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He traced my bottom lip, rolling it beneath the pad of his thumb.

Don’t suck it into your mouth, Benji. However much you want to.

“Have you ever looked at something and just wanted it.”

I froze for a moment, not sure I’d heard him right. He’d kidnapped me because he wanted me? What the actual fuck? A laugh burst from my mouth at the ridiculousness of his words. “I’m sorry, but that’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard. What are you? Twelve? I’m not a toy or a possession. Now untie me or—”

“Or what?” he interrupted, his eyes giddy with excitement. “Are you going to gut me? Pluck out my eyes? Break my knees?”

“Those are all oddly specific,” I muttered. “No. I’m not a violent person. I don’t think. But I’ve never been in this position before so there’s no knowing what I might be capable of.”

Which was true. Who knew what they were really capable of when push came to shove?

He stared at me for another long moment, his frigid eyes boring deep into mine. He seemed to be having some sort of internal war with himself, the muscle along his sharp jawline twitching every so often. He must have come to decision because he sighed and pursed his lips. What did that even mean?

“So, Charlie Kent,” Damyr said, standing up and, thankfully, taking a step back. Guess he wasn’t killing me just yet.

“What about him?”

He pulled a chair from the dark void behind him and sat down opposite me, rolling his sleeves up and putting his forearms on display. My mouth watered instantly. What was it about a guy’s forearms that was so delicious? And fuck me, Damyr’s were gorgeous. They were covered in ink. A mix of black and bold colours. Roses, skulls, knives, everything that was dark in theme. But I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands. He had the outline of a snake’s head on each of his hands and I could see the body of it wrapped around his wrist before disappearing down his arm, weaving between all the other tattoos. The snake on his left hand was alive but the one on his right, was a skeleton. I wonder what it meant.

Dammit, this guy needed to stop giving me things to make me curious about him. He’d kidnapped me and tied me to a chair.Doesn’t matter if he’s hot, he’s crazy.

“How do you know him?”

Huh? Oh, right, Charlie. “I don’t. The first time I saw him he was fleeing your building. The second time I saw him he was being attacked and then he shot Byron – who I’m guessing works for you — and the third time was in the bar. Although I didn’t realise that was the third time because I’d forgotten I’d met him.”

And I still didn’t know how that Byron or the other guy had managed that.

“Yes,” Damyr said thoughtfully. “Vlad is usually so reliable.”

“Vlad? Is that the name of the tank?”

He snorted. “Yes.”

“So, did he drug me?”

Damyr pursed his lips and nope, I wasn’t looking at how soft they looked. “In a fashion.”

In a fashion? What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Look, could you just not talk in riddles? My head still hurts, and I want to go home.”

Damyr’s eyes flashed. “You’re not going home, Benjamin. You need to get comfortable with that.”

“What about my cat?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Oh my God. “You’ve killed my cat?!”

“What? No.”

Oh, thank the Lord.

“I’ve had one of the men bring him here. Along with all your things.”

“The fuck?!” I shouted. “You can’t do that!”

Damyr frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”