by Anna Zaires
Twist Me
Anna Zaires
♠ Mozaika Publications ♠
Copyright
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 © 2014 Anna Zaires
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 Eden Crane Designs.
e-ISBN: 9781631420009
Description
Kidnapped. Taken to a private island.
I never thought this could happen to me. I never imagined one chance meeting on the eve of my eighteenth birthday could change my life so completely.
Now I belong to him. To Julian. To a man who is as ruthless as he is beautiful—a man whose touch makes me burn. A man whose tenderness I find more devastating than his cruelty.
My captor is an enigma. I don’t know who he is or why he took me. There is a darkness inside him—a darkness that scares me even as it draws me in.
My name is Nora Leston, and this is my story.
Warning: This is NOT a traditional romance. It contains disturbing subject matter, including themes of questionable consent and Stockholm Syndrome, as well as graphic sexual content. This is a work of fiction intended for a mature, 18+ audience only. The author neither endorses nor condones this type of behavior.
Prologue
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.
Chapter 1
Eighteen Months Earlier
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 i
n 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 super-comforting.
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.
Chapter 2
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. May
be 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.