because I want to, but broadcasting our relationship to others is a definite bonus, especially since a few of the guards are eyeing her long, slender legs with obvious appreciation. I glare at them, and they swiftly turn away. Fuckers. Yulia glances up at me and steps closer, all but pressing herself against my side as we walk. I give her an approving nod. She’s smart to publicly accept my protection. As soon as everyone on the estate knows she’s mine, she’ll be safe. We pass by the guards’ barracks, and Yulia looks up at me again. “Where are we going?” she asks. “I thought Michael was staying here.” “He is, but Diego told me he’s at the training field with him this morning. So that’s where we’re heading.”

“Oh, I see.” Yulia falls silent as we walk past a small group of guards. As soon as we’re out of earshot, she slows down and turns her head to look at me. “Lucas…” she says quietly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” “What is it?” “When we first returned, Dr. Goldberg mentioned you’d been injured recently. What happened? Was there some trouble on your trip?” “Trouble?” With my free hand, I absentmindedly touch my ribs, which bother me less each day. “Yeah, you could say that.” And as we walk, I tell Yulia about the events in Chicago, from the nightclub assault on Rosa to the chase and its aftermath. I try to gloss over the more gruesome details, but even so, by the time I’m done, Yulia is ghost white, her hand icy in my grasp. “You could’ve been killed,” she whispers in horror. “And Rosa… Oh God, poor Rosa…” “Yes, about that…” We’re not far from the training field, so I stop and turn to face Yulia. “Why don’t you tell me about Rosa? I want to know how she helped you escape.” Yulia’s hand stiffens in my hold before she relaxes it again. “What do you mean?” she says, her eyebrows pulling together in seeming confusion. Her expression is the perfect imitation of sincere cluelessness; if I hadn’t felt her hand twitch, I would’ve never known that my question gave her pause. “She didn’t—” “No more lies, remember?” I interrupt. “We had an agreement.” Yulia licks her lips. “Lucas, I…” “You won’t be ratting her out, if that’s what worries you,” I say, releasing her hand. Stepping closer, I grasp Yulia’s chin, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “We know what Rosa did, and we have the video to prove it.” “You do?” Yulia’s slim throat works. “Did you— Is she okay?” “For now.” I drop my hand but don’t bother elaborating further. “Now tell me exactly what happened. How did you escape?” She stares at me, and I know she’s deciding whether she can believe me about the video. Finally, she says quietly, “On the day before your departure, Rosa came by and gave me a razor blade and a hair pin. She also told me a little bit about the guards’ schedules, including the fact that the ones at North Tower Two play poker on Thursday afternoons.” “I see.” That explains why Yulia walked by that tower at that exact time. “And

why was she helping you? Did your agency get to her?” “No, of course not.” Yulia seems surprised. “How could they have?” “I don’t know. But then why would she do this?” Yulia hesitates again, then says slowly, “It was strange. She acted like she didn’t like me, so I didn’t understand at first, but then…” “Then what?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue. “Then she mentioned something about Nora,” she says, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “It sounded like she asked her to do this. Rosa wouldn’t tell me why, though.” Well, fuck. I want to punch someone. Esguerra’s wife didn’t lie after all. “Do you know why this Nora helped me?” Yulia asks, and I realize I’m just standing there, seething with silent rage. “She’s Esguerra’s wife, right?” “She is,” I say grimly, turning to resume walking. “Unfortunately, she is.” If she weren’t, she’d already be dead. But as things stand, unless Esguerra chooses to punish Nora, she’s untouchable, and if Rosa acted on her orders, the maid might be too.

38

Y ulia AS WE RESUME WALKING TOWARD THE TRAINING FIELD, I SNEAK A CAUTIOUS GLANCE AT LUCAS, TRYING to see if he bought my story. So far, it looks like he has. His square jaw is taut with anger, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. He looks like he’s ready to murder someone, and to my surprise, I feel a tiny spurt of guilt for lying to him about Nora. It’s as if I’m betraying his trust. No. I shake off that ridiculous feeling. There’s never been trust between us. Lust, yes, and even some incongruous tenderness, but not trust. I may no longer be handcuffed, but with the trackers embedded in my body, I’m still Lucas’s captive, and falling for him didn’t make me blind. I know what kind of man he is and what he’s capable of. If Lucas knew that Nora told me to implicate her in my escape, it’s highly probable that the maid would be killed—which, I’m guessing, is why Esguerra’s wife took the fall for her. If she took the fall, that is. It’s possible the petite girl simply owned up to the truth, and if that’s the case, I didn’t lie to Lucas. I just didn’t mention Nora’s visit, which is a completely different matter. Besides, when I think about what happened to Rosa, I feel sick inside. I know how horrible she must be feeling. The last thing I want is for her to be hurt more. Thankfully, as we walk, Lucas’s anger seems to dissipate, and by the time we approach a large, grass-covered field, he appears to have gotten over it completely. “Is this it?” I ask, looking around the field. It’s divided equally between a shooting range and an obstacle course. There’s also a flat-roofed building—an indoor gym, maybe?—on one side and what looks like a supply shed in the corner. “Yes, this is the training area,” Lucas says as we walk past a few guards

practicing mixed martial arts. “And I think that’s your brother over there.” He points toward a small cluster of men on the obstacle course. Sure enough, my brother’s bright blond hair stands out like a beacon among the mostly Latino guards. He’s doing pushups on the grass next to a slim, brownhaired guard who looks to be only a few years older than him. As we get closer, I realize they’re having a competition. The other men are standing in a semi-circle, cheering them on and placing bets in a colorful mixture of Spanish and English. Both Misha and the guy he’s competing against are shirtless and dripping with sweat, and I wonder how long they’ve been at it. Not that it takes much exertion to sweat in this weather; my own shirt is sticking to my back just from walking here. “Looks like Michael is ahead,” Lucas comments, and I hear a note of dark amusement in his voice. “I’ll have to boost the new recruits’ training regimen. This simply won’t do.” I shush him, not wanting to interrupt my brother’s concentration. Misha’s face is red, and his arms are shaking as if they’re going to give out. The other guard, however, is in even worse shape, and as I watch, the young man collapses on his stomach, unable to do another pushup. “Go, Michael!” someone shouts, and I turn to see Diego clapping. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Turning to the other guards, he holds out his hand and says smugly, “Told you the kid could do it. Now pay up.” While he speaks, my brother collapses on the grass as well. Panting, he rolls over onto his back, and I see a huge, bright smile on his face. He looks as happy as in those photos. I hurry toward him, my own face split in a joyous smile. “Good job, Michael,” I call out, feeling like I might burst from pride. “That was amazing.” He sits up, his eyes widening as he sees me approach. “Yulia?” he says in Russian. “How are you feeling?” “I’m much better, thank you,” I respond in the same language. Then, cognizant that some of the other guards have started frowning, I say in English, “Glad to see you boys are having fun.” Misha climbs to his feet, brushing off bits of dirt and grass from his shorts. “Um, yeah,” he says in English, casting an embarrassed glance at the others. “We were just, you know…”

“Yeah, she knows,” Lucas says, coming up behind me. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looks at the guards, and they quickly scatter, mumbling something about having a job to do. Only Diego stays behind, a big grin lighting up his face. “We should hire him,” he says. “He’s already better than some of these new guys, and with a bit more training—” Lucas holds up his hand, interrupting Diego. “Michael’s going to come with us for a bit,” he says. “I’ll call you when I need you.” “All right,” Diego agrees easily. “I’ll be around.” He lopes off to join the others, and Lucas turns to Misha, who’s watching him warily. “I have to speak to a few guards,” Lucas says. “Can I trust you to stay on this field and not get into trouble if I leave you alone with your sister?” Misha’s face is stony, but he nods. “Good.” Lucas clasps my elbow and pulls me to him. Lowering his head, he presses a quick, hard kiss to my lips before stepping back. “I’ll see you both soon. Stay within sight. Got it?” “Yes,” I say, trying to ignore the burn in my cheeks. “We’ll be here.” Lucas walks away, and I turn to face Misha, my embarrassment intensifying when I see an identical flush on his face. I know why Lucas kissed me like that—it’s all about claiming me in public today—but that doesn’t mean I wanted my fourteen-year-old brother to witness it. Misha already thinks poorly of me. “Do you want to take a walk?” I offer, trying to pretend the kiss didn’t happen. “I haven’t seen this area before. Maybe you can show me around?” “Sure.” Misha seems glad to have something to do. Grabbing his shirt from the grass, he pulls it on and says, “Here, let’s go this way.” He leads me toward the obstacle course, and I follow, ignoring the mix of hostile and curious looks coming our way from the guards. “How are you?” I ask in English. I want to get used to speaking with Misha this way, so that Lucas and the others don’t think we’re trying to hide something from them. “Are they still treating you well?” He nods. “They watch me all the time,” he responds in English, “but other than

that, it’s okay.” “Good.” I give him a relieved smile. “How are your accommodations?” He shrugs as we walk around a pair of guards practicing scaling a barbed-wire fence. “They’re fine. A little better than the dorms, I guess.” “That’s good. And what about—” “How long are they going to keep us here?” he interrupts, giving me a sidelong look. “The guards wouldn’t tell me anything.” “Right. About that…” I take a deep breath. “I’m going to talk to Lucas, but before I do, I need to know a little bit more about your situation.” Misha frowns. “What do you mean?” This is going to be tricky. “How did you end up in UUR, Michael?” I ask carefully, using his preferred name. “Did your uncle ask you to join?” “No.” Misha doesn’t blink. “It was my idea.” I stop, staring at him in shock. “Yours?” My brother gives me a level look. “I was in some trouble in school, and Uncle Vasya came to talk to me. He told me how stupid I was being, how many kids would’ve killed for a chance at my kind of life. And I told him that’s not what I wanted. I didn’t want to be an accountant or a lawyer or a nurse. I wanted to be an agent, like him.” I frown in confusion. “This was openly discussed in your family? UUR and everything?” “No, of course not. My parents were very secretive about Uncle Vasya’s job, but I kept overhearing things. Also, I knew I had a sister who was working for our country. My parents told me about that because I kept asking them why you left me.” I wince, but he’s already plowing ahead. “Anyways,” he says, “I put two and two together, and on that visit, I confronted Uncle Vasya about it. He admitted that you’d joined his program, and then he told me how I came to be adopted by my parents.” “Michael, that’s not—” “Don’t lie. He said you’d lie about it.” Misha’s tone sharpens. “He was a good man. He died for Ukraine.” “I know that, but…” I draw in a steadying breath. “Listen to me, Michael. Your uncle and I had a deal. Your adoption was part of it. You were supposed to be safe,

not recruited into this life. It was only supposed to be me. I joined the agency because I wanted to protect you, and I couldn’t do it at the orphanage. Obenko promised me—” “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” Misha steps back, shaking his head. “You’re lying. I know you are.” “No, Mishen’ka.” My heart squeezes at the anger and confusion in his gaze. “Your uncle didn’t tell you everything. I didn’t leave because I was tired of the orphanage. I left because that was the only way to keep you safe.” Misha keeps shaking his head, but he’s no longer interrupting, so I tell him about the visit by the man in the suit and the bargain he offered me, including how I was supposed to stay away from Misha and the pictures I received every few months. As I speak, I see uncertainty replace some of the anger in my brother’s eyes. He doesn’t know whom to believe, and I can’t blame him. “I still have all those pictures,” I say when he remains silent. “I uploaded them to a secure cloud service a few months ago. I could show them to you one day, if you want.” Misha stares at me. “You kept them?” “Of course.” My chest is painfully tight, but I attempt a smile. “You’re my only family, Michael. I kept every single one.” He swallows and looks away before resuming walking. I catch up with him, and we walk without speaking for a few minutes. There are a million things I want to tell him, a billion questions I want to ask, but I don’t want to push us into another argument. It’s nice to just have my brother’s company for now. To my surprise, Misha breaks the silence first. “I didn’t know it was you that day,” he says quietly as we stop to observe two guards throwing knives. “What?” I turn to look at him. “What are you talking about?” “That day at the warehouse, when I helped them catch you. I didn’t know that was you.” Misha’s forehead is creased with tension. “I only found out later.” “Oh, of course.” It hadn’t even occurred to me that he could’ve known. “You hadn’t seen me since you were three, and I was wearing a wig. Besides, why would you ever expect your sister to be lurking outside your training facility?”

“Right.” He folds his arms across his chest. “So why were you there? Uncle Vasya said that you’d turned on us, that you were no longer loyal to UUR.” “I never turned on the agency, but I was going to walk away,” I say, deciding to be completely honest. “I was following Obenko because I was hoping he’d lead me to you, so I could see you one last time before I left.” Misha blinks. “You followed him to see me? But why were you going to walk away?” “It’s a long story, Michael.” “Is it because of him?” Misha glances toward the other side of the field, where Lucas is talking to a group of guards. “Because”—his cheeks redden—“you two are lovers?” “It’s…” God, why is this so difficult? It’s not like I’m fourteen. “It’s complicated between us,” I finally manage to say. “His boss has been at odds with Ukraine for a while, and—” “Is Kent forcing you?” Misha’s eyes flash with blue fire. “Because I’ll kill him if he is—” “No, of course not,” I interrupt, my pulse jumping. The last thing I need is Misha in defender mode. “I want to be with Lucas,” I say firmly. “It’s just a complicated situation because of UUR and everything.” My brother doesn’t look convinced, so I add quickly, “And yes, us being lovers was a big part of why I was going to walk away.” Misha flushes again and looks away. “Okay,” he mutters. “That’s what I thought.” “Yes, and you were right.” Pushing aside my discomfort, I give him a rueful smile. “You’re very smart, and pretty much an adult now. I’ll have to get used to that. The last time I saw you, your biggest achievement was going on the potty, so it’s a bit of an adjustment for me, seeing you all grown up like this.” Misha grins, as pleased by that praise as any boy of fourteen, and I realize how mature my brother acts most of the time. I don’t have much experience with teenagers, but I doubt many of them could’ve handled this situation as well as he has. In fact, few adults could’ve kept their cool while being kidnapped, taken halfway around the world, and kept captive on an arms dealer’s jungle compound. As I ponder that, a flicker of motion from across the field catches my gaze.

“We should head back,” I say, realizing Lucas is waving at me. “I think Lucas is calling us.” Misha nods, falling into step beside me, and as we walk back, I try to think of the best way to approach my captor about sending my brother home.

39

L

ucas

AFTER I TALK TO THE NEW RECRUITS ON THE FIELD, I CATCH YULIA’S EYE AND WAVE AT HER, motioning for her to return. She grabs her brother and starts walking back, and I head over to the pull-up bar, figuring I’d get some quick exercise in while I wait. I’m midway through my first set of wide-grip pull-ups when I see Esguerra approach. “What’s up?” I ask, letting go of the bar to land on the grass. The sun is unbearably hot, and I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face. “Were you looking for me?” “We need to figure out the Rosa situation,” he says without preamble. “Nora is after me to lift her house arrest, but we still don’t know if—” “We do, actually,” I interrupt. “I was going to talk to you this afternoon. I just got confirmation from Yulia that Nora was involved.” Esguerra’s face darkens. “What did your spy say, exactly?” I convey my conversation with Yulia almost word for word. “So yeah,” I conclude, “looks like it wasn’t Rosa’s own initiative—not that it means she should get away with it.” Nor should Nora, in my opinion, but I know better than to say that. “Fuck.” Esguerra spins around, his posture rigid with fury, and I see the moment he spots the approaching figures. Turning back toward me, he says incredulously, “Is that—” “Yes.” I meet his gaze coolly. “That’s Yulia and her brother, Michael. I told you

we grabbed him during the trip to Ukraine, remember?” The corner of his real eye begins to twitch. “Grabbed him, yes. Gave him free run of the compound alongside his treacherous sister, no. What the fuck are you doing, Lucas? You said she’s not getting off scot-free.” “And I said I’m keeping her.” The steel in my voice matches the iciness of his expression. “She’s mine to punish or not. Just as Nora is yours.” For a moment, I’m sure Esguerra’s going to hit me, and I tense, ready to strike back. But he takes a breath instead and steps back, his hands hanging loose at his sides. Turning, he looks at Yulia and her brother, who are now less than fifty feet away. Yulia must’ve spotted him because she’s moving slower now, her face white with anxiety. Her brother is walking next to her, but as they get closer, she grabs his wrist and steps in front of him, as if trying to hide him from Esguerra’s view. “She’s mine,” I repeat in a low, hard voice as Yulia comes to a complete stop some thirty feet away, her gaze flitting from me to Esguerra and back again. “If you do anything to them…” Esguerra turns his head to look at me. “I won’t.” His eyes gleam coldly. “But, Lucas, do us both a favor. Keep her as far away from me as you can.” I incline my head, but he’s already walking away, heading in the opposite direction from where Yulia and her brother are standing.

ON OUR WALK HOME, YULIA IS SILENT, AND I KNOW SHE’S WORRYING ABOUT ESGUERRA. DIEGO CAME back to get Michael shortly after my confrontation with Esguerra, and Yulia smiled and gave her brother a parting hug. Since then, however, she’s barely said a word, her gaze distant and her shoulders tense as she walks next to me. I want to reassure her, tell her that she’s stressing over nothing, but the words stick in my throat. Esguerra’s estate is large in terms of acreage, but populationwise, it’s more like a small village. Everybody runs into each other on a regular basis, and keeping Yulia out of Esguerra’s hair won’t be easy—at least if I do as I promised and let her roam on her own. Esguerra might not harm her in the near term, but he won’t forgive her either. As we get closer to the house, Yulia’s gait slows, and I realize the long walk must’ve tired her out, depleting her body’s all-too-recently replenished strength

reserves. Without a second thought, I bend down and swing her up into my arms, ignoring her startled squeak and my ribs’ faint twinge of pain. “What are you doing?” she exclaims as I resume walking. “Lucas, you don’t need to carry me—” “Hush.” I press her tighter against my chest, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to push me away. “I’m carrying you home.” She stops struggling, and after a moment, she winds her arms around my neck and lays her head on my shoulder. “Lucas…” Her voice is as weary as I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not going to work, you know.” “What are you talking about?” “You and I.” She lifts her head to look up at me, and I see the dark shadow of despair in her gaze. “It’s not going to work.” “Bullshit.” I pick up my pace, a burst of fury propelling me forward. “It’s going to work if I want it to.” Yulia slowly shakes her head. “No. Maybe in another life—” “In another life, our paths would’ve never crossed, beautiful. This is the only way you could’ve been mine.” If her parents hadn’t been killed in that car crash, if I hadn’t been working for Esguerra, if UUR hadn’t given her that assignment… The number of ways I could’ve not met her is endless, but I did meet her, and there’s no fucking way I’m giving her up. Yulia sighs and places her head back on my shoulder, letting me carry her without further protests. I know she’s not convinced, however. Like me, she’s seen too much of this world to believe in happy endings.

“LUCAS, I THINK MISHA SHOULD GO HOME.” I pause with the spoon halfway to my mouth. “Home?” “To his parents,” Yulia clarifies, putting down her own utensil. Her bowl of soup steams in front of her, mostly eaten. “His adoptive parents.” “I thought he was with your agency.” I put down my spoon and wipe my mouth with my napkin. I’ve been expecting something like this since the incident this morning, and I’m

not looking forward to this conversation. “He was with UUR of his own free will, yes, but by all indications, he’s also close to his parents.” Yulia’s gaze is unflinching. “They let him join against their better judgement, and I’m sure they’re going crazy with worry for him now.” I drum my fingers on the table. “So you want me to what, bring him back to them? What about the fact that you haven’t seen him in eleven years? Don’t you want to spend some time with your brother?” Yulia’s face tightens. “Of course I do, but I can’t be that selfish. Misha doesn’t belong here, and he’s not safe. I saw the way Esguerra was looking at him… at us both. He hates us, Lucas. I know you said you’ll protect us, but—” “He won’t lay a finger on either one of you,” I say, and mean every word. As much as I respect Esguerra, I’ll kill him before I let him harm Yulia. “You’re safe, and so is your brother.” “But for how long?” She leans forward. “Until you get tired of me? And then what? We’re at Esguerra’s mercy?” “I won’t get tired of you.” I can’t picture a day I wouldn’t want her. I’ve lusted after women before, but never like this. My craving for Yulia feels like a part of me now, like something imprinted on my DNA. “You don’t have to worry about that.” “You can’t expect me to believe that, but okay, let’s assume for a moment that it’s true.” She pushes her bowl aside. “That still leaves us with the fact that your job is dangerous, Lucas. Your life is dangerous. Just look at what happened when you went to Chicago. If there’s a bullet coming at Esguerra, it’s more than likely to hit you first.” I look at her silently, knowing she’s right. I’d said as much to Michael. If something were to happen to me, Yulia and her brother would be on their own, in a place where nobody will raise a finger to help them. No, it’s worse than that. If I were gone, they’d likely be killed on the spot. “I can’t send Michael back right now,” I say after a couple of moments. Leaning back, I lace my fingers behind my head and give Yulia an even look. “Not if you want him to remain safe, at least.” All color drains from her cheeks. “Why?” “Because Operation UUR is in full swing.” The hacking program we used during our raid on the black site downloaded and transmitted a lot of confidential data from the agency’s computers. We now have names and cover identities of just

about every UUR operative, and we’re systematically taking them out. I don’t explain that to Yulia, though. All I say is, “It would be too dangerous for your brother.” She understands, and her face turns impossibly paler. “What about his parents? Are they—” I lower my arms and lean forward. “I already put out word that Obenko’s sister’s family is not to be touched.” I did that as soon as I realized Michael’s connection to them. “However, their names are in our files,” I continue before Yulia can say anything, “and given your brother’s very direct involvement with the agency, it’s best if he stays here for now.” “Oh God.” She pushes her chair back and stands up, her hand pressed to her mouth. She’s visibly shaking. “You’re murdering them all, aren’t you?” My eyebrows snap together. “You asked me to spare Michael, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I rise to my feet and walk around the table. Reaching Yulia, I curl my fingers around her wrist and pull her hand down, away from her trembling lips. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t?” I tug her closer to me. “Your brother left unharmed, even though he’s connected with the agency? And I’m even extending the courtesy to his adoptive parents. So you see, it’s all going to work out.” Tears glisten in Yulia’s eyes as she shakes her head, but she doesn’t move away as I let go of her wrist and grasp her hips, molding her lower body against mine. My growing erection presses against her belly, and my breathing picks up as molten heat moves through my veins. Our unfinished dinner, UUR, her brother—none of that matters right now. All I can focus on is the beautiful girl in my arms and the pain in her big blue eyes. “Yulia…” I breathe in her scent, my hunger intensifying as her tongue flicks out to moisten her lips. I’m leaning in to taste the glossy softness of those lips when she presses her palms against my chest, pushing with all her strength to keep me at bay. “Lucas, please, listen to me…” Her chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm. “Most of the agents had nothing to do with the crash. It was Obenko’s idea, and he’s now dead. You don’t need to—” “Forget about them,” I growl, my hands tightening on Yulia’s hips when she tries to pull away. My frustrated lust adds to my anger, and my tone sharpens as I say, “The agency is not your problem anymore. You’re with me now, understand?”

“But, Lucas, they’re—” “Living on borrowed time,” I say harshly. “Those who are still living, that is. Your agency killed dozens of our men, and they’re going to pay for that. The only ones who’ll be spared are your brother and you.” The tears are streaking down her cheeks now, but the sight doesn’t sway me. There’s nothing she can say that would convince me to forgive our enemies. They chose to strike at us, and now they’re reaping the consequences of their actions. It’s just that simple. Still, I don’t like seeing Yulia upset. Letting go of her hips, I raise my hand to brush away her tears. “Don’t cry for them,” I say in a slightly softer tone. “They don’t deserve it. You know that.” “That’s not true.” Her voice is strained. “Some of them might not deserve it, but many are guilty of nothing more than wanting to serve their country and—” “And the forty-five men who died on that plane were guilty of nothing more than working for Esguerra.” I drop my hand, my anger returning in full force. “Nobody is innocent in this business, beautiful—not even you.” Yulia takes a step back, but I catch her arm before she can back away. “You haven’t asked about Kirill,” I say coldly. My cock throbs in my jeans, but I push the lust aside, knowing I need to deal with this once and for all. “Don’t you want to know what measures we’re taking to find him?” She blinks. “I assumed he died. His wounds—” “There’s no body and no burial record of any sort. No sign of him, period. Dead men aren’t that good at covering up their tracks.” Yulia draws in an unsteady breath. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying the bastard is most likely alive—and hiding with help from others in your agency.” I pause, trying to rein in my rage. When I speak again, my voice is moderately calmer. “The people whose lives you’re trying to save are the same ones who let that monster keep his job and lied to you about it. Our operation in Ukraine is not just about retaliation anymore. It’s also about tracking him down.” Yulia stares at me, and I see the torturous conflict in her gaze. She wants Kirill dead just as much as I do, but she doesn’t want UUR agents to die in the process. I understand that on some level; she must’ve gotten to know many of them during her training, maybe even become friends with a few, so she doesn’t want their deaths on her conscience.

Unfortunately for those agents, my conscience can handle their deaths just fine. “So what do I tell Misha?” Yulia finally asks. Her voice is still hoarse, but the tears are drying on her face. “Is he supposed to sit tight and wait while you exterminate everyone in UUR? Train with the guards and hope his parents survive the purge?” “What you tell him is up to you,” I say, refusing to rise to her bait. “I’d be more diplomatic if I were in your shoes, but he’s your brother and you know best. Now”—I use my grip on her arm to tug her closer—“where were we?” Yulia looks like she’s about to say something else, but I’m done with this discussion. Wrapping my arms around her slender frame, I bend my head and slant my mouth across her lips.

40

Y ulia LUCAS’S KISS HOLDS AN EDGE OF ANGER, HIS LIPS AND TONGUE PUNISHING and fear-tinged arousal heats my core, adding to my turmoil.

AS HE INVADES MY MOUTH,

The man I love is killing my former colleagues, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Lucas break me that time, if he hadn’t come after me, none of this would be happening. Rationally, I understand there were other factors at play—Obenko’s illadvised attack on Esguerra’s plane, for one—but I still feel responsible for the current mess. If my brother’s adoptive family dies, it’ll be on me. It doesn’t help that underneath the crushing press of guilt, I’m not entirely sorry. Somewhere along the way, a root of hatred had taken hold within me, and I didn’t know it until Lucas brought up Kirill’s name. I’d suppressed all thoughts of my former trainer, telling myself that I’d already gotten my revenge, but as soon as Lucas mentioned him, I realized the damage I inflicted wasn’t enough. I want Kirill dead, wiped off the face of the Earth—along with anyone who might be helping him. Lucas deepens the kiss, his arms tightening around me, and my head falls back under the pressure of his mouth. His tongue explores me with a hunger that borders on brutality, his teeth tugging at my lower lip, and I moan helplessly, my hands moving up to clutch at his muscled shoulders as he backs me up against the kitchen wall, trapping me there. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I’m dressed too, but even through our layers of clothing, I can feel the heat of his large body and smell the clean musk of his skin. His erection is like a rock pressing into my

stomach, and my nipples tighten, my body responding to his need. “Fuck, Yulia, I want you,” he mutters, raising his head, and I gasp as one of his big hands slides down my body and cups my sex through my shorts, palming it hard. The heel of his hand puts pressure on my clit, and moisture rushes to my core as he moves his palm in a semi-circle, the rough rhythm shockingly erotic. “Yes.” My heartbeat thunders in my ears, my muscles tensing with intensifying pleasure. “Oh God, yes…” I don’t know what I’m saying; all I know is I want him— this man, this ruthless killer who’s wrong for me in so many ways. I want him, and I fear him. I hate him, and I love him. The dichotomy of my emotions tears at me, slicing me into pieces, yet it all feels right too, like I’m supposed to be here, in his arms. Like I belong with him. He lowers his head to kiss me again, and I latch on to his mouth, responding with the same fierce need. My teeth sink into his lower lip until I taste blood, and it unleashes something violent inside me, a wildness I never knew was there. I’m trapped in his embrace, yet at that moment I feel free—free to rage, free to hurt him as I’ve been hurt. It feels like a chain snapping, and I revel in the sensation, my helplessness giving way to triumph as he tears his mouth away and I see the smear of blood on his lips. His broad chest heaves with labored breaths as he stares down at me, his pale eyes slitted with burning need, and the wildness inside me grows, crowding out fear and reason. I want him, and I’m not going to deny myself. Reaching up, I clasp Lucas’s face with both hands and pull his head down, reclaiming his mouth. He’s still palming me between my legs, the hard pressure of his hand keeping me on the edge, but it’s not enough, and I bite his lip again, as desperate for his pain as I am for release. He shudders in response, and with startling swiftness, spins me around, backing me up against the edge of the table. His arm sweeps out in a violent arc, and my pulse leaps as I hear the bowls shatter, the remnants of our dinner splattering on the floor. It almost jolts me out of my trance-like state, but he’s already laying me on the table, and heat rushes through me again, centering in a pulsing ache between my thighs as he drags my shorts off my legs and yanks down the zipper of his jeans. We’re still kissing, our lips and tongues dueling with feral hunger, when he drives into me, his thick cock splitting me open. I gasp into his mouth, tensing at the shockwave of sensations. My flesh quivers around him, trying to adjust, but he

doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just starts pounding into me, and I tear my mouth away, my breath coming in pained gasps as his thrusts drag me back and forth on the hard table. His possession is violent, overwhelming, yet I want more. More of his roughness, more of this dark, savage heat. I want him to match the animal inside me, to hurt me as I’m hurting him. My legs come up, wrapping around his hips, and I sink my teeth into the corded muscle of his neck, reveling in the taste of salt and man. His big body shudders, and he rasps out a curse, his pace picking up until he’s all but drilling into me. My hands fist in his sweat-drenched shirt, and the tension inside me grows, the heat between my legs swelling and intensifying. It seems to be taking over all my senses, crowding out everything but the need to come. “Lucas,” I gasp, feeling the swell begin to crest. “Oh, fuck, Lucas!” Impossibly, his thrusts pick up speed, and I’m hurled over the edge, the orgasm hitting me with massive force. The pleasure blasts through my nerve endings, so sharp it’s almost painful, and I cry out, my muscles clenching and releasing in pulsing waves. My heart hammers uncontrollably as aftershocks ripple through my body, but Lucas is not done yet. Before I can so much as draw in a breath, he pulls out and flips me onto my stomach, bending me over the table. “Is this what you want?” he bites out, driving into me again. Gripping my hair, he forces my upper body to arch off the table. “For me to fuck you? To use you and make you hurt?” “Yes.” Oh God, yes. His cock is thick and burning hot inside me, a threat and a promise all at once. I didn’t know I wanted this, but I do. I want the pain he inflicts to be the only one in my mind, his touch the only one in my memory. It’s sick and utterly illogical, but I want Lucas to hurt me so I can forget about Kirill. “All right.” My captor’s voice is dark and strained. “Remember, you asked for this.” My pulse spikes, but he’s already pulling my hair harder, making my neck bend at an impossible angle. I cry out, my hands flying up to grab at his wrist, but he ignores my flailing arms and thrusts two fingers of his free hand into my mouth, making me gag from the sudden assault. His fingers are faintly salty, and they feel huge and rough in my mouth, almost as big as a cock. He pushes them in so far that I gag again and spit up saliva—which is apparently what he’s after. Pulling his wet fingers out of my mouth, he uses his grip on my hair to push me down, flattening my face against the table.

“Wait, Lucas…” Panic explodes in my brain as he moves the hand from my mouth to my ass and starts working one finger into the tight ring of muscle. “I don’t… this isn’t…” I reach back blindly, my hands pushing at his hips, but I have no leverage in this position. I’m bent over the table with his cock deep inside me; even if he weren’t built of solid muscle, there’d be little I could do. “Shh… It’s going to be okay.” Lucas accompanies the words with a shallow thrust of his cock, and I suck in a breath as his finger presses deeper, the slick coating of my saliva easing the way. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” His hand releases my hair, his palm splaying on my upper back to keep me in place. “We’ve done this before, remember?” It’s true; he used his finger, and I enjoyed it on some level, but he wants to go further today. I can sense his hunger, and it terrifies me. I want to push away the bad memories, replace them with a hurt of my choosing, but this is too much, too close to my nightmares. I clench my buttocks, trying to keep him out, but the second finger is already pushing into me, making my flesh stretch and burn at the invasion. “Wait, not like this…” Beyond the burn is a strange, uncomfortable fullness, a feeling of being overstuffed and overtaken. His cock flexes inside me, adding to the sensation, and my breathing turns shallow as sweat trickles down my back. “Please, Lucas…” He ignores my begging, slowly working his slick fingers into my ass, and my body gives in to his inexorable advance, the muscles stretching because they have to. Panting, I lie with my face pressed against the hard surface of the table and feel his cock throb in my pussy. His fingers are all the way in now, and it is too much. My body wasn’t made for this. Everything about this penetration feels wrong and unnatural, like the time when— Lucas begins to thrust, distracting me from my thoughts, and I realize that somewhere along the way, my straining muscles relaxed slightly, the burn from the invasion lessening. He’s not moving his fingers—he’s just keeping them inside me —and with his cock pumping in and out in a slow, careful rhythm, the sensation isn’t as uncomfortable as it was. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. His fingers still feel too large, but there’s no actual pain, and the realization calms me further, drawing my attention to the slowly gathering tension in my core. The thrusting motions of his cock are reigniting my arousal, and the invasive fullness in my ass doesn’t seem to take away from that. In some perverse way, it’s even adding to the intensity.

I may survive this after all. “Yulia.” Lucas’s voice is hoarse as he withdraws almost all the way. “I’m going to fuck you hard now.” My heart lurches, all illusion of calm fleeing. “Wait—” But it’s too late. Before I can finish speaking, he rams his cock back in, pushing me into the edge of the table. I cry out, my hands sliding forward to brace myself, but he’s already withdrawing and thrusting back in. The hard battering of his hips moves me on his fingers, and I cry out again, tensing at the overwhelming sensations. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, keeps fucking me, and the discomfort morphs into something else: a dark, throbbing heat that spreads through my whole body. My heart gallops in my chest, my breathing turns frantic, and I feel myself rocketing to the edge again, the dual invasion of my body intensifying all my senses. The hot musk of sex in the air, the quivering of my overstretched flesh, the restraining pressure of his big hand on my back—it all adds to my sensory overload, winding me tighter and tighter. My cries grow louder, transforming into screams, and then I shatter, exploding with a force that steals my breath and dims my vision. My muscles spasm, milking his cock and fingers, and I hear his raspy groan as he thrusts in one last time and stops, pulsing deep inside me in release. Dazed and trembling, I lie there, unable to say or do anything as Lucas slowly pulls his fingers out and lifts his hand from my back. His cock is still inside me, but after a moment, he withdraws that too. Cool air washes over my heated flesh as he steps back, and I feel the slickness coating my folds—my own moisture combined with his seed. “Hang on, baby,” he murmurs, stepping away, and I hear the sink running. A minute later, he returns, holding a wet paper towel. By then, I’ve recovered enough to push myself off the table and stand on shaking legs, and I take the towel from him, using it to mop at the wetness between my legs. Lucas watches me with hooded gaze, his jeans already zipped up, and a hot flush crawls through my hairline as I see my shorts on the floor, lying next to the mess of broken bowls and spilled food. Swallowing, I ball the used paper towel in my hand and turn toward my shorts, but Lucas catches my arm. “I’ve got it,” he says, his pale eyes gleaming. “Go take a shower. I’ll join you in a moment.”

I don’t argue, and a minute later, I’m standing under the hot spray, my mind mercifully blank. True to his word, Lucas joins me in a bit, and I close my eyes, leaning against him as he washes me from head to toe, taking care of me yet again. I’m glad he doesn’t say anything or ask me any questions. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to articulate why I wanted something so dark from him… why even now, after he pushed me far beyond my limits, I feel grateful for the experience. When we’re both clean, Lucas leads me out of the shower and wraps a towel around me before grabbing one for himself. He’s still silent, his gaze oddly watchful, and finally, I feel the urge to speak. “You didn’t fuck me in the ass,” I say, my hands twisting in the towel. “Why?” “Because you weren’t ready.” He finishes drying himself and casually hangs up his towel, revealing his body in all its powerful masculinity. “Not to mention, we’d need some real lube for that. You’re tight, and, well…” He glances down at his cock, which, even soft, is impressively sized. “Right.” I swallow the sudden lump of fear in my throat. “You’re bigger than your two fingers.” “Yes, somewhat,” he says drily, and I see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. For some reason, knowing he finds this funny makes me flush again. Turning, I step toward the door to exit the bathroom, but Lucas steps in front of me, his expression turning serious. “Don’t worry, beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping my chin. His thumb brushes over my lower lip in a gentle caress. “Every part of you will be mine eventually. You’re going to forget him, I promise you that.” I stare at him, equal parts startled and terrified by his perceptiveness, but Lucas is already lowering his hand and turning away. “Come,” he says, opening the door. “Let’s go get dressed. We’ll make something else for lunch.” He heads down the hallway, and I follow, my thoughts in disarray. I’m not sure what I expected from my new captivity, but this—whatever this is —wasn’t it.

IV THE NEW CAPTIVITY

41

Y ulia OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS, LUCAS AND I GO BACK TO SOMETHING RESEMBLING OUR OLD routine. With my strength rapidly returning, I take over the cooking and other domestic chores, and Lucas resumes his normal working schedule, returning home only in the evenings and for mealtimes. While he’s gone, I read books and do bodyweight exercises to stay fit, and when we’re together, we discuss the books I’ve read. We also go on morning walks together. The main difference between now and before is the presence of my brother on the estate and that, technically, I’m allowed to walk around on my own. I say “technically,” because the first time I’m about to take advantage of that opportunity, Lucas cautions me to avoid Esguerra as much as possible. “He won’t do anything to you, but it’s best if you don’t draw his attention unnecessarily,” Lucas says, and I read between the lines. If it weren’t for Lucas, Esguerra would gladly do as his wife threatened and flay every bit of flesh from my bones. Given this, I rethink my idea of strolling over to the guards’ barracks to chat with my brother. Instead, I request that Diego bring him over to Lucas’s house. I’m not afraid for myself—I’ve been living on borrowed time since my capture in Moscow—but I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to Misha. That possibility worries me so much that when Diego comes over, I surreptitiously pull the young guard aside and ask him to keep my brother away from his boss. “From Esguerra?” Diego gives me a surprised look. “Why? He’s doesn’t care about Michael. He’s seen the kid half a dozen times since your arrival, and he’s

never shown any interest in him.” That reassures me somewhat. On the training field, Esguerra looked at me with unmistakable hatred. If he feels differently about my brother—or, rather, is indifferent toward him—it’s a good thing. Still, the core of my fear remains. Even if the arms dealer’s animosity is reserved solely for me, I know what he’s capable of. If Esguerra decides to hurt me, it won’t matter to him that Misha is fourteen, or that he had nothing to do with the crash. My brother could end up paying for my sins. “Are you sure Misha is safer here than in Ukraine?” I press Lucas that evening. “Maybe if his parents moved to a different part of the country, or—” “Ukraine is a battle zone right now,” Lucas says bluntly. “We’ve got three dozen men on the ground there now, and more are getting sent in as we speak. I can’t guarantee your brother won’t get caught in the crossfire. Do you want to take that risk?” “No, of course not.” I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to block out mental images of the massacre that must be taking place. “But what about Misha’s adoptive parents? They’re probably worried sick about him—not to mention terrified, if they have any clue about what’s going on.” “The best I can do is send them word that Misha’s alive and well,” Lucas says. “That, and remind our men that they’re off-limits. But like I said, I can’t make any guarantees. The situation is volatile, and since I’m not there to oversee the operation in person, the men have been given a lot of autonomy to carry out the mission as they see fit.” I swallow. “I understand… and thank you. Anything you can do to keep Misha’s parents safe would be greatly appreciated,” I say, and mean it. I may not be able to prevent Lucas and Esguerra from getting their vengeance, but if I can keep my brother’s family out of harm’s way, then I won’t feel quite so conflicted about it— helpless and complicit all at once. I’m not only sleeping with a monster; I’m in love with him. And the monster knows it. He revels in it, making me admit my feelings almost every day. I don’t know why Lucas gets such a kick out of it—I can’t be the first woman to have fallen for him—but he definitely enjoys hearing the words from me. He forces me to scream them as he fucks me roughly, and to whisper them as he cradles me gently in his embrace. The constant juxtaposition of violent possessiveness and tender care confuses me, keeping me off-balance. I have no

idea where my captor stands. One minute, I’m certain he views me as his sex toy, and the next, I find myself hoping it’s something more. I find myself dreaming that someday he may love me too. It doesn’t help that Lucas keeps doing things that make me feel like we’re in a real relationship. Every time he learns about a food or drink I like, he surprises me by getting it for me. Over the past week, we’ve received deliveries of hard-to-find Russian candy, a box of ripe persimmons from Israel, five exotic varieties of Earl Grey tea, and freshly baked loaves of German rye bread. He’s also ordered me a wider variety of clothes—some of which he allowed me to choose for myself online —and all kinds of toiletries and bath products, including my favorite peachscented shampoo. I’m so pampered it scares me. And it’s not just about the things Lucas buys for me. It’s everything he does. If I so much as get a scratch, he bandages it for me. If my muscles ache after a workout, he gives me a full body rub. We’ve started watching TV together in the evenings, and he’s gotten into the habit of stroking my hair or playing with my hand as I sit curled up next to him. It’s an absentminded sort of affection, like petting a cat, but that doesn’t lessen its impact on me. It’s what I’ve been starving for, what I’ve wanted for so long. Every time my captor kisses me goodnight, every time he holds me close, the dry, empty fissures around my heart heal a bit, the pain of my losses fading. With Lucas, the terrifying loneliness of the past eleven years seems like a distant memory. What touches me most, however, is that Lucas understands my devotion to my brother and doesn’t try to interfere with the rebuilding of our relationship. Despite Misha’s continued antagonism toward him, he lets me invite my brother over as often as I want, and the three of us start having meals together—meals that often brim with awkward tension. “Your brother doesn’t like me much, does he?” Lucas says drily after our first joint lunch. “For a few moments there, I thought he was going to pull a Yulia and try to stab me with a fork.” “I’m sorry,” I apologize, worried that he’d want Misha to stay away. “I’ll talk to him. It’s just that with his uncle and what happened in Ukraine—” “It’s okay, baby. I understand.” Lucas’s gaze softens unexpectedly. “He’s still a kid, and he’s been through a lot. He has every reason to hate me. I’m not going to

hold it against him.” I blink. “You’re not?” “No. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t… Well, he’s your brother, so I’ll deal.” My throat swells with emotion. “Thank you,” I manage to say. “Really, Lucas, thank you for that and… and everything.” It’s not lost on me that by hunting me down in Ukraine, Lucas most likely saved my life—and he certainly saved my sanity. I don’t know if I could’ve survived a second assault from Kirill, so in a way, my recapture had also been my rescue. “Of course,” Lucas says, stepping toward me. The warmth in his gaze transforms into a familiar dark heat. “It’s my pleasure, believe me.” And as he sweeps me up in his arms, I forget all about my worries—for the time being, at least.

“ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HIM?” MISHA ASKS weeks. “Is he your boyfriend for real?”

AFTER WE’VE BEEN ON THE ESTATE FOR ALMOST SIX

“What?” I glance at my brother in surprise. We’re walking in the forest to minimize the chances of running into Esguerra, and up until this moment, we were discussing utterly innocuous subjects: Misha’s old school, his best friend Andrey, and the types of movies boys his age are into. This came out of nowhere. “Why do you ask?” I say cautiously. Misha shrugs. “I don’t know. In the beginning, I thought maybe you were playing him so it would be easier for us to get away, but the more I see you two together, the less that seems to be the case.” He shoots me an indecipherable look. “Do you even want to leave?” “Michael, I…” I take a breath, knowing I need to tread carefully. Our relationship has been going so well. Last week, I finally convinced Lucas to let me get online, and I showed Misha the pictures I’d uploaded to the cloud. He viewed them silently, with no accusations of lies or manipulations, and I thought we were finally making progress. The last thing I want is to push us back to our adversarial beginnings. “Listen, Michael,” I say finally, “I’m working on getting you back to your family. I told you, your parents were notified that you’re okay, and as soon as things in

Ukraine settle down a bit—” “That’s not what I’m asking.” Misha stops and turns to face me. “Do you want to leave? If you had a chance to get away from him, would you take it?” I stop too, struck by the question. In the last month, I haven’t thought about escape at all. Even if I didn’t have the trackers embedded under my skin, the fact that Lucas found me in Ukraine showed me there’s nowhere I can run. Even if I somehow managed to escape again, Lucas would just come after me and bring me back. That’s not what Misha wants to know, though. “No,” I say quietly, holding my brother’s gaze. “I wouldn’t leave if I could.” He nods. “That’s what I thought.” He resumes walking, and I hurry to catch up with his long strides. Misha seems to have grown another inch or two since we’ve been here, his shoulders broadening and filling out. I suspect when he’s fully grown, he’ll have Lucas’s height and build. For now, though, he’s still a boy—and I’m still his big sister. “Michael, listen to me.” I fall into step beside him. “Just because I don’t want to leave doesn’t mean I’m not working to make it happen for you. Please believe me. I’m doing everything I can to get you home.” “I know.” He glances at me, his brow furrowed with a frown. “I just wish you’d come with me when I leave. A lot of people here hate you, you know.” “I know.” I smile to chase away the stressed look on his face. “But don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine.” “Because you have him.” “Lucas? Yes.” I’ve noticed that my brother doesn’t like to refer to Lucas by his name, preferring to just say “he.” “He’ll keep me safe.” Misha is still frowning, so on impulse, I reach over and ruffle his hair playfully. “You know, this mop on your head is getting long. Want me to give you a haircut, or are you trying to grow a ponytail?” “Eeww, no.” Misha grimaces and reaches up with his hand. His fingers disappear in the thick blond strands. “Yeah, I guess I do need to cut it,” he says grudgingly. “Are you good at giving haircuts?” “I’m sure I’ll manage.” I grin at his dubious expression. “If I screw it up, we’ll just ask Lucas to fix it—he gives himself a buzz cut every other week.”

At the mention of Lucas, Misha tenses again, and his gaze slides away. “That’s okay,” he mutters, suddenly fascinated by an ant hill to our left. “I’m sure whatever you do will be fine.” I sigh but let it go. I can’t force my brother to like Lucas. The brutal attack on the black site and Obenko’s death left an indelible impression on his young psyche. Misha regards Lucas as the enemy, and rightly so. If Lucas hadn’t realized who Misha was, my brother would’ve been one of the casualties of that attack. We walk without talking for a few minutes, but as we approach the edge of the forest, I touch Misha’s arm, bringing him to a halt. “I’m sorry about what happened that day,” I say when he turns to face me. “Truly, I am. If I could go back and change things, I would. The last thing I wanted was to endanger you or the others, believe me.” Misha stares at me, then says slowly, “It wasn’t your fault… not really. I’m sorry I said that before. Besides, if they hadn’t come—” He stops, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What?” “You probably would’ve been killed.” His words are barely audible. Turning away, he continues walking, and I hurry after him, my stomach knotted tight. “Who told you that, Michael?” Catching up with him, I grab his arm, bringing him to a stop again. “Why did you say that?” “Because it’s true.” Misha’s face is shadowed, his forearm tense in my grip. “I overheard Uncle Vasya talking about it with Kirill Ivanovich. I didn’t want to believe it at first—I thought maybe I misunderstood, or took their words out of context— but the more I thought about it, the clearer it became. They were going to kill you and tell me you ran off with your lover.” He draws in an unsteady breath. “They were going to lie, like they’ve lied about you all along.” “Oh, Michael…” I release his arm, my heart clenching at the pain in his eyes. I can’t even fathom how agonizing this betrayal must be for him. Obenko had been my boss and mentor, but for my brother, he had been so much more. Misha must’ve fought so hard against this knowledge, seeking to deny the truth for as long as he could. “Maybe you did misunderstand,” I say, unable to bear his distress. “Maybe it was—” “No, don’t. You’ve been saying this all along, and I was too stupid to believe you. And then when you showed me those pictures last week…” Shaking his head,

Misha takes a step back. “I should’ve listened to you from the start. I just didn’t want to believe what you were saying, you know?” His face contorts. “He was dead and—” “And he was your uncle, a man you looked up to, and I was the sister who left you when you were three.” I keep my voice soft and even. “You had no reason to believe me over him. I understand… and I understood then too.” I inhale to ease the constriction in my throat. “And I’m sorry, Michael. I’m really, truly sorry that things worked out this way.” Misha’s expression doesn’t change. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his voice strained. “Uncle Vasya—Obenko—is a liar, and I’m an idiot for believing him. Kent said—” He stops again, his face reddening for some reason. “Lucas?” I stare at Misha blankly. “You talked to him?” “Yesterday,” Misha mumbles, and begins walking again. “When he took me back to the barracks after dinner.” “What did he say?” I ask, falling into step beside him. Misha doesn’t respond, so I say more firmly, “What did he say, Michael?” “He said Kirill Ivanovich hurt you when you were my age,” he says reluctantly. “And that Obenko told you they took care of him and they didn’t.” He glances at me, his face now pale. “Is it true? Did he”—he stops, blocking my way—“do something to you?” Oh God. The rush of blood to my brain almost makes me dizzy. My cheeks turn hot, then cold as rage fills my stomach. How dare Lucas tell this to a fourteen-yearold? I never wanted Misha to know about Kirill. From what I’ve been able to pry out of him, it seems my brother has suppressed most of what happened to him at the orphanage. He remembers that it was bad, but he doesn’t know the extent of it. Something like this could bring back those horrible memories, and even if it doesn’t, I don’t want him exposed to that kind of ugliness. It’s bad enough that Misha’s uncle deceived him; now my brother is going to think the whole world is made up of awful people. For a moment, I’m tempted to deny everything, but that would make me just one more person who’s lied to Misha. “Yes,” I say, my voice strained. “It’s true. But I was a little older than you—fifteen—and they did keep him away from me after they learned what happened.” Misha’s hands curl as I speak. “Are you making excuses for them?” His voice rises incredulously. “For these… these monsters? After everything they’ve done to

you? I thought Kent was making it up so I’d hate him less, but he wasn’t, was he? That’s what the two of you were talking about back at the black site. I heard you, but there was so much going on I didn’t really register it. Kirill hurt you, and I…” His face twists painfully. “Oh, fuck, I trained with the guy. I liked him.” “Mishen’ka…” Pushing my anger at Lucas aside, I reach out to touch Misha’s shoulder, but he steps away, shaking his head. “I’m such an idiot.” Stumbling over a root, he catches himself on a tree and continues to back away, muttering bitterly, “I’m such a fucking idiot…” “Michael.” Pushing my concerns about his suppressed memories aside, I make my voice stern. “I don’t want you to use that kind of language. Do you understand? You’re not an idiot, and you’re certainly not a fucking anything. There was no way you could’ve known this, just like you couldn’t have known that Obenko was lying. Nothing about this situation is your fault.” Misha blinks. “But—” “No buts.” Wiping all emotion from my face, I come closer and stop in front of him. “I don’t want to hear any more whining. What’s done is done. It’s in the past. This, here and now, is the present. We’re here, and we’re not going to look back. Yes, we’ve been through some bad things, and we’ve known some bad people, but we survived and we’re stronger now.” Softening my voice a little, I reach out and squeeze his hand. “Aren’t we?” “Yes,” Misha whispers, his fingers tightening around mine. “We are.” “Good.” I release his hand and step back. “Now let’s go. Diego told me he might take you to shooting practice this afternoon, since you’ve been good and all. You don’t want to be late for that.” I turn and begin walking, and Misha trails next to me, the bitterness on his face replaced by a look of bewilderment. I’ve never spoken to him like that before, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. Despite my simmering fury at Lucas, I smile as we approach his house. I’m Misha’s big sister, and it feels good to act like one.

42

L

ucas

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?” The minute I walk through the front door, Yulia stalks toward me, all long legs and flowing blond hair. Her blue eyes are narrowed into slits, her nostrils all but breathing fire. “Do what?” I ask, confused. I did receive a rather gruesome update from Ukraine this morning, but I don’t see how Yulia could’ve found out about that. “What are you talking about?” “Misha,” she hisses, stopping in front of me. Her hands are clenched at her sides. “You told him about Kirill.” “Oh.” I almost smile but think better of it. Yulia looks ready to deck me, and given her restored health, she might land a blow or two before I subdue her. Keeping my expression carefully neutral, I say in a reasonable tone, “Why shouldn’t I have told him? He deserves to know the truth. You know that part of his anger is because he feels deceived, right? Nobody likes to be manipulated.” Yulia’s teeth snap together. “He’s fourteen. He’s still a child. You don’t tell children about brutal rape—especially children with his kind of background. Kirill was his trainer. Misha admired him—” “Yes, exactly.” I catch her wrists as a preemptive defense measure. “Your brother kept talking about the bastard and all the things he taught him. Do you think that was good for him? Healthy? How do you think Michael would’ve felt when he found out that you let him respect your rapist? And he would’ve found out, believe me. Truth has a way of coming out.”

Yulia’s wrists are stiff in my grasp, but she doesn’t kick me or try to get away. I take it as a sign that I’m getting through to her and say, “Also, he’s not a child. Not really. You know your brother already slept with a girl, right?” “What?” Yulia’s mouth drops open. “Yes, he told Diego about it.” I use her shock to pull her closer, molding her lower body against my hardening cock. “The trainees went out to a club a few months ago, and he hooked up with an older girl there. He’s crazy proud of it, like any teenage boy would be.” Her throat works. “But—” “Don’t worry. He used protection. Diego asked.” And before Yulia can recover from that, I lower my head and kiss her, enjoying the way she struggles before melting against me. It takes a long time before we sit down to dinner that evening, but I don’t regret a minute of the delay.

AS OUR NEW LIFE TOGETHER CONTINUES, I FIND MYSELF INCREASINGLY OBSESSED WITH ALL THINGS Yulia. Everything about her fascinates me: the way she hums under her breath when she’s cooking, how she stretches in the morning, the purring moan that escapes her lips when I kiss her neck. Her body has filled out again, her sickly pallor fading, and one look at her golden beauty is all it takes to get me hard these days. I fuck her every chance I get, and it’s not enough. I want her constantly, with a need that consumes me. Every time I take her, it’s the best feeling ever, yet I’m still left craving more. Sometimes I think I’ll go to my grave wanting her. If it were just a sexual itch, I might’ve been able to handle it. But my hunger runs deeper. I want to know everything about her, every tiny detail of her life. I don’t like thinking of my past, so I’ve never had much interest in that of other people, but with Yulia, my curiosity knows no bounds. “You know, you never told me your real name,” I say as we’re eating lunch one day. “Your last name, I mean.” “Oh.” She blinks. “Why do you care about that?” “Because I do.” I put down my fork and stare at her intently. “You have no one to protect anymore, so please, tell me, baby.”

She hesitates, then says, “It’s Molotova. I was born Yulia Borisovna Molotova.” Molotova. I make a mental note of that. I haven’t forgotten what she told me about the headmistress of her orphanage, and I intend to use this information to track the woman down. I debate disclosing this to Yulia, but I’m not sure how she’d react, so I decide to keep quiet for now. Changing the topic, I ask, “Have you ever killed anyone? Not in a fight or as selfdefense, but outright.” To my surprise, Yulia nods. “Yes, once,” she murmurs, looking down at her plate. “When?” I reach across the table to cover her slender hand with my palm. “How did it happen?” “It was during training, as the last part of the program,” she says, her gaze veiled as she looks up at me. “None of us were supposed to be assassins, but they wanted to make sure we’d be able to pull the trigger if it came to that.” “So what did they do? Have you kill someone?” “In a way.” She wets her lips. “They brought in a dying homeless man. He had Stage Four liver cancer. He only had a few days to live at best, and he was in terrible pain. They shot him full of drugs, and then, instead of a paper target, they strung him up. Our goal was to make a killing shot.” “So all of you shot at this one guy?” “Yes.” Yulia’s fingers twitch under my palm. “We used marked bullets, and he was autopsied afterwards to see whose bullets hit the target. A couple of trainees couldn’t bring themselves to shoot.” “But you could.” “Yes.” She pulls her hand out of my grasp but doesn’t look away. “The autopsy revealed that three bullets hit his heart.” “Was yours one of them?” I ask, leaning back. “No.” Her gaze is unflinching. “Mine was found in his brain.”

THAT NIGHT, YULIA CLINGS TO ME WITH A PASSION BORDERING ON DESPERATION, AND I REALIZE MY questioning brought back some bad memories. I know I should leave her alone, let her live in the present the way she clearly wants to do, but the questions keep

gnawing at me, and I finally give in. “Have you ever slept with a man of your own initiative?” I ask as we lie tangled together after a long bout of sex. By all rights, I should be sinking into sleep, but my body hums with energy and my thoughts keep returning to this topic. Yulia stiffens in my arms. Turning over, she pulls back to look at me. “What do you mean? I was only forced that one time—” “I mean, did you ever date anyone who wasn’t an assignment?” I say, placing my hand on her hip. “Go to bars, clubs? Hook up with a guy just for fun?” I’d intended the question to be a casual one, but as I say the words, I realize that Yulia with another man will never be a casual topic for me. I want to commit murder at the mere thought that someone who wasn’t me touched her. Yulia’s gaze lights with comprehension. “No,” she says softly. “I never dated. It wouldn’t have been fair to the guy.” “So there was a guy?” My jealousy sharpens. “Someone you wanted?” “What?” To my relief, she seems startled by the notion. “No, there was no one. I just meant that I was always on assignment, so I would’ve been a terrible girlfriend.” “So not even a casual hook-up?” I press. “No.” She bites her lip. “I didn’t see the point. I had classes and school assignments on top of my job, and I didn’t have much free time.” “So you’re telling me that other than your three assigned lovers and myself, you’ve never been with anyone else?” Her face tightens. “You’re forgetting Kirill.” “I’m not forgetting him.” The fact that we still haven’t found him or his body is like a festering splinter under my skin. Suppressing the flare of rage, I say evenly, “He was your assailant, not your lover.” “In that case, yes.” Yulia’s blue eyes are clear and guileless as she looks at me. “I’ve had four lovers, including you.” I stare at her, hardly able to believe my ears. My seductive spy—the beautiful girl who used her body to get information—has slept with fewer men than an average college student. “What about you?” she parries, propping herself up on one elbow. “How many

women have you slept with?” The look in her eyes is a mirror image of my earlier jealousy. “Probably not as many as you think,” I say, pleased by her possessiveness. “But definitely more than four. Like your brother, I started fairly young, and… well, I wasn’t much of a relationship guy back then.” Her eyes narrow. “Really? And you are now?” “I’m in a relationship with you, am I not?” I say, my cock stirring at the sight of her nipple peeking out from under the blanket. “So yeah, I’d say so.” Yulia opens her mouth to reply, but I’m already pulling the blanket away. Rolling on top of her, I push her legs apart with my knees and grip my cock, positioning it against her opening. She’s slick from our earlier session, so I thrust in, invading her silky tightness with no preliminaries. She doesn’t seem to mind, her arms and legs wrapping around me to hold me close, and I begin to fuck her in earnest, taking her hard and fast. It takes only a few minutes before my orgasm starts to build, and I force myself to slow down, wanting to prolong the moment. “Tell me you love me,” I demand, stroking deep into her body. “I want to hear you say it.” “I love you, Lucas,” she breathes in my ear, her legs squeezing my hips. Her pussy is like a hot, slippery glove around my dick, and my balls pull tight against my body as I feel her spasms begin. We detonate together, and in that moment, I feel as if we’re one, as if our ragged halves have fused, forming one unbroken whole. Our lungs work in tandem, our breaths intermingle, and when I raise my head and see Yulia looking at me, something hot and dense expands inside my chest. “I’ll always love you,” she whispers, curving her hand around my cheek, and the feeling grows stronger, the dense heat spreading until it fills every hollow corner of my soul. With Yulia, I feel complete, and I treasure the sensation.

43

Y ulia IN SOME BIZARRE WAY, IT FEELS LIKE LUCAS AND I ARE NEWLYWEDS, AND THIS UNUSUAL PERIOD—THIS lengthy truce between us—is our honeymoon. Part of it is definitely the sex. Far from fading with time, the attraction between us only burns hotter, the magnetic pull intensifying with each passing day. Our bodies are attuned to each other in ways I could’ve never imagined. A look, a breath, a touch, and the flames ignite. Neither one of us can get enough. As many times as Lucas reaches for me, I respond, my body craving his no matter how sore I get. His touch reduces me to someone I don’t recognize, a primitive being of wants and needs. It’s like I’ve been programmed to exist solely for his pleasure, to desire him in all ways. He pushes me past my limits, and I want more. Rough or gentle, my captor consumes me, my need for him tethering me tighter than any ropes. Beyond the sex, however, there is a growing emotional intimacy between us. Every day, Lucas demands my love, and I give it, helpless to do anything else. It’s not an equal exchange; Lucas never says the words back or gives me any indication of his feelings. However, after we have sex, he holds me close, as if afraid to let me stray to the other side of the bed, and I know those quiet, tender moments are as important to him as they are to me. They give me hope that one day, I might have more of him—that I might reach the man underneath the hard shell. “You know, you never really told me how you ended up here… how you went from being a Navy SEAL to Esguerra’s second-in-command,” I murmur one night when we lie there like that, wrapped in each other so completely it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other one begins. Tracing a circle on his powerful chest with my finger, I say, “All I know is what I read in your file, and there was nothing

that explained why you did it.” “Killed my commanding officer?” Lucas’s voice doesn’t betray any emotion, but his shoulder muscle flexes under my head. “Is that what you want to know? Why I killed the bastard?” “Yes.” I scoot back a little so I can look at him. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, my captor’s face is as harsh as I’ve ever seen it. It doesn’t deter me, though. “Why did you do it?” I ask softly. “Because he killed my best friend.” Cold, ancient anger creeps into Lucas’s voice. “Jackson—my friend—caught Roberts selling weapons to the Taliban, and he was going to report him. But before he could, Roberts had him killed… made it look like an ambush by hostiles. I was there when it happened.” “Oh, Lucas, I’m so sorry…” I reach up to touch his face, but he intercepts my hand, catching it in a viselike grip. “Don’t.” He glances at me, his eyes slitted. “It was in Afghanistan, a long time ago.” His gaze returns to the ceiling, but he doesn’t release my hand. Holding my fingers tightly, he says, “In any case, I survived. It took several days for me to return to the base, but I made it. And when I got there, I killed the bastard. I took his own gun and peppered him with bullets.” Of course he did. I stare at my captor with a mix of sadness and bitter understanding. Like me, he had been betrayed by someone he trusted, someone who was supposed to have had his back. I don’t know what I would’ve done to Obenko had he lived, but it neither shocks nor appalls me that Lucas chose this brutal method of retaliation. “So what happened then?” I prompt when Lucas remains silent, his gaze locked on the ceiling. “Were you arrested?” “Yes.” He still doesn’t look at me.“I was taken back to the States for a court martial. Roberts had friends in high places, and my allegations against him were swept under the rug faster than I could make a formal report.” “How did you escape then?” Lucas finally turns to face me. “My parents,” he says in a hard, flat voice. “They couldn’t tolerate the embarrassment of having their son tried for murder, so they arranged for me to disappear. My father made a deal with me: he’d help me vanish in South America, and I’d never contact them again.” “They wanted you out of their lives?” I gape at him, unable to fathom any parent

making such a deal. “Why? Because of the murder charge?” “Because, according to my father, I’m a bad apple—‘rotten to the core’ is the way he put it.” “Oh, Lucas…” My heart shatters on his behalf. “Your father was wrong. You’re not—” “Not a bad man?” He quirks an eyebrow, a sardonic smile flitting across his face. “Come now, beautiful, you know what I am. My parents sent me to all the best schools, gave me every advantage they could, and what did I do? I threw it all away, joined the Navy so I could satisfy my urge to fight. That’s pretty fucked up, no? Can you really blame my parents for wanting to have nothing to do with me?” “Yes, I can.” I swallow, holding his gaze. “You were still their son. They should’ve stood by you.” “You don’t understand.” Lucas’s eyes glint with ice. “They never wanted a son. I was to be their legacy. A perfect extension of them… a culmination of their ambitions. And I ruined all of that when I became a soldier. The murder charge was just the last straw. My father was right to offer me that deal. I didn’t fit into their lives—I never had—and they certainly didn’t fit into mine.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the tears stinging my eyes. I can picture Lucas as a volatile, restless boy constantly pushed and prodded to be something he didn’t want to be. I can also see how his corporate lawyer parents must’ve been out of their depths trying to raise a child who was, at his core, a warrior—a boy who, by some strange quirk of genetics, was utterly unlike them. Still, to tell their son that they never wanted to see him again… “So you haven’t spoken to them since then?” I ask, keeping a steady tone. “Not even once?” “No.” His gaze is pure steel. “Why would I?” Why would he, indeed? To me, family is sacred, but my parents were very different from Lucas’s family. I can’t imagine Mom and Dad walking away from either me or Misha, no matter what path we chose to follow in life. They would’ve stood by us no matter what, just like I would stand by my brother. And by Lucas, I realize with a sudden jolt of shock. In fact, I am standing by him, even as he and Esguerra lay waste to the organization I worked for. His father wasn’t completely wrong—Lucas is not a nice guy, by any means—but that doesn’t alter how I feel about him.

Maybe I’m rotten to the core as well, but somewhere along the way, my ruthless captor has become something like my family. I push the startling revelation aside to focus on the rest of the story. “So how did you end up with Esguerra, then?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow. “Did you just run into him somewhere in South America, and he hired you?” “It was… a bit more complicated than that.” The corners of Lucas’s mouth twitch. “I was actually hired by a Mexican cartel to guard a shipment of weapons that they purchased from Esguerra. But when I showed up to do my job, I discovered that one of the cartel leaders had gotten greedy and decided to steal the shipment for himself, double-crossing Esguerra and his own people in the process. There was a nasty shootout, and at the end of it, Esguerra and I were among the few survivors, each of us pinned behind cover. He was running low on ammunition, and I had only a few bullets left, so instead of us continuing to try to kill each other, he offered to hire me on a permanent basis. Needless to say, I agreed.” He chuckles darkly before adding, “Oh, and then I shot a guy who was sneaking up behind Esguerra to try to gut him. That sealed the deal, so to speak.” “Is that why you said Esguerra owes you?” I ask, remembering his long-ago words. “Because you saved his life that time?” “No. That was just me doing my new job. Esguerra owes me for something else.” I look at him expectantly, and after a moment, Lucas sighs and says, “Esguerra was hurt last year in a warehouse explosion in Thailand. I carried him out and got him to a hospital, but he was in a coma for almost three months. I kept things together for him during that time, made sure the business didn’t fall apart, his wife was safe, et cetera.” “I see.” No wonder Lucas was confident that Esguerra would let him keep me. True loyalty had to be rarer than unicorns in the arms dealer’s world. “And you weren’t once tempted to take it all for yourself? Esguerra’s business has to be worth billions.” “It is, but Esguerra pays me quite well, so what would be the point?” Lucas gives me a wry look. “Besides, I kind of like the guy. He used his contacts to take my name off the wanted lists after I started working for him. Not to mention, he doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what he is, and that works for me.” Of course. I can see how that would be appealing after his commander’s betrayal in Afghanistan. Still, many men in Lucas’s position would’ve been blinded by greed, and that he wasn’t speaks volumes about his character.

My captor may not be close to his family, but in his own way, he’s as loyal as I am.

AS OUR EXTENDED PSEUDO-HONEYMOON CONTINUES, I FIND MYSELF WITH A STRANGE PROBLEM: I HAVE an excessive amount of free time. I have no assignments or classes, no real responsibilities of any kind. Initially, it had been nice; the illness and the traumatic events that preceded it had taken a lot out of me, leaving me exhausted mentally as well as physically. For several weeks, I’d been content to read, watch TV, spend time with Misha, and putter leisurely around the house, but as the weeks turned into months, I began itching to do more. I’d always been busy—first as a student, then as a trainee, and the last few years as an active spy on assignment. Free time had been a luxury I treasured, but now I’m awash in it and I don’t like it. To fill up the hours, I begin experimenting with new recipes. Lucas grants me access to the Internet—on a monitored computer, since he still doesn’t trust me completely—and I find myself browsing various websites in search of new and interesting dishes. Lucas is all for my new hobby—he enjoys the results of it at every meal—and I gradually develop a kitchen repertoire that ranges from classic Russian dishes like borscht to exotic fusion cuisine that incorporates elements from Asian, French, and Latino cooking. I even come up with my own variations, like cilantro-curry sushi topped with pickled beets, Peking duck stuffed with appleflavored cabbage, and arepas with Russian eggplant spread. “Yulia, this is phenomenal,” Lucas says when I make delicate pastries layered with shiitake mushrooms and Camembert cheese. “Seriously, this is better than any high-end restaurant. You should’ve been a chef.” “It really is amazing,” my brother chimes in, devouring his fourth pastry. He’s taken to eating lunch with us almost every day, and I suspect my cooking is a big reason for that. He’s even willing to tolerate Lucas these days, though they’re still far from being best buddies. “Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I say, getting up to carry my plate to the sink. I’m full to bursting after two pastries, but Misha and Lucas seem to have infinite room in their stomachs. I conceal a grin as Lucas reaches for the secondto-last pastry and my brother instantly grabs the last one, stuffing it into his mouth like he’s afraid it’ll run away. “Do you have any extra?” Misha asks after he chews and swallows. “Diego and Eduardo begged me to bring back some leftovers.”

“What the hell?” Lucas pauses mid-bite to give Misha a glare. “They can make their own pastries. We won’t have any leftovers.” “Actually, I made an extra batch just in case,” I say, heading over to the oven. This is not the first time the two guards have begged for food through my brother, and I suspect it won’t be the last. If Lucas allowed it, they’d come over to eat here every day, but since he doesn’t, they find other ways to benefit from my new hobby. “Just tell them to eat the pastries before they cool completely. They won’t be as good reheated in the microwave.” “Of course,” Misha says as I put plastic wrap over the foil tray and hand it to him. “I’ll give it to them right away.” Lucas observes us with an unhappy frown. “But what about—” “I’ll make more soon,” I promise, grinning. “For dinner, I’m making enoki pasta with cashew sauce, and chocolate bread pudding with yuzu-raspberry topping. If you’re still hungry after that, I’ll make these pastries again, okay?” Misha listens with clear envy before asking, “Do you think you’ll have some bread pudding left if I come by after dinner? The guards invited me to a barbecue tonight, but I’ll probably have some room for dessert…” “Yes, of course.” I beam at him. “I’ll be sure to save some for you.” “Yeah, him and half the guards,” Lucas mutters, getting up to wash his plate. “Next thing you know, we’ll be feeding the whole compound.” I laugh, but before long, Diego and Eduardo start finding various excuses to stop by, often bringing a couple of their friends with them. I don’t mind cooking larger portions—it’s a fun challenge for me—but Lucas gets irritated, especially when our meals get interrupted by frequent visitors. “This is not a fucking restaurant,” he roars at Diego when the young guard “just happens to swing by” with six of his buddies at lunchtime. “Yulia cooks for me and her brother, got it? Now get the fuck out before I give you an extra shift.” The guards leave, dejected, but the next day, Eduardo comes by right before Lucas is due to return for lunch. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of that shrimp salad left, would you?” he asks, keeping a wary eye on the front door. “Michael mentioned that you made some last night, and—” “Sure.” I suppress a grin. “But you better hurry. I think Lucas and Michael are almost here.” I give him a container of the leftover salad, and he thanks me before rushing out

the door. The next day, Diego copies Eduardo’s maneuver, stopping by a half hour before dinner, and I give him a whole extra cranberry-and-rice stuffed chicken I made for just such an occasion. He thanks me profusely, and for the next week, I surreptitiously feed the guards that way. On the following Monday, however, Lucas catches me in the act, and he’s not pleased. “What the fuck is this?” he snarls, stalking into the kitchen just as I’m giving a tray of freshly baked meat pies to Diego. Stopping next to us, he gives the guard a furious look. “I warned you—” “Lucas, it’s okay. I made enough for everyone,” I assure him. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t mind cooking for them. I enjoy it.” “See? She’s fine with it.” Diego grins, snatching the tray out of my hands. “Thanks, princess. You’re the best.” He sprints out of the kitchen, and Lucas turns toward me, jaw clenched. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s not your job to feed the guards. They have a cafeteria in the barracks, you know.” “I know.” Impulsively, I step toward him and lay my hand on his hard jaw, feeling the muscles working under the stubble-roughened skin. “It’s okay, though. This is fun for me. I like it that the guards enjoy my cooking. It makes me feel…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Useful?” Lucas says, his expression softening, and I nod, surprised that he pinpointed it so well. He sighs and covers my hand with his before bringing my fingers to his mouth. Brushing his lips over my knuckles, he studies me, his expression now more troubled than angry. “Yulia, sweetheart… You are useful to me, okay? You don’t need to feed every person on this estate to prove your worth.” I stare at him, my stomach inexplicably tight as he releases my hand. “What if I don’t want to be useful just to you?” I whisper. “What if I need more than to warm your bed and take care of your house? You know I finished a university for real, right?” I can see Lucas’s gaze darken as I speak, but I can’t stop, my voice growing stronger with each word. “I have a degree in English Language and International Relations, and I was an excellent interpreter as well as a spy. For six years, I lived in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and interacted with the highestranked officials in the Russian government. I was always going places, doing things, and now I barely step foot outside your house because I don’t want Esguerra to remember that I exist.” I stop to draw in a breath, and realize that a muscle is ticking in Lucas’s jaw.

“Is that right?” he says, his voice deadly quiet. “You miss being a spy?” I instantly curse my loose tongue. I should’ve known how Lucas would interpret my words. “No, of course not—” “You miss fucking men on assignment?” He moves closer, backing me up against the kitchen counter. My pulse spikes. “No, that’s not what I—” His hand grips my throat, tightening just enough to let me feel the steely strength in those fingers. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “Or is it that I’m not enough for you?” His breath heats my skin, making my arms erupt in goosebumps. “Do you need more variety, beautiful?” “No,” I choke out, my breathing turning shallow. A jealous Lucas is a terrifying thing. “That’s not it at all. I just meant that—” “You’re mine,” he growls, raising his head to pin me with an arctic stare. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of life you led before. I caught you, tagged you, and you’re fucking mine. No man will ever touch you again, and if I want to keep you in a fucking cage for the rest of your life, I will. Understand?” His grip on my neck loosens, but my throat closes up, the pain like a tidal wave crashing through me. For weeks, I’d existed in a bubble of domestic bliss, playing house with a man who views me as nothing more than a possession, a glorified sex slave he “tagged” with the trackers. Any other woman would’ve fought tooth and nail for her freedom, but I embraced my captivity like I’d been born to it, letting myself imagine our messed-up relationship could someday turn into something real. In my longing for my captor’s love, I again built castles in the sand. “I understand,” I manage to whisper through numb lips. “I’m sorry.” Lucas releases me and steps back, his face still taut with anger, and I turn away, blindly reaching for some dishes to wash. Our “honeymoon,” such as it was, is over.

THAT NIGHT, LUCAS DOESN’T COME HOME UNTIL LATE, AND MISHA AND I EAT DINNER BY OURSELVES. I put on a happy mask for my brother, but I know he senses something off. It’s a relief to usher him out of the house with a batch of leftovers for the guards; more than anything, I want to be alone to lick my wounds.

I’m already finishing my shower when Lucas returns. He enters the bathroom just as I’m stepping out of the stall, and without saying a word, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. His face is hard, his gaze shuttered as he walks, and the old unease slithers through me. I don’t think he’ll truly hurt me —physically, at least—but that doesn’t lessen my anxiety. Lucas in this mood is unpredictable, and I’m barely keeping myself together as is. For a brief, insane moment, I consider fighting him, but instantly dismiss the idea. It’s not like I stand a chance of actually winning. Besides, what would be the point of trying to resist? Like he said, I’m his to do with as he wants. My life—and my brother’s—is in his hands. If I could cling to the numbness that encased me this afternoon, it would’ve been easier, but everything is sharp and bright in my mind, every sensation painfully vivid. I feel the heat of his skin through our clothes and the way his arm muscles flex as he places me on the bed; I see the pale glitter of his eyes and smell his warm male scent. He bends over me, and my body comes to life, a familiar heat brewing low in my stomach. My nipples peak, my breasts aching for his touch, and my sex grows slick as he kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth with rough, demanding strokes. His large hands catch my wrists, pinning them above my head, and I close my eyes, willingly sinking into the heated oblivion of lust. My hurt and anxiety dissipate, and animal instinct takes over. Moaning, I arch against Lucas, rubbing my hardened nipples against his T-shirt, and my insides clench as I feel the thick bulge in his jeans pressing against my naked hip. Yes, take me, fuck me, make me forget… The erotic chant plays on a loop in my mind. For now, I don’t need to worry about the future, about my life with a man who views me as his exclusive toy. I don’t need to think about the fact that I may never be more than a vessel for his lust. I can just focus on his drugging kisses and the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of mine. It’s only when he transfers my wrists into one of his hands and rummages in the bedside drawer with the other that I resurface enough to feel a flicker of unease. Opening my eyes, I tear my lips away from his. “Lucas, what are you—” He cuts me off with another deep, devouring kiss, and in the next moment, I have my answer. A cold metal touches my left wrist, and then I hear a click as the handcuff locks in place. Gasping, I turn my head to the side and try to twist my other wrist out of his grasp, but Lucas uses my motion to turn me over onto my side and drag my handcuffed arm toward the metal pole he’d installed by the bed during the early days of my captivity. Straddling me, he loops the handcuff around the pole and grabs my other wrist, cuffing it before I can put up any real resistance.

My unease transforms into real fear. I’m lying on my side, naked and with my wrists handcuffed to the pole—just like old times. “Why are you doing this?” My voice turns high and thin as I turn my head to gaze at Lucas, who’s now reaching for something else in the bedside drawer. “Lucas, don’t, please.” My hair is all over my face, interfering with my vision, and before I can shake it off, a soft dark cloth drops over my eyes. “Shh,” Lucas whispers, tying it around my head. “You’re going to be fine, baby.” Fine? He just handcuffed and blindfolded me. My pulse drums in my ears, my arousal dampened by panic. “Lucas, please… What are you going to do?” Still straddling me, he leans down, and I feel his warm breath on the side of my face. “Do you love me?” he murmurs. His lips brush the rim of my ear, his tongue tracing over the outer edge. “Do you love me, Yulia?” I swallow thickly. “Yes. You know I do.” “Do you trust me?” No. The truth almost slips out, but I clamp my lips shut just in time. I don’t trust Lucas—I never have—but I’m certainly not about to admit it at the moment. I don’t know the rules of this new game, and until I do, I’m not going to play along. “I see,” he murmurs, and I realize that my non-answer was an answer in itself. My heart rate speeds up further. “Lucas, I—” “It’s okay.” He bites my earlobe gently. “You don’t have to lie.” He moves off me, and I hear the sounds of clothes being removed, followed by that of the nightstand drawer being pulled out. I listen, straining, but I don’t hear anything else, and a moment later, Lucas turns me so that I’m lying on my back, my handcuffed arms pulled to one side. I’m about to ask again what he’s planning to do, but he’s already moving down my body and pushing my legs apart, his powerful hands pinning my thighs to the mattress. The first touch of his tongue on my folds is startlingly soft, a caress rather than an assault. It both disorients and disarms me. I’d been prepared for something frightening and brutal, but the leisurely strokes of his tongue on my labia and at the rim of my opening are nothing of the sort. He licks me like he has all the time in the world, his lips and tongue toying with my sensitive flesh for what feels like

hours before he gets anywhere near my pulsing clit. By then, I’m soaking wet and moaning his name, my hips moving uncontrollably as my arousal returns in full force. If it weren’t for his hands holding down my thighs, I would’ve ground my sex against his mouth, forcibly taking the orgasm that shimmers just beyond my reach. “Please, Lucas,” I beg as his tongue circles my clit with maddeningly light strokes. “Just a little more, please…” To my surprise, he obliges, latching on to my clit with a sucking pull that I feel all the way down to my toes. A choked cry escapes my throat as my inner muscles tighten, and then the orgasm washes over me, sweeping away everything but the devastating pleasure. I come so hard that I see flickers of light, my hips almost coming off the bed despite the restraining pressure of his hands. The pulsations continue for several long moments, and when it’s all over, I’m left lying there, boneless and panting, wrung out by the sensations. I know Lucas is not done with me yet, but I’m still startled when he flips me over onto my stomach, making the handcuffs clang against the metal pole. My arms are now stretched to the opposite side, and for the first time, the scary versatility of this kind of restraint dawns on me. Lucas can do anything he wants to me, in any position, and I can’t do anything to stop him. He straddles my legs, immobilizing them against the bed, and fear prickles at me again, chasing away some of the post-orgasm endorphins. A second later, I feel something cool and wet trickle between my ass cheeks and realize my anxiety is justified. Lucas poured some lube on me. “Don’t, please.” I yank at the cuffs chaining me to the pole, my heartbeat skyrocketing. “Please… not like this.” “It’s okay, beautiful.” Ignoring my attempts to wriggle away, Lucas stuffs two thick pillows under my hips, propping me up so I’m almost on all fours. “I told you, you’re going to be fine.” But I won’t be. I know that from experience. He’ll tear me, his cock too long and thick for my body to accept that way. He’s played with my ass several times in recent weeks, using his fingers and a couple of small toys, but he’s never pushed beyond that and I’d foolishly begun to hope that he wouldn’t, that he’d respect my wishes in that regard. I should’ve known better, of course. His lust knows no boundaries when it comes to me.

He leans over me, the heat of his body warming my chilled skin, and I realize I’m trembling, my back covered with a layer of cold sweat. His hand strokes the side of my hip, and I flinch before I can control my reaction, my muscles locking tight in anticipation of the pain to come. “Yulia…” He gathers my hair to the side, moving it off my sweat-dampened back, and I feel his lips brush over my nape at the same time as his stiff cock presses against my leg. “I won’t hurt you, baby, I promise.” Not hurt me? I want to scream that it’s a lie, that he wouldn’t restrain and blindfold me if he intended to make love to me sweetly, but I don’t get a chance because at that moment, Lucas’s fingers slip between my legs and find my clit. Pressing on it gently, he kisses my neck again, and to my shock, I feel a twinge of something that’s not fear… a hot, tight pleasure that somehow coexists with my panic. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeats, his words whisper soft as his lips trail over my shoulder, and some of my anxiety ebbs, melting away in the heat that’s starting to pulse through me. By now, Lucas knows everything about my body, and he uses that knowledge without qualms, his fingers teasing out sensations that should’ve been beyond my reach. The second orgasm catches me by surprise, and I pant into the mattress as waves of pleasure ripple through me. I haven’t forgotten what awaits me, but it’s hard to cling to fear when one’s brain is swimming in endorphins. And Lucas is not done pleasuring me yet. His hand finds my pussy entrance, and one long finger pushes inside, unerringly locating my G-spot. Before long, the tension coils in my core again, and another orgasm, albeit a weaker one this time, rocks my body. “No more, please,” I moan when his finger withdraws from my spasming channel and circles my swollen clit. “I can’t do it again.” “Yes, baby, you can.” His teeth graze my neck, and then he whispers in my ear, “Again and again, as many times as it takes.” It takes two more orgasms, as it turns out. Or at least that’s how many Lucas forces on me before my muscles turn to mush and I’m too exhausted to come again. By that point, I’ve stopped worrying about the dangerous slickness between my ass cheeks—I’ve stopped thinking, period. So when his fingers withdraw from my dripping-wet pussy and slide up between my cheeks, I just lie there, dazed and limp, barely reacting as two of those long fingers push into my ass, one after another, gliding in with almost no resistance. “That’s it, sweetheart. There’s a good girl,” Lucas croons as I remain relaxed,

accepting his two fingers without clenching. It’s still not my favorite sensation; the fullness feels odd and invasive, but there’s no pain and I’m too drained to resist as he begins to fuck my ass with those fingers, pumping them in and out slowly. “Such a good girl…” The smooth, gliding rhythm is strangely hypnotic, making me feel like my mind is disconnected from my body. Dimly, I’m aware that I should be afraid, that I should be protesting this violation, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort, particularly when Lucas’s other hand presses gently on my clit again, coaxing a twinge of pleasure from my overstimulated flesh. I’m so immersed in that disconnected state that it doesn’t frighten me when his fingers withdraw and something smooth and thick presses against my back opening instead. My body remains limp and relaxed, even when I feel a massive, stretching pressure and hear Lucas groan under his breath, “Fuck, baby, you’re tight…” The pressure intensifies, edging into pain, and it’s only then that some of my fear returns, along with the urge to tighten against the intrusion. “No, sweetheart, don’t tense. Just breathe through it.” The command comes in a low, strained voice, and I realize what this self-restraint is costing Lucas, how tightly he’s reining himself in to avoid hurting me. Oddly, the knowledge calms me somewhat, and I take slow, deep breaths, trying to keep my muscles relaxed. “Yes, that’s it,” he praises hoarsely, and I feel him begin to penetrate me, the broad head of his cock stretching the tight ring of muscle at my entrance. It burns, the urge to clamp down almost unbearable, but I continue to breathe evenly, and slowly, he advances, working his massive cock into me millimeter by millimeter. When the head is all the way in, he pauses, stroking my hip soothingly, and after a few moments, I feel the stinging burn subside. I’m able to relax a bit more, and Lucas resumes his slow advance. As he pushes deeper into me, however, my calm flees. He’s big, far too big. My heartbeat picks up, my breathing turning shallow and frantic. The slickness of the lube reduces friction, but it doesn’t alter his size, and my insides churn as Lucas forces more of himself into me, stretching me past my limits. Overwhelmed, I whimper into the mattress, and he kisses my nape, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the merciless invasion of my body. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, and I realize that I inadvertently tightened around him, trying to prevent him from going deeper. “You can take it, baby.” No, I can’t, I want to protest, but all I can do is make an incoherent noise, something between a grunting moan and a whimper. I’m shaking and sweating, my hands clutching at the metal pole I’m handcuffed to. This is nothing like the horrific pain Kirill inflicted on me that day, but in its own way, it’s just as

agonizing. Lucas’s slow, careful movements allow me to feel his length fully… to absorb the immense, overwhelming pressure forcing my insides apart. His cock seems to fill every part of me, violating and possessing me at the same time, taking me to a place where darkness and eroticism collide, twisting together in some perverse symphony. “Fuck, Yulia, you feel amazing,” Lucas groans, and I realize he’s in me fully, his balls pressing against my sex. His hand is still between my legs, his fingers putting pressure on my clit, and I bite back a cry as he shifts inside me, my stomach roiling at the strange sensation. “You’re tight… so fucking tight.” He presses harder on my clit, two of his fingers catching it in a scissor-like grip, and sharp, unexpected pleasure jolts my core, making me gasp out loud. “Yes, there it is, beautiful…” Lucas’s voice brims with dark satisfaction. “You can do it. Come for me one more time.” His fingers begin to move in that scissoring motion, and to my shock, my body tightens on a wave of heat. The extreme fullness inside me both hampers and enhances the sensations, the pulsing ache from my clit warring with the agony from my overstretched ass. His cock feels like a steel pipe inside me, but the way his fingers are touching me makes my insides cramp in a different, distinctly pleasurable way. I cry out, trembling at the impending rush of orgasm, and Lucas grips my clit harder, pinching it almost painfully. “That’s it, just like that, baby…” He pinches my clit again, and helplessly, I explode, my abused nerve endings electrified by his rough touch. My body spasms over and over again, clenching around his thick length, and I sob at the painful ecstasy, at the scorching wrongness of it all. The pleasure is dark and brutal, and when he begins to move inside me, the thrust and drag of his cock sends me spiraling higher, the foreign sensations enhanced by the blindfold and the cold steel around my wrists. I don’t know how long it takes before Lucas comes, his hot seed flooding my raw insides, but by the time he withdraws from me and unlocks my handcuffs, all I can do is lie there, weak and shaking, my ass burning and my clit pulsing with residual aftershocks. Silently, he draws me into his arms, and I cry against his chest, feeling both broken and freed. The past with Kirill is officially behind me. Every part of me now belongs to Lucas, for better or for worse.

44

Y ulia AT BREAKFAST, LUCAS IS UNUSUALLY QUIET, HIS GAZE TRAINED ON ME THOUGHTFULLY, AND I HAVE TO fight a blush every time I look up from my plate and see those pale eyes watching me. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but some bizarre shyness keeps me silent. It doesn’t help that I’m sore, my every movement a reminder of what occurred between us. He didn’t tear me like I feared, but I’m still very much aware that something large and thick had been inside me, taking me places I never knew I could go… making me feel things I never knew I could feel. To expedite the meal, I make quick work of my mushroom-spinach quiche and get up to take my plate to the sink. When I return to the table to get Lucas’s plate, he surprises me by catching my arm, his long fingers closing around my wrist in an unbreakable grip. “Yulia.” His eyes glint with something indefinable. “That was delicious, thank you.” “Oh.” I blink. “You’re welcome.” I expect him to let go of my wrist at that point, but he continues holding it without saying anything else. “Um, let me get your plate…” Awkwardly, I reach for it with my other hand, but he moves it to the side, out of my reach. “I’ll get it myself, don’t worry. Yulia…” He inhales deeply. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine.” My face burns all the way to the roots of my hair, but I force myself not to avert my gaze like some blushing virgin. “Everything’s fine.” “Good.” His eyes darken. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” I swallow. “Not much, at least.” Lucas studies me for a few more moments, then nods, seemingly satisfied. Releasing my wrist, he stands up and carries his plate to the sink. He washes it along with my plate, and I just stand there, unsure whether this odd conversation is over. Finally, I decide to leave the kitchen, but before I can walk out, Lucas wipes his hands on a paper towel and turns toward me. In a few long strides, he closes the distance between us, stopping less than a foot in front of me. “Just so you know,” he says quietly, “I’d never truly harm you. You are mine, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever abuse you. Your happiness matters to me, Yulia. You can believe me or not, but it’s the truth.” I open my mouth, then close it, unable to form a coherent sentence. This is the closest Lucas has ever come to telling me how he feels—and to acknowledging hurtful things said in the heat of jealousy. Yet there’s no regret on his face, no real apology in his words. What he said last night is the absolute truth—in this relationship, I have all the rights of a slave—and he’s not about to deny it. What he’s promising, however, is to be a good owner, and strangely, I do find that reassuring. Last night—any night, really—he could’ve hurt me badly, but he didn’t, and as I look at the hard man in front of me, I know with sudden certainty that he never will. It may be stupid of me, but I trust my captor—in this, at least. Before I can formulate how to tell him this, Lucas bends his head, kissing me on the mouth, and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there dazed… and filled with new, fragile hope.

WE DON’T DISCUSS THE ISSUE OF ME COOKING FOR THE GUARDS AGAIN, BUT A WEEK LATER, I GET A delivery of restaurant-grade kitchen equipment, everything from an enormous oven to huge pots and pans. Diego and Eduardo spend two days remodeling the kitchen and installing everything, and when they’re done, I have everything I need to cook for a small army. And by the time the next week is through, that’s exactly what I find myself doing. As soon as Lucas leaves for work, I get busy preparing for the madness that is lunch. Diego and Eduardo must’ve told the other guards that Lucas relented, and the kitchen teems with visitors from ten in the morning until late into the afternoon. And then the dinner rush begins. One day, seventy-nine guards stop by —I count, just to make sure I’m not exaggerating—and I realize I’m going to have

to do something to manage the situation. Lucas is remarkably stoic about everything, putting up with the insane disruption of our routine without any complaints, but I’m sure he won’t let this go on forever. And I myself miss having meals with just the two of us—or three, if Misha comes over. There’s a huge difference between giving a few leftovers to the guards and running what is quickly becoming an all-day restaurant operation. By the time dinner is over, I’m exhausted to the point of passing out, and several times, I do pass out in the living room as we watch TV—a situation that usually results in Lucas carrying me to bed and fucking my brains out before letting me go back to sleep. There’s also another, more tricky concern. “Lucas, are the guards defraying any of the food expenses?” I ask him one morning as I mix up batter for blini—Russian-style crepes. “Or is Esguerra paying for the ingredients?” “No, and no,” Lucas replies, watching me with a hooded stare from the table. I have no idea if he wants the crepes, or if it’s my tiny shorts that have him intrigued, but there’s a distinct look of hunger on his starkly masculine face. Refusing to let it distract me, I put down the whisk on a paper towel and frown at Lucas. “No? But this is a lot of food—and some of the ingredients are really expensive.” “So what?” His gaze travels over my body, lingering on the sliver of stomach exposed by my tank top. “You’re enjoying this, and we can afford it.” I tug down the shirt and wait for his eyes to meet mine again. “We?” “Sure,” Lucas says without blinking. “I told you, Esguerra pays me well, and I’ve accumulated a nice stash over the years.” “Right.” I decide that he misspoke with that pronoun, and return to the topic at hand. “But that still doesn’t mean you should pay out of pocket for everyone’s food,” I say. “I mean, we’re talking hundreds of dollars a day.” Lucas shrugs. “All right. If you’re worried, I’ll tell the guards to start paying for their meals. Your food is certainly good enough for a high-end restaurant, so I think it’s a good idea if you charged like one.” “Seriously?” I stare at him. “You want me to run a real restaurant?” “Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you are running a real restaurant.” Lucas gets up to walk over to me. His eyes gleam as he stops in front of me and says, “A very good restaurant, as evidenced by the fact that a third of the

guards come by at least once a day. And the rest… Well, many are still stuck on the crash, but most who don’t come simply can’t—they have duties that prevent them from leaving their posts.” “Oh.” I hadn’t realized my food was that popular, though the seventy-nine visitors that one day should’ve given me a clue. “Yes, oh.” Lucas reaches out to brush a strand of hair off my forehead. “You’ve been having fun with this, so I haven’t said anything, but now that we’re talking about it, I think it’s a good idea to make the fuckers pay, and pay well. That might weed out some of the cheaper bastards and reduce the workload for you.” “All right,” I agree after a moment of deliberation. “If you think that would be okay, I’ll try.”

I FOLLOW LUCAS’S SUGGESTION WITH TREPIDATION, CERTAIN THAT NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD want to pay for my cooking when they could eat in the cafeteria for free. The main reason I do it is because I don’t want to bankrupt Lucas with my hobby. He’s been beyond generous with me, but I can’t ask him to subsidize everyone’s meals forever. Also, I’m not exactly opposed to a reduced workload; as fun of a challenge as this has been, laboring in the kitchen for ten-plus hours a day is hard work. I’m so tired I’m having to wear concealer to hide my undereye circles, and I know if Lucas notices that, he might put a stop to the whole operation. My health is still his top worry. To my surprise, when I post the prices—genuine high-end restaurant prices, written in black marker on a sheet of paper pinned to the front door—nobody so much as voices a peep of protest. By the time the day is over, I make over six million Colombian pesos—nearly two thousand US dollars. Stunned, I show the haul to Lucas. “They paid. Can you believe it? They actually paid.” “I can, unfortunately.” He glowers at the pile of money on the table. “They’re not as cheap as I’d hoped.” And so the madness continues. My business—and I have to think of it as such now—is very lucrative, but it’s also exhausting. I do everything from the cooking to the serving to the cleaning. By the time another three weeks have gone by, I realize that if I’m going to operate as a restaurant, I’m going to need to either get help or limit the scope of what I’m doing.

“I think I’m going to serve only lunch,” I say to Lucas as I scrub the pots and pans left over from dinner. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll put out a few tables in the back yard, make it into a sit-down cafe of sorts instead of giving everyone takeout. That way, if more people come than can be comfortably seated during open hours, they’ll have to make a reservation for another day.” “That’s an excellent idea,” Lucas says, coming over to help me lift a heavy pan out of the sink. “For tonight, why don’t you go to bed early? I’ll finish up here and join you.” “No, that’s okay, I can do it,” I say, but he brushes me aside and goes to work scrubbing the remaining pots. Seeing that he has no intention of budging, I sigh and thank him before wearily trudging off to take a shower. At this point, I’ll take any help I can get.

THE NEXT DAY, I START IMPLEMENTING MY IDEAS. AT FIRST, SOME GUARDS GRUMBLE ABOUT BEING deprived of dinner, but when Lucas shows up and gives them a glacial stare, all the grumbling stops. By the time the week is over, I’ve successfully transitioned from a disorganized all-day takeout operation to a small and highly sought-after lunch cafe. “I’m booked solid for the next three weeks,” I tell Lucas in gleeful disbelief as we go on a morning walk—our first in almost two weeks. “Seriously, I’m having to take reservations for the next month.” “Of course, what did you expect?” He gives me a warm smile. “I’ve always told you your cooking is amazing.” I grin, delighted at the praise. I suspect Lucas is more excited about the return of our private dinners than my cafe’s popularity, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been incredibly supportive of my venture. I’m sure the profit the cafe makes doesn’t hurt, but he was on board with everything even when my hobby was a financial drain. “What have you been doing with the money?” I ask, wondering for the first time what happens to the pile of cash I give Lucas every night. “Do you deposit it somewhere? Invest it?” “I put it into your account, of course. What else?” “My account?” My eyebrows crawl up. “What do you mean, my account?”

“The account I opened for you in the Cayman Islands,” Lucas says casually, as if that sort of thing is done every day. “Well, technically, it’s in both of our names, as per the advice of my accountant, but you’re the primary account holder.” “What?” I stop and frown at him, certain I must be misunderstanding something. “You’ve been depositing that money into an account for me? Why?” “Because it’s your money,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “You earned it, so what else would I do with it?” “Um, keep it, seeing as I’m cooking with the ingredients you buy using equipment that you paid for?” “Yes, but I’m not the one doing the actual cooking,” Lucas says reasonably. “Besides, I do deduct food expenses before making the deposits. The money going into the account is pure business profit—your business profit.” My head spins as I stare at him. “But what do you expect me to do with that money? And how much money is there by now, anyway?” “As of yesterday, there’s a little over forty thousand dollars.” He resumes walking, and I hurry after him, feeling like I’ve fallen through a rabbit hole. “As to what you want to do with it, it’s up to you. If you want, I can ask my portfolio manager to invest it for you, or if you feel like playing the stock market yourself, you can do that too. Or just leave it sitting there until you have a better idea of what you want to do with it.” My Alice-in-Wonderland feeling intensifies. “I can play the stock market?” “If that’s what you want to do. Or you can leave it to the professionals—Winters, my portfolio manager, is quite good.” Right. Because everyone knows captives have access to topnotch portfolio managers. My mind races as I try to work through the implications of this. “Lucas, are you…” I glance at him cautiously. “Are you going to set me free?” He stops and turns to face me, his casual demeanor gone without a trace. “What do you mean by that?” His pale eyes glint dangerously. “Are you saying you want to leave?” “No, but”—I swallow, my pulse kicking up—“would you let me if I did?” Could Lucas have changed his mind about our relationship? Is it possible he’s grown to care about me enough to give me this choice? He steps toward me, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun streaming through the trees. “Never,” he says with harsh finality. “You’re not leaving me.

You can do whatever you want, run a thousand restaurants, make millions if you feel like it, but you’ll do it by my side. I’m not letting you go, Yulia—not now, not ever.” I stare up at him, my heart pounding with a contradictory mixture of dismay and elation. “Never? But what if you get tired of me?” “That’s not going to happen.” “You can’t say that for sure—” “Yes, I can.” He steps even closer, forcing me to back up against a tree. Bracing his palms on the thick trunk behind me, he leans in, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve never wanted another woman the way I want you. You’re like a fire under my skin. I want you every minute of every day. It doesn’t matter how often we fuck; the moment I pull out, I want to be in you again, feeling your wet, silky heat, smelling you… tasting you.” He draws in a deep breath, his muscular chest expanding, and I feel my own breathing quicken as his hard pecs touch my peaked nipples. My palms press against the tree behind me, the rough bark digging into my skin. I’m caged by him, surrounded, the fire that he just talked about burning under my skin as well. Involuntarily, my tongue comes out to moisten my lips, and I see Lucas’s eyes darken. “Yulia…” He presses his lower body against mine, and I feel the hard swell in his jeans. “I can’t stop wanting you, no matter what I do,” he says in a low, thick voice. “Every night, when I hold you, I think that maybe tomorrow will be the day when this obsession lessens, when I can go a few hours without thinking about you, without craving you like a fucking drug, but that’s not what happens. I wake up just as addicted, and you know what, baby?” “What?” I manage to whisper, my mouth dry and my pulse hammering. What Lucas is saying, the way he’s looking at me… “I kind of like it.” He lowers his head until his mouth hovers less than a centimeter from mine. I can smell the bergamot of Earl Grey on his breath, see the darkness of his pupils and the blue-gray rings of irises surrounding them. “You give me something I didn’t know I wanted, and I’m not about to let it slip away.” “What…” I inhale, prickles of heat racing up and down my spine. “What do I give you?” “This.” His lips ghost over mine, the tenderness of the kiss contrasting with the savage hunger I feel in him. “You. Whichever way I want.” His mouth trails over my jaw, warm and soft on my skin, and I close my eyes, a moan escaping my lips as

my head involuntarily tips back. I feel hot and dizzy, my body thrumming with a dark, pulsing heat that has nothing to do with the mid-morning sun beaming down on the rainforest canopy above us. I’m drunk on Lucas, high on whatever chemical cocktail my brain cooks up in his presence. He’s not telling me anything I didn’t already know—his sexual obsession with me has been obvious from the beginning —yet the needy part of me searches for a deeper meaning in his erotically charged words, tries to decipher them like a puzzle. Could this be his way of telling me he cares about me? That he loves me, even? I open my eyes, fighting the drugged sensation so I can find the courage to ask, and then I hear it. A woman’s peal of laughter, followed by the sound of twigs snapping under someone’s feet. Lucas must’ve heard it too, because he releases me and spins around, keeping me protectively behind him. A second later, a small, dark-haired girl sprints out from behind the trees, her tanned face glowing with a smile and her white sports bra soaked with sweat. Two steps behind her is a tall, darkly handsome man. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray running shorts, his bronzed, muscular body gleaming with perspiration and his white teeth bared in a grin. His blue eyes meet mine from behind the shelter of Lucas’s body, and the heat inside me turns to ice. It’s Julian and Nora Esguerra. They must’ve been out for a run. Seeing us, they stop, breathing heavily. Their smiles disappear without a trace. “Hey there,” Lucas says calmly, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “How’s your run?” “Hot. Humid. You know, the usual,” Esguerra responds in the same casual manner, but I see the hard set of his jaw as he steps forward to stand next to Nora. He towers over her petite frame, his biceps almost the same width as her slender waist. A ray of sunlight falls across his face, and I notice a faint white scar on his left cheekbone. It runs all the way to the top of his eyebrow, crossing his left eye. His fake left eye, I remember with a cold shudder. He lost the real one after the plane crash I’d caused. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt,” Nora says, her cool tone belying her

apology. Her dark eyes travel from me to Lucas, then back to me as she adds, “It’s my fault. We don’t usually run this way, but I went off our usual path today.” Lucas’s massive shoulders rise in a brief shrug. “It’s your estate. You can go wherever you wish.” His voice is still unruffled, but the muscles in his arms tighten, and when I glance at Esguerra, I see him staring at me, his gaze menacing in its intensity. The ice inside me spreads all the way down to my toes. I’m not afraid for myself, but I can’t bear the thought of endangering Lucas, who’s standing in front of me like a human shield. He’s ready to fight for me, I can feel it. To protect me, he’ll go up against Esguerra and die—if not in the fight itself, then afterwards, at the hands of two hundred guards presumably loyal to their boss. “Lucas,” I say quietly, curling my fingers around his wrist. “Come. We should go.” He doesn’t move, and neither does Esguerra. The two men appear to be rooted in place, their powerful muscles bunched tight as they glare at each other. Lucas is a couple of centimeters taller and slightly thicker in the chest than Esguerra, but I have a feeling they’d be evenly matched in a fight. Violence is the language they speak; it’s there in the scars on their bodies and the savagery in their eyes. If the line of trust is crossed, only one of them will leave this forest alive. Apparently reaching the same conclusion, Nora says softly, “Yes, Julian, we should go.” Parroting my gesture, she wraps her slim fingers around her husband’s broad wrist, her tiny hand appearing childlike next to his. Esguerra tenses further, and for a moment, I’m certain he’ll twist out of her grasp, shaking her off with the ease of an adult pushing away a clinging toddler, but he doesn’t. “Yes,” he says, making a visible effort to relax. “You’re right. Let’s go. I have some work to do.” Nora nods and drops her hand, turning away. “Race you!” she yells at Esguerra over her shoulder, and with one last glance in our direction, she sprints away, disappearing into the trees. Her husband follows, and a few moments later, we’re alone again. Lucas turns to face me. “Are you all right?” he asks quietly. “Of course.” I force a smile to my lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Stepping to the left, I slip around him and hurry toward his house, unwilling to stay in the forest

even a moment longer. I no longer have any doubts about my future here. The next time Esguerra sees me, blood will be spilled.

45

L

ucas

THE MOMENT WE GET HOME, YULIA EXCUSES HERSELF AND DISAPPEARS INTO THE BATHROOM TO TAKE A shower before starting lunch preparations. I consider joining her there, but decide against it. As much as I want to comfort her after what happened, there’s something I must do first. Half an hour later, I walk into Esguerra’s office. He must’ve just showered and changed, because his hair is wet as he stands up to face me, his eyes hard and his jaw stiff with anger. I don’t bother beating around the bush. “She’s mine,” I say harshly, approaching his desk. “Which part of that was unclear?” Esguerra’s gaze hardens even more. “I didn’t touch her.” “No, but you want to, don’t you?” I put my fists on the desk and lean forward. “You want to make her pay for what happened.” “Yes—and so should you.” He mirrors my aggressive stance, the wide desk between us the only barrier to the violence simmering in the air. “Almost four dozen of our men died, and she’s walking around like nothing happened… running a fucking restaurant on my property.” His words drip with barely restrained rage. “Do you know that a reservation at ‘Yulia’s cafe’ is the hottest commodity on the estate these days? The guards treat those slots like they’re fucking gold.” I straighten, glaring at him. “Yes, of course I know.” It was only yesterday that I had to break up a fight between two guards—a fight that resulted from a card game

where the prize was an eleven-thirty reservation slot on Friday. “And you’re letting this happen?” Rounding the desk with sharp strides, Esguerra stops in front of me, fists clenched. “This is my estate. I’m letting her live because I owe you, but I do not want to be reminded of her existence every day, do you understand me?” “Perfectly.” I meet his furious look with one of my own. “Which is why I’m leaving.” Esguerra goes still, the anger transforming into something colder. “Excuse me?” “That’s what I came here to discuss,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. Pushing down the rage boiling in my gut, I say in a steady tone, “You will never forgive her, and I will never give her up, so the way I see it, we have two options. We can kill each other over this, or I can take her—and myself—out of the picture.” “You’re quitting?” “If that’s what you want.” I give him a level look. “We work well together, but it may be time to go our separate ways. I’ll train my replacement before I go, of course. Thomas is an excellent pilot, so you’ll be fine there, and Diego is smart and loyal; he’ll make a good second-in-command for you. Or…” I let my voice trail off. Esguerra’s eyebrows snap together. “Or what?” “Or we can figure out a way for us to work together without me living here.” I pause, letting that sink in. “Before you decided to make this compound your permanent home, we went wherever the business took us. It was nice to settle down here—and certainly safer for you and Nora, given that situation with AlQuadar—but you know as well as I do that we’ve had to give up a few lucrative opportunities because you wanted to limit travel.” His nostrils flare. “What exactly are you suggesting?” “When you were in a coma, I ran the whole organization. I handled everything from suppliers to customers, and I got to know every aspect of the business. If you want—if you trust me enough—I can be more than the second-in-command working by your side. I can represent us internationally, do whatever is necessary to grow the business abroad.” All emotion fades from Esguerra’s face. “You want to be my partner.” “You could call it that, though an executive operations manager might be a more accurate label. You’d have the final say on major decisions, but I would run the new ventures and keep an eye on our existing operations in person. I could set up base

someplace central, like Europe or Dubai, and do as much travel as necessary to keep things running smoothly.” “You’ve thought this through.” “Yes. I’ve known for some time that this won’t work long term.” “Because of her.” “Yes, because of Yulia.” I hold his icy gaze. “I’m not about to let anything happen to her.” “And if I don’t agree to this?” “Your business, your choice,” I say. “I like working with you, but I have other options. For one thing, I can go legit and open a security firm somewhere. If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I’ll be gone.” He stares at me, and I know what he’s thinking. He can’t let me leave—I know too much about the inner workings of his business—so he has two choices: kill me or agree to my proposition. I gaze back at him calmly, ready for either possibility. I know I’m taking a risk, pushing him like this, but I don’t see any other way to resolve this situation. Yulia can’t spend the rest of her life hiding in my house and trying not to draw Esguerra’s attention. At some point, something’s going to go wrong, and when it does, things are going to get ugly. I have to take her away before that happens. Just when I think Esguerra has decided my loyalty isn’t worth it, he sighs and steps back, his hands uncurling at his sides. “Does she really mean that much to you?” There’s weary resignation in his voice. “Can’t you find another pretty blonde to fuck? I raise my eyebrows. “Could you find another petite brunette?” A humorless smile stretches across his face. “It’s like that, huh?” “She’s my everything,” I say without blinking. “So yes, I guess it’s like that.” Esguerra looks at me, his smile fading. Then he says abruptly, “Ten percent of profits from the new ventures, plus the same salary—that’s my offer.” “Seventy percent,” I reply without missing a beat. “I’ll be doing all the work, so it’s only fair.” “Twenty percent.” “Sixty.”

“Thirty.” “Fifty, and that’s my final offer.” “Forty-five.” I shake my head, though I couldn’t care less about those five percent. “Fifty percent,” I repeat. If Esguerra is to respect me as a partner, I need to stand my ground. It’ll make for a better working relationship longer term. “Take it or leave it.” He studies me coolly, then inclines his head. “All right. Fifty percent of the new ventures’ profit.” “Deal.” I extend my hand, and we shake on it. “I’ll get the ball rolling, so we can be out of your hair soon,” I say, releasing his hand and stepping back. “Just one more thing…” Esguerra’s mouth tightens. “What is it?” “You know as well as I do that our line of work is dangerous, especially out there, beyond the compound,” I say. “Given that, I need your promise that you won’t ever come after Yulia or her family. No matter what happens to me.” Esguerra nods curtly. “You have my word.”

THAT EVENING, YULIA IS QUIET AND WITHDRAWN, HER GAZE TRAINED ON HER PLATE THROUGHOUT MOST of the meal despite her brother’s presence at our table. Several times, Michael tries to engage her in conversation, but after getting only monosyllabic responses, he gives up and quickly finishes his meal. “What’s up with her?” he mutters as I walk him to the guards’ barracks while Yulia stays behind to clean up. “Is she mad at me or something?” “It has nothing to do with you,” I say. “She’s just worried about something.” “What?” The boy shoots me an anxious glance. “Did something happen?” “No.” I smile reassuringly. I’ve grown to like Yulia’s brother over the past few weeks, and I don’t want him to worry either. “She thinks it has, but she’s wrong.” The boy frowns in confusion. “So everything is fine?” “Yes, Michael,” I say as we approach the building. “Everything is fine, I promise.” He gives me a doubtful look, but when we stop in front of the entrance, he says

gruffly, “Tell Yulia I said, ‘Good night and stop worrying.’ She’s such a worrywart sometimes.” “She is, isn’t she?” I grin at the kid. “And you tell Diego that I’m going to need to talk to him first thing tomorrow, okay?” He nods and goes into the building, and I walk back home. When I get there, I find Yulia sitting in the lounge chair in the library, her nose buried in a book. “Hey, beautiful,” I say, crossing the room. “What are you reading?” She looks up. “Gone Girl.” She puts down the book and stands up. “I should probably go shower. I’m tired.” “Yulia.” I catch her wrist as she tries to walk past me. “We have to talk.” She hesitates, then says, “All right, let’s talk. Lucas” She draws in an unsteady breath. “You know this can’t go on forever. Sooner or later, you and Esguerra will come to blows because of me, and I can’t bear that. If anything happened to you—” Her voice breaks. “You have to let me go.” “No.” I pull her toward me, my gut clenching at the mere suggestion. “I’m not letting you go.” “You have to.” Her gaze turns imploring. “It’s the only way.” “No, baby.” I move my hands up to clasp her upper arms. “There’s another alternative. We’re going to leave together.” “What?” Yulia’s lips part in shock. “What do you mean?” “I’m going to oversee the expansion of Esguerra’s organization,” I explain. “There will be quite a bit of travel involved, so we won’t be living here. We’ll set up base somewhere in Europe or the Middle East—you can help me figure out exactly where.” Her eyes are impossibly wide as she stares up at me. “You want to leave here? But it’s your home. What about—” “I’ve lived here less than two years,” I say, amused. “Another place can be home just as easily. This is Esguerra’s estate, not mine.” “But I thought you liked it here.” “I do—but I’ll like it elsewhere too.” Moving one hand to her chin, I tilt her face up. “Anywhere you are will be my home, beautiful.” She exhales shakily. “But—”

“No buts.” I press my thumb to her soft lips. “I’m not sacrificing anything, believe me. I’ll be Esguerra’s fifty-percent partner on these new ventures, so if all goes well, we’ll get filthy rich.” “We?” she whispers when I take my thumb away. “Yes, you and me.” And before she can ask, I add, “We’ll take your brother back to his parents. Things are quieting down in Ukraine, so it’s safe for him to return. We’ll visit him as often as you want, of course, and if he wishes to stay with us, that’s also an option.” “Lucas…” Her forehead creases in a frown. “Are you sure about this? If you’re doing it for me—” “I’m doing it for us.” Lowering my hands, I cup her ass and pull her against me, my cock hardening as I feel her legs press against mine. Holding her gaze, I say, “I want to know that you’re safe, that no one will ever be able to take you away from me. You’ll have the best bodyguards money can buy, men who are loyal to me and me only. We’ll build a fortress of our own, beautiful—a place where you won’t have to fear anyone or anything.” Yulia’s palms press against my chest. “A fortress?” Her eyes gleam with hope and a strange kind of unease. “Yes.” I tighten my grip on her ass, enjoying the feel of her firm flesh even through the thick material of her shorts. Forcing my mind off the lust pounding in my veins, I clarify, “Nothing as extreme as Esguerra’s compound, but a safe place of our own. Nobody will be able to touch you there.” “Except you,” she murmurs, her slender hands fisting in my shirt. “Yes.” My lips twist into a dark smile. “Except me.” She’ll never be safe from me, no matter where she goes or what she does. I will protect her from everyone else, but I will never set her free. “When…” She runs her tongue over her lips. “When are we leaving?” “Soon,” I say, my eyes following the movement of her tongue. “Maybe in a month or less.” And before my balls can explode, I reach for the zipper of her shorts and capture her lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

46

Y ulia THE NEXT MONTH ZOOMS BY IN A FLURRY OF WORK AND DEPARTURE PREPARATIONS. I CONTINUE operating the cafe, figuring the extra money can’t hurt, though I do stop ordering new food supplies and limit the menu as various products run out. The cafe keeps me busy, which is good because Lucas works nonstop, frequently putting in eighteen- and twenty-hour days. In a span of four weeks, he trains Diego to oversee the guards on the compound, sets up manufacturing facilities in Croatia, finds clients for the weapons that will be made at those facilities, and purchases a house on the Karpass Peninsula in Cyprus—a country we settled on as our home base due to its warm climate, strategic proximity to Europe and the Middle East, and relatively high percentage of population fluent in either English or Russian. “The house is on a cliff overlooking a private beach,” Lucas says when he shows me photos of the new property. “It has only five bedrooms, but there’s an infinity pool, a balcony on the second floor, and a fully equipped gym in the basement. Oh, and I’m having them remodel the kitchen, so it’ll be done exactly to your specifications.” “It’s beautiful,” I say, looking through each photo. Though “only” five bedrooms, the house is large and spacious, with an open floor plan and floor-toceiling windows facing the Mediterranean. And most importantly for Lucas, it’s set on ten acres of land that he intends to fence in and protect via bodyguards, guard dogs, and a variety of surveillance drones. We will be living in a fortress—albeit a gorgeous, beachfront one. It seems so surreal that I often feel the urge to pinch myself. The life Lucas is

planning for us is like nothing I could’ve imagined when Esguerra’s men came to extract me from that Moscow prison. I’m still Lucas’s prisoner—the faint white marks where the trackers went in are a daily reminder of that—but the lack of freedom bothers me less nowadays. Maybe it’s the needy little girl within me, but Lucas’s fierce, unapologetic possessiveness reassures me almost as much as it frightens me. I belong to him, and there’s a comforting stability in that. Of course, even if I could leave Lucas, I wouldn’t. With every kiss, with every caring gesture big and small, my captor ties me to him a little tighter, makes me love him a little more. And though he doesn’t say the words back, I’m increasingly certain that he loves me too, as much as a man like him is capable of loving anyone. What we have together is not normal, but neither are we. My “normal” ended with my parents’ crash, and Lucas’s may never have existed in the first place. But as I’m fast discovering, I don’t need normal. My ruthless mercenary is giving me everything I’ve ever wanted, and when I stop to think about it, I’m seized by equal parts joy and fear. Things are going so well I’m terrified something will happen to snatch it all away. “Is everything okay?” Misha asks during dinner one day. Lucas is working late again, so it’s just the two of us for the third night in a row. “You look worried.” “Do I?” Pushing my mushroom risotto away, I make a conscious effort to relax the tense muscles in my forehead. “I’m sorry, Mishen’ka. I’m just thinking, that’s all.” Misha frowns over his quickly emptying plate. “What about?” “This, that… the transition,” I say with a shrug. “Nothing in particular.” I don’t want to tell my teenage brother that the future, though bright and shiny, scares me to the point of nightmares every night, that a cold, hard fist seems to be permanently lodged inside my chest, squeezing my heart every time I think of how fragile and fleeting happiness can be. Pushing the dark thought aside, I smile at Misha and say, “What about you? Are you excited about going home?” “Yes, of course.” Misha’s face brightens as he reaches for a second serving of the risotto. “Lucas let me speak to my parents yesterday. Mom was crying, but they were happy tears, you know? And Dad is already planning all the things we’re going to do together.” “Oh, that’s wonderful.” The knowledge of my upcoming separation from my

brother is like an acid burn on my heart, but the joy in his eyes makes it all worthwhile. “How are they?” Lucas showed me the surveillance photos taken of Misha’s parents, and I can now picture them in my mind. Natalia Rudenko, Obenko’s sister and Misha’s adoptive mother, is a slim, stylish brunette who resembles her brother, while Misha’s father, Viktor, is plump and balding—a typical middle-aged engineer. He’s almost ten years older than his forty-something wife, and he looks it, but he has a kind face, and in many of the pictures I’ve seen, he gazes at his wife with a worshipful smile. “They’re good,” Misha says. “Same, you know.” His expression turns somber as he adds, “Mom’s been grieving for Uncle Vasya, but Dad said she’s doing better now. They’ve always known that his job was dangerous, so what happened wasn’t a huge surprise. It helped that Lucas contacted them back then and told them I’m okay.” “Right.” Lucas’s message explained that I, Misha’s long-lost sister, had come out of a long-term undercover assignment to take Misha someplace safe for a while. “So what did they say about that?” “Well, they had a million questions, as you would expect, but for the most part, they were just relieved I’m returning home and”—he gives me a slightly bashful look—“going back to school.” I smile, more than a little relieved myself. It seems that the recent events have cooled some of my brother’s enthusiasm for nontraditional career paths—at least for a while. “Will you have to take any extra classes to catch up?” I ask. It’s already October, so Misha has missed at least a few weeks of ninth grade. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, chowing down on the risotto. “We covered most of the subjects taught in school during UUR training.” “Oh, yes, that’s right.” I’d almost forgotten that the reason why I’d been able to start college at sixteen was because the curriculum for trainees had included math, science, history, and language studies at levels far beyond those taught to kids that age. “So you’re more than caught up.” Misha nods, reaching for a cup of water next to his plate. “Yeah, I should be fine.” He gulps down the water, and I study him, noticing again the leaner, harder lines of his face. With every day that passes, my baby brother grows up a little more, maturing right in front of my eyes. Soon, he won’t be a boy at all, just like he’s no longer the toddler of my memories.

My throat grows tight as I think again about him leaving. “I’m going to miss you,” I say, trying not to sound as choked up as I feel. “A lot.” Misha puts down his cup. “I’ll miss you too, Yulia.” His expression is even more somber than before. “You’ll come to visit, though, won’t you?” “Of course.” Unable to sit still, I get up, swallowing the tears stinging the back of my throat. “We’ll be just a three-hour flight away. Practically next door.” At least when we’re not traveling all over Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, as Lucas warned me we will have to. Pushing that knowledge aside, I say with forced brightness, “And you’ll come visit us. During summers, school holidays, and such.” “Yeah, that’s going to be great.” Finishing his plate, Misha gets up too. “I’ll be the envy of all my friends, vacationing in Cyprus like that.” “That’s right.” I smile, though all I want to do is cry. “You’ll be the most popular boy in school.” “Oh, I was anyway,” he says with a total lack of modesty. “So it’s all good.” I laugh and walk around the table to hug him. He lets me, and even hugs me back, his sinewy arms sturdy and strong. When I pull away and look at him, I realize my baby brother has grown another couple of inches in the last month and get all choked up again. “Oh, come on,” Misha mutters as the tears I’ve been holding back spill out. Pulling me into another hug, he pats my back awkwardly. “Don’t cry. Come on, it’s going to be fine. We’ll see each other often, and we’ll email and Skype…” “I know.” I pull away and smile at Misha, wiping the wetness on my cheeks with the back of my hand. “It’s just that I keep remembering how little you were, and now you’re growing up so fast, changing into this young man…” I sniffle. “I’m sorry. I’m just being silly.” “Well, you are a girl,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re allowed, I guess.” I burst out laughing at that chauvinistic statement, and for the rest of the meal, we don’t discuss the separation again.

ON THE AFTERNOON BEFORE OUR DEPARTURE, I THROW A BIG PARTY IN LUCAS’S BACK YARD, INVITING all of my cafe’s customers and anyone else who wants to come. Using the

remaining food supplies, I make a variety of hors d’oeuvres and, with Lucas, Eduardo, and Diego’s help, set up a couple of barbecue stations where I grill steaks, burgers, and lamb chops. Manning the grills is hot, sweaty work, but I feel elated as guard after guard comes up to me to say goodbye and express his gratitude for the gourmet meals. “We’re going to miss you here,” one of the guards says gruffly. “Seriously, your cafe was the best food I’ve eaten.” “Thank you.” I beam at him, then turn to smile at another guard who says something similar to me in Spanish. Most of these men are ex-soldiers of some kind, tough, scarred killers armed to the teeth, and to have them thank me like this touches me tremendously. Of course, most guards here today are new recruits or those who didn’t have friends among the victims of the crash, but I don’t let that bother me. I know I’ll never be fully accepted at Esguerra’s estate—that’s why we’re leaving, after all— and to have so many people express regret at my departure is a gift beyond anything I could’ve expected. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” a red-haired guard says to Lucas as I put a piece of medium-rare steak on his plate. “Seriously, man. Your girl’s the best.” “I know,” Lucas says and wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “Now move along, O’Malley. You’re holding up the line.” After all the barbecue is eaten and the last of the hors d’oeuvres disappear off the plates, the party starts to wind down. Lucas leaves to get on yet another call with new suppliers, and Diego, Eduardo, and Misha carry the empty platters inside and collect all the trash. Exhausted, I go in to wash my hands, and when I come out, I see that all the guards are gone. Only one person is standing in the middle of Lucas’s yard, her curvy figure clad in her usual black dress. Stunned, I stare at the maid who helped me escape. “Rosa? What are you doing here?” She casts a nervous glance at the house, where Misha and the two guards are still cleaning up, then says hesitantly, “Do you have a moment? I was hoping to talk to you alone.” I automatically scan her for weapons. Finding nothing suspicious, I say, “Okay, sure. Want to take a little walk?” She nods and disappears into the trees. I follow, both curious and uneasy. I’m fairly certain she won’t physically attack me, but I don’t know what she’s after and

that makes me nervous. At the same time, I recall what Lucas told me about the events in Chicago, and sympathy tempers my wariness. I may not know Rosa’s motivations, but I certainly understand what she’s been through. When I catch up to Rosa, she stops and turns to face me. “Yulia, I…” She takes a breath. “I wanted to thank you for what you told Lucas. Nora said she spoke to you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d do it or not.” “Well, Nora didn’t leave me much choice,” I say drily, recalling the petite girl’s graphic threat. “But you’re welcome. I assume you and Nora are both okay?” Rosa nods, flushing. “Yes. I was under house arrest for a while, and I don’t have access to those keys anymore, but Señor Esguerra reinstated my position in the main house a few weeks ago.” I smile, genuinely happy on her behalf. “Good, I’m glad. And I guess I should thank you for helping me that time. It was very nice of you—” To my surprise, Rosa shakes her head. “It wasn’t nice,” she mutters. “It was stupid. I was stupid.” The smile dies on my lips. “What do you mean?” Rosa’s face is now dark red. “I had a crush on Lucas, and I thought that if you were gone…” Her hands twist in her skirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was just that I wanted to believe that he was different. But then he was keeping you like that and—” She stops, pressing her lips together. “And it was ruining the image you had of him,” I say, finally beginning to understand. “You thought that if you let me go, you’d be doing something good while increasing your chances with the man you want.” Seeing the stricken look on her face, I stop, then say gently, “Except he’s not really the man you want, is he?” “No.” Her brown eyes darken. “He’s not. He never was. I made up the man I wanted, and I pinned him on the nearest handsome face.” “Oh, Rosa…” Giving in to a sudden impulse, I step forward and give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Listen to me,” I say softly. “You’re going to find the right person for you, and he might not be whom you imagined, but you’ll want him anyway, flaws and all. It won’t be perfect, but it will be real, and you’ll know it— you’ll feel it. You’ll both feel it.” She swallows thickly and pulls her hand away. “Is that what it’s like for you and Lucas?”

“Yes,” I say, and the truth of that sears through me. “It’s not tender and pretty like I thought it would be. Some might even say it’s ugly. But it’s us. It’s our reality, our version of perfect. And you will also have that one day—your own version of perfect. It might not be what you expect, or with whom you expect, but it will make you happy.” The girl’s lips tremble for a second; then her face goes blank and she steps back. “You should go,” she says, her hands once again playing with the skirt of her dress. “They’ll be looking for you if you don’t return soon.” “Right.” I’m about to turn and go back when Rosa says quietly, “Goodbye, Yulia. I wish you and Lucas all the best. I really do.” “Thank you—and the same to you,” I say, but Rosa is already walking away, her black-clad figure melting into the greenery of the rainforest and disappearing out of sight.

47

L

ucas

I EXPECTED YULIA AND HER BROTHER TO SLEEP ON OUR FLIGHT TO UKRAINE, BUT THEY SPEND THE entire time talking. Whenever I stick my head out of the pilot’s cabin to check on them, they’re deep in conversation, and I go back, not wanting to intrude on their sibling time. I’ll have Yulia to myself soon enough. When we approach Ukrainian airspace, I make contact with our men on the ground. Last week, they finally tracked down the last three known UUR associates and eliminated them as per my orders. To my disappointment, none of them were harboring Kirill, which means Yulia’s former trainer is either completely off the grid or, as Yulia thought, the fucker ended up expiring from his injuries and we just haven’t found his body. The latter possibility brings me little joy—I wanted to kill the bastard with my own hands—but it’s better than the alternative. The men also tracked down the headmistress of Yulia’s orphanage. The woman was already in jail for child abuse and trafficking, so I had to settle for sending in an assassin who cornered her in a bathroom and demonstrated just how much her victims suffered. The video of her death—all three hours of it—was the highlight of my Wednesday last week. Someday, I might show it to Yulia, but for now, I’ve decided not to, to avoid bringing back bad memories for her. “You’ve been cleared to land,” Thomas reports when I get him on the phone. I smile, satisfied that the bribe campaign we’ve been conducting is proving so effective. Despite the bloody war we’ve waged against UUR, most of Ukrainian bureaucrats are more than willing to look the other way—especially since Yulia’s former agency was strictly off the books.

Nobody cares about a few officially nonexistent spies when fat checks are in play. When we land at the private airport, there’s an armored SUV waiting for us, and we go straight to Michael’s parents’ place. Thomas and two other guards ride along, while a dozen more of our men follow in other cars. I’m not expecting any trouble, but it’s always good to be cautious when in hostile territory. Bribes or not, Ukraine has little love for anyone connected to the Esguerra organization. “Are you sure my brother will be safe?” Yulia asked me last night, and I assured her that thanks to our hacking and subsequent destruction of UUR’s files, it’s all but impossible to connect the adoptive son of two civilians to her, and by extension, to me and Esguerra. Just in case, though, I personally hired two bodyguards to watch over Michael and his family over the next few months. I don’t think he’s in danger, but I know how much the kid means to Yulia. And, to be honest, he’s grown on me too. Yulia would probably be upset to hear this, but there’s something about Michael that reminds me of myself at that age. Vasiliy Obenko hadn’t been entirely wrong to recruit him; the boy would’ve made an excellent agent had he completed his training. On the ride from the airport, Yulia and Michael are both silent, and I know they’re thinking of the upcoming separation. Theoretically, I could’ve hired more men to ensure Michael’s safety and let him go home earlier, but I wanted to give Yulia more time with her brother, and I’m glad I did. The boy has come a long way from the defiant, sullen teenager who’d been fed lies about his sister. The two siblings are now as close as any I’ve seen, and I know that makes Yulia happy— which makes me happy in return. If I could turn back the clock and wipe away all the pain in her past, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But since I can’t, I have to settle for making sure she never has to suffer again. She’s mine, and I’m going to take care of her for the rest of our lives.

MICHAEL’S PARENTS LIVE ON THE FIFTH FLOOR OF AN APARTMENT BUILDING ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF KIEV. The two bodyguards I hired greet us at the entrance to the building and report that all is quiet. I thank them and give them the rest of the day off before instructing Thomas and the others to wait downstairs. There’s no elevator, so Yulia, Michael,

and I take the stairs. Yulia walks a couple of steps ahead of me. She’s wearing flat boots and stylish skinny jeans—both are her recent online purchases—and I can’t tear my eyes away from her shapely ass, which flexes with every step she climbs. “Dude, keep a lid on it for at least a few more minutes,” Michael mutters, climbing the stairs next to me, and I shoot him a grin, not the least bit embarrassed that he caught me lusting after his sister. “Why?” I reply in a low voice. “Your sister is hot. You didn’t know that?” “Ugh.” He grimaces in disgust, and Yulia gives us a suspicious look over her shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” she asks as we clear the third-floor landing. “Nothing,” Misha says quickly, his face turning red. “Just guy stuff.” “Uh-huh.” She gives us an exasperated look but doesn’t press further, and we clear the remaining two flights in silence. I’m glad we don’t run into any neighbors, because I have my M16 with me. After what happened in Chicago, I don’t go anywhere without a weapon. When we reach the fifth floor, Yulia stops in front of apartment 5A and rings the doorbell. My first hint that something is wrong is the white face of the trim, dark-haired woman who opens the door. It’s Natalia Rudenko, Michael’s adoptive mother—I recognize her hazel eyes from the surveillance photos. Instead of smiling and stepping forward to embrace her son, she swings the door wide and steps back, her lipsticked mouth trembling. Instantly, I see why. Wrapped around her stomach and partially concealed by the apron she’s wearing is a tangle of wires and a black box with a blinking light. “Mama?” Michael says uncertainly, stepping forward, and I instinctively grab his arm, yanking him back as I step in front of Yulia, shielding her from the bomb. My pulse jumps with a blast of adrenaline, terror and rage swamping me in a toxic shockwave. Yulia, Misha, and a bomb. Motherfucking fuck. “It’s okay, let the boy in,” an accented male voice drawls in English. “He’s not

any safer out there than in here. There’s enough to blow this whole building.” I don’t move, though every instinct screams for me to rush in and attack, to protect Yulia and her brother. Only the knowledge that doing so means certain death for them keeps me still. Calling upon all my years of battle experience, I block out the hammering beat of fear and assess the situation. In addition to the woman, there are two men standing in the hallway. One of them, a portly, middle-aged man, is wired the same way as Michael’s mother. I recognize his terrified face too. It’s Viktor Rudenko, Michael’s adoptive father. But he’s not the one who holds my attention. It’s the massively built man standing behind him, his thin lips curled in a snarl of a smile. Kirill Ivanovich Luchenko, the man we’ve been hunting. He found us instead.

48

Y ulia I’VE NEVER KNOWN TERROR THIS INTENSE, THIS ALL-CONSUMING. LUCAS IS A HUMAN WALL IN FRONT of me, but I can see around his powerful body, and the surreal tableau makes my stomach drop to my feet. Kirill is standing in the brightly lit hallway behind Misha’s parents, who are wrapped in tangled wires. There’s a gun in his right hand, and in his left, he’s clutching something small and black. A detonator, I realize with nauseating panic. He’s got his thumb on the detonator. “Come on in,” he says in English, looking at Lucas and Misha before focusing on me. A grotesque smile stretches his mouth as his gaze meets mine. “Make yourself at home. We’re all one happy family here, aren’t we?” Lucas doesn’t move a muscle, even when Misha tries to shove him aside, his young face contorted with the same terror that holds me paralyzed. I know what’s going through my brother’s mind; like me, he’s probably seen this kind of detonator in explosives training. It’s UUR’s version of a suicide vest, one designed to be used only in the most desperate of circumstances. Kirill doesn’t need to press a button for the explosive to go off; he just needs to take his thumb off the button. If his thumb slips—if he’s shot, for instance—the bomb will be triggered. Lucas must’ve realized this too, because he’s not reaching for the M16 slung across his back.

“Let me through,” my brother hisses when Lucas still doesn’t budge. “It’s my parents. Fucking let me through!” This time, I’m the one to catch Misha’s arm. “Don’t,” I say quietly, and he freezes in place. I don’t know if my brother thinks I have a plan, or if it’s the false calmness of my voice, but he stops shoving at Lucas and stands still, staring fixedly into the hallway. “You don’t want to come in?” Kirill says. “Fine, we can do it the hard way.” In a blur of motion, he lifts his right hand and fires. The shot is muffled—Kirill’s gun has a silencer on it—but the screams that follow are unmistakable. I convulsively leap forward, terrified for Lucas, but he’s still standing there, refusing to budge even as my brother renews his efforts to get into the apartment. The bullet hit Misha’s father in the leg, I realize as I peer around Misha’s struggling figure. The older man is on the floor, screaming as he clutches his bleeding leg, and Misha’s mother is kneeling next to him, weeping hysterically. “The next bullet goes into his head,” Kirill says, and Misha stills again. “And the one after that, into her brain.” He waves the gun at the crying woman. “Oh, and if any of you try to run, I’m going to shoot both of them immediately, and the bombs will go off before you make it down a single flight of stairs.” His smile widens as he takes in our expressions. “Like I said, come in and make yourself at home.” “Lucas, please,” I whisper when he still doesn’t move. Bile churns thickly in my throat. “Please, we have to do this. We can’t let him kill them in front of Misha.” I have no idea if Kirill is crazy enough to sacrifice himself by setting off the explosives, but I have no doubt he’ll shoot Misha’s parents without a second thought. “You. Drop your weapon before you come in,” Kirill says, gesturing at Lucas with the gun. “You don’t want this to go off by mistake.” He lifts his left hand—the one with the detonator—to illustrate exactly what he means. Without saying a word, Lucas reaches for the strap of his M16 and drops the weapon on the floor. Then, just as silently, he steps into the hallway. Misha and I follow. My brother’s face is deathly pale, his eyes wild with fear. I have no doubt I look the same way. Terror is a hollow, icy pit in my stomach. When Kirill had captured me before, I’d been on my own, and I could escape into the dark corners of my mind. But there’s no escape here, not when the only two people I love are in danger next to me—in danger because of me. I know why Kirill is doing something so reckless and insane. He’s after me. He

wants to punish me for what I did to him, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process. Lucas is still in front of me, his body forming a shield between me and my former trainer, but he won’t be able to save me. We have the numbers advantage and men on the ground, but Kirill has his thumb on that detonator. “Come here, bitch,” my former trainer says, his gaze swinging toward me. His dark eyes glint with rage and something close to madness. “You’re the one I want.” Ignoring the sickening terror twisting my insides, I step around my brother, pushing him behind me, but Lucas blocks my way. “She’s not going anywhere.” His voice is lethal steel. “No?” Kirill lifts his gun, pointing it at Viktor Rudenko’s temple. The man freezes, his screams dying down, and Kirill’s eyes cut back to me as Natalia’s weeping grows in volume. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” “Lucas, let me go.” I try to squeeze past him, but the narrow hallway is stuffed with furniture, and I almost trip on a stool placed in front of a tall mirror. Chills of horror race up and down my spine as Kirill’s jaw hardens at Lucas’s uncompromising stance. Frantically, I grip Lucas’s arm and try to push him aside. “Please, Lucas, let me through.” He ignores me. Every muscle in his body is locked tight, and when I glance at his face, the subzero fury in his pale eyes spikes my terror even more. He’s not going to listen to reason. To protect me, he’s going to let Misha’s parents die—and get himself killed in the process. “Why do you want her?” he asks Kirill, his tone incongruously calm. “You know you’re going to die here today.” “Do I?” Kirill laughs, the sound oddly high pitched, and for the first time, I notice the changes in his appearance. His hair is now more gray than brown, his face is bloated, and the body that had always been hard muscle looks merely thick instead. It’s as if he’s aged ten years over the last few months. “And what makes you think I care?” Lucas’s expression doesn’t change. “I know you don’t. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? To go out in a blaze of glory rather than live like the pathetic half-man you’ve become?” Contempt seeps into his voice. “You should’ve just come to us from the beginning. I could’ve made it so much simpler for you, put you out of your

dickless misery that much sooner.” What is Lucas doing? My heart pounds in horror as I watch Kirill’s face contort with rage and his right hand come up, the gun pointing straight at Lucas’s chest. It’s as if Lucas is trying to get himself shot. And in the next instant, I realize that’s exactly what he’s doing. My captor is hoping to sacrifice himself and buy us some time. To do what, I’m not sure. We’re on the fifth floor of a walk-up building. Even if the guards on the ground heard the shot—unlikely, given the silencer Kirill is using—they’d never get here in time. And even if they did, there’d still be the matter of explosives. Regardless, even if Lucas does have a plan, I can’t let him do this. In a split second, I come up with the only solution I can. “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I say loudly. Behind me, I hear Misha suck in a breath, but I ignore him. “I almost forgot that I shot your balls and cock off,” I continue, imbuing my tone with as much derision as I can. “What’s that like, huh? Must be rough not being able to rape fifteen-year-olds.” The fury that twists Kirill’s features is demonic. His bloated face turns a blotchy purple, and the gun swings toward me. Lucas moves to block me from Kirill’s view, but I jump to the other side, exposing myself again. I’m the one my former trainer wants. If I can get him to kill me, there’s a chance the others might walk away. “Go ahead,” I taunt the man, jumping from side to side to avoid Lucas’s attempts to shield me. “Shoot me like the coward you are, like the miserable slug that you’ve become.” The words spill out of my mouth faster and faster. “Just look at yourself. The famous Kirill Luchenko, never defeated in combat. And what happened to you? Got your dick blown away. I bet that must’ve hurt. I bet you can’t take a piss without crying like a baby. I wouldn’t know how that feels, of course, but —” The shot rings out, the noise deafening despite the silencer. Something slams into me, and I go flying. My last thought is a desperate hope that Misha and Lucas survive.

49

L

ucas

EVERYTHING HAPPENS IN AN INSTANT. THE SECOND THE SHOT RINGS OUT, I’M ALREADY IN MOTION, leaping at Kirill. I don’t dare look back because if I see Yulia dead or dying, I’ll lose the last shreds of my sanity, and I can’t let that happen. I have to save her brother. We crash into the wall, and Kirill twists to protect the gun, but that’s not what I’m after. With both hands, I grab his left fist and squeeze tight, forcing his fingers to remain closed and his thumb to stay on the detonator. At the same time, I pull back and slam into him again, twisting so that my shoulder hits his right arm. The gun clatters to the floor, but before I can celebrate my victory, he uses his bulk to push me back and smashes his right fist into my temple. My vision goes dark for a second, my ears ringing, but I hang on to consciousness and force him back against the wall. The rage and grief boiling in my chest give me superhuman strength. The motherfucker shot Yulia. With a roar, I squeeze my fingers harder and hear his bones breaking. He bellows and swings his right fist at me, but I duck this time, keeping my hands locked around his left hand. Distantly, I’m aware that Michael’s parents are scrambling to get out of the way, but I block out their panicked cries. The fight is happening with blurring speed; even a second of inattention could be fatal. My ears ring and I taste blood as another blow connects with my jaw, but I move my leg in time to block Kirill’s knee coming at my groin. Simultaneously, I jerk back to avoid a third blow and turn sideways to elbow him in the ribs. I hit him hard, but he doesn’t even grunt this time. The bastard is built like a tank, and though his

reflexes aren’t as good as mine, he knows what he’s doing. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been a difficult fight, but with both of my hands squeezing his left fist, I’m at a severe disadvantage. I can’t let go of his hand, however, because I’m certain he’ll trigger that bomb. At this point, all the fucker cares about is revenge, and he’ll die to obtain it. He raped Yulia at fifteen. He shot her. The fury is like rocket fuel for my muscles. Spinning around, I slam the back of my head into his nose, crushing bone and cartilage, and before he can recover, I use my grip on his fist to swing him around and throw him against the opposite wall. His eyes roll backward as his head hits the hard surface, but he manages to land a kick, his boot crashing straight into my kidney. My breath hisses out, my grip on his fist slackening for a moment, and he throws himself on the floor, dragging me along as I tighten my grip again. We collide and roll, and in the next moment I see what he was after. The gun he dropped earlier. He’s grabbed it with his right hand, and he’s aiming it straight at my head. I see his finger start to tighten on the trigger, and things seem to slow. I register everything with vibrant clarity, as if my brain decided to take one last snapshot by sending my senses into overdrive. In that split second before I die, I see Kirill’s victorious snarl, smell the rank sweat dripping down his face, and hear Michael’s parents’ screams at the back of the hallway. I also think of Yulia and how desperately I hope she survives. I’d die a thousand deaths to keep her living. The gun goes off with a deafening blast. Only I don’t die. Instead, Kirill jerks with a scream, his right arm exploding into bloody bits. Stunned, I look up to see Michael holding my M16. The boy is panting, his pale face streaked with sweat and blood, and in the next instant, he squeezes the trigger again, releasing a round of bullets into Kirill’s right shoulder. Howling, Kirill kicks out at Michael, and I refocus on my opponent. It’s time to finish this thing. Keeping my fingers locked tightly around Kirill’s left fist, I slam my forehead into his bleeding nose, again and again, reveling in the crunch as I hammer the

bone fragments into his brain. This isn’t how I wanted the bastard to go, but it’ll have to do. When he’s lying there unmoving, his face a bloody mess, I look up at Michael, my head throbbing. “Shoot his left arm,” I order hoarsely, and the kid gets it right away. Without hesitation, he unleashes another volley on the dead man’s upper arm. The bullets cut the bone clean through. All I have to do is yank on the fist, and the arm separates from the body. Ignoring the blood gushing from the stump, I climb to my feet, holding the severed appendage by the fist wrapped around the detonator. My heart thumps in a hollow, uneven rhythm as I turn toward the entrance. Behind me, Michael’s mother is sobbing and his father is groaning in pain, but I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is Yulia. She’s lying unmoving amidst shards of broken mirror, her body crumpled like a rag doll’s. Her long blond hair covers her face, but there’s blood everywhere, all over her slim frame. The hollowness in my chest spreads. No. Fuck, no. She can’t be dead. She can’t be. “Yulia,” I whisper, sinking to my knees beside her. I feel like I’m suffocating, like my lungs are collapsing in my ribcage. “Yulia, sweetheart…” She doesn’t move. Numbly, I tighten my left hand around Kirill’s fist, pressing down on the thumb to secure the detonator inside, and with my right hand, I reach for her. My fingers are drenched with Kirill’s blood, and as I brush aside her hair, I have a sudden horrible feeling that I’m polluting her with my touch, that I’m destroying something pure and beautiful… an angel who doesn’t belong in my ugly world. Her lashes are brown half-moons on her pale cheeks, her mouth slightly parted. It’s as if she’s sleeping, except there’s blood. So much fucking blood. “Yulia…” My hand shakes as I touch her face, leaving bloody fingerprints on her porcelain skin. The hollowness inside me expands, my very bones creaking under the pressure of the emptiness within. I can’t picture a life without her. Fuck, I can’t

picture a single week without her. In a few short months, she’s become my entire world. If she’s dead, if she’s gone… My fingers graze the side of her neck, feeling for her pulse, and I freeze, a violent shudder rippling through me. There is a beat. A faint, but unmistakable beat. “Yulia!” I bend down, gathering her against me with my free arm. She’s soft and warm, unmistakably alive. I feel the puffs of her breath on my neck, and my pulse roars with fierce joy. She’s alive. My Yulia is alive. For a moment, it’s enough, but as my head clears, a new fear seizes me. Why is she unconscious, and where did all the blood come from? Lowering her to the floor, I frantically pat her down, looking for the bullet wound. She has numerous small cuts from the broken glass, and there’s a bloody gash on the side of her head, but I don’t see where the bullet went in. “Is she okay?” Michael says, and I glance up to see him standing there. He’s swaying on his feet, his face greenish white. For a moment, I think he’s going to puke from the sight of the severed arm I’m still holding, but as I watch, he sinks to his knees next to me—or, more precisely, collapses to his knees. Frowning, I start to reach for him and stop. Blood is dribbling from under Michael’s dark T-shirt. “Misha?” Yulia croaks hoarsely, and I turn my head to see her eyelids open. As she focuses on us, horror crosses her face, and I know she’s reached the same conclusion. Her brother has been shot.

50

Y ulia IN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES, EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN AT ONCE. THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE: ON Misha, who lies down beside me, on Lucas, around Kirill’s mangled body, and on the severed arm Lucas is holding. A couple of meters away, Misha’s father is groaning in agony, his leg bleeding uncontrollably, and Misha’s mother is weeping and rushing back and forth between her wounded husband and son. Lucas’s men— who must’ve heard the unsilenced gunshots—burst in, weapons ready, and Lucas starts barking orders at them. Within a minute, he has two men working on disarming the explosives, and two more trying to stem Misha’s and his father’s bleeding. I try to get up to help, but every time I move, a wave of nausea hits me and I have to lie down, my skull throbbing where I split my head open on the mirror. My frantic questions go unanswered in the chaos, but by the time we’re back in the armored SUV and speeding toward a hospital, I piece together what happened. It wasn’t a bullet that slammed into me. It was my brother. Misha knocked me out of the way, pushing me headfirst into the mirror that shattered. In the process, he took the bullet meant for me. According to Lucas, it went through the fleshy part of his shoulder, knocking him down on top of me. It’s mostly Misha’s blood that covers me, though I also bled from my head injury and the glass cutting into my skin. “He’ll be fine,” Lucas says for the fifth time as I reach for Misha, who’s passed out in the backseat next to me. “He lost a good amount of blood, but we stopped the bleeding and he’ll be okay. He saved us all. If he hadn’t gotten my M16—” He breaks off, but a chill streaks down my spine as I fill in the unspoken words.

We’d come within seconds of dying, all of us. In one fell swoop, I could’ve lost my brother and the man who’s become my entire life. My hand trembling, I squeeze Misha’s palm, and then I reach for Lucas, who’s sitting on the other side of me. Only he doesn’t let me hold his hand. The minute I touch him, Lucas pulls me into his lap, wrapping me tightly in his embrace, and buries his face in my hair. I can feel the shudders wracking his big body, and I can no longer restrain myself. Clutching him with all my strength, I cry. I just hold Lucas and cry.

A LOCAL HOSPITAL TAKES CARE OF MISHA’S AND VIKTOR’S GUNSHOT WOUNDS AND THE GASH ON MY head, and then we fly to Switzerland to recuperate at a private clinic Lucas has used before. Misha’s parents come with us, not wanting to be separated from their son despite their fear of me and Lucas. I do my best to reassure them that they’re safe, but I know that to them, we’re scary strangers from a violent world—a world that invaded their lives in the most brutal way. What Kirill did, the way he terrorized them, left scars that will never go away. Before that awful day, they knew what Natalia’s brother did for his country, but they didn’t truly understand it. “We woke up that morning, and he was there, holding a gun on us,” Natalia sobs as she tells us what happened. “He tied Viktor up and strapped the bomb to me, and then he did the same thing to him. We thought he was a terrorist—we thought we were going to die—but then he started talking about you and how he was waiting for you, and that’s when we realized what he was really after…” She breaks down in hysterics at that point, and Lucas has to call a nurse for a sedative to calm her down. Viktor—Misha’s adoptive father—is in a similar state, though he tries to put on a brave face for his wife. Whenever Natalia starts to cry, he comforts her, telling her that he’s fine, but the nurses told me that he himself wakes up screaming from nightmares. The bullet that entered Viktor’s leg shattered his kneecap, and he may never again walk without a limp.

The only bright spot in the whole mess is that Misha’s shoulder wound has indeed turned out to be as clean as Lucas said. My brother lost a lot of blood, but the doctors promised that he’ll be back on his feet—albeit with an arm sling—within a week. While we recuperate, Lucas’s men tear apart Rudenkos’ apartment to figure out how Kirill got in unseen, and what they find gives us all pause. It turns out that Misha’s parents’ new apartment—where they had been relocated after I returned— had originally been a UUR safe house. As such, it had a secret apartment concealed behind the living room wall—a place stocked with medical supplies, ammunition, and enough food to last for several months. It was there that Kirill must’ve gone to heal when he escaped from the black site. How he survived the trip and concealed his tracks will always be a mystery, but judging from the state of the apartment, he’d been hunkered down there the entire time we’d been searching for him. Misha’s parents swear they had no idea he was there, and after questioning them extensively, Lucas decides they’re telling the truth. Apparently, they heard noises in their living room several times, but chalked them up to strange acoustics of their new apartment building. “I thought it was a ghost,” Natalia Rudenko whispers, her eyes red and swollen in her pale face. “Viktor told me I was being an idiot, and I shut up. But I should’ve listened to my instincts. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened.” Lucas starts to fire another question at her, but I stop him by laying my hand on his arm. The poor woman is in no state for further interrogation. “It’s not your fault,” I assure her gently. “Kirill was a seasoned agent. If he wanted to stay hidden, you didn’t stand a chance.” “That’s what Viktor said, but still, I should’ve known.” Squeezing her eyes closed, she pinches the bridge of her nose with trembling fingers. “There were little clues, like our computer getting hacked that time, and a few things seeming to get moved on occasion…” Secretly, I agree that she should’ve found those things suspicious—I certainly would have—but she’s a civilian, and I’m not. Regular people aren’t trained to look for those types of patterns, and even though Natalia wasn’t a complete stranger to the shadowy world of intelligence organizations, she couldn’t have imagined that a secret agent would be hiding in her apartment. “The hacking of the computer must be how Kirill learned we were coming,” Lucas says grimly, and I nod in agreement. I don’t know if my former trainer used Rudenkos’ apartment because it was the best hiding spot, or because he suspected I

might return with Misha one day, but either way, he was well positioned to strike when we least expected it. The guards were keeping watch for danger from the outside, but the enemy had been inside all along. To my relief, Misha seems far less traumatized than his parents. I don’t know if it’s his UUR training or what he’s already lived through during Lucas’s attack on the black site, but my brother is recovering quickly in more ways than one. Far from being distraught and remorseful about his role in Kirill’s death, Misha seems proud that he got to participate in the takedown of the man who hurt me and nearly killed his parents. “I’m glad I got to shoot the bastard,” he says fiercely when Lucas and I visit his bedside. “It’s the least he deserved.” “You did well, kid,” Lucas says, patting his uninjured shoulder. “Your hands didn’t even shake when you shot off his arm.” I wince at the graphic imagery, but Misha just nods, accepting the praise as his due. He and Lucas appear to be on the same wavelength now, as if fighting Kirill together brought them closer. I like that development, but it does disturb me to see my fourteen-year-old brother being so casual about a man’s gruesome death. “And why should he be upset?” Lucas says when I mention my concern to him later that evening in our private hospital room. “He’s old enough to understand that you have to do what’s necessary if you want to survive and protect those you care about. The kid’s growing up, and whether you want to admit it or not, he’s not a delicate flower.” “Neither is he a remorseless killer—or at least he shouldn’t be,” I retort, but Lucas just sits down on the edge of the bed and picks up my hand. His gaze is hard and shuttered, but his grip is gentle. He’s been this way, caring yet distant, ever since we got to this clinic, and no matter how much I try, I can’t figure out why he does nothing more than cuddle me at night. The doctors cleared me for sex the day before yesterday, but Lucas still hasn’t touched me. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand lightly, “your brother is not like you. He never was, and never will be. It was his choice to join UUR, and whether you want to admit it or not, he belonged there more than you ever did.” The conviction in Lucas’s voice distracts me from the puzzle of his behavior. Frowning, I say, “I don’t think so. Misha probably imagined it would be glamorous,

being a spy and all. I’m sure that’s why he joined: so he could play at being James Bond. But when he saw what it was really like—” “He still wanted it,” Lucas says quietly. “Or wants it, I should say.” Struck, I stare at him. “What do you mean? He’s going back to school.” “He is—but only to make you and his parents happy.” “What? How do you know that?” Lucas sighs, his thumb stroking the inside of my palm. “He told me. Yesterday. He wants to come work for me when he’s older, but for now, he thinks it’s a good idea to finish civilian school so he could ‘blend better into the general population.’” He pauses, then adds softly, “Those are his words, not mine.” “I see.” Pulling my hand from his grasp, I get up, my temples throbbing with a headache that has nothing to do with the half-healed gash across my skull. I should be surprised, but I’m not. On some level, I already knew this. Like Lucas, my brother is drawn to danger, and he’ll eventually embrace this kind of life. The pain creeps up on me; it’s just a faint ache at first, but with every second, it grows stronger, welling up until it chokes me from within. My throat constricts, and I feel myself start to hyperventilate, frantically sucking in air to fill my stiff and empty lungs. A hoarse sob bubbles up, followed by another and another, and then Lucas is on his feet next to me, drawing me into his embrace as raw, ugly sounds tear from my throat. It feels like I’m cracking inside, like I’m crumbling into bits. I try to stop, to control myself, but the sobs just keep on coming. “Yulia, sweetheart, it’s okay… Everything’s going to be okay.” Lucas’s arms are around me, holding me tight, and the knowledge that he’s here, that I’m no longer alone, opens the dam even more. The tears pour out, burning and cleansing at the same time, a toxic flood that destroys and renews at once. I cry for my brother’s future and our past, for all the lies and losses and betrayals. I cry for what might’ve been and what has come to pass, for the cruelty of fate and its incongruous mercy. I cry because I can’t stop, and because I know I don’t have to. I trust Lucas to hold me as I break, to lend me his strength when I need it most. Somehow we end up back on the bed, with me curled in his arms as he rocks me on his lap, cradling me like I’m the most precious thing in his world. And still I cry. I cry until my throat is raw and torn, until my agony drowns in exhaustion. I’m only

half-aware when Lucas lays me down and removes my clothes, and by the time he slides in beside me, I’m asleep. Asleep and purged of all my fears.

I WAKE UP TO FIND LUCAS SITTING ON THE EDGE OF THE BED, WATCHING ME. INSTANTLY, THE recollection of last night comes to me, and I flush, remembering my inexplicable breakdown. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, clutching the blanket to my chest as I sit up. “I don’t know what came over me.” Lucas doesn’t move. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Despite the reassuring words, his gaze is inscrutable, his expression still closed off and distant. “You were due for a good cry.” “Yes, well, I had one, that’s for sure.” Feeling embarrassed, I slide from under the blanket and grab a robe, then slip into the adjoining bathroom to take a quick shower and brush my teeth before the nurses make their morning rounds. When I come out, I see Lucas still sitting on the bed, unmoving. The bruises on his face—the mementos of his fight with Kirill—are faded now, and with the morning light spilling across his hard, masculine features, he resembles a warrior’s statue more than a living, breathing human being. Only his eyes belie that impression; sharp and clear, they track my every movement the way a big cat watches its prey. My breath catches, and I find myself walking toward him, my legs carrying me to the bed almost against my will. When I’m next to him, he curls his hand around my wrist, pulling me down to sit next to him. “Lucas…” I stare at him, feeling strangely nervous. “What are you—” “Shh.” He presses two fingers against my lips, his touch incredibly gentle. His eyes burn into mine, and to my shock, I see a dark shadow of agony in his pale gaze. “I’m only going to say it once, and I want you to listen,” he says quietly, lowering his hand. “I’ve deposited some money into your account—about two million to start. Later, I’ll add more, but that should be enough to get you settled in the beginning. Of course, if you ever need anything, you and Michael can always come to me—”

“What?” I reel back, certain I misheard. “What are you talking about?” “Let me finish.” His jaw is rigid. “I will also provide you with a set of bodyguards,” he continues, his voice growing more strained with each word. “Their job will be to protect you, but I expect you to be smart and not do anything to endanger yourself. If you have to fly somewhere, I’ll send someone to take you, and I’ll personally oversee the security perimeter around your new house. Also—” “Lucas, what are you talking about?” Shaking, I jump to my feet. “Is this some kind of joke?” “Of course not.” He stands up, his muscles all but vibrating with tension. “You think this is easy for me? Fuck!” He spins around and starts to pace, his every movement filled with barely controlled violence. Stunned, I watch him for a couple of moments; then the neurons in my brain start to fire. Stepping forward, I catch his arm, feeling the coiled strength within. “Lucas, are you—” I swallow thickly. “Does this mean you’re letting me leave?” His eyes narrow dangerously. “What else would it fucking mean?” My heart thuds heavily as I drop my hand. “But why? Is it this?” Selfconsciously, I touch the narrow strip of shaved hair on my head, where the stitches from the gash are visible despite my best attempts to hide them. Like Lucas’s, the bruises on my face are almost gone, but the scars from the broken glass are not. They’re healing—the doctors assured me they’ll be all but invisible one day—but for now, I’m far from beautiful, and it suddenly dawns on me that Lucas’s distance may have a very obvious cause. His desire for me has cooled. “What?” Incredulity fills his voice as his eyes follow the movement of my hand. “Are you fucking joking? You think I don’t want you because of this wound?” “You didn’t touch me last night.” I know I sound like an insecure schoolgirl, but I can’t help it. Lucas is a highly sexual man, and for him to forego a chance to fuck me… “Of course I didn’t touch you,” he says through clenched teeth. “You’re still healing, and I— Fuck.” He twists as if to turn away again, but stops himself. Reaching over, he grips my arm. “Yulia… If I’d touched you, if I’d taken you again, I wouldn’t have been able to do this, do you understand?” His voice roughens. “I’d keep you with me like the selfish bastard I am, and you’d never get a chance to leave.”

All breath exits my lungs. “No, I don’t understand. If you still want me, then why are you doing this?” “Because you don’t belong in this world… my world. They forced you into this life, made you into someone you never wanted to become. When I saw you lying there, hurt and bleeding—” He breaks off, then says raggedly, “You should’ve never been in that kind of danger, never met men like Kirill and Obenko…” He takes a deep breath. “Men like me.” I stare at him, a strange ache unfurling deep inside my chest. “Lucas, you’re not —” “Yes, I am.” His hard mouth twists. “Let’s not pretend. I’m like them—the men who hurt you and used you and manipulated you. You never had a choice about it all, and I didn’t give you one either. I took you for my own because I wanted you, and I kept you because I couldn’t picture a life without you. When you escaped, I would’ve torn the world apart looking for you, beautiful. I would’ve done anything to get you back.” A tingle ripples down my spine. “So why are you letting me go?” I whisper, my heart beating erratically. Could it be? Is Lucas— “Because I can’t bear to lose you,” he says harshly. “When I saw you lying there, covered in blood, I thought you were dead. I thought he’d killed you.” A visible shudder ripples over Lucas’s skin before he steps closer, his hands moving up to grip my shoulders. Leaning in, he says with barely controlled fury, “What the fuck were you thinking anyway, taunting the bastard like that? You should’ve stayed quiet, let me—” “Let you get shot?” Everything inside me recoils at the mere notion. “I would never. He was after me, not you or Misha—” “So you tried to sacrifice yourself for us, like you’ve been doing for your brother all along? Did you really think there was a chance in hell I’d let you do that?” His fingers dig into my shoulders, but before I can so much as wince, his grip eases and his harsh expression softens. “Yulia,” he whispers hoarsely, “don’t you know that I’d take a thousand bullets, die a hundred deaths before I let anything hurt you?” My pulse lurches. “Lucas…” “You’re my reason for existing now.” His eyes glitter fiercely. “You’re my everything. I want you in my bed, but I want you in my life even more. It’s been that way from the very beginning. Even when I hated you, I loved you. If you were gone —”

“You love me?” My lungs seize as I latch on to those words. I’d suspected, hoped —I even told myself I knew—but up until he said it, I hadn’t been certain. For Lucas to finally admit this… “Of course I love you.” His hands move up to frame my face, his big palms warm on my skin. Gazing down on me, he says roughly, “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw Diego carry you off that plane, thin and dirty and so gorgeous it made my chest hurt. I told myself it was only lust, pretended I could fuck you out of my system, but I ended up falling for you even more, wanting you more each day. Your loyalty, your bravery, your warmth—it was everything I never knew I needed. Before you came into my life, I didn’t have anyone, didn’t care about anyone, and I was fine that way. But when I met you…” He inhales. “Fuck, it was like I saw the sun for the first time. You made my world so much brighter, so much fuller…” My throat is so tight I can barely speak. “So then why—” “Because you were made for love and family, for pretty things and soft words.” Pain laces his voice as he drops his hands. “You should’ve been adored by your parents and brother, worshipped by loving boyfriends and loyal friends, and instead—” “And instead I fell for you.” Reaching for him, I grip his powerful hand. Tears blur my eyes as I stare up at my ruthless captor, the man who’s now my everything. “I fell in love with the man who saved me from Kirill and the Russian prison, who nursed me back to health and gave me my brother back. Lucas…” I curve my palm around his hard jaw. “You might be like them, but you’ve always given me more than you’ve taken. Always.” He stares at me, and I see the growing frustration on his face. “Yulia…” His voice is low and lethal. “If you’re going to walk away, tell me now. I’m giving you this one chance, do you understand?” “I do.” A smile trembles on my lips as I lower my hand. “I understand.” His muscles coil, as though bracing for a blow. “And?” “And I’m staying.” For a second, Lucas is still, as if frozen in disbelief, and then he’s on me, his lips devouring me with a hunger that’s both violent and tender. His hands roam over my body, his touch rough yet restrained, cognizant of my healing injuries. We tumble backward on the bed, our mouths fused together and our hands ripping at each other’s clothes. Somewhere out there are nurses and doctors, my brother and his adoptive parents, the whole entire world, but here, in this private room, it’s just

us and the heat burning brighter with each moment. “I love you,” I gasp as Lucas thrusts into me, and he whispers the words back, his voice raspy and thick as he moves inside me, claiming me over and over again. We come together, our bodies shattering in perfect symphony, and as we lie tangled in the aftermath, Lucas holds my gaze. In his eyes are lust and possessiveness, hunger and need, and underneath it all, the warm tenderness of love. In a few minutes, the nurses will come, and our little bubble will break. We’ll work on healing and moving on, on building our new life and settling into our new home. For now, however, we don’t need to worry about what the future holds. What Lucas and I have together will never be pretty, but it’s perfect. Our own version of perfect.

BONUS EPILOGUE: NORA & JULIAN APPROXIMATELY 3 YEARS LATER

J ulian NORA’S SCREAM ECHOES OFF THE WALLS, THE TORMENTED SOUND FLAYING ME OPEN. I LEAN AGAINST the door frame, shaking from the effort it takes to remain still and not attack the white-coated buzzards hovering over my wife. My shirt is soaked with sweat, and my hands flex convulsively at my sides, the urge to protect Nora battling with the knowledge that I’d only get in the doctors’ way. The baby is two weeks early, and I’ve never felt so fucking useless in my life. “Do you want me to get you anything?” Lucas asks quietly, and I realize he came up from the hallway to stand next to me. “Water, coffee… a shot of vodka?” His expression is uncharacteristically sympathetic. “I’m fine.” My voice is like a rasp of sandpaper over wood, and I clear my throat before continuing. “They said it’s not long now. That’s why they’ve tapered off the epidural.” Lucas nods. “Right. I’ve been reading up on it.” “Oh?” The bizarre statement—and momentary absence of screams from Nora— awakens a twinge of curiosity. “Are you and Yulia…?” “No, not yet, but Yulia’s been talking about it ever since the wedding.” He exhales audibly. “I was thinking it wouldn’t be so bad, but now that I’ve seen this —” “Julian!” Nora’s agonized cry cuts off whatever he was going to say next, and I forget about everything, all but leaping across the room in response to her call.

“Mr. Esguerra, please, you have to step back—” “She needs me,” I snarl at the doctor blocking my path. If he wasn’t the best obstetrician in the Swiss clinic, he’d already be dead. Shoving the idiot aside, I step forward to grip Nora’s trembling hand. Her palm is slippery with sweat, but her fingers curl around mine with startling strength, her knuckles turning white as her towering belly ripples with another contraction. Her small face is a twisted mask of pain, her eyes scrunched shut, and my chest heaves with helpless fury as another scream rips from her throat. I’d give anything to trade places with her, to take this pain from her, but I can’t, and the knowledge shreds me into pieces. “I’m here, baby.” My voice is hoarse, my free hand unsteady as I reach over to brush the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. “I’m here for you.” Nora opens her eyes, and my heart clenches as her gaze meets mine and she attempts a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she pants. “It’ll be fine. I just need to—” But before she finishes speaking, her face contorts again, and I hear the doctors yelling, telling her to push, to bear down. Nora’s hand tightens around mine with unbelievable force, her delicate fingers almost crushing the bones in my palm, and her whole body seems to go into a massive spasm, her head arching back with a scream that cuts me like a thousand knives. Her agony shatters me, ripping away all pretense at calm and reason. Red mist edges my vision, blood pounding loudly in my temples, and I know I won’t be able to bear this much longer. Holding Nora’s hand, I turn and roar at the doctors, “Fucking help her! Now!” But none of them are paying attention to me. All three doctors are clustered at the foot of the bed where a sheet is shielding Nora’s lower body from view. I see one of them bending and then… “There she is!” The doctor who blocked my path earlier straightens, holding something small, wriggling, and bloody. He turns away, working with quick, efficient movements, and in the next instant, an infant’s cry pierces the air. It’s weak and uncertain at first, but soon, it gains strength. The shock of that highpitched, demanding sound is like a percussive wave from an explosion, stunning me into paralysis. When I finally manage to turn my head to look at Nora, I realize that her hand is limp in mine, her features no longer contorted in agony. She’s crying instead, and laughing at the same time, and then she pulls her hand away and reaches for the baby the doctor is handing to her—the tiny, wriggling creature whose cries are growing in volume. “Oh my God, Julian,” she sobs as the doctor places the newborn into her arms and raises the bed to a half-sitting position. “Oh God, just look at her…” She

cradles it against her chest, her hospital gown falling open to reveal one pregnancy-swollen breast, and as I gape in mute shock, the little thing begins to root at the breast, its pink mouth opening and closing several times before it latches on to Nora’s nipple. No, not it. She. Our daughter. Nora and I have a daughter. One who’s nursing at her breast like a pro. My vision narrows, the sounds of the hospital fading away. A nuclear bomb could’ve gone off next to us, and I wouldn’t have noticed. All I see, all I’m aware of is my beautiful, precious pet, her tangled hair falling forward in a dark cloud as she leans over the nursing baby. Mesmerized, I step closer, trying to make out all the details, and my pulse takes on a strangely audible beat. It’s like I’m listening to someone else’s heartbeat through a stethoscope. Thu-thump. A tiny fist kneads the softness of Nora’s plump breast. Thu-thump. The little mouth works industriously, small cheeks hollowing out with every sucking motion. Thu-thump. The hair on the tiny head is dark and downy, as soft-looking as her lightly golden skin. “What color are her eyes?” I whisper when I can speak, and Nora lets out a shaky laugh, glancing up at me. “What color do you think?” Her face is glowing with tenderness. “Blue, like yours.” Like mine. The words sear through me. I don’t really care about the color of her eyes—many babies’ eyes change as they get older—but knowing that this tiny being is mine, that she’s my daughter, takes my breath away. My hand shakes as I reach forward and gently touch one tiny foot, my fingers shockingly huge next to the baby’s minuscule toes. It seems impossible that something so little can exist; she looks like a doll… a living, breathing human doll. My Nora in miniature, only infinitely more vulnerable and fragile. My chest constricts, and I yank my hand away, sudden irrational fear flooding my mind. Is it normal for a newborn to be so little? She is two weeks early. What if I hurt that tiny foot by touching it? Looking up, I pin the doctor with a deadly glare. “Is she—” “She’s healthy,” the doctor reassures me with a smile. “A little on the small side at two-point-seven kilograms, but perfectly normal.” “She is perfect,” Nora murmurs, gazing down at the baby with a love so consuming and absolute that my breath leaves my lungs again.

My wife. My child. My family. My vision blurs for a moment, my eyes stinging, and I have to blink to clear away the watery veil. I haven’t cried since I was a small child, but if I’m remembering the sensations correctly, this burning behind my eyes means I’m on the verge. “Come here,” Nora whispers, glancing up at me again, and I step closer, unable to help myself. Slowly, I lift my hand and stroke the baby’s head with one finger, everything inside me going still as the baby releases Nora’s nipple and blinks up at me. Nora had been right, I register in the split second before her tiny face scrunches up angrily. She does have blue eyes. Opening her mouth, my daughter lets out a bellow, and Nora laughs before helping the baby find her nipple again. Instantly, the little creature quiets, sucking industriously, and I lower my hand, staring at the wonder of it all. “What do you want to call her?” I ask in a hushed tone as the baby continues to feed. Because of Nora’s miscarriage three years ago, we agreed not to name the baby until she was actually here, but I suspect my pet has given it some thought on her own. Sure enough, Nora looks up at me and smiles. “How about Elizabeth?” A bittersweet ache squeezes my chest. “For Beth?” “For Beth,” Nora confirms. “But I think we can call her Liz—or Lizzy. Doesn’t she look like a Lizzy?” “She does.” I brush my fingers across the downy head. “She very much does.”

NORA AND THE BABY FALL ASLEEP, BOTH WORN OUT BY THEIR ORDEAL, AND I STEP OUT OF THE ROOM TO grab a bottle of water and stretch my legs. To my surprise, when I get to the end of the hallway, I see two blond heads bent together in the waiting area. Lucas’s wife—the Ukrainian girl who was involved in the crash—is with him. As I approach, Yulia glances in my direction. Instantly, she leaps to her feet, her pale face turning even whiter. Lucas gets to his feet as well, stepping protectively in front of her. I let out a sigh. I promised Lucas I won’t hurt her, but he still doesn’t trust me around her, even though Nora and I went to their wedding in Cyprus last year. I don’t blame him for his overprotectiveness—usually, the mere sight of the former

spy makes my blood pressure rise—but today, I’m not in the mood for conflict. I’m too overjoyed to care about anything but Nora and our daughter. Lizzy, I remind myself. Nora and Lizzy. My heart seizes. I have a daughter named Lizzy. “Congratulations,” Yulia says softly, gripping her husband’s arm, and I realize she’s talking to me. “Lucas and I are very happy for you.” To my surprise, I feel a weary smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks,” I say, and mean it. I’ll never forgive the girl for nearly killing me and endangering Nora as a result, but over the years, my fury at her has cooled to a tepid simmer. She makes Lucas happy, and Lucas makes me a lot of money on the new ventures, so I no longer fantasize about skinning her alive. “How is Nora?” Lucas asks, sliding his arm around Yulia’s slender waist and pulling her toward him. “She must be exhausted.” “She is. She fell asleep right after her video calls with her parents, Rosa, and Ana. They were all upset that they couldn’t make it here in time, but they understood that the baby had her own timeline.” Exhaling, I run a hand through my hair. “Nora is sleeping now, and so is Lizzy.” “Lizzy?” Yulia says, and I see her pretty face soften. “That’s a beautiful name.” “Thanks. We like it.” I love it, actually, but I’m not about to bond with Lucas’s wife over baby names. Tolerance—as in, not killing her on the spot—is as far as I’m willing to go. Turning my attention to Lucas, I say, “Thanks for flying out on such short notice and pulling the men off that Syria project. Things have been pretty quiet lately, but extra security never hurts.” Especially where my wife and daughter are concerned. I picture Lizzy in danger, and my insides turn to dry ice. I’m going to get the trackers on her as soon as the doctors allow it, and hire an extra dozen bodyguards to watch her at all times. If she so much as pricks her little finger, her security team will answer to me. “No problem,” Lucas says. “We were on our way to London anyway, for the opening of Yulia’s new restaurant. Michael is already waiting for us there.” Ah, so that’s why Yulia is here. I was wondering why Lucas brought her. If I recall correctly, this will be the fourth restaurant that Lucas’s wife lends her brand

and recipes to—an interesting business for a former spy. “Anyways,” Yulia says, giving me a wary look, “we didn’t mean to hold you up. You probably have to return to Nora and the baby.” “I do,” I say, not bothering to deny it. I’m still in a good mood, however, so I add, “If I don’t see you again, good luck on your opening.” And without waiting for a reply, I continue heading down the hallway.

I’M GIVING NORA A FOOT RUB—THE ONLY PHYSICAL CONTACT ALLOWED FOR NOW—WHEN THE NURSES bring the baby back for a feeding. Lizzy is screaming like a banshee, but the moment she’s placed in Nora’s arms, she goes quiet and begins to root for a nipple. I watch, mesmerized, as her tiny mouth finds its target, and she begins to suck. Nora croons to her, stroking her softly, and I just stare, unable to look away. My beautiful pet is a mother—the mother of my baby. I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel more possessive of Nora, but I do. She belongs to me on a whole different level now, and seeing her like this brings out emotions I never thought myself capable of feeling. It’s as if my whole life has been leading up to this—to my wife and child, to this terrifyingly incandescent joy. “Do you want to hold her?” Nora murmurs when the baby releases her nipple, and I freeze, all my muscles locking tight. I’ve faced terrorists and drug lords, dealt with generals and heads of state, and I’ve never been this intimidated. “Are you sure?” My voice comes out strained. “You don’t think I might hurt her?” “No.” Nora’s soft lips curve in a smile. “Here you go.” Carefully, she hands me the baby, and I do my best to hold her the way Nora did, settling her in the crook of my arm while supporting her little head with my hand. Lizzy is unbelievably light, a tiny, warm bundle of sweet-smelling baby, and as I watch, she blinks at me again and closes her eyes. “She’s sleeping,” I whisper in amazement. “Nora, she’s sleeping in my arms.” “I know,” Nora whispers, and I look up to see her smiling even as tears roll down her cheeks. “The two of you… God, I could’ve never imagined this.” “Me neither.” Careful not to jostle Lizzy, I clasp Nora’s delicate fingers in my free hand and bring them to my lips. Kissing her knuckles, I murmur, “I love you, baby, so much.”

