What do you want?

I wake up with a pounding headache and queasy stomach. It’s dark, and I can’t see a thing. For a second, I can’t remember what happened.

Did I have too much to drink at a party? Then my mind clears, and the events of last night come rushing in. I remember the kiss and then . . . Jake! Oh dear God, what happened to Jake? What happened to me? I’m so terrified that I just lie there, shaking. I am lying on something comfortable. A bed with a good mattress, most likely.

I’m covered by a blanket, but I can’t feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my skin. I touch myself and confirm that I’m right: I’m completely naked. My shaking intensifies. I use one hand to check between my legs.

To my huge relief, everything feels the same. No wetness, no soreness, no indication that I’ve been violated in any way. For now, at least.

Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Crying wouldn’t help my situation now. I need to figure out what’s going on. Are they planning to kill me? Rape me? Rape me and then kill me? If it’s ransom they’re after, then I’m as good as dead. After my dad got laid off during the recession, my parents can barely pay their mortgage as is.

I hold back hysteria with effort. I don’t want to start screaming. That would attract their attention. Instead I just lie there in the dark, every horrifying story I’ve seen on the news running through my mind. I think of Jake and his warm smile. I think of my parents and how devastated they’ll be when the police tell them I’m missing.

I think of all my plans, and how I will probably never get a chance to attend a real university. And then I start to get angry. Why did they do this? Who are they, anyway? I assume it’s ‘they’ instead of ‘he’ because I remember seeing a dark figure looming over Jake’s body. Someone else must’ve grabbed me from the back.

The anger helps hold back the panic. I’m able to think a little. I still can’t see anything in the dark, but I can feel. Moving quietly, I carefully start exploring my surroundings.

First, I determine that I’m indeed lying on a bed. A big bed, probably king-sized. There are pillows and a blanket, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to the touch. Likely expensive. For some reason, that scares me even more. These are criminals with money.

Crawling to the edge of the bed, I sit up, holding the blanket tightly around me. My bare feet touch the floor. It’s smooth and cold to the touch, like hardwood. I wrap the blanket around me and stand up, ready to do further exploration.

At that moment, I hear the door opening. A soft light comes on. Even though it’s not bright, I’m blinded for a minute.

I blink a few times, and my eyes adjust. And I see him. Julian. He stands in the doorway like a dark angel. His hair curls a little around his face, softening the hard perfection of his features. His eyes are trained on my face, and his lips are curved in a slight smile. He’s stunning.

And utterly terrifying. My instincts had been right—this man is capable of anything. “Hello, Nora,” he says softly, entering the room. I cast a desperate glance around me. I see nothing that could serve as a weapon.

My mouth is dry like the desert. I can’t even gather enough saliva to talk. So I just watch him stalk toward me like a hungry tiger approaches its prey. I am going to fight if he touches me. He comes closer, and I take a step back.

Then another and another, until I’m pressed against the wall. I’m still huddling in the blanket. He lifts his hand, and I tense, preparing to defend myself. But he’s merely holding a bottle of water and offering it to me. “Here,” he says.

“I figured you must be thirsty.” I stare at him. I’m dying of thirst, but I don’t want him to drug me again. He seems to understand my hesitation. “Don’t worry, my pet. It’s just water. I want you awake and conscious.” I don’t know how to react to that. My heart is hammering in my throat, and I feel sick with fear.

He stands there, patiently watching. Holding the blanket tightly with one hand, I give in to my thirst and take the water from him.

My hand shakes, and my fingers brush against his in the process.

A wave of heat rolls through me, a strange reaction that I ignore. Now I have to unscrew the cap—which means I have to let go of the blanket. He’s observing my dilemma with interest and no small measure of amusement.

Thankfully, he’s not touching me. He’s standing less than two feet away and simply watching me. I press my arms tightly against my body, holding the blanket that way, and unscrew the cap.

Then I hold the blanket with one hand and lift the bottle to my lips to drink. The cool liquid feels amazing on my parched lips and tongue. I drink until the entire bottle is gone. I can’t remember the last time water tasted so good.

Dry mouth must be the side effect of whatever drug he used to get me here. Now I can talk again, so I ask him, “Why?” To my huge surprise, my voice sounds almost normal. He lifts his hand and touches my face again. Just like he did at the club.

And again, I stand there helplessly and let him. His fingers are gentle on my skin, his touch almost tender. It’s such a stark contrast to the whole situation that I’m disoriented for a moment.

“Because I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Julian says, and I can hear the barely suppressed rage in his voice.

“Because he touched you, laid his hands on you.”

I can barely think. “Who?” I whisper, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. And then it hits me. “Jake?”

“Yes, Nora,” he says darkly. “Jake.” “Is he—” I don’t know if I can even say it out loud. “Is he . . . alive?”

“For now,” Julian says, his eyes burning into mine. “He’s in the hospital with a mild concussion.”

I’m so relieved I slump against the wall. And then the full meaning of his words hits me. “What do you mean, for now?” Julian shrugs. “His health and wellbeing are entirely dependent on you.” I swallow to moisten my still-dry throat. “On me?”

His fingers caress my face again, push the hair back behind my ear. I’m so cold I feel like his touch is burning my skin. “Yes, my pet, on you. If you behave, he’ll be fine. If not . . .”

I can barely draw in a breath. “If not?”

Julian smiles. “He’ll be dead within a week.” His smile is the most beautiful and frightening thing I’ve ever seen. “Who are you?” I whisper.

“What do you want from me?”