The Kidnapping of Roan Sinclair

by Ashlyn Drewek

He radiated warmth no matter what he was doing. And like the sun, he seemed to pull everyone around him into his orbit.

Between the time I spent following him and the time he’d been my captive, I think I memorized every inch of him.

No one had ever looked at me like that, like the sun rose and fucking set with me. It was thrilling, empowering. He wanted this — he wanted me.

“You can’t help who you love any more than you can help how tall you are or what color your skin is. It’s not a fucking choice, it just is.”

His optimism was cute. Misplaced, but cute. So very American of him.

He may have been fascinated by me for whatever reason, but I was enraptured with him.

He was like a drug I couldn’t kick. I tried, and failed. I didn’t want to try anymore. I didn’t care if I went straight to Hell. Roan was the first good thing in my life and I wasn’t going to give him up.

Resting my forehead against his, I closed my eyes, keeping my hands on either side of his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Solnyshko.”

I didn’t want to go back to the cold now that I knew I could feel something else, something better.

To be wanted with such intensity was intoxicating.

“I kneel for no one,” I repeated, gazing up at Roan, “except the one I love.”

For me, Roan was the sun, the center of my universe, the thing that gave me life. Without it, without him, I’d surely wither away and die.

“I told you, you’re mine, Solnyshko. I’m never letting you go.”