Nora’s lips quiver in a smile. “And I love you, Julian.” We sit and watch our daughter sleeping, and I know it’s just the beginning. Our real story is about to unfold.

MIA & KORUM : THE COMPLETE KRINAR CHRONICLES TRILOGY

CLOSE LIAISONS THE KRINAR CHRONICLES: VOLUME 1

PROLOGUE FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“M r. President, they’re all waiting for you.” The President of the United States of America looked up wearily and shut the folder lying on his desk. He had slept poorly for the past week, his mind occupied by the deteriorating situation in the Middle East and the continued weakness in the economy. While no president had it easy, it seemed like his term had been marked by one impossible task after another, and the daily stress was beginning to affect his health. He made a mental note to get himself checked out by the doctor later this week. The country didn’t need a sick and exhausted president on top of all of its other woes. Getting up, the President exited the Oval Office and headed toward the Situation Room. He had been briefed earlier that NASA had detected something unusual. He’d hoped that it might be nothing more than a stray satellite, but that didn’t appear to be the case, given the urgency with which the National Security Advisor requested his presence. Entering the room, he greeted his advisors and sat down, waiting to hear what necessitated this meeting. The Secretary of Defense spoke first. “Mr. President, we have discovered something in Earth’s orbit that doesn’t belong there. We don’t know what it is, but we have reason to believe that it may be a threat.” He motioned toward the images displayed on one of the six flat screens lining the walls of the room. “As you can see, the object is large, bigger than any of our satellites, but it seems to have come out of nowhere. We didn’t see anything launching from any point on the globe, and we haven’t detected anything approaching Earth. It’s as though the object simply appeared here a few hours ago.” The screen showed several pictures of a dark blur set against a dark, starry

background. “What does NASA think it could be?” the President asked calmly, trying to analyze the possibilities. If the Chinese had come up with some new satellite technology, they would have already known about it, and the Russian space program was no longer what it used to be. The presence of the object simply didn’t make any sense. “They don’t know,” the National Security Advisor said. “It doesn’t look like anything they’ve ever seen before.” “NASA couldn’t even venture an educated guess?” “They know it’s not any kind of an astronomical body.” So it had to be man-made. Puzzled, the President stared at the images, refusing to even contemplate the outlandish idea that had just occurred to him. Turning to the Advisor, he asked, “Have we reached out to the Chinese? Do they know anything about this?” The Advisor opened his mouth, about to reply, when there was a sudden flash of bright light. Momentarily blinded, the President blinked to clear his vision—and froze in shock. In front of the screen that the President had just been looking at, there was now a man. Tall and muscular, he had black hair and dark eyes, and his olive skin contrasted with the white color of his outfit. He stood there calmly, relaxed, as though he had not just invaded the inner sanctum of the United States government. The Secret Service agents reacted first, shouting and firing at the intruder in panic. Before the President could think, he found himself pushed against the wall, with two agents forming a human shield in front of him. “There’s no need for that,” the intruder said, his voice deep and sonorous. “I don’t intend to hurt your president—and if I did, there’s nothing you can do about it.” He spoke in perfect American English, without even a hint of an accent. Despite the gunfire that had just been directed at him, he appeared to be completely uninjured, and the President could now see the bullets lying harmlessly on the floor in front of the man. Only years of handling one major crisis after another enabled the President to do what he did next. “Who are you?” he asked in a steady voice, ignoring the effects of terror and adrenaline rushing through his veins.

The intruder smiled. “My name is Arus. We’ve decided that it’s time for our species to meet.”

1

T he air was crisp and clear as Mia walked briskly down a winding path in Central Park. Signs of spring were everywhere, from tiny buds on still-bare trees to the proliferation of nannies out to enjoy the first warm day with their rambunctious charges. It was strange how much everything had changed in the last few years, and yet how much remained the same. If anyone had asked Mia ten years ago how she thought life might be after an alien invasion, this would have been nowhere near her imaginings. Independence Day, The War of the Worlds—none of these were even close to the reality of encountering a more advanced civilization. There had been no fight, no resistance of any kind on government level—because they had not allowed it. In hindsight, it was clear how silly those movies had been. Nuclear weapons, satellites, fighter jets—these were little more than rocks and sticks to an ancient civilization that could cross the universe faster than the speed of light. Spotting an empty bench near the lake, Mia gratefully headed for it, her shoulders feeling the strain of the backpack filled with her chunky twelve-year-old laptop and old-fashioned paper books. At twenty-one, she sometimes felt old, out of step with the fast-paced new world of razor-slim tablets and cell phones embedded in wristwatches. The pace of technological progress had not slowed since K-Day; if anything, many of the new gadgets had been influenced by what the Krinar had. Not that the Ks had shared any of their precious technology; as far as they were concerned, their little experiment had to continue uninterrupted. Unzipping her bag, Mia took out her old Mac. The thing was heavy and slow, but it worked—and as a starving college student, Mia could not afford anything better. Logging on, she opened a blank Word document and prepared to start the torturous process of writing her Sociology paper. Ten minutes and exactly zero words later, she stopped. Who was she kidding? If

she really wanted to write the damn thing, she would’ve never come to the park. As tempting as it was to pretend that she could enjoy the fresh air and be productive at the same time, those two had never been compatible in her experience. A musty old library was a much better setting for anything requiring that kind of brainpower exertion. Mentally kicking herself for her own laziness, Mia let out a sigh and started looking around instead. People-watching in New York never failed to amuse her. The tableau was a familiar one, with the requisite homeless person occupying a nearby bench—thank God it wasn’t the closest one to her, since he looked like he might smell very ripe—and two nannies chatting with each other in Spanish as they pushed their Bugaboos at a leisurely pace. A girl jogged on a path a little further ahead, her bright pink Reeboks contrasting nicely with her blue leggings. Mia’s gaze followed the jogger as she rounded the corner, envying her athleticism. Her own hectic schedule allowed her little time to exercise, and she doubted she could keep up with the girl for even a mile at this point. To the right, she could see the Bow Bridge over the lake. A man was leaning on the railing, looking out over the water. His face was turned away from Mia, so she could only see part of his profile. Nevertheless, something about him caught her attention. She wasn’t sure what it was. He was definitely tall and seemed well-built under the expensive-looking trench coat he was wearing, but that was only part of the story. Tall, good-looking men were common in model-infested New York City. No, it was something else. Perhaps it was the way he stood—very still, with no extra movements. His hair was dark and glossy under the bright afternoon sun, just long enough in the front to move slightly in the warm spring breeze. He also stood alone. That’s it, Mia realized. The normally popular and picturesque bridge was completely deserted, except for the man who was standing on it. Everyone appeared to be giving it a wide berth for some unknown reason. In fact, with the exception of herself and her potentially aromatic homeless neighbor, the entire row of benches in the highly desirable waterfront location was empty. As though sensing her gaze on him, the object of her attention slowly turned his head and looked directly at Mia. Before her conscious brain could even make the connection, she felt her blood turn to ice, leaving her paralyzed in place and helpless to do anything but stare at the predator who now seemed to be examining her with interest.

BREATHE, MIA, BREATHE. SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF HER MIND, A SMALL RATIONAL VOICE KEPT repeating those words. That same oddly objective part of her noted his symmetrical face structure, with golden skin stretched tightly over high cheekbones and a firm jaw. Pictures and videos of Ks that she’d seen had hardly done them justice. Standing no more than thirty feet away, the creature was simply stunning. As she continued staring at him, still frozen in place, he straightened and began walking toward her. Or rather stalking toward her, she thought stupidly, as his every movement reminded her of a jungle cat sinuously approaching a gazelle. All the while, his eyes never left hers. As he approached, she could make out individual yellow flecks in his light golden eyes and the thick long lashes surrounding them. She watched in horrified disbelief as he sat down on her bench, less than two feet away from her, and smiled, showing white even teeth. No fangs, she noted with some functioning part of her brain. Not even a hint of them. That used to be another myth about them, like their supposed abhorrence of the sun. “What’s your name?” The creature practically purred the question at her. His voice was low and smooth, completely unaccented. His nostrils flared slightly, as though inhaling her scent. “Um...” Mia swallowed nervously. “M-Mia.” “Mia,” he repeated slowly, seemingly savoring her name. “Mia what?” “Mia Stalis.” Oh crap, why did he want to know her name? Why was he here, talking to her? In general, what was he doing in Central Park, so far away from any of the K Centers? Breathe, Mia, breathe. “Relax, Mia Stalis.” His smile got wider, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. A dimple? Ks had dimples? “Have you never encountered one of us before?” “No, I haven’t.” Mia exhaled sharply, realizing that she was holding her breath. She was proud that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. Should she ask? Did she want to know? She gathered her courage. “What, um—” Another swallow. “What do you want from me?” “For now, conversation.” He looked like he was about to laugh at her, those gold eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. Strangely, that pissed her off enough to take the edge off her fear. If there was anything Mia hated, it was being laughed at. With her short, skinny stature and a

general lack of social skills that came from an awkward teenage phase involving every girl’s nightmare of braces, frizzy hair, and glasses, Mia had more than enough experience being the butt of someone’s joke. She lifted her chin belligerently. “Okay, then, what is your name?” “It’s Korum.” “Just Korum?” “We don’t really have last names, not the way you do. My full name is much longer, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it if I told you.” Okay, that was interesting. She now remembered reading something like that in The New York Times. So far, so good. Her legs had nearly stopped shaking, and her breathing was returning to normal. Maybe, just maybe, she would get out of this alive. This conversation business seemed safe enough, although the way he kept staring at her with those unblinking yellowish eyes was unnerving. She decided to keep him talking. “What are you doing here, Korum?” “I just told you, making conversation with you, Mia.” His voice again held a hint of laughter. Frustrated, Mia blew out her breath. “I meant, what are you doing here in Central Park? In New York City in general?” He smiled again, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Maybe I’m hoping to meet a pretty curly-haired girl.” Okay, enough was enough. He was clearly toying with her. Now that she could think a little again, she realized that they were in the middle of Central Park, in full view of about a gazillion spectators. She surreptitiously glanced around to confirm that. Yep, sure enough, although people were obviously steering clear of her bench and its otherworldly occupant, there were a number of brave souls staring their way from further up the path. A couple were even cautiously filming them with their wristwatch cameras. If the K tried anything with her, it would be on YouTube in the blink of an eye, and he had to know it. Of course, he may or may not care about that. Still, going on the assumption that since she’d never come across any videos of K assaults on college students in the middle of Central Park, she was relatively safe, Mia cautiously reached for her laptop and lifted it to stuff it back into her backpack. “Let me help you with that, Mia—”

And before she could blink, she felt him take her heavy laptop from her suddenly boneless fingers, gently brushing against her knuckles in the process. A sensation similar to a mild electric shock shot through Mia at his touch, leaving her nerve endings tingling in its wake. Reaching for her backpack, he carefully put away the laptop in a smooth, sinuous motion. “There you go, all better now.” Oh God, he had touched her. Maybe her theory about the safety of public locations was bogus. She felt her breathing speeding up again, and her heart rate was probably well into the anaerobic zone at this point. “I have to go now... Bye!” How she managed to squeeze out those words without hyperventilating, she would never know. Grabbing the strap of the backpack he’d just put down, she jumped to her feet, noting somewhere in the back of her mind that her earlier paralysis seemed to be gone. “Bye, Mia. I will see you later.” His softly mocking voice carried in the clear spring air as she took off, nearly running in her haste to get away.

2

“H oly

shit! Get out of here! Seriously? Tell me what happened, and don’t

leave out any details!” Her roommate was nearly jumping up and down in excitement. “I just told you... I met a K in the park.” Mia rubbed her temples, feeling the band of tension around her head left over from her earlier adrenaline overdose. “He sat down on the bench next to me and talked to me for a couple of minutes. Then I told him that I had to go and left.” “Just like that? What did he want?” “I don’t know. I asked him that, but he just said he wanted to talk.” “Yeah, right, and pigs can fly.” Jessie was as dismissive of that possibility as Mia herself had been. “No, seriously, he didn’t try to drink your blood or anything?” “No, he didn’t do anything.” Except briefly touch her hand. “He just asked me my name and told me his.” Jessie’s eyes now resembled big brown saucers. “He told you his name? What is it?” “Korum.” “Of course, Korum the K, makes perfect sense.” Jessie’s sense of humor often kicked in at the strangest times. They both snickered at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Did you know immediately that he was a K? How did he look?” Recovering, Jessie continued with her questions. “I did.” Mia thought back to that first moment she saw him. How did she know? Was it his eyes? Or something instinctual in her that knew a predator when she saw

one? “I think it maybe had to do with the way he moved. It’s difficult to describe. It’s definitely inhuman. He looked a lot like the Ks you’d see on TV—he was tall, good-looking in that particular way that they have, and had strange-looking eyes— they looked almost yellow.” “Wow, I can’t believe it.” Jessie was pacing the room in circles. “How did he talk to you? What did he sound like?” Mia let out a sigh. “Next time I get ambushed in the park by an extraterrestrial, I will be sure to have a recording device handy.” “Oh come on, like you wouldn’t be curious if you were in my shoes.” True, Jessie did have a point. Sighing again, Mia relayed the whole encounter to her roommate in full detail, leaving out only that brief moment when his hand brushed against hers. For some odd reason, that touch—and her reaction to it— seemed private. “So you told him ‘bye,’ and he said he will see you later? Oh my God, do you know what that means?” Far from satisfying Jessie, the detailed story seemed to send her into excitement overdrive. She was now almost bouncing off the walls. “No, what?” Mia felt weary and drained. It reminded her of the feeling after an interview or an exam, when all she wanted was to give her poor overworked brain a chance to unwind. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Jessie about the encounter until tomorrow, when she’d had a chance to relax a bit. “He wants to see you again!” “What? Why?” Mia’s tiredness suddenly vanished as adrenaline surged through her again. “It’s just a figure of speech! I’m sure he meant nothing by that—English is not even his first language! Why would he want to see me again?” “Well, you did say he thought you were pretty—” “No, I said that he said he was there to meet ‘a pretty curly-haired girl.’ He was just mocking me. I’m sure that was just his way of toying with me... He was probably just bored standing there, so he decided to come by and talk to me. Why would a K be interested in me?” Mia cast a disparaging glance in the mirror at her two-year-old Uggs, worn jeans, and a too-big sweater she got on sale at Century 21. “Mia, I told you, you’re constantly underestimating your appeal.” Jessie sounded earnest, the way she always did when trying to boost Mia’s self-confidence. “You look very cute, with that big mass of curly hair. Plus, you have really pretty eyes— very unusual, to have blue eyes with hair as dark as yours—”

“Oh, please, Jessie.” Mia rolled said eyes. “I’m sure cute doesn’t cut it if you’re a gorgeous K. Besides, you’re my friend—you have to say nice stuff to me.” As far as Mia was concerned, Jessie was the pretty one in the room. With her curvy athletic build, long black hair, and smooth golden skin, Jessie was every guy’s fantasy—particularly if they happened to like Asian girls. A former high school cheerleader, her roommate of the last three years also had the outgoing personality to match her looks. How the two of them had become such good friends will always remain a mystery to Mia, as her own social skills at the age of eighteen had been all but nonexistent. Thinking back to that time, Mia remembered how lost and overwhelmed she’d felt arriving in the big city after spending all her life in a small town in Florida. New York University was the best school she’d been accepted to, and her financial aid package ended up being generous, making her parents very happy. However, Mia herself had been far from excited about going to a big-city school with no real campus. Getting caught up in the competitive college application process, she’d applied to most of the top fifteen schools, only to face numerous rejections and inadequate financial aid offers. NYU had seemed like the best alternative all around. Local Florida schools had not even been considered by Mia’s parents at the time, as the rumor had been that the Ks might set up a Center in Florida and her parents wanted her far away from there if that happened. It hadn’t happened— Arizona and New Mexico ended up being the preferred K locales in the United States. However, by then it was too late. Mia had started her second semester at NYU, met Jessie, and slowly began to fall in love with New York City and everything it had to offer. It was funny how everything turned out. Only five years ago, most people thought they were the only intelligent beings in the universe. Sure, there had always been crackpots claiming UFO sightings, and there had even been things like SETI—serious, government-funded efforts to explore the possibility of extraterrestrial life. But people had no way of knowing whether any kind of life— even single-celled organisms—actually existed on other planets. As a result, most had believed that humans were special and unique, that homo sapiens were the pinnacle of evolutionary development. Now it all seemed so silly, like when people in the Middle Ages thought that the Earth was flat and that the moon and the stars revolved around it. When the Krinar arrived early in the second decade of the twenty-first century, they upended everything that scientists thought they knew about life and its origins. “I’m telling you, Mia, I think he must’ve liked you!” Jessie’s insistent voice

interrupted her musings. Sighing, Mia turned her attention back to her roommate. “I highly doubt it. Besides, what would he want from me even if he did? We’re two different species. The thought of him liking me is just plain scary... What would he want from me, my blood?” “Well, we don’t know that for a fact. That’s just a rumor. Officially, it’s never been announced that the Ks drink blood.” Jessie sounded hopeful for some weird reason. Maybe Mia’s social life was so bad in her roommate’s eyes that she was eager to have Mia date someone, anyone—same species optional. “It’s a rumor that many people believe. I’m sure there’s a reason for that. They’re vampires, Jessie. Perhaps not the Draculas of legend, but everyone knows they’re predators. That’s why they’ve set up their Centers in isolated areas... so they can do whatever they want there with none the wiser.” “All right, all right.” Her excitement waning, Jessie sat down on her bed. “You’re right, it would be very scary if he actually did intend to see you again. It’s just fun to pretend sometimes that they’re simply gorgeous humans from outer space, and not a completely different mystery species.” “I know. He was unbelievably good-looking.” The two girls exchanged understanding glances. “If only he were human...” “You’re too picky, Mia. I’ve always told you that.” Shaking her head in mock reproach, Jessie used her most serious tone of voice. Mia looked at her in disbelief, and they both burst out laughing.

THAT NIGHT, MIA SLEPT RESTLESSLY, HER MIND REPLAYING THE ENCOUNTER OVER AND OVER. AS SOON as she would drift off to sleep, she would see those mocking amber eyes and feel that electrifying touch on her skin. To her embarrassment, her unconscious mind took things even further, and Mia dreamed of him touching her hand. In her dream, his touch would send shivers through her entire body, warming her from within— then he would slide his hand up her arm, cupping her shoulder, and bring her toward him, mesmerizing her with his gaze as he leaned in for the kiss. Her heart racing, Mia would close her eyes and lean toward him, feeling his soft lips touch hers, sending waves of warm sensations throughout her body. Waking up, Mia felt her heart pounding in her chest and heat pooling slowly between her legs. It was 5 a.m. and she’d barely slept for the last five hours.

Dammit, why was a brief encounter with an alien having such an effect on her? Maybe Jessie was right, and she needed to get out more, meet some more guys. Over the past three years, under Jessie’s tutelage, Mia had shed a lot of her former shyness and awkwardness. For her high school graduation, her parents got her laser eye surgery, and her post-braces smile was nice and even. She now felt comfortable going to a party where she knew at least a few people, and she could even go out dancing after having a sufficient number of shots. But for some reason, the dating world still eluded her. The few dates she’d been on in recent months had been disappointing, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually kissed a guy. Maybe it was that nice kid from biology last year? For some reason, Mia had never clicked with any of the men she’d met, and it was becoming embarrassing to admit that she was still a virgin at twenty-one years of age. Thankfully, she and Jessie no longer shared a room, having found a flex onebedroom that could be converted into a two-bedroom apartment for a reasonable (for NYC) rate of only $2,380. Having her own room meant a degree of freedom and privacy that was very nice in situations like this. Turning on her bedside lamp, Mia looked around the room, making sure that the door to her bedroom was fully closed. Reaching into her bedside drawer, she took out a small package that was normally hidden all the way in the back of the drawer behind her face cream, hand lotion, and a bottle of Advil. Carefully unwrapping the bundle, she took out the tiny rabbit-ears vibrator that had been a gag gift from her older sister. Marisa had given it to her for high school graduation with the joking admonition to use it whenever she “felt the urge” and “to stay away from those horny college boys in the big city.” Mia had blushed and laughed at the time, but the thing had actually proven handy. At certain times in the dark of the night, when her loneliness became more acute, Mia played with the device, gradually exploring her body and learning what a real orgasm felt like. Pressing the small object to the sensitive nub between her legs, Mia closed her eyes and relived the sensations brought on by her dream. Gradually increasing the speed of vibration on the toy, she let her imagination soar, picturing the K’s hands on her body and his lips kissing her, stroking her, touching her in sensitive and forbidden places, until the ball of tension deep within her belly got even tighter and exploded, sending tingly warmth all the way to her toes.

THE NEXT MORNING, MIA WOKE UP TO A GREY AND OVERCAST SKY. REACHING FOR THE PHONE TO CHECK the weather, she groaned. Ninety percent chance of rain with temperature in the

mid-forties. Just what she needed when her Sociology paper awaited. Oh well, maybe she would make it to the library before the rain started. Jumping out of bed, she pulled on her comfiest pair of sweats, a long-sleeved Tshirt, and a big hooded sweater she got on a high-school trip to Europe. It was her studying/paper-writing outfit, and it looked just as ugly today as it had the first time she’d worn it while cramming for her algebra test in tenth grade. The clothes fit her about the same now too, as she seemed to have developed a disgusting inability to gain inches either in girth or height since the age of fourteen. Hastily brushing her teeth and washing her face, Mia stared critically in the mirror. A pale, slightly freckled face looked back at her. Her eyes were probably her best feature, an unusual shade of blue-grey that contrasted nicely with her dark hair. Her hair, on the other hand, was a whole different animal. If she spent an hour carefully blowdrying it with a diffuser, then she could maybe get her corkscrew curls to resemble something civilized. Her normal routine of going to sleep with it wet, however, was not conducive to anything but the frizzy mess she had on her head right now. Letting out a deep sigh, she ruthlessly pulled it back into a thick ponytail. Some day soon, when she had a real job, she might go to one of those expensive salons and try to get a straightening treatment. For now, since she didn’t have an hour each morning to waste on her hair, Mia figured she just had to live with it. Library time. Grabbing her backpack and her laptop, Mia pulled on her Uggs and headed out of the apartment. Five flights of stairs later, she exited her building, paying little attention to the peeling paint on the walls and the occasional cockroach that liked to live near the garbage chute. Such was student life in NYC, and Mia was one of the lucky ones to have a semi-affordable apartment so close to campus. Real estate prices in Manhattan were as high as they’d ever been. In the first couple of years after the invasion, apartment prices in New York had cratered, just as they had in all the major cities around the world. With the hokey invasion movies still ruling the public’s imagination, most people figured that cities would be unsafe and departed for rural areas if they could. Families with children— already a rare commodity in Manhattan—left the city in droves, heading for the most remote areas they could find. The Ks had encouraged the migration, as it relieved the worst of the pollution in and around urban areas. Of course, people soon realized their folly, since the Ks wanted nothing to do with the major human cities and instead chose to build their Centers in warm, sparsely populated areas around the globe. Manhattan prices skyrocketed again, with a few lucky people

making fortunes on the real estate bargains they’d picked up in the crash. Now, more than five years after K-Day—as the first day of the Krinar invasion came to be called—New York City rents were again testing record highs. Lucky me, Mia thought with mild irritation. If she had been a couple of years older, she could’ve rented her current apartment for less than half the price. Of course, there was something to be said for graduating next year, instead of in the depths of the Great Panic—the dark months after Earth first faced the invaders. Stopping by the local deli, Mia ordered a lightly toasted bagel (whole-grain, of course, the only kind available) with an avocado-tomato spread. Sighing, she remembered the delicious omelets her mom used to make, with crumbled bacon, mushrooms, and cheese. Nowadays, mushroom was the only ingredient on that list that was in any way affordable for a college student. Meat, fish, eggs, and dairy were premium products, available only as an occasional treat—the way foie gras and caviar used to be. That was one of the main changes that the Krinar had implemented. Having decided that the typical developed-world diet of the early twenty-first century was harmful both to humans and their environment, they shut down the major industrial farms, forcing meat and dairy producers to switch to growing fruits and vegetables. Only small farmers were left in peace and allowed to grow a few farm animals for special occasions. Environmental and animal-rights organizations had been ecstatic, and obesity rates in America were quickly approaching Vietnam’s. Of course, the fallout had been huge, with numerous companies going out of business and food shortages during the Great Panic. And later on, when the Krinar’s vampiric tendencies were discovered (though still not officially proven), the Far Right activists had claimed that the real reason for the forced change in diet was that it made the human blood taste sweeter to the Ks. Be that as it may, the majority of the food that was available and affordable now was disgustingly healthy. “Umbrella, umbrella, umbrella!” A scruffy-looking man stood on the corner, hawking his wares in a strong Middle Eastern accent. “Five-dollar umbrella!” Sure enough, less than a minute later, a light drizzle began. For the umpteenth time, Mia wondered if the street umbrella vendors had some kind of sixth sense about rain. They always seemed to appear right before the first drop fell, even if there was no rain in the forecast. As tempting as it was to buy an umbrella to stay dry, Mia only had a few blocks left to go and the rain was too light to justify an unnecessary expenditure of five dollars. She could’ve brought her old umbrella from home, but carrying an extra object was never high on her list of priorities. Walking as fast as she could while lugging her heavy bag, Mia turned the corner

on West 4th Street, with the Bobst Library already in sight, when the downpour began. Crap, she should’ve bought that umbrella! Mentally kicking herself, Mia broke into a run—or rather a jog, given the backpack weighing her down—as raindrops pelted her face with the force of water bullets. Her hair somehow managed to escape from the ponytail, and was in her face, blocking her vision. A bunch of people rushed past her, hurrying to get out of the rain, and Mia was pushed a few times by pedestrians blinded by the combination of heavy rain and umbrellas held by more fortunate souls. At times like this, being 5’3” and barely a hundred pounds was a severe disadvantage. A big man brushed past her, his elbow bumping into her shoulder, and Mia stumbled, her foot catching on a crack in the sidewalk. Pitching forward, she managed to catch herself with her hands on wet pavement, sliding a few inches on the rough surface. All of a sudden, strong hands lifted her from the ground, as though she weighed nothing, standing her upright under a large umbrella that the man held over both of their heads. Feeling like a dirty, drowned rat, Mia tried to brush her sodden hair off her face with the back of one scraped hand, while blinking the remnants of rain out of her eyes. Her nose decided to add to her humiliation, choosing that particular moment to let loose with an uncontrollable sneeze all over her rescuer. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Mia frantically apologized in utter mortification. Her vision still blurry from the water running down her face, she desperately tried to wipe her nose with a wet sleeve to prevent another sneeze. “So sorry, I didn’t mean to sneeze on you like that!” “No apologies necessary, Mia. Obviously, you got cold and wet. And injured. Let me see your hands.” This could not be happening. Her discomfort forgotten, all Mia could do was stare in disbelief as Korum carefully lifted her wrists palms-up and examined her scrapes. His large hands were unbelievably gentle on her skin, even as they held her in an inescapable grip. Although she was soaked to the skin in chilly mid-April weather, Mia felt like she was about to burst into flames, his touch sending a wave of heat rushing through her body. “You should get those injuries treated immediately. They could scar if you’re not careful. Here, come with me, and we’ll get them taken care of.” Releasing her wrists, Korum put a proprietary arm around her waist and began shepherding her back toward Broadway. “Wait, what—” Mia tried to recover her wits. “What are you doing here? Where

are you leading me?” The full danger of the situation was just now beginning to hit home, and she began to shiver from a combination of cold and fear. “You’re obviously freezing. I’m getting you out of this rain, and then we’ll talk.” His tone brooked no disagreement. Desperately looking around, all Mia saw were people rushing to get out of the pouring rain, not paying any attention to their surroundings. In weather like this, a murder in the middle of the street was likely to go unnoticed, much less the struggles of one small girl. Korum’s arm was like a steel band around her waist, completely unmovable, and Mia found herself helplessly going along in whichever direction he was leading her. “Wait, please, I really can’t go with you,” Mia protested shakily. Grasping at straws, she blurted out, “I have a paper to write!” “Oh really? And you’re going to write it in this condition?” His tone dripping with sarcasm, Korum gave her a disparaging once-over, lingering on her dripping hair and scraped hands. “You’re hurt, and you’re probably going to catch pneumonia—with that puny immune system you’ve got.” As before, he somehow managed to get a rise out of her. How dare he call her puny! Mia saw red. “Excuse me, my immune system is just fine! Nobody catches pneumonia from getting stuck in the rain these days! Besides, what concern is it of yours? What are you doing here, stalking me?” “That’s right.” His reply was smooth and completely nonchalant. Her temper immediately cooling, Mia felt tendrils of fear snaking through her again. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry throat, she could only croak out one word. “W-Why?” “Ah, here we are.” A black limo was sitting at the intersection of West 4th and Broadway. At their approach, the automatic doors slid open, revealing a plush cream-colored interior. Mia’s heart jumped into her throat. No way was she getting into a strange car with a K who admitted to stalking her. She dug in her heels and prepared to scream. “Mia. Get. In. The. Car.” His words lashed at her like a whip. He looked angry, his eyes getting more yellow by the second. His normally sensuous-looking mouth appeared cruel all of a sudden, set in an uncompromising line. “Do NOT make me repeat myself.” Shaking like a leaf, Mia obeyed. Oh God, she just wanted to survive this,

whatever the K had in store for her. Every horror story she’d ever heard about the invaders was suddenly fresh in her mind, every image from the gruesome fights during the Great Panic. She stifled a sob, watching as Korum got in the limo and closed the umbrella. The car doors slid shut. Korum pressed the intercom button. “Roger, please take us to my place.” He looked much calmer now, eyes back to the original golden brown. “Yes, sir.” The driver’s reply came from behind the partition that fully blocked him from view. Roger? That was a human name, Mia thought in desperation. Maybe he could help her, call the police on her behalf or something. Then again, what could the police do? It’s not like they could arrest a K. As far as Mia knew, they were above the reach of human law. He could pretty much do anything he wanted with her, and there was no one to stop him. Mia felt tears running down her rain-wet face as she thought about her parents’ grief when they found out that their daughter was missing. “What? Are you crying?” Korum’s voice held a note of incredulity. “What are you, five?” He reached for her, his fingers locking around her upper arms, and pulled her closer to stare into her face. At his touch, Mia started shaking even harder, gasping sobs breaking out of her throat. “Hush, now. There’s no need for that. Shhh...” Mia suddenly found herself cradled fully on his lap, her face pressed against a broad chest. Still sobbing, she vaguely registered a pleasant scent of freshly laundered clothing and warm male skin, as his hand moved in soothing circles on her back. He really was treating her like a five-year-old crying over a boo-boo, she thought semi-hysterically. Strangely enough, the treatment was working. Mia felt her fear ebbing as he held her gently in those powerful arms, only to be replaced by a growing sense of awareness and a warm sensation somewhere deep inside. Adrenaline amplified attraction, she realized with a peculiar detachment, remembering a study on the subject from one of her psychology classes. Still ensconced on his lap, she managed to pull away enough to look up at his face. Up close, his appearance was even more striking. His skin, a warm golden hue that was a couple of shades darker than her roommate’s, was flawless and seemed to glow with perfect health. Thick black lashes surrounded those incredible lightcolored eyes—which were framed by the straight dark slashes of his eyebrows. “Are you going to hurt me?” The question escaped her before she could think any better of it.

Her kidnapper let out a surprisingly human-like sigh, sounding exasperated. “Mia, listen to me, I mean you no harm... Okay?” He looked straight into her eyes, and Mia couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the yellow flecks in his irises. “All I wanted was to get you out of the rain and to treat your injuries. I’m taking you to my place because it’s nearby, and I can provide you with both medical assistance and a change of clothes there. I really didn’t mean to scare you, much less get you into this kind of state.” “But you said... you said you were stalking me!” Mia stared at him in confusion. “Yes. Because I found you interesting at the park and wanted to see you again. Not because I want to hurt you.” He was now rubbing her upper arms with a gentle up-and-down motion, as though soothing a skittish horse. At his admission, a wave of heat surged through her body. Did that mean he was attracted to her? Her heart rate picked up again, this time for a different reason. There was something else she needed to understand. “You forced me to get into the car...” “Only because you were being stubborn and refusing to listen to common sense. You were wet and cold. I didn’t want to waste time arguing in the rain when a warm car was standing right there.” Put like that, his actions sounded downright humanitarian. “Here.” Pulling a tissue from somewhere, he carefully blotted the remaining tears on her face and gave her another tissue to wipe her nose, watching with some amusement as she tried to blow into it as delicately as possible. “Feeling better now?” Strangely enough, she was. He could be lying to her, but what would be the point? He could do anything he wanted with her anyway, so why waste time trying to soothe her fears? Her earlier terror gone, Mia suddenly felt exhausted from her emotional roller coaster. As though sensing her state, Korum gathered her closer to him, pressing her face gently against his chest again. Mia did not object. Somehow, sitting there on his lap, inhaling his warm scent and feeling the heat of his body surrounding her, Mia felt better than she had in a long time.

3

“H ere we are. Welcome to my humble abode.” Mia stared around in amazement, her gaze lingering on floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the Hudson, gleaming wooden floors, and luxurious cream-colored furnishings. A few pieces of modern art on the walls and lusciouslooking plants near the windows provided tasteful touches of color. It was the most beautiful apartment she had ever seen. And it looked completely human. “You live here?” she asked in astonishment. “Only when I come to New York.” Korum was hanging his trench coat in the closet by the door. It was such a simple, mundane action, but somehow his movements were just too fluid to be fully human. He was now clad only in a blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans. The clothes hugged his lean, powerful body to perfection. Mia swallowed, realizing that her incredible surroundings paled next to the gorgeous creature who was apparently occupying them. How could he afford this place? Were all the Ks rich? When the limo had pulled into the parking garage at the newest luxury high-rise in TriBeCa, Mia had been shocked to find herself escorted to a private elevator that took them directly to the penthouse floor. The apartment looked huge, particularly by Manhattan standards. Did it occupy the entire top floor of the building? “Yes, the apartment is the whole floor.” Mia blushed, just realizing that she had asked the question out loud. “Umm... it’s a beautiful place you’ve got here.” “Thank you. Here, sit down.” He led her to a plush leather couch—creamcolored, of course. “Let me see your hands.”

Mia hesitantly extended her palms, wondering what he intended to do. Use his blood to heal them, the way vampires from popular fiction used to do? Instead of cutting his palm or doing anything vampiric, Korum brought a thin silvery object toward her right palm. The size and thickness of an old-fashioned plastic credit card, the thing looked completely innocuous. That is, until it began to emit a soft red light directly over her hand. There was no pain, just a pleasant, warm sensation where the light touched her damaged skin. As Mia watched, her scrapes began to fade and disappear, like pencil marks getting erased. Within a span of two minutes, her palm was completely healed, as though there had been nothing there to begin with. Mia tentatively touched the area with her fingers. No pain whatsoever. “Wow. That is amazing.” Mia exhaled sharply, releasing a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Of course, she had known that the Ks were far more technologically advanced, but seeing what amounted to a miracle with her own eyes was still shocking. Korum repeated the process on her other hand. Both of her palms were now completely healed, with no trace of an injury. “Uh... thank you for that.” Mia didn’t really know what to say. Was this a K version of offering a Band-Aid, or did he just perform some kind of a complicated medical procedure on her? Should she offer to pay him? And if he said yes, would he accept student health insurance? Snap out of it, Mia! You’re being ridiculous! “You’re welcome,” he said softly, still lightly holding her left hand. “Now let’s get you changed out of your wet clothes.” Mia’s head jerked up in horrified disbelief. Surely he couldn’t mean to— Before she even had a chance to say anything, Korum blew out an exasperated breath. “Mia, when I said that I don’t intend to harm you, I meant it. My definition of harm includes rape, in case you think we have some cultural differences there. So you can relax, and stop jumping at every word I say.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply...” Mia wished the ground would open up and simply swallow her. Of course, he wouldn’t rape her. He probably wasn’t even interested in her that way. Why would he want some skinny, pale little human when he could have any of the gorgeous K females she’d seen on TV? He’d never said he was attracted to her—just that he found her “interesting.” For all she knew, he could be a K scientist studying the New York breed of humans—and he had just found a curly-haired lab rat.

Letting out another sigh, Korum rose gracefully from the couch, his every move imbued with inhuman athleticism. “Here, come with me.” Still feeling embarrassed, Mia barely paid attention to her surroundings as he led her down the hall. However, she couldn’t help but gasp at the first sight of the enormous bathroom that lay before her. The glass shower enclosure was bigger than her entire bathroom back home, and a large elevated jacuzzi occupied the center of the room. The entire bathroom was done in shades of ivory and grey, an unusual combination that nonetheless paired well in this luxurious environment. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling mirrors, further adding to the spacious feel. There were plants here too, she noticed with bemusement. Two exotic-looking plants with dark red leaves seemed to be thriving in the corners, apparently getting enough sunlight from the large skylight in the ceiling. “This is for you.” Korum slid open part of the glass wall and took out a large ivory towel and a soft-looking thick grey robe. “You can take a hot shower and change into this, and then I will throw your clothes in the dryer.” With a nod and a murmured thank-you, Mia accepted the two items, watching as Korum exited the room and closed the door behind him. A sense of unreality gripped her as she stared at the cutting-edge luxury all around her. This could not be happening to her. Could this be a really vivid dream? Surely Mia Stalis, from Ormond Beach, Florida, was not standing here in a bathroom fit for a king, having been told to take a hot shower by a K who had practically kidnapped her in order to heal her insignificant scratches with an alien magic device. Maybe if she blinked a few times, she would wake up back in her cramped room at the apartment she shared with Jessie. To test that theory, Mia shut her eyes tightly and opened them again. Nope, she was still standing there, feeling the plush towel and robe heavy in her arms. If this was a dream, then it was the most realistic dream she’d ever had. She might as well take that shower—now that the excitement was starting to wear off a bit, she felt the chill from her damp clothes sinking deep into her bones. Putting down her burden on the edge of the tall jacuzzi tub, Mia walked to the door and locked it. Of course, if Korum really wanted to get in, it was doubtful that the flimsy lock would keep him out. The incredible strength of the Krinar was discovered in the first few weeks after the invasion, when some guerrilla fighters in the Middle East ambushed a small group of Ks in violation of the recently signed Coexistence Treaty. Video footage of the event, recorded by some bystander on his

iPhone, showed scenes straight out of a horror science fiction movie. The band of thirty-plus Saudis, armed with grenades and automatic assault rifles, had stood no chance against the six unarmed Ks. Even wounded, the aliens moved at a speed exceeding that of all known living creatures on Earth, literally tearing apart their attackers with bare hands. One particularly dramatic scene showed a K throwing two screaming men—each with one hand—high up into the air. The exact height of the throw was later determined to be about sixty feet. Needless to say, the men had not survived their descent. The sheer savagery of that fight—and some subsequent encounters during the days of the Great Panic—stunned the human population, lending credence to the rumors of vampirism that emerged some months later. For all their advances in technology and seeming eco-consciousness, the Ks could be as brutal and violent as any vampire of legend. And here she was stuck with one. Who wanted to heal her negligible scratches and have her take a hot shower in his fancy penthouse. And put her clothes in his dryer. A hysterical giggle escaped Mia at the thought. Of course, he might like his snacks clean and sweet-smelling, but somehow Mia believed him when he said he didn’t want to hurt her. Besides, there was very little she could do about her current situation—she might as well stop freaking out and take advantage of the most luxurious shower of her life. Peeling off her wet clothes, Mia caught sight of herself in the mirror. Why was he interested in her? Sure, she was skinny, which was still in vogue, but he probably had the most beautiful women of both species fawning over him. Standing there naked, Mia tried to look at herself objectively and not through the eyes of a self-conscious teenager. The mirror reflected a thin young woman, with small, but nicely rounded breasts, slim hips, and a narrow waist. Her butt was reasonably curvy, considering the rest of her frame. Naked, she didn’t look like the shapeless stick figure she always felt like in her baggy clothes. If she were taller, she might even think she had a nice figure. However, her skin was way too pale and the dark mess of curls framing her face was much too frizzy for her to ever be considered more than moderately cute or passably pretty. Sighing, Mia stepped into the shower. After a brief battle with the touchscreen controls, she figured out how to work them and was soon enjoying warm water coming at her from five different directions. She even used his soap, which had a very faint but pleasing scent of something tropical. Ten minutes later, Mia regretfully turned off the water and stepped out onto a

thick ivory bath rug. She dried herself with the towel Korum had so graciously provided, wrapped it around her wet hair, and put on the robe—which was, to her surprise, only a little big on her. It had to be a woman’s robe, she realized with an unpleasant pang of something that felt oddly like jealousy. Don’t be silly, Mia, of course he has female guests! A creature that gorgeous would hardly be celibate. He might even have a girlfriend or a wife. Mia swallowed to get rid of an obstruction in her throat that seemed to rise up at that thought. Stop it, Mia! She had no idea what he wanted from her, and she had absolutely no reason to feel like this about an alien from outer space who may or may not drink human blood. Padding to the door in her bare feet, Mia picked up her discarded clothes from the floor. They felt wet and yucky in her hands, and she was glad she was no longer wearing them. Carefully opening the door, she peeked out into the hallway, spotting a soft-looking pair of grey house slippers that Korum apparently left for her. No sign of Korum himself. Putting on the slippers, Mia left the bathroom and headed to the left, hoping that she was going back toward the living room. The last thing she wanted was to stumble into his bedroom, even though that thought made her feel warm and flushed all over. He was sitting on the couch, looking at something in his palm. Sensing her presence, he lifted his head, and a luminous smile slowly lit his face at the sight of her standing there in the too-big robe and turban-like towel on her head. “You look adorable in that.” His voice was low and somehow intimate, even from across the room, making her insides clench in a strangely sexual way. Oh God, what did he mean by that? Was he actually interested in her? Mia was sure she had just turned beet-red as her heart rate suddenly picked up. “Ah, thanks,” she mumbled, unable to think of a better response. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes turn an even deeper shade of gold? “Here, let me have those.” Before she had a chance to recover her composure, he was next to her, taking her wet clothes from her slightly shaky arms. “Have a seat, and I’ll drop these in the dryer.” With that, he disappeared down the hall. Mia stared after him, wondering if she should be worried. He said he wasn’t going to hurt her, but would he take no for an answer if he really was interested in her sexually? More importantly, would she be

able to say no, given her response to him thus far? She’d heard of humans having sex with Ks, so their species were definitely compatible in that way. In fact, there were even websites where people who wanted to have sex with Ks posted ads designed to attract them. Some of the ads must have garnered responses, since the websites stayed in business. Mia always used to think that these xenos—short for xenophiles, a derogatory term for K addicts—were crazy. Sure, most of the invaders tended to be very good-looking, but they were so far from being human that one might as well have sex with a gorilla; there were fewer differences between gorilla and human DNA than between human and Krinar. Yet here she was, apparently very attracted to one particular K. A minute later, Korum returned empty-handed, interrupting Mia’s chain of thought. “The clothes are drying,” he announced. “Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat in the meanwhile.” Ks could cook? Mia suddenly realized that she was, in fact, famished. With all the excitement of the past hour, her bagel breakfast seemed like a very long time ago. Cooking and eating also seemed like a very innocuous way to pass the time. “Sure, that sounds great. Thank you.” “Okay, come with me to the kitchen, and I’ll make something.” With that promise, he walked over to a door she hadn’t noticed before and slid it open, revealing a large kitchen. Like the rest of the penthouse, it was striking. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, black and ivory marble floors, and black enameled lava countertops populated the space, for an almost futuristic look. Some kind of big-leafed plants in silvery pots hung from the ceiling near the windows, seeming very much at home in an otherwise sterile-looking environment. “How do you feel about a salad and a roasted veggie sandwich?” Korum was already opening the refrigerator, which looked like the latest version of the iZero— a smart fridge jointly created by Apple and Sub-Zero a couple of years ago. “That sounds great, thanks,” Mia answered absentmindedly, still studying her surroundings. Something was nagging at her, some obvious question that begged an answer. Suddenly, it hit her. “Your home only has our technology in it,” Mia blurted out. “Well, except for the little healing tool you used on me. All of these appliances, all of our technology

—it must seem so primitive to you. Why do you use it instead of whatever you guys have instead?” Korum grinned, revealing the dimple in his left cheek again, and walked over to the sink to rinse the lettuce. “I enjoy experiencing different things. A lot of your technology is really so ingenious, considering your limitations. And, to use one of your sayings, when in Rome...” “So you’re basically slumming,” Mia concluded. “Living with the primitives, using their basic tools—” “If you want to think of it that way.” He started chopping the veggies, his hands moving faster than any professional chef’s. Mia stared at him in fascination, struck by the incongruity of a creature from outer space making a salad. All of his movements were fluid and elegant—and somehow very inhuman. “What do you normally eat on Krina?” she asked, suddenly very curious. “Is your diet very different from ours?” He looked up from the chopping and smiled at her. “It’s different in some ways, but very similar in other ways. We’re omnivorous like you, but lean even more toward plant foods in our diet. There’s a huge variety of edible plants on Krina— more so than here on Earth. Some of our plants are very dense in calories and rich in flavor, so we never quite developed the taste for meat that humans seem to have acquired recently.” Mia blinked, surprised. There was something predatory in the way he moved— the way all Ks moved. Their speed and strength, as well as the violent streak they’d displayed, did not make sense for a primarily herbivorous species. So there must be something to the vampire rumors after all. If they didn’t hunt animals for their meat, then how had they evolved all these hunter-like traits? She wanted to ask him that, but had a feeling that she might not want to know the answer. If his species really did view humans as prey, it was probably best not to remind him about it when she was alone with him in his lair. Mia decided to stick with something safer instead. “So is that why you guys emphasize plant foods so much for us? Because you like it yourselves?” He shook his head, continuing to chop. “Not really. Our main concern was the abuse of your planet’s resources. Your unhealthy addiction to animal products was destroying the environment at a much faster rate than anything else you were doing, and that was not something we wanted to see.”

Mia shrugged, not being particularly environmentally conscious herself. Since he was being so accommodating, though, she decided to resume her earlier line of questioning. “Is that why you’re here in New York, to experience something different?” “Among other reasons.” He turned on the oven and placed sliced zucchini, eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes on a tray inside. How frustrating. He was being evasive, and Mia didn’t like it one bit. She decided to change her approach. “What brings you to Earth in general? Are you one of the soldiers, or the scientists, or do you do something else...” Her voice trailed off suggestively. “Why, Mia, are you asking me about my occupation?” He sounded like he was again laughing at her. Predictably, Mia felt her hackles rising. “Why, yes, I am. Is that classified information?” He threw back his head and burst out laughing. “Only for curious little girls.” Mia stared back at him with a stony expression on her face. Still chuckling, he revealed, “I’m an engineer by profession. My company designed the ships that brought us here.” “The ships that brought you here? But I thought the Krinar had been visiting Earth for thousands of years before you formally came here?” That had been one of the most striking revelations about the invaders—the fact that they’d been observing humans and living among them long before K-Day. He nodded, still smiling. “That’s true. We’ve been able to visit you for a long time. However, traveling to Earth had always been a dangerous task—as was space travel in general—so only a few intrepid individuals would attempt it at any given time. It’s only in the past few hundred years that we fully perfected the technology for faster-than-light travel, and my company succeeded in building ships that could safely transport thousands of civilians to this part of the universe.” That was interesting. She’d never heard this before. Was he telling her something that wasn’t public knowledge? Encouraged and unbearably curious, Mia continued with her questions. “So have you been to Earth before K-Day?” she asked, staring at him in wide-eyed fascination. He shrugged—a human gesture that was apparently used by the Ks as well. “A couple of times.” “Is it true that all our UFO sightings are based on actual interactions with the

Krinar?” He grinned. “No, that was mostly weather balloons and your own governments testing classified aircraft. Less than one percent of those sightings could actually be attributed to us.” “And the Greek and Roman myths?” Mia had read recent speculation that the Krinar may have been worshipped as deities in antiquity, giving rise to the Greek and Roman polytheistic religions. Of course, even today, some religious groups had embraced the Ks as the true creators of humankind, spawning an entirely new movement dedicated to venerating and emulating the invaders. The Krinarians, as these K-worshippers were known, sought every opportunity to interact with the beings they viewed as real-life gods, believing it increased their odds of reincarnating as a K. The Big Three—Christianity, Islam, and Judaism—had reacted very differently, refusing to accept that Ks were in any way responsible for the origin of life on Earth. Some more extreme religious factions had even declared the Krinar to be demons and claimed that their arrival was part of the end-of-days prophecy. Most people, however, had accepted the aliens for what they were—an ancient, highly advanced species that had sent DNA from Krina to Earth, thus starting life on this planet. “Those were based on the Krinar,” confirmed Korum. “A few thousand years ago, a small group of our scientists, sent here to study and observe, became overly involved in human affairs—to the point that they overstayed their mission by a few hundred years. They ultimately had to be forcibly returned to Krina when it became obvious that they were purposefully preying on human ignorance.” Before Mia had a chance to digest that information, the oven let out a little beep signifying the food’s readiness. “Ah, here we go.” He took out the roasted veggies and dropped them into a marinade he’d managed to whip up during their conversation. Placing a large salad in the middle of the table, he picked up a sizable portion and deposited it on Mia’s plate. “We can start with this while the veggies are marinating.” Mia dug into her salad, holding back an inappropriate giggle at the thought that she was literally eating food of the gods —or at least food that had been prepared by someone who would’ve been worshipped as a god a couple of thousand years ago. The salad was delicious—crispy lettuce, creamy avocado, crunchy peppers, and sweet tomatoes were combined with some type of tangy lemony dressing that was mildly spicy. She was either super-hungry, or it was the best salad she’d had in a long time. In the past few years, she’d learned to tolerate salad out of necessity, but

this kind of salad she could actually grow to like. “Thank you, this is delicious,” she mumbled around a mouthful of salad. “You’re welcome.” He was digging in as well, with obvious enjoyment. For a little while, there was only the sound of them munching on the salad in companionable silence. After finishing his portion—he even ate faster than normal, Mia noticed—Korum got up to make the sandwiches. Two minutes later, a beautifully made sandwich was sitting in front of Mia. The dark crusty bread appeared to be freshly baked, and the veggies looked tender and were seasoned with some kind of orange spices. Mia picked up her portion and bit into it, nearly stifling a moan of enjoyment. It tasted even better than it looked. “This is great. Where did you learn to cook like this?” Mia inquired with curiosity after swallowing her fifth bite. He shrugged, finishing up his own larger sandwich. “I enjoy making things. Cooking is just one manifestation of that. I also like to eat, so it’s helpful to know how to make good food.” That made sense to her. Mia ate the last bite of her sandwich and licked her finger to get the remainder of the delicious marinade. Lifting her head, she suddenly froze at the look on Korum’s face. He was staring at her mouth with what looked like raw hunger, his eyes turning more golden by the second. “Do that again,” he ordered softly, his voice a dark purr from across the table. Mia’s heart skipped a beat. The atmosphere had suddenly turned heavy and intensely sexual, and she had no idea how to deal with it. The full vulnerability of her situation dawned on her. She was completely naked underneath the thick robe. All he had to do was pull on the flimsy belt holding the robe together, and her body would be fully revealed to him. Not that clothes would provide any protection against a K—or a human male for that matter, given her size—but wearing only a robe made her feel much more exposed. Slowly getting up, she took a step away from the table. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Mia nervously blurted out, “Thank you for the meal, but I should really get going now. Do you think my clothes might be dry?” For a second, Korum did not respond, continuing to look at her with that disconcertingly hungry expression. Then, as if coming to some internal decision, he

slowly smiled and got up himself. “They should be ready by now. Why don’t you put the dishes in the dishwasher while I go check?” Mia nodded in agreement, afraid that her voice would tremble if she spoke out loud. Her legs felt like cooked noodles, but she started gathering the dishes. Korum smiled approvingly and exited the room, leaving Mia alone to recover her composure. By the time he came back, his arms loaded with her dry clothes, Mia had managed to convince herself that she had overreacted to a potentially harmless remark. Most likely, her imagination was working in overdrive, adding sexual overtones to where there were none. Given his apparent fascination with human technology and lifestyle, it wasn’t all that surprising that he would find an actual human interesting as well—maybe even cute in something they did—the same way Mia felt about animals in the zoo. Feeling slightly bad about her earlier awkwardness, Mia tentatively smiled at Korum as he handed her the clothes. “Thanks for drying these—I really appreciate it.” “No problem. It was my pleasure.” He smiled back, but there was a hint of something mildly disturbing in the look he gave her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just go change.” Still feeling inexplicably nervous, Mia turned toward the kitchen exit. “Sure. Do you remember the way to the bathroom? You can go change there.” He pointed down the hall, watching with a half-smile as she gratefully escaped.

LOCKING THE BATHROOM DOOR, MIA HURRIEDLY CHANGED INTO HER COMFORTABLY UGLY—AND pleasantly warm from the dryer—clothes. He had somehow managed to dry her Uggs as well, Mia noticed with pleasure as she pulled them on. Feeling much more like herself, she unwrapped the towel from her hair, which was only slightly damp at this point, and left the curly mess down to finish drying. Then, thinking that she was as ready as she would ever be, Mia left the relative safety of the bathroom and ventured back out into the living room to face Korum and his confusing behavior. He was again sitting on the couch, analyzing something in his palm. He seemed very absorbed in it, so Mia cautiously cleared her throat to notify him of her presence. At the sound, he looked up with a mysterious smile. “There you are, all nice and

dry.” “Ah, yeah, thanks for that.” Mia self-consciously shifted from one foot to another. “And thanks again for your hospitality. I really should get going now, try to write that paper and finish up some other homework...” “Sure, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He got up in one smooth motion, heading to the coat closet. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” protested Mia. “Really, I have no problem taking the subway. The rain has stopped, so I’ll be totally fine.” He just gave her an incredulous look. “I said I will take you there.” His tone left no room for negotiation. Mia decided not to argue. It’s not as if she rode in a limo every day. Since Korum was so determined to give her a lift, she might as well enjoy the experience. So Mia kept quiet and meekly followed him as he entered a posh-looking elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Roger and his limo were already waiting in front of the building. The doors slid open at their approach, and Korum courteously waited until Mia climbed inside before getting in himself. Mia wondered where he had learned all of these polite human gestures. Somehow she doubted that “ladies first” was a universal custom. “Where would you like to go?” he inquired, sitting down next to her. Mia thought about it for a second. As much as she’d love to run home and blab about the entire unbelievable encounter to Jessie, the deadline for her paper was looming. She needed to go to the library. She only hoped that she could put the day’s events out of her mind for a few hours, or however long it took her to write the damn paper. “The Bobst Library, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” she requested tentatively. “It’s no trouble at all,” he reassured her, pressing the intercom button and conveying the instructions to Roger. Sitting in the closed quarters of the limo, Mia became increasingly aware of his large, warm body less than a foot away from her. Her body reacted to his nearness without reservations. He really was an incredibly beautiful male specimen by anyone’s standards, Mia thought with an almost analytical detachment. She guessed his height to be somewhere just over six feet, and he appeared to be quite muscular, judging by the way his T-shirt fit him earlier. With his striking coloring, he was easily the most

handsome man she’d ever seen, in real life or on video. It was no wonder he was having such an effect on her, she told herself—any normal woman would feel the same. Understanding the rationale behind her attraction to him, however, did not lessen its power one bit. “So, Mia, tell me about yourself.” His softly spoken directive interrupted her thoughts. “Um, okay.” For some reason, the question flustered her. “What do you want to know?” He shrugged and smiled. “Everything.” “Well, I’m a junior at NYU, majoring in psychology,” Mia began, hoping she wasn’t babbling. “I’m originally from a small town in Florida, and I came to New York to go to school.” He stopped her with a shake of his head. “I know all that. Tell me something more than basic facts.” Mia stared at him in shock, suddenly feeling like a hunted rabbit. With surprising calm, she asked, “How do you know all this?” “The same way I knew where to find you today. It’s very easy to find information on humans, especially those with nothing to hide.” He smiled, as though he hadn’t just shattered all of her illusions about privacy. “But why?” Mia could no longer hold back a question that had been tormenting her for the last two days. “Why are you so interested in me? Why go to all these lengths?” She waved her hand, indicating the limo and everything he had done so far. He looked at her steadily, his gaze nearly hypnotizing in its intensity. “Because I want to fuck you, Mia. Is that what you’re afraid of hearing, why you’ve been acting so scared of me all along?” Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, he continued in the same gently mocking tone. “Well, it’s true. I do. For some reason, you caught my attention yesterday, sitting there on that bench with your curly hair and big blue eyes, so frightened when I looked your way. You’re not my type at all. I don’t typically go for scared little girls, particularly of the human variety, but you”—he reached across with his right hand and slowly stroked her cheek—“you made me want to strip you down right there in the middle of that park, and see what’s hidden underneath these ugly clothes of yours. It took all my willpower to let you go then, and, when you licked your little finger so enticingly in my kitchen, I could barely stop myself from spreading open your robe and burying myself

between your thighs right there on the kitchen table.” His touch felt like it was leaving burning streaks in its aftermath as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gently brushed his knuckles across her lips. “But I’m not a rapist. And that’s what it would be right now—rape—because you’re so frightened of me, and of your own sexuality.” Leaning closer, he murmured softly, “I know you want me, Mia. I can see the flush of arousal on your pretty cheeks, and I can smell it in your underwear. I know your little nipples are hard right now, and that you’re getting wet even as we speak, your body lubricating itself for my penetration. If I were to take you right now, you would enjoy it once you got past the fear and the pain of losing your virginity—yes, I know about that too—but I will wait for you to get used to the idea of being mine. Just don’t take too long—I only have so much patience left for you.”

4

M ia hardly remembered the remainder of the ride. At some point in the next few minutes, the limo had pulled up to the Bobst Library, and Korum had courteously opened the door for her again and handed her the backpack. He then proceeded to gently brush his lips against her cheek, as though parting ways with his sister, and left her standing on the curb in front of the imposing library building. Moving on autopilot, Mia somehow found herself inside, sitting in one of the plush armchairs that were her favorite place to study. Going through the motions, she took out her Mac and placed it on the side table, noting with some interest that her hand was shaking and her fingernails had a slight bluish tint to them. She also felt cold deep inside. Shock, Mia realized. She had to be in a state of mild shock. For some reason, that pissed her off. Yes, she felt like he had stripped her naked with his words in the car, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. Yes, if she thought too deeply about the meaning of his last words, she would probably start running and screaming. But she was hardly a Victorian maiden—her lack of experience notwithstanding—and she refused to let a few explicit phrases send her into vapors. Resolutely getting up, Mia left her bag in the chair as a placeholder—nobody would steal a computer that old—and headed to the coffee shop to get something hot to drink. On the way there, she stopped by the bathroom. Splashing warm water on her face in an attempt to regain her equilibrium, Mia inadvertently caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The usual pale face staring back at her looked subtly different—somehow softer and prettier. Her lips appeared fuller, as though slightly swollen where he had touched them. Her eyes looked brighter, and there

was a hint of color on her cheeks. He was right, Mia thought. She had been extremely turned on in the car, his words alone bringing her nearly to the edge of orgasm—despite her shock and fear. What that said about her was not something she cared to analyze too deeply. Even now, she could feel the residual dampness in her underwear and a slight pulsing sensation deep within her sex whenever she thought back to that limo ride. Taking a deep breath, Mia squared her shoulders and exited the restroom. Her sex life in all its extraterrestrial manifestations would have to wait until the paper was done and submitted. Her priorities were two-fold right now—an extra-large coffee and a few hours of uninterrupted quality time with the Mac.

THE RINGING OF THE DOORBELL minutes before her alarm.

AND AN EXCITED SQUEAL BY HER ROOMMATE WOKE UP

MIA

TWELVE

Groaning, she rolled over and put her pillow over her head, hoping that the source of the noise would go away and let her get the remaining few minutes of precious sleep. She had gotten home at three in the morning, after finally finishing the evil paper. Unfortunately, she had a 9 a.m. class on Mondays, which meant that she would get less than five hours of sleep that night. Even so, her overtired brain had refused to let go of the day’s events, with dark, erotic dreams interrupting her sleep —dreams in which she would see his face, feel his touch burning her skin, hear his voice promising both pain and ecstasy. And now she couldn’t even enjoy a few moments of peaceful rest, as Jessie apparently couldn’t contain her excitement over whatever it was that came to the door. “Mia! Mia! Guess what?” Jessie was practically singing as she knocked on Mia’s bedroom door. “I’m sleeping!” Mia growled, wanting to smack Jessie for the first time in her life. “Oh come on, I know your alarm is about to go off. Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty, and see what you got from Prince Charming!” Mia bolted upright in her bed, all trace of sleepiness forgotten. “What are you

talking about?” Jumping out of bed, she flung open the door, confronting her disgustingly cheerful and bright-eyed roommate. “This!” With a huge excited grin, Jessie gestured toward a large vase of exotic pink and white flowers that occupied the center of their kitchen table. “The delivery guy just came and brought this. Look, there’s even a card and everything! Do you know who sent it? Is there some secret admirer that you haven’t told me about?” Mia felt a sudden inner chill even as her pulse speeded up. Approaching the table, she reached for the card and opened it with trepidation. The content of the note—written in neat, but clearly masculine handwriting—was simple: Tonight, 7pm. I will pick you up. Wear something nice. Her hand shaking slightly, Mia put down the note. For some reason, she hadn’t thought he would want to see her again so soon, much less come to her apartment. “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense!” Unable to wait any longer, Jessie grabbed the note and read it herself. “Ooh, what’s this? You have a date?” Mia felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache. “Not exactly,” she said wearily. “Let me get dressed for class, and we can talk on the way.” Ten minutes later, Mia grabbed a breakfast bar and headed out the door with Jessie, who was nearly bursting with curiosity at this point. Sighing, Mia relayed a shortened version of the story, leaving out a few details that she felt were too private to share—such as his exact words and her reaction to him. “Oh my God.” Jessie’s face reflected horrified disbelief. “And now he wants to see you again? Mia—this is bad, really bad.” “I know.” “I can’t believe he just openly told you he intends to have sex with you.” Jessie was wringing her hands in distress. “What if you don’t show up tonight—go to the library instead or something?” “I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to find me there. He’s done that before. And I don’t know what he’ll do if he gets mad.” Jessie’s eyes widened. “Do you think he would hurt you?” she asked in a hushed tone. Mia thought about it for a few seconds. All his actions toward her thus far had been... solicitous, for lack of a better word. It could all be an act, of course, but somehow she doubted that he would physically abuse her.

“I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know what else he might be capable of.” “Like what?” “Well, that’s the thing—I just don’t know.” Mia nervously tugged at one long curl. “He’s definitely not playing by any kind of normal dating rules. I mean, he practically kidnapped me off the street yesterday...” “What if you go home to Florida?” Jessie was obviously desperate to find a solution. “That seems like an overreaction. Besides, it’s the middle of the semester. I can’t go anywhere until this summer.” “Crap.” Jessie sounded stumped for a second. “Well, then just tell him no when he shows up tonight. Do you think he would force you to go with him anyway?” “I have no idea,” Mia said wryly, pausing in front of the building that was her destination. “I’m going to have to think about this some more. Maybe if I look particularly ugly tonight, he’ll lose interest.” “That’s a great idea!” Jessie clapped her hands in excitement. “He wants you to wear something nice tonight? Well, you show him! Put on your ugliest clothes, eat some fresh garlic and onion, put some oil in your hair so it looks all greasy, and maybe do something that makes you sweaty—like a run—and don’t shower or use deodorant afterwards!” Mia stared at her roommate in fascination. “You’re scary. How did you come up with all of this? It’s not like you try to un-attract guys on a regular basis.” “Oh, it’s easy. Just think of all the things you’d do to get ready for a date—and do just the opposite.” Jessie breezily waved one hand with such a know-it-all expression that Mia couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

AT SIX O’CLOCK, MIA BEGAN IMPLEMENTING JESSIE’S PLAN. HER ROOMMATE HAD BEEN DYING TO SEE her first K and lend Mia moral support for the confrontation, but she had a biology lab that couldn’t be missed. Mia was glad about that. The last thing she wanted was to put Jessie in harm’s way. She started out by doing jumping jacks, lunges, squats, and sit-ups. Within fifteen minutes, her leg and stomach muscles—unused to so much exertion—were burning, and Mia was covered with a fine layer of sweat. Without bothering to

shower, she put on her oldest, rattiest underwear, thick brown tights that her sister absolutely despised, and a long-sleeved black dress that Jessie had once claimed made her look completely washed out and shapeless. A pair of old black Mary-Janes with medium-height heels, worn out and scuffed, completed the look. No makeup, except for a slight dusting of dark blue shadow directly under her eyes—to imitate under-eye circles. Her hair already looked like a frizzy mess, but Mia brushed it for good measure and added hair conditioner only to the roots, leaving the ends to poof out in every direction. And for the grand finale, she cut up an entire clove of garlic, mixed it with green onion, and thoroughly chewed it, making sure that the smelly mixture got into every nook and corner of her mouth before she spit it out. Satisfied, she took one last look in the mirror. As expected, she looked ghastly— like somebody’s crazy spinster aunt—and probably smelled even worse. If Korum remained interested in her after tonight, she would be very surprised. When the doorbell rang promptly at seven, Mia put on her scruffy wool peacoat and opened the door with a mixture of trepidation and barely contained glee. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking. Somehow, in the short span of a day, Mia had managed to forget just how beautiful he was. Dressed in a pair of dark designer jeans and a light grey buttondown shirt that fit his tall, muscular body to perfection, he fairly gleamed with health and vitality, his bronzed skin and glossy black hair providing a stark contrast for those incredible amber-colored eyes. Mia suddenly felt irrationally embarrassed about her own grungy appearance. At the sight of her, his lips parted in a slow smile. “Ah, Mia. Somehow I suspected that you would be difficult.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mia said defiantly, lifting her chin. “I’m glad you decided to play this game.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, sending an unwanted shiver of pleasure down her spine. “It will make your eventual surrender that much sweeter.” Still smiling, he politely offered her his arm. “Ready to go?” Fuming, Mia ignored his offer, stomping down the stairs on her own. Idiot! She should’ve realized he would see her deliberately ugly appearance as a challenge. With his looks and apparent wealth, he probably had women fawning all over him. It must be refreshing to meet someone who didn’t immediately fall into his bed. Maybe she should just sleep with him and get it over with. If the pursuit was what he enjoyed, then he would lose interest very quickly if he got what he wanted.

The limo was waiting as they exited the building. “Where are we going?” Mia asked, wondering about it for the first time. “Percival,” Korum answered, opening the door for her. The place he named was a popular restaurant in the Meatpacking District that was notoriously difficult to get into, even on a Monday night. Mia mentally kicked herself again. It was one thing to look repellent for Korum —a wasted effort, as it turned out—but it was a whole different level of embarrassing to show up in the fanciest, trendiest district of New York City looking and smelling like a homeless person. Still, she’d rather die of embarrassment than give Korum the satisfaction of knowing how discomfited she felt. He climbed into the car and sat down next to her. Reaching out, he took one of her hands and brought it to his lap, studying her palm and fingers with some apparent fascination. Her hand looked tiny in his large grasp, his golden skin appearing much darker next to her own whiteness, creating a surprisingly erotic contrast. Mia attempted to yank her hand away, trying to ignore the sensations his touch was provoking in her nether regions. He held her hand just long enough to let her feel the futility of her struggles, and then let go with a small smile. It was strange, Mia thought, somewhere along the way she had stopped being so afraid of him. For some reason, knowing his intentions toward her—as crude and base as they were—gave her a peace of mind. The scared girl who sat in this car yesterday would not have dared to oppose him in any way for fear of unknown retaliation. Mia no longer had such qualms, and it was oddly liberating. A minute later, the limo pulled up to the door of the restaurant. Korum exited first and Mia followed, noticing with mortification the double-takes they got from the well-dressed men and women on the street. A gorgeous K in his limo was bound to attract attention, and Mia was sure they wondered about his dowdy companion. A tall, rail-thin hostess greeted them at the door. Without even asking for their reservations, she led them to a private booth in the back of the restaurant. “Welcome back to Percival,” she purred, leaning suggestively over Korum while handing them the menus. “Should I start you off with sparkling or flat?” “Sparkling would be fine, Ashley, thanks,” he said absentmindedly, studying the menu. Mia felt a sudden, shocking urge to tear out every straight blond hair from Ashley’s model-like head. A strange nausea-like sensation roiled her stomach as she pictured the two of them together in bed, his muscular body wrapped around

the blonde’s. Stop it, Mia! Of course, he slept with other women! Undoubtedly, the creature left a trail of Ashleys anywhere he went. “Have you decided what you’d like?” he inquired, looking up from his menu, seemingly oblivious to the murderous expression on Mia’s face. “No, not yet.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to concentrate on the menu. This was undoubtedly the nicest restaurant she’d ever been to, and the menu—which lacked prices for some reason—listed some dishes and ingredients that she’d never heard of. Her eyes widened as she noticed goat cheese and caviar in the appetizer section and eggs in one of the noodle dishes. Her mouth watered. “I think I’ll get the roasted beets and goat cheese salad, followed by the pestoartichoke Pad Thai.” Korum smiled at her indulgently. “Of course.” He motioned to the waiter and relayed her order. “And I will have the watercress jicama salad and the shiitake parsnip ravioli in cashew cream. We’ll also get a bottle of Dom Perignon.” Mia looked at him in fascination. She hadn’t known that Ks consumed alcohol. In fact, there was so much that she—and the public in general—didn’t know about the invaders who now lived alongside them. It dawned on Mia that she had the perfect opportunity to learn sitting across her at the table. Feeling slightly reckless, she decided to start with the question that had been bothering her ever since their first meeting. “Is it true that you drink human blood?” Korum’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead, and he nearly choked on his drink. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” A big grin breaking out on his face, he asked, “Are you asking if we have to drink human blood, or if we do it anyway?” Mia swallowed. She was suddenly far from sure this was the best line of questioning. “I guess both.” “Well, let me set your mind at ease... We no longer require blood for survival.” “But you did before?” Mia’s eyes widened in shock. “Originally, when we first evolved into our current form, we needed to consume significant amounts of blood from a group of primates that had certain genetic similarities to us. It was a deficiency in our DNA that made us vulnerable and tied our existence to another species. We have since corrected this defect.” “So it’s true? There were humans on your planet?” Mia was staring at him openmouthed.

“They weren’t exactly human. Their blood, however, had the same hemoglobin characteristics as yours.” “What happened to them? Are they still around?” “No, they are now extinct.” “I don’t understand,” Mia said slowly, trying to make sense of what she’d learned thus far. “If you needed them to survive, how and when did they go extinct? Was that before or after you... um... fixed your defect?” “It happened long before then. We succeeded in developing a synthetic substance before the last of their kind disappeared, and it enabled us to survive their demise. They were an endangered species for millions of years. It was partially our fault for hunting them, but a lot of it had to do with their own low birth rate and short lifespan. Just like you, they had a weak immune system, and a plague nearly wiped them out. That’s when we began to work on alternative routes of survival for our species—synthetic hemoglobin substitutes, experimentation with our own DNA, and attempting to develop a comparable species both on Krina and on other planets.” A lightbulb went off in Mia’s brain. “Is that why you planted life here on Earth? Is that how humans came to be—you needed a comparable species?” “More or less. It was a shot in the dark, with minuscule odds of success. We disseminated our DNA as far as our then-primitive technology could reach. We didn’t know which planets and where would be hospitable to life, much less bear any similarities to Krina, so we blindly sent billions of drones to planets that are located in what you now call the Goldilocks Zones.” “Goldilocks Zones?” “Yes, these are also called the habitable zones—regions in the universe around various stars that potentially have the right atmospheric pressure to maintain liquid water on the surface. Based on our knowledge, those are the only places where life similar to Krina’s could arise.” Mia nodded, now remembering learning about that in high school. Satisfied that she was following along, he continued his explanation. “One of the drones reached Earth, and the first simple organisms succeeded in surviving here. Of course, we didn’t know that at the time. It wasn’t until some six hundred million years ago that we reached this part of the galaxy and found Earth.” “Right before the Cambrian explosion began?” asked Mia, goosebumps breaking

out on her arms. It was public knowledge now that the Ks had influenced evolution on Earth to a fairly significant degree, the timing of their initial arrival coinciding with the previously puzzling appearance of many new and complex life forms during the early Cambrian period. But their motives for planting life on Earth and later manipulating it had remained a mystery, and it was incredible to hear him speak about it so nonchalantly, revealing so much to her over dinner. “Exactly. We have occasionally stepped in to guide your evolution, particularly when it threatened to drastically diverge from ours—such as when the dinosaurs had become a dominant life form—” “But I thought the dinosaurs had been killed by an asteroid?” “They were. But we could have easily deflected that strike. Instead, we simply ensured that the necessary life forms, such as the early versions of mammals, survived.” Mia stared at him open-mouthed as he continued the story. “When the first primate appeared here, it was a tremendous achievement for us because its blood carried the hemoglobin. However, we no longer needed it by then because we’d recently had the breakthrough that allowed us to manipulate our own DNA without adverse consequences.” He paused when the salads were served, and continued speaking between bites of his watercress. “At that point, Earth and its primate species had become the grandest scientific experiment in the history of the known universe. The challenge for us became to see whether we could nudge along evolution just enough to see another intelligent species emerge.” Mia felt chills going down her spine as she listened to the story of human origins told by an alien from the gazillion-year-old civilization that had essentially played God. An alien who was munching on his salad at the same time, as though discussing nothing more important than the weather. “You see,” he continued, “the primates on Krina were of the same intelligence level as your chimpanzees, and few of us thought that a species as short-lived as yours could develop a truly sophisticated intellect. But we persisted, occasionally stepping in with genetic modifications to make you look more like us, and the result has surpassed all our expectations. While you share a lot of the characteristics of the Krinian primates—presence of the hemoglobin, a relatively weak immune system, and a short lifespan—you have a much higher birth rate and an intelligence that’s nearly comparable to ours. Your evolution rate is also much faster than ours—mostly due to that higher birth rate. The transition from

primitive primates to intelligent beings took you only a couple of million years, while it took us nearly a billion.” Dozens of questions were running through Mia’s mind. She latched onto the first one. “Why did you care if we looked like you? Is that somehow a requirement for intelligence?” “No, not really. It just made the most sense to the scientists who were overseeing the project at the time. They wanted to create a sister species, intelligent beings that looked like us, so that it would be easier for us to relate to them, easier to communicate with them. Of course,” he said with a wicked smile, twirling his empty fork, “there was an unexpected side benefit.” Mia looked at him warily. “What benefit?” “Well, you see, when the first Earth primates appeared, some of the Krinar tried drinking their blood out of curiosity. And they quickly discovered that, in the absence of the biological need for the hemoglobin, drinking blood gave them a very pleasurable high—an almost sexual buzz. It was better than any drug, although synthetic versions of your blood have since become quite popular in our bars and nightclubs.” Mia nearly choked on her salad. Coughing, she drank some water to clear the obstruction in her throat while he watched with an amused look on his face. “But the best thing of all was our more recent discovery.” He leaned closer to her, his eyes turning a now-familiar shade of deeper gold. “You see, it turns out that there’s nothing quite as pleasurable as drinking blood from a living source during sex. The experience is simply indescribable.” Mia reflexively swallowed, feeling horrified and oddly aroused at the same time. “So you want to drink my blood while... fucking?” The corners of his mouth turned upward in a sensuous smile. “That would be the ultimate goal, yes.” She had to know, even if the answer made her sick to her stomach. “Would I die?” He laughed. “Die? No, taking a few sips of your blood won’t kill you any more than giving blood at a doctor’s office. In fact, our saliva contains a chemical that makes the whole process quite pleasurable for humans. It was originally intended for our prey, to make them drugged and docile when we fed on them—but now it merely serves the purpose of enhancing your experience.”

Mia’s head felt like it was exploding with everything she’d just learned, but there was something else she needed to find out. “How exactly do you do it?” she asked cautiously. “Drink blood, I mean? Do you have fangs?” He shook his head. “No, that’s an invention of your literary fiction. We don’t need fangs—the edges of our top teeth are sharp enough that they can penetrate the skin with relative ease, usually by just slicing through the top layer.” Their main course arrived, giving Mia a few precious moments to regain her composure. It was too much, all of it. Her thoughts spun around, all jumbled and chaotic. Somehow, in the past twenty-four hours, she’d gotten used to the idea that an extraterrestrial wanted to have sex with her, for whatever reason. But now he also wanted her to serve as a blood donor during sex. His species had basically created her kind, and they now used human blood as some sort of an aphrodisiac. The idea was disturbing and sickening on many levels, and all Mia wanted to do was crawl into her bed, pulling covers over her head, and pretend that none of this was happening. Something of her inner turmoil must have shown on her face because Korum reached out, gently covering her hand with his, and said softly, “Mia, I know this is all a huge shock to you. I know that you need time to understand and get to know me better. Why don’t you relax and enjoy your meal, and we can discuss something else in the meantime?” He added with a teasing smile, “I promise not to bite.” Mia nodded and obediently dug into her food as soon as he released her hand. It was either that or run out of the restaurant screaming, and she wasn’t sure how he would react to that. After everything she’d learned today, the last thing she wanted was to provoke whatever predatory instincts his species still possessed. The Pad Thai was delicious, she realized, tasting the rich flavors complemented by bits of real egg. For some reason, despite her delicate build, nothing ever interfered with her appetite. Her family often joked that Mia must really be a lumberjack in disguise, given the large quantities of food she liked to consume on a regular basis. “How is your ravioli?” she asked between bites of her noodles, searching for the most innocuous subject. “It’s great,” he answered, enjoying his dish with similar gusto. “I often come to this restaurant because they have one of the best chefs in New York.” “I don’t know,” Mia teased, trying to keep the conversation light. “The salad and sandwich you made yesterday was pretty tasty.”

He grinned at her, exposing the dimple that made him seem so much more approachable. It was only on his left cheek, not the right—a slight imperfection in his otherwise flawless features that only added to his appeal. “Why, thank you. That’s the best compliment I got all year.” “Do you cook a lot for yourself or mostly go out to restaurants?” Food seemed like a nice safe topic. “I do both quite a bit. I like to eat, as you apparently do too”—he motioned to her rapidly disappearing portion with a smile—“so that necessitates a lot of both. What about you? I imagine it’s tough to go out too much in New York on a student’s budget.” “That would be an understatement,” Mia agreed. “But there are some really nice cheap places near NYU and in Chinatown, if I want to venture out that far.” “What made you decide to come to New York for school? Your home state has a number of good universities, and the weather is so much better there.” He seemed genuinely perplexed. Mia laughed as the irony of her school choice only now occurred to her. “When I was applying to colleges, my parents were afraid that you—the Krinar, I mean— might establish a Center in Florida, so they wanted me to go to an out-of-state school.” Korum smiled in response. “We did actually think about settling there, but it was too densely populated for our taste.” He took a sip of his champagne. “So I’m guessing they wouldn’t be particularly happy that you’re here with me today?” “God, no.” Mia shuddered. “My mom would probably be hysterical, and my dad would get one of his stress migraines.” “And your sister?” “Um, she wouldn’t be particularly happy either.” For a moment, she had almost forgotten how much he knew about her. “She’s older than you, right?” “By nearly eight years. She got married last year.” “I wonder what it would be like to have a sibling,” he mused. “It’s not a very common occurrence for us, having more than one child.” Mia shrugged. “I’m not sure if my experience was particularly authentic, given our age difference. By the time I was old enough to be anything more than a brat, she had already left for college.” Her curiosity kicking in again, she asked, “So you

don’t have any siblings? What about your parents?” “I’m an only child. My parents are back on Krina, so I haven’t seen them in a while. We do communicate remotely, though, on a regular basis.” Their waiter returned to clear the table and give them their dessert menus. Mia chose tiramisu—made with real cheese and eggs—and Korum went with the apple pecan tart. Somehow, in the course of their conversation, she’d managed to down two glasses of champagne, and was beginning to feel buzzed. The evening took on a slightly surreal tint in her mind, from the restaurant filled with Manhattan’s most beautiful people to the gorgeous predator who sat across the table from her, blithely chatting about their families. Mia wondered how old he was. She knew the Ks were very long-lived, so there was really no way to tell his age from appearance. Had he been human, she would have guessed late twenties. Her curiosity got the best of her again, and she blurted out, “How old are you?” “About two thousand of your Earth years.” Mia stared at him in shock. That would put him somewhere in the very ancient category by human standards. Two thousand years ago, the Roman Empire still ruled the Western world, and the Christian religion was just getting its start. And he had been alive since that time? She drank some more champagne to help with the dryness in her throat. “Does that make you old or young in your society?” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I guess on the younger side. My parents are much older. It doesn’t matter, though. Once we reach full maturity, age literally becomes just a number.” “We must all seem like infants to you then, huh?” Mia took a big gulp from her glass and felt the room tilt slightly. She hoped she wasn’t slurring her words. She probably should stop with the champagne. He could easily take advantage of her if she got drunk. But, then again, he could easily take advantage of her sober too. She was completely at the mercy of an alien who wanted to fuck her and drink her blood, so she might as well enjoy this undoubtedly excellent vintage. “Not infants. Just naive in certain ways. More like teenagers, if anything.” Mia rubbed an itchy spot on her nose with the back of her hand, wondering if she wanted to know the answer to her next question. She decided to go for it. “So are you immortal, like the vampires of our legends?”

“We don’t think of it that way. Everybody can die. Our species has always enjoyed negligible senescence, but we can still be killed or die in a bad accident.” “Negligible senescence?” “Basically, we don’t have the symptoms of aging. Before we were sufficiently advanced with our science and medicine, we could still die from a variety of natural causes, but we’ve now succeeded in achieving a very low—almost negligible— mortality rate.” “How is this possible?” asked Mia. “How can a living creature not age? Is that something peculiar to Krina?” “Not really. There are actually a number of species right here on Earth that have that same characteristic. For instance, have you ever heard of the four-hundredyear-old clam?” “What? No!” He had to be making fun of her ignorance; surely such a thing didn’t exist. He nodded. “It’s true—look it up if you don’t believe me. There are a number of creatures that don’t lose their reproductive or functional capabilities with age— some species of mussels and clams, lobsters, sea anemones, giant tortoises, hydras... In fact, hydras are pretty much biologically immortal; they die from injury or disease, but not from old age.” Trying to process this incredible information, Mia rubbed her nose again. That’s it, she realized, no more alcohol for her. For some reason, her nose had a tendency to get itchy after a few drinks, and Mia had learned to respect it as a sign of when to stop. The few times she’d ignored this warning, the consequences hadn’t been pretty. Seeing her weaving slightly in her seat, Korum motioned the waiter for the check. Mia hazily wondered if she should offer to split it, the way she always did when she went out with college guys. Nah, she decided. He had practically forced her to come out today, so she might as well get a free meal out of it. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could afford this place, given the priceless menu. So instead, she just observed when Korum waived his wristwatch phone-wallet over the waiter’s tiny digital receptor, and added what seemed to be a generous tip, judging by the grateful expression on the waiter’s face. “Ready to go?” He helped her put on her coat and again offered her his arm. Mia accepted this time, as she felt somewhat woozy and didn’t have a high degree of confidence in her own ability to make it out of the restaurant without tripping at

some point. “Are you drunk?” he asked with amusement, observing her slightly unsteady gait as they exited onto the street. “I only saw you drink a couple of glasses.” Mia raised her chin and lied, “I’m perfectly fine.” She hated it when people pointed out what a lightweight she was. “If you say so.” He looked like he was about to laugh, and Mia wanted to smack him. Roger and the limo were waiting at the curb, of course. Mia hesitated, her heart rate accelerating at the realization that she would be alone with an extraterrestrial predator who wanted her blood. She turned to him. “You know, I really feel like getting some fresh air. I can just walk from here—my apartment is only about a dozen blocks away, and the weather is really quite nice and refreshing.” The last bit was a lie. It was actually quite chilly, and Mia was already shivering in her thin coat. His expression darkened. “Mia. Get in. I will take you home.” It was his scary tone of voice, and it worked just as well on her the second time around. Shaking slightly from a combination of nerves and the cold air, she climbed into the car.

THE RIDE TO HER APARTMENT WAS ODDLY UNEVENTFUL, TAKING ONLY A FEW MINUTES IN THE ABSENCE of traffic. He again held her hand, gently rubbing her palm in a soothing manner. Despite her initial nervousness, Mia closed her eyes, leaned back against the comfortable seat, and was just starting to drift off when they arrived at their destination. He walked her up the five flights of stairs to her apartment, holding her arm as an apparent precaution against any alcohol-induced unsteadiness. She felt tired and sleepy, wanting nothing more than to collapse into her bed at home. At one point, she managed to stumble and nearly fall anyway, missing a step with her high-heeled shoe. Korum sighed and lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the remaining two flights despite her mumbled protestations. Upon reaching her apartment, he carefully set her back on her feet, briefly keeping her pressed against his hard body before letting her pull away. His hands remained on her waist, holding her at a short distance. Mia stared at him, mesmerized. Her breathing picked up, and warm moisture pooled between her legs as she realized what the large bulge she’d felt in his jeans meant. His breathing was

a little fast too, and she doubted that it had anything to do with carrying a hundred-pound human girl up two flights of stairs. He leaned toward her, eyes nearly yellow at this point, and Mia froze as he cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her leisurely, his tongue exploring her mouth with exquisite gentleness, even as he held her against him in an unbreakable grip. Mia moaned, a wave of heat surging through her body and leaving an oddly pleasurable sense of lethargy in its wake. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a warning bell was going off, but all she could concentrate on was his mouth and the sensations spreading throughout her body. He brought her closer, pressing his groin against her belly, and she felt his hardness again, her sex clenching in response. He lightly sucked on her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth, and his hand slid down her back to cup her buttocks, lifting her off the ground so he could grind his erection directly against her clitoris through their layers of clothing. The pressure building inside her was different and stronger than anything she’d ever experienced, and Mia groaned with frustration, wanting more. Her hands somehow found their way to his shoulders, kneading the heavy muscles through his shirt, and it was not enough. She wanted, needed the feel of his naked skin against her own, the slide of his heavy cock into her sex, quenching the empty pulsing sensation she felt there. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against him, and the sensations built to a fever pitch. She hovered on the edge for a few delicious seconds, and then went over, climaxing with a muffled scream against lips. He groaned as well, his other hand reaching under her skirt and tearing at her tights as he let go of her mouth to press burning kisses on her neck and collarbone. “Mia? Is that you?” A familiar voice reached through her daze, and Mia realized with mortification that Jessie had opened the apartment door and was staring at them in shock. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call the police?” Her roommate clearly wasn’t sure how to interpret what she was seeing. Still wrapped around Korum, Mia felt a shudder go through his body as he visibly fought to regain control. Suddenly fearing for Jessie, Mia barked at her, “Yes, I’m fine! Go back inside and leave us alone!” A hurt look appeared on her roommate’s face, and she vanished inside the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Mia pushed at Korum, trying to put some distance between them. “Please let me go,” she said quietly, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a little ball in her room and cry. He hesitated for a second, and then lowered her to her feet, still keeping her pressed against his body. His golden skin appeared flushed from

within, and his eyes still had a strong yellow undertone. The bulge against her stomach showed no signs of abating, and Mia shivered, realizing that he was holding onto his self-control by a hair. “Please,” she repeated, knowing that there was nothing she could do to make him release her until he was ready. “You want me to let you go? After all that?” His voice was harsh and guttural, and the arms locked around her back tightened until she could barely breathe. Mia nodded, trembling, the white-hot desire she’d felt earlier giving way to a confusing jumble of fear and acute embarrassment. He looked at her, his expression dark and unreadable, and then very deliberately removed his arms from around her waist and stepped away. “All right,” he said softly. “Have it your way. Go to your little room, and tell your roommate all about it. Have yourself a good cry about what a little slut you are, coming like that from a kiss right out in the hallway.” His eyes glittered at the stricken expression on her face. “And then you better get used to the idea that you’ll come a lot more, from everything I do to you—and I will literally do everything.” With that promise, he turned away and walked toward the stairs. Pausing before entering the stairwell, he looked back and said, “I will pick you up after class tomorrow. No more games, Mia.”

5

H er legs shaking, Mia made her way into the apartment with as much dignity as she could muster considering that her underwear was soaking wet and her tights were hanging in shreds around her knees. Jessie sat on the couch in the living room, waiting for her to come in. She didn’t look mad anymore, just extremely concerned. “Oh my God, Mia,” she said slowly. “What the hell was that out in the hallway?” Mia shook her head, barely holding back tears. “Jessie, I’m sorry. I really can’t talk now,” she said, going directly to her room and closing the door. Collapsing on the bed, she wrapped the coverlet around herself and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her body seemed like it didn’t belong to her, with her sex still pulsating in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her nipples felt so sensitive that the bra was too abrasive against her skin. She also felt raw and devastated inside, exposed in a way that she’d never before experienced in her life. She didn’t want this—any of this. The complete loss of control over her own body was overwhelming, and the fact that Korum was the one to solicit such a powerful response made her feel even more vulnerable. He frightened her. She was completely out of her league with him, and she knew it. As scary as it was to think about what the sexual act with an extraterrestrial vampire was likely to entail, the thing that Mia dreaded most was the effect he had on her emotions. He would take everything from her—her body and her soul—and when he was done, he would move on, leaving her broken and scarred for life, unable to ever forget her dark alien lover. This was not how her life was supposed to turn out. Coming from a family of

second-generation Polish immigrants, Mia had always followed the right path. She studied hard in school, both to please her parents and out of her own desire for achievement. Once she finished grad school, she intended to use her degree to counsel high school or college students on their own career path. She was close to her parents and sister, and she hoped to be a good mother to her own children one day. At some point, she was supposed to fall in love with a nice man from a good family and have a long happy marriage, the way her own parents did. While other girls dreamed of adventures and chased after bad boys, Mia just wanted a regular life, done the right way. She had always known that she was a sexual creature. Despite her lack of experience, she had no doubt that she would enjoy sex once she found the right person. She loved reading racy novels and watching R-rated movies, and she considered herself far from a prude. In fact, she liked the idea of trying out new things and having several relationships before ultimately settling down. When she went out clubbing with Jessie, Mia frequently found herself turned on from dancing with some attractive guy, particularly after having a couple of shots. For some reason, it had never gone beyond a few kisses, perhaps because Mia was too cautious and rational to pick up a guy at a club for a one-night stand. Still, she had looked forward to her first time, preferably with a special someone that she cared about and who cared about her. An alien predator who wanted to fuck her and drink her blood was as far removed from that ideal as anything that Mia could imagine. She wanted a shower. Slowly getting up, Mia took off her clothes. The tights were beyond salvation, so she threw them in the trash. Her black dress was also slightly ripped in the front— Mia could not even remember when that happened—and she discarded it also. Feeling reckless, she chucked the Mary-Janes and her underwear into the bin as well, wanting nothing to remind her of this night. Wrapping herself in her robe, Mia left the safety of her room and headed into the shower, hoping that Jessie had gone to sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING, MIA WOKE UP WITH A HEADACHE. As soon as she opened her eyes, the events of the last evening rushed back into her mind, accompanied by a scalding feeling of humiliation. He had mockingly called her a slut, and she very much felt like one, particularly given what Jessie had been privy to. She also remembered what he’d said about picking her up today, and

she suddenly felt nauseous from a combination of fear and some kind of sick excitement. She only had one class today, and it didn’t start until eleven. It was just as well, since she didn’t even know if she wanted to get out of bed at all. There was a timid knock on her door. “Yes, come in,” Mia said in resignation, knowing that Jessie must’ve been anxiously waiting for her to wake up and listening for any movements in her room. Her roommate entered sheepishly and sat down on Mia’s bed. “So I guess my patented guy-repellent strategy was a total fail, huh?” Mia rubbed her eyes and gave Jessie a bitter smile. “It’s pretty fair to say, yes.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to yell at you—I just really didn’t want you out there, seeing what I guess you saw.” Jessie nodded, clearly having figured it out on her own. “No worries. I would’ve done the same. I was just worried that he was forcing you or something. So, are you, like, really into him now?” Mia groaned and buried her head in her pillow. “I don’t know. Every sane part of me says to run as far away as I can, but every time he touches me, I just can’t help myself. It’s like I don’t have any control over this thing. I hate it.” Jessie’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. That’s so hot. It’s like the kind of thing you read about in romance novels—he kisses her and she swoons!” An elusive something kept nagging at Mia this morning, and Jessie’s words suddenly put the puzzle pieces together. Of course! He did kiss her, and he had explicitly told her that K saliva contained some chemical that kept their prey docile and drugged. It all made sense now—the pleasant lethargy that had spread through her veins and the way her brain had simply turned off the second his lips touched hers, leaving her to operate on pure animal instinct. The chemical was probably even more potent directly in the bloodstream, but she had undoubtedly gotten a nice dose of it last night. No wonder she had acted like such a slut—not only was she drunk from champagne, but she was also literally high from his kiss. A burning fury slowly built in her stomach, replacing the sense of humiliation she’d felt earlier. The bastard. He had basically drugged her and very nearly took advantage, and then he had the nerve to accuse her of playing games. Well, screw him! If he thought she would meekly go with him today after class, he had another

thing coming. Her brain whirled, searching for alternatives. “Jessie,” she said slowly. “Didn’t you once tell me that a cousin of yours had some kind of connections in the Resistance?” “Uh—” Jessie was clearly surprised. “Are you talking about that thing I once told you about Jason? That was a long time ago, when we were still freshmen. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have anything to do with that anymore, not that I’ve kept in touch with him.” She stared at Mia with a concerned look on her face. “Why are you even asking? What, you want to join the freedom fighters now?” Mia shrugged, not sure where she was going with this. All she knew was that she refused to meekly become Korum’s sex toy, to be used and discarded at whim. She had never believed in the anti-K movement and thought that the Resistance fighters were crazy. The Krinar were here to stay. Human weapons and technology were hopelessly primitive in comparison to theirs, and Mia had always thought that trying to fight them was the equivalent of banging your head against the wall— futile and likely dangerous. Besides, it didn’t seem all that bad, once the days of the Great Panic were over. The Ks had mostly left them alone, choosing to live in their own settlements, and life went on with a few minor differences—cleaner air, a healthier diet, and a lot of shattered illusions about humanity’s place in the universe. However, now that she’d had some personal interactions with one particular K, she felt a bit more sympathetic to the fighters’ cause—not that it made the Resistance movement any less futile. She sighed. “Never mind, it was just a stupid idea. I think I just need to clear my head.” Hopping out of bed, Mia pulled on her jeans, an old T-shirt, and a comfy sweater. “Wait, Mia. What’s going on?” Jessie was confused by her actions. “Are you upset about what happened last night?” Mia pulled on her socks and a pair of sneakers. “I guess,” she muttered. Telling her roommate the whole story would just make her worry, and a worried Jessie sometimes did drastic things—such as calling the police once to report Mia missing, when she had simply fallen asleep in the library with a dead phone battery. Not that Jessie could do anything in this case, but she still preferred not to cause her unnecessary distress. “Look, I’m fine,” Mia lied. “I just really need to take a walk and get some air. You know I haven’t exactly had a lot of experience with this type of thing, and this is a little like being thrown in the deep end of the pool. I just want to try to figure out how I feel about all this before I can even begin

to talk about it.” Jessie looked at her with a faintly hurt expression. “Okay, well, sure. Whatever you need to do.” Then she brightened. “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight? I was thinking of cooking some pasta, and we could just have a girls’ night in, watch some old movies...” Mia shook her head with regret. “That sounds amazing, but I really don’t know. I think I’ll be seeing him again today.” Seeing the worried look on Jessie’s face, she quickly added with a sly smile, “And it might be quite fun.” Before Jessie had a chance to reply, Mia grabbed her backpack and ran out the door with a quick “see you later.”

SHE WALKED BRISKLY DOWN THE STREET WITH NO PARTICULAR DESTINATION IN MIND. STOPPING BY A deli, she bought a pack of chewing gum—since she hadn’t even brushed her teeth this morning—and a wrap loaded with hummus, avocado, and fresh veggies. Her brain seemed to have gone into hibernation, and she simply walked without thinking about anything in particular, enjoying the feel of her feet striking the pavement and the mid-morning sun warming her face. She must’ve walked like that for a long time because, by the time she started paying attention to street signs, she was already in TriBeCa, a block away from the luxury high-rise that she’d been in less than forty-eight hours ago. And just like that, she knew what she was going to do—what her subconscious must’ve known even earlier because it had brought her here. It was really quite simple. Running was futile. He could track her down anywhere she went, and he had already proven that he could manipulate her body into responding to his with the aid of various chemical substances. No, running wasn’t the answer. He was a hunter. The chase was what he loved, and there was really only one thing she could do to thwart him. She could deny him the chase, take away the enjoyment of pursuing a reluctant prey. She could come to him herself.

HAVING REACHED THE DECISION, MIA LOST NO TIME IN PUTTING IT INTO ACTION. Entering the lobby of his building, she calmly told the concierge that she was

there to see Korum. The man’s eyes widened a little—he clearly knew what the occupant of the top floor was—and he notified the unit of her presence. Ten seconds later, he motioned toward the elevator that was positioned a little to the left of the main one. “Please go ahead, miss. Just enter in 1159 when prompted for a code, and it will take you to the penthouse floor.” Korum was waiting when the elevator doors opened. Despite her intention to remain unmoved, her breath caught in her throat and her pulse jacked up at the sight. He wore a soft-looking pair of grey pajama pants and nothing else. His upper body was completely bare, with bronze skin covering chiseled muscle and a light smattering of dark hair visible around small, masculine nipples. Broad shoulders, thick with ropy muscles, tapered down to a slim waist, and an actual six pack covered his flat abdomen. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on his powerful body. Mia swallowed to help the dryness in her throat, suddenly far less sure of the wisdom of her plan. “Mia,” he purred, leaning on the doorway and looking for all the world like a big jungle cat about to pounce. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I was not expecting to see you so early.” Something in her expression must’ve betrayed her because he let out a short laugh. “Ah, I see. It was because I wasn’t expecting you. Well, come on in.” Padding to the kitchen in his bare feet, he asked, “Have you had breakfast?” Mia nodded, feeling like a mute but afraid that her voice might betray her nervousness. This was definitely not the best plan. Why had she thought that bearding the lion in his den was somehow better than trying to avoid him altogether? But there was no turning back now. “Okay, then, perhaps I might interest you in some coffee or tea?” His tone was overly courteous, making a mockery of the normally polite question. Her chin went up at the realization that he found the whole situation amusing. “No, thanks,” she said coolly, taking pride in the level tone of her voice. “You know why I’m here. Why don’t you stop playing games, so we can just get on with it?” He stopped and looked at her. There was no trace of laughter on his face. “All right, Mia,” he said slowly. “If that’s how you wish it.” “One more thing,” she said, wanting to needle him and no longer caring about

the consequences. “No drugs of any kind. No alcohol and no saliva anywhere in my body. If you want my blood, you can just cut my vein and drink it that way. And no mouth-to-mouth kissing. I don’t want to be drunk or high today.” His face darkened, and his eyes seemed to turn into pools of liquid gold. “You think you were high yesterday? Is that what you’re telling yourself to explain what happened? That a couple of glasses of champagne and my magic kisses turned you into a nymphomaniac?” He laughed sardonically. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, darling, but the chemical in our saliva only works if it gets directly into your blood. Maybe if I kissed you all day long, after a few hours you might feel a tiny buzz—if you’re lucky. Of course, if I kissed you all day long, you would probably come dozens of times and be long past noticing any kind of saliva-induced effects.” Still smiling, he said pleasantly, “But have it your way. No kissing and no biting. All else is fair game.” Coming up to her, he took her hand and led her down the hall. Her heart pounding, Mia went without protest, knowing that the time for changing her mind was long past. She didn’t know whether to believe him and, more importantly, she didn’t want to believe him. If he was telling the truth, then she had made a huge mistake in coming here today. Some foolish part of her had thought that she could do this—let him have sex with her unwilling, unresponsive body, reduce him to being the rapist he’d claimed he was not—and walk away with her emotions untouched, maintaining some kind of moral high ground. If he wasn’t lying, then she was, quite literally, screwed. He led her into what had to be his bedroom. Like the rest of his penthouse, the room was both modern and opulent at the same time. A large circular bed dominated the center of the room. It was unmade and had obviously been recently slept in. The sheets were a soft ivory color, and the thick blankets and pillows strewn around the bed were a pale shade of blue. Mia’s heart climbed into her throat as she fully realized what she’d just agreed to do. He released her hand and stepped back, leaving her standing in the middle of the room. “All right,” he said softly, “now take off your clothes.” Mia stood there frozen, a hot wave of embarrassment rolling through her. He wanted her to remove her clothes, right there in the middle of the sunlit room? “You heard me,” he repeated, his voice cold despite the yellow heat in his eyes. “Take them off.” Seeing her hesitation, he added, “I can guarantee your clothes will not survive it if I lay my hands on them.” Mia’s hands shook as she slowly raised them to pull the sweater over her head.

He merely watched her, his face inscrutable despite the hunger in his eyes. She took off her sneakers, and her jeans were next, leaving her clad in pink boy-short panties and a T-shirt. She had forgotten to wear a bra and now acutely felt that lack, with her nipples hard and visible against the thin fabric of the T-shirt. “Now take off your shirt,” he instructed, seeing her pause. The front of his pants was tented, she noticed, and somehow that was oddly reassuring—to know that she had that kind of effect on him, that he wasn’t turned off by her awkwardness or her skinny body. Trembling slightly, she pulled the shirt over her head, revealing her breasts to male eyes for the first time. It took all her willpower not to cross her arms over her chest in a silly virginal gesture; instead, she stood there with her hands fisted at her sides, letting him look his fill. He came toward her then and touched her, slowly stroking one palm down her back while another hand cupped her left breast, gently kneading it as though to test its weight and texture. “You’re very pretty,” he murmured, looking down at her as his hands deliberately explored her body, every stroke sending ripples of heat down to her nether regions. Standing there in her bare feet, Mia was acutely aware of how much larger his body was compared to hers, with her head barely reaching his shoulder and each of his arms thicker than half of her torso. His hands appeared dark against her pale skin, and she shivered when he moved his palm down to her belly, the width of his open hand nearly spanning the distance between her hip bones. His erection prodded her side, the thin material of his pajama pants doing little to conceal its heat and hardness. Without the blurring effect from the alcohol or the shield of darkness, there was no retreat from his brutally intimate actions, no merciful escape into a sensual fog. Instead, Mia stood there in broad daylight, exposed and vulnerable, intensely aware of each stroke of his large hands over her body and the warm moisture lubricating her sex in response. Hooking his thumbs into her underwear, he pushed her panties down her legs, removing her last defense. “Step out of them,” he hoarsely ordered, and Mia obeyed, standing completely naked in his arms. The fact that he was still wearing his pants somehow made the whole thing worse, adding to her sense of complete powerlessness. He touched her buttocks, his hands curving around the small pale globes of her ass and lightly squeezing them. “Very nice,” he whispered, and Mia blushed for some inexplicable reason. The dark curls between her legs attracted his attention next, and Mia flinched when his fingers slowly stroked her pussy hair, looking for the tender flesh underneath. Feeling her wetness, he smiled with purely masculine

satisfaction, and Mia’s embarrassment grew tenfold. This was the worst part— knowing that her own body betrayed her, that a creature who was not even human could provoke this kind of response from her under the circumstances. “No mouth-to-mouth, right?” he murmured, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. Mia nodded, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that it would be over with quickly. Instead, he placed her in the middle of the circular bed, like some virginal sacrifice, and crawled down her body until his head was above the juncture of her legs. Mia tried to rear up then, realizing his intentions, but he had no intention of letting her go. Instead, he easily held down her flailing legs with his elbows while his fingers leisurely parted her folds, exposing her most sensitive place to his burning gaze. Lowering his head, he gently pressed his tongue, soft and flat, against her clitoris—just holding it there and letting her struggle until she could bear it no longer, her entire body arching with the most powerful climax of her life. While she lay there, still shuddering with little aftershocks, he rose up on his knees, deftly stripping off the pants to reveal a large jutting penis. Mia’s eyes widened as she realized that her first time would likely involve more than a minor discomfort, given the size of the cock in front of her. Seeing her fear, he paused. “Mia,” he said quietly, “we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. I can wait—” She shook her head, unable to think past the fog of desire clouding her brain. It had taken all her courage to get this far, to allow him so much intimacy. To retreat now seemed cowardly, and Mia felt a sudden, irrational dread that this was it—that if she gave up a chance to experience such passion now, she would never feel it again. He didn’t need much encouragement. Before her logical side could reassert itself, he was already over her, parting her legs with one powerfully muscled thigh and settling in between them. Looking steadily into her eyes, he began to push his cock into her opening, slowly working it in inch by slow inch. Regretting her decision almost immediately, Mia writhed under him, feeling like a heated baseball bat was attempting to enter her channel. Despite the wetness from her orgasm, her inner muscles did not want to let him in, desperately clenching to repel the invasion. “Shhh,” he whispered soothingly as tears rolled down her face at the burning discomfort that threatened to morph into pain. Beads of sweat appeared on his own face at the obvious strain of holding back, his arms flexing as he held himself steady, trying to let the delicate muscles stretch around

his shaft before proceeding. But Mia could not hold still, every instinct leading her to fight the penetration, little cries escaping from her throat as he pressed further, pausing briefly at the internal barrier. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, and Mia screamed as he pushed forward in one smooth motion, tearing through the membrane that was blocking his entrance and sheathing his cock to the hilt, his pubic hair pressing against her own. Mia’s vision went dark for a second, and hot nausea boiled up her throat as a knife-like pain tore through her insides. She had never expected to feel such agony, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, raw, guttural cries breaking out from her throat, desperately wanting to escape the object tearing her body apart. All earlier pleasure forgotten, she writhed under him like a fish on a hook, barely registering the soothing platitudes he was murmuring in her ear and the gentle kisses he was raining on her cheeks and forehead. At some point, the agonizing pain began to abate, and she realized that he wasn’t moving, just holding himself deep inside her, his muscles quivering from the effort it took to stay still. “I’m sorry,” he was saying, apparently repeating it for the umpteenth time, “it will get better, I promise. Just let yourself relax, and it won’t hurt like that anymore, I promise you... Shhh, my darling, just relax... there’s a good girl... It will get better soon, I promise...” Liar, Mia thought bitterly. How could it get better when he was still inside her, the organ that had caused her so much pain lodged deeply within? She felt violated and betrayed, pinned under his much larger body with no hope of escape until he was done. “Just finish it,” she told him harshly, willing to tolerate anything to have this be over. A small smile curved his lips despite the strain on his face. “Ah Mia, my sweet brave girl, your wish is my command.” He pulled out slowly, and Mia squeezed her eyes shut, unable to hold back tears as the motion brought more pain at first. He kept moving, however, slowly retreating from her body and penetrating her again, and the ancient rhythm somehow ignited a small spark inside her again. Sensing it, he gradually picked up the pace and changed his angle slightly, so that the broad head of his shaft nudged some sensitive spot deep inside. His arm reached between them, knowing fingers unerringly finding her clitoris, and he pressed lightly, keeping the pressure steady and letting his strokes move her against his hand. Mia’s body tensed again, this time for a different reason, and liquid heat began to gather in her core. She found herself starting to pant, echoing his heavy breathing, and the tension inside her became nearly unbearable, every thrust of his cock bringing her closer and closer to the edge without sending her over. The pain didn’t

go away—it was still there—but somehow it didn’t matter as every nerve in Mia’s body focused on her desperate need for the release. He groaned, his hips now hammering at her, and she screamed in frustration, small fists beating uselessly against his chest, her body vibrating like a guitar string from the intolerable tension deep inside. And suddenly it was too much. She felt him swell up even more, and then he was coming with one final deep thrust that sent her over the edge, his pelvis grinding against her sex as her entire body seemed to explode with an orgasm so powerful that she literally saw stars, her brain almost shortcircuiting from the intensity of the climax. She lay there afterwards, feeling his cock still twitching inside her even as it became softer and smaller. His shoulders and back were slick with sweat, and his breathing sounded like he had just run a marathon, his body lying heavily on top of hers. Her own limbs were shaking slightly, she noticed with a curiously detached interest, and her heart was pounding as though from a physical exertion. He pulled out then, and Mia felt the loss of heat from his body, a strange inner coldness taking its place. He left the room, and she brought her knees up to her chest in a slow, painful motion, her body feeling foreign as she curled into a fetal position on her side, her mind oddly blank. There were streaks of blood on her thighs, much more blood than the spotting she’d always thought was the norm. He came back a minute later, a small white tube in his hands. Squeezing out some clear substance, he coated his finger in it and reached between her legs, entering her sore opening despite her faint protest. Almost immediately, Mia felt the burning pain beginning to abate as the mystery gel worked its magic. “It’s an analgesic, and it will speed your recovery,” he explained, wiping his hand on the sheets to get rid of the excess. “Unfortunately, I can’t heal you completely because the last thing I want is for your membrane to regrow itself.” Mia responded by curling up into an even smaller ball. More than anything, she wanted to shrink and disappear, to pretend that none of this was real. He didn’t let her though, gathering her closer to him in a spooning position, his large warm body curling around her own. “I hate you,” she told him, wanting to lash out and hurt him somehow. She felt his sigh against her back. “I know,” he said, gently stroking her tangled curls. They must have lain like that for a few minutes. The sheets smelled like sex, Mia noticed, and like him. There was also a metallic odor that Mia realized had to be the remnants of her virginity. “You never drank my blood,” she said, finding it easier to communicate like

that, with her back turned toward him. “No, I didn’t,” he agreed, adding, “I think you’ve had enough new experiences for one day.” How considerate of him, Mia thought bitterly. Such a gentleman, sparing the poor virgin additional trauma. Never mind that he was the cause of that trauma in the first place. As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, he said, continuing to stroke her hair, “I’m sorry it was so painful for you. I know you won’t believe me right now, but I never wanted to hurt you like that and I never will again. Had I known how narrow you were inside and how thick your membrane would be, I would have made sure to remove it before we got anywhere near this bedroom. Once I was inside you, it was too late—I just couldn’t stop. It won’t be like this next time, I promise.” Mia listened to his little speech with a growing dread in her stomach. “Just to be clear,” she said slowly, “I don’t ever want to do this with you again. Ever. If you touch me again, it will be rape in the very real sense of the word.” Korum didn’t answer, and Mia realized with a sinking feeling that he very much intended for there to be a next time. “You’re a monster,” she told him, trying to pull away. He let her go, getting up himself. Before she realized what he wanted, he bent over the bed and lifted her in his arms, carrying her naked out of the room.

HE BROUGHT HER TO THE SAME BATHROOM MIA HAD SHOWERED IN BEFORE. AT SOME POINT, HE MUST have filled the jacuzzi because it was ready for them. He carefully set her on her feet in the wonderfully hot water that came up to her waist. Her legs still felt shaky, so Mia lowered herself into the bubbles, finding a step on which she could sit. Powerful jets pleasantly massaged her tired muscles, washing off dried blood and semen on her thighs, and Mia leaned back against the edge and closed her eyes, trying to ignore Korum’s naked presence. A scary thought suddenly entered her mind, causing her eyes to pop open. “You didn’t use any protection,” she hissed at him, horrified at the realization. “Am I going to catch some kind of a weird STD or worse—get pregnant?” He laughed, throwing his head back. “No, my sweet—both would be an impossibility. You’re far safer having sex with me than with any human male, regardless of how many condoms he wears.”

Mia exhaled in relief. The gel he’d used earlier and the hot water were doing wonders for her physical state, and she felt nearly back to her old self. She was also hungry, she realized. “I should get going,” she said, looking around the bathroom for a towel or a robe to wrap herself in. She still didn’t feel comfortable being naked in front of him. “Why?” he asked lazily, moving his muscular back to take better advantage of the jets. “You already missed your class and you don’t have anything on Wednesdays.” Apparently, he knew her class schedule by heart. Mia shrugged, no longer surprised by anything. “I’m hungry, and I want to go home,” she said, telling the truth. He grinned at her, looking happy for some reason. “I’ll make you something to eat. Why don’t you relax here some more, and I’ll come get you when the food is ready.” She nodded, deciding not to argue at the memory of the delicious meal he’d made before. Still smiling, Korum rose and stepped out of the tub, water streaming down his golden skin and well-defined muscles. Despite everything that happened, Mia felt a spark of arousal at the sight of him fully naked. His back was broad and muscular, and his hips were narrow. His ass was the best she’d ever seen on a man, tight with muscle, and his legs looked powerful. She wondered if Ks needed to work out to maintain their looks and resolved to ask him at some point later. “Like what you see?” he asked with a sly smile, obviously noticing her scrutiny. Mia blushed a little and then told herself not to be a ninny. “Sure,” she said with a straight face. “You’re very pretty, like a male Barbie doll.” Far from offended, he laughed with genuine amusement. “Not like Ken, I hope. Isn’t he missing the requisite equipment?” Mia just shrugged in response, not wanting to get into this kind of banter with him right now. Grinning, he exited the room, leaving her alone to enjoy the jacuzzi for the next twenty minutes. By the time he came back, Mia was already showered and wrapped in the familiar robe she’d discovered in the bathroom closet. She even found the slippers she’d worn before and gladly put them on. Showering here was becoming a habit. She accompanied Korum to the kitchen, her mouth watering at the delicious

smells emanating from there. He had made another one of his signature salads and a dish of roasted buckwheat with stir-fried carrots and mushrooms. Feeling like she was starving, Mia attacked her food with appreciation, and so did he. For a while, the kitchen was silent, except for chewing noises and the clattering of their silverware. Finally feeling replete, Mia leaned back in her chair. He was done with his portion, as usual, and was observing her with a half-smile. “What?” asked Mia self-consciously, wondering if she had a bit of lettuce stuck between her teeth. “Nothing,” he said, and his smile got wider. “I just love watching you eat. You do it with such enthusiasm—it’s very endearing.” Mia flushed a little. He obviously thought she was a glutton. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “Yeah, what can I say? I really like food.” He grinned. “I know. I really like that about you. Very unexpected in a girl your size.” Mia smiled back tentatively and got up from her chair. Now was as good a time as any. “Okay, well, thank you for the meal. I’ll just change and get out of your hair.” The smile left his face. He clearly didn’t like hearing that. “Why don’t you stay?” he suggested softly. “I promise not to touch you again today, if that’s what worries you.” Mia swallowed, suddenly feeling on edge. “I really have to get going,” she said, hoping that she was misreading his body language—that he didn’t really have the intention of keeping her there against her will. He looked directly into her eyes. Whatever he had seen there seemed to make up his mind. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You can go home.” Mia’s breath escaped in relief—prematurely, as it turned out. Because he added next, “But I want you to come back here tonight. Gather whatever you need for the next day or two—or I can buy you new things if you prefer—and come back here by 7 p.m. I’ll make us dinner.” Mia stared at him. “And if I don’t?” she asked defiantly. “Then I will come and get you,” he answered, the look in his eyes leaving no doubt of his seriousness. “But why?” Mia burst out in frustration. “Why do you want to be with someone who doesn’t want you? Who hates you, in fact? Surely, there can’t be a shortage of

willing women for you. You’ve already gotten what you wanted from me. Can’t you move on to another victim?” His eyes narrowed in anger. “Well, Mia, you’re right. There is no shortage of women who would love to be in your shoes, and I could easily get myself another ‘victim,’ as you so nicely put it.” He took a step toward her. “The reason why I want you—as unwilling as you pretend to be—is because chemistry like ours is very rare. You’re very young, even for a human, so you don’t realize what we have. Do you honestly think that sex would be like that for you with another man? Or that just any woman could have that kind of effect on me?” He paused and continued in a softer tone, “This kind of attraction happens once in a blue moon, and I know better than to give up on it even if you’re running scared right now.” Staring into her shocked face, he added with a familiar golden gleam in his eyes, “I know this is all very new to you, and that you probably felt more pain than enjoyment today. It won’t be like that again. The next time you’re in my bed, I promise that your only screams will be those of pleasure.”

6

M ia left his apartment and walked home, her thoughts whirling in chaos. She was no longer a virgin, and she had the residual soreness between her thighs to prove it. His gel thingy had helped with the majority of the pain, but she could still feel echoes of his fullness inside her. Her sex clenched slightly at the memory of the orgasms he’d given her, and she shivered with the intensity of her recollection. And he wanted to see her again, tonight. In fact, it sounded like he had no intention of dropping his pursuit—in complete disregard of her wishes. At that thought, Mia got angry again. He had no right to do this to her. His species may have guided human evolution, but that didn’t mean he owned her. Whatever special chemistry he thought they had did not excuse his behavior, and Mia hated the idea that he thought he could have her whenever he wanted. She wished there was something she could do to thwart him, but her own response to him had made a mockery of any resistance. It was a long walk back to her apartment, but Mia wanted to stretch her legs and clear her head before potentially seeing her roommate. By the time she got to her building, she was sufficiently tired that going up five flights of stairs seemed like a chore. She was looking forward to plopping down on the couch and doing something totally brainless—like watching a show on her laptop. This was not her day, however. Jessie had guests, Mia realized as she opened the door and heard masculine voices in the living room. Walking in, she was surprised to see two men she’d never met before. One of them—an Asian guy—looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, while the other had to be at least thirty. The older guy caught her attention immediately. There was something about the way he sat on the couch that gave her the impression of a coiled spring. His hair was blond, and his ice-blue eyes were extraordinarily watchful. He looked to be of medium height and lean, maybe even a

bit on the skinny side. At Mia’s entrance, they both got up. Jessie remained sitting, looking pale and strangely guilty. “Hi, Mia,” she said with some hesitation. “This is my cousin Jason and his friend John.” Mia’s eyebrows rose. “The Jason we mentioned this morning?” she asked in confusion. The Asian guy nodded. “The one and only.” “Oh, hi... nice to meet you,” Mia said politely, trying to connect the dots. “They’re here to talk to you,” Jessie said, and Mia realized why she looked so guilty. “Are you guys, like, the Resistance or something?” she asked incredulously. At their non-response, she drew her own conclusion. “Look, I don’t know what Jessie told you, but we really don’t have anything to talk about—” “On the contrary, Miss Stalis,” John said, speaking for the first time in a slightly raspy voice, “we have a lot to discuss. Jason—why don’t you catch up with your cousin while Miss Stalis and I conclude our discussion?” Seeing Mia’s response in the stormy expression gathering on her face, Jessie gave her a pleading look. “Please, Mia, I know you’re mad at me, but I really think they can help you. Just hear them out, okay? Jason said they can give you some good tips on how to handle this situation—that’s why they’re here.” Mia sighed heavily and bit out, “Fine.” Apparently, her relaxing afternoon at home was not to be. “When does he want to see you again?” John asked quietly. Mia blinked in surprise. “Uh—tonight at seven.” “Okay,” he said, “that gives us enough time to bring you up to speed. Tell me— have you been shined?” “Shined?” “Did he use any kind of alien device on you that shined a reddish light on any part of your body where the skin was broken?” Mia stared at him in shock. “How do you know about that?” Taking that as an affirmative, he said, “You can’t leave the apartment then. Jason—why don’t you take your cousin to see a movie while Miss Stalis and I talk here?”

Jason nodded and left with Jessie in tow, although Mia could see that her roommate was just dying with curiosity. When they were alone, Mia asked angrily, “What do you mean, I can’t leave the apartment?” “You have been shined. He basically branded you—you now have little nano machines embedded in whatever part of your body has been shined on. They transmit your location to him at all times. If you were to do something he doesn’t expect, such as leaving your apartment when he thinks you should be home, he would know immediately—and it could make him suspicious.” Mia looked at her palms in horror. “You mean, when he healed my scrapes, he was really putting a tracking device inside me? Why would he do this?” She raised her head with suspicion. “And how do you know all this?” “Miss Stalis—” he said wearily. “Please call me Mia,” she interrupted. “Okay, Mia,” he agreeably repeated, “we have been fighting the Krinar for a very long time. Don’t you think we would’ve learned a lot about our enemy in the process?” “Okay,” Mia said slowly, “let’s say I believe you. Why would he do this? Brand me like that?” “To know your whereabouts at all times, of course. It’s standard operating procedure for them.” Mia stared at him with shock. “Well then, what can you do to help me?” “We can’t help you, Mia,” John said bluntly. “But you can help us.” Mia inhaled sharply. She was afraid it might be something like this. “I think you’ve been misinformed. I don’t want to get involved with your cause in any way, shape, or form. You can’t win, and the last thing we need is to return to the days of the Great Panic. I just want to be left alone—by Korum, by you, and by everyone else—and if you can’t help me with that, then you should just get out.” She pointed at the door. “You are already involved, Mia, whether you like it or not. Do you know who your K lover is?” “He’s not my lover!” Mia said sharply. “You haven’t slept with him?” Seeing the color flooding her face, he said,

“That’s what I thought. I’m sure he wasted no time taking exactly what he wanted from you, just like they took our planet.” Mia fought her embarrassment. “What do you mean, do I know who he is?” “Did he tell you anything about himself? Do you know why he’s here, in New York? How the Ks ended up coming to Earth in general?” Mia nodded slowly. “He said that he’s an engineer, that the company he works for made the ships that brought them here to Earth.” “An engineer? That’s rich.” John let out a humorless chuckle. “He’s one of the most powerful Ks on this planet, Mia. He owns the ships that brought them here— his company, in fact, has been the driving force behind them settling on Earth.” Seeing the look of sheer disbelief on her face, he added, “He’s part of their ruling council—some even say he runs the council. His company provides everything for their Centers. Without him, there would be no K Centers and no Krinar on Earth.” “I don’t understand,” Mia said in confusion. “If he’s all that, then why is he here? And what does he want with me?” “He’s here because, for the first time since K-Day, we actually stand a chance against them.” John’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Because he knows that we’re very close to being able to give them a fair fight. Because he wants to stamp out the Resistance before we go any further.” He took a deep breath. “As to what he wants with you, it’s pretty obvious. Do you know what a charl is?” Mia shook her head, feeling overwhelmed. “The literal translation of charl is one who pleases. It’s the term they use for the human slaves they keep in their settlements. The purpose of the charl is to provide Ks with pleasure. As you may or may not know yet, they enjoy drinking blood during sex. So they keep us as captives, locked up in their high-tech cages, and use us whichever way they want.” Mia felt hot bile rising in her throat. “You’re lying. Why would they do this? We’re intelligent beings.” “They don’t necessarily think of us that way. Most of them regard us as pets that they bred explicitly for this purpose—little better than the primates they’d hunted into extinction on their planet.” “So what are you saying? That Korum wants to keep me as a slave?” Mia asked

incredulously. “That’s bullshit. If he wanted to keep me locked up, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” He sighed. “Mia, I don’t know exactly what game he’s playing with you. Maybe he finds it fun to give you the illusion of freedom for now. It’s not real—you understand that, right? If you tried to leave New York instead of staying here and going to him whenever he wants, I don’t know what he would do, whether your family would ever see you again. You’re a smart girl. You sensed that, right? That’s why you haven’t been exactly avoiding him. That’s why your roommate was so scared for you, why she came running to Jason even though they haven’t spoken in three years—because she said you were in way over your head.” Mia wanted to throw up. If John was telling the truth, then her situation was far worse than she’d imagined. He was right; her subconscious must have realized the danger of running from Korum because she had never seriously contemplated leaving town. Her brain buzzed with a million questions, even as a hopeless pit of despair grew in her stomach. “So what do you want from me?” she asked bitterly. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that I’m screwed? That I’m going to end up as an alien’s pet, locked up somewhere and used for sex? Is that what you’re here to say?” “Yes, Mia,” John answered calmly, his expression oddly flat. “There are no good options for you. If he gets tired of you, then you might be able to resume your life— particularly if you’re still in New York at that time. Of course, you might also catch the attention of some other K and never be seen again. That’s what happened to my sister—that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing, so that other innocent young women can have a normal life.” Mia looked at him in horror. “Your sister? What happened to her?” His mouth twisted bitterly. “What happened is I gave her a trip to Mexico as a college graduation present. She went with her girlfriends and met a handsome stranger on the beach. Turns out, he wasn’t exactly human... The night before they were supposed to return home, Dana disappeared from her room. For the longest time, we had no idea what happened—just suspicions that the K was somehow involved. That’s why I started fighting the Ks, to avenge my sister. It wasn’t until a year ago that I learned she’s still alive and is being held as a charl in the Costa Rican K Center.” Mia’s eyes welled up with tears as she pictured his family’s suffering. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Is there any way you can get her back?” “No.” He shook his head with angry regret. “Even if we succeeded in rescuing

her from there—an impossibility in and of itself—she’s been shined, like all charl. They will always know her exact whereabouts—there’s no way we can reverse that procedure.” “Shined,” Mia said. “Like all charl—like me.” “Like you,” John agreed. She wanted to scream and cry and throw things. She settled for asking, “So why did you come here today?” “Because, Mia, although we can’t really help you, you are actually in a position to help us. If we succeed, not only will you get your life back, but you will also have saved countless other young women—and men—from my sister’s fate.” “I don’t understand... What are you asking me?” Mia said slowly, her pulse picking up. “We want you to work with us. To notify us of Korum’s whereabouts, what he likes to eat, how he sleeps, any weaknesses that he might have. And if you happen to come across any information that might be even remotely useful—any passwords, security measures, anything at all—to convey that information to us.” “You’re asking me to spy for you?” Mia’s voice rose incredulously. “I’m asking you to make the best of your admittedly unfortunate situation. To help yourself and all of humanity. All you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open when you’re with him and occasionally report your findings to us.” “And you think I will be able to pull this off? With no training of any kind and no acting skills? Somehow fool one of the most powerful Ks on this planet? What makes you think he’s not already aware that you’re here, particularly if his goal is to crush your movement?” “This apartment is not bugged—we checked. He would have no reason to spy on you here if you don’t do anything suspicious and continue to play along. He doesn’t know that we’re here—if he did, we’d already be dead. Look, we’re not asking you to be James Bond or some kind of femme fatale. You don’t need to try to get close to him or seduce him or anything like that—just continue your relationship with him, such as it is, and occasionally give us information.” “How? And what would that accomplish anyway? What makes you think you have a chance in hell when all the governments in the world with their nuclear weapons were completely helpless in the invasion?” The whole thing was insane, and Mia had no intention of becoming a martyr in the name of some hopeless

cause. “The how—leave that up to us. If he still gives you a similar degree of freedom, it will definitely be much easier. If not, then it gets more complicated, but we have our ways.” He paused for a second, apparently debating the wisdom of his next words. “As to why we think we can win, let’s just say that not all Ks are the same. They don’t all share the same beliefs about human inferiority. I can’t tell you more without putting you in danger, but rest assured—we have some powerful allies.” Human allies among the Ks? The implications of that were mind-boggling. “I don’t know,” Mia said, trying to think it through. “What if he catches on? What will happen to me then?” He said truthfully, “I don’t know. He may choose to have you killed or punished in some other way. I honestly don’t know.” Mia let out a short bitter laugh. “And you don’t care, right?” John sighed. “I do, Mia. More than anything, I wish that things were different. That I wasn’t asking you to do this, that the only thing you had to worry about were your midterms. But we don’t live in that kind of world anymore. If we are to regain our freedom, we have to risk everything. You are our best chance to get close to Korum. You can really make a difference, Mia.” Mia walked over to the table and sat down, closing her eyes for a minute so she could think. She had no reason to trust John, and she had no idea if anything he had told her was the truth. Still, she was somehow inclined to believe him. There was too much pain in his voice when he talked about his sister; he was either the best actor in the world, or the Ks really were abducting and enslaving humans who caught their eye. The way she had inadvertently caught Korum’s. Another question occurred to her. Opening her eyes, she asked, “What if Korum knows that Jason is Jessie’s cousin, and he is already suspicious of me?” John shrugged. “It’s a possibility, of course. But Jason is Jessie’s third cousin, so the connection is very distant. Also, he’s a nobody in our operation—he has barely been involved in the last two years. He only came to me today because Jessie had called him about you. We can’t completely rule out this possibility, but the odds are in our favor. Also, don’t forget—Korum is the one who has been pursuing you, not the other way around, so he really has no reason to suspect anything.” “All right,” said Mia, “let’s pretend for a second that I do decide to spy for you. How do you expect me to go to him tonight, knowing everything you’ve just told me, and act like nothing has changed? He’s thousands of years old—he can read me

like an open book. I don’t stand a chance.” “I don’t know, Mia. At this point, you know him far better than we do. I know you’ve never been tested like this, but I believe in you. Your biggest advantage may simply be the fact that he likely underestimates your intelligence. As long as you’re just his charl, he may not see you as a threat.” Mia had finally had enough. She stood up, a feeling of exhaustion washing over her. “John,” she said wearily, “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I do sympathize with your cause. I can’t promise you anything. I will not put my life in danger to report to you on Korum’s whereabouts and what he had for dinner. But if I do happen to come across any information that could be material, I will do my best to get it to you.” He nodded. “That’s fair, Mia. If you need to get in touch with us, just talk to Jessie—or if that’s not possible, send her an email with ‘Hi’ in the subject line— we’ll be monitoring her account. That way, if he decides to keep tabs on your email —which he probably will—he won’t get suspicious. You’ll just be saying hi to your roommate.” Mia nodded in agreement, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Her head was pounding with a brutal headache, and she gladly locked the door behind John as soon as he left. Making her way to her room, she collapsed on the bed. She felt sick, her stomach churning from John’s revelations. It just couldn’t be true—she didn’t want to believe it. Yes, Korum did seem to ride roughshod over her objections, and he really hadn’t given her much choice in their relationship thus far. But to actually keep her as a very real sex slave? To take away all her freedom and keep her locked up somewhere within a K Center? If the existence of the charl was anything more than a figment of John’s imagination—and Korum intended to make her one—then he was definitely the monster that she’d accused him of being. Mia felt nauseous at the thought that she would see him tonight and feel his touch on her body. And probably respond to it, as though he were really her lover. That last part made her want to throw up again. How could her body want him when he didn’t even regard her as a person with basic human—or rather, intelligent being’s—rights? She was also terrified about spying on him. If she got caught, she was sure that

she would probably be killed—perhaps even tortured first, for information. Anyone who kept slaves likely wouldn’t blink at torture. She shuddered. In fact, if he found out about her conversation with John today, she might be doomed. She tried to imagine him intentionally inflicting pain on her. For some reason, it was difficult. For the most part, he had been very gentle with her. Even her loss of virginity this morning—as traumatic as that had been—could have been much worse if he hadn’t tried to control himself. In fact, some of his actions were almost caring—feeding her, making sure she was warm and dry, healing her (well, maybe not that one, given what she’d just learned)—and that hardly jived with the villainous image John had painted for her. Then again, she wouldn’t want to hurt a kitten either, but would have no problem keeping said kitten locked up in her house. If that was truly how he saw her—as a cute pet that he just happened to want to fuck—then his behavior made perfect sense. Mia tried not to think about the implications of it all, but it was impossible. Her future had always seemed so bright, and she had enjoyed thinking about it, planning out the next few years of her life. And now she had no idea what the next few weeks would hold—whether she would even be alive, much less still attending NYU. The thought that she might end up as Korum’s charl in an alien settlement was devastating, especially if she started thinking of her family’s reaction to her disappearance. Would he at least let her tell them that she was alive, or would she vanish without a trace? A wave of self-pity washing over her, Mia felt the hot prickle of tears behind her eyelids. Unable to contain her battered emotions any longer, she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed at the bitter unfairness of it all—until her eyes were red and swollen and she couldn’t squeeze out another tear. Then she got up, washed her face, and began to pack her things for tonight as per Korum’s suggestion.

AT 6:45 P.M. SHE TOOK THE SUBWAY DOWN TO TRIBECA AND ENTERED KORUM’S BUILDING AT 6:59. Mentally patting herself on the back, Mia thought that she made quite a punctual spy.

He greeted her with a slow sensuous smile, looking as gorgeous as ever in a pair of light blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Even after John’s revelations, Mia’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. Her inner muscles clenched, and she felt herself starting to get wet. His smile got wider, exposing that damnable dimple. He could obviously sense her arousal. Mia cursed her body. It had gotten conditioned to respond to him, despite everything. Then again, if she was literally sleeping with the enemy, she figured she might as well enjoy it. Now that she knew the truth about his kind and his probable intentions toward her, she was fairly certain that she could keep her emotions in check, no matter how many screaming orgasms he gave her. The dinner that he prepared was outstanding as usual. Tender roasted potatoes with wild mushrooms, dill, and caramelized onions were the main course, preceded by an appetizer of spinach salad with poached pears. The dessert was a platter of fresh fruit, cut in various unique shapes, with a sweet walnut dip. The entire meal was served by candlelight. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was wooing her with a romantic dinner. The more likely explanation was that he simply enjoyed great food in a beautiful setting, and she was the beneficiary of that. Still, this hardly fit with the evil overlord image John had painted. Despite Mia’s initial concern, she found it easy to act naturally with him— perhaps because she didn’t have to pretend to like him or be calm in his presence. He knew her feelings toward him perfectly well from this morning, and he wouldn’t expect her to be anything but nervous, snarky, and reluctantly turned on—all of which Mia genuinely was. Dinner flew by, dominated by light banter—she learned that he really enjoyed American movies from the early twenty-first century—and delicious food. As the meal drew to a close, Mia’s anxiety levels began to rise at the thought of what awaited her later in the evening. Despite the gel he’d used on her, she still felt a slight discomfort deep inside and was not looking forward to experiencing sex again any time soon—even if, theoretically, it would hurt less the second time. She doubted that it could ever be completely pain-free, given the size of his cock and her own supposedly unusual narrowness. Still, her body did not appear to care as warm moisture gathered between her legs in anticipation. After dinner was over, Mia helped Korum clean up, stacking the dishes in the dishwasher and wiping the table. It was a disconcertingly domestic task— something that she might have done with a boyfriend or husband in the future— and it made her even more aware of the strange turn her life had taken. It was

difficult to believe that just four days ago, she was dreading her Sociology paper and worrying that her dating life was in the dumps. And now she was trying not to get caught spying on a two-thousand-year-old extraterrestrial who likely wanted to keep her as a sex slave. Once the clean-up was done, Korum led her to the bedroom. At this point, Mia felt like a nervous wreck, fear and desire fighting with each other in her stomach. Noticing her obvious apprehension, he said, “No intercourse tonight, I promise. I know you’re still sore.” Mia’s anxiety ratcheted up another notch. What exactly did he intend to do if intercourse was out of the question? They entered the bedroom, and he led her to the familiar circular bed, now covered with a fresh set of blue and ivory sheets. The room was lit with a soft yellow light, and some kind of sensuous music was playing in the background. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled her closer to him until she stood between his open legs. In this position, Mia was nearly at his eye level. Trembling slightly, she stood still and tried not to look at him as he pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a plain white bra that she had remembered to wear this time. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, holding her gently by her sides while studying the body revealed to him thus far. Inexplicably, Mia blushed, her insecure inner teenager absurdly pleased at the compliment. Bending toward her, he pressed a warm kiss to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Mia shivered from the sensation, goosebumps appearing all over her body. Apparently pleased with the reaction, he did it again, and then lightly blew cool air on the damp spot his mouth left behind. Mia gasped, her nipples hardening from the pleasurable chill. He smiled, eyes gleaming with gold. “Still no mouth-to-mouth?” he asked softly, and Mia shrugged, remembering what happened the last time she set that condition. Interpreting that as consent, he brought her toward him, burying one hand in her hair and keeping the other on the small of her back. Putting her own hands on his clothed shoulders, Mia closed her eyes and felt him press small butterfly-light kisses on her cheeks, forehead, and closed lids. By the time his soft lips reached her mouth, she was nearly squirming with anticipation. At first, he kissed her very lightly, just brushing her mouth with his. Then he began gently nibbling on her lips, carefully teasing the rim with his tongue. She moaned, her body pressing closer to his, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, penetrating it in an obvious imitation of the sexual act. A rush of moisture

inundated her already wet sex as he alternated fucking her mouth with his tongue and lightly sucking on her swollen and sensitive lips. Lost in the sensations, Mia only vaguely registered his unfastening of her bra. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he kissed her ear, sucking carefully on her earlobe. She arched with pleasure, knees buckling and head falling back, and he took advantage, licking and sucking his way down the delicate column of her throat and the collarbone region until his hot mouth reached the small white globes of her breasts. “So pretty,” he whispered, before pulling one pink nipple into his mouth and scraping it softly with his teeth. Mia cried out, her clit throbbing on the verge of orgasm, and he gave her other breast the same treatment, holding her tightly as she writhed in his arms, maddeningly close to finding relief. He held her like that, pausing for a few seconds until the sensation waned a bit, and then lifted her astride one of his bent legs, grinding her jean-clad pussy firmly against his knee and swallowing her scream with his mouth as the long-awaited climax rushed powerfully through her body. Collapsing bonelessly against him, Mia felt her inner muscles pulsing with little aftershocks. Without waiting for her to recover, Korum got up, lifting her in his arms, and lowered her onto the bed. Stripping off his own clothes with a speed that made her blink, he climbed over her, unzipped her jeans, and pulled them off together with her panties. Lying there completely naked, Mia was unpleasantly reminded of the pain that followed the last time she was in this position. However, despite the large cock jutting aggressively at her, all he did was gently kiss his way down her body, starting with the sensitive spot near her shoulder and ending near her lower belly. She tensed in anticipation, and he did not disappoint. Pulling open her legs with strong hands, he bent his head and gently licked her folds, avoiding direct contact with the clitoris. Mia was surprised to feel herself getting turned on again, just minutes after her last orgasm. One long finger slowly entered her opening, pressing carefully on some sensitive spot deep inside, while his tongue flicked over her nub in an accelerating rhythm. There was no slow build-up this time; instead, her body simply spasmed around his finger, releasing the tension that had managed to coil inside her in a matter of seconds. Stunned, Mia lay there. At some point, she must have grabbed his head because her fingers were buried in his short glossy strands. Feeling irrationally embarrassed, she let go, pulling her hands away. He slowly took his finger out, making her sex clench with a residual tremor, and licked it while looking up at her. Mia nearly moaned again.

He sat up, still maintaining eye contact with her. Mia realized that he was still extremely hard, not having come yet. She licked her lips nervously, wondering what he intended. His eyes hungrily followed her tongue, and she suddenly knew what he wanted her to do. Sitting up herself, Mia cautiously extended her hand and gently brushed against his shaft with her fingers, feeling its smooth hardness. To her surprise, it jumped in her hand, as though alive. Mia’s eyes flew up to Korum’s face, and what she saw there was reassuring. He looked like he was in pain, eyes tightly shut and sweat beading up near his temples. Feeling her pause, he opened his eyes and hoarsely whispered, “Go ahead.” Emboldened, Mia wrapped her fingers around his cock and slowly stroked it in an up-and-down motion, the way she’d seen it done in porn. Her hand looked white and small wrapped around his thickness, and she wondered how it had ever fit inside her. He groaned at her action, his whole body tensing, and Mia suddenly felt very empowered. To know that she had this effect on him, that this formidable creature was at the mercy of her touch—somehow that went a long way toward restoring the balance of power in a relationship that had been very one-sided thus far. Deciding to take things further, she got on her knees and bent over him. Her dark curls brushing against his thighs, she tentatively licked the engorged head. He hissed, thrusting his hips toward her, and she smiled, reveling in her ability to control him like this. Holding his shaft with one hand, she cupped his heavy balls with the other hand and squeezed gently, exploring the unfamiliar part with curiosity. “Mia...” he groaned, and she smiled, pleased. She wanted to wring an even stronger response from his body, the way he had from hers. Still holding his balls, she carefully wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and swirled her tongue around it inside her mouth while moving her other hand on his shaft in a rhythmic motion. He let out a hoarse cry, his hips bucking, and she felt a warm, slightly salty liquid spurting out into her mouth. Surprised and delighted, Mia let him go, watching as the rest of the thick cream-colored fluid landed on his bronzed stomach. There was a strange taste in her mouth—not unpleasant—and she wondered briefly if there were differences between K and human semen. His cock was still twitching slightly before her eyes, even as it began to diminish in size. Looking up, Mia found him staring at her with a smile. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked, motioning toward his sex. Mia shook her head in response. For some weird reason, she had never wanted to go past a few kisses with any of the guys she’d dated in the past.

“Well, then, you’re a natural,” he said, his smile getting even wider. Reaching somewhere under the bed, he pulled out a box of tissues and used one to wipe his stomach. Mia blinked, wondering what else he kept under there. After cleaning himself, he got up and walked to the door completely naked. “Shower?” he asked, and Mia gladly agreed, following him to the bathroom. They got into the giant shower stall together, and Korum set the water controls to have warm water raining at them from all directions. Pouring shampoo into his hand, he massaged it into her hair, washing it with experienced movements. Eyes closed, Mia just stood there, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her scalp and the water pouring over her sensitized skin. Afterwards, he washed her entire body, making her blush with his thoroughness. Feeling slightly shy, Mia tentatively reciprocated, rubbing soap all over his golden skin and powerful muscles. He unashamedly took pleasure in her touch, arching into it like a big cat getting stroked. When they were done, he dried her body with a thick towel and then toweled off himself. Relaxed from the warm water and the two orgasms, Mia felt a wave of drowsiness washing over her. Noticing her barely stifled yawn, Korum picked her up and carried her back to bed. Putting her in the middle, he pulled a soft blanket toward them and lay down next to her, hugging her from the back. Feeling oddly comforted by the feel of his large body curving around her own, Mia closed her eyes and fell asleep easily for the first time since her world got turned upside down by the extraterrestrial lying next to her.

7

S treaming sunlight woke up Mia the next morning. Keeping her eyes closed against the brightness, Mia thought with a minor annoyance that she must’ve forgotten to close the blinds last night. It didn’t matter, though; she felt well-rested and extremely comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable? At the sudden realization that the bed she was lying on was much too soft to be her own IKEA mattress, Mia jackknifed to a sitting position and stared in shock at her surroundings. Memories of yesterday rushed into her brain, and she recognized where she was. She was also completely naked and alone. Pulling the blanket up to her chest, Mia warily surveyed the room. She was sitting in the middle of the giant round bed—she guesstimated it had to be at least fifteen feet in diameter—in Korum’s beautifully decorated bedroom. A few potted plants were thriving near the large window that looked out over the Hudson River. Noticing the robe and slippers that Korum must have left for her, she put them on and went in search of the restroom. Surprisingly, there wasn’t one connected to the bedroom. Peeking out into the hallway, Mia spotted the bathroom door. She made a quick beeline for it, not wanting Korum to know that she was awake yet. After taking care of business, Mia gratefully brushed her teeth with the toothbrush that he left for her and washed her face. Staring into the bedroom mirror, she was surprised to see that she actually looked quite well. Her pale skin was almost radiant, and her eyes looked unusually bright. Even her hair—the bane of her existence—seemed silkier, with dark brown curls glossy and nicely defined. Whatever shampoo he had used on her yesterday clearly worked miracles. As did orgasms, apparently. Mia wondered where her clothes were. Her tummy rumbled, reminding her that

the dinner last night was already in the distant past. Still wearing the robe, she decided to go in search of food. Entering the living room, Mia heard voices coming from somewhere to her left. Thinking that Korum might be watching TV, she headed in that direction. The voices got louder, and she realized that they were speaking in a foreign language she’d never heard before. Slightly guttural, it nonetheless flowed smoothly, unlike anything she was familiar with. Mia’s breath caught. She had to be listening to the Krinar language—which meant that Korum likely had visitors, and there were other Ks in the house. This might be her chance to learn something useful, she realized even as her heart skipped a beat. Quietly approaching the room, she was startled when the heavy doors abruptly slid open in front of her, revealing its occupants and exposing her to their eyes. Korum and two other Ks stood around a large table that had some kind of a three-dimensional image displayed on it. At the sight of her, Korum waved his hand and the image vanished, leaving only a smooth wooden surface. Mia froze as three pairs of alien eyes examined her. The expression on Korum’s face was cold and distant, unlike anything she’d seen before. The other male K, about Korum’s height, had brown hair and hazel eyes, with a similarly golden skin tone. The female was a bit lighter-skinned, closer to Jessie’s color, and the silky hair streaming down to her waist was an unusual shade of dark red. Her eyes were nearly black and looked enormous in her strikingly beautiful face. She was also tall, probably close to 5’9”, and wore a dress that looked like it had been poured on her curves. She could have easily stepped off the pages of an old Victoria’s Secret catalogue—if they had first air-brushed the image, of course. Standing there in her bath robe, Mia felt like a naughty child getting caught stealing from a cookie jar. There was no help for it. She cleared her throat, heart pounding in her chest. “Um, hi. I was just looking for the kitchen—” A small smile appeared on Korum’s face, warming up his features, and his distant look vanished. “Of course,” he said, “you must be hungry.” He turned toward his visitors. “Mia, these are my... colleagues,” he said, seeming to hesitate slightly at the last word, “Leeta and Rezav.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mia said politely, eyeing them with caution. She had a strong impression that those two were not happy to see her. Leeta stared back, her beautiful mouth pinched with dislike. Rezav was a bit friendlier, curving his lips in a half-smile and inclining his head graciously toward her. Speaking to Korum, he asked him something in their language, to which Korum absently nodded in response. “Okay, well, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Mia apologized, her pulse roaring in her ears. “I’ll leave you to your work.” Korum gestured toward the kitchen. “Feel free to grab some fruit or whatever you wish. I’ll join you soon.” With a muttered thanks, Mia escaped as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. Entering the kitchen, she sank down on one of the chairs, hugging herself protectively. Her head spun in a sickening manner, and her stomach churned with nausea. Because in Rezav’s question, spoken entirely in Krinar, Mia had caught one familiar word: charl.

BY THE TIME KORUM CAME TO THE KITCHEN, MIA HAD MANAGED TO COMPOSE HERSELF. At his entrance, she gave him a small smile and continued eating her blueberries as though she had not a care in the world—as though she had not just heard him confirm her worst fears. He came toward her and bent down, thoroughly kissing her mouth. For the first time, Mia simply endured his touch, the bile in her stomach too strong to allow her normal sexual response. She didn’t know why she’d needed this confirmation. For the most part, she had believed John when he’d told her about the Ks and their atavistic approach to human rights. Yet some small part of her must have been clinging to the hope that John was mistaken—that Korum would feel differently about her, that she was somehow special in his eyes. To hear him admit that she was his glorified sex slave—his human pet—was like being punched repeatedly in the stomach. If he had treated her with cruelty from the very beginning, it would have been easy to hate him. Instead, his arrogance toward her was often tempered with

tenderness—and that made the whole thing so much worse. Despite her better judgment and common sense, he had succeeded in getting under her skin, and today’s revelation felt like the cruelest of betrayals. Sensing her lack of response, he pulled away and frowned slightly. “What’s the matter?” he asked, perplexed. “Are you feeling all right?” Mia’s brain worked quickly. It would be dangerous for her—and for the Resistance—if he knew she had understood Rezav’s question. However, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was upset—Korum was too astute for that. Suddenly, a risky but brilliant idea came to her. “I’m fine,” she said with quiet dignity, obviously lying. “Uh-huh,” Korum said sarcastically, “sure you are.” Sitting down next to her, he lifted her chin toward him so he could look into her eyes. “Now tell me again what’s going on.” Mia felt a furious tear escape. “Nothing,” she told him angrily. “Mia,” he said her name in that special tone he reserved for intimidating her. “Stop lying to me.” Staring directly into his beautiful eyes, Mia channeled all of her frustrated fury and irrational feelings of betrayal into her next words. “How often do you fuck her?” she threw at him, summoning up remembered feelings of jealousy at his familiarity with Ashley the hostess. “In general, how many women do you go through in any given day? Two, three, a dozen?” At the surprised look on his face, she continued, injecting as much bitterness into her tone as possible, “Why are you even forcing me to be here if you have her? And Ashley, and God knows how many others?” Still holding her chin with his fingers, Korum said slowly, “Are you talking about Leeta? You think we’re somehow involved?” Mia allowed another tear to slide down her face. “Aren’t you?” He shook his head. “No. In fact, we’re actually distant cousins, so that would be an impossibility.” “Oh,” Mia said, pretending to be embarrassed about her outburst. She tried to pull away, and he let her go, watching as she got up and walked over to the window, carelessly wiping her face with the robe sleeve. Mia stood there, looking out over the Hudson. Some stupidly romantic part of

her was foolishly glad to hear about Leeta, even though her little jealousy act had been designed to throw him off track. She didn’t say anything when he came up to her, embracing her from behind. He didn’t make any promises or offer any other clarifications, Mia noticed. Of course, why should he try to reassure her, to convince her that she meant something special to him when she clearly didn’t? She wouldn’t have been particularly concerned about her dog’s feelings either. “I’m thinking of going for a walk in the park,” he murmured, still holding her close. “Would you like to come with me?” She was to be given a choice? What would happen if she said no? “I don’t know,” she said. “I have some studying that needs to get done, and I wanted to catch up with my parents. Wednesday is usually our day to Skype...” She couldn’t see his expression, and she was glad about that. Now he would show his true colors, she thought. “Okay,” he said, “that sounds good.” Mia blinked, surprised. Then he continued, “For tonight, I made us a reservation at Le Bernardin at 7 p.m. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Since you don’t seem to have any nice clothes, I’ll have something appropriate sent to your apartment.” Now that was the dictator she knew—and now truly hated. “I don’t need any clothes,” Mia protested. “I have better dresses. I just didn’t wear them that time.” Turning her around in his arms, he looked down and smiled. “Mia, no offense, but I haven’t seen you wear a single piece of clothing that was in any way flattering. You’re a very pretty girl, but your clothes make you look like a ten-year-old boy most of the time. I think it’s safe to say that dressing nicely is not one of your strengths.” Mia flushed with anger and embarrassment, but decided to hold her tongue. If he wanted to dress her up like a doll, then let him. It was hardly the worst thing he would likely do to her, anyway. At the mutinous expression on her face, his smile got wider and his eyes gleamed with gold. Lifting her by the waist, he brought her up toward him and kissed her again. His lips were softly searching on hers, and his tongue stroked the recesses of her mouth with such expertise that Mia felt a spark of desire kindling again. Relieved that she no longer had to act, she looped her arms around his neck, let her mind go blank, and focused on the sensations. Her body, already so used to his touch, reacted with animal instinct, and she kissed him back with all the

passion she could muster. At her response, he groaned and pressed her closer to him, grinding his hips against her and letting her feel the hard bulge that had developed in his pants. Mia’s insides clenched, and she found herself rubbing against his body like a cat in heat. All of a sudden, he was no longer satisfied with just kissing. Mia felt the shift of gravity as he lay her down on the table, her butt near the edge and legs hanging over the side. Stepping between her open legs, Korum pulled apart her robe with impatient hands. Before she even realized his intentions, he already had his jeans unzipped and was pushing into her opening. Mia was wet, but not enough, and he could only get the tip inside her before she cried out in pain. Pulling out, he lowered himself to a squatting position, his head between her spread thighs, and licked her folds with his tongue, spreading moisture around her entrance. She arched, blindsided by the sudden intensity, and he pushed his finger inside her, rubbing the sensitive spot until her inner muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Before the pulsations even stopped, he was already over her, pressing his thick cock to her opening and pushing it inside in a slow, agonizing slide. Mia writhed beneath him, little cries escaping from her throat as her interior channel tried to expand around his width. Despite the orgasm, his penetration was far from easy, and she could see the strain on his face from the effort it took him to go slowly. There was no pain this time—just an uncomfortable feeling of invasion and extreme fullness. He felt too big, his shaft like a heated pipe entering her body. Yet there was a promise of something more behind the discomfort. He continued his inexorable advance, and Mia gasped as her inner muscles gave way, allowing him to bury his full length inside her. He paused, letting her adjust to the unfamiliar sensation, and then pulled out slowly and pushed back in. A wave of heat rushed through her veins as his cock rubbed that same sensitive spot, and she cried out from the intense pleasure, digging her nails into his shoulders. At the feel of her sharp nails on his skin, the last shred of his restraint seemed to dissolve. With a low growl, he began thrusting in a deep, driving rhythm, each stroke of his cock pushing her back and forth on the slick table. Somewhere in the distance, a woman’s cries seemed to echo his thrusts, and Mia vaguely realized that she was that woman. Every cell in her body screamed for completion, for relief from the terrible tension that was gripping her every muscle and tendon, and then it was suddenly there—a climax so powerful that it seemed to tear her asunder, leaving her bucking uncontrollably in his arms even as he reached his own peak

with a guttural roar.

8

M ia

walked back to her apartment, desperately needing some alone time

before she faced Jessie and her questions. She felt raw and emotional, filled with self-loathing. Rationally, she knew that responding to him that way made her task easier and more tolerable. It would have been infinitely worse if she had found him repulsive or had to pretend to feel passion where there was none. However, the romantic teenager buried deep inside her was weeping at the perversion of her love story. There was no hero in her romance, and the villain made her feel things that she had never imagined she could experience. After he had finished fucking her on the kitchen table, he carried her back to the bathroom and gently cleaned her off. He then allowed her to get dressed and go home, with a parting kiss and an admonition to be dressed and ready by 6:30 p.m. Mia had meekly agreed, wanting nothing more than to get away, her body still throbbing in the aftermath of the episode. She debated how much to tell Jessie. The last thing she wanted was to drag her into this whole mess. Then again, Jessie was already involved through Jason, and one could argue that she’d made things worse for Mia by unintentionally bringing her into the anti-K movement. Entering the apartment, she was surprised and relieved to find that no one was there. Jessie had to be out studying or running errands. Sighing, Mia decided to use the quiet time to catch up with her family. The last time she’d spoken to them was last Saturday, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. Her parents likely thought that she was swamped with schoolwork, so they hadn’t bothered her beyond sending a couple of text messages to which Mia had managed to respond with a generic “things r good - luv u.”

She powered on her old computer and saw that her mom was already waiting for her on Skype. Her dad was in the back of the room, reading something. Seeing Mia log in, a big smile broke out on her mom’s face. “Sweetie! How are you? We haven’t heard from you all week!” If there was one thing that Mia was grateful to the Ks for, it was the impact they’d had on her parents and other middle-aged Americans across the nation. The new K-mandated diet had done wonders for her parents’ health, reversing her father’s diabetes and drastically lowering her mom’s abnormally high cholesterol levels. Now in their mid-fifties, her parents were thinner, more energetic, and younger-looking than she remembered them ever being in the past. Mia grinned at the camera with pleasure. York was seeing her parents so infrequently. chance she got—flying to Florida for spring missed them. One day, she hoped to move finished grad school.

The worst thing about being in New Although she went back home every break was hardly a chore—she still closer to them, perhaps once she’d

“I’m good, mom. How are things with you guys?” “Oh, you know, same old—all the news are with you youngsters these days. Have you spoken to your sister yet?” “Not yet,” said Mia, “why?’ Her mom’s smile got really big. “Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you. Just call her, okay?” Mia nodded, dying of curiosity. “How are things in school? Did you finish your paper?” her mom asked. Mia barely remembered the paper at this point. “The paper? Oh, yeah, the Sociology paper. I finished it on Sunday.” “You’ve had more papers since then?” Her mom asked disapprovingly. Without waiting for a response, she continued, “Mia, honey, you study way too hard. You’re twenty-one—you should be going out and having fun in the big city, not sitting holed up in that library. When is the last time you had a date?” Mia flushed a little. This was an old argument that came up more and more frequently these days. For some reason, unlike every other parent out there who would love to have a studious and responsible daughter, her mom fretted about Mia’s lack of a social life. Mia tried to imagine her parents’ reaction if she told them just how active her

dating life had been in the past week. “Mom,” she said with exasperation, “I go on dates. I just don’t necessarily tell you all about it.” “Yeah, right,” her mom said disbelievingly. “I remember perfectly well the last date you went on. It was with that boy from biology, right? What was his name? Ethan?” Mia smiled ruefully in response. Her mom knew her too well. Or at least she knew the Mia she’d been prior to last Saturday, when her world had gone topsyturvy. “By the way,” her mom said, “you look really nice. Did you do something to your hair?” Turning behind her, she said to Mia’s dad, “Dan, come here and take a look at your daughter! Doesn’t Mia look great these days?” Her father approached the camera and smiled. “She always looks great. How are you doing, hon? You meet any nice boys yet?” “Dad,” Mia groaned, “not you too.” “Mia, I’m telling you, all the good ones get taken early.” Once her mom got on this topic, it was difficult to get her to stop. “One more year for you, and you’re going to be done with college, and then where are you going to meet a good boy?” “In grad school, on the street, online, at a party, in a club, in a bar, or at work,” Mia responded by listing the obvious. “Look, mom, just because Marisa met Connor in college does not mean that it’s the only way to meet someone.” One could also meet an alien in the park—she was proof of that. Her mom shook her head in reproach, but wisely moved on to another topic. They chatted about some other inconsequential things, and Mia learned that her parents were contemplating going on vacation to Europe for their thirtieth wedding anniversary and that her mom’s job search was going well. It was a wonderfully normal conversation, and Mia reveled in it, wanting to remember every moment in case this was the last time she would speak to her parents this way. Finally, she reluctantly said goodbye, promising to call Marisa right away. Her acting skills must have drastically improved in the last few days, Mia thought. Despite her inner turmoil, her parents hadn’t suspected a thing. Trying to reach Marisa on Skype was always a little challenging, so she called her cell instead. “Mia! Hey there, baby sis, how are you? Did you see any of my postings on Facebook?” Her sister sounded incredibly excited.

“Um, no,” Mia said slowly. “Did something happen?” “Oh my God, you’re such a study-wort! I can’t believe you never go on Facebook anymore! Well, something did happen. You’re going to have a niece or nephew!” “Oh my God!” Mia jumped up, nearly screaming in excitement. “You’re pregnant?” “I sure am! Oh, I know you’re going to think I’m too young, and we just got married, and blah, blah, blah, but I’m really excited.” “No, I think it’s great! I’m very happy for you,” Mia said earnestly. “I can’t believe my favorite sis is having a baby!” At twenty-nine, Marisa had exactly the kind of life Mia had always hoped to have. She was happily married to a wonderful guy who adored her, lived an hour’s drive away from their parents in Florida, and worked as an elementary school music teacher. And now she had a baby on the way. Her life could not have been more perfect, and Mia was truly glad for her. And if she felt a twinge—okay, more than a twinge—of envy, she would never let it intrude on Marisa’s happiness. It was not her sister’s fault that Mia’s own life had become such a screw-up in the last week. They caught up some more, with Mia learning all about the first-trimester nausea and cravings, and then Marisa had to run since her lunch break was over. Mia let her go, already missing her cheerful voice, and then decided to use the remaining time for studying. An hour later, Mia had gone through the requisite Statistics exercises and had just started reviewing her Child Psychology textbook when Jessie showed up. “Mia!” she exclaimed with relief, spotting her curled up on the couch. “Oh, thank God! I was so worried when you didn’t come home last night! I called Jason, but he said that you were probably fine and that I shouldn’t worry. What happened? Did John tell you anything useful?” Mia stared at her roommate, once more debating how much to share with the girl who had been her best friend for the last three years. “He did,” she said slowly, trying to come up with something that would put Jessie at ease. “Well, what did he say? And where were you last night? Was it with that K?” Mia sighed, deciding on a plausible storyline. “Well, John basically said that the Ks occasionally get interested in humans this way. It’s usually a passing fancy, and they get tired of the relationship and move on fairly quickly. It’s nothing to worry about, and I should just play along and enjoy it for as long as it lasts.”

“Enjoy what? Sleeping with the K?” Jessie’s eyes widened in shock. “Pretty much,” Mia confirmed. “It’s really not that bad. He also takes me out to nice places. We’re going to Le Bernardin tonight.” “Wait, Mia, you’re sleeping with him now?” Jessie’s voice rose incredulously. “But you’ve never been with anyone before! Are you telling me you lost your virginity to him already?” Mia blushed, feeling embarrassed. At this point, she was about as far from being a virgin as one could get. Seeing her answer in the color washing into Mia’s face, Jessie softly said, “Oh my God. How was it? You weren’t hurt, were you?” Mia’s blush deepened. “Jessie,” she said desperately, “I really don’t feel like discussing this in detail. We had sex, and it was good. Now can we please change the topic?” Jessie hesitated and then reluctantly agreed. Mia could see that her roommate was dying with curiosity, but Mia knew she could not keep up her brave act for long. More than anything, Mia wanted to tell Jessie the whole messy story, to reveal the sickening fear she felt at the prospect of ending up as a sex slave or getting caught spying for the Resistance. But doing so would likely put Jessie in danger as well, and that was the last thing Mia wanted. Lying was a small price to pay for keeping her loved ones safe.

BEFORE MIA HAD A CHANCE TO DO MUCH MORE STUDYING, SHE WAS INTERRUPTED BY THE RINGING OF the doorbell. Opening the door, she was surprised to see a sharply dressed middleaged woman and a young flamboyantly trendy man standing at her doorstep. The man was holding a zippered clothing bag that was nearly as tall as he was. “Yes?” she said warily, fully expecting to hear them say that they’ve got the wrong apartment. “Mia Stalis?” the woman asked with a faint British accent. “Uh, yeah,” Mia said, “that would be me.” “Great,” the woman said. “I’m Bridget, and this is Claude. We’re personal shoppers from Saks Fifth Avenue, and we’re here to remake your wardrobe.” Light dawned. Trying to hold on to her temper, Mia asked, “Did Korum sent you? I thought he was just getting me a dress for tonight.”

“He did. This is your dress right here. We’re going to make sure it fits you properly, and then we’ll take some additional measurements.” Bridget sounded snooty, or maybe that was just the British accent. Mia took a deep breath. “All right,” she acquiesced, “come on in.” By now, Jessie had come out of her room and was observing the proceedings with great interest, and Mia didn’t want to throw a scene over something so inconsequential. They came in, and Claude unzipped the bag with a flourish. “Wow,” Jessie said in a reverent tone, “I think I’ve seen that dress on the runway...” The dress was truly beautiful, made of a shimmery blue fabric that seemed to flow with every move. It had three-quarter-length sleeves—perfect for a chilly restaurant—and looked like it might end just above the knees. It also seemed tiny, and Mia doubted that even she would be able to fit in it. Nonetheless, she went to her room and tried it on. Twirling in front of her mirror, she was shocked to see that it actually fit her like a glove. The dress was very modest in the front, but had a deep plunge in the back, so she couldn’t wear a bra. However, it was so cleverly made, with the cups already sewn in, that no bra was necessary for someone of Mia’s size. The young woman reflected in the mirror was more than merely pretty; she actually looked hot, with all her small curves highlighted and shown to their best advantage. Feeling shy, Mia walked out of her bedroom and modeled the dress to her audience. Claude and Bridget made admiring noises, and Jessie wolf-whistled at the sight. “Wow, Mia, you look amazing!” she exclaimed, walking around Mia to look at her from all angles. “Here,” Bridget said, her tone less snooty now, “you can wear these tights and shoes with it.” She was holding up a pair of silky black pantyhose and simple black pumps with red soles. Trying on the shoes and tights, Mia discovered that they were a great fit as well. She wondered how Korum knew her size so precisely. If she had been the one choosing the clothes, she would have never gone for the dress, sure that it was too small to fit her. Still caught up in the beauty of the dress, Mia graciously allowed Bridget to take her full measurements. Checking on the time, Mia was surprised to see that it was already six o’clock. She only had a half-hour to get ready—not that she needed all that time given that she was already dressed. Her hair was still magically behaving, so she only needed to worry about makeup. Two minutes later, she was done, having brushed on two coats of mascara, a light sprinkling of powder to hide the freckles, and a tinted lip

balm. Satisfied, she settled on the couch to finish studying and wait for Korum to pick her up.

GREETING KORUM AT THE DOOR, sight of her in the dress.

SHE WAS PLEASED TO SEE HIS EYES TURN A BRIGHTER AMBER AT THE

“Mia,” he said quietly, “I always knew you were beautiful, but you look simply incredible tonight.” Mia blushed at the compliment and mumbled a thank-you. The dinner was the most amazing affair of Mia’s life. Le Bernardin was utterly posh, with the waiters anticipating their every wish with almost uncanny attentiveness and the food somewhere between heavenly and out-of-this-world. They got a special tasting menu, and Mia tried everything from the warm lobster carpaccio to the stuffed zucchini flower. The wine paired with their courses was delicious as well, although Korum kept a strict eye on her alcohol consumption this time, stopping the waiter when he tried to refill her glass too often. Keeping the conversation neutral was surprisingly easy. Korum was a good listener, and he seemed genuinely interested in her life, as simple and boring as it must have seemed to him. Since he knew everything about her anyway and she wasn’t trying to get him to like her, Mia found herself opening up to him in a way that she’d never had with her dates before. She told him about the first boy she’d ever kissed—an eight-year-old she’d had a crush on when she was six—and how jealous she’d felt of her perfect older sister when she was a young child. She spoke of her parents’ high expectations and of her own desire to positively influence young lives by serving as a guidance counselor. She also learned that he normally lived in Costa Rica. Supposedly, the climate there best mimicked the area of Krina where he was from. “Our Center in Guanacaste is the closest thing we have to a capital here on Earth. We call it Lenkarda,” he explained. She remembered then that Costa Rica was where John had said his sister was being held. She wondered if Korum had ever seen her there. It was feasible—he’d said there were only about five thousand Ks living in each of their Centers. As the dinner went on, she found herself straying more and more from the safe topics. Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked him about life on Krina and what the planet was like, in general.

“Krina is a beautiful place,” Korum told her. “It’s like a very lush green Earth. We have many more species of plants and animals, given our longer evolutionary history. We’ve also succeeded in preserving the majority of our biodiversity there, avoiding the mass extinctions that took place here in recent centuries.” For which humans were responsible—that part he didn’t have to say out loud. “The majority, with the exception of your human-like primates, right?” Mia asked caustically, slightly chafing at his holier-than-thou attitude. “With the exception of them, yes,” Korum agreed. “And a few other species that were particularly ill-equipped to survive.” Mia sighed and decided to move on to something less controversial. “So what are your cities like? Since you’re so long-lived, your planet must be very densely populated by now.” He shook his head. “It’s actually not. We’re not as fertile as your species, and few couples these days are interested in having more than one or two children. As a result, our birth rate in modern times has been very low, barely above replenishment levels, and our population hasn’t grown significantly in millions of years.” Pausing to take a sip of his drink, he continued, “Our cities are actually very different from yours. We don’t enjoy living right on top of each other. We tend to be very territorial, so we like to have a lot of space to call our own. Our cities are more like your suburbs, where the Krinar live spread out on the edges and commute into the denser center, which is only for commercial activities. And everywhere you go, the air is clean and unpolluted. We like to have trees and plants all around us, so even the densest areas of our cities are nearly as green as your parks.” Mia listened with fascination. This explained the flora all over his penthouse. “It sounds really nice,” she said. Then an obvious question occurred to her. “Why would you leave all that and come to Earth, with all of our pollution and overpopulation? It must be really unpleasant for you to be in New York, for instance.” He smiled and reached for her hand, stroking her palm. “Well, I’ve recently discovered some definite perks to this city.” “No, but seriously, why come to Earth?” she persisted. “I can’t believe you’d give up your home planet just to come here and drink our blood.” Which he still hadn’t done with her for some reason, she realized. He sighed and looked at her, apparently coming to some decision. “Well, Mia, it’s like this. As beautiful as our planet is, it’s not immortal. Our sun, which is a much older star than yours, will begin to die in another hundred million years. If

we’re still on Krina at that time, our entire race will perish. So we have no choice but to seek out some other alternatives.” “In a hundred million years?” That seemed like a very long time to Mia. “But that’s so far away. Why come here now? Why not enjoy your beautiful planet for, say, another ninety million years?” “Because, my darling, if we had left Earth to humans for another ninety million years, there might not have been a habitable planet for us to come to.” He leaned forward, his expression cooling. “Your kind has turned out to be incredibly destructive, with your technology evolving much faster than your morals and common sense. When your Industrial Revolution began, we knew that we would have to intervene at some point because you were using up your planet’s resources at an unprecedented pace. So we began preparations to come here because we saw the writing on the wall.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “And we were right. Each generation has been more and more greedy, each successive advance in your technology doing more and more damage to your environment. As short-lived as you are, you think in decades—not even hundreds of years—and that leads you not to care about the future. You’re like a child who takes a toy apart for the fun and pleasure of it, not caring that tomorrow he won’t have that toy to play with anymore.” Mia sat there, feeling like said child getting castigated by the teacher. The tips of her ears burned with anger and shame. Maybe what he was saying was the truth, but he had no right to sit in judgment of her entire species, particularly in light of what she knew about his kind. Humans may be primitive and short-sighted compared to the Krinar, but at least they had the wisdom—and morals—to stop enslaving intelligent beings. “So you came to our planet to take it over for your own use?” she asked resentfully. “All under the guise of saving it from our environmentally unfriendly ways?” “No, Mia,” he said patiently, as though explaining the obvious to a small child. “We came to share your planet. If we had wanted to take it over, believe me, we would have. We’ve been more than generous with your species. Other than banning a few of your particularly stupid practices, we’ve generally left you alone, to live as you wish. That’s far better than the way you have treated your own kind.” Seeing the stubborn look on her face, he added, “When the Europeans came to the Americas, did they let the natives live in peace? Did they respect their traditions and ways of life enough to let them continue, or did they try to impose their own

religion, values, and mores on them? Did they treat them as fellow human beings or as savage animals?” Mia shook her head in denial. “That was a long time ago. We’ve changed, and we’ve learned our lessons. We would never do something like that again.” “Maybe not,” he conceded. “But you still have no problem exterminating other species through negligence and willful ignorance. As recently as a few years ago, you treated the animals you raised for food as though they were not living creatures. And don’t even get me started on the Holocaust and the other atrocities you’ve perpetuated against other humans during the last century. You’re not as enlightened as you’d like to think you are.” He was right, and Mia hated him for it. As much as she would have liked to throw their own use of human slaves in his face, she was not supposed to know about that. So she asked instead, “If we’re so awful, then why do you even want me? I certainly wouldn’t want to be with someone of whom I had such a low opinion.” Korum sighed with exasperation. “Mia, I never said you’re awful. Especially not you, specifically. Your species is still immature and in need of guidance, that’s all.” “Plus, I’m just your fuck toy, right?” Mia said bitterly, not sure why she was even bothering to go there. “I guess it doesn’t matter what you think of humans as a whole in that case.” He just stared at her impassively. “If that’s how you want to think about it, fine. I certainly enjoy fucking you quite a bit.” His eyes turned a deeper shade of gold, and he leaned toward her. “And you love getting fucked. So why don’t you stop trying to slap labels on everything and just enjoy the way things are?” Sitting back, he motioned to the waiter for the check. Mia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, even as her body involuntarily responded to his words with swift arousal. He paid the bill, and they left, heading back to his penthouse.

AS SOON AS THEY GOT INTO THE LIMO, KORUM PULLED HER ONTO HIS LAP AND THOROUGHLY KISSED HER until all she could think about was getting to the bedroom. His hands found their way under the skirt of her dress, pressing rhythmically between her legs until she was moaning softly and squirming in his arms. Before she could reach her peak, they had arrived at their destination.

He carried her swiftly through the lobby of his building, and Mia hid her face against his chest, pretending not to see the shocked stares from the concierge and the few residents passing by. As soon as they were alone in the elevator, he kissed her again, his tongue leisurely exploring her mouth until she was nearly ready to come again. Without pausing to take off their clothes, he brought her inside the bedroom and threw her onto the bed. At their entrance, the background music and soft lighting came on, creating a romantic ambiance. Mia hardly noticed, her arousal nearly at fever pitch. She watched hungrily as he stripped off his own clothes with inhuman speed, revealing the powerfully muscled body underneath. It was no wonder she was so addicted to him, she thought with some coolly rational part of her mind. He was probably the most gorgeous male she would ever be with in her life. He came over her then and pulled off the dress, barely taking the time to unzip it. She was left lying there in her black pantyhose and high-heeled pumps, with her upper body completely exposed to his starving gaze. “You look so hot,” he told her, his voice rough with lust. The thick, swollen cock pointing in her direction corroborated his words. Bending toward her breasts, he closed his mouth over her left nipple and sucked hard, making her arch off the bed with the intensity of the sensation. Doing the same thing to her other nipple, he simultaneously pressed at the throbbing place between her thighs, and Mia screamed as she came, her entire body shuddering from the force of her orgasm. Before she could recover, he started kissing her again with an oddly intent look on his face. Starting at her lips, his warm mouth moved down her face and neck, lingering over the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder and making her shiver with pleasure. Suddenly, there was a brief slicing pain, and Mia realized that he must have bitten her. She gasped in shock, but before she could feel anything more than a twinge of fear, hot ecstasy seemed to rush through her veins. Every muscle in her body simultaneously tightened and immediately turned to mush, and her skin felt like it had been set on fire from within. Her last rational thought was that it had to be the chemical in his saliva, and then she could no longer think at all, her entire being tuned only to the pull of his mouth at her neck and the feel of his body entering her own with one powerful thrust. The rest of the night passed in a blur of sensations and images. She was vaguely aware that she climaxed repeatedly, her senses heightened to a nearly unbearable degree. All the colors seemed brighter, and she felt like she was floating in a warm sea, with the currents caressing her skin and lapping at her insides, making them

clench and release in ecstasy. He was relentless in his passion, his cock driving into her in a savage, unending rhythm until she was nothing more than pure sensation, her essence reduced down to its very basics, her very personhood burned away in the all-consuming rapture. Hours may have passed, or days. Mia didn’t know and didn’t care. At some point, her voice gave out from her constant screams, and she couldn’t come anymore, her body wrung dry from the ceaseless orgasms. He came hard too, shuddering over her several times throughout the night, and then penetrating her again a few moments later. Finally exhausted, Mia literally passed out, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep that ended the most unbelievable sexual experience of her life.

9

O ver the next couple of weeks, Mia settled into a routine—if sleeping with an extraterrestrial while trying to spy on him could be called anything that mundane. He insisted on seeing her every evening, for dinner and beyond. She spent every night at his penthouse, no longer sleeping in her own apartment. During the day, he allowed her to attend class, go home to study, or spend time Skyping with her family. Her social life—never particularly active—now revolved around her relationship with him, and Jessie was horrified by that. “I’m telling you, Mia,” she earnestly tried to convince her, “I know you said it’s only temporary, but I’m really worried about you. All you do is go to him—it’s like you don’t have a life anymore. It’s not healthy, the way he just completely took over all your free time. I barely see you anymore—and we share an apartment. Can’t you just spend one night away from him, just to hang out with the girls or go to a house party? You’re in college, for Christ’s sake!” Mia shrugged, not wanting to get into an argument with Jessie. Let her think that she was simply obsessed with her first lover. It was better than explaining the reality of her precarious situation. John contacted her on Thursday, wondering if she had any useful information. Mia had nothing. Leeta and Rezav had come by Korum’s place a few times, but they had gone into that room and Mia had been too scared to try spying on them again. Walking in Central Park, Korum and Mia had once been approached by a group of three Ks that she’d never seen before. Their attitude toward Korum had been somewhat deferential, giving Mia a glimpse of the power he supposedly wielded over the Krinar on this planet. However, they’d spoken in their own language, and Mia had no clue what they said. She was surprised to see them, however; she hadn’t known that Manhattan was such a popular place for the Ks to hang out.

