Anna Zaires - Twist Me

“Wait,” he says softly, tilting my chin up with his fingers. Then he bends his head and kisses me, his lips sweet and gentle on mine. A now-familiar response warms my body, making me want to rub myself against him like a cat in heat. He doesn’t let it go far, though. After about a minute, he lifts his head and smiles down at me, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now you can go.”

Utterly confused, I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and escape into my room as quickly as I can.

That night I learn about Julian’s nightmares.

After the shower, he joins me in my bed, his muscular body curving around me from the back, one heavy arm draping over my torso. I stiffen at first, unsure of what to expect, but all he does is go to sleep while holding me close to him. I can hear the even rhythm of his breathing as I stare into the darkness, and then I gradually fall asleep too.

I wake up to a strange noise. It startles me out of deep sleep, and my eyes fly open, my heart pounding from an adrenaline surge.

What was that? For a moment, I don’t dare breathe, but then I realize that the sounds are coming from the other side of the bed—from the man sleeping beside me.

I sit up in bed and peer at him. It looks like he rolled away from me in the night, gathering all the blankets to himself. I’m completely naked and uncovered, and I actually feel a little chilly with the air-conditioning running at full blast.

The sounds escaping his throat are muffled, but there is a raw quality to them that gives me goosebumps. They remind me of an animal in pain. He’s breathing hard, almost gasping for air.

“Julian?” I say uncertainly. I don’t really know what to do in this situation. Should I wake him up? He’s clearly having a bad dream. I recall him telling me about his family, that they were all murdered, and I can’t help feeling pity for this beautiful, twisted man.

He cries out, his voice low and hoarse, and flops over onto his back, one arm hitting the pillow only a few inches away from me.

“Um, Julian?” I reach out cautiously and touch his hand.

He mumbles and turns his head, still deeply asleep. If we were anywhere but on this island, this would be the perfect moment for me to try to escape. As it stands, however, there’s really no point in going anywhere, so I just watch Julian warily, wondering if he’s going to wake up on his own or if I should try harder to wake him.

For a few moments, it seems like he’s settling down, his breathing calming a bit. Then he suddenly cries out again.

It’s a name this time.

“Maria,” he rasps out. “Maria . . .”

For one shocking second, I feel a hot tide of jealousy sweeping over me. Maria . . . He’s dreaming of another woman.

Then my rational side reasserts itself. Maria could easily be his mother or his sister—and even if she’s not, why should I care that he’s dreaming of her? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.

So I swallow and reach for him again, suppressing the residual pangs of jealousy. “Julian?”

As soon as my fingers touch his arm, he grabs me, his motions so fast and startling that only a small gasp escapes me as he pulls me toward him. His arms around me are inescapable, his embrace almost suffocating, and I can feel him shaking as he holds me tightly against him, my face pressed into his shoulder. His skin is cold and clammy with sweat, and I can hear his heart galloping in his chest.

“Maria,” he mumbles into my hair, his fingers digging into my back with such force that I’m sure there will be bruises there tomorrow. Yet somehow I don’t mind because I know he’s not doing this on purpose. He’s in the grip of his nightmare and he’s seeking comfort—and I’m the only one who can provide it right now.

After a while, I can hear his breathing easing. His arms relax a little, no longer squeezing me with such desperation, and his frantic heartbeat begins to slow. “Maria,” he whispers again, but there’s less pain in his voice now, as though he’s reliving happier times with her, whatever those may be.

I let him hold me, not moving lest I wake him from his now-peaceful rest. He’s not the only one receiving comfort here. Despite everything he’s done to me, I can’t deny that a part of me wants this from him, this feeling of closeness, of safety. He’s the only thing I have to fear; logically, I know that. It doesn’t matter, though, because right now I feel like he’s holding the darkness at bay, keeping me safe from whatever other monsters may be lurking out there.

Just as I’m keeping him safe from his nightmares.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, Julian is gone again.

“Where is he?” I ask Beth at breakfast, watching as she cuts up a mango for me. I still feel an occasional twinge of discomfort when I move, a reminder of my captor’s more exotic proclivities.

“A work emergency,” she says, her hands moving with a graceful efficiency that I can’t help but admire. “He should be back in a couple of days.”

“What kind of work emergency?”

Beth shrugs. “I don’t know. You can ask Julian that when he returns.”

I look at her, trying to understand what motivates her . . . and Julian. “You said I’m the first girl he brought here, to this island,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “So what did he do with the others?”

“There were no others.” She’s done with the mango, and she’s placing the plate in front of me before sitting down to eat her own breakfast.

“So why is he doing this to me? I know he’s got peculiar tastes, but surely there are women who are into that—”

Beth grins at me, showing even white teeth. “Of course. But he wants you.”

“Why? What’s so special about me?”

“You’ll have to ask Julian that.”

Again that non-answer. Her evasiveness makes me want to scream. I spear a piece of mango with my fork and chew it slowly, thinking this over.

“Is it because of Maria?” I’m not sure what makes me ask this, except that I can’t get that name out of my head.

It’s apparently the right question, though, because it stops Beth in her tracks. “Julian told you about Maria?” She sounds shocked.

“He mentioned her.” It’s not really a lie. Her name did come up, even though Julian doesn’t know it. “Why does that surprise you?”

