The Krinar Captive Read online

  It literally dissolved, letting a man enter the room.

  Tall and powerfully built, he stepped through the opening as casually as one would walk through a doorway, his large body moving with fluid, athletic ease.

  “Hello, Emily,” he said softly, his dark eyes trained on her. “I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon.”

  Chapter Four

  Struck speechless, all Emily could do was stare.

  The man in front of her was stunning.

  Not attractive. Not good-looking. Not even handsome.

  Absolutely stunning.

  His glossy black hair was longish on top and so thick it added inches to his already-impressive height. His face was sharply masculine and boasted the most perfect features Emily had ever seen. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, full lips—it was as though some sculptor had decided to make a template for a Greek god. Even his bronzed skin appeared flawless, as if on a picture that had been airbrushed.

  He looked foreign, exotic… and drop-dead gorgeous. Emily had no idea what race or ethnicity he was, but she had never seen anyone so beautiful. She hadn’t even known men like him existed.

  And he knew her name.

  As soon as that fact registered, her heartbeat spiked again and the reality of her situation hit home. It didn’t matter what the man looked like; what Emily needed to know was where she was and what had happened to her.

  “Who are you?” she asked, clutching the blanket tighter to herself. “What is this place? How do you know my name?”

  His gaze was dark and unreadable. “Your driver’s license was in your wallet,” he said softly, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. “It contained some information about you, Emily Ross from New York City.”

  Emily blinked. “Right, okay. And you happened to have my wallet because…?”

  “Because it was in the pocket of your shorts,” he said, advancing farther into the room. The wall behind him re-solidified, the entrance disappearing as though it had never been there in the first place.

  Emily felt the fine hair on the back of her neck rising. “What the hell is this place? Where am I?” She could hear the hysterical edge in her voice, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. In a slightly calmer tone, she asked, “What happened to me?”

  “Have a seat, Emily.” The man motioned in the direction of the bed. “You still need to rest. Your body has been through a serious trauma.”

  Emily took a step back, ignoring his suggestion. “Are you saying that I did fall off the bridge?” She felt like she was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. “Is this a hospital? Are you a doctor?”

  His sensuous lips curved in a faint smile. “Not exactly, but you can think of me as such.”

  “Is this some kind of research facility?”

  “No.” The man looked vaguely amused. “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Well, what is it like?” Emily demanded in frustration. “Who are you?”

  “You can call me Zaron.” Walking over to the bed, he sat down on it, stretching out his long muscular legs. For the first time, Emily registered the fact that he was dressed casually, in a pair of blue jeans and a white sleeveless shirt that exposed bronzed, thickly muscled arms. On his feet, he wore a pair of gray sandals, and his only accessory was a strange-looking watch on his left wrist. If he was a doctor, he certainly wasn’t dressed as such.

  “Zaron?” she repeated, frowning. “Is that your first or last name?”

  He just continued looking at her, his dark gaze inscrutable, and Emily swallowed, realizing that he had no intention of answering her. “Okay, Zaron,” she said slowly, emphasizing his strange name, “what happened to me? Why am I here?”

  “You fell off the bridge, Emily.” His voice was calm, his perfect face expressionless. “I found you and brought you here.”

  “Right, uh-huh.” She gave him a disbelieving stare. “And how is it that I am perfectly fine?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “What?” Emily blinked, startled by the change of topic.

  “I asked if you’re hungry,” he repeated patiently, watching her with those dark, exotically beautiful eyes. “You didn’t eat anything for two days while you were healing. Would you like some food?” There was something in his gaze that reminded her of her cat George—an odd intensity that made her feel like a mouse about to be played with.

  All of a sudden, the comparison seemed very apt—and extremely threatening. “What I would like is something to wear,” Emily said evenly, acutely aware of the fact that she was butt-naked under the blanket and locked in a room with a strange man.

  A very large, very muscular man.

  Who had likely stripped her naked earlier.

  Her palms began to sweat, and her heart rate accelerated further. For the first time, the full extent of her vulnerability dawned on Emily. The man sitting on the bed wasn’t only gorgeous; he was also big. Much bigger—and undoubtedly much stronger—than Emily herself. At five-foot-seven, she was above average in height, but Zaron was at least a full head taller, with steely muscle packed on every inch of his broad-shouldered frame.

  If he decided to hurt her, there wasn’t a single thing she could do to stop him.

  Some of what she was feeling must’ve shown on her face because he rose to his feet, his powerful body uncoiling in a strangely graceful motion. “Of course,” he said softly. “I will bring you some clothes right away.”

  And as Emily watched in shock, the wall dissolved again, letting him step out through the opening, and then immediately re-solidified, locking her in.

  * * *

  As soon as the wall closed behind him, Zaron drew in a deep breath, his hands tightening into fists. He could feel the heavy pounding of his heart, and his entire body was taut, his cock hard and swollen with need. He was grateful she’d kept her eyes trained on his face as he exited the room; if she had looked down, her natural female wariness would’ve morphed into outright fear—and with good reason.

