Once on board the aircraft, we were greeted by a grinning air hostess whose uniform was a touch too tight and makeup a touch too heavy.

“Românul, you’re back! We missed you,” she purred in what was probably intended to be a seductive way. To me, she just looked desperate. She stroked a red fingernail down the front of Dragomir’s shirt, but he brushed past her with barely a glance.

“Maria, fetch some of Elena’s spare clothes for my guest,” he commanded, taking a seat in one of the oversized, cream leather armchairs and buckling his safety belt. “Sit down. You can’t shower until after take off, and I am sure you’d rather have something clean to change into?” He was right; I desperately did want a change of clothes, even if they did belong to one of his mistresses or slaves.

I did as I was told, sliding into the seat opposite him and attempting to buckle the seatbelt with shaking hands. After my fourth failed attempt to make the two ends meet, he reached over and slapped my hands aside, clicking it together for me and jerking it tight. My mouth reflexively opened to thank him, my boarding school manners almost taking over before I caught myself. You do not thank the man who just murdered someone in front of you, Kit.

“Oh don't give me that look,” he snorted, sitting back in his own chair and levelling an intense look my way. “Gheorghe has had that coming for a really long time. Trust me when I say the world is a better place without men like him.”

I pursed my lips and didn't take the bait. As horrifying as it was that he had just shot a man in cold blood, my hands were hardly spotless themselves. I closed my eyes to block out his heavy stare and tried to calm my mind. I was exhausted, like I had just run a marathon, which must be thanks to my body burning through whatever was in that drug at the auction house.

Since learning that my healing ability might be applied to others, not just to myself, I had taken up meditation in an effort to try and get a handle on whatever it was that made me heal. So far, I hadn't had much luck. But the breathing exercises had really helped me keep my temper when Austin was driving me ballistic.

Austin. What the hell am I going to do about him? Goddamn, that makeout in the paintball park was hot. Even if I did think he was Caleb.

“You still awake there?” Dragomir's velvet voice cut through my quiet mind and shocked me back to the present. I cracked an eye open to glare at him. As if I could sleep while being held captive on a plane to a mystery location when a dead man's blood was crusting on my skin.

“We are at cruising altitude, if you wanted to take that shower. Unless you need assistance?” He quirked a suggestive eyebrow, and I didn't bother to hide a shudder of revulsion. Showering with murderous slave owners was not high on my to-do list.

I unclipped my safety belt and picked up the pile of neatly folded clothing that had been placed on the small foldout table in front of me. Just my luck, as I stood from my seat, still in the ridiculous stripper heels, the plane banked slightly, causing me to lose my balance and topple straight into Dragomir's lap.

“You could have just asked nicely, dragă; there was no need to throw yourself at me while covered in blood.” His dry remark held a little too much seriousness for my liking. I scrambled madly to regain my feet and quickly headed down the aisle before he could see my beet red face. I assumed the shower would be at the back of the plane.

Thankfully, I was right and didn't need to walk back up the aisle to find it. Once inside I locked the door and stared at the flimsy lock for a moment. It wasn't likely to keep anyone out if they were determined, but I guessed it was the best I was going to get.

I sighed and stripped out of the blood-splatted coat, then practically tore the slutty auction house outfit from my body. Stepping into the shower, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror that I had been deliberately ignoring and gasped. I looked like Carrie after she got the bucket of pig’s blood dumped on her. Except this wasn't pig’s blood. Holding my breath to prevent another round of vomiting, I quickly stepped into the water.

I stayed under the spray until I was confident I was as clean as I could be before stepping out and wrapping myself in an absurdly soft towel. Picking up the pile of clothing that belonged to Elena, whoever she was, I saw the hostess had even included a bra and panties for me. The idea of wearing someone else's underwear made me cringe though, and the bra was far too small, so I decided to commando it. Thankfully, I had been given sensible clothes that wouldn't make my lack of underwear too evident.

Once dressed, and unable to find a hairdryer or brush, I no longer had any excuse to stay in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath to calm my frayed nerves, I stepped back out into the main cabin and made my way back to my seat. As I walked, I could feel the leering eyes of Dragomir's security burning into my backside where Elena's jeans were just a touch too tight.

I gave the aircraft a quick glance to find a seat further away from my captor, but those were all taken by his men. Reluctantly, I slid back into the seat opposite him and buckled my seatbelt tightly across my lap. For lack of anything better to do, I picked up the emergency procedure pamphlet from one of the discreet side pockets on the wall. I was pleased to notice my hands had stopped shaking.