On Fridays and Saturdays, he took her out to see Broadway shows and new movie releases. Mia greatly enjoyed herself. For some reason, despite living in New York City, she rarely got a chance to go to the shows—and it was fun pretending to be a tourist for a night. He also took her out to expensive restaurants or made gourmet meals at home on the days that they stayed in. For an outsider looking in, her life was the stuff of every girl’s fantasy—complete with a handsome, wealthy lover who drove her around in a limo and generally treated her like a princess. Her wardrobe had undergone a complete change as well. The personal shoppers from Saks had gone all out, replacing every piece of Mia’s clothing with something nicer, more flattering, and infinitely more expensive. Stylish new coats and fluffy parkas kept her warm and cozy in the unpredictable spring weather. All of her underwear was now mostly silk and lace, with a few cotton pieces mixed in for everyday comfort and exercise. Her bulky old sweaters and baggy sweatpants were exchanged for comfortable, but formfitting yoga pants and soft fleecy tops. Even her jeans were deemed to be too old and poorly fitting, and designer brands now proudly resided on her shelves. And, of course, the beautiful dresses that now hung in her closet were in a category of their own. Her shoes had not escaped either, with brand-new high-end boots, sneakers, flats, and heels taking place of her old Uggs and worn-out All Stars from high school. Mia’s strident objections at Korum’s extravagant expenditures on her behalf were completely ignored. “Are you under the impression that this is something more than pocket change for me?” he asked her arrogantly, arching one black eyebrow at her protests. “I like to see you dressed well, and I want you to wear these.” And that was the end of that topic. The sex between them was explosive—literally and figuratively out-of-thisworld. Korum was a very mercurial lover. One day, he could be playful and tender, spending hours massaging Mia with scented oils until she purred with pleasure; other times, he was merciless, driving into her with unrelenting force until she screamed in ecstasy. On days when he took her blood—not every day, because it could be addictive for them both, he’d explained—she thought she could easily lose her mind from the intensity of the experience. Although Mia had never tried the hard-core drugs herself, she knew about the effects of various substances on the brain through her Psychology of Addiction class, and she imagined that the sexblood combo with Korum was probably like doing heroin at the same time as ecstasy.

She often felt bitter about that, knowing that she could never feel the same way with a regular human man. Even if she was able to return to her normal life some day, she knew that she would never be the same, that he was too deeply imprinted on her mind and body. With each day that passed, she grew to crave his touch more, every cell in her body aching for him when he was not around. All he had to do was smile or look at her with those amber eyes and she was ready, her body softening and melting in preparation for his. The calm, rational Mia Stalis of the past twenty-plus years was replaced with an insecure, emotional wreck. When she was with Korum, feeling his touch and basking in his presence, Mia felt like she was floating on air. As soon as she stepped away, however, she was filled with self-loathing and gut-wrenching fear—fear of being caught spying, of being unable to carry out her mission before he tired of her, and, most of all, of losing him. It was inevitable, she knew. Even if he hadn’t been the enemy, even if his kind had not been enslaving her own, there was no future for them. They were different species, and, if that hadn’t been enough of an obstacle, her life span was like that of a fruit fly compared to his. In another few years—a dozen years at most—she would begin the inevitable aging process, and his attraction to her would fade, assuming that it lasted that long in the first place. In her darkest moments, a small insidious voice inside her head wondered if it would truly be that awful—being his charl in Costa Rica. Would he treat her any differently from the way he did today? If not, then what did it matter what label was placed on their relationship as long as she could continue to be with him? And then she would be disgusted with herself, sickened that she could even contemplate the idea. Despite her best attempts to remain upbeat for them, her family had begun to notice that something was amiss. Her mom ascribed it to stress from the proximity of finals, but her dad was more observant. “Did you meet someone, honey?” he asked one day out of the blue, startling Mia. She had vehemently denied it, of course, but she could see that he still had some doubts. Out of her entire family, her father was the only one who could read the subtleties of Mia’s moods, and she was sure that her artificially bright smile did little to conceal the turmoil within from his sharp gaze. The only time she felt like her old self was when she would bury herself in the library, absorbed in her studies. The end of the semester was approaching quickly, and Mia’s workload tripled, with papers and finals looming in the near future. Under normal circumstances, Mia would have been tense and snappy from the

stress. These days, however, studying brought a welcome relief from the drama of the rest of her life, and she gladly pored over textbooks and practiced linear regression every chance she got. The first days of May brought unseasonably warm weather to New York, and the entire city came alive, with residents quickly donning their new summer clothes and tourists arriving in droves. As much as Mia would’ve liked to join the other students lounging on the lawn with their books, she needed four walls around her in order to concentrate. Korum was becoming increasingly reluctant to have her go to the library, given her tendency to forget about the time while there, so she tried to study more in his penthouse. He set up a desk and a comfortable lounge chair for her in a small sunny room next to his own office—the place where he had met with Leeta and Rezav— and she began spending hours there instead. She was also starting to think about the summer. After finals, Mia was supposed to fly home to Florida to see her parents. She had been fortunate to get an internship at a camp for troubled kids in Orlando, where she would be one of the counselors. Since Orlando was only about ninety minutes away from Ormond Beach, she could easily visit her parents on the weekends or whenever she had days off. Although dealing with troubled children would not be the easiest gig, the experience was considered valuable for someone in her field and would greatly aid her on grad school applications. She had no idea how Korum would react to her essentially leaving for the next couple of months. It was possible that in another couple of weeks he would be tired of her, and then the issue would never arise. Thus far, he had not prevented her from carrying on with her schoolwork, and she hoped they might be able to come up with a workable solution for the summer as well—if their relationship lasted that far. For now, she decided to keep quiet and not rock the boat. Two days before her Statistics exam, with Mia beginning to think and dream in correlations, Korum got called away for some unknown emergency. Sitting in her study room, she heard raised voices speaking in Krinar across the wall. Minutes later, he came into her room and told her tersely that he would be away for the rest of the day. “If you need to go home to study or you want to hang out with your roommate tonight, feel free,” he added as an afterthought. “I may not be home tonight.” Surprised, Mia nodded in agreement and watched him depart swiftly, with only a quick peck on her cheek.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized that this may be the chance she had been waiting for.

SHE SAT FOR A FEW MINUTES, MAKING SURE THAT HE WAS TRULY GONE. FOR GOOD MEASURE, SHE leisurely strolled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her cheeks, trying to convince herself that there was nothing to worry about... that she was completely alone in the house. Her hands were shaking a bit, she noticed as she raised them to her face, and her eyes stood out against her unusually pale face. You can do this, Mia. All you have to do is just take a look around. She casually walked toward his office, ready to run into her own study at the first sign of his return. The penthouse was eerily quiet, with only her footsteps breaking the uneasy silence. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Mia tiptoed toward the office door. As before, the doors slid open automatically at her approach. Even though Mia had been expecting it, she still jumped at the quiet “whoosh.” Stepping in, she quickly surveyed her surroundings. The room was completely empty. A large polished table stood in the center, dominating the space. There were a few chairs positioned around the table, with the whole setup reminiscent of a corporate conference room. Mia was not sure what she’d hoped to see—perhaps a few papers left lying around or a computer carelessly turned on. But there was nothing. Of course, she realized, he would not be using anything as primitive as paper or a tablet computer. Whatever the K equivalent of a computer was, she likely wouldn’t even recognize it as such given the state of their technology. Not for the first time, Mia cursed her own technological ineptitude. Someone who had problems keeping up with all the latest human gadgets was particularly ill-equipped to spy on an alien from a much more advanced civilization. Walking into the room, she carefully approached the table. It looked like a regular table surface, but Mia remembered the three-dimensional image she’d seen on it that one time. She tried to remember what it was that Korum did to make it disappear. Was it a wave of his hand? Trying to imitate the gesture, she motioned with her right arm. Nothing. She waved her left arm. Still nothing. Frustrated, she stomped her foot. Unsurprisingly,

that didn’t do anything either. Mia circled around the table, studying every nook and cranny. Getting down on her knees, she crawled underneath and tried to look at the underside in the crazy hope that there might be a recognizable button somewhere there. There wasn’t one, of course. The surface above her was completely innocuous, made of nothing more mysterious than plain wood. Trying to crawl out, Mia bumped against one of the chairs. Exactly like a corporate office chair, it had wheels and swiveled in the middle. A fleecy sweater Korum occasionally wore around the house was carelessly hanging on the back of it. She crawled around the chair, not wanting to disturb the arrangement in case Korum had a good memory for furniture placement. Sitting on the cold floor next to the chair, Mia stared despondently around the room. It was hopeless... John had been crazy to think that Mia could help somehow. If they were truly relying on her, then they were doomed. She was, quite simply, the worst spy in the world. Her butt was getting cold from sitting, and the whole thing was utterly pointless anyway. Trying to get up, Mia inadvertently brushed against the chair and lost her balance for a second. Grabbing onto the chair for support, she accidentally pulled off Korum’s sweater. Great. She wasn’t just a useless spy—she was also a clumsy one. Lifting the sweater, she brought it closer to her nose and inhaled the familiar scent. Clean and masculine, it made her warm deep inside. You have it bad, Mia. Stop mooning over the enemy you’re spying on. She tried to arrange the sweater back in its original position, and her fingers felt something unusual. A small protrusion on the edge of the sleeve that didn’t seem to belong on a soft sweater like that. Her pulse jumping in excitement, Mia lifted the sleeve to take a closer look. On the bottom of the sleeve, a tiny chip was embedded in the fabric. It was the size of a small button, and it was sheer luck that Mia’s fingers had landed on it— otherwise, she would not have noticed it in a million years. A light went on in her head. Korum had been wearing this sweater when he waved his arm and made the image disappear, Mia remembered with chills going down her spine. He had literally had a trick up his sleeve!

Nearly jumping in excitement, Mia examined the little computer—or at least, that’s what she presumed it was—with careful attention. The thing was tiny and had no obvious on or off button. “On,” Mia ordered, wondering if it would respond to voice commands. Nothing. Mia tried again. “Turn on!” There was no response this time either. This was frustrating. Either the chip did not respond to voice commands, or it did not understand English. Then again, it could be programmed to respond only to Korum’s voice or his touch. Maybe if she massaged it herself? She tried it. Nothing. Blowing in frustration at a curl that had fallen over her eye, Mia considered her options. If the thing responded to Korum’s touch, then it probably knew his DNA signature or something like that. In which case, she had no chance of getting it to work. Discouraged, Mia sat down on the floor again. It seemed to help the last time she was stumped. If only there was some way she could test her theory—like a chunk of his hair or something... Suddenly hopeful, Mia jumped up and ran to the bedroom to see if she could find any stray hairs. To her huge disappointment, the room was utterly hair-free, except for a couple of long curly strands that could only be her own. Korum was either a clean freak, or he simply didn’t shed his hair the way humans did. Furiously thinking it through, Mia ran to the bathroom and grabbed his electric toothbrush. Maybe it had some traces of his saliva or gum tissue... She held up the toothbrush to the little device with bated breath. The device blinked, powering up for a second, and then fizzled out again. Mia nearly screamed in excitement. She held the toothbrush even closer, nearly brushing the sweater with it, but the chip remained silent and dark. Mia’s teeth snapped together in frustration. She was on the right path, but she needed a bigger chunk of his DNA. His clothes might have some, his shoes, the sheets on the bed... But those would likely be trace amounts, like those on the

toothbrush. The sheets on the bed! A big grin slowly appeared on Mia’s face. She knew exactly where to get that big chunk. Going into the laundry room, she dug through the pile of towels and dirty linens that had piled up in the recent week. Korum tended to do his own laundry for some weird reason, and he usually did it on Mondays. Given that today was a Saturday, the room was chock-full of DNA tidbits, courtesy of their active sex life. Mia pulled out a particularly stained pillowcase, blushing a little when she remembered how it got that way. Bringing it into the office, she held it up to the little device and waited, hardly daring to hope. Without any sound, the chip blinked and turned on. A giant three-dimensional image appeared on the table surface. Her heart in her throat, Mia slowly hung the sweater back on the chair—which did not affect the image at all—and walked around the table, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

10

S pread out before her was a giant three-dimensional map of Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs. It was like a much fancier, much more realistic version of Google Earth. Slowly pacing around the table, Mia stared at the familiar landscape laid out in front of her. There was Central Park, right in the middle of the tall narrow island that was still the cultural and financial center of the United States of America. Much lower, all the way on the west side, Mia could see Korum’s luxury high-rise, outlined in perfect detail. Fascinated, she stretched her hand toward the small building image, wondering if it had any substance to it. Her fingers passed right through it, but she felt a small electric pulse run through her palm. All of a sudden, reality shifted and adjusted... and Mia cried out in panic as she found herself standing on the street and looking directly at the building itself—not its image, but the real thing. Gasping, she stumbled backwards, falling and catching herself with her hands. There was no pain at the contact with rough surface of the sidewalk; in fact, the sidewalk felt like nothing at all. Everything seemed strangely muted and silent. There were no cars passing on the street and no pedestrians leisurely strolling by. It had to be a dream, Mia realized with a shiver, or a really vivid hallucination. Maybe she was really dying from the contact with the alien technology, and this was her brain’s last hurrah. It didn’t feel like that, though—it just felt weird, like she had fallen into a reflective pool of something and the reflections turned out to be real. Virtual reality. Mia knew it with sudden certainty. Even today’s human technology could give a weak imitation of it through all the three-dimensional movies and video games.

The Ks could obviously do much better, making her feel like she was actually in the image herself. This had to be the K version of Google Maps, where, instead of placing the little orange figure on the digital map to look around via pictures, the map simply placed the viewer into the three-dimensional reality. The question now was how to get out. Maybe if she closed her eyes and reopened them, she would find herself back in the office. Squeezing her lids shut, Mia tried counting to five. Halfway through, she lost her patience and peeked. Nope, she was still definitely in front of the building. Her next initiative was to pinch herself... hard. Ouch. She definitely felt that pain, but her view didn’t budge. She stomped her foot. Her leg communicated that sensation to her brain as well, but Mia was still in that mysterious world. Crap. She was starting to panic. What if she could never leave this place, or worse, what if she was still in it when Korum got home? He would know immediately that she had been snooping. There was no way to spin this in a positive light, or to pass it off as random curiosity. She had clearly gone to extraordinary lengths to access his files. Think, Mia, think. If she had entered this world so easily, there had to be an equally easy way to get out. Something had to be real in this surreal place, even if everything seemed fake. Raising her arms at her sides, Mia slowly turned in a circle. Initially, her outstretched hands encountered nothing but air. She took a step to the right and repeated the process. Then another step and another. On her fifth attempt, her fingers brushed against something soft and familiar. The sweater! She couldn’t see it, but she could definitely feel it. Grabbing it with a desperate grip, Mia attempted to locate the device. And there it was, a tiny nub near the edge of the sleeve. As soon as Mia touched it, the familiar electric pulse ran through her hand. For a second, she experienced that feeling of disorientation, and then she was standing on solid ground—on the floor of Korum’s office inside the building she had just been looking at. Nearly shaking in relief, she stared at the map still spread out before her. She’d done it! She—Mia Stalis, who had to be taught how to operate the latest iPads—had actually entered an alien virtual reality world and come out unscathed.

Of course, she still hadn’t learned anything useful. As much as she wanted to stop and go back to memorizing the standard deviation formula, she had to explore this opportunity further. This time around, Mia knew what she had to do to avoid getting lost in that strange world. She put on Korum’s sweater herself. It was huge on her, nearly reaching down to her knees. His deliciously familiar scent surrounded her, almost as if she was standing in his arms. For some reason, she found it very comforting, even though she knew that he might kill her if he saw her in this moment. Walking around the table, she examined the map in detail. The image seemed to pulse slightly, and there were areas that shimmered more than others. One particular building in Brooklyn almost had a glow around it. A glow? Mia had to investigate it further. Extending her hand toward the tiny image, she closed her eyes and braced for the reality shift. When she opened them, she was on the street, looking at a quiet tree-lined residential block populated by a row of red-brick townhouses. To her surprise, the scene was far from empty. Stifling a startled gasp, she watched a man hurry into one of the houses. He walked right past Mia on the street, without even a cursory glance to acknowledge her presence. Of course, Mia realized, she wasn’t really there from his perspective. She was either watching a live video feed—a very realistic one—or, more likely, a pre-recorded video. A saying she’d once heard nibbled on the edge of her mind. Something about advanced technology being indistinguishable from magic. That’s exactly what it was like with the Ks, thought Mia. She felt a little like Harry Potter in his invisibility cloak—though her adversary was admittedly much better-looking than Voldemort. Gathering her courage, she followed the man up the steps and into the house. This is not real, Mia. They can’t see you. You can get out any time you like. She opened the door—which was unlocked for some reason—and stepped inside. There was no one in the hallway, but she could hear people in the living room. Her heart pounding in her throat, Mia slowly approached the gathering. The big sweater wrapped around her felt like a security blanket, giving her the nerve to continue. Tiptoeing into the room, Mia hovered in the doorway, waiting for someone to yell out, “Intruder!” But the occupants of the room were unaware of her presence. Feeling much calmer, Mia began to observe the proceedings. There were about fifteen people gathered there, of various ages and

nationalities. Only three of them were women, including a middle-aged lady who looked like a professor. The other two women were young, probably around Mia’s age, although the stressed look on their faces aged them somehow. A lean blond man was sitting with his back turned to Mia, but there was something about him that looked familiar. “John,” said the middle-aged woman, addressing the blond man, “we really need to work out these details. We can’t just blindly trust them—” He turned his head to respond, and Mia realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she knew this John—that she had spoken to him twice in the last few weeks. And that meant only one thing: what she was observing had to be a meeting of the Resistance— and if she was observing it through Korum’s virtual reality video, then he was obviously onto them. Oh dear God. They thought they were safe, that they weren’t being tracked. Why else would they all be gathered here like this? John had said that Korum was specifically in New York to stamp out the Resistance movement... because they were getting close to some breakthrough. But clearly, Korum was even closer to his goal of hunting down the freedom fighters. She had to warn them. They were sitting ducks in that Brooklyn house. Korum could ambush them at any moment. Suddenly, Mia felt every hair on the back of her neck rising. The puzzle pieces snapped into place, and she gasped in horrified realization. It may already be too late for John and his friends. Why else would Korum leave so abruptly today? He knew exactly where they were. There was no reason for him to wait any longer. The ambush—if it hadn’t occurred yet—was about to take place.

WITHOUT WAITING A SECOND LONGER, MIA TOUCHED THE LITTLE DEVICE ON HER SLEEVE AND WAS immediately transported back to Korum’s office. Waving her hand as she had seen Korum do, she nearly collapsed with relief when the action actually worked and the map winked out of existence. Quickly taking off the sweater, she hung it on the back of the chair, making sure that no stray hairs from her head remained anywhere on the fleecy fabric. Then she positioned the chairs back to how she remembered them being and ran out of the room. Last minute, she remembered the pillowcase and grabbed that too, dropping it back in the laundry pile on her way out of the apartment. Two minutes later, she had her purse and shoes and was

getting into the elevator. She needed to contact John, right away. Pulling out her old-fashioned pocket cell phone, Mia shot an email to Jessie, writing ‘Hi’ in the subject line. In the body of the text, she mentioned that she would be home tonight and asked if Jessie wanted to have a girls’ night in. That should put John on alert, she thought, if he was indeed monitoring Jessie’s account. Now all she could do was hope and pray that she was not too late. Wanting to get home as quickly as possible, Mia hailed a cab. It was a wasteful extravagance, but if there was ever a good reason to hurry—this was it. Climbing in, she gave the driver her home address and leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes. Thoughts and ideas zoomed around her brain, jumping from one topic to another. How did Korum know where they were meeting? He had to have bugged the fighters’ house without their knowledge... But John had reassured her that he could tell if a room was bugged or not. Either John had lied to her or Korum was ten steps ahead of whatever knowledge John’s crew thought they possessed. That last part made sense to her. Humans could never hope to win against the K technology. If Korum wanted to watch the Resistance, he could obviously do so without their knowledge. The full danger of the game she was playing dawned on Mia. Depending on how long Korum had been spying on them, he could know all of their plans by now... and he could know about Mia’s involvement, limited though it had been up until today. At that thought, Mia’s stomach turned over and she felt a sickening cold spread down to her toes. She had never seen Korum truly angry, but she had no doubt it would not be a pleasant sight. Arriving at her destination, Mia paid the driver with cold, clammy fingers and walked up the five flights of stairs to her apartment. Jessie wasn’t home, and Mia enviously thought that she was probably out enjoying the beautiful day with her friends. Either that or studying for finals—and both options sounded amazing to Mia right about now. She settled in to wait. About a half hour had passed, and Mia had nearly worn a hole in the carpet pacing up and down the living room. Finally, just as she was about to go out of her mind with frustration, the doorbell rang. John and one of the young women from the meeting were at her door. The girl’s

hair was a sandy shade of brown and cut short, almost like a man’s. She also looked very athletic. If it hadn’t been for her elfin features, she could have easily passed for a teenage boy. “Mia, this is Leslie,” said John. “Leslie—this is Mia, the girl I was telling you about.” Mia nodded in greeting and let them into the apartment. “John,” she said without a preamble, “I just learned that you’re in danger.” “No shit,” Leslie said sarcastically. “We had no idea.” Mia was taken aback. This girl had no reason to dislike her, yet her tone was almost contemptuous. She felt her own hackles rising. “That’s right,” she said coolly. “You obviously had no idea... else you wouldn’t have had that meeting where Korum could get a nice video of you all—including you, Leslie.” John’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? What video?” “I’m not even sure if video is the right word for it. It’s really more of a virtual reality show—” She relayed to them exactly what she’d seen today. By the time she finished, John looked pale and Leslie’s arrogant smirk had been wiped from her face. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “How did he know where to find us? All of our regular meeting places get swept for bugs and tracking devices daily. We all get regular scans too—” “It’s obviously not enough,” said Leslie. “Either that, or we were betrayed.” They looked at each other in dismay. “How are you even doing this?” asked Mia. “How do you even know what to look for when you do your scans? They can hide their tracking devices in anything. You even told me I have them in me...” “That’s true,” John nodded, “but we can still find them—” “Usually,” said Leslie. “Right, usually, because we’re not just relying on our own modern technology —” “John,” said Leslie warningly. “Leslie, Mia should know. She clearly risked a lot finding this information for us tonight—”

“But how can you trust her? She sleeps with him every day!” “She has no choice in the matter! And how else would she have come across this today? You should be kissing her feet that she risked her life like that—” “Excuse me,” interrupted Mia, flushed with anger and embarrassment, “what is it you think I should know?” Leslie just stared angrily, looking like she wanted to hit John. He ignored her and said, “Look, Mia... I don’t want you to think that we’re just a bunch of idiots bumbling around, in over our heads. Maybe that’s what the movement was in the early stages, when we had no clue what they were or what they were capable of. It’s different now. We know our adversary well. And we have help—” “Help from the Ks?” interrupted Mia, her heart beating faster at the thought. “From the Ks,” confirmed John. “As I told you before, they’re not all the same. Some of them believe it’s wrong, the way the Ks have come to this planet to steal it from us... to enslave our population. They want to help us—to share their technology with us, to help us advance until we become their equals—” “They’re like the PETA version of the Ks,” said Leslie, giving in to the inevitable, but with a frown still on her face. “We call them KETHs—Ks for the Ethical Treatment of Humans.” “KETHs, or Keiths, to make it easier to pronounce,” clarified John. Mia stared at them in amazement. He’d hinted at their powerful allies before, but this clearly went beyond just one or two rogue K individuals. “What kind of pull do the Keiths have within their society?” she asked, trying to put it all into perspective. “Not a ton,” admitted John. “They’re kind of a fringe group, from what we understand,” added Leslie. “But they do have access to K technology, and they supply us with what we need to stay ahead—the scanning tools we use, the shielding technology...” “But to what end?” asked Mia, still not comprehending. “So you run around unseen—or not, as we learned today—but what can a fringe group do to really make a difference? You still can’t fight them, even if you have a few bug scanning devices. Unless—” She gasped in realization. “Unless they were supplying us with more than a few scanning devices, that’s

right,” John said helpfully. “That’s enough, John,” Leslie said in a harsh tone. “Now she knows as much as most members of our group. If you tell her anything else and she gets caught—” John sighed. “Leslie’s right. Your lover already knows everything we’ve told you so far. I can’t tell you anything else without putting you in danger. In even greater danger, I mean...” Mia nodded in understanding. There was no reason for her to know the particulars of the Resistance plans. The last thing she needed was to be tortured for information. Of course, she had no idea if she could withstand even the threat of torture. Just the thought of Korum being angry with her was frightening in and of itself. “Okay, then,” she said. “I have to ask you one thing... Since your security is not as good as you thought it was, is there a chance that Korum could know about me? Did you talk about me at any time in that place in Brooklyn? Because if you did—” “No, Mia, you’re safe.” John understood immediately where she was leading. “There’s always a chance that he could know... but I really doubt it. You’re our secret weapon. I’ve never spoken about you with anyone. Except for Jason—and Leslie, who happened to be with me today when I saw your email—no one knows that you’re working for us.” Seeing the surprised look on Mia’s face, he explained, “I didn’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. If we were to get caught and interrogated, your name would not come up.” He paused, apparently thinking about his next words. “And, frankly, I wasn’t sure you would be able to come across anything useful. What you just told us today is so far above my expectations... I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful we are. You see, tonight we were supposed to have a final brainstorming session—more than thirty of our top fighters were scheduled to attend. Korum must know about this... We talked about it in the last meeting—the one that you partially saw. If he had ambushed us tonight, he could have dealt a serious blow to the movement. You probably saved many lives today, Mia.” Mia looked at him, her cheeks flaming with mixed emotions. She was glad she could help the Resistance and hugely relieved that her secret was safe for now. But she was also a little offended at his low opinion of her capabilities. Then again, it was sheer luck that she’d stumbled upon this information today. Prior to this, she really had been useless to the movement, so she could hardly blame him for thinking that.

“All right,” she said. “I hope that you can reschedule whatever you’ve got planned for tonight. Korum said he may not be home at all this evening, so whatever he’s doing is probably big.”

11

“H ey stranger, welcome back!” Jessie had apparently gotten her email and came home, bubbling with enthusiasm. Mia grinned back and gave her roommate a big hug, genuinely happy to see her cheerful face. Her meeting with the Resistance fighters had left her unsettled, and Jessie was exactly the distraction she needed. “So tell me,” Jessie joked, “how did the big bad K let you come out for a night? I was sure he was keeping you under lock and key there.” Mia flushed. It was a little too close to the truth for comfort. Shrugging, she said, “I think he has to work this evening or something. He wasn’t sure if he’d be home at all, so he suggested we hang out.” “Wow, how nice of him,” Jessie said, comically widening her eyes. “Do you know what this means?” “No, what?” Mia said, laughing at the dramatic expression on Jessie’s face. “It means we’re going out! It’s a Saturday night, and we’re going to party!” Mia wrinkled her nose a little. “Really? Right before finals?” “Damn right! Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you’ve been cramming for weeks already. One evening out won’t make or break your grade. But since your K overlord decided to let you out only for tonight, we’re going to have ourselves a blast!” Mia grinned. Jessie’s enthusiasm was catching, and suddenly the idea of getting utterly wasted while dancing all night sounded just about perfect.

TWO HOURS LATER, THE GIRLS BEGAN PREPARATIONS FOR THE NIGHT OUT. SHOWERING AND SHAVING every inch of her body, Mia washed her hair and thoroughly conditioned it. The regular use of Korum’s shampoo had turned it soft and silky, infinitely more manageable, and blowdrying resulted in a soft mass of well-defined dark curls cascading halfway down her back. Makeup was next, and Mia went for the dramatic smoky-eye look, keeping the rest of her face neutral. Her wardrobe, however, presented a dilemma, for which she needed expert advice. “Jessie!” she yelled for the expert. Her roommate came in, dressed to the nines herself. In her short red dress and sky-high heels, she looked like a million bucks. “Let me guess. You still don’t know what to wear?” she asked with a big grin. “I need your help.” Mia gave her a helpless look, motioning toward the closet. “Okay, let’s see, what have we got here... Prada, Gucci, Badgley Mischka—oh poor you, you really have nothing to wear!” Jessie shook her head in mock reproach. “This is unbelievable, Mia—he totally spoils you. No wonder you never come home anymore.” Digging through Mia’s closet, Jessie pulled out a risqué Dolce & Gabbana dress and thrust it at Mia. “Here, try this one on.” Mia eyed it doubtfully. “Won’t I be cold?” There wasn’t much to the dress. It looked like two scraps of purple fabric held together by a few hooks and zippers. “Dancing in a hot, crowded club? Oh please.” Jessie snorted dismissively. “And if you wear this, I can guarantee you we won’t have to stand in line outside.” Mia decided to listen to the expert. Shimmying into the dress, she walked out of the room to show it to Jessie. “Wow.” Jessie was almost speechless. “I don’t know what he’s been feeding you, but you look amazing. I mean, you always looked cute—but this is a whole other level.” Mia blushed a little. The dress was definitely sexy, showing off her legs and exposing her back and shoulders. It was a bit too provocative for Mia’s taste, with the flimsy ties around her neck being the only things holding the top in place. She couldn’t wear a bra with it, given the low cut in the back, and she felt like her nipples were visible under the clingy fabric. To complete the look, she slipped on a sexy pair of heels and grabbed a tiny sparkly purse. She was ready to party.

FOR THE CLUB, THEY CHOSE THE TRENDIEST PLACE IN THE MEATPACKING DISTRICT. IT WAS A POPULAR destination for celebrities, models, model wannabes, and any other beautiful people who liked to party. Pre-Korum Mia would have never gone to such place, sure that she wouldn’t make it through the door without waiting for two hours in the cold. However, her newly confident well-dressed self had no such qualms. Strolling right up to the bouncer, Mia and Jessie gave him big sexy smiles. He eyed them with a purely masculine appreciation and lifted the rope, letting them through without a word. “Nicely done,” Jessie whispered as they walked down the steps toward the deafening music. Even at 11 p.m. the club was packed and happening. The music was excellent, a mix of old hip-hop favorites and some of the latest dance-hop. The dance floor was not particularly large, and every inch of it was filled with gorgeous girls grinding against each other and the few lucky guys who’d managed to get past the bouncer thus far. Sometimes it was really nice to be a girl, Mia thought. The only way most men could get into a place like this was by spending a ridiculous amount of money, whereas the girls were let in for free—as bait, of course. Going up to the bar, the two girls quickly found a pair of stools and ordered four vodka shots. A couple of guys immediately offered to buy them drinks, and Jessie declined with a giggle. “Too early for that,” she told Mia. “We want to dance, not hang out with these bozos all night.” Mia laughingly agreed, and they did their first shot, biting into a lemon afterward. The evening got even brighter, taking on that special sparkle that only the first glass of alcohol and anticipation of a fun night could bring. Mia felt young and pretty—and, for the moment, utterly carefree. Tomorrow she could worry again, but tonight—tonight she was going to party. “Cheers!” The second shot went down even smoother, and things acquired a pleasant fuzzy glow in Mia’s mind. The dance floor beckoned, the pulsating rhythm of the music reverberating in her bones. Grabbing Jessie’s hand, she pulled her toward the gyrating crowd. For the next hour, they danced nonstop. One good song after another came on, driving the dance floor into a frenzy. Mia danced with Jessie, with two other girls

who had danced up to them, with a group of Wall Street types who kept trying to touch her naked back, and with Jessie again. She danced until she was hot and sweaty and breathless, her leg muscles quivering from all the squatting motions that a proper grinding dance entailed. She danced until she could no longer remember why she’d felt so crappy earlier today and what tomorrow could bring. “Need water!” Jessie yelled out, trying to be heard above the music. Laughing, Mia accompanied her back to the bar. They each got a glass of tap water and another round of vodka. This time, Jessie was too buzzed to refuse when a handsome guy who looked vaguely familiar—a reality TV star, perhaps—offered to pay for their shots. Edgar—who turned out to be an actor in a recently canceled drama—hit it off with Jessie right away. Her roommate, flattered by attention from a celebrity, flirted and giggled for all she was worth. Feeling slightly left out, Mia went to the bathroom by herself. When she came back, a couple of Edgar’s friends had joined them at the bar. They were both cute in that slightly boyish way that was popular now, and looked to be in great shape. They introduced themselves, and Mia learned that they were from the show as well. Peter was a stunt double, while Sean was a member of the supporting cast. “What is this, Entourage?” Mia joked, and they laughed, agreeing that their lives had much in common with the old show. Apparently realizing they were horning in on a girls’ night out, the guys ordered another round of drinks for everyone. It was tequila this time, and Mia nearly gagged at the strong taste that remained in her mouth even after biting into her lime. Her alcohol-barometer nose was long past its itching point, and she knew she would probably regret this tomorrow. But at this particular moment, with vodka and tequila surging through her system, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Mia wasn’t planning on chatting up any guys, but Peter turned out to be a surprisingly good conversationalist. His voice was deep enough that it carried above the loud music, and she learned that they had Polish ancestry in common. His parents had actually come to this country fairly recently, even though he was an American citizen and had no accent. He had recently graduated from NYU himself —the Tisch School of the Arts—and wanted to be a film producer longer term. Since he had always been athletic, stunt-doubling was the best way for him to break into the field and start getting to know people, and he had been lucky enough to land a spot on the recently cancelled show. He also seemed genuinely interested in Mia, his blue eyes sparkling whenever he

looked at her. With his wavy blond hair, he looked like a mischievous angel, and Mia couldn’t help laughing at some of the over-the-top compliments he directed her way. Under normal circumstances, a fun, outgoing guy like that would never have been interested in someone as shy and studious as Mia—and she couldn’t help but be flattered by his attention. So when Peter asked for her number, she gave it to him without thinking, the alcohol in her veins slowing her thinking just enough to remove all caution. They went on the dance floor again—Edgar and Peter joining her and Jessie. Sean, probably feeling like a fifth wheel, left to join another group of girls. They danced as a group at first, and then Peter starting dancing closer to Mia, his movements graceful and athletic. She smiled, closing her eyes and swaying to the pulsing rhythm, and it didn’t occur to her to move away when he put his hands on her waist. It felt good to just dance with a regular guy she liked, whose intentions she had no need to second-guess. Nothing could come of this, of course, but some silly drunk part of her hoped that maybe—if she survived all this and was still in New York when Korum inevitably tired of her—she could look up Peter on Facebook one day. Out of all the guys she’d met in recent years, she liked him the most, and she could easily envision herself becoming friends with him... and maybe something more. A new song came on, with even more explicit lyrics. The crowd let out a whoop, and the movement on the dance floor picked up. Peter stepped closer to her, his hips rubbing suggestively against her own. He was of average height, and Mia’s high heels put the top of her head nearly at his temple. He smiled at her, eyes twinkling, and Mia smiled back, experiencing a pleasantly mild attraction— nothing like the maddening, all-consuming heat Korum made her feel. And even though her stupid body was wishing that it was Korum who was holding her like this, she still enjoyed the sexy dance with a cute guy... who, under different circumstances, could have been her date. “You’re really pretty,” said Peter, practically yelling it over the music. Mia grinned, moving to the rhythm. It was always nice to get compliments. “Thanks,” she yelled back, “so are you!” Her head was spinning from the drinks, and the whole night started to seem a little surreal—right down to the angelically handsome guy dancing with her. Still dancing, she closed her eyes for a second while holding on to Peter’s waist to combat a slight dizziness. Mistaking her actions, he leaned toward her, and his

mouth brushed against her lips for a brief second. Startled, Mia pushed Peter away, taking a step back. Embarrassed, she looked to the side and suddenly froze, paralyzed with dread. Looking directly at her from the edge of the dance floor was a familiar pair of amber-colored eyes. And the icy rage reflected in them was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen in her life.

12

H e knew. In the suffocating panic engulfing her, Mia had only one clear thought: Korum knew. Somehow, he had found out about today—about what she’d done for the Resistance fighters—and he had come here to find her. Her survival instinct kicked in, and a surge of adrenaline cleared the alcoholinduced fog from her mind. She fought a desperate urge to run, knowing that he would hunt her down in a matter of seconds. Instead, she just stood there, watching as he stalked toward her through the dance floor crowd, his eyes nearly yellow with fury. Through the pulsing music and the terrified pounding of her own heart, she heard her name. “Mia! Mia!” It was Peter, and he was talking to her. “Hey Mia, listen, I didn’t mean to be so pushy—” He broke off in the middle of his apology and followed her gaze. “What the hell... is that your boyfriend or something?” “Or something,” Mia said dully, staring at Korum easily pushing his way through the normally impassable mob. Her stomach churned with nausea and fear. Would he kill her on the spot or bring her elsewhere to interrogate first? And then he was there, standing right in front of her. “Hey man, listen, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—” Peter bravely stepped up, not realizing in the darkness what he was dealing with. In a blink of an eye, Korum’s hand was wrapped around Peter’s throat. “No!” screamed Mia as Peter was lifted off the floor, feet kicking in the air and hands clawing helplessly at the iron grip around his throat. “No, please, let him go

—” “You want me to let him go?” Korum asked calmly, as though he was not killing a grown man with one hand in a crowded club. “Please! He had nothing to do with it,” begged Mia, horrified tears running down her face. “Oh really?” said Korum, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So my eyes deceived me then. He wasn’t the one just pawing you... It was someone else?” Pawing her? Korum was upset that she had danced with Peter? Her brain could barely process the implications. “Korum, please,” she tried again, “you’re mad at me. He didn’t do anything—” “He touched what’s mine.” The words sounded like a verdict. “Korum, please, he didn’t know! It was all me—” The dancers around them realized that something unusual was going on, and a ring of spectators was starting to form around them. “Please, don’t kill him!” she begged, grabbing at Korum’s arm in desperation. “Please, I will do anything—” “Oh, you will,” he said softly, “you will do anything I want regardless.” Peter’s face was turning purple, and the frantic clawing of his fingers was slowing. There were panicked cries from the crowd, but no one dared to intervene. “PLEASE!” screamed Mia hysterically, tugging uselessly at his arm. He didn’t even look at her. And then he suddenly released Peter, letting his body drop to the floor with a thump. The crowd gasped as Peter drew in air for the first time, choking and gagging. Sobbing, Mia nearly collapsed in relief. Her hands were still holding Korum’s forearm, and she let go, taking a step back. He didn’t allow her to get far. His hand shot out, steely fingers wrapping around her upper arm. “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for arguments. And Mia went with him, ignoring shocked stares from the people around her. She was certain now that she would not survive this night.

THERE WAS NO LIMO WAITING FOR of his building to the driver.

THEM. INSTEAD, HE HAILED A CAB AND TERSELY GAVE THE ADDRESS

The ride was mercifully short. He didn’t speak to her at all, the silence in the cab interrupted only by the sound of her quiet weeping. She’d always known that Ks had great capacity for violence, but she had never witnessed it in person. Korum had always been so careful, so gentle with her... It had been difficult for Mia to imagine him tearing apart a human being—like those Ks had done with the Saudis. But now she knew that he was no different, that he could snuff out a human life as casually as swatting a fly. She didn’t want to die. She felt like she had barely started living. Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, frantically searching for a way out and finding none. Would he interrogate her first? She didn’t know anything of significance, but he might not believe her. She shuddered at the thought of torture. She’d never experienced real pain, and she didn’t know if she could withstand it. The last thing she wanted was to die like this, sniveling and begging for her life. If only she were braver— They arrived at the building, and he dragged her out of the cab, still holding her arm. Her legs were weak with fear, and she stumbled on the stairs. He caught her and lifted her in his arms, carrying her through the lobby and into the penthouse elevator. The warmth of his body felt wonderful against her frozen skin, reminding her of the other night he’d carried her like this—under vastly different circumstances. Once inside the apartment, he set her down on the couch and went to the closet to hang up his jacket. Of course, Mia thought resentfully, he wanted to be as comfortable as possible for the upcoming torture and mutilation. To her utter mortification, she felt a strong urge to pee, her bladder nearly bursting from all the earlier drinks. She desperately wanted to hold on to her last shreds of dignity—dying while peeing her pants seemed like the ultimate humiliation. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “can I go to the bathroom?” He nodded, a small mocking smile appearing on his lips. Mia went as quickly as her shaking legs could carry her. Once inside, she quickly relieved herself and washed her hands. Her fingernails had a faint bluish tinge, she noticed, and the warm water felt almost scalding on her icy hands.

Finishing, she stared at the closed door and the flimsy lock on it. It was useless, she knew. But she didn’t want to go out there. For some strange reason, the thought of her blood spilling all over the cream-colored furniture was too disturbing. She would wait here, she decided. He would undoubtedly come get her in another few minutes. But when these might be the last moments of her life, every second counted. She sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi and waited. It felt like an eternity had passed. Her reflection in the mirrored wall looked nothing like her normal self, from the provocative purple dress to the raccoon-like circles around her eyes from the smeared mascara. It was oddly fitting that she would die looking like this—not at all like the Mia Stalis from Florida that her family knew and loved. At the thought of their grief, a sharp pain sliced through her chest, and Mia nearly doubled over from the force of it. She couldn’t think about this now. If she did, she would break down and plead for her life, and it was strangely important to retain at least a semblance of pride— There was a knock on the door. Mia stifled a hysterical giggle. He was being polite before he killed her. “Mia? What are you doing? Open the door and come out.” He sounded annoyed. Mia didn’t respond, her eyes trained on the entrance. “Mia. Open the fucking door.” She waited. “Mia, if you make me open this door myself, you will regret it.” She believed him, but she refused to go meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter. At the very least, she wanted him to have to deal with some house repairs afterwards. The door flew off the hinges, crashing onto the floor. Even though she expected it, Mia still jumped from the suddenness of the violent action. Korum stood in the doorway, looking magnificent and angry. His high cheekbones were flushed with color, and his eyes were almost pure gold. “Are you seriously hiding from me in my own bathroom?” he asked, his tone dangerously quiet. Mia nodded, afraid that her voice would tremble if she spoke. Despite her best intentions, fat tears kept sliding down her cheeks. He came toward her then, and Mia shut her eyes, hoping that it will be over

quickly. Instead, she felt his hands on her naked shoulders, lightly stroking her skin. Her eyes flew open, and she stared up at him. “Get in the shower,” he said. “You have his stink all over your body.” In the shower? He wanted her clean. Mia’s stomach churned with nausea at the realization that he intended to have sex with her—maybe for the last time—before he killed her. She shook her head in refusal. His expression darkened. Before Mia could further contemplate the wisdom of her actions, the little dress lay in shreds on the floor and he was carrying her— naked and squirming—to the shower stall. A surge of adrenaline kicked in, and she arched in mindless panic, furiously kicking and scratching anything she could reach. Suddenly, she was standing on her feet inside the stall, and he was looming over her with an incredulous look on his face. “Are you insane?” he asked her softly. “Did all that alcohol fuck with your brain?” Panting from exertion and fear, she stared up at him defiantly through the tears blurring her vision. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with! I don’t want to be fucked first!” His eyebrows rose, and he looked genuinely taken aback. “You think I’m going to kill you?” he asked slowly, as though not believing his ears. “You’re not?” It was Mia’s turn to be surprised. Her heart pounded as if she’d run a marathon, and she could barely think. He took a step back. He was still wearing his clothes, she noticed now. The expression on his face was strange. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wounded him somehow. “Mia,” he said wearily, “just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean that I’m going to hurt you in any way, much less kill you.” “You’re not?” She had difficulty processing this. Ever since she’d laid eyes on him at the club, she’d been so certain that she would not survive the discovery. “Of course not,” he said, still looking at her with that strange expression. “You betrayed my trust tonight, but you were drunk and stupid—”

Mia blinked. Something didn’t add up. “—and I should have known better than to let you out like that on a Saturday night.” She stared at him in confusion, hardly daring to hope. “You’re upset that I went out clubbing?” “Upset is a very mild term for what I feel right now,” he said quietly. “You let that pretty worm put his hands all over you, and you kissed him right in front of my eyes. No, Mia, upset doesn’t even begin to approximate it.” He didn’t know. Her knees almost buckled in relief, and she grabbed the shower wall for support. As unbelievable as it seemed, his anger tonight was due to misplaced jealousy and had nothing to do with the Resistance movement. It was a mind-boggling realization, and Mia desperately wished that she could think past the fog that seemed to permeate her every thought. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m sorry,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t think you’d care if I went out tonight. I just wanted to have fun with Jessie and... I didn’t think you’d care either way. I wasn’t going to do anything but dance, I swear...” He just continued looking at her, as though trying to decipher her thoughts. “All right, Mia,” he said slowly, “just take that shower now, okay? We’ll talk when you’re done.” And then he left, walking around the broken door lying on the floor.

13

S he was going to live. He said he wasn’t going to hurt her, despite his anger. Korum didn’t know about her real betrayal. She had gotten incredibly lucky. Her head spun, and every muscle in her body trembled in the adrenaline rush aftermath. As she stood there, she felt her stomach twist with sudden nausea. Scrambling for the toilet, Mia barely made it before the contents of her stomach came up, the toxic brew of alcohol and residual terror proving too much for her system to handle. Mortified, she kneeled naked in front of the toilet, shaking uncontrollably. Flushing the disgusting mess, she used her remaining strength to crawl back into the shower stall and turn on the water, shuddering in relief as the warm stream poured over her frozen body. The hot shower worked miracles. After a few minutes, Mia felt well enough to get up off the floor. She washed and shampooed every inch of her body, rinsing away all traces of the horrible night. When done, she toweled herself off, put on a big fluffy robe, and brushed her teeth twice to remove the unpleasant taste in her mouth. She was now ready to face Korum again, even though all she wanted to do was pass out and sleep for the next ten hours. He was waiting in the living room, again looking at something on his palm. At her tentative entrance, he looked up and motioned to have her come closer. Mia cautiously approached, still feeling wary. “Here, drink this.” He had picked up a glass filled with a pinkish liquid from the table next to him and was holding it out to her. “What is it?” asked Mia with visible nervousness.

“Not poison, so you can relax.” At her continued reluctance, he added, “Just something to reduce the strain on your liver from all the crap you drank tonight.” Mia flushed with embarrassment. He had clearly heard her vomiting earlier. Without further arguments, she took the glass and tried the liquid. It tasted like slightly sweet water and was wonderfully refreshing. She gulped down the rest of the glass. “Good,” said Korum. “Now sit down and let’s talk about expectations in our relationship... specifically, my expectations for your behavior.” Mia swallowed nervously and sat down next to him. The liquid was already working its way through her system, and she felt the cobwebs clearing from her mind. He turned toward her and took one of her hands in his, lightly stroking her palm. His eyes were nearly back to their normal shade of amber, with only a few traces of the dangerous yellow flecks. “You’re mine, Mia,” he told her, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist. “You’ve been mine from the moment I saw you in the park that day. I don’t share what’s mine. Ever. If you so much as look at another male—human or Krinar—you will regret it. And whoever lays a hand on you will be signing his own death warrant. Do I make myself clear?” Mia nodded, unable to speak past the volatile mixture of emotions brewing in her chest. “Good. The pretty boy you were dancing with tonight is very lucky he walked away. If there’s ever a next time, I won’t be so merciful.” Her free hand curled into a fist on the couch. “You acted foolishly tonight. Two pretty girls going out dressed like that—any number of bad things could have happened to you. And drinking until you throw up —you might as well schedule a liver transplant for yourself in the near future. Your human body is already fragile, and I won’t allow you to abuse it like this.” Mia’s nails dug into her palm in frustrated anger. To be lectured like this, as though she was a stupid teenager, was beyond humiliating. “If you want to go out dancing, I will take you. And no more nights out with your roommate—the two of you clearly cannot be trusted.” Mia just stared at him with a mutinous look on her face. “And now,” he said softly, “we should discuss your little misconception

earlier... the fact that you actually believed that I would kill you for kissing a boy in a club.” “You nearly killed Peter,” said Mia, frantically searching for an explanation for her earlier panic. “Why are you so surprised that I was scared?” “Peter deserved exactly what he got for touching what’s mine.” He leaned toward her. “You, on the other hand, have nothing to fear from me. When have I ever hurt you—aside from the loss of your virginity?” It was true. He had never caused her physical pain—at least not of the unpleasant kind. He was always very careful not to hurt her with his much greater strength. Of course, he didn’t know she was helping the Resistance. “Mia, I know we literally come from different worlds, but some things are universal across both species. I sleep with you every night, I kiss and caress your body, I take great pleasure in having sex with you—and you think that I could just snuff out your life like that, with no regrets?” He still might, if he discovered her true betrayal. Taking her silence for the affirmative, he shook his head in disappointment. “Mia, I’m really not the monster you’ve made me out to be in your mind. I would not hurt you—ever, under any circumstances. Do you understand me?” “Yes,” she whispered, suppressing a slight yawn. She felt completely drained, exhaustion creeping up on her during their conversation. Even after the restorative potion he’d fed her, she was more than ready to go to sleep. Tomorrow she would gladly analyze all the ins and outs of his words, but for tonight—she was completely done. “All right,” he said, “I can see that you’re tired. Let’s go to bed. You’ll feel much better after some rest.” Mia nodded gratefully, and he picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.

ENTERING THE ROOM, HE PLACED HER GENTLY ON THE BED. Too tired to move, Mia just lay there, watching as he stripped off his clothes. His body was truly beautiful—all muscle, covered with that smooth golden skin. All of his movements were inhumanly graceful and carefully controlled. For the first time, Mia realized that he probably exerted a lot of effort to reign in the enormous strength she’d witnessed today.

He came toward her, his cock already stiff, and opened her robe. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured, studying her body with obvious appreciation. Despite her exhaustion, she felt her inner muscles clenching in anticipation. Climbing over her, he bent down and kissed the sensitive part of her neck. Mia held her breath, waiting for the familiar rush of bite-induced ecstasy, but he just continued nibbling his way down the rest of her body, with only his lips and tongue touching her. She moaned softly, wanting more, but he was ruthlessly slow, branding every inch of her skin with his mouth. He reached her feet, and Mia giggled, feeling his lips closing over one of her toes. And then his warm hands touched her foot, massaging with a light yet firm pressure, and Mia arched in unexpected pleasure as his thumb found a spot that sent sensations directly to her nether regions. All of a sudden, she didn’t feel like giggling anymore as tension started building in her sex. He gave her other foot the same treatment, and she cried out, feeling as if he was touching her clit instead. He flipped her over then and removed the robe completely. Grabbing a pillow, he placed it under her hips, elevating her butt. For some reason, Mia felt very vulnerable, lying there face down, with her back exposed to the predator she was sleeping with. Leaning over her, Korum lifted the dark mass of curly hair off her shoulders, revealing the tender spot of her nape. Bending down, he kissed it lightly, his mouth feeling hot on her sensitive skin. She shivered from the sensation, and he moved lower, kissing his way down each vertebra of her spine until he reached her tailbone. His hands touched her butt, lightly squeezing the pale globes, and she felt his mouth leisurely making its way down to the opening of her sex, teasing the crevice between her cheeks on the way with his tongue. She jumped, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, and he laughed softly at her reaction. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “we’ll leave that for another time.” And then playtime was over. He settled over her, his legs pushing between her own, opening her wider. Mia gasped as she felt the heavy force of his cock pushing into her. Despite her wetness, he felt impossibly big in this position, and she whimpered slightly, her muscles quivering, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Sensing her difficulty, he paused for a second and reached under her hips, applying steady pressure to her clitoris even as he moved his pelvis in a series of small, shallow thrusts, working himself deeper into her. With his much larger body over her like that, she felt completely dominated, unable to move an inch, and she groaned in frustration,

hovering on the verge of relief yet not climaxing. He moved deeper still, touching her cervix, and she froze as every nerve ending stood on edge, waiting for something—pleasure, pain, she didn’t care which as long as she could reach the elusive peak. He withdrew halfway then and slowly worked himself back in. The tension was becoming unbearable, and Mia resorted to begging, pleading him to do something, to make her come. “Not yet,” he told her, moving in that maddeningly slow rhythm that kept her at an agonizing intensity level. Whenever he sensed her orgasm approaching, he would slow down further, and then thrust faster when the sensation receded a bit. It was literally torture, and Mia realized that this was to be her punishment for tonight. “Korum, please,” she begged, but he was intractable. The slow drag and thrust of his cock was driving her insane. In any other position, she would have been able to do something, to move her hips in a way that speeded up the climax. But lying there like that, with his heavy body pressing her down, she could only scream in frustration. “You’re mine, do you understand it now?” he said hoarsely, still keeping up that mercilessly slow pace. “Only I can give you this—what your body craves. No one else... Do you understand that?” “YES! Please, just let me—” “Let you what?” he panted, the torture exerting a toll on him as well. “Just let me come! Please!” And he did. His thrusts gradually picked up speed, winding her up even tighter, and her screams got even louder... and then she went over the cliff, her entire body pulsing and spasming in a release so powerful that every muscle in her body trembled in its aftermath. Her orgasm sent him over the edge as well, and he came deep inside her with a hoarse groan, his seed spurting in warm bursts inside her belly. Mia lay there afterwards, feeling his weight pressing her down. She couldn’t breathe easily, but she didn’t care. She felt utterly boneless, unable to move in any case. And then Korum rolled away, freeing her. She shivered slightly at the feel of cool air on her naked sweaty back. He picked her up and took her into the shower again, for a quick rinse this time. And then they finally slept, with him cradling her possessively even in his sleep.

14

M ia

woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly well. Dry mouth, a

pounding headache, and the generally shitty overall state that came with the morning after clubbing—none of these were present today, likely due to Korum’s magic potion. As usual, she was alone in the bedroom. She had learned that Ks needed significantly less sleep than humans—some as little as a couple of hours a night— so Korum was a very early riser. It was just as well. She wasn’t sure she was eager to face him this morning. For some reason, she had never expected him to be jealous. With his looks and skills in bed, she couldn’t imagine that any female would prefer another man over him. Her light flirtation with Peter last night had been just that—harmless fun that would’ve never led anywhere. Most of the time, she had trouble deciphering his emotions. He usually seemed so calm and controlled, with that slightly mocking expression on his beautiful face. She knew she frequently amused him, and he often liked to tease her just to see her temper flare up. She imagined she was something like a kitten to him, a little creature that he liked to pet and play with on occasion. His reaction last night did not jive with that casual attitude, however. The extreme possessiveness he’d displayed didn’t make sense in light of what their relationship really was. He definitely liked having sex with her, but she could not imagine that she meant anything more to him than that. Then again—although she might have misinterpreted his expression last night —it seemed like he’d been genuinely hurt that she’d thought him capable of killing her. Could it be? Did he actually care for her as a person—as something more than his human toy? At this thought, an odd ache started in her chest. It couldn’t be, of course, but if he really did care for her...

And then she remembered a little tidbit about life on Krina. They were territorial, he’d said, and didn’t like to live right on top of each other. And she wanted to cry. It was all clear now. Of course he had been mad at Peter last night: the poor guy had inadvertently infringed on Korum’s territory. As far as Korum was concerned, she belonged to him now, for as long as he wanted to keep her. She was another one of his possessions. And he didn’t like to share.

AS MUCH AS SHE WANTED TO LAZE IN BED ALL DAY, THERE WERE THINGS TO BE DONE. HER STAT FINAL was tomorrow, and she still didn’t feel fully ready. The last thing she needed was the distraction of her screwed-up love life. Getting up, Mia brushed her teeth and got breakfast. Korum wasn’t home at all, and she wondered where he went. Before she settled down to study, she decided to check her phone to make sure that Jessie got home safely last night. Sure enough, there were about a dozen missed calls from her roommate and an equal number of texts and emails—each getting progressively more worried. Mia groaned. She should’ve texted Jessie last night before falling asleep, but it had been the last thing on her mind at the time. There was no help for it. Studying would have to wait. She called Jessie instead. Her roommate picked up at the first ring. “Oh my God, Mia, are you all right?!? What the fuck happened last night? If that alien bastard hurt you in any way—” “No, Jessie, he didn’t! Look, I’m totally fine—” “Totally fine? Everybody was talking about it last night—how he dragged you off after nearly killing Peter! I came back from the bathroom, and you were gone, and the poor guy was still choking on the floor—” “Is he all right now?” interrupted Mia, suddenly overcome by guilt. “He was taken to the hospital, but it was mostly swelling and bruises, they said. He’s probably going to have difficulty speaking for a few days, and I’m sure he was scared out of his mind...” “Oh my God, I am so sorry about that,” Mia groaned. “I should have never put him in danger like that—” “Him? What about yourself? Mia, this K of yours is insane! He was about to kill a

person for dancing with you—” “Kissing me actually...” “Whatever! It’s not like you slept with the poor guy, but even if you had... that’s just crazy!” Mia sighed. “I know. I learned too late that they’re apparently very territorial and possessive. If I’d known before, I obviously would’ve never gone to the club in the first place—” “Territorial and possessive? More like homicidal! Mia... you really need to leave him. I’m scared for you...” “Jessie,” said Mia softly, wondering how to best phrase it, “I’m not sure that I can leave him yet.” “What do you mean? Like he would force you to stay somehow?” “I don’t really know, but I don’t think it’s the best idea to break up right now—” “Oh my God, I knew it! You are afraid of him! Did he threaten you in any way?” “No, Jessie, it’s not like that... He said he would never hurt me. I just think it’s best to let the relationship play out naturally. I’m sure he’ll get bored soon and move on—” “And you’re okay with that? Just waiting around until he tires of you? Wait, what about the summer, when you go home to Florida?” “Um, I’m not really sure how that’s going to play out yet... I haven’t really talked to him about that—” “Well, you better, because it’s coming up! Finals are next week, and then you’re gone. What is he going to do then? Not let you go home?” Jessie had a valid point. Mia had no idea what would happen at the end of next week. For some reason, she had thought that Korum might get bored of her before Florida became an issue. His actions last night, however, were not those of someone who was getting bored with his new toy; in fact, he seemed very determined to hold on to said toy. Mia was starting to worry, but Jessie didn’t need to know that. “No, I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Look, Jessie, I know it sounds bad, but he’s really not mistreating me or anything. If I just act more considerately, everything will be totally fine. He’ll go back to his K Center soon, and I will have lots of interesting stories to tell my grandchildren...”

“I don’t know, Mia. This is starting to sound like he’s almost holding you captive —” “Don’t be silly! Of course he’s not!” “Uh-huh,” said Jessie skeptically, “sure he’s not. You can just go anywhere you want, do anything you want—” “Well, no,” admitted Mia, “not exactly—” “Not at all! He’s keeping you prisoner there—” “No, he’s not,” protested Mia. Taking a deep breath, she added, “But even if he was, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You saw it last night—they can nearly kill someone in public and nobody will say boo. Whether we like it or not, they are not subject to our laws. Jessie—please, just let it go... I know how to handle my relationship with him. Obviously, it’s not like dating another NYU student, but it’s not all bad—” “Not all bad? You mean the sex is good?” Mia blushed, glad that Jessie couldn’t see her. “Well, definitely that—it’s actually pretty amazing... but also just spending time with him. He can be really fun... and romantic, and he’s a great cook—” “Oh, don’t tell me... are you falling in love with him?” “No! Of course not!” Mia sincerely hoped she wasn’t lying. “He’s not even human—” “That’s right! He’s not human! Mia, he’s dangerous. Please be careful, okay? If you feel like you can’t break up with him yet, then don’t... but just don’t fall for him, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt...” “Of course, Jessie. Please don’t worry so much—I’m totally fine. But enough about me,” Mia said with false brightness. “What’s the deal with that hot actor you were flirting with all night?” “Oh, he was a total sweetheart. I gave him my number, and he said he will call today—” And Jessie told her all about the cute guy and how he was in town for at least a few more months, and how they both enjoyed Chinese food and had the same taste for nineties music... It was all so uncomplicated, and Mia envied her roommate for being able to fret over something as ordinary as whether Edgar would call today as promised.

They wrapped up the conversation, and Mia promised to see Jessie the next morning after the Stat exam. And then she settled in to study for the rest of the day.

15

O n Monday morning, Mia walked out of her Stat exam feeling like she had conquered the world. She’d known the answer to every question and finished the test in half the time. Now she only had to turn in three papers, and the school year would be officially over. Elated, she texted Jesse to let her know that she was done. Her roommate was probably still taking her BioChem final, so Mia decided to chill in the park for a bit and wait for Jessie to finish up. Parking herself on a bench, she pulled out her phone to call her parents and let them know that the test had gone well. But before she could even press a button, a man sat down right next to her, and Mia found herself looking into a familiar pair of blue eyes. “John! What are you doing here?” Mia asked in surprise. She had always seen him inside her apartment, and it was a bit of a shock to see him out in the open like this. “I wanted to talk to you about something important, and I wasn’t sure when you would be home next,” he said. “But first, let me ask you... are you all right?” “Uh, yeah.” Mia flushed a little. “Why, did Jessie talk to Jason again?” “No, but we heard about what happened. Your Saturday night adventure made the local papers.” Mia shuddered. That was embarrassing. A scary thought occurred to her. “Was my name in the paper? If my parents find out—” “No, there was only a description. I doubt your family will make the connection.” Mia exhaled in relief. “Yeah, well, as you can see—I’m totally fine.”

“Why did he attack that guy like that? Mia shrugged. “He’s just possessive, I guess. I was really scared, actually, because I thought he’d found out I was helping you. Turns out I was wrong, but there was a very unpleasant hour when I was certain he would kill me.” John regarded her with a calm, level gaze. “It’s a risk that we all run, unfortunately,” he said. Mia shivered slightly. She didn’t want to think about the nearly paralyzing terror that had gripped her that night. Instead, she asked him brightly, “So how did things work out for you guys this weekend? You moved your meeting, right?” “We did. That’s why I’m here to talk to you today. There’s been a change of plans.” “What kind of change? But, wait, first—did you figure out how he was videotaping you?” “Do you remember the Keiths that we mentioned the last time? Mia nodded. “They were able to find the devices. They were embedded in the curtains and the couch fabric—even the tree branches outside. It was a new and different technology—something that they must’ve developed recently. We are lucky that one of the Keiths has a design background and was able to figure out what the things were based on their new nano-signature.” Mia listened in fascination. “So what now?” “We got very lucky that you came across that information. The Keiths thought so too—” “They know about me now?” Mia wasn’t sure if she should worry about that. “Yes. We had to explain how we learned about being recorded in the first place.” The expression on her face must’ve seemed concerned because he added, “Look, I promise you they’re not all the same. The Keiths really believe in our cause—they won’t do anything to put you in danger.” “I don’t understand something,” said Mia. “Are these Keiths openly walking around their communities talking about their views and the fact that they’re helping you guys?” “No, of course not! If Korum knew who they were, he would quickly neutralize them. They have a lot to lose if their identities are discovered before we put our

plan into action.” “Okay,” said Mia, “so what’s the plan? And should I really know about it, given my proximity to you-know-who?” “Unfortunately, you do have to know... because you’re a big part of this plan now.” Mia felt her heart skip a beat. “Okay,” she said slowly, “I’m all ears.” “Do you remember when I told you that Korum is one of the key reasons they came here? That his company essentially runs the K Centers?” Mia nodded. “Well, the reason why he has all this power is because his company developed a lot of proprietary, classified technology that’s not available to the general Krinar population. We don’t know much about their science, but we think they probably have mature nanotechnology—” “What does that mean, mature nanotechnology?” asked Mia. “Basically, we believe they can manipulate matter on an atomic level. As the Keiths have explained to us, they can create almost anything using technology that’s right in their homes—as long as they have simple input materials and the design for it. Their designers—which are a bit like our software engineers—create the nano blueprints for all the things they use in daily life, as well as for their weapons, ships, houses, et cetera... Do you understand what I’m saying?” Mia didn’t fully understand, but she nodded anyway. “Korum is one of their most brilliant designers. A lot of the blueprints that he and his company have created are not available to the general public. That includes the design of their ships—that’s highly classified information—and many of their security details, including shields and weapons for the K Centers. If you’re a regular run-of-the-mill K, you can easily go on the Krinar version of the Internet and get yourself a design for their standard weapons and technologies. That’s how the Keiths have been helping us until now—by providing us with the basic tools we need to evade capture and some simple weapons. Ultimately, the goal was to use their own weapons to attack their Centers and kick them off our planet. “But, like I said, the K Centers are protected by technology that only Korum and his trusted lieutenants have access to. One of the Keiths has spent months trying to hack into their files... but with no success. We thought we were close to being able to penetrate their defenses, but we learned this weekend that we’re as far away as

we’ve ever been. Korum continues to develop newer and more complicated designs —the devices he used to spy on us are particularly ingenious—” “Can’t the Keiths reverse-engineer these designs?” interrupted Mia. Not that she knew anything about technology, but that seemed logical. “Most of Korum’s designs contain a self-destruct feature that gets triggered when you try to take apart the device on the molecular level—which is what you’d have to do to figure out the structure of it. That’s how he has a monopoly on this stuff—the patent or copyright protection is built into the design itself.” “Okay, so let me see if I understand this... The Keiths are willing to help you attack their own Centers, but they can’t break the code on the technology that protects the settlements? Am I getting that right?” “Exactly. There are fifty thousand Ks and billions of us. They may be stronger and faster, but we could easily overtake them if they didn’t have their technology. If we could somehow disable their shields and get our hands on some of their weapons, we could take our planet back.” Mia rubbed her temples. “But why would the Keiths help you so much against their own kind? I mean, I understand that they think it’s wrong the way humans have been treated... But to endanger the lives of fifty thousand other Ks for the sake of helping us? That doesn’t fully make sense to me—” “We promised to minimize the Krinar casualties as much as possible and to grant them safe passage back to Krina. We also promised that the Keiths—and whoever else they think can be trusted—can stay here on Earth and live among humans, as long as they obey our laws. “You see, Mia, they would be our teachers, our guides... bringing us into the new technological era and greatly accelerating our natural progress. They would be heroes to all of humankind, their names revered for ages. They would help us cure cancer and other diseases, and give us ways of extending our lifespan.” His face was glowing with fervor. “Mia... they would be like gods here on Earth, after all the other Ks leave. Why wouldn’t they want that instead of leading the regular lives they’ve already led for thousands of years?” Mia was reaching her own conclusion. “So they’re bored and looking to do something epic?” “If you want to think about it that way. I believe they’re genuine in their desire to help our species evolve to a higher level.” “Okay, so let’s go back for a second. If they can’t hack into the files, then what

are you going to do? Sounds to me like Korum is winning the war before you even got a chance at a single battle.” “Not quite,” said John, his eyes burning with excitement. “We can’t hack into the files—but we can steal the information anyway.” Mia didn’t like where this was going. “Steal it how?” she asked slowly. “Well, the rumor is that Korum keeps many of his particularly sensitive designs on him at all times. For instance, have you ever seen him doing anything like looking into his palm or at his forearm?” “I’ve seen him looking into his palm,” said Mia reluctantly, starting to get a really bad feeling about this. “Then that’s where he has one of their computers embedded. I use the term computer loosely, of course. It has as little in common with human computers as our computers do with the original abacus. Still, he has information stored there— literally in the palm of his hand. We could never hope to get to it because even if we captured and immobilized him—which is a nearly impossible task—he would probably be able to wipe the data in a matter of seconds.” “So what can you do then?” asked Mia in confusion. “We can’t do anything... but you can. You’re the only one who gets close enough to him to be able to gain access to that information—” “What? Are you insane? It’s in his palm—how would I get to it? It’s not like he’s just going to hand it over!” “No, of course not,” sighed John. “But we do have this...” He was holding a small silver ring. “What is it?” asked Mia warily. “It’s a device that scans data. The Keiths deliberately made it look like jewelry, so you could wear it without raising suspicions. If you could somehow hold it to Korum’s palm for about a minute, it should be able to access his files and get us the blueprints.” “Hold it for a full minute against his palm? What, like he wouldn’t find it suspicious?” “Not if he was otherwise distracted...” His voice trailed off suggestively. “Oh my God, are you serious? You want me to steal data from him during sex?” Mia’s stomach turned over at that thought.

“Look, the when is up to you. He could be sleeping—” “He only sleeps for a few hours, and I’m usually passed out during that time.” “Okay, then, do you ever go anywhere with him when he just holds your hand?” Mia thought about it. When they walked somewhere together, she would usually put her arm through the crook of his elbow. Or sometimes he would put his hand on the small of her back. If he ever held her hand, it was usually for a brief period of time only. “Not really.” “Well then, it has to be when it wouldn’t be strange for you to be touching him...” “So you do mean during sex?” “If that’s the only time, then yes.” Mia stared at John in shock, unable to believe he was asking her to do this. “John,” she said slowly, “I’m not some femme fatale who can just do stuff like this. The last time, when I thought that Korum had caught me, I was completely freaking out. I’m not cut out to be a spy, not even close. And Korum knows me by now—if I suddenly start acting weirdly, he’ll catch on right away—” “Look, I understand that it’s not going to be easy. You’re right—you’re not a seasoned agent. But you’re literally our last hope. The Keiths believe that Korum is getting closer to figuring out who they are. He knows that we’re getting help from the inside, and the Keiths think that their ruling council will not look kindly on those who pose a threat to the Centers here. At best, they’re looking at forced deportation to Krina and some serious punishment there. At worst, well...” “John,” said Mia wearily, feeling the beginnings of a headache, “I just can’t—” “Mia, please, just wear the ring. That’s all I will ask you to do. If you get an opportunity, great. If not, well, at least we will have tried.” “And if I get caught wearing this device? If Korum is as brilliant as you say, won’t he recognize their technology from a mile away?” “He has no reason to suspect you. You’re just his charl. He won’t be expecting a threat from you. And here, see, the ring is truly nice-looking. You could claim that it’s a gift from your sister if he asks.” Mia stared at the device. The little silver circle was thin and stylish, and it probably wouldn’t look out of place on her finger. To confirm that theory, she extended her hand. “All right, let me try it on—see if it’s even my size.”

John gave her the ring with a relieved smile. Mia slid it on the middle finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly. If she hadn’t known its purpose, she would have never thought it was anything other than a simple piece of jewelry. She hoped that Korum would be fooled as easily. With his mission accomplished, John rose to his feet. “Mia,” he said, “I hope you realize that if this works, if you succeed, then our species will enter into an entirely new era. We will have our planet back, and our freedom. And we will have a lot more knowledge—science and technology that we wouldn’t have had for hundreds or maybe thousands more years. You will be a hero, your name written in the history books for generations to come—” Mia felt chills going down her spine. “—and you will have nothing to fear from him again, ever. And girls like my sister will finally be reunited with their families, and they would be able to lead normal lives again—as will you.” He painted a compelling picture, but Mia couldn’t imagine how she could possibly bring something like this pass. “John,” she said, “I’ll try. That’s all I can promise you.” “That’s all I want.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Good luck.” And then he walked away, leaving Mia with the alien device that was supposed to determine the future of humankind sitting innocuously on her finger.

16

J essie joined Mia in the park a few minutes later. “Ugh,” she said, “I hate BioChem. So glad that torture is over.” Mia smiled at her. “No one said it’s easy being a pre-med.” “Yes, well, not all of us chose the easy route with a psych major—” “Easy, please! I have to write three papers by Thursday, and I’m only done with one so far!” “My heart bleeds for you... it really does—” “Oh shut up,” said Mia, and they both grinned at each other. “So what are you doing now? Going to the library?” asked Jessie, wrinkling her nose. “Nah, I think I’ll head back to Korum’s place. All my books and stuff are there now—” Jessie’s expression immediately darkened. “Of course. I should’ve known.” “Jessie,” said Mia tiredly, “please don’t give me a hard time over this. One way or another, I’m sure this relationship will be over soon—” “Mia, is there something you’re not telling me?” Jessie was looking at her suspiciously. “No! I just meant that I will be going home to Florida—and he may not want to continue seeing me when I return, that’s all.” “You’ve talked to him about this already?” Mia shook her head. “I’ll do it tonight.” “Okay, good luck with that. Let me know how that goes.” She paused and then

added, “Oh, and by the way, Edgar said that Peter’s been asking about you.” “What? Why?” Jessie shrugged. “I guess he’s suicidal. That, or he really likes you. It’s hard to tell, you know?” “Is he feeling better now?” Jessie nodded. “He seems to be fine, just some residual bruising.” “Well, I’m glad. Listen, tell Edgar that Peter should just forget about my existence. If it’s ever safe, when this thing with Korum is over, I’ll contact him myself.” Jessie promised to do so, and they chatted some more about Edgar. Jessie was supposed to see him tonight, and Mia again envied the ease and simplicity of her roommate’s life. Mia was now literally wearing the fate of her species on her finger, and the burden felt far heavier than the light silver circle could ever be on its own.

THAT NIGHT, KORUM MADE DINNER FOR THEM AGAIN. AFTER AGONIZING OVER THE BEST WAY TO approach summer plans, Mia decided to just tell him straight out. First, though, she wanted to make sure that he would be in a good mood and receptive to the idea. The dinner was delicious, as usual. Mia gladly consumed another creatively made salad—she had definitely developed a taste for them—and a bean crepe wrapped in seaweed with a spicy mushroom sauce. If she succeeded in her mission, there would be no more dinners like this. Korum would be forced to go back to Krina—if he even survived the attack on their settlements. At that thought, Mia felt a strange squeezing sensation in her chest. She didn’t want him killed. He might be the enemy, but she didn’t want to see him get hurt in any way. Furiously thinking about this, she resolved to ask John to grant Korum safe passage—if she did get her hands on the data. Of course, even the thought of him simply leaving the planet was oddly agonizing. You silly twit, he did manage to get under your skin. “A penny for your thoughts,” teased Korum, apparently noticing the introspective look on Mia’s face.

“Um, I’m just thinking about all the stuff I still have to do before the end of the week—turn in all those papers and then start packing...” Mia let her voice trail off. It seemed like a good segue into what she wanted to discuss today. “Packing?” A slight frown appeared on his smooth forehead. “Yes, well, you know the semester will be over soon,” Mia said cautiously, her heart rate beginning to increase. “After finals, I have to go home, to Florida, to see my parents, and then I have an internship in Orlando—” His expression visibly darkened. “And when were you going to tell me about this?” His voice was deceptively calm. Mia slowly chewed the last bite of her food and swallowed it. “I thought you knew everything about me already, including my summer plans.” The evenness of her tone matched his, despite the pounding of her heart. “The background check I did on you a month ago was not sufficiently comprehensive, I guess,” he said, still dangerously calm. Mia shrugged. “I guess not.” She was proud of how bravely she was handling this discussion. Maybe she would make a decent spy yet. “I don’t want you to go,” he said quietly. His eyes were taking on that golden tint that she now associated with all kinds of strong emotions. “Korum, I have to.” Mia tried to think of ways to convince him. “I have to see my parents and sister—she’s pregnant, actually—and then I have a really good internship lined up at a local camp, where I would be a counselor for children who are going through a difficult time...” He just looked at her, his lack of expression scaring her more than any outward anger. “All right,” he said. “I will take you to see your family this summer... just not next week. I can’t leave New York quite yet. And if you want, I will find you an internship here as well, something within your field that you would enjoy.” Mia felt a cold sensation radiating from her core all the way down to her toes. Up until now, even though she knew he regarded her as his pleasure toy, their relationship had a semblance of normality. He might have considered her his human pet, but she could still pretend he was her boyfriend—an arrogant and domineering one, for sure... but still just a boyfriend. Now that illusion was broken. If he really did go so far as to disregard her summer plans made months in advance, then he had absolutely no respect for her rights as a person—and probably no

qualms about keeping her as his charl indefinitely, until he got bored with her. Her fists were tightly clenched on the table, she noticed, and she forced herself to relax her fingers before proceeding. “And when you’re done with your business in New York,” she asked quietly, “what happens then?” He regarded her with a level gaze. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?” he suggested gently. “That might not be for a while.” “No,” said Mia, past the point of caring. “I want to cross that bridge now. If your business gets done next week, what would happen then?” He didn’t answer. Mia could feel herself getting even colder inside. Slowly getting up from the table, she searched for something to say. There was really nothing. She wanted to yell and scream and throw something at him, but that would not accomplish anything. The clueless Mia that she was supposed to be would not read anything particularly sinister into his silence. It was only Mia the spy who knew what could happen to a girl that a K regarded as his charl. So she acted the way he would expect any normal girl to act when her boyfriend was being unreasonable. “Korum,” she told him with a stubborn expression on her face, “I’m going to Florida this summer—and that’s that. I have a life that doesn’t just revolve around you. I made these plans months before I knew you, and I can’t change things around just because you want me to—” “Mia,” he said softly, “you can change things around and you will. If you try to leave at the end of the week, I will stop you. Do you understand me?” She did. She understood him perfectly. But the Mia she was pretending to be wouldn’t. “What, you’re going to prevent me from getting on the airplane? That’s ridiculous,” she said, even as her stomach twisted with fear. “Of course,” he said. “All I have to do is make one phone call, and your name will be on a no-fly list at all your human airports.” She stared at him in shock. Somehow, she hadn’t expected him to go to such lengths to detain her. She figured he might lock her in the apartment or something. But it made perfect sense... Why do something as crude as physically restraining her when he could simply exercise his power with the U.S. government? She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she held them back with great effort. “I hate you,” she told him, barely able to speak past the constriction in her chest. And

she really did in that moment. If she’d had any doubts about helping the Resistance, they dissolved as she stared at his uncompromising expression. He had no right to do this to her, to take over her life like that—and his kind deserved exactly what they got. If Mia could really make a difference in the fight against the Ks, then she had an obligation to do so—even if it meant losing her life in the process. He got up then and came toward her. “You don’t hate me,” he said in a silky tone. “You may wish you did, but you don’t...” He grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were nearly yellow at this point. “You’re mine,” he said quietly, “and you’re not going anywhere without me. The sooner you come to terms with it, my darling, the easier it will be for you.” And so the gloves had come off then. He was not going to hide his true colors any longer. Mia’s fists clenched with impotent rage. “I’m not coming to terms with anything,” she hissed at him. “I’m a human being. I have rights. You can’t order me around like this—” “That’s right, Mia,” he said in that same dangerously smooth tone. “You’re a human being—the creation of my kind. We made you. If it weren’t for the Krinar, your species would not exist at all. Your people came up with all kinds of imaginary deities to worship, to explain how you came to be on this Earth. The things you have done in the name of your so-called gods are simply preposterous. But we are your true creators—we made you in our image. The only reason you have the rights you think you have is because we choose to let you have them. And we’ve been extremely lenient with your species, interfering as little as possible since we came to your planet.” He leaned closer to her. “So if I want to keep one little human girl with me, and I have to order her around because she’s too inexperienced to realize that what we have is very special—well, then, that’s the way it’s going to be.” Mia could barely think past the fury clouding her brain. Staring up at his beautiful face, she felt a surge of hatred so strong that she would have gladly stabbed him in that moment if she’d had a knife nearby. “Screw you,” she told him bitterly, taking a step back to avoid his touch. “You and your kind should just go back to whatever hell you came from and leave us the fuck alone.” He smiled sardonically in response, letting her go for the moment. “That’s not going to happen, Mia. We’re here and we’re staying—you might as well get used to it.” No, they weren’t. Mia would make sure of that.

But he couldn’t know that yet, so she said nothing, just looking up at him in defiance. “And Mia,” he added gently, “I can be very nice... or not—it’s really up to you.” “Fuck you,” she told him furiously, and watched his eyes flare even brighter. “Oh, you will—and gladly.” He smiled in anticipation. Mia wanted to hit him. If he thought she would melt into a puddle at his touch, he had another thing coming. Unless... “Fine,” she said slowly, “but I call the shots tonight.” And she smiled back at him, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart. His eyes glittered with sudden interest. “Oh really? And why is that?” “Because that’s the only way I’m having sex with you tonight... willingly, I mean.” Her smile took on a taunting edge. “You can always force me, of course— maybe even make me enjoy it. But I will always hate you for it... and you will ultimately regret it.” “Okay,” he said softly, the bulge in his pants growing before her eyes, “let’s pretend you’re calling the shots... What would you like to do?” Mia moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue and watched his eyes follow the motion with a hungry look. “Let’s go into the bedroom,” she said huskily, and walked past him, making the safe assumption that he would follow her there.

17

T hey entered the room. Mia walked over to the bed and sat down on it, fully dressed. He was about to do the same, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “Not yet,” she murmured, and watched him pause in response. “I want you to take off your clothes,” she said quietly, and waited to see what would happen. To her surprise and growing excitement, he did as she asked, removing his Tshirt with one smoothly controlled motion. She inhaled sharply, the sight of his muscular half-naked body making her inner muscles clench with desire. Watching her with an amused half-smile, he unzipped his jeans and lowered them to the floor, stepping out of them gracefully. His erection was now covered only by a pair of briefs, and Mia could feel herself getting even wetter inside. “Okay,” he said softly, “now what?” Mia’s heart was galloping in her chest. “Lie down on the bed,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. He smiled and obeyed, sprawling out on his back, his hands behind his head. Mia got up and started taking off her own clothes, watching the bulge in his briefs growing even larger as she shimmied out of her jeans and unbuttoned her shirt. Still wearing her bra and underwear, she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. All of a sudden, he no longer looked amused, his entire body tensing up as her sex pressed against his erection, with only the two layers of underwear standing in the way of his cock. Mia smiled triumphantly and put her hands on his chest, feeling the powerful muscles bunching under her fingers. The game she was playing was incredibly

dangerous, yet she couldn’t help but be aroused by the control she was exerting over her normally dominant lover. Running her hands over his chest, she leaned forward and touched the flat masculine nipple with her tongue, loving the way his cock jumped beneath her at the simple action. “Give me your hands,” she whispered, her hair brushing against his naked chest. He reached for her, but she intercepted him, grabbing his wrists. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he let her stop him, observing her actions with a heavy-lidded amber gaze. She twined her fingers with his and pressed his hands into the pillow above his head, as though her small human hands could contain his Krinar strength for even a second. His eyes burned brighter with lust, but he did not resist, letting her hold him captive for now. She leaned closer to him and kissed his neck, and he arched beneath her with a sharp hiss. Reveling in his response, she lightly scraped the area with her teeth and was rewarded with a low growl. Rising up a bit, she repeated the action on the other side of his neck. By now, his body was nearly vibrating with tension, and she wondered hazily how much longer he would allow her to tease him like that. Still holding his hands, she kissed him on the lips, her tongue tentatively entering his mouth. He kissed her back with barely controlled aggression, and she sucked lightly on his tongue, causing him to buck underneath her. Leaving his mouth, she nibbled his neck again, focusing on the tightly corded muscle connecting it to his shoulder, and he groaned as though in pain. Loving her newfound power, Mia licked the side of his neck and tongued his ear, softly biting the earlobe. His hips thrust at her in response, but the underwear was in the way of his penetration. She moaned, her panties getting soaked with her juices as his erection rubbed against her clit. “Keep your arms raised,” she whispered, finally letting go of his palms. He did, and Mia could see the effort it took him not to touch her in the sweat beading up on his forehead. She moved down his body then, licking and kissing every inch of skin along the way until her mouth reached his flat stomach. His abdominal muscles quivered in anticipation, and she smiled with excitement, gently squeezing his balls through the briefs as her lips followed the dark trail of hair down from his navel to where it disappeared into his underwear. He groaned her name, and she hooked her fingers into his briefs, slowly pulling them down. As he lifted his hips to help her, his cock sprang up at her, the bulbous shaft stiff and the tip glistening with pre-ejaculate. Mia swallowed with nervousness and excitement, wondering what would

happen if he lost control—if she drove him as crazy as he could make her. Grasping his shaft with one hand, she lowered her head and slowly licked the underside of his balls, which were tightly drawn against his body with extreme arousal. He hissed at her action, torso arching and cock jumping in her hand, and Mia let go of it, using her hands to cup his balls instead. Simultaneously, she closed her lips around the tip of his cock and moved to take him further into her mouth, stopping only when he reached the back of her throat. She could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum, and her sex contracted in excitement. His body vibrating from the tension, he growled low in his throat, hips thrusting at her in a wordless demand to take him deeper, but Mia resisted, moving her lips up and down his shaft in a torturously slow and shallow rhythm. And then he snapped. Before she even realized what happened, he had her on her back, her panties ripped to shreds and his cock pushing into her in one heavy stroke. She cried out in shock, her nails digging into his upper arms as he penetrated her all the way without giving her any time to adjust to his fullness. She was dripping wet, but it didn’t matter, and her inner muscles trembled in the desperate attempt to accommodate the invasion. There was pain, but there was pleasure too, as his hips hammered at her in a merciless, driving rhythm. She screamed—in agony, in ecstasy, she didn’t know which—and felt him swell even more, becoming impossibly harder and thicker, and then he was coming, his head thrown back with a roar and his pelvis grinding into her sex. Mia cried out in frustration, her own release only a few elusive seconds away, and then his teeth sank into her shoulder, and her entire world exploded from the sudden rush of heated ecstasy through her veins. It was not enough for him, of course, with the taste of her blood driving him into a frenzy, and his cock stiffened again inside her before her pulsations even ended. And Mia could no longer think at all, the drug-like high from his saliva turning her body into a pure instrument of pleasure, her skin unbearably sensitized to his touch and her insides burning with liquid desire. He drove into her relentlessly, and she screamed from the excruciating tension until she climaxed, over and over, in a never-ending cascade of orgasmic peaks and valleys, the night turning into a nonstop marathon of sex and blood. Finally passing out toward the morning, Mia slept, her body still joined with his and her mind void of any thoughts.

MIA WOKE UP THE NEXT DAY TO THE FEEL OF SOMEONE’S HAND GENTLY PLAYING WITH HER HAIR. Surprised, she opened her eyes just a bit and saw Korum sitting by the edge of the bed, looking oddly concerned. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she muttered sleepily, blinking in an attempt to focus. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, brushing back a stray curl that fell over her eye. “Um...” Mia tried to think. Moving a little, she became aware of various aches and pains, as well as an extreme soreness between her thighs. Obviously not satisfied with her response, Korum pulled off the blanket, uncovering her naked body to his eyes. Her mind still feeling fuzzy, Mia followed his gaze as it lingered on the faint bruises covering her breasts and torso, many in the shape of finger marks. His face darkened with guilt, and he groaned. “Mia, I’m so sorry about this... I should’ve never let you play that game with me last night. I can usually control myself with you because I know how small and fragile you are, but I completely lost it last night... I never meant to hurt you like this—please believe me...” Mia nodded, still trying to understand what happened. All she could recall was the mind-blowing sex, mixed with the ecstatic rush from his bite. He gently stroked her shoulder, caressing the soft skin. “I am really sorry about this,” he murmured. “You’re so delicate... I should’ve never lost control like that. I’ll make you feel better, I promise—” The events of last night were slowly coming back to Mia. Her hand clenched into a fist as she remembered what had led her to tease him like that, and the feel of the ring on her finger was utterly reassuring. She might be sore this morning, but she was also hopeful that the little device had worked as promised. There was no guarantee, of course, but her finger’s proximity to Korum’s palm last night should’ve been sufficient to get access to the necessary blueprints. Now she just had to get the ring over to John and, for that, she needed Korum to leave her alone. “It’s all right,” she mumbled, trying to think of something appropriate to say. He was obviously feeling guilty about leaving a few bruises on her body. It struck her as hypocritical, this extreme concern for her physical well-being, since he obviously had no problem causing her emotional pain by upending her entire life.

Then again, her being sore could interfere with their sex life, and he probably didn’t want that. “I’ll bring something, okay?” he said, and disappeared from the room with inhuman speed. Mia buried her head in the pillow while waiting for his return, desperately thinking of ways to get the information over to John quickly. She still needed to write her papers, so maybe she could tell Korum she had to get some books from the library. He was back a minute later, carrying the familiar device that had “shined” her and something else that she’d never seen before. The second object looked most like a lipstick tube, but was made of some strange material. “Um, I’m all right—really, there’s no need for this,” said Mia quickly, not wanting him to plant any additional tracking devices on her. For all she knew, the next batch of nanotechnology in her body might broadcast her every thought to him, and that was the last thing she wanted. “There’s every need,” he said, obviously surprised at her reluctance. “You’re hurt, and I can fix it. Why not?” Why not indeed. She didn’t have a good answer for that, and protesting further would make him suspicious. Getting caught so close to the end of her mission would be stupid, and it’s not like she didn’t already have the tracking devices embedded in her palms. What’s a few more? So she just shrugged her shoulders in response, letting him do as he wanted. He activated the “shining” device and ran the warm red light over her bruises. Seeing it work the second time was still incredible, with the marks on her skin disappearing as though they were never there. He was very thorough, inspecting every inch of her skin, and Mia blushed slightly at having so much attention paid to her naked body in broad daylight. Once he was done, he took the tube-like device in his hand and brought it toward her thighs. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing it with distrust. There was only one place remaining on her body that still hadn’t been healed, and the red light from the device could not reach there. She hoped the little tube wasn’t really going where it looked like it could go. Korum sighed and said, “It’s something we use for deep internal damage, when you have to heal various organs before you can mend the outer layer of the skin. I know it’s overkill for what you’ve got, but it’s the only thing I have in this

apartment that can reach inside you to help you with the soreness.” So it was going there. Mia’s blush got worse. The thing was about the size of a tampon, and the thought of having something medical like that inserted in broad daylight was embarrassing. “Seriously?” he asked with incredulity. “After last night, you’re going to blush at this?” Mia refused to look at him. “Just do it already,” she mumbled, plopping down and hiding her face in the pillow. He laughed softly and did as she requested, sliding the little device inside her sore and swollen opening. It went in easily, and Mia didn’t feel anything for a few seconds until the tingling began. “It feels funny,” she complained, still shielded by the pillow. “It’s supposed to—that means it’s working.” The tingling went on for a couple of minutes and then it stopped. She didn’t feel sore anymore, which was nice, although the feel of the foreign object inside her was disconcerting. “It should be done by now,” said Korum, reaching inside her with his long fingers and pulling out the tube. “That’s it—all finished. You can stop hiding now.” “Okay, thanks,” muttered Mia, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I think I’m going to shower now.” He laughed and kissed her exposed shoulder. “Go for it. I have some things to take care of, so I’ll be out the rest of the day. The dinner will probably be a late one, so be sure to grab a good lunch.” And then he walked out of the room, finally leaving Mia alone to carry out the rest of the plan.

18

As

soon as Korum left, Mia sprang into action, her heart pounding at the

magnitude of what she was about to do. Before hopping into the shower, she sent a quick ‘Hi’ email to Jessie, letting her know that she would be stopping by the apartment today and asking how Jessie’s Anatomy final had gone. Hopefully, John would see the email and contact Mia quickly. It was already early afternoon; due to her complete exhaustion, Mia had slept far later than planned, and there was a lot to get done before this evening. Korum had thoughtfully left her a sandwich for lunch, and Mia gratefully gobbled it down before heading out the door. When he did things like that— considerate little gestures—she could almost believe that he genuinely cared about her, and she would feel an unwelcome pang of guilt at betraying his trust. Even today, after everything that happened last evening, the thought of him coming to any harm made her feel sick. It was ridiculous, of course; he would most likely be fine—and even if he wasn’t, it was his own fault for invading Earth and trying to enslave her species. Still, she would much rather see him safely deported back to Krina, so she could resume her normal life knowing that he was thousands of light years away and would never bother her again. Or so she told herself. Deep inside, some silly romantic part of her wanted to cry at the thought of never seeing Korum again—never feeling his touch or hearing his laughter, never glimpsing the dimple that so incongruously graced his left cheek. He was her enemy, but he was also her lover, and she had gotten attached to him despite everything. The pleasure that he gave her went beyond the sexual; just being with him made her feel excited and alive, and—if she ever let herself forget the exact nature of their relationship—oddly happy.

She could not imagine having sex with someone else after experiencing Korum’s lovemaking. It would be like eating sawdust for the rest of her life after first tasting ambrosia. It made perfect sense that he would be a good lover, of course; aside from whatever special chemistry he said they had together, Korum was also thousands of years old—and had had plenty of time to learn exactly how to please a woman. How could a human man compare to that? And she didn’t even want to think about how he made her feel when he took her blood. She wasn’t sure that it was healthy, to feel a pleasure so intense, but the thought of never experiencing it again was nearly more than she could bear. For the first time, she wondered about the xenos she’d heard about before. The motives of these people—who supposedly advertised online with the goal of entering into sexual relations with the Krinar—had always been a mystery to her. But she wondered now if they were perhaps truly addicted... if they’d had a taste of paradise and knew that everything else would pale in comparison. Korum had warned that addiction was a possibility for both of them if he took her blood too frequently. Mia shuddered at the thought. That was the last thing she needed—to actually develop a physical need for him. It was enough that she would probably miss him with every fiber of her being when he was finally gone from her life; the last thing she needed was to crave some elusive high that she could only achieve with him. There was no other alternative for her; she had to complete the mission. Their relationship was bound to end—it was just a matter of time. Even if she were willing to put up with his autocratic nature—or if she even went so far as to accept being his charl—he would tire of her in a few short years and then she would be alone anyway, completely heartbroken and devastated at his desertion. No, she had to do this. There was no other way. She couldn’t have lived with herself knowing that she’d had a chance to make a real difference in the course of human history and failed to do so because of her weakness for one particular K—for someone who regarded her as nothing more than his plaything. Arriving at her apartment, Mia was surprised to see that John was already there. So were Jessie and Edgar, the actor her roommate had apparently started seeing. As soon as she walked through the door, John asked if they could speak in private. Mia nodded and led him into her room, closing the door behind her. Before the door was fully shut, Mia heard Edgar ask Jessie if her roommate was seeing John as well, but Jessie’s reply was already inaudible.

“I THINK I HAVE IT,” SAID MIA WITHOUT ANY PREAMBLE. John’s entire face lit up. “You do? That’s great! How did you manage it so quickly?” Seeing the color flooding her face, he added hastily, “Never mind, that’s not important.” Mia shrugged and pulled the ring off her finger. There was a little indentation left behind on her skin. She sincerely hoped that Korum was not particularly observant when it came to women’s jewelry; otherwise, he might wonder why she’d worn that ring once and never again. “I need you to promise me something,” Mia said slowly, still holding on to the ring. “What?” “Promise me that Korum will not be harmed in whatever you’re planning to do.” John hesitated, and Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Promise me, John. You owe me that much.” “Why? He doesn’t deserve it—” “It doesn’t matter what he does or does not deserve. This is my condition for helping you. Korum gets safe passage home.” John looked at her and then sighed heavily. “All right, Mia, if that’s what you truly want. We’ll make sure that he gets safely deported.” Mia nodded and handed him the ring. “So what now?” she asked. “How long do you think it will take your Keiths to do something with this information?” He grinned at her, looking like a kid at Christmas. “They’ll have to look at it and make sure that it’s not more complicated than they think, but if they’re right... we could be looking at a potential attack within days.” Days? That was much faster than Mia had ever thought possible. “Won’t it take them time to make... well, whatever it is that those blueprints are for?” she asked hesitantly. He shook his head. “No, not that much time at all. Remember what I told you about how they manufacture everything using nanotechnology—and can make things almost instantly if they have the design for it?” Mia vaguely recalled something like that, so she nodded. “Well, they will now have the blueprints, and they already have the technology to create those designs. They just need to get that technology to a safe location

outside of their settlements, and then they can manufacture the necessary weapons to penetrate the K Center shields. Once the shields are gone, the human forces will be ready.” Forces? “Is the government in on this?” asked Mia with surprise. John hesitated. “Not exactly. But there are those within the government who believe that it was wrong to sign the Coexistence Treaty, to allow them to build the settlements. These individuals are sympathetic to our cause and they have the ability to bring us reinforcements. Some of these are highly placed people in the Army and the Navy, as well as within the CIA and other equivalent agencies worldwide.” Mia looked at him in shock. She hadn’t realized the full scope of the anti-K movement. For some reason, she’d envisioned it as being a few hundred suicidal individuals within the Resistance—or those like John, who had a personal vendetta against the Ks—helped by a few human-sympathizing aliens. But it made sense, of course, that the freedom fighters couldn’t have come as far as they did—and gained the assistance of the Keiths—if they hadn’t had at least a decent chance of success. “Wow,” she said softly, “so it’s really happening then? We’re kicking them off our planet?” John nodded with barely contained glee. “It’s happening, Mia. If the information on this ring is as good as we hope it is, we’re looking at Earth’s liberation within a week—a couple of weeks at the most.” That was crazy. Mia tried to imagine what would happen when the Ks learned that they were being attacked. She remembered the days of the Great Panic and shuddered. “John,” she said slowly, “would they really go without a big fight? You know what happened before... how much damage they could do even with bare hands—” “That’s true,” agreed John, “they could definitely fight back—and it could get very bloody for both sides. That’s why the information you got for us is so crucial. You see, if the Keiths are right, these blueprints also contain the design for one of their most advanced weapons. Once the shields are down and we let the Ks know that we have this weapon, they would be suicidal to do anything but surrender. Because if they fight, we will use it—and every K in their colonies would be turned to dust.” “Turned to dust? What kind of weapon can do that?” asked Mia in horrified

shock. “It’s weaponized nanotechnology on a massive scale. It can be programmed with very specific constraints, so we could set it to only destroy Ks within a certain radius and to spare whatever humans may be in the area at the time.” Mia’s eyes widened, and John continued, “Of course, we still expect some Ks to try to escape from the colonies when they learn of the attack, so we’ll have our fighters stationed all around to capture and contain those—and that could get bloody. We might still end up suffering heavy casualties, but we stand a very real chance of winning here.” Mia swallowed, feeling nauseous at the thought of any bloodshed. Knowing that something she did led to “heavy casualties” or extermination of thousands of intelligent beings—she didn’t know how she would handle that kind of responsibility. But there was no choice now, not that there had ever been any for her. Ever since she’d laid eyes on Korum at the park, her fate had been decided. Her only choice had been to meekly accept being his charl or to fight back—and she had chosen to fight. And now that decision might result in the loss of many lives, both human and Krinar. Mia bitterly wished she’d never gone to the park that day, had never learned about what goes on in the K Centers. If she could somehow turn back the clock and go back to her regular life, knowing next to nothing about the Ks, she would gladly do so—and leave the liberation of Earth to someone better equipped to deal with it. But she knew, and that burden felt unbearably heavy right now as she looked into John’s glowing face and imagined the upcoming bloody battle. “Mia,” said John, apparently sensing her distress, “please don’t forget: they came to our planet, they imposed their rules on us—and killed thousands of people in the process, until we had no choice but to give in. Do you remember how it was during the Great Panic?” Mia nodded, thinking of the terrifying chaos and bloody street fights of those dark months. Satisfied, John continued, “I know that your only exposure to them has been through Korum, and he has probably treated you nicely so far... because he thinks of you as his current favorite pet. But they’re not nice at all. They’re predators by nature. They evolved as parasites, as vampires, sustaining themselves by consuming the blood of other species. In fact, they developed humans for that purpose—to satisfy their own perverse urges with us—”

That wasn’t exactly what Korum had told her, but she didn’t feel like arguing that point right now. “—and they have no regard for our rights. Most of them view us as inferior, and they would not hesitate to enslave us completely if it suited their purposes.” “I know,” said Mia, rubbing her temples to get rid of the tension. “I know all of that—that’s why I’m helping you, John. I just really wish there was another way... some way we could just make them go away without spilling any blood.” “I wish there was too,” said John, sighing heavily. “But there isn’t. They invaded our planet with force—and now we take it back from them in the same way. And if some lives have to be lost in the process—well, we just have to hope that not too many of them are on our side. It’s war, Mia—the real War of the Worlds.”

JOHN LEFT, AND MIA SAT DOWN ON HER BED TO DIGEST EVERYTHING. How had she—a regular college student—managed to get involved in a war? Spying was something she’d always associated with glamorous secret agents, men and women who’ve had extensive training in everything from martial arts to defusing a bomb. A psychology major from NYU just didn’t fit the bill. Yet here she was, supposedly aiding the Resistance in their most important fight against the Ks. A terrifying thought occurred to her. Once Korum knew what was happening— that their settlements were being attacked—would he realize that she was the one responsible? Would he make the connection between his carefully guarded blueprints being stolen and the human girl he slept with every night? Because if he did—and he was still in New York at the time—then her days were likely numbered as well. A tentative knock on her door interrupted her dark musings. “Yes, come in!” she called out, relieved to have a distraction from that line of thinking. To her surprise and dismay, it was not Jessie. Instead, Peter stood in her bedroom doorway, his wavy blond hair and blue eyes looking even more angelic in the bright light of the day. There were still black and blue marks on his throat. “Peter!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” “I came to see you,” he said. “Your roommate told Edgar that you would be home today, and I just wanted to make sure you were all right after what happened

that night—” “Oh gosh, Peter, that’s really nice of you,” said Mia, desperately trying to think of the quickest way to get rid of him. She couldn’t imagine that Korum would be pleased to know that Peter was anywhere near her right now, much less in her bedroom. He probably wouldn’t find out, but she didn’t want to chance it. It was enough that she had almost gotten him killed in that club. Peter was looking at her with a concerned expression. “What happened that night, Mia? Did that monster hurt you in any way?” “No, of course not,” she tried to reassure him. “He just got jealous—I never expected him to react like that, believe me. I’m really sorry about everything that happened. I should’ve never danced with you that night. You got hurt because of me—” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I was once beaten up in high school because the head quarterback thought I was flirting with his girlfriend. Believe me, this was nothing in comparison.” And he grinned at her, his smile utterly infectious. Mia smiled back a little. It was good to hear that he didn’t hold a grudge against her. But he still needed to go away for his own safety. “Listen, Peter, thanks for checking up on me,” she said. “That was really sweet of you. But we now know that my boyfriend is not too keen on our friendship—and it’s really for the best if he doesn’t find out you were here—” “Mia,” said Peter seriously, his smile completely gone, “are you really dating that creature? I just never pictured you as a xeno—” “I’m not!” “You’re not a Krinarian, are you?” “Of course not! I’m not religious at all!” “Then why are you seeing him?” Mia sighed. “Look, Peter, that’s not really any of your business. He’s my boyfriend—that’s all you need to know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when we first met. I was just having a fun time at a girls’ night out. I really didn’t mean to mislead you in any way—” “That’s bullshit,” said Peter vehemently. “A boyfriend—that’s a human guy, not some vicious alien who drags you out of the club like that.” He paused for a second and asked quietly, “Mia, is he forcing you to be with him?”

“What? Why would you think that?” Mia stared at him, wondering what would make him ask something like that. He looked back at her, his brows furrowed in a frown. “You just don’t seem like the type to seek out one of these monsters.” “What type is that?” wondered Mia, genuinely curious to hear the answer. He tugged at his ear in frustration. “Well, a lot of people in the entertainment industry actually... models, actresses, singers—they get bored and look for something to spice up their lives... They’re shallow, and many of them are stupid— all they see are the pretty faces and not the evil underneath—” “Evil underneath?” asked Mia, surprised that he felt so strongly about the Krinar. Prior to her own close encounters with Korum, she’d had zero exposure to the invaders and no real opinion about them. Maybe Peter was religious himself and believed the claim that the Ks were demons? He grimaced. “I’ve seen people disappear, Mia, when they get involved with these creatures. That, or end up really messed up at the end. It’s not natural for us —to be with their kind. It never ends well...” Mia took a deep breath and said firmly, “Peter, look, I appreciate the concern, but there’s really no need in this case. I know what I’m doing. I’m neither shallow nor stupid—” “I never said you were,” protested Peter. “—and I don’t really appreciate you implying anything about my relationship. I’m with Korum because I want to be, and that’s all there’s to it.” She sincerely hoped that was enough to get Peter to go away. The last thing she needed was a bumbling white knight trying to save her from the evil monster—a white knight who would definitely end up getting slain in the process. Maybe later, if she survived the next couple of weeks, she would apologize to Peter for being so harsh. She liked him, and it would be nice to become friends with him, particularly if her life ever got back to normal. He looked slightly hurt. “Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything. Obviously, you can be with whomever you choose. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, that’s all.” Mia nodded and gave him a faint smile. “I understand. Thanks again for stopping by.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the laptop and a couple of books.

Peter immediately got the hint. “Sure. I’ll see you around, okay?” he said, and walked out of the room. Mia heard him talking to Jessie and Edgar for a minute, and then he was gone, the front door closing decisively behind him. Mia plopped down on her bed with relief. How had it happened that a cute guy— with whom she actually had a decent connection—had come along at such a wrong time in her life? Had she met him two months ago, she had no doubt that she would have been ecstatic to have him pay attention to her like that—but it was too late now. Like those people he knew, she would likely end up messed up in the end— either that or dead at the hands of her alien lover.

19

S hortly after Peter left, Edgar departed as well. Mia heard them kissing and giggling by the door, and then there was silence. Almost immediately afterwards, Jessie came into her room. “So,” said Mia, smiling at her roommate, “I take it things are going well with Edgar?” Jessie gave her a huge grin. “They are going very well. He’s just so nice, and so fun, and so cute...” Mia laughed and said, “I’m glad for you. You deserve a good guy like that.” “That I do,” said Jessie without any false modesty, still grinning. And then her expression abruptly became serious. “And so do you, Mia—” Uh-oh, thought Mia. Here comes the lecture. “—and you’re clearly not getting it.” “Jessie, please, let’s not beat a dead horse—” “A dead horse? I’d like to beat up a certain K!” Jessie took a deep breath, clearly riled on Mia’s behalf. “Peter is such a nice guy, and he seems to really like you—to come all the way here like this after everything that happened... and you’re stuck with that monster!” Mia rubbed the back of her neck to get rid of some tension there. “Jessie, please stop worrying about my relationship... everything will get resolved in its own time “Speaking of getting things resolved, did you talk to him about the summer?” Mia bit her lip. She hated lying to Jessie, and she so badly wanted to talk to someone about the whole maddening mess. If John was right about the Keiths’ timing, her trip to Florida would be merely delayed—and not even by all that much.

Of course, that assumed she would still be alive at the time. Mia decided on a slightly edited version of the truth. “I have,” she said slowly. “And?” “And we agreed that I’ll go later in the summer, and do an internship here in New York instead.” Jessie stared at her in shock. “What internship?” “I’m not sure yet. Korum promised to find me something in my field.” “Oh my God, he’s not letting you go, is he?” Jessie looked completely horrified. “Not exactly,” admitted Mia. “He did say, though, that we’ll go to Florida together once his business in New York is done.” “Together? What, he’s going to meet your family?” The expression on Jessie’s face was utterly incredulous. “I have no idea,” said Mia, and she really didn’t. She hadn’t had a chance to think about it, with everything that had gone on—but she couldn’t imagine her normal down-to-earth family interacting calmly with her alien lover. “We didn’t get as far as discussing the particulars—” “That bastard! I can’t believe he’s doing it to you! No wonder you’re helping the Resistance—you probably hate his guts.” Mia couldn’t believe her ears. “What? What did you just say?” “Oh come on, Mia,” said Jessie calmly. “I’m not an idiot. I can put two and two together. John was waiting for you here in the apartment even before you showed up. Clearly, he knew you were coming. You’re communicating with them, aren’t you?” Damn it. Sometimes Mia forgot just how astute her pretty, bubbly roommate could be. Denying it any longer would be pointless, but Jessie could not know the extent of Mia’s involvement—it would be much too dangerous for both of them. Mia gave her a piercing look. “Jessie, listen to me, don’t ever say something like that—and don’t ever talk about it with anyone, not even Edgar. Do you promise me?” Jessie nodded, her eyes narrowed. “I would never say anything. When Edgar asked me if you and John were dating, I just said that he was an old friend of your family’s.”

“That’s good,” said Mia with relief. Then she added, “Look, I am not doing anything too crazy, I promise. John just asked me to keep an eye on Korum’s activities and report to him occasionally. That’s all I was doing today. Korum met a couple of other Ks recently, and I just wanted to tell John about it. Turns out he already knew, so it really wasn’t a big deal.” Mia had no idea where she had learned to lie so smoothly. “Not a big deal? Mia... you’re dealing with an extraterrestrial who has no regard for human life. You saw what he did to Peter—and that was just for dancing with you! If he catches you spying, he would kill you for sure! Of course, it’s a big deal!” Jessie blew out a frustrated breath. There was nothing Mia could really say to that, so she just shrugged. “And it’s all my fault for blabbing about you to Jason! I can’t believe those bastards decided to use you like that.” Mia rubbed her neck again. “They just saw an opportunity and decided to use it. It doesn’t really change my situation. I’m still with Korum, whether or not I’m spying on him. So I might as well try to help out, you know?” Jessie gave her a frustrated look. “I can’t believe all this shit is happening to you. You’re the most by-the-book person I know... and you end up sleeping with a K and spying on him.” Mia sighed heavily. “I know. I’m so screwed, Jessie—and not just in a good way.” A small smile broke out on Jessie’s face, and she shook her head in reproach. “Mia...” Mia grinned at her. “I know, I know, that was pretty bad.” “Not James Bond caliber, that’s for sure.” And Jessie grinned back.

THAT EVENING, KORUM GOT HOME AROUND EIGHT O’CLOCK. MIA WAS ALREADY BACK AT HIS PLACE AND frantically working on her paper. He entered her study room and came up to kiss her. “Hey there, looks like somebody is hard at work,” he teased, brushing his lips briefly against her cheek. Mia gave him a little frown. “Yeah, I have to finish this paper tonight. I have this and my Child Psychology paper due Thursday, and I’m not done with even one of them.”

“Sounds terrible,” Korum said, the slight curve of his lips giving away his amusement. “It is!” said Mia, her frown getting worse. Couldn’t he see she was stressed? He didn’t have to laugh at her just because her worries seemed minor to him. “Do you want some help with it?” he asked, causing Mia to give him an incredulous look. “Help with my papers?” Was he serious? “Isn’t that what you’re stressing about?” He didn’t look like he was joking. “Uh...” Mia was speechless. Finally finding her tongue, she mumbled, “That’s okay, thanks... I should be able to handle it.” Stifling a grin, she imagined turning in a paper on the effects of environmental factors in early childhood development—written from the perspective of a twothousand-year-old extraterrestrial. The look on Professor Dunkin’s face would be priceless. “I can write in English, you know,” said Korum, apparently offended by her reluctance. Mia smiled with some condescension. “Of course you can.” This was the strangest conversation ever. “But there’s more to writing an academic paper than just knowing the language. You have to have read all these books and attended the lectures...” She gestured toward the big pile of paper books sitting at the corner of her desk. “So,” said Korum, shrugging nonchalantly, “I can read the books right now.” Mia gave him a dumbfounded look. “There’s about ten of them...” She swallowed to get rid of the sudden dryness in her throat. “H-How fast do you read?” “Pretty fast,” he said. “I also have what you would call a photographic memory, so I don’t need to read the material more than once.” Mia stared at him in shock. “So you can read all these books in a matter of hours?” He nodded. “I would probably need about two hours to finish them all.” That was incredible. “Is that normal for your kind?” Mia asked, still digesting that shocking tidbit. “Some of us have that ability naturally, while others choose to enhance it with

technology to keep up. I was born this way.” Mia could feel her heart rate picking up. She’d known that he was very smart, of course, and John had told her that Korum was one of the best designers among the K. She just hadn’t expected him to have what amounted to superhuman intelligence. “I probably seem really stupid to you then,” Mia said quietly, “given how long it takes me to do all this—” He sighed. “No, Mia, of course not. Just because you’re lacking certain abilities doesn’t mean you’re not smart.” Yeah, right. “What else can you do?” asked Mia, realizing how little she still knew about her alien lover. He shrugged. “I can probably do some math in my head that you would need a calculator for.” This was fascinating and scary at the same time. “What’s 10,456 times 6,345?” she asked, simultaneously reaching for her phone to check the answer. “66,343,320.” That was exactly right. And he’d given her the answer before she even had time to input the numbers into the calculator on her phone. Mia swallowed again. “So do you want my help with the paper or not?” Korum was beginning to look impatient. Mia shook her head. “Uh, no—that’s all right, thanks. I’m sure you could write a great paper—probably better than me—but I still have to do this myself.” “Okay, sure, whatever you want,” he said, shaking his head at her stubbornness. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something?” Mia had snacked throughout the day, so she wasn’t starving. “I don’t know,” she said tentatively. “I don’t think I have time for a sit-down meal today.” She looked up at him, hoping that he would understand. “Of course,” he said, “I’ll bring you something to eat here.” Giving her a quick smile, he left the room. Mia stared at the door in frustration. Why did he have to be so nice to her today? It would be so much easier if he treated her with cruelty or indifference. The guilt burning her up inside made no sense; she knew she was doing the right thing by helping the Resistance. The Ks had invaded their planet, not the other way around;

liberating her species should not make her feel like this—like she was betraying someone she cared about. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus back on the paper. It was an impossible task. Her thoughts kept wandering, jumping from one unpleasant topic to another. Had she set in motion something that would result in the loss of thousands of lives? And would Korum be one of the casualties? It still didn’t seem entirely real to her, the potential impact of her actions. Korum came back a few minutes later. He had made some kind of sushi-like rolls with crunchy lettuce and peppers and an apple-walnut dish for dessert. Mia thanked him and gladly dug in, finding that she was quite hungry after all. He smiled at her and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Enjoy. I’ll be next door if you need me.” And then he left, letting her work on her papers—and battle her own dark thoughts.

20

T hat night, he was incredibly tender with her. His fingers unerringly finding every knot and tense muscle, he massaged every inch of her body until she lay there in a boneless puddle of contentment. Once he was satisfied that she was fully relaxed, he flipped her over onto her back and began kissing her, starting with the tips of her fingers. His lips were soft and felt warm on the skin of her hand, and when he sucked her index finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, Mia moaned from the unexpectedly erotic sensation. Leaving her fingers alone, his mouth traveled up her palm, licking the sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist, and then further, up her arm, until he reached the arched column of her throat. Mia held her breath, waiting for the familiar biting pain, but he merely placed a series of light kisses there, sending goosebumps down her leg and arm, and nibbled softly on her earlobe. Mia moaned again, overcome by the pleasure of his touch, and buried her fingers in his hair, pulling his face down for a deep French kiss. He kissed her back, passionately and intensely, and Mia felt the strength of his desire in the rigid erection brushing against her thigh. His hand found her breasts, gently squeezing and massaging the small globes, and his thumb flicked across her left nipple, causing it to stiffen further. Lifting himself up on his elbows, he looked down at her with a warm golden gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, staring into her eyes, and the tender expression on his face made her want to cry. Why was he doing this to her today of all days? This might be one of the last few times she was having sex with him, and she didn’t want to remember it like this—like the lovemaking that it could never be.

He kissed her again, and she sucked on his tongue, hoping to make him lose control, so she could forget everything in the mind-bending ecstasy and finally turn off her brain. He groaned in response, and she felt his cock jump against her leg, but his touch on her body remained exceedingly gentle, with none of the raw lust from last night. Frustrated, Mia pushed at his shoulders. “I want to get on top,” she told him huskily. He was clearly doing penance for his roughness yesterday, but that wasn’t what Mia wanted tonight. His eyes widened a little in surprise, but he rolled off her onto his back. Mia climbed over him and grabbed his head with both hands, bringing his face to hers for a deep tongue-filled kiss while simultaneously rubbing her sex on his without allowing actual penetration. He wrapped his arms around her in response, so tightly that she could barely breathe, and kissed her back with the intensity she was seeking. She could see a fine layer of sweat on his forehead as his body strained with the effort of holding himself back. Mia moved her hips suggestively then, grinding against his cock, and his hips lifted off the bed, trying to get more. His embrace loosened slightly, and Mia worked her right hand in between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He hissed, his body tensing up, and she carefully guided his cock to her opening, starting to lower herself onto him in a maddeningly slow motion. He growled low in his throat and his hips thrust up, penetrating her in one powerful stroke. Mia cried out, feeling her muscles quivering, adjusting to the extreme fullness. He grasped her hips, his thumb finding her clit through the closed folds and pressing on it, his touch torturously light, bringing her closer to the desired peak without sending her over. Mia moaned, her sex clenching around his cock. She wanted more—more of the madness, of the mindless bliss that only he could make her feel. “Bite me,” she told him, and watched his eyes turn even more yellow even as he shook his head in denial. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he muttered roughly, and rolled over so that he was over her again, their bodies still joined. Before she could say anything else, he twisted his hips slightly, and the head of his cock nudged the sensitive spot deep inside. Mia moaned, arching toward him, and he repeated the action, again and again, until the monstrous tension coiling inside her became unbearable, and she screamed, raking her nails down his back as the long-awaited climax finally rushed through her, obliterating all rational thought in its wake. But he wasn’t done with her yet. He still hadn’t come, despite the rhythmic

squeezing of her inner muscles, and his shaft was lodged inside her, as hard and thick as ever. Burying his hand in her hair, he kissed her deeply and began thrusting, alternating a shallow stroke with a deeper one, until the tension started building again and every cell in her body was crying out for the release. She tried to move her hips, to force him into that constant pace she needed to reach her climax, but he wouldn’t let her, his large, powerful body holding her down. His kiss was relentless, his tongue ravishing her mouth, and Mia felt like she would explode from the intensity of the sensations. And then suddenly she was there, her entire body convulsing in his arms, and he was coming as well, his pelvis grinding into her own as his cock pulsed inside her, releasing his semen in short, warm bursts. Afterwards, he rolled off her and gathered her to him, leaving her lying partially on top, her head on his chest and her left leg draped over his hips. They were both slick with sweat, and Mia could hear the rapid beating of his heart gradually beginning to slow as his breathing returned to its normal pace. She didn’t really know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. The sex had been incredible, and she hated the fact that he could make her feel like this—even without any chemical enhancers. Why did it have to be him, she thought bitterly, looking at his flat bronzed stomach moving up and down with every breath. Why couldn’t she have fallen for a normal human guy instead of an alien genius whose kind was taking over her planet? She felt the hot prickling of tears behind her eyelids and squeezed them tightly, not letting the moisture escape. Her body felt languid and tired in the aftermath of the sex session, but her mind kept buzzing, working overtime, looking for a solution where none could be found. Even if he cared for her in his own way, those feelings would turn to hatred once he learned the depths of her betrayal—and the hands that held her so gently now would likely end up wrapped around her throat. She must have tensed at the thought because he pulled away to look at her face and asked curiously, “What’s the matter?” When she hesitated, a worried frown appeared on his face. “Mia? What’s the matter? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Mia shook her head, trying not to look him directly in the eyes. “No, of course not,” she said huskily, “it was wonderful... you know that—” “Then what?” he prodded, reaching out to grasp her chin and force her to meet his gaze.

Mia tried to control herself, but the stupid tears wouldn’t leave her alone, welling up in her eyes. “It’s nothing,” Mia lied, silently cursing the fact that her voice was shaking, “I just... g-get this way when I’m stressed—” His frown got deeper. “Why are you so stressed? Is it your papers?” he asked, studying her with a perplexed look in his eyes. Mia nodded slightly, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to calm herself. He might become suspicious if her tears didn’t have a good explanation. Unless... Opening her eyes, she looked at him, no longer caring if he saw the glimmer there. “I really miss my family,” she confessed, and it was the truth. In this moment, she desperately wanted to be a child again, safe and sound in her parents’ house, with her mom making chicken soup with matzah balls and her dad reading a newspaper on the couch. She wanted to turn back the clock and go back to the last decade, to a time before people knew that there was life on other planets—and that their own planet would not belong to them much longer. To a time before she met the alien who was staring at her now with his beautiful amber eyes—the lover whom she had no choice but to betray. Korum seemed to accept her explanation. “Mia,” he said quietly, letting go of her chin, “you’ll see them soon, I promise. I’m getting closer to completing my business here, and then I will take you there—” “I haven’t even told them yet that I’m not coming,” said Mia, her voice thick with tears. “They’re expecting me this Saturday, and my plane ticket is nonrefundable—” He looked exasperated. “Are you worrying about money now? I will refund you the cost of the ticket—” “My parents are the ones who bought it.” “Okay, then I will refund the cost to your parents.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “Mia, you don’t ever have to worry about these logistics when you’re with me. I’ll always take care of you and your family—you don’t need to stress about money ever again. I know your parents’ finances are tight, and I would be more than happy to assist them financially—or in whichever way they need.” Mia swallowed a sob, feeling like an iron fist was squeezing her heart. As arrogant and high-handed as that statement was, she had no doubt that he was genuine in his offer. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “that’s very... generous of you—”

“Mia,” he said softly, “I care about you, okay? I want you to be happy with me, and I will do whatever I can to make that happen.” His every word felt like he was cutting her with a knife, and she could no longer hold back. Burying her face in the pillow, she turned away from him and broke down crying, her entire body shaking from the force of her sobs. “Mia?” His voice sounded uncertain for the first time since she’d met him. “What... Why are you crying?” She cried even harder. She couldn’t tell him the truth, and the guilt was like acid in her chest, eating her up inside. Tentatively touching her back, he stroked it in a soothing manner, murmuring little endearments. When that didn’t seem to help, he pulled her into his arms, letting her bury her face in the crook of his neck and cry while he stroked her hair. So Mia cried. She cried for herself, and for him, and for the relationship that could never be... not even if he weren’t the enemy that she’d been spying on. After a few minutes, when her sobs began to quiet down, he reached somewhere and handed her a tissue, letting her wipe her face and blow her nose before asking softly again, “Why?” Mia looked at him, her vision still blurry with tears. The full truth was out of the question, of course, but she could tell him something that had been tormenting her for a while. “This is not right,” she whispered, her voice rough with residual tears. “You, me—it’s not right, it’s not natural... And it can never last—” “Why not?” he said softly. “It can last for as long as we want it to last.” “You’re not human,” she said, looking at him in disbelief. “How could it ever work for us?” He hesitated for a second and then said, gently brushing her hair off her face, “It can—just trust me on that, darling. I can’t really say more right now, but we will talk about it later... when the time comes.” Mia blinked in surprise, staring at him. This was something she hadn’t expected. Did he mean that there was some way for them to be together... as an actual couple? The implications of that were too big to contemplate right now, with her head pounding and her mind barely functioning in the aftermath of her emotional storm. He pulled away then and got off the bed. “I’ll bring you something to make you feel better,” he said, and left the room.

Mia looked at the door, stifling a hysterical giggle at the thought that this was becoming a nightly occurrence. She just hoped he didn’t bring back the little tube. He brought back a glass filled with some kind of milky liquid and handed it to her. “What is it?” she asked, sniffing it with suspicion. It didn’t smell like anything. He grinned at her, showing the dimple. “Not poison, I promise. It’s just a little something to help you sleep better and take away your headache.” How did he know that her head was hurting? Mia blinked at him again. As though reading her mind, he said, “I know how humans feel after crying. This drink is meant more for helping with a cold or a flu, but it doesn’t have any harmful side effects, so you might as well drink it now and feel better.” Mia nodded in agreement and tasted the liquid. It didn’t have any flavor either; if not for the color, she would have thought she was drinking water. She felt dehydrated, so she gladly drank the entire glass. Almost immediately, the painful pressure around her temples eased, and the congested feeling in her nose disappeared. Another K wonder drug, apparently. “Why do you have all these medicines for humans?” she asked, the thought only now occurring to her. “Do you also use these for yourself?” He shook his head, smiling. “No, they’re human-specific. We have other ways to heal ourselves.” “So why have it then?” Mia persisted. He shrugged. “I knew that I would be living among humans and interacting with them. It only made sense to have a few basics handy in case of various emergencies.” Interacting with humans at his apartment? Mia suddenly felt an unwelcome pang of jealousy at the thought of other women being here, in this very bed. It wasn’t surprising, of course; he was a healthy, attractive male with a strong sex drive—it was perfectly normal for him to have had other sex partners before her, both human and K. Or so she told herself. The green-eyed monster inside refused to listen to reason. Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because he said softly, “And no, none of those interactions have been human women in recent months— definitely none since I met you.”

“What about K women?” she blurted out, and then mentally kicked herself. She had no right to be jealous after what she’d done. He was her enemy, and she had treated him as such. It was absurd to feel so relieved that she was the only woman in his life right now. Their days together were numbered, and it shouldn’t matter whether Korum had been faithful to her or if he had fucked a hundred women in the past month. Yet somehow it mattered to her—and it mattered a lot. “None since we’ve met,” he said, smiling. He seemed pleased by her jealousy, and Mia nearly broke down crying again. Taking a deep breath, she controlled herself with great effort. A second crying fit would be even more difficult to explain. “Let’s go to sleep, shall we?” he suggested softly. “You still seem stressed, and you’ll probably feel better in the morning.” Mia nodded in agreement and lay down, covering herself with the blanket. Korum followed her example, pulling her toward him until they lay in his favorite spooning position. Against all odds, Mia drifted off to sleep as soon as she closed her eyes, feeling comforted by the heat of his body wrapped around her own.

21

M ia woke up on Wednesday morning with a sense of dread in her stomach. Today she had to tell her parents that she wasn’t coming to see them on Saturday. She still hadn’t come up with a good reason to explain the delay, especially since she was supposed to start her internship at the camp on Monday. And if Korum discovered her involvement in what was about to befall the K colonies, then it might be the last time she was speaking to her family in general. That made it even more imperative that she present an upbeat and positive image today, so as not to make her parents worry prematurely. It would be better if she left only good memories behind when she disappeared from their lives. At that thought, stupid tears threatened again, and Mia took a deep breath to control herself. She didn’t have time for this right now; she still had to write the last paper. Although it made no sense to care about something so trivial in her precarious situation, not writing the paper would be like giving up—and some small part of Mia was still hopeful that there might be light at the end of this tunnel, that some semblance of a normal life was still possible if she made it through the next couple of weeks unscathed. Clinging to that thought, Mia dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Korum was nowhere to be found in the apartment, and she guessed he was off doing whatever he normally did during the day. It probably had something to do with tracking the Resistance fighters, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. Grabbing a quick breakfast, she headed to the library in the hopes that she might be better able to concentrate there. The day was beautiful and sunny—a perfect foil for her gloomy mood. Under normal circumstances, Mia would have taken a nice lengthy walk to the library, but time was of essence and she took a cab instead. Staying at Korum’s place and eating

nearly all her meals with him, Mia was flush with cash for the first time in her college career. The student grants that helped pay for tuition and books also provided a minimal allowance for food and other living expenses, but it was usually just enough for her to survive on. Eating out in restaurants or taking cabs were indulgences that Mia could not normally afford, and it was nice to be able to splurge now that she didn’t worry so much about the cost of food. The library was a zoo. Just about every NYU student was there, frantically cramming for exams and writing papers. Of course, Mia realized, it was finals week. She should’ve just stayed in the comfortable study room Korum had set up for her, but she’d wanted to be some place where nothing reminded her of the mess that her life had become. After wandering around for a good fifteen minutes, she finally located a soft chair that had just been vacated by a pimply red-headed boy who looked like he was all of twelve years old. Quickly occupying it before anyone else saw her prize, Mia smiled to herself. Not that she was all that old, but some of the freshmen looked ridiculously young to her these days. Five hours later, Mia triumphantly finished the last sentence and saved her work. She still had to proofread the damn thing, but the bulk of the job was done. Gathering her things, she left the library and went to her own apartment, hoping to see Jessie and have a chance to talk to her parents. Jessie wasn’t home when she got there, so that left only the parents. Taking a deep breath, Mia turned on her computer and prepared to be as bright and bubbly as any college student who was almost done with finals week.

“MIA! SWEETHEART, HOW ARE YOU?” HER MOM WAS IN FINE FORM TODAY, HER BLUE EYES SPARKLING with excitement and a huge smile on her face. Mia grinned back at her. “I’m almost done! Just have to proofread the last paper, and then the school year is officially over for me,” said Mia, keeping her voice purposefully upbeat. “Oh, that’s great!” her mom exclaimed. “We can’t wait to see you this weekend! Marisa and Connor are coming over on Sunday, and we’ll have a big dinner. I’ll make all your favorites. I already bought some eggs and even a bit of goat cheese —” “Mom,” interrupted Mia, feeling like she was dying a little inside, “there’s something I need to tell you...”

Her mom paused for a second, looking puzzled. “What is it, honey?” Mia took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. “One of my professors asked me for a big favor this week,” she said slowly, having come up with a semiplausible story in the last few minutes. “There’s a program here at NYU where psychology students go and spend some time with disadvantaged high school kids from some of the worst neighborhoods...” “Uh-huh,” said her mom, a small frown appearing on her face. “It’s a great program,” lied Mia. “These kids don’t really have anyone to help them figure out the next steps, whether they should go to college or not, how they should apply if they decide to go... And you know, that’s exactly what I want to do— provide that type of counseling...” Her mom’s frown got a little deeper. Mia hurried with her explanation. “Well, I didn’t know about this program before, but I was chatting with my professor this week and mentioned my interest in counseling to him. And that’s when he told me about this program, and that he was actually desperately looking for a volunteer to help out for a week or two this summer—” “But you’re flying home on Saturday,” her mom said, looking increasingly unhappy. “When would you be able to do this?” “Well, that’s the thing,” said Mia, hating herself for lying like this, “I don’t think I can come home this weekend, not if I do this program—” “What! What do you mean, you can’t come home this weekend?” Her mom appeared livid now. “You already have a ticket and everything! And what about your camp internship? Aren’t you supposed to start that on Monday?” “I already spoke with the camp director,” lied Mia again. “He’s fine with pushing back my start date by two weeks. I explained the whole situation, and he was very understanding. And my professor said he’ll reimburse me for the cost of the ticket and even buy me another one to make up for this—” “Well, that’s the least he could do! What about the money you were going to earn during those two weeks of your internship?” her mom said angrily. “And what about the fact that we haven’t seen you since March? How could he ask you to do something like that, so last-minute?” “Mom,” said Mia in a pleading tone, “it’s a great opportunity for me. This is exactly what I want to do career-wise, and it’ll really boost my chances of getting

into a good grad school. Plus, the professor said he’ll write me a glowing recommendation if I do this—and you know how important those are for grad school applications...” Her mom was blinking rapidly, and there was a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. “Of course,” she said, a wealth of disappointment in her voice, “I know that stuff is important... We were just so looking forward to seeing you this Saturday, and now this—” Every word her mom said was like a knife scraping at Mia’s insides. “I know, mom, I’m really sorry about this,” she said, blinking to hold back her own tears. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay? It won’t be so bad, you’ll see...” Her mom sniffed a little. “So no family dinner this Sunday, I guess.” Mia shook her head with regret. “No... but we’ll have one in two weeks, okay? I’ll cook and everything—” “Oh, please, Mia, you couldn’t cook to save your life!” her mom said irately, but a tiny smile appeared on her face. “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t manage to boil water—” “I can boil water now,” said Mia defensively. “I’ve been living on my own for the last three years, you know, and I can even make rice—” The tiny smile became a full-blown grin. “Wow, rice? That is progress,” her mom said with barely contained laughter. “I honestly don’t know what you’re going to do when you meet someone...” “Oh, mom, not this again,” groaned Mia. “It’s true, you know. Men still like it when a woman can make a good meal, and keep the house—” “And do laundry, and be a general domestic slave, and yadda yadda yadda,” finished Mia, rolling her eyes. Her mom could be amazingly old-fashioned sometimes. “Exactly. Mark my words, unless you find some guy who likes to cook, you’ll be stuck eating takeout for the rest of your life,” her mom said ominously. Mia shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek to avoid bursting into semihysterical laughter. The irony of it was that she had actually found such a guy— except he wasn’t human. She wondered what her mom would say if she told her about Korum. He’s great: he loves to cook and even does laundry for us both. Just one tiny issue—he’s a blood-drinking alien. No, that probably wouldn’t go over

well at all. “Mom, don’t worry about me, okay? Everything will be fine.” At least Mia sincerely hoped that was the case. “We’ll see each other soon, and maybe I’ll really try to learn how to cook this summer. How about that?” Mia gave her mom a big smile, trying to prevent any more lectures. Her mom shook her head in reproach and sighed. “Sure. I’ll tell your dad what happened. He’ll be so disappointed...” Mia felt terrible again. “Where is he?” she asked, wanting to speak to her father as well. “He’s out getting the car fixed. The damn thing broke again. We should really get a new one... but maybe next year.” Mia nodded sympathetically. She knew her parents’ financial situation was not the best these days. Her mom was currently between jobs. As an elementary school teacher, she was usually in demand. However, the private school where she had taught for the past eight years had closed recently, resulting in a number of teachers losing their positions and all applying for the same few openings in the local public schools. Her dad—a political science professor at the local community college—was now supporting the family on his one salary, and they had to be careful with bigger expenses, such as a new car. In general, her family, like many other middle-class Americans with 401(k) retirement plans, had suffered in the K Crash—the huge stock market crash that took place when the Krinar had arrived. At one point, the Dow had lost almost ninety percent of its value, and it was only about a year ago that the markets had recovered fully. “All right,” said Mia, “I’ll try to log back in later, see if I can reach dad.” “Call Marisa too,” her mom said. “I know she was really looking forward to seeing you on Sunday.” Mia nodded. “I will, definitely.” Her mom sighed again. “Well, I guess we’ll talk to you soon then.” “I love you, mom,” said Mia, feeling like her chest was getting squeezed in a vise. “I hope you know that. You and dad are the best parents ever.” “Of course,” her mom said, looking a bit puzzled. “We love you too. Come home soon, okay?” “I will,” said Mia, blowing an air kiss toward the computer screen, and ended the conversation.

HER SISTER WAS NEXT. FOR ONCE, SHE WAS ACTUALLY REACHABLE ON SKYPE. “Hey there, baby sis! What’s this text I just got from mom about you not coming home?” Mia hadn’t seen her sister since she got pregnant, and she was surprised to see Marisa looking pale and thin, instead of having that pregnancy glow she’d always heard about. “Marisa!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on with you? You don’t look well. Are you sick?” Her sister made a face. “If you can call having a baby sickness, then yes. I’m throwing up constantly,” she complained. “I just can’t keep anything down. I’ve actually lost five pounds since I got pregnant—” Mia gasped in shock. Five pounds was a lot for someone her sister’s size. While a little taller and curvier than Mia, Marisa was also small-boned, with her normal weight hovering somewhere around 110-115 pounds. Now she looked too thin, her cheekbones overly prominent in her usually pretty face. “—and my doctor is not happy about that.” “Of course, he’s not happy! Did he say what you should do?” Marisa sighed. “He said to get more rest and try not to stress. So I am working from home today, preparing my lessons for next week, and they got someone to substitute for me for a few days.” “Oh my God, you poor thing,” said Mia sympathetically. “That sucks. Can you eat anything, like maybe crackers or some broth?” “That’s what I’m subsisting on these days. Well, that and pickles.” Marisa gave her a wan smile. “For some reason, I can’t stop eating those Israeli pickles—you know, the little crunchy ones?” Mia nodded, stifling a grin. Her sister had always been a pickles fan, so it really wasn’t surprising she was going pickle-crazy during her pregnancy. “So anyway, enough about my stomach issues... What’s going on with you? Why aren’t you coming this Saturday? We were all ready and excited to come over, see you and the parents—” Mia took a deep breath and repeated the whole story to Marisa. She was getting so good at lying that she could almost believe herself. Maybe she should think

about starting such a program at NYU next year—if she was still alive and attending school at that time, of course. Her sister listened to everything with a vaguely disbelieving expression. And then, being Marisa, she asked, “Is the professor cute?” To her horror, Mia felt her cheeks turning pink. “What? No! He’s old and has kids and stuff!” “Uh-huh,” said Marisa. “So I’m supposed to believe you would be willing to do something like this at the request of an ugly professor? Just to pad your resume a little?” She shook her head slightly. “Nope, I just don’t see it.” A sly smile appearing on her face, she asked, “Just how old is old?” Mia cursed her poor acting skills. Now Marisa would probably go blabbing to their parents that Mia had a crush on her professor. She tried to imagine liking Professor Dunkin that way and shuddered. Between his receding hairline and the yellowish spittle that frequently appeared in the corners of his mouth when he spoke, he was probably one of the least attractive individuals she’d ever met. “Old,” Mia said firmly. “And unattractive.” Marisa grinned, undeterred. “Okay, then, who is he?” she persisted. “I know you, baby sis... and you’re hiding something. If it’s not the old and unattractive professor you’re staying in New York for, then who is it?” “No one,” said Mia. “There’s no man in my life... you know that.” And she wasn’t lying. There wasn’t a human man—just an extraterrestrial of the male variety. Who was also old—a lot older than her sister could imagine. “Oh, please, then why are you acting so weird? You’ve been kinda strange for the past month, in fact,” said Marisa, looking at her intently. “Mia... is something wrong?” Mia shook her head in denial and silently cursed Marisa’s sisterly intuition. It had been so much easier to fool her mom. “No, everything’s fine. It’s just been stressful, you know, with finals and all...” “Uh-huh,” said Marisa, “you’ve had finals for the past three years, and it’s never been like this. I can see you’re not yourself, Mia. Now fess up... what’s happening?” Mia shook her head again, and tried putting on a bright smile. “Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about—there’s absolutely nothing wrong. I just got a great opportunity to get some valuable work experience, and I am taking advantage

of it. I’ll see you soon, just in a couple of weeks. There’s nothing to worry about—” “Have you already bought tickets?” interrupted Marisa. “Do you have a set date when you’re flying in?” “Not yet,” Mia admitted. “I’ll do that soon. The professor said he’ll buy me a new plane ticket, so there’s nothing to worry about about—” “Nothing to worry about? Mia, I know when you’re lying,” said Marisa, giving her a strict look. “You’re terrible at it. You’ve been such a good girl your whole life, you’ve had absolutely no practice deceiving your parents—or me. You’ve never even snuck out to a party in high school...” Mia bit her lip. How did Marisa get to be so observant? This was a big problem. Maybe if she told her a partial truth... “Okay,” said Mia, choosing her words carefully. “Let’s say that there’s something to what you’re saying... If I tell you, do you promise not to tell the parents? They’ll worry, and it’s really not necessary—” Marisa looked at her, her blue eyes narrowed in consideration. “Okay,” she said slowly, “you can always talk to me, baby sis, you know that. I’ll keep your secret... but only if it’s nothing life-threatening that parents must know about.” It actually was something life-threatening, but parents definitely didn’t need to know about that. Mia sighed. Since she started going down this path, she might as well tell her sister something, or else her entire family will be calling in panic within a half-hour. Taking a deep breath, Mia said, “You’re right. I did meet someone—” “I knew it!” yelled Marisa triumphantly. “—and he’s not exactly someone you’d be happy to see me with.” Marisa stared at her in surprise. “Why? Who is he? Another student?” Mia shook her head. “No, that’s the problem. He’s older, and he’s not exactly first-boyfriend material.” “Are we talking about the professor now?” asked Marisa in confusion. “No, the professor is just the professor. It’s someone else. He’s actually a senior executive in a tech company,” fibbed Mia, trying to stick as close as possible to the truth. “I met him in the park one day, and we’ve been sleeping together—” “What?” Her sister was gaping at her in disbelief. “Is he married? Does he have any children?”

“No, and no. But I know it’s just a temporary fling for him, so I really didn’t want to go into any details with you and the parents...” As Mia was speaking, a big smile slowly appeared on Marisa’s face. “A fling? Wow. When my baby sis decides to finally lose her virginity, she does it with style! A senior executive no less...” Mia shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. “What’s his name?” “Uh, I’d rather not say,” mumbled Mia. “He’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks, and there’s no point in discussing the whole thing—” “Leaving to go where?” “Um... Dubai.” Mia had no idea why she’d chosen that particular location, but it seemed to fit the story. “Dubai? Is he from there originally?” Her sister’s curiosity knew no bounds. Mia sighed. “Marisa, listen, there’s really no point in discussing it. He’ll leave, and that’s that.” Her sister cocked her head to the side, studying Mia’s face. “And you’re okay with that, baby sis?” she asked quietly. “Your first lover leaving just like that?” Mia looked away, trying to hide the moisture in her eyes. “He has to leave, Marisa. There’s no choice. It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it or not.” “Of course, it matters,” said Marisa. “Do you think he cares for you at all? Or are you just a pretty college girl he’s sleeping with while in New York?” Mia shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he might care about me a little.” “But not enough to stay?” “No, he can’t stay,” said Mia. “And it doesn’t matter. We’re not right for each other, anyway. The relationship was doomed from the start.” “Why did you start it then?” asked Marisa, eyeing her with bewilderment. “Is he really good-looking? Did he sweep you off your feet or something?” Mia nodded. “He’s gorgeous, and he’s smart, and he knows a lot about everything...” Those were all true statements. “And he took me out to all kinds of fancy restaurants and Broadway shows—” “Wow, Mia,” said Marisa, looking envious for the first time in Mia’s memory, “that sounds like a dream guy.”

Mia smiled. “And he’s also a great cook, and does laundry—” “Oh my God, where did you find this paragon?” “I know, right? Mom would have a cow if she heard about this.” And the sisters grinned at each other in perfect understanding. Then Marisa got serious again. “So why can’t it work out for the two of you? He sounds perfect. Does he have some major character flaw that you can’t stand?” “Well, he’s very bossy and autocratic,” admitted Mia, “so I definitely have a problem with that. And where he comes from, they don’t necessarily view, um, women... as equals, if you know what I mean?” That was as close to the truth as she could get. Marisa’s eyes widened in understanding. “Ohhh, is he one of those Middle Eastern types? With a harem and all... who require their women to be veiled from head to toe?” Mia shrugged. “Something like that. So it could never really go anywhere. We come from very different worlds.” Mia meant that in the literal sense, but Marisa didn’t need to know that. “Wow, baby sis.” Marisa was looking at her with newfound respect. “I have to say, you’ve surprised me. No boring college boys for you... oh, no—you’ve gone straight for the big leagues. A sheikh from Dubai, huh?” Mia flushed. “He’s not a sheikh, just an executive.” “Wow.” Her sister was still looking impressed. “So did he give you any fancy gifts or jewelry?” Mia smiled. Her sister was so predictable sometimes. Even though she lived a simple life for the most part, Marisa definitely appreciated the finer things in life— nice hotels, designer clothes, beautiful accessories. “He bought me a whole new wardrobe from Saks Fifth Avenue,” admitted Mia. “He really didn’t like my old clothes—” “OH MY GOD, FROM SAKS?” Marisa’s shriek was ear-piercing. “Are you serious? You’ve gotta let me borrow something when you come!” Mia laughed. “Of course! Whatever you want, it’s yours.” “Oh crap, never mind,” said Marisa, “I just realized that soon I won’t be able to borrow anything from anyone—especially from my tiny baby sister. In a couple of months, I’ll be a total cow.”

“Oh please,” said Mia, laughing at the image of her svelte sister looking even remotely cow-like, “you’ll look like one of those actresses in Hollywood—all normal, just with a cute little baby bump.” Marisa shuddered. “I certainly hope so. But I have to say, so far, pregnancy is nothing like what I’d imagined.” Mia looked at her sympathetically. “That sucks. Hang in there, okay? It’s just a few more months, and then you’ll have a beautiful child...” Marisa beamed at her. “That’s true. And you too, baby sis, hang in there, okay? Call me if you ever want to talk about Mr. Gorgeous again. And I promise I won’t say anything to the parents. You’re right—they would worry unnecessarily. This type of stuff is best left for talks with your sister.” Mia smiled and said, “That’s what I thought. I love you. Say hello to Connor for me, okay?” “Will do,” said Marisa, and disconnected with one final wave.

RELIEVED, MIA STARED AT THE BLANK COMPUTER SCREEN. SHE HAD LIED TO HER FAMILY, BUT AT LEAST she’d managed to prevent them from freaking out completely. In a way, the conversation with Marisa had been therapeutic. Although she couldn’t tell her sister the whole truth, she’d been able to share enough details to make herself feel much better about the situation. Marisa’s nonjudgmental, sympathetic ear had been exactly what she’d needed at this point. Now she had to finish editing the paper—and then she will have completed everything she’d set out to do for the day.

22

N ow

that she was done with studying, Mia had no idea what to do with

herself. Waking up on Thursday morning, she submitted her papers online and decided to go for a walk in Central Park. Korum again left early in the morning, before she had woken up, so she was on her own for the day. She texted Jessie, but her roommate had her Calculus exam in the afternoon and was frantically cramming. Mia wished there was someone else she could hang out with, just to avoid being alone with her thoughts, but most other students were too busy packing for the summer or still in the middle of finals. The middle of May was usually a ‘hit-or-miss’ weather in New York. This year, it seemed like summer had started early, and the temperature that day was a balmy seventy-five degrees. Mia gladly put on one of her new spring dresses, a simple blue cotton sheath, and a pair of cream-colored sandals that managed to be both comfortable and stylish. And then she headed out to join the hordes of New Yorkers and tourists that came out to enjoy Central Park. It was hard to believe that only a month ago Mia had been walking here by herself, with no real knowledge of the Ks, thinking about nothing more than her Sociology paper. She hadn’t met Korum yet, and had no idea what a drastic turn her life would take in the next few minutes. What would have happened if she hadn’t sat down on that bench that day? Would she even now be packing to go home on Saturday? As though her feet had a mind of their own, Mia found herself heading toward Bow Bridge, the place of her first close encounter. Unlike the last time, the little bridge was teeming with people today, all seeking to take photos of the picturesque view. Mia found herself a spot on a bench next to a young couple and settled in to read the latest bestselling thriller—something she only had time to do when school wasn’t in session.

After a half hour, the couple left, and Mia got the entire bench to herself. Before she could enjoy it for long, however, she heard her name being called. Startled, she looked up and saw a young woman, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a white sleeveless shirt, approaching the bench. Her short sandy hair was tousled, like a boy’s, and her arms were sleekly muscled. It was Leslie, the girl she’d met that one time with John—one of the Resistance fighters. “Hey Mia,” she said, “do you mind if I join you for a minute?” Without waiting for a response, she sat down on Mia’s bench. “Sure, be my guest,” said Mia, somewhat rudely. Leslie was not her favorite person, and she really didn’t feel like being tasked with something else right now. As far as Mia was concerned, she had carried out her mission, and all she wanted was to be left alone. “Look,” said Leslie, her tone far friendlier than before, “I know we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say thanks for what you did, and to give you something from John.” She held out a small oval object that looked vaguely like a garage opener or an automatic car key. “What is it?” asked Mia warily, not taking it from her. “It’s a weapon,” said Leslie, “a weapon that you can use to protect yourself in case Korum figures out what happened before we have a chance to neutralize him.” “Neutralize him?” Leslie sighed. “As per your request, we’ll try to capture him alive, so he can be deported back to Krina. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll do our best.” Mia swallowed. “What... um, when are you going to do it?” “We can’t do it before the shields are down, and the attack on the K Centers is underway. He might be able to warn them, or get reinforcements, if we try to take him now, so we can’t risk it. It’ll have to be almost simultaneous. He’s not the only one. There are other Ks who are outside their Centers right now. As soon as they learn of the attack on their colonies—and they’ll learn it almost immediately— they will join in the fight. But they’re not in some remote areas—they are in our cities, near our government centers. If they realize that we’ve broken the treaty, they will attack us—and many civilian lives will be lost before we would be able to stop them. So we need to plan everything very carefully, or else it’s going to turn into a bloodbath.” This was bad, thought Mia. Really bad. She hadn’t thought of that aspect—other Ks who, like Korum, were living among humans for whatever reason. Strong, fast,

and armed with K technology, even one individual could inflict a tremendous amount of damage on the human population. She tried to imagine Korum fighting to protect his kind, and shuddered at the thought. Just that one brief glimpse of his rage in the club had been frightening. She had no doubt that he could be truly brutal if the occasion called for it. Turning her attention back to the little object, Mia asked, “So what is this weapon supposed to do?” “It dissolves molecular bonds, breaking down everything in its path,” said Leslie. “Essentially, it’ll turn whatever you want into dust. It’s a simple miniature version of the big weapon we intend to use to make the Ks surrender.” Aghast, Mia stared at the small, harmless-looking device in Leslie’s palm. “So it could turn a person to dust?” Leslie nodded. “It’ll work on whatever is in its path. The nanomachines it releases work for a period of only about thirty seconds before they become inactive, but that time is usually enough to completely dissolve a person. You don’t even need to worry about shooting him in the chest or whatever—if the nanos get on any part of his body, he’s toast.” Mia nearly gagged at the thought. “What? No! I could never do something like this!” she exclaimed in horror. “I can’t use it on him—” “You can, and you will,” said Leslie, “if your life is at stake. I have no idea if he’ll make the connection between what’s happening in the K Centers and you—but he’s supposed to be some kind of a genius, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” Running her hand through her short hair in a frustrated motion, Leslie added, “And it’s best if you do it quickly, before he has a chance to react. Just point and shoot, no thinking... do you understand me? They’re fast, Mia, really fast.” Mia shook her head. “I won’t do it. I can’t—” Leslie shrugged. “That’s your call. If you’d rather die, then so be it—it’s none of my business. John asked me to give it to you, and here it is. You can take it and not use it, if that’s what you want. But at least you won’t be completely helpless when all this shit goes down.” She put the device on Mia’s lap. “If you want to use it, just feel for the little indentation on the side—if you press firmly there, it’s going to go off. Just be sure to point the rounded end toward him—” Mia shook her head again. “I won’t use it,” she said with firm conviction. Leslie looked at her with something resembling pity. “You idiot,” she said softly, “you’ve fallen for the monster, haven’t you?”

Mia looked away. “That’s none of your business,” she said quietly, examining her fingernails. “I did what needed to be done. He’ll leave, and that’s all there is to it.” “You stupid girl,” said Leslie in a contemptuous tone, “you’re nothing to him— less than nothing. He’ll crush you like a bug if you’re anywhere in the vicinity when we attack. Just because he likes to fuck you doesn’t mean he’ll have mercy on you if he learns what you’ve done. He’s slept with hundreds of women just like you— thousands, probably—and you’re nothing special—” “You don’t know anything!” interrupted Mia, feeling each word like a stab in the heart. “You’ve never even met him—” Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to meet him to know exactly what he’s like —what all of them are like, Mia. They have no regard for us, for human life. We’re just an experiment to them, something they’ve created. As far as they’re concerned, we’re their creatures—theirs to do with as they please. And if it pleases them, they will get rid of us and take over our planet for their own use. And you’re a fool if you think he’s somehow different. He’s as bad as they come—he’s the one who led them here...” Leslie was right. Mia knew all of that with the rational part of her mind, but her stupid heart refused to get with the program. The knowledge that he would be gone from her life in a few short days was strangely painful, and the thought that he might be harmed in the process made her stomach twist with fear. And yet Leslie was right—he probably would not hesitate to kill her if he learned that her actions had threatened the Ks’ agenda here on Earth. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t think she could kill him, not even in selfdefense. Taking a deep breath, Mia asked, “When is it happening? How long until the attack takes place?” Leslie hesitated, apparently wondering if Mia was still trustworthy. “Leslie,” Mia said wearily, “I know what would happen if he found out I was helping you. I won’t warn him. I can’t, not without losing my life in the process. I have no regrets about what I’ve done. Just because I can’t kill someone I’ve been intimate with for the past month doesn’t mean I would betray our cause. I just want to know how much longer I have—” “Until tomorrow,” said Leslie. “You have until tomorrow. My advice is to disappear in the morning—get away as far as you can. Don’t pack, don’t do

anything to raise his suspicions. Just leave. One way or another, everything will be over by this weekend.”

THAT EVENING, KORUM CAME HOME LATE, CLOSER TO NINE O’CLOCK. Mia found herself pacing back and forth in the living room starting at five o’clock, unable to sit still or relax in anticipation of what was to come. If Leslie had told her the truth, this would be her last night together with Korum... and maybe the last night she was alive. To maximize her chances of survival, she decided to follow Leslie’s advice about leaving first thing in the morning. Korum would likely be gone from the apartment by then, and she would have a chance to escape— maybe taking the subway to one of the boroughs. The dissolver, as she’d decided to call it, was sitting in her purse, safe and sound. She had no intention of using it on Korum, but it was still good to know that she had something she could defend herself with, in case all hell did break loose on Friday. Just to keep herself busy, she went through her closet and tried on a few of her new dresses. Her wardrobe was so large now that many of her clothes still had tags on them, and she had no idea what she owned. Everything fit her perfectly, of course; the shoppers from Saks had done their job. After an hour of trying on one outfit after another, Mia settled on a simple grey sleeveless dress, made of some cotton-silk blend, that hugged her upper body and flared gently from the waist down to her knees. Despite the conservative color and cut, it looked stylish and sexy—as did most of what Mia wore now. To go with the dress, Mia decided to apply some makeup, putting on one coat of mascara and a light dusting of powder. She had no idea why it was suddenly so important to look good tonight, since she didn’t normally obsess over such things, but she wanted to appear particularly attractive to Korum this evening. Finishing the outfit with a pair of strappy black heels, Mia resumed her impatient pacing. He had given her a phone number where he could be reached in case she needed him, but Mia had never used it before. As eight o’clock rolled by, however, she seriously contemplated calling him to find out his whereabouts. But that would be so far out of character for her that he might wonder—and she didn’t want to chance his getting suspicious. Finally, the door opened at a quarter to nine. He came in, dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt. It didn’t matter what he wore, of course; he would have looked stunning in rags. At the sight of her standing there, a wide

dimpled smile appeared on his beautiful face, lighting his features and making those amber eyes crinkle at the corners. And then a familiar golden glow lit his gaze. Before she had a chance to say anything, he was next to her, lifting her up effortlessly for a deep, thorough kiss. His tongue stabbed into her mouth, and Mia wound her arms around him and kissed him back, passionately and a little desperately. Her legs found their way around his hips, and they stayed like that, locked in each others’ arms, until Mia was gasping for breath and writhing against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her sex grinding on his pelvis. He groaned low in his throat, and she could feel his erection grow even bigger, pressing into her nether regions through the material that separated them. Holding her up with one arm, he found the lacy scrap of material that covered her pussy and tore it off, his fingers petting and exploring her moist folds. Mia moaned, driven nearly mindless with desire, and heard the sound of a zipper sliding down. And then he was inside her, his cock thrusting up into her even as he still held her like that, lifted up against him while he was standing in the middle of the living room. Shocked at the suddenness of his penetration, Mia cried out, her inner tissues struggling to accommodate the intrusion, and he paused for a second, letting her get used to the feel of him in the unfamiliar position. And then he started moving, raising her up and down with one hand while his other hand buried itself in her hair, bringing her mouth back toward him. There was no slow and gentle build-up this time, as everything inside Mia tensed simultaneously, and then she was hurling into the climax, her muscles clamping down on his shaft, and he was coming too, so deeply inside her that she felt his contractions in her belly. Panting, Mia collapsed against him, unable to believe that this happened just now, in the span of all of two minutes. His breathing was heavy as well, and she could feel his powerful chest moving up and down as she hung in his grasp, his cock still inside her. Once the pulsations of his orgasm ended, he lifted her up and placed her carefully on the ground, his hands still wrapped around her waist. Mia’s legs were shaking, and she clung to him, grateful for the support. Staring up at him, Mia noticed that his eyes were returning back to their regular amber color. His lips curling into a small, wry smile, he said huskily, “I guess I have to apologize again—clearly I don’t have any control where you’re concerned. I really didn’t mean to jump you like that first thing. You’re probably hungry too...” Mia actually was, but it didn’t matter. Blushing a little at the feel of his semen sliding down her leg, she mumbled quietly, “No, no need for apologies... you know

that I really enjoyed it too...” His smile now held purely masculine satisfaction. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “Now how about some dinner?” Mia nodded in agreement, and blushed even more when he disappeared for a second and came back with a paper towel that he handed to her. Embarrassed, Mia looked away as she cleaned off the remnants of their passion. He laughed softly. “You’re still such a prude,” he teased gently. “We’ll have to cure you of that at some point. It’s all natural, you know.” Mia shrugged, purposefully not meeting his eyes. For some reason, she still had these occasional bouts of shyness around him, despite all the hot and raunchy sex they’ve had in the past month. Korum laughed some more, and then asked, “Since you’re dressed so nicely, how do you feel about going out for some French cuisine?” Mia felt great about that, and she told him so. “Okay, then, let me take a quick rinse and change, and we’ll go,” he said, stripping off the T-shirt on the way to the bathroom. The sight of his lean, muscled back made her insides clench with desire again. Why him, she wondered again in desperation, why did he have to be the one to make her feel this way? And how would she be able to bear it when he was gone for good?

THE DINNER WAS AT A LITTLE FRENCH PLACE MIA HAD NEVER HEARD OF. NONETHELESS, THE MEAL was outstanding, from the ratatouille Mia had gotten for her main course to the super-light pastry they ended up sharing for dessert. “So are you now officially done with school for this year?” Korum asked, taking a sip of his red wine. He seemed to like wine and champagne, Mia had noticed, although she had never seen it have any effect on him. Then again, she’d never seen him have more than a couple of glasses. “That’s it,” she replied, spearing a piece of zucchini with her fork. “The school year is officially over for me. I turned in all the papers today, and now I can be a total bum.” He grinned. “Somehow I can’t quite envision you bumming around all day. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been busy studying or doing something for school.” Reaching for her, he lightly stroked her cheek, his expression becoming more

serious. “It’ll be nice to have you relax a little. You’ve been working way too hard in these past couple of weeks. I don’t think all that stress is good for your health.” Mia gave him a surprised look. “I’m fine,” she protested. “I feel great—it’s really not a problem at all.” Korum regarded her intently, a concerned expression on his face. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Your immune system is so delicate, so fragile— it’s really not good for you to overload yourself like that.” Mia shrugged, wondering what got him started on that topic. “My immune system is fine,” she said. “It’s as strong as that of any other human. You really don’t need to worry about me—I don’t get sick often or anything like that.” “As strong as any human is not all that strong,” he said, a slight furrow between his dark brows. He looked at her speculatively, and Mia had no idea what he was thinking. Whatever it was, he apparently came to some conclusion, because his forehead smoothed out. Changing the topic, he asked about her day, and the conversation again flowed casually and easily. As the dinner went on, Mia couldn’t help but stare at him, drinking in the sight of his face, the animated gestures he used when he spoke about something he found exciting, the way his tall, muscular body moved in his chair—even the smallest of motions endowed with that athletic, inhuman grace. Her flesh craved him sexually, but it now went beyond that. Every cell in her body yearned to be with him, and the thought of tomorrow filled her with a cold, sick horror. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t warn him of what was to come, but she could try to remember every moment of this evening, to commit to her memory the curve of his mouth, the bold slashes of his eyebrows, the way his laugh sounded when she said something amusing. An agonizing realization tore through her then: she loved him. Despite everything she knew about him, despite everything he’d done to her, despite the fact that he was her enemy and she’d betrayed him—despite all that, she loved him with every fiber of her being. And tomorrow, she would lose him forever.

23

A

faint but steady sound of rain woke up Mia the next morning. Still half-

asleep, she stretched, reluctant to face the day for some reason—and then her brain connected the dots and she sat up, gasping at the realization of what was to take place this morning. Jumping out of bed, she forced herself to walk to the restroom and brush her teeth, following her usual morning routine in case Korum was still in the house. Once done, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a comfy long-sleeved shirt and carefully ventured out into the living room to check on the situation. The living room and the kitchen areas were empty, and Mia almost shuddered with relief. Korum must have followed his usual routine, leaving for the day to do whatever it was that he did. And after the wave of relief came disappointment. Rationally, she knew that she should be glad she would have a chance to get away, that fate was being kind by enabling her to avoid one last—potentially deadly— encounter with her alien lover, but that didn’t help the gaping wound in her heart that had opened at the recognition that she would never see him again. Last night had been incredible, the sex between them as close to lovemaking as Mia had ever experienced. He had treated her like a princess, worshipping her with his body, and Mia had cried again in the aftermath, unable to stem the flood at the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring. He had tried to soothe her, to find out what was causing her distress this time, but Mia had been incoherent. And finally, he had simply taken her again, his body driving into hers in a savage, relentless rhythm until she could not think about anything at all, her worries burning up in the heat of passion—until she screamed in ecstasy as he brought her to peak, over and over again. And then she had simply passed out, too exhausted to remember why she had been crying in the first place. But she couldn’t think about that now. Not if she wanted to get out alive.

Grabbing her purse, Mia laced up her sneakers and prepared to leave Korum’s apartment. With one last look at the cream-colored furniture and leafy plants, she walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the rest. She wasn’t sure what made her turn back, to go toward his office, leaving her purse sitting on the couch in the living room. Was her subconscious still clinging to the hope that he was here? That she might be able to see him one final time? She didn’t think so, but her feet appeared to have a mind of her own, bringing her toward the sliding doors that parted at her approach. There was no one in the room, but a giant three-dimensional map shimmered before her, looking like nothing she had ever seen before.

HER HEART HAMMERING invisible string.

IN HER CHEST,

MIA

STEPPED INTO THE ROOM, AS THOUGH DRAWN IN BY AN

This was not New York spread out before her; she would have recognized that at a glance. In fact, it was not like a city at all. Vegetation was everywhere. Lush green plants seemed to dominate the landscape, ranging from the familiar to the exotic. Pale-colored oblong structures could be seen peeking through the trees, looking a bit like strange mushroom caps. If it hadn’t been for the structures, Mia would’ve thought she was looking at a park or a forest in some tropical country. The place was beautiful... and alien. Every little hair on her nape stood up as Mia realized exactly what she was looking at. It had to be a K Center... perhaps even their main one in Costa Rica. Lenkarda, Korum had called it once. Her heart racing, Mia assessed the situation. She needed to leave, and she needed to do so now. Why would Korum be looking at a map of one of the K Centers? Was he suspecting something? And why would he be so careless as to leave it visible like that? Did he suspect her after all? Was this a trap? At the last thought, Mia felt a cold wave of terror rushing through her veins. She had to leave right now. Yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the incredible picture in front of her. How many humans had seen such an amazing sight? The K Centers were closely guarded, with a no-fly zone established over them. Even human satellites could not view them; the Krinar shields had rendered the settlements all but invisible to human electronics. And here was a chance for her to look at an alien colony, to see where Korum had lived.

A terrible curiosity drove Mia now. Ignoring all reason and common sense, she stepped further into the room, slowly circling around the table and studying the tableau laid out in front of her. The buildings—if that’s what they were—were spaced widely apart and blended harmoniously into their surroundings. There were no paved roads or sidewalks as far as Mia could see; instead, each structure stood alone, right in the middle of all the greenery. And there were no windows or doors, Mia realized—at least none visible to her eyes. Each building was light in color; ivory, cream, and soft beige were the most prevalent, although light grey and pale peach shades could also be seen. Toward the center of the map, there were several larger structures, including one big circular dome. They were purely white in color. Mia surmised that those were probably common gathering areas. There were no sidewalks or roads leading to them either, and no visible entrances or exits. On the outer edges of the settlement, some smaller circular buildings were spaced evenly apart, surrounding the entire perimeter. They were green and brown and blended into the scenery so well that Mia had to look carefully to discern their presence. It was like camouflage, she realized. If it hadn’t been for a slight shimmer that the buildings seemed to emit, she wouldn’t have known they were there. Mia wondered if these were some kind of guard posts. The Ks were in hostile territory after all, far outnumbered by the natives; it only made sense that the security in their colonies would be strong. Beyond the green-brown buildings lay more greenery, the plant life dominating everything in sight. And to the west, Mia saw a large body of water—perhaps an ocean of some kind. If this was Costa Rica, then it was likely the Pacific; although the country had two coasts, the Guanacaste region that Korum had mentioned was located on the Pacific side. As Mia stared in wonder at the three-dimensional images, she noticed a familiar glow surrounding one of the areas near the ocean. Peering closer at it, she saw a small wooden structure that looked human in origin—like a hut of sorts. Hardly daring to breathe, Mia extended her hand toward it, and then jerked back, remembering what had happened the last time she entered this virtual reality world without a way to get back. Casting a desperate glance around the room, she saw Korum’s sweater hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Ah-hah! Quickly putting on the sweater, Mia touched the glowing image with her hand, bracing for the reality shift she’d experienced before.

And then she was there, standing on the beach, breathing in the salt-scented breeze, feeling the warm sun on her face, and hearing the roar of the ocean. A dragonfly whizzed by, followed by a bee. She could see a little crab-like creature scuttling across the sand a few feet away from her. It all seemed so real, yet she knew she was probably in a recording of some kind. Squinting against the brightness, Mia stared at her surroundings. There was a little path leading from the beach toward the hut-like building she saw nestled among the trees. Feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland, she headed toward it, unbearably curious to see what was inside. The hut looked old and decrepit, even more so on closer inspection. It had to be human-made; judging by the condition of the wood, it definitely predated the Ks’ arrival. It also had a door, which meant that Mia could go inside and explore. Holding her breath in anticipation, she pushed open the door, wincing at the squeaky sound of the rusted hinges. The interior of the hut was immaculately clean, free of cobwebs and other unpleasant things one might expect to find in an abandoned building. The furniture was old and plain, but still serviceable, with a small table and a few chairs arranged around it. There was also a pallet on the floor, apparently for sleeping. And the place was completely empty. Disappointed, Mia looked around. Why did Korum have this recording? Clearly, nothing was happening. And then the door opened, and a male K came in. He looked very typical of their kind, tall and good-looking, with black hair and darkly bronzed skin. He wore a pair of grey shorts made of some unusual material, a loosely fitting sleeveless top, and some type of thin sandals on his feet. Hardly daring to breathe, Mia stared at him, but he was obviously unaware of her presence. He did seem nervous, however. Casting a brief, furtive look around, he walked toward the table. Just in case, Mia scooted out of his way, climbing onto the pallet, uncertain what would happen if she physically touched someone in this strange virtual world. The K moved the table to the side and squatted, looking at something on the floor. Then he pressed on one of the floorboards, and it seemed to give under his fingers. Loosening it further, he pulled on something, and the entire section of the floor opened up. Without any hesitation, he jumped down, and the opening slowly began to close behind him. Mia’s heart raced as she observed his actions. Here was her chance, but did she dare follow him? How far down was his destination, and what would happen if she jumped after him? Would she be hurt, injured? This wasn’t real; she was just

watching a very realistic movie. But certain sensations were still there—heat, smell, touch. Yet falling down on the sidewalk the last time hadn’t hurt at all. And the opening in the floor was closing more with each second. To hell with it, Mia decided. She was already risking her life by being here—what’s a potential injury in a virtual world? Taking one deep breath, she jumped. At first, there was only darkness and the stomach-churning sensation of falling, and then the hard floor was beneath her feet, and Mia landed on it easily, like a cat. Gasping for air, hardly daring to believe that she had made it, Mia felt her legs and knees with her hands. Everything seemed to be fine, and Mia’s breathing began to return to normal. She had survived the jump in one piece, and now she just needed to figure out where she was. The room where she had landed was small and nondescript, but there was a door. The K had to have gone through there. Carefully opening it, Mia peeked inside. Beyond the door lay a large room, occupied by several Ks, including the one Mia had been following. Her heart skipped a beat. She had never seen so many aliens gathered in one place, and it was a striking sight. There were five males and two females, all tall and beautiful in their own way. Their clothes were clearly intended for hot weather, with the males wearing shorts and various styles of sleeveless shirts and the females dressed in light, floaty dresses that only covered their breasts and hips, leaving most of their golden skin exposed. Despite their attire, Mia doubted they were there to enjoy the ocean breeze. They looked tense and worried, their gestures sharp and almost violent as they argued about something in the Krinar language. In general, they reminded Mia of a pride of lions, prowling around the room with that animalistic grace peculiar to their species. Finally, one of them looked at his wrist, where a little device seemed to be attached. Barking out what sounded like a command, he pressed some button and a holographic image appeared in the middle of the room. The rest of the Ks gathered around, and Mia moved closer, trying to see what they were looking at. To her surprise, it was a human man, possibly someone in the military, judging by the uniform he wore. “We’re all safe,” said the black-haired K in a perfectly accented American English. “All of us left the Center at various points this morning and last night. Are you ready on your end, General?”

General? Mia felt icy terror spreading through her veins. These had to be the Keiths—and they were working with the human forces that John had mentioned. And since she was observing them this way, their identities were no longer secret. Korum knew exactly who they were and what they were up to. Nearly hyperventilating in panic, Mia stared in horror at the scene that she knew could not possibly end well. The general nodded. “We’re ready. Our people are stationed at the agreed-upon points outside the Centers. The operation will commence upon your signal.” One of the female Ks, a brown-haired hazel-eyed beauty, approached the image. “And the ones outside? Do you have someone ready to take each of them out?” “We do,” said the general slowly, “but there’s one small problem. One of them is missing.” The female’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, missing? Who?” “Korum. We haven’t been able to locate him this morning.” The Ks hissed in anger, breaking into angry speech in their own language. The female who spoke gesticulated wildly, trying to convince the black-haired male of something, but he merely shook his head, repeating some phrase over and over. Mia desperately wished she understood what they were saying, but all she could catch was the occasional mention of Korum’s name. Apparently deciding on something, the black-haired K turned to the image again. “General, this is a major problem. Why weren’t we notified of this earlier?” His voice was harsh with anger. “We had the situation under control up until thirty minutes ago. Our two best fighters were on him, tracking him as he left his apartment. And then he walked inside a Starbucks and just disappeared. We never saw him come out, and we searched the entire place top to bottom. I was notified of this development a few minutes ago myself.” “You idiots,” the female spat at him. “How many times have we told you how dangerous he is? Why would he disappear like that? Did he spot your fighters?” The general stared at her with an impassive gaze. “Do you want us to call off the operation?” The Ks looked at each other, discussing it some more in their language. After about a minute, they seemed to reach a conclusion of some kind. “No,” the female said in English, shaking her head, “it’s too late for that. If something made him

suspicious, then the worst thing to do would be to retreat at this point. We’ll have to deal with him later, and hope that not too many lives will be lost in the process.” “Do we have your go-ahead to proceed then?” “You do,” said the black-haired male, and the female nodded. “Very well,” said the general. “Operation Liberty will commence at nine hundred hours, Eastern time.” Mia frantically looked around the room, trying to figure out the time now. An old rusted clock hung on one of the walls. It showed 6:55. If that was correct and she was indeed in Costa Rica, then the attack would take place in less than five minutes, since the Central American country was two hours behind New York. The image of the general disappeared, and another picture took its place. This one was of a forest, with the familiar greenish-brown circular structures in the background. It was the edge of the colony, Mia realized. The Keiths were going to observe the attack from this underground bunker, where they thought they were safe. Mia felt her hands beginning to shake. Oh dear God, if only she could warn them... But it was too late now. When Mia had walked into Korum’s office, it was already well after ten in New York. Had an attack taken place, Mia would have heard about it, would have gotten worried texts from Jessie or an urgent alert from some news source on her phone. No, the Resistance must have failed. All she could do now was watch helplessly as the disaster unfolded right in front of her eyes. The Keiths paced around the room, occasionally trading brief comments, but keeping silent for the most part. The holograph showed a calm and peaceful border, with only the occasional flying insect providing some entertainment. Time seemed to have slowed, each second passing by more leisurely than the next. Mia found herself biting her nails, something she hadn’t done since high school, and watching the Ks as they grew more and more anxious. The clock hit seven, and all hell broke loose. Something shimmered at the edge of the forest, and there was a flash of blue light. The Keiths yelled in triumph, and Mia realized that something had gone their way—perhaps a shield had been breached. And then there was a blinding light, and the circular structure disappeared, dissolving before her eyes. Another flash of light and another structure was gone.

Oh God, realized Mia, the attack was real; it was actually happening. They were taking out the guard posts, breaking through the Center’s defenses. Suddenly, the human forces appeared, rushing toward the border. Dressed in army fatigues, they all seemed to be trained soldiers, and there were many of them —dozens, no, hundreds... They ran toward the border, everything in their path disappearing in those flashes of bright light. The holographic image shifted then, zooming out, and Mia could see the magnitude of what was taking place. Thousands of human troops had massed at the border, most of them armed with human weapons. As the guard posts dissolved, that seemed to serve as a signal of some kind, and the attack began in earnest, the massive wave of human soldiers rolling toward the Center and then spreading out to encircle the perimeter. She could hear the Resistance broadcasting their demand for the Ks’ surrender, announcing that they had the nano-weapon ready to be used. And in the blink of an eye, everything changed. As the first wave of soldiers approached the border, there was another flash of blue light and the shimmer was back. The Keiths shouted something, and Mia watched in horror as the people in the front were thrown back by some invisible force, their bodies burned to a crisp. Her mouth opened in a wordless scream of terror, and then it was suddenly over. A huge wave of red light blasted through the battlefield, and the remaining human troops fell to the ground in unison and didn’t move again. Thousands of human soldiers were now nothing more than bodies lying limply on the grass. It was as if a bomb had gone off, but instead of blowing them to bits, it had simply killed them with that bright red light. Mia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the destruction taking place. Her chest felt like it would explode from the force of her heart hammering against her ribcage, and hot bile rushed into her throat. It was all her fault; if she hadn’t done what she’d done, none of this would be happening. There wouldn’t be an attack, and all these people would be home with their families, going about their day instead of dying before her eyes. Thousands of human deaths were now on her conscience. The Keiths were panicking now, and the room was filled with their shouts and arguments. They were deciding whether to run or to stay here, Mia realized with a sick feeling in her stomach. They had risked everything and lost—and now there

would be consequences for their actions. And then the ceiling about their heads shattered, and the Keiths screamed in terror as the bright morning light streamed down, the hut above them apparently destroyed. Mia screamed too, diving for cover even as her brain told her that this wasn’t real—that she was not the one in danger. Petrified, she huddled in the corner, hugging her knees against her chest and watching helplessly as other Ks jumped down into the room, dressed in the simple dark grey outfits that she recognized as their military uniforms. The black-haired male sprang at one of the soldiers, his attack fast and sudden, his motions almost a blur to Mia’s eyes—and he was thrown back just as fast, his body jerking uncontrollably as he collapsed on the floor. Another soldier—their leader, Mia guessed—barked out a command, and the jerking motions stopped. The black-haired Keith was now unconscious. The other Keiths stood still, unwilling to share his fate, their expressions ranging from rage to bitter defeat. Whatever invisible weapons the soldiers possessed were clearly enough to dissuade the Keiths from fighting any further. It was all over, Mia thought dully. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the soldiers place silvery circles around the Keiths’ necks. The K version of handcuffs, perhaps... The circles locked into place with a faint click, and there was a sense of finality within that sound—the sound of defeat. The Resistance had lost, their forces utterly decimated and their alien allies captured. Operation Liberty had failed, and thousands of human lives had been lost. There would be no liberation of Earth, not today... and probably not ever. Another K jumped down into the room then, his movements gracefully controlled. Unlike the others, he was dressed in human clothes, a pair of blue jeans and a beige T-shirt. And Mia recognized the familiar slash of dark eyebrows above piercing golden eyes, the sensuous mouth that now looked cruel, set in an uncompromising line in his strikingly beautiful face. It was Korum. Her enemy, her lover... whose kind had just killed thousands of people before her very own eyes.

