Close Remembrance

by Anna Zaires

  He didn’t fidget or look uncomfortable in any way as their staring contest continued. He just stood there quietly, completely still, his blue gaze trained on her.

  To her shock, Kate could feel her heart rate picking up as a tingle of heat ran down her spine. It was as though temperature in the room had jumped ten degrees. All of a sudden, the atmosphere became intensely sexual, making Kate aware of herself as a woman in a way that she’d never experienced before. She could feel the silky material of her matched underwear set brushing between her legs, against her breasts. Her entire body seemed flushed, sensitized, her nipples pebbling underneath her layers of clothing.

  Holy shit.

  So that’s what it felt like to be truly attracted to someone. It wasn’t rational and logical. There was no meeting of minds and hearts involved. No, the urge was basic and primitive; her body had sensed his on some animal level, and it wanted to mate.

  And he felt it, too. It was there in the way his blue eyes had darkened, lids partially lowering. In the way his nostrils flared, as though trying to catch her scent. His fingers twitched, curled into fists, and she somehow knew he was trying to control himself, to avoid reaching for her right then and there.

  If they had been alone right now, Kate had no doubt he would be on her already.

  Still staring at the stranger, Kate started to back away. The strength of her response to him was frightening, unsettling. They were in the middle of the ER, surrounded by people, and all she could think about was hot, sheet-twisting sex. She had no idea who he was, whether he was married or single. For all she knew, he could be a criminal or a total asshole.

  Or he could be a cheating scumbag like Tony. If anyone had taught her to think twice before trusting a man, it was her ex-boyfriend. She didn’t want that kind of complication in her life again – didn’t want to get involved with a man so soon after her last disastrous relationship.

  But the tall stranger clearly had other ideas.

  At her cautious retreat, his eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming sharper, more focused.

  And then he began walking toward her, his stride oddly graceful for such a large man. There was something panther-ish in his leisurely movements. For a second, Kate felt like a mouse getting stalked by a big cat. Instinctively, she took another step back . . . and watched his hard mouth tighten with displeasure.

  Realizing she was acting like a coward, Kate stopped backing away and stood her ground instead, straightening to her full 5’7” height. She was always the calm and capable one, handling high-stress situations with ease – and here she was, behaving like a silly schoolgirl confronted with her first crush. Yes, the man made her uncomfortable, but there was nothing to be afraid of. What was the worst he could do? Ask her out on a date?

  Nevertheless, her hands shook slightly as he approached, stopping less than two feet away. This close, he was even taller than she’d originally thought, probably a couple of inches over six feet. She was not a short woman, but she felt tiny standing next to him. It was not a feeling she enjoyed.

  “You are very good at your job.” His voice was deep and a little rough, heavy with some Eastern European accent. Just hearing it made her insides shiver in a strangely pleasurable way.

  “Um, thank you,” Kate said, a bit uncertainly. She knew she was a good nurse, of course, but somehow she hadn’t expected this stranger to acknowledge that fact.

  “You took care of Igor well. Thank you for that.”

  Igor had to be the gunshot patient. It was a foreign-sounding name, maybe Russian. That explained the stranger’s accent. Although he spoke English fluently, it was obvious he wasn’t a native speaker.

  “Of course. I hope he recovers quickly. Is he your relative?” Kate was proud of the casual steadiness of her tone. Hopefully, the man wouldn’t realize how he affected her.

  “My bodyguard.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. So she’d been right – this man was a big fish. Bodyguard? Did that mean – “Was he shot in the course of duty?” she asked, holding her breath.

  “He took a bullet meant for me, yes.” The man’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Kate got a sense of tightly suppressed rage underneath those words.

  Holy shit. “Did you already speak to the police?”

  “I gave them a brief statement. I will talk to them in more detail once Igor is stabilized and regains consciousness.”

  Kate nodded, not knowing what to say to that. The man standing in front of her had been shot at today. What was he? Some Mafia boss? A political figure?

  If she’d had any doubts about the wisdom of exploring this strange attraction between them, they were now gone. This stranger was bad news, and she needed to stay as far away from him as possible.

  “Well, I wish your bodyguard a speedy recovery,” Kate said in a falsely cheerful tone. “Barring any complications, he should be fine –”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Kate nodded again, gave him a half-smile, and took a step to the side, hoping to walk around the man and go to her next patient.

  But he shifted his stance, blocking her way. “I’m Alex Volkov,” he said quietly, looking down on her. “And you are?”

  Kate’s pulse picked up. She could feel the male intent in his question, and it made her nervous. “Just a nurse working here,” she said, hoping he would get the hint.

  He didn’t – or he pretended not to. “What’s your name?”

  Kate took a deep breath. He was certainly persistent. “I’m Katherine Morrell. If you’ll excuse me –”

  “Katherine,” he repeated, his accent lending the familiar syllables an exotic edge. His eyes gleamed with some unknown emotion, and his hard mouth softened a bit. “Katerina. It’s a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you. I really have to go . . .” Kate was feeling increasingly anxious to get away. He was so large, standing there in front of her. She needed some space, needed a little room to breathe. His nearness was overpowering, making her edgy and restless, leaving her craving something she knew would be bad for her.

  “You have your job to do. I understand,” he said, looking vaguely amused.

  And he still didn’t move out of her way. Instead, as she watched in shock, he raised one large hand and lightly brushed his knuckles down her left cheek.

