The Kidnapping of Roan Sinclair

by Ashlyn Drewek

If he wasn’t a fucking kidnapper, I would have said he was hot. Lie. He was hot, even if he was a kidnapper. But he lost major points for being a criminal.

Tall, dark, and murdery were not admirable traits. He wasn’t even nice. Nice to look at, but not a nice person.

“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.”

“You’re mine, Solnyshko,” Sasha said, tearing his mouth from mine and fixing me with one of his piercing looks, the kind that saw straight to my soul. “Yes?” I blinked and nodded, despite the fact I was still trying to work out what, exactly, he was saying. “From now on, you are mine,” he repeated in a growl. The words reverberated from his chest into mine, solidifying that they were real and not just my imagination. “No one else’s. Do you understand?” “I’m yours,” I agreed in a stunned whisper.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, pushing him through the door to his apartment. “She’s, like, ninety years old! Leave her alone.” “You don’t know what she said.” “Sticks and stones, man.” “You’re saying I should stone her to death or beat her with a stick?”

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

Was this really fucking happening right now? Not only were we both alive, miraculously, but Roan used our near-death experience to fucking network?!

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.