24

M ia

couldn’t think, her entire body shaking from shock and fear as she

watched Korum prowl toward the Keiths. The expression on his face was unlike anything she had ever seen before, a blend of icy fury and extreme contempt. He spoke to the brown-haired female in Krinar, his voice low and cold, and she flinched, as though he had physically slapped her. The other female interrupted, her tone pleading, and Korum turned his attention to her and said something that silenced her right away. The male Keiths just stared, their looks ranging from fear to defiance. Then Korum turned to the leader of the soldiers and asked him a question. Whatever answer he received made him nod, apparently satisfied. “I asked him if all the other Centers were secured as well... in case you were curious about the translation.” Mia froze, her blood turning to ice. Slowly turning her head to the side, she looked into the gold-flecked eyes of the alien she had just been observing on the other side of the room. This Korum was wearing the same clothes as his virtual alter ego, but the mocking half-smile on his face was different. So was the fact that he was looking straight at her and speaking in English. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the drama continuing to unfold in the room, but it no longer mattered. Instead, all she could do was stare at the real-life version of her lover... who now undoubtedly knew about her betrayal. “Fortunately, they were,” he continued, his voice deceptively calm. “With the exception of the traitors you see before you, none of the Krinar were harmed. Only a few of our shield posts were destroyed, and they will be easily replaced within the next hour.” Mia could barely hear him above the roar of her heartbeat, his words not

registering in the panicked whirl of her thoughts. He knew. He knew what she had done, and nothing she said or did would change the outcome. All she could hope for now was to delay the inevitable. “H-how?” she croaked, her bloodless lips barely moving. Her throat felt strangely dry, and she could taste the saltiness of her own tears gathering in the corners of her mouth. “How did I know?” Korum asked, approaching her corner and crouching down next to her. Raising his hand, he gently tucked the stray curl behind her ear and brushed his knuckles down the side of her face, his touch burning her frozen skin. Mia nodded, trembling at his proximity. “How could I not know, Mia?” he said softly. “Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t realize what was taking place under my own roof? That I wouldn’t know that the woman I slept with every night was working with my enemies?” “Wh-what are you saying?” she whispered, her brain working agonizingly slowly. “Y-you knew all along?” He smiled bitterly. “Of course. From the moment they approached you and you agreed to spy for them, I knew.” “I don’t... I don’t understand. You knew and you let me do it anyway?” “It was your choice, Mia. You could’ve said no. You could’ve refused them. And even after you agreed—at any point, you could’ve told me the truth, warned me. Even last night—you could’ve still told me. But you chose to lie to me, to the very end.” His voice was oddly calm and remote, and that bitter expression still twisted his lips. “But... but you knew—” Mia couldn’t process that part, couldn’t understand what he was telling her. “I did,” he said, reaching out to pick up a lock of her hair. “I knew, and I let things unfold as they will. It wasn’t part of my original plan; it wasn’t why I was in New York. I wanted to find and capture one of their leaders, to extract the identities of the traitors you saw today. But when you chose to betray me, I knew that a rare opportunity had presented itself—that we could strike a blow to the Resistance from which they would never recover... and I could catch the traitors in the process.” He paused, playing with her hair, twisting and untwisting the strand around his fingers. Mia stared at him, hypnotized, feeling like a rabbit caught by a snake.

“And so I played along. I gave you every chance to succeed in your treacherous mission—and you did. You turned out to be resourceful and clever, quite inventive really.” His eyes took on a familiar golden gleam. “That night when you stole my designs was... memorable, to say the least. I very much enjoyed it.” Mia swallowed, beginning to realize where he was leading. “Y-you planted fake designs,” she whispered, a searing agony spreading through her chest. He nodded, a small triumphant smile curving his lips. “I did. I gave them just enough rope so they could hang themselves with it. They learned how to disable the shields, but not how to keep them disabled. The weapon they were relying on wouldn’t have functioned properly; I had designed it to work under testing conditions but not when it was really deployed. And I let them have a few minor weapons, so they could do some damage and get caught red-handed trying to escape... like the cowards that they really are. I knew that they would trust you when you brought them the designs—because you had already given them enough real information by that point.” “So you used me,” said Mia quietly, feeling like she was suffocating. The pain was indescribable, even though logically she knew she had no right to feel this way. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he said astutely, a savage smile on his face. “It hurts to be the one used, the one betrayed... doesn’t it?” “Was any of it real?” asked Mia bitterly. “Or was the whole thing a lie? Did you set it all up, right down to our meeting in the park?” “Oh, it was real, all right,” he said softly, now stroking the edge of her ear. “From the moment I saw you, I knew that I wanted you—more than anyone I’ve wanted in a very long time. And I grew to care about you, even though I knew it was foolish. With time, I hoped that you would feel the same way about me, that if I showed you how good it could be between us, you would realize what you were doing, the mistake that you were making. And you were close, I know... Yet you still betrayed me in the end, not caring what happened, whether I would live or die—” “No!” interrupted Mia, her eyes burning with a fresh set of tears. “That’s not true! They promised me... they promised you’d be all right, that they would give you safe passage back home—” “Back to Krina?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Where I would be out of your life forever? And how would they have ensured that I stayed there?” Mia could only stare at him. Somehow that thought had never crossed her mind. In the background, virtual Korum left the room, and so did the soldiers with their

prisoners in tow. He gave a short, harsh laugh. “I see. That never occurred to you, did it? That deportation was a temporary solution at best? No, the traitors would’ve never deported me... I am too dangerous in their eyes because I have both the desire and the means to return to Earth with reinforcements—and that’s the last thing they would want.” Mia felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She hadn’t known... They’d lied to her. She couldn’t have gone through with it, couldn’t have done it knowing that he would be killed in the process. She had to convince him of that. “Korum,” she said desperately, “I didn’t know, I swear—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Even if you didn’t mean for me to get killed, you still had every intention of exiling me from your life forever, you still betrayed me... and that’s not something I can forgive easily.” “So what now?” asked Mia wearily. She was beginning to feel numb, and she welcomed the sensation, as it took the edge off her terror and pain. “Are you going to kill me?” He stared at her, his gaze turning a colder yellow. “Kill you? Did you listen to anything I said in the last ten minutes?” He wasn’t going to kill her? The numbness spread, and she could only look at him, unable to feel anything more than a vague sense of relief. At her lack of reply, he said slowly, “No, Mia. I’m not going to kill you. I’ve already told you that before. I’m not the unfeeling monster you persist in thinking me to be.” Getting up in one lithe motion, Korum waved his hand, and Mia shut her eyes, seeing the virtual world dissolving around her. When she opened them again, she was sitting on the floor of Korum’s office, against the wall, still hugging her knees to her chest.

BENDING DOWN, HE OFFERED HER HIS HAND. HER FINGERS TREMBLING, MIA PLACED HER HAND IN HIS, allowing him to help her up. To her embarrassment, her legs were shaking, and she swayed slightly. Letting out a sigh, he caught her, swinging her up into his arms and carrying her out of the office. “Where are you taking me?” asked Mia in confusion, disoriented after the recent reality shift. Oh God, surely he wasn’t thinking of having sex right now; she didn’t

think she could bear that kind of intimacy after everything that happened. “To the kitchen,” Korum replied, walking swiftly. Before she could ask him why, they were there, and he was setting her down on one of the chairs. Mia blinked up at him, too drained to attempt to understand his inexplicable behavior. “When was the last time you had something to eat?” he asked, looking at her with a slight frown on his face. “Um... last night.” Mia couldn’t fathom where he was going with this. He nodded, as though she had confirmed something for him. “No wonder you’re so shaky,” he said reprovingly. “You didn’t eat breakfast, and your blood sugar is low.” Walking to the refrigerator, he filled a glass with some clear liquid and brought it to her. “Drink this, while I make you something to eat,” he ordered, ignoring the incredulous look on Mia’s face. He wanted to feed her right now? Was he serious? Cautiously sniffing the glass, Mia discerned a faintly sweet coconut scent. What the hell, she decided, if he wanted her dead, she sincerely doubted he would use poison to kill her. Taking a sip, she realized that her nose hadn’t lied; Korum had indeed given her fresh coconut water to drink. It was exactly what her body was craving right now, a perfect blend of carbohydrates and electrolytes. The frozen numbness that had been encasing her like armor began to crack, and tears welled up in Mia’s eyes again. Why was he acting like this now, after everything that she had done to him? Finishing her drink, she watched him move about the kitchen, making her an avocado-tomato sandwich. Now that the main adrenaline rush was over, she was starting to think again, her brain beginning to function at some fraction of its normal ability. The truth about their relationship had been revealed. This entire time she’d thought that she was spying on him for the benefit of all humanity, but he had really been using her to crush the Resistance once and for all. All those lives today had been lost because of her... No, she couldn’t focus on that now, or she would shatter into a million pieces. She concentrated on the puzzle of Korum’s intentions instead. He wasn’t going to kill her, he’d said. But would he punish her in some other way? She couldn’t imagine that he would want her around after the way she had betrayed him. Their farce of a relationship was over. He had won: Earth would remain firmly under Krinar control. And Mia had outlived her usefulness. He didn’t need an unwitting double agent anymore— “Here, eat this,” the object of her musings said, placing the sandwich in front of her and sitting down across the table. “And then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you,” Mia said politely and obediently bit into the sandwich. Her stomach growled, and she was suddenly starving, her lumberjack appetite making its appearance despite the trauma of this morning’s events. In less than a minute, she had devoured the sandwich and looked up, slightly embarrassed by her greediness. The smile on his face was a genuine one this time, and she remembered that he liked that about her—the healthy appetite she possessed despite her small size. “So what now?” Mia repeated her earlier question, and Korum’s smile faded. He regarded her with an inscrutable gaze, and Mia shifted in her seat, growing increasingly nervous. “So now,” Korum said quietly, “you will come with me while I help clean up this mess.” Mia felt all blood drain from her face. “Come with you where?” Surely he couldn’t mean— A small smile appeared on his lips. “To the same place you went while snooping this morning: Lenkarda, our settlement in Costa Rica.” All of a sudden, there wasn’t enough air in the room for Mia to breathe properly, and the sandwich felt like a rock inside her stomach. What was he saying? He couldn’t still want her, not after everything... “Why?” she managed to squeeze out, staring at him in horrified disbelief. “Because, Mia, I want you with me, and I can’t stay in New York any longer,” he said calmly, with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ve been away far too long. There are things that require my attention—not the least of which is what to do with the traitors.” Mia shook her head, trying to get rid of the mental fog that seemed to be slowing her thinking. “B-but why do you want me with you?” she stammered. “You were just using me—” “I was using you because you chose to betray me—don’t ever forget that, darling,” he said in a dangerously silky tone. “I’ve wanted you from the very beginning, and nothing you’ve done changes that fact. You’re mine, and you’ll remain with me for as long as I want you. Do you understand that?” There was a dull roaring in her ears. “No,” she whispered, her words barely audible. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t be a slave... I refuse, do you hear me?” Her voice had risen in volume with each sentence until she was almost yelling

at him, the red mist of fury taking over her vision and getting rid of any remnants of caution. “A slave?” he asked with a puzzled frown on his face. And then his forehead smoothed out as he apparently realized what she was talking about. “Ah, yes, I almost forgot that you’ve been laboring under a misconception this whole time. You’re referring to being my charl, aren’t you?” “I will not be your charl!” Mia snarled, her hands clenching into fists under the table. “You will be anything I wish you to be, my darling,” he said softly, a mocking smile curving his lips. “However, your friends in the Resistance have misinformed you—either inadvertently or on purpose—about the real meaning of charl.” Her temper cooling slightly, Mia stared at him. “What do you mean? Are you telling me that you don’t keep humans in your Centers as your... pleasure slaves?” She spit out the last words with disgust. He shook his head, with that same sardonic look on his face. “No, Mia. A charl is a human companion—a human mate, if you will. It’s a unique term that we use to describe a special bond between a human and a Krinar. Being a charl is a privilege, an honor—not whatever it is that you’ve been imagining.” “A privilege to be with you against my will?” asked Mia bitterly. “To be forced to go where I don’t want to go—unable to see my family, my friends?” “Don’t lie to me, Mia,” he said quietly. “Or to yourself. Being with me is hardly a chore for you. Do you think I don’t know why you’ve been crying this week? You need me... just as much as I need you. What we have together is rare and special— even though you’ve done your best to tear us apart. If I were young and foolish, I would let my hurt and anger get the best of me... and leave you, full of bitterness at your betrayal. But I’ve been around long enough to understand that when you find a good thing, you hold on to it; you don’t throw it away on a whim.” “Really? You hold on to it even if the other person doesn’t want you?” said Mia sarcastically, infuriated by his arrogant assumption that he knew all about her feelings. Maybe she had fallen for him; maybe she’d even thought she loved him— but that was before she knew how he’d used her, before she witnessed the deaths of thousands of human soldiers as a result of what he’d done. He might be able to get over his hurt and anger, but Mia couldn’t be so magnanimous right now. “Oh, you want me,” Korum said softly. “That much I know for a fact. Would you like me to prove it?”

And before she could come up with a retort, he was next to her, swinging her up into his arms and bringing her toward him for a deep kiss, his tongue pushing into the recesses of her mouth. Infuriated, Mia tried to remain impassive, to temper her response, but her body didn’t know, didn’t care that he was about to ruin her life. It only knew the pleasure of his touch, and Mia found herself melting against him, her hands clinging to his shoulders instead of pushing him away. A familiar wave of heat swept through her, and she felt a surge of moisture between her legs, her body eagerly preparing itself for his possession. Still holding her in his arms, he walked somewhere, and Mia was too far gone to care where. They ended up in the living room, and he lowered her onto the couch, still kissing her with those deep, penetrating kisses that never failed to make her crazy. She heard the zipper of her jeans getting unfastened, and then he was tugging them off her legs along with her sneakers, leaving her lower body clad only in a pair of white lacy panties. His thumb found the sensitive nub between her legs, and he pressed on it through the underwear, circling it in a way that made her insides tighten, and Mia moaned helplessly, arching toward him, wanting more of the magic that she had only experienced in his arms. He let go of her then, taking a step back to remove his own clothes, stripping off the T-shirt with one smooth motion and then swiftly taking off his jeans and underwear, leaving himself fully naked. Mia stared at him with unabashed lust, taking in the powerful muscles covered with that beautiful bronzed skin, the smattering of dark hair on his chest, and the hairy trail on his lower abdomen leading down to a large, fully aroused cock, with the heavy balls swinging underneath. He didn’t let her enjoy the view for long, grasping her shirt to pull it over her head and unclasping her bra. A second later, her panties were pulled off her legs and joined the heap of clothes lying on the floor. He paused for a second, raking her naked body with a burning gaze, and then he bent over her, his hot mouth closing over her left breast, sucking on it. Mia moaned, feeling the pull of his mouth deep within her belly, and he sucked on the other breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple in a way that made her desperately wish his head was two feet lower. As though reading her mind, he touched her wet folds with his hand, one finger pushing into her opening, pressing on the ultra-sensitive spot inside her pussy, and Mia gasped from the intensity of the sensation, her body throbbing on the verge of release. Without removing his finger, he brought his mouth down toward her sex, his tongue finding its way inside her folds to tease the area directly around her clit. At the same time, his finger moved slightly within her, starting to find a

rhythm, and Mia’s entire body tensed as the tingles of pre-orgasmic sensation began to radiate from her lower regions outward. His tongue flicked at her nub, first lightly and then with increasing pressure, and Mia screamed under the almost cruel lash of pleasure, her inner muscles clamping down on his finger and then pulsating with the aftershocks of the release. Withdrawing his finger, he flipped her over, pulling her toward the edge of the couch. Lifting her briefly, he placed her so that she was bent over the plush couch arm, face down and her feet on the floor. Covering her with his body, he began to push inside her, his cock penetrating her inch by slow inch. Mia was soft and wet from the orgasm, and her body accepted his gradual entrance, the tender inner tissues stretching and expanding to accommodate the intrusion. As he pushed forward, he kissed the side of her neck, and she shivered, the tension starting to build again. Her sex spasmed around his cock, and he groaned in response, sheathing himself fully within her. Mia inhaled sharply from the feel of his shaft buried to the hilt; he was impossibly hard and thick, and she felt like she was burning from the heat of him inside her, over her, all around her. And then he began to move, his thrusts pressing her deeper into the arm of the couch. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she cried out, each stroke intensifying the agonizing pleasure, until her world narrowed to nothing more than the cock moving back and forth within her body and she existed purely for the sensations, stripped down to the raw and elemental parts of her animal nature. She could hear the rhythmic cries in the distance and knew that they had to be her own, and then the massive climax swept through her, her inner muscles rippling around him and her entire body trembling from the shock of the orgasmic wave. And, with a hoarse shout, he was coming too, his hips grinding into her as his cock pulsed inside her with his own contractions. When it was all over, he withdrew from her, leaving her lying there naked, still bent over the sofa arm. Without his large body covering her, Mia suddenly felt cold —and the realization of what had just happened added to the icy knot growing inside her. Standing up on quivering legs, Mia bent down to pick up her clothes, refusing to look at him and trying to ignore the wetness sliding down her leg. With the heat of passion over, her anger returned, magnified by the shame of her unwanted response to him. “Mia,” he said softly, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing there, completely unconcerned about his nakedness. She turned away, putting on her bra, and using her shirt to wipe off the traces of the sex session before putting on her underwear. Pulling on her jeans, she felt slightly better, but the cold fury

inside remained. Without even thinking about it, she walked over to the little purse she’d left sitting on the couch earlier this morning. Reaching inside, she pulled out the little device Leslie had given her and pointed it in his direction. “I’m leaving,” she said with icy calm. A stranger seemed to have taken over her body, and the normal Mia couldn’t help but marvel at her daring, even though she knew that her odds of success were nil. At the sight of the weapon, the golden glow in Korum’s eyes cooled. “That’s a dangerous toy you have there,” he said quietly, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Mia nodded coolly. “Don’t force me to use it.” “So you walk out of here, and then what?” he asked with mild curiosity. “There’s nowhere you can go where I won’t find you.” Mia hadn’t thought that far; in fact, there’d been no thinking involved in her actions at all. It was too late now, though, so she just shrugged and said bravely, “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.” “Are you going to go on the run? Change your identity?” he continued, an amused note appearing in his voice. “None of that would work, you know.” “Because of the tracking stuff you put in me without my knowledge or consent?” she asked bitterly. Korum just looked at her, neither admitting nor denying it. “There’s only one way you could be free of me,” he said slowly. Mia stared at him in frustration, not understanding where he was leading. Now that the initial wave of fury had passed, the full stupidity of her actions dawned on her. He was right; even if she managed to walk out of his penthouse—a big if, given the laser-quick reflexes she was up against—he would catch her before she could go more than a few blocks. By pointing that weapon at him, she had only succeeded in angering him, and she felt a tendril of fear at the thought. “And what way is that?” she asked, deciding to stall for time. “You could shoot me,” he said seriously. “And then all your problems would be solved.” Horrified, Mia gaped at him. The idea of actually pressing the button and watching him dissolve before her eyes, like those shield posts at the colony, was unthinkable. She’d never had any intention of actually using the weapon. All she’d wanted was to regain some measure of control, to feel like she was in charge of her

own life. She’d wanted to threaten him, to make him bow to her will, to make him feel the way she felt when he took away her freedom of choice. She’d never wanted to hurt him, much less kill him. “Go ahead, Mia,” he said softly. His powerful naked body was relaxed, as though they were having a regular conversation—as though he didn’t have a deadly weapon pointed at him. “Go ahead and shoot.” Her fingers trembled, her palms slick with sweat, and she felt her eyes burning with stupid, unwelcome tears. “Please,” she said, not caring anymore that she sounded like she was begging. “Please don’t make me do it. I just want to leave... to go home. Please just let me walk out of here—” “Just press the button, Mia. And then you can go wherever you want.” Mia felt hot and cold, her stomach twisting with nausea. The tiny device in her hand was suddenly unbearably heavy, and her arm shook with the effort of holding it pointed at him. The tears spilled over, running down her cheeks, and she lowered the weapon, sinking down to the floor, her trembling legs unable to hold her any longer. Burying her face in her hands, she cried, bitter at her own cowardice, her own idiocy. She couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t kill him; she would have sooner cut off her own limb. How could she feel this way about him even now? What was wrong with her that she had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t even human... an alien whose kind had just murdered thousands of people? In the depths of her despair, she felt him wrap his arms around her, lifting her from the floor and onto his lap on the couch. “Hush, my darling,” he whispered, “everything will be all right, I promise. I wouldn’t have been able to press that button either—and I’m glad you couldn’t.” He stroked her hair gently while she cried into his naked shoulder. After a few minutes, her sobs began to quiet. Feeling embarrassed about her outburst, Mia tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her, lifting her chin instead to look her in the eye. “Mia,” he said softly, “I’m not taking you with me to be cruel. After everything that happened, the Resistance—or whatever is left of it—will be looking for you. They don’t know the full story, and they’ll think you set them up. They’ll spare no effort in trying to kill you, and if they figure out how much you mean to me, they’ll try to capture you alive to use you against me. I’m sorry, but I have no choice. It’s simply not safe for you to be anywhere but in Lenkarda right now.” Mia stared at him, her vision still blurred by tears. She hadn’t thought about that, but it was true. As far as the Resistance was concerned, she was a traitor to all of humankind. They would definitely blame her for the huge loss of life she’d just

witnessed. A terrifying thought occurred to her. “What about my family?” she asked, everything inside her turning to ice at the possibility that the freedom fighters might try to hurt those she loved. “Your family had nothing to do with it, and I doubt the fighters would be vengeful enough to needlessly harm fellow humans. But your kind can be very unpredictable, so I will make sure that several of our best guardians are stationed near your family, to keep an eye out for them.” Mia opened her mouth to ask, but he forestalled her. “And no, that wouldn’t be enough to ensure your safety. There are still a few key Resistance leaders unaccounted for, and they’re armed with some Krinar weapons. I expect them to go into hiding and leave your family alone, but they may be willing to risk everything to get to you. So until they’re apprehended, you will be safest in Lenkarda. And if you have to venture out, it will be with me by your side.” How convenient for him, Mia thought bitterly, he could now keep her prisoner with good justification. Of course, the Resistance would want to kill her—and they would be right to do so. She was responsible for all those deaths today... “How many people were killed this morning?” asked Mia, feeling like she wanted to die herself. Korum shrugged slightly. “I don’t know if the medics got to the ones who were burned fast enough to save them. Some of them might have died from their encounter with the shield.” “What about all the other ones, the ones who were hit with that red light?” asked Mia, her heart beginning to pound in wild hope. “They were knocked unconscious—and so were the ones who attacked our other Centers. They deserved to die, of course, but we decided to let your governments deal with them. It’ll be interesting to see what their punishment will be for violating the Coexistence Treaty and endangering your entire species in the process.” The relief that Mia felt was indescribable. The painful grip in her chest seemed to ease, letting her breathe freely for the first time since she’d witnessed the attack. And then Korum added, “Of course, we’re not going to leave it to chance. All those fighters now have surveillance devices embedded in their bodies, so we’ll know everything they do and everywhere they go. They’ve been effectively neutralized as a threat to us, and we can now use them to catch the rest—those that

were not near our Centers today.” So he had succeeded in his mission of squashing the Resistance movement. Given the number of fighters lying on the field, Ks would now have thousands of walking, talking surveillance mechanisms all over the globe. It was quite clever really; why bother killing a human when you could use him instead? Pure Korum deviousness at work. She must’ve looked upset because he said, “Mia, stop worrying about this. The Resistance is over. It was a foolish movement to begin with. Just think about it. So they don’t like us being here and changing a few things. Is that really a good reason to risk so many lives? You have to admit, we’re nothing like the alien invaders of your movies. We have no desire to enslave humans, or to take away your planet. If that had been our agenda, we would’ve already done it. We settled here as peacefully as possible, living in our Centers with minimal interference in human affairs. That’s far better than what your Europeans had done to the American natives.” Still sitting on his lap, Mia looked away. If Korum was telling her the truth and John had lied about the meaning of charl, then the entire Resistance movement was misguided at best—and criminally irresponsible at worst. “And do you honestly think it would’ve been a good thing for you to have those seven traitors as your rulers? Because, believe me, that’s what they would’ve been. They wanted power, and they didn’t care who got hurt as a result of their actions. Do you really think they would’ve been content to live quietly among humans, obeying your every law and selflessly sharing Krinar knowledge?” Now that Korum put it that way, Mia could see the implausibility of what John had originally told her. Maybe the Resistance leaders had thought they could somehow control the Keiths once the other Ks had left—but that could’ve easily been a dangerous assumption to make. Mia mentally kicked herself. Why hadn’t she probed further into the Keiths’ motivations? But no, she’d blindly gone with what John was telling her, too caught up in her own personal drama to fully think about anything else. Korum sighed, and she felt the movement of his chest. “Look, it won’t be so bad being in Lenkarda, believe me. Aren’t you the least bit curious to see how we live?” Mia looked up at him again, feeling completely drained. “Korum, I just can’t... I can’t simply leave everything and everyone—” “What if I take you to see your family in a couple of weeks as we originally discussed?” he asked softly. “Would that make you feel better?”

“We’d go to Florida?” asked Mia in surprise. He nodded. “You could spend a few days with them before we have to go back.” She smiled, the pressure in her chest easing further. “That would be wonderful,” she said quietly. He smiled back and gently brushed a curl off her face. “And hopefully, by the end of the summer, we’ll catch the rest of the Resistance fighters—so if you still want to come back to New York then, we’ll return here and you can finish your last year of school.” Mia blinked at him, hardly daring to believe her ears. “You’ll bring me back here?” “I will... if you still want to return by then.” Getting up, he placed her gently on her feet. “Now put on a shirt and some shoes while I get dressed. It’s time to go.”

KORUM ALLOWED HER TO TAKE HER PURSE WITH ITS ENTIRE CONTENTS, THE WEAPON EXCLUDED, AND nothing else. When she protested that she needed her computer and her clothes, he laughed. “I promise you, there’s plenty of everything where we’re going,” he explained with a smile. “What about my passport?” she asked, and then realized that it was a stupid question. She might be heading to a foreign country, but she sincerely doubted she would be going through airport security. Somehow, Korum had managed to travel there this morning and then come back to New York—all within a span of a couple of hours. No, thought Mia, they likely wouldn’t be traveling by airplane. Her suppositions turned out to be correct. He led her into his office, holding her hand as if afraid she would bolt. Walking toward the back of the room, he held his other hand in front of the wall and it slid open, revealing stairs that likely led to the rooftop. “Come,” Korum said, and she followed him with hesitation, her pulse racing at the thought of where she was going. It was too late to turn back now—not that he would have let her—and Mia felt a heady mixture of excitement and fear rushing through her veins as she walked up the stairs. They exited onto the rooftop, and Mia looked around. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see—perhaps some alien aircraft sitting there. But there was nothing. The roof was empty, with the exception of some evergreen shrubs growing

in neat rows around the perimeter. The rain had mostly stopped, but it was still wet and humid outside, and Mia could practically feel her curls frizzing up from the moisture in the air. “What are we doing here?” she asked in surprise. “Is someone coming to get us?” Korum shook his head and smiled. “No, we’re going by ourselves.” “How?” asked Mia, burning with curiosity. “You’ll see in a second. Don’t be afraid, okay?” He squeezed her palm reassuringly. Mia nodded, and Korum let go of her hand, taking a step forward. Extending his arm, he made a gesture, as though pointing at the empty space in front of him. All of a sudden, Mia could hear a low humming. The sound was unlike anything Mia had heard before—too quiet and even to be the buzzing of insects. “What is that?” she asked warily, wondering if Korum intended to teleport them somewhere. Mia had no idea what the limitations of K technology were, but she did know that Krinar physics had to have gone far beyond Einstein’s theories; otherwise, the Ks wouldn’t have been able to travel faster than the speed of light. Who knew what else they could do? Korum turned toward her, his eyes glittering with some unknown emotion. “It’s the sound of the nanomachines that I just released. They’re building us our ride.” And Mia realized that he was excited, pleased to be going home. Something began to shimmer in front of them. Goosebumps appeared on Mia’s arms as she stared in fascination at the strange sight. The shimmering intensified, as if a bucket of glitter had been thrown in front of them—and then the walls of the aircraft began to form in front of her eyes. Barely holding back a gasp, Mia watched as the structure assembled itself, seemingly out of nothingness. The walls slowly solidified, thickening layer by layer, and then a small pod-like aircraft stood in front of them. It appeared to be made out of some unusual ivory material, with no visible windows or doors, and was smaller than a helicopter. Mia exhaled sharply, releasing a breath she had been holding for the last thirty seconds. “It’s called advanced rapid fabrication technology,” Korum said, smiling at the look of utter astonishment on her face. “It’s one of our most useful inventions.

Come with me.” And taking her hand again, he led her toward the newly assembled structure. As they approached, the wall of the pod simply disintegrated, creating an entrance for them. Mia blinked in shock, but followed Korum inside the aircraft. Once they were in, the wall re-solidified, and the entrance disappeared again. The inside of the pod did not look like any aircraft she could have ever imagined. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were transparent—she could see the ivory color of her surroundings, but she could also see the world outside. It was as though they were inside a giant glass bubble, even though Mia knew that the structure was not see-through from the outside. There were no buttons or controls of any kind, nothing to suggest that the pod had any kind of complex electronics. And instead of seats, there were two white oval planks floating in the air. “Have a seat,” Korum said, gesturing toward one of the planks. “On that?” Mia had known that Krinar technology was far more advanced, of course, and she had expected to encounter some unbelievable things. But this... this was like stepping into some fairy realm where the normal laws of physics didn’t seem to apply—and she hadn’t even left New York yet. He laughed, apparently amused by her distrust. “On that. You won’t fall, I promise.” Warily, still clutching his hand, Mia perched gingerly on the plank. It moved beneath her, and she gasped as it conformed to the shape of her butt, suddenly turning into the most comfortable chair she had ever occupied. There was a back now too, and Mia found herself leaning into it, her tense muscles relaxing, soothed by the strangely cozy sensation. Grinning, Korum sat down on a similar plank next to her, and Mia stared in amazement as the white material shifted around his body, fitting itself to his shape. She was still holding his hand with a death grip, Mia realized with some embarrassment, and she let go, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible when confronted with technology that seemed exactly like magic. Korum nodded approvingly and waved his hand slightly. Softly, without making a sound, the pod lifted off the ground, rising swiftly into the air. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Mia looked down at the seethrough floor, watching New York City shrinking rapidly beneath them as they gained altitude. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel nauseated or pushed into her seat as one might expect during such a swift ascent; it was as though she was sitting in a

chair at home, instead of rocketing straight up. “Why don’t I feel like we’re flying at all?” she asked curiously, looking up from the floor where she could now see only clouds. “The ship is equipped with a mild anti-gravitational field,” Korum explained. “It’s designed to make us comfortable by keeping the gravitational force at the same level as you’d experience normally on this planet; otherwise, accelerating like that would be very unpleasant for me—and probably deadly for you.” And then she could see clouds whizzing underneath them as the pod traveled at an incredible speed, taking her to a place that few humans could even imagine, much less visit in person. Never in a million years could Mia have thought that a simple walk in the park could lead to this, that she would be sitting in an alien ship headed for the main Krinar colony... that she would feel like this about the beautiful extraterrestrial who was sitting beside her. A couple of minutes later, they seemed to have reached their destination, and the ship began its descent. “Welcome home, darling,” Korum said softly as the green landscape of Lenkarda appeared beneath their feet, and the ship landed as quietly as it had taken off. Mia’s new life had begun.

CLOSE OBSESSION THE KRINAR CHRONICLES: VOLUME 2

PROLOGUE

T he Krinar stared at the image in front of him, his hands clenching into fists. The three-dimensional hologram showed Korum and the guardians approaching the hut on the beach. One of the guardians raised his arm, and the hut blew into pieces, fragments of wood flying everywhere. The fragile human-built structure was clearly no match for the basic nano-blast weapon all guardians carried with them. The K raised his hand and the image shifted, the flying recording device approaching the wreckage to take a closer look. He didn’t worry that the device would be spotted; it was smaller than a mosquito and had been designed by Korum himself. No, the device was perfect for this task. As it hovered over the hut, the K could see the drama playing out in the basement, which had been exposed by the blast. The guardians jumped down there, while Korum appeared to be carefully studying the remnants of the hut above ground. Of course, the K thought, his nemesis would be thorough. Korum would want to make sure nothing and no one escaped from the scene. The Keiths—the K had started calling them by that name in his mind as well— were panicking, and Rafor stupidly attacked one of the guardians. A foolish move on his part, the K thought dispassionately, watching as the invisible protective shield surrounding the guardians repelled the attack. Now the black-haired Krinar male was jerking uncontrollably on the floor, his nervous system fried from contact with the deadly shield. Had he been human, he would’ve died instantly. The guardians didn’t let him suffer for long. At the command from their leader, one of the guardians swiftly knocked Rafor unconscious with the stun weapon

embedded in his fingers. The other Keiths were smart enough to avoid Rafor’s fate and simply stood there as the silvery crime-collars were locked into place around their necks. They looked angry and defiant, but there was nothing they could do. They were now prisoners, and they would be judged by the Council for their crime. After a couple of minutes, Korum jumped down into the basement as well, and the K could see that his enemy was furious. He’d known he would be. The Keiths were as good as gone; Korum would show them no mercy. Sighing, the K switched off the image. He would watch it in greater detail later. For now, he had to figure out some other way to neutralize Korum and implement his plan. The future of Earth depended on it.

1

“W elcome

home, darling,” Korum said softly as the green landscape of

Lenkarda appeared beneath their feet, and the ship landed as quietly as it had taken off. Her heart hammering in her chest, Mia slowly got up off the seat that had cradled her body so comfortably. Korum was already up, and he extended his hand to her. She hesitated for a second, and then accepted it, clutching his palm with a death grip. The lover she’d thought of as the enemy for the past month was now her only source of comfort in this strange land. They exited the aircraft and walked a few steps before Korum stopped. Turning back toward the ship, he made a small gesture with his free hand. All of a sudden, the air around the pod began to shimmer, and Mia again heard the low humming sound that signified nanomachines at work. “You’re building something else?” she asked him, surprised. He shook his head with a smile. “No, I’m un-building.” And as Mia watched, layers of ivory material appeared to peel off the surface of the ship, dissolving in front of her eyes. Within a minute, the ship was gone in its entirety, all of its components turning back into the individual atoms from which they’d been made back in New York. Despite her stress and exhaustion, Mia couldn’t help but marvel at the miracle she’d just witnessed. The ship that had just brought them thousands of miles in a matter of minutes had completely disintegrated, as though it had never existed in the first place. “Why did you do that?” she asked Korum. “Why un-build it?” “Because there’s no need for it to exist and take up space right now,” he

explained. “I can create it again whenever we need to use it.” It was true, he could. Mia had witnessed it herself only a few minutes ago on the rooftop of his Manhattan apartment. And now he had un-created it. The pod that had transported them here no longer existed. As the full implications of that hit her, her heart rate spiked again, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. A wave of panic washed over her. She was now stranded in Costa Rica, in the main K colony—completely dependent on Korum for everything. He had made the ship that had brought them there, and he had just unmade it. If there was another way out of Lenkarda, Mia didn’t know about it. What if he had lied to her earlier? What if she would never see her family again? She must’ve looked as terrified as she felt because Korum squeezed her hand gently. The feel of his large, warm hand was oddly reassuring. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “It will be all right, I promise.” Mia focused on taking deep breaths, trying to beat back the panic. She had no choice but to trust him now. Even back in New York, he could do anything he wanted with her. There was no reason for him to make her promises that he didn’t intend to keep. Still, the irrational fear gnawed at her insides, adding to the unsavory brew of emotions boiling in her. The knowledge that Korum had been manipulating her all along, using her to crush the Resistance, was like acid in her stomach, burning her from the inside. Everything he’d done, everything he’d said—it had all been a part of his plan. While she had been agonizing over spying on him, he had probably been secretly laughing at her pathetic attempts to outwit him, to help the cause he’d known was doomed to failure from the very beginning. She felt like such an idiot now for going along with everything the Resistance had told her. It had seemed to make so much sense at the time; she’d felt so noble helping her kind fight against the invaders who had taken over her planet. And instead, she’d unwittingly participated in a power grab by a small group of Ks. Why hadn’t she stopped to think, to fully analyze the situation? Korum had told her that the entire Resistance movement had been wrong, completely misguided in their mission. And despite herself, Mia had believed him. The Ks hadn’t killed the freedom fighters who had attacked their Centers—and

that simple fact told her a lot about the Krinar and their views on humans. If the Ks had truly been the monsters the Resistance portrayed them to be, none of the fighters would have survived. At the same time, she didn’t fully trust Korum’s explanation of what a charl was. When John had spoken about his kidnapped sister, there had been too much pain in his voice for it all to be a lie. And Korum’s own actions toward her fit much better with John’s explanation than with his own. Her lover had denied that the Ks kept humans as their pleasure slaves, yet he’d given her very little choice about anything in their relationship thus far. He had wanted her, and, just like that, her life was no longer her own. She’d been swept off her feet and into his TriBeCa penthouse—and now here she was, in the K Center in Costa Rica, following him toward some unknown destination. As much as she dreaded the answer to her question, she had to know. “Is Dana here?” Mia asked carefully, not wanting to provoke his temper. “John’s sister? John said she’s a charl in Lenkarda...” “No,” Korum said, shooting her an unreadable look. “John was misinformed— I’m guessing, deliberately—by the Keiths.” “She’s not a charl?” “No, Mia, she was never a charl in the true sense of the word. She was what you would call a xeno—a human obsessed with all things Krinar. Her family never knew that. When she met Lotmir in Mexico, she begged to go with him, and he agreed to take her for some period of time. The last I heard, she got someone else to take her to Krina. I imagine she’s quite happy there, given her preferences. As to why she left without a word to her family, I think it probably has something to do with her father.” “Her father?” “Dana and John haven’t had a very happy childhood,” Korum said, and she could feel his hand tightening on hers. “Their father is someone who should’ve been exterminated long ago. Based on the intelligence we’ve gathered about your Resistance contact, John’s father has a particular fetish that involves very young children—” “He’s a pedophile?” Mia asked quietly, bile rising in her throat at the thought. Korum nodded. “Indeed. I believe his own children were the primary recipients of his affections.” Sickened and filled with intense pity for John and Dana, Mia looked away. If this

was true, then she couldn’t blame Dana for wanting to get away, to leave everything connected with her old life behind. Although Mia’s own family was normal and loving, she’d had some interactions with victims of domestic and child abuse as part of her internship last summer. She knew about the scars it left on the child’s psyche. When they got older, some of these children turned to drugs or alcohol to dull their pain. Dana had apparently turned to sex with Ks. Of course, this was assuming that Korum wasn’t lying to her about the whole thing. Thinking about it, Mia decided that he probably wasn’t. Why would he need to? It’s not like she could break up with him even if she found out that Dana was held here against her will. “And what about John?” she asked. “Is he all right? And Leslie?” “I assume so,” he said, and his voice was noticeably cooler. “Neither one has been captured yet.” Relieved, Mia decided to leave it at that. She had a suspicion that talking to Korum about the Resistance was not the smartest course of action for her right now. Instead, she refocused on their surroundings. “Where are we going?” she asked, looking around. They were walking through what seemed like an untouched forest. Twigs and branches crunched under her feet, and she could hear nature sounds everywhere—birds, some kind of buzzing insects, rustling leaves. She had no idea what he had in mind for the rest of the day, but she just wanted to bury her head under a blanket and hide for several hours. This morning’s events and the resulting emotional upheaval had left her completely drained, and she badly needed some quiet time to come to terms with everything that happened. “To my house,” Korum replied, turning his head toward her. There was a small smile on his face again. “It’s only a short walk from here. You’ll be able to relax and get some rest once we’re there.” Mia shot him a suspicious look. His answer was uncannily close to what she had just been thinking. “Can you read my mind?” she asked, horrified at the possibility. He grinned, showing the dimple on his left cheek. “That would be nice—but no. I just know you well enough by now to see when you’re exhausted.” Relieved, Mia nodded and focused on putting one foot in front of another as they walked through the forest. Despite everything, that dazzling smile of his sent a warm sensation all throughout her body.

You’re an idiot, Mia. How could she still feel like this after what he had put her through, after he had manipulated her like that? What kind of a person was she, to fall in love with an alien who had completely taken over her life? She felt disgusted with herself, yet she couldn’t help it. When he smiled like that, she could almost forget everything that happened in the sheer joy of simply being with him. Underneath all the bitterness, she was fiercely glad that the Resistance had failed—that he was still in her life. Her thoughts kept turning to what he’d said earlier... to his admission that he’d grown to care for her. He hadn’t intended for it to happen, he’d said, and Mia realized that she’d been right to fear and resist him in the beginning—that he had indeed regarded her as a plaything at first, as a little human toy he could use and discard at his leisure. Of course, “caring” was far from a declaration of love, but it was more than she’d ever expected to hear from him. Like a balm applied to a festering wound, his words made her feel just a tiny bit better, giving her hope that maybe it would be all right after all, that maybe he would keep his promises and she would see her family again— A squishy sensation under her foot jerked her out of that thought. Startled, Mia looked down and saw that she had stepped on a large, crunchy bug. “Eww!” “What’s the matter?” Korum asked, surprised. “I just stepped on something,” Mia explained in disgust, trying to wipe her sneaker on the nearest patch of grass. He looked amused. “Don’t tell me... Are you afraid of insects?” “I wouldn’t say afraid, necessarily,” Mia said cautiously. “It’s more that I find them really gross.” He laughed. “Why? They’re just another set of living creatures, just like you and me.” Mia shrugged and decided against explaining it to him. She wasn’t sure she fully understood it herself. Instead, she resolved to pay closer attention to her surroundings. Despite growing up in Florida, she wasn’t really comfortable with tropical nature in its raw form. She much preferred neatly paved paths in beautifully landscaped parks, where she could sit on a bench and enjoy the fresh air with minimal bug encounters. “You don’t have any roads or sidewalks?” she asked Korum with consternation,

jumping over what looked like an ant hill. He smiled at her indulgently. “No. We like our environment to be as close to its original state as possible.” Mia wrinkled her nose, not liking that at all. Her sneakers were already covered with dirt, and she was thankful that the wet season in Costa Rica had not officially begun yet. Otherwise, she imagined they would be trekking through swampland. Given the highly advanced state of Krinar technology, she found it strange that they chose to live in such primitive conditions. A minute later, they entered another clearing, a much larger one this time. An unusual cream-colored structure stood in the middle. Shaped like an elongated cube with rounded corners, it had no windows or doors—or any visible openings at all. “This is your house?” Mia had seen structures like this one on the three-dimensional map in Korum’s office earlier today. They’d looked very strange and alien to her from a distance, and that impression was even stronger now that she was standing next to one. It just looked so incredibly foreign, so different from anything she’d ever seen in her life. Korum nodded, leading her toward the building. “Yes, this is my home—and now it’s yours too.” Mia swallowed nervously, her anxiety growing at the last part of his statement. Why did he keep saying that? Did he really intend for her to live here permanently? He’d promised to bring her back to New York to finish her senior year of college, and Mia desperately clung to that thought as she stared at the pale walls of the house looming in front of her. As they approached, a part of the wall suddenly disintegrated in front of them, creating an opening large enough for them to walk through. Mia gasped in surprise, and Korum smiled at her reaction. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This is an intelligent building. It anticipates our needs and creates doorways as needed. It’s nothing to be afraid of.” “Will it do that for anyone or just you?” Mia asked, stopping before the opening. She knew it was illogical, her reluctance to go in. If Korum intended to keep her prisoner, there was nothing she could do about it—she was already in an alien colony with no way to escape. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to voluntarily enter her new “home” unless she was sure she could leave it on her own.

Apparently intuiting the source of her concern, Korum gave her a reassuring look. “It will do it for you as well. You’ll be able to go in and out whenever you want, although it might be best if you stayed close to me for the first few weeks... at least until you get used to our way of life and I have a chance to introduce you to others.” Exhaling in relief, Mia looked up at him. “Thanks,” she said quietly, some of her panic fading. Maybe being here wouldn’t be so bad after all. If he really did bring her back to New York at the end of summer, then her sojourn in Lenkarda might prove to be exactly that—a couple of months spent at an incredible place that few humans could even imagine, with the extraordinary creature she’d fallen in love with. Feeling slightly better about the situation, Mia stepped through the opening, entering a Krinar dwelling for the first time.

THE SIGHT THAT GREETED HER INSIDE WAS UTTERLY UNEXPECTED. Mia had been bracing for something alien and high-tech—maybe floating chairs similar to the ones in the ship that had transported them here. Instead, the room looked just like Korum’s penthouse back in New York, right down to the plush cream-colored couch. Mia flushed at the memory of what had taken place on that couch just a little while ago. Only the walls were different; they seemed to be made of the same transparent material as the ship, and she could see the greenery outside instead of the Hudson River. “You have the same furniture here?” she asked in surprise, letting go of his hand and taking a step forward to gape at the strange sight. She couldn’t imagine that furniture stores made deliveries to K Centers—but then he could probably just conjure up whatever he wanted using their nanotechnology. “Not exactly,” Korum said, smiling at her. “I set this up ahead of your arrival. I thought it might be easier for you to acclimate if you could relax in familiar surroundings for the first couple of weeks. After you feel more comfortable here, I can show you how I usually live.” Mia blinked at him. “You set it up just for me? When?” Even with rapid fabrication—or whatever Korum had called the technology that let him make things out of nothing—he probably still needed a little time to do all this. When would he have had a chance to even think about this, given the events of this morning? She tried to picture him making a couch while capturing the

Keiths and almost snickered out loud. “A little while ago,” Korum said ambiguously, shrugging a little. Mia frowned at him. “So... not today?” For some reason, the timing of this gesture seemed important. “No, not today.” Mia stared at him. “You were planning this for a while? Me being here, I mean?” “Of course,” he said casually. “I plan everything.” Mia took a deep breath. “And if I hadn’t been in danger from the Resistance? Would you have still brought me here?” He looked at her, his expression indecipherable. “Does it really matter?” he asked softly. It mattered to Mia, but she wasn’t up to having that discussion right now. So she just shrugged and looked away, studying the room. It was somewhat comforting to be someplace that at least looked familiar, and she had to admit that it was a thoughtful thing to do—creating a human-like environment for her in his house. “Are you hungry?” Korum asked, regarding her with a smile. Making food for her seemed to be one of his favorite activities; he had even fed her this morning when she’d been afraid he would kill her for helping the Resistance. It was one of the things that had always made her feel so conflicted about him, about their relationship in general. Despite his arrogance, he could be incredibly caring and considerate. It drove Mia nuts, the fact that he’d never truly acted like the villain she’d thought him to be. She shook her head. “No, thanks. Still full from the sandwich earlier.” And she was. All she wanted to do was lie down and try to give her brain a rest. “Okay then,” Korum said. “You can relax here for a bit. I have to go out for an hour or so. Do you think you’ll be all right by yourself?” Mia nodded. “Do you have a bed somewhere?” she asked. “Of course. Here, come with me.” Mia followed Korum as he walked down a familiar hallway to the bedroom that was identical to the one he had in TriBeCa. She noted the location of the bathroom as well. “So everything here is stuff I know how to use?” she asked.

“Yes, pretty much,” he said, reaching out to briefly stroke her cheek. His fingers felt hot against her skin. “The bed is probably more comfortable than you’re used to because it utilizes the same intelligent technology as the chair in the ship and the walls of this house. I figured you wouldn’t mind that. Don’t be scared if it adjusts to your body, okay?” Despite the tension squeezing her temples, Mia smiled, remembering how comfortable the seat in the aircraft had been. “Okay, that sounds good. I’m looking forward to trying it.” “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” His eyes gleamed with some unknown emotion. “Take a nap if you want, and I’ll be back soon.” Bending down, he gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead and walked out, leaving her alone in an intelligent dwelling inside the alien settlement.

LESS THAN A MILE AWAY, THE KRINAR WATCHED AS HIS NEMESIS ARRIVED WITH HIS CHARL. The gentle way Korum held her hand as he led her toward his house was so out of character that the K almost chuckled to himself. This was an interesting development, the involvement of a human girl. Would it change anything? Somehow, he doubted it. His enemy would not be swayed from his course, certainly not by some little human. No, there was only one way to save the human race. And he was the only one who could do it.

2

M ia woke up in total darkness. She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out the time. She felt incredibly well-rested, every muscle in her body relaxed and her mind completely clear. Right away, she knew she was in Korum’s house in Lenkarda, lying on his “intelligent” bed. Stretching with a yawn, she wondered how Korum had managed to sleep on a regular human mattress back in New York. She couldn’t imagine wanting to sleep anywhere other than this bed for the rest of her life. The sheets were wrapped around her body, caressing her bare skin with a light, sensuous touch. She was neither cold nor hot, and the pillow cradled her head and neck in exactly the right way. Whatever tension she’d felt earlier was completely gone. She had not intended to fall asleep, but the rest had definitely done wonders for her state of mind. After Korum had left, she’d showered and climbed into bed with the goal of resting for a few minutes. As soon as she’d gotten in, the sheets had moved around her, wrapping her in a gentle cocoon, and she’d felt subtle vibrations under the most tense parts of her body. It was as though soft fingers were massaging away the knots in her back and neck. She remembered loving the sensation, and then she must’ve fallen asleep because she couldn’t recall anything else. Apparently sensing that she was awake, the room gradually got lighter, even though there was no obvious source of artificial light. It was a clever idea, Mia thought, to have the light turn on so slowly. Bright light after complete darkness was often painful to the eyes, yet that’s how most human light fixtures worked, simply on and off—disregarding the fact that light-dark transitions in nature were far more subtle.

Reluctant to leave the comfort of the bed, Mia lay there and tried to figure out what to do next. The sick, panicky feeling of earlier was gone, and she could think more clearly. It was true that Korum had used and manipulated her. But, to be fair, he’d done it to protect his own kind—just as she’d thought she was helping all of humanity by spying on him. The sense of betrayal she’d felt yesterday had been irrational, out of place considering the nature of their relationship and her own actions toward him. The fact that he hadn’t really done anything to punish her for her betrayal spoke volumes about his intentions. She’d been wrong to paint him with such a dark brush before. If he hadn’t hurt her for what she’d done thus far, he probably never would. However, he clearly had no problem disregarding her wishes. Case in point: she was here in Lenkarda. Yet, if he’d spoken the truth, she would still be able to go visit her parents soon, and even come back to New York to finish college. All in all, her situation was much better than she’d feared this morning, when she’d thought he might kill her for helping the Resistance. Still, the circumstances she found herself in were unsettling. She was in a K Center, where she didn’t speak the language, didn’t know anyone except Korum, and had no idea how to use even the most basic Krinar technology. As a human, she was the ultimate outsider here. Would the Ks think she was dumb because of what she was? Because she couldn’t understand the Krinar language or read ten books in a couple of hours, the way Korum could? Would they make fun of her ignorance and her technological illiteracy? She wasn’t exactly tech-savvy even by human standards. In general, was Korum’s arrogance simply a part of his personality, or was it typical of his species and their overall attitude toward humans? Of course, agonizing about all this didn’t change the facts. Whether she liked it or not, she was in Lenkarda for at least the next couple of months, and she had to make the best of it. And in the meantime, there was so much she could learn here — The bedroom door opened quietly, and Korum walked in, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey there, sleepyhead, how are you feeling?” Mia couldn’t help smiling at him, forgetting her concerns for the moment. For the first time since she’d known him, Korum was dressed in Krinar clothing: a sleeveless shirt made of some soft-looking white material and a pair of loose grey shorts that ended just above his knees. It was a simple outfit, but it did wonders for

his physique, accentuating his powerfully muscled build. He looked mouthwateringly gorgeous, his smooth bronze skin glowing with health and those amber eyes shining as he looked at her lying on his bed. “The bed is awesome,” Mia confided. “I don’t know how you slept on anything else.” He grinned, sitting down next to her and picking up a strand of her hair to play with. “I know. It was a real sacrifice—but your presence made it quite tolerable.” Mia laughed and rolled over onto her stomach, feeling absurdly happy. “So what now? Do I get to meet other intelligent objects? I have to say, your technology is very cool.” “Oh, you have no idea just how cool our technology is,” Korum said, looking at her with a mysterious smile. “But you’ll learn soon.” Bending down, he kissed her exposed shoulder and then lightly nibbled on her neck, his mouth warm and soft on her skin. Closing her eyes, Mia shivered from the pleasant sensation. Her body immediately responded to his touch, and she moaned softly, feeling a surge of warm moisture between her legs. He stopped and sat up straight. Surprised, Mia opened her eyes and looked at him. “You don’t want me?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the hurt note out of her voice. “What? No, my darling, I very much want you.” And it was true; she could see the warm golden flecks in his expressive eyes, and the soft material of his shorts did little to hide his erection. “Then why did you stop?” asked Mia, trying very hard not to sound like a child deprived of candy. He sighed, looking frustrated. “A friend of mine is coming over to meet you. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” Mia looked at him in surprise. “Your friend wants to meet me? Why?” Korum smiled. “Because he’s heard a lot about you from me. And also because he’s one of our top mind experts and can help you with the adjustment process.” Mia frowned slightly. “A mind expert? You want me to see a shrink?” Korum shook his head, grinning. “No, he’s not a shrink. In our society, a mind expert is someone who deals with all aspects of the brain. He’s like a neurosurgeon, psychiatrist, and therapist combined—literally an expert on all matters having to

do with the mind.” That was interesting, but didn’t really answer her question. “So why does he want to see me?” “Because I think there’s something he can do to make you feel more at home here,” Korum said, his fingers trailing down her arm, rubbing it softly. He liked to do that, Mia had noticed, to just randomly touch her during their conversations, as though craving constant physical contact. Mia didn’t mind. It was that chemistry he had talked about before; their bodies gravitated toward each other like two objects in space. She forced her attention back to the conversation. “Like what?” she asked, feeling slightly wary. “Well, for instance, would you like to be able to understand and speak our language?” Mia’s eyes widened, and she nodded eagerly. “Of course!” “Have you ever wondered how I’m able to speak English so well? And every other human language? How all of us speak like this?” “I didn’t know you spoke other languages besides English,” Mia confessed, staring at him in amazement. She had briefly wondered how he knew such perfect American English, but she’d always assumed the Ks had simply studied everything before coming to Earth. Korum was incredibly smart, so she’d never really questioned the fact that he knew her language and was able to speak it without any accent. And now he was telling her that he spoke a bunch of other languages as well? “So you speak French?” she asked. At his nod, she continued, “Spanish? Russian? Polish? Mandarin?” He made an affirmative gesture each time. “Okay... What about Swahili?” asked Mia, sure that she had caught him this time. “That too,” he said, smiling at her astounded expression. “Okay,” said Mia slowly. “I gather you’re about to tell me that it’s not just pure smarts on your part.” He grinned. “Exactly. I could’ve learned the languages on my own given enough time, but there’s a more efficient way—and that’s what Saret can do for you.” Mia stared at him. “He can teach me how to speak Krinar?”

“Better than that. He can give you the same abilities that I have—instant comprehension and knowledge of any language, be it human or Krinar.” Mia gasped in shock, her heart beating faster from excitement. “How?” “By giving you a tiny implant that will influence a specific region of your brain and act as a highly advanced translation device.” “A brain implant?” Her excitement immediately turned to dread as everything inside Mia violently rejected the idea. He had already embedded tracking devices in her palms; the last thing she needed was alien technology influencing her brain. The ability he had described was incredible, and she desperately wanted it—but not at that price. “The device is not really what you’re picturing,” Korum said. “It’s going to be tiny, the size of a cell, and you will not feel discomfort at any point—either during insertion or afterwards.” “And if I say no, that I don’t want it?” Mia asked quietly, alarmed at the idea that Korum already had the mind expert on the way here. “Why not?” He looked at her with a small frown. “Do you really need to ask?” she said incredulously. “You shined me—you put tracking devices in me under the pretext of healing my palms. Did you really think I would be okay with you putting something in my brain?” Korum’s frown deepened. “This doesn’t have any extra functionality, Mia.” He didn’t seem the least bit repentant about shining her in the first place. “Really?” she asked him acerbically. “It doesn’t do anything extra? Doesn’t influence my thoughts or feelings in any way?” “No, my darling, it doesn’t.” He looked vaguely amused at the thought. “I don’t want a brain implant,” Mia said firmly, looking at him with a mutinous expression on her face. He stared back at her. “Mia,” he said softly, “if I had truly wanted to put something nefarious in your brain, I could’ve done it in a million different ways. I can implant anything in your body at any time, and you wouldn’t have a clue. The only reason why I’m offering you this ability is because I want you to be comfortable here, to be able to communicate with everyone on your own. If you don’t want this, then that’s your choice. I won’t force it on you. But very few humans get this opportunity, so I would advise you to think really hard before you turn it down.”

Mia looked away, struck by the realization that he was right. He didn’t need to inform her or get her consent for anything he wanted to do to her. The panic that she thought she had under control threatened to bubble up again, and she squelched it with effort. Something didn’t quite make sense to her. Taking a deep breath, Mia turned her gaze to his face again, studying his inscrutable expression. It bothered her that she still understood him so little, that the person who had so much power over her was still such a big unknown. “Korum...” She wasn’t sure if she should bring this up, but she couldn’t resist. The question had tormented her for weeks. “Why did you shine me? I hadn’t even met the Resistance at that point, so it’s not like you needed to keep tabs on me for your big plan...” “Because I wanted to make sure I can always find you,” he said, and there was a possessive note in his voice that frightened her. “I held you in my arms that day, and I knew I wanted more. I wanted everything, Mia. You were mine from that moment on, and I had no intention of losing you, not even for a moment.” Not even for a moment? Did he realize how crazy that sounded? He had seen a girl he wanted, and he’d made sure her location would always be known to him. The fact that he thought he had the right to do this was terrifying. How could she deal with someone like that? He had no concept of boundaries when it came to her, no respect for her freedom of will. He had just casually admitted to a horrible and high-handed act, and she had no idea what she could say to him now. At her silence, Korum took a deep breath and got up. “You should get dressed,” he said quietly. “Saret will be here in a minute.” Mia nodded and sat up, holding the sheets to her chest. Now was not the time to analyze the complexities of their relationship. Taking a deep breath of her own, she pushed aside her fear. There was no way she could change her situation right now, and focusing on the negative would only make things worse. She needed to find a way to get along with her lover and figure out how to better manage his domineering nature. “What should I wear?” Mia asked. “I didn’t bring any clothes...” “Do you want your usual jeans and T-shirts, or do you want to dress like everyone else here?” Korum asked, a smile appearing on his face. Some of the tension in the room dissipated. “Um, like everyone else, I guess.” She didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Okay, then.” Korum made a small gesture with his hand and handed her a light-colored piece of material that hadn’t been there only a second ago. Wide-eyed, Mia stared at the piece of clothing he just gave her. “More instant fabrication?” she asked, trying to act like it wasn’t still a huge shock to her to see things materializing out of nothing. He grinned. “That’s right. If you don’t like this, I can get you something else. Go ahead, try it on.” Mia let go of the sheet and climbed out of bed, feeling comfortable with her nakedness. For all his faults, Korum had done wonders for her body image and selfconfidence. Because he repeatedly told her how beautiful he found her to be, she no longer worried about being too skinny or having frizzy hair and pale skin. He would’ve been a boon during her insecure teenage years. No, scratch that thought. No teenager should be subjected to someone so overwhelming. Taking the dress, she put it on, making sure that the low-cut portion was in the back. “What do you think?” she asked, doing a small twirl. He smiled with a warm glow in his eyes. “It looks perfect on you.” His shorts now had a bulge in them, and Mia smiled to herself in satisfaction. Despite everything, it was nice to know that she had that kind of effect on him, that his need was as strong as hers. At least in this, they were equals. Curious to see how the dress looked, she walked over to the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. Korum was right; the outfit was very pretty. Similar in style to the ones she’d seen the female Keiths wear, it was a beautiful shade of ivory with peach undertones, and draped over her body in exactly the right way. Her back and shoulders were mostly exposed, while her front was modestly covered, with strategic pleats around her chest area concealing her nipples. The length was exactly right for her too, with the floaty skirt stopping a couple of inches above her knees. When she turned around, he handed her a pair of flat ivory sandals, made of some unusually soft material. Mia tried them on. They fit her feet perfectly and were surprisingly comfortable. “Nice, thanks,” she said. Then, remembering one last crucial item, she asked, “What about underwear?”

“We don’t really wear it,” Korum said. “I can make it for you if you insist, but you might want to try wearing just our clothes.” No underwear? “What if the dress rides up or something?” “It won’t. The material is intelligent as well. It’s designed to adhere to your body in exactly the right way. If you move or bend in a certain direction, it will move with you so that you will always be covered.” That was handy. Mia thought of the countless wardrobe malfunctions in Hollywood that could’ve been prevented with K clothing. “Okay, then I’m ready, I guess,” she said. “I have to use the restroom, and then I’m good to go.” “Excellent,” Korum said, smiling. “I’ll see you in the living room.” And with a quick kiss on her forehead, he exited the room.

“I LIKE WHAT YOU’VE DONE WITH THE PLACE. VERY TWENTY-FIRST-CENTURY AMERICAN.” Korum’s friend had just walked in and was looking around with a smile. An inch or two shorter than Korum, he was just as powerfully built, and had the darker coloring typical of the Ks. His face was rounder, however, and his cheekbones sharper, reminding her a bit of someone with Asian ancestry. “What can I say? You know I have good taste,” said Korum, getting up from the couch where he had been sitting with Mia to greet the newcomer. Approaching him, Korum lightly touched his shoulder with his palm, and the other K reciprocated his gesture. Mia wondered if that was the K version of a handshake. Turning toward her, Korum said, “Mia, this is my friend Saret. Saret, this is Mia, my charl.” Saret smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. “Hello, Mia. Welcome to our Center. I hope you’ve been finding it to your liking so far?” Mia got up and smiled in return. It was strange to be meeting another K. With the exception of a couple of brief encounters with Korum’s colleagues, her lover was the only Krinar she’d interacted with thus far. “It’s been very nice, thank you.” Should she offer to shake his hand? Or do that shoulder thing Korum had just

done? As soon as the thought occurred to her, she decided against it. She had no idea what the K rules on physical contact were, and she didn’t want to accidentally cause offense. “Have you had a chance to go anywhere in Lenkarda so far? Korum told me you arrived only this morning.” Mia shook her head regretfully. “No, I haven’t. I’m afraid I spent most of the day sleeping.” What time was it, anyway? Through the transparent walls of the house, she could see that it was dark outside. It had to be late in the evening, or maybe even the middle of the night. “Mia was jet-lagged and exhausted from what happened earlier,” Korum explained, walking back toward her and placing a proprietary hand around her back. He pulled her down on the couch next to him, and Saret sat down on one of the plush armchairs across from them. “Of course,” Saret said, “I completely understand. It had to be very traumatic for you, learning the truth that way.” Mia stared at him in surprise. How much did he know? Had Korum told him everything, including her role in the Resistance attack on their Centers? She had no idea how her actions would be viewed by the Krinar. Would she be punished somehow for aiding the Resistance earlier? “Well, the good thing is that it’s over,” Korum said, taking one of Mia’s hands into his and softly rubbing her palm with his thumb. Turning toward her, he promised, “You don’t have to worry about any of this again.” “Actually,” Saret said with a regretful look on his handsome face, “I’m afraid there might be one more thing that Mia has to do.” Korum’s face darkened. “I already told them no. She’s been through enough.” Saret sighed. “There was a formal request from the United Nations—” “Fuck the Unites Nations. They don’t get to request anything after this fiasco. They’re damn lucky we didn’t retaliate—” “Be that as it may, the majority of the Council believes it’s important to extend this gesture of goodwill to them.” Mia listened to them arguing with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. The United Nations? The Council? What did any of this have to do with her? “The Council can go fuck itself too,” Korum said in an uncompromising tone. “There’s absolutely no need for this, and they know it. She’s my charl, and they

don’t get to tell me what to do.” “She’s not just your charl, Korum, and you know it. She’s one of the witnesses in what will be the biggest trial of the last ten thousand years, not to mention the human proceedings—” Mia wanted to throw up as she began to understand where the conversation was leading. “Excuse me,” she said quietly, “what exactly is needed from me?” “It doesn’t matter,” Korum said flatly. “They can’t make you do anything without my permission.” Saret sighed again. “Look, the Council wants her testimony as well. It really would be for the best if you just let her do it—” Staring at them, Mia began to feel angry. They were talking about her like she was a child or a pet of some sort. Whatever it was they wanted from her, it should be her decision, not Korum’s. “She doesn’t need this right now,” Korum said firmly. “They have plenty of evidence, and I’m not putting her through any additional stress—” “Excuse me,” Mia said coldly. “I want to know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Clearly startled, Saret laughed, and Korum gave her a disapproving look. “I think your charl is gutsier than you give her credit for,” Saret said to Korum, still chuckling. Turning toward Mia, he explained, “You see, Mia, the traitors that you helped us catch—the Keiths, as your Resistance friends called them—will be tried according to our laws. While our judicial process is fairly different from what you’re used to, we do require all available evidence to be presented—and testimony from all the witnesses. Since you were involved throughout, your testimony could play a role in whether they get convicted and how serious their punishment will be.” “You want me to testify in a Krinar trial?” Mia asked incredulously. “Yes, exactly, and we’ve also received a formal request for your presence from the United Nations Ambassador—” “She’s not doing it, Saret. Forget it. You can go back to Arus and tell him it’s not happening.” “Look, Korum, are you sure you want to do this? We’re so close to getting the approval... You know this is not going to be viewed favorably—”

“I know,” Korum said. “I’m willing to take that chance. It won’t be the first time they were pissed at me.” Saret looked frustrated. “Okay, but I think you’re making a big mistake. All she has to do is get up there and talk—” “You know as well as I do that if she gets up there, the Protector will try to take her apart. I will not put her through that. And I don’t want her anywhere near the United Nations right now—that’s far too dangerous. Besides, human media might sniff out the story, and Mia doesn’t need the whole world watching her testimony at the UN. Her family doesn’t even know anything yet.” Her anger forgotten, Mia squeezed Korum’s hand in gratitude. She couldn’t help but be touched by his protectiveness. It was hard to say what appealed to her less— the idea of appearing in front of the Krinar Council or at the United Nations with the whole world watching. “Arus said they can make other arrangements for her. The UN hearing can take place behind closed doors, with nothing leaked to the media. And the Council has agreed to accept her recorded testimony for the trial.” “Tell Arus that he can talk to me himself if he’s so determined to make this happen,” Korum said quietly, his eyes narrowed with anger. “She’s my charl. If he wants her to do something, he needs to ask me very, very nicely. And then, if Mia says she’s okay with it, I will maybe consider it.” Saret smiled ruefully. “Sure. You know I hate to be in the middle like this. You and Arus can talk it out. I was asked to deliver a message, and that’s where my responsibility ends.” Korum nodded. “Understood.” The expression on his face was still harsh, and Mia shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable about the role she had inadvertently played in this disagreement. She needed to learn more about this trial and what it all meant, but she didn’t want to ask more questions in front of Saret. Instead, wanting to lighten the tension in the room, she asked cautiously, “So how do you two know each other?” Saret smiled at her, understanding what she was doing. “Oh, we go way back. We’ve known each other since we were children.” Mia’s eyes widened. If they had been children together, then she was in the presence of two aliens who measured their age in thousands of years. “Were you classmates or something?” she asked in fascination.

Korum shook his head, his lips curving slightly. “Not exactly. We were playmates. Our children are educated very differently than humans—we don’t have schools like you do.” “No? Then how do your children learn?” Saret grinned at her, apparently pleased by her curiosity. “A lot of it is playbased. We let them develop most of the key skills they need through socialization and interaction with others, be it children or adults. Later on, they do apprenticeships in various fields with the goal of honing their problem-solving and critical-thinking abilities.” Mia looked at him in fascination. “But how do they learn things like math and history and writing?” Saret waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, those are easy. I don’t know if Korum has talked to you about this before—” “I haven’t yet,” Korum said. “You got here as soon as Mia woke up. All I had time to do was mention the language implant.” “Oh, good.” Saret sounded excited. “Would you like to get that done tonight, Mia?” Mia hesitated. If Korum wasn’t lying to her, then she would be an idiot to pass on this opportunity. “Can you please explain to me again what exactly this implant is and what it does?” she asked, looking at Saret. Korum sighed, looking exasperated. “Yes, Saret, please tell Mia exactly what the implant is. She doesn’t seem to trust my explanation.” “Can you blame me?” she asked Korum, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone. Saret’s eyebrows rose, and he grinned again. “Still some unresolved issues, I see.” Korum shot him a warning look, and Saret’s grin promptly disappeared. “Never mind,” he said hastily. “I don’t know what Korum told you, Mia, but the language implant is a very simple, very straightforward device that many Krinar get upon maturity—once our brain is fully developed. It’s a microscopic computer made of special biological material that essentially acts as a highly advanced translator. Its function is to convert data from one form into another—thought pattern to language and vice versa. It acts on one area of the brain only and has absolutely no harmful side effects.”

“Does it ever malfunction?” asked Mia. “Or can it do something else to me?” “Like what?” Saret looked perplexed. “And no, this technology has been in existence for over ten thousand years, so it’s been fully perfected. It doesn’t malfunction, ever.” “Can it make me think something that I don’t want? Or broadcast my thoughts?” Now that she’d said it out loud, Mia could hear how ridiculous that sounded. Saret shook his head with a smile. “No, nothing like that. It’s a very basic device. What you’re talking about is far more advanced science. Mind control and thought reading are still in theoretical stages of development.” “But it is theoretically possible?” Mia asked in amazement, the psych major in her suddenly salivating at the prospect of learning even a tiny sliver of what the Krinar knew about the brain. Now that she wasn’t so nervous, it occurred to Mia that the K sitting across from her was probably a veritable treasure trove of knowledge about her field of study. Saret nodded. “Theoretically, yes. Practically, not yet.” Mia opened her mouth to ask another question, and Korum interrupted, looking amused at her unabashed interest, “So does this make you feel more comfortable about getting the implant?” Mia considered it for a second. How much should she trust them? Korum had already proven himself to be a master manipulator, and she had no idea what Saret was like. But then again, like Korum said, they didn’t really need her permission to do this. The fact that they were giving her a choice is what ultimately convinced her. “I think so,” she said slowly. “Okay then, Saret, can you please do the honors?” “Um, wait,” Mia said, her heart starting to beat faster, “you mean I can get it right now? Is there an anesthetic or anything?” Saret smiled. “No, nothing like that. It’s very easy—you won’t even feel it.” “Okay...” Korum got up, still holding Mia’s hand. Saret stood up also and approached them. “May I?” he asked Korum, reaching for Mia. Korum nodded, and Saret extended his right hand, brushing Mia’s hair back

behind her left ear. She shuddered a little at the unfamiliar touch. Her nails dug into Korum’s hand, and she fought the urge to flinch. Even though they’d told her it wouldn’t hurt, she couldn’t help her primal reaction. “That’s it.” Saret stepped back. “What?” Mia blinked at him in shock. “It’s done. You have the implant. We’ll give it about a minute to sync with your neural pathways, and then we’ll test it out.” “But how? Where did it go in?” “It went in through the skin,” Korum explained, smiling at her. “You didn’t feel it, right?” “No, I didn’t feel anything.” Were they playing a joke on her? Saret laughed, enjoying her reaction. “Good, you weren’t supposed to. The device itself has analgesic properties, so you shouldn’t have felt the tiny cut it made in the thin skin behind your ear.” Mia raised her left hand, feeling for the wound, but there was nothing. “So tell me, Mia, do you feel any different? Are you thinking any thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking?” Korum asked her with a mocking gleam in his eyes. Mia shook her head, frowning at him slightly. She didn’t appreciate his making fun of her ignorance. And then her breath caught in her throat. Korum had just spoken to her in Krinar—and she had understood his every word. “Wait a second,” she said, and the words that came out of her mouth were strange and unfamiliar. Yet she knew exactly what they meant, and her facial muscles seemed to have no problem forming the sounds. “You just spoke in Krinar!” Korum smiled. “And so did you. How does it feel?” Mia blinked at him. It felt strange, yet effortless. “It seems to be okay,” she said again in Krinar. “I just don’t understand how it works. What if I want to say something in English?” “If you want to say something in English, you just have to think English, and you’ll switch languages,” Saret explained. “Right now, your brain’s natural response is to speak in Krinar because that’s the language in which we’re

addressing you. You have to actively think that you want to speak in English in order to do so when confronted with Krinar speech. However, later on, when you get used to the implant, switching back and forth will be automatic and won’t require any extra thought on your part. This is really not all that different from being multilingual. I’m sure you know people who speak several languages fluently —and now you have that same ability, just taken to a different level.” Mia listened to his explanation, the reality of it seeping in. “Wow,” she breathed softly, “so I can really, truly speak any known language now? Just like that?” She wanted to jump up and run around the room, screaming with glee, and she controlled herself with effort, not wanting to appear like a silly kid in front of Korum’s friend. It was just so unbelievably amazing. She had always been good with languages in school, studying Spanish and French throughout high school, but she’d never managed to become fluent. And now she could speak whatever language she wanted? Her earlier reluctance forgotten, Mia could now only think of the mind-blowing possibilities. “Just like that,” Korum confirmed, looking down at her with a smile, and Saret nodded as well. Struggling to appear dignified, Mia fought back the huge grin that threatened to split her face. “Thank you,” she told Saret. “I really appreciate it.” “You’re welcome, Mia. I hope to see you soon.” And with that, he touched Korum’s shoulder again and left, the wall to their right disintegrating to grant him passage.

3

O nce Saret was gone, Mia couldn’t contain her elation any longer. She felt like she would choke from the sheer delight that filled her from within, and she knew that she was grinning now, probably looking like an idiot. But she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore, her excitement too strong to be restrained. She was now a polyglot! She tried to picture herself speaking Cantonese, and the words suddenly came to her. Opening her mouth, she heard the harsh tonal sounds coming out as she told Korum, “I can’t believe this is real.” Promptly switching to Russian, she continued, “I can’t believe I can do this!” And then again in German, nearly jumping from excitement, “Oh my God, I can speak them all!” He grinned at her, his face glowing with pleasure. Letting go of her hand, he brought his palm up to her face, curving it around her cheek. Looking down at her, he said in English, “I’m glad you’re excited. There’s so much I want to show you, darling...” Mia stared up at him, her excitement over her newfound ability suddenly transforming into something else. He was so beautiful, and the warm expression on his face as he gazed down at her made her heart squeeze. “Korum,” she said softly, “I...” She didn’t know what she could say, how she could express what she was feeling. There was still so much unresolved between them, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care about the way their relationship had started, about all the mutual lies and betrayals. In this moment, she knew only that she loved him, that every part of her longed to be with him. Reaching up, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and tentatively brought his face down toward her. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him on the

mouth, her lips soft and uncertain on his. She rarely made the first move—he was usually the one to initiate sex in their relationship—and she could feel the sudden tension gripping his body at her touch. He kissed her back, his mouth hot and eager, and she found herself lifted up into his arms and carried somewhere. The destination turned out to be the bedroom, and they ended up on the bed, his powerful body covering her own, pressing her into the mattress with its weight. Mia’s hands frantically tore at his shirt, trying to find a way to get it off him, to feel his nakedness against her own. She felt like she was burning, her skin too sensitive, and the barrier of clothing between them was simply unbearable. Wanting more, she kissed him harder, catching his lower lip between her teeth and biting on it lightly. Korum sucked in his breath, and she felt him abruptly pull away. Before she could do more than blink, he reared up on the bed and swiftly pulled off his shirt and shorts, revealing his large erection. Mia’s mouth watered at the sight of his naked body, all toned muscle covered with that smooth golden skin, his chest lightly dusted with dark hair—and then he was on her, tearing off her dress and leaving her lying there, spread out and exposed before his eyes. Crawling on top of her, he kissed her again, more aggressively this time, and his hand found its way down her body and toward the junction between her legs. Mia moaned into his mouth, arching her hips toward his hand, and his fingers stroked her folds softly before one finger found its way inside her opening and pressed deep, causing her inner muscles to tighten with the sudden rush of pleasure. “I love how wet you are,” he murmured, penetrating her first with one finger and then two, stretching her, preparing her for his possession. Mia cried out, her head falling back, and felt the moist heat of his mouth on her neck, licking and nibbling the sensitive area. There was something else too, a strange but pleasant sensation that registered somewhere in the back of her brain, a warm vibration that felt like massaging fingers sliding over the back of her body, stroking and caressing her shoulders, the curve of her spine, gently squeezing her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. The bed, she realized dimly, it had to be the intelligent bed, and then she forgot about it, too immersed in what Korum was doing to pay attention to anything else. His fingers had found a rhythm, two thrusts shallow, one thrust deep, and his thumb was now circling her clitoris in a way that drove her insane. Her nails dug into his back, her entire body shaking with need, and then his thumb pressed on her clit directly and she came apart, convulsing in his arms, waves of pleasure radiating all the way down to her toes.

After the last aftershock was over, Mia opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring at her with such burning hunger on his face that her breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched again with answering desire. His fingers were still inside her, and he took them out slowly, causing her to shiver with pleasure. Bringing his hand up to his face, Korum licked the fingers slowly, clearly savoring her taste. Mia stared at him, mesmerized, unable to look away even as she felt his knee parting her thighs and the hardness of his cock pressing against her vulnerable folds. He began to enter her, still looking into her eyes, and Mia gasped from the sensation. Even though they’d had sex only a few hours earlier and he had prepared her with his fingers, her body still needed a moment to accommodate him, to stretch around the organ penetrating her so relentlessly. There was something incredibly intimate about being with him like that, feeling his bare skin against her breasts and his shaft inside her, while meeting his gaze with her own. It was as if he wanted to possess more than just her body, Mia thought vaguely, as if he wanted something more than just the sex. Still looking at her, he began to move his hips, slowly at first and then at a faster pace, each stroke adding to the tension that had again begun to coil inside her. Giving in to the sensations, Mia moaned and closed her eyes, feeling each thrust deep within her belly. He lowered his head, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear as he tongued it lightly, making her shiver again. And then his pace picked up again, his hips now driving into her with such force that she was pushed into the mattress, barely able to catch her breath between each powerful stroke. Her entire body tightened, and Mia screamed as another orgasm hit, her inner muscles squeezing him tightly. As her pulsations eased, she could feel his cock swelling up inside her, and then he came with a hoarse yell, grinding against her until his contractions were fully over. Breathing hard in the aftermath, Mia lay there, his body feeling heavy on top of her. Apparently realizing it, he rolled off her and pulled her against him, hugging her from the back. His hand found its way to her breast, and he just held her like that, pressed up against his body. As her galloping heartbeat slowed, she felt languid, relaxed... and incredibly contented. “Are you sleepy?” Korum whispered into her hair, stroking her nipple lightly with his thumb, causing it to peak against his palm. “No,” she whispered back. She felt like every muscle in her body had turned to mush, but she wasn’t sleepy. Her lengthy nap earlier had taken care of that. “What

time is it, anyway?” “It’s about eleven in the evening.” “I slept the entire day?” No wonder she felt so refreshed. “You must’ve been exhausted,” he murmured, raising his hand to move her hair to the side. The curls were probably tickling his face, Mia realized with some amusement. “So Saret makes house calls this late?” she asked, her thoughts returning to her new and amazing ability. A huge grin appeared on her face as she imagined demonstrating her skills to her family and friends. They would be so envious... “It’s not that late for us,” Korum explained, turning her around in his arms so that she was facing him. “You know we don’t sleep as much as humans. Any time before one in the morning and after 5 a.m. are considered regular working and visiting hours.” Mia blinked at him, her grin fading. It made sense, of course, but this was yet another way she would be an outsider here. If she tried to keep their “regular” hours, she would quickly find herself sleep-deprived. “You must’ve been bored in New York,” she said quietly, “with me sleeping all the time, and few places open in the wee hours of the night.” He smiled and shook his head. “No, not at all. That’s when I would usually get my work done, when you slept so sweetly in my bed.” “What kind of work? The designs?” Mia inquired with curiosity. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, about how he spent his days—and nights— when he wasn’t with her. It had been enlightening, observing his interactions with Saret today. She had caught a small glimpse of who Korum was outside of their relationship, and she was hungry to know more. “Yes, I often work on the designs—that’s my passion, that’s what I really love to do,” he answered readily, regarding her with a warm look in his eyes. “I also have to run my company, which takes up a big chunk of my time. I have a number of talented designers working for me, both here and on Krina, and there’s always something that requires my attention—” “You have people working for you on Krina?” Mia asked in surprise. “How do you communicate with them or oversee them?” “We have faster-than-light communication,” Korum explained, “so it’s not that much more difficult to communicate with Krina than with, say, China from

here. Of course, I can’t see them easily in person, but we do have what you would call ‘virtual reality,’ where we can have meetings that very closely simulate the real thing. You experienced it a little bit with the virtual map—” Mia nodded, staring at him attentively. She suspected very few humans knew what he was telling her right now. “Well, the map is a very basic version of that technology. What we use to conduct cross-planetary meetings is far more advanced.” “Is that also your design? The virtual reality, I mean?” Mia asked, wondering how far his technological reach extended. “Some of the latest versions, yes. The basic technology has been around for a very long time; it far predates both me and my company.” Mia’s stomach suddenly growled. She flushed, feeling embarrassed, and he grinned in response, handing her a tissue for clean-up. “Of course, you must be hungry after sleeping all day. Why don’t we eat and continue our conversation over dinner?” “That sounds good,” Mia said, realizing that she was starving. He got up, pulling her out of bed as well. Before she could even ask for it, he handed her a brand-new outfit that he’d managed to create in a matter of seconds. It was another dress, similar in style to the one that was now lying torn on the bed. This one was pale yellow in color, and Mia gladly put it on, loving the feel of the soft material against her skin. Korum pulled on his shorts and shirt from earlier, which had somehow survived their sex session. “Ready?” he asked, and Mia nodded. Taking her hand, he led her toward the kitchen.

LIKE THE LIVING ROOM AND BEDROOM, THE KITCHEN WAS SIMILAR IN APPEARANCE TO THE ONE IN HIS TriBeCa apartment. Further evidence of Korum’s attempt to make her feel comfortable here, thought Mia. Walking over to one of the chairs, she sat down and looked at Korum eagerly. He was an amazing cook—part of his passion for making things—and even his most basic creations were more delicious than anything Mia could come up with herself. “What would you like?” he asked her, walking toward the refrigerator. Mia shrugged, uncertain how to answer that. “I don’t know. What do you have?”

He smiled. “Pretty much everything. Do you want to try some foods native to Krina or would you rather stick with familiar tastes for now?” Her eyes widened. “You have foods from Krina here?” “Well, they’re not imported from Krina—they’re grown right here, in Lenkarda and our other Centers—but we did bring the seeds from our planet.” “I’d love to try them,” Mia said earnestly. She was an adventurous eater and loved to taste new things. Thanks to her Polish heritage, Mia had grown up eating foods that were not normally part of the standard American diet, and she now had an open mind when it came to enjoying different cuisines. Korum grinned, looking pleased by her enthusiasm. Taking a few things out of the refrigerator, he quickly chopped up some strange-looking plants and roots and put everything in a pot to cook. “How do you usually cook here?” she asked him, watching his actions with fascination. “I can’t imagine you use all these appliances normally...” “You’re right, we don’t. In fact, we usually don’t cook,” Korum said, taking out some red leafy plants that vaguely resembled lettuce. “Remember when I told you that our homes are intelligent?” Mia nodded. “Well, one of their functions is to always keep us supplied with food and to prepare it in whichever way we like it.” Mia gasped, unable to contain her excitement. “Seriously? Your house makes food for you whenever you want?” He smiled, amused at her reaction. “I can see how that would be appealing to you.” Mia’s cooking abilities were nonexistent—a fact that her mom frequently lamented—but she loved to eat. “Appealing? It’s amazing!” Why would anyone bother cooking when they could just have their house make food for them? “It’s all right,” he said with a slight shrug. “It’s convenient and it definitely saves a lot of time, but sometimes I get the urge to make something on my own, to see if I can improve on the recipes the house has in its database.” “Is that how you learned to cook so well? By tinkering with those recipes?” Korum nodded, his hands now massaging the red leafy vegetables in a way that made an orange substance emerge from the leaves. “More or less. Cooking is a

fairly recent hobby of mine—I’ve only gotten into it since coming to Earth. And it’s really only in the last few months that I’ve learned to use the human appliances instead of just programming the house to tweak the recipes it uses.” Mia stared at her lover in disbelief. He had an intelligent house that could make whatever food he wanted, and he was wasting time learning how to use the oven? Chopping vegetables using knives instead of utilizing their fancy technology? That was something she would never understand, Mia thought to herself. Not that she minded, of course; it was only because he had this strange hobby that she’d enjoyed so many delicious dishes back in New York. He finished squeezing the orange liquid out of the red leaves, washed his hands, and took out a long yellow plant that looked a little like a zucchini with a shiny skin. Quickly cutting it up, he added it to the bowl where the red leaves were now swimming in the orange liquid, and then sprinkled some greenish powder over the entire dish. Placing the bowl in the middle of the table, he put a few spoonfuls of the bright-colored salad on Mia’s plate and a larger helping on his. The utensils that he used were unusual, resembling some type of tongs with one flat side and one curved side. “Try it,” he invited, watching her expectantly. A smaller version of the same utensils were lying next to Mia’s bowl. Mimicking his earlier actions, Mia grabbed some of the leaves with her tongs and took a bite. The flavor exploded on her tongue, a perfect combination of sweetness, saltiness, and a tangy bite of spiciness underneath. “Oh my God, this is so good. What is it?” she managed to say once she’d swallowed. Her mouth was almost tingling from the overabundance of sensations. He smiled. “It’s a traditional dish from Rolert—the region of Krina where my family is from. It’s very easy to make, as you saw, but the trick is to squeeze the shari well—that’s the red plant—so it releases all the flavors and nutrients.” Mia listened to his explanation while gobbling down the rest of her portion. As soon as she finished, she immediately reached for a second helping. He grinned and polished off the salad on his own plate. “That was amazing. Thank you,” Mia said when the salad was completely gone. “I’m glad you liked it,” Korum said, carrying away the dishes. Instead of putting them in the dishwasher, he simply held them near a wall. An opening appeared, and he placed them there. And just like that, the dirty dishes were gone. Seeing the surprised look on Mia’s face, Korum explained, “I don’t like to clean

up, so I am using some of our technology to take care of that part.” “So the dishwasher is strictly decorative?” “More or less. You can use it if you like, but you saw what I just did, right?” Mia nodded. “You can do the same thing if you’re here on your own. Or just leave the dishes on the table, and the house will take care of them after a few minutes.” Walking back to the table, he sat down across from her and smiled. “The main dish will be ready in a couple of minutes.” “I can’t wait to try it,” Mia told him, smiling back in anticipation. So far, being in Lenkarda was proving to be a fantastic experience in every way, and she felt an intense wave of happiness washing over her as she stared at Korum’s beautiful face. It was hard to believe that only this morning she thought he would be deported to Krina, and now she was sitting in his house in Costa Rica, conversing with him in Krinar language, and enjoying the food he’d prepared for her again. As her mind drifted to the earlier events, her smile slowly faded. She could’ve lost him today, she realized again. If Korum was right about the Keiths’ intentions, then he could’ve been killed if the Resistance had succeeded. A sickening cold spread through her veins at the thought. It hadn’t happened, she told herself, trying to focus on the present, but her mind kept wandering. Even though the rebels had failed, the fact was that she’d participated in the attack on the K colonies. And now they wanted her to testify, she remembered with a chill going down her spine, to go in front of their Council and the United Nations and talk about her involvement. Korum seemed to think that he had the power to protect her from the Council, but she didn’t understand how something like that worked. “What’s the matter?” Korum asked, apparently puzzled by the suddenly serious expression on her face. Mia took a deep breath. “Can we talk about what happened this morning?” she asked cautiously. “And about what happens now?” His expression cooled slightly, the smile leaving his face. “Why?” he asked. “It’s over. I want us to move past it, Mia.” She stared at him. “But—” “But what?” he asked softly, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really want to talk

again about how you betrayed me? How you nearly sent me to my death? I’m willing to let it go because I know you were scared and confused... but it’s really not in your best interests to keep bringing this up, my sweet.” Mia inhaled sharply, trying to hold on to her temper. “I only did what I thought was best,” she said evenly. “And you knew everything all along—and you used me. And now it seems like your Council wants to use me too, so excuse me if I’m not quite ready to ‘move past it’.” “The Council doesn’t have any say where you’re concerned, Mia,” Korum said, looking at her with an inscrutable amber gaze. “They can’t tell you what to do.” “And why is that?” Mia asked, her heart beginning to beat faster. “Because I’m your charl?” “Exactly.” She stared at him in frustration. “And what does that mean? That I’m your charl?” He regarded her levelly. “It means that you belong to me and they don’t have any jurisdiction over you.” Before Mia could say anything else, he got up and walked over to the pot on the stove. Lifting the lid, he stirred the contents slightly, and an unusual but pleasant aroma filled the kitchen. “It’s almost ready,” he said, coming back to the table. The two-second pause helped Mia gather her composure. “Korum,” she said softly, “I need to understand. You, me—I feel like I’m part of some game where I don’t know the rules. What exactly is a charl in your society?” He sighed. “I told you, it’s our term for the humans that we’re in a relationship with.” “So why doesn’t your Council have jurisdiction over charl? It’s like your government, right?” “Yes, exactly,” Korum said, answering the second part of her question. “The Council is our governing body.” “And you’re part of it?” Mia remembered John telling her something along those lines once. “When I choose to be. I’m not a big fan of politics, but it’s unavoidable sometimes.” “How can you choose something like that?” Mia asked, staring at him in

astonishment. “Are you an elected official or does it work differently on Krina?” “It’s very different for us.” Korum got up and walked over to the stove again. “We don’t have democracy the way you do. Who gets to be on the Council is determined based on our overall standing in society.” Mia’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean? Like you’re born into the upper class or something?” He shook his head. “No, not born. Our standing is earned over time. It’s based largely on our achievements and how much we contribute to society. Our government is almost like an oligarchy of sorts—but based on meritocracy.” This was fascinating and somewhat intimidating. Korum must’ve contributed to the K society quite a bit, to have as much influence as he did. “So how many of you are on the Council?” Mia asked, watching him ladle the stew-like dish into bowls for both of them. It didn’t look as exotic as the shari salad, although she could see something purple among the reddish-brown vegetables. “Currently, there are fifteen Council members. The number fluctuates over time —it’s been as high as twenty-three and as low as seven. About a third of us are here on Earth, and the others are still on Krina.” Bringing the bowls back to the table, he sat down and moved one bowl toward her. “Go ahead,” he said, “I’m curious if you’ll like this also.” Temporarily shelving her questions, Mia tried a spoonful of the stew. To her surprise, it tasted rich and savory, as though it contained some kind of meat products. “This is all plant-based?” she asked, and Korum nodded, observing her reaction with a smile. His expression was warm again. Mia tried another bite. The texture was soft and a little mushy, almost as if she were eating potatoes, but the flavor was completely different. It reminded her a bit of Japanese food with its subtle seaweed-like undertones, just much more nuanced. After the second bite, Mia suddenly felt ravenous, her tastebuds craving more of the rich flavor, and she quickly downed the rest of the food on her plate. “This is really good,” she mumbled between the bites, and Korum nodded, finishing his own portion. After they were finished, he repeated the process with the dishes, bringing them toward the wall and letting the house take care of cleaning them. Mia observed him carefully, taking note of his exact actions. It didn’t seem difficult, the technology even more intuitive than some of the newer iPads, and she hoped she remembered

how to do it if she ever needed to clean the dishes herself. “Thank you—that was delicious,” she said when Korum was done. “You’re welcome,” he replied casually, sitting back down at the table. The look on his face was amused and slightly mocking, as if he suspected exactly what she was going to say next. Mia’s temper began to simmer again, and she decided not to disappoint him. “So why are charl not within the Council’s jurisdiction?” she asked stubbornly. “Because that’s the way it’s always been, Mia,” he replied softly. “Because humans are only accepted in Krinar society on those terms—as belonging to one of us. The only exception are those like Dana, who choose to leave their former life behind in order to become pleasure givers on Krina. So you see, my sweet, the Council cannot go to you directly. They have to go through me because, under Krinar law, you’re mine.” Mia sucked in her breath, feeling like there was insufficient air in the room. “So I was right,” she said quietly. “The Resistance didn’t lie to me—you did.” He leaned toward her, his eyes turning a deeper shade of gold. “They did lie to you. A charl is not a pleasure slave, or whatever it was they told you. It’s very rare for us to have a charl, and when we do—these are genuine and caring relationships.” “How can a genuine and caring relationship exist when the two people are not considered equals in your society?” she asked bitterly. He laughed, looking genuinely amused. “Those types of relationships exist all the time, Mia. Just look at your human society. Are you going to tell me that you don’t care for your children, your teenagers, or even your pets? Not to mention that your so-called developed nations have only recently accepted the idea of women’s rights, while many regions of Earth still don’t—” “Is that what I am to you? A pet?” Her stomach churned as she waited for his answer. He shook his head, looking at her intently. “No, Mia, you’re not a pet. You’re a twenty-one-year-old human girl who still has quite a bit of growing up to do. I wish I could leave you alone, so you could meet someone like that pretty boy from the club—” He was talking about Peter, Mia realized, surprised. “—but I can’t.”

Getting up, he walked around the table and sat down on a chair next to her. Raising his hand, he gently stroked her cheek while Mia stared at him, unable to look away from the golden heat in his eyes. “You’ve gotten under my skin,” he said softly, “and now I want you, in ways that I never thought were possible. I know you still have a lot to learn about me, about your new home here, and I will do my best to make things easier for you, to help you with your adjustment. But you need to stop worrying so much and fighting me at every turn. It can be very good between us, Mia... especially if you give it a chance.”

4

T hat

night—her first night in Lenkarda—Mia had strange and disturbing

dreams. She was flying somewhere again, only this time Korum held her on his lap for the duration of the trip. Her body felt unusually heavy and languid, and she couldn’t move—could only lie helplessly in his arms as he carried her somewhere after they landed. In her dream, he brought her into a strange white building where everything seemed to float and walls dissolved on a regular basis. Suddenly, she was lying on one of these floating objects, and it felt incredibly comfortable, as though it had been made for her body and her body alone. There was a mellow light illuminating everything, and a beautiful woman spoke to her softly, gently touching her face with elegant hands. Mia dreamed that she spoke to the woman too, told her how beautiful she was, and the woman laughed, telling Korum that his charl was charming. And then there was only darkness and Mia slept deeply for the rest of the night, the dream fading from her memory. As soon as she woke up the next morning, her mind immediately began replaying the conversation from yesterday and she groaned, burying her face in the pillow. Right away, the bed began a soft massage regimen designed to relax her suddenly tense muscles. Sighing with pleasure, Mia let it do its thing while she lay there, trying to make sense of Korum and their relationship. After his little speech last night, he had carried her to the bedroom and spent the next few hours showing her exactly how good it could be between them. Her sex still throbbed delicately when she thought of everything he’d done to her, the many ways he’d made her scream in mindless ecstasy. She still didn’t understand what Korum really wanted from her. Did he truly

think she could just calmly go along with everything? From what she’d learned thus far, being a charl in Krinar society was not all that different from being a slave. As far as their law was concerned, she was Korum’s possession—something that belonged to him. How could a genuine and caring relationship arise from that? He held all the power; he could do anything he wanted with her, and nobody would interfere. And even if she were willing to accept that kind of dynamic, there were so many other issues to overcome. As he’d said, she was a twenty-one-year-old human girl —immature and inexperienced compared to a K who’d lived for two thousand years. How could he ever regard her as anything but naive and ignorant? Not only did his species have far more advanced science and technology, but Korum himself must’ve also gathered tremendous knowledge over his centuries of existence. How could a human ever come close to that over a mere eighty- or ninety-year lifespan? Not that he would even want her when she got older; however strong their attraction was now, he would definitely lose interest in her when she started getting wrinkles and grey hair—if not much sooner. Closing her eyes at that painful thought, Mia tried to think about something else, to distract herself from such depressing reflections. On the plus side, physically, she felt amazing. Despite the dreams she vaguely recalled, she must’ve gotten great sleep because she was filled with energy, and her body was completely free of the soreness that usually accompanied their long sex sessions. Korum must’ve used some healing thingy on her again, she decided. It was difficult to believe it was only Saturday. Was it only last week that she was frantically writing her papers? It now seemed like a lifetime ago, with everything that had happened in the last couple of days. On Monday, she was supposed to start her internship in Orlando, working as a counselor at a camp for troubled children, and instead... Well, Mia had no idea what she would be doing instead—or what the future held for her, in general. Her life had taken such an unexpected turn that any kind of planning was impossible. She was also supposed to be packed and out of her room on Monday, she suddenly remembered with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Mia had made the arrangements to sublet her room out for the summer several months ago, and the subletter—a very nice girl named Rita—was supposed to move in at the beginning of next week. However, given Mia’s sudden departure from New York, all of her stuff was still there. Jumping out of bed, Mia ran to the small table where her purse was sitting. She’d

brought it with her from New York, and it contained something extremely valuable: her cell phone. She needed to call Jessie as soon as possible. Her roommate was probably already getting worried since she hadn’t heard from Mia yesterday, and she would definitely freak out if all of Mia’s belongings were still in her room when Rita moved in. Jessie would never believe her to be so irresponsible as to forget about the sublet. Pulling out her cell phone, Mia held her breath, praying that she had reception. But, of course, her hopes were in vain—there were zero bars. Not only was she in a foreign country, Mia realized, but the Ks’ shielding technology likely blocked all cell tower signals. Sighing, she put on a robe and went to brush her teeth before looking for Korum. If she didn’t contact Jessie this weekend, her roommate could easily have the police at Korum’s TriBeCa apartment by Monday.

ENTERING THE LIVING ROOM, MIA SAW KORUM SITTING ON THE COUCH WITH HIS EYES CLOSED. Surprised, she stopped and stared at him. Was he sleeping? Hesitant to disturb him, she just stood there, using this rare opportunity to study her alien lover with his guard down. With his eyes closed, the bronzed perfection of his face was even more striking. High cheekbones blended synergistically with a strong nose and a firm jaw, forming a face that was as masculine as it was beautiful. His eyebrows were dark and thick, slanting straight above his eyes, and his eyelashes looked incredibly long, spread out like dark fans above his cheeks. His hair had grown in the month that she’d known him—he’d probably been too busy chasing after the Keiths to get a haircut, Mia thought wryly—and it was starting to brush against his ears. As though sensing her gaze on him, he opened his eyes and smiled when he saw her standing there. “Come here,” he murmured, patting the couch next to him. “How are you feeling?” Mia blushed slightly. “I’m fine,” she told him. He just continued looking at her with a mysterious expression on his face, almost as if studying her for some reason. Feeling a little uncertain about where they stood after yesterday’s conversation, Mia cautiously approached him. Even though she’d spent most of last night writhing in pleasure in his arms, there was still so much unresolved between them. Pausing a couple of feet away, she asked, “Were you sleeping just now? I’m sorry to interrupt if you were...”

“Sleeping? No.” He looked surprised by her assumption. “I was just taking care of some business.” “Virtually?” Mia guessed, and Korum nodded, patting the couch again. Mia came closer, and he reached out with his hand, pulling her onto his lap. Burying his hand in the dark mass of curls, he tilted her head toward him and kissed her, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue stroking hers until she forgot everything but the incredible sensations he was provoking in her. Barely able to breathe, Mia moaned, melting helplessly against him, her core filling with liquid heat despite the fact that she should be wrung out after the excesses of last night. Apparently satisfied with her response, Korum raised his head and looked down at her with a half-smile, releasing her hair but still holding her tightly in his arms. “You see, Mia,” he said softly, “it really doesn’t matter what labels are placed on our relationship. It doesn’t change anything between us.” Mia licked her lips. They felt soft and swollen after his kiss. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t change anything,” she agreed quietly. Learning more about her role in K society didn’t lessen her attraction to him one bit. Her body didn’t care that, as a charl, she had no say in her own life. Korum smiled and got up, placing her on her feet. “I have to leave in about thirty minutes for the trial. Would you like to watch it from here?” Mia’s eyes widened. “Like on TV?” “Through virtual reality,” he told her. “I don’t want you there in person in case the Council tries to pressure you to testify.” “What would happen if I did? Testify, I mean?” Mia was suddenly curious why Korum was so determined to protect her from that. She wasn’t exactly eager to go in front of the Krinar Council, but he did seem unduly worried about it. “The traitors will have a Protector,” Korum explained. “It’s a bit like your lawyer, but different. The Protector is someone who genuinely believes in the innocence of the accused—it could be their family member or a friend. When you act as a Protector, you stake everything on the line—your reputation, your standing in society. If you don’t succeed in proving the innocence of those you’re protecting, then you lose almost as much as they do.” “And do the accused always have this Protector?” Mia asked, trying to wrap her mind around such a strange system. Korum shook his head. “No. But these traitors do, unfortunately. One of them,

Rafor, is the son of Loris—one of the oldest Council members—and Loris took it upon himself to be the Protector in this case. He’s one of the most ruthless individuals I know, and he would stop at nothing to protect his son. He also hates me. If I let you go up there as a witness, he’s going to do everything he can to make your testimony seem like it’s coming from an irrational, hysterical human that I’ve manipulated for my own purposes. He’s going to publicly humiliate you, make you break down in front of everyone, and I won’t let that happen.” Mia swallowed, beginning to understand a little. “You don’t have some kind of rules about the types of questions that can be asked of the witnesses?” “No,” Korum said. “With so much on the line, all is fair game. The only thing the Protector is not allowed to do is physically hurt you. But there wouldn’t be anything to prevent him from verbally destroying you—and believe me, Loris is really good at that.” “I see,” Mia said slowly, her stomach tying into knots at the thought of going up against a ruthless Krinar Council member determined to protect his son. “But don’t worry,” Korum reassured her. “It’s not going to happen. At best, they will get a recorded testimony from you—and that’s only if Arus really begs for it.” “Who’s Arus?” Mia remembered that name mentioned earlier, during Saret’s visit. “He’s another Council member and, among other things, he’s our ambassador to the human leaders.” “You don’t like him either?” Mia guessed. Korum’s lips curved into a grim, humorless smile. “Let’s just say we’ve had our share of political differences.” The look in his eyes was cold and distant, and Mia shivered slightly, glad that it wasn’t directed at her. “I see,” she said again. She didn’t really, but she didn’t think it would be wise to pursue this topic further. Taking a deep breath, she remembered the original reason why she’d wanted to talk to him. “Um, Korum, I wanted to ask you something...” His expression softened a little. “Sure, what is it?” Mia looked at him imploringly. “I have to call Jessie. My cell phone doesn’t seem to have reception here...” His eyebrows rose. “Call your roommate? Why?” “Because she’s going to be worried if she doesn’t hear from me for a couple of

days,” Mia explained, “and because I have to ask her for a big favor. All my stuff is still in my room, and the girl who’s subletting it will be moving in on Monday. I should’ve been packed and out of there yesterday, but...” “But you ended up here instead,” Korum said, immediately understanding. “All right, you can contact Jessie and let her know where you are. Maybe she can pack your things for you. If she does, I’ll have my driver pick them up and bring them to my New York apartment.” “That would be great, thanks,” Mia said, smiling in relief. “And if I could do a quick call to my parents too, that would be really awesome.” He smiled at her. “Sure. I just wouldn’t tell them where you are.” “No, definitely not,” Mia readily agreed. She tried to imagine her parents’ reaction to the news that she was in an alien colony in Costa Rica, and it wasn’t a pleasant picture. Thinking ahead, she asked, “What about when I go to Florida? What am I going to tell them then?” Korum shrugged. “The truth, I imagine. I’ll be with you, so they can ask me whatever questions they want to reassure themselves of your safety.” Mia’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to meet my parents?” “Of course, why not?” “Um...” Mia could think of a dozen reasons why not. She settled on the first one. “Well, I’m not sure how they would react to, you know, what you are...” He looked amused. “A Krinar? They’ll have to get used to the idea if they want to keep seeing you.” Mia stared at him. “What do you mean, if they want to keep seeing me?” “I mean, Mia,” he said softly, “that you’re with me now, and your family will need to come to terms with it.” At the anxious look on her face, he added, “And don’t worry, I’ll be patient with them. I know they care about you, and I’ll do my best to set their mind at ease.”

A FEW MINUTES LATER, WITH MIA STILL IN SHOCK AT THE THOUGHT OF HER PARENTS MEETING alien lover, Korum gave her a thin, silvery bracelet that resembled a wristwatch.

HER

“This is something I just created for you,” he explained, placing it around her left wrist. “This will be your personal computing device while you’re in Lenkarda. I made it so that it’s capable of connecting with human cell phones and computers,

and you can use it to call or video-chat with your family. I programmed it with all your connections—” Surprised, Mia studied the pretty object on her arm. It looked very much like a stylish piece of jewelry, and she vaguely remembered seeing some Ks on TV wearing something similar. “How does it work?” she asked, not seeing any obvious buttons on it. “It will respond to your verbal commands—that will be the easiest way for you to operate our technology right now.” “So it will understand me if I just say the instructions in natural speech?” Korum nodded. “It will understand you perfectly in any language because I designed it specifically for you.” Mia blinked. She wasn’t sure, but she suspected that Korum was one of the very few Ks who could do something like that—create a unique piece of technology solely for the use of his charl. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I’ll call Jessie right now.” Seeking a little privacy, Mia went into the bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, she lifted her left wrist closer to her mouth and spoke to the bracelet. “Call Jessie, please.” Two seconds later, she heard what sounded like dial tones signifying that the call was connecting. “Hello?” It was Jessie’s voice, and it emanated from the little device on Mia’s wrist. Unlike with the speakerphones that Mia was familiar with, she could hear Jessie with crystal-clear precision, as though she was in the room with her. Hoping that Jessie could hear her just as well, Mia said, “Hey Jessie, how’s it going? It’s Mia.” “Mia? Where are you calling from?” Jessie sounded surprised. “It shows up as an unknown number.” “Uh, yeah, about that... I’m actually out of town right now—” “What? Where?” “Um... in Costa Rica.” “WHAT?” Jessie’s shriek was earsplitting. Mia rubbed her ears. “Yeah, it was kind of an unplanned trip, but everything’s fine. I’m with Korum and—” “Oh my God, what the fuck are you doing in Costa Rica? Did that bastard make

you go there? Because if he did—” “No, Jessie, everything’s fine! Look, I just wanted to call you and let you know where I was—” “Mia, what are you doing in Costa Rica?” Jessie sounded marginally calmer, though Mia could still hear the panicked undertone in her roommate’s voice. “And where exactly in Costa Rica are you?” Mia paused for a second, trying to think how to best explain everything. “Well, I’m actually in Lenkarda—that’s the Costa Rican K Center—” “Oh my God, Mia, he brought you there? Did he find out?” There was sheer terror in Jessie’s voice now. “Does he know about... you know?” Mia sighed. “Yeah. He knew all along actually. Don’t worry—it’s all cool now...” “What do you mean, he knew all along?” “Look, Jessie, I don’t want to go into the whole story right now, but just believe me when I tell you that I’m not in any kind of danger, okay?” Mia spoke quickly, knowing that she probably only had minutes before Jessie did something drastic— like contacting the Resistance again. “We’ve talked about everything, and there was a misunderstanding on my part—and now everything’s fine. I’m just here for the summer. We’re going to go to Florida in a couple of weeks to visit my parents, and then I’ll be back in New York for the next school year. It’s really nothing to worry about, I promise you...” There was silence for a few seconds, and then Jessie said quietly, “Mia, I just don’t understand. You’re telling me that the alien you’ve been spying on brought you to a K Center, and you expect me to believe that everything’s okay?” Mia took a deep breath. “Everything is okay. Honestly. I made a mistake becoming involved with the Resistance. Korum explained everything, and I just didn’t understand the situation before—” “And now you do? How do you know you can believe anything he says?” “Look, I have to trust him, Jessie. He has no reason to lie to me now.” At least, Mia hoped so. “And he’s letting you call me?” Mia smiled. “Yes, of course, so you see—it’s really not what you think.” She could almost hear the wheels turning in Jessie’s head. “So you’re honestly telling me that you’re in a K Center and you’re totally fine?

You’re going to come back for school and everything?” “Absolutely,” Mia said, relieved that Jessie was coming around. “It just turned out that instead of going to Florida for the summer, I went to Costa Rica, that’s all.” “What about your internship in Orlando?” “That I haven’t quite figured out yet,” Mia reluctantly admitted. “I’ll have to call them and explain that I won’t be able to do it anymore.” “So you’re not going to do an internship the summer before your senior year? That’s a really bad career move, Mia...” “Yes, I know,” said Mia, not needing her roommate to remind her of that. “Maybe I’ll be able to get something during the school year with the career placement office... I’ll figure something out. But I’ll be going to Florida for a few days soon, so that’ll be nice.” “Going with him?” “Yep.” Mia grinned, imagining her roommate’s reaction to what she was about to tell her next. “He wants to meet my parents.” “WHAT? Are you kidding me?” Mia laughed. “I know, right?” “What, does he want to marry you or something?” Jessie sounded as incredulous as Mia still felt. “No, of course not,” Mia said, her mind boggling at the thought. “I think he’s just being nice. Maybe. I have no idea if meeting parents is a significant thing in K culture or not. Besides, he’s way older than my parents, so it’s not like he’s going to be intimidated by them...” “Wow, Mia,” Jessie said slowly. “I don’t even know what to tell you—” “You don’t have to say anything, Jessie. I know the whole thing is crazy, but I’m totally fine. Look, I actually wanted to ask you for a humongous favor...” “Let me guess,” Jessie said dryly. “Rita is moving in on Monday, and all your wonderful new clothes are everywhere.” “Yes, precisely.” Mia injected a pleading note into her voice. “Jessie, if you do this for me, I’ll be so grateful...” She could hear Jessie sighing. “Of course. I’ll do it for you. But where should I put everything? In storage?”

“No, Korum’s driver in New York can pick it up and bring it to his place.” “Oh... I see,” Jessie said, sounding oddly hesitant. “So does this mean you’re officially moving in with him?” “No, of course not! It’s just for the summer, instead of storage, you know.” “I don’t know, Mia.” Jessie sounded upset again. “Somehow, I don’t see you living here again...” “Jessie...” Mia didn’t really know what to say. She couldn’t promise anything because so much was still uncertain. Would Korum want her to live with him in TriBeCa when they came back to New York? And would it be a bad thing if he did? She’d only known him for a month at this point, and it was difficult for Mia to imagine what their relationship would be like in another two months. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” Jessie said, sounding falsely upbeat. “We couldn’t stay as roommates forever, you know. This was bound to happen. Granted, it happened under some pretty strange circumstances, but I’m sure his penthouse is much nicer than our roach-infested building.” “Jessie, please... It’s too soon to talk about that—” “I don’t know,” Jessie said, a teasing note entering her voice. “You guys seem to be moving along pretty fast—already meeting parents and everything...” Mia laughed, shaking her head in reproach even though her roommate couldn’t see it. “Oh, please, now you’re just being silly.” They chatted some more, with Jessie asking about Mia’s experience thus far in Lenkarda. Mia gladly told her about the food and bragged about the intelligent technology she’d encountered, describing the bed in minute detail. As expected, Jessie agreed that there were some definite perks to having an affair with a K. She was also blown away by Mia’s newly acquired language abilities. “Do you really understand me?” Jessie asked in Mandarin, a language she’d picked up from her immigrant parents. “Yes, Jessie, I really do understand you. Isn’t that amazing?” Mia answered in the same language, and rubbed her ears again when Jessie shrieked with excitement. Finally, promising to call Jessie again in a few days, Mia told the little device to hang up and disconnected. Her parents were next on the list.

Her mom was happy to hear from her, even though she seemed concerned that Mia was not calling from her usual phone. “Don’t worry, mom,” Mia explained. “My cell is malfunctioning, and I just got this temporary phone to use and haven’t figured out all the settings yet.” That was mostly true. Her cell phone was indeed malfunctioning in the K Center, and she hadn’t yet explored all the capabilities of Korum’s device. “All right, honey,” her mom said. “Just don’t forget to call or text us, please.” “I won’t,” Mia promised. “I’ll be busy for the next few days with the volunteering project, but I’ll definitely call you on Wednesday.” “How is that going, by the way?” her mom asked, sounding a little irritated. Mia had told her parents she was staying in New York for an extra couple of weeks to help out her professor with a special program for disadvantaged high school kids. Naturally, her mom hadn’t been pleased with the delay in seeing their youngest daughter. “It’s great,” Mia lied. “I’m learning a lot, and it’ll be phenomenal for my resume.” She mentally cringed at having to lie to her parents like this, but she couldn’t tell them the truth, not yet. Korum was right: it would be best if they learned about him in person and had a chance to talk to him to alleviate their concerns. If Mia told them where she was right now, her parents would be beside themselves. Trying to redirect the conversation, she asked, “How is dad doing? Has he had any headaches recently?” “Yeah, he had one a few days ago,” her mom said, sighing. “It was not one of his worst ones, thankfully.” “Tell dad to stop stressing and take it easy with the computer. And take regular walks, okay?” “Of course, honey, we’re trying.” “Take care of yourselves, all right?” Her mom promised to do so, they chatted some more, and then Mia said goodbye and went to find Korum before he left for the trial. He’d offered her the opportunity to observe the proceedings, and Mia intended to take him up on that offer.

5

M ia

entered the tall white dome without hesitation, a chunk of the wall

disintegrating to grant her passage. Korum had assured her that nobody could see, hear, or feel her in this particular version of his virtual world, and she could get the full experience of attending the trial without any stress or unpleasant encounters with the Protector. There were interactive versions of virtual reality too, he’d explained, but those were not appropriate for this situation. He himself would attend in person; it was his responsibility as a Council member and one of the chief accusers in this case. Stepping inside the dome, Mia gasped in amazement. The place was teeming with Krinar, both male and female, all dressed in the light-colored clothes that their race seemed to favor. It was an incredible sight, with thousands of tall, gorgeous, golden-skinned aliens occupying the giant building from floor to ceiling. The spectators—at least that’s what Mia assumed they were—were literally stacked one on top of another, each occupying the floating seats that Mia was beginning to learn were a staple here in Lenkarda. The seats were arranged in circles around the center of the dome, with each circle floating directly on top of the next. It was a neat arrangement, Mia realized, like an arena of sorts, but with floating seats. At the center, there were about a dozen podium-like places, with roughly a third of them occupied by Krinar. The rest were empty. Carefully making her way toward the center, Mia tried to avoid bumping into anyone, but it was unavoidable. The place was simply too tightly packed. The attendees couldn’t feel her, but Mia could definitely feel them when she would get rammed by someone’s elbow or have her foot stepped on. How this virtual reality business worked, she had no idea, but it was annoying and rather painful to be the invisible girl in a crowd. Finally, she succeeded in getting through to the center, where a large circular area was completely empty.

Standing safely in that area, Mia looked around with awe. From the inside, the walls of the dome were transparent, and bright sunlight poured in from all directions, reflecting off the white color of the seats and the light-colored clothing of the Krinar. Unlike the loose, floaty outfits she’d seen them wear before, their clothes today seemed less casual, with more structured lines and fitted shapes for both males and females. Most of the Ks seemed to have dark hair and eyes, although here and there she could see a few with lighter brown and chestnut-colored hair. Korum was of average height here, Mia realized, observing the tall aliens all around her. Someone like her—5’3” tall and weighing a hundred pounds—would probably be considered a midget. Turning her attention to the podium-like structures, Mia saw Korum sitting behind one of them. Grinning at the thought of observing him while he couldn’t see her, Mia walked over to him. He seemed occupied with something in his palm— probably the computer he had embedded there—and paid no attention to her virtual presence. Smiling wickedly, Mia approached him from behind and touched him, running her hands over his broad back. There was no reaction from him, of course, and Mia laughed out loud, imagining the possibilities. She could do anything she wanted to him, and he wouldn’t have a clue. Testing out a theory, she licked the back of his neck. No reaction from him again, but she could taste the faint saltiness of his skin, smell the familiar warm scent of his body. Predictably, Mia could feel herself getting turned on, and she pressed against him, rubbing her breasts on the soft material of his ivory shirt. They were surrounded by thousands of spectators, and it didn’t matter because no one—not even Korum himself—knew what she was doing. Grinning hugely, Mia lightly bit his neck and reached for his crotch, stroking the area through his clothes. She felt incredibly naughty, like she was doing something forbidden, even though she knew the entire thing was more or less taking place inside her head. Before she could continue further, however, the noise from the crowd suddenly dropped in volume, and Mia pulled away, realizing that the trial was beginning. The time for games was over. The podium-like table in front of which Korum was sitting was low enough that Mia could climb on top of it, and she did so, making herself comfortable. It seemed like a good spot from which to observe the upcoming drama. Carefully examining her surroundings, she came to the conclusion that the other podium areas were occupied by the other Council members. A third of them

were there in person, while the other seats—the empty ones—were now filled with holographic images of both male and female Krinar. She assumed the holographs were for those who couldn’t be there in person—perhaps because they were on Krina. She spotted Saret sitting across from them, but she had no idea who the other Krinar were. Mia counted fifteen podiums standing all around the empty circle, but only fourteen were occupied. It was probably the Protector’s seat, Mia thought; it made sense that he wouldn’t be judging the trial, given his son’s role as one of the accused. A chime-like sound echoed through the dome, and the crowd went completely silent. All of a sudden, the floor in the center of the circle dissolved, and seven large silvery cylinders floated out. The floor solidified again, and the cylinders landed on it. As Mia watched with bated breath, the walls of the cylinders disintegrated, leaving only the circular tops and bottoms intact. And inside each one, Mia saw the Keiths—the seven Ks who had risked all to help humanity achieve a brighter future. Or, according to Korum, to try to rule the Earth themselves.

THE KEITHS STOOD THERE, EACH WITHIN HIS OR HER OWN CIRCLE, THEIR EXPRESSIONS BITTER AND defiant. Silvery collars encircled their necks—the same collars Mia had seen the guards put on them when they were captured. She guessed they were the K version of handcuffs. There were five males and two females, all tall and beautiful as befitting of their species. Curious to see Korum’s reaction, Mia glanced behind her and nearly recoiled at the icy contempt on his face as he looked at the traitors. She could see the dangerous yellow flecks in his eyes, and his mouth was drawn into a flat, cruel line. He truly hated and despised the Keiths for what they’d done, Mia realized with a shiver, and she wondered again how he’d managed to forgive her for her actions. The arena was still deathly silent. There were no jeers or boos, as one might have expected from such a large crowd. It was the biggest trial of the last ten thousand years, Saret had said, and Mia could see that reflected in the grave mood of the spectators. A portion of the floor dissolved again, and another Krinar male came up. He was sitting on a broad floating seat, and he got up as soon as the floor solidified again. Unlike every other Krinar there, he was wearing clothes that were black in color.

Probably the Protector, Mia thought. Another chime echoed through the building, and all the Council members got up from behind their podiums. One of them stepped forward and approached the new arrival. Touching his shoulder, the Council member said, “Welcome, Loris.” The Protector smiled and reciprocated the shoulder-touching gesture. “Thank you, Arus.” Then, turning his attention to the rest of the Council, he acknowledged their presence with a few curt nods. So these were Korum’s opponents, Mia thought, observing them with a great deal of interest. Loris’s hair was jet-black, and his eyes were the color of onyx. He reminded her of a hawk, with his sharply handsome features and a faintly predatory expression on his face. In contrast, Arus seemed much more approachable. With olive skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes, he was very typical of his kind, and there was a certain genuineness in his smile that made Mia think he might not be all that bad as a person. After the greeting was complete, Arus returned to his podium, leaving Loris standing there. Hearing movement behind her, Mia turned around and saw that Korum had risen to his feet. He walked around the podium toward the center of the arena, his movements slow and deliberate. Smiling coldly at Loris, he asked, “Is the Protector ready for the presentation?” Loris nodded, a look of barely contained anger on his face. It seemed that Korum hadn’t exaggerated when he said that Loris hated him. With a flick of his wrist, Korum brought up a three-dimensional image that hovered in mid-air, easily available for everyone to see. “My fellow Earth inhabitants and all who are watching us on Krina right now,” Korum said, his voice echoing throughout the dome, “I would like to show you proof of a crime so heinous that the likes of it haven’t been seen in Krinar history for over a hundred thousand years. A crime in which a handful of traitors unhappy with their standing tried to send fifty thousand fellow citizens to their death in a pathetic grab for power. These traitors—the seven individuals you see before you right now—had no desire to advance us as a species, as a society. No, they simply wanted power, and they didn’t care what they had to do to achieve it. They lied, they betrayed our people, they manipulated humans susceptible to their empty promises... and they would have killed each and every single one of you in their quest to rule this particular planet, to be worshipped by the gullible humans as their saviors—”

“That’s a lie,” interrupted Loris, speaking through clenched teeth. Red spots of color appeared underneath his swarthy skin, and Mia could almost feel the effort it took him to control himself. “You set them up—” “It’s not your turn to speak right now, Protector,” Korum told him, his lips curving in a contemptuous smile. “It’s my turn to present the evidence.” And with that, he made a small gesture with his hand, and the three-dimensional recording came to life. The scene was a familiar one for Mia—she had been there in a virtual setting only yesterday. As the recording played, she again saw the old hut where the traitors had taken shelter during the Resistance attack and heard their communication with the mysterious human general. She witnessed the Resistance forces’ attempt to storm Lenkarda with their K weapons and relived their crushing defeat. And even though she was seeing this for the second time and knew that most of the human fighters had survived, Mia still felt sick to her stomach by the time the film was over. Another movement of Korum’s hand, and the next recording began to play— this one of a phone conversation between one of the Keiths and some Resistance leaders. They were clearly coordinating their actions prior to the attack. And there were more: three-dimensional videos of the Resistance meetings where they had talked about the Keiths, interactions between human government officials discussing the potential for Earth’s liberation, and even a video of John telling Mia about their change in plans and how she had to steal Korum’s designs. Watching all this, Mia again realized just how thoroughly Korum had manipulated her. While she’d thought she was spying on him, he had been tracking her every move; there had never been an opportunity for her to help the Resistance —she had always been his pawn. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought. By the time all the recordings had been shown, at least four hours had passed. Mia was hungry and thirsty, and she had a pounding headache, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her spot on top of Korum’s podium, morbidly fascinated by the proceedings. Finally, Korum’s presentations appeared to be over. In the deathly silence that gripped the arena, Korum said in a ringing tone, “And that, fellow Krinar citizens and Earth inhabitants, is why I propose the ultimate punishment for these traitors: complete rehabilitation.” A murmur ran through the crowd, and Mia could almost feel the shock

emanating from some of the spectators. Whatever complete rehabilitation meant, it was clearly not something that was commonly used. The Keiths looked shocked as well, and Mia could see the fear on some of their faces. Whatever punishment they’d been expecting was obviously different from what Korum had just proposed. The Protector stepped forward. Like Korum, he had been standing in the center for the entire time that the recordings had been playing. His black eyes were filled with fury. “That’s unthinkable, and you know it,” he gritted out. “Even if they were guilty, what you’re proposing is out of the question.” “Are you admitting their guilt then?” Korum asked, his tone dangerously soft. Loris’s brows snapped together. “Far from it. You know they haven’t done anything wrong—” “We’ll let the Council and the Elders decide that, won’t we?” Korum replied, staring at the other Krinar with a mocking look on his face. “Your turn to present is tomorrow, and I, for once, am very eager to hear how these traitors could possibly be innocent.” “Oh, you will see,” Loris said, giving him a look of sheer hatred. “And so will everyone else.” And on that note, a chime sounded again. The trial proceedings were over for the day.

THE KRINAR DREW IN A DEEP BREATH, GLAD THAT THE FIRST DAY OF THE TRIAL WAS OVER. IT HAD GONE exactly as he’d expected. Korum had demanded the ultimate punishment for the ones he regarded as traitors. If the K hadn’t taken precautions, he could have easily been the eighth figure standing there, being judged by the Council. He had distanced himself from the Keiths just in time. Now nobody would suspect his involvement in the attack on the Centers. He had made sure of that.

6

S tarving

and mentally exhausted, Mia exited the virtual reality setting by

telling her wristwatch-bracelet device to bring her back home. Her breakfast this morning had been light, just a mango-avocado smoothie, and she felt almost faint with hunger at this point. Opening her eyes, she got up from the couch where she had been sitting and went in search of food. Approaching the refrigerator, she opened it decisively and stared at the various plant foods that occupied it. Some were familiar—she saw a couple of tomatoes and sweet peppers—but others were completely foreign. Mia wished that Korum were here, so he could make one of his delicious and filling concoctions. However, since he’d been at the trial in person, she figured he might be delayed for at least a while longer. Suddenly, she got an idea. Korum had mentioned that one of the house’s functions was to prepare foods. Would it do it for her as well? “Hey, house,” Mia said tentatively, feeling like an idiot, “can you please prepare me something to eat?” For a second, nothing happened, and then a melodious female voice asked, “What would you like, Mia?” Mia nearly jumped in excitement. “Oh my God, you talk! That’s great! Um... I’d like the same thing Korum made yesterday, especially if it can be prepared quickly.” “Yes, Mia,” the female voice responded softly. “The shari salad will be ready in two minutes, and the kalfani stew will be done six minutes later.” Grinning in amazement, Mia walked over to the sink to wash her hands. By the time she finished and sat down at the table, a part of the wall had opened and a bowl of salad emerged, floating calmly toward the table.

Mia watched in open-mouthed shock as the salad landed neatly in front of her. It was the perfect portion size for her, and the tong-like utensil was already inside the bowl. The dish was completely ready for her consumption. “Um, thank you,” she said, trying to look around to see where the voice had been coming from. Was there a computer embedded somewhere in the ceiling? “You’re welcome, Mia,” the female voice said again. “Please enjoy, and I will have the next dish ready for you within minutes.” Grinning again, Mia dug into the food. So far, she was loving Krinar technology. It was everything that people had been fantasizing about in science fiction, yet it was entirely real—and had an almost magical twist to it that Mia found very appealing. She particularly appreciated how easy it was to operate everything. Natural language voice commands, simple hand gestures—it all seemed so intuitive. By the time she finished the salad, the stew-like dish from yesterday had floated to the table as well. Mia greedily consumed it, feeling much of the earlier tiredness leaving her as her blood sugar levels stabilized. The food was as delicious as it had been yesterday, and Mia wondered again why Korum bothered learning how to cook when he had access to such remarkable technology in his house. Finally replete, she cleaned up by bringing the dishes toward the wall—which opened up to accept them, just as it had for Korum—and went into the living room. It seemed like as good a time as any to call the camp director in Orlando and let him know that she wouldn’t be starting on Monday.

BY THE TIME KORUM ARRIVED HOME AN HOUR LATER, MIA HAD MANAGED TO GET BORED. She’d spoken with the camp director and explained that unforeseen circumstances were preventing her from coming to Florida this summer. He had been disappointed, but surprisingly nice about the whole thing, which was a tremendous relief for Mia. Afterwards, she explored the house a bit and even tried talking to it, but the melodious female voice didn’t seem all that interested in carrying on a conversation. It did ask whether Mia was warm and comfortable (which she was) and if she desired anything to eat or drink (which she didn’t), but that was the extent of their interaction. There didn’t seem to be any books around or anything else for her to amuse herself with, either. Sighing, Mia plopped down on the couch in the living room and stared at the

greenery outside. She wished she were brave enough to venture out, but the thought of getting lost in a Costa Rican forest didn’t appeal to her. Studying the bracelet-like device on her wrist, Mia wondered if it would work like an actual computer, enabling her to get on the internet. She thought about trying it, but decided to wait for Korum to demonstrate more of its capabilities to her. Finally, Korum walked in. He looked tense and a little tired, and Mia guessed that more politics had gone on behind the scenes after the trial had formally adjourned. Nevertheless, he smiled when he saw her sitting there. “Hi,” she said, ridiculously glad to see him. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite the fact that she had just seen him treat his opponents almost cruelly, she couldn’t help the warm sensation that spread through her in his presence. His smile widened. Walking over to join her on the couch, he kissed her softly and pulled her closer to him for a hug. Mia hugged him back, surprised, and mumbled into his shirt, “Is everything okay? Did anything happen?” He shook his head and simply held her, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. “No,” he murmured, “everything is good now.” After a few more seconds, he pulled back and looked at her. “I hope you got something to eat? I programmed the house to respond to your verbal commands, to make sure you wouldn’t have any difficulties here.” Mia smiled. “Yeah, I figured it out. Thanks for that.” “Good,” he said softly, “I want you to feel comfortable here.” Mia nodded slowly. “I’m starting to, a bit. But I actually wanted to ask you something...” “Of course, what is it?” “I’m bored,” Mia told him bluntly. “I don’t really have anything to do when you’re not here. At home, I have school, work, friends, books, TV—” “Ah, I see,” Korum said, smiling. “I haven’t shown you everything that your little computer can do. Tell it that you would like to read something.” “Okay,” Mia said dubiously, looking at her bracelet, “I would like to read something...” Almost immediately, one of the walls parted, revealing a section hidden inside— a shelf of some kind. And as Mia watched, an object that looked like a thick sheet of paper floated out toward her.

“How does all this stuff float?” Mia asked in amazement, plucking the object out of thin air. “Plates, chairs, now this...” “The premise is similar to the shields we use to protect our settlements,” Korum explained. “It’s a type of force-field technology, just applied on a much smaller scale.” “Oh, I see,” Mia said, as if that told her anything. A technology whizz she definitely wasn’t. Studying the sheet in her hands, she saw that it was actually made of some plastic-like material. “This is something you can entertain yourself with,” he said, sitting down next to her. “It’s a little like your computer tablets. You can read any book—human or Krinar—that’s ever been written, and you can watch any kind of film you want. This will also work with verbal commands, so you can just tell it what you want to see or read.” “Can I use it to learn more about the Krinar? To read some history books or something?” asked Mia, staring at the object with excitement. “Sure. You can use it for whatever purpose you want.” Mia grinned. “That’s great, thanks!” He smiled back at her. “Of course. I don’t want you to be bored here.” Something suddenly occurred to Mia. “Wait, you said it works by verbal commands, but I’ve never seen or heard you using verbal commands on anything. How do you control all your technology?” “I have a very powerful computer that essentially allows me to control everything through a specific type of thinking,” Korum explained, holding up his palm. “It’s a type of highly advanced brain-computer interface. I use some gestures too, but that’s just out of habit.” Mia stared at him. “So you control electronics with your mind?” “Krinar electronics, yes. Human technology is not designed for that.” “What about the others? Is that how they do it too?” Korum nodded. “Many of them, yes. Some still prefer the old-fashioned way, which is voice commands and gestures, but most have switched over. The majority of our technology is designed to accommodate both ways of doing things because our children and young ones only use the first method.” “Why?” Mia asked, looking at him in fascination.

“Because their brains aren’t fully formed and developed, and because there’s a learning curve involved with using brain-computer interfaces. That’s why I’m setting up everything with voice capabilities for you for now—it’s much easier for a beginner to master. Later on, when you understand our technology and society better, I can set you up with the new interface.” Mia’s eyes widened. He would give her the ability to control Krinar technology with her mind? The possibilities were simply unimaginable. “That sounds...” “Like a little too much right now?” Korum guessed, and Mia nodded. “Hence the voice commands for now,” he said. “Your society has advanced far enough that you can easily understand that type of interface, and it’s very intuitive.” “So for now, I’ll be like one of your children?” Mia asked wryly. His lips curved into a smile. “If you were Krinar, you would actually be considered an adolescent, age-wise.” “I see.” Mia gave him a small frown. “And at what age do you become adults?” “Well, physically, we attain our adult characteristics right around the same age as humans, somewhere in the late teens or early twenties. However, it’s only around a couple of hundred years of age that a Krinar is considered mature enough to be a fully functioning member of our society—although it could be sooner if they make some type of extraordinary contribution.” For some reason, that upset her. Mia didn’t know why it mattered to her that she would not be considered a fully functioning member of Krinar society at any point within her lifetime. It’s not like they would ever view a human as such anyway. And besides, she had no idea how long her relationship with Korum would last. Still, it rankled her somewhat, the fact that Ks would always consider her little more than a child. Not wanting to dwell on that topic, she asked, “So did the trial today go as you expected?” Korum shrugged. “Just about. Loris will try to twist everything, to make it seem like I made the whole thing up. But there’s too much evidence of their betrayal, and I don’t think anything can save them at this point.” “What does complete rehabilitation mean?” Mia asked, unbearably curious. “Everyone seemed shocked when you suggested it.” “It’s our most extreme form of punishment for criminals,” Korum said, his eyes

narrowing slightly. “It’s used in cases when an individual poses a severe danger to society—as these traitors clearly do.” “Okay... but what is it?” “Saret can do a better job of explaining it to you,” Korum said. “The exact mechanics of it fall within his area of expertise. But essentially, whatever it was that made them act that way—that personality trait will be thoroughly eradicated.” Mia’s eyes widened. “How?” Korum sighed. “Like I said, it’s not my area of expertise. But from what I know as a layman, it involves wiping out a lot of their memories and creating a new personality for them. It’s only done when there’s no other choice because it’s very invasive for the mind. The rehabilitated are never the same afterwards—which is exactly the point in this case.” “So they wouldn’t remember who they are?” That did seem pretty horrible to Mia. “They might remember bits and pieces, so they wouldn’t be completely blank slates, but the essence of their personality—and that part that made them commit the crime—would be gone.” Mia swallowed. “That does seem harsh...” His eyes narrowed again. “It’s better than what your kind does to criminals. At least we don’t have capital punishment.” “You don’t?” Mia wasn’t sure why she was so surprised to hear that. Perhaps it had to do with the popular image of the Ks as a violent species, arising primarily from the bloody fights during the Great Panic. “No, Mia, we don’t,” Korum told her sardonically. “We’re really not the monsters you’ve imagined us to be.” “I never said your people were,” Mia protested, and he laughed. “No, just me, right?” Mia lowered her eyes, unable to bear the mockery in his gaze. “I don’t think you’re a monster,” she told him quietly. “But I do think it’s wrong for you to treat me like a possession just because I’m human. I’m a person with feelings and desires, and I did have a life before you came into it—” “And now you don’t?” Korum asked, tilting her chin up until she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. Noticing the deeper gold surrounding his irises, Mia

nervously moistened her suddenly dry lips. “You think that I mistreat you? That I keep you from the fascinating life you enjoyed before?” “I liked the life I had before,” Mia told him defiantly. “It was exactly what I wanted. It might’ve seemed boring to you, but I was happy with it—” “Happy with what?” he asked her softly. “Studying day and night? Hiding behind baggy clothes because you were too scared to actually try living? Being a virgin at the age of twenty-one?” Mia flushed with anger and embarrassment. “That’s right,” she told him bitterly. “Happy with my family and my friends, happy living in New York and going to school there, happy with the internship I had planned for this summer—” His expression darkened. “I already promised that you will see your family soon,” he said, his tone dangerously flat. “And I told you that I will bring you back to New York for the school year. You don’t trust me to keep my word?” Mia took a deep breath, trying to control herself. It probably wasn’t the wisest move on her part, arguing with him like that in her circumstances, but she couldn’t help it. Some reckless demon inside her had awoken and wouldn’t be denied. “You’ve lied to me before,” she said, unable to hide the resentment in her voice. “Oh really?” he said, his words practically dripping with sarcasm. “I lied to you?” Mia swallowed again. “You manipulated me into doing exactly what you wanted,” she said stubbornly. “I didn’t want any part of it—all I wanted was to be left alone...” He regarded her with an inscrutable expression on his face. “And do you still?” he asked softly. “Want to be left alone?” Mia stared at him, caught completely by surprise. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “And don’t lie to me, Mia,” he added quietly. “I always know when you’re lying.” Mia blinked furiously, trying to hold back a sudden rush of tears. With that one simple question, he had stripped her bare, laid out all of her vulnerabilities for him to exploit. She didn’t want him to know the depth of her feelings for him, didn’t want her emotions exposed for him to toy with. What kind of an idiot was she, to want to be with someone like him? To hate and love him so intensely at the same time?

His lips curved into a half-smile. “I see.” Leaning toward her, he kissed her on the mouth softly, his lips strangely gentle on hers. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you an internship,” he said, pulling away from her and getting up. “And I’ll introduce you to some other human girls in this Center—maybe you’ll meet some new friends.” And as Mia looked at him in shock, he smiled at her again and went into his office, leaving her to digest everything that had just happened.

7

T hree hours later, Mia was lying on the bed, completely absorbed in the story of the early evolution of the Krinar, when Korum walked into the bedroom. “We’re going to dinner in twenty minutes,” he told her, “so you might want to get ready.” Startled, Mia looked up at him. “To dinner where?” “Arman is an acquaintance of mine,” Korum explained, sitting down on the bed next to her and placing his hand on her leg. “He invited us over to his house when I told him about you. He also has a charl, a Costa Rican girl who’s been with him for a couple of years now. She’s very eager to meet you.” Mia grinned, suddenly very excited. “Oh, I’d love to meet her as well!” She couldn’t wait to talk to another girl in her situation and learn about Ks from the perspective of a human who also knew them intimately—and much longer. Korum smiled back. “I figured you would. How’s your reading going so far?” “It’s fascinating,” she told him earnestly. “I had no idea you had also evolved from an ape-like species.” He nodded. “We did. There were many parallels in our evolution and yours, except there ultimately ended up being two different species on Krina: us and the lonar—that’s the primates I told you about before. We were bigger, stronger, faster, longer-lived, and much more intelligent than the lonar, but we were tied to them because we needed their blood to survive.” Mia stared at him. She’d just learned all that as well, and she couldn’t get the images of the early Krinar out of her head. The book had gone into some very vivid descriptions of how the ancient Ks had hunted their prey, with each male Krinar staking out his territory around a small group of the lonar and fighting off the other

Ks to preserve the blood supply for himself and his mate. Once inside a K’s “territory,” the lonar had very little chance of survival, as they would be constantly weakened by material blood loss and traumatized by the experience of being preyed upon. Ultimately, their numbers had dwindled, and the Krinar were forced to adapt, to learn new strategies of feeding. At that point, the Krinar were still a primitive species, little more than huntersgatherers. However, the rapid reduction in the lonar population meant that the Ks had to evolve beyond their territorial roots, to learn to collaborate with one another in order to preserve what remained of their critical blood supply. The next hundred thousand years were a time of rapid progress for the Krinar, marking the birth of science, technology, medicine, culture, and the arts. Instead of hunting the lonar, the Ks began to farm them, creating favorable conditions for them to live and reproduce and doing their best to feed only on those who were deemed to be past their prime reproductive age. These efforts managed to temporarily arrest the decline in the lonar population, and the Krinar society began to prosper. Even with the low birth rate, their numbers began to grow as fewer Ks perished in violent fights to defend their territories. Innovation began to be highly valued, and the Ks invented space travel shortly thereafter. It was the first Golden Age in Krinar history, a time of tremendous scientific achievement and relatively peaceful coexistence among the different Krinar tribes and regions. “I just got to the point where the plague began,” Mia told him. It was apparently the event that ended the first Golden Age, nearly wiping out the entire lonar population and plunging the Krinar society into panic and bloody turmoil. Korum smiled. “You’re making good progress on our history then. What do you think so far?” “I think it’s very interesting,” Mia answered honestly. It was also a little scary, how savage they had been in the past, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She tried to picture Korum as one of the Krinar primitives, hunting down his prey, and it was a surprisingly easy feat, requiring very little imagination on her part. She could see many of the predatory characteristics still present in his species, from the sinuous way they moved to the territorial traits she’d seen Korum display in regard to her. “You can continue later,” he said, absentmindedly stroking her thigh. As usual, his touch sent a shiver of pleasure through her body. “We shouldn’t be late to dinner—it’s considered highly insulting to the host.” “Of course,” Mia said, getting up immediately. The last thing she wanted was to

offend someone. “Should I dress up somehow?” She was lounging in the jeans and T-shirt that she’d been wearing when she arrived in Lenkarda yesterday. Somehow, the house had already managed to clean them because she’d found them fresh and folded on the dresser in the bedroom. Korum was apparently two steps ahead of her because he was already opening the door to the walk-in closet. “I created a wardrobe for you,” he explained, “so you don’t have to rely on me for every outfit. Here, let me show you.” Curious, Mia walked over to take a look, and her jaw nearly dropped. The closet was filled with beautiful light-colored dresses, shoes ranging from barely-there sandals to soft-looking boots, and various accessories. “You made all of this?” Korum nodded. “I had Leeta send me all of her fashion designs. Aside from working in my company, she dabbles with clothing creation.” Leeta was Korum’s distant cousin, and Mia had briefly met her a few times back in New York. She wasn’t the warmest and friendliest individual, in Mia’s opinion, but her clothing designs seemed quite nice. “You mean you’re not a fashion expert?” Mia pretended to be shocked, comically widening her eyes. He’d certainly been eager to get rid of her entire former wardrobe back in New York. He laughed. “Far from it. I do know when clothes are being used as a shield, though,” he said pointedly, referring to her tendency to wear ugly but comfortable clothes when left to her own devices. Mia fought a childish urge to stick out her tongue at him. “Yeah, whatever,” she muttered. “For tonight, you can wear this,” Korum said, pulling out a delicate-looking light-pink dress. Mia put it on, secretly pleased by the heat in Korum’s eyes as she changed in front of him, and walked over to look in the mirror. Like all Krinar clothes so far, the dress fit her perfectly, ending just above her knees, and didn’t require any kind of bra underneath. There were no sleeves, and her back was left entirely exposed. However, her shoulders were covered with wide ruffled straps, and the square neckline at the front was surprisingly modest. The color was beautiful, giving her pale cheeks the illusion of a rosy glow. “I’ve noticed you don’t wear any kind of bright or dark clothing,” Mia commented, wondering about that peculiar fact. “In general, you seem to favor light colors in everything. Is there a particular reason for that?”

Korum smiled, looking at her with a warm glow in his eyes. “There is. Bright or dark colors have historically been associated with violence and vengeance in our culture, and we prefer not to have them around in the normal course of daily life. Of course, when we leave our Centers and interact with humans, we usually wear human clothes—and we don’t care about the colors as much for that. In fact, some of us enjoy clothing that we’d never normally wear here or on Krina—like the bright red dress you saw Leeta wear in New York. If she were to dress like that among the Krinar, everyone would think she’d gone crazy and was planning a vendetta of some kind.” Something clicked for Mia. “Is that why the Protector was wearing black at the trial? Because he’s on a warpath?” “Exactly,” Korum said. “He’s making a statement that he believes he’s been wronged and that he intends to seek revenge.” “Seek revenge how?” Mia wondered, and Korum shrugged, apparently not in the mood to discuss politics right now. Since they didn’t have much time, Mia decided to let it go for now and focus instead on the upcoming dinner. “Here, you can wear these shoes,” Korum said, handing her a pair of soft ivory booties. Like all K footwear, these seemed to have a flat sole. Apparently, the concept of high-heeled shoes was not as popular among Krinar females as it was among human women. Mia pulled on the boots—which immediately conformed to her feet and became comfortable—and tried to tame her hair a bit with her fingers. After lounging for hours, she had a serious bedhead look going on, with her long curls tangled and sticking out in all directions. After a couple of minutes, she gave up on the hopeless cause. Even with the regular use of Korum’s wonder shampoo, her hair would never be as straight and sleek as she’d like. “It looks beautiful, Mia. Leave it,” Korum said, observing her efforts with quiet amusement. Mia couldn’t help smiling at him. It was one of the things she found peculiar about him: he actually seemed to have a thing for her hair, often touching it and playing with the curls. Since she’d never seen a curly-haired K, she assumed he simply liked it because of the novelty factor. “Okay, then I’m ready, I guess...” “One more thing,” Korum said, coming up behind her and fastening an unusual iridescent necklace around her neck, his warm fingers brushing against her throat. It was a deceptively simple design, just a tear-shaped pendant on a thin chain, but the shimmery material made it indescribably beautiful. It was as if all colors of the

rainbow were gathered around her neck, competing with each other for attention. “Wow,” Mia breathed, touching the pendant with reverence. “What is it?” “It’s a genuine shimmer-stone necklace,” Korum explained. “Shimmer-stone occurs naturally only in my region of Krina, and this one has been passed down through generations in my family. It’s just shy of a million years old.” Mia turned around to stare at him in shock. “And you’re putting it on me? What if I lose or damage it?” “You won’t,” Korum reassured her, smiling faintly. And offering her his arm, he asked, “Shall we go?” Speechless, Mia looped her arm through the crook of his elbow and followed him out—with a million-year-old Krinar family heirloom sparkling merrily around her throat.

FIVE MINUTES LATER, THEY STOOD BEFORE A CREAM-COLORED HOUSE THAT LOOKED A LOT LIKE Korum’s. The ride to the other end of the colony took less than a minute in the small aircraft Korum had created explicitly for that purpose. As they approached, the wall of the house disintegrated in front of them, and they walked in. A tall, lean Krinar male stood in the middle of the room, dressed in the usual light-colored garb. His hair was the lightest shade of brown Mia had ever seen on a K, almost sandy-colored, and his hazel eyes had a greenish undertone that looked particularly exotic with his golden skin. The smile on his narrow, ascetic-looking face was broad and welcoming. Walking up to Korum, he touched his shoulder with his open palm. “Korum, it’s such an honor to have you here,” he said. His manner was somewhat deferential, and Mia realized that it was probably a big deal for him—having a member of the Council in his house. Korum smiled back and reciprocated the gesture. “I’m glad to see you too, Arman. Thank you for the invitation.” While the two Ks were greeting each other, Mia examined her surroundings with a great deal of curiosity. This was the first fully Krinar dwelling she had been to— with the exception of the arena—and she was fascinated by its almost Zen-like aesthetic. There was absolutely no clutter anywhere; in fact, there didn’t seem to be

any furniture with the exception of two large floating planks. Mia guessed those were meant to serve as places for the guests to sit. The outside walls were fully transparent, while the rest of the interior was a beautiful shade of cream. “And you must be Mia,” Arman said, turning and addressing her directly. Mia smiled at him. “Yes, hi. It’s nice to meet you.” To her surprise, Mia realized that she liked this K. There was a kind look in his eyes, and something almost gentle in the way he spoke that made her feel very much at ease in his presence. “Oh, it’s very nice to meet you as well,” Arman said, his smile getting wider. “Maria has been looking forward to meeting you ever since we learned about you yesterday.” At that moment, a human girl walked into the room. Dressed in a beautiful halter-style white dress that showed off her slim, curvy figure to perfection, she was strikingly pretty and bore a strong resemblance to a young Jennifer Lopez. Smiling hugely, she swiftly came up to Mia and warmly embraced her, brushing her lips against Mia’s left cheek. Some kind of exotic perfume tickled Mia’s nose. Slightly startled, Mia awkwardly hugged her back. “Oh my dear, how are you?” she exclaimed in Spanish, pulling back to look at Mia. “I’m Maria, and I’m so glad to see you! What a lovely necklace! How are your first couple of days here? Did Korum show you around already? You poor thing, you must be so overwhelmed with everything right now! I remember I didn’t even know how to use the toilet at first!” Mia blinked, overwhelmed only by the girl’s enthusiasm. She was like a pretty tornado, sweeping along everything in her path. “I’m good, thanks,” Mia answered in Spanish, inwardly still marveling at her new language abilities. “I haven’t really seen much of the Center yet—I only arrived yesterday.” “Oh, you haven’t gone to the beach yet? It’s so nice, you really should!” Turning to Korum, she frowned at him, her smooth brow furrowing slightly. Korum laughed. “Hint taken. I’ll show Mia the beach tomorrow.” “Maria!” their host exclaimed. “Please be nice to our guests!” “I’m always nice,” Maria retorted, grinning. “That’s why you love me.” Coming up on tiptoes, she kissed Arman on the cheek, and Mia could almost see him melting on the spot, unable to withstand the potent force of the girl’s charm. With a big grin on his own face, Arman turned his attention back to Mia and

Korum. “She’s incorrigible,” he said, and there was such happiness in his voice that Mia could only gape at him in open-mouthed amazement. “Please ignore her and follow me. The dinner is all ready.” They followed Arman into another room. In the middle of the room was another large floating plank, oval in shape, surrounded by four floating seats. Why all K furniture seemed to float, Mia had no idea. On the large plank—which Mia assumed functioned as a table—there were about twenty different dishes, ranging from familiar tropical fruits and vegetables to some exotic-looking salads, dips, and stew-like concoctions. Sitting down on one of the chairs, Mia felt it adjusting to her body and smiled. All K inventions seemed to be designed with a focus on maximum comfort and convenience. The dinner flew by, dominated by light conversation and amusing stories about the Costa Rican flora and fauna. Mia learned that Arman was an artist, and that he came to Earth to study human culture and the arts. He had met Maria shortly after his arrival. Her family used to own land in the area where the Ks had built their Center, and Arman had been one of the Krinar responsible for making sure that the displaced humans were appropriately compensated. Theirs seemed to be a love at first sight. “From the moment I saw him, I knew I wanted him,” Maria confided, her dark eyes sparkling. “I didn’t care that he wasn’t human, or that everybody was scared of them. I knew he couldn’t be as bad as they said—he was far too nice for that.” And reaching out, she squeezed his hand, beaming at Arman with a megawatt smile. Observing the two lovers, Mia felt a strange pressure in her chest that was very much like jealousy. They seemed to be genuinely in love, despite the obstacles Mia had always viewed as insurmountable. And Maria was far too happy for someone who had so few rights in the Krinar society. Clearly, her formal status as a charl had very little bearing on her relationship with Arman. If anything, it seemed that her K lover was quite content to let her take the lead in many things, his own laid-back personality complemented by her outgoing nature. By the time the dinner ended, Mia found herself forgetting many of her concerns and simply enjoying the company of this likable couple. They were sweet and tender with each other, and Maria didn’t seem intimidated by either of the two Ks. She even reprimanded Korum again for not giving Mia a proper tour of the Center, for which Korum laughingly apologized. It could’ve been a regular double-date,

except that two of the participants were from a different galaxy. Finally, Mia reluctantly said goodbye to them and headed home with Korum, mulling over the strangeness of what she’d just seen, her heart filling with hope for things she rationally knew had to be impossible.

THE KRINAR REPLAYED THE over again.

RESULTS OF HIS LATEST EXPERIMENT, WATCHING THE RECORDING OVER AND

Everything seemed to be working as he’d hoped. Soon, he would be able to implement the next part of his plan. It was unfortunate that the Keiths had failed, but it was ultimately just a minor setback. Now he wanted to look at his enemy again... and that little charl of his. For some reason, he found those recordings to be particularly fascinating.

8

O n the short ride back, Mia couldn’t help thinking about the other couple. A human and a K, so happy together—it seemed to go against everything Mia had been told by the Resistance and everything she’d learned about the role of charl in Krinar society. How did they manage such a feat? And wasn’t Maria worried that she would ultimately lose Arman when her beauty faded and he remained the same? Of course, Arman was as different from Korum as anyone she’d ever met. It was difficult to believe that he was a member of the same predatory species. He seemed far too kind and gentle to be a K, and Mia couldn’t imagine him holding Maria here against her will. Indeed, it seemed like Maria had been the one to initiate their relationship. Clearly, there were just as many varieties of personalities among Ks as there were among humans. And Mia had managed to meet one who wouldn’t have been out of place in the primeval Krinar forests of billions of years ago. Korum would’ve been a very successful hunter, Mia decided, with his blend of ruthlessness and sheer smarts. His ambition had propelled him to the top of the modern Krinar society, and she had no doubt he would’ve been successful in any type of environment—it was just the way he was. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he didn’t hesitate to go after it. And for now, he wanted her. Sighing, Mia looked at the floor as they landed in the clearing right next to Korum’s house. The ship touched the ground softly, and one of its walls immediately disintegrated, creating an opening for them. Getting up, she exited the aircraft and followed Korum to the house. “Are we far from the beach?” she asked, remembering Maria mentioning it earlier.

“No, it’s actually walking distance,” Korum said as they entered the house. “I’ll show you the way tomorrow, if you’d like, so you don’t have to be cooped up in the house when I’m not around. Just don’t go into the ocean without me—the surf can be very strong here, and the currents are unpredictable.” “I’m a good swimmer,” Mia told him. “You don’t have to worry about me.” “It doesn’t matter.” Korum stopped and gave her a strict look. “You either promise me you won’t go into the water alone, or you don’t go to the beach without me at all.” Mia mentally rolled her eyes. The dictator was back. “Fine. I won’t go into the water by myself.” Having grown up in Florida, she knew exactly what to watch out for in terms of rip currents and rogue waves, and the ocean didn’t scare her. Still, she didn’t want Korum preventing her from going to the beach, so she decided against arguing with him further. “Good.” He sounded satisfied. “Then I’ll take you there tomorrow morning.” “What about the trial?” “It doesn’t start until eleven in the morning. If you wake up before then, we can take a walk to the beach, and I’ll show you some of the nearby sites. Later on, I’ll give you a more thorough tour.” “That would be nice, thanks,” Mia said. “Can I observe the trial again tomorrow? It was really fascinating...” He smiled at her. “Of course. It will be Loris’s turn to present—that should be particularly interesting to see.” “Why does he hate you so much?” Mia asked, curious to learn more about Krinar politics. “Did you have some kind of differences before his son was accused?” Korum’s lips twisted slightly. “Differences is one way of putting it. He had a company that competed with mine a few hundred years ago. His designs were far inferior, though, and he ultimately ended up having to close it down. His son— Rafor—worked with him at the time as one of his lead designers, and he lost a lot of his standing in society when the company went out of business. Loris had other ventures at the time, and he was deeply involved in politics, so his standing took a much smaller hit and recovered quickly. His son’s, however, never did.” So Rafor was the Keith with the design background, the one who had provided the Resistance with K gadgets. It all made sense now. His designs had never been as good as Korum’s; it was no wonder that the Resistance had failed.

“And Loris hates you for that? For Rafor losing his standing?” Mia wasn’t sure she fully understood the standing concept, but it seemed to be quite important for the Krinar. “He does,” Korum said. “He hates it that his son wasn’t good enough as a designer, and he blames me for Rafor never doing anything else productive with his life. And now that Rafor has also proven to be a pathetic traitor...” “He blames you for that as well?” Mia guessed, staring up at Korum with a slight frown. “Is that why he intends to seek revenge?” Korum nodded, his eyes glittering with something that looked like anticipation. “Indeed.” “It doesn’t bother you?” Mia asked, trying to understand her lover better. He looked almost as if he were relishing the other K’s hatred. “That someone hates you so much, I mean?” “Why should it bother me?” He looked amused at the thought. “He’s hardly the first, and he won’t be the last.” Mia stared at him. “You don’t care if people like you? If they are your friends or your enemies?” Korum laughed. “No, my sweet, why would I? If someone wants to be my enemy, it’s their choice—one that they will ultimately regret.” “I see,” Mia said, another piece of the Korum puzzle clicking into place for her. She knew that there were people like that, individuals so confident in themselves— or arrogant, depending on how one looked at it—that they seemed to lack the usual drive to please others. And her lover appeared to be one of them. If anything, it looked like he thrived on conflict. She wondered if it was a K-specific trait or simply a part of Korum’s personality. Before Mia could finish fully analyzing that thought, Korum stepped closer and lifted his hand to brush her hair back from her face. “That’s enough talk about politics,” he said, cupping her cheek with one large warm hand, his eyes beginning to gleam with familiar golden undertones. “I can think of far more pleasant things we could be doing right now.” Mia’s heartbeat immediately quickened, and the muscles deep within her belly tightened, reacting to his touch and the unmistakable sexual intent in his voice. Such a Pavlovian response, the psychology student in her noted wryly—her body was now fully conditioned to respond to him this way, to crave the pleasure that only he could provide. The lack of control over her own flesh bothered Mia on many

levels, making her feel even less in charge of her own life, her own decisions. Bending down, he wrapped one arm around her back and placed the other under her knees, effortlessly lifting her up into his arms. Mia closed her eyes, burying her face against his shoulder as he swiftly carried her toward the bedroom. As he’d said earlier, the labels placed on their relationship didn’t matter—at least not when it came to this.

WHEN THEY GOT TO THE BEDROOM, HE PLACED HER DOWN ON THE BED AND STRAIGHTENED FOR minute. Bemused, she watched as he placed a small white dot on his right temple.

A

“What is it?” she asked him warily when he leaned over her again. “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, with a wicked gleam in those amber eyes. And then he touched her temple as well. Startled, Mia raised her hand and felt a small protrusion. He had placed a dot on her also. Feeling nervous, Mia opened her mouth to ask him again, but he kissed her in that moment and all rational thought left her head. His hand closed over her right breast, kneading the small globe, his thumb flicking lightly over her nipple, and Mia felt a surge of heat go through her. His other hand buried itself in her hair, holding her head still as his tongue invaded her mouth. She could taste the hunger in his kiss, and she wondered vaguely what had provoked him. All of a sudden, she could no longer feel the softness of the bed beneath her and her ears were ringing from loud music, the pulsing beat reverberating through her bones. Gasping in shock, she pushed at Korum, and he let her go, watching with an unsettling mixture of amusement and burning lust as she sat up, gaping at the scene in panic and disbelief. They were on the floor inside what looked like a large metal cage. All around them, Mia could see gyrating bodies, grinding and pushing against each other. Stunned, she realized they were dancing. The flickering lights above them cast everything in shades of blue and purple, adding to the surreal feel of the situation. “Where are we?” she yelled, jumping to her feet and staring at Korum in frightened astonishment. Did he teleport them somewhere, or was this some strange and new virtual world? He laughed, rising from the floor smoothly. “Come here,” he said, pulling her toward him.

Angry and confused, Mia tried to resist, but it was useless, of course. Within seconds, he had her pressed against his body, and she could feel his erection pushing at her stomach. “So I learned something interesting today,” Korum said softly, his voice somehow carrying above the music. His eyes were nearly yellow in the strange flashing lights of the dance floor. “My sweet little charl seems to have a thing for touching me in public places—when she thinks no one is watching, of course. When she thinks I can’t feel it.” Mia swallowed, remembering her actions earlier, before the trial began. She’d played with Korum, secure in the knowledge that no one would ever find out... yet somehow he knew. Was he mad at her? Did he intend to punish her somehow? “Where are we?” she asked, staring up at him warily. “Why did you bring me here?” “We’re in the most exclusive nightclub in Beverly Hills,” Korum told her. “And I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” Mia’s stomach twisted with a strange mixture of fear and excitement. “Korum, please, I don’t think—” Before she could finish the sentence, he grasped her butt and lifted her up, pressing her back against the wall of the cage, her thighs spread wide and his pelvis flush against her own. Mia gasped again, feeling his cock prodding at her sex through the thin barrier of their clothing. Then his mouth was over hers again, his kiss so deep and penetrating that she could barely breathe. He intended to fuck her in public, Mia realized with some semi-functioning part of her brain, horrified and yet unbearably aroused at the thought. Surely this couldn’t be real, she thought desperately, surely he wouldn’t do that to her... or would he? She tried to twist away from his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders, but he wouldn’t let her, biting her lower lip in warning until she had no choice but to give in. The roar of her own heartbeat was almost louder than the blaring music around them as she fought to maintain some semblance of sanity in what seemed like an utterly insane situation. Holding her up with one arm, Korum used his other hand to grasp the skirt of her dress and lift it higher, leaving the front portion of her lower body naked. Mia whimpered in panic, frantically raking her nails down his bare shoulders as he freed his cock too. She could feel the blunt force of it pressing against her delicate

opening, and then he began to push inside, ignoring the way her muscles tightened in an attempt to deny him entry. It was all happening so fast that Mia could barely process the situation, the flashing lights and the pounding music adding to her sense of disorientation. She felt unbearably hot, her body burning with a strange combination of searing shame and feverish desire as his cock continued to push deeper inside her, her narrow sheath reluctantly stretching around its thick girth. With her full weight supported only by his arm, she couldn’t limit the depth of his penetration in any way, and he felt too large inside her, the head of his shaft almost bumping up against her cervix. For a few moments, pain threatened, but then her body adjusted, softening and melting around him, and the discomfort receded, leaving only a scorching need in its place. At the same time, his mouth continued to plunder her own, the invasion of his tongue mimicking the relentless push of his cock. Her senses completely overwhelmed, Mia couldn’t string together a single thought, could only feel as he began to move his hips, the force of his thrusts pressing her into the cage wall. The metal links dug into the soft skin of her exposed back, and the pulsing beat of the music seemed to echo inside her, the noise from the dancing crowd a dizzying buzz in her ears. Her vision darkened for a second, his kisses draining her of oxygen, but then his mouth lifted, letting her catch her breath, and the fainting sensation receded, bringing her back to semiawareness of the situation. Frantically sucking in air, Mia shut her eyes tightly and tried to pretend that this wasn’t happening, that he wasn’t truly fucking her in a cage in the middle of a nightclub. It couldn’t be real, any of it; surely, she couldn’t really feel the hard metal pressing into her back, couldn’t hear the crowd screaming and whooping in tune to the blasting music. Yet the relentless thrust and drag of his cock inside her couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, nor could the moist heat of his mouth as it traveled down the side of her neck. A wave of hot shame rolled through her again, somehow adding to the powerful tension gathering inside her. His pace picked up, his hips hammering at her, and every muscle in her body seemed to tighten simultaneously, the pleasure so sharp it was almost intolerable... and then she could only scream as the climax crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave, her inner muscles squeezing and releasing his cock several times. As the orgasmic sensation faded, Mia slumped in Korum’s arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could feel him shuddering as well, could hear his hoarse groan as his shaft throbbed and jerked inside her, releasing his seed in

warm bursts. Now that it was over, all she could feel was scalding embarrassment, and angry tears filled her eyes, leaking out through the corners. She didn’t want to look around, didn’t want to face the people who were sure to be avidly watching them. More tears fell, moistening his neck. Mia wanted to disappear, to pretend this was all some horrible dream, but there was no escaping the stark sensations. His softening shaft was still buried inside her, and she could feel the cage digging into her back. And just when she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he murmured in her ear, “We’re not really here, darling. You know that, right?” “What?” Mia jerked back, staring at him in shock and disbelief. She could hear the hypnotic beat of the latest dance-hop single, could feel him inside her, and he was telling her it was all happening inside her head? His lips curled into a small smile. “Did you think it was real?” “Let me down,” she said quietly, hot fury rushing through her. “Let me down right now.” He actually listened to her this time and lowered her to the ground, slowly withdrawing from her. Her trembling legs refused to support her weight for a second, and he held her carefully, looking down at her with a slightly amused expression on his face. The dress fell back into place, covering her lower half again. As soon as she could stand on her own, Mia pushed at Korum’s chest, and he took a step back, giving her some breathing room. Just to confirm what he’d told her, Mia slowly turned in a circle, staring at the dancers outside their cage. No one was looking at them. Not a single person. The music kept blaring, the dancers kept grinding against each other, and nobody was paying them any attention. This wasn’t real after all. It was all happening virtually, just like at the trial. Or was it? Turning back toward Korum, she asked evenly, “Did we just have sex, or did you simply mind-fuck me?” Instead of replying to her question, Korum lifted his hand to his right temple and pressed on it lightly. The club dissolved around them, reality shifting and adjusting, and Mia found herself standing on the floor next to one of the bedroom walls. He was standing there too, less than a foot away from her, his shorts unfastened and his now-flaccid sex partially visible. Blinking to clear the slight blurriness in her vision, Mia took stock of her current

state. Her sex felt swollen and a little sore, like it usually did after intercourse, and she could feel the wetness of his sperm sliding down her leg. So the sex part had definitely been real. Mia couldn’t decide if that made her feel better or worse about the situation. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she found herself shaking slightly, feeling cold despite the warmth in the room. “I need a shower,” she told him, refusing to look at him. “Mia,” he said softly, his hand wrapping around her upper arm when she tried to walk past him, “you’re not going to tell me you didn’t like it, are you?” “Of course I didn’t!” Tears welled up in her eyes again as she relived the sharp feelings of burning humiliation and unwilling arousal, and she tried to yank her arm away from him. A useless effort, of course; he didn’t even seem to feel her struggle. “Liar,” Korum said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. “I could feel exactly how much you didn’t like it when you came, your little pussy squeezing me for all its worth.” Mia felt her cheeks turning a bright red. “I’m going into the shower right now,” she repeated, wanting nothing more than to get away. “All right,” he said. “I will go with you.” And before she could object, he picked her up again and carried her into the bathroom, placing her on her feet next to the jacuzzi. “I wanted to go alone,” she told him mutinously as he pulled down her dress, leaving her standing there naked with the exception of the necklace around her neck and the soft booties on her feet. She touched the necklace lightly, finding the place where it apparently locked in place, and carefully took it off, placing it on the side of the jacuzzi. She had no intention of showering with a million-year-old piece of alien jewelry around her neck. He smiled at her, taking off his own clothes. “Why would you want that?” “Because I don’t like you right now,” she told him bluntly. Actually, that was a huge understatement. It was more that she felt like doing something violent to him —such as slapping that smile right off his beautiful face. “Because I gave you what you wanted but would’ve been too scared to ask for?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I didn’t want that,” Mia told him vehemently. “And the fact that I came has

nothing to do with anything. I’m more than just the sum of my physical responses —” “Of course you are,” Korum said, coming up to her and crouching down to remove the boots from her feet. Mia stared down at him resentfully, fighting a ridiculous urge to stroke the dark, lustrous-looking hair on his head. Fluidly rising to his feet and looking down at her with a half-smile, he added, “If you had been truly uncomfortable or scared, I would’ve stopped immediately and brought us back here. I could feel your excitement, your pleasure at doing something forbidden. That’s why you played with me in the virtual world today—because underneath that shy exterior, you secretly love the thought of being just a little bit bad...” Mia didn’t have a good answer to that, so she lowered her gaze and padded toward the shower. He came in with her as well, adjusting the settings so that the water cascaded over both of them. Pouring the pleasantly scented shampoo in his hand, he applied it to her hair, his strong fingers massaging away the tension in her scalp. After her hair was clean and soft, he turned his attention to her body, tenderly washing each part until she forgot all about her anger in the sheer bliss of his skilled caresses. And just when she thought he was done, he knelt down and brought her to another peak with his mouth, his lips and tongue soft and gentle on her sensitive flesh. Utterly relaxed and incredibly sleepy, Mia barely felt him toweling her off and carrying her to bed. As soon as her head touched the pillow, she passed out, not even cognizant of lying in his warm embrace.

9

T he next morning, Mia woke up with the memory of their virtual sex session fresh in her mind. She still couldn’t believe that Korum had done that to her—that he had made her believe he was fucking her in public, of all things—and she couldn’t believe she had responded like that, despite her feelings of embarrassment and humiliation. Even now, she could feel herself getting wet at the thought, and she cursed her own susceptibility to him. He seemed to know her sexual needs far better than she did, and had no hesitation about pushing her boundaries. She wanted to stay mad at him, she really did. But, if she were to be honest with herself, she had to admit that she had enjoyed the experience on some level. It had been terribly exciting, having sex in public like that—particularly since she now knew that there was no need for shame, as no one had actually seen them. Stretching, she yawned and then remembered the promised beach outing. Jumping out of bed and putting on her robe, she went to brush her teeth and splash some water on her face before going to look for Korum. To her surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Before she could wonder about his whereabouts, she heard something in the living room and left the kitchen to investigate. Sure enough, Korum was just walking in through the opening in one of the walls. And Mia gasped in horrified shock at the sight. Far from his usual immaculate self, her lover looked like he had just rolled in the mud, his clothes dirty and torn. And were those... traces of blood on his arms and face? Seeing her standing there, Korum flashed her a quick grin, his teeth startlingly white in his dirt-streaked face. “You woke up early. I was hoping you’d still be

asleep and I’d have a chance to shower before you saw me like this.” Mia finally found her tongue. “What happened? Are you all right?” He laughed, his eyes glittering with excitement. “I’m fine. I was just out playing defrebs—it’s a type of sport I enjoy.” “Oh...” Mia exhaled in relief. “So it’s like a ball game or something?” “More like a type of martial arts,” he explained, walking toward the bathroom. Curious, Mia followed him there, watching as he stripped off his dirty clothes, dropping them on the floor and revealing the magnificent body underneath. He smelled deliciously sweaty, and his golden skin gleamed with perspiration. He looked like a warrior fresh from battle, and she could now see that those were definitely scratches and bloody streaks on his arms and legs. “Is that what you do for exercise? Martial arts?” she asked, perching on the edge of the jacuzzi as he turned on the shower, adjusting the controls. The dirty clothes had already disappeared, having been absorbed into one of the walls, and the floor was again spotless. Another useful function of the house, Mia guessed. “Pretty much,” he admitted, stepping under the water. His voice sounded a little muffled by the water spray, so she came closer to hear him better. “We rarely exercise the way many modern humans do, in a gym environment or doing only one type of physical activity. Instead, we usually engage in some type of sports. Defrebs is particularly popular because it’s the closest we get to fighting outside of the Arena—” “Arena?” “Ah, you haven’t gotten to that part of your reading yet...” He paused for a few seconds, lathering his hair and rinsing out the shampoo before continuing. “The Arena is a place where our citizens get to resolve certain irreconcilable differences. If, let’s say, I believe that someone has done me irreparable harm, I can challenge him to the Arena—and he would have to accept my challenge or lose much of his standing.” Mia looked at the foggy shower glass with surprise. “So what would you do in the Arena? Fight?” “Exactly. No weapons are allowed, but everything else goes. The goal is to win, to subdue your enemy completely while everyone watches...” Mia laughed incredulously. “What, like gladiators in ancient Rome?” “Where do you think the Romans got the idea?”

“What? Seriously?” Korum shut off the water and opened the door, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack. “Absolutely. The same group of scientists I told you about earlier—the ones who had been the source of many of your Greek and Roman myths—they’re responsible for that as well. A couple of them missed that aspect of life on Krina, so they gradually introduced the tradition into Roman culture and then it took on a life of its own. We were quite surprised, actually, how long the games persisted and how popular they became.” Mia could hardly believe her ears. “And you still have these games? In the modern era?” “Sure,” he said, his eyes bright with golden undertones. “It’s a way for us to satisfy certain... urges... that would otherwise get in the way of a peaceful and prosperous society.” Urges? She blinked, watching him warily as he finished drying himself off. So the Krinar did still have the violent tendencies she’d just finished reading about. No wonder there had been so many rumors about their brutality during the days of the Great Panic— Before she could analyze that thought any further, he came up to her and lifted her up by the waist. Startled, Mia grabbed his shoulders as he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with tightly leashed aggression. Playing the sport had clearly excited him, and she could feel his cock hardening against her leg even through the thick fabric of her robe. Her own response was instantaneous, her sex clenching with desire and her nipples pinching into tight buds. Sensing her arousal, he growled low in his throat and backed her up against the wall, his hands tearing at the tie holding her robe together. Bending his right knee, he set her astride it, causing her naked sex to grind against his leg, and Mia moaned into his mouth, the pressure on her clitoris turning her on even more. His hands migrated lower, grabbing her thighs and opening them wide, and then he was inside her, impaling her with no further preliminaries. Mia cried out at the hard force of his entry; as aroused as she was, he was still too large for her to accommodate easily, and her delicate inner channel felt stretched to the point of pain. He paused for a second, letting her adjust, and then he slowly began thrusting, still holding her legs open, preventing her from controlling the sexual act in any way. The thick head of his cock nudged her G-spot with each stroke, and the wide-open position allowed his pelvis to press against her clitoris each time he bottomed inside her, causing the pressure to build further

and further. Finally, she climaxed with a scream, her entire body spasming in his arms. Unable to resist the rhythmic pulsations of her inner muscles, he came too, groaning harshly against her ear. Panting, Mia hung in his grasp until he carefully lowered her to the ground, slowly withdrawing from her and handing her a tissue. Her knees wobbled a little, and he held her up, staring down at her with a slightly perplexed look on his beautiful face. “Believe it or not, I didn’t really mean for this to happen,” Korum said, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. “I honestly don’t know why I don’t seem to have any control around you. It’s like I have to get inside you every chance I get...” Her pussy still throbbing with the remnants of her orgasm, Mia moistened her lips and shrugged slightly, absurdly flattered by his admission. “It’s okay... It’s not like I don’t enjoy it...” “Oh really?” he teased, a big grin breaking out on his face. “You enjoy it? I would’ve never guessed—” Mia frowned at him, cleaning herself up with the tissue. “You did promise me a trip to the beach, though,” she reminded him, wanting to change the topic. The strength of her own sexual response to him—of her feelings for him in general— still made her uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone less complicated? Why did it have to be this hard, uncompromising man with his domineering nature? Even Arman would’ve been an easier person to have a relationship with; at least with someone like him, she would’ve felt a little more in control, instead of constantly feeling off-balance. “We should still be able to make it,” Korum said, creating an outfit for himself with the aid of the nanomachines and putting it on. “I’ll make you breakfast and we’ll go.” “Okay,” Mia said. “I’ll grab a quick shower and be right there.”

SEVEN MINUTES LATER, MIA ENTERED THE green in a regular human blender.

KITCHEN AND SAW THAT

KORUM

WAS MAKING SOMETHING

“What is that?” she asked him, curiously observing the strange concoction. Korum smiled, his features lighting up at the sight of her. “Ah, I was hoping

you’d be quick.” Taking two steps toward her, he dropped a light kiss on her forehead and then returned to his task. “This is a blend of mango, banana, spinach, and bowit—that’s a type of sweet nut from Krina. Are you hungry?” “Always,” Mia admitted with a sheepish smile. The smoothie sounded very promising. “Do we have enough time to swim before the trial begins?” “Absolutely,” he said, and then started up the blender. Mia put her hands over her ears at the noise, which thankfully lasted only about ten seconds. Once the room was quiet again, he added, “We have about two hours, so I should be able to show you some interesting places around here and then we could go for a quick swim.” “That would be great,” Mia said, eager to get out and explore the area. “I was feeling pretty cooped up yesterday—” “Of course,” he said, pouring the green shake into a tall, clear cup and handing it to her. “I don’t want you to feel that way. Try this—it should be quite good.” Mia took a sip of the thick concoction, and her tastebuds nearly exploded with the sweet, rich taste. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted before, with hints of chocolate, cream, and a completely indescribable something underneath the more familiar fruity flavors. “Wow.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Whatever that bo-thing is, it’s absolutely amazing.” Pleased at her reaction, Korum smiled. “Yes, it’s my favorite as well. It takes the bowit plant five years to reach full maturity, so this is the first time we’ve been able to harvest these nuts here, on Earth. They’re quite tasty and go with a lot of different dishes.” “Can I take this with me?” Mia asked, wanting to get a head start on the day. “That way, I can just dress quickly and we could go...” “Sure, why not?” Korum poured a cup for himself as well. “Let me show you our swimwear.” Leaving the kitchen, he walked toward the bedroom, sipping his shake. Mia followed him, curious to see what a K version of a bathing suit was like. Entering the room, he placed his cup on the commode and headed toward the closet. Pulling out what looked like a tiny scrap of white fabric, he laid it on the bed and said, “This is what our women typically wear.” Mia stared. “Uh... I don’t see how that would fit me.” Her parents’ Chihuahua, maybe, but definitely no one bigger than that.

