parking spot in front of my dorm. Adrenaline had me rooted to my seat, but he didn’t seem in any hurry for me to leave his SUV. Silence covered us like a suffocating blanket.
He tapped his thigh and commanded, “Come here, Zadie.”
My stomach bottomed out, but I didn’t let it stop me from crawling over the console to do as I was told. I’d only ever sat in Amir’s lap, and I found doing it again was as easy as riding a bike. He positioned me sideways, my legs draping over his rangy thighs. Then his hands were in my hair, tangling in the sides, tipping my head back.
For a long, drawn-out moment, he only stared, but it felt penetrative, like he was invading me. If he hadn’t been holding me the way he was, I would have looked away.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
I rubbed my lips together. “Whatever you want me to.”
The air vibrated around us. Amir’s shudder was subtle, but he held me so close, I couldn’t miss it.
“That’s right. Because I own you, Zadie Night.” He dragged a finger down my cheek. There was no affection in the move. It was solely proprietary. “You’re my own, personal little good girl. Right now, you’re going to run inside, lock up behind you, and text me just like I told you to.”
My head was in his vise grip so I couldn’t nod. My smile was tremulous, but I managed. “Okay. I’ll do that.”
He dragged his fingers out of my hair, only to claim my cheeks. “Don’t worry, Zadie. Your boyfriend is safe as long as you cooperate.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
His midnight eyes turned to stone. “That’s right, he’s not. Glad you feel me on that, little mama.” He gave my butt a smack then opened the door. “Get out.”
My escape wasn’t graceful, but as soon as I found my feet, I ran from my captor and didn’t look back. When I shut myself in my bedroom, I fell down on my bed, sucking in air as deeply as my constricted chest would allow, then I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of my room to send to Amir.
Less than a minute later, he replied.
MyCaptor: That isn’t what I told you to do, Zadie. Try again.
Me: This is my room.
MyCaptor: Do I need to come back and explain myself to you more clearly?
I knew what he wanted, I just didn’t want to give it to him. I also didn’t want him knocking on my door, so I held the phone out again, this time snapping a picture of my unsmiling face, wrinkling my nose so he could see how annoying I thought he was.
Five minutes ticked by without a response. I held my breath, waiting for him to bust into my room and throttle me for making a face at him. When my phone chimed with a text, I yelped.
MyCaptor: Being cute won’t get you out of this. You know that, right?
Me: I wasn’t trying to be cute. I’m sorry.
MyCaptor: Go to sleep. Remember to answer immediately when I text.
Me: Okay, I’ll remember.
MyCaptor: Say good night to me, Zadie.
Me: Good night, Amir.
Of course there was no reply.
It didn’t matter anyway. I’d gotten his attention like I had wanted. My mistake was underestimating the depth of Amir’s depravity. Well, one of my mistakes. I hadn’t really planned what I’d do with his attention once I had it, but this…this hadn’t been a possibility in my wildest dreams.
After two sleepless nights, I was drained walking into my last class on Monday. Fortunately, it was a large lecture, so if I zoned out, my professor probably wouldn’t notice.
I trudged up the steps of the lecture hall, heading to my usual seat halfway up.
“Hey,” someone in the row ahead of me called out.
I kept going, assuming they were speaking to someone else since I didn’t really know anyone in this class.
“Hey.”
Stopping on the step before my row, I scanned to the right, finding four frat bros grinning my way. My stomach twisted in knots.
“Hi,” I whispered in response.
The guy closest to me chuckled, drawing my attention. Deacon Forrester. I’d met him twice while with Helen, and both times, he’d been obnoxious and had called me her fat friend. We were a month into this semester, and he’d said hi to me once before. It had been disconcerting then, and it was still disconcerting now.
“Hey, Zadie. Are you having a nice day?” He leveled me with a somewhat friendly look, but his bros were snickering beside him, so I didn’t return it. Instead, I rushed past, mumbling something vague that probably didn’t make any sense. I didn’t believe he was sincerely asking me anyway, not with his buddies laughing at his side.
I sat in the very back, well away from laughing boys. I’d known guys like that in high school, and I’d learned to avoid them like the plague. College hadn’t magically transformed them into men with souls. They were still little boys who got their kicks through humiliation.
If I were Helen or Elena, I’d walk back down there and say, “No thanks. I already have a homicidal drug dealer on my hands, I don’t really have room on my plate for an arrogant frat boy.”
