Take Me in the Dark

by Ashe, Karina

  It was hard being so still. Feeling the motor vibrating under my cheek. Knowing that I could do nothing but wait. The burlap bag stuck to my wet cheeks, itching like hell, smelling like dust and dirt and desperation.

  And then the car stopped. And I whimpered, wishing I could stay in that small, dark space forever, because I knew that whatever was out there was insurmountably worse.

  I was right.

  They ripped me from my claustrophobic sanctuary, and I screamed, not from fear or help, but because their grip was so hard. The air was so cold that my first inhale shocked my lungs.

  And then I fought blindly. Stupidly. Pathetically. Wild delusions raced through my mind. I thought, maybe, my determination could overpower them. I imagined throwing them all to the ground and running away, so fast they nor anyone else would be able to follow me.

  By the time they got me to the room, I was too tired to move. My strength had abandoned me before we’d finished inching up the stairs. My voice was so hoarse from screaming that I couldn’t do anything but whimper.

  They set me down on a chair and sat like a rag doll. I think that bothers me the most—that the body, at some point, stops struggling. That the mind goes somewhat blank in preparation for enduring whatever comes next.

  After tying me up again, they left, leaving the sack over my head.

  I sat. And I sat. As I waited for only God knew what. Still counting seconds. Counting breaths. Trying to create some sort of order that wouldn’t feed my terror. And I tried, more than anything, to not think of all the things that might happen to me. I tried to make my mind as blank as a Zen master’s. I thought of deserts and piles of rocks and perfectly manicured shrubbery—anything to try to convince myself that this was all an illusion.

  But I couldn’t, because nothing could make me forget that it was just me, alone and insignificant and trapped in this room. I wasn’t a master of anything. Not Zen, and certainly not my own fate. And nothing could prevent me from replaying the horrific series of events that led me here and pretending I’d done just one thing differently. That I’d gone to the after party instead of going home. That I’d networked all night as Professor Cade would have liked. That my greatest concern was being bothered by that creepy man.

  I’m here. It didn’t happen, I tell myself as my mind taunts me with images of buffet tables overflowing with muffins and coffee and the kind smiles of other performers.

  I think of my friends waiting up for a phone call I’m not going to make. Of Dolly pacing the room, getting angry. Of Cassie trying to calm her down though she’s equally angry. Of Anna getting more and more panicked. I wonder if they know I’m missing yet. If anyone’s looking for me. Dolly will be so upset when she realizes that I’m not neglecting them, but gone.

  I love them so much. I’m probably never going to see them again.

  I’m thinking of these things—the conversations I might have had, the food I might have tasted, my best friends—when the door opens.

  My head whips up even though I can’t see.

  The person steps forward.

  My breathing grows louder and faster. My teeth chatter. I clench the muscles in my stomach and strain against my binds. I’m so scared that I barely notice that such swift, uncalculating movements aggravate my bruises.

  The person notices this. He has to. Yet he keeps advancing at the same pace until he’s in front of me.

  The person leans over and unties the burlap sack gently. Tenderly. It’s so different from what I expect that I shiver.

  The sack scrapes my nose as he pulls it from my head.

  Light shoots into my eyes, blinding me. I cringe and hunch over, blinking, trying to force them to adjust.

  Slowly, the floor comes into my view. It’s cement. Grey as a dreary winter sky. Like pencil lead and morgue tables. Like a warehouse floor.

  My arms shake. Did they drive around the same warehouse in circles for hours and hours and hours just to fuck with me? Or am I in another warehouse in some other part of the country?

  The person tilts up my chin.

  Something silver flashes. Momentarily, I’m blinded again. Look away, some part of me pleads. You shouldn’t look straight on at things that can hurt you. But I don’t listen. I raise my head only to meet a pair of cold blue eyes.

  My body turns to ice.

  It’s him.

  No, it can’t be him.

  A new despair fills me. I realize it wouldn’t have mattered what I did—if I’d gone to the party or not, if I’d socialized and networked or not—any route I could have taken would have led me here.

  To him.

  His cruel, cold eyes assess me. I wonder what he sees. It feels like too much. I knew it when I first noticed him at the Guchenberg and felt his gaze on the back of my neck like a hand encased in latex gloves. I knew it when he’d cornered me on the yacht, and his interest conjured up all sorts of things inside me my body never wanted to express.

  His face is impassive as he studies me—his blue eyes impenetrable. He looks even less kind than the first time I saw him, if that’s possible.

  “You struggled a lot.”

  My body shakes harder. What the fuck did you think I’d do? I want to scream again, but I don’t. My breath stutters, drags in deep and ugly. I’m heaving. My eyes begin to water.

  Don’t you dare cry, Laura. Don’t you dare cry. But I can’t stop the cold, sticky shame streaming down my cheeks.

  He glances away, but not before an emotion flickers across his eyes. Anger, perhaps—or maybe fear. Are my silent tears making him uncomfortable?

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.