He laughed. “The material is stretchy. Try it on.” Still dubious, Mia put down her own shake and approached the bed. Picking up the material, she carefully examined it. “It goes on over your head,” Korum said. “Here, take off your robe, and I’ll show you how to put it on.” “Okay,” Mia said, untying the robe and dropping it on the bed. She was completely naked underneath, and she could feel the heat of his gaze as it traveled down her body. When his eyes came back up to her face, they were almost purely gold in color. Mia’s breathing quickened, and she could feel her nipples tightening, her body responding to his need. She heard him take a deep breath, as though inhaling her scent, and then he said huskily, “Here, this goes on like this.” Stretching the bandana-like piece in his hands, he lowered it over her head, letting go when it was securely sitting around her hips. His fingers brushed against her stomach in the process, causing her to feel all warm inside again. Her lips slightly parted, Mia stared at him, unable to believe she could want him again so soon. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his voice sounding rough. “I promised you an outing this morning, and that’s what we’re going to do.” Mia flushed. “Of course.” This was ridiculous; he was turning her into a nymphomaniac. Surely, it couldn’t be normal, to want someone like that all the time. Trying to distract herself, she looked down at the bandanna-like piece of cloth. To her surprise, it had stretched to cover her torso, turning into an unusual onepiece swimsuit. The fabric looped between her legs, concealing her pubic region and the center of her butt, then ran up the sides of her ribcage and lightly cupped her breasts, hiding the nipples from view. Like all K clothing, the material adhered to her shape perfectly and seemed to be sitting on her quite securely despite the fact that there were no ties of any kind to hold it up. The overall effect was incredibly sexy, Mia realized, and her cheeks turned pink at the thought of leaving the house like that. “Is that all I’m going to wear?” she asked, looking up at Korum. He shook his head. “No, you would also wear this on top,” he said, handing her what looked like a basic white sheath. “You can take it off when we get to the beach.”

Mia wriggled into the sheath and walked over to the mirror to take a look. It seemed like a simple tube-top dress, just made of some thin and clingy fabric. Not all that different from a coverup one might wear on a Florida beach. “You can put on these boots,” Korum said, handing her a pair of grey kneehighs. “Since we’re going on foot and you don’t like insects, these might be the best option for you.” Willing to wear anything to minimize exposure to Costa Rican creepy-crawlies, Mia pulled on the boots. Casting one last look at her reflection in the mirror, she picked up her smoothie from the commode. “I’m ready.” “Let’s go then.” Grabbing his own cup, Korum led her out of the house and into the green jungle outside.

THE FIRST PLACE KORUM SHOWED HER WAS A BEAUTIFUL GROTTO WITH TWO MID-SIZED WATERFALLS. The water fell from a distance of about twenty feet into a small, shallow pool and then drained into a small river. On the side of the river, there were a number of large rocks, and the grass looked soft and green. A very inviting place to just relax and read, Mia decided, noting the grotto’s location. After the waterfalls, they walked over to another, larger river—an estuary draining into the ocean. According to Korum, it was an excellent place to view the local wildlife, including various species of birds and howler monkeys. “That sounds fun,” Mia told him, and he promised to take her on a boat tour one of these mornings. Following the estuary west, they finally arrived at the beach. As Korum had warned her, the surf was quite healthy, with reasonably sized breakers pounding against the shore. In the distance, Mia could see some people—likely Krinar— enjoying the ocean as well, but the area around them was completely deserted. “We only have about thirty minutes at this point,” Korum told her. “After that, I have to get to the trial.” “Of course,” Mia said, grinning. “How about a quick swim then?” And without waiting for his response, she pulled off her boots, wriggled out of her sheath, and ran toward the ocean. He caught up with her immediately, swinging her up into his arms before she could get so much as a toe into the water. “Gotcha,” he said, his eyes filled with warm amusement.

Mia laughed, the feeling in her chest lighter than anything she’d experienced in recent weeks. Looping her arms around his neck, she told him, “Okay, but now you have to go in with me. And if the water is too cold for you, I don’t want to hear any complaints.” “Oh, a challenge?” he said, raising one eyebrow at her. “We’ll see who complains first...” And holding her in his arms, he strode decisively into the waves. Shrieking with laughter at the sudden immersion into cool water, Mia held her breath as a big wave covered their heads. She could feel the strong pull of the current and realized that Korum was likely right about the potential dangers of swimming by herself. With him, however, she felt completely safe; he could obviously resist the drag of the water with ease, his Krinar strength more than a match for the surf. The wave receded, and Mia rubbed her eyes with one hand, trying to get the salt water out. When she finally opened them, Korum was looking down at her with a strange smile. “What?” she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Nothing,” he murmured, still smiling. “You just look very cute like this, with your eyelashes and hair all wet. Reminds me of that day when you were caught in the rain.” “You mean the second time I saw you, when I sneezed all over you?” Mia asked wryly, still somewhat embarrassed at the memory. He nodded. “You were the cutest thing I’d seen in a long time, all dripping curls and big blue eyes... and I could barely stop myself from kissing you right then and there.” Mia gave him a disbelieving look. “Really? I thought I looked terrible, like a drowned rat.” He laughed. “More like a drowned kitten, if you want to use animal analogies. Or a wet fregu—that’s a cute, fluffy mammal we have on Krina.” “Do you have any of them here?” Mia asked, suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing some alien fauna. “In Lenkarda, I mean—” Korum shook his head. “No, the fregu are not domesticated in any way, and we don’t take wild animals out of their habitats. We don’t domesticate animals in general.” “So no pets of any kind?” Mia asked, surprised.

Another wave approached at that moment, and Korum lifted her higher, enabling her to keep her head above water this time. “No pets,” he confirmed once the wave passed. “That’s a uniquely human institution.” “Really? I would’ve never thought that. My parents have a dog,” Mia confided. “A little Chihuahua. She’s very cute.” “I know,” Korum said. “I’ve seen recordings.” Somehow Mia wasn’t shocked. “Of course you have,” she said, sighing. She knew she should be upset at this invasion of her family’s privacy, but she felt oddly resigned instead. Her lover clearly had no sense of proper boundaries, and Mia was too content right now to spoil it with another argument. Still, she couldn’t resist asking, “Is there anything you don’t know about me or my family?” “Probably not much at this point,” he admitted casually. “Your family is fascinating to me.” Her family? “Why?” Mia asked, puzzled. “We’re just a regular American family —” “Because you are fascinating to me,” Korum said, looking at her with an inscrutable amber gaze. “And I want to better understand who you are and where you’re coming from.” Mia stared at him. “I see,” she murmured, but she didn’t see, not really. Why someone like him—a brilliant K with such a high standing in their society—would be interested in a regular human girl was beyond her comprehension. Suddenly, he grinned at her, and the strange tension dissolved. “So how about you show me just how good of a swimmer you are?” he suggested playfully, letting go of her. Mia grinned back, feeling almost unbearably happy. “Watch and learn,” she told him cockily, and headed for the ocean depths with a strong, even stroke, secure in the knowledge that she was far safer with Korum in deep water than she would be in a kiddie pool with a lifeguard.

THE KRINAR WATCHED HIS ENEMY FROLICKING IN THE WATER WITH HIS CHARL. Initially, he hadn’t really understood the girl’s appeal; she’d seemed like a typical human to him. A pretty little human, but nothing truly special. However, as he kept observing her, he’d slowly begun to notice the fine delicacy of her facial

features, the creaminess of her pale skin. Her body was small and fragile, but it was perfectly curved in just the right places, and there was an innocent sensuality in the way she moved, in the angle at which she held her head when she spoke. To his shock, the K realized that he wanted to bury his fingers in her thick, curly hair and inhale her scent, to lick her neck and feel the warm rush of blood in her veins through that soft skin. That was the best part about sex with human women —the knowledge that just a tiny bite away, paradise awaited. The craving caught him by surprise. It wasn’t part of his plan. He’d thought himself above such nonsense, such primitive urges. He rarely indulged these days; he couldn’t afford the distraction. There was too much at stake to throw everything away for the sake of fleeting physical pleasure. With a heroic effort, he pushed away the fantasy and focused on the task at hand.

10

A fter their swim, Korum brought her back home, jumped into the shower, and left within two minutes, moving like a whirlwind. Bemused, Mia could only watch as he paused to brush a quick kiss on her forehead and then practically flew out the door. Following his departure, Mia also took a shower and fortified herself with a snack of mango and walnuts, preparing for another potentially lengthy presentation. Then, putting on the bracelet Korum had given her yesterday, she settled comfortably on the couch and immersed herself in the show. The second day of the trial started with the now-familiar chime. As before, Mia found her way through the crowd toward Korum’s podium and perched on top of it. This time, she refused to touch his virtual self in any way, her cheeks heating up at the memory of what he’d done to her last night as a result of her actions yesterday. Today there were fewer greetings and preliminaries. After the accused and the Protector appeared in the arena, the audience went completely silent, watching with tremendous interest as the proceedings unfolded. Like the last time, Loris was dressed in all black. The expression on his face was pinched and strained, and the look he threw in Korum’s direction was filled with so much rage and bitterness that Mia involuntarily shivered. After a few seconds, he seemed to get himself under control, and his features smoothed out, his face becoming expressionless. Stepping forward, he addressed the spectators in a loud, ringing voice. “Dear Earth inhabitants and fellow citizens of Krina! You have been shown evidence of a terrible crime—a crime so horrifying that it is almost beyond belief. And if you were to believe the recordings shown to you yesterday, you would obviously judge

these people—and my son among them—to be guilty. “But you have to ask yourself, is this plausible? How can seven young people with no history of social deviancy all of a sudden conspire to forcibly deport fifty thousand Krinar from Earth, endangering all of our lives in the process? Endangering my life in the process? How can they hatch this elaborate plot, arming humans with Krinar weapons and technology? And for what? A chance to help the humans? Does that make sense to any of you?” The crowd was deathly silent. Mia held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the black-clad figure standing so imposingly in the arena. “Well, it didn’t make sense to me. I know my son, and he has his faults—but would-be mass murderer is not among them. And that’s why I had to step forward and take on the role of the Protector—because this trial is a farce. It’s a very real attack on these young people, and I have no choice but to defend them—” Turning around for a quick second, Mia peeked at Korum, trying to see his reaction to all of this. There was a look of calm amusement on his face, and he seemed to be watching the proceedings with polite attentiveness. “I have spoken with Rafor and each of his friends extensively, and none of their stories match,” Loris continued. “In fact, they are downright confused. So confused that they don’t recall doing anything along the lines of what they have been accused of—so confused that they can barely remember many of the key events of the past year... “Now I know what many of you are thinking. Obviously, if they were guilty, pretending not to remember would be a good way to stall the proceedings, to cast some doubt on the validity of these accusations. And that was my initial thought as well... which is why I commissioned a memory scan to be done by the leading mind experts based here on Earth. Four different mind laboratories have performed their examinations—laboratories based in Arizona, Thailand, Fiji, and Hawaii—and the results are indisputable. “All seven of the accused have had their memories tampered with.” A shocked murmur ran through the crowd, and Mia could see the surprised looks on the Councilors’ faces. Sneaking another look behind her, she could see that there was now a very slight, almost imperceptible frown on Korum’s face. He seemed puzzled. “Now many of you know that there aren’t many people capable of doing something like that. In fact, I believe that there are fewer than thirty individuals on

this planet who have anything to do with mind manipulation. However, one esteemed member of the Council does comes to mind—” Another murmur ran through the crowd at the last sentence, and Saret slowly rose from behind the podium. “Are you accusing me of something?” he asked in a tone of utter disbelief. “Yes, Saret,” Loris said, and Mia could hear the barely suppressed rage in his voice again. “I am accusing you and your friend Korum of tampering with the memories of my son and the others. I am accusing you of violating their minds with the goal of advancing your own political agenda. I am accusing Korum of staging the whole sequence of events, right down to the attack on the colonies, with the sole purpose of destroying me and upsetting the balance of power on this Council to satisfy his own insatiable ambition. And I am accusing you of helping him cover his tracks by mind-raping my son and the other young people standing in front of you here today!” The crowd broke out into a cacophony of arguments and shocked exclamations, and Mia turned around again to look at Korum. She had no idea how to react to Loris’s words. Could there be any truth to them? Korum was sitting there outwardly calm, his expression completely unreadable. Only the faint yellow striations around his pupils gave away any hint of the emotion inside. Getting up slowly, he approached the center of the arena where the Protector was standing. “Very nicely done, Loris,” Korum said, his tone light and mocking. “That was quite creative. I have to say, I wouldn’t have expected you to go in this direction at all—though I can see why you would. Kill two birds with one stone and all that... Of course, there are still all the recordings, not to mention all the witnesses, that clearly show your son and his cohorts acting quite rationally, with no trace of mental confusion whatsoever—” “Those recordings are worthless,” interrupted Loris, his face taut with barely controlled anger. “As we all know, someone of your technological prowess can fake anything along those lines—” “I will gladly submit the recordings for examination by the experts,” Korum said, shrugging nonchalantly. “You can even choose some of these experts—as long as they stake their reputation on the veracity of the results. And of course, other Councilors have already interrogated the witnesses. Councilors, was there anything in anyone’s story to contradict the recordings?” Arus rose in response. Swallowing nervously, Mia watched as yet another one of

Korum’s opponents walked toward the center of the arena. What if he sided with Loris? Would Korum be in trouble then? She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him as a result of these accusations. “I will speak on behalf of the Council,” Arus said in a deep, calm voice. Once again, there was something about the open, straightforward look on his face that made Mia want to trust him, to like him. A very useful trait for a politician to have, she realized—especially for an ambassador. “As much as I’d like to support Loris’s quest to protect his son,” he said, “there is no doubt that all the witnesses interviewed thus far—from human Resistance members to the guardians involved in the operation—told a very similar story. And unfortunately, Loris, the story substantiates the recordings.” There seemed to be genuine regret in Arus’s voice as he was saying this. “Witnesses can be bribed—” Arus shook his head. “Not so many. We have gathered over fifty testimonies from completely different individuals, both human and Krinar. I’m sorry, Loris, but there are simply too many of them.” “Then how do you explain the memory loss?” Loris asked bitterly, staring at Arus with resentment. “I can’t explain that,” Arus admitted. “The Council will have to investigate the matter—” “I can perhaps venture a guess,” Korum said, and Mia could practically feel the buzz of anticipation in the crowd. “There is a human trial defense strategy that’s frequently utilized in developed countries. It involves trying to prove that the accused is insane, mentally incapable of standing trial. Because, you see, if they are judged to be mentally ill, then they can’t be held responsible for their actions—and instead of getting punished, they are sent for treatment. “Now the Protector is fully aware that the evidence points to the guilt of the accused. Of course, he can’t claim that his son is insane and therefore didn’t know what he was doing. No, he can’t claim that at all—but he can say that his son’s mind has been tampered with, that he’s had his memories forcibly erased. Of course, the fact of the matter is there is only one person who would benefit from Rafor and the other traitors losing their memories—and that’s neither me nor Saret.” “Are you accusing me of violating my own son’s mind?” Loris asked incredulously, and Mia could see his hands clenching into fists.

“Unlike you, I don’t accuse without evidence,” Korum said, giving him a cold smile. “I am merely venturing a guess.” The noise from the crowd grew in volume. Curious to see how Saret was reacting to all of this, Mia turned her attention to his podium. He was watching the proceedings with a slightly bemused look on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten dragged into this. Mia felt bad for him. Not that she knew much about Krinar politics, but Korum’s friend seemed like someone who didn’t enjoy getting caught in the crossfire. Her lover, on the other hand, was clearly in his element. Korum was enjoying his enemy’s helpless rage. “All the guesses and accusations are useless at this point,” said Arus, and the crowd fell silent again. “The Council will have to examine the results from the laboratories before we can proceed in that direction. In the meantime, we’ll show the testimonies from all available witnesses to shed further light on this case.” And with a small gesture, he called up a three-dimensional image, just as Korum had done yesterday. More recordings, Mia realized, sighing at the thought that today’s proceedings were likely to last even longer. If they were showing testimonies from fifty witnesses, then the trial could last well into the night. Settling even more comfortably on Korum’s podium, Mia prepared for a lengthy and potentially boring viewing session.

THE KRINAR WATCHED THE RECORDINGS WITH SATISFACTION. It had all worked out so perfectly, just as he’d hoped. No one would know the truth, not until it was too late for them to do anything. He was glad he’d had the foresight to erase the Keiths’ memories. Now they would never be able to explain, to point to him as the leader behind their little rebellion. He was safe, and he should be able to implement his plan in peace. Particularly if he could manage to keep his mind off a certain human girl.

11

A fter about five hours of watching the recordings, Mia had finally had enough. Exiting the virtual trial, she got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. It was truly exhausting, paying attention for so long, and she had no idea how Korum and the other Ks sat there so attentively this whole time. As before, the house gladly provided her with a delicious meal. Feeling daring, Mia asked for the most popular traditional Krinar dish—provided that it was suitable for human consumption. When the dish arrived a few minutes later, she nearly moaned with hunger, her mouth salivating at the appetizing scent. It appeared to be a stew again, with a rich, salty flavor that was vaguely reminiscent of lamb or veal. Of course, she hadn’t had those delicacies in over five years, so that could be simply her imagination. Like all K food she’d tried so far, this stew was also entirely plant-based. It was still light out when Mia got done with her meal, so she decided to venture outside for a bit. Putting on a pair of boots and a simple ivory dress, she told the house to let her out and smiled with satisfaction when the wall dissolved for her, just as it usually did for Korum. Grabbing the tablet-like device Korum had given her yesterday and a towel from the bathroom, Mia headed to the waterfalls, looking forward to spending a couple of hours reading and learning more about the early history of the Krinar. Arriving at her destination, Mia located a nice patch of grass that didn’t seem to be near any ant hills. Spreading out her towel there, she lay down on her stomach and immersed herself in the drama of the end of the first Krinar Golden Age.

“HELLO? MIA?” THE SOUND absorption with the story.

OF AN UNFAMILIAR VOICE CALLING HER NAME JOLTED

MIA

OUT OF HER

Startled, Mia looked up and saw a young human woman standing a few feet away. Dressed in Krinar clothing, she had a vaguely Middle Eastern look to her, with large brown eyes, wavy black hair, and a smooth olive-toned complexion. “Yes, hi,” Mia said, getting up and staring at the newcomer. At first glance, the woman—more of a girl, really—seemed to be in her late teens or early twenties, but there was something regal in the way she held herself that made Mia think she might be older. Although she lacked Maria’s vivid looks, there was a quiet, almost luminous beauty in her heart-shaped face and tall, slender figure. Another charl, Mia realized. “I’m Delia,” the girl said, giving her a gentle smile. She spoke in Krinar. “Maria told me she’d met you yesterday, and I wanted to stop by and welcome you to Lenkarda.” “It’s nice to meet you, Delia,” Mia said, giving her an answering smile. “How did you know where to find me?” “I stopped by Korum’s place, but no one seemed to be home,” Delia explained. “So I was actually taking the scenic route home and saw you reading here. I hope you don’t mind—I didn’t mean to interrupt...” “Oh, no, not at all!” Mia reassured her. “I’m very glad you came by! Please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other end of the towel, Mia sat down on one end of it. Delia smiled and joined her, gracefully lowering herself onto the fabric. “Have you been living in Lenkarda long?” Mia inquired, studying the other girl with curiosity. “I’ve been here since the Center was built,” Delia said. “You could say I’m one of the original residents, in fact.” Mia’s eyes widened. This girl had been a charl for almost five years? She had to have met her Krinar right after K-Day. “That’s amazing,” she told Delia earnestly. “How do you like living here?” Delia shrugged. “It’s a little different from what I’m used to. I prefer our old home, to be honest, but Arus needed to be here—” “Arus?” Could this be the same Arus she’d just seen virtually? “Yes,” Delia confirmed. “Have you already heard the name?” “I have,” Mia told her carefully, not sure how much she should say to someone who was apparently with Korum’s opponent. “He’s on the Council, right?” Delia nodded. “Yes, and he’s also in charge of relations with the human

governments.” “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Mia said, trying to figure out how much the girl knew about the apparent tension between their lovers. As though reading her mind, Delia gave her a reassuring look. “You don’t have to worry, Mia,” she told her. “Even though our cheren have had their share of political differences, I’m not here as Arus’s representative or anything like that. I just thought you might be feeling a little overwhelmed with everything and could use someone to talk to—” Mia gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—” Delia smiled back. “You didn’t. Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to clear up any misunderstanding and set your mind at ease.” “So how long have you and Arus been together?” Mia asked, eager to change the subject. “And is that what you would call Arus, your cheren?” “Yes,” Delia said. “Cheren is what a charl would call his or her lover.” “I see.” Now she had a Krinar term for what Korum was to her. “So when did you meet Arus? Was it when they first arrived?” “I met him a long time ago.” Delia gave her a calm smile. “What about you? Have you been with Korum long?” Mia shook her head. “Not at all. I only met him about a month ago in New York, in Central Park.” “When you were part of the Resistance?” Delia asked, staring at her with those large, liquid brown eyes. Mia flushed slightly. Everyone in Lenkarda seemed to know her involvement with the attempted attack on the colonies. “No,” she said. “I only met the Resistance fighters later.” “So you became Korum’s charl first and then joined the Resistance?” Delia seemed perplexed by that sequence of events. Mia sighed. “They approached me soon after I met him, and I agreed to help. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.” “I see,” Delia said, studying her carefully. “I guess Korum is not the easiest cheren, is he?” The color in Mia’s cheeks intensified. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said, staring at Delia with a slight frown on her face.

“I’m sorry.” Delia looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to pry into your relationship. It’s just that you seem so young and vulnerable...” “I can’t be that much younger than you,” Mia said, somewhat offended by the girl’s assumption. Delia laughed, shaking her head ruefully. “I’m sorry, Mia. I put my foot in it again, didn’t I? Look, I didn’t mean to insult you in any way... All I wanted to say is that I know how difficult it can be in the beginning, being involved with one of them. Your cheren also has a certain reputation for ruthlessness, and I guess I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay—” “I’m fine,” Mia said, frowning at Delia again. She didn’t need to hear about Korum’s reputation from this girl; she knew better than anyone just how ruthless her lover could be. “Of course,” Delia said gently. “I can see that you are.” “How did you meet Arus anyway?” Mia asked, wanting to shift the conversation in a different direction. Delia smiled. “It’s a long story. If you’d like, I can tell you sometime.” Getting to her feet, she said, “Arus just told me that the trial is over and he’s on his way home. I should be getting back. It was really nice to meet you, Mia. I hope we get to see each other again soon.” Mia nodded and got up also. “Thanks, it was really nice to meet you, too. I should probably head back as well.” “That’s not a bad idea,” Delia said, still smiling. “I’m sure Korum will be wondering where you are.” Mia waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, he knows, with the shining and all.” “Of course,” Delia said, and for a second, there was something resembling pity on her beautifully serene face. Before Mia could analyze it further, the girl added, “Listen, Maria is organizing a little get-together on the beach in about three weeks —a picnic of sorts, if you will. It’s her birthday, and she mentioned that she wanted me to invite you if I saw you today. Most of the charl from Lenkarda will be there, and it might be a good way for you to meet some more of us and make some friends...” A charl beach party? Mia grinned, excited at the idea. “Oh, I’ll definitely be there,” she promised. “That’s great,” Delia said, the smile returning to her face. “We’ll see you there

then.” And raising her hand, she lightly brushed her knuckles down Mia’s cheek in a gesture that almost seemed like a caress. Surprised, Mia lifted her hand to her cheek, but Delia was already walking away, her graceful figure disappearing into the trees.

ENTERING THE HOUSE, MIA HEARD RHYTHMIC THUMPING SOUNDS COMING FROM THE KITCHEN. Curious, she went to investigate and saw that Korum was already there, chopping up some vegetables for dinner. Mia’s stomach grumbled, and she realized that she was quite hungry. Seeing her walking in, Korum looked up from his task and gave her a slow smile that made her feel warm inside. “Well, hello there. I was just beginning to wonder if I’ll have to go searching through the woods for you. You didn’t get lost, did you?” “No,” Mia told him, grinning. “I just met another charl, actually. A girl named Delia... and she invited me to a beach party!” “Delia? Arus’s charl?” Mia nodded enthusiastically. “Do you know her?” “Not well,” Korum said. “I’ve met her a few times throughout the years.” He didn’t seem particularly happy at this turn of events, his expression cooling significantly. “You don’t like her?” Mia asked, some of her earlier excitement fading. “Or is it just because she’s with Arus?” Korum shrugged. “I don’t have anything against her,” he said. “What did you talk to her about? And what beach party is this?” “It’s Maria’s birthday, and she’s organizing a get-together for the charl living here in Lenkarda,” Mia told him. “And we really didn’t have a chance to talk much. Delia said she’s been with Arus for a long time—I think she must’ve met him shortly after you guys arrived. Mostly she was just being friendly, though. Oh, and she told me a new term I’ve never heard before: cheren.” Korum smiled, and Mia thought he almost looked relieved. “Yes, that’s what you would call me.” “What does it mean, exactly? Is there a comparable human word for it?” “No, there isn’t,” Korum said. “Just as there isn’t one for charl. It’s unique to the Krinar language.”

“I see,” Mia said, walking over to the table and sitting down. “Well, the beach party will be in three weeks. It’s all right if I go, right?” “Of course,” he said, looking up to give her a warm smile. “You should definitely go if you want, make some friends. I think Maria is very nice, and she seemed to like you quite a bit yesterday.” “I liked her, too,” Mia admitted, smiling at the thought of seeing Arman’s charl again. “She’s exactly how Latino women are often portrayed in the American media —really pretty and outgoing. By the way, I forgot to ask Delia today... Do you know where she’s from? Delia, I mean...” “Greece, I think,” Korum replied, placing cut vegetables into a big bowl and sprinkling them with some brownish powder. Swiftly mixing everything, he brought the salad to the table and ladled it onto each of their plates. Mia quickly consumed her portion and leaned back against the chair, feeling replete. Like everything Korum made, the meal had been delicious, with the familiar flavors of tomatoes and cucumbers mixing well with the more exotic plants from Krina. It was also surprisingly filling, considering that it was only vegetables. “Thank you,” Mia told him. “That was great.” “Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” “So I read some more of your history today,” Mia told him, watching as he fluidly rose from the table and carried the dishes to the wall, where they promptly disappeared. “And what did you think?” He came back to the table carrying a plate of strawberries. “I was pretty shocked,” Mia told him honestly. “I can’t believe your society survived the plague that almost wiped out those primates. I’m not sure if humans could’ve gone on if eighty percent of our food died out in a span of a few months.” “We almost didn’t survive it,” Korum said, biting into a strawberry, and licking the red juice off his lower lip. Mia suppressed a sudden urge to lick the juice off him herself. “More than half of our population was killed in fights and battles during that time, and many others died from the lack of the necessary hemoglobin. If the synthetic blood substitute hadn’t come through in time, we would’ve all perished. As it was, it took millions of years for us to recover, to get back to where we were before the plague almost wiped out the lonar.” Mia nodded. She’d read about that. The aftermath of the plague had been horrible. At the core, the Krinar were a violent species, and that violence had been

unleashed when their survival was threatened. Regions fought other regions, centers attacked other centers within their region, and everyone tried to hoard the few remaining lonar for themselves and their families. Even after the synthetic substitute became available, bloody conflicts had continued, as tremendous losses suffered during the post-plague days had left deep scars on K psyche. Almost every family had lost someone—a child, a parent, a cousin, or a friend—and the quest for vengeance became a feature of everyday life. “How were you able to move past that? All the wars and the vendettas? To get to where you are today?” The brief glimpse she’d had of Krinar life in Lenkarda seemed greatly at odds with the history she’d just learned. “It wasn’t easy,” Korum said. “It took a long time for the memories of that time to fade. Eventually, we implemented laws curbing violent behavior and outlawed vendettas. Now, Arena challenges are the only socially and legally acceptable way to seek revenge and settle disputes that cannot otherwise be resolved.” Mia studied him curiously. “Have you ever fought in the Arena?” “A few times.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate further. Instead, he rose from the table and asked, “How do you feel about a post-dinner walk on the beach?” Mia blinked, surprised. “Um, sure. You don’t think it’ll get too dark soon?” “I can see pretty well in the dark, plus there is some moonlight. You have nothing to be afraid of.” “Okay, then sure.” If she didn’t get eaten by mosquitoes, then this could be really nice.

TAKING HER HAND, KORUM LED HER OUTSIDE. THE SUN HAD JUST SET, AND THERE WAS STILL AN orange glow behind the trees, which appeared like dark silhouettes against the bright sky. The temperature was getting a little cooler, the day’s heat starting to dissipate, and Mia could hear the chirping of some insects and the rustling of leaves in the warm, tropical-scented breeze. A few feet away, a large iguana scooted off a rock and into the shrubs, apparently seeking to avoid them. “How did the rest of the trial go?” Mia asked. “I stopped watching all the witness testimonies after about five hours.” “It was fairly uneventful,” Korum said, smiling down at her. “You didn’t miss much.”

“Do you think anyone believed Loris when he made those accusations against you?” “I’m sure some did.” He didn’t sound overly concerned about that. “But he has no evidence to substantiate his claims.” “Arus seemed to be on your side,” Mia said, carefully stepping around a fallen log. It was getting darker by the minute, and they were still a good distance away from the beach. “He has no other choice,” Korum explained. “He has to side with the evidence.” “Why don’t you like him?” Mia asked, looking up to him. “He doesn’t seem like a bad person...” “He’s not,” Korum admitted. “Just misguided in some ways. He doesn’t always see the big picture.” “And you do?” Korum’s smile widened. “For the most part.” For the next couple of minutes, they walked in companionable silence, with Mia concentrating on where she was stepping and Korum seemingly absorbed in thought. There was something very peaceful about this moment, from the soft glow of the twilight to the quiet roar of the ocean in the distance. For the first time, Mia fully realized just how tumultuous her relationship with Korum had been thus far. In many ways, it was like a roller coaster ride, with plenty of passion, drama, and excitement, but very few moments like this, where she got to spend time with him without her pulse racing a mile a minute from either sexual arousal or some strong emotion. When she’d imagined herself having a boyfriend, this was always how she’d pictured it—long, pleasant walks together, quiet time spent simply enjoying the other person’s presence. And in this moment, she could pretend that’s exactly what Korum was to her—a boyfriend, a regular human lover whom she could take to meet her parents without worry, someone with whom she could have a future... Suddenly, her foot hit a rock, and Mia stumbled. Before she could do more than gasp, Korum caught her and lifted her up into his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking down at her with concern. In response, Mia wrapped her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder, feeling unusually needy. “I’m fine. Just being a klutz.” “You’re not a klutz,” Korum denied. “You just don’t see well when it gets dark.”

“True,” Mia said, inhaling the warm scent of his skin near the throat area. She felt strangely content like this, being held so gently in his powerful arms. It occurred to her that she no longer feared him, at least on a physical level. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, she thought he might kill her for helping the Resistance. He walked for a few more minutes, carrying Mia, until they reached the beach. Setting her down carefully, he kept his hands on her waist. “Do you feel up for a swim?” he asked, and Mia could make out the sensuous curve of his lips in the faint light of the almost-full moon. “I’m not wearing a bathing suit,” Mia said, looking up at him. The night air was also getting a little cooler—perfect for a walk, but likely less pleasant on wet skin. “There’s no one around,” he told her. “Except me. And I’ve seen you naked.” For some reason, that simple statement jolted Mia out of her calm contentment. Her lower belly tightened with arousal, and her nipples hardened. She felt much warmer all of a sudden, as though the hot sun was still beaming down on them. Staring up at him, she asked, “What if someone comes by?” “They won’t,” Korum promised. “I reserved this portion of the beach just for us tonight.” He had reserved the beach just for them? She hadn’t realized someone could do that. But it made sense, of course, that if anyone could, it would be Korum; as a Council member, he likely enjoyed special privileges in Lenkarda. Apparently getting impatient with her lack of response, Korum decided to take matters into his own hands. Taking a couple of steps back, he stripped off his own clothes and removed his sandals, dropping everything carelessly on the sand. Mia’s breathing quickened. His tall, powerfully muscled body was now completely naked, and the moonlight revealed the hard erection between his legs. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered softly. “I want you naked right now.” Staring at him, Mia licked her suddenly dry lips. She could feel the soft material of her dress rubbing against her hard nipples and the moisture starting to gather between her thighs. Her whole body felt sensitized, her heart beating harder and blood rushing faster through her veins. Memories of last night’s disturbing—yet incredibly erotic—experience were suddenly at the front of her mind, and she swallowed nervously, wondering if he intended to teach her another lesson or fulfill some other fantasy she didn’t know she had. He didn’t say anything else, just stood there waiting, watching her expectantly.

Mia wondered just how good his night vision was. She couldn’t see the expression on his face in the dim light and had no idea what he was thinking right now. Her hands trembling a little, she slowly pulled off her boots. The sand felt cool under her bare feet, no longer retaining the warmth of the sun. “Now the dress,” Korum prompted, and there was a roughness in his voice that made her think his patience was near the end. Mia obeyed, pulling the dress over her head and dropping it on the sand. She was now completely naked, and she could feel herself shivering slightly in the evening ocean breeze. He stepped toward her then and reached out to cup her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her. His hands left her shoulders and curved around her butt cheeks instead, lifting her up against him until the hardness of his cock pressed into her belly. His mouth slanted over hers, and she could feel the smooth warmth of his lips and the insistent push of his tongue penetrating her mouth. Everything inside her softened, melted, and she moaned quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands tightened on her butt, squeezing the small round globes, and then he was lowering her to the ground, putting her down on top of their clothes. His right hand found its way down her body, forced apart her legs, his fingers exploring her tender folds with a maddeningly gentle touch. Mia squirmed, her hips lifting toward him, wanting more, and he obliged, one long finger penetrating her opening and finding the sensitive spot inside. The familiar tension began to gather in her belly, and she twisted her hips, needing just a tiny bit more... and then she was hurtling over the brink with a small cry, her inner muscles pulsing in orgasmic relief. Lying there bonelessly in the aftermath, she felt his hands pulling her legs wider apart. His arousal brushed against her thighs, the tip of his cock impossibly smooth and hot. He was pressed against her opening, and Mia’s breath caught in anticipation of his entry, her body instantly craving more of the pleasure she had just experienced. “Tell me you want me,” he whispered, and there was something strange in his voice, some dark note she’d never heard before. “You know I do,” she told him softly, feeling like she would die if she didn’t have him right now. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive, as though it couldn’t contain the need that was burning her from the inside. “How much?” he demanded roughly. “How much do you want me?”

“A lot,” Mia admitted, staring up at him, her pelvic muscles clenching with desire and her clitoris throbbing. What did he want from her? Couldn’t he tell how much her body yearned for his? He lowered his head then, kissing her again, even as his cock pressed forward and entered her in one powerful thrust. Mia cried out against his lips, suddenly filled to the brim. Before she could fully adjust to the sensation, he began to move, his hips thrusting and recoiling, the hard rhythm reverberating through her insides in a way that made her forget all about his strange behavior. She heard her own cries, though she wasn’t conscious of making them, his roughness somehow adding to the coiling tension inside her— And then he stopped, just as she was seconds away from finding release. Frustrated, Mia moaned, writhing underneath him, unable to control the convulsive movements of her body. “Korum, please...” “Please what?” he murmured, withdrawing from her. His hand found its way between their bodies, and he pressed his fingers lightly against her clitoris, keeping her balanced on the exquisite edge of pleasure-pain. “Please what?” “Please fuck me,” she whispered, nearly incoherent with need. He pressed harder against her folds, and Mia cried out, the knot of tension inside her growing even tighter. “Tell me you love me,” he ordered, and Mia froze, the unfamiliar words reaching through her daze, startling her for a second out of her sensual fog. “Tell me, Mia,” he said sharply, and his finger slipped inside her, finding the spot that always drove her insane and pressing on it rhythmically until she was almost crying with frustration, her body writhing and twisting in his arms. Nearly incoherent, she screamed, “I do! Please, Korum... I do!” “You do what?” He was relentless, completely unyielding in his demand. “I love you,” she sobbed, knowing that she would regret it later but unable to help herself. “Korum, please... I love you!” His fingers left her then, and she could feel his cock again, pushing into her, and she shuddered with relief as he resumed his thrusting, reaching deeply inside her, filling the pulsing emptiness within. At the same time, his hand buried itself in her hair, arching her throat toward him, and Mia felt the heat of his mouth on her neck and the familiar slicing pain signifying his bite. Almost instantly, her world dissolved into a blur of sensations, the long-awaited climax rushing through her with so much force that she blanked out for a few seconds, barely cognizant of his

harsh cry as he found his own release a minute later. The rest of the night passed in a haze, with him taking her again and again in blood-induced frenzy until she could come no longer, her throat hoarse from screaming and her body wrung dry from unending orgasms. It didn’t seem real, any of it, with her senses unbearably heightened from the chemical in his saliva and her mind empty of all thought, her entire being caught up in the extreme ecstasy of his touch. Finally, at some point before dawn, Mia passed out in his arms, with the ocean waves pounding against the shore a few feet away and the moon shining down on their entwined bodies.

12

O pening her eyes the next morning, Mia stared at the ceiling as the memories of last night flooded her brain. She’d told him she loved him, she remembered with a twisting sensation in her stomach. Like an idiot, she’d let him rip away her one remaining shred of protection, baring her heart and soul. Now he could toy with her feelings, just as he played with her body. And why? Why had he done this to her? Wasn’t it enough for him that he fully controlled her life? Did he have to possess her on an emotional level as well, stripping away her last bit of privacy? She could deny it today. She could say that he had tortured the words out of her —and that much would be true. But he would know that she was lying if she tried to go back on her reluctant confession. Groaning, Mia buried her face in the pillow, wishing she could sleep longer. The last thing she wanted was to face him today. After about a minute, she talked herself into getting up and going into the shower. To her surprise, there was no trace of sand anywhere on her body. Korum must’ve brought her home and washed her last night—or at some point this morning. She didn’t remember that part at all. She was also surprised that she didn’t have any soreness after last night’s sexual marathon; in New York, Korum would often have to use his healing device on her after a night like this. He had probably done it when she was sleeping, Mia decided. Stepping under the hot spray of the shower, she closed her eyes and tried to think about something else besides seeing Korum today. It turned out to be an impossible task. Her mind kept dwelling on what she would say to him when she saw him next, how he might act, whether he would be his usual mocking self... She desperately wished she could get away for a couple of

days, just go home to her own apartment—but that was obviously not a possibility. Exiting the shower, Mia toweled off and put on the robe. Steeling herself for a potential encounter, she ventured into the living room. To her relief, Korum wasn’t there. He must be at the trial, Mia realized. Checking the time, she was shocked to see that it was already three in the afternoon. Padding into the kitchen, she requested a plate of fruit for breakfast and brought it with her into the living room. It was probably too late to go into the virtual world of the trial; if it started at the same time as yesterday, the presentations would be wrapping up in another couple of hours. So instead, Mia curled up on the couch and tried to distract herself by reading the latest Dan Brown thriller.

LOOKING UP FROM THE BOOK, MIA CHECKED THE TIME. IT WAS ALMOST FIVE O’CLOCK. HER STOMACH rumbled, reminding her that she had barely eaten today. She was also still wearing her bathrobe and house slippers. Getting up, Mia went into the bedroom and put on a pretty white-and-pink dress and a pair of flat, strappy sandals. She had no idea when Korum would be done with the trial, but yesterday he was home by early evening and already making dinner when she got back from her conversation with Delia. For some reason, she didn’t want to look like a slob when he got home tonight, although she had no idea why she cared about that. For a brief second, she thought about leaving to take a walk in the hopes of avoiding him for a while longer, but then she decided not to be a coward. It’s not like she could go far, or even someplace where he wouldn’t immediately find her. The tracking devices embedded in her palms broadcast her whereabouts to him at all times. It was best to just face him and get it over with. He came home an hour later. Hearing Korum enter, Mia looked up from her book, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. Dressed in the more formal trial clothes, he looked simply gorgeous, his bronze skin contrasting beautifully with the white color of his shirt and his powerful physique emphasized by the tight fit of his outfit. The look in his amber eyes was surprisingly warm, as if he hadn’t spent last night torturing her with the goal of exposing her silly feelings. As Mia watched warily, he approached and picked her up from the couch, lifting her up for a brief kiss. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, carefully placing her back on her feet and keeping his hands still on her waist.

“A surprise?” Mia asked, startled. Korum nodded, smiling down at her. “We’re going out for dinner with Saret and one of his assistants.” “Okay...” Mia said, frowning at him slightly. “That sounds good, but what’s the surprise?” His smile widened. “The reason why we’re meeting with them is because they want to find out more about your psychology knowledge and experience, to better figure out how and where you could be of most use in Saret’s lab.” “What do you mean?” Mia could hardly believe her ears. “What does Saret’s lab have to do with anything?” “Well, since school and career are so important to you,” said Korum, “I wanted to make sure I’m not depriving you of anything by bringing you here. You seemed interested in Saret’s specialty earlier, and, from what I understand, your field of study is similar to his. One of his assistants recently left, creating an opening at his lab. Of course, there are already about ten applicants for the position, but I convinced him to take you on for a couple of months, just to try things out. Obviously, this will be a great learning opportunity for you, but you might also provide him with some unique insights, given your background—” “And he agreed to take me on? A human?” Mia asked incredulously, her heart jumping in her chest. “He did,” Korum answered. “He owes me a couple of favors, plus he said he likes you.” “You’re telling me that I can work in a K laboratory alongside your top mind expert?” Mia said slowly, needing to hear him confirm it just in case. She was nearly hyperventilating with excitement. This was an unbelievable, impossible opportunity. How many humans had a chance like this, to study Krinar minds from their own perspective? Scientists would sell their soul to the devil to be in her shoes right now. Mia wanted to jump up and down and laugh out loud, and she knew there was a huge grin on her face. “If you’re interested,” he said casually, but there was a gleam in his eyes that told her he knew exactly how much this meant to her. “If I’m interested? Oh, Korum, I don’t even know how to thank you,” Mia told him earnestly. “Obviously, this is a phenomenal opportunity for me! Thank you so, so much!”

He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “Of course. I’m happy you like the idea. As to how you can thank me...” His eyes took on a familiar golden tint, and he sat down on the couch, pulling her down next to him. “A kiss would be nice,” he told her softly. Mia’s grin faded and she tensed, remembering last night. For a moment, she’d forgotten what he’d done, what he’d forced her to say, too distracted by the amazing opportunity he was presenting her with. But now it was at the forefront of her mind again. Was he going to act like it hadn’t happened? If so, she would be more than happy to play along. Staring him in the face, Mia buried her fingers in his hair and brought his head toward her. His hair felt thick and soft in her hands, and his lips were smooth and warm underneath hers. He tasted delicious, like some exotic fruit and himself, and she kissed him with all the passion and excitement she was feeling. When she finally stopped, his breathing was a little faster, and Mia could feel her own nipples pinching into tight buds underneath her dress. “Mmm, that was quite a thank-you,” he murmured, looking at her with a soft smile. “Maybe I should find internships for you every day.” “I might expire from excitement if you do,” Mia told him honestly. “Seriously, this is more than I could’ve ever expected or imagined. Thank you again.” “You’re welcome,” he said, obviously enjoying her reaction. “Now, are you ready to go? The dinner is in fifteen minutes, and we shouldn’t be late.” Mia got up and twirled in front of him. “Can I wear this, or should I change?” “This is perfect. Just add some jewelry, and you’re good to go.”

THEY LEFT THE HOUSE A FEW MINUTES LATER, AFTER MIA PUT ON HER MILLION-YEAR-OLD SHIMMERstone necklace. Korum had already created the small aircraft that would take them to dinner, and Mia climbed in through the dissolving wall, sitting down on one of the floating planks and making herself comfortable. She was already starting to get used to this mode of transportation. “Are we meeting them at a restaurant?” she asked, curious if such a thing existed in Lenkarda. Thus far, the only meal she’d had outside of Korum’s home was at Arman’s. Korum nodded. “Something like that. It’s called the Food Hall, and we get a private booth there. The idea is similar to a human restaurant, but there are no

waiters of any kind. The food tends to be much fancier than what you’d get at home, with more exotic ingredients than something my house or I would typically go for.” “So do Ks meet at this Food Hall, just as we would go to a restaurant to socialize?” “Exactly,” Korum confirmed. “It’s a popular place for business meetings and other such occasions. Dates, also, but most prefer a bit more privacy for that.” “Why?” Mia asked as the little aircraft took off soundlessly. “Sex in public is considered rude,” Korum explained, looking at her with a wicked smile. “And dates frequently result in sex.” Mia felt her face getting warm. “I see. More frequently than in human society?” “Probably—though I haven’t seen any hard data to substantiate that assumption. Our society tends to be much more liberal about such matters. With the exception of mated couples, everyone’s on birth control, so we don’t have to worry about unwanted pregnancies. Also, there is no such thing as a sexually transmitted disease among the Krinar. There’s really no reason for us not to enjoy ourselves.” Mia suddenly felt extremely and irrationally jealous, imagining Korum “enjoying himself” with some unknown Krinar female. He’d told her she was the only woman in his life and had been ever since they met, and she believed him—there had been no reason for him to lie. Still, she couldn’t get the images of Korum entwined with some beautiful K woman out of her mind. Before she could ask him any more questions, the aircraft landed softly in front of a large white building. Shaped similarly to Korum’s house, it was also an elongated cube with rounded corners, only much bigger in size. Korum exited first and then held his hand out to her. Mia accepted it, gripping his palm tightly. This was her first public outing in Lenkarda, and she felt both excited and nervous about encountering other Krinar. Mostly, though, she hoped she wouldn’t seem like an idiot to Saret and his assistant. She wished she’d had a chance to review notes from some of her classes, just in case they decided to quiz her on what she’d learned thus far in her psychology studies. Holding her hand, Korum led her toward the building. As they approached, the wall dissolved to let them in, and they entered a large hallway with opaque walls and a transparent ceiling. Nobody came out to greet them, but there were a number of Ks milling about, both males and females, dressed in a mix of formal and casual

clothing. At their entrance, several dozen heads turned their way, and Mia gripped Korum’s hand tighter, startled to be the center of attention. Korum, however, didn’t acknowledge the stares in any way, walking at a leisurely pace down the hallway. Mia did her best to imitate his composure, looking straight ahead and concentrating on not gawking at the gorgeous creatures who were openly—and rudely, in her opinion—studying her and her lover. Just before it seemed like they would reach the end of the hallway, the walls to their right parted, and Korum led her into the opening. It turned out to be a small, private room where Saret and another male Krinar were already waiting for them. As they entered, Saret rose from his floating seat and stepped toward Korum, greeting him with the palm on his shoulder. Her lover reciprocated the gesture with a small smile. “I’m glad you could come out tonight,” Saret said, looking at them both. “Mia, is this your first time visiting the Food Hall?” Mia nodded, feeling a little nervous. If all went according to plan, this K would soon be her boss. “Yes, I haven’t been out too much yet.” “Of course,” Saret said. “Your cheren has been occupied with the trial, like many of us. Now, Korum, have you met Adam?” “I haven’t had the pleasure,” Korum said, turning to the other Krinar. “But I’ve heard quite a bit about this young man.” Adam got up and, to Mia’s surprise, held his hand out in a very human gesture. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth, and the way he pronounced certain words in Krinar made him seem almost like a foreigner. Smiling slightly, Korum reached out and shook Adam’s hand. “I see you haven’t quite gotten the hang of our greetings.” The other K shrugged. “I’m familiar with the customs by now, but they still don’t come naturally to me. Since you’ve lived in New York for quite some time, I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Then, turning to Mia, he smiled at her warmly and said, “I’m Adam Moore. And you must be Mia Stalis, the girl I’ve heard so much about.” Mia blinked, not sure if she’d just imagined hearing a K introduce himself with what seemed like a human first and last name. “Yes, hi,” she said, giving him a

smile in return. Korum had called him a young man, and she wondered how old he really was. Physically, he seemed to be about the same age as Korum and Saret. “Adam has a very unusual background,” Saret said, apparently sensing her confusion. “Come, have a seat, and we can chat more over dinner.” “That sounds like a good idea,” Korum said, pulling a pair of floating seats toward them. Mia perched on one of them, letting it adjust to her body shape, and Korum did the same. The seats floated closer toward the other two Krinar, who had also sat down by that time. Now the four of them were arranged in a circle around what looked to be a tiny floating table. Upon closer inspection, Mia could see that the table was actually more like a tablet of some kind, filled with Krinar writing and images of various appetizing platters. A menu, she realized. “We’ve already requested our meal,” Saret told them. “You can go ahead and choose.” “Do you want me to order for you?” Korum asked Mia, his lips curving into a dimpled smile. “Sure,” Mia told him, happy to delegate that task. Even though her embedded translator made it possible to read Krinar writing, she had no idea what most of the dishes were. Korum waved his palm over the table. “Okay, I just ordered for both of us. The food should get here in a few minutes.” Mia thanked him and turned her attention back to the other Ks, giving them a smile. Saret smiled back at her, his brown eyes twinkling. “How are you enjoying your first few days in Lenkarda?” “It’s a beautiful place,” she told him honestly. “The beach is very nice. I grew up in Florida, so I really miss it in New York. I mean, we have the ocean and everything there, but it’s just not the same.” “Too dirty and polluted, right?” Saret said. “It’s pretty dirty,” Mia admitted. “And crowded. Even in the summer, the beaches right around the city are not the greatest. And, of course, the weather is not optimal for beach-going most times of the year—” “Do you ever go out to Jersey Shore or the Hamptons?” asked Adam. “Those beaches are much nicer.” “No, I haven’t had a chance,” Mia answered. “I don’t have a car, and I’m not

usually in New York during the summer, anyway. During the school year, the weather is nice enough for a beach outing only in September, and I’m typically too busy to take the bus somewhere for an entire weekend. Why, have you been there?” “I actually grew up in Manhattan,” Adam said. “So I’ve gone out to both Jersey Shore and the Hamptons quite a bit with my family.” Mia’s eyes widened in shock. “Your family?” Adam nodded. “I was adopted by a human family when I was a baby. They had no idea what I was, of course, and neither did I, at least until K-Day.” “Really?” Mia stared at him in fascination. To her, he looked very much like a K, with his dark brown hair, golden skin, and hazel eyes. He also had their way of moving, an almost cat-like grace common to many predators. Of course, prior to KDay, nobody knew that the Krinar existed, so it was feasible that he could’ve been mistaken for a human. “So you only recently discovered that you’re a K?” “I knew that I was different, of course,” Adam said with a shrug. “But I had no idea I was actually from another planet.” “But how did no one find out? I mean, you must’ve been much stronger and faster than the other kids... And what about blood tests and immunizations?” “It wasn’t easy,” Adam admitted readily. “My parents are amazing people. They realized early on that I was not a regular kid from Romania and did everything in their power to protect me.” “But how did this even happen?” Mia was still trying to wrap her brain around such an improbable situation. “How did you end up on Earth as a baby—and before K-Day, no less?” “It’s a long story,” Adam replied, suddenly looking colder and much more dangerous. Watching him now, Mia could easily imagine him filling Korum’s shoes in another couple of hundred years. “And probably not a good fit for dinner conversation.” “Of course,” Mia apologized swiftly. Clearly, she’d hit a sensitive spot. “I didn’t mean to pry—” “No worries,” Adam said, smiling at her again. “I know the whole thing is very strange, and I don’t blame you for being curious.” The food appeared in that moment, with dishes emerging from the wall to Mia’s left and floating to land on the table—which immediately expanded into a fairly sizable surface. Mia’s plate seemed to be a mixture of some strange purplish grain

and a bunch of green and orange bits of unfamiliar-looking plants. Everything was arranged in elaborate flower-like shapes and swirls, resembling a work of art more than actual food. Korum appeared to have ordered the same thing for himself. Taking a bite of the concoction, Mia almost moaned in pleasure, her tastebuds in heaven from the incredible fusion of sweet, salty, and tangy flavors. For a couple of minutes, there was only silence as all four of them concentrated on their meal. Saret finished his food first and pushed away the plate, which immediately floated away. Coming back to the earlier topic of conversation, he told Mia, “As you can imagine, Adam is still trying to figure out our way of life. In some ways, you two actually have a lot in common, which is why I brought Adam with me today. Despite his youth, he’s one of my most promising assistants—and that’s partially because of the unique perspective he brings as a result of his background. I would not normally take on someone in their twenties—an adolescent in our society—but Adam is much more mature than a typical Krinar of that age.” Mia nodded, her palms beginning to sweat. Now they were getting to the reason behind this dinner. She pushed away the rest of her food to better concentrate on Saret. “Korum tells me that you have a strong interest in all matters of the mind— that, in fact, it’s your chosen field of study. Is that right?” he asked, looking at her expectantly. “I’m a psychology major at NYU,” Mia confirmed. “From what I understand, psychology is much narrower in scope than your specialty... but I would love to learn about anything having to do with the mind.” “And how much do you know already? What did they teach you at NYU so far?” Mia felt herself shifting into her “interview mode,” her nervousness somehow translating into a greater clarity of thought and speech. Drawing on everything she remembered, she told Saret about her basic psychology classes, as well as the more advanced, specialized courses she’d begun to take recently. She spoke about the paper she’d just finished writing for Child Psychology and about the internship she had last year at a Daytona Beach hospital counseling victims of domestic abuse. She also explained her plan to get a Master’s degree and work as a guidance counselor, so she could positively influence young people at an important time in their lives. Saret and Adam both listened attentively, with Saret occasionally nodding as she mentioned some of the key concepts she’d learned in her classes. Korum observed everything quietly, seemingly content to just watch her as she spoke animatedly

about her education. Finally, Saret stopped her after about a half hour. “Thank you, Mia. This is exactly what I wanted to know. You do seem quite passionate about your chosen... major... and I think you could be a useful addition to my team. Would you be able to start tomorrow?” Mia almost jumped from excitement, but controlled herself in the last moment and simply gave Saret a huge grin. “Absolutely! What time do you want me there?” Then, remembering that she should probably consult the K who ran her life, she quickly looked at Korum. He nodded, smiling, and Mia’s grin got impossibly wider. “Can you be there by nine in the morning?” Saret asked. “I know you need more sleep than us, but I believe that’s a standard business start time among humans...” “Of course,” Mia said eagerly. “I can also come earlier, whatever the regular time is for you—” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Korum shaking his head at Saret. “No, there’s no need,” Saret said. “There’s absolutely no urgency, and you’ll be of greater use to us if you’re not sleep-deprived. Just come at nine, okay?” Mia nodded, feeling like she was floating on air. “Sure, I can’t wait!” Adam smiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s a very steep learning curve,” he warned. “I’ve been working in this lab for the last two years, and I can tell you that I’m still learning fifty new things a day.” Mia grinned again, too hyper to feel properly intimidated. “That’s fine—I love to learn.” Turning to Saret, she told him earnestly, “Thank you for this opportunity. I will do my best to make myself useful.” “Of course,” Saret said with a smile. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” And getting up, he repeated the earlier greeting, touching Korum’s shoulder before walking out. Adam followed his boss’s example, rising to his feet and shaking Korum’s hand again before departing. Mia noticed that he didn’t offer his hand to her for some reason, even though he had to know that it was somewhat rude to ignore her like that. She guessed there was a taboo of some kind about touching women—or maybe just other Ks’ charl—likely having to do with the Ks’ territorial nature. Since even Adam was following this particular custom, there had to be a fairly compelling reason. Finally, Korum and Mia were left alone.

Getting up, her lover smiled at her warmly. “You did great—I could tell that Saret was impressed. I’m very proud of you.” Mia gave him a big smile and got up also, his words filling her with a happy glow. “Thank you. And thanks again for making this possible.” “Of course,” Korum said, pulling her closer to him and burying his hand in her hair. Holding her pressed against his body and her face tilted up toward him, he said softly, “Now tell me again that you love me.”

STARING UP AT HIM, MIA FROZE, HER EUPHORIA FADING AND A TERRIBLE SENSE OF VULNERABILITY taking its place. He wasn’t planning to ignore what happened last night. She moistened her lips. “Korum, I...” She tried to lower her gaze, to look away, but it was impossible with the way he was holding her. “Tell me, Mia.” His eyes were turning a deeper shade of gold. “I want to hear you say it again.” She desperately wanted to deny him, to tell him that she’d been out of her mind last night, but the words simply wouldn’t form on her tongue. Because she did love him, so much that it hurt, so much that she could barely think past the powerful emotions filling her chest. At some point in the last few weeks, he’d gone from being an aloof and dangerous stranger to someone she couldn’t imagine her life without. And as much as she hated her loss of freedom, she also loved the numerous little kindnesses he showed her on a daily basis, the way he made her feel so alive... He was right: she had been merely content with her life before she met him. She’d had a comfortable, mostly happy existence. But she hadn’t truly lived. “Tell me, my darling,” he urged softly, his hand slipping out of her hair to gently cup her cheek. “Tell me...” “I do. I love you,” she whispered, staring up at him, wondering what he would say now, whether he would somehow use her admission against her. But he just smiled and leaned down to kiss her, his beautiful lips touching hers so tenderly that she felt her heart squeezing in her chest. “Does it make you happy, being able to have an internship here?” he murmured, lifting his head and regarding her with a warm glow in his golden eyes. Mia nodded. “Of course,” she said quietly. “You know it does.”

“Good. I want you to be happy here,” he said softly, stepping back and releasing her from his embrace. And then, taking her hand, he led her out of their private room and into the hallway.

THEY ARRIVED AT THE HOUSE A COUPLE OF MINUTES LATER. During the short ride, Mia kept her gaze trained on the transparent floor, though she could hardly see the scenery below with her mind occupied by the evening’s events. In some strange way, it was almost liberating to open herself up to Korum like this, to tell him how she really felt. Now she didn’t have to constantly be on her guard, worried that he would guess that she’d fallen in love with him. She didn’t have to fear that he would mock her for being a silly young girl and confusing sex with emotions. No, he hadn’t mocked her at all. Contrary to her expectations, he seemed to welcome the emotional aspect; in fact, he’d practically forced her to admit she loved him. He hadn’t reciprocated with his own words of love, but then she hadn’t really expected him to. He’d said in the past that he cared for her, and she believed him. But love? Could someone like Korum truly fall in love with a human? Arman seemed to love Maria, but their relationship was so different from what Mia had with her cheren. No, she didn’t know if Korum could ever love her, and she didn’t want to drive herself insane wondering—not right now, not when she felt so happy and was so eagerly looking forward to starting her internship tomorrow. They exited the aircraft, and Korum swiftly disassembled it, activating the nanomachines with a small gesture. Mia watched him, her heart feeling like it would burst from her chest, unable to contain the feelings within. Every movement of his tall, muscular body was imbued with barely leashed strength, his Krinar hunter heritage evident in the predatory grace with which he held himself. He was so far from someone she could’ve ever imagined herself with—and so wrong for her in many ways—yet he was the only man who had ever made her feel this way. After the ship was gone, turned back into its individual atoms, Korum lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house, heading straight for the bedroom. Mia clung to him, desperately craving physical contact, wanting the incredible pleasure only he could give her. They entered the bedroom, and he gently placed her on the bed. Lying there, Mia watched as he removed his shirt, revealing his powerfully built chest and muscular

stomach. His shorts were next, and then he was fully naked, his large cock already hard and his balls swinging heavily between his legs. His body was the epitome of masculine beauty, Mia thought hazily, her own body reacting to the sight with almost instant arousal. Before she had a chance to fully admire him, he climbed on top of her and pulled up her dress, exposing her nether regions to his burning gaze. Without any preliminaries, he spread her legs and paused for a few seconds, seemingly fascinated by her sex. Her entire body flushing, Mia tried to close her legs, feeling far too exposed like that, but he wouldn’t let her, not until he’d had a chance to look his fill. Finally, raising his head, Korum murmured, “You have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Did I ever tell you that?” Mia shook her head, flushing even hotter. “You do,” he said softly. “All delicate pink folds and tiny clit—like the prettiest little flower.” And before Mia could say anything, he bent his head toward the object of his admiration, carefully separating the said folds with his fingers, his tongue unerringly finding the sensitive area around her clitoris. Startled by the sudden lash of pleasure, Mia cried out and arched against his mouth, her entire body tensing from a sensation so intense that it was almost intolerable. Her hands somehow found their way into his hair, tightening there, trying to force him into a harder rhythm that would give her immediate release. But Korum refused to be rushed, and his tongue continued its maddeningly light strokes around her nub, keeping her hovering right on the edge. And just when Mia thought she would go out of her mind, he finally pressed the flat side of his tongue against her clit, moving it back and forth with just enough force for her to reach her peak with a loud scream, her whole body quaking from the strength of her climax. Panting and weak, she lay there as he watched her sex pulsating from the orgasm, his interest apparently still not fully satisfied. Once she had recovered a bit, he started to climb on top of her again, but Mia whispered, “Wait.” To her surprise, he listened, pausing for a second. Still trembling slightly in the aftermath of what she’d just experienced, she sat up and gave Korum a challenging smile, her left hand reaching out to stroke his balls. “Turnabout is fair play,” she said softly. “Why don’t you lie down now?” His eyes turned a deeper shade of gold, and Mia could feel his balls tightening within her hand. It excited him, she realized, when she took the initiative like that.

“How about I stand?” he suggested instead, and Mia nodded, liking the idea even more. Getting on her knees on the tall bed, she reached out and ran her hands down his chest, reveling in the feel of hard muscle covered by soft skin. His flesh was hot and firm to the touch, and she could almost believe he was a statue of some Greek or Roman god come to life. Her right hand traveled lower, down the taut muscles of his stomach and followed the faint trail of hair down to his sex. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, Mia felt it growing even harder in her grasp. She stroked it gently, enjoying the velvety texture of his skin there, and he groaned, closing his eyes, the expression on his face almost bordering on pain. Encouraged, Mia pressed her lips against his chest and kissed her way down his body, slowly kneeling until her mouth was hovering just above his cock. His breath caught in anticipation, and Mia smiled and licked him, her tongue flicking lightly over the sensitive tip. He hissed, his hips thrusting at her. His hands buried themselves on her hair, bringing her face closer to his sex, until Mia had no choice but to open her mouth and let him in. At the feel of her lips closing around his cock, he shuddered, and she could taste the faint saltiness of pre-cum. Her inner muscles tightened as a tremor of arousal ran through her. His pleasure turned her on, Mia realized, reveling in the effect she had on him. She rarely got a chance to do this, to take him in her mouth and make him come, because he was always so focused on driving her crazy, making her scream with ecstasy in his arms. Cupping his balls with her left hand, she wrapped the right one lower around the base of his shaft and began a slow rhythmic movement, taking him deeper into her mouth every time. She couldn’t accept his full length, of course, but he didn’t seem to care, his fingers tightening in her hair almost to the point of pain. Then she could feel him swelling up even further, getting impossibly long and thick, and a warm, salty liquid spurted into her mouth as he came with a harsh cry, his head thrown back in ecstasy. After a minute, Korum’s fingers slowly unclenched in her hair as he withdrew his softening shaft from her mouth. Looking down at her, he smiled. “That was amazing,” he told her and Mia stared up at him, slowly licking her lips and tasting the remnants of his seed there. She didn’t know why she found it so exciting, giving him pleasure, but she did. She was fully aroused again, as though the powerful orgasm she’d just had was days in the past, instead of just minutes.

Climbing onto the bed, he brought her toward him and pulled her dress off over her head. At the sight of her naked body, his sex stirred again, and Mia’s stomach clenched with anticipation as he drew her toward him, covering her mouth with his in an all-consuming kiss. And then he took her, possessing her with his body even as he now owned her heart and soul..

13

O ver the next ten days, Mia fell into a routine. Her days were almost entirely consumed with her apprenticeship at Saret’s lab, while Korum occupied her evenings and—quite frequently—nights. Interning at the lab proved to be a grueling and mentally exhausting job, yet Mia learned more in a few days there than she had during her entire three years of college. Saret made no allowances for her ignorance or for the fact that, as a human, she was slower at certain tasks than his other assistants. On the very first day, he paired her up with Adam and assigned them three projects, the most interesting of which was to figure out how to improve the process of knowledge transfer for Krinar children. Knowledge transfer, Mia had learned, was the way in which Ks educated their young—essentially imprinting the necessary information on their maturing brains, thus eliminating the need for rote learning of such basics as reading, writing, math, and history. After giving her a whirlwind tour of the highly advanced technology used in the lab, Saret told Adam to explain to Mia the research they’d done thus far and to show her the necessary recordings and readings. By the time Mia left the lab on her first day, it had already been ten in the evening, and she had been completely exhausted. Korum had been furious with Saret, but her new boss proved surprisingly inflexible: Mia was either working as hard as the other apprentices, or he had no room for her in his lab. After a major argument between the two Ks, which included several thinly veiled threats from Korum, Saret had reluctantly agreed that Mia would go home at seven on most nights—except when they were running critical simulations. On those days, she would have to stay until midnight, same as the rest of the lab crew. Mia had protested that she didn’t mind, that she loved to learn and would stay as late as necessary, but Korum refused to hear it. “You’re human, and you’re my charl. I’m not letting you wear yourself out like this,” he told her flatly.

And her routine was thus set. In an effort to keep up with the tremendous amount of information coming her way on a daily basis, Mia placed a number of work-related recordings on the paperthin tablet Korum had given her earlier. The tablet turned out to be waterproof, and Mia multitasked by watching some videos during her showers. Korum had been less than pleased when he’d found out, muttering that she was even more obsessed with this internship than she’d been with her schoolwork, but he didn’t stand in her way. In fact, he even set up a comfortable place for her in his office, where she could study next to him in the evenings while he worked on his designs. Adam proved to be indispensable as a lab partner, and Mia quickly realized that Saret had done her a huge favor by putting them together on the projects. The young K—he was only twenty-eight, she’d learned—was razor-sharp and extremely comfortable working with a human. As a teenager, he had apparently already made a fortune in the stock market and set up his adopted human family with a sizable trust fund, ensuring that they would always have a comfortable life. He also held a number of microchip patents that Intel and Apple were bidding for and was hoping to do an apprenticeship with Korum’s company in a few years. To her surprise, she learned that he actually had a human girlfriend (he refused to call her his charl). When Mia tried to pry further, sensing a fascinating story, he refused to divulge any other details. He did promise to have Mia meet her one day, and she had to be content with that. In the first few days, Mia felt so overwhelmed that she wanted to cry, her brain hurting from the sheer amount of learning that she was trying to accomplish each day. To help her, Adam suggested that they try imprinting her with some of the necessary information, just like they would a Krinar child. Mia initially resisted the idea, but after struggling with basic data collection using some of the more complex lab equipment, she grudgingly agreed. Saret had been delighted to have a live subject to experiment on, even if she didn’t qualify as either a child or a Krinar, and requested Korum’s permission to try the new imprinting procedure on Mia. After grilling both Saret and Adam about the process’s safety and potential side effects, her cheren gave his consent, telling Mia that he hoped it would help her with the difficulty of the initial adjustment period. As a result, Mia spent the majority of the weekend inside the imprinting chamber, her brain rapidly absorbing all the information that Saret had deemed to be useful to his assistant. By the time Mia left the chamber on Sunday evening, she felt dizzy and nauseated, but she knew enough neurobiology to qualify for an honorary doctorate in the subject. She could also potentially perform brain surgery, particularly on a

Krinar subject—although she didn’t think she’d enjoy the physical aspects of that specific task. At the same time, she had—at least theoretically—mastered all the equipment in Saret’s lab and now felt infinitely more comfortable with Krinar technology overall. After the imprinting, a whole new world opened up to Mia, and her second week in Saret’s lab was significantly less stressful than the first. Instead of feeling like a bumbling idiot all the time, she actually knew how to do all of the simple—and many of the more advanced—tasks that Saret required from his assistants. The three other apprentices in the lab—who had initially looked amused at her presence there—began to treat her as more of an equal, letting her share some of their tools and equipment. They were still reserved around her, as if uncertain about a human in their midst, but Mia didn’t let it bother her. There had been plenty of Krinar applicants for her position, and she was only there because of Korum. It was understandable that the other apprentices thought she didn’t really deserve this opportunity. Mia was determined to prove them wrong. Now that she had a solid foundation with the imprinting, she became much faster at learning and was even able to offer some suggestions to Adam about potential improvements in the imprinting process. He had already thought of most of them, of course, but he nonetheless told Saret about Mia’s progress, and her boss said that she appeared to have a natural aptitude for his field—words of praise she would’ve never expected to hear from a Krinar. She loved working at the lab so much that she wondered why the previous assistant had left. “I’m not sure,” Adam told her. “Saur just up and left one day. He told Saret he was quitting, and the next day he was gone. He was always a little strange, kind of a loner—none of us knew him that well. But he was really smart. He did a lot of work with mind manipulation, which is the most complex part of what we do. Nobody has seen him since he left. I don’t think he’s in Lenkarda anymore.” On the home front, her relationship with Korum had undergone a significant change. After her first, rather unwilling confession of love, she felt like she had nothing left to hide, and the words now came quickly and easily to her tongue. Korum seemed to revel in the new situation, frequently demanding that she tell him how much she loved him, and there was a constant warm glow in his eyes when he looked at her. At times, she thought that he had to love her back, at least a little bit, but she didn’t want to ask for fear of spoiling the fragile truce that now seemed to reign between them. Instead, for the first time in her life, she chose to live in the moment and not dwell on the past or worry about the future.

Korum’s own days were occupied with the trial and all the associated politics, and he would often tell her about it over dinner. The Council had commissioned an investigation into the supposed memory loss of the Keiths, and various mind experts—including Saret—had to testify as to the validity of these findings. It was beginning to seem that the memory loss was indeed real, and the final verdict was put off until the Council could find out what exactly had happened and who was behind these strange events. Korum still suspected that Loris was the culprit, but he didn’t have enough evidence to sway the rest of the Council. As a result, the Keiths enjoyed a temporary reprieve while the investigation was ongoing. Every night, Korum made dinner for them, constantly introducing her to new and exotic foods from Krina. Afterwards, they would either go for a walk on the beach or sit in his office, quietly working side by side. Whenever Mia allowed herself to think about her life in Lenkarda, she was struck by just how different— and amazing—it was compared to her initial expectations. Far from feeling like Korum’s human pet, she woke up every morning with a sense of purpose, excited to face the day ahead and learn everything her new job could teach her. Her evenings were spent enjoying the company of her lover, while her nights were consumed with passionate sex. In bed, Korum was insatiable, and Mia realized that he had been holding back in New York. His hunger for her seemed to know no bounds, and he would often fuck her until she was completely worn out and literally passing out in his arms. Surprisingly, her body appeared to have acclimated to his lovemaking, and Mia no longer had to worry about internal soreness or achy muscles in the morning. Even on those occasions when he took her blood, she recovered with unusual ease. He also began to introduce virtual reality into their sex life. Now, at least a couple of times a week, they had sex in a variety of public and private settings, ranging from the stage at a Beyonce concert to the top of Mount Everest (which had been far too cold for Mia’s taste). After that first time in the virtual club environment, he didn’t push her too far beyond her comfort zone, although she had no doubt that he’d just begun to scratch the surface of everything he ultimately planned to do with her in bed. On some days, she marveled at her own seemingly inexhaustible energy. While she definitely tired more easily than her Krinar counterparts in Saret’s lab, she managed to work ten-plus hours a day and then spend several hours more with Korum, of which at least a couple were in bed—or wherever they happened to be when the mood struck him. She should’ve been exhausted and dragging all the time, but she felt great instead. She chalked it up to the fresh Costa Rican air and

the general excitement of her new job. She called Jessie after a week and told her how happy she was. “Really, Mia? You’re happy there?” Jessie asked disbelievingly. “After everything he’s done to you?” “It’s different now,” Mia explained to her roommate. “I was wrong to be so frightened of him in the beginning. I think he truly does care for me—” “A blood-drinking alien who pretty much kidnapped you? Are you suffering from some weird version of Stockholm’s Syndrome?” Mia laughed. “Hey, I’m the psych major here. And no, I don’t think so...” She didn’t go into all the details about her improved relationship with Korum—it still felt too fragile and precious—but she did tell Jessie about her internship and described some of the cool new things she was learning. “Oh my God, Mia, you’re going to be an expert on the Ks when you come back,” Jessie said jealously. “Okay, I can see that he’s not exactly mistreating you—” “No, far from it,” Mia told her earnestly. “I actually think I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” “But you are coming back to New York, right?” Jessie asked worriedly. “You’re not just going to decide to stay there, are you?” “No, of course not,” Mia reassured her. “I have to finish college and everything...” Even if the thought of returning was not nearly as compelling as it had been just a few days ago. She called her parents a couple of times as well, telling them that all was well and that she would be arriving home on Friday, almost exactly two weeks after she was initially scheduled to be there. Korum had cleared her vacation with Saret, telling him that Mia needed to see her family. Her boss had been less than pleased that Mia would be gone for an entire week, but he accepted it, particularly after she promised to stay in touch with Adam and keep up with the latest developments on her projects. “What flight will you be on?” her mom asked eagerly. “We need to know so we can pick you up.” Mia winced, glad that her mom couldn’t see her. She had no idea how she was going to get to Florida, and she’d been so busy at work that she’d forgotten to ask Korum about the specifics of their trip. “I’m currently on a waitlist for an early morning flight,” Mia lied, cringing

internally at yet another falsehood she had to tell her parents. “But it might end up being in the afternoon, so I really don’t know at this point. But don’t worry—the professor arranged a rental car for me, so I don’t need to be picked up at the airport.” “Okay, honey,” her mom said, sounding surprised. “If you’re sure... We truly don’t mind. Are you flying into Orlando or Jacksonville?” “Orlando,” Mia told her. It sounded plausible enough.

ON THURSDAY EVENING, RIGHT BEFORE THEIR DEPARTURE FOR FLORIDA, THEY WERE SCHEDULED TO attend a celebration. Korum’s cousin Leeta had apparently been with her mate for forty-seven years—a major milestone in Krinar culture. In Earth time, it was actually closer to fifty years, as Krina traveled around its sun at a slightly slower pace than Earth. It was Mia’s first public event in Lenkarda. “We don’t have marriage and weddings in the human sense,” Korum explained, watching her get dressed in a beautiful dress that he had created for her. “Instead, when a couple wants to make a permanent commitment, they come to a verbal agreement and then document that with a recording. At that point, it’s really no one’s business. They don’t have a party or anything like that, and their union is not considered permanent until they are together for at least forty-seven years—” “Why forty-seven?” Mia asked curiously, sliding her feet into a pair of sparkly sandals that went with the white shimmery material of her dress. The dress itself was form-fitting, showing off every curve of her body. It was also incredibly sexy, with her back entirely exposed. Around her neck, she was wearing Korum’s beautiful necklace, and her hair was decorated with a fine silvery mesh that had somehow worked its way into her hair, carefully defining and separating each curl. She looked as good as she could possibly look, and she was grateful that Leeta had taken the time to send her recorded instructions on what to wear. Korum had apparently insisted on it, wanting to make sure that Mia didn’t feel uncomfortable at her first big party in Lenkarda. “Because it’s a number that we consider special. It’s a fairly large prime number, and several important historical events on Krina happened in years that ended with forty-seven. Plus, it’s considered to be a sufficient length of time for a couple to know if they are compatible for the long term or not. Before the Celebration of Forty-Seven, it’s very easy to walk away from the union; however,

the event we’re about to attend tonight makes the union binding. After that point, a couple whose union falls apart loses some of their standing in society. Of course, if one person cheated or did something else to cause the union to end, his or her standing suffers the most, while the innocent party is less impacted.” “So divorces are rare among the Krinar?” Korum nodded, smoothly rising off the bed where he had been lounging. He himself was wearing a pair of fitted white pants tucked into knee-length grey boots and a sleeveless white shirt that was made of some kind of stiff, structured material. It was apparently the traditional Krinar attire for such celebrations, and he looked simply stunning in it. “Yes, divorces—or union dissolutions—are uncommon. However, permanent unions are also unusual. Many Krinar don’t find the person they want to be with for centuries or even thousands of years, and some never enter into a traditional union for a variety of reasons. So, you see, the Celebration of Forty-Seven is a major event for us, and it will be widely attended. We can’t be late.” “Of course,” Mia said, following him toward the bedroom door. Leaving the house through the usual dissolving wall, they climbed into the aircraft that Korum had sitting next to the house in preparation for their journey. The celebration was here in Lenkarda, but not within walking distance. Over the past two weeks, Mia had learned that the Krinar traveled in two ways—on foot or via small flying pods. There were no cars or ground transportation of any kind. Sitting down on the intelligent seat, Mia enjoyed the sensation of being completely comfortable. Although it was already 10 p.m. and she’d had a long day at the lab, she was feeling quite hyper at the thought of attending this celebration. Tapping her foot on the floor, she watched as the ship took off, swiftly carrying them toward the center of the colony. A minute later, they landed in front of a large building Mia had never seen before. Instead of being planted on the ground, it floated in the air a few feet above the tree tops. A long pathway connected one wall to the ground, serving as a bridge of sorts. “It’s the Celebration Hall,” Korum explained as they exited the aircraft and walked up the pathway toward the imposing structure. The building looked to be about twenty stories high and the size of a city block. Mia was surprised she hadn’t seen it on the virtual map of Lenkarda earlier. “Is this building always here?” she asked, seeing other ships landing all around

them and hundreds of Krinar stepping out. “No,” Korum answered, leading her toward the building and ignoring all the stares in their direction. “It was constructed specifically for this purpose, and it will be unmade after today. There is a much larger Celebration Hall on Krina, and that one is permanent, but there are too few of us here on Earth to justify having such a large building around all the time. The Celebration of Forty-Seven is one of the very few events that brings together the entire Krinar population of Earth. Many from Krina will also be watching virtually.” The entire Krinar population of Earth? All fifty thousand? Mia hadn’t realized the full scope of this event. Nervous and excited, she clutched at Korum’s arm as they entered the building. The noise inside was nearly deafening. It appeared that thousands had already gathered, and Mia couldn’t help gawking at the gorgeous creatures all around her. The females were dressed in shimmering, light-colored dresses similar to Mia’s, while the male outfits resembled Korum’s. Even the shortest Krinar women were several inches taller than Mia, making her wish she were wearing high heels. The building itself was beautifully decorated, with flowers and glittering surfaces everywhere. The walls were not transparent, as was usual for Krinar structures; instead, they seemed to be reflective, making the already enormous hall seem even larger. Like at the Food Hall, the Krinar around them stared at Mia and Korum. Mia wondered if that was because they hadn’t seen a lot of humans—unlikely, given the fact that they all lived on Earth—or because they were surprised to see Korum with a charl. She decided that it was the latter. Probably it was just the novelty factor of seeing a Council member accompanied by a human girl. As they made their way through the crowd, Korum put a possessive hand around her back, pressing her closer to him. Mia had learned over the past two weeks that it was considered a serious offense for a Krinar male to touch another man’s female, whether she was his mate or his charl. It was a strange throwback to their territorial beginnings. The Krinar were very liberal when it came to sex, and Krinar women had all the same rights and freedoms as Krinar men. However, once they entered into a committed relationship, no other men were allowed to touch the women without explicit consent from their cheren or their mate. In some cases, violating that rule could even lead to an Arena challenge. Korum was particularly bad in this regard. When he picked her up at the lab on her second day there and saw Adam leaning over her to help her with one particular

testing device, he had nearly flipped out. Mia had been impressed with Adam’s composure in that situation; instead of cowering at Korum’s rage, the young Krinar had calmly explained that he was helping Mia do her job and hadn’t laid a finger on her. Thankfully, Korum hadn’t done more than glower at him—Mia would’ve hated to see those two come to blows. Still, after that incident, Adam was particularly careful around her, always maintaining at least two feet of space between them. The last thing he needed was a jealous cheren after him, he’d explained with a laugh. So now Korum kept her close as they walked toward the center of the giant hall. God forbid another male brush against her, Mia thought with exasperation. As they approached the center, Mia saw a floating platform with a couple standing on it. She recognized the dark red hair of Korum’s cousin, whose union celebration they were attending. It was an unusual hue for a Krinar, and Mia wondered if it was natural or dyed. Leeta’s mate was as gorgeous as she was—tall, muscular, and with the typical dark Krinar coloring. They were each dressed in unusual robe-like outfits, pale mint-green in color, and stood completely still, just facing each other. Hundreds of floating planks were arranged in circular rows all around the platform, and Korum led her to the front row. As a relative and a Council member, he apparently got the best seats in the house. Looking around, Mia spotted a familiar figure a couple of rows behind them. Raising her arm, she waved to Delia and smiled when Arus’s charl waved back at her. Turning his head to see what Mia was looking at, Korum saw Arus and gave him a cool nod of acknowledgement. The other Councilor responded in kind. Clearly, the political tensions between the two had not improved since Mia had observed their interactions at the trial. “So what’s going to happen?” Mia asked, watching as more and more Krinar piled into the building. Maybe it wasn’t quite fifty thousand yet, but it certainly looked like a huge number. “In another few minutes, they will join together and then everyone will celebrate by dancing all night,” Korum said, and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes. That gleam usually meant he was up to something. “What do you mean, join together?” Mia asked warily. Her mind was beginning to wander in a strange and inappropriate direction. His lips parted in a smile, exposing the dimple in his left cheek. “Exactly what

you think it means, my sweet. They will mate publicly, thus binding their union in the way of our ancestors.” “They will have sex in front of everyone?” She must’ve turned red because Korum burst out laughing. “Yes, my darling. But don’t worry, the robes they’re wearing are specifically designed to give them privacy. Your delicate sensibilities won’t be too offended.” “My sensibilities aren’t delicate,” Mia hissed at him, knowing that all the Krinar around them could probably hear their conversation. Like the vampires of legend, Ks had sharper senses than most humans, with better hearing, eyesight, and sense of smell—all courtesy of their hunter heritage. “No?” he teased, raising his hand to stroke her cheek. “You’re used to public orgies?” Mia swatted his hand away and determinedly turned her attention to the couple on the platform. Sometimes Korum liked to play with her, telling her all kinds of naughty things just to watch her blush. Mia was not a prude, but she couldn’t help her skin’s involuntary reaction—and he seemed to enjoy that fact quite a bit. In that moment, the hall darkened and the noise of the crowd abruptly subsided. A soft light came on, spotlighting the platform only. It was like a stage, Mia realized, her cheeks heating up again at the thought of what was to come. In general, she found the Krinar culture to be quite paradoxical; while their science and technology were incredibly advanced, some of their customs—like the Arena fights and now this bonding ritual—were almost barbaric. A strange music, unlike anything Mia had heard before, began to play. The melody was haunting and powerful, and the underlying beat was both rhythmic and irregular at the same time, making Mia want to squirm in her seat. It was not dancing music, but there was something oddly sensual in it, with a few tones almost caressing her skin. She had no idea what musical instruments were used, but she had to admit that the overall result was beautiful. Korum had let her listen to some Krinar music before, and she’d found it to be quite unusual—but nothing like what she was hearing right now. “This is the traditional bonding song,” Korum whispered to her. “It’s one of our oldest melodies—it dates back more than a billion years.” “It’s incredible,” Mia whispered back, feeling the fine hairs on the back of her neck rising as the tempo picked up. The couple—who had been standing on the stage this whole time without

movement—took a step toward each other. Their arms came up, their palms joining together, and the robes that they were wearing seemed to expand and curve around their bodies, creating a tent of sorts. Only their heads were visible now, and the expressions on their faces were calm, as though they were not about to do something very intimate in front of fifty thousand spectators. As the music continued to play, Leeta’s mate started speaking, his voice echoing throughout the hall. “For the past forty-seven years, you have been my companion, my love, my life. Without you, my future has no meaning. You are the air that I breathe, the water that I drink, the food that I consume. You are a part of me, and you will always be a part of me.” He stopped, and Mia blinked to get rid of the sudden moisture in her eyes. While simple, the words seemed truly heartfelt, and she couldn’t help envying Leeta for having someone who loved her so deeply. Leeta spoke next. “You are my mate, my love, my life,” she said solemnly. “Without you, my future has no meaning. You are the air that I breathe, the water that I drink, the food that I consume. You are a part of me, and you will always be a part of me. I will be with you for forty-seven more years to come, and forty-seven years after that, and every forty-seven years into infinity.” She fell silent, and then they spoke together. “We are united,” they said, and their vow reverberated throughout the building. The music quieted for a second, and then it picked up again, only this time the beat was deeper, more sexual. To her surprise, Mia felt herself beginning to get turned on, her pulse speeding up and her belly muscles tightening at the unusual, but melodious tones. She’d never imagined that music could do something like that to her. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one. The mood of the audience seemed to shift, and Mia could sense the sudden tension in the atmosphere. A warm male hand landed on her thigh, caressing it lightly, and Mia turned her head to see Korum looking at her with a familiar glow in his amber eyes. “Now the fun part begins,” he mouthed to her, and Mia’s cheeks got warm again. Surreptitiously glancing around, she saw that the other spectators were staring at the stage with a rapt expression on their faces. In the meanwhile, the couple on the stage came even closer to each other. Even though Mia couldn’t see their bodies, she could tell that they had to be touching at this point. Leeta’s eyes were now closed, and she looked flushed underneath her light golden skin, while her mate seemed to be breathing harder as he gazed at her

beautiful face. They didn’t kiss, and there was no visible physical contact of any kind, but Mia’s heart still pounded at the knowledge of what they were doing. The scene playing out on the platform was unbelievably erotic, made even more so by the fact that so much was left to the viewers’ imagination. Enthralled, Mia stared at the stage, unable to tear her eyes away.

A COUPLE ceremony.

OF ROWS AWAY, THE

KRINAR

WATCHED

KORUM’S

CHARL OBSERVING THE BONDING

Her little face was pink with color, and her lips were slightly parted. He could see her small chest rising and falling with every breath, and his fingers itched to pull down her dress and expose those perfectly round, pink-tipped breasts to his gaze. In the past two weeks, his craving had turned into an almost unbearable obsession. When he tried to analyze it logically, he knew it had something to do with the fact that she belonged to his enemy. He’d hated Korum for a long time, and the thought of taking away something he loved was exceedingly appealing. But it went deeper than that. He found himself thinking about her constantly, fantasizing about touching her, tasting her... Fucking her, as he’d seen Korum do on the beach. To this day, he hadn’t been able to watch that incident fully, rage and bitter jealousy coursing through his veins at the sight of his nemesis enjoying something he so desperately wanted himself. It was incredibly dangerous, this obsession of his. He was starting to have trouble controlling himself, and he couldn’t afford to let his true feelings show. There was too much at stake to throw everything away for the sake of one human girl, no matter how much he hungered for her delicate little body. Besides, if he succeeded in his plan, she would be his. Everything would be his.

14

A fter the bonding ritual was over, an opaque wall rose up around the edges of the platform, hiding the couple from view, and the music quieted down. Her cheeks flaming, Mia rose from her seat, following Korum’s example. What she had just witnessed had been far from pornographic, yet she couldn’t get the rapturous expressions on the couple’s faces out of her mind. Their sexual act had been hidden from view, but their feelings and emotions during the ritual had been on display for everyone to see. At the end, the music had reached a crescendo, and Mia realized that it was both imitating and facilitating their lovemaking. Now everyone was standing. Glancing up at Korum, she saw that he was looking straight ahead. All of a sudden, he stomped his foot, once and then again and again. His actions appeared to serve as a signal of some kind because the hall was suddenly filled with loud stomping noises, as every person in the audience followed Korum’s lead. Uncertain at first, Mia did it too, deciding that it was probably the K version of clapping. Korum turned his head and gave her an approving smile. The spotlight on the stage faded, and the hall gradually became lighter. All the seats rose into the air and floated away, leaving a large empty area where the spectators had been sitting. A different song began to play, this one more along the lines of what Mia had listened to before in Korum’s house. It sounded like a mix of some kind of synthesizer, with weeping undertones and a pulsing beat. Krinar party music, Mia guessed, watching as everyone started milling about and gathering into small groups. “What did you think?” Korum asked, putting his hand on her shoulder and looking down at her with a smile. “I thought it was beautiful,” Mia told him sincerely, and his smile widened.

“Do you want to stay for the dancing or are you too tired?” he asked. “Oh, no, I’d love to stay!” What kind of an idiot would she be to miss out on her first Krinar dancing party? “Well, then, let’s go dance.” He led her away from the platform toward one of the corner areas that apparently functioned as dance floors. As they walked through the crowd, other Krinar stepped to the side, letting them pass. Korum nodded to a few people in acknowledgment, pausing to briefly say hello and introduce Mia to a few Ks here and there. Everyone they met seemed to treat Korum with some mixture of deference and respect, and Mia realized yet again just how powerful her lover was in the K society. When they reached one of the corner dance floors, Mia stopped and simply stared. There was no way she would be able to dance like that. Simply no way. The athletic grace displayed by the dancers was unbelievable—and inhuman. They didn't move—they simply flowed from one dance step into another. It was a spectacle unlike any other Mia had ever seen, and she tried to imagine what K athletes or professional dancers would be like—if such a thing existed. Looking up at Korum, she said wryly, “I think I'll watch from the sidelines. This might be just a tad too advanced for me.” “Don't worry about it,” Korum said, grinning down at her. “You can just follow my lead.” And before she could protest, he swept her onto the dance floor, his hands firmly holding her waist. Startled, Mia grabbed his shoulders, clinging to him as he launched into an unfamiliar series of moves. Dancing with Korum was an experience unlike any other. She wasn't sure one could even call it dancing—it was more like being picked up and carried by a tornado. For the next hour, her feet barely touched the floor as he whirled her around in a complex routine. Laughing and gasping at some of the more extreme moves, Mia could only hold on as the room spun around her. Finally, thirsty and out-of-breath, Mia had to beg him to stop. “That was amazing!” She couldn't help the huge grin on her face as they stopped by one of the floating tables that held a variety of interesting-looking liquids. Korum grinned back at her. “See? You can dance.” Filling a rounded cup with a

pink liquid, he handed it to her. “More like I can hang on to you as you spin me around,” Mia said, laughing at the image they must've presented. She'd felt like she was flying, and it had been an incredible sensation. Taking the cup from him, she took a sip and immediately downed the whole glass. “That was yummy,” she said. “What is it?” It tasted like juice, but had a cool, refreshing aftertaste. “It's a type of fruit cocktail. Very common at parties and other events.” “You don't drink alcohol?” “We do.” Korum pointed at the other drinks on the table. “But it's nothing that you can have. Those are designed to give us a buzz, so they’ll probably knock you on your sweet little rear end. So stick to this cocktail, okay?” Mia pretended to pout. After the club incident in New York, Korum seemed to go out of his way to limit her alcohol intake. She didn't actually want anything strong enough to get a K drunk, but she found it funny that Korum felt the need to warn her away. “Don't give me that look,” he said softly, his eyes glued to her mouth. “It makes me want to bite that delicious lower lip of yours.” Surprised by the sudden shift in Korum's mood, Mia reflexively moistened her lips—and realized her mistake when she heard him inhale sharply. “That's it,” he said quietly, and his voice sounded a little hoarse. “We're going home.” And before she could say anything, he ushered her quickly through the crowd, heading decisively for the exit.

WHEN THEY ARRIVED HOME, HE STRIPPED OFF HER CLOTHES AS SOON AS THEY ENTERED THE HOUSE. Bemused, Mia stood there naked, watching as he disrobed as well. He was already fully aroused, and a familiar heat burned in her belly at the hungry look in his eyes. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he said roughly, stepping toward her and lifting her up to stand on the couch. From this vantage point, she was a little taller than him, and she enjoyed the novelty of looking down at him. “I’m not doing anything,” Mia protested, then moaned as he pressed his hot mouth to her neck, nibbling on the sensitive spot in the area. Tremors of pleasure

ran down her body, and her eyes closed as he pulled her closer to him, his large hands stroking her naked back. His lips traveled down her neck to her collarbone, then lower, until his tongue was slowly swirling around her right nipple. Her insides clenched at the sensation. He lifted his head, looking up at her with a burning amber gaze. “You exist. You make me want you just by breathing. Everything about you appeals to me—your taste, your scent, the look on your face when I am deep inside you. I can’t go a single fucking day without touching you, without feeling you in my arms. I can’t even go a few hours. And it’s not enough, Mia... I want more. I want everything.” Mia’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. His intensity was almost frightening. “You have everything,” she whispered, clutching his powerful shoulders. “I love you. You know that—” “Do I?” His hands slid down her back, cupped her butt cheeks. He pulled her closer to him until her lower body was pressed against his, the tip of his hard cock prodding between her thighs. “Of course...” Mia gasped as she felt him beginning to push inside. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ordered, and she wondered at the dark need she saw on his face. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered with some strange emotion. Mia licked her lips. Only the head of his cock was inside her for now, and she was desperate for more. “I’m yours,” she told him softly, and then immediately cried out, her head falling back, as he entered her fully with one thrust. “That’s right,” he whispered savagely, “you’re mine. You will always be mine.” And for the next several hours, Mia didn’t doubt him for even a second.

“HOW ARE WE GETTING TO FLORIDA? AND CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE SOME MORE HUMAN CLOTHES FOR me? I don’t think I have enough here... And shoes... Maybe we should get some of my new clothes from New York?” Feeling like a bundle of nerves the next morning, Mia paced up and down the kitchen, too wired to sleep past 7 a.m. despite getting less than four hours of sleep last night. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this nervous even when you were spying on me,” Korum observed with amusement, slicing up a papaya for her breakfast smoothie.

He was back to his normal self, having apparently gotten over whatever weird mood he was in last night. Mia took a deep breath and plopped down on one of the chairs. “No, but seriously, I have nothing to wear. All I have are those jeans and the T-shirt that I was wearing earlier—” “Do I ever not take care of that for you?” It was true, he did. He always handled all the logistics, and everything came out perfectly fine. “Okay, I am nervous,” Mia confessed, bringing her thumb toward her mouth to bite at the nail before she remembered that she’d gotten rid of that nasty habit in high school. “Why? You should be happy. You’re going to see your family. Isn’t that what you wanted?” “They’re going to find out I lied to them,” Mia impatiently explained, giving Korum a don’t-you-get-it look. “And then they’re going to flip out when they meet you—” He sighed with exasperation. “They’re not going to flip out. We’ve discussed it already. You’re going to first tell them about me, and then I’ll do my best to reassure them of your safety and wellbeing.” Mia jumped up, unable to sit still. “I know, but I don’t see how they would not flip out. I’ve never brought home a boyfriend before, and here I show up with a K. They’ve never even seen one of you except on TV.” “Well then, they’ll have a new experience.” Korum was completely inflexible on this topic. As far as he was concerned, her parents would just have to get used to the fact that their daughter was now his charl. Whenever Mia tried to bring up the idea of her going to Florida by herself, he would immediately shoot it down. Far too dangerous, he’d told her, and, besides, he had no intention of not seeing her for a week. When Mia had argued that they could still see each other at night—since his super-fast aircraft could get anywhere within the globe in a matter of minutes—he reminded her of the first part of his statement. Not all the Resistance fighters had been caught yet, he explained, and thus it was not safe for her to go anywhere outside of Lenkarda by herself. Mia blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, fine. So are we going there by the same ship that brought us here to Costa Rica?” At Korum’s nod, she continued, “And

where are you planning to land? In my parents’ backyard?” He laughed. “No, my sweet. That might frighten them too much, not to mention bring a lot of unwanted attention to your family. We’re going to land at a special section of the Daytona Beach International Airport, and I will make us a car there. Then we’ll drive to your parents’ house. Your arrival is going to be very human and straightforward.” “And you’ll what? Sit in the car while I explain the whole thing to them?” “I’ll drop you off and go for a drive to explore the area. You’ll call me when you’re ready for me to come by. Here, drink your smoothie and stop stressing. It’s going to be fine,” Korum said soothingly, handing her the shake. “Thank you,” Mia told him after a few sips of the flavorful concoction. She was starting to feel marginally better. Maybe she was over-thinking it. “So when are we flying out?” He shrugged. “Whenever you’re ready. We can go now if you want.” “What? Like right this second?” Her nerves were back in full force. Korum looked exasperated. “I said whenever you’re ready. Finish your shake, do whatever you need to do, and then we’ll go.” “Shouldn’t I also get dressed?” Mia asked, giving him an anxious look. She was currently wearing her bathrobe and house slippers. “Yes, you should. And if you’ll look in the closet, you’ll find an outfit I prepared specifically for today,” Korum told her patiently. “Now stop panicking and get ready. Your family is waiting.”

ALMOST VIBRATING WITH TENSION, MIA RAN INTO THE BEDROOM AND OPENED THE CLOSET. SURE enough, Korum had prepared a pretty blue sundress for her and a pair of silvery flip-flops. There were no labels on either the dress or the shoes; her lover had obviously created them himself. He’d gotten the style right, however; the dress had the wide scooped neckline that had been featured in all the fashion magazines, and the flip-flops had just the right amount of sparkle to make them “casual daytime glam”—or whatever the magazines had labeled that look most recently. There was also a set of underwear for her: a sexy pair of lacy boy-cut panties and a matching strapless bra. Korum had clearly thought of everything. Putting on her new human-style clothing, Mia studied herself critically in the

mirror, trying to figure out how her parents would perceive her. In her own notoverly-modest opinion, she looked unusually well. Her skin was clear of all imperfections—even the freckles had somehow faded despite the hot sun—and her dark brown curls were smooth and glossy. The color of the dress complemented her eyes, turning them a deeper blue. Overall, she looked exactly as she felt—happy and healthy. Hopefully, that would help mitigate her parents’ concern about the situation. Exiting the bedroom, Mia found Korum sitting in his office, apparently tweaking a design. He had changed as well, into a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt that hugged his powerfully muscled body to perfection. On his feet, he wore a pair of brown loafers that managed to look both casual and elegant. “I’m ready,” Mia told him bravely, feeling like she was going to face the guillotine instead of her loving parents. At the sight of her, Korum slowly smiled and golden flecks appeared in his expressive eyes. “Come here,” he said softly, pulling her onto his lap before she had a chance to protest. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth even as his hand found its way under her skirt, pressing against her lace-covered pussy. Her body reacted with swift arousal, her nipples pinching into tight buds and her sheath moistening in preparation for him. Coming up for air, Mia moaned, “What are you doing?” His wicked fingers were now inside her panties, and she could feel them starting to stroke the area directly around her clitoris. Unable to sit still, she squirmed on his lap, feeling the tension starting to build. She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her right now, so soon after last night’s sexual marathon. “I’m making sure you’re less stressed when you see your parents,” he murmured, and she heard the sound of a zipper being lowered. Before she could say anything else, he pulled down her underwear, leaving it hanging around her ankles, and raised her skirt. Now her naked bottom was on his lap, and his hard cock was pressing against her butt cheeks. “Korum, please... I’m not sure that’s a good idea... Oh!” she gasped as he entered her suddenly, pushing into her without any preliminaries. With her feet bound by her panties, she couldn’t spread her legs wider for a more comfortable fit and he felt huge inside her, his shaft like a heated baton burning her from within. “Shh,” he whispered, his fingers finding her clitoris again. “Just relax. There’s a good girl...”

Mia whimpered, feeling both uncomfortably full and unbearably turned on as he began to move inside her, his cock nudging at her G-spot. At the same time, he started rubbing her clit, keeping the pressure firm and steady. Without any warning, a powerful orgasm ripped through her body, and Mia cried out, her sheath spasming around the large intruder. Korum groaned as well, his cock jerking inside her, releasing his seed in warm spurts as the rhythmic squeezing of her inner muscles sent him over the edge. Feeling like a rag doll, Mia slumped against him. Her entire body was still trembling with small aftershocks, and she could hear his breathing slowly beginning to return to normal. After about a minute, he rose and gently set her on her feet, handing her a soft tissue to wipe away the remnants of their lovemaking. “Feeling better now?” he asked, smiling at her. Mia certainly felt less tense, but she was now worried about showing up at her parents’ house looking and smelling like a nymphomaniac. She gave him a reproachful look as she cleaned the traces of his sperm on her inner thigh. “Now I need a shower before going anywhere...” “All right.” Korum grinned. “Let’s take a quick rinse and then we go. Five minutes should do it.” And picking her up, he quickly carried her into the bathroom, moving with inhuman speed.

TRUE TO HIS WORD, THEY WERE DONE AND HEADING OUT WITHIN A FEW MINUTES. THE POD THAT HAD brought Mia to Costa Rica was already assembled and sitting next to the house. Korum had apparently widened the clearing around his home to accommodate the ship instead of having them walk a few minutes to the spot where they had landed two weeks ago. Entering through a dissolving wall, Mia studied the now-familiar-seeming transparent ivory walls and floating seats. The ship still didn’t look like the complex piece of technology that it was, with no visible electronics or controls. Nonetheless, she knew it was capable of carrying them thousands of miles in a matter of minutes, with no ill effects from traveling so fast. Perching on one of the seats, Mia sighed as she felt it adjusting around her, conforming to the shape of her body. It was one of the things she would miss the most in Florida—all the intelligent technology that seemed designed solely for the

purpose of making their lives easier and more comfortable. She resolved to ask Korum to remake his home back into what it was before he “humanized” it for her sake; now that she had mostly acclimated to Krinar technology, she was very curious to see what his house normally looked like. And then they were on the way, the ship rising silently and carrying them toward Florida, where Mia’s parents were still blissfully ignorant of the surprise their youngest daughter had in store for them.

THE KRINAR WATCHED AS THE SHIP TOOK OFF. They were gone. She was gone. Watching her dance with his enemy last night had been almost intolerable. He wanted to be the one to have her light body pressed against him, to take her home for the night. He'd spent the next several hours imagining her in Korum's bed, and quiet rage had burned in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was for the best that she was leaving. It would minimize the distractions in the next week. She had looked happy, laughing as Korum twirled her around. Foolish girl. If only she knew the truth. She would be sympathetic to his cause once he explained everything to her. She would understand—the K was certain of that. She would want Earth to be saved.

15

“C an you please drop me off here?” Mia asked Korum as they turned onto her parents’ street. “They might see the car if you pull into their driveway.” “Sure,” he said, and the unimaginably expensive Ferrari Spider convertible came to a smooth stop a few houses away from Mia’s childhood home. Why Korum had chosen to make this particular car, Mia had no idea. She vaguely remembered Jessie’s brother raving about it a few months ago; supposedly, it cost more than three average houses put together. When Mia had protested that a Toyota would get them around just as well, her lover had simply raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of the nicer cars,” he told her, “and I would like to enjoy the experience of operating one of these human vehicles. Not to mention that this is the only car design I bothered to adjust to make it reproducible by our nanotechnology.” And that was that. The little sportscar had zoomed down I-95 at over a hundred miles per hour, getting them to their destination in Ormond Beach in record time. It seemed that one of the perks of traveling with a K was not having to worry about speeding tickets; any state trooper unfortunate enough to stop them would have immediately backed off when he saw the driver. “All right, just call me when you want me to come by. And stop worrying,” Korum told her, leaning over to open the door for her and giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “Okay, sure.” Mia climbed out of the car and shut the door, watching as he drove away. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed toward her parents’ house.

THE STREET ON WHICH MIA GREW UP WAS IN A SLIGHTLY OLDER PART OF THE CITY. THE MAJORITY OF houses there were built in the eighties and nineties, before the big real estate boom of the mid-2000s. As a result, some of their neighbors’ roofs looked a little dated, with few of them covered by the solar panels that were all the rage these days. In general, the houses didn’t have that glossy, brand-new look and feel that characterized some of the wealthier and more expensive parts of the area. However, the landscaping here was much nicer, with large trees providing solid shade and cutting down on energy bills. Walking down the street, Mia absorbed the familiar atmosphere, with each house, each shrub triggering some childhood memory. There was her friend Lauren’s house, where she had spent many hot summers swimming in their pool. And there were the tall oaks that they used to climb, as careless with their safety as only children could be. Lauren had ultimately gone to college in Michigan, and Mia rarely saw her these days, though they would usually catch up on the phone or Skype every couple of months. Like many others, Mia’s parents had moved to Florida from Brooklyn, lured by warm weather and affordable housing. It was a decision they’d never regretted, quickly adjusting to the slower pace of life there. Marisa had been three years old at the time, and New York had been too expensive for the young couple to purchase anything bigger than a studio there. So instead, they scraped and saved for two years—no eating out in restaurants for that entire time, her mom had proudly told her—and made a downpayment on a nice four-bedroom home in a pretty middleclass neighborhood of Ormond Beach. Approaching the house, Mia hesitated for a second, trying to control her nervousness. Not wanting to tell any more lies, she had decided against calling her parents to let them know what time she would be arriving. Simply showing up and then explaining the whole story seemed easier. Checking her phone, she saw that it was only nine in the morning, so her parents were most likely home. Raising her hand, she rang the doorbell. Immediately, a loud barking noise pierced the silence as Mocha, her parents’ Chihuahua, did her duty by announcing the visitors. Her parents had gotten the dog when Mia left for college—as a replacement for her, her dad had always said jokingly. Twenty seconds later, her mom opened the door. “Oh my God, Mia!” Before Mia had a chance to say anything, she was pulled into a warm, familiar embrace. As usual, Ella Stalis smelled like lemons and some Chanel perfume. Grinning, Mia hugged her back before pulling away. “Hi, mom. Surprise!”

“Oh sweetie, we had no idea you were arriving so early! Why didn’t you call us? And where is your car?” Her mom was looking over Mia’s shoulder and seeing an empty driveway. “And all your luggage?” “It’s a long story, mom. Is dad home? There’s something I have to tell you.” A look of immediate concern appeared on her mom’s softly rounded face. “Mia, honey, are you okay? What happened? Here, come inside—” “Nothing happened, mom,” Mia reassured her, walking into the hallway leading to the spacious living room. Mocha immediately ran away. Her parent’s dog was shy with strangers and persisted in thinking of Mia as such, despite the fact that she’d seen her dozens of times. “Everything is fine. I just have an interesting story to tell you, that’s all. Is dad home?” “He’s in his office,” her mom said, then yelled, “Dan! Come and see who’s home!” Daniel Stalis came into the living room, still wearing his pajama pants and a robe. At the sight of Mia, his face brightened. “Mia, hon! What are you doing home so early? When did you fly in?” Smiling, Mia stepped toward him and gave him a big hug, inhaling the familiar scent of aftershave and minty toothpaste. “Hi, dad. Oh, I missed you guys so much!” Her dad grinned, hugging her back. “Oh, I always forget how tiny you are after not seeing you for a while. Seriously, honey, you should eat more.” “I eat like a horse and you know it,” Mia told him, grinning. “Mia has something she wants to tell us,” her mom said, and Mia could hear the worried note in her voice. Her dad frowned. “Is everything okay? Does it have something to do with that professor?” “Yes and no.” Mia was not even sure where to start. “Why don’t we all sit down and get some tea? It’s kind of a long story.” Her mom slowly nodded. “Of course. Let me make some tea right now. Are you hungry? Have you had breakfast? I can make some potato pancakes...” “I already ate, mom, thanks. But definitely another time.” Sitting down at the table, Mia twisted her hands nervously, watching as her mom put water to boil. Her dad sat down too, studying his daughter silently while the tea was getting prepared. When the water had boiled, Mia got up to help her mom carry the cups over to the

table. Finally, the three of them were sitting around the table, with hot green tea steaming in front of them. “All right, honey. Now tell us,” her mom said, visibly bracing herself for the worst. “Okay,” Mia said slowly. “So I haven’t been entirely honest with you guys about what’s been going on in my life for the past few weeks. There was no professor, and I didn’t stay in New York for this volunteer project...” Seeing the surprised looks on her parents’ faces, Mia plunged ahead. “You see, I actually met someone...” “See, Ella, didn’t I tell you Mia was acting strangely?” Her dad looked smug for a second, but her mom continued to stare at her worriedly. Taking a deep breath, Mia continued. “The reason why I didn’t tell you this is because he’s not someone you would normally be comfortable with, and I didn’t want you to worry—” “Who is he, Mia?” her mom asked sharply. “A drug dealer? Someone with a criminal record?” “No, nothing like that!” Although it might’ve been easier for her parents to accept if he had been. “Korum is a K.” For a moment, there was dead silence around the table. Her parents looked shellshocked, stunned speechless. Her dad cleared his throat. “A K? As in, the aliens?” Mia nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “I met him in a park in Manhattan a few weeks ago. We’ve been involved ever since.” Her mom’s chin quivered. “What do you mean, involved? Involved how?” “Ella, don’t be silly,” her dad said, his tone surprisingly calm. “Clearly, Mia is trying to tell us that she has a boyfriend who’s a K. Isn’t that right?” Her dad was very good under stressful circumstances. “Exactly,” Mia told them, her stomach twisting into knots as her mom’s face crumpled and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Feeling like the worst daughter in the world, Mia tried to reassure her. “Look, you can see that I’m perfectly fine. I know how they are portrayed in the media, and the reality is not the same at all. He’s actually very caring, and he makes me happy—” “Caring? How can those monsters be caring? Mia, they say that they drink

blood!” Her mom was beside herself, her normally pale face turning red and splotchy. “Do they drink blood?” her dad inquired, looking mildly curious. “Only recreationally and in small quantities,” Mia admitted honestly. “It’s just a pleasant thing for them—they don’t actually need it anymore.” Her mom buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God, I feel sick!” “Ella, stop it,” her dad said, his voice unusually firm. “Your reaction is exactly what Mia was afraid of and why she didn’t tell us earlier.” Mia smiled, the knot in her stomach unraveling a bit. “Thanks, dad. Look, I know how it sounds, but believe me when I tell you that he treats me really well and makes me very happy—” “Is he the reason you couldn’t come home on time?” her dad asked, while her mom raised her head to stare at Mia with eyes that were still swimming with tears. “Yes. We actually went to Costa Rica after my finals were over,” Mia said. “I have an internship there, at a neuroscience lab, and I’m working on some really interesting projects—” “In Costa Rica?” Her dad looked puzzled for a second, and then his eyes widened. “The K Center in Costa Rica?” Mia gave him a big grin. “Yep. Korum got me an internship there. I’m working alongside one of their top mind experts, and you can’t even imagine how much I’m learning—” “You’re working in a K Center in Costa Rica?” Her mom looked absolutely floored. “With Ks?” “I know, I can hardly believe it myself,” Mia told them, grinning hugely. “And I can now speak so many languages...” “What? What do you mean?” Her dad rubbed his temples. “What languages?” “All languages,” Mia told him in Polish, knowing that he would understand her. “All human languages, plus Krinar. It’s a really cool translator that Korum got me.” She decided against telling them about the brain implant part of things. Her dad’s jaw dropped. “You speak Polish without an accent! Mia, how did you... ?” “Krinar technology,” she explained with a smile. “You can’t even imagine some of the things they can do—”

“But, Mia, he’s not human...” Her mom seemed to be in shock. “How can you even...” “Mom, they’re very similar to humans in many ways. You do know that they made us in their image, right?” Her mom shook her head, apparently unable to believe her ears. “And that makes it okay? How did you even manage to get involved with him? You met him in the park and then what, you went on a date?” Mia hesitated for a second. “Yes, pretty much. He actually sent me flowers, and we went to a really nice restaurant. And we’ve been seeing each other ever since...” “Just like that?” Her mom was incredulous. “You meet one of these creatures in a park, and you go on a date with him? What were you thinking?” She was thinking that she didn’t want to die or get kidnapped. But her parents didn’t need to know that. “He’s very good-looking,” she told them honestly. “And it was the first time I was attracted to someone so strongly.” “So you completely ignored the fact that he wasn’t human? Mia, that doesn’t sound like you at all...” Her mom was looking at her like she’d grown two heads. “How did you get here from Costa Rica?” her dad asked quietly, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. As usual, he was the only one who could think clearly under difficult circumstances. Mia looked at him. “Korum brought me. We flew to Daytona on one of their ships, and then he dropped me off in a car, so I could talk to you.” “And how long are you staying?” “What do you mean, Dan, how long is she staying? For the rest of the summer, right?” her mom asked, sounding panicked. Mia shook her head. “I’m here for a week, mom. Unfortunately, I can’t be away from the lab that long—” Her mom burst into tears. “Oh my God, we are seeing you for the last time...” “What? No! Of course not! I just have to finish out my internship, that’s all. I’ll come back here soon, and you can come see me in New York during the school year —” “Where is he now?” her dad asked coolly. “If he brought you here, then where is he?” Mia took a deep breath. “I have to call him. I wanted to have a chance to talk to

you first, to explain a little bit before you meet him. But he would like to meet you himself, to reassure you that everything is fine and I’m safe with him.” “We’re going to meet a K?” Her mom seemed stupefied by this turn of events. “Yes,” Mia told her. “And you’ll see that there’s really nothing to be afraid of.” She crossed her fingers that Korum would be on his best behavior. “All right, Mia,” her dad said. “Why don’t you call him? We’d like to meet this K of yours.”

HALF AN HOUR LATER, THE DOORBELL RANG. Mia had managed to explain a little more to her parents about Korum and their relationship, emphasizing solely the good parts. She told them how he took care of her and about his cooking hobby (her mom’s face brightened a little at this), how he was genius-level smart and ran his own company, and about the incredible opportunity he’d given her by getting her this internship. As a result, by the time Korum showed up, Mia was reasonably certain that her parents were calm enough to be somewhat civil. Still, she couldn’t help her anxiety as she opened the door and saw her lover standing there, looking far too gorgeous to be human. “Hello,” he said softly, leaning down to give Mia a kiss on the forehead. “Hi. Come on in.” Mia grabbed his hand and led him into the house. Pausing in the hallway for a second, she gave him an imploring look and squeezed his hand, hoping that he understood her wordless plea. Korum smiled and whispered, “Trust me.” Mia had no other choice. Bracing herself for the worst, she led Korum into the living room. At their entrance, her parents stood up from the couch and simply stared. Mia couldn’t blame them: Korum was a striking sight. Dressed in a white polo shirt and blue jeans, her lover was the epitome of casual elegance. With his glossy black hair and golden skin, he could have been a model or a movie star, except that no human had eyes of that unusual amber hue—or moved with such animal grace. And even standing still, he projected an unmistakable aura of power, his presence dominating the room. Taking a step toward her parents, he smiled widely, revealing the dimple on his left cheek. “You must be Ella and Dan. I’m very pleased to meet you. Mia has told

me so much about her family.” Mia noticed that he didn’t offer to shake their hand or make any other move to touch them. It was probably the right thing to do. Her parents were already tense enough at having a K in their house. Her dad nodded curtly. “That’s funny, because we just heard about you today.” “Dan!” her mom whispered fiercely, clearly afraid of their extraterrestrial guest’s reaction. She seemed unable to take her eyes off Korum, staring at him with a dazed look on her face. Mia knew exactly how she felt. Korum didn’t seem offended at all, giving her dad a warm smile instead. “Of course,” he said softly. “I understand that this is all a huge shock for you. I know how much you love your daughter and worry about her, and I would like to set your mind at ease about our relationship.” Mia’s mom finally remembered her manners as a hostess. “Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” she asked uncertainly, still staring at Korum like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run away screaming or reach out and touch him. “Sure,” he said easily. “Some tea and fruit would be great, especially if you join me.” Mia blinked in surprise. She hadn’t known that Korum drank tea. And then she realized just how extensive his file on her family had to be: he had unerringly picked the one thing guaranteed to make her mom more comfortable—her parents’ daily ritual of making and drinking tea. “Of course.” Her mom looked relieved to have something to do. “Please have a seat in the dining room, and I’ll bring some tea. We have some really nice local oranges... You do eat oranges, right?” Korum grinned at her. “Definitely. I love oranges, especially the ones from Florida.” Ella Stalis smiled at him tentatively. “That’s great. We have really good ones this week—juicy and sweet. I’ll bring them right out.” And blushing a little, she hurried away, looking unusually flustered. Mia mentally rolled her eyes. Apparently, even older women were not immune to his charm. “The dining room is this way,” her dad said, looking slightly uncomfortable at being left alone with Mia and her K. Mia walked over to Korum and took his hand, determined to show her dad that

there was nothing to worry about. Smiling, she led him toward the table. The three of them sat down. At that moment, Mocha appeared, her little tail wagging. To Mia’s huge surprise, she came directly to Korum and sniffed at his legs. He smiled and bent down to pet the dog, who seemed to revel in his attention. Mia watched the scene with disbelief; the Chihuahua was normally very reserved around strangers. After a minute, Korum straightened and turned his attention back to the human inhabitants of the house. “So Mia tells us she has an internship in your colony,” Dan Stalis said, looking at Korum as though studying a new and exotic species—which, actually, he was. “How exactly does that work? I assume she can’t really understand a lot of your science and doesn’t know your technology...” “On the contrary,” Korum told him, “Mia is a very fast learner. She’s made tremendous progress in the last couple of weeks. Saret—her boss at the lab—tells me that she’s already making herself quite useful.” Mia smiled, tickled pink by his praise. “Like I told you, dad, Saret is one of their top mind experts. He’s at the cutting edge of Krinar neuroscience and psychology. And I get to work with him. Can you imagine?” Her dad rubbed his temples again, and Mia saw him wince slightly. “I can’t, to be honest. The whole thing has been rather overwhelming. You’ll excuse us if we’re not exactly jumping for joy right now—” “Of course,” Korum said gently. “I wouldn’t be either if it were my daughter.” “Do you have children?” Dan asked bluntly. “No, I don’t.” “Why not?” “Dad!” Mia was mortified by this line of questions. Korum shrugged, apparently not minding the prying. “Because I don’t have a mate, and I wouldn’t want to raise a child without one.” Her dad’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you?” “In your Earth years, I’m about two thousand years of age.” The look on her dad’s face was priceless. “T-two thousand?” In that moment, her mom walked in, carrying a bowl of oranges and a tray with

tea cups. Mia got up and rushed toward her. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, grabbing the bowl from her. “Thanks, sweetie,” her mom told her, and Mia breathed a sigh of relief that at least one parent seemed to have recovered her composure. Setting the cups filled with hot tea around the table, Ella asked Korum, “Would you like some cream or sugar? We have coconut cream, almond cream, soy cream...” “No, thank you,” Korum replied politely, giving her a dazzling smile. “I prefer my tea plain.” “So do we,” her mom admitted, blushing again. Mia barely stopped herself from snickering—her parent appeared to have developed a little crush on her lover. “Ella,” Mia’s dad said slowly, “Korum here is apparently much older than we thought...” “Oh?” her mom inquired, sitting down and reaching for an orange. Methodically peeling the fruit, she gave her husband a questioning look. “He’s two thousand years old...” Her dad seemed awed by that fact. “What?” The orange dropped on the table, landing with a soft plop. “Mom, you knew the Ks are long-lived,” Mia said, getting exasperated with their reactions. “You and I watched that program together a couple of years ago, remember? It was one of those Nova documentaries about the invasion.” “I remember,” her mom said, still looking like she’d been hit with a hammer. “But I didn’t realize that meant thousands of years...” “How exactly does something like that work if you’re in a relationship with a human?” Her dad was back to being his blunt self. “Because Mia can’t possibly live that long—” “That’s between me and your daughter, Dan,” Korum said gently, but there was a steely note in his voice that warned against pushing in this direction. “We’ll figure everything out in due time.” And picking up an orange, he calmly peeled it, his fingers moving faster and more efficiently than her mom’s had been. “By the way,” he added, biting into the orange, “Mia mentioned that you tend to get frequent headaches, and I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been rubbing your temples. Are you suffering from one now?”

Caught off-guard, her dad nodded. At the affirmative gesture, Korum reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a tiny capsule. Handing it to Mia’s dad, he said, “This is something that should take care of the issue. One of our top human biology experts developed it specifically for cases such as yours.” “What is it? A painkiller?” Her dad studied the little capsule with no small measure of distrust. “Yes, it works immediately as such. But it should also prevent any future occurrences.” “A migraine cure?” her mom asked, and there was a desperate look of hope in her eyes. “Exactly,” Korum confirmed, and Ella Stalis’s eyes lit up. Her dad frowned. “Are there side effects? How do I know it’s safe?” “Dad, their medicine is wonderful,” Mia told him sincerely. “Truly, you have nothing to be afraid of.” “Mia is right. There are no side effects when it comes to our medications. And, Dan, the last thing I would want is to hurt the people Mia loves the most. I know you have very little reason to trust me yet, and I hope that changes in the future. If you don’t want to take the medicine, it’s entirely up to you. I just wanted you to have it in case you are in pain.” “Just take it, Dan. Right now,” Ella ordered, giving her husband a determined look. “I don’t think Mia’s boyfriend would give you something bad for you. If there’s even a small chance that it can really cure you, then you owe it to yourself and to your family to try it—particularly if Korum says there are no side effects.” Her dad hesitated, studying Korum’s face for a few seconds. Whatever he saw there seemed to reassure him. “Do I just swallow it?” “Squeeze it into a cup of water, and then drink it,” Korum said. “It works quicker that way.” Mia’s mom was already on her feet and pouring her dad a cup of water from a pitcher sitting on the table. “Here,” she said, thrusting it at him. Dan Stalis took the cup slowly and pinched the capsule between his fingers, squeezing out two drops of liquid into the water. “Is this it?” he asked, looking up at Korum.

Her lover gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes.” Cautiously sniffing it, Mia’s dad took a sip. “This actually tastes good.” He sounded surprised. “Most of our medicines do.” Bringing the cup to his mouth, her dad drank the rest of the water. Almost immediately, Mia could see the tense muscles around his jawline relaxing. Smiling at him, she said, “It’s working, right? You can feel it right away.” Her dad looked pleasantly surprised, and her mom’s face was shining with happiness. “Yes. It seems to be instant.” Turning to Korum, he said, “Thank you. That was very nice of you.” “Of course,” Korum said softly. “I would do anything for Mia and the people she loves.”

16

“I

have to talk to my sister too,” Mia said as she got into the car and waved

goodbye to her parents. Her mom was holding Mocha, who very nearly followed them out, having developed an inexplicable doggy crush on Korum. “I know mom is calling her right now, but I’d like her to hear it from me as well. I told her something earlier, and I would really like a chance to explain, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about our relationship.” “What did you tell her?” Korum asked, smoothly pulling out of the driveway. He drove like he did everything else—with skill and efficiency. “I told her I had a lover who was from Dubai,” Mia admitted, blushing a little. “And I said that things wouldn’t work out between us because he had to leave soon.” “I see,” Korum said, and there was a noticeable chill in his voice. “And when did you tell her this?” Crap. She really shouldn’t have brought this up—but it was too late now. “When I thought you might be leaving for Krina,” she confessed. “Before, you know...” “Before your betrayal?” Mia sucked in her breath. “Are you still mad at me? You said you’d let it go...” “I let it go as far as I’m not going to punish you for it. But I can’t quite forget it, my sweet. Not yet.” Mia bit her lip, feeling upset. “I don’t understand you sometimes,” she said quietly. “One minute you’re so nice to me and my family, and the next you’re talking about punishing me for a situation that wasn’t exactly my fault—a situation that you manipulated to your advantage. What did you expect me to do? Just calmly accept the fact that I might end up as a sex slave?”

“You could’ve talked to me at any point and asked me whether it’s true.” He kept his eyes on the road, but Mia could see a tiny twitch in his tightly clenched jaw muscle. “And if it were? What would I have done then? I would’ve endangered John and everyone in the Resistance and lost my only chance to help them and myself.” “At what point did I ever treat you as a sex slave?” Korum asked, and his even tone made her shiver a little. He was still not looking at her. “I gave you everything, Mia, and you kept acting like I was a villain.” Mia swallowed. “You knew I was afraid in the beginning, and you didn’t give me any choice,” she said, feeling old resentment rising up. “And besides, what is a charl, really? What rights do I have in your society? I know you don’t treat me poorly, but you could, right? If you wanted to keep me locked up in your house, would anyone stop you?” He didn’t answer, and she could see his jaw tighten further. They turned off Granada Boulevard onto A1A, and he drove for another few minutes before pulling into the winding driveway of a large beachfront mansion. At their approach, the wrought-iron gates swung open, letting them through. “Where are we?” asked Mia, breaking the tense silence. She felt sick in her stomach. She hated arguing with Korum, and the last few days had been so nice, so peaceful. Why had she stupidly reminded him of what happened before? The car came to a stop, and he put the clutch in “park” mode before turning to look at her. “Come here,” he said roughly, burying his hand in her hair and leaning over to give her a deep, penetrating kiss. By the time he let her come up for air, Mia was melting bonelessly into him, almost trembling with need. Letting her go, he climbed out of the car and came around to open the passenger door. Mia climbed out on somewhat unsteady legs as he watched her with hungry gold-tinted eyes. She looked up at him. “We’re in a house I rented for the week,” he told her. “Let’s go inside.” And taking her hand, he led her up the steps and into the stately white building. The interior of their “rental house” could’ve easily been featured in Architectural Digest magazine, with its sharply designed white furniture and open layout with gleaming hardwood floors. One wall—the one facing the ocean—was made entirely of glass and provided a breathtaking view.

Turning Mia toward him, Korum bent down and kissed her again, lightly. “Why don’t you go call your sister now?” he suggested, and his voice sounded a little hoarse. “When you come back, I have some plans for you.”

TRYING TO CALM HER ELEVATED HEARTBEAT, MIA WALKED UPSTAIRS AND INTO A ROOM WHERE SHE spotted an old-fashioned landline phone. When she was sure she had herself sufficiently under control and could think of something besides Korum’s plans, she called her sister, dialing her cell phone number from memory. Marisa picked up on the fifth ring. “Hello?” “Hey, Marisa, it’s me...” “Mia? I was just on the phone with mom! Holy shit! You’re dating a K?!?” Mia sighed. “Yep. Listen, remember that thing I told you?” “About your supposed wealthy executive lover?” Her sister’s tone sounded caustic. “Yes, I remember perfectly.” Mia winced. “Well, I was not fully honest with you—” “No shit!” “I’m sorry,” Mia said sincerely. “I really thought he might leave for Krina at that point and I would never see him again. I needed to talk to someone, but I just didn’t feel like I could tell the whole story...” For a second, there was silence. “Mia,” Marisa said, sounding upset, “you can always tell me the whole story, even if it’s worthy of being on the cover of National Geographic. I’m your sister, and if anyone can understand, it would be me.” Mia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. There was just a lot going on and I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time—” “What was going on? And what changed? How did it go from ‘this can never work out’ to meeting the parents and spending the summer in Costa Rica?” “We worked out our differences,” Mia said, not wanting to go into the particulars. “And he’s staying here, on Earth.” There was again silence for a second. Then her sister said, “Seriously, Mia? A K? You couldn’t choose someone of the same species?” Mia smiled, relieved. The worst seemed to be over. “I know, it’s insane—” “Insane is putting it mildly,” Marisa said seriously. “Freaking awesome is how I

would phrase it.” Mia laughed, startled. “What?” “My baby sis is dating a super-hot, wealthy alien genius who just cured dad’s migraines? Hell yeah, it’s fucking amazing!” Mia couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re not going to read me a lecture and tell me how foolish I am to get involved with someone so dangerous and not human, and blah, blah, blah?” “Oh please, I’m sure the parents already did that. What can I say that’ll be in any way additive? No, baby sis, I’m happy for you. You’ve walked the straight and narrow for way too long. A little danger and spice in your life is exactly what you need. And besides, from what mom tells me, he’s unbelievably gorgeous and has been around since the dawn of time. It really doesn’t get any cooler than that... I can’t wait to meet him!” Mia grinned hugely. Her sister always managed to surprise her. “You’re the best sister ever,” she told Marisa. “So when am I seeing you and Connor?” “Tonight at six. Apparently, your extraterrestrial lover invited the whole family for dinner.” “He did? When?” Mia couldn’t remember him doing anything of the sort. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Shouldn’t you be the one to know? I thought he did it at your request...” “Um... he takes initiative a lot when it comes to these things.” Too much, considering that Mia didn’t even know about the invitation. He must’ve talked to her parents when she visited the restroom. “So are we meeting at a restaurant somewhere?” “It’s kind of crazy that I’m the one telling you this, Mia.” Marisa sounded like she was laughing. “We’re coming over to your rental house. He’s cooking. Still doesn’t ring a bell?” “That does sound like something Korum would do.” Mia smiled, even though Marisa couldn’t see her. “You’re in for a treat—he’s an amazing cook.” “And does the laundry, right? Unless you made up that part too?” “Nope,” Mia said, grinning. “He definitely did the laundry when we were in New York. He has this weird thing for human appliances. I think it mostly has to do with his cooking hobby, which is strange in and of itself. They have these intelligent houses that cook for them, Marisa. He doesn’t need to lift a finger to have gourmet

meals, and yet he does—” “Oh my God, where can I find a K for myself? I’m already in love and I haven’t even met the guy yet!” Mia burst out laughing. “Hey, this one’s taken! And besides, wouldn’t Connor have something to say about his pregnant wife hooking up with an alien?” “Connor would gladly give his pregnant wife to an alien right about now,” Marisa said, and Mia could hear the serious undertone in her voice. “I’m so moody these days that he’s slinking around the house like I might bite him. Which I might, at any moment. My emotions are beyond wacky. Don’t get pregnant, sis— it’s so not fun...” Mia immediately sobered up. “Oh, Marisa, I’m so selfish. I haven’t even asked you how you’re feeling!” “Well, I didn’t exactly give you a chance, did I? But yeah, I’m still feeling crappy. The nausea is just not going away. I lost another pound in the last week. The doctor doesn’t know what to do. I’ve been resting a lot, I tried yoga and meditation—none of it seems to work.” “Oh Marisa...” “Think your boyfriend could help with that?” her sister joked. “I don’t know,” Mia said seriously. “Maybe. I’ll ask him. He’s not a doctor, but he might have access to one of their wonder drugs.” “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that... I was just kidding—” “Well, I’m not. I’ll ask him right now.” “Mia, please, that’ll be embarrassing. I’m sure I’ll get over it in another few weeks...” “Uh-huh,” Mia said. “By then you’ll be skin and bones, if you aren’t already. You don’t exactly have a ton of fat to spare.” She could hear Marisa sighing with what sounded like exasperation. “Fine, you can ask, I guess. I just don’t want him to feel like we’re taking advantage of him—” “Oh please, Korum offered the migraine cure to dad. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, much less that he brought it with him. Stop worrying, please— it’s not good for you right now.” “Fine, fine...” Her sister sounded distracted all of a sudden. “Hold on, babe, I’m talking to Mia!”

“You have to go?” Mia guessed. “Oh, it’s just Connor... We were supposed to go grocery shopping when mom called and then you...” “Oh, well, go then. We’ll see each other tonight. I can’t wait!” “Me too. Love you, baby sis! See you soon!” “Love you too!” And hanging up the phone, Mia went to look for Korum.

SHE FOUND HIM OUTSIDE, SWIMMING IN THE OLYMPIC-SIZED INFINITY POOL THAT APPARENTLY CAME with the property. He was gliding through the water like a shark, moving with unbelievable speed. “Hi,” Mia called out, and then remembered the mysterious plans he had for her. Was it something sexual? Her breathing quickened at the thought. Telling herself to focus on Marisa, she decided to ask Korum about the medication right away, before he had a chance to implement whatever those plans were. Swimming up to the edge of the pool, Korum lifted himself out effortlessly, using only his arms. His black hair was wet and slicked back against his skull, and water droplets glittered like tiny diamonds on his golden skin. He looked mouthwateringly sexy, and Mia swallowed, realizing yet again just how gorgeous her lover truly was. Walking toward the edge of the pool, she sat down on one of the lounge chairs conveniently placed there. “Hi yourself,” he said, smiling at her warmly and sitting down on the chair next to her. He seemed to have forgotten about their earlier disagreement, and Mia smiled back at him, relieved. It seemed like as good of a time as any to ask about Marisa. “Do you know anything about pregnant women?” she blurted out, and then flushed for some reason. Korum’s eyebrows rose, and he looked amused. “I assume you’re talking about your sister?” Mia nodded. “She’s having a difficult pregnancy. Really bad nausea and all. I was wondering if maybe you might have some anti-nausea medication or something that might settle her stomach...” Korum considered it, looking thoughtful for a second. “I don’t have it with me, but I can probably get someone to bring it here. However, it would only be a

temporary fix... If there’s something wrong that’s causing your sister to feel this way, the medicine wouldn’t do anything except mask the symptoms.” “Oh, I see...” “The best thing for your sister would probably be Ellet. I’ll ask her to swing by this week and examine Marisa—” “Ellet?” The name sounded oddly familiar, even though she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it. Korum smiled. “She’s our human biology expert in Lenkarda. Her lab designs many of the drugs I’ve given you in the past, as well as the one I just gave your dad. She’s excellent at what she does and knows more about human health than all of your doctors put together.” Something nagged at Mia, some elusive memory that she couldn’t place. After trying to remember for a second, she gave up and returned to the issue at hand. “Oh, I see... Yeah, if she could take a look at Marisa, that would be phenomenal. Would she seriously do that? Come all the way out here for this?” He shrugged. “She owes me a few favors.” “Is there anyone in Lenkarda who doesn’t owe you a few favors?” Mia asked wryly, staring at him. Her lover always seemed to have something up his sleeve. “Not many,” Korum admitted, smiling at her. “I believe in having leverage— comes in handy in situations like this. Of course, Ellet would probably come out here regardless. She has a soft spot for pregnant humans.” Mia grinned, wanting to hug and kiss him in gratitude. She didn’t want to fight with him; she loved him too much. Giving in to the urge, she got up and sat down on his lounge chair, ignoring his wet shorts pressing against her dress. Taking his head between her hands, she pulled his face closer and gave him a tender kiss on the lips. “Thank you, Korum,” she said softly, looking him in the eyes. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family.” He smiled, and his eyes held a warm amber glow. “Of course, my darling...” “I love you,” Mia told him sincerely. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry about everything that happened before. You’re right—I should’ve trusted you more. Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me some day?” It was the first time she had apologized for spying on him, and she could see that she’d pleasantly surprised him. Raising his hand, he lightly stroked her cheek. “Of course,” he said softly. “Rationally, I know why you did what you did, but I have

a difficult time being rational when it comes to you. When you first agreed to work with the Resistance, I let anger at your betrayal cloud my thinking instead of giving you more time to adjust to our relationship. I’m sorry for that, and for the stress and worry I caused you as a result. But I’m happy you’re here now, with me...” “I’m happy too,” Mia said, and she knew he could see the full depth of her feelings on her face. “I really am...” His eyes flaring brighter, Korum leaned toward her and kissed her hungrily, as though he wanted to consume her. His hands curled around her shoulders, and he pulled her closer, dragging her onto his lap, his erection pressing into her through the wet material of his swimming trunks. Feeling buffeted by his passion, Mia could only cling to him as he greedily devoured her mouth, his hands roaming over her body, ripping off the clothing that prevented him from touching her naked skin. His hot mouth moved to her neck, nipped the skin lightly, and she cried out, her head falling back as if it were too heavy for her neck to support. She felt unbelievably hot, like she was burning inside from a liquid flame, every inch of her sensitized and craving his touch. He seemed to feel the same, his erection throbbing against her leg and his hands moving over her almost roughly. Her fingers curved into claws, dug into the back of his shoulders. “Please, Korum...” She wanted him inside her with a desperation that didn’t fully make sense. “Please...” He rose, still holding her in his arms, and flipped her over, putting her down on the lounge chair on all fours. And then he was bent over her, driving into her with one powerful thrust, his hard cock penetrating her without restraint. Mia gasped, shocked at the sudden entry, her inner muscles straining with the effort to adjust to his thickness, but he didn’t give her any time. Grasping her hips, he fucked her relentlessly, his hips hammering at her with such force that she couldn’t catch her breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensations. She could hear his harsh breathing and her own screams, and then her whole world consisted of nothing more than the physical, the pleasure and the pain intermingling until there was no way to tell them apart and one could not exist without the other... until she was nothing more than an animal, besieged by the most basic need. It seemed to go on forever, and then he came with a guttural groan, grinding into her as though trying to merge them together. The pulsations of his cock inside her sent her over the edge, and the orgasm tore through her body, leaving her weak and shaking in its wake. Only his hands on her hips kept her from collapsing onto

the lounge chair, her arms and legs trembling too much to support her weight. After about a minute, his breathing had calmed and he withdrew from her, separating their bodies. Mia felt too worn out to move, so she was glad when he picked her up and carried her into the house. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she mumbled into his shoulder, “Was this what you had in mind when you said you had plans?” “Pretty much,” Korum admitted, walking up to the second floor. “I did envision something more civilized, but I don’t seem to have any control over myself when it comes to you. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He had, a little, but it had only enhanced the pleasure. And besides, she felt perfectly fine now, with all traces of soreness seemingly gone. “No,” Mia reassured him. “I loved it.” He walked into a large, luxuriously appointed bathroom and placed her on her feet next to a large, claw-footed tub. “That’s good,” he said, turning on the water and smiling at her. “Still, I think you could use a nice bath, and so could I.” And, as Mia watched, his cock began to harden again.

17

M arisa and Connor arrived first, their 2012 Toyota pulling into the driveway five minutes before six o’clock. Korum was finishing setting the table, so Mia came out to greet them by herself. “Oh my God, Mia! Baby sis, it’s so good to see you! You look phenomenal! What has he been feeding you?” Marisa burst out as soon as she exited the car. “And holy cow, look at this place! He must be a gazillionnaire!” Laughing, Mia gave her sister a big hug, sobering a bit when she felt the unusual fragility of her frame. “Marisa! Oh, it’s so good to see you too! And Connor!” Smiling, her brother-in-law bent down to hug her too. “There’s my favorite sister-in-law. How are you?” “Oh, I’m doing great! Here, let’s go inside! Korum is just putting the finishing touches on the dinner—which should be amazing, by the way.” “Any meat?” Connor asked with a hopeful look on his face as they followed Mia toward the house. A former college quarterback, Marisa’s husband was still having trouble adjusting to the post-K-Day diet. “No, sorry, they’re mostly plant-eaters. But it’s really yummy stuff, anyway.” “I still find it hard to believe that vampires are vegetarians...” Connor muttered, and Mia laughed again. “They’re not really vampires—they’re past that now,” Mia explained. “And some of the plants on Krina are very rich-tasting and dense in calories. I think if we had them here, we might not have been eating meat either.” “Ooh, you’ve tried plants from Krina?” Marisa sounded envious. Her sister was normally an adventurous eater, and the two of them would frequently try unusual restaurants when Marisa came to visit Mia in New York.

“Yep,” Mia confirmed, grinning. “And they’re really tasty. But that’s only in Lenkarda. Tonight, we’re eating much more local.” “Ugh, I hope I can eat something. I was sick again on the way here,” Marisa confided. She did look pale and rather ill. “We had to stop by a rest area. I’m surprised we got here before the parents—” “Oh, I was just about to tell you,” Mia said, pausing for a second before entering the house. “I spoke to Korum, and he’s going to have one of their doctors look at you to determine what’s causing the problem.” “A K doctor?” Connor looked surprised. “Actually, she’s more of a human doctor—a Krinar specializing in human biology. Korum said she’s really good.” “Wow, Mia, I don’t even know what to say...” Marisa’s eyes were suddenly swimming with tears. “Oh no, don’t worry about it! It’s really not a big deal—” “Hormones,” Connor explained, pulling his wife closer to him for a hug. “Ah, I see.” Mia gave Marisa a few seconds to get her emotions under control. Then, smiling at them, she asked, “Ready to go in?” Marisa nodded, looking much sunnier, and Mia led them into the house. Korum must’ve just finished what he was doing because he came into the living room at the same time. As always, he looked stunning, with the golden hue of his skin contrasting with the white color of the simple button-up shirt he was wearing. And even though they had spent most of the afternoon in bed, Mia couldn’t help the twinge of arousal she felt at the sight. Spotting her sister, he gave her a big smile and walked up to them. “You must be Marisa,” he said warmly. “I can definitely see the resemblance...” Marisa nodded, looking uncharacteristically shy and flustered. “Yes, hi...” She seemed incapable of saying anything more profound. Recalling her first meeting with Korum, Mia knew just how her sister felt. Apparently, even marriage and pregnancy could not shield a woman fully from the impact of her lover’s magnetic appeal. Turning to Connor, Korum said, “And you’re Marisa’s husband, right? Connor?” Her brother-in-law politely held his hand out. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you. Korum, right?” He looked far less star-struck than his wife.

Her lover accepted his hand, shaking it briefly. “Indeed. The pleasure is all mine. Can I offer you a drink while we wait for Mia’s parents?” “A beer would be great,” Connor said easily. Mia had to give him kudos for his composure. Outwardly, he didn’t seem intimidated at all. Korum smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. In that moment, Marisa caught Mia’s gaze. “Wow,” her sister mouthed. “Just wow.” Mia grinned. She had always been jealous of her popular older sister who’d managed to have it all—good grades, great friends, and a ton of cute boys chasing after her. And now Marisa was envious of her? Korum reappeared, carrying a tray with a beer, a glass of champagne, and a cup filled with some milky liquid. Handing the champagne to Mia and the beer to Connor, he held the cup out to her sister. “This is something that should settle your stomach,” he said kindly. “At least for the rest of the evening.” Marisa gratefully accepted the cup and drank its contents, not even bothering to question the safety of the liquid. Clearly, their dad’s experience had given her the confidence to trust K medicines. “Thank you,” she said, and then her eyes widened. “Oh, wow, I’m already feeling much better...” At that moment, the doorbell rang. Mia’s parents had arrived. After greeting them, Mia and Korum led them into the dining room, where Korum had prepared a meal that was more like a feast. Mia felt a little bad that she hadn’t helped him at all, but Korum had shooed her away from the kitchen when she’d offered, explaining that she would simply be in the way. Not the least bit offended, Mia had gone to sit by the pool and catch up on the latest developments in Saret’s lab, chatting with Adam via a Skype-like device that projected his image like a three-dimensional holograph. In the meanwhile, Korum had prepared a gourmet feast consisting of five different varieties of salads, exotic sushi-like vegetable concoctions, various types of noodle dishes with delicious-smelling sauces, and fresh fruit for dessert. A bottle of Cristal was chilling in a bucket of ice, and the table was decorated with a large centerpiece of gorgeous flowers. He had really gone all out, and Mia’s heart tightened at the realization that he was actually trying to impress her family. And impressed they were. Her mom kept asking Korum for recipes of all the dishes they were eating, and even her dad seemed to be in a much better mood, his earlier headache gone without a trace. The atmosphere at the table was surprisingly relaxed, with her

family questioning Korum about life on Krina and her lover telling amusing stories about his parents and the pranks Saret used to pull on him when they were children. Watching him, Mia realized he had deliberately steered the conversation toward those topics that would be most likely to put her family at ease... that would humanize him in their eyes. And even though Mia knew that he was putting on a show, she couldn’t help the little melting sensation she got inside when she thought of Korum as a little boy, playing in the forests of Krina and getting in trouble with his friends. The dinner lasted until ten. Finally, replete and happy, everyone departed. On their way out, Mia’s mom kissed Korum on the cheek, and her dad shook his hand. Marisa blushed and stammered a little, thanking Korum again for the anti-nausea medication, while her husband gave him a huge smile and told him they would be coming over for dinner every night, given the awesome meal they’d just had. As soon as her family drove away, Mia wrapped her arms around Korum’s waist and hugged him tightly. Still holding him, she looked up and found him regarding her with a tender look on his beautiful face. “Thank you,” she told him sincerely. “This really meant a lot to me.” He stroked her cheek gently. “I would do anything to make you happy, darling,” he said softly. “You know that, right?” Mia nodded and buried her face in his chest, feeling like she couldn’t contain all the emotions filling her chest right now. She loved him so much it hurt. And in that moment, she was almost certain that he loved her too.

THE NEXT MORNING, MIA WOKE UP TO THE SOUND OF KRINAR LANGUAGE BEING SPOKEN. A SOFT female voice, oddly familiar, could be heard, interspersed with Korum’s deeper tones. The doctor, Mia realized. She must’ve already arrived to inspect Marisa. Getting out of bed, Mia quickly dressed and washed up, checking the time. Sure enough, her sister was supposed to get there in a few minutes. Entering the living room, Mia saw a beautiful Krinar woman sitting there, chatting with Korum about the local beaches. Tall and slim, she reminded Mia of a Brazilian supermodel, with her bronzed skin, dark brown hair streaked with golden highlights, and sparkling hazel eyes. Again, something nagged at the back on Mia’s mind, some elusive memory that she couldn’t quite place. She approached them, and the K female rose and extended her hand to Mia.

“Hi,” she said warmly. “I’m Ellet.” Smiling, Mia shook her hand briefly, surprised at the human greeting. Other than Korum’s cousin Leeta, Mia hadn’t spoken to a lot of K females. All four of the other assistants in Saret’s lab happened to be male, and Mia hadn’t really socialized with anyone else yet. “Thanks for coming all the way here,” Mia told her. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate your help with this.” “Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Ellet said, beaming with a megawatt smile and causing Mia to like her immediately. “This is my first time in Florida, and I’m loving it so far. So much like Costa Rica, yet so much more developed and with so many humans!” Mia raised her eyebrows in surprise. Developed and teeming with humans were usually negative factors for most Krinar, but Ellet seemed to be saying just the opposite. “Ellet loves humans,” Korum said dryly. “You’re her specialty. I don’t know why she’s even bothering to stay in Lenkarda—New York would be a much better place for her.” “It’s a little too cold and dirty for my taste,” Ellet said, smiling. “But Florida seems much more promising...” “Really?” Mia asked, staring at her. “You would move here and do what? Open a clinic?” Ellet smiled. “I would like to, but I probably won’t be able to get permission. It goes against the mandate.” “The mandate?” “The non-interference mandate—one of the conditions under which the Elders have agreed to let us live here, on Earth,” Ellet explained, shooting Korum a quick and unreadable look. “Oh, I see,” Mia said, though she didn’t really. She knew that the Ks hadn’t shared any of their technology and science, and she presumed it was because they wanted to see how their grand evolutionary experiment would turn out. However, she hadn’t realized there was an actual mandate in place. Before she could ask any more questions, the doorbell rang. Marisa had arrived. Mia went to open the door.

Once again, her sister looked wan and pale, the dark color of her hair only emphasizing the unhealthy pallor of her face. The medication Korum had given her yesterday was obviously no longer working. “Ellet is already here,” Mia told her. “She’s very nice—you’ll like her.” Marisa nodded, looking a little green. “Mia,” she whispered, “what if they find something really wrong with me or the baby? Something that our doctors haven’t been able to diagnose? What if it’s something bad—like truly bad?” “What? No! I’m sure you’re perfectly fine. It’s probably just some weird hormonal imbalance... You can’t start stressing about crazy what-ifs before the doctor even looks at you! Here, come here...” Mia pulled her in for a hug and felt her slim body shaking in her arms. In that moment, Ellet and Korum entered the hallway, having apparently overheard something with their sharp Krinar hearing. “You must be Marisa,” Ellet said warmly, coming up to her sister and studying her with an inquisitive look on her perfect face. Marisa pulled away from Mia, looking a little stunned to be confronted with such a gorgeous creature. The Krinar woman gave her a wide smile. “I’m Ellet,” she said gently, “and I’m an expert in human biology. Please, don’t worry, you have nothing to be afraid of. Come, let’s go into the living room and I’ll take a look to see if there’s anything wrong. And even if there is, I’m sure that we can fix it. The human body holds few mysteries for us at this point.” Marisa nodded, looking somewhat reassured, and they all walked into the living room. “Please, can you stand still for just one minute?” Ellet requested, reaching for a small white device that was sitting on the coffee table next to the couch. Picking it up, she directed it toward Mia’s sister, running it slowly over her body from head to toe, focusing especially on her stomach area. Then, putting down the device, she said, “Did your doctor tell you that you have borderline hyperemesis gravidarum?” Marisa blinked. “Uh, he did mention something along those lines, but I thought that was just a name for severe nausea and vomiting...” “It is. It’s a condition that happens when you have excessive levels of beta hCG hormone. It could be dangerous if you get severely dehydrated, and I don’t think

human doctors know how to treat it other than assigning you IV fluids in the more extreme cases and making sure you rest. However, I should be able to fix it for you, so the rest of your pregnancy proceeds smoothly.” Marisa gave her a desperately hopeful look. “Really? You can make it go away?” “I can normalize the hormone levels for you. Since you’re only in your first trimester, you may still experience mild nausea every now and then, so I’ll give you a little something that you can take for that. But you’ll be able to eat and function normally again—and start gaining weight like you’re supposed to.” “And the baby? Is everything okay with the baby?” Marisa asked tremulously. Ellet smiled. “Yes. She’s going to be a beautiful girl.” “Oh my God, a girl!” Tears of happiness filled Marisa’s eyes. For as long as Mia could remember, Marisa had talked about wanting a daughter, and now it seemed like her dream would be coming true. Mia grinned at her and squeezed her hand. “All right, ready? We’ll need privacy for the next step,” Ellet said. “You can go into one of the bedrooms upstairs,” Korum told her. “We’ll be waiting down here.” Marisa looked a little nervous. “What are you going to do?” she asked Ellet. “Is it like an operation?” “I won’t have to cut you or anything,” the K reassured her. “It’s just a small device that needs to go inside you. It will take about five minutes, and then you’ll be able to go home.” “Go ahead,” Mia encouraged her. “It’ll be okay...” Marisa and Ellet went upstairs, and Mia sat down next to Korum. “Thanks again for getting Ellet to come out here,” she told him. “She’s wonderful.” “Yes, she’s one of the nicest individuals I know,” Korum admitted. “She’s still relatively young, only about four hundred years old, but she’s very passionate about what she does and she’s made a lot of contributions to her field.” He sounded admiring. A sudden unpleasant thought occurred to Mia. “Did you and her ever... ?” Ellet was one of the most beautiful women Mia had ever seen, even in Lenkarda. Korum shrugged. “It was nothing serious—just a casual fling a few years ago. It’s nothing that you need to be concerned with.” Mia swallowed, the pit of her stomach suddenly burning with jealousy. “You

were lovers?” A wave of nausea rolled through her as she pictured them together in bed, the K’s pouty lips on Korum’s body, her slender hands touching him in intimate places. “Only briefly. You have to understand something, my sweet—sex is a fun, recreational activity for us. Unless it takes place in the context of a serious relationship, we don’t assign any meaning to it.” Mia stared at him, trying to digest that for a second and to push away the unpleasant, pornographic images still lingering in her mind. “So what determines whether you’re in a serious relationship or not?” “Whether we care about the other person and to what degree.” “And you didn’t care about Ellet?” He shook his head. “No. We were too similar in some ways. It quickly became obvious that we didn’t have much beyond the initial attraction—which faded within a few weeks.” “But she’s so incredibly beautiful... How can you possibly not be attracted to her anymore? And she to you?” Mia asked quietly, feeling irrationally upset. What could Korum want with a regular human who couldn’t hold a candle to one of his former lovers? If his attraction to Ellet had faded so quickly, what chance did Mia have of holding his attention longer? They had been together just over six weeks at this point. Would he get bored of her within another month? Korum reached out and cupped her cheek in his large, warm palm. “Mia,” he said softly, “what are you worrying about? I’ve known thousands of beautiful women, but I’ve never wanted one of them as much as I want you...” Mia looked at him, the knot in her stomach easing. “And you are far more appealing to me, physically, than she ever was,” he continued, his eyes turning a brighter shade of gold. “How can you even have doubts about that at this point? Is it not enough that I all but keep you chained to my bed? If you were any more attractive to me, I would stay buried inside your sweet little body day and night... and then where would we be?” A hot blush spread over Mia’s face, and she could feel herself reacting physically to his words. At the same time, she realized that her sister and Ellet would be coming down any minute. “Korum, please,” she whispered, “what if they overhear us?” He gave her a wicked grin. “Then they’ll learn something shocking—the fact

that we have sex...” As if on cue, Mia heard footsteps on the stairs, and Marisa entered the room, followed closely by Ellet. Quickly pulling away from Korum, Mia jumped up and ran to her sister. “Marisa! How did it go?” Marisa shook her head, looking like she was in a mild state of shock. “I barely felt anything when Ellet touched me, but now I’m already starting to feel less sick...” “You’ll feel even better in a couple of hours as the nanos gradually normalize your hormonal production,” Ellet said, looking pleased. “Also, if you still have any residual traces of nausea, just take that powder I gave you and you should be fine for the rest of your pregnancy. And like I told you, I would be more than happy to come out here when it’s time for you to deliver...” Marisa sniffed, looking all teary-eyed, and then gave Ellet a hug, obviously surprising the K. “Thank you, Ellet, so, so much! I wish everyone knew how nice your kind can be—” Ellet hugged her back a little awkwardly. “Thank you, Marisa, but remember what I told you. You can’t go around telling people about this—or I could get in trouble. We’re not supposed to interfere with humans too much—” “Why not?” Mia asked. “What’s the big deal if you help one pregnant woman?” Korum came up to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pressing her against him. “I’ll explain it to you later, my sweet,” he said, and there was a warning note in his tone. “For now, why don’t you and Marisa hang out for a while? I have to catch up with Ellet about a few things back in Lenkarda.” He wanted to be left alone with his former lover? The sick feeling of jealousy she thought she had under control returned in full force. Nevertheless, she nodded stiffly and asked, “Marisa, would you want to go for a walk on the beach?” Her sister smiled. “Sure. That sounds lovely,” she said, and Mia knew that the signs of tension had not escaped Marisa’s sharp eye. Korum bent down to kiss her forehead and then released her from his embrace. “Go ahead,” he said. “Your morning shake is in the kitchen. I made one for Marisa as well. You can take it with you if you want.” Mia thanked him, and the two sisters left, grabbing their shakes on the way.

18

“A ll right, baby sis, spill. What was up with your reaction back there?” Marisa took a sip of her shake and looked at Mia expectantly as they strolled along the water, the ocean surf pounding against the sand only a few feet away. Mia kicked a small shell out of the way, getting sand into her flip-flop in the process. “I just learned he had a thing with Ellet in the past,” she told Marisa glumly. “And now he wants to be alone with her in the house. How am I supposed to react to that?” “Ouch.” “Yeah.” Marisa was silent for a few seconds, apparently mulling that over. “I don’t think he has anything going on with her anymore...” she said thoughtfully. “In fact, I’m pretty sure of it. He has eyes only for you—it’s almost scary, actually, how intensely he watches you all the time. Still, that wasn’t a very nice thing to do. But maybe he had some business to discuss with her?” “Probably,” Mia agreed, shrugging. “He said it’s been over between them for a few years and it was never serious in the first place. Still, I just can’t help imagining the two of them together, you know?” For about a minute, they walked in comfortable silence, slowly drinking their smoothies and looking out over the water. Then Marisa spoke again. “You really love him, don’t you?” she asked, sounding worried for the first time. Mia sighed and looked down at the sand. “More than I can say,” she admitted. “More than I could’ve ever imagined.” “Oh Mia...”

“I know, I know. I don’t need a lecture on this. It can’t possibly end well, believe me, I know.” Her sister reached out and squeezed her hand. “Well, for what it’s worth, he seems crazy about you. Absolutely crazy. I’ve never seen anything like that. He looks at you like he wants to devour you—and like he would do anything for you at the same time. He seems obsessed with you, baby sis...” Mia laughed, Marisa’s words startling her out of her gloomy mood. “Oh, please, I’m sure you’re exaggerating. We just have good chemistry, that’s all—” “No, Mia,” Marisa shook her head, looking serious. “What you guys have is way more than that. I don’t even know how to describe it. He watches your every move. It’s kind of uncanny, actually. And he can’t seem to go more than a couple of minutes without touching you...” Mia flushed a little, wondering if her sister had overheard their earlier conversation. If so, then Ellet definitively did; the Krinar tended to have a sharper sense of hearing than most humans. “How did you end up getting involved with him, anyway?” Marisa asked with unconcealed curiosity. “You never really told me the full story, just that BS about your lover from Dubai... You’ve always been so cautious and by the rules—I can’t quite picture you jumping into an affair with a K.” Mia hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to her sister anymore, but she also wasn’t up to telling her family the full story. “It wasn’t easy for me,” she admitted. “I was pretty scared in the beginning, and Korum can be... intimidating at times. But I was very attracted to him, obviously, and he was very persistent... and, well, you know the rest of the story.” Marisa regarded her intently. “I see. I’m sure there’s more to it, but you can tell me when you’re ready.” “Thanks, Marisa. You’re the best sister a girl can ask for,” Mia told her sincerely. “I know—and very modest, too.” Her sister grinned as she said this, and Mia smiled back at her. They walked some more, each occupied with her own thoughts, until Marisa spoke again. “Is there any way things could work out for you guys?” she asked, her face serious again. “Any way at all?” Mia shook her head. “No, I don’t see how. We are literally different species—

with very different lifespans. He will ultimately leave me... and I don’t know how I will survive that at this point.” “Oh Mia... Baby, I don’t even know what to say...” There was a look of intense pity on Marisa’s pretty face. “You don’t have to say anything,” Mia told her calmly. “It’s my own fault for falling in love with him. I could’ve found myself a nice, normal guy—someone like Connor—but no, I had to get involved with an alien. I’m sure I will ultimately recover... and maybe even meet a human man that I will grow to care about.” “Have you talked to him about any of this?” “Not, I haven’t,” Mia told her honestly. “I’m too happy right now to bring this up quite yet. For once, I’m trying to seize the moment—to enjoy something without worrying about the consequences...” Marisa smiled, but there was still a shadow of worry on her face. “You go, baby girl. Carpe diem and all that.”

THE KRINAR WATCHED THE TWO GIRLS WALKING SLOWLY ALONG THE BEACH. THEY WERE BOTH PRETTY, but only one held his interest. There was no point in observing her now, rationally he knew that. He should be concentrating on his enemy, not some little human who couldn’t possibly be a threat to his plans. Yet he couldn’t look away. She laughed, turning her face up toward the sun, and he zoomed in, pausing the recording for a second. Her lips were parted, showing even white teeth, and her pale skin appeared luminous, almost glowing. She looked happy, and he almost regretted what he had to do. If it worked tomorrow, she would be upset for a while. At least until he had a chance to take her pain away.

THAT EVENING, KORUM TOOK THE WHOLE FAMILY OUT TO DINNER, BRINGING THEM TO A GOURMET restaurant that had recently opened in Hammock Beach, an exclusive private community not too far from Ormond.

To Connor’s happy surprise, there was actual seafood on the menu, as well as steak and caviar. The prices for animal products were astronomical, of course, with some of the dishes costing close to what some teachers made in a week. Her parents gaped at the menu, stunned, until Korum told them firmly that the dinner was his treat and that he would not hear any protests in that regard. Initially hesitant, her family ultimately gave in, with Connor ordering himself a prime rib and her parents sharing a shrimp cocktail as an appetizer and lobster as the main course. Mia got noodles made from real egg, while Marisa had some Russian-style blinis with caviar. Korum, as usual, stuck to mostly plant-based fare, although he did allow a little butter in his hibachi vegetables. “One of the tastier human inventions,” he explained wryly. The first part of the dinner passed uneventfully, with Korum politely asking her parents about their jobs and how they came to this country as children. He seemed particularly interested in the immigrant experience and the acclimation process for humans. Her parents were more than happy to talk about that, and the conversation flowed smoothly and easily. A few glasses of wine later, however, her brother-in-law began to venture into some less comfortable territory. “So why did you guys come to Earth, anyway?” Connor asked, looking at Korum with unconcealed curiosity. Mia froze, remembering her lover’s rather low opinion of the human race and its treatment of Earth—the planet the Ks regarded as their future home. But she needn’t have worried. Korum’s parent-pleasing façade was firmly in place. “Our solar system is much older than yours,” he explained casually. “And our star will begin to die long before your sun. So it made sense for us to begin preparing for that eventuality. Also, it’s good to be diversified in terms of locations: if some kind of a cosmic disaster were to befall Krina or our home galaxy, at least some of the Krinar would survive.” “Oh, wow, you guys really think ahead, huh?” Connor sounded impressed, and Korum gave him a small smile before steering the conversation to Mia’s childhood and what she had been like in kindergarten. The rest of the dinner flew by, with her family competing for a chance to tell the most amusing and embarrassing story about Mia as a baby—everything from her odd preference for purple clothes when she was three to Marisa bribing her with candy to get her to do her math homework in first grade. “I find it hard to believe that Mia ever had to be forced to do her homework,” Korum said, smiling at her warmly. “I can’t get her to stop doing it now. Her work

ethic is incredible—even Saret is impressed, and he’s had a lot of talented and dedicated assistants over the years.” Her parents grinned, looking proud and pleased, and Mia realized yet again what a skilled manipulator Korum was. He had her family eating out of the palm of his hand, despite the fact that they should’ve been madly worried about their youngest daughter being in a relationship with an extraterrestrial predator. Not that she minded, of course. Her lover was doing exactly what Mia wanted—setting her parents’ mind at ease—and she was grateful for that. Finally, the dinner wrapped up around ten. Saying good-bye to her family, Mia climbed into Korum’s Ferrari and they drove home, with Mia feeling happy and full from the delicious meal.

WAKING UP THE NEXT MORNING, MIA BOUNCED OUT OF BED FULL OF ENERGY. QUICKLY BRUSHING HER teeth, she put on the two-piece bathing suit that Korum had thoughtfully left for her and went to look for him. She found him lounging by the pool, sunning himself like a big golden cat. Unlike a human, Korum never burned, his skin always the same lightly bronzed shade. Come to think of it, Mia had somehow managed to avoid sunburn herself thus far, despite not using any sunblock. For a second, she wondered if Korum had given her something to protect her skin without her knowing and then forgot about it, too excited to start the day. Seeing her enter the pool area, Korum gave her a slow, sensuous smile that reminded Mia of the wicked things he’d done to her last night. Her lower belly tightened with remembered pleasure. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her—and she of him—to the point that Mia was beginning to wonder whether they were addicted to each other after all. Of course, Korum had warned her of blood addiction, not sexual addiction, but she couldn’t imagine craving him more than she did already. Tall shrubs and a solid white fence surrounded the pool area, blocking it from the view of anyone passing by on the beach and providing privacy for the mansion’s residents. Encouraged by that, Mia came up to him and ran her hand down his chest, reveling in the feel of his smooth, sun-warmed skin. He grinned and caught her hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “Ah, my lady awakes,” he teased, his soft lips nibbling lightly at the back of her hand.

A shiver of pleasure ran through her at his touch, and she suddenly felt much warmer. Fighting a blush, she asked, “Do you want to go to the beach this morning?” They were supposed to meet her parents for lunch today and then drive to St. Augustine to visit the Alligator Farm, one of Mia’s favorite attractions in the area. However, it was only 9 a.m. right now, so they had plenty of time to kill. “What about breakfast?” he asked her. “You’re not hungry?” “I can eat a banana on the way,” Mia told him, itching to go for a swim in the ocean. “I’m still sort of full from yesterday’s dinner.” “Then let’s go.”

THE BEACH IN FRONT OF THEIR HOUSE WAS BEAUTIFUL AND ALMOST COMPLETELY DESERTED. ALTHOUGH it was not a private beach, there were no hotels nearby and no easy parking for the potential beach-goers. As a result, only the wealthy residents of the beachfront houses and a few hardy souls practicing long-distance beach walking were likely to be found there. Exiting through the gated pool area, they walked on a narrow wooden bridge that led from the house to the sand, bypassing the dunes. As soon as they stepped off the bridge, Mia kicked off her flip-flops and ran toward the water, eager to test its temperature. At this time of year, the Atlantic was not as warm as it would be later in the summer, but she didn’t care. Despite the relatively early hour, it was already hot outside, and she was looking forward to the coolness of the ocean. They swam for a solid hour until Mia felt pleasantly tired, her muscles aching from the unusual exertion. She was surprised at her own endurance; other than swimming a little in Costa Rica in the evenings, she really hadn’t done much cardio in recent months. Perhaps she was still in shape from a year ago, when Jessie had signed both of them up for a 5K charity race and Mia had gone on a mad exercise spree to prepare for it. Or maybe all that nutritious food Korum was feeding her was actually that good for her body. When they finally came out of the water, Mia stretched out on a big towel they had brought from the house, and Korum lay down beside her. Closing her eyes, she relaxed, the hot rays of the sun beaming down on her skin. She vaguely wondered if she should put on sunblock, but she felt far too lazy to move. Just a few minutes,

she promised herself, just enough to produce some vitamin D... A pleasant tickling sensation woke her up from her nap some time later. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to the side, squinting a little from the bright light. Korum was lying there beside her, propped up on one elbow. Looking down at her with a smile, he was gently stroking the side of her ribcage with one long finger. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, and there was a warm glow in his thickly lashed amber eyes. “What?” Mia murmured, feeling a bit self-conscious. The bikini she was wearing left very little to the imagination, and the way he was staring at her right now made her feel absurdly shy. “Nothing,” he said softly. “Your skin just looks so delectable in this light. I never realized before how pretty such pale skin could be.” “Um, thank you...” “And it blushes so prettily too,” he teased, brushing his fingers against her suddenly too-warm cheeks. Mia gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. It was still so new to her, being in a relationship, having someone touching and admiring her body like that. And to have that someone be the gorgeous creature lying beside her—that was beyond anything Mia could’ve ever imagined. “How long was I out for?” she asked, remembering her impromptu nap. “I really didn’t mean to drift off...” “Not all that long. About twenty minutes or so.” Mia yawned delicately, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry about that... You must’ve been so bored—” “I’m never bored with you,” he said, still studying her. “I like watching you sleep. You always look so sweet and peaceful... like a dark-haired angel. I find it very relaxing, seeing you like that.” Mia grinned at him. Korum could be very strange sometimes. “That’s good, I guess, considering how much I sleep.” He just smiled in response, tucking one of the curls behind her ear. “Are you getting hungry now? Or still full from last night’s dinner?” Mia considered it. “I could eat. But don’t we have lunch with my parents soon?” “In another two hours. You’re probably going to starve by then.”

“Hmm, okay. I want to go for another swim first, though.” “Sure. Want to go in now?” “I actually have to run to the restroom first,” Mia admitted. “Will you wait for me? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” “Go ahead,” Korum told her, grinning. “I’ll wait.” Jumping up, Mia ran back toward the house. Entering the fenced pool area, she used one of the bathrooms on the first floor. Then she headed back to the beach, eagerly anticipating the pleasant coolness of the water on her overheated skin. Approaching the tall fence, Mia pushed open the gate... and froze. Right outside the fence, with the landscaping blocking her from the view of anyone on the beach, was Leslie—one of the Resistance fighters Mia had worked with. And in her slim, muscular arms was a gun pointed directly at Mia’s chest.

19

F or a few seconds, icy terror held Mia completely immobile, unable to think or react in any way. Just like a deer in the headlights, some part of her brain noted with morbid amusement. Her legs felt weak and heavy, as through she were caught in quicksand, and her vision had narrowed so that all she could see was the deadly weapon pointed at her. And then a surge of adrenaline kicked in, clearing her head and sending her heart rate through the roof. If she didn’t do something, she would die, Mia realized with utter clarity. Korum was too far away to help her if she screamed; the bullet would get her long before he got anywhere near the house. “Hands up, bitch,” Leslie ordered harshly, her delicate features so twisted with hatred that they were barely recognizable. “You fucking traitor, you’re going to get exactly what you deserve—” “What are you doing here, Leslie?” Mia interrupted, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice and slowly raising her hands. Don’t show your fear to a rabid dog. Never show your fear. Keep her talking. Buy yourself time. “Did you honestly think you could get away with it?” Leslie spit out, her arms shaking and her finger nervously tapping on the trigger. “Did you really think you could betray your entire race and live happily ever after, fucking that monster?” Her clothes were ripped and dirty, Mia noted with some semi-functional part of her brain. The girl must’ve been on the run for quite some time. “Leslie, listen to me,” Mia said desperately, knowing that she probably only had seconds left. “If you shoot me, Korum will kill you. You won’t be able to get away fast enough. He’ll hear the shot, and he’ll be on you—” A mad, triumphant smile lit Leslie’s face. For a second, she looked positively gleeful. “Oh, you think I’m risking my life to kill you?” she said contemptuously.

“You think I’m that stupid? No, bitch, as much as I’d love to put an end to your worthless existence, my orders are to keep you alive—alive and out of the way while he deals with your lover...” Horrified, Mia stared at her, sickening fear spreading through her veins. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her brain barely able to process the implications. “While who deals with him?” Leslie laughed, clearly enjoying Mia’s reaction. “I knew it. I knew you had fallen for that monster. I told John not to trust you, but he was stupidly convinced you were on our side. But I knew better. I knew you were just the type to fall for that pretty façade. Did he get you addicted too? Do you walk around now begging Ks to bite you every hour, like my brother did before they killed him?” Mia’s thoughts whirled in panic, her heart pounding so hard she felt like it would break through her ribcage. At the same time, a fury slowly began to build deep in the pit of her stomach. “While who deals with him?” she repeated through clenched teeth, her voice low and mean. Leslie’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “You think the Keiths were alone?” she said mockingly. “You think they got caught and that’s the end of it?” Stunned, Mia could only stare at her in shock. “Oh yes, there are more Ks involved,” Leslie confided, and there was cruel pleasure on her face. “Your lover’s being turned into particles as we speak...” Mia sucked in her breath, her lungs unable to get enough air. Her vision darkened for a second, and then rage unlike anything she had ever experienced swept through her, leaving no room for fear. And suddenly, she knew exactly what she needed to do. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted to a point just beyond Leslie’s shoulder, and she let an expression of wild joy light up her face. Startled, Leslie turned to look behind her for a second, and Mia sprang at her, her hands closing around the gun even as the girl realized she’d been tricked. The force of Mia’s jump brought them both tumbling down on the ground, with Mia landing on top, her desperation giving her strength she didn’t know she had. However, Leslie managed to maintain her grip on the weapon, her training and larger size giving her an immeasurable advantage, and they rolled, each trying to gain possession of the gun. The heavier girl ended up on top, her weight pressing Mia into the ground. Her

knee hit Mia in the stomach, and she gasped, air temporarily knocked out of her. At the same time, Leslie wrenched at the gun with both hands, nearly tearing Mia’s arm out of her socket. The pain barely registered, dulled by the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the murderous fury filling her mind. For the first time in her life, Mia knew what it felt like to truly want to kill someone, to tear them to shreds and watch them bleed. A reddish haze taking over her vision, she fought with no regard for her own safety or anything resembling fairness. Her face ended up near Leslie’s shoulder, and she bit, her teeth sinking savagely into the fleshy part of her upper arm. The fighter screamed, and Mia delighted in her pain, in the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Her knee came up hard, smashing into Leslie’s pubic bone with all the force that Mia could muster, and the girl gasped, her grip on the weapon loosening slightly. That was all the opportunity Mia needed. Instead of pulling at the gun, she pushed down, twisting at the same time. Leslie’s index finger caught in the trigger guard, twisted with it, and the girl screamed as the digit snapped, bending unnaturally backwards. Taking advantage of her distraction, Mia yanked at the weapon, wrenching it away from Leslie’s hand. And then, hardly cognizant of her own actions, she brought it down with savage force on top of Leslie’s skull. The girl’s body went slack, blood seeping out from where the hard metal object made contact with her head. Gasping and shuddering, Mia pushed her away, her mind filled with only one thought: getting to Korum before it was too late. Jumping up, she grabbed the gun and ran, ignoring the unconscious girl left lying on the ground.

MIA RAN FASTER THAN SHE’D EVER RUN IN HER LIFE, HER LUNGS BURNING AND THE ROUGH WOODEN bridge floor cutting into her bare feet. The gun felt heavy in her hand, unfamiliar. On the other end of the bridge, she could see a male Krinar standing with his back turned toward her, his right arm outstretched and pointed at Korum—who stood utterly still, his gaze glued to the object in the other K’s hand. Leslie hadn’t lied. In another minute, it might be too late. Slowing slightly, Mia lifted her hand, aimed at the broad back of the K ahead of her, and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened except a soft snick. Not loaded, the damn thing was not loaded. Throwing the weapon aside, she ran faster again. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes, interfering with her vision as her brain fought to get sufficient oxygen. Everything around her blurred, greyed out, as she sprinted toward the scene with every ounce of strength still left in her body. All she could see, all she could focus on, was the deadly scene ahead. And then she was there, seeing the K looming in front of her, his large body shaking and sweat glistening on the back of his neck. Through the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears, Mia vaguely heard the soothing tone of Korum’s voice as he tried to convince the K to put the weapon away, to just listen—and glimpsed the horror on her lover’s face as he saw her running and realized her intention. With no further thought, Mia leapt on top of the K, heedless of the futility of her attack, her fingers grabbing his hair and viciously yanking on it. Startled and screaming in sudden pain, the K flung her away from him with one powerful blow, sending her flying into the dunes nearly twelve feet away. Her left side slamming heavily into the ground, Mia lay there for a moment, stunned, the wind completely knocked out of her. And then her lungs expanded and she drew in a gasping breath, sucking in some much needed air. Dizzy and disoriented, she tried to get up, rolling over onto her stomach and then attempting to rise up onto all fours. As she moved, an agonizing pain shot up her left arm. Whimpering, she glanced at her side, and her head spun at the sight of white bone sticking out through a bloody tear in her skin. Sudden hot nausea boiled up in her throat, and she retched uncontrollably, the contents of her stomach emptying onto the dry grass of the dune. Falling onto her right side, she tried to crawl away, her limbs weak and shaking, when strong arms lifted her, cradling her against a familiar chest.

HIS ENTIRE BODY TREMBLING, KORUM KNELT IN THE SAND, HOLDING HER IN HIS ARMS AND ROCKING back and forth. His breathing was harsh and ragged, and Mia could hear his heart beating like a drum in his chest. “Mia... Oh my sweet, I thought I lost you...” The terror in his voice was a mirror image of the fear she’d felt at the sight of him in danger. He seemed incapable of

saying anything else, just holding her pressed against him as he fought to regain control of himself. Even in his panic, he seemed mindful of her injured arm, taking care not to cause her any more pain. “Th-the K...” she managed to croak out. “D-did he... ?” “Don’t worry about it,” Korum said rawly. “He’s no longer a threat. You’re alive and that’s all that matters.” Still holding her, he got to his feet. “Don’t look,” he said roughly, carrying her toward the bridge. Mia closed her eyes for a second, but it made her feel even more sick and nauseated, so she opened them right away. And saw immediately why Korum had warned her not to look. Lying on the sand, just a few feet away from them, was what used to be his attacker. The body was hardly recognizable as such now, with the right arm missing and a bloody hole where the head and neck used to be. Blood was everywhere, all over the place, covering the disfigured corpse, soaking into the sandy ground. For a brief second, she thought it couldn’t be real, but the metallic odor was undeniable, as was the underlying stench of something much more foul, like sewage. The scent of death, she realized with some still-rational part of her brain. She’d never smelled it before, but something primitive inside her knew and recoiled from it. A horrified moan escaped her throat before she could suppress it. Korum cursed, and his pace picked up until he was almost running toward the house, still taking care not to jostle her injured arm. Closing her eyes, Mia tried to take deep breaths, to convince herself that she’d just seen a scene from a movie, that there wasn’t really what used to be an intelligent being lying there dead and mangled in the sand of Ormond Beach. But the images before her eyes were too vivid and undeniable, and her stomach twisted. If she hadn’t emptied it just a minute ago, she would have vomited again. The K who held her in his arms had just literally torn apart his opponent.