I took my time reading the pamphlet, committing every word to memory and then reading it again. Not because I was afraid of flying but because I was afraid of making eye contact with the intense man whose cold, cruel gaze I could feel firmly fixated on my face while I read.

“Interesting read?” he finally asked, breaking the tense silence, and I fought the natural instinct to look up and acknowledge him. I didn't respond, instead reading over the pamphlet for a third time. I think I could fairly safely say I was now well informed on all of the evacuation procedures in the event of an emergency.

“You know, it's almost a six hour flight back to my home from where we were, and you only managed to use up thirty minutes in the shower. How many times do you think you'd be able to read that page in that amount of time?” His dry, amused tone grated against my nerves, and the fingers of my free hand curled into a fist while I envisioned smacking the amusement clean off his handsome face. Asshole.

“You must be hungry… I can't imagine the slave traders had made it their top priority to feed you while in captivity,” he mused, inspecting my body as though I should be totally emaciated with ribs sticking out. Damn him for speaking my language, though; I was starving, and my stomach echoed that sentiment by growling loudly. He smirked at the sound, and I gritted my teeth in an effort not to punch him in the mouth. As tempting as it was, it would only cause more problems for me while in midair.

“I’ll tell you what,” he purred, a sly grin across his face. “I will provide a meal if you answer all of my questions while you eat.” My glare narrowed at him.

Surely he hadn't spent three point five million dollars for the scintillating pleasure of my conversation?

My mind was made up for me, though, when the same hostess appeared as if from thin air, carrying a tray which smelled like the most heavenly creation in the world, and my belly cramped painfully.

“Fine,” I ground out from behind clenched teeth, then needed to force myself not to snatch the food as the hostess slowly unfolded a table from my armrest and placed the tray down in front of me. Holy fucking shit, steak!

I stifled a groan as the smell of it reached my nose and tried to calmly pick up my cutlery and eat with a little dignity, while on the inside my belly wanted to tear into the food like some sort of rabid animal. “I presume I guessed correctly that you're a carnivore then?” my companion commented, his heavy stare making me think there was subtext to that statement that my poor food-deprived brain wasn't computing.

Ignoring him, I placed a huge forkful of food in my mouth. As awful as airline food generally was, this was definitely the exception to the rule, and I struggled not to cram it in any faster. Logic told me that if it had truly been a long time since I had eaten, then I needed to take this slowly or I'd be decorating the carpet soon.

“So, tell me dragă, how did you end up in the Onyx Auction?” The psychotic man across from me was wasting no time getting his questions started, although that wasn't exactly what I had expected. I wasn't entirely sure what I had expected, to be honest, but it wasn't that.

“That's what you want to know?” I asked suspiciously in between mouthfuls.

“For now,” he replied, relaxing back into his seat.

I pursed my lips, thinking about what harm there could be in answering honestly. “I was kidnapped, like I keep telling you.”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Elaborate, please.”

I sighed, too tired to play games. “I was kidnapped from my home in Washington. Some asshole that I had run into a couple of times before came out of nowhere and chloroformed me. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in an underground cell, then drugged and sold on a stage in some dodgy looking strip club.” I glared at him. “Where you paid a small fortune to buy me rather than letting that disgusting old pedophile win the auction.” At this, his left eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“You knew him? The man bidding against me?” He seemed genuinely surprised at this, and I was relieved to see they weren't working together in some way.

“That was the first time I had seen him in a long time. Almost six years. It honestly never occurred to me that he might have had a hand in my abduction.” I dodged his eye contact, not willing to give away any more information on that subject. I knew my eyes would give away more than I was comfortable with while I desperately shoved the memories back in their little locked box.

“Interesting…” he murmured. “So you are from Washington? That's a big city, is it not?”

“No.” I shook my head, grateful for the safe subject. “State, not DC. Opposite sides of the country. And I'm not technically from there; I was just going to school there.”

“So you were kidnapped from your school? You seem a little old… no offense.” He smiled at me congenially, and I snorted at the normal conversation I was having with someone who’d just blown a man's brains out in front of me not an hour ago. I really am a magnet for crazies and trouble after all.

“Ah yeah, I am. But I had just graduated,” I said, not offering anything extra.

“I see. So what were you doing that allowed you to be surprised by a man with chloroform?” he pressed, and for some reason the words just kept rolling off my tongue.

“I was at paintball.” He frowned in confusion, “You know, where you shoot the other team with bullets made of paint?” He hummed and nodded his understanding, then gestured for me to continue. “I was there with some friends, and when I was walking back to the starting point, Sergei just popped out of nowhere.”