  Kate froze, even as a wave of heat moved through her body. His touch had been casual, but she felt branded by it, shaken to the core.

  “I would like to see you again, Katerina,” he said softly. “When does your shift end tonight?”

  Kate stared at him, feeling like she was losing control of the situation. “I don’t think that’s a good idea –”

  “Why not?” His blue eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened again. “Are you married?”

  For a second, Kate was tempted to lie and tell him that she was. But honesty won out. “No. But I’m not interested in dating right now –”

  “Who said anything about dating?”

  Kate blinked. She had assumed –

  He lifted his hand again, stopping her mid-thought. This time, he picked up a strand of her long brown hair, rubbing it between his fingers as though enjoying its texture.

  “I don’t date, Katerina,” he murmured, his accented voice oddly mesmerizing. “But I would like to take you to bed. And I think you would like that, too.”

  * * *

  If you’d like to know when White Nights comes out, please visit my website at www.annazaires.com and sign up for my new release email list.

  Excerpt from The Krinar Captive

  Author’s Note: This is a prequel to the Krinar Chronicles. You don’t have to have read Mia & Korum’s story in order to read this book. It takes place approximately five years earlier, right before and during the Krinar invasion. The excerpt and the description are unedited and subject to change.

  * * *

  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 dw
elling, held captive by the most beautiful man she had ever seen. A man who seems to be more than human . . .

  Saron 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 over and over 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 broke under her weight.

  It was only a last-minute desperate grab that prevented her 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 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 past two years slid through her 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!

  Her 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 back 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 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 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 further, 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 then the fragile piece of wood snapped.

  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 Saron'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 now – not until they were fully settled here.

  * * *

  If you’d like to know when The Krinar Captive comes out, please visit my website at www.annazaires.com and sign up for my new release email list.

  Excerpt from The Sorcery Code by Dima Zales

  Author’s Note: Dima Zales is a science fiction and fantasy author and my collaborator in the creation of the Krinar Chronicles. He’s also my husband. His upcoming fantasy novel is called The Sorcery Code, and I’m his collaborator this time. While it’s not a romance, there will be a romantic subplot in the book (though no explicit sex scenes). The excerpt and the description are unedited and subject to change.

  * * *

  Once a respected member of the Sorcerer Council and now an outcast, Blaise has spent the last year of his life working on a special magical object. The goal is to allow anyone to do magic, not just the sorcerer elite. The outcome of his quest is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined – because, instead of an object, he creates Her.

  She is Gala, and she is anything but inanimate. Born in the Spirit Realm, she is beautiful and highly intelligent – and nobody knows what she’s capable of.

  Augusta, a powerful sorceress, sees Blaise’s deed for the ultimate hubris that it is. She still loves Blaise and wants to save him before he has to pay the ultimate price . . . thanks to the abomination he created.

  * * *

  There was a naked woman on the floor of Blaise’s study.

  A beautiful naked woman.

  Stunned, Blaise stared at the gorgeous creature who just appeared out of thin air. She was looking around with a bewildered expression on her face, apparently as shocked to be there as he was to be seeing her. Her wavy blond hair streamed down her back, partially covering a body that appeared to be perfection itself. Blaise tried not to think about that body and to focus on the situation instead.

  A woman. A She, not an It. Blaise could hardly believe it. Could it be? Could this girl be the Object?

  She was sitting with her legs folded underneath her, propping herself up with one slim arm. There was something awkward about that pose, as though she didn’t know what to do with her own limbs. In general, despite the curves that marked her a fully grown woman, there was a child-like innocence in the way she sat there, completely unselfconscious and totally unaware of her own appeal.

  Clearing his throat, Blaise tried to think of what to say. In his wildest dreams, he could’ve never imagined this kind of outcome to the project that had consumed his entire life for the past several months.

  Hearing the sound, she turned her head to look at him, and Blaise found himself staring into a pair of unusually clear blue eyes.

  She blinked, then cocked her head to the side, studying him with visible curiosity. Blaise wondered what she was seeing. He hadn’t seen the light of day in weeks, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked like a
mad sorcerer at this point. There was probably a week’s worth of stubble covering his face, and he knew his dark hair was unbrushed and sticking out in every direction. If he’d known he would be facing a beautiful woman today, he would’ve done a grooming spell in the morning.

  “Who am I?” she asked, startling Blaise. Her voice was soft and feminine, as alluring as the rest of her. “What is this place?”

  “You don’t know?” Blaise was glad he finally managed to string together a semi-coherent sentence. “You don’t know who you are or where you are?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Blaise swallowed. “I see.”

  “What am I?” she asked again, staring at him with those incredible eyes.

  “Well,” Blaise said slowly, “if you’re not some cruel prankster or a figment of my imagination, then it’s somewhat difficult to explain . . .”

  She was watching his mouth as he spoke, and when he stopped, she looked up again, meeting his gaze. “It’s strange,” she said, “hearing words like that in real time. These are the first real words I’ve heard.”

  Blaise felt a chill go down his spine. Getting up from his chair, he began to pace, trying to keep his eyes off her nude body. He had been expecting something to appear. A magical object, a thing. He just hadn’t known what form that thing would take. A mirror, perhaps, or a lamp. Maybe even something as unusual as the Life Capture Sphere that sat on his desk like a large round diamond.

  But a person? A female person at that?

  To be fair, he had been trying to make the object intelligent, to ensure it would have the ability to comprehend human language and convert it into the code. Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that the intelligence he invoked took on a human shape.