I don’t like to be touched. I’m the hacker-geek-goddess of the FBI. When I’m hiding behind my screen, I’m a safe distance from everyone; isolated, powerful. No man has ever touched me, but when I’m captured by Colombian drug lord Andrés Moreno, I no longer have the right to refuse. He’s scarred and scary, and his cruel brother Cristian has tasked him with breaking me. I try to fight, but I can’t escape his strong arms and harsh discipline. He demands that I accept his touch, and my virgin body can’t help but respond to his masterful manipulations.
The longer I remain trapped with him, the more I come to suspect that I’m not the only captive in his brother’s home. Andrés’ scars go deeper than the wicked furrows carved into his flesh, his pain reflected in the dark demands he imposes upon me. His obsession is twisted and wrong, but maybe I’m twisted, too.
Do I want to be rescued from him? Or is he the one who truly needs saving?
I’d never admit meekly that I’d be a good girl and stop trying to fight my way free.
His full lips twisted in a slight frown, dragging his scar down in a fearsome slash across his face. I dimly noted that he would be handsome, otherwise. His stubble-covered square jaw was strong and masculine, his cheekbones high and defined. Heavy dark brows drew together over his onyx eyes, and his black hair curled softly to frame his rugged features.
But the scar that marred his cheek… It was difficult to look at; vicious and violent.
Instinct urged my gaze to flit around the room in its familiar anxious pattern. But his eyes. I couldn’t look away. His pupils were dilated, fixed on me. A slender ring of rich chocolate brown surrounded them, nearly swallowed by the darkness of his stare.
A light shiver raced across my skin, but I remained locked in his steady gaze.
His frown eased, one corner of his lips ticking up in a perverse smile. In a shockingly tender gesture, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “So frightened, but so defiant. I’m going to have to restrain you, aren’t I?”
I jerked against his hold, but his grip remained iron around my wrists. “No.”
“So you won’t try to attack me as soon as I release you?” he asked, the twist of his smile letting me know the question was purely rhetorical.
I struggled again, and a frustrated noise that sounded a little like a growl slipped between my teeth. He laughed; a low, rumbling chuckle of dark amusement.
“Such an angry gatita. Maybe I should keep you in cage. Would that tame you?”
“I don’t need to be tamed,” I shot back, my anger bleeding over fear. “I told you the truth. I’m a federal agent. You said you believe me. If you do, then you know you can’t risk hurting me. My friends at the Bureau won’t stop looking for me, and if you’ve…” I couldn’t bring myself to say raped me. “If you’ve hurt me when they find me, they won’t show you any mercy. You have to let me go.”
His frown returned. “That’s up to my brother to decide. Until he does, you’re mine.” His fingers tightened around my wrists as he made the perverse declaration.
“You keep saying that,” I hissed out. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that, right? You’re—”
My next insult didn’t make it past my lips. He pressed his hand firmly against my mouth, his frown twisting with disapproval.
“You will learn to mind your language when you’re speaking to me,” he said coolly. “I need to get dressed, and you need to be quiet and behave while I’m gone. How comfortable you are while I’m out attending to my business is up to you. I can gag you and cage you, or I can leave you free to move around the suite. Make your choice.”
My eyes flew wide, finally leaving his face to search the room. Cage me? Surely he couldn’t be serious.
I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. I’d been too distressed to notice before. Beneath the enormous four-poster bed were bars. Cushions and a blanket made it look like a second bunk beneath the big bed, but that was just my mind struggling to comprehend what I was truly looking at.
What kind of man had a cage under his bed? One that was clearly waiting to trap a frightened, unwilling woman?
“Choose,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, or am I going to have to cage you beneath my bed like a naughty gatita?” His cock jerked against my belly, and I shuddered.
I shook my head as best I could, but my movement was restricted by his firm hand on my mouth.
He studied me for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. The weight of his body finally left mine when he took a step back, and my shaky legs nearly collapsed without his support. He maintained his hold on my wrists above my head, keeping me upright until I managed to find my footing. Once I regained my balance, he lowered my arms, but he didn’t release them. He kept them trapped in one of his big hands as he moved back toward the bed, pulling me along in his wake.
“Please,” I gasped out, my eyes fixing on the cage as panic churned in my gut. “I don’t want to go in there.”
“I’m not going to put you in the cage,” he told me calmly. “You’ve already been punished for your transgressions. I told you: I might seem harsh, but I’m fair.”
“So you’re not going to lock me up?” I asked tentatively, my steps faltering as we reached the bed.
He smirked at me. “I didn’t say that.”
Julia Sykes is the USA Today bestselling author of the Impossible Series. She has always kept dark stories tucked away in her mind, so she was thrilled when she discovered that other people actually want to read them. Her books blend romance, suspense, and BDSM.
After spending four years living in England, Julia returned to her Southern homeland. She has recently settled down in South Carolina and spends her time petting her cat-children, reading, and binge watching TV with her husband when not writing. You can usually find Julia in Starbucks with a venti iced latte clutched in her hand.
Julia loves connecting with readers! Please feel free to contact her on facebook, through twitter, or email her directly at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can find out more about Julia’s current and future projects at julia-sykes.com.