The Krinar Captive

Chapter 4

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 c**k 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 f****d, 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 s*x 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… f*****g 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. No 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 c**k 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.