But since I was just me—pathologically shy—I quietly took out my laptop and crossed my fingers Deacon and his friends would forget I existed.
Amir lived off campus, in a neighborhood of houses that were pretty much all rented by college students. His was a tidy bungalow with a front porch that ran the width of the house. There were two nice wooden rocking chairs and two less-nice folding chairs occupying the space. The welcome mat in front of the door said, “Cum Inside.” I had a hard time believing Amir had picked that out.
I barely knocked before the door swung open. The smiling face greeting me wasn’t Amir’s, but one of the guys who’d handled me with surprising gentleness on Saturday night.
“Hi.” I held up my hand in a little wave.
“Hey.” He leaned against the jamb, giving me a long once-over. “What’s up, buttercup?”
My fingers twisted in the hem of my long cardigan. “I’m reporting for duty. Is my owner home?”
His smile grew wide. A bark of a laugh burst out of him. “Oh, my boy’s in trouble with you, isn’t he? He thought he was getting a meek little thing, but you’ve got some sass behind that sweet. I’m into it.” He reached out, grabbing me by my nape, and yanked me inside the house.
“I think I’m the one in trouble,” I uttered.
He squeezed my neck. “Nah. I was worried about you, you know? You’ve got this fragile chick kind of vibe going. But I’m thinking maybe you’ve got a little fire in you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I do.”
“We’ll see.” He winked, then pushed me deeper into the house, still holding the back of my neck. “I’m Julien, by the way.”
“Zadie.”
His laugh was softer this time. “I know. I’ve heard it around here enough, I won’t forget it.”
I would have asked what exactly he’d heard, but Amir emerged from upstairs, scowling with such malice, I braced for him to reach for his gun and shoot Julien and me to the ground.
“Take your fucking hand off my property.” Each word was low and menacing. If there was a friendship between Amir and Julien, it had disappeared in that moment, leaving behind icy disdain.
Julien’s grip on my neck instantly disappeared. He held both hands up to show they were empty and he was innocent.
“My mistake,” he soothed. “It won’t happen again.” But under his placating tone, I heard an edge of amusement. I didn’t think he was afraid of Amir, not really.
“Fuck off, Julien,” Amir spat.
Julien chuckled, proving my theory, and slid away from me. “All right, all right. I’m fucking off. Just, you know, try not to damage your property irreparably. That would be a damn shame.”
Amir’s eyes narrowed to obsidian slits. “It would be a damn shame to find yourself without a roof over your head, asshole.”
Julien winked at me again. “That would suck. I bet Zadie would take pity on me and let me crash on her couch, though.”
Amir glared at him, but he gave him no further reaction. Still, I wanted to laugh at the impossibility of these two men having any kind of relationship, let alone the friendship that was obvious beneath their old, violently inclined, married couple bickering.
“It’s only a love seat,” I answered. “You’d have to really curl up.”
Julien and Amir both swung their attention to me. I had no idea why I spoke. It had just slipped out without meaning to. Julien shook his head, grinning. Amir was less amused.
“He’ll never set foot in your dorm.”
Julien groaned. “I think that’s my cue to exit. Don’t worry, I’ll look for your sense of humor while I’m out.” He saluted Amir, gnashed his teeth at me, then saw himself out the front door. Once he was gone, the house was chillingly silent.
That was, until the floorboards creaked as Amir advanced on me. “Do you think, as my property, you’re allowed to flirt with my friends?” He took my chin in his hand, tilting my face back.
“No.” I didn’t deny his ludicrous accusation. It seemed the less I said, the better.
His eyes flared at my clipped response. His hold on me tightened to the edge of pain. “No, what?”
“No, I’m not allowed to flirt with your friends.”
His chin lowered, and he gave me an assessing glare. “You look tired. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”
I shifted my messenger bag on my shoulder. “I’m a little bit stressed. When I have a lot on my mind, I can’t sleep.”
Amir stepped forward, slipping the bag from my shoulder and dropping it to the floor. I winced when my laptop clunked on the hardwood but kept my protests to myself.
“What’s there to think about? I own you. Your thoughts are the ones I give you.” He rubbed the thick stubble on his chin. “I can’t imagine what you’d have to worry about.”
My nose crinkled, but I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking. My silence didn’t seem to please Amir, based on his sharp intake of breath and hands balling into white-knuckled fists.
“Don’t be cute,” he uttered lowly. “It won’t make me soft on you.”
“I’m not being cute.” My hands fluttered to my chest. “I promise.”
