Anna Zaires - Twist Me

I stare at him. “And you know? You know what real hatred is?”

His expression hardens. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says, and I can hear the truth in his voice.

A sick feeling floods my stomach. “Am I the one you hate?” I whisper. “Is that why you’re doing this to me?”

To my huge relief, he looks surprised. “Hate you? No, of course I don’t hate you, my pet.”

“Then why?” I ask again, determined to get some answers. “Why did you kidnap me and bring me here?”

He looks at me, his eyes impossibly blue against his tan skin. “Because I wanted you, Nora. I already told you that. And because I’m not a very nice man. But you already figured that out, didn’t you?”

I swallow and look down at the sand. He’s not even the least bit ashamed of his actions. Julian knows what he’s doing is wrong, and he simply doesn’t care.

“Are you a psychopath?” I don’t know what prompts me to ask this. I don’t want to make him angry, but I can’t help wanting to understand. Holding my breath, I look up at him again.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem offended by the question. Instead, he looks thoughtful as he sits down on the towel next to me. “Perhaps,” he says after a couple of seconds. “One doctor thought I might be a borderline sociopath. I don’t check all the boxes, so there’s no definitive diagnosis.”

“You saw a doctor?” I don’t know why I’m so shocked. Maybe because he doesn’t seem like the type to go to a shrink.

He grins at me. “Yeah, for a bit.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Because I thought it might help.”

“Help you be less of a psychopath?”

“No, Nora.” He gives me an ironic look. “If I were a true psychopath, nothing could help that.”

“So then what?” I know I’m prying into some very personal matters, but I feel like he owes me some answers. Besides, if you can’t get personal with a man who just fucked you on the beach, then when can you?

“You’re a curious little kitten, aren’t you?” he says softly, putting his hand on my thigh. “Are you sure you really want to know, my pet?”

I nod, trying to ignore the fact that his fingers are only inches away from my bikini line. His touch is both arousing and disturbing, playing havoc with my equilibrium.

“I went to a therapist after I killed the men who murdered my family,” he says quietly, looking at me. “I thought it might help me come to terms with it.”

I stare at him blankly. “Come to terms with the fact that you killed them?”

“No,” he says. “With the fact that I wanted to kill more.”

My stomach turns over, and my skin feels like it’s crawling where Julian is touching me. He has just admitted to something so horrible that I don’t even know how to react.

As if from a distance, I hear my own voice asking, “So did it help you come to terms with it?” I sound calm, like we’re discussing nothing more tragic than the weather.

He laughs. “No, my pet, it didn’t. Doctors are useless.”

“You’ve killed more?” The numbness encasing me is fading, and I can feel myself beginning to shake.

“I have,” he says, a dark smile playing on his lips. “Now aren’t you glad you asked?”

My blood turns to ice. I know I should stop talking now, but I can’t. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, Nora.” He sounds exasperated for a moment. “I’ve already told you that.”

I lick my dry lips. “Right. You’re just going to hurt me whenever you feel like it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he gets up again and looks at me. “I’m going for a swim. You can join me if you like.”

“No, thanks,” I say dully. “I don’t feel like swimming right now.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, and then walks away, striding into the water.

Still in a state of shock, I watch his tall, broad-shouldered frame as he goes deeper into the ocean, his dark hair shining in the sun.

The devil does indeed wear a beautiful mask.

After Julian’s revelations on the beach, I don’t feel like asking any more questions for a while. I already knew I was being held by a monster, and what I learned today just solidifies that fact. I don’t know why he was so open with me, and that scares me.

At dinner, I mostly keep quiet, only answering questions posed directly to me. Beth is eating with us today, and the two of them are carrying on a lively conversation, mostly about the island and how she and I have been spending our time.

“So you’re bored?” Julian asks me after Beth tells him about my lack of interest in reading all the time.

I lift my shoulders in a shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. After what I learned earlier, I’d take boredom over Julian’s company any time.

He smiles. “Okay, I’ll have to remedy that. I’ll bring you a TV and a bunch of movies the next time I make a trip.”

“Thanks,” I say automatically, staring down into my plate. I feel so miserable that I want to cry, but I have too much pride to do it in front of them.

“What’s the matter?” Beth asks, finally noticing my uncharacteristic behavior. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really,” I say, gladly latching on to the excuse she gave me. “I think I got too much sun.”

Beth sighs. “I told you not to sleep on the beach mid-day. It’s ninety-five degrees out.”

It’s true; she had warned me about that. But my misery today has nothing to do with the heat and everything with the man sitting across the table from me. I know that when the dinner is over, he’s going to take me upstairs and fuck me again. Maybe hurt me.

And I will respond to him, like I always do.

That last part is the worst. He beat up Jake in front of my eyes. He admitted to being a murdering sociopath. I should be disgusted. I should look at him with nothing but fear and contempt. The fact that I can feel even a smidgen of desire for him is beyond sick.

It’s downright twisted.

So I sit there, picking at my food, my stomach filled with lead. I would get up and go to my room, but I’m afraid it will just speed up the inevitable.

Finally, the meal is over. Julian takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I feel like I’m going to my execution, though that’s probably too dramatic. He said he wouldn’t kill me.

