Anna Zaires - Twist Me

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.

Anna Zaires fell in love with books at the age of five, when her grandmother taught her to read. She wrote her first story shortly thereafter. 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.