With a groan, he walked away, hands braced on top of his head. Then he turned back, jerking his head toward the massive leather sectional. I followed him and took a seat two cushions away. Tucking my crossed ankles to the side, I smoothed my skirt along my thighs, making sure it draped over my knees. Amir watched every single one of my movements with a hardened jaw.
When the silence stretched on, I glanced around the room from beneath my lashes, and barely suppressed my gasp. Between two windows sat a beautiful upright piano. My fingers twitched, longing to play. I hadn’t had time in my schedule for a music class this semester, so the only time I could get my fix in was if I snuck into an empty class in the music building—I’d done it once and had been so nervous I almost puked—or went home to visit my parents. Needless to say, I was jonesing.
“Tell me you haven’t spoken to Elliott Schiffer.” It was a demand, not a question.
“I haven’t.” I plucked at a flower on my skirt. “He hasn’t tried to contact me either. We don’t have any classes together, and his dorm is on the opposite side of campus.”
He shook his head. “I’d be disappointed in you for giving it up to that piece of shit if I cared what you did.”
I almost rolled my eyes since it was really freaking obvious he cared what I did. I didn’t think it was because he cared about me. More like saw me as someone he should be able to control. I didn’t roll my eyes, though. Amir had power and I didn’t. He could crush me if he wanted to. I was banking on him not wanting to choose that path, but the odds weren’t great.
When I didn’t speak, he went on. “Here’s how this is going to go, little mama. You’re going to send me your schedule. The hours you’re not in class, you’re on call for me. Anything I need, you will jump to do it. You feel me so far?”
I nodded. I felt him way too much.
“You cook?”
I nodded again. “Yes.”
“Any good?”
“I can’t cook every type of food, but I think I’m pretty decent.”
His hand went to his chin, scrubbing as he stared at me with a pinched brow. “You’re making me dinner every night. If Julien and Marco are here, you’ll cook for them too, but you’re mine, not theirs. Clear?”
“I’m clear, except—” I pressed my lips together, not knowing if I was allowed to object.
“Speak, Zadie.”
I flipped my hands over in my lap. “Well, I don’t have a car, so I can’t buy groceries for your dinners. Unless…do you want me to ride the bus?”
He sucked in a great deal of breath then exhaled slowly. “No. I do not want you on the bus. Text me a list. I’ll have someone pick up what you need.”
“Okay,” I squeaked out. “My roommates might wonder where I’m disappearing to every night, but—”
His brows rose. “But you’ll figure that shit out because it’s not my problem?”
“Right.”
I would be here, in this house every night, with Amir. Amir and his guns. I shuddered, goose bumps sprouting up and down my arms.
“I want you to start tomorrow. You’ll be here after your last class.”
“My last class ends at one. I normally go to the library and—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Amir was on his feet, bent over me, his arms bracketing my head, challenging me with his eyes to finish my objection.
“Day one, Zadie. Day one, and you’re already attempting to defy me. I let that motherfucker go because you made me a promise. You gave yourself to me. I’m being nice to you, little mama. If I wanted, I could whip my cock out, stuff it down your sweet little throat, and coat your insides with my seed. So, please, tell me about the library. Tell me why you can’t be here when I tell you to be here.”
He was too close, too heated, too powerful. His warm, spicy scent invaded my space just like he did. I averted my gaze to a place over his shoulder, keeping some part of me to myself. An inkling of control. Amir shattered it, moving his face into my eyeline. Our gazes clashed, and he held me in his unblinking stare.
“I have to study. But if you need me here at one, I’ll rearrange my study times.” I sucked in a breath. “I’ll make it work.”
He picked up a piece of my hair and slipped his finger into the center of my curl. Then he pulled it taut. “You’ll be here at four tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He tapped my lips with his fingertip. “Every day, Zadie. I need you here every day unless I tell you not to come. Do you feel me?”
“Yes.”
His finger slipped between my lips when I spoke. He dragged it along the edge of my bottom teeth, then dipped in farther to touch my tongue. His withdrawal was as sudden as his invasion, trailing a line of my saliva across my lower lip and chin until he was no longer touching me. My heart didn’t get the memo, though. It thrashed wildly in my chest, attempting to climb out of my throat.
“It’s too bad you didn’t fight me.”
His meaning didn’t dawn on me until he had straightened and stalked across the room to stand in front of the windows facing the porch. With bated breath, I watched as he adjusted the front of his pants. He made no effort to hide it, but he didn’t shove it in my face either, despite his threats. I didn’t know what I would have done if he had.