When we’re in the room, he sits down on the bed and pulls me between his legs. I want to resist, to put up at least some kind of fight, but my brain and my body don’t seem to be on speaking terms these days. Instead, I stand there mutely, trembling from head to toe, while he looks at me. His eyes trace over my facial features, lingering on my mouth, then drop down to my neckline, where my nipples are visible through the thin fabric of my sundress. They’re peaked, as though from arousal, but I think it’s because I’m chilled. Beth must’ve turned on air-conditioning for the night.

“Very pretty,” he says finally, lifting his hand and stroking the edge of my jaw with his fingers. “Such soft golden skin.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at the monster in front of me. I wanted to kill more . . . I wanted to kill more . . . His words repeat over and over in my mind, like a song that’s stuck on replay. I don’t know how to turn it off, how to go back in time and scrub the memories of this afternoon from my mind. Why did I insist on knowing this about him? Why did I probe and pry until I got these kind of answers? Now I can’t think about anything but the fact that the man touching me is a ruthless killer.

He leans closer to me, and I can feel his hot breath on my neck. “Are you sorry you asked me all those questions today?” he whispers in my ear. “Are you, Nora?”

I flinch, my eyes flying open. Does he also read minds?

At my reaction, he pulls back and smiles. There’s something in that smile that makes my chill ten times worse. I don’t know what’s going on with him tonight, but whatever it is, it frightens me more than anything he’s done before.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you, my pet?” he says softly, still holding me prisoner between his legs. “I can feel you shaking like a leaf.”

I want to deny it, to be brave, but I can’t. I am scared, and I am shaking. “Please,” I whisper, not even knowing why I’m begging. He hasn’t done anything to me yet.

He gives me a light push then, releasing me from his hold. I take a few steps back, glad to put some distance between us.

He gets up off the bed and walks out of the room.

I stare after him, unable to believe he just left me alone. Could it be that he doesn’t want sex right now? He did already have me once on the beach earlier today.

And just as I’m about to let myself feel relief, Julian returns, a black gym bag in his hands.

All blood drains from my face. Horrifying thoughts run through my mind. What does he have in there—knives, guns, some kind of torture devices?

When he takes out a blindfold and a small dildo, I’m almost grateful. Sex toys. He just has some sex toys in that bag. I would take sex over torture any day of the week.

Of course, with Julian the two are not necessarily separate, as I learn this night.

“Strip, Nora,” he tells me, walking over to sit down on the bed again. He lays the blindfold and the dildo on the mattress. “Take off your clothes, slowly.”

I freeze. He wants me to disrobe while he watches? For a moment, I think about refusing, but then I start to undress with clumsy fingers. He has already seen me naked today. What would I achieve by being modest now? Besides, I’m still sensing that strange vibe from him. His eyes are glittering with excitement that goes beyond simple lust.

It’s an excitement that makes my blood run cold.

He watches as the dress falls off my body and I kick off my flip-flops. My movements are wooden, stiff with fear. I doubt a normal man would find this striptease arousing, but I can see that it turns Julian on. Under the dress, I’m wearing only a pair of cream-colored lacy panties. The cold air washes over my skin, making my nipples harden even more.

“Now the underwear,” he says.

I swallow and push the panties down my legs. Then I step out of them.

“Good girl,” he says approvingly. “Now come here.”

This time I’m unable to obey him. My self-preservation instinct is screaming that I need to run, but there’s nowhere to run to. Julian would catch me if I tried to make it out the door right now—and it’s not like I can get off this island anyway.

So I just stand there, naked and shivering, frozen in place.

Julian gets up himself. Contrary to my expectations, he doesn’t look angry. Instead he seems almost . . . pleased. “I see that I was right to begin training you tonight,” he says as he comes up to me. “I’ve been too soft with you because of your inexperience. I didn’t want to break you, to damage you beyond repair—”

My shaking intensifies as he circles around me like a shark.

“—but I need to start molding you into what I want you to be, Nora. You’re already so close to perfection, but there are these occasional lapses . . .” He traces his fingers down my body, ignoring the way I’m cringing from his touch.

“Please,” I whisper, “please, Julian, I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I’m sorry for, but I will say anything right now to avoid this training, whatever it may be.

He smiles at me. “It’s not a punishment, my pet. I just have certain needs, that’s all—and I want you to be able to satisfy them.”

“What needs?” My words are barely audible. I don’t want to know, I truly don’t, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from asking.

“You’ll see,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm and leading me toward the bed. When we get there, he reaches for the blindfold and ties it around my eyes. My hands automatically try to go to my face, but he pulls them down, so that they’re hanging by my sides.

I hear rustling sounds, as though he’s searching for something in that bag. Terror rips through me again, and I make a convulsive movement to free my eyes, but he catches my wrists. Then I feel him binding them behind my back.

At this point I start to cry. I don’t make a sound, but I can feel the blindfold getting wet from the moisture escaping my eyes. I know I was helpless before, even without being blindfolded and tied up, but the sense of vulnerability is a thousand times worse now. I know there are women who are into this, who play these types of games with their partners, but Julian is not my partner. I’ve read enough books that I know the rules—and I know that he’s not following them. There’s nothing safe, sane, or consensual about what’s going on here.