Page 95 of Monstrous Urges

She grins as she turns to me. “Annika.”

I laugh, and it genuinely feels like the first real, heartfelt laugh I’ve laughed in years.

“You’re kind of weird, aren’t you?”

She shrugs, nodding. “Yeah, well, sucks to be you. You’re the one that’s gonna have to live with me someday.”

21

DRAZEN

I gently turn the glass of vodka, watching the clear liquid swirl in the lights of my office.

“Drazen.”

My gaze shifts, my attention suddenly pulling from the drink in my hand to Milos, standing in the doorway.

His brow furrows. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

No.

Maybe.

I don’t know anymore.

I’m a man of plans. A man of bullet points on a list that are followed by bullet holes. And I thought I had this all figured out.

I thought I’d found the woman who betrayed me. The Trojan Horse who let the enemy inside to slaughter my family. I thought she was finally in my clutches, and I would finally mete out my vengeance.

Get my pound of flesh.

But then those plans changed when I realized I needed her to get to the Iron Table so I could exact a higher revenge. But it’s not the change in plans that has me glaring into my drink in the middle of the night when I should be asleep.

It’s the change in intentions.

I no longer wish to carve out a pound of vengeance from Annika’s flesh. When I look at her, even think of her, I’m no longer dreaming of revenge at all.

But I am thinking about listening to her scream. And beg. And writhe.

And moan.

My resolve with her is…weakening. All of me is weak with her, in a way it’s never been before. I never lusted after Annika. Not when she was my eighteen-year-old bride walking down the aisle. Not before. Not after.

I spent our wedding night alone, sulking into a bottomless glass of vodka.

But the Annika I captured in New York and brought here is another Annika. One I do desire. One, I’ll even grant, whose company I enjoy. Perhaps the crash changed her. Perhaps amnesia really did rewire her.

Or reset her.

Because there’s only one day I remember when I actually enjoyed being around her. One single time, when I was thirteen and she was ten, and we spent half a day playing Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64 in her father’s pool house. The day we met, where she spent hours while we were gaming together telling me how nice her invisible friend was.

She was weird, and kind. And I enjoyed her company that day…and that day only.

Until now.

I rip my attention back to Milos. “What’s going on?”

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