  There isn’t a single part of me that believes that. “Why are you doing this to me?” I probably should have asked something else first—something that seemed less pathetic—but it was all I could think of as I looked up into his face.

  He looks at me again with an intensity that makes me go completely still. “Because you’re here.”

  What? “That makes no sense.”

  “The first time I saw you, I thought it was a coincidence. I didn’t get close enough to really look at you. And you were with someone. I thought, maybe, I could let it go.” His eyes grow darker. “But here you are again.”

  Um, I’m here because you brought me here. I really don’t want to be here. Really, really, really, really. “I can go. I can make sure I don’t see you again.” I hope my sniveling tone makes me unappealing. I’d throw up, maybe, if I wasn’t so scared.

  His grip tightens on my chin. “Can you make that promise?”

  “Yes. I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise. I won’t—” I choke on my sob. He continues to hold up my head as saliva slips down my chin and onto his hands. “I promise I’ll leave. I’ll make sure you never see me again. Never hear from me again.”

  “And what if I don’t that?”

  A jolt of fear rips through me. “I don’t understand.”

  His expression turns hard. Irritated.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. “I’m just a musician. I have no idea who you are and I don’t want to. Just let me go.”

  Seconds pass, then minutes. His breaths deepen and slow as mine become increasingly erratic. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  I swallow. My tongue recoils in my throat.

  “I’ll find out soon enough, but I’d like it if you told me.”

  “I’m just a girl,” I tell him. “Nobody.”

  “I’d still like to know.”

  My chin trembles. Does it really matter if I tell him? He has my purse somewhere. It’s not like he can’t look inside it. “Laura,” I whisper.

  If that name means anything to him, he doesn’t show it. “How old are you, Laura? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “You look younger.” His features soften, or maybe I’m just searching for softness—for something human I can appeal to—but suddenly he looks very close to my age. There are no wrinkles on his face. No deep l
ines. The pores on the bridge of his nose are small. It’s just his weariness that makes him look so old—and maybe, also, his precision. Young people don’t seem so calculating or driven.

  Or powerful.

  “You don’t look so old yourself,” I say.

  He doesn’t answer.

  The silence and his unflinching gaze break me. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “That depends on who you are.”

  “What do you mean who I am? I just told you, I’m a musician. I was asked to play at the charity concert. I’m nobody.”

  “We’ll see.” That’s all I get. We fall into more silence. My vision fills with those horrible eyes I can’t look away from.

  “Please. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding,” I reason.

  “I don’t think there’s been a misunderstanding.” His voice is distant, as if he isn’t really here with me in this room. His eyes look at me as if they don’t see me—as if he’s trapped in some vision only he can see. “I found you,” he whispers, drawing the tip of his finger across my throat. My body reacts as if it were a knife.

  “I guess it doesn’t really matter who you are. Someone knows me more than I’d like them to.”

  His closeness is intolerable. I grit my teeth. Get away. Get the fuck away. You’re rambling and crazy and I hate this. But you can’t say confrontational things like that to someone like him when they’ve got you tied up. I settle on, “I don’t understand.”

  “Then I feel sorry for you. You’re either someone’s pawn, or extremely unlucky. Either way, I’m going to find out.”

  “And then what?” I blurt out.

  He drops his hand until his fingers rest on my collarbone.

  “And then what?” I repeat. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “And you believe that?”

  It feels like he just sucked all the oxygen from the room. My answer swirls in my mind, merging with panic. Yes. I believed it because I wanted it to be true. Because I am a fool.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he whispers. “But I won’t let you go either.”

  What do you mean you won’t let me go? I want to scream, but he’s touching my face again. His hands burn me—burn away everything—until all that’s left is a mesmerizing fear.

  “You sound so beautiful when you sing. Like you’re crying.” He presses his fingers into my cheeks, rubbing my tears into my skin. “Now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go.”

  SAVE ME IN THE DARK (In the Dark #4) will be out soon.

  To get an email when the book comes out, sign-up for Karina's Mailing List!

  http://eepurl.com/bo1-fz

  Other Books by Karina Ashe

  Sign-up for Karina's Mailing List for more BBW Contemporary Romance!

  http://eepurl.com/bo1-fz

  ***

  Click here for a list of all Karina's books on Amazon.com!

  DEAR SOLDIER

  A Stand Alone BBW Holiday Contemporary Romance

  To her I wasn’t billionaire Ian Keller, prodigal son and heir to one of the South’s largest real estate empires. No, to her I was just a soldier. And she thinks that to me she was just a woman, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

  Now I’m back home and ready to face the sins of my past and reclaim my future, but none of my sacrifices will be worth it if she isn’t by my side.

  There’s just one obstacle standing in my way. She thinks I’ve shared everything about myself in my letters, but I’ve been keeping a secret from her. A very big, very important secret.

  And when this secret comes to light, both of our lives will change forever.

  ***

  Excerpt

  Her bottom lip trembles as I brush my thumb against it.