20

H er stomach churning, she instinctively pushed against Korum’s chest with her right hand, but he ignored her feeble attempt to free herself. “Shh, my darling, it’ll be all right,” he whispered to her fiercely, entering the pool area and carrying her toward the house. As they went through the gate, Mia opened her eyes again and saw that Leslie’s body was still lying there, right outside the pool gate. With a strange detachment, she wondered if the Resistance fighter was dead too. She knew she should be horrified at the thought, but she simply felt numb right now—numb and cold inside. Korum carried her up the stairs and into the large bathroom on the second floor. Placing her gently on her feet, he turned on the shower and adjusted the water settings while Mia stood there, weaving slightly and listlessly observing his actions. A kind of merciful haze had descended on her mind, partially shielding her from the brutal reality of the situation. She knew what she was seeing, but it didn’t seem to touch her in any way, as though it were happening to someone else. Korum’s entire body was covered with blood and sand, his hair encrusted with it. He looked like he had been through a battle—which, actually, he had been. If she had understood that gruesome scene correctly, he had killed the other K with his bare hands. Hot bile rose in her throat again, and she held it back with effort. Even though she knew it was self-defense, she was still horrified that her lover was capable of that level of violence. But what frightened her even more was the fact that she was too. Because underneath it all, she was ferociously glad that the other K was dead— that it was his body, not Korum’s, lying there in pieces. If he had succeeded in his

attack... If he had managed to kill Korum, Mia would have gladly killed him herself —either that, or died trying. Her eyes drifted to the left, and she saw her own reflection in the large mirror hanging on the wall. Streaks of dried blood were all over her face, all around her mouth area—from when she’d bitten Leslie, she realized. Dirt, sand, and dried bits of grass covered her mostly naked body, and small twigs were stuck in her hair, adding to the overall murderous madwoman impression. “Here, let’s get you in there,” Korum said softly, carefully picking her up and bringing her into the shower stall where he’d gotten the water to perfect temperature. The hot spray felt amazing on her skin, and Mia realized that she felt chilled, frozen inside despite the hot weather. She was also trembling. Her body must’ve gone into shock, she thought with almost clinical objectivity. She didn’t dare look at her arm for fear of embarrassing herself again; for now, the pain was somehow tolerable, as though she’d received an anesthetic of some kind. Unlike most people, Mia had never broken anything before, and she wondered if this is what it always felt like. If so, then it was truly not all that bad, definitely survivable. “Stay here,” Korum told her. “I’ll be right back with something for your arm.” Mia obediently nodded, and he disappeared for a minute, returning with a small pill in his hand. Stepping into the shower, he gave it to her and told her to swallow it. She did so, and the dull throbbing pain eased almost immediately. “Close your eyes and don’t look,” he said. “I mean it, Mia. Keep them shut.” Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her lids tightly. She could feel his hands on her injured arm, manipulating it gently—and somehow, it didn’t hurt at all when he straightened it, popping the bone into place. “It’s done,” he told her hoarsely. “You can open your eyes now.” Mia looked at him, and the frozen shell encasing her suddenly cracked. Harsh sobs broke out of her throat, and she sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. All the terror and the violence she’d just experienced came rushing to the front of her mind, completely overwhelming her. She could’ve lost him, they could’ve both died, he had brutally slaughtered another Krinar, and she might’ve killed Leslie... It was too much, all of it, and Mia brought her knees to her chest, her body shuddering with the force of her gasping sobs.

“Mia, shhh, darling, it’s over. It’s over, I promise you...” he murmured, kneeling and gathering her closer to him. Reaching up, he directed the shower head so the water cascaded over them and simply let her cry, knowing that was exactly what she needed right now. After a few minutes, her sobs began to quiet, and he lifted her, placing her carefully on her feet and removing her swimsuit. Then, pouring soap into his palm, he washed every inch of her and shampooed her hair, removing all traces of blood and dirt from her body. Afterwards, he did the same to himself, until they were both completely clean. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower stall and came back with a big fluffy towel, which he wrapped around her. Too traumatized to do anything else, Mia just stood there, accepting his ministrations. “Is she dead?” she asked dully, thinking of the girl she’d left bleeding and unconscious by the pool gate. Korum shook his head, toweling himself off as well. “I don’t think so—I saw her breathing as we passed by. I called the guardians who were in the area watching your family. They’re almost here. They’ll take her into custody and clean up the rest—” “Who was he? Did you know him?” For a second, rage flashed in his eyes, and then Korum controlled himself with visible effort. “I did,” he said, and she could hear the barely suppressed anger in his voice. “I had no idea he was involved with the Keiths, none at all. I can’t believe he fooled all of us like that.” Mia continued to look at him, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “His name was Saur,” Korum explained evenly. “He worked in your lab—in Saret’s lab—ever since we first came to Earth. He was the one who left a few weeks ago, creating the opening that you filled. Saret had always spoken very highly of him. Saur was his youngest and most brilliant assistant—at least until Adam had arrived. I don’t know what motivated him to get involved with the Keiths; he had so much to offer our society... And why he came out here to kill us, I have no idea...” “To kill you,” Mia corrected him, feeling cold again at the thought. “Leslie told me her orders were to keep me alive and out of the way while he dealt with you...” His eyebrows rose. “I see,” he said thoughtfully, leading her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

He had already prepared clothes for her to wear to lunch with her parents—a pretty peach-colored sundress and a silky white thong—and he dressed her carefully, as though she were a small child, his hands particularly gentle around her broken arm. Which didn’t hurt at all now, Mia realized. Mildly curious, she glanced down at her left side and blinked, hardly able to believe her eyes. Where there had been a bloody gash with bone sticking out just a few minutes ago, there was now perfectly smooth skin, without even a trace of any injury. Surprised, Mia moved her arm, and it worked quite well. She lifted it, flexing her bicep, and everything appeared to be functioning normally. How did a little pill do this? In general, she felt much better now. The shower and the medicine he’d given her had done wonders for her physical state, even if her mind was still trying to come to terms with everything they’d just been through. “It should be all right now,” Korum said, watching her testing out the arm. He had already dressed himself as well, putting on a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looked so gorgeous—and so alive—that Mia almost started crying again at the thought of what had almost happened. “Now,” he said softly, coming up to her and tilting her chin up with his fingers, “tell me... What the fuck you were thinking, risking your life like that?” Mia blinked at him, startled by the quiet fury in his voice. “Leslie said he was going to kill you. Sh-she said you were b-being turned into p-particles...” Her voice trembling with remembered horror, she could barely hold back the tears that filled her eyes again. “So you what? Jumped an experienced fighter who held a gun on you? Tackled a Krinar who could kill you with one blow?” Korum was almost shaking with rage now, his eyes completely taken over by those dangerous yellow flecks. “Don’t you realize how fragile, how delicate you are? How easily something can hurt you, snuff out your life completely?” Mia swallowed. “I couldn’t bear it if something had happened to you—” “To me? How do you think I would’ve felt if something had happened to you?” He was almost beside himself, his teeth tightly clenched and a muscle pulsing in his jaw. She had never seen him in this state, and Mia vaguely wondered if she

should be afraid. After all, he had just brutally killed an intelligent being. Yet, for some reason, she couldn’t muster up even an ounce of fear. Somehow, in the last couple of weeks, she had gone from thinking he would kill her for spying on him to feeling completely safe with him. Even angry, he wouldn’t hurt her; she now knew it with bone-deep certainty. “I don’t know,” she told him, and watched his eyes turn even brighter. Faster than she could blink, he picked her up and sat down on the bed, cradling her on his lap. Holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, he buried his face in her hair, and Mia could feel the fine tremors shaking his big, muscular frame. “You don’t know?” he whispered harshly. “You truly don’t know that you mean everything to me?” Hardly daring to believe her ears, Mia pushed at his chest to put a little distance between them so she could look up at his face. “I do?” “Of course, you do.” His gaze burned into her with an intensity she had never seen before. “How could you doubt it?” “Are... are you saying you love me?” she asked tremulously, afraid to even voice such a possibility. What if he said no? What if she’d misunderstood him, and he would now laugh at her silliness? Her chest tightened in anxious anticipation. “Mia, I love you more than life itself,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “If anything happened to you... If you were gone, I would not want to go on living. Do you understand me?” Mia nodded, too overcome by her own feelings to say anything. He loved her? This beautiful, amazing man loved her? His eyes narrowed. “And if you ever, ever put your life in danger like that—” Mia didn’t let him finish. Instead, she reached up and buried her hands in his hair, bringing his head down toward her. And then she kissed him, expressing the full depth of her emotions in the way in which they had always communicated best. At first, he froze, as if wary of hurting her, but then he groaned low in his throat and kissed her back, his hands tightening around her again and his mouth hungry and desperate on hers. Mia clung to him with equal desperation, her earlier fear and adrenaline morphing into a frenzy of arousal. He was alive—they were both alive—and her body wanted, needed to reaffirm that fact in the most primitive, instinctual way possible.

She ended up on her back on the bed, pinned underneath his hard, muscled weight, her hands frantically tearing at his T-shirt. She felt like she was starving, like she would die without his touch, her body crying out to be filled by him. His kiss consumed her, his tongue stabbing deep into her mouth, and Mia sucked on it, craving his taste, wanting all of him. She felt unbearably hot, her skin too tight, too sensitive to contain the desire burning within her, and she arched toward him, frantically trying to get even closer. He groaned again, her frenzied response provoking an equally passionate reaction from him. His left hand twisted in her hair, holding her head still for his mouth’s ravishment, while his right hand bunched up the skirt of her dress, exposing her lower body. Now only her tiny thong and his jeans stood between them, and he made short work of that too, tearing off her underwear and unzipping his pants. And then he was inside her with one powerful thrust, his cock penetrating her in one smooth slide. Gasping at the shock of his sudden entry, Mia dug her nails into his shoulders, both stunned and immeasurably relieved to have him inside her. He was unbelievably hot and thick, and the blunt, heavy force of him was exactly what she needed right now. Her muscles quivered, stretching around his large shaft, even as her inner core melted, liquefied at the feel of him filling her so perfectly, quenching the emptiness inside. He began to move, each stroke pressing her deeper into the mattress, and she was screaming, the tension inside her peaking until her entire body seemed to explode with the force of her orgasm, her sheath uncontrollably pulsing and clenching around his cock. Panting, he rose up on his elbows, staring down at her with eyes that were almost pure gold. Droplets of sweat were visible on his forehead, and his face was flushed underneath the bronzed hue of his skin. He looked magnificent and savage, and Mia couldn’t look away from the blazing intensity in his gaze. He hadn’t climaxed yet, and his cock was still hard inside her. “You’re mine,” he told her hoarsely, and Mia couldn’t dispute the truth of that, not with him lodged so deeply inside her body, inside her heart. She felt incredibly vulnerable like this, but she now knew that he was vulnerable too—that she also held power over him. “And you’re mine,” she whispered back, her hands tightening on his shoulders, and felt his shaft jerk inside her as his body reacted physically to her words. He began thrusting heavily into her again, his hips hammering and recoiling,

imprinting himself on her flesh with a ferocity that she almost matched. She felt each thrust deep within her belly, the head of his cock pushing against her cervix, the pleasure so sharp it was verging on pain... and then she could feel him swelling up further inside her and her body tightened as another violent orgasm ripped through her. At the same time, he bucked in her arms, achieving his own climax with a hoarse cry, his semen releasing inside her in a few short, warm bursts. For about a minute, they stayed like that, their bodies joined together as their breathing returned to normal and their heartbeats slowed. Mia had never felt so connected to another person in her life. It was as though they had ceased to be separate individuals, as though the sexual act had linked them together in some way that went beyond the physical. She could feel his heart beating in tune with her own, the heat and scent of his body surrounding her, cocooning her as he held her in his embrace, his weight pleasantly heavy on top of her. After a while, he rolled off her and gathered her toward him, letting her lie on top of his chest. She knew that she should get up and clean herself, that they had to leave soon for the lunch with her parents, that there was still a lot they needed to discuss—but in this particular moment, she just wanted to lie there with him, shutting out the rest of the world. She loved him, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered right now.

THE GUARDIANS ARRIVED A FEW MINUTES LATER, THEIR SHIP LANDING SOUNDLESSLY ON THE BEACH near the house. Zipping his still-intact jeans and dropping a kiss on her forehead, Korum went to greet them, leaving Mia to freshen up before their lunch. Getting up, Mia noted wryly that her legs were still trembling a bit and her sex throbbing subtly in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. She had no idea what sex would be like with another man, with a human man, but she strongly suspected that what she experienced every night—and frequently during the day— was far from typical. Maybe in the future, when they’d been together longer, their insatiable desire for each other would ease a little, but for now, no amount of sex seemed enough. Was this what Korum had meant by their unusual chemistry? Had he known it would be like this from the very beginning? Going to the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and tried to smooth her curls into a more presentable state. Underneath the paleness of her skin, her face glowed with subtle color, and her lips were fuller, swollen a little from his kisses. She looked happy and satisfied, a far cry from the traumatized mess she’d

been earlier in the day. She also looked and smelled like she’d just had sex. Another quick shower was clearly in order. Ten minutes later, she was clean and dressed in a different outfit. It was almost time for them to drive to St. Augustine, so she went to look for Korum. She found him in the pool area, talking to three Krinar males who were dressed in what looked like light grey uniforms. She remembered seeing similar uniforms on the Ks who had apprehended the Keiths two weeks ago. These had to be the guardians Korum had mentioned. One of the guardians held Leslie, who was now conscious and looked like she had a bad headache, or maybe a concussion. Mia felt hugely relieved. She hadn’t killed her after all, nor did it seem like she’d caused any permanent damage. However, Leslie did look terrified to have been captured by the creatures she regarded as reallife monsters, and Mia almost felt bad for her, remembering how scared she’d been of Korum in the beginning. Almost—because she couldn’t forget the fact that the girl had held her at the gun point and conspired to kill Korum. Now that she could think again, Mia wondered why Saur wanted Leslie to keep her—Mia—alive and out of the way. Did he think she would somehow be of use to the Resistance? Or did he want something else from her? And why was Korum his target? None of it made any sense. Suddenly, something occurred to her. The memory loss of the Keiths! If Saur had access to some of the lab’s technology and enough knowledge, he might’ve been the one to erase their memories. In fact, Adam once mentioned that Saur had worked on mind manipulation. Excited, Mia approached Korum and the guardians. Giving him a huge smile, she said, “I just realized something... If Saur worked in Saret’s lab—” Korum nodded approvingly. He had obviously figured it out already. “Exactly. This would explain quite a bit—though I still don’t really understand his motivations.” Leslie observed their exchange with a bitter expression on her pain-twisted face. “Xeno bitch,” she muttered, shooting Mia a hate-filled look. “Keep your mouth shut,” Korum said coldly, staring at the girl with a contemptuous look on his face. “You should thank whatever pathetic deity you pray to that Mia didn’t get hurt today—and that the gun was not loaded. If anything had happened to her, you and all your Resistance buddies would have learned the true meaning of suffering. Do you understand me?”

The fighter visibly gulped, but refused to look away. Mia reluctantly admired her courage; had Korum said that to her, she would’ve been scared out of her wits. Maybe Leslie was too, but she had a pretty good poker face. Mia wondered what was going to happen to the girl. Did the Ks intend to let her go after embedding surveillance devices in her, as they’d done to the Resistance fighters who had attacked them? She determined to ask Korum about that later, when they were alone. Despite everything, she still hoped that Leslie wouldn’t be punished too severely for her actions; the fighter didn’t seem like a bad person— just very misguided in her hatred for the Ks. Two more guardians came in through the gate. “It’s done,” one of them said in Krinar. “All the evidence has been recorded and removed.” “Good,” Korum told them. “Thank you for coming out here so quickly.” The guardian who had just spoken nodded. “Of course. If you think of anything else relating to this attack, just contact us.” Korum promised to do so and the guardians left, taking Leslie with them. “What are they going to do to her?” Mia asked, observing the look of panic on the girl’s face as a guardian carried her away in the direction of the beach. “She’ll undergo some rehabilitation,” Korum said. “She’s caused too much trouble at this point, and we’ll give her the same treatment that we gave the other Resistance leaders we’ve captured thus far.” “A rehabilitation?” Now that Mia had spent some time in Saret’s lab, she knew that influencing someone’s mind to that degree was a very complex and delicate process. It was easy to cause irreparable damage, and every brain was highly unique—what worked for one person might not work for another. Mind-tampering was the most advanced branch of Krinar neuroscience—and even Saret admitted that it was still very imperfect. “Not the same kind of rehabilitation as for the Keiths,” Korum said. “A much milder version. It doesn’t take as much effort with humans; she might simply walk away with a small memory loss.” Mia had thought of something else in the meanwhile. “Korum,” she asked slowly, “you’re not going to be in trouble, are you? Because of what happened on the beach?” Because of the Krinar he’d torn apart—but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say that.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “No. It was a very clear case of self-defense, and I have recordings to prove it.” “Recordings?” He lifted his hand, showing her his palm. “Having embedded technology is very handy. Also, if we need to go even further, we can get some images from the satellites we have in Earth’s orbit. What happens on a public beach like that is never a secret. There might be an investigation, just to follow protocol, but there won’t be a trial.” Mia exhaled a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad.” Stepping toward him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, inhaling his warm, familiar scent. He hugged her back, pressing her against him with one hand and stroking her hair with another. They stood like that for a minute, simply enjoying each other’s nearness, letting the horror of the day dissipate in the warmth of their embrace.

21

M ia’s

parents met them for lunch in St. Augustine at a small, quaint

restaurant called The Present Moment Cafe. Before K-Day, it was one of the few vegan restaurants in the area, showcasing various exotic ingredients and unusual raw dishes. These days, such places were much more common—diners and steakhouses were now the rarity—but the cafe still enjoyed the reputation of being one of the best at gourmet plant-based food. Korum again insisted on paying for the meal, and her parents acquiesced after a few half-hearted protests. During the lunch, he entertained them with some stories about his initial visit to Earth seven hundred years ago and how different Europe was at that time. Mia could see that her parents were absolutely fascinated —and so was she, to be honest—and time passed by very quickly. Looking at him interacting so easily with her family, Mia marveled at Korum’s incredible composure—or maybe it was simply good acting skills. He laughed and joked with her parents as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just killed a fellow K with his bare hands. She tried not to think about that, to move past this morning’s events, but she couldn’t help the disturbing images that kept flashing into her mind. Although Mia knew that violence had been a big part of Krinar history and culture, it didn’t seem like it was anymore. At least, Mia hadn’t run into anything of the sort during her two-week sojourn in Lenkarda. She knew that Korum’s favorite sport consisted of fighting—and she knew about the Arena challenges. But that was a far cry from killing someone on the beach. Was Korum bothered by his actions at all, or did he not care? Was the man she loved—and who apparently loved her back—a remorseless killer? And if he was, did she care? After a couple of hours, they said goodbye to her parents and drove to the Alligator Farm, one of St. Augustine’s most popular attractions. Korum seemed

very interested in seeing the cold-blooded creatures, explaining that they were quite different from anything they had on Krina. As they wandered through the paths, studying the various species of alligators and crocodiles, Mia decided to bring up something that had been on her mind since this morning. “Have you killed before?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing. Korum stopped and looked at her. “I was wondering when you’d get around to that,” he said softly, and there was an unreadable expression on his face. “What would you like me to tell you, my sweet? That I’ve never been in any other situation where I’ve had to defend myself and others? That I’ve managed to live for two thousand years without ever having to take a life?” Mia swallowed, staring up at him. “I see.” “Do you?” His mouth twisted slightly. “Do you really? I know you’ve lived a very sheltered life, my darling, and I’m glad for you. If I could’ve spared you what you saw this morning, believe me, I would have.” “How many?” Mia knew she should stop, but she couldn’t help herself. “How many people—Krinar or human—have you killed in your life?” He sighed. “Not as many as you’re probably thinking right now. When I was young, I was very hot-headed and got into a few fights over matters that now seem quite trivial. Several of my opponents challenged me to the Arena, and I accepted their challenge. And once we were in the Arena... Well, you might not understand this, but it’s very hard for us to stop once the first blood gets spilled. In the heat of battle, we operate purely on instinct—and our instinct is to destroy the enemy at all costs. That’s why the Arena fights are so dangerous and so rare these days, because the outcome is often quite deadly—” “Why hasn’t your government outlawed it, then?” Mia interrupted, trying to understand this peculiar quirk of Krinar culture. “Why not get rid of such a barbaric custom? Your society is so advanced in every other way...” “Because the violence is more contained this way—better controlled, if you will,” he explained calmly, watching her with those amber eyes. “If someone has a problem with me, they can just challenge me in the Arena instead of going after my family. Vendettas still happen occasionally, but they’re much more rare than in the past—and our society is much more peaceful as a result. Technically, it’s illegal to kill someone in the Arena, but nobody has ever been prosecuted for getting carried

away in a fair fight.” “Is that what happened today? You got carried away during the fight?” He nodded, his mouth tightening. “I did... but my only regret is that I didn’t get a chance to question him, to find out why he did what he did. He hurt you—he could’ve easily killed you—and he deserved exactly what he got.” Mia looked away, not really knowing what to say. He had killed to protect her— and she probably would’ve done the same for him—but she still found it frightening, knowing that he was capable of taking someone’s life with so little compunction. “What about humans?” she asked as they walked further, thinking of all the rumors she’d heard about K brutality during the Great Panic months. “Have you killed many humans?” He didn’t answer for a few moments. “Why are you doing this, Mia?” he said quietly as they stopped in front of a large alligator pen. “Why do you ask questions to which you don’t want to know the answer?” “I don’t know,” Mia told him honestly. “In some ways, you’re still such a mystery to me. I love you, yet I feel like I barely know you...” He gazed down into the water with seeming fascination, watching the alligators gliding smoothly through the water. The tourists gave the spot where they were standing a wide berth; like most humans, they had correctly deduced that the K among them was by far the most dangerous creature in the vicinity. Mia was now so used to this that she barely paid attention. Whenever they went somewhere in public, Korum’s presence inevitably attracted frightened stares and whispers among the human population. After a while, he turned to look at her. “Yes, Mia,” he said wearily. “I’ve killed humans. Some in self-defense, some for other reasons. I’ve had many interactions with your kind over the centuries, and not all of them have been good. Is there anything else you would like to know?” Mia moistened her lips, staring at him. “Would you have killed Peter that night? In the club? If I hadn’t stopped you?” “You didn’t stop me, Mia,” Korum said coolly. “I had already made up my mind to let him go with a warning. His offense was not grave enough to warrant anything more.” A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped her lips in relief. “I

see.” “Of course,” he added, his eyes glittering, “if he had touched you more—if he had slept with you—the outcome would’ve been different.” Mia’s heart skipped a beat. “You would’ve killed him for that?” she whispered, a shiver running down her spine. Korum didn’t answer, just looked at her evenly... and she knew that what she had always sensed about him was true. He was dangerous—not to her, but to everyone else. As civilized as he appeared on the outside, as advanced as the Ks were with their science and technology, at the core, he was a predator. A predator with a violent nature and a deeply ingrained territorial instinct. A predator who apparently loved her as much as she loved him.

THAT EVENING, MARISA AND CONNOR CAME OVER FOR DINNER AGAIN, AND KORUM PREPARED A smaller version of the feast he’d made the previous day. Her sister was positively glowing, her skin flushed with healthy color and her eyes sparkling. Her appetite was back to normal, and she was again eating all her favorite foods. Whatever procedure Ellet had performed on her seemed to be having the promised effect. Connor was beyond grateful. “I finally have my wife back,” he confided to them when Marisa went to use the restroom. “The last few weeks have been hell—I was so afraid she would need to be hospitalized for the rest of the pregnancy. The horror stories we’d heard about women with her type of condition...” Korum smiled at him. “I’m glad everything worked out. Ellet is quite skilled—” Mia felt a pang of jealousy at his praise of the woman who had been his lover, but she did her best to ignore it. “—and she was more than happy to help in this situation.” After the dinner was over, the four of them decided to go see a movie—the latest James Bond thriller featuring a K villain. Korum was highly amused by the premise, particularly the parts where the human agent managed to outwit the evil K and use the Krinar’s own technology to thwart his plan of exterminating all humans. The villain was played by a human actor who actually did a fairly decent job of imitating a K with the aid of computer graphics, but Mia still found his performance inadequate. Marisa and Connor really enjoyed it, however, and peppered Korum

with tons of questions on their way back to the house. As Mia observed their interactions, she realized that her family was completely enthralled with her lover. They’d never seen his truly intimidating side, and they’d never had a reason to fear him—the way Mia did in the beginning. Instead, to them, he was a fascinating foreigner who could entertain them with endless interesting facts and stories, a generous benefactor who had already given them the priceless gift of improved health, and a kind boyfriend who treated Mia like a princess. And Mia loved it. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected her family to get on so well with her alien lover. She’d thought they would be frightened and worried sick about her—and they probably would’ve been if Korum hadn’t put in the effort to win them over. That, more than anything, showed her how deeply he cared. He’d known that her family was important to her, and he’d made sure that they would be comfortable with their relationship—or at least as comfortable as they could be knowing that their daughter’s boyfriend was not human. Her thoughts turned to the future again, and she felt a familiar ache in her chest —the same sensation she always got when she thought about the inevitable end of their relationship. He loved her, but surely that couldn’t last forever. How long would she remain young and pretty? Ten years, twenty if she was lucky? Granted, some of the actresses these days looked amazing even into their late forties and fifties. Maybe Mia would as well, particularly if Krinar medical prowess extended to cosmetic procedures as well. She pictured Ellet giving her a facelift and almost shuddered at the thought of the beautiful K seeing her when she was old and wrinkled. Finally, they arrived back at the house and said goodbye to Marisa and Connor, who picked up their car and drove away. Smiling, Mia waved to them and came into the house, where Korum was already sitting on the couch, studying something in his palm. Hearing Mia come in, he looked up and gave her a smile. “You were very quiet on the way back,” he said, regarding her inquisitively. “You didn’t like the movie?” She approached and sat down next to him. “It was entertaining,” she answered, shrugging. “Then what’s the matter? Are you still upset about what happened earlier today?” He reached out and took her hand, lightly massaging her palm in a way that made her melt a little inside.

“No.” Mia stared at the large hand cradling hers so tenderly. Her fingers appeared tiny and delicate in his grasp, the pale color of her skin contrasting erotically with his darker hue. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it too much. The movie was a good distraction, actually...” “So then what?” He clearly had no intention of letting it go. Mia raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “I was just wondering about the future, that’s all. I know I should focus on the present and enjoy what we have right now, but I just can’t help it sometimes—” He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly, his lips stopping her next words. “We’ll talk about this when we’re back in Lenkarda,” he murmured, pulling back and looking at her with a rather enigmatic expression on his face. “Don’t worry about anything right now. It will all work out, I promise.” Surprised, Mia blinked at him, and then she remembered that he’d mentioned something similar a few weeks ago, when they were still in New York. Unbearably curious, she opened her mouth to ask him another question, but Korum kissed her again and all rational thought left her head. Picking her up, he carried her upstairs to their bed, and Mia didn’t have a chance to think for the rest of the night.

22

T he next morning, Mia woke up in Korum’s arms. It was such an unusual occurrence that her eyes flew open as soon as she realized what was happening. She was lying on her side, cradled against his body. They were both naked, and she could feel his semi-hard erection prodding at the curve of her buttocks. Startled, Mia turned around to look at his face and saw that he was wide awake. At her sudden movements, he smiled and brushed his lips against her forehead. “You’re awake, I see.” She nodded, blinking at him sleepily. “What are you doing here? You’re usually up much earlier...” “I didn’t want to leave you alone,” Korum explained softly, caressing her cheek. “You seemed to be sleeping restlessly, crying out every couple of hours, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Touched, Mia burrowed against him, holding him tightly. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I think I must’ve had nightmares after yesterday.” She vaguely remembered some dreams involving guns and blood, and she was surprised that she’d actually been able to sleep through the night. Undoubtedly, Korum’s presence beside her had helped in that regard. He slowly stroked understandable.”

her

hair.

“Of

course,

my

darling.

It’s

entirely

“Do you ever have nightmares?” she asked, pulling back, the psychology student in her suddenly curious about the topic. “Not typically,” Korum admitted, his hand now playing with her long curls. “I usually sleep very deeply for a couple of hours, and then I wake up. I can’t remember the last time I had a dream of any kind. It can happen for us, but it’s

rarer than for humans. Our sleep cycle is somewhat different.” “Oh, I see.” “What do you want to do today?” he asked. “We don’t have any plans right now.” “I was thinking we could have dinner with my parents again tonight, but I don’t know about the day... No beach, though—I don’t think I’m ready to go back there yet.” “Of course.” His body tensed for a moment. “Why don’t we do something else entirely? How about a trip to Orlando? We could visit one of those theme parks with roller coasters and all—” “What, like Disney World?” Mia gave him an incredulous look. “Sure,” he said seriously. “Or maybe Universal. That’s the more adult one, right?” Unable to help herself, Mia burst out laughing. “Really? You want to go to Universal Studios?” She pictured the two of them standing in line for the Incredible Hulk, and all the tourists freaking out at the sight of a K near their children. “Yeah, why not?” Why not indeed. Still giggling, Mia said, “Okay, I’m game. We can go to Islands of Adventure—that’s the part of Universal that has more roller coasters. How are we getting to Orlando? Driving?” “Might as well. I don’t mind driving—it gives me a chance to see more of the area.” He grinned at her, looking so charming and carefree that she couldn’t help but kiss the dimple on his left cheek. When her lips touched his face, however, she could feel his mood shifting. By now, she was so attuned to him that she realized immediately what he wanted. Sure enough, when she pulled back, he was regarding her with a heavy-lidded golden gaze. “This is why I don’t normally stay in bed with you,” he muttered before his lips descended on hers and his hand ventured lower between her thighs. And for the next hour, they forgot all about Orlando, caught up in their own wild ride.

TWO HOURS LATER, THEY WERE WHIZZING DOWN THE HIGHWAY AT OVER A HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR. With anyone else at the wheel, Mia would’ve been scared out of her mind, but

Korum’s reflexes were better than any race car driver’s and she felt utterly safe with him. For the first twenty minutes of the ride, he drove with the top down, but Mia’s hair kept blowing into her face, and they had to pull over to put the top up. “I should really cut this mess,” Mia grumbled as they got back on the highway, trying to smooth down the curly explosion on her head. It was futile. Wind and her hair didn’t mix. “Don’t even think about it,” Korum said seriously. “I love your hair long.” Mia sighed. “Fine. Maybe I’ll just get it straightened...” “Why? Your curls are beautiful. Leave them just as they are.” “You’re weird,” Mia told him. “Most men like straight, silky hair, not this rat’s nest I’ve got going on here—” “I don’t care what most men like. Leave the hair as it is.” His tone was utterly uncompromising. Mia smiled to herself, mentally shaking her head. Even in this small matter, he had to be in control. It was strange that she didn’t mind it quite as much anymore, though nothing had really changed. She was still his charl, and he still had way too much power over her life. The difference was that now she knew that he loved her, that she wasn’t just a human toy to him. A little tidbit from her encounter with Leslie nagged at the back of her mind. “Korum,” she said tentatively, “what exactly is this blood addiction you’ve warned me about before? Leslie said something about it yesterday...” Keeping his eyes on the road, Korum asked, “What did she say?” Mia struggled to remember the girl’s exact words. “It was something like her brother was addicted and he was walking around begging Ks to bite him every hour until they killed him...” For a few seconds, Korum remained silent. “That sounds like a particularly unfortunate case,” he said after some time. “It must’ve happened not long after we first arrived here.” “What do you mean?” “Do you remember how I told you that we no longer require blood to survive? That it’s now basically a pleasure drug for us?” “Yes, of course.” “Well, it turns out that there’s a side effect to getting too much of this drug. The

pleasure is so intense that it’s addictive for us—and for the humans we’re drinking from. However, for a Krinar to become physically addicted, he or she has to drink from the same human more frequently than a couple of times a week. Essentially, the Krinar gets addicted to the specific DNA signature in that human’s blood. It’s a peculiar side effect of the genetic fix that allows us to survive without blood. Some of our best scientists are currently studying this phenomenon and trying to figure out why it’s happening and how it can be stopped.” Mia stared at him in fascination. “So what happens when you get addicted? Is it physically painful?” “When the Krinar is separated from their human for whatever reason, yes. They can’t go longer than a few hours without getting their fix—and that’s a problem both for the human and the Krinar.” “So is that what happened to Leslie’s brother? I’m not sure I fully get it...” “No, it works differently for humans. Your species gets addicted to the substance in our saliva, but any Krinar’s saliva would work. I don’t exactly know what happened to Leslie’s brother, but I can venture a guess. It sounds like he might’ve been involved in some of the early x-clubs—” “X-clubs?” “X-clubs, xeno-clubs—that’s your slang term for nightclubs where humans go to interact with our kind.” Mia blinked. “I’ve never heard of this before. Is it like the websites where humans advertise to have sex with Ks?” He looked vaguely amused. “Pretty much. The websites are usually for those who are just curious. Very few people posting there would consider actually going through with their fantasy. The ones who are serious about it go to x-clubs.” “Really?” Mia was amazed that she’d never come across this before. “Where are these clubs located? Are there some in New York City?” “No, they’re actually close to our Centers—we generally don’t like going to major cities. That’s probably why you don’t know about them. There are a few in Costa Rica, some in New Mexico and Arizona, some in Thailand and the Philippines...” “And Ks actually go to these places?” Korum nodded. “Some do, especially those who are otherwise reluctant to venture outside of the Centers. I’ve never gone myself, because I don’t have a

problem spending time in human cities and towns. Many Krinar do, though; they can’t stand the crowds or the pollution, so the clubs are a convenient way for them to enter into sexual relations with humans.” “So you think Leslie’s brother might’ve gone to an x-club?” “It’s a likely possibility. In the last couple of years, these places have become more strictly regulated. Now a particular human is only allowed in twice a week, and the Krinar who go there are warned against sharing that human for the night. However, in the early days, everything was much more disorganized, and some humans got carried away. They would hook up with one or more Krinar per night and have their blood taken much too frequently.” Mia wrinkled her nose, disturbed at the thought. When Korum took her blood, it was such a transcendent experience that she couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone else. Of course, she couldn’t imagine having sex with anyone else either, so it probably wasn’t a fair comparison. “I see.” “My guess is that Leslie’s brother became seriously addicted. Why he died, I have no idea. Perhaps he became violent and tried to force one of the Krinar women —that’s been known to happen and could be one reason why he would’ve been killed—” “A human forcing a Krinar?” “I didn’t say he would’ve succeeded. Our women are much weaker than Krinar men, but they are still stronger than humans. However, an attempt would’ve been sufficient to earn him a death sentence. No sane human would try such a thing, of course, but some of these addicts are not rational, particularly when they’ve been deprived for a while.” Mia shuddered. The whole thing sounded awful. “Is there a cure?” she asked, trying to imagine how desperate those poor people must be. “Not yet. As far as I know, it’s still in the experimental stages.” “When did you learn about this? The addiction, I mean? Was it before or after you came here?” “We’ve known about it for a few thousand years, but it wasn’t regarded as a real problem until we came here. It mostly happened with charl and their cheren, and it was considered to be part of the bond between the couple. And since those relationships were exceedingly rare, nobody really thought anything of it. Of course, now that we’re living among humans, it’s very different.”

“I see...” Mia looked out the window, trying to understand the implications. Something didn’t quite make sense to her, but she couldn’t place her finger on it right now. And then it hit her. Turning back to look at him, she frowned in puzzlement. “Korum, what would happen when the charl passed away? To the Krinar, I mean? If they were addicted to that specific human, how did they go on?” For a second, Korum didn’t answer. Then he said softly, “The charl wouldn’t pass away, Mia.” Stunned, Mia stared at him. “What do you mean?” she whispered, unsure if she had heard him right. He was silent again, and she could see the tightening of the muscles in his jaw. All of a sudden, he swerved into the right lane and headed for the exit, disregarding the sound of screeching brakes and the outraged honking from the drivers he cut off. Startled, Mia gripped the door handle with her right hand, trying to hang on. A minute later, he pulled into the parking lot of Comfort Inn and put the car into “park” mode. Turning to her, he said quietly, “We don’t let the humans we love die, my sweet. You, Maria, Delia—you’re all as close to immortal as a biological being can get. You won’t age, you won’t get sick, and any injuries you get—as long as they’re not beyond repair—will heal quickly, as they do for me.”

23

F or a few seconds, Mia could only gape at him in shock. Was this a joke? “Bbut h-how?” she stammered. “I’m not Krinar—” “No, you’re definitely not Krinar,” Korum agreed. “You’re human, just as you’ve always been.” “So then how?” Mia could barely process what he was telling her. “How is this possible?” “Have you noticed that you’ve been healing quicker? Maybe feeling better, more energetic?” Mia nodded, her heart galloping in her chest. “And you’ve never wondered how that’s possible? How your arm healed so quickly yesterday?” “I thought you gave me something,” Mia whispered. “That pill yesterday...” “The pill was a painkiller; it didn’t have the ability to heal you like that. For that, I would’ve needed specialized equipment similar to the devices I’ve used on you before. No, my darling, your arm mended so well because there are now millions of highly advanced and complex nanocytes in your body, and their sole function is to keep you healthy by repairing any damage—whether it’s on a cellular or DNA level.” “What?” Dark spots swam in front of her vision, and she inhaled deeply, realizing that she’d stopped breathing for a second. “What do you mean? How would they have gotten into my body?” “Ellet implanted them at my request the first night after you arrived in Lenkarda,” he explained, studying her with a watchful amber gaze. “I brought you to her lab, and she performed the procedure.”

Mia’s head was spinning, and she couldn’t seem to wrap her brain around what he’d just told her. “Y-you brought me to Ellet’s lab? While I was sleeping? You did this to me over t-two weeks ago?” “Yes,” he said, his eyes slowly turning more golden. “I didn’t want to chance something happening to you by delaying it any further.” She stared at him, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you ask me before you did it?” “I couldn’t take a chance that you’d refuse,” he said simply. “You were still too angry, too resentful when I had first brought you there. And frankly, my darling, I was too angry with you—too hurt and angry to offer this to you at the time and have an entire discussion on this topic. Your betrayal wounded me, Mia. Logically, I understood why you did it, but it still hurt me more than anything anyone had ever done...” Mia swallowed, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry... I really am so sorry about that—” “And later on,” Korum continued, his gaze holding hers, “after the procedure was done, I delayed telling you because I wanted to see how our relationship would develop, whether you would grow to feel as strongly about me as I felt about you...” “You were testing me?” He nodded. “In a way. I know how much immortality would mean to most humans. I wanted you to love me—and not just the long life I could give you. I was going to tell you when we came back to Lenkarda, but the topic kept coming up, and I didn’t want to lie to you.” Her thoughts racing a mile a minute, Mia reached for the door, her hand scrambling to find the handle in the unfamiliar vehicle. “What are you doing?” he asked sharply, his eyes narrowing. “I... I need a minute,” she said tremulously, her arm shaking as she pushed open the door. She felt violated and invaded, and the realization that the man she loved had done that to her was making her sick. “I just need a minute—” Before she could get out of the car, he was already there, looming over the passenger side. “Stop it, Mia. You’re not going anywhere.” Feeling like she was hyperventilating, Mia scrambled out of the car, ignoring his order. She needed some distance between them right now, needed to find a way to come to terms with everything she’d just learned.

He grabbed her arm as she tried to slide past him. “Stop acting like this. You said you loved me—you even risked your life yesterday to save me—and you’re upset about the fact that we can be together long term?” Mia frantically shook her head, trying to yank her arm away—a futile attempt, of course. “No, of course not!” She could hear the edge of hysteria in her own voice. “But you didn’t even ask me! How could you do something this big without asking me?” “Do what?” His tone was ice-cold, and his expression hard. “Give you perfect health? A long life?” Mia felt like her head would explode. “Implant something into my body! Perform a medical procedure on me without my knowledge or consent!” “I gave you a gift, Mia.” His eyes were almost purely yellow at this point. “It’s not like I stole your kidney—” “You stole my free will!” Mia was vaguely aware that she was yelling, but she didn’t care right now. Her vision was hazy with rage, and she could feel herself trembling with the force of her emotions. All the frustration of the past few weeks boiled to the surface. “You stole my ability to make any decisions in my life! Yes, I love you, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a possession. Don’t you understand, Korum? Don’t you realize how that makes me feel, knowing that you can do something like that to me?” He stared at her, and she could see the muscle pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. “I did what was best for you. I gave you immortality, Mia. Wasn’t that what you were worrying about? Our future together?” “The future where I’m treated like a slave for centuries to come? The future where I don’t have any say over my own body, my own life? That kind of future?” Mia asked bitterly, too furious to think about what she was saying. She heard him inhale sharply. “Get in the car, Mia,” he ordered, his voice low and cold. “You’re being irrational.” “Or what?” she said defiantly. “You’re going to force me in? You’re going to make me?” “If I have to. Now get in.” Shaking with helpless anger, Mia got in and watched as he shut the passenger door and walked over to the driver’s side. “We’re going back to the house,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot with the

sound of squealing tires. “I don’t think a theme park is the best idea right now.”

THE RIDE HOME PASSED IN TENSE SILENCE, WITH MIA LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW AND KORUM concentrating on driving. It took less than thirty minutes to make the drive back, with the speedometer pushing a hundred-and-thirty. Thankfully, they weren’t stopped by the police. Mia had a strong suspicion that any state trooper unfortunate enough to confront Korum in this mood wouldn’t have fared well. As much as she’d wanted to have some time to herself, the silent drive accomplished nearly the same thing, giving her time to think. With her temper slowly cooling, the full implications of what he’d just told her dawned on her. He’d made her immortal—or at least as close to immortal as a biological being could get, she mentally corrected herself. She could still die if her body was damaged beyond repair, just as Korum could—but not from aging or disease, like the rest of humanity. Did that mean that she would now live for thousands of years? She couldn’t begin to comprehend that length of time. She was only twenty-one now, and even thirty seemed far away. A thousand years? It was like something out of a fairy tale. Never aging, never getting sick... He was right; it was every human’s dream come true. It was her dream come true. But the way he’d done it... Mia stared at her palms, where she still had tracking devices implanted from the time he’d shined her. Why had she been so surprised that he would do something else to her? He obviously regarded her as “his”—his charl, his to do with as he pleased. Yes, he’d given her an impossible, priceless gift, but he had also taken from her any semblance of an illusion about the true nature of their relationship. He wasn’t her boyfriend or her lover; he was her master. She didn’t have any say when it came to her own body, her own life, and he clearly saw nothing wrong with doing whatever he wanted to her. For the past couple of weeks, she’d lived in a dream world, reveling in being with him, in the phenomenal opportunity he’d given her, in the way he’d interacted so well with her family... And all this time, she hadn’t known that he had fundamentally changed her, that she was no longer the same Mia she had always been. Immortality. It seemed so crazy, so impossible... For millennia, people had searched for that elusive fountain of youth, and yet the Ks had had it all along. A shiver ran through her as she fully understood what that meant: the Krinar had the

power to indefinitely extend human lifespan, and they chose not to. The non-interference mandate. That had to be the only explanation. The Krinar had created her kind, and they continued playing God with them. Humans were nothing more than an experiment to them, and Mia realized how foolish she’d been to hope that Korum would ever see her as an equal. He might love her in his own way, but he didn’t see her as a person, as someone who had the same basic rights as he did. How could he when his species regarded humans as nothing more than their creations, the result of their grand evolutionary design? The car pulled into the driveway, and Mia got out as soon as it stopped, rushing into the house. She couldn’t look at Korum right now, couldn’t talk about this rationally. Not yet, not until she’d had a chance to digest this further. To her relief, he didn’t follow her, giving her some much needed space. She ran upstairs and locked herself in one of the guest bedrooms. The lock was beyond flimsy, of course; it probably wouldn’t deter a human man, much less a Krinar. But it still made her feel a tiny bit better, having that barrier between them. Sitting down on the bed, Mia looked down at her hands, clenched so tightly on her lap. On her right thumb, there had always been a tiny scar; she’d cut herself with a kitchen knife when she was seven, trying to peel an apple. The scar was now gone. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Getting up, she walked over to the large mirror hanging on the wall near the entrance. The image reflecting back at her looked remarkably normal. Same pale face, same unruly dark curls. Yet upon closer inspection, she could see the subtle differences. Her skin, usually lightly freckled, was completely smooth and white, without even a hint of any blemish. The minor sun damage she’d accumulated in her twenty-one years seemed to have disappeared. Her hair looked healthier as well, without any split ends—yet she hadn’t seen the inside of a salon in over six months. Lifting her arm, she flexed it slightly, watching the small muscle moving beneath her skin. Even her body had changed slightly; she’d always been thin, but now she looked a little more toned, as though she’d been exercising regularly. She remembered how she’d been able to swim for an hour, how she’d fought Leslie and won... It appeared that improved fitness was one of the benefits of this procedure. No wonder Ellet had seemed so familiar to her. Mia recalled the dream she’d had when she first arrived in Lenkarda—a dream where a beautiful woman was

touching her with her elegant fingers. Ellet. It had been Ellet. Korum had brought Mia to her lab for the procedure, and Mia must’ve been semi-awake for at least part of it. Walking back to the bed, Mia lay down and curled up into a little ball, bringing her knees to her chest. She felt nauseous, and she knew that it was all in her head. She couldn’t get sick now; it was a physical impossibility. But the unpleasant sensation in her stomach lingered, her insides twisting as she imagined Korum drugging her and bringing her to his former lover. She pictured Ellet performing the procedure on her unconscious body and shuddered. How could he have done this to her? How could he have given her something so precious, something she hadn’t even dared to hope for, while at the same time destroying her trust? And how could she be with someone who could do something like that, who could completely disregard her will? Yet how could she not? Mia tried to imagine a future without Korum, and the years stretched in front of her, grey and empty. If she’d never met him—if she’d never experienced his passion, his caring—she would’ve been content, but now... Now he was as necessary to her as air. Even though they’d only been separated for a few minutes, she felt his absence so acutely it was as if a part of her was missing. If he ever left her, she wouldn’t be just devastated; she would simply cease to exist, to function as a person. She would be nothing more than a broken empty shell, a mere shadow of her former self. Was that how he felt about her too? Tears burned in her eyes at the thought. Was that why he’d done this, because he couldn’t wait, couldn’t bear the possibility of any harm befalling her if he delayed the procedure by even a couple of weeks? Had he taken away her freedom of choice because of the strength of his feelings for her? She tried to imagine how she would’ve felt if someone she loved was weak and fragile, prone to illness and injury. Korum had always been so strong, so invulnerable; other than that time on the beach—and before, when she’d been working with the Resistance—she’d never really had to worry about his health and wellbeing. But he worried about her constantly. She knew that. He went out of his way to take care of her, to make sure she was warm and wellfed, to heal all her injuries, no matter how minor. Knowing how important school

and career were to her, he hadn’t tried to limit her in that regard. Instead, he’d provided her with an incredible opportunity, giving her a chance to feel happy and fulfilled in that part of her life. He’d even made sure that her family was comfortable with their relationship. He’d given her everything—except the ability to make her own decisions. No, she couldn’t imagine a life without him—and now she didn’t need to. For better or for worse, they could be together forever, and her foolish heart filled with joy at the thought. She didn’t know if she could forgive him for doing the procedure without her consent—not quite yet, at least—but she could try. She would have to try. She loved him too much not to. After all, they now had centuries to figure it all out.

24

T en minutes later, Mia headed downstairs, ready to talk. She had a million questions for Korum, and she couldn’t wait to get the answers. To her surprise, she found him standing in the living room, staring out the window at the ocean beyond. Hearing her footsteps, he turned around to face her, and Mia froze on the stairs, shocked by the remote look on his face. His eyes seemed empty, as though he was looking straight through her, and the expression on his face was hard and shuttered, giving nothing away. “Korum?” Mia was aware that her voice trembled slightly, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d seen him cold and mocking, she’d seen him angry and passionate, but she’d never seen him like this before. It was as though a stranger was looking at her right now, a stranger with the familiar features of the man she loved. “The car keys are over there,” he said, gesturing at the coffee table. His voice was flat and unemotional. “I’ll make sure that Roger sends all your things to your parents’ house. For now, I transferred money into your bank account, so you can buy some basic necessities until your luggage arrives.” “What?” Mia whispered inaudibly, feeling like all air had left the room. Her chest felt like it was getting squeezed in a giant vise, and she couldn’t seem to get her lungs to work. “The guardians will continue to watch over you and your family for now, until we’re sure that Saur was acting alone. You should be safe enough now that he and Leslie have been caught.” Her brain couldn’t seem to process what he was telling her. “K-Korum? What are you talking about?” He turned away then, looking out the window again. “That’s all, Mia. You can

go.” Hardly aware of her actions, Mia slowly walked down the stairs, a cold sensation spreading throughout her body. “Go where?” she asked, unable, unwilling to understand. Pausing a few feet away from him, she stood there trembling, desperately needing him to turn around, to look at her with that warm smile of his. But he didn’t. He was like a statue, completely still and unmoving. “I assume to your parents’ house,” he finally said. “Isn’t that where you usually spend your summers?” “You want m-me to leave?” Mia could barely choke out the words through the constriction in her throat. A black pit of despair seemed to yawn underneath her, ready to engulf her at any moment. Surely he couldn’t mean that, surely he didn’t really want her to go... “Take the car,” he said, still looking out the window. “You know how to drive, right?” “I don’t have my driver’s license with me,” she said numbly, staring at his back. “If any cops stop you, I’ll take care of your ticket. Your license and the rest of your things will be delivered to you this week.” Her throat closing up, Mia wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the agony within. “Why?” she whispered hoarsely. “Why do you want me to leave?” “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked coldly, turning around to look at her. His face was completely expressionless; only the faint yellow flecks in his irises gave away any hint of emotion. “Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all these weeks? Your freedom? Well, you have it.” He turned away again, effectively dismissing her. Feeling like she was suffocating, Mia desperately sucked in air. “Korum, please, I don’t understand—” “Is my English not clear enough for you?” His words lashed at her like a whip. “You’re free to go. Leave, get out of here.” Almost choking on the sob rising in her throat, Mia backed away, the pain of his rejection nearly unbearable. The back of her knees touched the coffee table, and her hand automatically closed around the car keys lying there. Grabbing them, Mia turned and ran out of the house, her vision blurred by tears streaming down her face.

SHE GOT AS FAR AS THE CAR BEFORE SINKING DOWN TO THE GROUND. HER ENTIRE BODY WAS SHAKING, and she could barely draw in enough air through the compression in her chest. For some reason, Korum didn’t want her anymore. He wanted her to leave. After everything, he was letting her go. It didn’t make sense; none of it made sense. Leaning against the car, Mia sat on the hard ground, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. After a couple of minutes, when the initial shock of agony had subsided, she tried to gather her thoughts, to attempt to understand what had just happened. Surely, there had to be a logical explanation for this. Why would he bother making her immortal if he was planning to walk away from her all along? Why would he have gone so far as to make her family like him if he didn’t care about her? Why would he have told her that he loved her? Had it all been a lie? Had he been toying with her all along? The thought was so excruciating that Mia had to push it away for the sake of her sanity. Or was it all her fault? Did her reaction to his revelation make him change his mind about their relationship? Perhaps he was beginning to tire of her already, and this had been the last straw for him. Mia raised her fist to her mouth, biting down hard to contain a moan of pain. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, and he didn’t want her anymore. She’d lost him; for whatever reason, she’d lost him... She should get in the car and leave, try to salvage some pride instead of crying in his driveway, but she couldn’t make herself move. If she left now, she might never see him again. He had no reason to be in New York anymore, and there was no guarantee she would ever be allowed in Lenkarda again. If she drove away, the person she loved more than anything would be gone from her life. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Her face wet with tears, Mia resolutely got up, brushing the dust and gravel off her dress. If Korum truly didn’t want her, she needed to hear him say so. He would have to explain himself because she wasn’t leaving without a fight. He had forced his way into her life, into her heart, and now he thought he could walk away without an explanation? She might have been too afraid to question him in the beginning, but she wasn’t anymore. If he wanted to get rid of her, he would have to physically remove her from the premises. She wasn’t leaving until they talked about everything. And wiping her cheeks with the back of her wrist, Mia headed back into the house to confront the only man she’d ever loved.

KORUM WAS STANDING IN THE SAME SPOT, STILL LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW. HEARING HER APPROACH, he turned around. For a second, a flash of something appeared on his face before it smoothed into its expressionless mask again. “You didn’t leave,” he said quietly, studying her dispassionately. She knew his sharp gaze didn’t miss the remnants of tears on her face or traces of dirt on her legs. “No,” she said, her voice rougher than usual. “I didn’t leave.” “Why not?” He inquired, looking mildly curious, as though they were talking about nothing more important than a movie she didn’t enjoy. Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want me to go?” she countered, her chin lifting. “Yesterday, you said you loved me, and now you don’t want to be with me?” His expression darkened, and his eyes turned that dangerous shade of gold again. “Mia, if you don’t walk away right now, you won’t be able to. Ever. Do you understand me?” Her heart hammering in her chest, Mia stared defiantly at him. “No, I don’t. I don’t understand you at all.” And instead of walking away, she took a step in his direction. In the blink of an eye, he was next to her, moving so fast that she jumped in surprise. His hand flashed toward her and closed around the front of her dress, holding her in place as he loomed over her. “What don’t you understand?” he said softly, and she heard the barely controlled rage in the velvety smoothness of his voice. “You want me to beg you to stay? To tell you how much I love you again?” Her chest rapidly rising and falling with every breath, Mia swallowed to get rid of the obstruction in her throat. She’d never seen him in this kind of mood before, and she was almost frightened. Almost—because she now knew that he would never hurt her. Not physically, at least. “Why didn’t you leave when I gave you a chance, Mia?” he whispered harshly, jerking her toward him until she was pressed against his body, feeling the heat radiating from him and the hard bulge growing in his jeans. “Don’t you know how much it cost me to let you go?” He wasn’t trying to get rid of her. He was giving her freedom because he thought that’s what she wanted. The truth dawned on her, and Mia almost burst into tears again. Korum loved

her; he loved her enough to let her walk away, to overcome his own need to keep her with him. For the first time, he was giving her a choice. Her heart filling with incandescent joy, Mia stared up at him, seeing the signs of strain on his beautiful face. He loved her, and he was letting her walk away. The magnitude of his gesture didn’t escape her. This gorgeous, powerful man had never been denied anything he truly wanted before—and she now knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he wanted her. His intellect and ambition had propelled Korum to the top of Krinar society, and he was used to having an extraordinary amount of influence and control. Here on Earth, his power was even greater; as a member of the race that conquered her planet, he could do almost anything without consequences. Among humans, he was like a god. What would it be like, to wield that kind of power? Would she have been able to restrain herself if she knew that she could take anything she wanted? Have anyone she wanted? Mia had never asked herself that question before, and she wondered if she would like her own answer. The fact that he was giving her a choice now... She knew how difficult it was for him, how much it went against his nature. He considered her his, and by Krinar law, she belonged to him. For Korum to relinquish that power, to let her leave him —that, more than anything, showed her how much she now meant to him. So instead of flinching away in fear of his temper, she slid her hands up his chest, gripping his face between her palms. Holding his gaze with her own, she whispered, “I don’t want to go. I don’t ever want to go...” His eyes flared brighter, and she could see his pupils expanding even as his mouth descended on hers, his lips hard and almost bruising. His tongue invaded her mouth, his kiss all-consuming, and she met him eagerly, reveling in the frantic hunger she could taste in his kiss. His hands migrated to her back, tightened until she could barely breathe, and she could feel his large body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. Pulling back for a second, he growled, “You’re staying,” and Mia nodded, even though it wasn’t a question. Standing up on tiptoes, she kissed him again, and felt the room tilt as he swung her up into his arms, carrying her to the couch. The control he exerted over himself earlier was completely gone, and she could feel the primitive need driving him now. He wasn’t gentle, and she didn’t want him to be, not right now, not when she so desperately craved his passion. His hands ripped off her dress, her underwear, and then he was plunging into her, wild with

the urge to get inside, to claim her in the most basic way possible. At the force of his entry, Mia cried out and arched toward him, her fingers curving into claws, digging into the back of his neck. He felt impossibly hard and thick, stretching her, filling her until she forgot all about the agony of nearly losing him, lost in the driving power of his thrusts. His right hand fisted in her hair, pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck, and then he bit her, the sharp edges of his teeth slicing across her skin. Mia gasped at the sudden pain, and then his mouth latched onto the wound and the world around her dissolved as ecstasy rushed through her veins. For the next several hours, all she knew was the dark rapture of his embrace.

25

“S o tell me more about this immortality thing,” Mia said lazily, watching as he lifted one long curl and traced a circle with it on his own shoulder. They were lying in bed side by side, having sated themselves yet again this morning. Mia could hardly remember the rest of the day yesterday. After he’d bitten her, she didn’t regain her senses until late in the evening, when he’d woken her up from exhausted sleep in order to feed her dinner. Then he brought her back to bed, and she passed out again, opening her eyes this morning only to find him watching her with a hungry look on his face. “Finally,” he’d muttered before stripping away the blanket and crawling down her body, his skilled mouth bringing her to orgasm before she was even fully awake. Afterwards, he’d taken her again, as though he couldn’t bear to be physically separated from her for even a few hours. Now he turned his head to look at her, a warm glow in his eyes. “What do you want to know?” he asked, smiling. “Everything,” Mia told him. “Have you always known how to do that—to make humans immortal? And how does it work, exactly? Am I still human, or am I some weird hybrid? Do I also have enhanced speed and strength? And will I ever change physically, or is this how I’m going to look for the rest of my life?” He laughed, rising up on his elbow. “That’s quite a few questions. Let me start with the easy ones. Yes, you’re still human. No, you’re not really that much stronger or quicker than you were, although you’re in somewhat better shape. However, you do heal very fast. If you wanted to get stronger, it would be easy for you; all you’d need to do is start lifting weights and doing exercise. Your body regenerates so rapidly now that you won’t need any downtime, and you could become as fit as any of your top athletes in a matter of weeks.

“You have more endurance now too, again because of your body’s rapid healing properties. And no, you’re definitely not a hybrid of any kind. The nanocytes mimic the natural functions of your body and repair all damage; that’s really all they do. They restore your body to its optimal state, so yes, you won’t really change physically going forward. You’re going to remain young and beautiful for years and centuries to come.” Mia listened to his explanation, her pulse beginning to pound with excitement. “Wow,” she whispered in amazement. “I don’t even know what to say. Just... wow.” Korum grinned at her, and then his expression became more serious. “As to the first part of your question, this is a relatively new technology for us. We’ve only had it for the last few thousand years.” “A few thousand years? That’s a really long time...” They could’ve given humans immortality at any point in the last few thousand years? He sighed. “If you say so.” “Korum,” Mia said tentatively, “what exactly is this non-interference mandate? Is that the reason why you haven’t shared any of your technology with us?” He nodded. “Yes. The non-interference mandate was set by the Elders, and it supersedes any laws that the Council can pass—” “The Elders?” “The oldest Krinar in existence. There are nine who are known as the Elders; they’re the ones who have been around for millions of years. Lahur is the oldest among them, and it’s said that he’s been alive for over ten million years.” Stupefied, Mia stared at him. “Ten million years?” Ten million years ago, humans didn’t even exist as a species. And there were Krinar around who were that old? “It’s unimaginable for me as well,” Korum said, understanding her awe. “They had to have seen so much, learned so much throughout their lives. There’s nothing that can compare to the wisdom of the Elders.” “Where are they?” Mia asked, goosebumps springing up all over her body as she tried to picture someone that ancient. “Did any of them come to Earth?” “No, they’re on Krina. For the most part, they’re very reclusive; few Krinar have ever met them, and that’s how they like it. I’ve seen Lahur from a distance, but I’m one of the few who has.”

Mia frowned, perplexed. “So how did they set the mandate? How do they enforce it?” “They don’t have to enforce it, Mia. The Elders are revered in our society; to go against them is an offense punishable by death.” “But why did they do it? Why set that mandate in the first place?” “I don’t know their exact motivations,” Korum admitted. “But I do know that two of them were part of the team of scientists that guided human evolution. They were the original creators of your species. If I had to venture a guess, I would say that they are still overseeing that project.” Mia’s frown deepened. “So why did they let you come to Earth in the first place?” “Because the Council—specifically, myself, Saret, and a few others—was able to convince them that it was necessary for the ultimate survival of the Krinar. Your weapons, your technology were evolving so rapidly and in such a destructive direction that you were endangering your planet. And since we will ultimately need to call Earth home—when our star dies in a hundred million years or so—we couldn’t allow you to make this planet uninhabitable.” Mia digested that quietly. She still didn’t fully understand this Elder situation. “So how is it that you were able to make me immortal despite this mandate?” “By claiming you as my charl.” His eyes glittered at her. “We’re allowed to make exceptions for our charl.” “I see.” Mia looked at him, remembering his assertion that being a charl was an honor. Now she could understand why he thought so. Yes, the charl may have few rights in the K society, but they had something no other humans could achieve— perfect health and an incredibly long lifespan. Even in modern-day United States, there were probably many who would gladly trade whatever rights and freedoms they enjoyed for a chance to live even a few extra decades, much less hundreds or even thousands of years. “What about my parents and my sister?” Mia asked, holding her breath. “Does the mandate make exceptions for them?” A look of genuine regret appeared on Korum’s handsome face. “No, Mia, I’m sorry. It doesn’t. I’ll do everything I can to keep them healthy and maximize their natural lifespan, but I can’t give them what I gave you.” Painfully biting her lip, Mia looked away. She’d suspected that might be the

case, but it still hurt to hear him confirm it. She would remain young and healthy, while everyone around her would age and pass away. The thought was unbearably depressing. “My darling, come here,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “I’m sorry, I really am. For what it’s worth, I will petition the Elders on your behalf. I just don’t know if it will do anything.” “Thank you,” Mia whispered, staring him in the eyes. “Thank you for that, for everything.” “I love you,” he said softly, his hand stroking her back. “And I’ll do anything for you. You know that, right?” Mia smiled, her heart overflowing with emotion. “I love you more...” “That would be impossible,” he told her, and the intensity in his voice startled her. “I love you so much it hurts. If you had left me yesterday...” Swallowing against a sudden surge of tears, Mia hugged him tighter. “I wouldn’t have,” she said thickly. “I don’t ever want to leave you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore...” “I’ll always want you.” He sounded utterly convinced of that fact. “How do you know that?” Mia asked curiously. “We’ve known each other less than two months. How do you know how you’ll feel in a few years?” His lips curved into a tender smile. “That’s where experience comes in handy, my sweet. I know how I feel—I’ve known almost from the very beginning. The first time I held you in my arms, the first time we made love, I knew this was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I couldn’t think of anything but you—the way you tasted, the way you smelled, the stubborn tilt to your chin... I thought I was losing my mind because I was becoming so obsessed with a human girl—a girl who didn’t want to be with me, no less. I wanted to fuck you, yes, but I also wanted to keep you safe, to take you with me and never let you go...” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mia asked, her heart skipping a beat at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt earlier?” The smile left his face, his expression turning serious. “Because I was frightened,” he admitted darkly. “Because I had never felt like that before, and I didn’t know how to cope with it. For the first time in centuries, I was driven by emotion, instead of reason, and I didn’t always make the wisest choices when it came to you. I wanted to have you, and I couldn’t think of anything beyond that

need, that craving. I wasn’t sufficiently patient, and I ended up scaring you... and then you got involved with the Resistance as a result. I loved you, and all you seemed to want is to have me permanently out of your life. Even later, when you told me you loved me, I wasn’t sure if you truly felt that way, or if you were just playing along, giving me what I wanted—” Mia shook her head, unable to believe her ears. He’d always seemed so invulnerable, and the realization that she’d had the power to hurt him all along was truly humbling. “No, Korum,” she murmured, raising her hand to stroke his face. “I fell in love with you back in New York. Even though I thought you wanted to harm my kind, even though I was afraid of ending up as your sex slave, I still fell for you... And I can’t live without you now—” He drew in a deep breath and pressed her tighter against him, burying his face in her hair. “And I can’t live without you, my darling,” he whispered, “I don’t think I can ever let you go, not anymore...” “Then why did you? Why did you try to let me go yesterday?” He pulled back, looking at her again. “Because I realized I couldn’t force you to love me, to want to be with me.” A bitter smile appeared on his lips. “I could keep you with me until the end of time, but I couldn’t make you love me. It was no longer enough, you see, just to have you. I wanted more—I wanted you to love me freely. I thought you would rejoice at being made immortal, but you were upset instead... And I knew then that I couldn’t do that to you, couldn’t make you stay with me against your will—” “Oh Korum,” Mia whispered, “it’s not against my will. It hasn’t been against my will for a long time...” His expression softened again. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, brushing some hair off her face. “I want you to be happy with me. I never meant to make you feel like a slave. I just couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you if I put off the procedure until you’d had a chance to acclimate to Lenkarda and get used to being with me. I thought I was giving you something you would want...” “I do. I do want it,” Mia told him sincerely. “How could you even doubt it? You’ve given me a priceless gift, and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise... But, Korum, can you please promise me one thing?” He studied her with a watchful gaze. “What?” “Can you please never do anything to me without my consent again? Even if you think it’s for the best, even if you’re not sure I’ll agree to it?”

He hesitated for a second, and then nodded reluctantly. She could see how much it cost him to make that concession, the extent to which it went against his nature. But he had now given her his word, and she knew that he would keep it. “Thank you,” she told him, caressing his shoulder. “This means a lot to me.” He smiled and leaned toward her, giving her a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, Mia made a serious face and asked him, “Do you know what else would mean a lot to me right now?” He looked a little wary. “What?” “Some yummy breakfast,” she told him, and watched his face light up with a dazzling smile.

ON FRIDAY MORNING, THEY LEFT TO GO BACK TO LENKARDA. The rest of their visit to Florida had been uneventful, and her family had been sad to see them leave. Korum promised to bring Mia back for a couple of days before the end of summer, which earned him a tearful hug from her mom and a sincere thank-you from her dad. Marisa had been particularly emotional, thanking Korum again for everything he’d done for them and then blushing fiercely when he gave her a kiss on the cheek as goodbye. “I’m going to miss them,” Mia told him as they drove toward the airport where he was planning to create their ship. “I really wish I could see them more often.” “You’ll be able to,” Korum said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Once I’m sure that it’s completely safe, there’s no reason why you can’t drop in every couple of weeks or so. It doesn’t take that long to get here from Lenkarda—” “From Lenkarda?” Mia inquired delicately. “I thought we were going back to New York in the fall...” Korum sighed. “If you still want that, then yes.” “Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged. “You don’t really need the degree if you’re going to continue working at Saret’s lab. It’s not like you’ll learn anything more in school than you would staying in Lenkarda—” “Is that what you’re hoping?” Mia asked. “That I would decide not to go back to school?”

“I prefer Lenkarda to New York,” he admitted, “but I don’t mind if you decide to finish college. I know it’s still important to you, and I promised that I would bring you back for the school year. Nine months—that’s nothing in the grand scheme of things, and if it gives you peace of mind...” For the first time, Mia thought seriously about the possibility of not finishing school. Korum was right: what she was learning at her apprenticeship was head and shoulders above anything the university had to teach her. And if Lenkarda were to be her home, a college degree was meaningless. Would Saret allow her to return to the lab after such a long absence? She would hate to lose this opportunity in order to write a few more papers and study for a few more exams. She needed to discuss this with her boss and soon, Mia decided. They arrived at the Daytona Beach International Airport, and Korum assembled the ship in a far-off section there, out of sight of any other humans. As the aircraft quietly took off, Mia remembered how frightened she’d been when she’d left New York, flying to Lenkarda for the very first time. Was it only three weeks ago? It seemed like a lifetime had passed between now and then. The girl who had left New York had been frightened and traumatized, uncertain about her fate and unsure whether she could trust the man she loved—the one she had regarded as an enemy, the one she had betrayed. She was no longer that girl. This Mia felt utterly secure in Korum’s love. Over the past few days, their relationship had undergone yet another subtle shift. There was an openness to it now that had been missing before. Until they’d had that discussion—until he’d given her a choice—Mia had still had doubts about their relationship. It had been an uncomfortable feeling, knowing that he held all the power and had no qualms about using it—and she now realized that she’d held a part of herself back as a result, that she had still subconsciously resisted him. Now, however, it was different—it felt different. Yes, she was still his charl, but she no longer felt like he owned her. He loved her enough to let her walk away, to relinquish his control over her, and that knowledge was like a balm to her soul, soothing the scars left by the tumultuous beginning of their affair. Every evening, after dinner with her family, they had gone for a long walk on the beach and just talked. She’d learned about some of Korum’s past relationships (there had been many) and about the fact that he had never been in love before. He’d actually thought himself incapable of it. “It really caught me by surprise, the depth of my feelings for you,” he’d confessed, and she realized yet again how

difficult it had been for him to let her go. The fact that he’d done it proved to her that his feelings were real—that their sexual liaison could ultimately become the genuine partnership she’d always hoped it would be. And now, as their ship flew to Costa Rica, Mia reached over and squeezed Korum’s hand. “I love you,” she said, and watched as a warm smile appeared on his beautiful face. Her life couldn’t possibly get any better.

EPILOGUE

T hey were returning. Saur had failed, but the Krinar had suspected he would. Korum was too good of a fighter to be killed so easily. Of course, he hadn’t counted on Mia getting hurt. That part had been unacceptable. If his enemy hadn’t killed Saur, the K would’ve done so himself. Soon she would be near him again. The Krinar raised his hand and stared at it, imagining himself touching her delicate flesh, stroking that silky skin. She would be so small, so fragile in his arms. So vulnerable. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she wouldn’t be able to resist. His cock stirred at that thought, and he cursed his apparent inability to control himself. In anticipation of her arrival, he’d ventured out to a nearby x-club and gorged himself on human girls. All three of them had been pretty, with ambitions of a career in Hollywood. One had even had curly hair, though it was more of a dirty blond shade that hadn’t appealed to him nearly as much. He’d fucked them for hours, yet he’d left the place still unsatisfied. He wanted her. And soon he would be able to have her—and anything else he wanted. His week had been quite productive. Another few days, and he’d be all set.

CLOSE REMEMBRANCE THE KRINAR CHRONICLES: VOLUME 3

PART I

PROLOGUE

T he Krinar walked down the street in Moscow, quietly observing the teeming human masses all around him. As he passed, he could see the fear and curiosity on their faces, feel the hatred emanating from some of the passersby. Russia was one of the countries that had resisted the most—and where the toll of the Great Panic had been the heaviest. With a largely corrupt government and a population distrustful of all authority, many Russians had taken the Krinar invasion as an excuse to loot at will and hoard whatever supplies they could. Even now, more than five years later, some of the storefronts in Moscow were still bare, their taped-over windows a testament to the tumultuous months that had followed their arrival. Thankfully, the air in the city was better now, less polluted than the Krinar remembered it being a few years ago. Back then, a heavy smog hung over the city, irritating him to no end. Not that it could hurt him in any way, but still, the K far preferred breathing air that didn’t contain too many hydrocarbon particles. Approaching the Kremlin, the K pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and tried to look as human as he could, paying careful attention to his movements to make them slower and less graceful. He didn’t delude himself that the K satellites weren’t watching him at this very moment, but no one in the Centers had any reason to suspect him. He’d made it a point in recent years to travel as much as he could, frequently appearing in major human cities for one reason or another. This way, if anyone cared to profile his behavior, his latest expeditions would not cause any alarm. Not that anyone would bother profiling him. As far as everyone was concerned, those Krinar who’d helped the Resistance—the Keiths, as they’d been called—were safely in custody, and poor Saur had been blamed for erasing their memories. It couldn’t have worked out better if the K had planned it that way himself.

No, he didn’t need to conceal his identity from the Krinar eyes in the sky. His goal was to fool the human cameras stationed all around the Kremlin walls—just in case the Russian leaders became alarmed before he had a chance to visit the other major cities. Smiling, the K pretended to be nothing more than a human tourist as he did a leisurely lap around Red Square, the soles of his shoes grinding into the pavement and releasing tiny capsules that contained the seeds of a new era in human history. Once he was done, he headed back to the ship he’d left in one of the nearby alleys. Tomorrow, he would see Mia again. Saret could hardly wait.

1

“O h my God, Korum, when did you have a chance to do this?” Mia stared at her surroundings in shock. All the familiar furniture was gone, and Korum’s house in Lenkarda—the place she had begun to think of as her home— looked very much like a Krinar dwelling now, complete with floating planks and clutter-free spaces. The only thing that remained from before were the transparent walls and ceiling—a Krinar feature that Korum had allowed from the very beginning. Her lover grinned, showing the familiar dimple in his left cheek. “I might’ve snuck away for an hour or so while you were sleeping.” “You went all the way from Florida to here just to change the furnishings?” He laughed, shaking his head. “No, my sweet, even I’m not that dedicated. I had to take care of a couple of business matters, and I decided to surprise you.” “Well, color me surprised,” Mia said, slowly turning in a circle and studying the strange sight that had greeted her upon their arrival back in Lenkarda. Instead of the ivory couch, there was now a long white board floating a couple of feet off the floor. From what Korum had explained to her once, the Krinar were able to make their furniture float by using a derivation of the same force-field technology that protected their colonies. Mia knew that if she sat down on the board, it would immediately adapt to her body, becoming as comfortable as it could possibly be. A few other floating planks were visible near the walls, with a couple of them occupied by some type of indoor plants with bright pink flowers. The floor was also different—and unlike anything Mia had seen in any other Krinar houses. She tried to remember what those other floors had been like, but all she could recall was that they were hard and pale, like some type of stone. She

hadn’t paid them too much attention at the time because Krinar flooring materials didn’t seem all that different from something one would find in a human house. However, what was under her feet right now had a very unusual texture and an almost sponge-like consistency. It made Mia feel like she was standing on air. “What is that?” she asked Korum, pointing down at the strange substance. “Take off your shoes and see,” he suggested, kicking off his own sandals. “It’s something new that one of my employees came up with recently—a variation on the intelligent bed technology.” Curious, Mia followed his example, letting her bare feet sink into the cushy flooring. The material seemed to flow around her feet, enveloping them, and then it was as though a thousand tiny fingers were gently rubbing her toes, heels, and arches, releasing all tension. A foot massage... only a thousand times better. “Oh, wow,” Mia breathed, a huge blissful smile appearing on her face. “Korum, this is amazing!” “Uh-huh.” He was walking around, seemingly enjoying the sensations himself. “I figured this would appeal to you.” Her feet in paradise, Mia watched as he made a slow circle around the room, his tall, muscular body moving with the cat-like grace common to his species. Sometimes she could hardly believe that this gorgeous, complicated man was hers —that he loved her as much as she loved him. Her happiness was so absolute these days it was almost scary. “Do you want to see the rest of the house?” He stopped next to her and gave her a warm smile. “Yes, please!” Mia grinned, as eager as a kid in a candy store. Three days ago, during one of their evening walks in Florida, she’d mentioned to Korum that it would be nice to see his house as it was before he ‘humanized’ it for her sake. As thoughtful as the gesture had been at the time, Mia was now used to the Krinar lifestyle and no longer needed the reassurance of familiar surroundings. Instead, she wanted to see how her alien lover had lived before they met. He’d smiled and promised to change the house back promptly—and he’d obviously taken that promise seriously. “Okay,” he said, staring down at her with a slightly mischievous look on his beautiful face. “There’s one room that you haven’t seen at all yet, and I’ve been dying to show you...”

“Oh?” Mia raised her eyebrows, her heart starting to beat faster and her lower belly tightening in anticipation. His eyes now had a golden undertone, and she guessed that whatever it was he wanted to show her would soon have her screaming in ecstasy in his arms. If there was one thing she could always count on, it was his insatiable desire for her. No matter how often they had sex, it seemed like he always wanted more... and so did she. “Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the wall to their left. As they approached, the wall did not dissolve as it usually did. Instead, Mia felt herself sinking deeper into the spongy material beneath her feet. Her feet were absorbed first, then her ankles and knees. It was like quicksand, except it was happening right in the house. Giving Korum a startled look, she clutched at his hand. “What—?” “It’s okay.” He gave her palm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry.” The same thing was happening to him too; she could see the floor practically sucking him in. “Um, Korum, I don’t know about this...” Mia was now buried up to her waist, and her lower body was feeling decidedly strange—almost weightless. “Just a few more seconds,” he promised, giving her a grin. “A few more seconds?” Mia was now chest-deep inside the weird material. “Before what?” “Before this,” he said as their descent suddenly accelerated and they fell completely through the floor. Mia let out a short scream, her grip tightening on Korum’s hand. At first there was only darkness and the frightening sensation of nothingness beneath her feet, and then they were suddenly floating in a softly lit circular room with solid peachtinted walls and ceiling. As in, literally floating in mid-air. Gasping, Mia stared at her lover, unable to believe what was happening. “Korum, is this—?” “A zero-gravity chamber?” He was grinning like a little boy about to show off a new toy. “Yes, indeed.” “You have a zero-gravity chamber in your house?” “I do,” he admitted, obviously pleased with her reaction. Letting go of Mia’s hand, he did a slow somersault in the air. “As you can see, it’s a lot of fun.”

Mia laughed incredulously, then tried to follow his example—but there was no good way for her to control her movements. She had no idea how Korum had managed to somersault so easily. She was moving her arms and legs, but it didn’t seem to do much for her. It was like she was floating in water, only without any sensation of wetness. She couldn’t tell which way was up or down; the chamber was windowless, and there was no clear distinction between the walls, floor, and ceiling. It was as though they were in a giant bubble—which probably wasn’t all that far from the truth. Mia was no expert on the subject, but she imagined it wasn’t easy to create a zerogravity environment on Earth. There had to be a lot of complex technology surrounding them and negating the gravitational pull of the planet. “Wow,” she said softly, drifting in the air. “Korum, this is amazing... Is this something other Krinar have too?” He had managed to get to one of the walls, and he used it to push off, propelling himself back in her direction. “No—” he reached out to grab her arm as he floated past her, “—it’s not something many of us have.” Mia grinned as he pulled her toward him. “Oh yeah? Only you?” “Perhaps,” he murmured, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding her tightly against him. His eyes were turning more golden by the second, and the hardness pressing against her belly left no doubt of his intentions. Mia’s eyes widened. “Here?” she asked, her pulse speeding up from excitement. “Hmm-mm...” He was already bringing her up (or was it down?) to nibble at the sensitive area behind her earlobe. As always, his touch made her entire body hum in anticipation. Arching her head back, she moaned softly, liquid heat moving through her veins. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, his large hands stroking down her body, pulling down her dress. It drifted away, but Mia hardly noticed, her eyes glued to the man she loved more than life itself. She would never tire of hearing those words from him, Mia thought, watching as he pulled away for a second to take off his own clothes. His shirt came off first, then his shorts, and then he was fully naked, revealing a body that was striking in its masculine perfection. The fact that they were floating in the air added an element of surrealism to the entire scene, making Mia feel like she was having an unusual sexy dream.

Reaching out, she ran her hands down his chest, marveling at the smooth texture of his skin and the rock-solid muscle underneath. “I love you too,” she murmured, and watched his eyes flare brighter with need. Bringing her toward him, he turned her so that she was floating perpendicular to him, her lower body at his eye level. Before she could say anything, he was opening her thighs, exposing her delicate folds to his hungry gaze. “So beautiful,” he whispered, “so warm and wet... I can’t wait to taste you—” he followed his words with a slow lick of her most private area, “—to make you come...” Moaning, Mia closed her eyes, the familiar tension starting to coil deep in her belly. Drifting in mid-air seemed to be sharpening all sensations. Without a surface to lie on or anything else touching her body, all she could feel—all she could concentrate on—was the incredible pleasure of his mouth licking and nibbling around her clitoris, and his strong hands stroking up and down her thighs. Without any warning, a powerful orgasm ripped through her body, originating at her core and spreading outward. Mia cried out, her toes curling from the intensity of the release, and then he was flipping her so that she faced him. Before her pulsations even stopped, his thick cock was already at her opening, entering her in one smooth thrust. Gasping, Mia opened her eyes and grabbed his shoulders, the shock of his possession reverberating through her body. He paused for a second, then began to move slowly, giving her time to adjust to the fullness inside her. With each careful thrust, the tip of his shaft pressed against the sensitive spot deep within, making her gasp from the sensation. It seemed to go on forever, those gentle and measured thrusts, each one bringing her closer to the edge but not quite sending her over. Moaning in frustration, Mia dug her nails into his shoulders, needing him to move faster. “Please, Korum...” she whispered, knowing that he wanted this sometimes—that he liked to hear her beg for the ultimate pleasure. “Oh, I will,” he murmured, his eyes almost pure gold. “I will definitely please you, my sweet.” And holding her tightly with one arm, he reached behind her and rubbed the area where they were joined, gathering the moisture from there. Then, to her surprise, his finger ventured higher, between the smooth globes of her cheeks, and pressed gently against the tiny opening there. Her breath catching in her throat, Mia stared up at him with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Shhh, relax...” he soothed, his voice like rough velvet. And before she could say

anything, he bent his head, taking her mouth in a deep, seductive kiss even as his finger began to push inside. At first, it seemed to hurt and burn, the unfamiliar intrusion making her squirm against him in a futile effort to ease the discomfort. With his shaft buried all the way inside her, the additional invasion of her body was too much, the sensations strange and unnerving. Once he stopped, however, with his finger only partially inside her, the burning began to recede, leaving an unusual feeling of fullness in its wake. Lifting his head, Korum stared down at her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “All right?” he asked softly, and Mia nodded uncertainly, unable to decide if she liked the peculiar sensation or not. “Good,” he whispered, beginning to move his hips again while keeping his finger steady. “Just relax... Yes, there’s a good girl...” Closing her eyes, Mia concentrated on not tensing up, although it was becoming increasingly difficult. The unfamiliar discomfort was somehow adding to the pressure building inside her, each thrust of his cock causing his finger to move ever so slightly, overwhelming her senses. His pace gradually picked up, his hips moving faster and faster... and then she was suddenly flying apart, her entire body convulsing from an orgasm so intense it left her weak and panting in its wake. Korum groaned, grinding against her as her inner muscles rhythmically squeezed his cock, triggering his own climax. She could feel the warm spurts of his seed inside her belly, hear his harsh breathing in her ears as his arm tightened around her waist, holding her securely in place. When it was all over, he slowly withdrew his finger and kissed her, his lips sweet and tender on hers. And then they drifted together for a few more minutes, their bodies slick with sweat and wrapped intimately around each other.

THE NEXT MORNING, MIA WOKE UP AND STRETCHED, A BIG GRIN BREAKING OUT ON HER FACE AS SHE remembered what took place yesterday. It seemed that Korum had just begun to introduce her to the various erotic pleasures he had in store for her... and she could barely wait to experience it all. Rightly or wrongly, she was now completely addicted to him, to the pleasure she experienced in his arms, and she couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else—especially not with a regular human man.

It was funny: she’d always heard that relationships tended to lose their initial intensity over time, but it seemed like their passion was only getting stronger with each day that passed. Partially, it was the fact that Korum was a phenomenal lover; during his two thousand years, he’d had plenty of time to learn all the erogenous zones on a woman’s body. But it was also something more, something indefinable —that unique chemistry between them that had been obvious from the very beginning. Sometimes it scared her, the extent to which she needed him now. The craving went beyond the physical, although she couldn’t imagine going even a single day without the mind-blowing pleasure she experienced in his arms. It was as if they were attuned to each other on a cellular level—two halves of a complete whole. Still smiling, Mia rolled out of bed. Picking up her wristwatch computer, she glanced at it to check the time. To her surprise, it was already eight a.m., which meant that she had only an hour to eat breakfast and get to the lab. Although it was Saturday, it was a workday in Lenkarda, since the Krinar didn’t follow the human calendar when it came to weekdays and weekends. Their ‘week’ was only four days in duration, instead of seven—three days of work, followed by a day of rest. Mia still thought about time in human calendar terms, however, since that’s what she was used to. Korum was already gone, so Mia asked the house to prepare her a smoothie and ran to take a quick shower. Even that was different now after Korum’s remodeling efforts. Instead of the shower/jacuzzi combo that she’d gotten used to, the bathroom now had a giant circular stall with the same intelligent technology as everything else in the house. The water came out of everywhere and nowhere, washing and massaging every part of her body, with the water pressure and temperature adjusting to her needs automatically. She didn’t have to apply any effort to wash herself, either; instead, lightly scented soaps, shampoos, and some kind of unusual oils were applied to her hair and skin while she simply stood there, letting Krinar technology do all the work. After the shower was over, Mia stepped out and warm jets of air dried off her body. Her hair was automatically blow-dried too, resulting in smooth, glossy curls that could’ve been the result of a session at a fancy hair salon. At the same time, her mouth was filled with the taste of something refreshingly clean, as though she had just brushed her teeth. By the time she was dressed and done with the shower, a strawberry-almond smoothie was already sitting on the kitchen table. Grabbing it on her way out, Mia left the house and headed to work.

ALTHOUGH SHE HAD ONLY BEEN GONE A WEEK, MIA FOUND THAT SHE MISSED THE LAB ENVIRONMENT. She loved to learn, and the challenge of mastering a difficult subject had never daunted her. Part of her initial reluctance in getting involved with Korum had been due to her fear of losing herself, of becoming nothing more than a glorified pleasure slave. But instead, she seemed to have discovered a way to become a useful part of the Krinar society, to contribute in some small way. By finding her the internship, Korum had done more than simply pad her resume; he’d also demonstrated that he regarded her as a smart and capable person—someone he could not only desire, but respect. Arriving at the lab, Mia spent most of the day catching up on what she’d missed during her week in Florida. Despite her almost-daily chats with Adam, her project partner, she still felt like she had fallen behind on some of the latest developments. She didn’t have a lot of time to get up to speed either, as Adam was planning to leave to visit his own adopted human family that afternoon. “How did Saret let you do that?” Mia teased. “Leave for an entire week? Korum practically had to strong-arm him to let me go for that length of time, and you’re much more useful...” Adam shrugged. “He didn’t have much choice in the matter. I told him I’m going, and that’s that.” Mia grinned at him, again impressed by the young Krinar. Despite his human upbringing—or maybe because of it—he could more than hold his own with the best of them. Finally, around four in the afternoon, Adam gave her a bunch of readings and headed out to start his vacation, leaving her alone in the lab. The other apprentices were working on a joint project with the mind lab in Thailand, and they had gone there for a few days to conclude some experiment. Mia spent the next two hours reading and then went to check on the data that was being generated by the virtual simulation of a young Krinar brain. It appeared that the latest method she and Adam had figured out was indeed a step in the right direction. The knowledge transfer was happening at a faster pace and with fewer unpleasant side effects. Hopefully, they would be able to improve it further by the end of summer— “How was your vacation in Florida?” a familiar voice behind her asked, and Mia jumped, startled.

Turning around, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. “You scared me,” she told Saret, giving him a smile. “I didn’t know anyone else was here in the lab.” Her boss ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I’m just finishing up a few things.” He looked unusually tense, and Mia thought he seemed tired—a rarity for a Krinar. “Is everything all right?” she asked tentatively, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Although she had been working for Saret for a couple of weeks, she felt like she still didn’t really know him. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the lab, since whatever project he was working on took him all over the world. When he was in the lab, he was usually in his office—although she’d caught him watching her a few times, apparently keeping an eye on the only human he’d ever allowed into his lab. “Of course,” Saret said, his features relaxing into a smile. “Why wouldn’t it be? One of my favorite assistants is back.” Feeling slightly awkward, Mia smiled back at him. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s good to be back. I was just looking at the data, and there’s definitely progress—” “That’s good,” Saret interrupted. “I look forward to your report soon.” “Of course. I will prepare it tonight—” “No, no need for that. You can go home early today. It’s your first day back, and I know your cheren will be unhappy if I keep you here late.” Surprised, Mia nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure...” Normally, Saret disliked it when his apprentices didn’t put in a full day. He’d even gotten into an argument about that with Korum when Mia had first started the internship. And now it seemed like he actually wanted her to leave... Still, she wasn’t about to quibble; she had been planning to go home in another hour anyway. “I’m sure.” Saret smiled at her. There was something about that smile that made her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t figure out what. “Okay then, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mia said, walking past him. And as she did, she could’ve sworn he leaned closer, breathing in—almost as if he was inhaling her scent. Telling herself that she had an overactive imagination, Mia exited the lab and entered a small aircraft that was sitting next to the lab building. Korum had made it for her for the express purpose of traveling around Lenkarda. Like the wristwatch he’d given her, it was programmed to respond to her verbal commands. Feeling

tired after a full day at work, Mia sat down on one of the intelligent seats and ordered the ship to take her home.

SARET her.

WATCHED

MIA

LEAVE, HIS HANDS NEARLY SHAKING WITH THE URGE TO REACH OUT AND TOUCH

Having her so close after her long absence had been torturous. The faint sweetness of her scent permeated the lab, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming closer, from breathing it in. If she hadn’t left then, he would’ve done something stupid—like bring her toward him for a taste. And he wouldn’t have been able to stop with just a taste. When he tried to analyze his own mind—like every mind expert should—he could come up with a dozen reasons for why he’d become so obsessed with her. First and foremost, she belonged to Korum. Even when they’d been children, Saret had always wanted Korum’s toys. His enemy had been inventive even then, altering the designs for popular games and creating something that was better than what anyone else had. Saret had hated Korum for it then, and he hated him now. Of course, he had never let it show. Korum’s enemies never fared well. It was far better to be his friend—or, at least, to act like one. And Mia was the ultimate toy. So small, so delicate, so perfectly human. For the first time, Saret understood why her species kept pets. Having a cute creature to call your own, to stroke and touch at your whim—there was something incredibly appealing in that. Especially when that creature loved you, depended on you... She would make a very good pet, Saret thought wryly, with that thick mass of hair that looked so soft and touchable. He was surprised Korum let her spend so much time away from him. Saret had tested him in the beginning, insisting that Mia put in a full day, just to see if that would convince Korum of the ridiculousness of having a human in a Krinar work environment. His nemesis was the last person he would’ve expected to treat a human girl as an equal. Sure, she was smart—for a human, at least—but she was also young and malleable. It wouldn’t take much effort to mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. Whatever she thought she wanted now—none of that really mattered. If she had been his charl, he could’ve easily convinced her to be happy with her role in his life, in his bed. There were so many amusements for a human girl to enjoy: all kinds of virtual and real-life spa treatments, pretty clothes, interesting recordings, fun books... And instead, Korum had her working nonstop.

No wonder she still objected to being a charl. Her cheren simply didn’t know how to treat her properly. Sighing, Saret went back into his office. All the mind analysis in the world didn’t change the fact that he wanted her. And soon he would be able to have her. He just needed to be patient for a while longer. Turning his attention back to his task, Saret brought up a three-dimensional map of Shanghai. China was next on his list.

2

“T here’s nothing to worry about,” Korum said soothingly, placing a white dot on Mia’s temple. “They will love you, just like I do.” Mia nervously twisted a strand of hair between her fingers before tucking it behind her ear. “They won’t mind that I’m human?” “They won’t,” he reassured her. “They know all about you already, and they’re very happy that I found someone I care so much about.” After she’d arrived home from work, Korum had surprised her with the news that he wanted her to meet his family as well. So now he was about to take her into a virtual reality setting where she would meet his parents. Supposedly, the environment was very lifelike, and she would be able to interact with his parents there as though they were meeting in person. It was also on Krina. “Are you sure I shouldn’t change?” Mia knew she was stalling, but she felt ridiculously anxious. “And won’t your mom mind that I’m wearing your family necklace?” “You look beautiful, and the necklace is perfect on you,” he said firmly. “My mother will be quite pleased to see it around your neck; she gave it to me explicitly for that purpose—to gift it to the woman I ultimately fall in love with.” Mia took a deep breath, trying to control her rapid heartbeat. “Okay, then I’m ready.” At least as ready as she would ever be to meet her extraterrestrial lover’s parents—who resided thousands of light years away. Korum smiled, and the world around her blurred for a second. Feeling dizzy, Mia closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was standing inside a large, airy building that vaguely resembled Korum’s house in Lenkarda.

From the inside, it was fully transparent, and she could see unusual plants outside. Most of the flora was a familiar shade of green, but red, orange, and yellow hues also proliferated. It was strikingly beautiful. The inside of the building had the same ‘Zen’ feel to it as Arman’s house. Everything was a beautiful off-white shade, and the sunlight streaming through the clear ceiling reflected off a gorgeous flower arrangement right in the middle of the room—the only touch of color in an otherwise pristine environment. The flowers seemed to grow right out of an opening in the floor. Along the walls, there were a few familiar-looking floating planks that served as multi-purpose furniture. “It’s lovely,” Mia whispered, glancing around the room. “Is this your parents’ house?” Korum nodded, smiling. He looked quite pleased. “It’s my childhood home,” he explained, reaching out to take her hand and squeezing it lightly. As usual, his touch made her feel warm inside, and she marveled again at how authentic this virtual reality felt. Somehow, this was even more convincing than the club where he’d taken her once to satisfy her fantasy. All her senses were fully engaged, as though she was physically present here, on a planet in a different galaxy. Inhaling deeply, Mia realized that the air was a little thinner than what she was used to, as if they were at a high altitude. She actually felt a bit light-headed, and she hoped she would adjust to it soon. The temperature was pleasantly warm, and there seemed to be a faint breeze coming from somewhere, even though they were inside the building. There was also an exotic, but appealing scent in the air. Likely from the flowers, Mia decided. The aroma was almost... fruity. She’d never smelled anything like it before. As Mia studied their surroundings, one of the walls dissolved, and a Krinar woman walked in. She was tall and slim, with a supermodel’s leggy build and shiny dark hair. Her eyes were the same warm amber color as Korum’s. It could only be Korum’s mother; their resemblance was unmistakable. At the sight of them standing there, a huge smile lit her face. “My child,” she said softly, her eyes shining with love as she looked at her son, “I’m so glad to see you.” Like all Ks, her age was impossible to determine; she didn’t look a day older than twenty-five. Letting go of Mia’s hand, Korum crossed the room and enveloped his mother in a gentle hug. “Me too, Riani, me too...” Mia watched their reunion, feeling like she was intruding on a private family

moment. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for his parents, with their son living so far away. Yes, they could meet in this virtual way, but they still probably missed seeing him in person. Turning toward Mia, Korum smiled and said, “Come here, darling. Let me introduce you to my mother.” Curving her lips in an answering smile, Mia approached them, noticing the way the K’s eyes examined her from head to toe. Her palms began to sweat. What was this gorgeous woman thinking? Was she wondering how her son had ended up with a human? Pausing a couple of feet away, Mia smiled wider. “Hello,” she said, uncertain if she should reach out and brush the K’s cheek with her knuckles. She’d learned in the past couple of weeks that it was the customary greeting among Krinar females. Korum’s mother had no such reservations. Raising her hand, she gently touched Mia’s cheek and smiled in return. “Hello, my dear. I’m so glad to finally meet you.” “Riani, this is Mia, my charl,” Korum said. “Mia, this is Riani, my mother.” “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Riani.” Mia was starting to feel more at ease. Despite the woman’s luminous beauty and youthful looks, there was something in her manner that was very soothing. Almost motherly, Mia thought with an inner smile. “Where’s Chiaren?” Korum asked, addressing his mother. “Oh, he’ll be here soon,” she said, waving her hand. “He was delayed at work. Don’t worry—he knows you’re here.” Chiaren had to be Korum’s father, Mia decided. It was interesting that he called his parents by name, although it made sense too. As long-lived as the Ks were, the lines between generations were probably much less defined than for humans. Although Korum had mentioned once that his parents were much older than he was, she guessed that the difference between two thousand years and a few thousand years was not all that dramatic. A quiet whoosh interrupted Mia’s musings. Turning her head to the side, she saw the wall opening again. A darkly handsome Krinar man walked in, dressed in typical K clothing. Swiftly crossing the room, he raised his hand and touched his palm to Korum’s shoulder, greeting his son. Korum reciprocated the gesture, but he seemed much more reserved than he had been with his mother. “Chiaren,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Something in the tone of his voice startled Mia. Was there some tension between father and son? His father inclined his head. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your visit.” Then, turning his attention to Mia, he cocked his head to the side and studied her with an inscrutable expression on his face. Mia swallowed, needing to moisten her suddenly dry throat. Chiaren’s posture, the slightly mocking curl to his lips—it was all very familiar to her. Korum might’ve gotten his mother’s looks, but he’d definitely inherited some personality traits from his father as well. She found the K to be intimidating, with his cool dark gaze and lack of visible emotion. He reminded her of Korum when they’d first met. “Chiaren, this is Mia,” Korum said, stepping toward her and putting a proprietary arm around her back. “She’s my charl. Mia, this is my father, Chiaren.” The K smiled, suddenly seeming much more approachable. “How lovely,” he said gently. “Such a pretty human girl you’ve got there. How old are you, Mia? You seem younger than I’d imagined.” “I’m twenty-one,” Mia told him, aware that she probably looked like she was in her late teens. It was a common problem for someone of her petite build—a problem that would now never go away. Chiaren’s smile widened. “Twenty-one...” Mia flushed, realizing that he thought her little more than a child. And compared to him, she was. Still, she would’ve preferred if he hadn’t looked quite so amused at her age. “Mia, dear, tell us a bit about yourself,” Riani said, smiling at her with warm encouragement. “Korum mentioned that you’re studying the mind. Is that right?” Mia nodded, turning her attention to Korum’s mother. She wasn’t certain how she felt about his father yet, but she was definitely growing to like Riani. “I am,” she confirmed. “I started working with Saret this summer. Before that, I majored in psychology at one of our universities.” “How are you finding it so far? Your apprenticeship?” asked Chiaren. “I imagine it must be quite different from anything you’ve done before.” He seemed genuinely curious. “Yes, it is,” said Mia. “I’m learning a great deal.” Feeling much more in her element, she told them all about her work at the lab, her eyes lighting up as she explained about the imprinting project.

Afterwards, Riani asked about her family, seeming particularly interested in the fact that Mia had a sibling. Marisa’s pregnancy appeared to fascinate her, and she listened attentively as Mia detailed the difficulties her sister had gone through before Ellet’s arrival. After that, Chiaren wanted to know about Mia’s parents and their occupations, and how human contributions to society were typically measured, so Mia spoke for a while about the role of teachers and professors in the American educational system. Before long, she found herself engaged in an animated discussion with Korum’s parents. She learned that they had been together for close to three millennia, and that Riani was almost five hundred years older than her mate. Unlike Korum, who had discovered his passion for technological design early on, both Riani and Chiaren were ‘dabblers.’ Most Krinar were, in fact. Instead of specializing in a specific subject, they frequently changed their careers and areas of focus, never fully reaching the ‘expert’ level in any particular field. As a result, while their standing in society was quite respectable, neither one of Korum’s parents had come even close to being involved with the Council. “I’m not sure how we managed to produce such an intelligent and ambitious child,” Riani confided, grinning. “It certainly wasn’t intentional.” Seeing the puzzled look on Mia’s face, Chiaren explained, “When a couple decides to have a child, they usually do so under very controlled conditions. They choose the optimal combination of physical traits and potential intellectual abilities, consulting the top medical experts—” “Most Krinar are designer babies?” Mia’s eyes widened in realization. This explained why all the Krinar she’d met were so good-looking. They had taken control of their own evolution by practicing a form of genetic selection for their children. It made a tremendous amount of sense. Any culture advanced enough to manipulate their own genetic code—as the Krinar had done to get rid of their need for blood—could easily specify which genes they wanted in their offspring. Mia was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her earlier. Chiaren hesitated. “I’m not familiar with that term...” “Yes, exactly,” Korum said, giving Mia a smile. “Few parents are willing to play genetic roulette, not when there is a better way.” “But we did,” Riani said, looking a bit sheepish. “I got pregnant by accident— one of the few accidents of this kind to occur in the last ten thousand years. We discussed having a child, and we both went off birth control, planning to go to a lab like every other couple we knew. Statistically, the odds of getting pregnant

naturally in the first fertile year are something like one in a million. Of course, this was during my musical mastery period, and I got very caught up in vocal expression, to the point that we put off our visit to the lab for a few months. And by the time the medical expert saw me, I was already three weeks pregnant with Korum.” “I’m a throwback, you see,” Korum said, laughing. “They had no control over which ancestor’s genetic traits I inherited.” Mia grinned at him. “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious where you get your coloring from.” He could’ve been Riani’s twin brother, instead of her son. “It’s the ambition that puzzles us,” Chiaren said, shooting his son an indecipherable look. “It’s really come out of nowhere...” Korum’s eyes narrowed a bit, and Mia sensed that this was likely the point of contention between father and son. She determined to ask Korum about it later. For now, she was curious about this new tidbit she’d learned about her lover. “So you’re not a designer baby, huh?” she teased, smiling at him. “Nope.” Korum grinned. “I’m as natural as they come.” “Well, you came out perfect anyway,” Mia said, studying his beautifully masculine features. She couldn’t imagine how he could look any better. To her surprise, Korum shook his head. “No, actually, I didn’t. I have a small deformity.” “What?” Mia stared at him in shock. This gorgeous man had a deformity? Where had he hidden it this whole time? He smiled and pointed at the dimple in his left cheek. “Yeah, right there. See?” Mia gave him a disbelieving look. “Your dimple? Really?” He nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s considered a deformity among my kind. But I’ve learned to live with it. Apparently, some women even like it.” Like it? Mia loved it, and she told him so, making him and his parents laugh. “We should probably get going,” Korum said after a while. “It’s dinner time, and Mia needs to get some sleep before getting up early for work tomorrow.” “Of course.” Riani gave her a warm look of understanding. “I know humans tire more easily...” Mia opened her mouth to protest, but then she changed her mind. It was the

truth, even if she wasn’t particularly tired right now. Instead she said, “It was very nice to meet you, Riani—and Chiaren. I really enjoyed talking to both of you.” “Same here, dear, same here.” Riani gently touched her cheek again. “We hope to see you soon.” Mia smiled and nodded. “Definitely. I look forward to it.” “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mia,” Korum’s father said, giving her a smile. Then, turning to Korum, he added, “And it was good to see you, my son.” Korum inclined his head. “Until the next time.” And the world blurred around them again, causing Mia to close her eyes. When she opened them, they were standing back in Korum’s house in Lenkarda.

“I LIKE YOUR PARENTS,” MIA TOLD KORUM OVER DINNER. “THEY SEEM VERY NICE.” “Oh, they are,” Korum said, biting into a piece of pomegranate-flavored jicama. “Riani is great. Chiaren too, although we don’t always see eye to eye on certain things.” “Why not?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s always been that way. In some ways, we’re too alike, but in others, we’re completely different. He’s never understood why I spent all my time building up my company instead of just enjoying life and finding myself a mate, the way he did. And he hasn’t really forgiven me for leaving Krina and depriving Riani of their only son, even though I frequently visit them in the virtual world.” Mia smiled, seeing shades of her own family in that dynamic. It had been difficult enough for her parents when she’d gone to college in New York; she couldn’t imagine how they would’ve coped if she’d disappeared to another galaxy. She couldn’t really blame Korum’s father for being upset, particularly if he didn’t understand or appreciate his son’s ambition. Still thinking about Korum’s family, Mia slowly ate her stew, enjoying the satisfying combination of richly flavored roots and vegetables from Krina. Suddenly, a disturbing thought occurred to her, causing her to put down her utensil and look up at Korum. “Would you ever want to go back to Krina?” she asked, frowning a little. “You must miss your parents, and it seems so nice there...”

He hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Perhaps one day,” he finally said, watching her with an unreadable golden gaze. “But probably not for a long while.” Mia felt her chest tighten a little. “What about me?” “You’ll come with me, of course,” he said casually, taking a sip of water. “What else?” She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “To another planet? Leaving everything and everybody behind?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t say we’d go soon, Mia. Maybe not even within your family’s lifetime. But someday, yes, I may need to visit Krina and I would want you with me.” Mia blinked and looked away, her heart squeezing at the reminder of the disparity that now existed between her and the rest of humanity. Thanks to the nanocytes circulating through her body, she would never grow old and die—but she would also far outlive her loved ones. The fact that the Krinar had the means to indefinitely extend human lifespan but chose not to do so bothered her a great deal, making her feel guilty whenever she thought about the issue. “Mia...” Korum reached across the table and took her hand. “Listen to me. I told you I would petition the Elders on your family’s behalf, and I have begun the process. But I can’t promise you anything. I’ve never heard of an exception being made for anyone who’s not considered a charl.” “But why?” Mia asked in frustration. “Why not share your knowledge, your technology with us? Why do your Elders care so much about this issue?” Korum sighed, his thumb stroking her palm. “None of us know exactly, but it has something to do with the fact that you’re still very imperfect as a species, and the Elders want you to have more time to evolve...” “We’re imperfect?” Mia stared at him in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean? What, you’re saying we’re defective? Like a part in a car that doesn’t function properly?” “No, not like a part in a car,” he explained patiently, his fingers tightening when she tried to jerk her hand away. “Your species is very young, that’s all. Your society and your culture are evolving at a rapid pace, and your high birthrate and short lifespan probably have something to do with that. If we were to give you our technology now, if every human could live thousands of years, your planet could become overpopulated very quickly... unless we also did something about your birthrate. You see, Mia, it’s all or none: we either control everything, or we let you

be mostly as you are. There’s no good middle ground here, my sweet.” Mia felt her teeth snapping together. “So why not give people that choice?” she asked, angered by the whole thing. “Why not let them choose if they want to live for a long time, or if they’d rather have children? I’m sure many would go for the first option rather than face death and disease—” “It’s not that simple, Mia,” Korum said, regarding her evenly. “Overpopulation is not the Elders’ only concern, you see. Every generation brings something new to your society, changing it for the better. It was less than two hundred years ago that humans in your country thought nothing of keeping slaves. And now the thought of that is abhorrent to them—because generations have passed and values have changed. Do you think you could’ve eradicated slavery if the same people who had once owned slaves were still around today? Your society’s progress would slow tremendously if we uniformly extended your lifespan—and that’s not something the Elders want at this point.” “So we are just an experiment,” Mia said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “You just want to see what happens to us, and never mind how many humans suffer in the process—” “Humans wouldn’t be around to suffer if it weren’t for the Krinar, my sweet,” he interrupted, looking faintly amused at her outburst. “You very conveniently forget that fact.” “Right, you made us, and now you can play God.” She could feel the old resentment rising up, making her want to lash out at the unfairness of it all. As much as she loved Korum, sometimes his arrogance made her want to scream. He grinned, not the least bit fazed by her anger. His fingers eased their grip on her palm, his touch turning soft and caressing again. “I can think of other things I’d rather play,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to fill with golden heat. And as Mia watched in disbelief, he sent the floating table away, removing the barrier between them. Still holding her hand, he pulled her toward him until she had no choice but to straddle his lap. “You think sex will make it all better?” she asked, annoyed at her body’s unavoidable response to his nearness. No matter how mad she was, all he had to do was look at her in a certain way and she was completely lost, turning into a puddle of need. “Hmm-mm...” He was already leaning forward to kiss her neck, his mouth hot and moist on her bare skin. “Sex always makes everything better,” he whispered,

nibbling on the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder. And for the next several hours, Mia found no reason to disagree with that statement.

AFTER THE NOISE AND CROWDS IN SHANGHAI, THE STARK LANDSCAPE OF THE SIBERIAN TUNDRA WAS almost soothing. If it hadn’t been for the cold, Saret would’ve probably enjoyed visiting this remote northern region of Russia. But it was cold. The temperature here, just above the Arctic Circle, was never warm enough for a Krinar, not even on the hottest summer day. Today, though, it was actually below freezing, and Saret made sure every part of his body was covered with thermal clothing before he stepped out of his ship. The large grey building in front of him was one of the ugliest examples of Soviet-era architecture. Barbed wire and guard towers on every corner marked it as exactly what it was—a maximum security prison for the worst violent offenders in all of Russia. Few people knew this place existed, which is why Saret had chosen it for his experiment. He openly approached the gate, not worrying about being seen by any cameras or satellites. For this outing, he was wearing a disguise, one of a couple he had developed over the years. It changed not only his appearance, but even the outer layer of his DNA, making it nearly impossible to divine his true identity. The humans knew he was a Krinar, of course, but they didn’t know anything else about him. At his approach, the gate swung open, letting him in. Saret walked briskly to the building, where he was greeted by the warden—a pot-bellied, middle-aged human who stank of alcohol and cigarettes. Without saying a word, the warden led him to his office and closed the door. “Well?” Saret asked in Russian as soon as they had privacy. “Do you have the data I requested?” “Yes,” the warden said slowly. “The results are quite... unusual.” “Unusual how?” “It’s been six weeks since your last visit,” the human said, his hands nervously playing with a pen. “In the past month, we haven’t had a single homicide. In the past three weeks, there have been no fights. I’ve been running this place for twenty

years, and I’ve never seen anything like it.” Saret smiled. “No, I’m sure you haven’t. What was the homicide rate before?” The man opened a folder and took out a sheet of paper, handing it to Saret. “Take a look. There are usually two or three murders a month and about a fight a day. We can’t figure it out. It’s like all of them had a personality transplant.” Saret’s smile widened. If only the human knew the truth. Satisfied, he folded the sheet and put it in the pocket of his thermal pants. “You can expect the final payment by tomorrow,” he told the warden and walked out of the room. He couldn’t wait to get back on his ship and out of the cold.

3

T he following two days passed uneventfully. Mia spent her time working in the lab and enjoying evenings with Korum, deliriously happy despite their occasional arguments. She had no doubt that he loved her—and it made all the difference in the world. One day, she hoped to convince him to see her kind in a different light, to appreciate the fact that humans were more than just an experiment of the Krinar Elders. For now, though, she had to be content with the possibility of an exception being made for her family—something she knew Korum was fighting hard to obtain. At the lab, the other apprentices were still away, so Mia found herself frequently working alone, surrounded by all the equipment. Saret was in and out, and she would occasionally catch him watching her with an enigmatic expression on his face. Shrugging it off as some weird distrust for his human apprentice, she finished her report and sent it to Saret, hoping that he would give her feedback soon. While waiting, she continued to play around with the simulation, trying different variations of the process and carefully recording the results. Tuesday was a day off in Lenkarda, and it was also Maria’s birthday. The vivacious girl had sent her a holographic message over the weekend, formally inviting her to the party on the beach at two in the afternoon. Mia had gladly accepted. “So I don’t get to come?” Korum was lounging on the bed and watching her get ready for the party. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement, and she knew that he was teasing her. “Sorry, sweetie,” she told him mockingly, twirling in front of the mirror. “No cheren allowed. Charl only.” He grinned. “Such discrimination.”

She wore the necklace he’d given her and a light floaty dress with a swimsuit underneath—just in case the party involved any swimming in the ocean. “Yes, well, you know how that goes,” she said, grinning back. “We’re too cool for all you Ks.” She loved that she could banter with him now. Somehow, almost imperceptibly, their relationship had assumed a more equal footing. He still liked to be in control —and he could still be incredibly domineering on occasion—but she was beginning to feel like she could stand up to him. The knowledge that he loved her, that her thoughts and opinions mattered to him, was very liberating. “All right,” she said, bending down to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, “I have to run.” Before she could pull away, however, his arm snaked around her waist, and she found herself flat on her back on the bed, pinned down by his large muscular body. “Korum!” She wriggled, trying to get away. “I’m running late! You told me yourself it’s an insult to be late—” “One kiss,” he cajoled, holding her effortlessly. She could see the familiar signs of arousal on his face and feel his cock hardening against her leg. Her body reacted in predictable fashion, her insides clenching in anticipation and her breathing picking up. She shook her head. “No, we can’t...” “Just one kiss,” he promised, lowering his head. His mouth was hot and skillful on hers, his tongue caressing the inside of her lips, and Mia could feel herself melting on the spot, a pleasurable fog engulfing her mind. Before she could completely forget herself, however, he stopped, lifting his head and carefully rolling off her. “Go,” he said, and there was a wicked smile on his face. “I don’t want you to be late.” Frustrated, Mia got up and threw a pillow at him. “You’re evil,” she told him. Now she was extremely turned on, and she wouldn’t get a chance to see him for the next few hours. The only thing that made her feel better was the fact that he would suffer equally. “Just wanted you to hurry back, that’s all,” he said, grinning, and Mia threw another pillow at him before grabbing Maria’s gift and heading out the door.

SHE MANAGED NOT TO BE LATE, ALTHOUGH ALL TWELVE OF THE OTHER CHARL WERE ALREADY THERE when she arrived. Maria’s invitation message had told her there would be thirteen girls total, including Mia herself. An unusual musical mix was playing somewhere in the background. The sounds were beautiful, and Mia recognized the melody that Korum sometimes played in the house. However, interspersed with the popular Krinar tune, she could hear the more familiar flute and violin undertones. The girls were sitting on floating chairs arranged in a circle around a large hovering plank that apparently served as a picnic table. The table was piled high with all manner of delicious-looking fruit and various exotic dishes. Spotting Mia, Maria gave her an enthusiastic wave. “Hi there, come join us!” Mia approached, smiling at her. “Happy birthday!” she said, handing Maria a small box wrapped in pretty paper. “A gift! Oh my dear, you really shouldn’t have!” But Maria’s face glowed with excitement, and Mia knew she’d done the right thing in asking Korum to help her come up with a present. As eager as a child, Maria tore apart the wrapper and opened the box, taking out a small oval object. “Oh my God, is that what I think it is?!?” “Korum made it,” Mia explained, pleased by her reaction. Maria obviously knew enough about Krinar technology to understand that she’d just received a fabricator —a device that would enable her to use nanomachines to create all manner of objects from individual atoms. Of course, the computer that Korum had embedded in his palm enabled him to do the same thing without any other devices—and on a much bigger, more complex scale. However, he was one of the very few who could create an entire ship from scratch. Rapid fabrication was a relatively new technology and still fairly expensive, so not all Krinar could afford even a basic fabricator—like the one he had designed for Maria. It was a highly coveted object, Korum had explained. “Oh my God, a fabricator! Thank you so much!” Maria was almost beside herself with excitement. “This is so great—I can now make whatever clothes I want!” “And other things too,” Mia said, grinning. The little fabricator wasn’t advanced enough to make complex technology, but it could conjure up all manner of simpler objects. “Clothes,” Maria said firmly. “I mainly want clothes.”

Everyone around the table laughed at the determined expression on her face, and a red-headed girl yelled out, “And shoes for me!” “Oh, what am I thinking!” Maria exclaimed amidst all the laughter. “I haven’t even introduced you to everyone yet. Everyone—this is Mia, our newest arrival. As you can see, she’s unbelievably awesome. Mia, you know Delia already. The lovely lady to her right is Sandra, then Jenny, Jeannette, Rosa, Yun, Lisa, Danielle, Ana, Moira, and Cat.” “Hi,” Mia said, smiling and waving to all the girls. The flood of names was a little overwhelming; there was no way she’d remember all of them right away. Normally, she was shy in social situations where she didn’t know most of the people, but today she felt comfortable for some reason. Perhaps it was because she already had so much in common with these girls. Few others outside of this little group could even begin to understand what it was like to be in a relationship with someone literally out of this world. Taking a seat on the empty floating chair, Mia stared around the table with unabashed curiosity. Like her, all these girls were immortal. Did that mean that some of them were older than they looked? For the most part, they appeared young and strikingly beautiful, of various races and nationalities. However, a couple of them were merely pretty, and Mia wondered again why the godlike Krinar were attracted to humans in the first place. Was it the ability to drink their blood? If taking blood was as pleasurable as having it taken, then she could see the appeal. Turning her attention to Delia, Mia thanked her for letting her know about the party in the first place. “Of course,” Delia said. “I’m glad you could make it. We heard you weren’t in Lenkarda for the past week; otherwise, Maria would’ve sent you the formal invitation earlier.” “Yes, I was in Florida, visiting my family,” Mia explained and saw Delia’s eyebrows rise in question. “Korum let you go there?” she asked, and there was a note of disbelief in her voice. “We went together,” said Mia, popping a strawberry into her mouth. The berry was sweet and juicy; the Krinar definitely knew how to get the best fruit. “Oh,” said Delia, “I see...” She seemed slightly confused by this turn of events. “Do you ever go visit your family?” Mia inquired without thinking. “Are they still in Greece?”

Delia smiled, looking unaccountably amused. “No, they’re no longer around.” “Oh, I’m so sorry...” Mia felt terrible. She’d had no idea this girl was an orphan. “It’s okay,” Delia said calmly. “They passed away a long time ago. I now only have bits and pieces of memories about them. We didn’t have photographs back then.” Mia began to get an inkling of the situation. “How long ago is a long time?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. No photographs? Just how old was Arus’s charl? “Oh, you don’t know Delia’s story?” said a brown-haired charl sitting to the right of Delia. “Delia, you should tell Mia—” “I didn’t get a chance, Sandra,” Delia said, addressing the girl. “I only met Mia once before.” “Our Delia here is a bit older than she seems,” Sandra said, an anticipatory grin on her face. “I just love the newbies’ reactions when they hear her true age...” Intrigued, Mia stared at the Greek girl. “What is your true age, Delia?” “To the best of my knowledge, I will be two thousand three hundred and twelve this year.” Mia choked on a piece of strawberry she’d been eating. Coughing, she managed to clear her throat enough to wheeze out, “What?” “Yep, you heard her right,” Sandra said, laughing. “Delia is only a bit younger than some of the pyramids—” And older than Korum. “You’ve been a charl this whole time?” Mia asked incredulously. “Ever since I was nineteen,” Delia said, looking at her with large brown eyes. “I met Arus on the coast of the Mediterranean, near my village. He was much younger then, barely two hundred years old, but to me, he was the epitome of wisdom and knowledge. I thought he was a god, especially when he showed me some of their miraculous technology. The day he took me to their ship I was convinced he brought me to Mount Olympus...” “Where did you live this whole time? On Krina?” Mia was utterly fascinated. For some reason, she’d thought that Krinar-human liaisons were a fairly recent development. Although now that she thought about it, the existence of the charl/cheren terminology in Krinar language implied that these types of relationships had to have been around for a while.

“Yes,” Delia said. “Arus took me to Krina when he left Earth. We lived there until the Krinar came here a few years ago.” Mia looked at her, imagining how shocking and overwhelming it must have been for someone from ancient Greece to end up on another planet. Even for Mia, who knew that the Krinar were not in any way supernatural, a lot of what they could do seemed like magic. What would it be like for someone who had never used a cell phone or a TV, who had no idea what a computer or a plane was? “How did you cope with that?” Mia wondered. “I can’t even picture what it must’ve been like for you.” Delia lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I can barely recall those early days at this point—everything is one big blur of images and impressions in my mind. I didn’t handle the trip to Krina well, I remember that much. Your cheren—who wasn’t even born at the time—has done a lot to make intergalactic travel safer and more comfortable. But back then, it was much more difficult. I was horribly sick during the entire trip because the ship wasn’t optimized for humans, and it took me a few days to recover when I got to Krina, even with their medicine.” “Did you want to go?” Mia couldn’t help feeling intense pity for a nineteenyear-old who had been taken away from everything she knew and brought to a strange and unfamiliar place. Delia shrugged again. “I wanted to be with Arus, but I don’t think I fully realized what that entailed. Obviously, I don’t have any regrets now.” “Are there any charl who are older than you?” “Yes,” Delia said. “There are two of them. One is the charl of the biology expert who developed the process of extending human lifespan. He’s almost five thousand years old. And another one is only about five hundred years older than me. She’s originally from Africa.” “Wait, did you say he?” This was the first time Mia had heard about a male charl. “Yes,” Sandra said, joining their conversation. “I was surprised too. But some Krinar women—and men—take human men as their charl. It’s much rarer, but it does happen. Sumuel—the original charl, as he’s known—is actually with a mated couple.” Mia blinked. “Like a threesome?” “Pretty much,” Sandra said with a naughty grin on her face. “It’s a somewhat

unusual arrangement, but it works for them. The couple’s daughter thinks of Sumuel as her third parent.” “The Krinar couple’s daughter?” “Yes, of course,” said Delia. “We can’t have children with the Krinar. We’re not sufficiently compatible, genetically.” Even though Mia had known that, hearing Delia say the words gave her an odd little ache in her stomach. Over the past few days, Mia had been so happy that she hadn’t had a chance to dwell on the negative aspects of always being with someone not of her own species. Korum had told her in the very beginning that he couldn’t make her pregnant, and she’d had no reason to question that. Besides, she’d had other things on her mind. However, now that Mia was certain of a future with Korum, she realized what that future held—or, rather, what it didn’t hold: children. Mia didn’t feel a burning urge to be a mother, at least not right now. Having a child was something she’d always pictured as part of a pleasant, nebulous future. She’d always assumed she would finish college, attend graduate school, and meet a nice man somewhere along the way. They would date for a couple of years, get engaged, have a small family wedding, and start thinking about children after they were married for some time. And instead, she had become an extraterrestrial’s charl within a week of meeting him, gained immortality, and lost any chance of a normal human life. Not that she minded, of course. Being with Korum, loving him, was so much more than she could’ve ever hoped for. And if somewhere deep inside, a small part of her felt hollow at the loss of her nonexistent son or daughter... Well, she could live with that. Perhaps, one day, she could even convince Korum to adopt. So Mia pasted a smile on her face and turned her attention back to Delia, asking her about her experiences on Krina and what it was like to live for so long. Over the next hour, Mia got to know both Delia and Sandra, learning about their stories and what the life of a charl was truly like. Unlike Delia, Sandra had only been in Lenkarda for three years. Originally from Italy, she’d met her cheren by accident on the Amalfi coast. For the most part, both Delia and Sandra seemed quite happy with their lives, although Mia got the sense that Arus treated Delia as a real partner, while Sandra’s cheren spoiled her rotten, but didn’t take her too seriously. After most of the food at the table was gone, Maria challenged all the girls to a drinking game that seemed similar to truth-or-dare. For the ‘dare’ portion, they had to drink a full shot of tequila.

“Don’t worry,” Sandra whispered to Mia, “you won’t have a chance to get too drunk—not even if you drink five shots an hour. Our bodies metabolize alcohol really quickly now.” Mia grinned, remembering the last time she’d gotten wasted. It would’ve been nice to have all those nanocytes back at that club; it would’ve saved her quite a bit of embarrassment. They played for an hour and Mia drank at least six shots, choosing the ‘dare’ option over answering some very probing questions about her sex life. Other girls had no such compunction, however, and Mia learned all about Moira’s preference for black leather pants, Jenny’s passion for foot massages, and the fact that Sandra had once had sex in a lifeboat. Finally, the party came to an end. Feeling mildly buzzed, Mia headed home, eagerly anticipating seeing Korum and finishing what they had started earlier today.

SARET WALKED THROUGH THE SLUMS OF MEXICO CITY, DISPASSIONATELY OBSERVING THE DREGS OF humanity all around him. He had already planted the devices in the center of the city, so this excursion served no particular purpose except to satisfy his curiosity— and to reinforce in his mind the rightness of what he was doing. On the corner, a pair of thugs were threatening a prostitute with a knife. She was reluctantly pulling money out of her bra and simultaneously swearing at them in very colorful Spanish. Saret walked in their direction, purposefully making noise, and the thugs scattered at his approach, leaving the whore alone. She took one look at Saret and ran away too, apparently realizing what he was. Saret grinned to himself. Fucking cowards. It was already after midnight, and the area was crawling with every kind of lowlife. Drug-related violence in Mexico hadn’t gotten any better in recent years, and the country’s government actually went so far as to appeal to the Krinar for help with this issue. After some debate, the Council decided against it, not wanting to get involved in human affairs. Saret had privately disagreed with that decision, but he voted the same way as Korum: against the involvement. It was never a good idea to openly oppose his so-called friend. Besides, it made no sense to help humans on such a limited scale. What Saret was doing would be far more effective. He was heading back to where he left the transport pod when a dozen gang

members made the fatal error of crossing his path. Armed with machine guns and high on coke, they apparently felt invincible enough to attack a K—a mistake for which they paid immediately. The first few bullets managed to hit Saret, but none of the other ones did. Consumed by rage, he was hardly cognizant of his actions, operating solely on instinct—and his instinct was to rip apart and destroy anything that threatened him. By the time Saret regained control of himself, there were body parts all over the alley and the entire street stank of blood and death. Disgusted with himself—and with the idiots who provoked him—Saret made his way back to the ship. He was more convinced than ever that his path was a righteous one.

4

T he next day, Mia finished running the simulation for the third time and sent the digital results to Saret, hoping that he would get a chance to look at them soon. Without his feedback—or Adam’s input—there was really nothing else she could do to move the project forward at this time. It was only eleven a.m. on Wednesday, and she was already done with what she had set out to do in the lab for the day. Of course, she could always do some mindrelated reading or watch some recordings, but that was something she tended to do in her spare time outside of the lab. Lab hours were for doing actual work, and Mia hoped she could find something to occupy herself with until she got the necessary feedback on her current project. As usual, Saret was gone somewhere, and the other apprentices were in Thailand again. They’d left her alone in the lab—which Mia thought was probably a sign of trust. She doubted Saret would leave just anyone around all the complex lab equipment. Getting up, she walked over to the common data storage facility—a Krinar device that was light years ahead of any human computer. Mia was just beginning to learn all of its capabilities, so she decided to use the downtime to explore it a little and brush up on some of the other apprentices’ projects. The data unit responded to voice commands, which made it easy for Mia to operate it. The next six hours seemed to fly by. Absorbed in her task, Mia hardly felt the passage of time as she read about the regenerative properties of Krinar brain tissue and the complexity of infant mind development. She took a short break for lunch— requesting a sandwich from the intelligent lab building—and then continued, fascinated by what she was learning. It seemed like the project that took the other apprentices away from the lab was even more interesting than what Mia and Adam were working on. Feeling slightly jealous, Mia decided to ask Saret if she could

somehow get involved. Finally, it was five o’clock. Although Mia typically stayed later in the lab, she decided to make an exception today, since nothing much was going on. Leaving the lab, she headed home.

ARRIVING AT THE HOUSE, SHE WASN’T SURPRISED TO FIND THAT KORUM WASN’T THERE YET. HIS schedule was far more grueling than hers, although it helped that he didn’t need to sleep more than a couple of hours a night. He actually got a lot of work done at night or early in the morning when Mia was sound asleep. Making herself comfortable on the long floating plank in the living room, Mia decided to use the time to call Jessie. They hadn’t spoken since before Mia’s trip to Florida, and she really missed hearing her friend’s bubbly voice. “Call Jessie,” Mia told her wristwatch-bracelet device, and heard the familiar dial tones as the call connected. “Mia?” Jessie’s voice sounded cautious. “Yep, it’s me,” Mia said, grinning. She knew that the call would show up on Jessie’s phone as coming from an unknown number. “How’s it going? I haven’t talked to you in over a week!” “Oh, I’m good,” Jessie said, sounding a little distracted. “How’s your family? Did they already meet Korum?” “They sure did,” Mia said. “Believe it or not, they loved him. But hey, listen, are you busy right now? I can call back another time—” “What? Oh, no, hold on, let me just go into another room...” A short silence, then, “Okay, I’m good now. Sorry about that. I was just hanging out with Edgar and Peter. Do you remember Peter?” “Of course,” Mia said. Peter was the guy she’d met at the club—the one Korum had almost killed for dancing with her. Mia still shuddered when she remembered that terrifying night, when she’d thought Korum had found out about her deception and was going to kill her. In hindsight, she’d been an idiot; she should’ve known even then that he would never harm her. But at the time, Korum had still been a stranger to her, a member of the mysterious and dangerous Krinar race that had invaded Earth five years ago. “He still asks about you,” Jessie said—a bit wistfully, Mia thought. “Edgar tells

me he’s really worried—” “That’s nice of him, but there’s really no reason to worry,” Mia interrupted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “Seriously, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life...” Jessie fell silent for a second, and then Mia heard her sigh. “So that’s it, huh?” she said softly. “You’re in love with the K?” “I am,” Mia said, a big smile breaking out on her face. “And he loves me too. Oh, Jessie, you don’t even know how happy he makes me. I could’ve never imagined it could be like this. It’s like a dream come true—” “Mia...” She could hear Jessie sighing again. “I’m happy for you, I really am... But, tell me, do you think you’ll come back to New York?” Mia hesitated for a moment. “I think so...” She was far less certain now than before. With each day that passed, college and all that it implied seemed less and less important. What use was a degree from a human university if she were to continue living and working in Lenkarda? She learned more in a day at the lab than she could in a month at NYU. Did it really make sense to spend another nine months writing papers and taking tests just for the sake of saying she got her diploma? And, more importantly, would Saret let her return to the lab after such a long absence? Given the rapid pace of research there, coming back after nine months would be almost like starting over. “You don’t sound sure,” Jessie said, and there was a sad note in her voice. “Yeah, I guess I’m not sure,” Mia admitted. “Korum is fine with it, but I just don’t know if I’ll be able to return to my internship if I leave for so long...” “So you like it there? At the K Center, I mean?” “I do,” Mia said. “Jessie, it’s so nice here... I can’t even begin to tell you how awesome some of their inventions are. Korum has a zero-gravity chamber in his house. Can you imagine that? And he’s got a floor that massages your feet as you walk on it.” Not to mention the fact that Mia was now pretty much immortal—but that was something she was not allowed to talk about outside of Lenkarda. “Really? A floor that massages your feet?” Jessie sounded jealous now. “Yep, and a bed that does the same thing to your whole body. All their technology is amazing, Jessie. Believe me when I tell you this: it’s not a hardship to be here at all.” “Yeah, sounds like it,” Jessie said, and Mia heard the resignation in her voice. “I

guess I just miss you, that’s all.” “I miss you too,” Mia said. “Maybe I’ll swing by for a visit in a couple of weeks. Let me talk to Korum about that, and we’ll figure something out.” “Oh, that would be so nice!” Jessie sounded much more excited now. “We’ll make it happen,” Mia promised, smiling. “I’ll let you know when we’re coming over. But, anyways, enough about that... Tell me about you and Edgar. How are things going on that front?” And for the next ten minutes, Mia learned all about Jessie’s new boyfriend, his latest acting gig, and the stuffed panda he’d won for Jessie at an amusement park. It seemed like the two of them were becoming increasingly close, and Mia was glad he made Jessie so happy. If anyone deserved to have a cute, caring guy, it was her former roommate. Finally, Jessie had to go to dinner, so Mia said goodbye and went to change before Korum got home. He’d mentioned taking a post-dinner walk on the beach, and Mia wanted to make sure she had her swimsuit ready.

“SO WHEN DO YOU THINK THE COUNCIL WILL FINALLY DECIDE ABOUT THE KEITHS?” MIA ASKED, taking a bite of sweet pepper stuffed with mushroom-flavored rice. “Are they still doing the investigation?” Korum nodded, picking up a piece of mushroom with the tong-like utensil the Krinar used in place of forks. “Loris is being difficult, as you’d expect. He’s got a couple of Councilors on his side, and he’s claiming there’s no way Saur could’ve erased the Keiths’ memories. Supposedly, someone from the Fiji lab told him that apprentices don’t have access to that kind of equipment.” “Really? So, what, he’s still saying that you and Saret are responsible for this?” “I think he gave up on the idea of framing Saret,” Korum said, a mocking smile appearing on his lips. “He’s now seeking evidence to come after me.” Mia stared at him, concerned about this development. The black-garbed Krinar she’d seen at the trial didn’t seem like someone who could be trifled with—and he truly hated Korum. “Do you think there’s any chance he could cause trouble for you?” “No, don’t worry, my sweet,” Korum said reassuringly, though his eyes glittered with something that looked like anticipation. “He’s just trying to delay the

inevitable. He failed as the Protector, and he knows it. Once his son and the rest of those traitors are sentenced, he’ll lose all of his standing—and his position on the Council along with it.” “And you don’t mind that in the least, right?” Mia asked, regarding him with a wry smile. For better or for worse, her lover tended to be quite ruthless with his opponents—a personality trait that made her glad she was now on his good side. Korum shrugged. “It was Loris’s choice to risk everything for his son. Now he’ll pay the price. And if I have fewer people who stand in my way as a result, then all the better.” Mia nodded and concentrated on finishing the rest of her stuffed pepper dish. Despite everything, she couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit sympathetic toward the Protector. After all, the K was only defending his son. She imagined she’d do the same for her child—not that she had to worry about that anymore, she reminded herself. Pushing away the unpleasant thought, Mia looked at Korum instead, studying him covertly as he finished his meal. Sometimes it was still difficult for her to believe they were so happy together. By Krinar law, she belonged to Korum—a fact that still made her very uncomfortable. As a charl, her legal standing in K society was murky, to say the least. If she didn’t love him so much—and if he didn’t treat her as well as he did—her life could’ve easily been miserable. But she did love him. And he loved her back, with all the intensity in his nature. As a result, he seemed to be trying to suppress his inborn arrogance, knowing that it was important for her to be regarded as an equal. There was still a long way to go, of course—the gap of age and experience was too wide to be bridged easily—but he was definitely making an effort in that direction. After they were both done with the meal, Korum stood up and offered her his hand. “Up for a walk, my sweet?” he asked, giving her a warm smile. Mia grinned. “Sure.” She loved these after-dinner walks on the beach. They’d done them almost every night when they were in Florida, and she’d learned a great deal about Korum during those quiet times. Taking his hand, she let him lead her outside.

THEY WALKED FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES IN SILENCE, ENJOYING THE SOFT EVENING BREEZE. THE SUN was just setting behind the trees, and an orange glow lit the sky, reflecting off the

water shimmering in the distance. “You know,” Mia said, thinking about their first meeting in New York, “I still don’t know your full name. You said I wouldn’t be able to pronounce it if you told me, but I’ve never heard anyone call you anything but Korum.” He grinned. “Our full names are generally only used at birth and at death. Do you still want to hear it?” “Of course.” She imagined something totally unpronounceable. “What is it?” “Nathrandokorum.” “Oh, that sounds kind of nice,” Mia said, surprised. “Why don’t you use it more?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just the way it’s been with us for a long time. Full names have become nothing more than a formality. I doubt that anyone besides my parents knows that I’m called Nathrandokorum.” Mia smiled, shaking her head. Some parts of the Krinar culture were strange indeed. They walked some more, and then Mia remembered her recent conversation with her former roommate. “Do you think we might have a chance to visit New York soon?” she asked. “I was talking to Jessie, and it would be really nice to see her...” Korum smiled, looking down at her. “Of course. If you want, we can go the next time you have a day off. Unless you want to go for longer?” “No, a day would be perfect. I guess sometimes I still forget that we can just pop on over there whenever we want.” His smile widened. “We definitely can—especially now that most of the Resistance has been captured.” “Where’s Leslie?” Mia asked, remembering the girl who had attacked her in Florida. “Is she here, in Lenkarda?” Korum shook his head. “No, she’s in our Arizona Center.” “Is she... all right?” Mia was almost afraid to know the answer. The Resistance fighter had teamed up with Saur—the former apprentice from Saret’s lab—to try to kill Korum in Florida. Now she was in K custody, about to be ‘rehabilitated.’ From what Mia understood about the process, the end goal was to change that part of Leslie’s personality that made her a danger to society (or to the Krinar, as the

matter may be). Rehabilitation—or mind tampering—was the most advanced branch of Krinar neuroscience, and Mia was just starting to learn about it at the lab. “I assume so,” Korum said, his expression cooling. He obviously hadn’t forgotten the fact that the girl had pointed a gun at Mia and almost gotten her killed by Saur. “Could you find out for me, please?” For some reason, Mia felt responsible for what happened to Leslie, even though the girl had attacked her. Still, she couldn’t help remembering the terror on Leslie’s face as she was led away by the K guardians. However misguided the fighter’s intentions were, she didn’t deserve to be mistreated, and Mia sincerely hoped she didn’t get hurt during her rehabilitation. Korum hesitated, then nodded curtly. “All right, I will.” His jaw tightened, however, and Mia could see that he was thinking about the beach incident again. To distract him, she squeezed his hand and gave him a big smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.” “Of course, my darling,” he said, his expression visibly softening. “Anything to make you happy—you know that.” And bending down, he brushed his lips against her mouth in a brief kiss. “So what are the guardians, anyway?” Mia asked when they started walking again. “Are they like your police?” “Something like that,” Korum said. “They’re a cross between soldiers, police, and one of your intelligence agencies. They enforce our laws, catch criminals, and deal with any kind of threat from humans. Our society is so homogenized at this point that we no longer have war on Krina, the way you do here on Earth. There are still some regional rivalries, of course, and there are always a few crazies who disagree with the way things are done by the government, but we don’t have the kind of conflict that would require a standing army.” “So you guys managed to invade our planet without an army?” Korum laughed. “If you want to think about it that way. Most Krinar males who came to Earth received military-style training because we were expecting some resistance. But no, we didn’t need a big army to control Earth; all we needed was our technology.” “Of course.” Mia tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Loving Korum the way she did made it easy to forget that she was doing the equivalent of sleeping with the enemy—even if the enemy didn’t actually intend her planet any harm. It

was only during these types of conversations that Mia was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that the Krinar forcefully took over her planet... and that the man who loved her did not necessarily have humankind’s best interests at heart. “Trust me, Mia, it was better this way,” Korum said, as though reading her mind. “Your government had no choice but to accept the inevitable, and that helped minimize the bloodshed. It would’ve been far worse if there had been a fullout war between our people.” Mia’s mouth tightened, but she nodded, knowing he was right. There was no point in resenting the Krinar’s technological superiority; in a way, it did make their invasion as painless as possible. The fact that they invaded at all was a different matter, of course—but Mia didn’t have the energy or the inclination to fight that particular battle. Working with the Resistance once was enough. “Can I ask you something?” Mia said, thinking back to those crazy days when she was spying on Korum. “I don’t get one thing about the Keiths’ plans. Even if they were successful in getting all the Krinar to leave Earth, wouldn’t your people have come back with reinforcements? I know you said they were going to kill you, but what about all the others? Are you the only one with the means to go back and forth between Earth and Krina?” Korum shot her an amused glance. “No, of course not. My company has the most advanced ship designs, but the Krinar have traveled to and from Earth long before I was even born. I think the Keiths were hoping to control the protective field.” “The protective field?” He nodded. “Up until a dozen years ago, space travel was largely unregulated. Anyone could go anywhere, as long as they had a ship to take them there. Now, however, we have a shield in place to protect Earth from unauthorized travel—the same kind of shield we recently put around Krina.” “There is a shield around Earth?” Mia looked up at him in surprise. “It’s actually a shield around the solar system,” Korum explained. “Not like a barrier, but more of a disruptor field. When activated, it messes with our ships’ faster-than-light capabilities.” “Why would you want something that can mess with your ships?” “For security purposes, we want to make sure the Council is informed of—and authorizes—any travel between Earth and Krina. Also, if there happen to be any other intelligent life forms out there, and they use technology comparable to ours,

the shields will afford us some protection from them.” Mia gave him an ironic look. “So they can’t do to you what you did to us?” “Exactly.” He grinned at her, looking so unrepentant that Mia couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay,” she said, returning to her original question, “so what were the Keiths going to do? Use the protective field to keep the rest of the Krinar out?” “Probably,” Korum said, still smiling. “That’s what I would’ve done in their place.” They walked for a few more minutes before they reached the ocean. As usual, this section of the beach was completely deserted. With only five thousand Ks in the Costa Rican settlement, there was plenty of space for everyone and most Krinar tended to keep out of each other’s ‘territories’—as informal as those were in modern times. Since Korum liked to take evening walks on this particular stretch of sand, the other Ks respectfully stayed clear of it. “Do you want to go for a swim?” Mia asked, letting go of his hand and kicking off her shoes to test the water temperature with her toe. It was perfect—just cool enough to be refreshing. Instead of answering, Korum pulled off his shirt, revealing a bronzed, muscular torso. “Absolutely,” he said, his eyes turning more golden by the second. Smiling, Mia took a few steps back and slowly took off her dress, loving the way his gaze was glued to her every move. She could see the erection growing in his shorts, and her nipples hardened in response, her body affected by his desire. The fact that she could do this to him by simply stripping down to her swimsuit was exhilarating—and incredibly flattering. “Are you teasing me?” he asked, his voice low and dangerously soft. Her heart pounding with excitement, Mia nodded, watching his eyes narrow at her answer. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. And before she could blink, he was already on her, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the water. Held securely in his embrace, Mia laughed, reveling in the coolness of the water as they went deeper and deeper. “Is this to be my punishment?” she joked as he paused, waiting for a large wave to pass them by before going further. “Oh, you want to be punished?” he murmured, looking down at her with a heated gleam in his eyes.

Grinning, Mia shook her head. “No...” “I think you do...” he said softly, shifting her in his arms so that he was holding her with only one hand. Before Mia could say anything, his other hand slipped inside her swimming suit and pressed against her sex, unerringly finding her clit and pinching it between his fingers. She bucked against him, startled by the strong sensation, and he did it again, watching her face closely. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice like rough velvet. “Or does it feel good?” Mia gasped as his fingers increased the pressure. “I don’t know...” “Oh, I think you do,” he whispered. “I think you know very well...” His fingers slipped inside, stretching her open. “Korum, please...” She could feel him curving one of the fingers inside her, rubbing against her G-spot. “You’re wet,” he murmured, “so slick I can feel it even in the ocean. It makes me want to fuck you right here and now.” “So do it,” Mia breathed, staring up at him. “Fuck me.” She was already on the verge of orgasm—all she needed was a tiny push to bring her over the edge. His eyes flared brighter. “Oh, I will...” Within seconds, she was fully naked, the torn remnants of her swimsuit floating around them. His shorts met the same fate, and then he was lowering her to her feet, letting her slide down his body. Looping her arms around his neck, Mia pressed against him. Her breasts felt tender, her nipples sensitized, and she rubbed them against his chest to assuage the ache deep within. His erection nudged at her belly, thick and hot, and her sex pulsed with the need to take him inside. Leaning forward, she kissed his lips, tasting the salt from the ocean spray and the uniquely delicious essence that was Korum. He groaned, deepening the kiss, and Mia sucked on his tongue, stroking it with her own. At the same time, she reached under the water, wrapping her fingers around his hard shaft. It jumped at her touch, swelling up further, and Korum inhaled sharply, lifting her up and opening her thighs wide. A wave hit them, the water droplets spraying Mia’s face, and she closed her eyes, grabbing onto Korum’s shoulders with both hands. For a brief second, the tip of his cock brushed against her entrance, and then he pushed inside her in one powerful stroke. Mia gasped at the invasion, her inner muscles tightening at the feel of him so deep within. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she held him there, reveling in

the amazing sensation. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel so... fucking... good...” He punctuated each word with a small, shallow thrust, his pelvis grinding against her clitoris, and Mia cried out as a sudden climax ripped through her, causing her sex to spasm around his thickness. He groaned again, and continued thrusting into her, lifting her up and down on his cock with a relentless rhythm that sent her over the edge again, just a few minutes later. This time, he joined her, and she felt the warmth of his release deep inside her belly. And then they simply floated there, letting the waves rock them back and forth.

5

T he next morning, Mia again found herself alone in the lab. Saret was still traveling and hadn’t sent her his feedback, so she continued learning about the other projects until her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it was time to eat. Getting up, she stretched and requested a popular Krinar stew for lunch. The intelligent lab building provided it five minutes later, and Mia sat down to eat at one of the floating table-planks. For some reason, her thoughts kept turning to the conversation she’d had with Korum yesterday and the Resistance fighter she’d helped capture. Leslie was going to undergo mind manipulation, and Mia couldn’t help wondering how much the girl would be changed in the process. She couldn’t imagine someone tampering with her thoughts, feelings, and memories, and she felt bad that another person would be subjected to something so invasive. Surely there had to be a better way to dissuade Leslie from her futile fight against the Krinar. Perhaps someone could talk to her, explain that the Krinar didn’t have any sinister intentions toward Earth... Of course, it was possible that the girl’s hatred of the invaders went too deep to allow for rational thinking. Sighing, Mia finished her meal and went back to the data storage unit. As she was about to pull up the infant mind development project, she paused, remembering a tidbit Adam had mentioned to her at some point. Saur—the K who’d tried to kill Korum—had once been an apprentice in this very lab, and he was supposedly quite good at mind manipulation. If some of his old projects were still stored here, they might help her gain a better understanding of what was going to be done to Leslie. Suddenly excited, Mia ordered the unit to locate all the data that Saur had added. There was a lot, but she had plenty of time to kill.

Making herself comfortable, Mia dove into the intricacies of the tampered mind. Five hours later, she got up again, deeply puzzled. She’d just begun to scratch the surface of everything Saur had worked on, but none of it was directly related to memory erasure. There were plenty of notes and recordings on behavioral conditioning and memory implantation—but only brief mentions of intentional memory removal. If Mia understood it correctly, Saur had never even done memory wipe simulations, much less had any practice with live subjects. Frowning, Mia stared at the data unit, oddly disturbed by what she’d just learned. Something didn’t quite make sense to her. If Saur didn’t know how to erase memories, shouldn’t Saret have said something about that to the Council? Her boss always knew who was working on which project; he was the one who gave everyone their assignments. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was some other data storage place that she didn’t know about where other projects were kept. It was possible: Mia was still new and learning her way around. It was also possible that Saur simply hadn’t bothered inputting some of his projects into the common database. Adam had mentioned once that the dead apprentice was a bit strange—a loner who didn’t get along with anyone else. He could’ve easily had trouble following the lab’s protocol. Still, Mia couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling in her stomach, a nagging sense that something wasn’t quite right with this picture. She needed to talk to Korum and soon. Pausing to send Korum a brief holographic message telling him that she’d be home in a few minutes, Mia headed toward one of the exit walls. And as she was about to walk out, the wall in front of her dissolved, and her boss came into the lab.

“WELL, HELLO THERE,” SARET SAID, LOOKING DOWN AT HER WITH A SMILE. “YOU DIDN’T GO HOME yet? I was hoping you’d get a chance to take it easy, with all of us out and about these past couple of days.” Mia smiled back, trying to hide her nervousness. “No, I was just brushing up on some of the other projects here,” she said, staying as close to the truth as possible. “The one Aners is working on is really interesting. You know, with the infant mind

development?” “Sure.” Saret’s smile changed—becoming almost indulgent, Mia thought. “That’s a great project for you to get involved with. We can talk about it later, once you and Adam are done with your current task.” “Great!” Mia injected the appropriate amount of enthusiasm into her voice and tried to ignore the way her palms had begun to sweat. “I’m really looking forward to it. Thanks again for giving me this opportunity.” “Of course.” Saret’s brown eyes gleamed as he took a couple of steps toward her. Pausing less than two feet away, he said, “I’m glad you’re having a good time here.” Mia nodded, still maintaining a big smile on her face. Maybe she was being an idiot, but the vibes she was getting from her boss today made her decidedly uncomfortable. All she wanted was to go home and talk to Korum about what she’d learned. Most likely, there was a good explanation for everything, but on the slight chance there wasn’t, she didn’t want to linger in the lab any longer than necessary. And it was the second time Saret had acted almost... weird. “Okay, then,” she said brightly, looking up at his darkly bronzed face. “Please take a look at the report when you get a chance, and I’ll head on out for now. Unless you need me?” Saret smiled again. “I always need you,” he said, and there was an unusually soft note in his voice. “But you must have your rest, I understand...” And Mia’s heartbeat spiked as he leaned even closer, his eyes seemingly glued to her exposed shoulder. “All right then—” she backed away, “—I’ll see you soon.” And turning around, she took a step toward the wall leading to the outside. “Is anything wrong, Mia?” Saret was suddenly in front of her, blocking the way. “You seem worried.” Every hair on Mia’s body was standing on end. “Sorry,” she said insincerely, forcing a quick laugh. Even to her own ears, it sounded fake. “I’m just thinking about going to New York to see my roommate, that’s all.” “Oh, is that right?” Saret cocked his head to the side. “And when are you planning to go?” “Oh, it won’t be for long.” Mia cursed herself for blurting out that tidbit and prolonging the conversation. “We’ll go on one of the rest days—”

“So why are you so anxious?” Saret asked, a strange look in his eyes. “Is it because you found something you shouldn’t have?” Mia swallowed, a cold chill snaking down her spine. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about...” Saret smiled—the same friendly smile that had made Mia like him before. Now she found it frightening instead. “What made you look at Saur’s files today?” he inquired casually. “Don’t you know it’s against the lab protocol to access other apprentices’ projects?” Mia shook her head. She hadn’t known, in fact. Staring at Saret, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time. He was Korum’s friend. Why was he doing this? Why had he misled everyone about Saur’s abilities? And, more importantly, what did he intend to do to keep Mia from telling everyone? Thinking furiously, she realized that denial would be useless at this point. Somehow Saret knew about Mia’s discovery. “Why?” she asked him instead, keeping her voice steady despite the fact that her hands were beginning to shake. “Why didn’t you tell the Council Saur couldn’t have done it?” Saret’s smile widened. “Because it was convenient to have them think he did,” he explained, and there was something triumphant in his gaze. “It wasn’t what I originally intended, but it worked out regardless.” Her fear growing by the minute, Mia took a step back. Her every instinct was screaming for her to get out, now. Maybe there was still a good explanation for Saret’s actions, but she couldn’t take that chance. Casting aside all remnants of politeness, Mia swiftly lifted her wristwatch-bracelet to her face. “Call Kor—” But she didn’t get a chance to complete her request. His hand was suddenly around her wrist, holding it in a steely grip. Strong fingers ripped away the device, crushing it in the process. “Oh, no,” Saret said softly, dragging her toward him until she was pressed flat against his muscular body. “You don’t get to call him anymore, you understand?” Stunned and terrified, Mia stared at the K who’d been her boss and mentor for the past month. His hand was wrapped around her wrist, twisting it in such a way that she couldn’t move at all. To her horror, Mia realized that he was hard, his erection pressing threateningly into the softness of her belly. “What are you doing?” she whispered, hot bile rising in her throat. “Korum will kill you for this, you know that...”

Saret’s eyes glittered. “Oh, will he, now? He’s more than welcome to come find you here. The lab is set up quite nicely for his arrival.” “What?” Surely he wasn’t saying— “I mean, when your cheren arrives, I’ll have a little surprise for him,” Saret said, giving her a gentle smile. “You see, Mia dear, it’s about time you knew the truth about your lover. Come, let’s go into my office and we’ll talk.” And without giving her a choice in the matter, he pulled her toward the back of the room, his fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist. Upon their approach, one of the walls dissolved, creating an entrance into the space Saret used for private projects. Her knees weak with fear, Mia stumbled as he tugged her into the opening, the wall sealing shut behind her. Before she could fall, however, Saret caught her, lifting her up in his arms. “There,” he said soothingly, sitting down on one of the floating planks with her held tightly in his lap. “I’ve got you... No need to worry—you’ll be all right,” he added, apparently feeling the tremors shaking her frame. “Let go,” Mia whispered, pushing at his chest with all her strength. She could feel a hard bulge pressing against her thighs, and her stomach twisted with nausea. Her voice rose hysterically. “Let me go, right now!” He didn’t reply, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. The expression on his face was almost... enraptured, Mia realized with horror. For some reason, he wanted her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him if he decided to act on that inclination. “You said you were going to tell me something about Korum,” she said in desperation, her voice shrill with panic. “What don’t I know about him?” Saret blinked, his gaze clearing a little. “Oh, yes,” he said, a self-deprecating smile appearing on his lips. “We were going to talk, weren’t we? Here, you better have a seat...” And lifting her off his lap, he placed her next to him, keeping one hand wrapped firmly around her arm. Mia immediately tried to scoot back further, but his grip tightened, preventing her from moving from the spot. “Listen to me, Mia,” Saret said, a small frown creasing his forehead, “I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this right now and it all seems crazy to you. But, believe me, it’s for your own good—for the good of all humanity. What your

cheren intends for your people is not pretty, and he needs to be stopped. Do you know what he’s trying to get the Elders to agree to?” Mia shook her head, her stomach churning as his grip softened on her arm, his thumb gently massaging her skin. “He wants to take your planet from you. Did he tell you that?” “No,” Mia managed to say, her heart pounding so hard she could barely think. Saret was lying to her, of course. He had to be. “My so-called friend is a power-hungry monster,” Saret said, his gaze hardening. “It wasn’t enough for him to achieve the highest standing on Krina. Oh no, Mia dear, he had to extend his reign to another planet—to your planet. If it hadn’t been for him, we would’ve never come to Earth. He was the one who convinced the Elders it was necessary to control your planet, to save it for the future generations of Krinar. And now he plans to take it from you completely. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Mia nodded, wanting to keep him talking. She would listen to his lies for as long as necessary if it would only buy her time. In another few minutes, Korum would realize that she didn’t come home as promised. Would he come looking for her then? Walk into whatever trap Saret seemed to be setting? Please don’t let anything happen to him. Please don’t let anything happen to him. “You see, Mia,” Saret continued, “all I want is what’s good for your people— what’s good for the greatest number of intelligent beings. I want to liberate Earth, free it from the tyranny of Korum and the Council. I want you to have your planet back.” “Why? What does it matter to you?” Was Saret one of the Keiths? And if so, how had he managed to escape detection for so long? “Why? Because I’ve always wanted to do something great.” Saret’s voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement. “All our contributions to society, all this —” he waved a hand toward the lab, “—pales in comparison with liberating billions of intelligent beings, with giving them a better life... a peaceful life free from terror. I don’t want to be remembered for coming up with yet another way to enhance memories, Mia. I want to be the one to bring peace to Earth.” “Peace to Earth?” That sounded insane to her. “But we’re not at war with the Krinar—” “Oh no, getting rid of the Krinar is just the beginning.” Saret laughed. “You see, Mia, I can also give your people a better life. I can make it so you don’t have to

spend your few short decades fearing war, drive-by shootings, terrorist attacks... I can give you what humans have been dreaming about since the beginning of time: a life free of fear and violence. Wouldn’t you want that, Mia? Wouldn’t you like that for your people?” “What are you talking about?” Was there such a thing as mental illness among the Ks? Was she stuck here with a madman? “I know you don’t understand now, but you will—I promise you that.” Saret’s face was almost glowing with fervor. “When your murder rates drop to zero and war is a thing of the past, your world will know that a new era in human history has arrived—and they will thank me for it.” Mia stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying for a minute. Then a horrifying and implausible idea occurred to her. “Saret,” she said slowly, looking at the K known to be one of the greatest mind experts, “are you talking about some kind of mind manipulation for humans?” Please let him laugh and tell me it’s not true. Please don’t let it be true. Saret gave her a pleased smile, his hand now caressing her arm, making her skin crawl. “Yes, Mia dear, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I always knew you were bright for your species. You see, over the past few years, I developed and perfected a new technique, a way to monitor certain neural impulses while simultaneously stimulating the pain and pleasure centers of the brain—” Mia sucked in her breath. “Are you saying—” Her voice broke for a second, and she had to start again. “Are you saying you developed some kind of mind control?” Now Saret laughed, his brown eyes crinkling with amusement. “No, of course not. Hopefully you’ve learned enough by now to know that true mind control is impossible. No, my technique allows me to direct certain behaviors—to condition the brain, if you will. Every time someone has a violent thought, for instance, I can make them experience pain. Every time they obey me—pleasure. Imagine: an entire planet full of peaceful humans... Wouldn’t you want that, Mia?” What Mia wanted was to throw up. “But how? How can you do something like that on a mass scale?” Saret grinned, obviously enjoying her reaction. “Well,” he said, “that’s where Rafor and the rest of the Keiths come in. As you probably know, Rafor was nowhere near as good as your cheren at technological design, but he was decent enough to occupy a high position in his father’s company. After Korum put them out of business, poor Rafor was left at loose ends. You see, since he lost his standing, no one else would hire him as a designer, and he was forced to dabble in a variety of

subjects that didn’t interest him nearly as much as his original chosen field. He even came to me a couple of years ago, asking if he could do an apprenticeship at the lab. “I declined, of course. He was nowhere near qualified enough to be here. You weren’t either, being a human and all, but at least you had the passion for the subject. He didn’t even have that.” Saret let out a chuckle. “But, in any case, I did offer him a chance to help me out on a private project, to design the nanocytes I needed to implement the plan. He understood immediately what I was trying to do —it aligned well with his own sympathetic views toward humans—and he did an excellent job creating both the nano design and the dispersion mechanism.” Mia listened to him intently, hardly daring to breathe. What he was telling her now was so incredible—and so terrifying—that she could barely process what she was hearing. “Of course, Rafor failed miserably at the first part of the plan,” Saret continued. “He was supposed to get rid of Korum and the rest with the help of the Resistance, but he got caught instead.” Mia swallowed to get rid of the dryness in her throat. “So you erased their memories,” she guessed, and Saret nodded, smiling. “I did. I had no choice. It was the only way to protect myself and the rest of the plan. Plus, it did give the Keiths a chance at the trial.” “So the Protector was right: you were the one all along—” “He was partially right.” Saret’s smile was bright and happy. “He thought I erased their memories to help Korum, but nothing could be further from the truth. It hindered your cheren’s agenda quite a bit—a nice, if not entirely intentional, side effect of the whole thing.” “Why do you hate him so much? He thinks of you as a friend—” The dark-haired K laughed, throwing his head back. “Of course he does—I made sure of that. Only an idiot would want Korum for an enemy. I’ve seen him destroy those who stand in his way, and I’ve never made that mistake.” “You’re making that mistake now,” Mia cautiously pointed out, glancing at where his fingers were still wrapped around her arm. If Korum were here, Saret would already be dead. If there was one thing she’d learned over the past few weeks, it was just how territorial Krinar males tended to be. “Oh, because I’m touching his precious charl?” Saret said, his eyes gleaming

with a mixture of excitement and some other unidentifiable emotion. “Don’t worry, Mia dear, you won’t be his for long. You’ll be free of him soon. Just as soon as he gets here...” Mia’s blood turned to ice. “Are you—” She had to stop for a second because she couldn’t force the words past the constriction in her throat. “Are you planning to kill him?” she finally managed to say. “Most likely.” Saret smiled at her again—that same friendly smile that made Mia want to scream. “It would probably be easiest. Of course, I could always try to capture him and put him through the same process as Saur. That would be the ultimate prize: having Korum himself in my control—” “Saur? You mind-controlled Saur?” Mia stared at him in horrified disbelief. Had Saret actually made his former apprentice attack them in Ormond Beach? “No.” Saret looked disappointed at her lack of understanding. “Not mind control. I told you that. Mind conditioning. My technique works very subtly. It doesn’t turn people into mindless zombies or whatever it is you’re imagining—” “But you mind-conditioned Saur to want to kill Korum?” “I did,” Saret admitted with a look of pride on his face. “It wasn’t easy, believe me. All Krinar have immune system shields that repel nanocytes; it’s something that was developed thousands of years ago after someone tried to use medical nanotechnology in warfare. I was only able to penetrate Saur’s defenses after dozens of physical injections—and even then, the mind-conditioning only worked because Saur was weaker than most. That’s why I wanted the Krinar to leave Earth: because I can’t control them effectively. With humans, it’s much easier. You’re completely unshielded; all I need to do is release the nanocytes into the air in the most populated areas and they’ll find their intended targets.” Mia’s head was spinning. “So let me get this straight... You’re trying to get rid of your own kind so that you can mind-control—or, rather, mind-condition—all the humans on Earth?” “When you say it that way, it does sound crazy, doesn’t it?” Saret smiled wryly. “But yes, that is indeed what I’m trying to do. I want to bring peace to your people, Mia. Is that such a bad thing? Think about it for a minute. Wouldn’t you want to live in a world where you can walk down the street at night without worrying about getting killed or raped? Where serial killers are the stuff of horror movies, instead of existing in real life? No more school shootings, no more terrorism or war... Doesn’t that sound like something you’d want?”

Mia stared at him. For a moment, the picture he painted did seem strangely appealing. “Of course,” she said. “But what you’re talking about is an invasion of our minds. You want to take away our free will—” “Free will?” Saret raised his eyebrows. “How do you define free will? Your people will be free to live as they please, to be with whomever they want, to do whatever they want... They just won’t be able to kill or hurt others when the urge strikes them.” “And they will worship you, right?” Mia said, her eyes narrowing. “That’s what you ultimately want, isn’t it? An entire planet full of puppets who will obey your every command?” Saret laughed, shaking his head. “Put like that, it does sound awful, doesn’t it? But no, Mia dear, that’s not how I see it. Your people will worship me, true—but that’s because I will be their savior. I will be the one to bring an end to their suffering, to liberate their planet and bring them peace.” “And what are you planning to do with the rest of the Krinar here?” Mia asked, the thought just occurring to her. “Korum foiled your plan with the Resistance, and all your people are still here. Don’t you think they would notice if all the humans suddenly became peaceful? If murder rates went to zero overnight?” “It wouldn’t happen overnight,” Saret said. “Complete mind conditioning takes many days, if not weeks. But yes, they would ultimately notice, of course—which is why I’ll have to get rid of everyone in the Centers and make sure the protective field prevents anyone else from coming here any time soon.” Mia took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw up. Surely he didn’t mean— “Get rid of everyone how?” He sighed. “By killing them, of course.” All color faded from Mia’s face. “Killing all fifty thousand Krinar?” she whispered, unable to comprehend the evil required to do murder on that scale. Saret shrugged. “The majority of them, yes. Some might survive, of course, but most will perish.” “Perish how?” Mia could hear the hysterical edge in her own voice. “How can you possibly kill so many?” “By utilizing that same nano weapon Rafor and the Resistance planned to use as a threat,” Saret explained, looking at her calmly. “The design Korum gave us through you was faulty, of course, but it had enough of the right elements that I’ve

been able to hire someone to perfect it. It’s almost ready now; my designer is just putting the final touches on it.” “So let me get this clear,” Mia said, staring at the psychopath sitting next to her, “you want to murder fifty thousand of your own kind in your quest to bring peace to Earth? And you don’t see anything wrong with that?” “Of course I do.” Saret frowned. “Do you think I’ll enjoy that part of the plan? I would’ve gladly sent them back to Krina or tried to control them if I could. But I can’t. All I can do is try to make them disappear in as painless of a way as possible. I know it’s not exactly consistent with my pacifist agenda. But you see, Mia, the good of the many far outweighs the needs of the few. We should’ve never come to your planet; it was your cheren’s endless ambition that brought us here in the first place. Now we must atone for what we did; we must pay for our sins against your kind—” “Are you going to kill me, too?” Mia felt her fear fading as a strange numbness started to set in. What he was intending was so horrific she simply couldn’t process it fully. “Or are you planning to make me into a puppet? That’s why you’re telling me this, isn’t it? Because you’re not worried that I’ll tell anyone?” Saret grinned, releasing her arm and covering her hand with his palm instead. His touch felt scalding on her skin, making her realize how icy her hands had become. “The thought of you as a puppet is rather appealing, I must say,” he said, his eyes darkening again. “And maybe I’ll do that eventually... But I’d rather not tamper with your mind too much at first. I quite like you as you are right now.” “So what are you going to do with me then?” Mia’s tone was almost disinterested. “If you’re not going to kill me, that is—” “I won’t kill you,” Saret reassured her. “I’m simply going to make sure you don’t remember this conversation—or anything else that happened in the past few months. It’ll be for the best, you’ll see... I know you got attached to that monster, and you’d probably miss him if he was gone. But this way, you’ll be free from his influence forever. It will be as though he had never been in your life.” Mia stared at him, acidic rage starting to burn in the pit of her stomach. “You’re going to kill Korum and erase my memory to make me forget him?” “No, Mia dear,” Saret said, smiling. “I wouldn’t be that cruel to you. I will erase your memory first. That way, you won’t feel anything when he dies. I don’t want to put you through that kind of trauma, you see. Painful memories like that are the hardest to get rid of, and the last thing I’d want is to give you nightmares that linger in your subconscious—”

“You’re insane,” Mia said, her anger growing by the second. She welcomed the feeling because it helped clear the fog of terror from her brain. “You really think that’s a mercy, invading my brain like that? And why do you care about me, anyway? You’re about to murder fifty thousand Krinar without a second thought, and I’m just Korum’s charl—” “You know, I’ve asked myself that same question.” Saret’s forehead creased in an introspective frown. “You’re just a human girl—a pretty one, to be sure—but nothing all that special, to be honest. I didn’t understand at first why Korum was so obsessed with you. But then a funny thing happened, Mia—” he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming darkly, “—I started wanting you myself.” He paused for a second, and then continued, ignoring the look of horrified disgust on her face. “Believe me, it’s been hell, seeing you all the time and knowing that I don’t have the right to touch you, that he’s the one taking you to bed every night. But now things will be different. When you wake up, it will be as if he never existed... and you will be mine, the way you should’ve been from the very beginning.” Sickened to her very core, Mia tried to yank her hand away, hot nausea boiling up in her throat. He held her for a second, then let go, watching with a smile as she jumped back like a scalded cat. “Never,” she hissed, backing away toward the wall. “Do you hear me? I don’t know what you’re imagining here, but I’ll never be with you willingly. You might be able to force me, but that’s all it will ever be between us, memories or not—” “Why?” Saret asked, still smiling. “Because you think you’re in love with him? What does a twenty-year-old know about love? He seduced you, Mia, that’s all. When he’s gone from your life, I’ll do the same—and you’ll love me just as much as you thought you loved him.” Mia laughed, her desperation making her reckless. The thought of forgetting Korum and being forced to share the bed of a would-be mass murderer was so repugnant she thought she’d rather die. Maybe she could goad him into killing her. “Oh, really?” she said contemptuously. “I’m not even the least bit attracted to you, Saret. You’re like dog food to me. I wanted Korum from the beginning—from the first moment I saw him. But not you. Never you. Do you understand me?” As she spoke, she could see the smile fading from Saret’s face, his expression hardening. “We’ll see about that,” he said, getting up and stalking toward her. “Once your memories are gone, you’ll be singing a very different tune, believe me.”

“No!” Mia screamed as he reached for her. Her nails curved into claws, raked down his arms as he grabbed her. “Get away from me, you sick fuck! No!!!” Ignoring her yells and struggles, Saret lifted her and carried her out of his office, his arms like iron bands around her body. Walking to the far side of the lab, he placed her on one of the floating planks by the wall. The intelligent surface immediately wrapped itself around her arms and legs, holding her completely immobile while Saret reached into the wall and took out a small white device. “No!” Mia tried to twist her head as he approached her again. “No! Don’t!” Saret paused for a second, looking down at her. “I’m sorry, Mia,” he said softly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. If I had only met you first... But this won’t hurt, I promise...” And pressing the device to her forehead, he gave her a gentle smile. That smile was the last thing Mia saw before her world faded into darkness.

PART II

6

K

orum checked the time again.

Mia should’ve been home already. Her message had reached him twenty minutes ago, and he’d immediately cut short the testing session with his designers, unable to resist the urge to see her as soon as possible. While waiting for her, he’d quickly prepared dinner, making her favorite shari salad and a mushroom-potato dish from a recipe given to him by Mia’s mother. He’d asked Ella Stalis for it before they left Florida, wanting to surprise Mia with it someday. He loved seeing her small face light up with pleasure and excitement when he did things like that. Her happiness meant the world to him these days. Where was she? Mildly annoyed, Korum queried his computer to determine her location. The complex device embedded in his palm was completely synced with his neural pathways—so much so that using it was the equivalent of thinking in a certain way. Not all Krinar liked the idea of being so integrated with technology, with many choosing to stick to old-fashioned voice commands and stand-alone devices instead. Korum thought it was idiotic to be so mistrustful, but then again, he had designed the computer himself and understood its limits and capabilities. Many of his kind had no idea how even simple human electronics worked, nor did they have a desire to learn—something he would never understand. As soon as he sent the mental query, her location came to him with crystal clarity: the lab. She was still at the lab. The tracking devices he’d once embedded in her hands were proving to be quite useful, even now that she was no longer involved with the Resistance. His lips quirking in a smile, Korum thought about her reaction whenever the topic of his shining her came up. She was like an angry kitten then, all tiny claws

and ruffled fur. It made him want to cuddle her and fuck her at the same time—a confusing mix of desires she always evoked in him. He supposed he should feel bad for shining her. And sometimes, he almost did. She resented the fact that he would now always know her location, not understanding that it gave him a tremendous peace of mind. She was so fragile, so human... If he had his way, she would never leave his side; he’d always keep her next to him where he could protect her. But he knew she wouldn’t want that. It was important to her to have her independence, to excel in her chosen field and contribute to society. He understood and respected that, but it still didn’t make it any easier on him. When they’d been in New York—before he’d given her the nanocytes that made her less vulnerable— it had been all he could do to let her venture out on her own, especially in a human city where something as stupid as a car accident could easily claim her life. That’s why he’d always had a guardian following her then, staying no more than a hundred yards away at any given time. She’d never suspected, of course, nor was Korum ever planning to tell her. But it had been for her own protection; even back then, he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of anything happening to her. Checking the time again, Korum saw that twenty-five minutes had passed. Why was she still at the lab? Had something happened to delay her? If Saret was making her work late again, he’d have a serious talk with him. By now, Mia had proven herself quite useful, and Korum was certain his friend wouldn’t terminate her apprenticeship even if she had to work fewer hours. Sending another mental query, Korum reached out to the communication device he’d made for her—what she called her wristwatch-bracelet. To his surprise and growing disquiet, he couldn’t connect to it at all; it was as if there was only emptiness where digital signals should’ve been. Something was wrong. Korum knew it with sudden certainty. Raising his hand, he stared down at his palm, his eyes following the tiny pulses of light playing underneath his skin. It was a way for him to concentrate, to utilize specific mental pathways that were more complex than those required for basic daily tasks. This particular path was not something he’d used in recent weeks, not since the Resistance was defeated. Mia didn’t know about this either, and Korum wasn’t planning to tell her. There was no need; he’d stopped using the device to monitor her activities. The only reason why it was still on her is because the process for removing it was fairly complicated—and because he liked the idea of having it

there for emergencies. Keeping his eyes glued to his palm, Korum sent a deep probe, activating the tiny recording device hidden underneath Mia’s left earlobe. It would allow him to hear everything in her vicinity and, more importantly, to check on her vital signs. As soon as the device came on, some of the tension left his muscles. She was okay, her heartbeat strong and her breathing steady. And yet... Korum frowned, listening carefully. Everything was quiet—too quiet. If she was still working, she should’ve been moving around, talking to whomever had delayed her. Instead, it was as if she was asleep right now. Asleep... or unconscious. As soon as he thought of the second possibility, he knew he was on the right track. But why would she be unconscious? This didn’t make any sense. And was that... ? He listened again. Were those someone else’s movements he was hearing around her? His unease morphed into full-blown worry. Getting up, Korum strode swiftly to the wall and exited the house. Pausing for a few seconds, he sent a mental command to have a transport pod created with all possible speed. While the nanomachines did their job, he reached deep into the recording device’s archives. All the recorders he designed worked like that; even when they weren’t activated to broadcast in real time, they were still collecting data and storing it internally. It took a second, and then he was accessing the recorder’s memories, scanning through them to find the right spot. He started with the exact moment when Mia sent him her message. Instead of listening to the recording at normal speed, he had his computer create an instant transcript, which he then read in a few seconds. And as Korum understood what he was reading, every cell in his body filled with volcanic fury. He couldn’t even begin to process the magnitude of the betrayal—nor the sheer evil that was about to be unleashed by a man he’d considered a friend for the past two thousand years. And Mia... No, he couldn’t think about it. Not now, at least. If they were all to survive, he needed to focus, to control his rage and pain. Utilizing every ounce of willpower he possessed, Korum reached for the coolly rational side of himself and began to analyze the best way to handle the situation.

SARET WATCHED IMPATIENTLY AS KORUM FINALLY LEFT THE HOUSE AND CREATED THE TRANSPORT POD. Now his nemesis would come looking for Mia, hopefully with minimal—if any— suspicions. Of course, it would never do to underestimate him. The bastard always had some nasty surprises for those who did. Still, Korum had no reason to think anything sinister was going on, and he would certainly never expect Saret to try to kill him. It was unfortunate that Mia had come across those files today. Saret had always known that someone could snoop around and figure out that Saur hadn’t been quite as knowledgeable about memory erasure as he’d been portrayed to be. Saret should’ve moved the files, but everyone in the lab knew better than to access other people’s work without Saret’s explicit permission. Everyone, except one human girl, as it turned out. Then again, maybe on some level, Saret had wanted her to find out. He’d enjoyed explaining his plan to her and watching the emotions on her expressive little face. She hadn’t understood fully, of course, still too caught up in Korum’s web to think clearly. It had made him angry, what she’d said about not being attracted to him. She’d been lying, of course, trying to goad him into doing something stupid. He was a Krinar male in his prime; he knew full well that human women desired him. And she would want him too; he had made sure of that. He would be gentle with her at first, not like Korum had been when they met. Saret had seen some of the recordings from the beginning of their relationship at the trial, and it had made him angry, the way his nemesis had handled her then. Saret would make a better cheren, he was certain of that. Now where was Korum? Frowning, Saret looked at the image again. It appeared his enemy was in no hurry. Instead of flying to the lab, Korum was standing next to the ship and leisurely chatting with some Krinar woman Saret had never seen before. He was almost... flirting with her? Fucking bastard, already cheating on Mia. Well, no matter, Korum would get here soon enough. And when he did, he would be in for a nice little surprise. Unbeknownst to all, Saret had spent the past several years building a high-tech fortress within the lab. All Krinar buildings were durable, meant to withstand anything from a nuclear blast to a volcanic eruption. His lab, however, went a step further: the walls were weaponized—designed to kill anyone who tried to enter

once Saret activated the protection mode. They were also impenetrable by any form of nanotechnology because Saret had installed the same shields that served as the Centers’ defenses. It hadn’t been easy, doing this. Weapons were not something that the general population had easy access to, especially specialized nano-weapons like those embedded in his walls. Saret had been forced to call in a lot of favors and spend a sizable chunk of his personal fortune to get everything set up exactly as he wanted it. It had cost him even more to keep everything a secret. Now, however, it would all pay off. In another couple of days, the nano-weapon that he planned to use in the Centers would be ready. The dispersion devices with the nanocytes had already been planted in all the key human cities. All he needed now was patience.

ANOTHER TEN MINUTES, AND SARET WAS LOSING WHAT REMAINED OF THAT PATIENCE. WHAT THE HELL was taking Korum so long? Had Saret underestimated his enemy’s attachment to the girl? It looked like the bastard was still flirting with that woman. There he was now, laughing and touching her arm. What the fuck? Whatever happened to his obsession with Mia? Had she been just a toy for him all along? As soon as the thought occurred to Saret, he dismissed it. No, something was up. He was suddenly certain of it. Was his enemy playing him for a fool? Was he even now being fed a false image? There was no way to tell; the figures Saret was watching looked completely real. But, as Saret knew full well, looks could be deceiving. He had to face the possibility that Korum had figured out something was going on. Moving swiftly, Saret armed himself and put on a protective shield that wrapped around his entire body. The lab walls were still his best defense, and he had every intention of confronting his nemesis here, where Saret had the home advantage. He felt no fear, though his pulse spiked in anticipation of the upcoming fight. Glancing at Mia, Saret made sure that she was still unconscious, lying restrained on the medical float. She might wake up soon, and he was hoping to have all the unpleasantness over with before that happened. Ignoring the adrenaline rushing through his veins, Saret sat down next to her and stroked her arm, marveling at the smoothness of her pale skin. She looked so

pretty, with her dark lashes fanning across her cheeks and that soft mouth slightly parted. What was that human children’s story? Sleeping Beauty? Actually, she looked more like Snow White, Saret decided, with her milky complexion and dark hair. Leaning down, he kissed her lips, brushing them lightly with his tongue. As he’d suspected, she was delicious; just that tiny taste was enough to make him hard. If he had more time, he would’ve taken her right then and there, unconscious or not. But he didn’t have more time. He needed to stay focused. One way or another, Korum would be here soon. Getting up, Saret walked over to the image again. By now, he was almost certain it was fake. Where was Korum? Saret began to pace, too agitated to sit down again. When it all began two minutes later, he didn’t even notice at first. A low humming sound was his first warning that something was wrong. The noise seemed to fill the air, gradually increasing in volume until it was almost a roar to his sensitive Krinar hearing. Then the walls began to melt. Saret had never seen anything like it before: the material designed to withstand a nuclear blast seemed to liquefy from the top down, as if the building was made of wax. Now Saret tasted fear. Sharp and acidic, it pooled low in his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be safe here, in his carefully constructed fortress... but he wasn’t. Saret didn’t know of any weapon that could do this—that could penetrate the same shields that protected the colonies—but his eyes didn’t lie. The walls were literally melting around him. There was only one thing left to do: retreat and live to fight another day. For a second, Saret considered taking Mia with him, but she would slow him down and he couldn’t take that risk. He would have to come back for her. Casting one last look at the unconscious girl on the float, Saret activated the emergency escape chute and disappeared through the building floor.

