Chapter 3

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 . . . Hanbin! Oh dear God, what happened to Hanbin?

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 Hanbin 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 Hanbin'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 her.

Lisa.

She stands in the doorway like a dark angel. Her hair curls a little around her face, softening the hard perfection of her features. Her eyes are trained on my face, and her lips are curved in a slight smile.

She's stunning.

And utterly terrifying.

My instincts had been right—this woman is capable of anything.

"Hello, Jennie," she 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 her stalk toward me like a hungry tiger approaches its prey.

I am going to fight if she touches me.

She 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.

She lifts her hand, and I tense, preparing to defend myself.

But she's merely holding a bottle of water and offering it to me.

"Here," she says. "I figured you must be thirsty."

I stare at her. I'm dying of thirst, but I don't want her to drug me again.

She 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.

She stands there, patiently watching. Holding the blanket tightly with one hand, I give in to my thirst and take the water from her. My hand shakes, and my fingers brush against her 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. She's observing my dilemma with interest and no small measure of amusement. Thankfully, she's not touching me. She'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 she used to get me here.

Now I can talk again, so I ask her, "Why?"

To my huge surprise, my voice sounds almost normal.

She lifts her hand and touches my face again. Just like she did at the club. And again, I stand there helplessly and let her. Her fingers are gentle on my skin, her 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," Lisa says, and I can hear the barely suppressed rage in her voice. "Because he touched you, laid his hands on you."

I can barely think. "Who?" I whisper, trying to figure out what she's talking about. And then it hits me. "Hanbin?"

"Yes, Jennie," she says darkly. "Hanbin."

"Is he—" I don't know if I can even say it out loud. "Is he . . . alive?"

"For now," Lisa says, her 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 her words hits me. "What do you mean, for now?"

Lisa shrugs. "His health and wellbeing are entirely dependent on you."

I swallow to moisten my still-dry throat. "On me?"

Her fingers caress my face again, push the hair back behind my ear. I'm so cold I feel like her 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?"

Lisa smiles. "He'll be dead within a week."

Her smile is the most beautiful and frightening thing I've ever seen.

"Who are you?" I whisper. "What do you want from me?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she touches my hair, lifts a thick brown strand to her face. Inhales, as though smelling it.

I watch her, frozen in place. I don't know what to do. Do I fight her now? And if so, what would that accomplish? She hasn't hurt me yet, and I don't want to provoke her. She's much taller than me, much stronger.

While I contemplate the merits of fighting someone, she makes the decision for me. Her hand leaves my hair and tugs at the blanket I'm holding so tightly.

I don't let go. If anything, I clutch it harder. And I do something embarrassing.

I beg.

"Please," I say desperately, "please, don't do this."

She smiles again. "Why not?" Her hand is continuing to pull at the blanket, slowly and inexorably. I know she's doing it this way to prolong the torture. She could easily rip the blanket away from me with one strong tug.

"I don't want this," I tell her. I can barely draw in air through the constriction in my chest, and my voice comes out sounding unexpectedly breathy.

She looks amused, but there's a dark gleam in her eyes. "No? You think I couldn't feel your reaction to me in the club?"

I shake my head. "There was no reaction. You're wrong . . ." My voice is thick with unshed tears. "I only want Hanbin—"

In an instant, her hand is wrapped around my throat. She doesn't do anything else, doesn't squeeze, but the threat is there. I can feel the violence within her, and I'm terrified.

She leans down toward me. "You don't want that boy," she says harshly. "He can never give you what I can. Do you understand me?"

I nod, too scared to do anything else.

She releases my throat. "Good," she says in a softer tone. "Now let go of the blanket. I want to see you naked again."

Again? She must've been the one to undress me.

I try to plaster myself even closer to the wall. And still don't let go of the blanket.

She sighs.

Two seconds later, the blanket is on the floor. As I had suspected, I don't stand a chance when she uses her full strength.

I resist the only way I can. Instead of standing there and letting her look at my naked body, I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chest. My arms wrap around my legs, and I sit there like that, trembling all over. My long, thick hair streams down my back and arms, partially covering me.

I hide my face against my knees. I'm terrified of what she'll do to me now, and the tears burning my eyes finally escape, running down my cheeks.

"Jennie," she says, and there is a steely note in his voice. "Get up. Get up right now."

I shake my head mutely, still not looking at her.

"Jennie, this can be pleasurable for you or it can be painful. It's really up to you."

Pleasurable? Is she insane? My entire body is shaking with sobs at this point.

"Jennie," she says again, and I hear the impatience in her voice. "You have exactly five seconds to do what I'm telling you."