  ““I’m used to knowing what I want and going after it. I never doubted myself until I joined the military. And after all the shit I saw, I thought I would be incapable of ever doubting myself again until I met you.”

  She finally looks up at me. “What do you mean?”

  I don’t want to say it, but I know I have to. I’ll lose her if I don’t. “You make me remember things I didn’t want to remember, and feel things I didn’t want to feel. It’s…hard sometimes. But it’s worth it, too.”

  Her eyes narrow in on my lips, losing focus. There’s more I want to say, but it’s still too soon and I’ll fuck it up anyway. I can barely think with her in my arms.

  I tuck her hair behind her ears. “Ever since your first letter—”

  She smiles. “Not the first one you liar.”

  Alright, she had me there. “Fine. I think it was the tenth or something.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  I take a deep breath and lean in. She sobers, noticing the change in my demeanor.

  “Ever since your tenth letter, you’ve been the only girl I wanted. So yeah, I want you to be strong, especially when I can’t be.”

  Her grip on my biceps tightens. “Okay.”

  I lean in slowly until our lips almost touch, intentionally driving her crazy, but not nearly as crazy as she’s driving me.

  “I mean it,” I whisper. “No more running and no more of this one kiss bullshit. Because once I start kissing you, I’m not gonna stop. There is no fade to black in this fairy tale, Lily. This is about me and you and all the dirty things you wanted to do but were too afraid to write in your letters.”

  ***

  DEAR SOLDIER is available now from Amazon!

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0106R403Y

  ONE DATE

  The Hawkins Brothers, Book 1

  One date - one chance to have her.

  Marcus Hawkins has a problem - he needs a date. His solution happens to be standing right in front of him. Curvy Leah Frane has been driving him to distraction since the day she became his assistant.

  Now is his chance to do something about it.

  Leah is coerced into the date by her sexy, gorgeous boss - a man she wants so badly she can taste it. He only sees her as his super-efficient assistant - when he sees her at all.

  It's just one date. What could possibly happen?

  For the 18+ crowd, due to steamy love scene.

  ***

  Excerpt

  Marcus waited for her just outside the door. So, no escaping. Not yet.

  She opened her mouth to say something, and froze, startled by the way he studied her. Like he was seeing her for the first time. He ran one hand through his hair, tousling the rare neat style, leaving him even more devastating. His hair always reminded Leah of raven's wings - so black it had blue highlights. She forced herself to stop staring at his long, graceful fingers, to stop staring at him.

  "Damn me," he whispered. "Screw the rules." He grabbed her hand, dragging her across the wide, crowded foyer.

  Rules? What was he talking about?

  She didn't have time to think about his cryptic statement as he pulled her down an empty hallway, stopping at the far end of a side exhibit. Oh, God - she was alone with him, only the prehistoric dioramas as witnesses.

  "Marcus-"

  "Finally." He pinned her to the wall, his hands braced on either side of her, and leaned in until his breath warmed her lips. "I never thought you'd say my name."

  He shocked the breath out of her when he slipped one arm around her waist, hauled her forward and kissed her.

  She dropped her clutch and grabbed the lapels of his perfect tux, moaning when his tongue traced the curve of her lower lip before slipping inside and driving her crazy. Her tongue warred with his, her body straining to get closer. She wanted to remember this kiss forever, since she expected him to come to his senses any second now and remember who she was.

  Instead he hiked her up and trapped her between his body and the wall, rocking his impressive erection against her. The kiss turned raw, and she arched into him, every inch on fire. God--the things he could do with his mouth. She never wanted the kiss to end.

  Her hands freed his lapel and moved up, into his hair, he
r fingers tangling in the silky length. He growled, and his hand moved - under her gown, sliding up her leg until he gripped her ass. With a gasp she tried to pull out of the kiss, mortified.

  "No," he whispered. "You're perfect. God, you feel so good." He held her in place and ground himself against her, his breathing ragged. "I need to touch you, Leah."

  ***

  ONE DATE is available now from Amazon.com!

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ZGVM8GC

  ***

  The second book in the Hawkins Brothers series, ONE NIGHT, is also available!

  RELUCTANT BILLIONAIRES: DEREK AND LAUREN

  Curvy billionaire heiress Lauren Daniels has broken free and purchased a small home away from her protective father and interfering mother. Added benefit to the new digs: No one in the modest neighborhood knows about her connection to the family fortune, so she can finally trust that the people she meets like her for something other than her money or her father’s influence.

  Derek Holmes has a landscaping business and is halfway to earning his first billion after leaving his father’s company and designating his own billion dollar trust fund inheritance for charity. Tired of dating spoiled rich brats and gold diggers, he keeps his success under wraps in a low-key trailer office..

  When Lauren calls Derek for a landscaping estimate, they both think they’ve finally found someone who may be truly interested in the person, not the dollar signs. She’s drawn to his muscular laborer’s body, and he’s knocked out with her curves. Under the covers, the two secret billionaires are generating lots of heat, but will the truth about their pasts pour an icy water bucket on their budding romance?