7

“I

want him found. By any means necessary. Do you understand me?” Korum

was aware that his voice sounded sharp, but he could no longer contain the icy rage coursing through his veins. Alir, the leader of the guardians, nodded. “We’ll bring him to you,” he promised, his black eyes cold and expressionless. “Good,” Korum said curtly. Turning around, he stalked toward the back of the room, where Ellet was sitting beside Mia and running diagnostic tests. At his approach, the Krinar woman looked up, signs of strain evident on her beautiful face. “She should regain consciousness soon,” she said softly. “But, Korum, I’m afraid the damage has been done.” “What are you saying?” He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t accept that possibility. “I’m afraid the scan is showing signs of trauma consistent with a memory loss. I’m so sorry—” “No. You must be wrong.” His fists clenched so hard his nails entered his skin, drawing blood. “There must be something we can do—” “I’ll look into it,” Ellet said, rising from her sitting position. “But this type of erasure tends to be irreversible, I’m afraid.” Korum took a step forward. “I don’t want you to look into this, Ellet,” he said evenly. “I fucking want you to drop whatever else you’re doing and bring her memory back.” Ellet frowned. “You know I’ll do my best—”

“Do better than that.” Korum knew he wasn’t being rational, but he didn’t care. He had never felt this way before—so savagely murderous. He wanted to tear Saret apart, to rip him up piece by piece and hear him scream in agony. He wanted to eviscerate the man he’d once regarded as a friend and bathe in his blood, like the ancients used to do with their enemies. Underneath the swirling rage and bitterness at the betrayal, guilt—heavy and terrible—sat uncomfortably on Korum’s shoulders. Mia had been hurt—hurt because of him. Because he’d failed to protect her from the monster in their midst. Because he’d been far too trusting. If it hadn’t been for him, she would’ve never had that internship, would’ve never been exposed to Saret’s sick cravings. If he hadn’t brought her to Lenkarda, she would’ve never been in harm’s way. How could Korum not have seen it earlier? How could he not have sensed that kind of hatred? His greatest enemy had turned out to be one of his closest friends— and he hadn’t known until it was too late. And now he could see pity on Ellet’s face. She knew how he felt about Mia and could probably guess at his mental state right now. “I will, Korum,” she said soothingly. “I promise you, I’ll do everything possible to help.” Korum took a deep, calming breath. It wasn’t Ellet’s fault his friend had turned out to be the worst psychopath in modern Krinar history. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Ellet smiled, looking relieved. “You can take her home now, if you’d like. She’ll wake up naturally in a few hours, and it might as well be at your house. The fewer of us she has to deal with at first, the better.” Korum nodded. “Of course.” Bending down over Mia’s float, he carefully picked her up, cradling her gently against his chest. She was so light, so fragile in his arms. The realization that she could’ve been killed today was like poison in his veins, burning him from the inside. Saret would pay for what he did to her—for what he planned to do to them all. Korum would make sure of that.

MIA LET OUT A SMALL HUFFING SOUND AND WRINKLED HER NOSE, ONE SLIM HAND COMING UP TO BRUSH a dark curl off her cheek. Her eyes were still closed for now, although it was obvious she was starting to regain consciousness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Korum watched her slowly wake up, unable to tear

his eyes away. Logically, he knew she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but it didn’t matter. To him, she was perfect. He loved everything about her; each and every part of her delicate little body turned him on. Even now, as she lay there in her pale pink dress, he had to fight the urge to touch her, to bring her closer to him and bury himself deep inside her. The unsettling mixture of lust and tenderness she evoked in him was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Like many Krinar, Korum had always regarded sex as a fun recreational activity. Most of his prior relationships had been casual affairs, similar to the fling he’d had with Ellet a few years ago. He liked women and he enjoyed their company outside of the bedroom as well, but he had never wanted to be with one on a permanent basis—had never felt the urge to claim one as his own. Until Mia. For some reason, this human girl appealed to his darkest, most primitive instincts. The way he felt about her went beyond sexual desire, beyond a craving for her tender flesh. What he really wanted was to possess her completely, to have her be his in every possible way. It was not an unknown phenomenon among the Krinar. In ancient times, Krinar males needed to hunt and to protect their territory—and they were far more likely to do an effective job if they were strongly attached to their mates. It had been a simple evolutionary adaptation at the time—a male’s obsessive fixation on one specific female. Deeper than lust, stronger than love, it was a powerful combination of the two that ensured a man would give up his life to protect his woman and their offspring. Over the years, as Krinar society became more civilized, that kind of attachment became less important to the species’ survival, and the genetic tendency toward it weakened over time. It still happened, of course, but it was a fairly rare occurrence in modern times—which was why Korum hadn’t realized what was going on when he first met Mia. He hadn’t understood at first why he was feeling that way. All he’d known was that he wanted her—and that he had to have her. Even her initial reluctance hadn’t been enough to deter him; if anything, her wariness had intrigued him, triggering the predatory instincts he normally managed to suppress. He had never pursued someone like that before, had never been less than considerate of a woman’s wishes, but with Mia, he had been ruthless. He’d gone after her with all the intensity in his nature, disregarding all notions of right and wrong. In less than a week, he’d gotten what he wanted: Mia in his bed, in his

apartment—his to take whenever he wanted. It had taken him far longer to earn her love. To this day, he couldn’t help the anger that stirred in his stomach when he thought about her involvement with the Resistance. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame her for fighting back, for not trusting him in the beginning. She was a mere child in comparison to him; he should’ve been more cognizant of her fears, should’ve patiently seduced her instead of forcing her into the relationship. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have believed the fighters’ lies, wouldn’t have betrayed him the way she did. But he hadn’t been patient. The strength of his emotions had caught him offguard, blinding him to everything but the need to have her. What had begun as a sexual obsession had quickly become something much deeper, and Korum hadn’t known how to cope with that. He’d acted out of hurt and anger, using her against the Resistance as punishment for spying on him, when he should’ve simply explained everything to her, made her understand his intentions. The fact that she loved him now was a miracle—one that he was grateful for every day. And if she didn’t remember him when she woke up, then he would use that as an opportunity for a new beginning, as a way to make amends for what happened before. One way or another, Mia would love him again. The alternative was unthinkable.

FINALLY, HER EYELIDS FLUTTERED open-mouthed shock.

OPEN.

SHE

BLINKED, LOOKING CONFUSED, THEN STARED AT HIM IN

Gently stroking her arm, Korum smiled. “Hello, my darling,” he said, purposefully injecting a soothing note into his voice. What he really wanted was to hug her to him, but that would frighten her if she had indeed lost her memory and he was now a stranger to her. As it was, he could hear her heartbeat speeding up, feel the sudden tension in her muscles as she realized what he was. Her small pink tongue came out, licking her bottom lip in that unconsciously provocative gesture that always drove him insane. He could see the fear in her eyes... and it was like a knife to his heart, the pain sharp and slicing. Yanking her arm away, she scrambled back, toward the other side of the bed.

“What am I doing here? Who are you?” Korum could hear the panic in her voice, and he forced himself to remain still, to not make any movements in her direction. “I’m Korum,” he said instead, looking for any sign of recognition on her face. But there was none. Pushing away his disappointment, he asked, “What’s the last thing you remember, my sweet?” She visibly swallowed, scooting back even further. “I’m in class,” she whispered. “I’m taking a test...” “What test, my darling? What class are you in?” Just how much memory had Saret erased? “My... my Child Psychology class,” she answered, her voice shaking slightly. Korum exhaled in relief. “So it’s your Spring Semester.” She’d only lost a couple of months, not years as he’d initially feared. She nodded, still looking terrified. “What do you want from me? Why did you bring me here?” He could hear the rising hysteria in her voice. Korum sighed. This was going to be difficult. “It’s complicated, Mia,” he said softly. “Would you like me to explain?” She nodded again, her blue eyes wide and fearful. “Then come here, and we’ll talk,” he said, watching as she tensed further. “I promise you, I won’t hurt you in any way... Just sit here, beside me.” He patted the bed, needing to have her closer. She hesitated, and he saw the emotions flitting across her fine-featured face. He could tell the exact moment when she decided she had nothing to lose by accommodating his request. After all, he was a Krinar and thus equally dangerous up close or ten feet away. Her slim body shaking, she slowly moved back in his direction, watching him warily. When she was close enough, Korum reached out and took her hand, warming her chilled skin between his palms. She jerked initially, then stilled, her gaze trained on his face. Korum smiled, some of the tension inside him easing because she allowed his touch. “We’re lovers, Mia,” he said gently, watching her reaction. “You don’t remember me because you lost some of your memory. It’s June now, and we’re in Lenkarda, our Center in Costa Rica.”

8

M ia stared at the gorgeous Krinar male who was now softly rubbing her hand. What he’d just told her was pure insanity. They were lovers? She’d lost her memory? Out of all the crazy scenarios running through Mia’s mind, this hadn’t even been on the list of possibilities. Was he toying with her? If so, why, and what was the real story? Mia tried to control her panic long enough to think, but it was like a part of her brain was filled with fog. Even recent events—spring break, the exams—seemed blurry in her mind, as if they’d happened long ago instead of in the last couple of weeks. “You don’t believe me, do you?” the K asked, his amber-colored eyes watching her with unsettling warmth. “No, of course not.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. All things considered, Mia felt like she was handling this reasonably well. She wasn’t crying or screaming, and she was actually carrying on a conversation with an alien who had most likely kidnapped her. An alien who might or might not drink human blood—and who was now stroking her wrist in a way that made her belly tighten with strange excitement. Why wasn’t she more afraid of him? Everything she knew about his kind suggested she should be terrified for her life. But she wasn’t. She was freaking out because she didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there—or why she was with a K who claimed to be her lover—but she wasn’t truly afraid. If anything, she found his presence oddly comforting, his touch both soothing and electrifying. Had he done something to make her react this way? “Of course not,” he repeated, giving her an understanding smile. “How could you believe something so crazy without proof, right?”

Mia nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from that smile. The dimple in his left cheek fascinated her; it was so boyish, so incongruous with the rest of his appearance. “All right, my darling.” His voice was disconcertingly tender. “Let me show you proof.” And still holding her hand, he gestured to the side, where a threedimensional holographic image suddenly appeared in mid-air. Mia gasped, startled, and then she saw that the image was of herself and the K beside her. They appeared to be walking on the beach, talking and laughing. The K reached down and picked up the girl in the image, lifting her as effortlessly as if she was made of air. She laughed again, then wound her arms around his neck, kissing him with such passion that Mia’s cheeks heated up. “What is that? Where did you get this video from?” Mia felt herself furiously blushing as the K kissed the girl back, holding her up with one arm and using the other to reach underneath her dress. “It’s just a recording from one of our satellites,” the K named Korum explained, watching her with an unusual golden gleam in his eyes. For some reason, Mia could feel herself getting turned on by that look, her heart starting to beat faster and her nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric of her dress. She desperately hoped the K didn’t notice; it would be embarrassing—and potentially dangerous—if he knew how much he affected her. And then she realized what he just said. “Wait, your satellites were spying on us?” “Our satellites are always recording everything,” he explained, those sensuous lips curving into a smile. “But don’t worry, my sweet, only our computers get to see it, unless someone places a specific request—the way I did.” Mia’s pulse quickened, this time from anxiety. “Are you saying we never have any privacy from you?” “Of course not,” the K said casually. “You don’t have much of it from your own government either. You know that, right?” Mia blinked. She did know that. GPS and cell phones had made it practically impossible for a person to hide, and she knew that various government agencies used all the means at their disposal to track down terrorists and other criminals. As a law-abiding citizen, she’d never thought much about the fact that all her activities—from browsing the Internet to placing a phone call—could be monitored if necessary. She’d just accepted it as a part of life in the twenty-first century. But,

for some reason, the idea of Krinar satellites watching her every move was more than a little disturbing. Frowning, Mia realized she was acting as if the image being shown to her was real. There was absolutely no assurance of that; as advanced as the Krinar were, surely it would be child’s play for them to conjure up whatever video they wanted, three-dimensional or not. “How do I know you didn’t make this up?” she said, gesturing toward the image where the couple were now engaged in a full-blown make-out session. Her blush deepening, Mia looked away again. “You don’t, of course,” the Krinar said. “I could make this up if I wanted to. I have hundreds of other recordings I could show you, and you’d be smart not to trust any of them.” Mia laughed nervously, surprised by his frankness. “Okay then, how can you prove any of this to me?” She couldn’t believe she was even entertaining the idea that this could be real. How could any rational person believe this? Surely she would remember if she’d had sex with a gorgeous alien... or even just had sex in general. The K smiled again. “There are a number of ways,” he said. “Let’s start with the fact that you understand me right now, even though I’m speaking to you in Krinar.” Mia gaped at him in shock. She had definitely understood what he was saying, even though he’d said the last sentence in a language she was sure she’d never heard before. “Wait, what?” Her words came out in that same language. “You’re talking to me in Krinar?” “Yes, and you’re answering me in Krinar too,” he said, his smile widening. “And now I’m talking to you in Italian. You still understand me, right?” Mia nodded, her head spinning from the impossibility of it all. “That’s because you have a tiny implant that acts as a translator,” the K explained, this time in English. “I gave it to you as soon as we came here, to Lenkarda. It allows you to speak and understand any known language, both human and Krinar.” “But—” Mia didn’t even know where to begin. “How do I know you didn’t just give it to me now? And wait, did I hear you say before that it’s June? The last thing I remember is in March. How would I have lost a chunk of my memory? This makes no sense—” The K sighed and raised his hand, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I

know, Mia,” he said softly. “I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept. Let me tell you a little story, and then I’ll demonstrate to you that I’m not lying. Okay?” “Okay,” Mia agreed, mesmerized by the warm look on his beautiful face. How could someone that gorgeous be her lover? Maybe this was all just an unusually realistic dream. Could she even now be sound asleep, with her unconscious creating this stunning creature? If he was indeed her lover, then she was the luckiest girl in the world—though she still didn’t see how such a thing was possible. “Good,” he said, his golden eyes gleaming. “Then let me tell you about us starting from the beginning...” And for the next twenty minutes, Mia listened in shock as he went through their initial meeting in April and detailed the tumultuous affair that followed as a result. When he began to explain about her involvement with the Resistance, Mia’s jaw simply dropped. “I was spying on you?” Where on Earth had she gotten the courage to do that? Although he was being gentle with her now, Mia had a feeling this particular K could be quite dangerous if provoked. In general, his kind weren’t known for their forgiving nature, their violent streak amply demonstrated during the fights of the Great Panic. “You were,” the K confirmed, his jaw tightening a little. “But I was at fault too, because I knew you were doing it and fed you false information.” Mia gave him an incredulous look. “And you’re saying we’re lovers? After all that?” “We’re more than lovers, Mia. You’re my charl.” “Charl?” He nodded. “It’s our word for what you are to me. The best approximation would be something like human mate.” “Like a wife?” Mia could hear her own voice rising in disbelief. He smiled. “Not exactly, but you could think of it that way, yes.” Mia stared at him. “But you said I met you in April and it’s only June now. When did we have a chance to get married?” He hesitated for a second. “It doesn’t work like that, my darling. There is no formal ceremony in a charl-cheren relationship.”

“So then how does it work? How is this different from just being boyfriend and girlfriend?” Not that she could even picture this beautiful creature as her boyfriend. But a husband? Her mind boggled at the thought. “It’s different, Mia, because I couldn’t give a mere girlfriend what I gave you,” he said quietly. “Because by claiming you as my charl, I have brought you fully into our world, with all that it entails.” Mia’s heart started beating faster again. “And what does it entail?” “A much longer lifespan,” he said softly. “Freedom from aging and disease. Immortality, as you like to call it.”

KORUM COULD SEE HER EYES WIDENING, SKEPTICISM WARRING WITH EXCITEMENT ON HER FACE. THE curl that he’d just tucked away behind her ear came loose again, refusing to be contained. He loved that rebellious curl; it always lured his fingers to her hair, making him want to touch its soft, thick mass. In general, he was both surprised and pleased by her reaction thus far. She was naturally cautious, so some wariness was to be expected, but she was far less frightened than he would’ve expected her to be. She didn’t cringe away from his touch, nor did she seem to object to his nearness. Somehow, despite her lack of conscious memories, she must still recognize him on some level, must still trust him not to hurt her. “You have the ability to make humans immortal?” she asked, a small frown creasing her smooth forehead. Korum sighed, not wanting to go down that path again. “We do,” he said patiently. “But not all humans—only those that become a part of our society. I’m currently trying to get an exception for your parents and sister, though—” “You know them?” she interrupted. “You’ve met my family?” “I do, and I have,” Korum confirmed, glad that it was the case. It would’ve been much worse if she’d lost her memory before their Florida trip. “And that’s how you’re going to know I’m telling you the truth, my sweet. You’re going to speak to Marisa and your parents.” Mia looked startled at the idea, and then her face lit up. By now Korum knew her well enough to understand that he’d just managed to dispel whatever fears she harbored over being separated from her loved ones.

Her strong attachment to her family was one of Mia’s main vulnerabilities, and Korum had not hesitated to exploit it in the past—to use it to bind her even closer to him. It had been surprisingly easy to win over both her parents and her sister. He had carefully researched everything about them before their meeting, and they had reacted exactly as he’d hoped, their initial distrust fading as they saw that Mia was happy and loved. And that made Mia even happier and more attached to him. Rightly or wrongly, Korum knew that he would do anything to keep her that way. She might not remember it now, but she had loved him once—and she would again. For now, though, he needed to prove to her that he was neither crazy nor playing a trick on her. “Here, use this,” he said, giving her a new wrist computer he’d made a couple of hours ago. This time, he’d added visual capabilities to it, to make it even easier for her to stay in touch with her family. Showing Mia how to operate the device took another minute, and then she was connecting to her parents’ Skype account, her mother’s voice and image appearing in the room. Smiling, Korum walked across the room and sat down in the corner, giving the two women some privacy. He could still hear everything they were discussing, however, and he listened with a great deal of curiosity. As usual, his little charl seemed very concerned with not causing her parents any worry. Instead of letting on that she lost her memory, Mia kept the conversation light and generic, inquiring about her parents’ health and asking how Marisa was doing. Grinning, Korum listened as Ella Stalis blithely chatted about the latest developments in Marisa’s pregnancy (three pounds gained!) and how much they’d enjoyed having Mia and Korum in the area. Though her sister’s pregnancy had to have come as a shock to Mia, she gamely oohed-and-aahed at the right moments, acting as if everything was normal. She even managed to laugh and promise to come for a visit again soon, as though she remembered the last trip perfectly. Korum couldn’t help admiring her for this; he knew how lost and anxious she must be feeling right now, and he was more than a little impressed with her composure. Finally, Mia finished her conversation and looked at him. “Do you want this back?” she asked uncertainly, indicating the wrist device he’d given her. “No, that’s yours to keep.” Korum got up and walked toward her. “Did this help? Do you believe me now?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and he saw the pain and confusion on her face. “If this is all true, then what happened? How did I manage to lose such an important part of my life? Did I hit my head or something?” “Or something.” Korum tried to push away enraging thoughts about Saret’s betrayal. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her right now. Raising his hand, he gave in to the urge to stroke her cheek instead, reveling in the familiar feel of her soft skin underneath his fingers. She blinked at him, her thick lashes sweeping up and down like dark fans. To his immense satisfaction, she didn’t flinch away from his touch. If anything, she seemed to lean toward him, as though she was also craving physical closeness. Unable to resist any longer, Korum bent his head and kissed her, holding her face gently with his hands. Just a kiss, he promised himself, just one small kiss... At first she was stiff, her mouth closed against the intrusion of his tongue. He could feel her heart beating frantically in her chest, sense her momentary panic, and then her lips softened, parted a bit. Her hands came up, pressing lightly against his chest, as if uncertain whether to push him away or hold him close. Her response, when it came, was much more tentative than usual, but it was enough to drive him insane. The taste of her, the smell of her, was intoxicating, like a drug surging through his veins. He deepened the kiss without realizing it, one hand slipping down her back to press her closer to him, his cock so hard he felt like he was about to explode. It was only her quiet whimper that brought him back to his senses. Lifting his head, Korum looked at Mia, his breathing hard and uneven. Her pale cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen. He could smell her desire, feel the heat rising from her skin, and he knew that if he reached between her legs now, he would find her wet and slick, her body ready for him. But her mind was a different matter, Korum realized, and the look in her eyes now was that of fear and confusion. His own body raging with unfulfilled need, Korum fought for control, knowing that he needed it now more than ever. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to let her go. “I wasn’t going to do this so soon...” She took a couple of steps back and stared at him, her small chest moving up and down, drawing his attention to the hardness of her nipples underneath her dress. Korum swallowed, remembering their pale pink hue, the way they tasted in his mouth, how they pebbled under his tongue.

No, don’t fucking go there now. Lifting his eyes back to her face, Korum said, “I know you’re not ready for this yet, my sweet. I won’t hurt you, I promise...” And he meant it. He would sooner lose a limb than do anything to traumatize her while she was so vulnerable. She bit her lip, then nodded, crossing her arms around her chest in a defensive gesture that sent a pang of regret through Korum. He hated it sometimes, the allconsuming lust he always experienced in her vicinity. She was so tiny, so delicate, her body unsuited for the hard demands he often placed on it. No matter how careful he tried to be, he knew he wasn’t always the most gentle lover, his overwhelming need for her constantly testing his self-control. “So what happened?” she asked again, still watching him warily. “Why don’t I remember you, or my sister getting pregnant, or any of this? How did I lose two months of my life?” Korum took a deep breath, trying to control the anger still boiling in his veins at the thought of Saret. “Someone I knew and trusted—a man who pretended to be my friend for a long time—did this,” he said evenly. “This person wiped out a portion of your memory as a way to get at me... and because he also wanted you.” “Really?” Her eyes widened. “Another K?” “Yes, another Krinar,” Korum confirmed before explaining the whole story, starting from Mia’s internship and ending with Saret’s betrayal. Not wanting to overwhelm her, he downplayed the part about Saret’s ultimate intentions for her people, as well as some of the complexities of Council politics. She didn’t need to know everything all at once; as it was, he could see that it was already almost too much for her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her, soothe her distress, but he knew she wouldn’t welcome it now—not after the way he’d almost attacked her earlier. The best thing to do right now was to give her time, he decided. Time and space to think about everything she’d learned. “I have to go now,” Korum said, his heart squeezing painfully at the look of relief on her face. “There are a few things I have to take care of. Why don’t you relax, take it easy for now? I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we can have lunch. If you get hungry in the meantime, just say what you want out loud and it will be given to you. Unless you’re hungry now?” She shook her head, her dark curls moving around her shoulders. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Good. Feel free to explore the house if you wish. I know everything’s going to look strange to you now, but it’s all fairly intuitive, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” He smiled, remembering how much Mia enjoyed that aspect of life in Lenkarda. “All the furniture is intelligent, so don’t be startled if it conforms to your shape. The house is intelligent too, so feel free to ask it for food or anything you need.” “Okay,” she said, giving him a small smile in response. “Thanks.” Pausing for a moment longer, Korum drank in that smile. Then he walked out, leaving her alone to process everything she’d just learned.

9

E xiting the house, Korum quickly created a transport pod and headed toward a small round building in the heart of the Center—the gathering place for routine Council meetings. Walking in, he greeted the other Councilors, nodding coolly toward Loris and a couple of his other opponents. While all of them could participate in the meeting virtually, everyone living on Earth had chosen to attend in person today, given the important topic at hand. Taking a seat on one of the floats, Korum carefully watched the Councilors’ faces, seeking to gauge their collective mood. What he’d done to Saret’s lab building was bound to have frightened them, shaking their belief in the impenetrability of the Centers’ defenses. Some of the Council members failed to comprehend the necessity for technological progress, clinging to what was known and familiar instead of advancing with the times. “Welcome, Korum,” Arus said, turning toward him. “I’m glad you’re able to join us today. Is your Mia all right?” “She is, thanks,” Korum said, appreciating the concern. If anyone understood his feelings for Mia, it was probably Arus, whose devotion to his own charl was widely known. Although they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on every issue, Korum respected the ambassador and even liked him to some extent. Arus inclined his head in response. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Delia was worried when she heard about what happened.” “Please tell Delia she’s more than welcome to stop by,” Korum said quietly, aware that the whole Council was watching their exchange. “I’m sure Mia could use a friend right now.” Out of the corner of his eye, Korum could see a smirk on Loris’s face. His long-

time enemy was clearly enjoying the situation, both the fact that Korum had fallen for a human girl and the entire debacle with Saret. Toxic rage crawled through Korum’s veins again, but he didn’t let anything show on his face, keeping his expression mildly amused. Let Loris enjoy his discomfort for now; the so-called Protector wasn’t going to be on the Council much longer, given his son’s nowalmost-proven guilt. “All right then. We have a lot to discuss today.” It was Voret, one of the oldest members of the Council. “The guardians reported to us that all of Saret’s dispersion devices have been located and neutralized, thanks to Korum warning us about them in time. Apparently, they had been scheduled to go off simultaneously in approximately thirty-two hours from now. We also found the designer who had the nano-weapon. He was in Thailand and has now been arrested. The weapon was already fully functional, and Alir thinks that Saret planned to use it shortly after he succeeded in unleashing the mind-control devices among the human population. Arus, you spoke with the United Nations?” “Yes. I glossed over the situation when I explained it to them,” the ambassador answered. “They already have their hands full dealing with the military leaders who had aided the Resistance, and there is no need to scare them at this point. They just need to be aware that Saret is on the loose, so that their intelligence agencies can keep an eye out for him. I didn’t go into any detail beyond informing them that he’s a dangerous individual who needs to be apprehended promptly.” “Good,” Voret said. “You did the right thing. They already don’t trust us, and if they knew about the mind-control devices, they would probably panic again.” “And with good reason this time,” Korum said, thinking about Saret’s insane plan. “If he managed to get Saur to attack me, imagine what he could’ve done with human minds.” “Indeed,” Voret said, and Korum could see him preparing to approach the topic that was likely of most interest to the Council today. “Now as far as the other events that took place yesterday...” “Yes?” Korum prompted when the other Councilor trailed off. He knew exactly where Voret was headed, but he wanted to hear what he had to say. Voret gave him an uncomfortable look. “Now, Korum, we all watched the recordings of the events, and some of the things we saw were... disturbing, to say the least.” Korum smiled, not the least bit surprised. “Which part disturbed you the most, Voret?” he asked. “Was it the fact that Saret planned to annihilate us all in his

quest to mind-fuck the humans? Or that none of us had a clue?” Voret frowned. “You know I’m referring to the way you were able to breach the lab’s shields. We’ll address the Saret situation in greater detail once we have more information from the guardians, but first we need to know if we’re safe here, inside our Centers. Did you develop a weapon that can penetrate our force-shields?” “I did,” Korum said, enjoying the expressions of shock and fear on some of the Councilors’ faces. “But don’t worry—I’ve also developed better shields. Both are still in experimental mode, which is why no one has heard about this before.” “And you used this weapon yesterday?” Arus asked, raising his eyebrows. “Yes. I had no choice once I learned how Saret had set up the lab.” “How did you learn that?” It was Voret again. “By scanning the lab building. Once I knew what Saret intended, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that he would have some pretty strong defenses in place. Which he did. I distracted him by feeding him an image of myself from three years ago and used the time to build the weapon based on my experimental designs.” Voret’s frown deepened. “And when were you going to tell us about these new designs of yours?” “When they were ready to be used,” Korum said evenly. Voret and the others forgot sometimes that Korum was under no obligation to share anything with the Council. He chose to do so for the good of all Krinar, but he had no intention of seeking the Council’s permission and approval on every project. “Could anyone else gain access to this weapon?” Arus asked, focusing on the more important part of the issue. “Korum, are you certain no one else has these designs?” “I’m the only one,” Korum said, understanding the ambassador’s concern. “None of my designers have been involved in this project yet, and no one has access to these files.” “Not even your charl?” It was Loris this time, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “Are you sure she can’t steal the data and run to her friends in the Resistance?” Korum gave him a sardonic look. “No, Loris. She can’t. Besides, what would the Resistance do with this information without your son? We all know now how useful he was to them... and to Saret.” Loris got up slowly, his face darkening with anger. “Those were lies! Nobody

would believe them for a minute—” “Oh really?” Korum said coldly, looking at the black-haired Krinar with contempt. “We all saw the recording—and heard Saret explain Rafor’s role in his plans. Your son is as guilty as Saret himself, and he’ll be punished accordingly.” Loris’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. “Saret was your friend,” he hissed, apparently no longer able to contain himself. “For all we know, you’re the one behind it all and are now just waiting for the right moment to use your new weapon on us—” “Loris, that’s enough!” Arus’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. At the resulting silence, the ambassador continued in a calmer tone, “We understand your need to protect your son, but, unfortunately, the evidence against him continues to build. Given this new information, we’ll need to have another trial session tomorrow. It may be the final session—” Loris’s entire body shook with rage now. “Fuck you, Arus. And fuck all of you. Rafor is not a traitor. That—” he pointed in Korum’s direction, “—is the only traitor here, and you are all too fucking blind to see!” “The only blind person here is you, Loris,” Korum said calmly, watching his enemy unraveling right in front of his eyes. “And tomorrow, when the Council judges the Keiths to be guilty, the entire world will know about your failure.” That appeared to be the last straw. With an enraged roar, Loris launched himself at Korum, leaping across the room with full Krinar speed. Acting on instinct, Korum turned and twisted his body, reflexively shielding his head and throat. As Loris slammed into him, he met the brunt of the attack with his shoulder, jabbing his elbow into Loris’s side as they fell to the floor and rolled toward the middle of the chamber. With the hard floor scraping his skin, Korum felt his own rage spiking, every cell in his body filling with bloodlust. His fingers curled into claws and raked across Loris’s arm, taking out a chunk of muscle and sinew. At the same time, his arm hooked around Loris’s neck in one of the more complex defrebs moves, baring his throat to Korum’s teeth— “Enough! That’s enough!” Strong hands were pulling them apart, dragging them to separate sides of the room. Still rational enough to comprehend what was happening, Korum didn’t struggle as Arus and another Krinar held his arms, preventing him from continuing the fight. Loris, however, was completely out of control, twisting and yelling as two other Councilors held him pinned against the

wall. Finally, he seemed to run out of steam, panting and glaring at Korum in hatred. His arm was a bloody mess that was just beginning to heal. “You can unhand me now,” Korum said, his own breathing slowly calming as he glanced at the two men still holding him in an iron grip. “Sorry, Korum,” Arus said, his lips curving into a faint smile as he released Korum’s arm and took a step back. “Couldn’t let you kill him here.” Voret followed Arus’s example, letting go of Korum’s other arm. “That’s fine,” Korum said, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt. “We’ll continue this in the Arena. That’s what that was, wasn’t it, Loris? A challenge?” The black-haired Protector stared at him, his chest heaving with fury. “Yes,” he ground out between tightly clenched teeth. “You could call it a challenge.” “Good,” Korum said, giving him a wide, predatory smile. “A challenge it is, then.” He hadn’t had a good Arena fight in a while, and he could feel his blood heating up with anticipation. “Loris, that’s not a good idea,” Arus said, taking a few steps in the Krinar’s direction. Korum was unsurprised by his concern; Loris and the ambassador were usually on good terms, frequently teaming up against Korum and Saret. Korum imagined it must be difficult for Arus now, taking the side of his former opponent against a man he’d considered his ally. Loris laughed bitterly. “Oh really, Arus? Not a good idea?” Arus gave him an even look. “He excels at defrebs. When was the last time you fought?” Loris’s upper lip curled with derision. “Yeah, fuck you too, Arus. You think I’ve gone soft? I’ve had more kills in the Arena than this fucker has had fights.” “Then the challenge has been issued.” Voret stepped forward, his voice taking on a formal cadence. “Since the trial is tomorrow, the Arena fight will take place the day after at noon.” And with that, the Council meeting was adjourned.

MIA SAT ON THE BED, STARING BLANKLY AT THE GREEN FOREST OUTSIDE THE TRANSPARENT WALL. SHE was immortal, and she had a K lover—who was something like her husband, but not really.

It was so incredible she could hardly fathom it, her mind twisting and turning in a million different directions. After the K left, she’d called both Marisa and Jessie, needing additional confirmation of the impossible claims he was making. Both her sister and her friend had been quite happy to hear from her—and both had mentioned Korum in the course of Mia’s conversation with them. Marisa had gone on and on about her pregnancy and how much better she was feeling thanks to Korum’s involvement of someone called Ellet, and Jessie had asked whether Mia had decided when she and Korum were coming by for a visit. Still in a state of shock, Mia had managed to give Jessie a vague answer— something along the lines of still needing to talk to Korum—and listened politely as her sister gushed about her newest ultrasound results. To her relief, neither one of them seemed to suspect that anything was wrong, that the Mia they’d spoken to today was far from normal. She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to reveal the truth about her condition to anyone, but she was. She didn’t want to make her family and friends worry, yes, but she was also almost... embarrassed. How could this have happened to her? How could her entire family know her alien lover, while he seemed like a stranger to her? How could she have forgotten making love to someone so extraordinary? When he’d kissed her, her body had responded in a way Mia had never experienced before—or at least didn’t remember experiencing before. It had been almost frightening, the degree to which she’d lost control in his arms. If he had continued kissing her instead of stopping when he did, she could’ve easily fallen into bed with him—she, who didn’t remember going beyond a few kisses with guys before. The strangeness of her reaction to everything kept throwing her off-balance. He was an extraterrestrial—someone from a different species—yet she was barely freaking out at being told that he was her lover. She even believed him now, after just a few conversations with her family and Jessie. Theoretically, he could still be lying to her; her family could’ve been threatened or brainwashed to say what they did. Hell, he could’ve even had them replaced by some kind of robots that looked and sounded like them. It wasn’t as if Mia knew what the Ks were truly capable of. And yet... she believed him. Something inside her seemed to recognize him on some level, even if she couldn’t consciously remember him. She had been glad when he left her alone, giving her time to digest everything, but now she found herself missing him, craving the comfort of his presence. It made no logical sense,

but it was true: a stranger felt more necessary to her than people she’d known her whole life. Everything he’d told her thus far was one big jumble in her mind. The Resistance, human sympathizers among the Ks, her spying on him—it all sounded more like a movie than anything that could’ve actually happened to her. Why would she have done something so crazy? How could she have wanted something other than to be with this gorgeous man—alien or not? Blowing out a frustrated breath, Mia looked down at her hands, trying to make sense of this insane situation. Why would she have helped the Resistance? She’d never thought there was any point to fighting against the Ks, not after they’d taken control of her planet and basically left humans alone. Yet she had supposedly fought against the Ks—or at least had tried to help those who did. According to Korum, it hadn’t been a very successful effort. Then again, maybe she was wrong to trust him now. Sure, he’d been kind to her thus far, and her family seemed to like him, but she had no idea what he was really like. What if she was trusting someone who shouldn’t be trusted? It’s not like she knew what the Ks ultimately wanted from humans. There were those rumors about them drinking blood. For all she knew, Korum could’ve been the one to wipe her memory, making her forget something terrible about him. Her head was beginning to hurt from all the speculation, so Mia got up and started pacing around the room. Her surroundings were strange and foreign, yet she didn’t feel uncomfortable here. She had already explored the rest of the house, marveling at the intelligent floating objects that served as tables, chairs, and couches. They were definitely a major improvement over human furnishings. She also liked the overall house aesthetic, with the transparent walls and ceiling and a clean, Zen-like feel to the entire space. Could an evil villain live in such a beautiful, peaceful place? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Mia laughed out loud, unable to help herself. She was being ridiculous, and she knew it. There was absolutely no reason to build some crazy conspiracy in her mind. So far, Korum had been nothing but nice to her. In fact, she was very much looking forward to spending more time with him and re-learning everything she had forgotten.

FINALLY, AFTER WHAT SEEMED LIKE FOREVER, MIA HEARD SOMETHING IN THE LIVING ROOM. COMING out of the bedroom, she saw that the K—or Korum, as she thought of him now— had just walked in through what appeared to be an opening in one of the walls. As Mia watched, the opening narrowed and solidified, leaving a transparent wall where an entrance used to be. At the sight of her, his face lit up with what looked like genuine pleasure. “Hello, my sweet.” He gave her a wide smile that exposed the dimple in his left cheek. Mia wanted to kiss that dimple. In general, she wanted to kiss and lick him all over, just to see if his smooth golden skin was as delicious as it looked. Wow, I’m in lust. Mentally shaking her head at the strangeness of it all, she gave him an answering smile. “Hi.” “Sorry it took me so long,” he said, walking across the room toward the kitchen area. “The Council meeting was more eventful than I expected. You must be starving by now—” “I’m all right—” Mia followed him into the kitchen, “—but I could definitely eat. Are you going to order something?” She was beyond curious about how the Krinar fed themselves. It was also encouraging that he was planning to eat, as opposed to doing something scary—like drinking human blood. She really needed to ask him about that at some point; hopefully, the whole thing was nothing more than a weird rumor. “I was going to cook something,” he said, “but ordering will probably be faster. Here, have a seat for now while the house preps our meal.” Mia gingerly perched on one of the floating planks, making herself comfortable. “You cook?” she asked, studying him in fascination as he sat down across from her. He smiled. “I do. It’s a hobby of mine.” She smiled back, both intrigued and relieved. Her earlier suspicions seemed even sillier now. So far her K lover was about as close to a dream man as one could get, and she couldn’t wait to learn more about him. There were so many questions running through her mind she didn’t even know where to start. “Did you get a chance to talk to the rest of your family?” he asked, watching her with a knowing half-smile. “I spoke to Marisa and Jessie,” Mia admitted. “And? Do you believe me now?” She shrugged. “I suppose you could’ve faked those interactions somehow, but I

don’t know why you would go to those lengths. The most logical conclusion is that you are indeed telling me the truth—even though that still seems crazy to me.” He grinned. “I know, my sweet. Believe me, I realize that.” “So what do we do now?” she asked, unable to look away from that dazzling smile. “Where do we go from here?” “We get to know each other again,” he said, his expression becoming more serious. “And in the meantime, I’ll be looking into a way to potentially reverse your memory loss.” Mia’s heart jumped with excitement. “Is there a way?” “Not that I currently know of,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist—or that we won’t come up with it over time.” “Oh, I see.” Mia fought to suppress her disappointment. “In that case, can you please tell me a little bit about yourself? I would really like to know more...” “Of course, my darling, I would be happy to,” he said softly. And throughout their delicious meal, Mia learned all about her lover’s role on the Krinar Council, his passion for technological design, and the fact that he was much older than she could’ve ever imagined. As they talked, Mia could feel herself falling deeper and deeper under his spell, wanting to give in to the temptation of his smile, his touch, the warmth in his gaze as he looked at her. He was a beautiful and fascinating man, and she couldn’t help envying that girl who had been her— the one who’d known him from the beginning, the one he seemed to love. Memory or not, she could see why she had fallen for him—and she could easily envision history repeating itself.

10

K

orum watched her animated face over lunch, loving the shy, yet admiring

glances she directed his way during their conversation. The attraction between them was as strong as ever, and he had no doubt he would be able to seduce her again. Perhaps even tonight—though she might not be ready for that. For once, Korum was determined not to pressure Mia into his bed. When they’d first met, the strength of his desire for her had caught him off-guard, causing him to act in ways he would’ve normally condemned. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes, no matter how much his cock insisted that she was his—that she belonged to him and he had the right to take her, to pleasure her, whenever he chose. Graphic sexual images danced in his head as he watched her enjoying her meal, imagining her soft little mouth nibbling on his flesh instead of the piece of fruit she was consuming. It didn’t help that he was still on an adrenaline high after Loris’s attack. Fighting often boosted his already strong libido, the increased aggression translating into a primitive urge to fuck. It was always that way with Krinar men— and human ones too, as far as he knew. Violence and sex had been intertwined since the beginning of time, both appealing to the same male drive to dominate and conquer. But no matter how much his body demanded it, Korum didn’t want to push her. She seemed to be responding so well to the entire situation, looking at him with curiosity and desire instead of fear. If he could just be patient, she would come to him herself, lured by the same need that crawled under his skin. So, as the lunch went on, Korum kept a tight leash on himself, not even touching Mia in case his good intentions flew out the window. He told her more about the nanocytes in her body and showed her some of the capabilities of Krinar technology, creating a silver cup using nanos and then dissolving it the same way.

He also explained about her internship and how she had already begun to contribute to the Krinar society, enjoying the way her eyes lit up with excitement at the thought. Toward the end, as they were finishing dessert—a platter of freshly cut mango with pistachio sauce—Korum noticed that Mia seemed a little nervous, as though there was something on her mind. Unable to resist any longer, he reached across the table and took her hand, massaging her palm lightly with his thumb. “Is there something you’d like to ask me, my sweet?” he said, smiling, watching as a pretty blush crept across her cheeks. “Um, maybe...” The color on her face intensified. “Okay, you’re probably going to laugh at me, but I just have to know...” She swallowed. “Is there any truth to the rumors that you guys drink blood?” At her innocently provocative question, Korum almost groaned, his cock instantly hardening to the point of pain. She didn’t know, of course, that human blood and sexual pleasure were inseparable in the mind of a modern Krinar—and that bringing up the topic like that was the equivalent of asking a Krinar to fuck you. Even the most amazing sex paled in comparison to the ecstasy of the combined act of blood-drinking and intercourse. “There is some truth to them,” Korum said carefully, glad that she couldn’t see his raging hard-on. “It was once necessary for our survival, but it’s not any longer.” And trying to suppress his overwhelming need to take her, he went through the complicated story of Krinar evolution and the seeding of the human race. “So now you drink blood for pleasure?” Mia asked, staring at him with a shocked, yet intrigued expression on her face. “Yes.” Korum hoped she would drop the topic before he completely lost it. She didn’t. Instead, she looked at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with curiosity and something more. “Did you—” she stopped to moisten her lips, “—did you ever take my blood?” Korum thought he might literally explode. Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face because she gulped nervously and pulled her hand out of his grasp. Smart girl. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then she asked hesitantly, “Why do your eyes do that? Turn more golden, I mean... Is that a Krinar thing?”

Korum took a deep, calming breath. When he was reasonably certain he wasn’t going to pounce on her, he replied, “No, it’s just a weird genetic quirk. It’s most common among people from my region of Krina. My mother has it too, and so did my grandfather.” “Your grandfather?” Korum nodded. “He was killed in a fight when my mother was about my age.” “What about your grandmother and your other grandparents?” “My grandmother from my mother’s side died in a freak accident when she was exploring one of the asteroids in a neighboring solar system. Some even thought it was a suicide, since my grandfather was killed only a few years before that. As for my father’s parents, they dissolved their union shortly after my father’s birth— one of the very few couples to do so after having children. Apparently my grandmother wanted out, but my grandfather didn’t—and he ended up getting into an Arena challenge with the man she took as her lover. My grandfather didn’t survive, and my grandmother took her own life shortly after that, apparently too sick with guilt to go on living. It was not a happy story.” Her eyes filled with sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry—” “It’s all right, my sweet. It happened before I was even born. It’s unfortunate, but death is a tragedy that happens to everyone at one point or another. Humans might view us as immortal because we don’t age, but we are still living beings—and we can still be killed, no matter how advanced our technology is or how fast we heal. That’s why the Elders are so revered in our society: because it’s nearly impossible to live that long without meeting with one deadly accident or another.” “You’ve mentioned these Elders before.” Mia was clearly fascinated. “Who are they? Do they rule Krina?” “No.” Korum shook his head. “They don’t rule in the sense of being involved in politics or anything like that. That’s what the Council is for: to deal with ongoing matters. The Elders provide guidance and set direction for our species as a whole.” “Oh, I see.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “So how old are they?” “I believe the youngest is just over a million Earth years,” Korum said, smiling at the look of wonder on her face. “And the oldest is somewhere around ten million.” She stared at him. “Wow...” “Wow indeed,” Korum agreed, enjoying her reaction.

WHEN THE LUNCH WAS FINALLY OVER, THEY TOOK A LONG WALK ON THE BEACH AND TALKED SOME more. Korum held her hand as they leisurely strolled on the sand, reveling in the feel of her small fingers squeezing his palm so trustingly. He had been worried initially that her memory loss would set them back months, that she would be frightened of him again. But instead, it seemed as if a part of her still knew him—maybe even still loved him. Her calm acceptance of the situation was both surprising and encouraging, particularly since there was no guarantee they would ever be able to reverse the damage Saret had caused. After the Council meeting, Korum had visited Ellet, hoping that the human biology expert had made some progress toward finding a fix. While the human brain was not her specialty, Korum had hoped she might’ve been able to learn of some research being done in that direction. To his tremendous disappointment, Ellet hadn’t come across anything, despite reaching out to dozens of Krinar scientists on both planets. She had also spoken to all the mind experts at the other Centers. As far as she knew, there was no way to undo a memory wipe of the kind that Saret had used. “So what made you decide to come to Earth?” Mia asked as they stopped to sit down on a pair of large rocks. In front of them, a small estuary flowed into the ocean, serving as an obstacle to further passage but creating a very scenic view. “I know you told me how you planted life here and basically created humans, but why come here and live alongside us? From what you’ve said, Krina sounds like a very nice place to live. Why bother leaving it?” “Our sun is an older star,” Korum explained, repeating what he’d once told her. “It will die in about a hundred million years. At that point, we’ll need another place to live—and Earth appeals to us for obvious reasons.” She frowned, wrinkling her forehead in a way he found very endearing. “But that’s so far away... Why would you come now? Why not wait another ninety million years or so?” Korum sighed, recalling their last discussion on this topic. “Because your species was becoming very destructive to the environment, my sweet. We wanted to make sure that we had a habitable planet for when we needed it.” That was the official story, at least. The full explanation was more complicated and not something he was ready to share with Mia quite yet. Her frown deepened. She obviously didn’t like hearing that—but then his charl

tended to get defensive when he criticized her kind. He couldn’t really blame her for that; she was as loyal to her people as he was to his. “So when your star begins to die, all the Krinar will come to Earth?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Most likely,” Korum said. He actually hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but he couldn’t tell her that yet. “Then what would happen to us? To the humans, I mean? Do you really intend to live with us side by side? Wouldn’t the planet be too crowded then?” Korum hesitated for a moment. She was asking all the right questions, and he didn’t want to lie to her—but he couldn’t tell her the truth yet either. The last thing they needed was for some rumors to spread and cause the humans to panic again. “Not necessarily,” he hedged. “Besides, that’s not something we’ll have to worry about for a very long time.” She looked at him, obviously trying to decide how much he could be trusted. Korum could practically see the wheels turning in her head. He loved that about her: her unabashed curiosity about everything, the logical way her mind processed information. She was young and naive, but she was also very intelligent, and he had no doubt that one day she would leave her own mark on society. For now, though, Korum needed to distract her from this particular line of questions. Smiling, he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face. “So what do you think of Lenkarda so far? Are you starting to feel more comfortable, or is it still very strange to you?” She gave him a small smile. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s not as strange as it should be. I don’t remember anything here, but it’s like I know it on some level. And it’s the same thing with you—” “I’m as familiar to you as the furniture?” Korum teased, watching as her smile widened into a full-blown grin. “You are...” She laughed ruefully. “I don’t understand how any of this works, but you’re not nearly as scary as you should be. None of this is, for some reason.” Korum felt his chest expanding to fill with something very much like happiness. “That’s good, my sweet,” he said, stroking the softness of her cheek. “You shouldn’t be scared of me. I would never hurt you. You’re my everything; you’re my entire world. I would sooner die than hurt you. Believe me, there’s no reason to be afraid...”

As he spoke, he could see her smile fading and a strangely vulnerable expression appearing on her face instead. “Do you—” she swallowed, her slim throat moving, “—do you love me?” “I do,” Korum answered without hesitation. “More than anyone I’ve ever loved in my life.” “But why?” She seemed genuinely confused. “I’m just an ordinary human, and you’re—” She stopped, her cheeks turning pink again. “I’m what?” Korum prompted, wanting to see more of that pretty blush. He wasn’t sure why he found it so appealing, but it never failed to arouse him. Then again, she turned him on simply by breathing, so it wasn’t all that surprising he found her flushed cheeks irresistible. The color in her face deepened. “You’re a gorgeous K who’s been around since the dawn of time,” she said quietly. “What could you possibly see in me?” Korum smiled, shaking his head. His little darling had never understood her appeal, never realized how tempting she was to the male of both species. Everything about her, from the soft, thick curls on her head to the creaminess of her skin, seemed to be made for a man’s touch. She might not be classically beautiful, but in her own delicate way, she was quite striking, with those large blue eyes and dark hair. In hindsight, Korum should’ve known better than to let her work in such close proximity with another unattached male. He couldn’t really blame Saret for wanting her, for craving something that he himself was so obsessed with. He wanted to tear his former friend apart for what he’d done, but he understood—at least partially—why Saret had done it. If the roles had been reversed, and Mia had been someone else’s charl, Korum didn’t know how far he would’ve gone to get her for his own, how many taboos he would’ve broken in his quest to possess her. Of course, her physical appeal was only a part of it now. Reaching over, Korum took her hand again. “I see in you the woman I love,” he said, not even trying to hide the depth of his emotions. “I see a beautiful, smart girl who’s sweet and brave and has the courage of her convictions. I see someone who’ll do anything for those she loves, who’ll go to any lengths to protect those dear to her. I see someone I can’t live without, someone who brightens every moment of my existence and makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” Mia inhaled, her eyes filling with moisture. “Oh Korum...” Her slender fingers twitched in his grasp. “Korum, I don’t even know what to say—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, ignoring the pain of her inadvertent rejection. “I know I’m still a stranger to you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me now as you did before. Not yet, at least...” She nodded, and a single tear rolled down her face. “I hate this,” she confessed, her voice breaking for a second. “I hate that such a big part of my life disappeared, that I lost everything that brought us to this point. I need you, but I don’t know you, and it’s driving me crazy. I loved you too, didn’t I? Even though all that stuff happened between us, we were still in love, right?” “Yes,” Korum said, his hand tightening around her palm. “Yes, we were very much in love, my darling.” And unable to resist any longer, he gently wrapped one arm around her back, bringing her closer to him. She buried her face against his shoulder, and he could feel the wetness from her tears on his bare skin. The sweet scent of her hair teased his nostrils, her nearness making his cock harden again. Don’t be such an animal. She needs comfort now, Korum told himself. And ignoring the lust raging through his body, he let Mia cry, knowing she needed this emotional release. After a minute, she pulled away, looking up at him through tear-spiked lashes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to cry all over you...” Korum smiled, wiping away the wetness on her cheeks with his knuckles. “You can cry all over me any time you want.” Her tears were as precious to him as her smiles. He hated to see her sad, but liked the feel of her slender body in his arms, enjoyed being the one to soothe her, to make her pain go away. Even if, more often than not, he had been the cause of that pain.

THEY SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY TOGETHER ON THE BEACH, WITH KORUM PATIENTLY EXPLAINING everything Mia had once known and forgotten about the Krinar. He told her about blood addiction and xenos, the Celebration of Forty-Seven and the importance of ‘standing’ in Krinar society. She listened attentively, asking questions, and Korum gladly answered them, knowing how much she needed to catch up on. “So do you have the concept of money? How does your economy work?” Her eyes were bright and curious as they continued their discussion over dinner. “Yes, we definitely have the concept of money.” Korum paused to take a bite of his peanut-flavored soba noodles. “We work and get paid for the contributions we make to our society. The greater the contribution, the greater the pay, regardless of

the field. However, wealth is not as important to us as it is to humans. Our economy is neither purely capitalist nor government-run; it’s kind of a blend of the two. For the most part, everyone has their basic needs met. There’s no such thing as homelessness or hunger on Krina. Even the laziest Krinar lives quite well by human standards. But, to have anything beyond food, shelter, and daily necessities, you have to do something productive with your life—you have to contribute to society in some way.” She was looking very interested, so Korum continued his explanation. “Financial rewards are only a part of the reason why people work, though. The main motivation is the need to be respected, to be recognized for our achievements. Few Krinar want to go through life having others look down upon them. You see, for us, having a low standing is almost like being an outcast. Someone who’s never done anything useful in his life will ultimately find himself treated with contempt by others. Having a high standing is much more important than being wealthy— although the two usually go hand-in-hand.” “So wealthy Krinar have a high standing, and vice versa?” Mia asked. “No, not necessarily. One could be wealthy through inheritance or family, but that doesn’t mean that person will have a high standing. Rafor, Loris’s son, is a prime example of that. His father gave him all the wealth he could possibly need, but he couldn’t give him a good standing. That can only be earned—or lost— through one’s own efforts.” Mia looked puzzled. “Wait, how do you lose standing through your own efforts?” “There are a number of ways,” Korum said. “Committing a crime is an obvious one. So is doing something dishonorable, like cheating on your mate. It’s also possible to lose standing by failing at something important. For instance, Loris took that risk by assuming the role of the Protector for his son and the Keiths. Once they are judged guilty, his standing will be much lower and he’ll no longer be on the Council. That’s why he challenged me to the Arena today—because he has very little to lose at this point.” Her eyes widened with surprise. “What do you mean, he challenged you?” Korum hesitated. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned it to Mia just yet, but it was too late now. “Remember I told you about the Arena earlier today?” he asked. “You said it was a way to resolve irreconcilable differences...” A small frown appeared on her face. “Yes,” Korum confirmed, “it is. And that’s what Loris and I have: an

irreconcilable difference of opinion. I think his son is a traitorous lowlife, and he disagrees.” “So he challenged you to a fight? But I thought you said those were dangerous —” “They are.” Korum smiled in anticipation, familiar excitement zinging through his veins. He needed this sometimes: the danger, the adrenaline, the raw physical challenge of subduing an opponent. As much as he enjoyed fighting during defrebs matches, he was always aware that it was just a game, that everyone would walk away with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. There was no such guarantee in the Arena, which is what made it so thrilling. “So you could be killed?” Mia’s eyes were beginning to glisten with moisture, and Korum realized that she found the idea more than a little disturbing. He definitely shouldn’t have brought this up yet. “There is a small chance,” he said carefully, not wanting to upset her further. “Although killing is technically illegal, it’s usually forgiven if it happens in the heat of an Arena battle. But you don’t need to worry, my sweet. I can take care of myself.” She didn’t seem convinced. “You said he hates you.” Her voice quivered a little. “Wouldn’t he try to kill you?” “He can certainly try,” Korum said, “but I’m not going to let him. You have nothing to worry about—” “He’s not a good fighter?” “He is,” Korum admitted. “Or at least he used to be. I don’t know his skill level these days.” “Don’t do it,” she said, reaching over to grab his hand. “Please, Korum, don’t do this fight—” “Mia...” He sighed, covering her hand with his own. “Listen to me, darling, once a challenge has been issued, it cannot be undone. I can’t walk away from this fight, and neither can Loris. We’re both committed, do you understand that?” “No,” she said stubbornly, “I don’t. I don’t want you to risk your life like that —” “It’s not as big of a risk as you think,” Korum said. “When he attacked me today, it took me all of ten seconds to get to his throat. If that had been an Arena fight, he would’ve been declared a loser at that point.” It was equally likely that Loris

would’ve been dead, but Korum didn’t want to tell Mia that. Human women and violence generally didn’t mix well—especially when the woman in question was a sheltered young girl. “So when is the fight supposed to be?” She still looked upset. Korum sighed. He really should’ve kept quiet about this. “The day after tomorrow,” he said. “At noon.”

11

M ia stood in the circular room that functioned as a shower stall, letting water jets pummel every inch of her body. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve loved the novelty of showering in an alien dwelling. Like everything else in the house, the shower was intelligent, adjusting automatically to her needs. All Mia had to do was stand there and let the amazing technology wash, scrub, condition, and massage her. It was wonderfully relaxing—or would’ve been, if she could just turn her brain off and not think about what Korum had told her at dinner. He’d been dismissive of the danger of the upcoming fight, but Mia couldn’t be so blasé. When he’d mentioned Loris’s challenge, her blood had run cold, gruesome images of dismembered bodies flooding her mind. What if something happened to Korum? He wasn’t truly immortal; he could be killed, just like his grandfather. The thought of Korum dying was unbearable, unimaginable. It didn’t matter that Mia had only known him—or remembered knowing him—for a day. This day had been the best one of her conscious life. Spending time with Korum had been incredible. She had never had that kind of connection with anyone else before, had never felt so magically alive in another man’s presence. It went beyond sexual desire, beyond simple physical need. It was as though every part of her longed to be with him, to soak in his essence. She wanted him with a desperation that made no sense, with a passion that was almost frightening in its intensity. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mia knew she was acting irrationally, completely unlike herself. A normal person in this type of situation would ask Korum to take her home, back to New York or Florida, where she could come to terms with the memory loss and gradually re-enter her normal life—such as it was these days. She shouldn’t want to cling to an extraterrestrial, shouldn’t be so calm

about living in his house, separated from everyone and everything she could recall. And yet she didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want to think about leaving him even for a moment. Mia had no doubt her psychology classmates would’ve had a field day analyzing her strange reactions, from the ease with which she’d accepted the impossible to her unhealthy dependence on a man she’d known for only a short period of time. But she didn’t care; all she knew was that she needed Korum—and that he seemed to need her too. Had her former boss—Saret—known it would be like this? Had he realized that erasing a part of her memory didn’t destroy whatever it was that bound her and Korum together? Somehow Mia doubted it. If what Korum had told her about Saret’s intentions was true, the mind expert would’ve been unpleasantly surprised by her continued attachment to Korum and lack of interest toward him. After the shower was over, Mia stepped out of the circular stall, letting the water drip off her onto the strange sponge-like substance on the floor that kept massaging her feet. Korum had explained that all she needed to do was stand there and let the technology take care of her bathroom routine, so Mia was taking him at his word. Sure enough, warm jets of air quickly dried off her body, while a small tornado seemed to engulf the area around her head, blowing around each strand of her hair and filling her mouth with a taste of something refreshingly clean. By the time it was done, Mia was dry from head to toe, her curls defined and shaped to perfection, as if she’d just emerged from a fancy hair salon. Her mouth also felt like she’d just brushed her teeth. Nice. All that was left was to put on some clothes. Pulling on a thick, fluffy robe that Korum had thoughtfully given her earlier, Mia looked at the mirror that made up one of the walls, noting the sparkle in her eyes and the flush that colored her cheeks. Her heart pounded in anticipation, and her stomach felt like it was hosting an entire colony of butterflies. If there was even a small chance that she might lose Korum in two days, then every moment they had together was precious. And as nervous as the idea made her, Mia wanted to know her lover fully—to experience again that which she had forgotten. She wanted Korum to take her to bed.

KORUM SAT ON THE EDGE OF THE BED, WAITING FOR MIA TO FINISH HER SHOWER. HE’D SHOWERED already, using his fist to take the edge off the lust that had ridden him hard all day. Spending so much time with her, touching her, smelling her—it had almost driven him insane. Under normal circumstances, they would’ve had sex a couple of times on the beach, or when they’d gotten home before dinner. And instead, he’d had to content himself with a few light touches and caresses that had only added to his hunger, making his skin prickle and his cock swell with need. If he hadn’t masturbated in the shower, she would’ve been in serious danger of getting jumped this evening. As it was, Korum was still feeling quite edgy, and he was hoping to work off some of his excess energy by going for a defrebs session early in the morning—or at night, as humans thought of the hours between three and four a.m. It was already past eleven in the evening, which was Mia’s normal bed time. Korum wasn’t the least bit tired himself, but he wanted to tuck her in and hold her until she fell asleep—even if doing so would torture him further. It was important to start getting her accustomed to him, to get her to feel comfortable with his touch... because Korum didn’t know how much longer he could go without having her. To distract himself, he looked down at his palm, sending out a mental query to check on the progress of the search for Saret. The guardians had found traces of Saret’s presence in Germany, but then his trail had gone cold again. However he was moving around, he was managing to do so out of sight of Krinar satellites and other spying devices—a feat that Korum reluctantly admired, even though the thought of Saret on the loose made him see red. “What are you doing?” Mia’s softly spoken question jerked him out of his absorption with the search. Looking up, Korum smiled at the sight of her standing there, her small feet bare and the robe wrapped all over her slender body. Her hands were twisting together in a gesture that betrayed her nervousness. “I’m just checking up on a couple of things,” he replied. “How was your shower? Did you like it?” She moistened her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. “It was awesome,” she said. “Like everything else here.” “Good,” Korum said, watching her closely. Was she afraid to be near a bed with him? Gentling his tone, he said, “Come, let’s go to sleep, my sweet. You’ve had a long day. You must be so tired.” She nodded uncertainly and approached him, her movements imbued with an unconscious sensuality that was as much a part of her as those beautiful curls.

Korum shifted and raised his knee slightly, seeking to hide the erection tenting his pants again. When she was a foot away, she stopped, and he could hear her rapid heartbeat. A warm, feminine scent reached his nostrils, sending more blood rushing toward his groin. She was not afraid, Korum realized. She was turned on.

HARDLY DARING TO BREATHE, HE REACHED OUT AND TOOK HER HAND, BRINGING HER CLOSER UNTIL SHE was sitting on the bed next to him. At his action, he could hear her heartbeat spiking, a mixture of apprehension and excitement written on her face. “Mia,” he asked softly, “are you sure?” She nodded, her soft mouth trembling. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure...” His body reacted to her words with painful intensity, his cock hardening further and his balls drawing up against his body. But when he leaned over to kiss her, he kept his lips gentle, tender—as her first time should be. She’d come to him that other first time too, but she’d done it as a challenge, as a way to assert her independence and spite him in some small way. He hadn’t cared then, glad to just have her there, in his apartment, in his bed. And in his rush to take her, he’d hurt her, tearing through her virginity with all the care of a rutting animal. This was his chance to make up for it. She was a virgin again—in mind, if not in body. And Korum was determined to make sure that there would be no pain for her this night, only pleasure. He kissed her softly, with just his lips at first, stroking her hair and back with soothing motions. She tasted fresh and sweet, her scent familiar and enticing. Her small hands came up, curved around the back of his neck, her fingers reaching into his hair, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Not wanting to deepen the kiss, Korum moved his lips to her cheek, then the underside of her jaw, tasting the sensitive skin there. She moaned, arching her head back, exposing more of her pale throat to his mouth, and Korum kissed her there too, fighting the urge to take her blood at the same time. He would do it, but not today, not for this first time. Carefully, so as not to startle her, he pulled at her robe, opening it as he

continued kissing her, his mouth moving to her collarbone and then below. Her body was beautiful, slim and curved in all the right places, her skin smooth and inviting to the touch. Korum slowly ran his hand over her breasts and her flat belly, marveling at the delicacy of her frame. His palm could almost cover her entire ribcage, his skin strikingly dark against the pale perfection of hers. He could see the pulse beating rapidly in the side of her neck, hear her elevated breathing, and he knew she was as anxious as she was aroused. Raising his head, Korum caught her staring at him, her face flushed and her lips slightly parted. “I love you, Mia,” he murmured, reaching up to move that stray curl off her face. “You know that, right?” She nodded shyly, still watching him with her huge blue eyes. Those eyes made him want to slay dragons for her, rip apart anyone who dared try to hurt her. “Don’t be afraid, my darling,” he said, sliding one arm under her knees and another around her back. Lifting her up, he placed her carefully in the middle of the bed. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise...” And moving back for a second, Korum removed his shirt and shorts, letting his erection spring free. Before she had a chance to do more than give him one apprehensive glance, Korum climbed on top of her, nuzzling her neck and shoulder again until she let out a quiet moan. Then he slowly began to make his way down her body, ignoring his cock’s insistent throbbing. There would be times when he would take her hard and fast, but this wasn’t going to be one of them. Tonight was all about her. Cupping the round globe of her breast, he delighted in its firmness, in the way her nipple hardened against his palm. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were perfectly shaped, just right for her slight frame. Bending his head, he tasted her nipple, laving it with his tongue, then sucking on it with a firm pull. She moaned again, arching toward him, and he repeated the treatment on the other breast, enjoying the way her nipples looked afterwards: all pink and shiny. Her stomach was next, and he kissed the soft skin there, tonguing her belly button and feeling her abdominal muscles tensing as his mouth continued moving lower. Her legs were closed, so Korum pulled her thighs apart, ignoring the hitch in her breathing as he gazed upon her moist folds and the dark triangle of curls above. Like the rest of Mia, her pussy was small and delicate, sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. Lowering his head, Korum breathed in her intoxicating scent and then gently licked the area around her clitoris, teasing her, letting her arousal slowly build. As

he continued, he could hear her gasping every time his tongue approached her sensitive nub, feel the way her hips kept rising off the bed toward his mouth. He knew she was very close to the edge, but he wasn’t ready to let her go over. Not yet at least. Moving his hand, he used his index finger to slowly penetrate her, sliding it inside her slick channel, carefully stretching her, readying her for him. She was so tiny inside she even felt tight around his finger, and Korum suppressed a tortured groan as his cock twitched against the sheets in painful arousal. She cried out as his finger slid deeper, rubbing against that spot that always drove her insane, and then Korum could feel her convulsing, her inner walls pulsing around his finger as she found her release. Unable to wait any longer, he crawled back up her body, keeping her thighs open with his knee. Holding himself up with one elbow, he used his other hand to direct himself to her small opening, letting the head of his cock slide inside, and then pausing to let her adjust to his size. At his entry, she inhaled sharply and grasped his shoulders, gazing up at him. His entire body straining from the rigid control he was exerting over himself, Korum began to push in further, keeping the penetration gradual and slow to avoid hurting her. As his cock went deeper, sweat beaded up all over his body and his breathing became harsher, more erratic. She was warm, wet, and tight—and Korum thought he might literally explode on the spot. Using all his willpower, he paused when he was all the way in, letting her get used to the feel of him deep inside her body. “Are you okay?” he managed to ask in a rough whisper, looking down at her. She licked her lips. “Yes.” “Good,” Korum breathed. He wasn’t sure he could’ve stopped if she’d said otherwise. He was seconds away from orgasm, his balls drawn tightly against his body and his spine prickling with the familiar pre-release tension. But he didn’t want to come yet, not until he’d had a chance to pleasure her one more time. Using his right hand, Korum reached between their bodies, finding the place where they joined and lightly stimulating her clitoris with his fingers. At the same time, he began to move inside her, partially withdrawing and then pushing back in. She moaned again, her fingers tightening around his shoulders and her sharp nails digging into his skin. He could feel the heat rising off her body, hear her

breathing changing, and he knew she was almost there. Finally letting go of his restraint, he began to thrust with increasing speed, climbing the peak higher and higher, every muscle in his body shaking from the intensity of the sensations. Suddenly, she cried out, her inner muscles clamping down on his cock, and he exploded with a roar, his seed shooting out in several powerful spurts. When it was over, Korum rolled off Mia onto his back and pulled her on top of him, so that she lay partially draped over his chest. They were both breathing hard, their bodies limp and covered with sweat. Korum knew he should say something, but he couldn’t seem to gather his thoughts. There was sex—and then there was what he experienced with Mia. He’d never imagined that he could want a woman so much, that he could get so much pleasure out of the simple act of fucking. It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced. Far from it. In his centuries of existence, he’d engaged in sexual acts of every type and every flavor. There was no stigma associated with promiscuous behavior in Krinar society, and unattached individuals were encouraged to experiment to their hearts’ content. Yet Korum could not remember ever feeling the kind of bone-deep satisfaction he experienced with Mia. He’d always wondered how mated individuals—or those who had a charl—remained faithful throughout their lives. The idea of not having variety had seemed strange and unnatural to him. Since meeting Mia, however, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be with another woman. She was all he wanted, all the time, every time. His breathing finally calming, Korum looked down at the curly head lying on his chest. Feeling content, he stroked her hair, grinning when he heard a quiet yawn. “Want to take a quick rinse and then go to sleep?” he murmured, still smiling as she looked up. She gave him a deliciously sleepy look, then yawned again. “Sure, that would be nice...” Laughing softly, Korum wrapped his arms around her and got up, carrying her toward the shower. Still holding her, he stepped inside and sent a quick mental command to the water controls. Two minutes later they were clean and dry, and Korum carried her back to bed, enjoying the trusting way she clung to him the entire time. Placing her back on the bed, he lay down beside her and pulled her into his embrace, curving his body around her from the back. Utterly relaxed, he closed his

eyes and let her even breathing lull him into sleep as well.

12

S lowly waking up the next morning, Mia stretched and smiled, remembering last night. The entire experience had been amazing, like something she could’ve only dreamed of. Was sex always like this? Or was it just sex with Korum? After that first time, he’d taken her again at some point in the night, waking her up by sliding into her. Somehow she had already been wet, and she’d orgasmed within minutes—something she would’ve expected to be difficult, given how satisfied she’d felt after the previous time. But she was apparently as insatiable as her alien lover. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Mia got up, put on a peach-colored sundress, and did her morning bathroom routine. Korum was already gone, so she asked the house for some yummy breakfast and then curled up on one of the floating planks that functioned as a couch. “Some reading material, please,” she requested, and laughed as a razor-thin tablet-like device floated toward her from one of the walls. Yesterday, when Korum told her about her role at the mind lab, he’d mentioned that she used to keep work-related documents and recordings on this tablet. Mia was intensely curious about it, trying to imagine how she’d functioned in a Krinar work environment given her unfamiliarity about their technology and science. From what Korum had explained, a lot of the knowledge had been transferred to her via the same process that was used to teach Krinar children, and she was secretly hoping that she’d retained some of it despite the memory wipe. She certainly felt more comfortable in Lenkarda than could be expected, and she was pretty sure she knew things about the brain that were far beyond what she’d learned in college. Using a verbal command to open one of the files, Mia made herself comfortable and began the process of re-learning everything she had partially or completely

forgotten.

“THE COUNCIL HAS REACHED A DECISION.” Arus’s words carried throughout the large arena-like room where the public portion of the trial took place. Almost every Krinar on Earth—and many residents of Krina—were there virtually or in person. Korum leaned forward, waiting to hear the words that would seal the fate of the traitors. In front of him, he could see Loris standing straight, garbed all in black. The Protector’s fists were tightly clenched, knuckles almost white, as he braced himself to hear his son’s sentence. “Rafor, Kian, Leris, Poren, Saod, Kula, and Reana,” Arus said clearly, “the Council finds you guilty of conspiring with the human Resistance movement to attack the Centers and endanger the lives of fifty thousand of your fellow citizens. You are also found guilty of breaking the non-interference mandate by sharing Krinar technology with the said Resistance movement. Additionally, Rafor, the Council judges you guilty of aiding and abetting the dangerous individual known as Saret in his plan to commit mass murder and illegally manipulate human minds.” The Protector visibly paled, and the Keiths looked like they were punched in the stomach. A murmur ran through the crowd, then died down as the spectators fell silent to hear the rest. “The sentence for the above crimes is complete rehabilitation.” Korum leaned back, listening to the uproar in the audience. In that moment, he felt uncharacteristic pity for Loris, who had just lost his only son. Whatever their differences had been in the past, it wasn’t Loris’s fault Rafor had turned out to be a failure and a criminal. Korum couldn’t blame Loris for wanting to defend his child, no matter how undeserving that child was. However, Korum had no regrets about the role he’d played in their conviction. Rafor and his friends got exactly what they deserved: an almost complete erasure of their personalities. They were too dangerous to be subjected to partial rehabilitation, their actions too heinous to be forgiven. If there was one thing Korum despised, it was someone who tried to hurt his own people for the sake of greed and power—the way these traitors had. The brief flicker of sympathy he felt for Loris died down as the Protector turned and gave Korum a hate-filled glare. Loris’s face was colorless underneath the

bronzed tone of his skin, and his eyes glittered with something resembling madness. It was the look of someone who had nothing left to lose, and Korum recognized that his opponent would do everything in his power to leave him lying in pieces tomorrow. Of course, Korum had no intention of letting that happen. He didn’t want to kill Loris, but he would do what was necessary to defend himself. After the uproar in the crowd died down, the Keiths were taken away, and Korum got up, heading toward the exit. What he wanted now was Mia, but he couldn’t go home yet. He needed to reach out to the Elders again to move the project forward—and to check on his petition about Mia’s parents.

“YOU HAVE A VISITOR, MIA.” Startled by the unfamiliar female voice, Mia looked up from her reading material. Through the transparent wall, she could see a young human woman standing outside. Blowing out a relieved breath, Mia realized that the voice she’d just heard had to be Korum’s intelligent house letting her know about the guest. “Of course,” Mia said, as though she talked to alien technology all the time. “Can you please let her inside?” “Yes, Mia.” And the wall in front of the visitor dissolved, creating an entrance. Getting up from the floating plank, Mia smiled at the dark-haired girl who gracefully stepped through the opening. “Hi,” Mia said, knowing she was probably greeting someone she’d already met before. “Hello, Mia,” the girl said, giving her a gentle smile. “I know you don’t remember me, but I’m Delia. We’ve met a couple of times before. I’m also a charl here in Lenkarda.” “It’s nice to meet you again, Delia.” Mia was glad that her guest seemed to know about her condition. “I apologize in advance about my lack of recognition—” “It’s not your fault,” Delia interrupted, her large brown eyes soft with concern. “How can you even apologize for something like that? I came by to see if you were all right after what happened. It must be so devastating, to wake up not knowing where you are or how you got there...” Mia studied the girl, noting her quiet, yet luminous beauty and the maturity that

belied her apparent youth. “Thanks, Delia,” she said. “I’m actually surprisingly okay. I don’t know why, but I seem to be dealing with everything quite well.” “And Korum?” Mia gave her a questioning look. “What about Korum?” “Is he—” Delia hesitated a little. “Is he being kind to you?” “Of course.” Mia frowned. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my... cheren, right?” Delia gave her a radiant smile. “Of course. I was just heading to the waterfalls, where you and I first met. Would you be interested in coming with me? It’s a really beautiful spot. I don’t know if Korum showed it to you yet—” “He hasn’t,” Mia admitted. “And I would love to join you.” She was curious about this girl—this other charl—and she was hoping to find out more about Lenkarda and her former life there. “Great,” Delia said, still smiling. “Then let’s go.”

THE WALK TO THE WATERFALLS TOOK A LITTLE OVER TWENTY MINUTES. AS THEY MADE THEIR WAY through the forest, Mia asked Delia about her story, wanting to find out how she’d become a charl. Then she listened in shock and fascination as the Greek girl told her about meeting Arus on the shores of the Mediterranean almost twenty-three centuries ago and how her life had unfolded since. “When I first arrived on Krina, humans were treated very differently than they are today,” Delia explained. “Two thousand years ago, many Krinar thought we were little better than primates, with our lack of technology and primitive social mores. A few, like Arus, recognized that we were not all that different from them, but most refused to think of us as an equally intelligent species. That attitude still persists today to a certain extent, although the rapid pace of progress here in the past couple of centuries has impressed many on Krina.” “They thought we were like monkeys?” Mia frowned, not liking that at all. Delia nodded. “Something like that. I can’t really blame them; after all, they were the ones to create us and make us into what we are today.” “How did they do that?” Mia asked, having wondered about that for a while. “I mean, a Krinar can almost pass for a human, and vice versa. Appearance-wise, it’s like they’re a different human race, rather than a separate species. I know they guided our evolution, but it’s still kind of crazy...”

“It’s actually not all that crazy,” Delia said. “They tinkered with our genes for millions of years, suppressing those traits that would’ve made us look different from them. They allowed certain subtle variations—like eye, skin, and hair color— but they ensured we would be very similar to them otherwise. It was something their Elders wanted, I believe.” Mia looked away, pondering that for a while as they continued walking through the forest. “So what do you think they want with us now?” she asked once they reached their destination. “The Krinar?” Delia sat down on a grassy patch near the water and turned toward Mia. “Their Elders,” Mia clarified, sitting down next to her. “Who knows?” Delia shrugged. “Even the Council doesn’t fully know the motivations of the Elders. They’re something like gods to them, although the Krinar don’t have religion in the traditional sense.” “I see.” Mia considered everything she’d learned so far. “So how do the Krinar think of us now? Korum said I worked in one of their labs. Surely they wouldn’t let me do that if they thought that I was just an unusually smart monkey. Not to mention, they marry us...” “Marry us?” Delia looked surprised. “What do you mean?” “Isn’t that what being a charl is? Like being married to one of them, only without the official ceremony?” That was the impression Mia had gotten yesterday from her conversation with Korum. Delia regarded her with a thoughtful brown gaze. “I guess you could think of it that way,” she said slowly. “Particularly if you apply the definition of marriage as it used to be in the past.” “In the past?” “Yes,” Delia said. “Before your time. When a wife lawfully belonged to her husband.” “What do you mean, belonged?” “By Krinar law, a charl belongs to her cheren, Mia. We don’t really have any rights here. Korum didn’t tell you that?” Mia shook her head, feeling an unpleasant tightness in her chest. “Are you saying we’re their... slaves?”

Delia smiled. “No. The Krinar don’t believe in slavery, especially not as it was practiced during my time. Most charl are very well treated and loved by their cheren. They truly do regard them as their human mates. But it’s not exactly the type of equal relationship a modern girl like you would be accustomed to.” Mia stared at her. “How so?” “Well, for instance, a Krinar doesn’t need your permission to make you his charl. Arus asked me, but many cheren don’t.” “Did Korum ask me?” Mia waited for the answer with bated breath. “I don’t know,” Delia said regretfully. “I’ve never been privy to the particulars of your relationship. However, from what I know about Korum—and from the fact that you helped the Resistance before—I would guess that he wasn’t quite as considerate of your feelings as he should’ve been.” Mia frowned. “What do you mean, what you know about Korum?” Delia looked at her, as though weighing whether to proceed further. “Your cheren is a very powerful, very ambitious man,” she finally said. “Many on the Council think he has the ear of the Elders. He’s also known to be quite autocratic and ruthless with his opponents. That’s why I was initially worried about you— because I didn’t think Korum would be a particularly caring cheren. But I think I was wrong. From what I could tell, you seemed happy with him before. The last time we met, at Maria’s birthday, you were practically glowing. And even now, when most women would be feeling lost and intimidated, it looks like you’re doing well—and Korum has to be the one responsible for that.” Mia studied the other girl, wondering if there was something else Delia was not telling her. “You don’t like my cheren, do you?” “I don’t know him personally,” Delia said carefully. “I just know that Arus and he have clashed in the past over a number of different issues. But I’m glad he’s good to you. When I first saw you, you seemed so young and vulnerable... and I couldn’t help but worry about you. Now I see that you’re stronger than I originally thought. You might even be a good influence on Korum. Arus thinks your cheren truly loves you—which is something we would’ve never expected from him.” “I see.” Mia drew in a deep breath and looked away, trying to process what she’d just learned. Perhaps her silly thought about Korum as a villain wasn’t as farfetched as it seemed. Not for the first time, she wished she could remember the past couple of months, so she could better understand this complex relationship she was in. What exactly was Korum to her? What did it mean to be his charl? And

which was the real Korum? The tender lover of last night, or the ruthless Councilor Delia had described? Perhaps he was both. Mia considered that for a minute. Yes, she could definitely see how that could be the case. After all, Korum himself had told her about how he had used her in the past to crush the Resistance. Yet he seemed to truly love her now—and Mia couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through her at the thought. Turning back toward the Greek girl, Mia looked at her. “Delia,” she said quietly, bringing up a topic that had been worrying her since yesterday, “do you know what happens in an Arena fight?” “Yes.” Delia gave her a sympathetic look. “You know about Loris’s challenge?” “Korum told me about it yesterday,” Mia said. “Have you ever seen one of these fights? Are they common?” “They’re not as common as they used to be a long time ago, but they still happen with some regularity. There are usually a couple of fights a year, sometimes more.” “And how dangerous are they?” Delia hesitated for a second. “Arena fighting is the number one cause of death for the Krinar,” she finally said. “Followed by various accidents.” Mia felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Does someone always die during a fight?” “No, not always. Sometimes the winner can control himself enough to stop in time. Generally, though, Krinar men don’t have the best control over their instincts during the heat of battle.” The Greek charl didn’t seem particularly bothered by that. Mia swallowed. “I see.” “But to answer your earlier question, I do think Krinar attitudes toward humans are changing,” Delia said, coming back to their previous discussion. “Two thousand years ago, the idea of a human working in a Krinar lab would’ve been unthinkable. They’ve come a long way since then, and I see things improving more and more every day. The fact that they’re living here on Earth, among us, is a game changer in many ways. They see now that we truly are their sister species, that we have the potential to achieve as much as they did.” “They no longer think we’re just smart monkeys?” Mia said, only half-jokingly.

Delia smiled. “Some still do, I’m sure. But it’s no longer the consensus view. And the more relationships like yours and mine there are, the more accepted humans will become in the Krinar society.” She paused for a second. “So you see, Mia, you don’t have to be fighting the Krinar to help your people. You just have to get one of them to fall in love with you.”

FIVE THOUSAND MILES AWAY, SARET GOT UP AND SMILED AT THE HUMAN GIRL LYING CURLED IN A LITTLE naked ball in his bed. She was petite, no more than five feet tall, and her dark brown hair fell in soft waves around her narrow face. Other than her brown eyes, she looked very much like Mia. He’d found her in Paris yesterday. She stared at him, and he could see the fear and hatred on her small face. It was unfortunate that she’d been engaged when he met her, with her wedding planned for next month. She had been understandably resistant to his attentions, and he didn’t have the time to seduce her properly. It had been wrong to take her, of course. Saret knew that. At this point, however, it didn’t matter. Everyone already thought him a monster, and stealing one human was a harmless prank in the grand scheme of things. He had bitten her during sex, so he knew she’d found pleasure with him too. She wasn’t Mia, but he had still enjoyed fucking her, pretending that the slim body in his arms was the one he truly wanted. Saret knew he had no hope of eluding the guardians for much longer; it was only a matter of time before he would be captured. Now that he had gotten a chance to think, he realized how Korum had known what to expect. It was very simple, really. His enemy must’ve been monitoring his charl even more thoroughly than he had admitted to Saret. In hindsight, Saret should’ve expected something like that; it was his own fault he’d underestimated Korum’s obsession with Mia. No, Saret knew he wouldn’t be able to hide for much longer. He’d been utilizing various disguises, but he could sense the guardians getting closer. Yesterday, he had taken a risk and connected to the Krinar network. He’d tried to hide his identity, but he was sure Korum would eventually find his traces in cyberspace. Still, Saret had needed to know what was happening in Lenkarda and whether the Council had found out about his plan. What he’d learned had made him both angry and excited at the same time. Angry—because his carefully planted nano dispersion devices had already been discovered and neutralized. And excited—because he finally knew how to get rid of

Korum once and for all. His enemy’s upcoming fight would be his last. Saret would make sure of that.

13

T he first thing Korum saw when he entered the house was Mia, curled up on the long float and absorbed in whatever she was reading on her tablet. At his entry, she looked up and smiled, her face bright with excitement. “Hi,” she said. “How was your day?” Korum felt a surge of tenderness, even as his body reacted predictably to her nearness. “Hello, my sweet,” he said, stepping toward her and bending down to give her a brief kiss. He had been thinking about her all day today, reliving every moment of the previous night in his mind. He couldn’t wait to re-introduce her to the pleasures of lovemaking, to taste her delicious body over and over again. He wanted to take it slow again, but the second his lips touched hers, her slender arms came up, looping around his neck, and all his good intentions evaporated in an instant. Her mouth was soft and sweet as he deepened the kiss, her scent warm and feminine. He could hear her breathing speeding up, smell her desire, feel her body arching up toward him... and his blood almost boiled in his veins. Without a conscious thought, his hands went to her dress, and the fragile fabric ripped underneath his fingers, exposing the delicate flesh underneath. She gasped, and he could feel her nails digging into the back of his neck as he sucked at the tender spot near her shoulder. Her heart rate spiked, and she moaned as his hand went to her thighs, pushing between them to get to her tight opening. She was hot and slick around his fingers, and Korum used the last vestiges of his self-control to bring her to orgasm by rhythmically pressing his thumb against her clit. As soon as she convulsed with a soft cry, he knew he could not hold out any longer. Tearing off his own clothes, he grabbed her legs and pulled her toward him until only her upper body was lying on the float. Then he pushed inside her in one powerful thrust.

She cried out, her body tensing, and Korum groaned as her inner muscles squeezed his shaft, preventing him from going deeper. Her eyes snapped open, focusing on him, and Korum held her gaze, knowing that she could see the dark craving written on his face. His cock throbbed inside her snug channel, and it wasn’t enough. The animal inside him needed to possess her on a level that went beyond the sexual, to imprint himself on her mind as well as body. “You’re all mine,” he whispered harshly, hardly realizing what he was saying. “Do you understand me?” She just stared at him, her face flushed and her lips slightly parted, and Korum could feel his temperature rising. A wave of pure possessiveness swept through his body. His buttocks tightened as he pushed deeper into her, holding her thighs wide open to aid in his penetration. She gasped, her face contorting with a mix of pain and pleasure, and he could hear her breath catching in her throat. Leaning forward, he let go of her legs and slid one arm under her upper back, bringing her closer. His other hand found its way to her hair, holding her head partially arched back, her slender neck exposed. “Say it, Mia,” he commanded, driven by a primitive need to claim her. “Say you’re mine.” “I’m...” She seemed to have trouble saying the words, her blue eyes clouded with some unknown emotion, and the urge to dominate her grew stronger. Bending his head, he took her mouth in a savage kiss, his hand slipping down to her folds and his thumb pressing hard on her clitoris. Her inner walls tightened around his cock like a fist, and she moaned into his mouth. “You’re mine,” he repeated, drawing back for a second, and she nodded, staring up at him, her lips swollen and shiny. “Say it.” “I’m yours.” Her whisper was barely audible, but it satisfied his craving for now. Leaning down, he kissed her again, more gently this time, even as he began thrusting with a smooth, steady tempo. His balls drew up against his body as pure, unadulterated pleasure coursed through his veins, all courtesy of the small girl in his arms. Closing his eyes, Korum let the sensations wash over him, reveling in her taste, in the feel of her soft skin under his fingers... in the tight clasp of her body around his cock. And just when the pleasure became too intense, he felt her convulse around him with a soft cry, sending him over the edge.

A FEW HOURS LATER, KORUM WOKE UP TO THE FAMILIAR FEEL OF MIA LYING PRESSED AGAINST HIS side. Her breathing was quiet and even, and he knew she was deeply asleep, worn out by his sexual demands. He’d managed to abstain from drinking her blood this time, since he’d indulged fairly recently, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking her a couple more times throughout the night. Sometimes he wondered if it was normal, the way he craved her all the time. He’d always had a strong sexual drive, but he’d never felt the urge to have one woman over and over again. With Mia, he simply couldn’t get enough, and he wasn’t sure he liked being so dependent on one tiny human girl. In general, his obsession with her bothered him on multiple levels. As happy as she made him, the depth of his feelings for her was unsettling. If he ever lost her... Korum couldn’t bear to even think of that possibility, his chest squeezing in agony at the idea. Slowly disengaging from her, Korum got up, trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking her up. She needed far more sleep than a Krinar, and he always made sure she got enough rest. Even with the nanocytes in her body, she was still far too fragile and vulnerable for his peace of mind. If he had his way, she would never go anywhere alone, always staying safely by his side. But Korum knew she would hate it if he restricted her independence too much. As it was, she resented the few safety measures he’d implemented. She viewed the tracking devices as a way to control her, as an invasion of her privacy, not understanding how important her safety and well-being were to him. It was already five in the morning—a late start to the day for Korum. Normally, he would already be working at this time, but he hadn’t gone to sleep until three hours ago, staying up late to satisfy his hunger for Mia. He needed her even more than usual, feeling edgy and restless in anticipation of the upcoming fight. He wasn’t afraid. In fact, the prospect of danger excited him. It had always been this way; in his youth, he’d even provoked a couple of fights just to feel that rush of adrenaline. As he got older, however, he’d learned to suppress that part of his nature, to use sports as an outlet for excess energy. As a result, he hadn’t been in a real fight—with the exception of Saur’s attack in Florida—for a solid eighty years. He did worry about having Mia at the Arena, though. The venue would be crowded, with almost every Krinar on Earth attending the event in person. Those on Krina would watch virtually. The idea of having her out in public after everything that happened made him uneasy, even though he knew there was little real danger.

The fight was to be in Lenkarda, while Saret was somewhere out in the human world. Still, Korum would’ve kept her away if it weren’t for the fact that doing so would be the equivalent of insulting her in public. Arena fights were considered to be one of the most important and interesting parts of Krinar life, and everyone—charl included—was expected to be there. Deliberately excluding Mia would make it seem like Korum was punishing her for something—which couldn’t be further from the truth. Thinking about it further, Korum decided to have two guardians watching Mia at all times. He would also arrange to have her sitting next to Delia, just in case his charl needed reassurance from an older, more experienced friend. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about her during the fight—and thus be able to fully concentrate on his opponent. Even a moment of inattention in the Arena could be deadly. In the meantime, he had a few hours before the main event. The best thing to do at this point was to catch up with his designers and make sure that they were working on the prototype of the shielding technology he’d recently developed. Voret and the rest of the Council were understandably worried about utilizing the old shields now, so that project had to take priority. Casting one last look at his sleeping charl, Korum left the house.

14

M ia waited for Delia to pick her up, her foot tapping nervously on the floor. She was almost sick with anxiety in anticipation of the fight, and she was glad the other charl was going to be with her during the event. To distract herself, Mia took a deep breath and looked down at the gleaming material of her white dress. Korum had left it for her this morning, and she’d figured she was supposed to wear it to the event. Unlike the usual light and flowing Krinar clothing, her outfit today was made of some stiff, relatively thick cloth and fit her body closely. It had a subtle shine to it, as did her sandals today. Korum had also given her a beautiful necklace to put around her neck. If Mia didn’t know better, she would’ve thought she was getting dressed up for her own wedding. She hadn’t seen Korum this morning, although he’d called and promised to meet her in the Arena before the fight officially began. When they’d spoken, she could hear a note of barely suppressed excitement in his voice, and she knew he was looking forward to this barbaric ritual. It still struck her as odd that she felt so attuned to him after just a couple of days. She could sense his moods, discern his emotions. She could even predict some of his reactions. When he’d come home last night, she’d known exactly what would happen when she wrapped her arms around his neck and transformed an innocent kiss into something more. As much as she had enjoyed their first night together, it had been obvious to her that Korum was holding himself back, that he was trying to make allowances for her ‘inexperience.’ And, while she had appreciated his restraint, it somehow wasn’t enough. Last night, she hadn’t wanted sweet and gentle; she’d wanted him wild and out-of-control, his true nature fully revealed. His possessiveness both scared and thrilled her. If she didn’t want him so much, she would’ve been frightened by his passion, by his insistence on her giving him

every part of herself. It made her wonder what would happen if she ever tried to leave him. Would he let her go, or would he stop her from going home? Could he stop her? If Delia were to be believed, humans had very few rights inside Krinar settlements—an idea that bothered Mia quite a bit. Of course, none of that mattered right now, in light of the upcoming fight. Looking impatiently at her wristwatch-bracelet device, Mia saw that it was already twenty minutes before noon. Where was Delia? The wait was heightening Mia’s anxiety. Two minutes later, she finally saw a small transport pod landing outside, next to the house. Delia came out of the aircraft and waved to her. Relieved, Mia smiled, glad to see the other girl. Arus’s charl was wearing a dress that was similar to Mia’s, and she looked stunning, her dark hair smooth and threaded with some strangelooking jewelry. Quickly exiting the house, Mia approached the Greek girl. “Thanks for picking me up,” she said as she got closer. “Of course,” Delia said. “I would’ve done it even if Korum hadn’t asked. You must be so frightened right now.” “I’m beyond frightened,” Mia admitted. “I feel like I could puke when I think about it.” Delia smiled. “I can see that. Here, come inside, and we’ll head over there.” “Has Arus ever been in one of these fights?” Mia asked, following her into the aircraft and taking a seat on one of the floating chairs inside. “A few times,” Delia replied, giving her an understanding look. “And every time I thought I’d have a heart attack. Believe me, I know exactly what you’re going through.” “It was probably worse for you,” Mia said. “At least I’ve only known Korum for a couple of days.” Although it might as well have been a couple of years, given the nearly paralyzing fear she was feeling at the thought of losing him. Taking a deep breath, Mia tried to calm herself by studying her surroundings. After all, she had never been in an alien aircraft before—or, at least, didn’t remember the experience. To her surprise, she could see that the inside of the pod resembled the interior of Korum’s house to a large degree, with light colors, transparent walls, and floating seats. There was no obvious ‘technology,’ as she was used to seeing it in the human world. Instead, everything seemed to work effortlessly, almost like magic.

As the aircraft took off, Mia could see the green forest through the transparent floor. In the distance, the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean sparkled in the bright sun. It was a beautiful day, and, under any other circumstances, Mia would’ve greatly enjoyed the ride. As it was, she couldn’t stop thinking about what was to come. Another question occurred to her, and she looked up, meeting Delia’s gaze. “How long do these fights tend to last?” Mia asked, her imagination conjuring up a horrifying day-long bloody ordeal. “Anywhere from a few minutes to a couple of hours,” the Greek girl said. “It really depends on how evenly the opponents are matched. There’s also a short ceremony before, and a longer one after, during which the winner celebrates.” “Celebrates how?” Delia smiled, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes. “Well, an unattached male will often choose one or more unattached females, and they will couple in a shatela—a tent-like structure in the middle of the Arena. Attached men will usually do the same with their mate.” Sex in public? Was Delia serious? Mia could feel furious color flooding her face. “And those with charl?” Delia laughed. “That depends. Arus is very considerate when it comes to my human sensibilities, and he would usually just kiss me in the Arena and wait until we got home to celebrate properly. Others have been known to treat their charl just like Krinar women in this situation.” “So you’re saying that if Korum wins, he might want to have sex in front of everyone?” “Perhaps,” Delia said, grinning. “Nobody will really see you, though, since you’ll be inside the shatela. They might only hear you.” “Oh great. That makes it so much better,” Mia muttered. She remembered what Korum had told her about the Celebration of Forty-Seven, and how she had been glad that, as a human, she wouldn’t be expected to participate in the exhibitionist spectacle. But now it seemed like there was no getting away from it—unless Korum ‘respected her human sensibilities.’ Just one more thing for her to worry about during the fight. Before she had a chance to think about this further, the transport pod landed quietly in a wooded area.

“We’re here,” Delia said, getting up. Mia got up as well and followed her out of the aircraft. It looked like they were in the middle of the forest. “Where is here?” Delia turned toward her, and Mia was shocked to see an excited gleam in her eyes. “The Arena,” she said and gestured toward a tree-covered hill in front of them. Mia raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything as they walked toward the elevation. She could hear a dull roar in the distance, like a massive waterfall of some kind. Was the Arena near a river? Carefully stepping forward, she concentrated on avoiding bugs or whatever else could be crawling in a Costa Rican jungle. Her thin-soled sandals were not exactly hiking-friendly, and Mia sincerely hoped she wouldn’t get stung or bitten before they got to the fight. If she recalled correctly, tarantulas were one of the hazards of this part of the world—although she was now supposedly immune to such dangers, with the nanocytes circulating throughout her body and quickly repairing any cellular damage. As they got further up the hill, Mia realized that the sound she was hearing was the muted buzz of a crowd. Somewhere nearby, thousands of Ks were gathered to watch the fight. Apparently eager to join them, Delia ran up the rest of the hill, moving with almost Krinar-like grace herself. “Here it is,” she said, turning toward Mia and pointing straight ahead. Her heart pounding and her palms sweating, Mia hurried to catch up with the other charl. When she reached the top of the hill, she stopped dead in her tracks. The green valley below was a spectacle unlike any other she had ever seen in her life. Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of Krinar were gathered below. Tall and golden-skinned, the aliens were dressed in blindingly white clothing that shimmered in the sunlight. While the majority mingled on the ground, a number of them occupied floating seats that were arranged in circles around a large clearing. It was like a round football field, only with the spectators floating in the air instead of sitting in the bleachers—or like a high-tech version of an ancient Roman amphitheater. The latter was probably a better comparison, Mia thought, given what was about to take place. “Mia! There you are!” Turning to her right, Mia saw Korum approaching them. Unlike everybody else, he was dressed in his usual clothes—a light-colored shirt and pair of shorts. Coming closer, he pulled her to him for a quick hug and kissed her forehead. “How are you, my sweet?” he asked, looking down at her with a warm smile.

Mia could feel her heart beating faster at his nearness. “I’m good. Are you ready for the fight?” “Of course.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers, then turned toward Delia. “Thanks for bringing Mia here,” he said, giving the other girl a smile. His left arm was still wrapped around Mia, holding her pressed tightly against his side. “It was my pleasure,” Delia said, giving Korum a regal nod. “I’ll let you two catch up. Mia, when you’re done, please come join me. We’re sitting over there.” She pointed toward a row of floating seats that were closest to the clearing. “I’ll bring her there in a minute,” Korum promised, looking faintly amused at the other girl’s imperious manner. As soon as Delia disappeared into the crowd, he bent his head and brought Mia up for a more thorough kiss, one of his large hands cupping her skull and the other holding her lower body pressed against his. She could feel the hardness of his erection pushing against her belly, the strength of his arms surrounding her, and heat flooded her body, culminating in the sensitive area between her legs. His lips and tongue teased and caressed her mouth, pleasuring her, consuming her, until she forgot all about the crowds around them, caught up in a sensual daze. When he finally let her come up for air, she was desperately clinging to him, heedless of their public location. “Fuck,” he cursed in a rough whisper, lifting his head and staring down at her with bright golden eyes, “I can’t wait for this fight to be over. You drive me insane sometimes, you know that?” Mia licked her lips, tasting him there. She was so aroused she could barely stand it, her hips moving involuntarily, trying to rub against him. Yet something nagged at the back of her mind, breaking through the fog of desire clouding her brain. She pushed at his chest, trying to put some distance between them so she could think. “Delia said...” Mia hesitated, not knowing how to phrase it. “Delia said the victor celebrates by, um...” “By fucking?” Korum asked, his eyes still filled with a golden glow. “Is that what she told you?” Mia nodded, her cheeks burning. Korum took a small step back, but still held her close. “It’s true,” he said, his voice low and husky. “If I win, I would be expected to celebrate that way. Would it be a problem?”

Mia stared up at him. “You mean... You’d want to do it in public?” “It’s not exactly public, my sweet,” he said, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “We’d be in a shatela—a structure specifically designed for that purpose. But yes, I would very much like to fuck you after the fight. Your sweet body would be my reward.”

KORUM COULD SEE HER PUPILS EXPANDING, MAKING HER BLUE EYES LOOK DARKER. HER BREATHING WAS uneven, and her cheeks were a pretty pink color. She was turned on, almost as much as he was right now. If this was already after the fight, he was sure she wouldn’t protest if he brought her to a shatela, stripped off that tight dress, and plunged his cock between her thighs. He liked the idea of claiming her in front of everyone; it appealed to something primeval deep within him. “Korum, I—” “Shhh,” he said, lifting his finger to her lips in a gesture he’d seen humans make. “Don’t worry about it now. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” And Korum meant it. He had not set out to prove anything when he kissed Mia, but her reaction clearly demonstrated her susceptibility to him. Despite the memory loss, she was as strongly attracted to him as before—a realization that filled him with bone-deep masculine satisfaction. He would never force her, but he also likely wouldn’t have to. He suspected his little charl was more adventurous than she thought herself to be. She was still watching him warily, so he bent his head and kissed her delicious mouth again. Just a brief kiss this time, no more than a brush of his lips against her own. His body screamed for him to do more, to take her now, but there was no time. He had to go get ready for the fight. But even a small kiss was enough to distract her right now. Her eyes looked soft again, hazy with desire. Korum had to force himself to look away in order to regain control. “Come,” he said hoarsely, “let’s get you to your seat. I have to go now, but I want to make sure you’re settled with Delia before I leave.” “Of course.” She seemed anxious again, some of the color leaving her face. “Is it starting at noon sharp?” “Yes,” Korum said, taking her hand and starting to lead her through the crowd.

“We tend to be punctual, so we have exactly ten minutes before the ceremony begins.” They walked toward the front row, where Delia and Arus were already in place. Only one float next to Delia remained empty, and Korum led Mia there. As they approached, the crowd parted, letting them through. His acquaintances gave him polite nods as they passed, while others stared at him and his charl with unabashed curiosity. This didn’t bother Korum one bit. As a Council member with a certain reputation, he was used to this type of attention. Mia was a figure of interest as well, given rumors of her involvement with the Resistance. The Krinar did not consider staring rude; on the contrary, it was a sign of respect to look at someone directly. “Oh, good,” Delia said as they got to her seat. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it before the start of the fight.” “No worries, we’re here,” Mia said, blushing a little. Korum suppressed a smile, knowing she was embarrassed about their public make-out session. His little darling was still such an innocent; he enjoyed her shyness almost as much as he liked curing her of it. Arus gave Korum a level look. “We’ll take good care of Mia, I promise. You don’t need to worry about her right now.” “Thanks,” Korum said, glad that the other Councilor understood his unspoken concern. Even knowing that it was safe, he still felt uncomfortable leaving Mia alone in public. What happened with Saret had left an indelible impression in his mind, and he knew he would have to work hard to overcome his fear of losing her. All around them, other Krinar settled in their floats, clearing out of the aisles and emptying the Arena field. Less than five minutes remained before the start of the ceremony, and Korum still had to prepare, mentally and physically, for what was to come. “I have to go,” he said reluctantly, watching Mia’s eyes fill with moisture at his words. “Be careful,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Please, Korum, be careful.” And wrapping her arms around his waist, she gave him a fierce hug, holding him for several long seconds. Touched, Korum hugged her back and then gently stepped out of her embrace. “I love you,” he said, giving her one last smile. “And I love you,” Mia whispered as he started to walk away.

Korum stopped in his tracks, hardly daring to believe his ears. Turning his head, he saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. He wanted to grab her, to ask her if she really meant it, but there was no time. Instead, he gave her the biggest smile he could and continued on toward a small structure on the far side of the Arena. The ceremony was about to begin.

MIA SAT DOWN ON HER FLOATING SEAT, FEELING LIKE A VISE WAS SQUEEZING HER HEART. DESPITE ALL of Korum’s reassurances, she knew there was a very real chance that she was seeing him for the last time. The thought was so agonizing that Mia couldn’t breathe for a moment. “Mia? Listen to me, Mia. He’s going to be fine, okay?” It was Delia, her voice calm and soothing. Mia blinked, focusing on the other charl with effort. “I know,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Of course, I know that.” The Krinar male who was with Delia gave her a reassuring smile too. “She’s right, Mia,” he said in a deep, quiet voice. “Your cheren is very good at this. He’s never lost a fight yet. I’m Arus, by the way. We’ve never met in person before.” “Oh, hi,” Mia said, automatically offering her hand for a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.” Arus’s smile got wider. “No handshake allowed, I’m afraid,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t want to end up on that field facing Korum next.” “Oh, right.” Mia withdrew her hand, mildly embarrassed. “I’m sorry; I forgot. Korum did tell me a little bit about your customs yesterday.” “You have nothing to be sorry about,” Delia said. “I’m very impressed by how quickly you’re re-learning everything. It took me a long time to get as comfortable as you seem to be right now.” “Yeah, I don’t know why that is,” Mia admitted. “Maybe I’m remembering things on a subconscious level.” “You also seem to have strong feelings for Korum already,” Arus observed, his dark eyes filled with speculation as he looked at Mia. “More than could be expected in this situation. I wonder why. I’m not a mind expert, but this seems fairly unusual.”

“Really?” Mia frowned in puzzlement. “I thought maybe a memory erasure procedure doesn’t get rid of memories completely—” “It’s supposed to,” Arus said. “If it’s a standard memory wipe, then you should be as you were a few months ago: with zero knowledge of our world or Korum. The fact that you’re adjusting so quickly is... interesting, to say the least.” Mia looked at him, wondering what it all meant. Ever since she woke up in Lenkarda, her feelings and reactions have been strange. Was it possible that Saret had screwed up and didn’t succeed in erasing her memories fully after all? A loud chime-like sound startled Mia out of her speculations. The pre-fight ceremony was beginning.

A TALL KRINAR MALE DRESSED IN AN UNUSUAL BLUE OUTFIT STEPPED OUT OF ONE OF THE SMALL structures on the edges of the Arena and walked toward the middle of the field. “That’s Voret,” Delia whispered, leaning toward Mia for a second. “He’s one of the oldest Council members.” Mia nodded, her eyes glued to what was happening below. “Residents of Earth and those watching us on Krina right now,” Voret said, his deep voice filling the entire amphitheater, “welcome to the ancient rite of the Arena Challenge. As all of you know, the fight today is between two of our esteemed Council members: Loris and Korum. The cause of this Challenge, like all others, is a disagreement that can only be settled in blood.” Voret raised his arm and blue light seemed to flow from his fingertips, becoming a giant three-dimensional image floating in mid-air. It showed a strange forest, with green, yellow, red, and orange plants. “For generations, we have gathered in the Arena to witness the resolution of such a disagreement. It all began after the Great War, when we nearly tore each other apart after the demise of the lonar—our source of life-giving blood. Violence was a way of life then—and it would still be today if not for the Arena Challenge.” The floating image began to change, as though a camera was zooming in on a particular portion of that alien forest. Mia stared in fascination as the image showed a Krinar male, dressed in some brown-colored scraps of material, leaping through the trees with a speed that would make Tarzan jealous. Below him, small humanoid creatures were scurrying on the ground, their bodies covered with light blond hair and nothing else. These had to be the lonar, Mia realized, seeing the

predatory look on the Krinar male’s face as he stalked them from above. He wasn’t as beautiful as the modern Ks; his features were rougher, less symmetric, though he still had the typical K coloring of dark hair and golden skin. “We have evolved as hunters. Predators.” Voret’s voice echoed throughout the Arena. “We need violence. We crave it. For a peaceful society to function, we need an outlet—a way to resolve disagreements that would otherwise lead to conflict and war. The Arena is that outlet.” The Krinar in the image leapt from the trees above, jumping down on the ground in front of the hapless lonar. They screamed in fear, their cries oddly monkey-like, and turned to run, but it was too late. One of them—a female—was already caught in the K’s steely embrace, and he was slicing his sharp teeth over her neck. Bright red blood trickled down her neck and chest, its color startling against the primate’s light-colored fur. “The extinction of the lonar nearly destroyed us. The fact that we survived is a testament to the heroic efforts of those scientists who came up with a blood substitute in the middle of war and chaos.” The image changed now, no longer showing the forest or the Krinar feeding on the helpless female. Instead, three strong-featured male Ks were displayed, their harsh faces more similar to the ancient hunter’s than to the gorgeous Krinar surrounding Mia. “In the Arena, we honor all those who came before us—and all those who will come after. With this rite of violence, we honor peace—and the laws that make it possible.” Now the floating image was showing the same colorful forest as before—only this time it was populated by the pale oblong structures that served as modern Krinar dwellings. A couple was strolling through the woods, a K male and female, wearing the light-colored clothing Mia was used to seeing. They looked beautiful and happy, walking together while holding hands. The image lingered for a few seconds, then winked out of existence, leaving only Voret standing in the middle of the Arena. He remained quiet for a second, and then his voice boomed again. “Now it is time for the fighters to join me. Loris and Korum, please enter the Arena.” Mia held her breath as the two Ks emerged, Korum from a structure to the right of Mia and Loris from a structure to the left. Instead of the usual Krinar attire—or the formal white clothing of the spectators—they each wore a pair of calf-length pants that were the color of fresh blood. Their feet and chests were bare, except for

swirls of red paint that decorated their arms and torsos. Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, Mia stared at her lover in fascination. He looked gorgeous—and utterly savage. Sitting in the front row, she could see the yellow-gold color of his eyes, light and striking against the bronze hue of his skin. His semi-nakedness only accentuated the power of his body; his muscles flexed and rippled as he walked, his posture graceful and threatening at the same time. The other Krinar was an inch or two taller, with a slightly bulkier build. The expression on his hawk-like features was dark and full of hatred. The two fighters approached the blue-clad figure in the middle of the Arena, pausing respectfully a couple of feet away. Voret turned toward Loris and addressed him, “Loris, you have chosen to challenge Korum today. Is that true?” “Yes,” the Krinar said, his eyes glittering with the same dark anticipation Mia could see on Korum’s face. Voret nodded, apparently satisfied. Turning to Korum, he asked, “Do you accept Loris’s challenge?” “I do,” Korum replied. “Then let the fight begin.”

15

K

orum watched as Voret lifted his arms—a signal to begin. At the same time,

the float that was underneath Voret’s feet activated, lifting the Councilor into the air high above the Arena. It was the only way the Mediator—a role filled by Voret today—could stay safe during the fight. His eyes glued to his opponent, Korum slowly began circling Loris, looking for the best opportunity to strike. He could feel his heart beating harder, the blood circulating faster through his veins. His mind was clear and razor-sharp, focused entirely on his enemy. It was always that way for him in the Arena; the adrenaline boosted Korum’s concentration, enhanced his reflexes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that Mia was watching him right now. He could feel her gaze on his skin, and it gave him even more of a rush than the upcoming fight itself. Loris responded by moving in a slow circle as well, his dark eyes burning with hatred. Korum gave him a taunting smile, wanting to enrage him further. It was one of the most basic principles of defrebs: the fighter who keeps a cool head wins. When Loris had attacked him in the Council meeting chamber, it had been laughably easy for Korum to subdue him—partially because the Protector had been completely out of control. A smile: such a simple thing, but it worked. Loris’s jaw tightened, the muscle near his ear twitching. And then he struck, his right arm lashing out, his fingers hooked into a deadly weapon. Korum avoided Loris’s strike with ease, his body twisting at the last moment. At the same time, his foot kicked out, hitting Loris’s knee with so much force that Korum could hear the other man’s joint snapping in half. Loris screamed in pain, stumbling back, and Korum leapt on top of him, using

the momentum from his jump to bring the Protector to the ground. Up-close combat was dangerous, but less so now that his opponent was partially—albeit temporarily—crippled. His fist smashed into Loris face, once, then again and again, each movement lightning-fast. At the same time, Korum’s knee slammed into Loris’s side, bruising his internal organs. This was not going to be a long fight. In fact, subduing the Protector was so easy that Korum should be able to avoid killing him altogether.

TWO ROWS AWAY FROM MIA, SARET WAITED FOR THE PERFECT MOMENT TO STRIKE, ALL OF HIS attention focused on the combatants. It was risky to be so close to the stage, but it maximized his odds of success—and put him within grabbing distance of Mia, if the opportunity presented itself. Of course, when he’d chosen this location, he didn’t know Korum’s charl would be so heavily guarded. Not only was she sitting next to Arus, but there were also at least two guardians watching her. Saret had spotted them earlier. They tried to blend with the crowd, but their sharp gazes betrayed their true purpose: they were there to protect Mia. Saret wondered if Korum suspected anything, or if he was just being paranoid about his charl’s safety. Either way, it looked like Mia was out of Saret’s reach for now—at least while Korum was alive. Once his enemy was out of the way, however, it would be a different matter. Unless another influential Krinar took Mia as his charl, she would be brought to Krina, where Saret would be able to claim her under his other identity. Saret’s interest in different identities had started several centuries ago, long before he had begun developing his plans for humans. He had been put in charge of rehabilitating a criminal who was a master of disguises, pretending to be three people at once, complete with different physical appearances, legal documents, and established lives. Saret had been so fascinated that he’d spent countless hours learning all about the man’s craft. The criminal had been more than happy to tell him everything he knew in exchange for a milder version of rehabilitation than the one he’d been sentenced to. Saret’s second identity had started off as a joke, as a way to see if he could get away with something like that in their technologically advanced society. And, to his surprise, he’d discovered that he could; all it took was the right tools, knowledge of

several government databases, and a couple of centuries to create a convincing new persona. Saret—the mind expert—was now considered a criminal. Juron, however, was a law-abiding citizen of Krina who was currently doing some individual space exploration in the Krinar solar system. It would be Juron who claimed Mia as his charl next. All Saret needed was to kill Korum right now, and at least that part of his plan would be successful. Then he could try to bring peace to Earth again. His current disguise was yet another identity he had started to develop here on Earth. It was not as airtight as that of Juron, but it was good enough to get him past all the security and into Lenkarda for the fight. No one suspected right now that the man sitting so close to the stage was the most wanted Krinar in the universe. Saret glanced at Mia again, then looked away. It wouldn’t do to stare at her openly, even though many others were doing the same thing. She was oblivious to everything, all of her attention focused on the fight. Saret cursed under his breath. It seemed like his little experiment had backfired in a major way, and she was growing attached to that bastard again. That was really unfortunate. Now she would be more than a little upset when he died. Slowly raising his hand, Saret aimed at the stage and waited for the perfect moment. When Korum jumped at Loris, Saret knew the time had come. Taking a deep breath, he activated the weapon.

KORUM RAISED HIS FIST TO DELIVER ANOTHER BLOW, AND IN THAT MOMENT HIS ARM FROZE. A wave of pain traveled down his body, starting at the back of his neck. His limbs felt uncontrollably heavy, his muscles shaking with the effort of holding himself up. A basic stun weapon. Korum knew it with sudden certainty. The guardians’ scanners were designed to catch anything dangerous, but this kind of stunner used an older, simpler technology—one that was much more difficult to detect from a distance. Reflexively clutching the back of his neck, Korum felt himself sliding off Loris’s body. His back hit the ground, leaving him lying there helpless, unable to move for

a few precious seconds. To the spectators, it would look like Loris had delivered him a hidden blow of some kind; the stunner possibility would not occur to anyone right away. Despite the danger—or maybe because of it—Korum’s mind operated with crystal clarity, analyzing the situation in an instant. There was only one person motivated enough to risk doing something like that. Saret. He was here at the fight. The hit had been to the back of Korum’s neck. He knew what a basic stunner felt like, had experienced its sting before. Just like a human gun, it was a weapon that had to be aimed from a specific location. A location that could be triangulated. Ignoring the pain and weakness racking his body, Korum sent a mental query to his internal computer... and then he knew. His enemy was only steps away from Mia. Fear, sharp and gut-wrenching, slithered through Korum’s veins, followed by a rage so intense his entire body shook with it. He couldn’t save himself right now, but he’d be damned if he failed to protect Mia again. Closing his eyes, Korum focused on connecting to the guardians’ private communication network.

MIA STIFLED A SCREAM AS SHE SAW KORUM JERK CONVULSIVELY AND THEN SLIDE OFF LORIS’S BODY. UP until now, he had seemed invincible, utterly in control of the situation. She had even begun to relax, some of her fear ebbing as she’d witnessed her lover’s effortless display of skill in the Arena. Until everything changed in an instant. What happened? She could see Korum clutching the back of his neck as if something bit him there. He seemed dazed, weakened by something. What the fuck happened? She could see Loris rising to his feet. He was already moving better, his Krinar body recovering from the injuries Korum had inflicted on him. And Korum was still lying there, like he couldn’t move. Even his eyes were

closed, preventing him from seeing his opponent. “No!” Mia heard her own scream echoing through the Arena. Delia grabbed her arm, keeping her from jumping from her seat as Loris attacked Korum’s prone body. She could see the glee on the other K’s face as he struck again and again, could smell the metallic odor of blood that turned their painted bodies a brighter red. It was Korum’s blood. “No!” Another agonized scream tore from her throat. Now there was a sickening sound of fist connecting with flesh, over and over again. “No, stop!” Mia wrenched her arm out of Delia’s hold and jumped to her feet. “Mia, don’t! You can’t interfere—” The Greek girl tried to grab her again, but Mia shook her off like a fly, desperate to get into the arena. She managed to take two steps before a steely arm went around her waist, pressing her against a hard male body. Mia clawed at that imprisoning arm, heedless of all but the slaughter happening in front of her eyes. “Stop the fight! It’s a setup! Can’t you see? He can’t fight! It’s a setup!” The arm only tightened further. “Let me go! Let me fucking go!” Mia was vaguely aware that she was screaming like a banshee, yelling out anything that came to mind, but it didn’t matter. Arus was holding her now, and she was furiously fighting him, trying to twist out of his grasp. It was impossible to win against a Krinar, but it didn’t matter. Mia was past any semblance of rationality.

KORUM COULD FEEL THE BLOWS FROM LORIS’S FIST, HIS BODY SHUDDERING Protector’s claw-like fingers gouged out chunks of his flesh.

IN AGONY AS THE

Emboldened by Korum’s apparent weakness, his enemy was taking his time torturing him before inflicting the killing blow. The pain was shocking, nauseating, but Korum fought the darkness that threatened to pull him under, knowing that all would then be lost. He was vaguely aware that his kidneys and spleen were damaged, that his ribs were crushed and his left collarbone broken, but it didn’t matter because he could feel the effect of the stun shot starting to wear off. In the background, he could hear Mia screaming and crying, the pain in her voice ripping at his heart. With each second that passed, the debilitating weakness that

rendered him so helpless was dissipating, his body beginning to function with a semblance of normality. He needed to survive a little longer. Just a little more, and he might stand a chance, instead of lying there like a piece of meat. For now, though, he was still far too weak. To fight back at this point would be deadly. Loris was playing with him, putting on a show, trying to regain his standing through this display of his fighting prowess—but at any sign of renewed resistance from Korum, he would go straight for Korum’s throat. So Korum let the blows rain down on him, not even groaning when Loris kicked him over and over again. He ignored the pain of bones breaking and tendons ripping apart, concentrating only on remaining conscious. And when Loris finally reached for his throat, Korum gathered every bit of strength in his damaged and torn body... and let his rage boil over. His left arm—the only limb that remained semi-functional—hooked around Loris’s throat with a deadly grip, pulling the Protector close. And before his opponent could react, Korum’s teeth were sinking deep into his flesh, biting through his spinal column and severing the connection to the brain. Blood spurted everywhere: in Korum’s eyes, his hair, his mouth... He was covered with blood, the taste and smell of it consuming him, adding to the black fury surging through his veins. He was no longer thinking or reasoning; he was bloodlust incarnate, craving more and more. His teeth sank into Loris’s throat again, ripping at it, tearing it apart, until there was nothing left.

16

S aret watched in shock and furious disbelief as Loris’s severed head rolled down the field. The Councilor’s dark eyes were open and unseeing, his mouth slack and covered with blood. All around him, the crowd was going wild. People were on their floats, in the aisles, screaming and stomping their feet. Korum’s name was being chanted over and over again, making Saret feel sick to his stomach. He had to get out of there. Now, before it was too late. He could analyze his failure later; all that mattered at this point was getting away. Rising from his seat, he joined the screaming spectators in the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mia struggling against Arus, trying to get to her lover. Saret desperately wished he could grab her and take her with him, but she was too well-protected here. He would have to come back for her again. Pushing through the crowds, Saret slowly made his way toward the exit, doing his best not to draw undue attention to himself. He was almost there when he felt a sudden zapping sensation through his entire body. Stunned and helpless, he collapsed on the floor, barely cognizant of the guardians surrounding him.

KORUM DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG HE REMAINED IN THAT MINDLESS STATE OF RAGE. IT COULD’VE BEEN minutes or hours. By the time he came back to his senses, Loris’s head was lying several meters away from his body, his eyes vacant and his neck looking like it had been savaged by a wild animal. Dead. His opponent was dead.

Korum’s own body was in agony, and he could feel the darkness trying to overtake him again. Only the knowledge that there was still something he needed to do kept him from the sweetness of oblivion. His greatest enemy was not the one lying on the field; he was the one hiding among the spectators—and Mia was still in danger. Groaning in pain, Korum managed to get up on his hands and knees, his muscles shaking from the effort. He was dimly aware that the crowd was cheering for him, that Voret was formally announcing him as the winner. None of that mattered to him now. All he cared about was Mia, and getting to her before Saret did. Korum’s body was healing, but not fast enough, and he cursed himself as his shattered femur refused to hold his weight, his leg collapsing beneath him as he tried to get to his feet. “We got him. It’s all right; she’s safe.” Strong hands were suddenly holding him up, helping him get to his feet. It was Alir—the leader of the guardians. Korum’s head spun, and his stomach churned with nausea as his damaged body protested the new vertical position. “Where is he?” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and ragged. “There.” Alir pointed near the exit with his left hand while providing support for Korum with his right. Korum squinted in that direction, the sun blinding him for a moment. When his vision cleared, he saw an unfamiliar Krinar being collared by three guardians. The man’s features were completely different from Saret’s, his eyes larger and his chin more prominent. “He’s got a very good disguise,” Alir said, understanding Korum’s unspoken question. “Even the outer layer of DNA is different, which is how we didn’t detect his presence before. But the shooter’s coordinates you sent us matched this man’s location perfectly, and an internal DNA sample showed that it is indeed Saret.” Intense relief mixed with bitter regret, leaving Korum conflicted about this turn of events. He had wanted to be the one to catch Saret, to punish him for what he’d done to Mia. But instead, his former friend was now in the hands of the Krinar law keepers. No matter how badly Korum wanted to kill him, Saret would now live to stand trial. “Korum!” Mia’s voice reached his ears, jerking him out of his dark thoughts. Looking up, he saw her slight figure running down the field, her dark hair flying behind her. The happiness that filled him at the sight was so acute that he forgot

all about Saret and his betrayal, focusing only on the girl he loved. Then she was next to him, and he could see that she was pale and shaking, her dress torn in one spot. Her beautiful face was wet with tears. One pale arm lifted toward him, her hand trembling as though she wasn’t certain if she could touch him. “You’re alive,” she whispered, and he could hear the disbelieving note in her voice. “Oh my God, Korum, you’re alive...” And Korum realized exactly what she was seeing. He was covered with blood, both his own and that of Loris. He could taste its metallic tang on his tongue, smell it surrounding him, and he knew it was all over his hair, his face, his mouth. Fuck. He must look like something out of a nightmare, especially with the rapidly healing parts of his body where Loris had torn out chunks of his flesh. Remembering her reaction to Saur’s remains on the beach, Korum mentally cursed himself for letting Mia see him like this. He had been hoping to avoid killing Loris partially for this reason—because he didn’t want his little human traumatized by seeing her lover brutally kill someone. This should’ve been an easy fight, one during which Korum could’ve restrained himself, kept from giving in to the primitive instincts of his species. If it hadn’t been for Saret’s interference, Korum could’ve easily subdued his opponent, defeating him but graciously letting him live. And instead, he had been utterly savage, like a cornered animal. His legs were already feeling better, so Korum shrugged off Alir’s support and carefully reached for Mia, bringing her toward him. He knew there was a chance he might repulse her now, but he needed her. Needed to feel her softness, to inhale her clean, sweet scent. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him so tightly that it hurt his half-healed ribs. She was shaking, her slender body trembling in his embrace. “It’s all right, my sweet,” he murmured, some of his tension draining as he realized she was not afraid to touch him. “It’s going to be all right...” “I thought—” With her face buried against his shoulder, Mia’s voice was barely audible. Her hands were icy on the bare skin of his back. “I thought he killed you... Oh God, Korum, I thought you were dead—” “No,” he soothed, reveling in her apparent concern for him. “No, my darling, he didn’t. It’s over now—” A sob broke out of her throat. “He hurt you. I saw him hurting you, again and again. Korum, he was killing you—”

“It’s okay, I’m all right,” Korum whispered, his heart aching at the horror in her voice. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m sorry you had to see that. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, believe me...” She drew in a shuddering breath and pulled back to look up at him. Her eyes were reddened, her lashes dark and spiky from tears. “What happened? I saw you fall and then it was like you couldn’t fight anymore. Did Loris cheat somehow? Did he do something to you?” “It wasn’t Loris,” Korum explained, trying to keep the fury out of his voice. “It was Saret. He was in the audience, just a few seats away from you. He shot me with a stunner—a weapon similar to a stun gun—so I couldn’t move for a bit.” She gasped. “He tried to kill you? Is that what the commotion over there was about? I wasn’t paying attention—” “Yes,” Korum said. “I sent the guardians after him as soon as I realized what was happening.” “You sent the guardians? How?” “Remember I told you I have an embedded computer?” Korum asked. Mia nodded, staring at him. She still looked pale, even though the tremors wracking her frame were beginning to subside. “I was able to use it to contact the guardians.” She blinked, and he could see that she wasn’t absorbing what he was saying, her mind still consumed by what had just happened. Alir stepped in front of him, making Korum aware of his presence again. “The victory ceremony is about to start,” the guardian said quietly. “Are you able to participate?” Korum considered it for a moment, holding Mia against his side, then gave Alir a short nod. “I should be fine.” He was still in pain, but it was a healing kind of pain. His body was repairing itself from the inside, the cells regenerating themselves. In another few minutes, he would be almost back to normal. Of course, given everything that happened, a regular ceremony with a public claiming of his charl was out of the question. Even though his recovering body was beginning to stir at her nearness, Korum was fully cognizant of his current appearance. He was dirty, sweaty, and covered in blood—not exactly appealing to a human girl. She had also just been through a major shock, and the last thing she needed was to deal with unwanted sexual advances from a man she probably now

saw as a savage killer. Alir inclined his head in a gesture of respect and walked off the field, his tall, broad frame moving with a warrior’s gait. Korum had played defrebs with the man several times in the last couple of years, and he’d lost more than once. The guardians were excellent fighters, their profession requiring them to stay in top shape, and Korum was glad that he’d never had to face one of them in the Arena. “All you have to do is stay with me right now,” Korum told Mia when Alir was further away. “Under the circumstances, the post-fight ceremony will be brief.” “Because you’re hurt?” she asked, and he could hear the strain in her voice. “No, I’ll be fine. But you’re not ready for anything like a victory celebration right now,” Korum said softly. “What we need is to go home.”

AS THE CEREMONY BEGAN, MIA TRIED TO FOCUS ON THE EVENT, BUT HER MIND KEPT FLASHING BACK TO the gruesome images of the fight. Flash. Korum lying on the ground, unable to move. Flash. Blood spraying everywhere. That terrible gloating expression on Loris’s face. Flash. Korum striking back with the speed of a cobra. The sudden terror on the other Krinar’s face. Flash. More blood. Flash. Loris’s head torn off his body. No, stop it! Mia wanted to scream, but they were in public, and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t embarrass Korum like that. He was holding her hand now, and they were on a large float in the middle of the Arena. The same Krinar who had led the beginning of the ceremony was speaking again, saying something else about the history of Arena fighting, but his words were sliding past Mia’s ears. There was a sense of unreality to the proceedings; Mia kept feeling like she was inside a dream —or, more aptly, a nightmare. Only Korum’s touch felt real. She wanted to crawl into his embrace and never come out. When he had held her earlier, she’d felt some of her terror ebbing away, but now she felt cold again, her teeth chattering despite the heat of the bright Costa Rican sun. He was alive. Mia still couldn’t believe it. It had to be a miracle of some kind.

How could anybody survive those kinds of injuries? She had known the Krinar healed quickly, but Korum had been almost literally torn apart. There had been so much blood. Oh God, the blood. Mia swallowed hard, trying to contain her nausea. If she never saw the color red again, it would be too soon. No wonder the Krinar preferred light colors in their daily lives; they probably needed the contrast after the violent spectacle of the Arena. Korum had almost died today. Her alien lover—so strong, so seemingly invincible—had been nearly brought down by treachery. For a few dark moments, Mia had been sure that he was dead—and she had wanted to die too. It had felt like her heart was being torn open, each blow to Korum’s body smashing something deep within her soul. She had never experienced such agony before, and she never wanted to feel it again. She was dimly aware that Voret had stopped speaking, that he was addressing Korum now, asking him about a celebration. She saw Korum starting to shake his head, and something came over her. Acting purely on instinct, she leaned closer to Korum and whispered in his ear, “I want you. Please, Korum, I want you.” He turned his head to look at her, his expression incredulous, and she squeezed his hand, wordlessly telling him that it was okay, that he could celebrate in the way of his people. Rightly or wrongly, she needed him now, and she didn’t care about anything else.

MIA COULD SEE HIS PUPILS EXPANDING, HIS IRISES TURNING A BRIGHTER SHADE OF GOLD. WITH THE blood and dirt covering him, he looked like a savage, like one of those ancient hunters Voret had shown at the beginning of the ceremony. She wanted him so much she ached with it, her body needing to affirm life in the most basic way possible. He hesitated for a second, staring at her, and then he raised his hand, curving his large palm around her right cheek. “Mia...” “Please, Korum.” She held his gaze, knowing that he could see the sincerity of her intentions on her face. She needed to feel his touch on her skin, needed him to make her forget the horror of the past hour. His eyes glittering, he leaned forward and said softly, “You don’t know what

you’re asking, my sweet. I can’t be... gentle right now.” Mia swallowed, her inner muscles clenching at his words. “I don’t want you to be.” He looked at her for another few seconds, and she could see the pulse beating in the side of his muscular neck. Then, as though unable to help himself, he bent his head and kissed her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her onto his lap. In the background, Mia could hear the crowd roaring, the spectators cheering and stomping their feet, but it didn’t bother her. All she could concentrate on was the heat of his mouth consuming hers, the pressure of his erection against her buttocks, the feel of his strong hands rubbing up and down her back. There was a faint metallic taste that should’ve repelled her, but instead it turned her on even more. The man kissing her right now was a predator, a killer—and she wanted him exactly as he was, no holds barred. Lifting his head, he stared down at her for a second, his breathing heavy and his skin flushed underneath the streaks of grime and blood. All around them, the crowd was going wild, chanting their names. Mia had a sudden thought that that’s what rock stars must feel like, surrounded by their screaming fans. As though in response to that, a strange music began to play, with notes so deep that Mia could feel the vibrations deep in her bones. The rhythm was uneven, almost jerky. It should’ve sounded discordant, unpleasant, but instead, it added to the pulsing heat between her legs, making her skin feel tighter and her heart beat faster. Korum was reacting to it too, his cock hardening even more, pushing into the softness of her bottom. Still holding her, he stood up and began walking toward a tent-like structure in the center of the Arena, carrying her like a prize of war. Mia clung to him, feeling almost intoxicated. Her head was spinning, and everything seemed surreal, as though it was happening in a dream. The psychology student in her recognized that it was her brain’s response to trauma, that she wasn’t thinking clearly, but it didn’t matter. She was dying with need, and Korum was the cure for what ailed her. They got to the tent, and he placed her on her feet, keeping her pressed against his body. Instead of them going inside, the tent appeared to move and flow around them, mostly covering them from the view of the crowd. Mia was vaguely aware of the thinness of the walls, of the fact that thousands of curious Krinar eyes were watching the structure right now, but she wasn’t fully processing that information. They had some kind of privacy, and that was good enough for her.

As soon as the tent walls stopped moving, Korum took a step back, releasing her from his embrace. “Take off the dress.” His voice was unusually rough, and she could see the tension in his powerful shoulders. With his eyes a bright yellow, he looked wild, more animal than man. “Take it off, Mia.” She obeyed, shimmying out of the dress, her excitement mixed with a tiny dollop of fear. He hadn’t even touched her, and she could see that he was already close to losing control. Before her dress even hit the ground, he was already on her, one of his hands delving between her thighs and another grabbing her hair. His mouth descended on hers even as his finger pushed inside, into her small opening. He was rough, almost frantic, and Mia realized that he hadn’t been lying before, about not being able to be gentle. She was wet, but her muscles still tensed involuntarily, her body resisting the aggressive penetration. Suddenly, he withdrew his finger and used the hand holding her hair to push her down, onto her knees. Tiny rocks and gravel dug into the soft skin of her kneecaps. “Suck it,” he said harshly, tearing open the front of his pants. “I want your mouth right now.” His erection sprang free, brushing against her cheek. Mia opened her mouth, letting him inside, and he groaned as her lips closed around the head of his cock. He tasted salty, the tip already coated with pre-cum. She swirled her tongue around his shaft, mimicking what she’d once seen done in porn. He let out a sound that sounded like a growl, and his hands fisted tighter in her hair, holding her head steady as he began to move his hips, fucking her mouth with his cock. Mia focused on taking small breaths, trying not to choke as most of his length pushed into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. He thrust again and again, and then he was coming with a harsh groan, his seed shooting out in warm, salty spurts. When he was done, he slowly withdrew from her, his cock still semihard. Swallowing, Mia licked her lips and stared up at him, strangely aroused by what had just occurred. Pleasuring him like this turned her on, almost as if he had been touching her too. He held her gaze, and she could see that his eyes remained bright, his hunger as strong as ever. His sex was stirring again, hardening in front of her face. One orgasm had just taken the edge off, she realized as he pulled her up onto her feet. When he touched her again, he was gentler, his desire more controlled. His

hands and mouth traveled down her body, caressing and worshipping every inch of her skin. Mia closed her eyes, quiet moans escaping her throat as pleasurable tension began to gather low in her belly. Then he was kneeling in front of her, his face at the level of her hips, his hands cupping the smooth curves of her buttocks. Bringing her toward him with one hand, he used the other to penetrate her with one finger, being much more careful this time. At the same time, his mouth delved into the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, his tongue reaching between her folds to stroke her clit. Mia jerked from the startling lash of sensations, her entire body tensing as his finger rubbed against the sensitive spot deep inside. She could feel the growing pressure, and her knees began shaking, her legs suddenly too weak to support her weight. If it hadn’t been for his finger inside her and his hand on her ass, she would’ve collapsed, falling down on the ground beside him. “Come for me,” he whispered, his hot breath washing over her sex, and she did, his words sending her over the edge, providing that elusive something she didn’t even know she needed. Everything inside her tightened and released, the pleasure so sharp it felt like an explosion along her nerve endings. When the pulsations stopped, he withdrew his finger and tugged her down again. This time, they were both kneeling on the hard ground. Looking at her, he lifted his hand and slowly licked his finger—the one that had just been inside her. “I love your taste,” he murmured, his eyes filled with such hunger that her mouth went dry. “It makes me want to fuck you again and again, just to have it on my tongue.” Mia drew in a shaky breath, her sex clenching with need. Before she could say anything, he lay down on the ground, lifting her up and placing her astride his thighs. His cock was completely hard again, standing up straight from his body. “Ride me, Mia,” he said, watching her with a half-lidded gaze. “Yes,” she whispered, “I will.” And grasping his thick length with her right hand, Mia guided him to her opening, her eyes closing as the broad head began to push inside. She lowered herself slowly, teasing them both, and was rewarded with a low groan that escaped from his throat. When he was all the way inside, she opened her eyes, meeting his burning gaze. With his face streaked with grime and blood, he looked dangerous—cruel even. She was almost literally riding a tiger—a predator who could tear her apart in the blink of an eye. Instead of scaring her, the thrill of it only added to the desire coursing

through her veins. As she began to move, she kept her eyes trained on him, watching as tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and a muscle pulsed in his jaw from his apparent effort to restrain himself. His hands tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, and then he was lifting her up and down on his cock, going deeper and deeper with every stroke. The tension inside her spiraled again, and Mia threw back her head, her mouth open in a soundless scream. A powerful orgasm rippled through her body even as Korum kept thrusting faster and faster, seeking his own release. When he came, the grinding motions of his pelvis intensified her aftershocks, leaving her completely wrung out. Breathing hard, Mia collapsed against his chest, her muscles like limp noodles and her mind emptied of any thoughts. She was so relaxed she didn’t even react when he pulled her higher, bringing her neck closer to his mouth. It was only when she felt a strange slicing pain that Mia realized what was happening... and her world dissolved into an ecstatic frenzy of blood and sex.

PART III

17

K

orum woke up to the unfamiliar feel of hard ground underneath his back.

Before he even opened his eyes, he remembered everything that had occurred earlier—including Mia’s voluntary participation in the celebration. He could feel her slight weight on his arm, hear her quiet breathing, and he knew she was deeply asleep, worn out from the double ordeal of the fight and the celebration. Moving carefully, Korum freed his arm, gently lowering her head to the ground. Then he stood up and created fresh clothes for both of them. A pair of shorts for himself and a robe for Mia—just enough to afford them some coverage in case any spectators remained in the Arena. He was thirsty and hungry, but otherwise he felt great, his body practically thrumming with energy. The scientists said there was no physiological need for lonar or human blood, given the genetic fix, but many on Krina thought that some kind of a psychological need remained. Korum wasn’t certain if he believed that, but he did know that he rarely felt as satisfied as those times when he indulged himself with Mia. Holding the robe, he crouched next to her and studied her for a few seconds, enjoying the sight of her naked body. He rarely got a chance to watch her like this; usually his need for her was so intense he couldn’t look at her bare flesh without fucking her immediately afterwards. Even now, after last night’s sexual marathon, he could feel the warm stirrings of desire—although it was nothing compared to his usual craving. She was lying on her back, one slim arm extended over her head and the other bent across her ribcage. Fascinated by her breasts, Korum reached out and stroked one pale mound, smiling when the nipple hardened at his touch. Her skin was as soft as anything he had ever felt, its silky texture a constant lure for his fingers.

Wrapping her in a fluffy robe, he lifted her up. She didn’t even stir, her sleep so deep it bordered on unconsciousness. It was always like that after he took her blood: her human body needed to recuperate from the excess of sensations. And so did his, albeit to a lesser extent. Korum could see how others had gotten addicted to their charl; Mia’s blood was a powerful temptation for him, its effect more potent than that of any drug. He used to think blood addicts were weak, but now Korum wondered if there was really that much difference between physical and emotional addiction. He certainly couldn’t imagine needing Mia more than he already did. Carrying her out of the shatela, Korum walked toward the grassy area where he’d left his transport pod. He hadn’t bothered disassembling it earlier, so it was now waiting for them. Looking around, he saw that the Arena was completely empty. It was also early morning, the sun just beginning to come up. Grinning, Korum realized that he must’ve been in the shatela much longer than usual. It was his first time celebrating with a human, and it was by far the best experience he’d had. They reached the transport pod, and Korum sent a quick mental command to have them taken home. A minute later, they were walking into his house, with Mia still asleep in his arms. As soon as they were inside, Korum headed straight for the cleansing room—the bathroom, in human terms. He was still covered in dirt, dried blood, and sweat, and some of the grime had rubbed off on Mia, leaving her pale skin marred with dark streaks. Another mental command from him, and the water came on, warm jets softly massaging their bodies and rinsing away all traces of yesterday’s activities. Korum enjoyed the sensation; it was both energizing and soothing at the same time. A few minutes later, both he and Mia were clean and dry, and he carried her to bed, knowing she needed to get more sleep. She was so exhausted she hadn’t even woken up during the cleansing. Laying her on the bed, Korum let the intelligent material flow around her and then covered her with a soft sheet, knowing that she liked the feel of blankets. Kissing her forehead, he took one last look at the girl he loved and headed out to start his day.

“HE REFUSES TO TALK TO US,” ALIR TOLD KORUM AS THEY WALKED guardians’ building. “He says he will only talk to you.”

TOWARD THE OTHER SIDE OF THE

“Will he now?” Korum said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “And what gives him the impression he’s in a position to make demands?” Alir shrugged. “I don’t know. But he seems convinced that you will be interested in hearing what he has to say. He says it has to do with Mia.” Korum’s hands clenched into fists at the mention of his charl. The fact that Saret dared bring up her name— “The report for the Elders is ready,” Alir said, changing the topic. “Would you like to review it?” “Yes,” Korum said. “Send it to me. I’ll run it by the Council.” Alir nodded. “Will do.” They had reached their destination, and Alir stopped before going in. “Do you want me there?” “No.” Korum was certain of that. “I want to speak to him alone.” “Then he’s all yours.” Turning around, Alir walked back, leaving Korum on his own. Korum waited until the leader of the guardians was gone, and then he took a step forward, toward the wall that shielded his enemy from his view. The wall dissolved, forming an entrance, and he stepped inside. Saret was sitting on a float, a crime-collar around his throat. Korum smiled at the sight. He remembered having an argument with Saret about the collars a few hundred years ago, with his former friend trying to convince him that the collars were demeaning and unnecessary. Korum had disagreed, believing that the shame of the crime-collar was part of the deterrent for would-be criminals. It was good to see Saret wearing one now, particularly in light of his views about it. “I see you’re out of your disguise now,” Korum observed, studying his enemy’s familiar features. “Miscalculated a bit, did you?” Saret gave him a cold smile. “Apparently. I underestimated how much Loris hated you. If I had known he would try to prolong the process of killing you, I would’ve shot you twice.” “Live and learn,” Korum said. “Isn’t that what humans say?”

“Indeed.” Saret’s eyes gleamed with something dark. Korum gave him a mocking look and sat down on another float, stretching out his legs in a gesture of disrespect. “You wanted to talk to me,” he said coolly. “So talk.” “All right,” Saret said. “I will. How is Mia doing, by the way? She seemed a bit upset yesterday.” Korum felt a surge of anger, but kept his expression calm, amused. “She was. But she’s happy now, as I’m sure you can imagine.” “Of course she is,” Saret said. “And adjusting so well to life here, isn’t she? It’s almost as if she didn’t lose her memory fully, wouldn’t you say? It’s like she still knows you on some level, maybe even loves you. And she’s so accepting of everything. Nothing fazes her for long. Amazing, isn’t it?” Korum froze for a second, a chill running down his spine. The only way Saret could know that would be— “Yes,” Saret said. “I see you’re on the right track. I miscalculated again, you see. Mia was supposed to end up with me, not you.” “What did you do to her?” Korum said quietly, the fine hair on the back of his neck rising. Saret laughed. “Nothing too awful, believe me. I merely made sure she would be receptive. She’s still herself... mostly.” “What did you do?” Without even realizing what he was doing, Korum found himself out of his seat, his hand wrapped around Saret’s throat. Saret made a choking sound, his hand tugging at Korum’s fingers, and Korum forced himself to release him, taking a step back. He was shaking with rage, and he knew he would kill Saret if he didn’t put some distance between them. “It’s called softening,” Saret said, rubbing his throat. His voice was raspy from Korum partially crushing his trachea. “It’s a new procedure I developed specifically for humans. A softened mind doesn’t feel fear as sharply. It’s also more open to new impressions, new ideas.” Saret paused dramatically. “New attachments. In fact, such a mind seeks something—or, rather, someone—to attach to.” Korum stared at Saret, ice spreading through his veins. “And that someone can be anyone, you see. It should’ve been me—but instead, it was you.”

You’re lying. Korum wanted to scream, to deny what he just heard, but he couldn’t. It made too much sense. The girl he met in New York wouldn’t have accepted everything with such ease, wouldn’t have invited him into her bed after knowing him for just a day. She would’ve been frightened and mistrustful, and he would’ve had to earn her trust and affection all over again. And instead, she seemed to love him with hardly any effort on his part. Except she didn’t. Not really. Her feelings for him weren’t real. None of it was real. Her behavior, her apparent attachment to him—it was all a result of Saret’s procedure. “Does she still have her memories?” Korum buried the agony deep inside, where it couldn’t cloud his thinking. “Or did you erase them anyway?” Saret grinned, visibly delighted by the question. “No, the memories are gone. It just seems like they’re there because she’s absorbing everything like a sponge, learning at an incredible rate. Pretty soon, she’ll be more acclimated to our world than she was before—if she’s not already.” “Can you undo it?” Korum knew it was futile, but he had to ask. “What, the softening or the memory loss?” “Both. Either.” Saret’s grin widened. “I can’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. You might have her now, but you’ll never truly have her. You’ll never know if anything she feels for you is genuine—or if she would’ve felt the same about any other man who spent time with her upon her awakening.” Korum looked at the man he’d once considered a friend. Memories of their childhood, happy and carefree, flashed through his mind, leaving the bitter taste of regret in their wake. “Why?” he asked quietly. “Why do I hate you?” Saret lifted his eyebrows. “Or why did I do all of this?” Korum just continued looking at him. “The answer is the same to both,” Saret said, his grin fading. “I was tired of always being in your shadow. No matter how much I achieved, how high I climbed, I was always just Korum’s buddy. Korum the inventor, Korum the designer, Korum who brought us here to Earth. Your ambition knew no bounds—and neither did my hatred of you.” “Yet you supported me,” Korum said, the pain of the betrayal somehow distant, not fully reaching him yet. “You were always on my side on the Council. You helped

me get us here, to Earth.” “I did,” Saret agreed. “Because I knew it was foolish to do anything else. Even the Elders dance to your tune these days, don’t they?” Korum didn’t justify that with a response. Instead, he gave Saret a look of contempt. “So all your grandiose plans for humans, your supposed desire for world peace, it was all out of petty jealousy?” “No,” Saret said, his eyes narrowing. “I saw a way to shape history, and I took a chance. What could be a greater achievement than peace for an entire planet? Do you think any of your gadgets could compare to that?” “An achievement that would’ve involved the deaths of fifty thousand Krinar.” “Yes,” Saret said, and he had the gall to look regretful for a moment. “That would’ve been unfortunate. Unavoidable, but unfortunate.” “Unfortunate?” Korum could hardly believe his ears. “What is wrong with you, Saret? How did you get to be this way?” Now Saret was beginning to look angry. “What is wrong with me? You ask me that while you’re standing there, with Loris’s blood still fresh on your hands? You think something is wrong with me because I wanted to better the lives of billions by killing a few thousand? How many Krinar have you killed in the Arena, Korum? Twenty, thirty? And what about humans? You think I don’t know that you enjoy killing, just like the rest of our fucked-up race?” Korum stared at him, trying to understand this man he’d known his whole life. “You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “I don’t enjoy killing. I didn’t want to kill Loris yesterday—and I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t interfered. I like the fights themselves, not the end result of them. And that’s how our fucked-up race is, as you should know, since you’re the mind expert here. We love danger and violence— we crave it—but we don’t have to be murderers.” “And yet we are,” Saret said. “You can fool yourself all you want, but that’s what we ultimately are. We came to Earth and thousands of humans died during the Great Panic as a result. And what you want to do now will result in more deaths. She won’t forgive you for that, you know.” “Won’t your procedure take care of that?” Korum said, his mouth curving into a bitter smile. “Isn’t she going to love me now no matter what?” Saret shook his head. “No. With enough provocation, her love will turn to hate. You just wait and see.”

18

M ia woke up with a scream, her heart racing and her skin covered with cold sweat. In her dream, Korum’s body had been a mangled, mutilated corpse, swimming in a river of blood. She had tried to save him from that river, to pull him ashore, but it had been futile. The current had been too strong, tearing him out of her hands and carrying him away, down to the waterfalls, where the water was as dark as dried blood. Sitting up straight, Mia tried to get her breathing under control. It was just a bad dream. Korum had won the fight. He was safe. Safe—and fully recovered, if yesterday’s celebration was anything to go by. Remembering just how recovered he had been, Mia immediately felt much better. Her lover’s stamina was literally out of this world. The pleasure he had given her had been incredible, almost more than she could stand. She’d never felt such ecstasy as when he’d bitten her; she never could’ve imagined that such sensations even existed. Smiling, she climbed out of bed and headed toward the shower. The fight was over, Saret had been captured, and there was nothing else to fear. She and Korum were safe at last. Humming to herself, Mia let the cleaning technology do its thing while she stood there thinking about her lover—and how essential he had become to her again. When she was clean and dry, she went to the kitchen and had the house prepare some breakfast for her. According to the information on her tablet, her lab partner Adam was supposed to return from his week-long vacation today—which meant

that Mia could start relearning everything she had forgotten about her apprenticeship. The lab wouldn’t be open, given the recent events, but she was hoping there would be some way for her to continue learning about the mind. The subject fascinated her now more than ever.

KORUM WALKED AIMLESSLY DOWN THE OCEAN SHORE, LETTING THE ROAR OF THE POUNDING SURF drown out the cacophony in his head. For the first time in his life, he felt lost. Lost and hopeless... and angry. His anger was directed mostly at himself, though a healthy portion of it was reserved for Saret. Korum hadn’t let himself think about his friend’s betrayal before, too focused on Mia and her memory loss. Then the fight had consumed his attention. Now, however, there was nothing to distract him from the fact that a man he’d regarded as a friend had turned out to be his greatest enemy. Korum knew he wasn’t universally liked. It was a state of affairs that had never bothered him before. He was respected and feared, but there were only a few individuals he’d ever considered his friends. Most of them remained on Krina, busy with their lives and careers there. Saret had been the only one to accompany him to Earth. Even as a child, Korum had always been self-sufficient. He had discovered his interest in design early on, and that passion had consumed his life—until Mia. Now he had two passions: his work and the human girl who was his charl. He wasn’t a loner, but he rarely needed the company of others. Unlike most, Korum was just as happy by himself—or now spending time with Mia—as he was surrounded by people. Saret’s betrayal proved to be agonizing on multiple levels. Korum had trusted Saret; he’d confided in him for centuries, sharing his goals and dreams. They’d played together as children, discussed their sexual conquests as teenage boys, and often worked toward a common goal as members of the Council. When had Saret begun to hate him? Or had it always been that way and Korum had just been too blind to see it? Could any of his friends be trusted, or were all of them like Saret, just waiting to strike when his back was turned? These thoughts were both painful and disturbing. Self-doubt was not in Korum’s nature, but he couldn’t help wondering whether he had brought this upon himself. He knew he could be harsh and arrogant at times—even ruthless when it came to

achieving his goals. Had he done something to make Saret hate him to such extent? Or was it simply jealousy, as Saret himself had intimated? Reaching the estuary where he’d sat with Mia on the rocks before, Korum stripped off his clothes and waded into the surf, letting the water cool him down. He’d always found the ocean therapeutic. The power of the waves appealed to him, and he especially liked it when the current was strong, as it was right now with high tide. It picked him up, carrying him out to deeper water, and Korum let it, floating along until the shore was a few miles away. Then he began to swim back, the tug of the current providing enough resistance to make it a challenge. The mindless exertion of swimming helped clear his mind, and he felt a tiny bit better when he finally emerged from the water. Sitting down on the rocks, he let the sun shine down on his bare skin, warming him up again. The worst thing about Saret’s betrayal wasn’t what it did to Korum: it was the consequences for Mia. She had not only lost her memories, but her freedom of thought as well. Whatever she felt for Korum now was involuntary, a byproduct of this ‘softening’ Saret had done to her. His sweet, beautiful girl was not the same person she’d once been; her mind had been tampered with in the most unforgivable way. She had been afraid of that, Korum remembered. When she’d first arrived in Lenkarda, she had been hesitant about the language implant, afraid of having alien technology in her brain. Korum had been amused at the time, but it turned out she’d been right to fear. Saret had been dangerous all along. And Korum had failed to protect her. The thought gnawed at him, eating him from the inside. He, who had never failed at anything before, had been unable to protect the person who meant the most to him. Could Mia ever forgive him for that? And if she could, how would he know whether her feelings were real? If Saret were to be believed, she would now accept most things with equanimity, her reactions different from what they would’ve been before. Getting up, Korum pulled on his clothes and began walking home. It would be a lengthy walk, but he was in no rush. Mia was there, and, for the first time ever, he was less than eager to see her. He would have to tell her what he learned today. She would want to know, would want to make her own decisions about what to do next. And if she chose to leave him, he would have to let her go. Even if it killed him to do so.

MIA EXITED THE HOUSE AND WALKED TO THE TRANSPORT POD THAT WAS WAITING FOR HER. SHE’D messaged Adam from her wristwatch-bracelet device, and the K had agreed to meet with her, sending his little aircraft to pick her up and take her to the lab. Getting in, Mia settled on one of the floating seats, feeling it adjusting around her. She was getting so used to K technology that she didn’t even have to think about how to use anything—it was all starting to seem perfectly natural to her. She was curious to meet her former partner and dive back into that part of her life in Lenkarda. She had found a few recordings where Adam was explaining something, and she had been impressed with not only his intelligence, but also his ability to take complex subjects and put them in simple, easy-to-understand terms. Two minutes later, she landed in a clearing in front of a mid-sized building that looked like it had been through something extraordinary. The walls were partially gone, as though something had melted them from the top down, but the interior looked perfectly intact. Adam was standing there, waiting for her. As Mia emerged from the pod, he smiled—a bright and genuine smile that lit up his handsome face. He had what Mia was coming to think of as typical K coloring: dark hair and eyes and that beautifully bronzed skin. “Well, howdy there, partner,” he said, his eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. “I heard our boss turned out to be Doctor Evil and practiced some of his craft on you.” Mia grinned, immediately liking this Krinar. “Yep, you heard right. You leave for a week and that’s what happens.” “So you don’t remember me now?” he asked, his expression becoming more serious. “How much did he wipe out?” “When I woke up here a couple of days ago, my latest memories were from March,” Mia explained, watching as the K’s jaw tightened. “That fucking bastard,” Adam said, anger seeping into his voice. “I’m sorry, Mia. I wish I’d been here—” Mia waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. Nobody suspected anything; he was too good. He even managed to sneak into the fight yesterday and almost kill Korum.”

“Yeah, I heard about that too,” Adam said. “I watched the recording of the fight this morning.” “Oh, right.” Mia tried not to blush. If Adam had seen the fight, then he might’ve also watched the celebration afterwards. “Do you want to go inside?” Adam asked, motioning toward the ruined building. “I think we can extract a lot of the files and data. I spoke with the other apprentices, and they’re fine with it.” “Sure,” Mia said quickly, grateful for the change of subject. Walking up to the building, they climbed through a ragged opening in one of the walls. The usual wall-dissolving mechanism appeared to be malfunctioning— which was hardly surprising, considering the condition of the building. “What’s going to happen to the lab?” Mia asked when they were inside. “What’s the normal protocol for something like this?” Adam shrugged. “There is no normal protocol. This lab is Saret’s, so technically we’re now trespassing on his property. Although I think the government might own it now, given Saret’s crimes. I’m not really sure how these things work. My best guess is that most of the information will be transferred to the labs in the other Centers—and maybe some other mind expert will want to open a new lab here in Lenkarda.” “What about you? Why don’t they have you take over the lab?” “Me?” Adam raised his eyebrows. “I’m too young and inexperienced as far as they’re concerned.” “You are?” Mia looked at him in surprise. He looked to be a man in his prime, outwardly similar to Korum. “How old are you?” “Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot that you don’t remember.” Adam smiled. “I’m twenty-eight, only a few years older than you. I am also a fairly recent arrival in the Centers. I grew up in a human family, you see.” “You did?” Mia’s eyes went wide. “How?” “I was adopted as an infant,” Adam said. “Now why don’t we start going through some of Saret’s files and see if there’s anything useful there? Maybe we can shed some light on your condition.” Mia was dying to ask more questions about Adam’s origins, but he didn’t seem to be in a mood to talk about it, so she focused on the task at hand instead. Adam showed her how to operate some of the lab equipment, and they began digging

through mountains of information, searching for anything memory-related. Six hours later, Mia got up and rubbed her neck, her brain feeling like it would explode from everything she’d learned today. Adam was still as focused as ever, going through file after file with no trace of tiredness. Hearing Mia’s movements, he looked up from the image he was studying and gave her a warm smile. “You should go home, Mia. It’s getting late. I’ll work here some more, and then I’ll leave as well.” Mia hesitated. “Are you sure?” She was mentally exhausted and starving, but she felt bad leaving Adam on his own. “Of course,” Adam said. “Now go. This is plenty for today.”

KORUM PACED IN THE LIVING ROOM, TOO WOUND UP TO SIT STILL. WHEN HE HAD GOTTEN HOME AN hour earlier and found the house empty, his immediate thought had been that something had happened to Mia—that Saret had found a way to get to her after all. Of course, that wasn’t the case. A quick check had revealed her location, and then it had been easy to access the satellite images and see her talking to Adam outside Saret’s lab several hours earlier. Still, those few seconds before Korum had been assured of her safety had chilled him to the bone. Now he was fighting an urge to go to the lab and bring Mia home. He wanted to hold her and feel the warmth of her body in his arms, maybe for the last time. Once he told her the truth about her condition, she would be more than justified in wanting to leave him. As terrible as her memory loss had been, the other procedure was far more invasive, altering her brain in a way that she would likely find unforgivable. Now she would never know if the way she felt about Korum—or about anything in general—was real or if it was a result of what Saret had done. A dark temptation gnawed at Korum. What if he didn’t tell her? What if she continued in blissful ignorance, happy with her life as it was? Other than Saret and Korum, no one else knew the truth. He could keep her, and she would love him— and he would be the only one to know it wasn’t real love. A couple of months earlier, Korum wouldn’t have hesitated. He had wanted her, and he’d simply taken her, disregarding her wishes. If he had been faced with this dilemma then, it would’ve been an easy decision to make: keep her and all else be damned. But he couldn’t do that anymore, couldn’t treat her like a child or a pet, as she’d once accused him of doing. He wanted her to stay, but it had to be of her own

free will—even if that free will had been somewhat tampered with. No, he had to tell her, and he had to do it soon.

FINALLY, KORUM SAW A POD LANDING OUTSIDE. MIA heading back to wherever it came from.

CAME OUT, AND THE AIRCRAFT TOOK OFF,

Despite his black mood, Korum couldn’t help smiling as she entered the house. She was dressed in a cream-colored dress that left most of her back bare, and her dark hair was pinned up in a thick, messy knot. The hairstyle was surprisingly sexy, exposing her delicate nape and drawing his attention to the elegant column of her throat. “Honey, I’m home,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. Unable to help himself, Korum laughed and picked her up, bringing her up for a thorough kiss. When he lowered her back to her feet, her smile was almost blinding. She looked at him as though he was her entire world—and Korum’s heart felt like it would shatter into a million pieces. “How was your day, my sweet?” he asked, his hands still holding her waist. “It was great,” she said, still grinning. “I met Adam again. He’s very nice. I like him a lot.” Korum felt a surge of jealousy, but he tamped down on it, refusing to give in to the emotion. Mia had always liked her partner, but, as far as Korum knew, her feelings were entirely platonic. Besides, the young K already had a human he was obsessed with; Korum had found that out during a background check he’d done on Adam shortly after Mia started working with him. “We did a lot of digging through Saret’s files,” Mia continued, her eyes shining with excitement. “Adam thinks we might learn something useful about my condition this way.” At that moment, her stomach rumbled and her cheeks turned pink in response, making Korum smile. “I’m guessing someone’s hungry,” he teased. “Busted,” she said, laughing. Smiling, Korum let her go and headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later, they were sitting down to a meal of grilled vegetable sandwiches with miso-avocado dip.

Mia quickly devoured everything on her plate, and so did he, his appetite strong after his swim earlier today. For dessert, Korum had the house make them a kiwimango pie with a crust made of ground macadamia nuts—and tea for Mia. As they were enjoying the treat, Korum reached across the table and took her hand, stroking the middle of her palm with his thumb. “Mia,” he said quietly, “there’s something I have to tell you.” She froze for a second, apparently reacting to the serious note in his voice. “What is it?” “I spoke to Saret today,” Korum said, his fingers tightening around her palm. “He didn’t just wipe out your recent memories. He also did something to make you... more accepting of things.”

MIA STARED AT HER LOVER, UNABLE TO BELIEVE WHAT SHE WAS HEARING. “WHAT? WHAT mean?”

DOES THAT

“He called it ‘softening’,” Korum said, and the expression on his face was grim. “It was apparently a way to make you more amenable to his advances. If he didn’t lie about it, you don’t experience fear as strongly as you did before... and you’re also more open to new impressions.” Mia frowned. “I don’t understand. How would this have helped Saret?” “Because you’re not only more open to new impressions—which explains why you’re acclimating so well—but you’re also prone to new attachments.” Korum’s mouth was tight with anger. “New attachments?” And then it dawned her. “He thought I would fall in love with him? That’s insane!” She laughed, inviting him to share the joke. Korum didn’t respond, and her amusement faded. “Wait a second,” she said slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” “I’m sorry, Mia. I really wish it wasn’t true.” Automatically shaking her head, Mia pulled her hand out of his grasp and rose to her feet. “But that’s ridiculous,” she said. “Are you saying that I’m not myself? That everything I think and feel is a product of some madman’s procedure? That what I feel for you isn’t real?” Korum got up as well. “It’s all my fault,” he said, his voice heavy with guilt. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you from him—”

“No.” Mia refused to believe this. “How do you know he wasn’t lying? Wouldn’t it make sense for him to lie?” “It would,” Korum said. “It would make all the sense in the world. And that’s why I want to have you seen by the mind lab in Arizona. We’ll go there tomorrow.” “But you don’t think he’s lying.” “No.” Korum gave her a pained look. “I don’t.” “Why not?” Mia whispered, her voice starting to shake. “Because you haven’t been fully yourself, my sweet,” he said gently. “The differences are subtle, but they’re there. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” Mia sucked in her breath. She had. Of course she had. She’d wondered at how well she was adjusting to her new world, to living in an alien colony with a lover she’d just met. A lover who was now as necessary to her as food and air. “Couldn’t there be a different explanation for this?” Mia knew she was clutching at straws, but the alternative was too much to process. “What if my memories aren’t really gone? What if they’re still there, suppressed somewhere deep inside? That would explain everything: why I feel so comfortable here, why I’m learning so fast, why I fell in love with you—” Korum closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his gaze was bleak. “You didn’t, Mia. You didn’t fall in love with me. You barely know me.” “But if I still remember you on some level—” He drew in a deep breath. “You don’t, my sweet. Ellet ran tests on you before you woke up, and there were signs of damage consistent with a memory loss. I really wish it were otherwise, believe me.” Mia blinked, swallowing hard to contain the growing knot in her throat. He thought she was damaged. Defective. Incapable of real emotions. “So what now?” “It’s your decision,” Korum said, his voice oddly flat. “You can either stay with me or return to your old life.” “Return to my old life?” She could barely say the words. “You... Y-you want me to go?” “What? No!” He looked startled at the idea. “Of course I don’t want you to go. You’re my entire life now, don’t you understand that?” Mia almost shuddered with relief. He still wanted her, despite the damage from the procedure.

“You are my entire life as well,” she told him. “I know you think the way I feel is the result of what Saret did, but I don’t believe it. I loved you before, despite everything that happened between us, and I fell in love with you again in these past couple of days. You may not think it’s real, but I know my own mind. Yes, I noticed I’m not reacting to things as I would’ve expected, but so what? Isn’t it a good thing that I’m learning so fast? That I’m becoming as comfortable in Lenkarda as I was once in New York? Even if it is a result of Saret’s procedure, it doesn’t change the fact that that’s how I am now—that that’s the way I think and feel. It doesn’t make my emotions any less strong... or any less real.” As she spoke, the little grooves of tension bracketing his mouth began to dissipate. “Are you sure, Mia?” he asked, his eyes filling with familiar golden heat. “Is this what you really want?” “To be with you? Yes!” Mia had never been more certain of anything in her life. The thought of leaving him, of going back home and never seeing him again, was unbearable. When she’d thought he was dead, she had wanted to die too. Life without Korum was not worth living. “Then you will be with me.” His voice was rough, his hands hurried as they reached for her and pulled her into his arms. His mouth was ravenous, like he wanted to consume her, and Mia responded in kind, her hunger matching his. She ached for his touch, his embrace. The shocking ecstasy of their post-Arena lovemaking had left her wrung out, drained, and yet she already wanted more. More of Korum, more of the magic. His hands were frantic on her body, ripping off the dress, leaving it lying in shreds on the floor. His clothes met the same fate. Before she could blink, she found herself pressed against the wall, her thighs spread wide as he lifted her up, rubbing his erection against her bare sex. “Fuck,” he growled. His expression was that of a man in pain, his breathing harsh and uneven. “I have to be inside you, Mia. Now.” “Yes,” she whispered, holding his blazing gaze. “Yes... please...” As though she had given him permission, he plunged into her, his shaft unbearably thick and long, stretching her, filling her to the brim. Mia cried out, the pleasure-pain of his possession as intense as it was startling. With the way he was holding her, she was completely open to him, unable to control the depth of his penetration in any way. He was in so deep she could feel him nudging against her cervix, her channel tightening in a futile effort to keep him out.

He paused for a brief second, letting her catch her breath, and then he began hammering into her, his thrusts pressing her into the wall. Mia moaned, her body overwhelmed by the sensations. There was no slow build, no gradual transition from discomfort to pleasure; instead, the orgasm hit her suddenly, her inner muscles spasming around his cock with no warning. He groaned, his pace picking up further, and she climaxed again with a scream, unable to control her body’s helpless response. Her skin was too hot, and she was panting, gasping for breath, but he was relentless, driving her toward her third peak mere minutes after her second. And just when Mia thought she couldn’t take anymore, he came with a savage roar, his head thrown back and his cock pulsing deep inside her.

THE NEXT MORNING, KORUM WAITED Center—carefully examined Mia.

IMPATIENTLY AS

HARON—THE

MIND EXPERT IN THE

ARIZONA

She was lying on a float, her eyes closed and her expression relaxed. She had been lightly sedated to allow for a more thorough examination of her brain. Haron was brushing her hair back, exposing more of her forehead to attach his equipment there. Korum had given the other male permission to touch her in this instance, but he still felt like ripping him apart for it. He had been equally angry to learn of Arus restraining her during the fight, even though he knew it had been for Mia’s own protection. The territorial instinct was primitive—and completely irrational given the circumstances—but Korum couldn’t help it. When it came to Mia, he was no more evolved than an amoeba. By the time the examination was over, Korum was in a dark mood. “Well,” he demanded as soon as Haron put away his equipment. The mind expert lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know,” he said, giving Korum a puzzled look. “Her brain is healthy, but it does show signs of recent memory erasure. There’s also something else, something that I’ve never seen before.” “The softening procedure,” Korum said. “Do you think it could be that?” He had told Haron about Saret’s claims, and the mind expert had been very intrigued. “It could be,” Haron said. “I honestly haven’t come across anything like this before. If Saret says he invented the procedure, then that would make sense.” He

sounded admiring, making Korum want to do something violent to him again. “Can you fix it?” Korum already knew the answer but he had to ask. Haron shook his head. “I don’t think so, not without chancing some real damage to her brain in the process. Whenever we come up with something new here, we do extensive testing in a simulated environment first, before experimenting with live subjects. I could try, of course, if you want—” “No.” Korum could never take that kind of risk with Mia. “Forget it.”

AS THEIR SHIP HEADED BACK TO LENKARDA, KORUM HELD MIA ON HIS LAP. SHE WAS AWAKE BUT A little groggy, and she seemed content to just sit there, with her head resting on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of soft curls under his fingers. Their conversation yesterday had gone very differently than he’d feared. Mia had been shocked and disbelieving at what Saret had done, but what had upset her the most was the idea of leaving him. And Korum had been glad. He had been so fucking glad and relieved that she wanted to stay. He honestly didn’t know what he would’ve done if she’d said she wanted to go home. He wanted to think that he would’ve let her... but, deep inside, he knew otherwise. He couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from her for a day; how would he have survived a lifetime without her? He wouldn’t have. It was that simple. He would’ve tried if that had been what she wanted, but the odds of failure would’ve been high. Korum had no illusions about himself. Altruism was not in his nature. He would’ve suffered for a while— out of guilt for letting her get hurt, out of desire to make up for past wrongs—but he would’ve eventually come for her. She stirred in his arms, interrupting his musings. Raising her head, she gave him a sleepy smile. “Where are we going now?” “Home, my darling,” Korum answered, the remainder of his black mood fading as he gazed upon her beautiful face. As much as he wanted to reverse Saret’s procedure and undo any damage done to this exquisite creature, he was happy to have her no matter what. Even if she didn’t truly love him now, he hoped she would develop genuine feelings for him over time. And Korum would make sure her love didn’t turn to hate when she learned the truth about his plans.

19

T he next month flew by. Korum found himself busier than usual, with his designers finalizing the new shields for the Centers and the Council trying to decide Saret’s fate. After several meetings, it was determined that a trial like that of the Keiths would not work in this instance. With Saret having been a long-term member of the Council, nobody was completely impartial and emotions were running high. Korum wasn’t the only one who had considered Saret a friend. The mind expert had been generally liked, with his seemingly laid-back personality and friendly manner. The magnitude of his attempted crime was beyond belief, and even complete rehabilitation seemed too mild of a punishment for what he had intended. Finally, the Council reached out to the Elders for guidance—an initiative on which Korum took the lead, since he had other things to discuss with the Elders as well. Between that and his regular work, Korum barely found time to sleep—because he also wanted to spend as much time with his charl as possible. Mia’s attachment to him seemed to be growing every day, and Korum no longer doubted the strength of her feelings. As she’d said, whatever Saret had done to her, that was the way she was now—and they both had to accept it. On the plus side, Korum kept getting surprised by how well Mia was adjusting to everything... and how independent she was becoming. Prior to her memory loss, she had been hesitant to wander around Lenkarda on her own, wary of his people and intimidated by some of their technology. Other than going to the lab and to a few scenic places he’d shown her, Mia had usually stayed home with him. Her free time had also been more limited, given the rigid schedule Saret had set for his apprentices. Now, however, since she and Adam were largely learning on their own, Korum discovered that his charl appeared to have a

thirst for adventure—and indulged it at every opportunity. One day she went swimming in the ocean near the estuary, on a day when the current was relatively weak. Nonetheless, Korum—who had gotten into the habit of checking on her location every hour—felt his blood freeze in his veins when he saw that she was a good quarter-mile away from shore. He’d immediately gone straight there, only to find her swimming leisurely, clearly enjoying herself. By the time she came out of the water, he’d managed to calm himself enough to have a rational discussion about the dangers of this particular spot, and she had agreed to be more careful going forward—but Korum still felt shaken by the incident for several days after that. Her other excursions were less dangerous. She developed a fondness for hiking and recording images of the local wildlife with her wristwatch-bracelet device. Howler monkeys, iguanas, even some large insects—she would record them all and send the images as photographs and videos to her family, to share more with them about her new home. She also grew closer to Delia, frequently meeting her for morning walks on the beach. Korum encouraged the friendship, glad that Mia was building other relationships in Lenkarda. Maria came by sometimes as well, and Korum had made it a point to invite her and Arman to dinner a couple of times. Their main disagreement revolved around Mia’s status as a charl. “Don’t you understand how that makes me feel, knowing that legally I belong to you just because I’m human and you said so?” she told him once. “Don’t you see how barbaric that is?” Korum didn’t view it that way at all. Yes, she was his—his to protect, his to love and cherish. Taking a charl was a serious lifelong commitment. Under Krinar law, Korum was responsible for Mia’s actions. If she ever broke the mandate, for instance, he would be the one to answer for it to the Elders. Mia would never again be a regular human, not with the nanocytes in her system; even if she left him, Korum would always have to watch over her, to make sure she didn’t reveal any non-public information about the Krinar. A charl was neither a slave nor a pet, and most cheren thought of them as their human mates—something that Mia couldn’t seem to grasp. “How could I be your mate when I don’t have any rights here?” she said, and her stubbornness made Korum want to bend her over his knee and spank her pretty little behind. “I never agreed to be your mate—or your charl—in the first place, did I? And besides, we can’t even have children together...”

Korum couldn’t argue with that last point, and the charl issue remained unresolved, hanging over their heads and occasionally popping up during some more heated conversations—although those were becoming increasingly rare as their relationship evolved. Seeing that Mia was becoming comfortable with Krinar technology, Korum gave her a fabricator of her own—a more advanced version of what he had made for Maria’s birthday. It was powerful enough to create anything Mia needed in the course of the day, including a transport pod. Her happiness at this gift had been off the charts. “Thank you! Oh my God, Korum, thank you so much! This is awesome!” She almost smothered him with kisses, her eyes shining and her entire body vibrating with excitement. For the next several hours, she played with the fabricator nonstop, creating and un-creating one thing after another, while Korum basked in her joy. Shortly after that, Mia decided to go to New York—in an aircraft she created herself. Korum gave her the design for that; it was a more complicated machine than the transport pod that was used around the Center. She made the ship while he watched with a smile, proud of how much she had learned already. They went to New York together, since Korum was reluctant to have her so far away on her own. He knew it was illogical; after all, she had lived in the human city for years before they met with no harm coming to her at all, and both Saret and the Resistance had been eliminated as a threat. Still, he couldn’t shake his irrational fear for her safety. It was either go with her or forbid her to go at all, and Korum knew she would not take well to the latter option.

