Gathering Darkness: A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Anna Zaires

  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.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  He 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 alcohol-induced 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 them. Instead, he hailed a cab and tersely gave the address of his building to the driver.

  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.

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nbsp; 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.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She 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 pic
ked 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.”