She waits, and I can almost hear her counting in her head. I'm counting too, and when I get to four, I get up, tears still streaming down my face.

I'm ashamed of my own cowardice, but I'm so afraid of pain. I don't want her to hurt me.

I don't want her to touch me at all, but that is clearly not an option.

"Good girl," she says softly, touching my face again, brushing my hair back over my shoulders.

I tremble at her touch. I can't look at her, so I keep my eyes down.

She apparently objects to that, because she tilts my chin up until I have no choice but to meet her gaze with my own.

Her eyes are dark in this light. She's so close to me that I can feel the heat coming off her body. It feels good because I'm cold. Naked and cold.

Suddenly, she reaches for me, bending down. Before I can get really scared, she slides one arm around my back and another under my knees.

Then she lifts me effortlessly in her arms and carries me to the bed.

She puts me down, almost gently, and I curl into a ball, shaking. She starts to undress, and I can't help watching her.

She's wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and the T-shirt comes off first.

Her upper body is a work of art, all broad shoulders and smooth pale skin. Under some other circumstances, I would've been thrilled to have such a good-looking lover.

Under these circumstances, I just want to scream.

Her jeans are next. I can hear the sound of her zipper being lowered, and it galvanizes me into action.

In a second, I go from lying on the bed to scrambling for the door—which she'd left open.

I may be small, but I'm fast on my feet. I did track for ten years and was quite good at it. Unfortunately, I hurt my knee during one of the races, and now I'm limited to more leisurely runs and other forms of exercise.

I make it out the door, down the stairs, and I'm almost to the front door when she catches me.

Her arms close around me from behind, and she squeezes me so hard that I can't breathe for a moment. My arms are completely restrained, so I can't even fight her. She lifts me, and I kick back at her with my heels. I manage to land a few kicks before she turns me around to face her.

I'm sure she's going to hurt me now, and I brace myself for a blow.

Instead, she just pulls me into her embrace and holds me tightly. My face is buried in her chest, and my naked body is pressed against her. I can smell the clean, musky scent of her skin and feel something hard and warm against my stomach.

Her erection.

She's fully naked and turned on.

With the way she's holding me, I'm almost completely helpless. I can neither kick nor scratch her.

But I can bite.

So I sink my teeth into her shoulder and hear her curse before she yanks on my hair, forcing me to release her flesh.

Then she holds me like that, one arm wrapped around my waist, my lower body tightly pressed against her. Her other hand is fisted in my hair, holding my head arched back. My hands are pushing at her chest in a futile attempt to put some distance between us.

I meet her gaze defiantly, ignoring the tears running down my face. I have no choice but to be brave now. If I die, I want to at least retain some dignity.

Her expression is dark and angry, her eyes narrowed at me.

I am breathing hard, and my heart is beating so fast I feel like it might jump out of my chest. We look at each other—predator and prey, the conqueror and the conquered—and in that moment, I feel an odd sort of connection to her. Like a part of myself is forever altered by what's happening between us.

Suddenly, her face softens. A smile appears on her sensuous lips.

Then she leans toward me, lowers her head, and presses her mouth to mine.

I am stunned. Her lips are gentle, tender as they explore mine, even as she holds me with an iron grip.

She's a skilled kisser. I've kissed quite a few guys, and I've never felt anything like this. Her breath is warm, flavored with something sweet, and her tongue teases my lips until they part involuntarily, granting her access to my mouth.

I don't know if it's the aftereffects of the drug she gave me or the simple relief that she's not hurting me, but I melt at that kiss. A strange languor spreads through my body, sapping my will to fight.

She kisses me slowly, leisurely, as though she has all the time in the world. Her tongue strokes against mine, and she lightly sucks on my lower lip, sending a surge of liquid heat straight to my core. Her hand eases its grip on my hair and cradles the back of my head instead. It's almost like she's making love to me.

I find my hands holding on to her shoulders. I have no idea how they got there, but I'm now clinging to her instead of pushing him away. I don't understand my own reaction. Why am I not cringing away from her kiss in disgust?

It just feels so good, that incredible mouth of her. It's like kissing an angel. It makes me forget the situation for a second, enables me to push the terror away.

She pulls away and looks down on me. Her lips are wet and shiny, a little swollen from our kiss. Mine probably are too.

She no longer seems angry. Instead, she looks hungry and pleased at the same time. I can see both lust and tenderness on her perfect face, and I can't tear my eyes away.

I lick my lips, and her eyes drop down to my mouth for a second. She kisses me again, just a brief brush of her lips against mine.

Then she picks me up again and carries me upstairs to her bed.