  The strength of his physical reaction to her was disturbing. Even now, Zaron could smell the faint sweetness of her scent, and his hands itched to touch her again, to feel the softness of her creamy skin under his fingers. It had taken all of his willpower to leave, to step away from her instead of doing what his body demanded and burying himself deep inside her silken flesh.

  He hadn’t wanted a woman this much in years.

  Eight years, to be exact.

  The realization was like a punch to the gut. For a moment, the memories threatened to consume Zaron again, to drag him down into the black pit of despair. It was only through sheer willpower that he was able to turn his thoughts back to the human girl—a much safer subject to dwell on.

  For the past two days, he’d taken care of her every need, ensuring that she would be clean and comfortable as she healed. He’d bathed her, washed her hair, and kept watch over her as she slept. At this point, he was more intimately acquainted with her body than with that of most women he’d fucked, yet he was still a stranger to her.

  A stranger who could barely contain his lust for her.

  He wasn’t sure when his desire to help the girl had turned into this deep, uncontrollable hunger. In the beginning, all he had seen was a broken creature to be fixed—a fragile human who clung to life with surprising determination. He had wanted to heal her injuries, to stop her suffering, and sex had been the last thing on his mind.

  At some point over the last two days, however, that had changed. As her body mended, he’d begun to notice the fullness of her breasts, the softness of her lips, the sensuous dimples at the base of her spine… Although slender, her figure was deliciously feminine, and after a while, all he had been able to think about was touching her, tasting her… fucking her.

  It was insane. Though beautiful, the girl was far from his usual type. During his time on Earth, Zaron had discovered that he liked tall, sleek brunettes who reminded him of Krinar women, not delicate-looking blondes with unmistakably human coloring. N
o Krinar had hair so light or eyes of that strange bluish shade, but on her—on Emily—that combination seemed oddly appealing, reminding him of the illustrations of angels he’d seen in human books. As far as her species went, his little guest was more than pretty.

  She was downright exquisite.

  At least his cock seemed convinced of that fact.

  Taking another deep breath, Zaron forced his hands to unclench, determined to regain his equilibrium. He had no idea why he wanted this human girl so badly, but patience was key here. Patience and self-control. He didn’t want to scare her. She was already confused and anxious from waking up in a strange place, in a condition that no human could easily comprehend. He would have to be careful with her, to reveal the truth to her gradually so she wouldn’t panic.

  He didn’t want her to be afraid of him when she came to his bed.

  And she would come to him. That much Zaron was certain of. A quick background check on his guest had revealed that she was unmarried with no kids, living alone in a small studio in the Manhattan borough of New York City. She was unclaimed, and Zaron wanted her more than he had wanted any woman since Larita.

  He wanted her, and he intended to have her.

  All he needed was a little patience.

  Chapter Five

  Emily waited for Zaron to return, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

  After he left, she’d gone to that same wall and touched it, trying to figure out how it worked. Surely there had to be a sliding mechanism of some sort, and the wall only looked like it was dissolving.

  To her disappointment, she hadn’t found anything, although she did learn that the wall had a strange texture. It felt warm under her fingertips—warm and smooth, almost like a living thing. She had entertained herself for a minute by stroking it, but then she got tired of that activity and sat down on the bed to wait for the strange not-exactly-doctor to return.

  For the first time in her adult life, Emily had no idea what to do. She was always the calm, resourceful one—the one who could tackle any problem in an orderly, analytical manner and arrive at a workable solution. This situation, however, was not something she’d ever encountered. She had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there, or even how she was alive. Everything about this felt surreal, from the exotically beautiful man with his foreign-sounding name to the room that reminded her of something out of science fiction.

  Could this be some secret government research facility after all? Zaron had denied it, but then again, what incentive would he have to tell the truth? This whole place—whatever it was—might be classified, and he could potentially get in trouble for telling her anything.

  The fact that she was entertaining conspiracy theories about secret government labs amused Emily on some level. She had always been a rational, common-sense person, not someone given to flights of fancy. Even as a child, she’d never believed in Santa Claus or things that go bump in the night; those possibilities had never seemed logical to her—any more than secret government labs in Costa Rica seemed now.

  But what was the alternative? The question gnawed at Emily, adding to her impatience. She couldn’t think of anything that would explain her current situation—other than her mind making up the entire event. Could that be it? Was it possible she’d hit her head and was lying in a hospital with a brain injury?

  Before she could pursue that train of thought, the wall opened again and Zaron entered the room, moving with the same strange, flowing grace she’d noticed before.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her a pale pink dress and a pair of white sandals. “You can get dressed if you wish.”

  “Um, thanks,” Emily said uncertainly, taking the items from him. “Is there a restroom I could use?”

  “Of course.” He crossed the room, heading to the opposite wall. “Come, let me show you.”

  Emily followed him, wondering where the restroom could be hiding. As she got close to the wall, it dissolved again, creating an entryway into a small room. Zaron stepped in, motioning for her to join him.

  “That’s the toilet,” he said, pointing toward a white cylindrical object in the corner when she came into the room. “You just sit on it, and it’ll take care of you. Then you can refresh yourself near that other corner.” He gestured toward a small sink-like protrusion. “If you need a shower later, I can show you how to operate it as well.”