ON THE MORNING OF THEIR TRIP, MIA USED THE FABRICATOR TO MAKE THEM HUMAN CLOTHES. “Hmm, let’s see,” she said, grinning wickedly. “How about a pink T-shirt for you?” “Sure.” Korum stifled a laugh at her crestfallen expression. “I’d love a pink Tshirt.” His people didn’t associate colors with gender, and he personally liked all pastel shades. He knew she’d been hoping he would bristle at what she viewed as a feminine outfit, but he couldn’t care less—as long as she didn’t make him wear a skirt. He would draw the line at a skirt. “Fine,” she grumbled, “you’re no fun.” But she created a pink T-shirt anyway,

which Korum put on without any hesitation. Thankfully, the jeans she handed him were of the regular dark blue variety. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, studying him after they were both dressed, “pink actually looks hot on you.” Korum laughed. “Why, thank you, my sweet. I’m flattered.” She looked very sexy herself, dressed in a pair of well-fitting jeans, high-heeled ankle boots, and a silvery tank top that showed off her newly toned arms and shoulders. With the nanocytes in her body, Mia had significantly more endurance when it came to physical activity, and her recent interest in hiking and swimming had done wonders for her slim body. Korum had always found her irresistible, but now he could barely keep his eyes—and hands—off her. “You told Jessie we’ll be landing on her roof?” he asked as they entered the ship. “Yep. She knows we’re coming and even got permission from the building manager.” In order to save time, they had decided to go directly to Jessie, instead of flying to one of the designated Krinar landing areas. The idea behind these areas was to minimize disruption to the human population in the big cities. Even today, the sight of Krinar aircraft frequently resulted in car accidents. Apparently, frightened human drivers tended to be distracted drivers. As a Council member, Korum could get away with not following this landing guideline, but he still tried to be circumspect in large cities like New York. Jessie greeted them on the roof when they landed. She was standing there with a young human male who could only be Edgar, her new boyfriend. Korum recalled seeing him once before, at the nightclub where Korum found Mia dancing with another man. That particular incident wasn’t one of Korum’s favorite memories. Nevertheless, he smiled at Jessie and Edgar, determined to play nice. He knew Mia’s former roommate was concerned about her. She had been a witness to the rocky start of Korum’s relationship with Mia, and he still wasn’t her favorite person —something Korum planned to remedy today. Mia smiled too, and he could see that she was genuinely happy to see her friend. She was also nervous, judging by the tight clasp of her fingers around his palm. For some reason, she still hadn’t told her friends or family about her memory loss. When Korum had confronted her about it, she’d given him some vague answer about not wanting to worry anyone and he’d had to be content with that. “Mia!” Jessie flew at her as soon as they stepped out of the ship, and the two

girls hugged, laughing and squealing. Korum grinned at their exuberant reunion, then stepped forward, offering his hand to Edgar in a human greeting gesture. “Hello. I don’t think we formally met.” “No, we haven’t,” Edgar said dryly, accepting his handshake. “The last time I saw you, your hand was wrapped around my friend Peter’s throat. I’m guessing that wasn’t a great time for introductions.” “Indeed,” Korum said, his eyes narrowing a bit. This human dared to remind him of that day? Peter had been lucky Korum had been able to control himself as well as he had. Every time Korum thought of that boy kissing Mia, he saw red. Play nice, he reminded himself, and rearranged his features into a more friendly expression. “So you’re an actor,” he said, steering the conversation toward a topic the human would be sure to enjoy. “I am.” Edgar took the bait. “I’m on that newest show on CBS. It’s called The Vortex. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” “I’ve seen all the episodes,” Korum said. “I’m actually a big fan. I couldn’t believe what happened with Eva last week—I never would’ve expected her sister to turn up like that.” Edgar’s eyes lit up. “Oh no way! You watch the show? Is it popular among the Ks?” It was popular among one particular K who needed to watch it as preparation for this trip. “Sure,” Korum said. “We like entertainment as much as humans.” Mia had finished hugging Jessie and came up to Edgar as well. “Hi, Edgar,” she said. “It’s great to see you again.” Korum concealed a smile. Little liar. She didn’t remember the guy at all, but she was putting on a good show. Edgar wasn’t the only actor here today. “Hi, Korum.” It was Jessie. There was a familiar look of distrust on her pretty face, and Korum inwardly sighed. Out of everybody, this particular friend of Mia’s would be most difficult to win over. He could see it in the stubborn tilt of her chin as she looked at him. She resented him for taking Mia away from her—and for his initial high-handed tactics. It was a good thing Korum was always up for a challenge. “Hello, Jessie.” He gave the human girl a warm smile. They went inside, to the apartment Jessie had shared with Mia. Korum knew that a number of NYU students lived in the building due to its proximity to campus and

reasonable (for New York) rent, but Korum had always thought the place was unfit for habitation. The paint in the hallways was peeling, and he could smell the rot in the old, musty walls. When he’d first met Mia, he couldn’t wait to get her out of there and into his comfortable penthouse. Jessie had prepared a veggie platter, beer, and some chips for them to snack on, and the four of them sat down in the living room. Later on, Korum planned to take them all out for a restaurant meal, but for now, this was as good of a spot to hang out as any. Korum purposefully sat down next to their hostess. Mia sat on her other side, and Edgar made himself comfortable on a beanbag chair across from Korum. A couple of beers later, any hint of initial awkwardness had dissipated and conversation flowed freely. For a couple of young humans, Mia’s friends were actually quite interesting, and Korum found himself unexpectedly having a good time. Jessie and Edgar had great chemistry together, joking around and teasing each other, and he could see Mia’s initial tension draining away as nobody seemed to suspect anything about her lack of memory. When everybody was sufficiently relaxed, Korum began his charm campaign against Jessie. He started off by inquiring about her summer, and then listened attentively as she told him all about her internship with a large pharmaceutical company. Korum already knew this, since he’d done his research prior to coming to New York. However, he also knew that people liked to talk about themselves, so he kept asking Jessie questions. In the meantime, Edgar was showing Mia posters of his latest show on the other side of the room. “Is this company your first choice for full-time employment?” Korum asked Jessie, and she nodded, a hopeful look on her face. “It’s the first choice of everyone who’s not going straight into medical school,” she explained. “Since I want to do research first, this would be the perfect place to do it. It’s super-competitive, of course. They hire ten times as many interns as they need full-time research assistants for next year, so even having an internship there doesn’t guarantee an offer.” And just like that, Korum knew what he had to do. “You shouldn’t worry,” he said gently. “I’ll put in a good word for you with the management.” “You would?” Jessie looked at him in astonishment. “You know Biogem’s management?” “I do,” Korum said. It wasn’t much of a lie, since he would know them soon.

“Oh, wow. You don’t have to do that, Korum,” she protested faintly, but Korum could see that her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted this very badly, and he was handing it to her on a silver platter. “I want to,” he said firmly. “You’re obviously deserving of this opportunity, and I know Mia would want you to have it.” Jessie smiled uncertainly. “Well, in that case, thank you. I would appreciate any help in that direction.” And Operation Jessie was complete. When the beer and snacks were no longer enough, they went out for an early dinner. Korum took them to a new French restaurant that was getting rave reviews —and that was known for serving traditional meat-based dishes at astronomical prices. He stuck to his usual plant-based diet, but Mia and her friends each ordered something from the animal kingdom. Korum didn’t mind if they indulged once in a while. The Krinar had been mainly concerned with the environmental impact of human dietary habits, and occasional meat-eating wasn’t nearly as disastrous for the planet as what humans in developed countries had been doing before. After dinner, they went out for drinks. Knowing that the girls wanted some privacy, Korum unobtrusively maneuvered himself and Edgar toward the far end of the bar, letting Mia and Jessie be on their own next to the window. He still kept an eye on them, just to make sure they weren’t bothered by anyone, but otherwise, he focused most of his attention on Edgar. “Do you play any sports?” he asked Edgar when their beers arrived. It was one of the many things the Krinar had in common with humans: games that required physical ability and skill. The actor nodded. “I played soccer in college, and I still do that occasionally for fun. I also recently took up boxing, to get in shape for my next role.” “Oh, really?” Korum said. “Do tell me about it.”

MIA SMILED TO HERSELF WHEN SHE SAW KORUM AND EDGAR ON THE OTHER END OF THE BAR. SHE knew exactly what he was doing and why: her lover wanted her and Jessie to have some girl time. “Wow, Mia,” Jessie said after the bartender handed them their cocktails. “I have to say, I’m beginning to see why you fell for him. He’s so much nicer than I initially thought.”

Mia grinned. “Yeah, he’s great.” She had no idea how Korum had been when they met, but she had some suspicions based on what he’d told her—and what she’d observed from his interactions with others over the past month. The love of her life was definitely not someone she would ever want for an enemy. “You seem different too,” Jessie said. “Stronger, more confident... and even more beautiful. Whatever he’s doing for you seems to be working.” “He makes me happy,” Mia told her. “Oh, Jessie, he makes me so unbelievably happy. I never thought I could be in love like that. It’s like a fairytale come true.” “Complete with an extraterrestrial Prince Charming?” Mia laughed. “Sure.” Korum was not exactly Prince Charming, but she didn’t plan on telling Jessie that. She liked the new friendly dynamic between her lover and her friends, and she had no intention of upsetting it. No, she knew that Korum was far from perfect. She loved him, but she was not blind to his flaws. He was possessive to the extreme, paranoid about her safety— and manipulative when he needed to be. She hadn’t missed the way he had deliberately spent time with Jessie, softening her up. It had worked too; her former roommate seemed to have a much better opinion of him now. “It doesn’t bother you that he’s so much older?” Jessie asked, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Edgar is twenty-six, and he jokes that I’m the younger woman. I can’t even imagine dating someone Korum’s age...” “He’s not that old for a Krinar, believe it or not,” Mia said, smiling. “There are some who are much, much older. But, yes, sometimes the age gap is a challenge. There are definitely times when I feel like he’s amused by me. He never makes me feel stupid or anything like that, but I know he thinks I’m very young.” “He doesn’t treat you like a kid?” “No.” Mia shook her head. “He doesn’t. He’s ridiculously overprotective, but that’s as far as that goes.” Jessie regarded her thoughtfully. “Do you think this is a long-term thing for you?” she asked, a small frown marring the smoothness of her forehead. “I mean, marriage and the whole enchilada? How would that even work with a K if they don’t age like we do?” Mia took a big gulp of her cocktail and coughed when it went down her windpipe. “Um, I’m not sure we’re at that point yet,” she said when she finally caught her breath. Korum had impressed on her that nobody outside of Lenkarda was

supposed to know about her lengthened lifespan. It had something to do with a mandate set by their Elders. Mia hated the restriction, but she knew better than to break these rules. As Korum had explained, humans who knew too much would get their memories wiped—and Mia would never want to subject any of her friends or family to that process. “But eventually?” Jessie persisted. “Have you thought about that? If you guys stay together, what happens when you get older? And what about kids?” Mia shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She didn’t want to think about children right now. It was the one thing guaranteed to spoil her good mood. The DNA differences between humans and Krinar were too great to allow for biological offspring—a fact that made sense but was still agonizing to dwell on. “Anyways,” Mia said, wanting to change the subject, “how about you and Edgar? How serious are you two getting?” Jessie’s smile was as bright as the sun. “I met his parents last week,” she confided. “And next week, I’m taking him to meet mine.” “Wow... Jessie, that is big!” As far as Mia knew, this was the first time her friend was going to have a guy meet her family. Although Jessie’s parents had been in America for a long time, they still retained some of the traditional Chinese customs and attitudes. Bringing home a boyfriend was a serious matter, and the boyfriend in question had to be ready to answer some very probing questions about his career and future life plans. “Yeah,” Jessie said wryly. “I warned Edgar that he’s going to get grilled, but he’s cool with that.” Suddenly, Mia felt a light touch on her bare arm. “May I buy you ladies a drink?” an unfamiliar male voice asked, and Mia turned her head to see an attractive darkhaired man who looked to be in his late twenties. “We’re here with our boyfriends,” Jessie said quickly, an anxious note in her voice. “Okay, no problem,” the guy said, and disappeared into the crowd. Mia looked at Jessie, eyebrows raised. Her friend had just been uncharacteristically rude, and she couldn’t figure out why. And then she saw where Jessie was looking. Korum was staring in their direction, his jaw tightly clenched and his eyes a bright golden yellow. Mia smiled and waved to him, wanting to diffuse the tension.

She knew he didn’t like any man touching her, but the guy had been harmless. “He’s not going to flip out again, is he?” Jessie sounded scared. “What? No, of course not,” Mia said automatically, and then she remembered Korum telling her something about an incident at a nightclub in the early days of their relationship. He’d said that she and Jessie had gone out on their own, and some guy had kissed her. Based on Jessie’s reaction, Mia guessed that Korum had downplayed his own response to that. “Uh-huh,” Jessie said doubtfully. “He won’t,” Mia said with confidence, looking directly at Korum. She knew perfectly well that he could hear her. He stared back at her. His eyes still had those dangerous golden flecks in them, but one corner of his mouth tilted up, a ghost of a smile stealing across his face. Mia continued looking at him, her own eyes narrowed, and the smile became a fullblown grin, transforming his features from merely gorgeous to out-of-this-world sexy. Then he turned away and continued speaking to Edgar, as though nothing had happened. “Holy shit,” Jessie breathed, her eyes huge. “You did it! Mia, you fucking did it...” “Did what?” “You tamed a K.”

20

A nother two weeks passed after the New York trip. Mia found herself loving her new life... and contemplating not going back to finish her last year of school. Lenkarda was as close to paradise as she could imagine. Summer was the wet season in that region of Costa Rica, which meant sunny mornings and tropical rain showers in the afternoon. As a result of all that rain, everything turned lush and green, with the waterfalls and rivers full to bursting. Mia often spent her mornings exploring the woods nearby, taking pictures of the local wildlife, and the second half of the day working in the lab with Adam. Haron, the mind expert from Arizona, had agreed to take over Saret’s lab as a temporary solution to keep the place open. Too much important research had been going on there to simply shut it down. Mia had first met the K during their brief trip to Arizona and she wasn’t sure she liked him that much. She got the feeling he regarded her as something of a medical curiosity, due to her condition. Nevertheless, he didn’t mind if she continued working in the lab, and he mostly left her and Adam alone—which suited Mia just fine. With each day that passed, Mia became more and more entrenched in life in Lenkarda. Her friendship with Delia continued to develop, and the two girls often went swimming and snorkeling together—something that eased the minds of both of their cheren. “At least Delia can call for help if anything happens and vice versa,” Korum said one evening while they were lying in bed. “And she knows which areas to avoid.” Korum’s overprotectiveness drove Mia insane. When she complained about it to Delia, the older girl laughed. “Oh, just get used to it. Arus is the exact same way, believe me. You’d think after centuries together he’d realize I’m capable of taking care of myself, but no. If he had his way, I’d never leave the house without him.”

“How do you cope with that?” Mia asked, studying her hands. She knew about the tracking devices there, and she really hated them. When she’d found out about the shining—after questioning Korum as to how he always seemed to know her exact location—she had been furious and insisted that Korum remove the devices. He refused, explaining that he needed to know that she was safe. They ended up having a long argument that culminated in Korum taking her to bed. The devices were still there for now, but Mia had every intention of removing them at the first opportunity. Delia shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said. “I know that Arus loves me and that he’s afraid of losing me. I’m as necessary to his existence as he is to mine—and I try to make allowances for that. Over time, both of us have learned the value of compromise, and you and Korum will too.” Having Delia for a friend was like having a mentor and a girlfriend all wrapped up in one graceful package. At times, she was as wise and mysterious as a sphinx, but, other times, she was just like any other young woman Mia’s age, acting as playful as a teenager. This unusual personality mix was relatively common among the Krinar, Mia discovered. They lived for a long time, but they never felt old. Their bodies were as healthy at ten thousand years of age as they were at twenty, and everybody around them shared their longevity, so they rarely experienced the types of losses that an unusually long-lived human would. “You know, you don’t fit the stereotype of a brooding immortal at all,” Mia told Korum once, after a particularly fun play session in their zero-gravity chamber. “Shouldn’t you be all moody and hating life instead of enjoying it so much?” Korum grinned in response, white teeth flashing. “How could I hate life when I have you?” he said, lifting her and twirling her around the room. When he finally put her down, Mia had been breathless with laughter. “Life is to be enjoyed, my sweet,” he said, still holding on to her, the expression on his face unexpectedly serious. “That’s why I love you so much. I enjoy you, Mia —you enhance every moment of my existence. Your smile, your laugh—even your stubbornness—make me happier than I’ve ever been before. Even when we’re not together, the thought of you makes me feel content, because I know that you’re here, that when I come home, I can hold you, feel you—” his eyes gleamed brighter, “—fuck you.” Mia stared at him, her nipples hardening as her skin prickled with arousal. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and husky, “let’s not forget about that last part. I very much enjoy fucking you. I love the way you moan when I’m deep inside you,

the flush on your cheeks when you’re turned on... I love the way you smell, the way you taste. I want to eat you like dessert...” He reached between her legs, his fingers parting her folds, stroking her there, spreading the moisture around her opening. “Your pussy is sweeter than any fruit,” he whispered, sinking to his knees and lifting the bottom of her dress, “more delicious than chocolate...” And Mia nearly climaxed right then and there at the first touch of his tongue. Moaning, she buried her fingers in his hair, holding on to him as his skilled mouth brought her to a peak, pleasuring her until she shattered into a million pieces.

“SAY THAT AGAIN,” KORUM DEMANDED, STARING AT ELLET. “I think I found someone who can reverse Saret’s procedure and undo Mia’s memory loss,” Ellet repeated, crossing her long legs. They were sitting in Ellet’s lab, where Korum had brought Mia after rescuing her from Saret’s clutches. “Who?” “An up-and-coming apprentice at the Baranil lab. Apparently she has just developed a way to undo almost any mind procedure. It’s all very hush-hush, which is why we didn’t know about this earlier. You can imagine the implications of something like that. Everyone who’s undergone any kind of rehabilitation would want this.” “The Baranil lab,” Korum said, staring at Ellet. “On Krina.” “Yes.” “I see.” Korum got up and started to pace. “Do you even need it anymore?” Ellet asked, staring at him with her large dark eyes. “Mia seems quite happy as is... and so do you.” There was a slightly wistful note in her voice. Korum glanced at her sharply. Though they had been lovers, he’d never had any deeper feelings for Ellet—and he had been sure she didn’t have any for him either. As though to answer his unspoken question, Ellet smiled. “I’m happy for you,” she said softly. “I really am. What you and I had has been over for a long time. I just never thought a human girl would be the one to make you feel this way.” Korum sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Me neither, Ellet. Believe me, it’s quite a shock to me as well.” “Oh, I believe you,” Ellet said, still smiling. She was beautiful—objectively,

Korum recognized that—but her looks now left him cold. Every woman he saw these days was measured against Mia and found wanting—another side effect of his obsession with his charl. “Can you please connect me with this apprentice?” Korum asked, returning to the subject at hand. “I’d like to speak to her.”

LEAVING ELLET, KORUM HEADED TOWARD HIS OWN LABORATORY, WHERE HIS DESIGNERS WORKED. Although they could all work remotely, meeting only in virtual environments, something about physical proximity tended to foster the creative process, resulting in improved team cohesiveness and more innovative project outcomes. Entering the large cream-colored building, Korum greeted Rezav, one of his lead designers, and went into his office, a private space where he usually did his best work. This past week had been a quiet one, with his employees relaxing after last month’s rush to finalize the designs for the new shields. Normally, this would’ve been the perfect time for Korum to work on his own designs—but the past couple of weeks had been far from normal. Making sure that nobody could enter his office, Korum attached a virtual reality node to his temple and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was standing next to a large river, surrounded by the familiar green, red, and gold tones of Krina vegetation. The sun was bright, even hotter than at the equator on Earth. Korum could feel its rays on the bare skin of his arms, and he basked in the pleasant sensation. Drawing in a deep breath, he let his lungs fill with pure, clean air and the heady aroma of blooming plants. “Quite different from Earth, isn’t it?” a deep voice said to his right, and Korum turned his head to see Lahur standing there, less than five feet away. He hadn’t heard the Elder’s approach—but then no one could move quite like Lahur. The ancient Krinar was the ultimate predator, his speed and strength as legendary as the man himself. “Yes,” Korum said simply. “Quite different.” If there was one thing he had learned during his recent interactions with the Elders, it was the importance of saying as little as possible. Lahur—the oldest of them all—liked silence and seemed to have contempt for those who spoke unnecessarily. The fact that Lahur was speaking to Korum at all was incredible. Korum was no stranger to the Elders, having appealed to them numerous times for various

Council matters. However, all of his prior communications had been done through the official channels, and the Elders almost never met with the Councilors in person—either virtually or in the real world. So when Korum had reached out to the Elders on Mia’s behalf several weeks ago, he had never expected to have his request taken seriously, much less to be granted a virtual meeting. A virtual meeting that had somehow turned into an entire series of interviews in the weeks to come. Lahur stared at him, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Like Korum, he had been conceived naturally, not in a lab, and his asymmetrical features were closer to those of the ancients than to the modern Krinar. “We have considered your request,” the Elder said, his unblinking gaze trained on Korum. Korum didn’t say anything, only inclined his head slightly. Patience was the key here. Patience and respect. “You wish your charl’s family to be brought into our society. To have them share her extended lifespan.” Korum kept silent, holding Lahur’s gaze with his own. “We will not grant you your request.” Korum fought to hide his disappointment. “Why?” he asked calmly. “It’s just a few humans. What harm would it do to bring them to Lenkarda and have them share fully in my charl’s life?” Lahur’s eyes darkened, turning pitch black. “You argue for them?” “No,” Korum said evenly, ignoring the way his pulse had picked up. “I argue for her—for Mia.” Lahur stared at him. “Why? Why is one of these creatures so important to you?” “Because she is,” Korum said. “Because she means everything to me.” He knew he had just done the equivalent of exposing his throat to Lahur, but he didn’t care. It was no secret that Mia was his weakness, and trying to hide it from a tenmillion-year-old Elder was as pointless as beating one’s head against a wall. To Korum’s shock, a faint smile touched Lahur’s lips, softening the harsh lines of his face. “Very well,” the Elder said. “You have convinced me—and I’ll give you one chance to convince the others. Bring the humans here and let them speak on their own behalf.” He paused for a second, letting the full impact of his words hit Korum. “I would like to meet this Mia of yours.”

21

“W hat’s

wrong?” Mia asked after the second time Korum fell silent, as

though absorbed in his thoughts. They were eating a late dinner on the beach—a romantic outing Korum had suggested the day before. Mia had expected something over the top... and it was. All around them, hundreds of tiny lights floated in the air, looking like a cross between stars and fireflies. The sun had already gone down, and these lights, along with the new crescent-shaped moon, were the only sources of illumination. For their meal, Korum had prepared dozens of little dishes, mostly of the fingerfood variety. They ranged from tiny sandwiches made with a delicious artichoke paste to some exotic fruits Mia had never tasted before. It was a spread fit for a king. Mia had been greatly enjoying everything—until she noticed Korum’s oddly distracted manner. “What makes you think something is wrong?” he asked, his lips curving in a sensual smile, but Mia wasn’t fooled. There was definitely something on his mind. “Don’t you think I can tell by now when you’re worried about something?” Mia cocked her head to the side, staring at her lover. He could still be a mystery to her at times, but she was getting to know him better with each day that passed. He looked at her, his gaze almost... calculating. “You’re right, my sweet,” he said finally. “There is something I need to talk to you about.” Mia swallowed. The last time Korum had needed to talk to her about something, she’d found out that her mind had been tampered with. What could it be this time? “It’s nothing bad,” Korum said, seemingly understanding her concern. “In fact, it’s all good news.” “What is it?” Mia couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.

“We found someone on Krina who can reverse Saret’s procedure,” Korum said, watching her closely. “She can undo everything he’s done to you—including the memory wipe.” “Oh my God...” Mia didn’t even know what to say. “But, Korum, that’s awesome!” He smiled. “It is. And there’s something else.” “What?” “Do you remember my petition to the Elders about your family?” Mia almost stopped breathing. “About making them immortal like me?” “Yes.” “Of course I remember,” Mia said, her heart beginning to pound in her chest with a wild mixture of hope and apprehension. “There’s a chance they might grant it.” This time, Mia couldn’t contain an excited scream. Jumping to her feet and laughing, she launched herself at Korum, who got up just in time. “Thank you! Oh my God, Korum, thank you!” “Hold on, my darling,” he said, gently pulling her away. “It’s not that simple. It requires something you might not want to do.” Mia stared at him, some of her excitement fading. “What?” “We would have to go to Krina and take your family with us.”

THAT NIGHT, MIA COULDN’T SLEEP. SHE KEPT WAKING UP EVERY HOUR, HER MIND BUZZING WITH A million different questions and concerns. As Korum had explained, the trip to Krina would serve two purposes: to undo Saret’s procedure and to present Mia’s case in front of the Elders. “They want to meet you,” he had said, shocking Mia into silence. A large warm body pressed against her back, startling her out of her musings. “You’re awake again,” Korum murmured, pulling her into his arms. “Why aren’t you sleeping, my darling?” “Why do the Elders want this?” Mia couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Why do they want to see us? I thought they were like your gods or something. What could they want with me and my family?”

Korum sighed, and she felt the movement of his chest. “They’re not gods. They’re Krinar, like me—only much, much older. As to why they want to see you, I don’t know. They have taken an unusual interest in my petition, meeting with me several times and asking a lot of questions about you and your parents.” “And they didn’t say they would grant your request, right?” Mia turned in his arms, so that she would be facing him. “No,” Korum said, the faint glow of moonlight from the transparent ceiling reflecting in his eyes, “they didn’t. However, Lahur said he would give us one more chance—and he implied he would be on our side.” “Lahur is the oldest?” “Yes. He’s the one who’s lived for over ten million years.” Mia shivered, goosebumps appearing on her arms. “Cold?” Korum drew her closer, pulling a blanket over them. “No, not really.” His naked body was like a furnace, generating so much heat that she was never cold when she slept next to him. The temperature in Korum’s house was always comfortable too—cooler at night, warmer during the day. It was tailored specifically to meet their needs. When Mia had lived in Florida, she’d always hated air-conditioning; the cold air was too startling after the heat outside, and usually cranked up too high for her taste. In Lenkarda, intelligent structures kept the inside of the buildings at a perfect temperature, creating micro-zones of climate around each person. “We don’t have to go, you know.” Korum gently stroked her back. “We can stay here. You’ve adapted to everything so well. If the memory loss doesn’t bother you, then nothing has to change—” “No,” Mia said, burrowing against his chest. “If it was only that, then we could consider staying. But my parents, my sister... If there’s even a chance they can live a longer life, we have to do this. I could never live with myself otherwise.” “I know, my darling,” Korum said softly. “I know that.” “Couldn’t we meet with the Elders virtually?” Mia drew back to look at his face. “That’s how you met with them, right?” “Yes,” Korum said. “But they don’t consider that a real meeting. When Lahur said he wanted to meet you, he meant in person, in real life.” “Old-fashioned, is he?” Mia said wryly.

Korum laughed. “That’s the understatement of the century.” Mia fell silent, thinking about the upcoming trip again. “Do you think we’ll be back soon?” she asked after a few seconds. “I don’t know,” Korum said. “It depends on what the Elders want.”

THE NEXT DAY KORUM WATCHED AS MIA RANG THE DOORBELL AT HER PARENTS’ HOUSE. HE KNEW SHE was worried about this part: telling her family about Krinar life extension capabilities and convincing them to go to Krina. She was wearing human clothes today, a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. As much as Korum liked seeing her in dresses, he had to admit that the shorts looked good on her, showing off her shapely legs. Maybe he should have her dress like this more frequently. Mia’s mother opened the door with a huge smile on her softly rounded face. “Mia! Korum! Oh, I’m so glad you two came by!” She embraced Mia first, and then Korum found himself enveloped in a perfumed hug. Smiling, he brushed a light kiss on Ella Stalis’s cheek and stepped into the house, following the two women inside. Mocha, the tiny dog Mia had called a Chihuahua, ran out of one of the rooms, barking happily and trying to jump at Korum. He bent down and petted the little animal, which immediately rolled onto its back and presented its belly—apparently to be rubbed as well. “Wow, Korum, she loves you,” Mia said wonderingly. “I can’t believe she acts that way with you. She’s normally so shy with strangers...” And to prove her point, Mia extended her hand to the dog, which instantly turned over and ran away. Korum grinned. It seemed like small, cute creatures had a thing for him. Mia’s parents had a lovely place—the epitome of what he thought of as American human. It had a comfortable, lived-in vibe, with overstuffed couches showing minor signs of wear and family photographs everywhere. Korum particularly enjoyed seeing those of Mia as a child. She had been a pretty toddler, with her long curls and big blue eyes. For a second, those photos made him ache to hold a daughter of his own, with Mia’s features—a strange and impossible urge he’d never felt before. Mia’s father walked into the living room just as they sat down on the couch. Mia jumped to her feet. “Dad!”

“Oh, Mia, honey, I’m so glad to see you!” Dan Stalis embraced his daughter, kissing her cheek. Korum got to his feet as well and extended his hand in a human greeting. “Hello, Dan.” “Korum, it’s good to see you as well,” Mia’s father said, shaking his hand. He was more reserved than he had been with Mia, and Korum knew her father was still partially on the fence about their relationship. Korum couldn’t blame him; if he had been in the human’s shoes, he wouldn’t have been nearly as accepting of someone taking his daughter away. “Where’s Marisa?” Mia asked when everybody sat down again. “Is she coming?” “Yes, she should be here in a few minutes,” her mother replied, still beaming with happiness at having her daughter home. Mia was glowing as well. Watching them, Korum was more convinced than ever that he had done the right thing in reaching out to the Elders. His charl would’ve been miserable if she’d had to watch her parents aging and withering away, knowing all the while that Korum had it in his power to prevent that from happening. “Can I offer you some tea? Maybe some fruit?” Ella asked, addressing Korum. “Are you two hungry? I made a delicious beet salad yesterday—” “I’m all right, thank you,” Korum said, softening his answer with a smile. “We ate just before we came here.” “I’ll take some tea,” Mia said. “But don’t worry, mom—I’ll get it myself.” Getting up, she walked toward the kitchen, leaving Korum by himself with the two older humans. Ella and Dan Stalis were watching him strangely, almost expectantly, and Korum had a sudden flash of intuition. They thought he and Mia were getting engaged— and likely expected him to ask them for permission, in the old-fashioned human way. Korum felt an unexpected flicker of regret for letting them down. That wasn’t why he and Mia had come today at all, nor had the idea ever occurred to him before. As far as he knew, no Krinar had ever married a human; it just wasn’t done that way. By claiming Mia as his charl, Korum had already made a commitment to her— even if she didn’t necessarily view it the same way. To his relief, the doorbell rang again, diffusing the awkward moment. Both humans got up and hurried to the door, letting their older daughter and her husband in. Mia came out of the kitchen as well, a broad smile on her face.

Korum stood up to greet them as they walked into the door. He kissed Marisa on the cheek and shook Connor’s hand, genuinely glad to see the young couple. Mia’s sister was just beginning to show, her trim figure rounding out with the baby, and she looked radiantly happy. At the light brush of his lips against her cheek, Marisa blushed, her fair skin as sensitive as Mia’s. Korum suppressed a smile. He knew human women found him attractive, and he rather liked having that effect on them. It was better than having them cringe in fear, as they sometimes did because of what he was. Connor didn’t seem to mind his wife’s reaction, smiling as calmly as before. Korum couldn’t understand his placidity. If Mia had blushed at the touch of another man, that man’s lifespan would’ve been numbered in minutes. Humans were definitely more laid back about such matters; some males were as possessive as the Krinar when it came to their women, but the majority were not. Mia greeted them next, and then everybody walked back to the couch area. “All right, baby sis,” Marisa said, taking a seat on the sofa. Her husband pulled up a chair next to her. “Tell us what’s going on.” Mia took a deep breath and Korum squeezed her hand for encouragement. “I’m immortal,” she said baldly. “I can now live as long as Korum—and if you come with us to Krina, you might be able to also.”

FOR A MOMENT, THERE WAS COMPLETE SILENCE IN THE ROOM. THEN EVERYBODY STARTED SPEAKING AT once. In the cacophony of voices, it was impossible to hear any specific question. Only Dan Stalis was quiet, leaning against a table and observing the proceedings with an expression of mild curiosity on his face. “You’re not surprised,” Korum said, looking at Mia’s father. “No,” Dan said. “I’m not.” “Why not?” Korum asked. “Because it makes all the sense in the world,” Dan Stalis replied. “How else could you and Mia be together? She has never talked about a future with you, yet she never seems upset when we bring it up. How could that be when she loves you and wants to be with you? And besides, you cured my migraines with nothing more than a small capsule. It’s not that big of a stretch to think your people could cure other things, like cancer or heart disease.” He paused for a second. “Maybe even aging.”

Korum smiled, involuntarily impressed by the human. “Dan, you never said anything to me.” Ella’s tone was bewildered. “In all the times we discussed Mia, you never once voiced these suspicions to me!” Her voice rose at the end, her eyes narrowing as she stared at her husband. “It was never anything more than a guess,” Dan said soothingly. “Ella, sweetheart, I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I was wrong.” “So are you now a K?” Marisa was looking at her sister with a shocked expression on her face. “Do you drink blood too?” “Wait,” said Connor, “can we go back to the part where we can all be immortal if we go to Krina?” Mia opened her mouth to reply, and Korum squeezed her hand again. “Let me try to explain, my sweet,” he said, “and then we’ll answer any other questions your family might have.” Everybody fell silent, staring at him, and he continued, “We do have the means of curing cancer—and aging and any other maladies that may plague humans. The way that’s done is by the insertion of nanocytes—nanomachines that mimic the functions of cells in a human body. They clean up any and all ongoing cellular damage and allow for rapid healing of injuries. That’s all they do; there’s no transformation from one species to another. “Mia has these nanocytes in her body. I gave them to her a couple of months ago. And you’re right, Dan. That’s the only way we would be able to be together longer term.” Korum paused and surveyed the room. “The reason why Mia didn’t tell you about this earlier—and why you’ve never heard of this before—is something called the non-interference mandate. It’s set by our Elders. We’re not allowed to do anything that would significantly alter the course of natural human progress. That’s why we don’t share our technology or science with you: because doing so is forbidden. The only exceptions to that rule are humans we call charl: those like Mia, with whom we enter into serious relationships.” “But why?” Connor asked, frowning. “Why have that mandate in the first place?” “I don’t know,” Korum admitted. “There are many theories, the most popular of which is that the Elders are still conducting their experiment in regard to your evolution. They were there to see the beginning of your species, and they want to see how you turn out with minimal interference from us—”

“What do you mean, in the beginning? Just how old are these Elders of yours?” Dan interrupted, looking at Korum. “Old,” Mia answered for him. “Very old. Like ten million years old.” Mia’s father visibly paled. “Ten million years old?” “Yes,” Mia said. “When Korum said they were there for the beginning of the human race, he wasn’t kidding. Two of the Elders were actually in charge of overseeing our evolution way back when. Right?” She looked up at Korum. “Yes, exactly,” he confirmed. “So if there’s this mandate in place, why are you telling us about this stuff now?” Mia’s mother asked, looking confused. “And what was that you said before, about going to Krina?” “I petitioned the Elders on your behalf,” Korum explained. “To have you undergo the same procedure as Mia. They didn’t exactly agree to it, but they made a very unusual request: to see Mia and your family in person.” “The Elders want to see us?” Ella Stalis looked like she was about to faint. “Yes,” Korum said. “They want to see you and Mia in person.” “Why?” It was Dan again. “I don’t know,” Korum said honestly. “I wish I could tell you.” “So let me get this straight... They want us to come to Krina, but they don’t guarantee that they will give us these nanocytes?” Connor asked, his frown deepening. “They’re asking us to leave our lives behind on the remote chance that this might happen?” “Yes.” Korum didn’t bother to sugarcoat the situation. “What would happen if you disobeyed these Elders?” Marisa asked, her slender hands twisting together. “If you broke the non-interference mandate?” “It depends,” Korum said. “If it’s just a minor infraction, it results in a loss of standing—that’s something like our reputation—and there are frequently financial and other penalties. If it’s something more serious, then it’s treated as a criminal offense on par with murder.” “Oh,” Marisa said faintly. “So let me get this straight,” Dan Stalis said. “You’re giving us the possibility of having an infinitely long lifespan, but only if we go with you to another planet.”

“Yes.” “And what would happen if we refuse?” Connor asked, a stubborn look on his face. “What if we don’t want to uproot our entire lives to fly off into space?” Korum shrugged. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain what would happen if any of Mia’s family decided against accepting the Elders’ invitation. In the normal course of events, if humans found out something they shouldn’t have, they would have a portion of their memories erased. But this was different, and he didn’t know what guidelines applied in this case. “No, Connor, you can’t refuse,” Mia said, glowering at her brother-in-law. “Don’t you understand? If the Elders grant our request, you and Marisa—and your baby—would be able to live for thousands of years. How could you refuse something like that? And, mom, dad, you guys will be young again. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” She cast a pleading glance around the room. “Please, don’t make me watch you all die because you’re scared. Korum is offering you a shot at immortality. How could you turn that down?”

22

T he next two weeks passed in a flurry of preparations for the departure. Mia’s parents, Marisa, and Connor each requested a leave of absence from their jobs and put their finances in order. Of them all, Connor seemed the most hesitant, though Marisa convinced him that they had to go—if only for their baby’s sake. After many discussions, it was decided that if the Elders didn’t grant them immortality, then they would come back to their regular lives—after first signing an agreement not to reveal any confidential information about the Ks. If the petition succeeded, however, then Lenkarda would be their new home, just as it was for Mia. To alleviate any concerns about her sister traveling during pregnancy, Mia spoke to Ellet and had her examine Marisa one last time. “She’s perfectly healthy,” Ellet reassured them, “and routine space travel shouldn’t pose any issues. Now if she went off exploring new galaxies, I would be worried, but a simple trip between Krina and Earth—that’s the safest thing there is these days.” Mia called Jessie and spoke to her, explaining that she would be away for a while and won’t be coming back for the school year. Jessie wasn’t the least bit surprised, though she did cry when Mia said she didn’t know how soon she would return. Since Mia couldn’t tell Jessie the real reasons for the trip, she had to let her think it was Korum’s business taking them away. “Can Jessie come too?” Mia asked Korum after that heart-breaking conversation. “I know you said family only, but she’s like family to me—” “No, my sweet,” Korum said regretfully. “The Elders even balked at Connor coming along. I had to work very hard to convince them that a brother-in-law is the equivalent of a real sibling. If Connor’s parents had been alive, I don’t think it could’ve worked—that would’ve been too many humans to get an exception for.” Mia swallowed. She hadn’t realized how close she’d come to losing her sister,

who would’ve likely chosen to stay behind with her husband. It was the first time Connor’s lack of family was in any way a plus. Mia had always felt sorry for her brother-in-law because his mother, a single parent, had passed away from breast cancer seven years ago... but now that fact may have enabled Mia’s family to stay together. Adam prepared a bunch of notes and recordings for her to take to the mind lab on Krina. “Don’t forget to give it to that apprentice,” he told Mia. “It’s got everything I could find in Saret’s files about memory loss and softening. It’s not much—he must’ve destroyed most of the data before—but it might help them figure out your condition.” “Thanks, Adam.” Mia smiled at the K. “It was awesome having you for a partner.” Adam grinned, white teeth flashing. “Right back at you, partner. Ping me when you guys land and settle in; I’d love to hear how your meeting with the Elders goes.” “Of course,” Mia said. She knew Adam had a very good reason for wanting to know the outcome of Korum’s petition: his entire adopted family was human—as was the mysterious girlfriend he never talked about.

“SARET IS GOING TO BE ON THE SHIP WITH US,” KORUM TOLD MIA AS THEY WALKED ON THE BEACH THE evening before their departure. “The Council wants him back on Krina so the Elders can try him themselves.” Mia’s stomach twisted with remembered fear. She still had occasional nightmares from the Arena fight—horrifying dreams in which Korum didn’t emerge as the victor. Saret had come far too close to killing her lover, and she could never forget the agony of those moments when she’d thought she lost Korum. As though reading her mind, Korum said, “There’s nothing to worry about, my sweet. He’ll be locked up the entire trip.” “Which will only be a couple of weeks, right?” Mia asked. “Yes,” Korum confirmed. “Getting sufficiently far away from Earth is what’s going to take the longest. This is a very crowded solar system and we have to make sure nothing interferes with our ship’s warp capabilities.” Mia laughed, forgetting all about Saret for the moment. “Warp capabilities? Like the warp drive in our science fiction—the thing that lets you go faster than the

speed of light?” “Yes,” Korum said. “Very similar to that. It bends space-time, allowing us to travel from one point in the universe to another almost instantaneously.” “How does it do that?” Mia asked in fascination. Physics had never been her strongest subject, but even she knew that weird things happened near the speed of light—and that faster-than-light travel had been considered impossible until the Ks arrived. Korum smiled, apparently pleased by her interest. “I can’t explain fully without going into some complicated math, but I can give you a rough idea,” he said. “Essentially, our ships create a huge energy bubble that causes a contraction in the space-time in front of it and an expansion in the space-time behind it. That’s what propels us from one place to another—the push-and-pull of space-time itself. We don’t need to reach the speed of light at any point; we bypass it altogether.” “Wouldn’t something like that require a lot of energy? What do you use for fuel?” “Well, the energy bubble around the ship uses a combination of positive and negative energy,” Korum said. “Negative energy is something that your scientists are just now beginning to explore. And yes, you’re absolutely right: warping spacetime requires a tremendous amount of energy. Fortunately, we have it in abundance. We also use antimatter as a fuel source; that’s what powers our ship when we’re not in warp mode.” Mia’s eyes widened. “Antimatter?” “It’s the most powerful energy source there is,” Korum explained. Mia fell silent, thinking about the magnitude of what she was about to do. Tomorrow, she would leave Earth for an as-yet-undetermined length of time, with a lover who wasn’t even human. She was entrusting the fate of her entire family into his hands. It should’ve been a scary thought, but somehow it wasn’t. Instead she was almost giddy with excitement. How many people got a chance like that? To see a different planet, to go to Krina—the origin of all life? And meeting the Krinar Elders... She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that one. She, a regular human girl, would see the actual creators of mankind. It was enough to make anybody’s head spin.

THE NEXT MORNING THEY WENT TO FLORIDA TO PICK UP MIA’S FAMILY, FLYING IN A LARGER TRANSPORT pod Korum had created specifically for that purpose. Everyone was already gathered at Mia’s parents’ house, with their bags packed and ready. Even though Korum had explained that they didn’t need most of their things, the humans insisted on bringing their own clothing and other items they saw as necessities. This time, Korum landed the pod on the street in front of the Stalis house. Mia had explained that her parents already told all their neighbors about the upcoming trip (though not the reason for it), and nobody would be too shocked to see an alien aircraft landing in their quiet neighborhood. Emerging from the pod, Korum and Mia walked to the door and rang the doorbell. All around them, people were slowly coming out of their houses, driven by curiosity about their neighbors’ extraterrestrial connection. Korum could hear their whispers, giggles, and gasps of excitement and fear. An older couple a few houses away were on the phone with their children, complaining that the ‘K evil’ had come to Ormond Beach. They likely thought he couldn’t hear them, not realizing how acute Krinar senses were. None of this bothered Korum. In the past, he’d tried to be considerate, to make sure that his presence in the small town didn’t draw too much attention to his charl’s family. Now, however, it didn’t matter. If the Elders agreed to their request, Mia’s relatives would never be able to return to their regular lives. Marisa opened the door to let them in. “Hi guys,” she exclaimed brightly. “Come on in! We’re almost ready.” “Awesome!” Mia had a huge grin on her face as they entered the house. “Are you excited? I know I am—” “Oh my God, am I excited? Are you kidding me? I haven’t slept for two nights...” Korum smiled and followed the two sisters as they continued chattering all the way to the kitchen. Mia’s parents and Connor were already gathered there, eating their breakfast. “Korum!” Ella exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “Will you join us? I made some potato pancakes with fresh berry jam.” “Sure,” Korum said, sitting down at the table. “I’d love some pancakes.” Mia and he ate about an hour ago, but he was curious to try the dish Mia had said was her mother’s specialty. In that moment, Mia came up behind his chair and kissed his cheek, her hair tickling the back of his neck. “Already hungry?” she teased, her hands gently

kneading his shoulders. Her easy display of affection made him want to hug her. He hadn’t known how much he needed that from her until she started touching him like that in the past few weeks. Before, he had almost always been the one to initiate physical contact, both of the sexual and more casual variety. Of course, whenever she was this close to him, he got hard, but the discomfort was a small price to pay. Korum shifted in his seat, raising his knee slightly in case any of his human companions happened to glance under the table. “Mia, honey, how about you?” her mother asked. “Do you want some pancakes too?” “I’d love some, mom, thanks.” Mia let go of Korum’s shoulders and sat down in the chair next to him. Korum reached over and took her hand, craving more of her touch. “Ooh, so lovey-dovey,” Connor said, chewing on a pancake. “Look at those two, Marisa.” “Shut up, Connor,” his wife said, walking over to put the water to boil. “It’s not like they’re an old married couple like us.” But there was a big smile on her face as she said it, and Korum knew she was joking. From what he had seen, Marisa and her husband were very affectionate with each other. Korum didn’t mind Connor’s teasing; he loved Mia and had no intention of hiding his feelings from her family. Let them see how much he cared for her. After all, they were trusting him enough to leave their entire lives behind. He hoped the Elders wouldn’t deny them the nanocytes. He hated the thought of disappointing Mia’s family—and Mia herself. Somehow, almost imperceptibly, Korum had grown to care about these people. In the past two weeks, he’d had a lot of interactions with each of Mia’s relatives, answering their questions about Krina and what to expect during the trip—and he’d found that he genuinely liked them. He saw shades of Mia in both her parents and her sister, and frequently found Connor’s company amusing. If someone had told Korum a few months ago that he would feel this way about a bunch of humans, he would’ve laughed in their face. But ever since he met Mia, his predictable life had gone down the drain. Ella Stalis brought out the pancakes and served everyone. Tasting his portion, Korum immediately complimented her cooking, loving the combination of sweet jam with the savory potato. She glowed, obviously pleased. In that moment, Korum could see the beauty she must’ve been in her youth—and would likely be again after the procedure.

Finally, all the food had been eaten and dishes put away. Korum helped clean up, loading everything into the dishwasher. Human appliances had always interested him for some reason; they were so primitive and graceless, yet they managed to do their job for the most part. At that moment, the tiny dog ran out of one of the rooms, barking and jumping at Korum again. Before he had a chance to do anything, Marisa grabbed it off the floor. “Mocha!” she chastised the animal. Turning to Korum, she gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. We kept her in the bedroom so she’s not in the way while we’re packing, but she got out somehow—” “That’s okay; I don’t mind,” Korum assured her. Then a sudden thought occurred to him. “What are you going to do with the dog when you leave?” Marisa stared at him. “She’s coming with us, of course.” Korum blinked slowly. “I see.” “That’s not a problem, is it?” Marisa asked anxiously. “I know my parents would die without her—” “No, it’s not a problem,” Korum said. Unexpected, but not a problem. He should’ve known they would want to bring the furry creature; humans often had unnatural attachments to their pets. He would have to make some last-minute adjustments to the ship’s layout to accommodate the dog’s presence, but it wouldn’t be anything major. Twenty minutes later, everybody was ready to go. Korum brought five large suitcases outside and loaded them onto the aircraft, ignoring the curious stares from the neighbors. “Be careful, they’re heavy,” Dan Stalis admonished him, and Korum suppressed a smile. Mia’s father clearly didn’t understand the full extent of the differences between Krinar and human bodies. The suitcases were no heavier to him than Ella’s little purse was to her. Still, his concern was rather touching. When they were all inside the aircraft, Mia made sure they were comfortably seated on floats. Her mother held the dog on her lap, clutching it with a desperation that betrayed her nervousness. “Goodbye, Ormond Beach. Goodbye, Earth,” Mia’s sister whispered as the aircraft took off, carrying them upward, beyond Earth’s atmosphere, where the big ship awaited them for their interplanetary journey.

23

A s their ship ascended, Mia watched the shrinking buildings and landmarks below. The pod’s transparent walls and floor allowed for an amazing 360-degree view. Within seconds, their aircraft was above the clouds and blinding sunlight streamed in, causing Mia to squint until Korum did something that minimized the glare. “Wow,” Marisa breathed, echoing Mia’s own feelings. “This is so not like traveling by airplane...” “We’re moving much faster than your planes,” Korum explained. “In another few minutes, we’ll be reaching our destination right outside of Earth’s atmosphere.” Mia reached over and squeezed his hand. Her heart was pounding with excitement and trepidation, and she could only imagine how the others must be feeling. Her dad was looking a little pale, and her mom was holding Mocha so tightly that the little dog was squirming. Even Connor was uncharacteristically quiet, a look of awe on his face. “It’ll be all right, my sweet,” Korum said, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Everything will be fine.” “I know,” Mia said quietly. “It’s just incredible, that’s all.” He smiled, showing that sexy dimple in his left cheek. It made him look even more gorgeous than usual, and Mia desperately wished they were alone right now, instead of surrounded by her family. As though reading her mind, Korum whispered to her, “Later,” and Mia felt her cheeks heating up. His smile changed, became more suggestive, and she pinched his arm in response.

He lifted his eyebrows questioningly, and Mia gave him a frown. “Not in front of my parents,” she mouthed, and his smile turned into a full-blown grin. Determined not to let him make her blush, Mia looked down, watching with barely controlled excitement as they got further and further away from Earth. When she was little, she had dreamed of being an astronaut, of going to the stars and exploring distant galaxies. Like most kids, she had grown out of that, eventually choosing a more suitable profession. Now, however, she was being given a chance to live that long-ago childhood dream, and it was beyond amazing. Soon, they were so far away that she could see Earth in its entirety—a beautiful blue planet that looked far too small to be home to billions of people. Looking at it, Mia couldn’t help but realize just how vulnerable the entire human race was, tied as they were to this one place that looked so defenseless in the vastness of space. “What are you thinking about?” Korum asked, reaching over to stroke her knee. “I was thinking I understand now why the Krinar want to diversify,” Mia said, “why you don’t want to bet your survival on any one planet. It looks so fragile like this...” “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Korum’s hand tightened on her knee. When she looked up at him, he was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. Before she could ask him about it, though, she heard her mom gasp. “Oh wow, Korum!” Ella Stalis exclaimed. “Is that your ship?” Mia looked up. They were approaching something that looked like a large bullet. Dark-colored, it was surprisingly plain-looking, completely unlike any starship she had ever seen in science fiction movies. “That’s it?” she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Krinar transport pods looked more advanced and futuristic than this ship that could supposedly go faster than the speed of light. “That’s it.” Korum smiled. “It’s not quite how your people imagined it, is it?” “No, it’s not,” Connor said, speaking for the first time since their transport pod took off. “How did all those thousands of Krinar fit into that? It looks kind of small...” “Oh, this is not the ship that brought us here,” Korum explained. “You’re right; that one is much bigger. This ship is something that I made specifically for our journey. There are only about seventy of us who are going to Krina this time; there was no need to use the bigger ship for so few people.”

“You can do that?” Mia’s dad asked, staring at Korum in disbelief. “Just like that, you can create a ship that can go to a different galaxy?” “Korum can do it,” Mia said, understanding her dad’s confusion. “Not every Krinar can. He is the one who came up with this design. Right?” She looked at Korum. “Yes,” her lover confirmed. “This particular design is mine. We had ships with faster-than-light capabilities before, of course, but these are the latest generation. They’re safer and easier to operate.” “I see,” Dan said, looking at Korum with a mixture of shock and respect. The same emotions were reflected on Ella’s face. Apparently Mia’s parents had not understood the extent of Korum’s technological prowess until this moment. As the pod approached the ship, Mia could see one of the ship’s sides dissolving to let them in. Since all Krinar houses had similar entrance technology, she barely blinked at the sight. Her family, however, found it very impressive. “How exactly does this intelligent stuff work?” Marisa asked. “Do the walls actually think for themselves?” “No,” Korum said. “This is not artificial intelligence in the true sense of the word. It’s not self-aware in any way. When I say ‘intelligent technology,’ what I really mean is that it’s an object that’s able to carry out its specific function in a way that mimics the capabilities of an intelligent being. So, for instance, my house can make meals, maintain temperature that’s just right for our bodies, keep out unwanted visitors, and clean itself. It performs those tasks as well as a human or a Krinar would—but you can’t really carry on a conversation with it.” “That’s so cool,” Connor said. “Do you guys have robots that you can talk to?” Korum smiled indulgently. “Yeah, those were popular a few thousand years ago and then kind of went out of style. Now they’re mainly used to entertain small children, although some adults like them too.” Before Connor could ask any more questions, their pod touched the floor of the ship, landing softly. Marisa clapped. “Bravo! That had to be the smoothest ride ever.” Korum laughed, rising from his seat. “We’re here,” he said. “Until we reach our destination, this will be your new home.”

WHEN THEY DISEMBARKED, KORUM GAVE THEM A TOUR OF THE SHIP. DESPITE ITS UNASSUMING OUTER layer, the inside of the spacecraft was as beautifully decorated as any Krinar house. Light colors, floating furnishings, exotic plants—the ship had everything Mia had gotten used to in Lenkarda, and she immediately felt at home there. Mia’s parents were beyond impressed. “Korum, this is so gorgeous,” her mom kept saying. “And the view! Dear God, the view!” The view was truly stunning. The outer walls of the ship were see-through from the inside, just like in most Krinar buildings, and there were plenty of areas where one could observe space in all its glory. Without the interference from the atmosphere, everything was sharper, clearer, the stars looking brighter than anything Mia had ever seen on the ground. Korum had prepared special quarters for Mia’s family, closely replicating the interior of her parents’ house. “I hope this works for you,” he told them. “If not, I can change it to anything else you prefer.” “Oh, no, this is perfect,” Mia’s dad said, walking over to sit down on a big overstuffed couch. “All that floating stuff is a bit intimidating, to be honest with you.” “Good, I’m glad you like it.” Korum smiled, and Mia wanted to kiss him for his thoughtfulness. “I’ll have a special area made for Mocha as well, to make sure she can run around and use the bathroom there.” The few Ks they met during the tour were pleasant to Mia’s family, having been already apprised of their presence by Korum. They all stared, of course, but Mia was already used to that. Two of the female crew members seemed particularly intrigued by the little dog that Mia’s mom insisted on carrying around with her. “That is so cute!” One of them exclaimed, reaching over to pet Mocha. “Oh, I’ve never seen one of these up close!” The dog tolerated the attention, but Mia could see she wasn’t happy about it. It seemed Korum was the only K Mocha truly liked. After the tour, Mia’s family decided to rest. Her sister was particularly tired, worn out by all the excitement. “It’s nap time,” Connor said, smiling at his wife, and she nodded, stifling a yawn. Mia and Korum were finally on their own.

“LOOKS LIKE IT’S JUST US,” MIA SAID, SMILING AT KORUM. THEY HAD JUST GOTTEN TO THEIR OWN private quarters, complete with a large circular bed similar to the one in Korum’s house. “Indeed.” His eyes were starting to gleam with the familiar golden light. Holding his gaze, Mia slowly and deliberately hooked her thumbs under the straps holding up her sundress and pushed them down over her shoulders. “Oops,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to take this off. I might need your help...” Korum’s nostrils flared, and she could see the tension invading his muscles. “Come here,” he growled. Mia shook her head. “No. You come here.” She knew exactly what she wanted, and it did not involve Korum taking over this time. His eyes narrowed. He looked dangerous now, like a wild predator who couldn’t be controlled, and her heart started beating faster from the thrill of what she was trying to do. “Come,” she repeated, crooking her finger at him. He came. Or, rather, he practically leapt across the room. In a second, he was next to her, his muscular body large and intimidating, pressing her against the wall. “You need help with this dress, do you?” His fingers tugged at the flimsy straps, the thin material nearly coming apart in his strong hands. “Yes,” Mia breathed, looking up at him. “I do. Be gentle, though. And after you take it off me, I want you to undress for me.” His eyes turned almost yellow. “Is that right?” “That’s right,” Mia said. “And then I want you to lie down on the bed.” Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to explode, and her body was melting with need. She wanted him badly... but on her own terms. For a second, she thought he wouldn’t comply, but then he took a step back. “All right,” he said, his voice unusually rough. “Turn around.” Mia suppressed a triumphant smile and did as he asked. The dress she was wearing was human-style, with a zipper in the back, and his fingers felt hot on her bare skin as he unzipped it all the way. As soon as he was done, Mia stepped to the side and let the dress drop to the floor. Underneath, she was wearing a tiny blue thong—something she’d put on this morning specifically with Korum in mind. He sucked in his breath. “Mia... You little tease...” She lifted her brows. “You don’t like?” She did a little twirl, pretending not to see the explosive heat in his gaze as he stared at her.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Are you torturing me?” “I don’t know,” Mia purred. “Am I?” Turning her back to him, she bent over and slowly pushed down the thong, the way she’d seen it done in movies. Then she stepped out of it. When she turned toward him again, he looked almost feral, his eyes glittering and his hands clenched into fists. “Your turn,” Mia said, watching him in fascination. Would he lose control and take her now? She loved it when she could get him into that state, completely mindless with need for her. His savage passion didn’t frighten her; instead, it made her want him even more. He took a deep breath, then another, and she saw his hands slowly unclenching. Then, still staring at her with a burning gaze, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his hips. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and he was already fully aroused, his erection aggressively jutting out. Mia’s mouth went dry at the sight. Her lover was male perfection personified. Every muscle on his powerful body was clearly defined, the smoothness of his golden skin marred in only a few places by a smattering of dark hair. She wanted to jump on him and lick him all over. “Lie down on the bed,” she managed to say, her voice thick with desire. He did as she asked, but she could see that his self-control wouldn’t last long. Suddenly, an idea came to her. “My fabricator, please,” she said out loud, knowing the intelligent ship would understand what she wanted. Sure enough, a few seconds later, one of the walls dissolved and Korum’s gift floated out directly into Mia’s hands. “What are you doing?” Korum asked, watching her warily from the bed, and she gave him a wicked grin. “You’ll see.” Holding the fabricator in her hand, she told the gadget, “Handcuffs with a key, please,” and then waited while the nanomachines did their job. Korum sat up, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “And what do you think you’re doing with those?” Mia put down the fabricator and picked up the handcuffs. “Putting them on you, of course.” “Oh really?” “Yes, really,” Mia said firmly, climbing onto the bed next to Korum. “Now give

me your wrists.” He hesitated for a second, then extended his hands, the lust on his face now tempered with amusement. “You think those will hold me?” “Probably not,” Mia admitted, putting the handcuffs on him. Each of his wrists was as thick as both of hers combined, his forearms bulging with muscle. “But that’s not the point, is it?” “What is the point, my sweet?” he asked softly, watching her with a heavylidded gaze. “Are you trying to prove something?” Instead of answering, Mia gave him a light push, getting him to lie flat on his back with his handcuffed arms raised over his head. Then she climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach until his erection was only a couple of inches from her opening. Leaning down, she braced herself on his chest and whispered in his ear, “The point is that you’re mine, and I get to do whatever I want with you.” He drew in a sharp breath and his hips arched, trying to bring his cock closer to her entrance. “And does that include letting me get inside your tight little pussy?” His voice sounded hoarse, strained with need. “Oh yes.” Mia moved down until his shaft was between her nether lips, her clitoris rubbing against its side. The skin covering his cock was soft, almost delicate, and she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of it against her sex. “Mia...” he groaned, bucking underneath her. “Put it in. Now.” Deciding not to torture him—or herself—any longer, Mia wrapped her hand around his length and guided him into her. Biting her lip at the stretching sensation, she slowly lowered herself until his cock was almost all the way in. She paused, getting used to his thickness, and then let him in deeper, not stopping until he was in all the way. He groaned again, his arm muscles flexing with the effort to keep from reaching for her right then and there, and his cock jerked inside her. Mia knew he was dying to take control, to make them both come, and she wondered at his unusual restraint. She didn’t have to wonder long. Before she could move again, she found herself flipped over onto her back, his large body pressing her into the mattress. His eyes were wild, his gaze unfocused. He had managed to tear apart the metal links holding the cuffs together, and his hands were on her thighs, holding them wide open for his thrusts.

Crying out, Mia wrapped her arms around his neck, barely able to hold on as he hammered into her, driven solely by the primitive instinct to mate. Her body slid back and forth on the mattress with each movement of his powerful hips, and the intelligent bed softened around them, became more like a pillow in texture, protecting her from any injuries. Her first orgasm hit her like a freight train, and Mia screamed, bucking in his arms, but he was merciless, utterly relentless. The second one, mere moments later, made her literally see stars, yet he continued fucking her, ferocious in his need. It was too much. Mia felt like she would break apart, like she would shatter from the intensity of the sensations. Her body was no longer her own, her mind was no longer her own. There was only heat and sweat and his body, over her, in her, surrounding her. They were melded together, fused by the white-hot ecstasy of their joining. By the time he shuddered over her, Mia was incoherent, her voice hoarse from her screams and her body shaking from the unending swells of pleasure. And just when she thought it was over, she felt his teeth slicing across the vein in her neck... and sending her spiraling even higher.

24

I f anyone had told Mia an intergalactic voyage would be as easy as going on a cruise, she would’ve laughed out loud. Yet it was indeed the case. They spent almost a week flying away from Earth at sub-light speeds—so as not to cause any disturbances with the warping of space-time—and then they activated the warp drive, landing within a few days flight to Krina. All of this was done so smoothly that Mia didn’t feel anything. It wasn’t until Korum told her they were in a different galaxy that she knew the ship had made the jump. “Are we going to see the Elders right away?” Mia asked as they were lying in bed the evening before their arrival. Since they were both less busy with other matters, she and Korum had spent a lot of time with each other during the trip. Mia was taking a break from learning about the mind, and Korum didn’t have any urgent Council issues to worry about. Mia slept late, hung out with her family in the mornings, and spent the majority of her day with Korum—an activity that invariably culminated in several hours of sexual bliss. “No,” Korum said. “We’ll go see the mind expert first, to restore your memory.” And to undo the softening—but that part went unsaid. Mia knew they were both anticipating and slightly dreading the reversal of the procedure, unsure of just how much—if anything—would change between them as a result. Staring at the transparent wall in their bedroom, Mia could see unfamiliar stars and constellations in the sky. They were already in the Krinar solar system, a strange and beautiful place with ten planets circling a star that was roughly 1.2 times the size of Earth’s sun. Krina was the fourth planet in terms of distance from its sun, and it was strikingly similar to Earth in its size, mass, and geochemical composition. “That’s why Earth is so important to us,” Korum explained. “It’s closer to Krina than anything else we’ve come across in all the years we’ve been exploring the universe.”

The main difference between the two planets lay in its moons. Earth had only one, while Krina had a grand total of three—one about the size of Earth’s and two smaller ones. “We get some spectacular tides,” Korum told her. “They’re more like small tsunamis. Earth is better in that sense; in most places, you can live right next to the ocean and not have to worry about anything more than an occasional hurricane. On Krina, the ocean is more dangerous, and we don’t have any settlements within twenty miles of the shore.” To Mia’s surprise, she learned that when Korum referred to the ocean on Krina, he meant The Ocean—as in, one huge body of water. Unlike Earth, where the original supercontinent of Pangaea had broken apart into several continents, Krina had one giant landmass that served as home to all the Krinar. Tinara, Korum had called it. That fact also explained something that had puzzled Mia before: the relative lack of variety in Krinar appearance. Her lover’s people all tended to be dark-haired with bronzed skin, and, while there were variations in coloring, there were significantly fewer differences among Ks than between humans of different races. The Krinar were more homogeneous—which made sense if they had all evolved together on this supercontinent. “So why does your cousin Leeta have red hair?” Mia asked. She’d met the beautiful Krinar woman a couple of times since her memory loss. “Is there a gene for that in the K population?” Korum shook his head. “No, not really. Some of us have hair with a slightly auburn tint to it, but nothing like the shade Leeta is wearing now. She has altered the structure of her hair molecules since coming to Earth, probably because she likes that look.” “And there are no blond, blue-eyed Krinar?” “No,” Korum said. “No Krinar with hair as curly as yours either. With your curls and blue eyes, you’ll really stand out on Krina.” “Oh great,” Mia muttered. “I’ll be stared at even more.” Korum smiled. “Yes, you will be. But that’s not a bad thing.” Mia shrugged. She knew the Krinar didn’t regard staring as rude, but she was still uncomfortable with that specific cultural difference. “So when are we meeting your family?” she asked, switching gears. “Are they going to be there to greet us when we arrive?” “No. I told them we’ll visit them right after you regain your memory. You’ve

already met my parents once before, and you’ll probably feel better if you remember that original meeting.” Mia yawned and turned over, pressing her back against Korum’s chest and letting him spoon her from behind. He hugged her, pulling her closer. “Go to sleep, my sweet,” he murmured in her ear, and Mia drifted off, feeling warm and safe in his embrace.

“OH MY GOD, IS THAT IT? IS THAT KRINA?” MARISA ROSE FROM HER SEAT, POINTING AT THE PLANET that was growing in size before their eyes. Mia was staring at it too, her heart beating like a drum from anticipation and excitement. “Yes,” Korum confirmed, smiling at them. “That is indeed Krina.” They were all sitting around a floating table, having breakfast. It was their last meal on the ship before their arrival. Connor was unusually quiet again, and Mia could see that her parents were just picking at their food, apparently too nervous to eat normally. They were sitting in one of the rooms that had a wall facing the outside of the ship—a wall made of the same transparent material as the Krinar houses. Korum had chosen it on purpose, to let them watch as they approached Krina for the first time. Their ship was moving with incredible speed, and soon the planet was visible in greater detail. “We’re coming from the Tinara—the supercontinent—side,” Korum explained. “That’s why you don’t see a lot of water, the way you do on Earth.” And it was true. The sight before them was quite different from NASA images of Earth from space. Mia could see only a thin ring of blue; instead, everything was dominated by a giant brown landmass in the center—the supercontinent. As they got closer, she realized that what she had mistaken for a brown hue was actually a combination of green, red, and yellow colors. Soon, they entered the atmosphere, and Mia noticed a faint reddish glow around the ship. “That’s our force shields protecting us from heat and friction,” Korum explained. “We’re still moving fast, so if it weren’t for our shields, we’d burn to a crisp.” Gradually, the glow faded, and the ship slowed. As they broke through the cloud cover, Mia saw a large forest spread out below them, strikingly colorful... and unusually untouched. Where one might’ve expected to see cities and skyscrapers,

there were only trees and more trees. “We’re going to a special landing area for intergalactic ships,” Korum said, apparently anticipating their questions. “It’s a good distance from any of our Centers.” “Why aren’t we taking a transport pod down, the way we took it to get to the ship?” Mia’s dad asked. “Why land this whole ship?” “Good question, Dan,” Korum said. “When we were on Earth, we took the transport pod up because there are no good landing areas for ships like this. That might change in the future, but for now, it’s easiest to keep these types of ships in orbit around Earth. Here on Krina, we’re equipped for this, so there is no reason for us not to land.” Now Mia could see a large clearing ahead, with some structures that resembled giant mushrooms. It had to be the landing field. Sure enough, their ship headed directly there and a few minutes later, they touched the ground. They were officially on Krina.

AS THEY EXITED THE SHIP, MIA FELT A BLAST OF HEAT REMINISCENT OF FLORIDA WEATHER AT ITS hottest. It was also difficult to breathe, and she felt light-headed as she tried to draw in more air. Grabbing Korum’s hand, she waited for a wave of dizziness to pass. “Are you okay?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her back to support her. “Yes,” Mia said. “The air is just thinner here, I think.” It was also unusually and pleasantly scented, like blooming flowers and sweet fruits. “It is thinner,” Korum confirmed. “Our atmosphere in general contains a little less oxygen than you’re used to, and this particular region happens to be at a higher elevation. You should adjust soon, though, with your nanocytes.” Mia was already starting to feel better, but now she had a new worry. “What about my parents? And Marisa and Connor? How will they adjust?” Her family was just now coming out of the ship, about ten yards behind them. “Most humans tolerate our atmosphere well, after an initial acclimation period,” Korum said. “But don’t worry; I know your parents aren’t in the best of health, so I made sure our medicine experts were on hand.” He pointed toward a small pod that had just landed next to the ship. “They will help your family with

any kind of issues.” At that moment, two Krinar women exited the pod. Tall, dark-haired, and graceful, they came up to Korum and smiled. “I’m Rialit, and this is my colleague Mita,” said the shorter woman to the right. “Welcome to Krina.” Korum inclined his head. “Thank you, Rialit. And Mita. I would like you to help my human companions. My charl is fine, but her relatives may require your assistance.” “Of course,” Rialit said, turning toward Ella and Dan. They and Marisa seemed a little pale, and Connor looked like he was trying to gulp as much air as possible. The medicine experts hurried over, holding some small devices, and, a minute later, everyone appeared to be back to normal. Korum thanked the two women and they left, their pod taking off a few minutes later. “Wow,” Mia’s mom said, staring at the departing aircraft, “I can’t believe they run those little things over us, and we can breathe again. What did they do to us?” “I think they created a small oxygen field around you,” Korum said. “This way, you will have a more gradual adjustment. The field will dissipate over the next couple of days, but it’ll do it slowly, so your bodies will get used to breathing our air.” “Amazing,” Dan said. “Simply amazing.” Mia smiled. “Isn’t it, though?” While they were talking, Korum had started the process of creating a transport pod to take them to their final destination: his house. Mia’s sister gasped as the ship began to take shape, and Connor and her parents simply stared in shock. Mia grinned at their reactions; it wasn’t that long ago that everything Korum showed her seemed like a miracle. Now she could do a lot of the same things, even if she didn’t understand the technology behind it. Then again, most people didn’t understand how phones and televisions worked, but they could still use them—just as Mia could use her fabricator. Once the pod was done, everybody climbed inside and got comfortable on the floating seats. “Love these things,” Marisa said, a blissful look on her face as the seat conformed to her shape. Mia guessed that her sister was already starting to feel some pregnancy-related aches and pains, and she determined to talk to the medicine experts about that. Marisa was likely too shy to say anything herself. As their pod took off, Mia looked down at the transparent floor, her breath

catching in her throat at the realization that she was actually here. On Krina. On the planet that was the origin of all life on Earth.

25

T he flight to Korum’s house took a mere two minutes, the aircraft flying too fast for Mia to see anything more than a blur of exotic vegetation below. As soon as they landed, she jumped up, eager to see Krina up close. “Hold on, honey,” her dad said, catching her arm as she was about to run out of the ship. “That’s an alien planet. You don’t know what’s out there in the woods.” “He’s right, my sweet,” Korum said. “I need to show all of you a few things first, to avoid any potential issues. Stick close to me for now, and don’t touch anything.” Exiting the pod, he led them toward an ivory-colored structure that was visible through the trees. As they walked, Mia marveled at the beautiful vegetation that surrounded them. While green colors predominated, there were a lot more red and yellow plants than one would find on Earth. In places she could even see bright purple leaves peeking through the wide rounded stalks of grass-like growth that covered the forest floor. Here and there, flowers of every shade of the rainbow added a festive touch to everything. These flowers seemed to be responsible for the pleasant smell Mia had noticed upon their arrival. The tree trunks were of varying colors as well. Brown was common, but so was black and white. One tree that Mia particularly liked had white branches and bright red leaves with yellow centers. “That’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed, and Korum laughed, shaking his head. “That particular beauty is poisonous,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t let any of the tree sap get on your skin—it acts like acid.” “Really?” Mia stared at her surroundings with newfound caution. Her parents looked frightened, and Connor put a protective arm around Marisa, pulling her closer to him.

“There’s no need to be scared,” Korum said. “You just need to know that you can’t touch the alfabra tree. Same thing for that plant over there—” He pointed toward a pretty-looking green bush that was covered with white and pink blooms. “It likes to eat anything that lands on it, and has been known to consume larger animals.” Something flew by Mia’s ear and she reflexively swatted at it, gasping when she felt a sudden light pinch. Lowering her hand, she stared at it in disbelief. “Oh my God, Korum, what is that?” A blue-green creature was sitting in the middle of her palm, its huge eyes almost half the size of its three-inch body. It had only four legs, but there seemed to be hundreds of tiny fingers on each one, all of them digging into Mia’s skin. There were also tiny wings that didn’t seem big enough to propel it through the air. “That’s a virta,” Korum said, gently lifting the creature off Mia’s palm and throwing it away. “It’s harmless—you just shocked it and it grabbed on to you. They eat some leaves and an occasional mirat.” “Mirat?” Connor asked. “Yes, mirat,” Korum said, pointing toward one of the brown tree trunks. When Mia looked closer, she could see that what she had mistaken for solid wood was actually some type of a jelly-like substance—and that it quivered and moved, expanding and contracting in a creepy way. “Mirat are similar to your bees, although they don’t sting,” Korum explained. “They’re social insects, and they build these complex structures around trees. Our scientists love studying them. There’s a lot of debate as to whether the collective mind of a mirat hive displays signs of higher intelligence. We never bother them, and they generally know to avoid us and our dwellings. If you touch their hive, you’ll get dizzy from the fumes they emit, so it’s best to stay away from them.” “That’s crazy,” Marisa said, looking worried. “Is there anything else like that we should know about?” She was holding her stomach in a protective gesture. “Yes,” Korum said. “That, right there—” he pointed at a small red insect-like thing on the floor, “—is also something you have to be careful of. It bites and likes to burrow inside the skin. They’re not poisonous or anything, but extracting them is very unpleasant. There are also some large predatory animals, but you’re unlikely to encounter them in this vicinity. They’re afraid of the Krinar and generally avoid our territories.” Connor was frowning. “Korum, no offense, but that’s a lot of shit we need to

worry about here. I don’t think we realized we’d be living in the middle of an alien jungle.” Korum didn’t seem offended in the least. “Our jungle is far less dangerous than your cities, as long as you don’t stumble around blindly,” he said calmly. “And my house is completely safe and critter-free. In a few days, you’ll know exactly what to watch out for, and you’ll be able to go outside without me. Until then, I’ll accompany you everywhere and you won’t run into any problems.” Connor opened his mouth to say something, but Mia’s mom interrupted him, exclaiming, “Oh, wow, Korum, is that your house?” While they were talking, they had reached the ivory-colored, oblong-shaped dwelling. To Mia’s eyes, it looked very similar to Korum’s house in Lenkarda—a place she now thought of as her home. To the others, though, it had to look strange and foreign. “Yes,” Korum said, smiling at them. “It is indeed.” “You don’t have any doors or windows?” her dad asked, examining the structure with visible curiosity. “No, dad,” Mia said. “It has intelligent walls, just like the ship that brought us here. They’re probably see-through from the inside. Right, Korum?” “That’s right,” her lover confirmed, and Mia grinned, feeling like she would burst from excitement. She was actually on Krina!

KORUM DID A QUICK TOUR OF THE HOUSE, SHOWING HER FAMILY HOW TO USE EVERYTHING. MIA’S parents seemed a bit overwhelmed, so he created a separate ‘humanized’ suite of rooms for them, just as he had on the ship. Her sister and brother-in-law, however, decided to stay in the main portion of the house, preferring the comfort of K technology to the more familiar human-style furniture. “I love this thing.” Marisa was sprawled out on the intelligent bed in her room, a blissful expression on her face at the massage she was receiving. “I never want to leave it.” “I know, right?” Mia sat down next to her sister. “All their stuff is unbelievably awesome like that. The first time I fell asleep on a bed like this I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven.” “No kidding.” Marisa closed her eyes, moaning in pleasure. “So freaking

good...” “I’ll leave you to it,” Mia said, grinning. “Get some rest, okay?” Marisa didn’t reply, and Mia realized that her sister was already drifting off to sleep, her pregnant body requiring more rest than usual. Connor was taking a shower, and her parents were relaxing too, so Mia went to find Korum. “I’m ready,” she told him. “Now is as good a time as any.” He got up from the float in the living room where he had been sitting, his tall, muscular body as graceful as a panther’s. “Are you sure?” he asked, and she could see the concern written on his beautiful face. “Yes,” Mia said, lifting her hand to stroke his thick dark hair. “I’m sure.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, tenderly kissing each knuckle. “Then let’s do it,” he said softly. “Let’s get your memory and your old self back.”

A SLENDER BROWN-HAIRED KRINAR WOMAN WALKED AROUND MIA, ATTACHING LITTLE WHITE DOTS TO her forehead, temples, and the back of her neck. Mia had fully expected to be knocked out for the reversal of Saret’s procedure, but the mind apprentice—Laira —said Mia had to be conscious. “There you are,” Laira said with satisfaction. “All done. Now please have a seat. It can be on Korum’s lap if you want.” She winked, and Mia laughed, liking this K woman. According to Korum, Laira was young, less than two hundred years of age, and already considered a rising star in the field of mind studies. Korum smiled and pulled Mia onto his lap. “Sure, I’m happy to hold her.” “I bet you are.” Laira grinned. “That’s a cute charl you’ve got there.” “Excuse me,” Mia said, putting a possessive arm around Korum’s neck. “That’s a gorgeous cheren I’ve got.” “True, true,” Laira said, laughing. Then her expression turned more serious. “All right, Mia, this is what you can expect now: it will feel like your mind is going blank. Then you’ll feel a rush of images and impressions as your memory returns and the procedure is reversed. As the memories come, I want you to focus on them one at a time, so you absorb them slowly. That’s why you have to be awake for this, even though I know it’s going to be uncomfortable for you.” “Is she going to be in pain?” Korum asked, his arms tightening around Mia.

“No, just discomfort, like I said,” Laira replied. “Are you ready, Mia?” “Yes.” Mia braced herself. “Here we go then.” At first, Mia felt a pleasant lassitude stealing over her and she closed her eyes. Her mind felt like it was drifting, as though she was about to fall asleep. There was a strange sensation of nothingness, of blankness. Suddenly, it was like a bomb going off in her brain, an explosion of colors, feelings, and shapes, all appearing at once. Mia gasped, her fingers digging into Korum’s arm as she tried to cope with the onslaught. It was too much, like a 3D IMAX movie with too many special effects, only streamed directly into her brain. Somewhere far away, she could hear Korum’s voice. It was furious, demanding. “Stop it! Stop it right now! Can’t you see she’s in pain?” “She’ll get through this...” It was Laira’s voice, calm and soothing. Mia latched onto it, needing something steady in the maelstrom that was engulfing her mind. At first it was unbearable, and she screamed silently, too overwhelmed to emit any actual sound. Laira hadn’t lied. There was no pain; there was just agony. It felt like Mia’s brain was being filled to the brim, her skull stretching and straining to contain it all. And just when she thought her head would literally explode, the agony started to ease, colors and shapes separating into images, those images and emotions turning into specific events. Memories began to coalesce, taking shape one by one until she could grasp them, integrate them into what she already knew and remembered. There was the party at the end of March, shortly before she met Korum. Jessie had dragged her to it, and Mia had ended up having a good time after a few drinks. She’d danced with a few guys, even exchanged phone numbers with one of them, but nothing ever came of it. If only she’d known then the strange turn her life would take... The memory of her first meeting with Korum flashed through her mind, and Mia relived the sharp feeling of fear, mixed with the first stirrings of desire. The man who held her so lovingly now had terrified her in the beginning, his arrogance and casual disregard for her wishes leading her to assume the worst about his species. More memories... Her first time in Korum’s bed, John explaining to her about charl, the incident at the club where Korum had nearly killed Peter... Korum holding her while she cried, Mia bringing him to meet her parents for the first

time... The good, the bad, the ugly—she remembered it all, and it was like a void inside her was disappearing, the before and after colliding, making her feel whole for the first time since Saret’s attack. Saret! Mia remembered him too. She’d liked him, regarded him as her boss and mentor. He had been the one to give her the language implant, to let her intern in his lab at Korum’s request. Mia relived the excitement she’d felt when Korum had told her of the opportunity, the thrill of learning what thousands of human scientists could only dream of. And then her last memory from before: Saret cornering her in the lab. Mia remembered her terror, her shock at learning of his intentions for the human race... Her disgust when he admitted to wanting her, the sick feeling in her stomach when he told her of his plans for the Krinar... And that awful darkness taking over when he wiped out a major chunk of her life and altered her brain. Now the present and the past were one again. Mia became aware of Korum stroking her hair, raining gentle kisses on her face. Still keeping her eyes closed, Mia relived the more recent events, from her awakening in Korum’s bed to the trip to Krina. She tried to compare her emotions then to the way she felt now—and to the way she had always been. Saret hadn’t lied. When Mia had woken up without her memories, she hadn’t been completely herself. She had indeed been more accepting, more open to new experiences. She could see that now. However, that had been a good thing. In his quest to soften Mia toward him, Saret had inadvertently created the perfect conditions for her to overcome the pain and confusion from her memory loss. Instead of agonizing, Mia had been acclimating. Instead of worrying, she had been learning. And instead of fearing Korum again, she had been falling in love with him. Really, truly falling in love with the beautiful, tender Krinar who had greeted her upon awakening. Korum of the recent months wasn’t the same person she’d met in the park that day in April; his arrogance had been tempered by caring, his indifference to her wishes turning into a desire to make her happy. He loved her, of that Mia had no doubt now. He loved her with the same intensity, the same desperation as she loved him. As the present and the past were joined, so too were Mia’s feelings and emotions. Everything she had felt before was magnified now, strengthened by the trials and tribulations of the past couple of months. Opening her eyes, Mia smiled at her K lover.

26

S eeing her smile, Korum shuddered with relief. “Mia, my sweet, are you all right?” For the past ten minutes, she had been as stiff as a board, her face pale and even her lips drained of color. She hadn’t reacted to anything, as though she’d been in a coma. “She’s fine. Right, Mia?” Laira stepped closer, bending down to peer at Mia’s face, and Korum fought the urge to strangle the apprentice. His charl had obviously been in pain, and he knew he would never forgive Laira for that. “I’m okay now,” Mia said softly, as though understanding his feelings. Lifting her hand, she stroked his cheek, the tender gesture cooling some of his anger. “Do you remember anything?” Laira’s voice interrupted them again. “Yes,” Mia said, looking up at her. “I remember everything. Thank you for that.” She remembered. She remembered everything. Korum felt like he could breathe again, the terrible guilt inside him easing for the first time since he’d learned of Saret’s betrayal. “What about the softening procedure?” he asked Laira, his arms unconsciously tightening around the girl on his lap. “That should be reversed too,” Laira said. “Mia, do you feel any different in that regard?” “I don’t know,” Mia said, a small frown appearing on her face. “I can see that my reactions were a little off before, when I woke up in Lenkarda, but I don’t feel any differently now.” “You don’t?” Korum asked, and Mia smiled. “No,” she said, her gaze warm and soft. “I don’t.”

Another weight lifted off Korum’s shoulders, making him feel lighter than air. Up until that moment, he hadn’t known how much he’d dreaded the answer to that question. Mia had loved him before her memory loss, he’d known that, but some part of him had still been afraid that her feelings after Saret’s procedure hadn’t been as real—and that undoing the procedure would destroy whatever love she thought she felt for him. Mia made a move to get up, and he forced himself to let her go, even though he wanted to keep holding her forever. Getting up himself, he turned toward Laira and gave her a cool nod of thanks. Although the procedure had worked, Korum still couldn’t quite forget the tortured expression on Mia’s face during those awful ten minutes. He’d felt helpless, unable to do anything to ease her suffering, and he wouldn’t forget that any time soon. Not the least bit disturbed by his obvious displeasure, Laira grinned at him. “Looks like you got your charl back, all safe and sound.” “Yes,” Korum said, putting a supportive arm around Mia, who still looked too pale. “Looks like it indeed.”

THEIR FLIGHT BACK TO KORUM’S HOUSE TOOK ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES, SINCE LAIRA’S LAB WAS located a few thousand miles from his home region of Rolert. Korum could see that Mia was fascinated by the view outside their transport pod, and he directed the aircraft to fly at a lower altitude and with slower speed, to give her a chance to observe more. He tried to view Krina as she would be seeing it, and he had to admit that his home planet was beautiful. The giant landmass of Tinara was home to a tremendous variety of flora and fauna, and, from the air, the vegetation looked like a colorful carpet of green, with some red and gold tones mixed in. There were large lakes and rivers, some as blue and clear as the Caribbean, and others a rich bluegreen. The Krinar settlements were sparse, mostly clustered around these bodies of water. There were no cities as such, only Centers that served as focal points of commerce and business. The majority of Krinar lived on the outskirts of these Centers, commuting in for work and other activities. Korum’s own house was next to Banir—a mid-sized Center in the Rolert region, near the middle of the supercontinent and close to the equator. When Korum had brought Mia and her family there earlier in the morning, they’d all commented on

how hot the weather was—even hotter than Florida in the summer. The heat didn’t bother Korum, but he knew humans were more sensitive to it, so he had made sure to get them inside quickly. This evening, when the temperature cooled, he planned to take them to the nearby lake to swim and look at some of the local wildlife. “That’s Viarad,” Korum told Mia as they flew over a particularly large Center. “It’s the closest thing we have to a planetary capital. A lot of research and development happens there, and it’s also where the Arena fights and other major gatherings take place.” Mia looked up at him, her eyes bright and curious. “Your cities are nothing like our own,” she observed. “I don’t even see a lot of buildings, much less skyscrapers and the like.” “They are there,” Korum assured her. “Not skyscrapers, but there are plenty of large buildings for various commercial purposes. You don’t really see them from the air because of all the trees. The forest surrounding Viarad has some of the tallest trees on Krina, with many exceeding a twenty-story building in height.” Her eyes widened. “Twenty stories?” “At least,” Korum said. “Maybe more. Those trees are ancient; some of them have been there for over a hundred million years.” “That’s incredible.” Her voice was filled with wonder. “Korum, your planet is amazing.” He smiled, enjoying her enthusiasm. “It is, isn’t it?” Even flying at a slower speed, they reached his house just a few minutes later. Korum led Mia inside the house, where her family were relaxing from the journey. “I’ll make us dinner,” he told her. “You can rest for a bit if you want. You’ve been through a lot today.” “I’m all right,” Mia said, and he could see she wasn’t lying. The color in her cheeks was back, and she seemed fully recovered from her earlier ordeal. “I’ll go hang out with my parents if you don’t mind.” “No, of course not, go ahead,” Korum said. “I’ll see you soon.”

THE DINNER KORUM PREPARED WAS AS UNUSUAL AS IT WAS DELICIOUS, CONSISTING OF A BUNCH OF local seeds, fruits, and vegetables prepared in creative ways. Mia and each member of her family discovered something new that they greatly enjoyed.

One of the dishes consisted of a teardrop-shaped vegetable with purple skin that tasted like a cross between tomato and zucchini. It was stuffed with nutty-flavored grain that had a bubble-like texture. Mia’s dad loved that dish, going back for seconds and thirds as soon as he finished. In the meanwhile, Mia and Marisa were both crazy about the kalfani stew, with its rich, hearty flavor, while her mom and Connor kept eating the exotic fruit that was their dessert. “All of this food is safe for human consumption,” Korum told them. “Not everything on Krina is, but I made sure these specific foods would be fine for your digestive system.” After dinner, Korum took them to the lake that was near his house. The sun was setting, and Mia could see the three moons starting to appear in the sky, despite the fact that there was still plenty of light. As they walked, he showed them various plants and insects, explaining a little bit about them. “That’s a nooki,” he said, pointing at a large yellow spider-like thing with what looked like hundreds of legs. “They extract nutrients from the soil, almost like plants do. Our children like to play with them because they do some funny stuff when you startle them.” He clapped his hands next to the creature, and it puffed up, each of its legs nearly tripling in thickness and its torso turning bright red. “It’s completely harmless, so you don’t need to be afraid of it.” Mia smiled and reached for the creature, curious if it would let her touch it. It scurried away, looking like a clumsy bright-colored ball. Korum grinned at her, and Mia laughed, feeling incredibly happy. Standing up on tiptoes, she placed her hands on his cheeks and brought his face toward her, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you,” she said, holding his gaze, and her heart squeezed at the naked look of love she saw there. “Hey, lovebirds, take a look at this!” Connor yelled, and Mia wanted to punch him for interrupting the moment. Korum gave her a rueful smile, and walked over to see what Connor was talking about. Mia followed, still unhappy with her brother-in-law. As soon as she got there, however, all her displeasure was forgotten. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, “what is that?” On a tree branch just a few feet off the forest floor, partially hidden by leaves, was a tiny furry creature that looked like a cross between a lemur and a kitten. Brown-colored, it had huge blue eyes and a short fluffy tail. “That’s a baby fregu,” Korum said softly. “They’re very cute, but they bite sometimes, so don’t try to pet it.”

“Fregu?” The word sounded familiar for some reason. Then Mia remembered. “Hey, you said I reminded you of one of these!” she told Korum accusingly, then burst out laughing because she herself could see the resemblance. The fregu was only the first of their encounters with Krinar wildlife. There were birds with four wings, insects that were the size of a small bird, and plants that acted more like animals. One time, Connor almost stepped on a snake-like creature that screamed at him and rolled away, its long thin body moving like a rolling pin. Finally, they reached the lake. It was a sizable body of water, probably a couple of miles wide and several miles long. The shore of the lake was covered with fine grey sand and small black rocks. It made the water itself look dark and mysterious. “Is it safe to swim?” Marisa asked, kicking off her sandal and dipping a toe in to test the temperature. “Yes,” Korum told her. “There are some dangerous predators in there, but nothing that comes this close to the shore. This lake is very deep, and there are all kinds of things living there, but they generally don’t go into shallow waters. Just in case, though, wear this.” He handed her a thin clear bracelet that he made just a second ago. “It repels aquatic animals by emitting a sound they find very unpleasant.” Mia and the others received the same kind of bracelet, and then they all went for a swim, enjoying the refreshing escape from the heat outside.

27

M ia woke up the next morning with a nagging feeling of unease in her chest. For some reason, she kept dreaming about Saret and that day in the lab. In her dream, Saret was touching her, making her skin crawl with disgust, and there was nothing Mia could do about it other than scream silently in her head because she was paralyzed and unable to move. Too wired to sleep more, Mia got up and went to take a shower. Korum was away somewhere, and Mia didn’t know if her family was still sleeping or not. From the sun’s position outside, it had to be very early in the morning. Standing under the water spray, she yawned, feeling unusually tired. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten up yet. The stupid dream was still on her mind, and she scrubbed her skin thoroughly, trying to wash it away. In reality, Saret had barely touched her, so she didn’t know why her subconscious even went there this night. To dispel any lingering impressions from the dream, she mentally went over the actual events of that day, starting from when she ran into Saret on her way out. He had been so happy to talk to her about his plans, to tell her everything he intended to do to humans and his fellow Krinar. Mia guessed it hadn’t been easy for him, never confiding in anyone else, always trying to play a role, to hide his true nature. With her, since he thought she would never remember their conversation, he had felt safe dropping the mask he normally wore. In hindsight, it was almost funny, all of his crazy ramblings about bringing peace to Earth and acting as a savior to her people. He had even tried to convince her that Korum had some evil plans of taking over her planet. It was so ridiculous that Mia chuckled to herself. Had he really thought that she would be sympathetic to his cause? That because she had been willing to believe the worst of Korum once she would make that same mistake again?

Stepping out of the shower, Mia let the drying technology do its work. Then, feeling marginally better, she went back into the bedroom to find her fabricator and get dressed. To her surprise, Korum was there, sitting on the bed. He was dressed in a typical Krinar outfit of light-colored shorts and a sleeveless shirt. For some reason, his hair was wet. “You’re awake,” he said, looking at her naked body with a familiar sensual gleam in his eyes. “I went swimming in the lake because I figured you’d be asleep for quite some time. Why are you up so early?” “Bad dream.” Mia sat down next to him. His hands immediately went to her breasts and squeezed them lightly, as though he couldn’t resist touching her. “Why, my sweet? What dream?” There was a concerned look on his beautiful face, even as his hands continued playing with her breasts, his thumbs brushing against her nipples in a way that sent a spear of heat right down to her core. Mia could hardly think with him doing this to her. “Um... just that thing with Saret...” Her head fell back, her neck arching as he bent down to nibble on the sensitive spot near her collarbone. “What thing?” he murmured, one of his hands now slipping between her thighs, stroking her aching sex. “Just that... conversation...” Mia gasped as his finger slid inside her, one thumb pressing on her clit while his other hand continued playing with her nipple. “What about it?” he whispered, his hot breath washing over her neck, giving her goosebumps all over. “I don’t... I don’t know,” Mia managed to say, her inner muscles clenching around his finger as a wave of heat went through her body. She was so close... so close... Korum withdrew his finger and pushed her down, so that she was lying flat on her back with her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and brought her sex toward his mouth. At the first touch of his warm, wet tongue on her clit, Mia shattered into a million pieces. The release was so powerful that she arched off the bed, her eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure radiated through every part of her body. Before the waves had a chance to fade, he was already inside her, his shorts ripped open at the crotch area and his thick length buried deep within her small

channel. Gasping at his abrupt entry, Mia grabbed his shoulders, holding on tightly as he began to stroke in and out, stimulating the nerve endings that were still sensitive from her orgasm. Panting, she opened her eyes and met his golden gaze. He was staring at her with an intense look of hunger on his face. Bending his head, he took her mouth in a savage kiss, ravaging her with his tongue even as his cock continued to plunge into her from below. One of his hands held her hair, keeping her head immobile, while his other hand slid down her side and underneath her hips, touching her folds where they were joined. His finger rubbed around her entrance, gathering the moisture there, and then that same finger burrowed between her cheeks and pushed into her other opening. Overwhelmed by the sensations, Mia moaned helplessly. With the way he was holding her, she couldn’t do anything but feel. He was on top of her, inside her, all over her, and she couldn’t catch her breath, her heartbeat skyrocketing as the tension within her spiraled higher and higher. His finger in her ass seemed impossibly large, invasive, yet there was a dark pleasure there too, an unusual feeling of fullness that added to the sensuality of the moment. Without any warning, everything inside her tightened and convulsed, and Mia came, her body twisting and shuddering in his arms. He groaned, grinding against her, trying to get even deeper, and she could feel his cock pulsing within her as he found his own release. After a couple of minutes, he slowly withdrew from her. “All right?” he asked softly, and Mia nodded, too limp and relaxed to move. He smiled and picked her up, carrying her to the shower for another quick rinse, and then they got dressed and ready for breakfast with her family.

AT BREAKFAST, MIA FOUND HER ATTENTION WANDERING, HER MIND AGAIN TURNING TO HER DREAM and that conversation with Saret. After a few minutes of dwelling on it, she realized what was bothering her. Why did Saret try to claim that Korum was the villain? Was he delusional, or did he think Mia would be so gullible as to believe his lies? And why bother lying to her at all, if he was planning to erase her memory shortly afterwards? She tried to think of his exact words, something about Korum wanting to take her planet. What the hell did that even mean? The Krinar were already there, on Earth, sharing it alongside humans—which is what Korum had said was their intention. Still, Mia couldn’t quite shake an uneasy feeling. She knew her lover had a

ruthless streak—and she knew he was loyal to his people. Could that loyalty extend as far as wanting to get rid of an entire rival species to gain a precious resource? Korum had told her himself that Earth was unique, that out of all the planets out there, it came closest to mimicking Krina. And now that Mia was here, she could see that it was indeed the case; if anything ever happened to Earth, humans would be more than happy to live on Krina—and likely vice versa with the Krinar. Putting down her tong-like utensil, Mia studied her lover as he conversed and joked with her family. It seemed impossible that there could be something sinister hidden beneath his beautiful exterior and warm smile. Could he love her and simultaneously want to destroy her people? Just how far did his ambition extend? Taking a bite of her food, Mia tried to think about it rationally. Surely she would’ve known if she had fallen for a monster. Nobody could hide such darkness for so long. Korum was no angel—and he didn’t necessarily hold her kind in the highest regard—but he would never go so far as to take their planet away. Or would he? The food she just swallowed sat heavily in Mia’s stomach. Excusing herself, she got up and went to the restroom to freshen up. Splashing some water on her face, she stared in the mirror, seeing the poorly concealed look of panic in her eyes. She needed to talk to Korum and she needed to do it now, before the old doubts and suspicions got a chance to poison their relationship again. If there was anything Mia had learned from the Resistance fiasco, it was the folly of jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst. She was no longer the girl who was too scared to talk to her K lover for fear of betraying her people. Korum now belonged to her as much as she belonged to him—and one way or another, she would know the truth.

BREAKFAST SEEMED TO LAST FOREVER. MIA SMILED AND CHATTED WITH HER FAMILY, ALL THE WHILE squirming with impatience inside. She could see Korum giving her occasional questioning glances, and she knew he could tell that something was wrong, that her smiles had a brittle edge to them. Finally, it was over. Marisa returned to her room to take a post-meal nap— something she’d started doing recently to combat pregnancy-related tiredness— and Connor joined her, not wanting to be separated from his wife. Mia’s parents retired to their room as well, to read and watch some shows about Krina that Korum had set up for them. “Do you want to go for a walk?” Mia asked Korum as soon as her parents were

out of the earshot. His eyebrows rose. “It’s not too hot for you right now?” “It should be fine.” Mia had no idea if it would be fine or not, but she wanted to get out of the house—and out of her family’s earshot. “Okay, sure.” Korum got to his feet as smoothly as only a Krinar could. “Let’s go.” The blast of heat hit Mia as soon as they exited the house. It was around eleven in the morning, and the sun was incredibly bright in the cloudless sky. All around them, Mia could hear the chirping and singing of insects, birds, and other creatures —some seemingly familiar, others strange and exotic. They walked for a few minutes toward the lake, following the same path they took yesterday. In the light of day, their surroundings were even more beautiful and striking than they had been at twilight, but Mia couldn’t focus on that now. Her stomach was twisted into knots, and she felt nauseated, as though she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her. “All right, Mia.” Korum stopped in a shaded area when they reached the lake and pulled her down to sit beside him on a thick patch of grass-like plants. “What’s wrong, my sweet? What’s going on with you this morning?” Mia looked at the man she loved more than life itself. “I want to know if there’s any truth to what Saret said.” His gaze was steady and unblinking. “Which part?” “The part—” Her voice broke mid-sentence. “The part about you wanting to take Earth from us.” For a moment, there was only silence, during which they stared at each other. Then he said softly, “We want to share your planet with you. I told you that.” “Then why did Saret say you want to take it from us?” Something didn’t ring true. “Is he completely deluded, or is there something I should know? What are your real intentions, Korum? How exactly are you going to share our planet when your sun finally dies?” He was again silent for a few seconds, his face hard and unreadable. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” he finally said. “After everything, you still think I’m the bad guy.” Mia drew in a shaky breath, the unpleasant feeling in her stomach getting worse. “No, Korum. I don’t think that. I don’t want to think that. I just want to

know the truth. All of it.” He still looked implacable, so she added, “Please, Korum... If you truly care for me, please tell me everything.”

28

“A ll right.” His voice was colder than anything she’d heard from him in a long time. “Keep in mind, though, my sweet, no one outside of the Council and the Elders knows what I am about to tell you. You can’t share this with anyone else, do you understand me?” Mia nodded, holding her breath. “We’re not going to take Earth from you,” he said. “We’ll take Mars. And then we’ll give humans the option of relocating there, once we have created the proper conditions for life.” Mia stared at him in shock. “What? Mars? But... but that’s uninhabitable.” “It is uninhabitable now,” Korum said. “Once we’re done with it, it’s going to be like paradise. The planet already has water in the form of ice. We’ll warm it up, create an atmosphere, and give Mars a magnetic field to mitigate solar radiation and keep the atmosphere from escaping into space. Even the gravity differential can be fixed; our scientists have recently come up with a way to enhance surface gravity and make it similar to that of Earth and Krina.” “But—” Mia found herself at a loss for words. “Wait, so you want Mars, not Earth?” Korum sighed. “No, Mia. We want a place for our species to continue flourishing once our sun begins to dim. It’s unfortunate, but we can’t keep our star from dying. Maybe one day we’ll discover a way to fix that too, but for now, we have to plan for the worst. Earth would be our second choice, after Krina, and Mars would be our third.” “So you do want Earth?” Mia felt like she wasn’t getting something. “Yes.” His amber gaze was cool and even. “Of course we do. At least the warmer

parts of it. But we’re not going to kill humans for it, or whatever it is Saret implied. We’ll give your people the option of remaining on Earth or relocating to the newly transformed Mars in exchange for significant wealth and other perks.” “You’ll bribe humans to leave Earth?” Mia stared at him in disbelief. “Yes.” A small smile appeared on his lips. “You could call it that. There are plenty of regions on Earth that are poor, where daily existence is a struggle. We’ll offer those people the option of moving to a place that’s very much like paradise, where all their basic needs would be met and they would live like kings. Don’t you think that would be appealing to someone in rural India or Zimbabwe?” Mia blinked. She could see his logic—but she could also see a big problem with what he was saying. “If Mars is going to be so great,” she said slowly, “why wouldn’t the Krinar want to live there themselves and leave our planet alone?” “Some of us will probably want to live on Mars,” Korum said. “It’s not out of the question that you and I might move there at some point. But there will always be those who are uncomfortable with what they view as artificial nature, those who would much rather live on a planet that’s gone through billions of years of natural evolution—even if that planet has been somewhat polluted and damaged by humans.” “So they will come live with us—with humans, I mean—on Earth?” “Yes,” Korum said, “exactly. We’ll build more Centers on Earth, so that some Krinar can live there. And in exchange for humans ceding us that space, we’ll give them a much more luxurious environment on Mars. It’ll be a win-win for both species.” “And if humans would not want to cede that space?” His eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t they? Do you really think a subsistence farmer in Rwanda would object to never having to do back-breaking work again? To being able to feed his family every day with tasty, nutritious food? Whoever comes to Mars will have access to free healthcare, education, housing... whatever they need. We’re not going to do to your people what Europeans did to Native Americans. That’s not our way.” “You didn’t really answer my question,” Mia said slowly. “If people don’t want to go, are they going to be forcibly transported to Mars? Are you going to take their land from them no matter what?” “We’re going to do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival—and continued prosperity—of our species, Mia,” he said, his eyes cold and bright under the dark

slashes of his eyebrows. “Just like your kind would.” A chill ran down Mia’s spine. “I see.” “What did you expect to hear, my sweet?” His tone was softly mocking. “Did you want me to lie to you, to tell you that we would never take what we need if we couldn’t get it some other way?” “No,” Mia said. “I didn’t want you to lie to me. I never wanted you to lie to me.” Getting to her feet, she went to stand by the water, staring at the dark blue surface with unseeing gaze. She didn’t know what to think, how to even begin to approach this situation. What Korum had just described sounded relatively harmless, even generous compared to what human conquerors had done throughout history. Yet Mia knew it wouldn’t be so simple. The Krinar arrival several years ago caused a major panic that spawned the Resistance movement and resulted in thousands of deaths. It was folly to think that the same thing wouldn’t happen when people learned about the Ks’ intentions for Mars. Even if the Krinar relocated only those who went willingly, the general population would be deeply suspicious—and likely with good reason. Once the Krinar had a place where they could move humans with a clear conscience, what would prevent them from doing so? Korum came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, pulling her up against him so that the top of her head was nestled under his chin. “I’m sorry, Mia,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to be harsh with you. Of course you have a right to know—and I shouldn’t blame you for not trusting me after the way we first met. I don’t want to harm your kind. I truly don’t—especially now that I’ve fallen for you and met your family. We’ll do our best to ensure that everything goes smoothly, that all your governments are fully on board and informed about what’s going on. Nobody has to get hurt. We’ll make sure everybody comes out ahead in this.” Mia wanted to melt into his embrace, to let him reassure her that everything would be all right, but she couldn’t be an ostrich hiding her head in the sand. “When are you going to do this?” Her voice sounded dull, empty. “When are you going to transform Mars?” “Soon,” Korum said, his arms tightening around her. “I have just received the final go-ahead from the Elders to proceed.” “But why Mars?” Mia couldn’t understand that part. “Why don’t the Krinar just take some planet in another solar system? If you can do this, this kind of thing—”

“Terraforming,” Korum said. “It’s called terraforming.” “Right,” Mia said. “If you can terraform Mars, why not just do it to a planet elsewhere? Why does it have to be in such close proximity to Earth?” “Because the proximity to Earth will make the project easier,” he explained quietly. “We’ve never done something of this magnitude before, and we’ll need a base from which our scientists and other experts can operate. Earth can serve as that base for now. This won’t be an easy task. It will take years—possibly decades— to make Mars habitable, and it will be nice to have our Centers on Earth close by in case of any emergencies. Once we’ve worked out all the kinks in the process, then we can terraform other planets located in habitable zones throughout the different galaxies.” “Other planets besides Earth and Mars?” Mia turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she realized the full depth of his ambition—and it shook her to the core. “You’re building an empire, aren’t you?” she breathed. “A real-life intergalactic empire... Earth, Mars, these other planets in the future—the Krinar will rule them all, won’t they?” “Yes.” His eyes gleamed brightly. “We will.”

KORUM COULD SEE THE SHOCK ON HER FACE, AND HE SOFTENED HIS TONE. “WOULD THAT BE SUCH A bad thing, my sweet? Your people will benefit from this as well. If anything were to happen to Earth, humans would survive and prosper at our side.” He could feel the tension in her delicate frame, and he cursed Saret for planting doubts in her mind that day. Korum had planned to tell everything to Mia in due time, to explain his intentions in the most reassuring way possible. He’d known there was a possibility she would question him after she regained her memory, but he hadn’t anticipated his own reaction to her questions. Her distrust, her propensity to think the worst about him—it was all too reminiscent of the beginning, when she had spied on him and betrayed him to the Resistance. The wounds from that time were still too fresh for him to be able to remain as calm and soothing as he’d hoped to be. “At your side—and under your control, right?” She made a move to free herself, and Korum let his arms drop, taking a step back to give her some space. He didn’t bother responding to her question; the answer to that was obvious. An intergalactic empire... He didn’t usually think about it in such terms, but it

was not a bad description for what he hoped to accomplish in his lifetime. Ever since he could remember—ever since he had been a small child—Korum had dreamed of exploring and settling other planets. He saw it as their destiny. As beautiful as Krina was, it was also just one tiny planet among trillions—a piece of rock dependent on its star and vulnerable to various cosmic disasters. Earth had always fascinated him, with its Krina-like characteristics and a species that was strikingly similar to the Krinar themselves. In his youth, Korum, like many others, had regarded humans as inferior, with their weak, fragile bodies and primitive way of living. It wasn’t until the recent centuries that he’d begun to understand that these beings were as intelligent and resourceful as the Krinar themselves. In the past, what Mia feared would have been a legitimate concern: Korum of a thousand years ago wouldn’t have hesitated to simply take Earth away from her people. Now, however, he didn’t want to deprive humans of their planet; he just wanted to ensure that the Krinar had a place on it too. He had never thought his ambition was particularly outrageous. He knew that other people did, however. Even his own father seemed intimidated by Korum’s drive at times, not understanding that his son merely wanted what was best for their species. A group of planets populated and controlled by the Krinar was a logical next step in their evolution, and Korum saw nothing wrong with working toward that goal. Now he just had to make his charl see things from his perspective. “Mia, listen to me,” Korum said, watching her intently. “I know you’re afraid, but I’m not lying to you. I didn’t tell you any of this before because it’s the equivalent of classified information—not because I was trying to conceal something evil. I just received final clearance from the Elders for Mars, and we’ll reach out to your governments next, to inform them about our intentions. That way, they can adequately prepare the population and nip any potentially dangerous rumors in the bud. Nobody has to get hurt in this—and we’ll do our best to ensure that it doesn’t happen.” Her sexy little tongue came out to lick her lips, and he found his eyes glued to her mouth, picturing that tongue licking something else entirely. Damn it, focus. With effort, Korum lifted his gaze to meet hers, ignoring the stirring in his cock. Now was not the time to think about sex; he had to convince her he wasn’t about to exterminate her kind or steal their planet. “Do you swear?” Her voice was soft, tremulous, and he could see hope warring with doubt on her face. She wanted to trust him, but she needed more reassurance. “Do you swear that you don’t intend my people any harm? That when you build your empire, it won’t be at the cost of my species’ well-being?”

“Yes, my darling,” Korum said. “I swear it. Unless humans strike at us, we won’t do anything to harm them. Those who wish to leave Earth will be well compensated for their choice, and we’ll live alongside your people on Earth, Mars, and whatever other planets we find. It won’t be so bad, my sweet. I promise you that.” And stepping toward her, he drew her into his embrace again, exhaling in relief when he felt her arms sliding around his waist as well.

29

M ia put on the shimmerstone necklace Korum had given her and surveyed herself critically in the three-dimensional mirror located in the bedroom. She was dressed in formal Krinar clothing, a gleaming white dress similar to the one she’d worn to the fight. Her hair was pinned up and covered with a silvery net that matched the sandals on her feet. She looked festive—and ready to face the Elders. By all rights, she should be nervous. After all, she was about to meet the oldest Krinar in existence, whose names were legend among Ks and whose mandates determined the fate of humanity. The Krinar who were about to decide her family’s lifespan. Yet she felt strangely calm, as if nothing could touch her right now. Her mind kept dwelling on this morning’s conversation with Korum, going through it over and over again. Mars, Earth, an entire intergalactic empire... There was really no end to her lover’s ambition. Mia had no doubt that Korum would ultimately achieve his goal—and that he would be at the helm of this empire he was about to build. And she would be at his side. Her head spun at the thought. She, who had never wanted anything more than a quiet, ordinary life, would be there to watch the Krinar empire taking shape, at the side—and in bed—of the man who was going to make it happen. Did that make her a traitor to her people? Or was it like Delia said, that by Korum falling in love with her, she had already done more to help humanity than any efforts by the Resistance? She believed him when he promised the Krinar wouldn’t harm humans on purpose. He had always kept his promises to her. She just wasn’t sure how everything would unfold when people learned of the Ks’ intentions for Mars. Would there be renewed anti-K movements? Would the human population panic and try

to strike at the invaders, leading to the Krinar retaliating against them? Mia would be devastated if that happened. But the thought of leaving Korum was unbearable. She couldn’t live without him; it was as simple as that. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and she knew he loved her just as fiercely. Maybe that made her a traitor... or maybe it made her the luckiest woman alive. Only time would tell. For now, there were Elders to meet.

“IT’S BEST IF I DO MOST OF THE TALKING,” KORUM SAID AS THEY APPROACHED middle of the forest. “They don’t like unnecessary conversation.”

A CLEARING IN THE

“Of course,” Mia said. “We won’t say a word.” “No, you might have to,” he told her. “They’ll probably want to talk to you and your family directly—in which case, I strongly suggest you respond to their questions as honestly and concisely as you can.” Mia nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her parents holding hands as they walked. Her mom was pale, and her dad looked grim, like he was going to an execution. Marisa and Connor trailed behind them, looking nervous and excited at the same time. Unlike Mia, the others were dressed in human attire. It was their choice. “What, am I going to squeeze into something like that at my age?” her mom had said, indicating Mia’s form-fitting, open-backed dress. Korum hadn’t objected; since none of them were charl, they weren’t considered a part of Krinar society and could thus wear whatever they wanted. Her dad had put on a suit and tie, and so did Marisa’s husband. Her mom and Marisa wore semi-formal dresses and high heels. Mia hoped they weren’t too uncomfortable, traipsing through the forest like that in the heat. The fact that the Elders wanted to see them out in the open—as opposed to in some building—didn’t surprise Mia in the least. The Ks were remarkably attuned to nature, and Korum had told her that some of the Elders shunned artificial dwellings altogether, choosing to live as their primitive ancestors once did: in the hollow trunks of giant trees or in cave-like rock formations in the mountains. They also jealously guarded their territory, not allowing anyone to come within a dozen miles of their chosen areas. This spot in the woods was considered neutral ground, a place where the Elders would often meet to discuss various matters and socialize with each other.

“Very few Krinar have ever had the privilege of seeing the Elders in person, as you’re about to do,” Korum said as they paused in front of the clearing. “It’s about the greatest honor there is.” Mia took a deep breath, trying to still the fine trembling in her fingers. Now that they were actually here, her previous calmness had deserted her, and her heart was beating frantically in her chest. What if she accidentally did or said something that angered the Elders? In that case, they might deny Korum’s petition or worse. She had no idea what these ancient Krinar were capable of. “Ready, my sweet?” Korum asked, and she nodded, putting her hand in his. Then they walked together into the clearing, Mia’s family following in their wake.

THERE WERE NINE KS STANDING THERE, THREE WOMEN AND SIX MEN. THEY WERE ALL LOOKING AT MIA and her family, their faces utterly expressionless. Physically, they seemed to be in their prime, no older than Korum or any other Krinar Mia had met. All the males were tall and powerfully built, and even the females seemed sturdier than usual. The shortest of the Elder women was probably just over six feet in height, with lean, well-defined muscles covering her frame. To Mia’s surprise, they were all dressed in modern Krinar clothing, their light-colored outfits contrasting with the bronzed hue of their skin. While the women were beautiful in a warrior-princess kind of way, the men were more mixed in appearance. One male K in particular resembled the recording of the ancients far more than he did the other Krinar. Although his harsh, craggy features held a certain attraction, he looked too rough to be considered handsome. Mia wondered if any of the Elders had a mate, or if they had survived for millions of years without forming any deep attachments. Korum let go of Mia’s hand and inclined his head respectfully, saying nothing. Mia followed his example, keeping her gaze trained on the Elders the entire time. In Krinar culture, it was considered rude to look down or away when meeting with a figure of authority; open staring was the way to go. One of the women stepped forward, her movements smooth and flowing. Coming up to Mia, she brushed her knuckles against her cheek in the traditional greeting between females. Mia smiled and reciprocated, hoping she wasn’t doing something wrong. Judging by the approving gleam in Korum’s eyes, she had done exactly the right thing. After greeting Mia, the woman circled around the other humans, studying them

with visible curiosity. She didn’t say a word or make any gestures toward them, but Mia could see the sweat droplets on her dad’s forehead. He had to be very anxious, because he didn’t normally perspire that much from the heat. Still silent, the woman went back toward the Elders and resumed her original position near the two other females. Then nine pairs of dark eyes simply looked at them, watching them with a cool, deep intelligence that seemed distinctly inhuman. Mia looked back at them, trying to figure out which two were involved in guiding human evolution. In a way, she was meeting real-life gods, the creators of the human race. The idea was so mind-boggling that she didn’t dwell on it too much. She was less likely to collapse in a trembling heap if she thought of these Elders as nothing more than somewhat older versions of Korum. And truthfully, to a twentyone-year-old, there wasn’t a tremendous difference between someone who was two thousand years of age and someone who was two million. Both were incredibly old—or so she kept telling herself. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the rough-featured male stepped forward, approaching Mia and Korum. “So this is your charl,” he said, his voice low and exceptionally deep. Mia thought his walk resembled that of a lion, all lean muscle and predatory intensity. Korum inclined his head. “Yes.” “Unusual,” the Elder said, cocking his head to the side as he studied Mia. “Very unusual.” Mia fought the urge to quail under that penetrating gaze. She felt like the ancient K was stripping her bare, seeing her every fear and vulnerability. “Why do you think we should make an exception for your family, Mia?” the Elder said suddenly, addressing her directly. Mia swallowed to get rid of the knot in her throat. She had been mentally preparing for some type of interview, but she still felt caught off-guard. Nevertheless, when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly even, betraying nothing of her inner turmoil. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, sharpening her focus, and the words that came out of her mouth were unusually crisp and clear. “I don’t think you should make an exception for my family,” she said, looking up at the Elder. “I think you should share your technology with the entire human race. If you won’t do that, for whatever reason, then think about this: by being with Korum, I now share his lifespan. Since that’s something that you and your

colleagues allowed, you must see the logic in that. Without the nanocytes in my body, I would age and pass away in a few decades, while Korum would remain the same—and that would be unbearable for both of us because we love each other.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “And it would be equally unbearable for me to watch those I love—” she gestured toward her family, “—get sick and die.” The ancient K was still looking at her, and she could see a glimmer of amusement on his face. It softened his features slightly, making him appear just a tiny bit less intimidating. Mia wanted to say more, but she remembered Korum’s admonition about being concise when answering questions and decided to shut up instead. She had said everything there was to say; short of repeating her points and appealing to their sense of ethics and morality, there was nothing else to add. The Elder stared at her for a few more seconds and then turned away. Mia could sense some sort of wordless communication going on between him and the others, and then he turned back toward Mia and Korum. “We’ll make our decision soon,” he said, addressing Korum this time. Then he went back toward the rest of the Elders, and they all melted away into the forest, leaving Mia, Korum, and her family alone in the clearing.

“THAT WAS LAHUR,” KORUM TOLD HIS CHARL DURING THEIR TRIP BACK TO THE HOUSE. “HE’S THE one I told you about—the oldest Krinar alive. The woman who came up to you and your parents is Sheura; she’s an evolutionary biologist, and she was involved in the human project from the very beginning.” “Oh, no wonder she seemed so curious about us! Do you think they’ll do it? Do you think they’ll agree to it?” Mia was perched on a float next to him, her eyes bright with excitement. Korum knew she was likely still feeling the rush from the meeting, and he smiled at her, proud of the way she had conducted herself with the Elders. He’d known she was nervous, of course, but she’d maintained her composure throughout—better than many Krinar would have in her place. “I don’t know, my sweet,” he said honestly. “Nobody can predict what the Elders are going to do. I hope they saw whatever it was they wanted to see today. All we can do now is wait.” “Do we have to remain on Krina while they decide?” Mia’s mother asked, and Korum could see that she looked much more calm now, relieved to have the ordeal over with.

“Yes,” Korum told her, “that would probably be best. They said soon, so it shouldn’t be too long. Besides, you haven’t even met my parents yet. I know they are anxious to see everyone.” Korum also had another reason for wanting Mia’s family on Krina, but now was not the right time to discuss it. “Oh, we’d love to meet them too!” Ella exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that be great, Dan?” “Sure,” Mia’s father said. “We would absolutely enjoy meeting them.” “Good,” Korum said. “Then I will make the arrangements.”

30

H umming to herself, Mia got dressed and ready to go to Korum’s parents’ house. She remembered liking Riani and Chiaren during their virtual meeting, and she was looking forward to seeing them again. She had a suspicion her parents would like them too, though they would likely be awestruck by their youth and beauty. If the Elders gave their permission, Mia’s parents would also regain their youth. She wanted it so badly she could taste it. She had seen pictures of her mom and dad when they were Mia’s age, and they had been a cute couple, her dad tall and handsome and her mom pretty and carefree. She wanted to see them like that in real life, healthy and vigorous, without the various aches and pains that came with middle age. Just as she was putting on her dress, Korum walked into the bedroom. He appeared even more gorgeous than usual, his face glowing with some unknown emotion. Coming up to Mia, he bent his head to brush a kiss against her lips. “You look beautiful, my sweet,” he said softly, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. “Thank you.” Mia beamed at him. “So do you.” “I have a little something I’d like you to wear,” he said, looking at her with a mysterious smile. “Another piece of jewelry.” “Oh sure.” Mia had already put on the shimmerstone necklace for the meeting with his parents, but she didn’t mind wearing something else instead—or in addition to. Accessorizing had never been her strong suit, although she had every intention of learning how to do it. She had already gotten better at dressing fashionably; jewelry was the next step. To her complete and utter shock, Korum took a step back and lowered himself to one knee. In his hand was a small black box. As she stared at it, the box opened,

revealing the most beautiful ring she had ever seen in her life. Small and delicate, it appeared to be made of the same iridescent material as her necklace, with a larger round shimmerstone set in the middle. “Mia,” Korum said quietly, looking up at her with those incredible ambercolored eyes, “I know things between us haven’t always been easy, and I can’t promise you there won’t be difficulties ahead. But I do know one thing. I want you, now and always, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in all my years of existence. I want you in my life, in my bed, and by my side for as long as we are both alive. I want to cherish you and protect you; I want to lay the world at your feet. I want your face to be the first one I see when I wake up and the last before I go to sleep. I want to make you as happy as you make me. Mia, my sweet, I am hopelessly in love with you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Mia opened her mouth but no words came out. Instead, she could feel a strange burning sensation in her eyes. “You... you want me to marry you?” she finally managed to whisper, afraid she somehow misheard him. “But—” she swallowed, “—you’re Krinar! You can’t marry a human!” Her voice rose incredulously at the end. “I can do whatever I want,” Korum said, and she couldn’t help smiling inside at the arrogant note in his voice. Even on his knees, he sounded like king of the world. “Just because no one else has done it doesn’t mean I can’t. I want you to be mine in every sense of the word—by Krinar and by human law. Mia, darling, will you marry me?” The burning in her eyes increased, and a tear escaped and rolled down her face. “Yes,” she said almost inaudibly, her vision blurring with moisture. Her chest felt tight, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Yes, my love, I will marry you.” His answering smile was as blinding as the Krinar sun. Rising to his feet, he reached for her left hand and slid the ring onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly, shimmering with every color in the visible spectrum. “Oh, Korum... It’s—” Mia was openly crying now, tears of happiness running down her cheeks. “It’s beautiful...” “Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly, drawing her into his embrace. “Nothing could ever be as beautiful as you.” And cupping her face in his large hands, he kissed the tears off her cheeks, his lips tender and reverent on her skin.

THEY AGREED TO SHARE THE NEWS WITH MIA’S PARENTS WHEN BOTH FAMILIES WOULD BE GATHERED together, and Korum now watched with amusement as Mia did her best to hide her left hand in the folds of her dress during the trip to his parents’ house. He’d told her she could take the ring off for now, but she had vehemently refused. “What if I lose it?” she said in a horrified tone, and Korum didn’t argue. He liked seeing the piece of jewelry on her finger, liked knowing that there was a visible symbol of their commitment to each other. He wasn’t sure when he had become so enamored with the idea of marrying her in the human way. During that visit to her parents’ house, the thought had been planted in his mind, and it had been brewing there for the past month. He’d known that Mia still felt uncomfortable being his charl; the way she saw it, he held all the power in their relationship. It was an ongoing source of contention between them, and Korum knew she would never be completely happy as long as she felt like she had no rights among his people. The more Korum had contemplated the problem, the more it seemed like marriage could be the solution. By publicly marrying Mia on Krina, he would elevate her standing in their society. She would no longer be merely a charl, a human who belonged to him; she would be the equivalent of his mate, long before the Celebration of Forty-Seven. She would also officially belong to him in the eyes of her people. Korum liked that quite a bit. If any human male dared to look at her, he would see the ring on her finger and know that this woman was taken. Those rings were a clever custom, Korum had recently realized. They allowed a man to mark his territory in a very civilized manner. Mia was now his fiancé, just as she would soon be his wife—and nobody would have any doubts about that fact. Of course, their marriage would also give Mia’s parents peace of mind. Although the Stalis family had accepted their relationship, Korum knew they would be far happier if they could call him something other than their daughter’s boyfriend. Now he would be their son-in-law, a much stronger tie in their eyes, and they would feel more reassured about his commitment to Mia. Their transport pod landed in front of his parents’ house, and he led Mia inside, with her parents, sister, and brother-in-law trailing behind them. His human family, he thought wryly. It was so unlikely he could still hardly believe it, but these people were important to Mia—and they were becoming increasingly important to him as well. Riani and Chiaren were waiting for them. As Korum entered the house, he saw

his mother first, standing there with a huge smile on her face, and his father’s more austere presence immediately behind her. They had been shocked when he’d first told them about Mia, but glad too. Korum sometimes wondered if his parents thought he would go through life without ever finding someone to love. Stepping forward, he gave Riani a hug and greeted his father with the more formal touch to the shoulder. Then, turning to Mia’s family, he introduced them to his parents. To his surprise, the two sets of parents clicked almost immediately. Within minutes, they were chatting animatedly and trading stories of their children’s youthful exploits. “Oh my God, this is embarrassing,” Mia whispered in his ear, blushing when Ella laughingly revealed her infant daughter’s habit of freeing herself from diapers and crawling around their backyard chasing after squirrels. “What are squirrels?” Riani asked curiously, and Mia’s father explained all about the little mammal with the bushy tail. Marisa and Connor, who had been watching the whole thing with bemusement, came to sit next to Korum and Mia on the other side of the room. “Wow, they’re really getting along, aren’t they?” Marisa told her sister, and Mia laughed, her eyes sparkling with happiness. It seemed like the perfect moment to make the announcement. Getting up, Korum pulled Mia to her feet. All eyes immediately turned toward them. “We have something we’d like to share with you,” Korum said, looking around the room. His parents seemed puzzled, while the humans stared at him with barely concealed delight. “I have asked Mia to marry me, and she has agreed.” Mia grinned and lifted her left hand, displaying the shimmerstone ring on her finger. The room exploded. Laughter, shrieks, and congratulations filled the air. Everybody seemed to be hugging everyone else, and his parents gamely went along with the excitement, even though Chiaren kept throwing questioning looks in his direction. As Mia had said, no Krinar had ever married a human, and the very concept of marriage was foreign to his people. A mating union that was marked by the Celebration of Forty-Seven was the closest Krinar equivalent. Korum intended to explain his rationale to his parents later; for now, it was enough that they knew just how much he loved his charl. After the initial hoopla died down, Korum said to Mia’s parents, “I wasn’t sure if I should request your permission first or not. From what I understand of this

custom, it’s rarely done in modern times. I hope you don’t mind—” “Mind?” Ella exclaimed. “Of course we don’t mind!” Her eyes were gleaming with tears, and Korum wondered what it was about marriage that made human women so emotional. The rest of their time together was spent discussing potential dates for the wedding (Korum insisted on it being no later than next week), the location (Mia liked the lake near his house), and the logistics of a human wedding ceremony on a planet so far away from Earth. “Don’t we need someone to marry you?” Connor asked. “A priest, a rabbi, a judge, someone? And if it’s to be legally recognized back home, don’t you need to register somewhere on Earth?” Korum had already thought of these obstacles. “One of the charl living on Krina was actually a judge in Missouri,” he told everyone. “I have already reached out to request her assistance. As far as registration goes, we’ll transmit our signatures electronically to the Daytona Beach Clerk of the Circuit Court. I’m sure they will make an exception for us, given the circumstances.”

FOR MIA, THE NEXT FIVE DAYS SEEMED TO PASS IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE. AS SOON AS NEWS ABOUT their engagement spread, there was an endless parade of visitors to Korum’s house, all wanting to meet her and her family. Korum’s friends, acquaintances, employees, business contacts, even Council members... Mia met so many Ks during her short engagement that she couldn’t keep track of all the names and faces. To her surprise, she could sense echoes of the same respect they showed Korum in their attitude toward her. It was subtle, but it was there. Her opinion was asked more often, and they spoke to her directly, frequently bypassing Korum altogether. After wondering about it for a couple of days, Mia realized that they were now treating her more as Korum’s mate and less as his charl. In their eyes, she was no longer merely a human who belonged to one of them; she was going to be a true part of their society. Mia particularly liked Jalet and Huar, Korum’s long-time friends. Like Korum’s parents, Jalet was a dabbler, a jack-of-all-trades. Smart and funny, he seemed to know about everything under the sun, and Mia loved listening to his stories about life on Krina. Huar, on the other hand, was quiet and serious. He was considered to be an expert on ocean studies. Both Huar and Jalet had also been friends with Saret, and they were horrified to learn about his true nature.

“The four of us were like your Musketeers,” Jalet told her, referring to the classic Dumas novel. “We got into so many adventures in our youth. I thought about accompanying Saret and Korum to Earth, but I was stuck on a project and the timing didn’t work out.” “That was probably for the best.” Korum grinned at his friend. “For all we know, he might’ve tried to kill you too.” “You know,” Huar said thoughtfully, “now that I think about it, it’s not all that surprising that Saret went after you, Korum. He was quite ambitious, but very secretive about it. You’ve always known what you wanted and pursued it openly, but Saret liked to scheme and maneuver behind the scenes, so nobody knew it was him. I suspected he might be jealous of you, but I never realized how deep that jealousy ran.” “None of us knew what he was really like,” Korum said. “Saret managed to fool everyone, especially me.” Mia could hear the bitter note in his voice, and it made her heart ache. He never talked about it much, but she knew he still blamed himself for putting her in harm’s way. “My love, you know he was probably a psychopath, right?” Laying a reassuring hand on Korum’s knee, she gave him a serious look. “He was smart enough to hide it, but that’s what he ultimately was. All charm on the surface, and a complete lack of remorse underneath. He was clever too, clever enough to wear a mask for centuries.” Mia remembered reading about psychopaths in one of her college classes, and they were a truly fascinating breed. She didn’t know if Saret fit the textbook definition—or if Ks could even be true psychopaths in the medical sense —but he certainly displayed some of the traits, including a grandiose sense of selfworth. Korum smiled in response, hugging her to him, but she could see that it would be a long time before the wounds inflicted by Saret’s betrayal would heal. In addition to all the visitors, there was plenty to be done in preparation for the wedding itself. With the virtual help of Korum’s cousin Leeta, Mia created herself a beautiful white dress that incorporated some elements from both cultures. She also made flattering outfits for her family that were largely Krinar in style, but took into account their personal preferences. In the meantime, Korum fabricated an enormous ceremonial hall that floated above the lake near his house. The size of an Olympic stadium, it was designed to accommodate over a hundred thousand guests—a number that made Mia’s head spin every time she thought about it.

“How big is this wedding going to be?” she gasped when she saw the giant structure. “As big as it needs to be,” Korum replied, looking at her steadily, and Mia realized that he was making a public statement. By marrying her in front of all of Krina, he was proclaiming that humans had officially arrived, that they were no longer an inferior species that could only exist on the fringes of the Krinar society. Korum was addressing her concerns about her place in his world.

31

T he day before the wedding was supposed to take place, the Elders finally reached a decision about Saret. As soon as Korum heard the news, he went to visit his former friend, feeling a strange need to see him one last time. Saret was confined in Viarad, in a heavily guarded building where dangerous criminals awaited their trial. The past couple of months had not been kind to him. If Korum didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Saret had aged somehow. His gaze looked dull and empty, and his skin appeared oddly ashen. It was like he had lost all hope, and, for a brief moment, Korum felt pity for his enemy, his thoughts turning to their childhood together. But then he remembered what Saret had done to Mia—and what he intended to do to them all—and the feeling of pity faded. Korum had never known the real Saret; whatever good times they’d had together were as fake as Saret’s friendship. “Come to gloat, have you?” Saret’s voice broke the silence. “I suppose you heard about my sentence.” His lips twisted bitterly, his fingers tugging reflexively at the crime-collar around his throat. “No,” Korum said truthfully, “I didn’t come to gloat.” “Then why are you here?” “I don’t know,” Korum admitted. “I guess I needed some closure.” “Closure?” Saret laughed, a harsh sound that grated on Korum’s ears. “What kind of closure?” Korum shrugged, unsure of the answer to that. “Jalet and Huar came to see me yesterday,” Saret said, his eyes glued to Korum’s face. “They told me all about your little human bride and how your wedding is going to be the biggest event of the millennium. Congratulations. I guess you

brainwashed her better than I ever could. Even after that bitch Laira undid my procedure, Mia still wants you. Did you tell her what you’re planning to do to her people?” “Yes,” Korum said. “I explained everything. She understood. I never intended to harm her kind, only to make room for us on their planet.” “Yeah, right.” Saret gave him a sarcastic look. “Do you think I don’t remember how you regarded humans once? How you said Earth should’ve been ours by right?” Korum stared at his former friend in disbelief. “You truly thought I still held those views? Saret, that was over a thousand years ago! Everything has changed since then. I have changed since then—” “Oh really? And what made you change? A tight little cunt and a pair of big blue eyes?” Korum felt a strong urge to do something violent to Saret, but restrained himself at the last moment. “No,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I saw how quickly they were progressing and becoming more like us. I realized centuries ago that I had been wrong about them—that so many of us had been wrong. Surely you knew that.” “No, I didn’t know,” Saret said. “Or maybe I knew and didn’t believe it. It doesn’t matter now, does it? After today, I will be no more. That’s why you came to see me now, isn’t it? To watch me die?” “You won’t die,” Korum said calmly. “They sentenced you to a new version of complete rehabilitation, one that Laira herself came up with recently. Unlike the old one, it can’t be reversed.” Saret laughed bitterly. “Right. Like I said, after this procedure I will be no more.” “Goodbye, Saret.” Korum took one final look at his former friend and walked out, putting an end to that chapter of his life.

WHEN HE GOT HOME, MIA WAS WAITING FOR HIM, AN ANXIOUS LOOK ON HER FACE. “HOW DID IT go?” she asked, getting up from the float where she had been reading her tablet. “Did you get a chance to talk to him?” “Yes.” Korum drew her toward him for a hug. The familiar feel of her in his arms was soothing, taking away his stress and tension. As much as Korum hated to admit

it to himself, seeing Saret today had been painful. Despite his betrayal, despite everything, Korum had thought of him as a friend his whole life, and he couldn’t help mourning the loss of that illusion. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him, her small hands rubbing up and down his back. Somehow she knew he needed comfort now; she always knew what he needed these days. After a couple of minutes, she pulled back slightly and looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with sympathy. “When are they going to do it?” she asked quietly. “When is the procedure going to take place?” “This afternoon,” Korum said, lifting his hand to brush a curl off her cheek. “In just a couple of hours.” “And then what? What happens to those who are rehabilitated like that?” “He’ll be taken to a special re-education facility, where the rehabilitated are taught how to become productive members of society again. He’ll know about his old identity, of course, but he’ll be given a chance to start over, to build a new life for himself.” “And he’ll be completely changed? He won’t want to do those things again?” “Most likely not,” Korum said. “And besides, he’ll be under close surveillance for centuries to come. At the least sign of renewed criminal tendencies, he will undergo the procedure again.” She moistened her lips, and Korum found himself staring at her mouth, his thoughts suddenly taking a sexual turn. “Do you think we’ll run into him at some point?” she asked. “If he’s going to re-enter society after his rehabilitation, do you think we’ll see him again?” Korum tried to tear his mind away from the image of her lips wrapped around his cock. “Probably,” he managed to say. “But don’t worry—he’ll be a very different man.” Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he could feel his body hardening, reacting to her nearness as it usually did. Undoubtedly feeling the bulge against her stomach, Mia gave him a knowing smile and pressed closer, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Korum inhaled sharply, feeling her peaked nipples through the two layers of clothing that separated them. Her eyes darkened, her pupils expanding, and there was a hint of color stealing across the paleness of her cheeks. She was getting aroused; he could see it... and feel it and smell it. The warm, sensual scent of her was like an aphrodisiac to him, sending blood rushing through his veins and making his cock

throb with need. Still looking up at him with that seductive smile, she licked her lips again, slowly this time. The sound that escaped his throat was closer to a growl. She knew exactly what to do nowadays, how to drive him wild in the shortest possible span of time. Desperate for her taste, Korum bent his head and kissed her, reveling in the way her tongue curled around his, stroking and caressing the interior of his mouth. She was a skilled kisser now, a far cry from the shy virgin he’d forced into his bed back in New York. Her fingers found their way into his hair, her nails delicately scratching his scalp, and he almost groaned, rocking his hips back and forth, pushing his erection into her belly. His skin felt hot, and suddenly their clothes were too confining, too much in the way. Korum pulled down the top of her dress, imprisoning her arms in the fabric and baring her pretty breasts to his gaze. They were white, firm, and perfectly round, and her nipples were a beautiful pink-rose color. Unable to resist the temptation, he dropped to his knees and brought those small hard nipples toward his mouth, sucking first one and then another. She moaned, arching toward him, her hands holding the back of his head, and Korum slid one hand under the skirt of her dress, feeling the softness of the curls between her thighs. “Korum, please,” she whispered, and he knew she was aching for more, just as he was. Still tonguing her nipples, he pushed one finger inside her, his balls tightening at the warm, slick feel of her interior channel. He wanted her to come, but at the same time, he wanted to keep torturing her, to make her scream with pleasure in his arms. His thumb entered between her folds, found her small clitoris, and he pressed on it lightly, keeping his touch too gentle for her to reach her peak. She bucked against him, and Korum did it again, loving the helpless little sounds that tore from her throat. His cock felt like it would explode, but he kept pushing his finger inside her, feeling a gush of moisture with every stroke. Sweet, she was so fucking sweet to him. Ripping apart her dress, he bared her stomach and the dark triangle between her thighs, his mouth leaving her breasts to kiss every inch of the skin he exposed. There was so much he wanted to do to her, so many ways he wanted to take her, and he would do it all in time, but for now he needed to take it slow, to gradually introduce her to all the pleasures of the flesh. She was trembling in his arms, her delicate inner walls quivering around his finger, and he pushed a second finger inside her, stretching her, his thumb still playing lightly with her clit.

“Korum...” Her tortured moan was like music to his ears, and he smiled triumphantly, gently scraping his teeth across the delicate skin of her stomach. He didn’t break the skin, but she still gasped at the sting, and he felt her pussy tighten around his fingers, coating them with more delicious moisture. “Yes,” he murmured, “yes, you can come for me now...” And she did, her head thrown back with a scream, the pulsations of her inner muscles adding to the blazing heat inside him. Withdrawing his fingers, Korum licked them, savoring her taste, then tugged her down on the floor beside him. The intelligent material was soft around them, massaging their knees and calves with tiny finger-like appendages, but Korum barely noticed the pleasant feeling, focusing only on the woman in his arms. Mia was still shaking, her breathing fast and uneven in the aftermath of her orgasm, and Korum arranged her pliant body so that she was on her hands and knees, facing away from him. The curve of her perfectly shaped ass was an unbearable temptation. He could see the wet, swollen folds of her sex and the tiny rose of her other opening, and he wanted to be in both places at once, to fuck her in every way possible. Pushing his thumb inside her slick channel, he gathered the moisture from there and then used it as a lubricant, pressing that same finger to her ass. She cried out, her muscles resisting the intrusion, and he paused, letting her get used to the sensation before he continued slowly working it into her tight passage. When it was all the way in, he grasped her hips with his other hand and sank his cock deep into her pussy. She arched, moaning, and Korum sucked in his breath, his thumb feeling the movement of his shaft inside her through the thin wall that separated her two orifices. So fucking sweet. The pleasure was unbelievable, almost intolerable. Unable to wait any longer, Korum began fucking her without restraint, feeling her inner muscles clinging to his cock, gripping him so tightly he felt like he was about to explode. And then he did, his head thrown back with a deep roar. She screamed too, bucking against him, and Korum felt her inner muscles milking him, squeezing every drop of semen from his body. Panting, he sank down on the floor, still buried deep inside her. After a few moments, he withdrew his thumb and pulled her naked, trembling body against him. She was breathing as hard as he was, and he kissed the delicate shell of her ear, knowing she needed tenderness after the way he just took her like a savage. “I

love you,” he whispered, and she turned toward him with a smile—the smile of a woman who had just been thoroughly satisfied. “And I love you,” she said softly, stroking his face with her fingers. They lay like that for a while longer, just holding each other and enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Then Korum heard Mia’s stomach rumble. She blushed slightly, and he grinned. “Shower and lunch?” “Yes, please,” she said, then laughed as he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.

THE GUARDIANS CAME FOR SARET AT TWO IN THE AFTERNOON. ALIR WAS AMONG THEM, HIS BLACK EYES cold and expressionless. When they reached for him, Saret shrugged off their hands and walked out of the room on his own, following them toward his execution chamber. Laira was already there, looking somber as befitting the occasion. Saret had met her once and immediately disliked her. She reminded him of Korum. Same sharp intelligence, same ruthless ambition. She applied to work in his lab a few decades ago, before she became known as a rising star in the field. After a brief interview, Saret turned down her application, enjoying the crushed look on her face when he told her she was unqualified. There was some twisted irony in her being his executioner today. They strapped him down on a float, making sure he was fully restrained for what was to come. Saret didn’t fight them. What would be the point? The guardians were armed to the teeth, and even if they weren’t, they were skilled fighters. He wouldn’t stand a chance. At this point, all Saret cared about was dying with dignity. And death is what this would be. Even though his body would remain, his mind —that which made him Saret—would be gone, thoroughly erased. He would never be himself again; his memories, his personality, his essence—it would all be wiped out. Laira approached him, holding a small white device in her hands. Saret recognized it. He’d used a version of it on Mia just a couple of months ago. “I am sorry,” Laira said, pressing the device to his forehead. “I am truly sorry for this.” Her face was the last thing Saret saw before his world faded into darkness.

32

T he morning of their wedding dawned crisp and clear. “Mia, honey, you look—” Her mom wiped away tears. “You look so gorgeous...” “Thank you, mom,” Mia said softly. “You and Marisa look beautiful too.” She wasn’t lying; her sister was stunning in a cream-colored dress with gently draped folds that skillfully concealed her slight baby bump, while her mom appeared remarkably youthful in a peach-colored sheath that flattered her rounded figure. Her dad and Connor were dressed in Krinar clothing as well, looking surprisingly sharp in their fitted white pants, boots, and structured sleeveless shirts. “I can’t believe my baby sister is getting married,” Marisa sniffled, her eyes filling with moisture too. That wasn’t unusual, though; Mia’s sister cried at the drop of a hat these days. “And to a K, no less,” Connor jumped in, a big grin on his face. “Dan, did you ever think such a thing would happen to your youngest?” “No,” her dad said dryly. “I certainly didn’t.” Mia’s family were sitting in a private room in the giant hall structure, watching Mia putting the final touches on her hair. As a wedding gift, Leeta had sent her a design for a beautiful hair accessory, and Mia was now placing it on her head. Made of some sparkling metals and shiny white-colored stones, it went all around her hair and through each curl, making Mia look like a fairy princess. Her dress only added to the impression. It was long, covering her feet, with a wide skirt and a strapless sweetheart neckline that pushed up her breasts and flattered her slim torso. It would’ve been a classic wedding dress, if it weren’t for the fact that Mia’s entire back was left exposed in the style of her usual Krinar outfits. Since the dress was long, Mia decided to wear high heels, giving herself four extra inches of height—which made her almost as tall as the shortest Krinar

women. “Korum hasn’t seen you yet, has he?” her mom asked anxiously, and Mia shook her head, smiling at the superstition. “He hasn’t, mom, relax.” Mia knew she should be feeling nervous herself. After all, didn’t all brides freak out, at least a little bit? And Mia had more cause to freak out than most, given the size of her wedding and the fact that the entire Krinar race would be watching the unprecedented event either virtually or in person. However, she didn’t have even a hint of bridal jitters. All she could feel was a warm glow of happiness. Korum had taken care of all the logistics, handling the wedding preparations with the same calm assurance as he did everything else, so there was nothing to worry about on that front. As for their future together, she knew it wouldn’t always be smooth sailing, but their love was strong enough, real enough, to survive whatever obstacles lay ahead. Some part of her still couldn’t believe that this was happening, that she was about to get married to a K she had once feared and regarded as an enemy. Although only a few short months had passed, so much had changed in her life— and in Korum’s life. They had each learned the value of compromise, of seeing the other person’s point of view. Mia had grown stronger, more confident, while Korum had begun tempering his natural arrogance and controlling tendencies. He was still ridiculously overprotective, of course, but Mia hoped that would ease with time, as memories of Saret’s attack gradually faded. Korum’s possessiveness was a different matter; she strongly suspected that part of his personality would never change. “You know, you’re going to be a celebrity back home,” Marisa said thoughtfully, watching Mia. “My baby sis—the first human to marry a K! If the media gets ahold of it, you’ll be all over the news...” “I know.” Mia mentally shuddered at the thought. She and Korum had already discussed the disturbing possibility. “When we come back to Earth, we’ll likely be living in Lenkarda, so it won’t be so bad for us. For you guys, though... You might want to consider moving to Lenkarda too, regardless of what happens with the petition.” It went without saying that Mia’s family would have to live in the Centers if they were granted immortality, just like charl. Taking one last look in the mirror, Mia turned and smiled at everyone. “I’m ready.”

DRESSED IN A WHITE HUMAN-STYLE TUXEDO, KORUM STOOD WAITING AT THE ALTAR. AS THE FIRST notes of the traditional human wedding march began to play, his pulse jumped in anticipation. In a matter of minutes, Mia would be walking down that aisle, and he would finally see his human bride. Two hours ago, her parents had pulled her away and warned him very strictly that he couldn’t lay eyes on her until the ceremony began. Bad luck or something ridiculous like that. Korum hadn’t been pleased, since he had wanted to help Mia dress—and maybe sneak in a quickie before the lengthy celebration—but Ella Stalis had been adamant and Korum had grudgingly given in. Arguing with his soon-tobe mother-in-law was not high on his list of priorities today. As the music continued, he cast a quick glance around the large celebration hall. Decorated in white and silver tones, it was filled to the brim. In addition to Korum’s family, friends, and various acquaintances, many members of the Krinar elite were attending in person. The rest of Krina—and the Krinar residents of Earth—were experiencing it virtually. Everyone was watching him with unbridled curiosity, and Korum knew they were wondering why he was doing it, why he was marrying his charl. Even Arus had been puzzled. “Isn’t that redundant?” he’d asked Korum after a Council meeting in which Korum had participated remotely. “You and Mia are already as good as married. She’s your charl.” Korum had simply smiled, not bothering to explain his reasons. Mia was indeed his charl, and now she would also be his wife. In the distance, he could hear her footsteps. Her father was leading her in, as per the old custom of giving the bride away. Korum grinned to himself. He would gladly take her off their hands. As she appeared at the other end of the aisle, on her father’s arm, his breath caught in his chest. Mia looked radiant, more beautiful than any woman Korum could ever remember seeing. She was glowing, her blue eyes shining with happiness and her lips curved in a wide smile. The dress emphasized her tiny waist and pushed up her deliciously round breasts, drawing his attention to her cleavage. Just seeing her like that made him want to pick her up and carry her to bed—and keep her there for the next several hours. Soon, Korum promised himself, and did his best to push all thoughts of sex out of his mind. It was impossible, however, because he simply couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. As she glided down the aisle, he found himself hungrily watching her every step, drinking in the delicacy of her features, the elegant lines of her neck and shoulders. Her skin looked so soft, so touchable that Korum’s fingers actually

itched with the urge to stroke it, to feel it all over. Then she was there, next to him, and the music reached a crescendo, then quieted down. Korum took Mia’s hand and turned toward the blond human woman who would perform the ceremony. Once a judge in Missouri, Lana Walters was now a charl living on Krina, and she was honored to be part of such a historic occasion. “Dear friends, family, and all who are present or watching us today,” Lana said in a husky voice, “we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Nathrandokorum and Mia Stalis, the first time such a union has ever taken place.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Korum, do you take Mia to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” “I do,” Korum said, looking at Mia. At his words, her smile became impossibly bright, dazzling him with its beauty. “And you, Mia? Do you take Korum to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” “I do.” Her voice was strong and clear, without even a hint of hesitation. “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Korum didn’t need any urging. Bringing Mia toward him, he bent his head and kissed her, the delicious taste of her sending a surge of blood straight to his groin. It took all his willpower to stop after a minute. When he pulled away, she was looking up at him with her mouth slightly swollen and her blue eyes soft with desire. As one, the crowd stood up and began stomping their feet in the Krinar version of clapping. The floor shook as a hundred thousand guests stomped in unison and cheered for them. Taking Mia’s hand, Korum lifted their joined palms into the air, whipping the crowd into an even greater frenzy. It was time to celebrate.

MIA COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING AS HER HUSBAND WHIRLED HER AROUND THE DANCE FLOOR, AS effortlessly as if she was a doll. All around them, other Krinar couples were dancing too, their movements so complex and fluid that Mia would never be able to replicate them on her own. Her family was watching from the sidelines, looking as awed as Mia felt at the inhuman grace and athleticism of the dancers.

Despite the traditionally human wedding ceremony, the party afterwards was decidedly alien. It reminded Mia of Leeta’s union celebration in Lenkarda. Everything, from the exotic music to the corner location of the dance floors, was purely Krinar. Floating seats, reflective walls, and shiny decorations abounded. Mia could see that her parents were overwhelmed by all the glitter and the gorgeous crowds surrounding them. Marisa and Connor, on the other hand, seemed to love it. Mia’s brother-in-law even tasted one of the local alcoholic beverages. “Strong shit,” he said approvingly after his eyes stopped watering. Mia and the others stuck to the refreshing pink juice cocktail, unwilling to try anything strong enough to give Ks a buzz. After a little while, Korum’s parents joined Mia’s family, and they all conversed while Korum stole Mia away to the dance floor. After about an hour of vigorous dancing, Mia had to beg for mercy. “You realize I’m human, right?” she laughingly told Korum, stopping to catch her breath. At that moment, they were approached by a tall Krinar man. “Congratulations,” he said, smiling at them. “I’m Kellon, Ellet’s cousin.” Korum smiled back, and they exchanged the traditional Krinar greeting, touching each other’s shoulder with their palms. “I have a wedding gift for you,” Kellon said, “from Ellet.” “Oh?” Korum arched his eyebrows, and Mia looked at the K. What did the human biology expert want to give them? “For the past several years, Ellet has been working on a very ambitious project,” Kellon said, “and she finally had a big breakthrough last night. It’s something that would be of particular interest to you both—which is why she asked me to approach you today, during your wedding.” “What is it?” Mia asked, unbearably curious. “She has been trying to figure out how humans and Krinar could have biological offspring together... and she thinks she finally has a solution.” “A solution?” Mia whispered, hardly daring to believe her ears. “Are you talking about human-Krinar babies?” Her husband seemed to be frozen in place, staring at the other K in shock. “Yes,” Kellon confirmed. “The process is far from perfect yet, and Ellet has a lot of kinks to work out, but she’s been able to figure out how to combine the DNA from both species in such a way as to produce viable offspring. A few more years and the two of you may be able to have a child—if you’re so inclined, of course.”

“Is she sure?” Korum’s voice was calm, but his eyes were nearly yellow with strong emotion. “Is Ellet absolutely sure about this? If this is just some simulation she ran—” “No,” Kellon said, “she’s sure. She’s run at least a hundred simulations, and every single one of them produced the same results. For the first time ever, it’s going to be possible for charl and cheren to have children together.” “Thank you, Kellon,” Mia said thickly, “and please thank Ellet for us. This.. this is the best wedding gift we could’ve received.” She felt like she would burst into tears at any moment, and she looked away, blinking furiously to hold back the moisture that filled her eyes. A child with Korum! It was beyond her wildest dreams. “Yes,” Korum said softly, “please convey our most sincere thanks to Ellet. She has our gratitude.” Kellon inclined his head respectfully and walked away, melting into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Mia turned to her husband. “A baby! Oh my God, Korum, a baby!” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it between her palms in excitement. “A baby,” he repeated, and there was a strange expression on his face. “Our baby.” Some of Mia’s excitement waned. “You... You do want a child, right?” she asked uncertainly. “I mean, I know it would be partially human and everything—” “Want one?” He stared at her like she had just grown two heads. When he spoke again, his voice was low and filled with intensity. “Mia, my sweet, I love you. A child who would be part you and part me? How could I not want that?” Covering her hands with his other palm, he drew her toward him, his eyes gleaming. “I want it very, very much.” Mia beamed at him, feeling like her heart would overflow with happiness. “If we had a daughter, we could call her Ivy. I’ve always loved that name. What do you think?” “I think I like it very much,” he murmured, bending his head and giving her a deep, passionate kiss. They decided to share the news with their families after the wedding. There were simply too many people around right now for such an important—and private— announcement. Still, Mia couldn’t get her mind off Ellet’s gift.

“Do you think the procedure will be perfected by the time I’m thirty?” she asked Korum as he led her back to the dance floor. “I’ve always wanted to have a baby before I was thirty—” “Thirty?” Her husband laughed. “Mia, darling, your age is irrelevant now. Our child could be born when you’re thirty—or when you’re five hundred and thirty. It really doesn’t matter—” “It matters for my parents,” Mia said quietly. “I would want them to see their grandchildren, to know them in their lifetime.” It was the one thing that worried her: the fact that they still had not received an answer from the Elders. Korum started to say something when the music suddenly stopped. All the noise died down, a deathly silence descending out of nowhere. Everyone seemed frozen in place, staring at the entrance. “What’s going on?” Mia whispered, stepping closer to Korum. “Hush, my sweet,” he said quietly, putting a protective arm around her back. “It looks like Lahur is here.” Mia barely suppressed a gasp. From what Korum had told her, the Elders never came out to socialize with the other Krinar or to attend any public events. They were essentially loners, holding themselves apart from the general population. And now Lahur, the oldest of them all, was here at their party? The crowd slowly parted, and Mia could see a tall, powerful man making his way toward them. As he approached, she recognized the hard features of the Elder she’d spoken to in the forest. He was dressed in formal Krinar clothing, like all the other guests, but the fancy outfit did little to conceal his predatory nature. Even among other Krinar, he seemed more savage somehow, a panther roaming among house cats. “Welcome, Lahur,” Korum said calmly, inclining his head toward the newcomer. “We are pleased you could join us.” “Thank you.” Lahur’s deep voice held a note of amusement. “I’m not here for long. I came to give you a wedding present. That’s a custom of yours, isn’t it, Mia?” Mia stared at the Elder in shock. “Yes,” she managed to say. “It’s a human wedding custom.” She was surprised she was able to speak at all, with her heart beating as hard as it was. “Well then,” Lahur said, his dark eyes trained on her, “I would like to tell you that we have granted your petition. Your family will be given all the rights and

privileges of those we call charl.” A shocked murmur ran through the crowd at his words, and Mia inhaled sharply, her eyes filling with tears of joy. “Thank you,” she whispered, looking at the dark visage of the ten-million-year-old alien in front of her. “Thank you so very much...” “Yes,” Korum said, his arm tightening around Mia’s back. “Thank you for a wonderful wedding present. My wife and I are truly grateful.” Lahur inclined his head, acknowledging their thanks. Then he turned around and walked away, the crowd parting again to let him through. The music started up again, and the party resumed. Running up to Mia, Marisa gave her and Korum a hug, sobbing with happiness, and her parents embraced each other, tears running down their faces. Connor shook Korum’s hand, and Mia could see that her brother-in-law’s eyes were glistening too. For the first time in history, an entire human family would be given immortality —a gift more precious than anything they could’ve ever imagined. Looking up at her husband—her beautiful K lover—Mia smiled through her tears. “I love you,” she told him softly. “I love you so very much.” “And I love you,” he said, watching her with warm amber-colored gaze. Their happiness was complete.

EPILOGUE

L

ahur stood in the forest clearing, feeling the warm breeze on his face. The

others were gathered around him, their faces as familiar to him as his own. These people—the ones known as the Elders—were among the few whose company Lahur could tolerate for more than ten minutes at a time. “So what now?” Sheura asked, watching him with her calm dark gaze. Lahur looked at her. “What do you think?” “I think it’s time,” she said quietly. “I think we have to do it.” “I agree.” It was Pioren, Sheura’s partner in the experiment. “We can no longer stand by and observe. The project has succeeded all too well. They’re like us. Our best and brightest are now mating with them.” “Yes,” Lahur said, “they are.” Seeing the curly-haired human girl by Korum’s side had been a revelation. She wasn’t the first human he’d met, but something about her had touched him, penetrating the layer of ice that encased him these days. For a moment, Lahur had been able to feel the powerful bond that existed between her and her cheren, to bask in the love they had for each other. Out of all the young ones, Lahur found Korum to be among the most interesting, probably because he reminded Lahur of himself in his youth. Same drive, same willingness to do what’s necessary to achieve his goals. Lahur had no doubt that Korum would succeed in building a Krinar empire, taking them all on an unprecedented journey. A journey that Korum planned to undertake with a human girl by his side. There could be no clearer sign that they needed to wrap up the experiment. “Let’s do it,” Lahur said. “You’re right. It’s time. We need to share our technology with them, to give them all what we gave only to a select few. Their

evolution is complete.” And as he looked around the clearing, seeing agreement on the other faces, Lahur had only one thought: Nothing will ever be the same again. THE END Thank you for reading! I would greatly appreciate it if you left a review because reviews encourage me to write and help other readers discover my books.

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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 better 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. It was blood. Human blood. Reaching his destination, Zaron stopped, staring at the sight in front of him. In front of him was a river, a mountain stream swollen from recent rains. And on the large black rocks in the middle, beneath an old wooden bridge spanning the gorge, was a body. A broken, twisted body of a human girl.

The Krinar Captive is now available (click HERE). Please visit my website at

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EXCERPT FROM THE THOUGHT READERS BY DIMA ZALES

Author’s Note: If you want to try something different—and especially if you like urban fantasy and science fiction—you might want to check out The Thought Readers, the first book in the Mind Dimensions series that I’m collaborating on with Dima Zales, my husband. But be warned, there is not much romance or sex in this one. Instead of sex, there’s mind reading.

Everyone thinks I’m a genius.

Everyone is wrong.

Sure, I finished Harvard at eighteen and now make crazy money at a hedge fund. But that’s not because I’m unusually smart or hard-working.

It’s because I cheat.

You see, I have a unique ability. I can go outside time into my own personal version of reality—the place I call “the Quiet”—where I can explore my surroundings while the rest of the world stands still.

I thought I was the only one who could do this—until I met her.

My name is Darren, and this is how I learned that I’m a Reader.

Sometimes I think I’m crazy. I’m sitting at a casino table in Atlantic City, and everyone around me is motionless. I call this the Quiet, as though giving it a name makes it seem more real—as though giving it a name changes the fact that all the players around me are frozen like statues, and I’m walking among them, looking at the cards they’ve been dealt. The problem with the theory of my being crazy is that when I ‘unfreeze’ the world, as I just have, the cards the players turn over are the same ones I just saw in the Quiet. If I were crazy, wouldn’t these cards be different? Unless I’m so far gone that I’m imagining the cards on the table, too. But then I also win. If that’s a delusion—if the pile of chips on my side of the table is a delusion—then I might as well question everything. Maybe my name isn’t even Darren. No. I can’t think that way. If I’m really that confused, I don’t want to snap out of it—because if I do, I’ll probably wake up in a mental hospital. Besides, I love my life, crazy and all. My shrink thinks the Quiet is an inventive way I describe the ‘inner workings of my genius.’ Now that sounds crazy to me. She also might want me, but that’s beside the point. Suffice it to say, she’s as far as it gets from my datable age range, which is currently right around twenty-four. Still young, still hot, but done with school and pretty much beyond the clubbing phase. I hate clubbing, almost as much as I hated studying. In any case, my shrink’s explanation doesn’t work, as it doesn’t account for the way I know things even a genius wouldn’t know—like the exact value and suit of the other players’ cards. I watch as the dealer begins a new round. Besides me, there are three players at the table: Grandma, the Cowboy, and the Professional, as I call them. I feel that now almost-imperceptible fear that accompanies the phasing. That’s what I call the process: phasing into the Quiet. Worrying about my sanity has always facilitated phasing; fear seems helpful in this process. I phase in, and everything gets quiet. Hence the name for this state. It’s eerie to me, even now. Outside the Quiet, this casino is very loud: drunk people talking, slot machines, ringing of wins, music—the only place louder is a club or a concert. And yet, right at this moment, I could probably hear a pin drop. It’s like I’ve gone deaf to the chaos that surrounds me.

Having so many frozen people around adds to the strangeness of it all. Here is a waitress stopped mid-step, carrying a tray with drinks. There is a woman about to pull a slot machine lever. At my own table, the dealer’s hand is raised, the last card he dealt hanging unnaturally in midair. I walk up to him from the side of the table and reach for it. It’s a king, meant for the Professional. Once I let the card go, it falls on the table rather than continuing to float as before—but I know full well that it will be back in the air, in the exact position it was when I grabbed it, when I phase out. The Professional looks like someone who makes money playing poker, or at least the way I always imagined someone like that might look. Scruffy, shades on, a little sketchy-looking. He’s been doing an excellent job with the poker face—basically not twitching a single muscle throughout the game. His face is so expressionless that I wonder if he might’ve gotten Botox to help maintain such a stony countenance. His hand is on the table, protectively covering the cards dealt to him. I move his limp hand away. It feels normal. Well, in a manner of speaking. The hand is sweaty and hairy, so moving it aside is unpleasant and is admittedly an abnormal thing to do. The normal part is that the hand is warm, rather than cold. When I was a kid, I expected people to feel cold in the Quiet, like stone statues. With the Professional’s hand moved away, I pick up his cards. Combined with the king that was hanging in the air, he has a nice high pair. Good to know. I walk over to Grandma. She’s already holding her cards, and she has fanned them nicely for me. I’m able to avoid touching her wrinkled, spotted hands. This is a relief, as I’ve recently become conflicted about touching people—or, more specifically, women—in the Quiet. If I had to, I would rationalize touching Grandma’s hand as harmless, or at least not creepy, but it’s better to avoid it if possible. In any case, she has a low pair. I feel bad for her. She’s been losing a lot tonight. Her chips are dwindling. Her losses are due, at least partially, to the fact that she has a terrible poker face. Even before looking at her cards, I knew they wouldn’t be good because I could tell she was disappointed as soon as her hand was dealt. I also caught a gleeful gleam in her eyes a few rounds ago when she had a winning three of a kind. This whole game of poker is, to a large degree, an exercise in reading people— something I really want to get better at. At my job, I’ve been told I’m great at reading people. I’m not, though; I’m just good at using the Quiet to make it seem like I am. I do want to learn how to read people for real, though. It would be nice to

know what everyone is thinking. What I don’t care that much about in this poker game is money. I do well enough financially to not have to depend on hitting it big gambling. I don’t care if I win or lose, though quintupling my money back at the blackjack table was fun. This whole trip has been more about going gambling because I finally can, being twenty-one and all. I was never into fake IDs, so this is an actual milestone for me. Leaving Grandma alone, I move on to the next player—the Cowboy. I can’t resist taking off his straw hat and trying it on. I wonder if it’s possible for me to get lice this way. Since I’ve never been able to bring back any inanimate objects from the Quiet, nor otherwise affect the real world in any lasting way, I figure I won’t be able to get any living critters to come back with me, either. Dropping the hat, I look at his cards. He has a pair of aces—a better hand than the Professional. Maybe the Cowboy is a professional, too. He has a good poker face, as far as I can tell. It’ll be interesting to watch those two in this round. Next, I walk up to the deck and look at the top cards, memorizing them. I’m not leaving anything to chance. When my task in the Quiet is complete, I walk back to myself. Oh, yes, did I mention that I see myself sitting there, frozen like the rest of them? That’s the weirdest part. It’s like having an out-of-body experience. Approaching my frozen self, I look at him. I usually avoid doing this, as it’s too unsettling. No amount of looking in the mirror—or seeing videos of yourself on YouTube—can prepare you for viewing your own three-dimensional body up close. It’s not something anyone is meant to experience. Well, aside from identical twins, I guess. It’s hard to believe that this person is me. He looks more like some random guy. Well, maybe a bit better than that. I do find this guy interesting. He looks cool. He looks smart. I think women would probably consider him good-looking, though I know that’s not a modest thing to think. It’s not like I’m an expert at gauging how attractive a guy is, but some things are common sense. I can tell when a dude is ugly, and this frozen me is not. I also know that generally, being good-looking requires a symmetrical face, and the statue of me has that. A strong jaw doesn’t hurt, either. Check. Having broad shoulders is a positive, and being tall really helps. All covered. I have blue eyes—that seems to be a plus. Girls have told me they like my eyes, though right now, on the frozen me, the eyes look creepy—glassy. They look like the eyes of a lifeless wax figure.

Realizing that I’m dwelling on this subject way too long, I shake my head. I can just picture my shrink analyzing this moment. Who would imagine admiring themselves like this as part of their mental illness? I can just picture her scribbling down Narcissist, underlining it for emphasis. Enough. I need to leave the Quiet. Raising my hand, I touch my frozen self on the forehead, and I hear noise again as I phase out. Everything is back to normal. The card that I looked at a moment before—the king that I left on the table—is in the air again, and from there it follows the trajectory it was always meant to, landing near the Professional’s hands. Grandma is still eyeing her fanned cards in disappointment, and the Cowboy has his hat on again, though I took it off him in the Quiet. Everything is exactly as it was. On some level, my brain never ceases to be surprised at the discontinuity of the experience in the Quiet and outside it. As humans, we’re hardwired to question reality when such things happen. When I was trying to outwit my shrink early on in my therapy, I once read an entire psychology textbook during our session. She, of course, didn’t notice it, as I did it in the Quiet. The book talked about how babies as young as two months old are surprised if they see something out of the ordinary, like gravity appearing to work backwards. It’s no wonder my brain has trouble adapting. Until I was ten, the world behaved normally, but everything has been weird since then, to put it mildly. Glancing down, I realize I’m holding three of a kind. Next time, I’ll look at my cards before phasing. If I have something this strong, I might take my chances and play fair. The game unfolds predictably because I know everybody’s cards. At the end, Grandma gets up. She’s clearly lost enough money. And that’s when I see the girl for the first time. She’s hot. My friend Bert at work claims that I have a ‘type,’ but I reject that idea. I don’t like to think of myself as shallow or predictable. But I might actually be a bit of both, because this girl fits Bert’s description of my type to a T. And my reaction is extreme interest, to say the least. Large blue eyes. Well-defined cheekbones on a slender face, with a hint of something exotic. Long, shapely legs, like those of a dancer. Dark wavy hair in a ponytail—a hairstyle that I like. And without bangs—even better. I hate bangs— not sure why girls do that to themselves. Though lack of bangs is not, strictly

speaking, in Bert’s description of my type, it probably should be. I continue staring at her. With her high heels and tight skirt, she’s overdressed for this place. Or maybe I’m underdressed in my jeans and t-shirt. Either way, I don’t care. I have to try to talk to her. I debate phasing into the Quiet and approaching her, so I can do something creepy like stare at her up close, or maybe even snoop in her pockets. Anything to help me when I talk to her. I decide against it, which is probably the first time that’s ever happened. I know that my reasoning for breaking my usual habit—if you can even call it that—is strange. I picture the following chain of events: she agrees to date me, we go out for a while, we get serious, and because of the deep connection we have, I come clean about the Quiet. She learns I did something creepy and has a fit, then dumps me. It’s ridiculous to think this, of course, considering that we haven’t even spoken yet. Talk about jumping the gun. She might have an IQ below seventy, or the personality of a piece of wood. There can be twenty different reasons why I wouldn’t want to date her. And besides, it’s not all up to me. She might tell me to go fuck myself as soon as I try to talk to her. Still, working at a hedge fund has taught me to hedge. As crazy as that reasoning is, I stick with my decision not to phase because I know it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. In keeping with this unusually chivalrous me, I also decide not to cheat at this round of poker. As the cards are dealt again, I reflect on how good it feels to have done the honorable thing—even without anyone knowing. Maybe I should try to respect people’s privacy more often. As soon as I think this, I mentally snort. Yeah, right. I have to be realistic. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I’d followed that advice. In fact, if I made a habit of respecting people’s privacy, I would lose my job within days—and with it, a lot of the comforts I’ve become accustomed to. Copying the Professional’s move, I cover my cards with my hand as soon as I receive them. I’m about to sneak a peek at what I was dealt when something unusual happens. The world goes quiet, just like it does when I phase in… but I did nothing this time. And at that moment, I see her—the girl sitting across the table from me, the girl I was just thinking about. She’s standing next to me, pulling her hand away from mine. Or, strictly speaking, from my frozen self’s hand—as I’m standing a little to

the side looking at her. She’s also still sitting in front of me at the table, a frozen statue like all the others. My mind goes into overdrive as my heartbeat jumps. I don’t even consider the possibility of that second girl being a twin sister or something like that. I know it’s her. She’s doing what I did just a few minutes ago. She’s walking in the Quiet. The world around us is frozen, but we are not. A horrified look crosses her face as she realizes the same thing. Before I can react, she lunges across the table and touches her own forehead. The world becomes normal again. She stares at me from across the table, shocked, her eyes huge and her face pale. Her hands tremble as she rises to her feet. Without so much as a word, she turns and begins walking away, then breaks into a run a couple of seconds later. Getting over my own shock, I get up and run after her. It’s not exactly smooth. If she notices a guy she doesn’t know running after her, dating will be the last thing on her mind. But I’m beyond that now. She’s the only person I’ve met who can do what I do. She’s proof that I’m not insane. She might have what I want most in the world. She might have answers.

The Thought Readers is now available at most retailers. Please click HERE to get your copy. If you’d like to learn more about our fantasy and science fiction books, please visit Dima Zales’s website at www.dimazales.com and sign up for his new release email list.

EXCERPT FROM OASIS BY DIMA ZALES

Author’s Note: If you enjoy sci-fi/dystopian novels like The Hunger Games, Divergent, and The Giver, you might be interested in Oasis (The Last Humans: Book 1), another one of my collaborations with Dima.

My name is Theo, and I'm a resident of Oasis, the last habitable area on Earth. It's meant to be a paradise, a place where we are all content. Vulgarity, violence, insanity, and other ills are but a distant memory, and even death no longer plagues us.

I was once content too, but now I'm different. Now I hear a voice in my head, and she tells me things no imaginary friend should know. Her name is Phoe, and she is my delusion.

Or is she?

Fuck. Vagina. Shit. I pointedly think these forbidden words, but my neural scan shows nothing out of the ordinary compared to when I think phonetically similar words, such as shuck, angina, or fit. I don’t see any evidence of my brain being corrupted, though maybe it’s already so damaged that things can’t get any worse. Maybe I need another test subject—another ‘impressionable’ twenty-three-year-old Youth such as myself. After all, I might be mentally ill.

“Oh, Theo. Not this again,” says an overly friendly, high-pitched female voice. “Besides, the words do have an effect on your brain. For instance, the part of your brain responsible for disgust lights up at the mention of ‘shit,’ yet doesn’t for ‘fit.’” This is Phoe speaking. This time, she’s not a voice inside my head; instead, it’s as though she’s in the thick bushes behind me, except there’s no one there. I’m the only person on this strip of grass. Nobody else comes here because the Edge is only a couple of feet away. Few residents of Oasis like looking at the dreary line dividing where our habitable world ends and the deserted wasteland of the Goo begins. I don’t mind it, though. Then again, I may be crazy—and Phoe would be the reason for that. You see, I don’t think Phoe is real. She is, as far as my best guess goes, my imaginary friend. And her name, by the way, is pronounced ‘Fee,’ but is spelled ‘P-h-o-e.’ Yes, that’s how specific my delusion is. “So you go from one overused topic straight into another.” Phoe snorts. “My socalled realness.” “Right,” I say. Though we’re alone, I still answer without moving my lips. “Because I am imagining you.” She snorts again, and I shake my head. Yes, I just shook my head for the benefit of my delusion. I also feel compelled to respond to her. “For the record,” I say, “I’m sure the taboo word ‘shit’ affects the parts of my brain that deal with disgust just as much as its more acceptable cousins, such as ‘fecal matter,’ do. The point I was trying to make is that the word doesn’t hurt or corrupt my brain. There’s nothing special about these words.” “Yeah, yeah.” This time, Phoe is inside my head, and she sounds mocking. “Next you’ll tell me how back in the day, some of the forbidden words merely referred to things like female dogs, and how there are words in the dead languages that used to be just as taboo, yet they are not currently forbidden because they have lost their power. Then you’re likely to complain that, though the brains of both genders are nearly identical, only males are not allowed to say ‘vagina,’ et cetera.” I realize I was about to counter with those exact thoughts, which means Phoe and I have talked about this quite a bit. This is what happens between close friends: they repeat conversations. Doubly so with imaginary friends, I figure. Though, of course, I’m probably the only person in Oasis who actually has one.

Come to think of it, wouldn’t every conversation with your imaginary friend be redundant since you’re basically talking to yourself? “This is my cue to remind you that I’m real, Theo.” Phoe purposefully states this out loud. I can’t help but notice that her voice came slightly from my right, as if she’s just a friend sitting on the grass next to me—a friend who happens to be invisible. “Just because I’m invisible doesn’t mean I’m not real,” Phoe responds to my thought. “At least I’m convinced that I’m real. I would be the crazy one if I didn’t think I was real. Besides, a lot of evidence points to that conclusion, and you know it.” “But wouldn’t an imaginary friend have to insist she’s real?” I can’t resist saying the words out loud. “Wouldn’t this be part of the delusion?” “Don’t talk to me out loud,” she reminds me, her tone worried. “Even when you subvocalize, sometimes you imperceptibly move your neck muscles or even your lips. All those things are too risky. You should just think your thoughts at me. Use your inner voice. It’s safer that way, especially when we’re around other Youths.” “Sure, but for the record, that makes me feel even nuttier,” I reply, but I subvocalize my words, trying my best not to move my lips or neck muscles. Then, as an experiment, I think, “Talking to you inside my head just highlights the impossibility of you and thus makes me feel like I’m missing even more screws.” “Well, it shouldn’t.” Her voice is inside my head now, yet it still sounds highpitched. “Back in the day, when it was not forbidden to be mentally ill, I imagine it made people around you uncomfortable if you spoke to your imaginary friends out loud.” She chuckles, but there’s more worry than humor in her voice. “I have no idea what would happen if someone thought you were crazy, but I have a bad feeling about it, so please don’t do it, okay?” “Fine,” I think and pull at my left earlobe. “Though it’s overkill to do it here. No one’s around.” “Yes, but the nanobots I told you about, the ones that permeate everything from your head to the utility fog, can be used to monitor this place, at least in theory.” “Right. Unless all this conveniently invisible technology you keep telling me about is as much of a figment of my imagination as you are,” I think at her. “In any case, since no one seems to know about this tech, how can they use it to spy on me?”

“Correction: no Youth knows, but the others might,” Phoe counters patiently. “There’s too much we still don’t know about Adults, not to mention the Elderly.” “But if they can access the nanocytes in my mind, wouldn’t they have access to my thoughts too?” I think, suppressing a shudder. If this is true, I’m utterly screwed. “The fact that you haven’t faced any consequences for your frequently wayward thoughts is evidence that no one monitors them in general, or at least, they’re not bothering with yours specifically,” she responds, her words easing my dread. “Therefore, I think monitoring thoughts is either computationally prohibitive or breaks one of the bazillion taboos on the proper use of technology—rules I have a very hard time keeping track of, by the way.” “Well, what if using tech to listen in on me is also taboo?” I retort, though she’s beginning to convince me. “It may be, but I’ve seen evidence that can best be explained as the Adults spying.” Her voice in my head takes on a hushed tone. “Just think of the time you and Liam made plans to skip your Physics Lecture. How did they know about that?” I think of the epic Quietude session we were sentenced to and how we both swore we hadn’t betrayed each other. We reached the same conclusion: our speech is not secure. That’s why Liam, Mason, and I now often speak in code. “There could be other explanations,” I think at Phoe. “That conversation happened during Lectures, and someone could’ve overheard us. But even if they hadn’t, just because they monitor us during class doesn’t mean they would bother monitoring this forsaken spot.” “Even if they don’t monitor this place or anywhere outside of the Institute, I still want you to acquire the right habit.” “What if I speak in code?” I suggest. “You know, the one I use with my nonimaginary friends.” “You already speak too slowly for my liking,” she thinks at me with clear exasperation. “When you speak in that code, you sound ridiculous and drastically increase the number of syllables you say. Now if you were willing to learn one of the dead languages…” “Fine. I will ‘think’ when I have to speak to you,” I think. Then I subvocalize, “But I will also subvocalize.” “If you must.” She sighs out loud. “Just do it the way you did a second ago,

without any voice musculature moving.” Instead of replying, I look at the Edge again, the place where the serene greenery under the Dome meets the repulsive ocean of the desolate Goo—the everreplicating parasitic technology that converts matter into itself. The Goo is what’s left of the world outside the Dome barrier, and if the barrier were to ever come down, the Goo would destroy us in short order. Naturally, this view evokes all sorts of unpleasant feelings, and the fact that I’m voluntarily gazing at it must be yet another sign of my shaky mental state. “The thing is decidedly gross,” Phoe reflects, trying to cheer me up, as usual. “It looks like someone tried to make Jell-O out of vomit and human excrement.” Then, with a mental snicker, she adds, “Sorry, I should’ve said ‘vomit and shit.’” “I have no idea what Jell-O is,” I subvocalize. “But whatever it is, you’re probably spot on regarding the ingredients.” “Jell-O was something the ancients ate in the pre-Food days,” Phoe explains. “I’ll find something for you to watch or read about it, or if you’re lucky, they might serve it at the upcoming Birth Day fair.” “I hope they do. It’s hard to learn about food from books or movies,” I complain. “I tried.” “In this case, you might,” Phoe counters. “Jell-O was more about texture than taste. It had the consistency of jellyfish.” “People actually ate those slimy things back then?” I think in disgust. I can’t recall seeing that in any of the movies. Waving toward the Goo, I say, “No wonder the world turned to this.” “They didn’t eat it in most parts of the world,” Phoe says, her voice taking on a pedantic tone. “And Jell-O was actually made out of partially decomposed proteins extracted from cow and pig hides, hooves, bones, and connective tissue.” “Now you’re just trying to gross me out,” I think. “That’s rich, coming from you, Mr. Shit.” She chuckles. “Anyway, you have to leave this place.” “I do?” “You have Lectures in half an hour, but more importantly, Mason is looking for you,” she says, and her voice gives me the impression she’s already gotten up from the grass. I get up and start walking through the tall shrubbery that hides the Goo from the

view of the rest of Oasis Youths. “By the way”—Phoe’s voice comes from the distance; she’s simulating walking ahead of me—“once you verify that Mason is looking for you, do try to explain how an imaginary friend like me could possibly know something like that… something you yourself didn’t know.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anna Zaires is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 international bestselling author of sci-fi romance and contemporary dark erotic romance. She fell in love with books at the age of five, when her grandmother taught her to read. Since then, she has always lived partially in a fantasy world where the only limits were those of her imagination. Currently residing in Florida, Anna is happily married to Dima Zales (a science fiction and fantasy author) and closely collaborates with him on all their works.

To learn more, please visit www.annazaires.com.