Page 63 of Monstrous Urges

I swallow, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

It’s not that far out.

You could easily swim that.

As if on cue, a motorboat zips by with more armed men in black standing on it.

Drazen’s men.

Well, maybe I couldn’t swim it in daylight…

Giving up on following the coast, I turn inland until I hit the driveway again. I follow that back up to the sprawling house, this time getting a visitor’s impression of the grand entrance.

The house truly is gorgeous. So is the island, and the views of the ocean. I mean it would be a vacation paradise if it wasn’t for the annoying little fact that I’m here against my fucking will, and that it took drugging me to get me here.

Back inside, I meander through the house until I end up walking out an open doorway from a living room and onto a beautiful stone patio overlooking the ocean. The sun is hanging low over the water, and even though I’m a prisoner here, there’s no ignoring the warm, floral and sea-salt air that drifts over my skin.

Suddenly, there’s another sensation creeping over me. Something dark and chilling. Something malicious and cold. With a start, I whirl.

Icy blue eyes stab into me, freezing me to the spot as my throat tightens. A cold sensation, like standing at the mouth of a black cave, tingles over my skin, obliterating the warm, salty-floral scents of a few short seconds ago.

“Welcome home, Annika.”

13

TAYLOR

Welcome home, Annika…

Drazen’s face is dark and clouded with all the viciousness he’s rumored to be capable of when he says it.

“This isn’t my home.”

“But it was once,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

My mouth purses.

“What the fuck gives you the right to drug and kidnap me?!”

“Drugging has such a vile connotation. I sedated you.”

“I fail to see the difference,” I hiss. “You can’t just sedate people.”

“Would you have come willingly if I’d asked?”

“What do you think?” I snap.

He lifts a shoulder. “You see? You left me no choice.”

I shiver as his eyes sweep over me.

…I refuse to acknowledge the slight flutter in my core, or the way my nipples tighten under my dress.

It’s not just that the man is outrageously good-looking, objectively speaking. It’s the way he’s looking at me, after the raw anger and lethal hatred dissipates. It’s downright predatory.

“People are going to be looking for me.”

He shrugs. “They won’t find you. Not here, at least.”

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