  Emily felt her face grow warm. “Okay, thanks. I should be able to take it from here. Can you please step out again? I just need a minute.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Sure,” he said, and with one smooth motion, he was gone, leaving Emily alone again.

  As soon as the wall closed, she dropped the blanket on the floor and pulled on the dress the man had provided. It was a sundress with thin straps. To Emily’s surprise, it fit her perfectly, gently hugging every curve of her body. Even her breasts felt comfortably supported by the thin yet sturdy lining in the bodice. The material was again something unusual. The texture was that of fleece, but with the lightweight feel of cotton. The sandals also fit her well; it was as though they’d been custom-made for her feet. There was no underwear, but Emily decided not to quibble about that for now. Just having some clothes was already a big improvement.

  Next, she turned her attention to the strange toilet. It was an upright hollow cylinder with rounded edges. There was no water inside, nor was there any visible flushing mechanism attached. Zaron had said she was just supposed to sit on it. Emily hesitated for a minute, thinking it over, then hiked up the skirt of the dress and plopped down on the cylinder with a mental shrug.

  A girl had to pee when she had to pee.

  When she was done, she felt a warm breeze moving over her exposed flesh. Her skin tingled for a second, and Emily gasped, jumping off the cylinder. The tingling immediately faded. When she peeked back at the cylinder, she saw that it was spotless, as perfectly clean as it had been in the beginning. At the same time, she realized that she also felt clean and dry, even though she hadn’t used any toilet paper—another thing that was missing in this strange bathroom.

  Frowning in confusion, Emily walked over to the sink-like object in the other corner. There were no faucets or buttons, so she just waved her hands at it, hoping it had motion sensors. Almost immediately, a warm stream of liquid came out, covering her hands with a pleasantly scented substance that vaguely resembled soap. Before Emily could rub her palms together, the substance evaporated, leaving her hands clean and dry.

  A fancy hand sanitizer. Nice.

  All pressing matters taken care of, Emily walked over to the wall where the entryway had been. At her approach, the entryway appeared again, as though it had sensed her coming.

  “Right, okay,” she muttered, stepping through the opening before it had a chance to close again. As soon as she entered the bedroom, the doorway to the bathroom disappeared.

  Emily stared at it for a few seconds, then shook her head. She needed to talk to Zaron and get some answers soon. This was ridiculous.

  Spotting a movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned and saw that the entryway leading out of the room had appeared again. Zaron was standing on the other side of it.

  “Come,” he said, motioning for her to step through the opening. “I’d like you to join me for lunch.”

  “Okay, sure.” Emily cautiously stepped out, this time looking at the sides of the wall to see if she could figure out the way it operated. To her disappointment, there was no visible mechanism here either. The edges of the opening were smooth and polished, with no grooves or ridges to indicate any kind of sliding doors.

  As soon as she was on the other side, the wall re-formed again, solidifying right in front of Emily’s eyes.

  Unbelievable.

  Turning toward Zaron, Emily glared at him in frustration. “How does this thing work?” she demanded, tapping at the wall. “What kind of material is that?”

  Zaron looked at her calmly. “I could tell you its n
ame, but it wouldn’t mean anything to you. As to how it works, I’m not a designer, and I wouldn’t be able to give you a good explanation.”

  Not a designer? What did he mean by that? “Well, what are you then?”

  A hint of a smile appeared on his gorgeous lips. “I’m what you would call a biologist, with an extra specialization in edaphology. I study all manner of living creatures as well as the soil that nourishes them.”

  Emily blinked. “I see.” So he was a researcher of some kind. “And is this your lab?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “This is my temporary home.”

  Home? Emily looked around the room with disbelief. Like the bedroom she’d just left, everything around her was decorated in shades of ivory and cream, with a soft light coming from some indeterminate source. There were no windows or doors, and the furniture was again minimal. Other than a long white plank in the middle that resembled a flat bench and some blooming plants in the corners, the room was essentially empty.

  Frowning, Emily took a step toward the bench-like plank. She was pretty sure her eyes were deceiving her because— “Is that thing hovering in the air?” she asked incredulously, kneeling down to peer underneath the plank. “Is it held up by some kind of magnets?”

  “Of course not,” Zaron said, walking over to stand next to her. “It’s utilizing force-field technology.”

  Still kneeling on all fours, Emily looked up at him. Looming over her, he looked even bigger—and powerfully male. An unwelcome tendril of fear slid down her spine again. “Force-field technology?” she repeated slowly, feeling like she’d fallen down a sci-fi rabbit hole. “What are you talking about?”

  He watched her with a cool, dark gaze. “Why don’t we eat something and I’ll explain,” he suggested gently. His tone was soft, but Emily could hear the steel underneath. He had no intention of answering her questions right now.

  “All right,” she said warily, starting to rise to her feet. “I just—” And then she almost gasped because his hand was on her elbow, helping her get up. His touch was light, solicitous, but there was something possessive in his grip, in the way his fingers lingered on her arm for an extra couple of seconds before letting go.