“You can go, Zadie.” Amir glanced at me over his shoulder. “Get out.”
Surprised, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I jumped to my feet and rushed toward the front door, grabbing my discarded bag along the way. Just as I opened the door, Amir’s voice directly behind me glued my feet to the floor.
“Do you have more skirts?” he asked.
I whirled around, my lips parting. “Skirts?”
“Like you’re wearing. Do you have more of them?”
Pinching the flowy blue material between my fingers, I struggled to catch up to the change in subject. Skirts? He wanted to know about my wardrobe? It wasn’t like it was exciting or anything. Certainly not sexy like the girl who’d been draped on him at the party.
“Zadie,” he gritted out.
“I have a few,” I answered quickly.
He folded his arms over his chest. “I want you in a skirt while you’re cooking, unless I tell you something different.”
His demand struck me as funny, so I quipped, “Should I wear my frilly apron too?”
Amir didn’t laugh. I hoped Julien had luck finding his sense of humor because boy was he devoid of one. Jeez.
“If you have one, bring it. I’ll let you know if I like it.” He tipped his chin toward the door. “Go now.”
“I’m going.” This time, nothing stopped me from breaking free into the fresh air, away from Amir’s oppressive stare and cranky demeanor. It wasn’t until I was completely out of his view that a weight lifted off my shoulders.
I could do this. Amir still terrified me at times, but four months ago, he’d let me see beneath his steely facade once, so there was no going back to the time before I knew he could be something other than dark and glowering.
I settled in his lap. He pulled me closer, my shoulder wedged beneath his arm, my breasts pressed to his chest. His warm, spicy scent assaulted my senses. God, he smelled so good, I wanted to shove my nose in his throat and inhale his flesh.
He stroked my cheek with his knuckles and held my hip with his other hand. “Tell me, little mama, why haven’t you been fucked in so long?”
Why had I said that? I hadn’t been fucked ever. I was a sophomore in college and kind of embarrassed by that, but I shouldn’t have cared what this particular man thought of me. I should have been the one judging him, for Christ’s sake. He was the drug-dealing sociopath holding me hostage, and like Helen had said, I didn’t need to have had a man’s dick in me to validate my existence as a complete woman.
But I wasn’t a badass like Helen, and I did want to be fucked. I wanted that experience, especially since I’d been robbed of a normal life for years.
“I’ve been busy,” I said.
He cupped my cheek. “No. That isn’t the reason.”
“I’m shy.”
His thumb fitted in the dip between my bottom lip and chin. “I believe that, but that’s not it. Tell me the truth.”
I tried to shift on his lap, worried I’d crush him. Amir’s legs were long and lean, and beneath my plump ass, they felt like steel bars. When I moved, his hold on me tightened.
“The truth is, I haven’t felt comfortable with anyone in a long time.” Or ever, but he didn’t need to know that.
He turned my head so we were almost nose to nose. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head, wishing I’d stayed on my love seat. This was too much.
“You know, you didn’t have to tell me you miss fucking.”
My heart stopped. I tried to avert my gaze, but Amir tipped my head until my eyes were on him again.
“What’s that about?” He used that voice again, like gritty lacquer, smooth and gruff. When he spoke to me that way, with his arms around me, his scent burned into my memory, it didn’t matter that he was my captor and I was his hostage. Heat pooled low in my belly. My thighs involuntarily rubbed together. Amir stopped breathing, no doubt noticing. “Zadie…”
“I really don’t know why I told you,” I whispered.
“Are you comfortable with me?”
“Not really.”
“Because you’re afraid of me?” His hand splayed on my belly, and two fingers found their way beneath the hem of my shirt, trailing along my tender, untouched skin.
“I don’t think I’m as afraid of you as I should be.”
His head dipped, his nose grazing mine. “Make no mistake, Zadie Night, I am the bad guy here. You feel me?” His midnight stare went hazy as I nodded. Then he pushed his hand up my shirt, flattening over my ribs. “But if you want to show me this body, know this: I will appreciate every inch of you.”
The gun on my coffee table wouldn’t let me forget he was the bad guy, but the way his hands felt on me made me want to.
“Okay.”
His exhale ghosted over my lips. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
Amir’s mouth quirked into something like a smile that was only halfway menacing. Forever passed while I held my breath for so long I was in danger of passing out from both lack of oxygen and nerves. And then finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to meet mine.