She shrugs again, no longer looking so shocked. “I guess it doesn’t, now that I think about it. If he’s going to tell anyone, it would probably be you.”

Me? Why? I’m burning with curiosity, but I try to keep my expression impassive, like none of this is news to me. “Of course,” I say calmly, eating my mango.

“Then you understand, Nora,” she says, looking at me. “You have to understand at least a little bit. Your resemblance to her is uncanny. I saw the photo, and she could’ve been your younger sister.”

“That similar?” I struggle to keep the shock out of my voice. My heart is pounding in my chest. This is so much more than I could’ve hoped for, and Beth just handed me this information on a silver platter.

She frowns. “He didn’t tell you that?”

“No,” I say. “He didn’t tell me much. Just a little bit.” Just her name, uttered in the throes of a nightmare.

Beth’s eyes widen as she realizes that she probably revealed more than she should have. She looks unhappy for a moment, but then her expression smooths out. “Oh well,” she says. “I guess now you know. I’ll have to tell Julian about this, of course.”

I swallow, and the piece of mango slides down my throat like a rock. I don’t want her to tell Julian anything. I don’t know what he’ll do to me when he finds out that I know about Maria—that I saw him when he was at his most vulnerable.

My stupid curiosity.

“Why?” I say, trying not to sound anxious. “You’re the one he’s going to be upset with, not me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Nora,” Beth says, giving me a slightly malicious smile. “And besides, I don’t ever keep secrets from Julian. He’s very good at prying them out of people.”

And getting up, she starts washing the dishes.

* * *

I spend the next two days alternating between speculating about Maria and worrying about Julian’s return.

Who is she? Someone who looks a lot like me, apparently. So similar that she could be my younger sister, Beth said. How old is this girl? Who is she to Julian? The questions gnaw at me, interfering with my sleep. He took me because of my resemblance to her—that much is obvious to me. But why? What happened to her? Why is she in his nightmares?

I want to know, I want to understand, yet I’m afraid of Julian’s reaction when he returns and finds out that I snooped. I could try to explain that I learned all of this accidentally, that I didn’t mean to invade his privacy, but I strongly suspect my captor is not the understanding type.

Beth doesn’t tell me anything else about Maria. In fact, she doesn’t talk to me much at all. She’s one of those rare individuals who seems happy being by herself. If I were her, I would go crazy being stuck here on this island, doing nothing but cooking, cleaning, and looking after Julian’s sex toy, but she seems perfectly fine with it.

I, on the other hand, am far from fine. I am constantly thinking about my old life, missing my family and friends. They probably think I’m dead at this point. I’m guessing there was a big search for me, but I doubt it yielded any results.

I also think about Jake, wondering if he recovered from his beating. It had looked so brutal, what Julian’s thug had done to him. Does Jake know that it was my fault? That he got attacked in his house because of me?

Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if he knows or not. Whatever Jake and I could’ve had together is over. I belong to Julian now, and there’s no point in thinking about any other man.

In a way, I am lucky. I know that. I’m sure many girls end up in far worse circumstances than me. I once saw a documentary about sexual slavery, and the images of those hollow-eyed women had haunted me for days. They’d seemed broken, completely and utterly crushed by whatever had been done to them, and even the fact that they’d been rescued didn’t seem to dispel the suffering etched into their faces.

My captivity is different. It’s much nicer, much more comfortable. Julian is not trying to break me, and I’m grateful for that. I may be his sex slave, but at least he’s my only master. Things could definitely be much worse.

Or so I tell myself as I wait for his return, desperately hoping that Julian’s reaction to my prying won’t be as bad as I fear.

Julian comes back in the middle of the night. I must’ve been sleeping lightly because I wake up as soon as I hear the quiet murmur of conversation downstairs. My captor’s deeper tones are interspersed with Beth’s more feminine ones, and I have a strong suspicion I know what they’re talking about.

I sit up in bed, my heart galloping in my chest. Getting up, I quickly pull on yesterday’s clothes and run to the bathroom to freshen up. I don’t know why I care about brushing teeth right now, but I do. I want to be as awake and prepared as possible for whatever Julian decides to do to me.

Then I just sit on the bed and wait.

Finally, the door to my room opens and Julian walks in. He looks unusually tired, with dark shadows under his eyes and a hint of stubble on his normally clean-shaven face. These flaws should’ve diminished his beauty, but they only humanize him a bit, somehow enhancing his attractiveness.

“You’re awake.” He sounds surprised.

“I heard voices,” I explain, watching him warily.

“And you decided to greet me. How nice of you, my pet.”

I know he’s mocking me, so I don’t say anything, just continue looking at him. My palms are sweating, but I’m doing my best to project a calm demeanor.

He sits down on the bed next to me and lifts his hand to touch my hair. “Such a sweet pet,” he murmurs, lifting a thick strand and playfully tickling my cheek with it. “Such a curious little kitten . . .”

I swallow, my breathing fast and shallow. What is he going to do to me?

He gets up and starts to undress while I watch him, frozen in place by a mixture of fear and strange anticipation. His clothes come off, revealing the powerfully masculine body underneath, and I feel a wave of desire rolling through me, heating up my core.