“And where were these friends of yours while you were being kidnapped? They just let this happen?” He scowled, and I felt a strong surge of protectiveness for my guys.

“No they did not just let it happen,” I snapped. “They were already back at the starting point. They would never, ever, have let Sergei get away with it had they been anywhere nearby.”

He sat back in his seat, silent and watching me for a minute while I used the break to stuff more of the buttery steak into my mouth. I was careful to chew slowly before swallowing in order to give my stomach time to adjust.

“Tell me about these friends of yours,” he ordered, surprising me with the segue.

“Why do you want to know about my friends?” I asked hesitantly. While I didn't care much about telling my story—given I was already up shit creek—I wasn't so free to speak about them.

“Humor me.” He grinned like a crocodile, a curious glint in his granite gray eyes.

I frowned, intending to say nothing, but couldn't seem to filter my thoughts before the words began tumbling out once more. “What do you want to know about them? I met them recently, and they saved my life a couple of times, and now I'm sort of living with them. Or at least I was until all of this happened. They're probably really worried about me right now, and I wouldn't be surprised if they tracked me down and caused all sorts of trouble for you. You should probably just send me home and save yourself the bother.”

“Oh, I should, should I?” I could see him trying to hold back laughter. “What makes you so confident they will track you down? You don't even know where we are, and it has already been ten days since you went missing. The trail, as they say, has gone very cold.”

“You underestimate my friends,” I informed him. “They are some of the best undercover agents in the world, so I have no doubt they'll find me sooner or later.” What the hell?! Why did I just tell him that? Kit, shut the hell up! “And it can't have been ten days since I was taken; I would have already died from dehydration. Not to mention the fact that drugs don't work anywhere near as well on me as they do normal people, so it would have been impossible to keep me unconscious unless they were repeatedly chloroforming me.” At this point I forcefully clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the flow of word vomit before I gave away any more secrets. What is going on? This guy is so far on the wrong side of the law it is laughable, and here I am just spilling my guts to him like we are besties! Maybe the drugs from the auction were still affecting my brain somehow.

“Well, isn't that interesting,” Dragomir purred, a sexy smirk on his lush, kissable lips.

Woah, what? No! Not sexy or kissable! Dangerous and sociopathic!

“I'll help you out with some answers,” he offered. “The transport company that handles all the new acquisitions for Onyx Auction would have kept you on an IV drip of fluids and sedatives. It's pretty common practice in human trafficking. Now tell me about these secret agent friends of yours. Are you romantically involved with one of them? Is that why you are so sure they will come to rescue you?”

Why was he so interested in the guys? He’d just told me that I had been gone for ten days! Ten days! Why weren't we focusing on that part? My mouth moved to form words, but my thoughts were conflicting and all that came out was a strangled squeak as I tried to change the subject back to how he knew so much about the ins and outs of slave trading. My head began pounding, and I rubbed my temple with a heavy hand.

“Just answer the question, Kit, and your head will feel better.” His velvet voice soothed me, and I lost my train of thought, so I frowned at him and tilted my head in question.

“Your friends. I asked if you were romantically involved,” he reminded me, and I smiled, thinking of my romantic involvement with the boys.

“With all of them?” I clarified, and he looked a little startled. “No, not all of them. Not with Wesley or Austin. Except for that one makeout session with Austin at the paintball park, but that was when I thought he was Caleb and he was just using me to win the game.” My mind wandered back to that makeout, and my body tingled at the memory of Austin's lips against mine, his strong hands cupping my thighs while he ground against my core with his rock hard…

“And what about this 'Caleb'? Are you involved with him?” Dragomir interrupted my reminiscing, and I was snapped back to the present.

“Hmm? Oh, uh, I guess? We haven't really done anything, though, so maybe I am just imagining our chemistry. Not like with River and Cole. I am definitely not imagining that.” I was rambling, badly, and I couldn't seem to shut it off. I picked up the glass of water on my tray table and took a long drink to try and regain my wits, but as I gulped I glanced up and caught a triumphant look on my companion's face.

“Why do you care, Dragomir?” I asked him back then giggled, “Hah, that rhymed.”

He cringed. “Don't call me that. My name is Vali.”

“Huh?” I asked, with all the intelligence of a drunk monkey. Why was my brain so foggy again?

“Long story. But please, just call me Vali.” He sighed with an angry twist to his mouth. “But this is about you, Kit. Tell me about why you don't consider yourself a 'normal' person and why drugs don't affect you the same way. Is there something more to you?”

I blinked several times, tightening my mouth in an effort not to reply. Even through my babbling word vomit, I knew I couldn't answer his question.

“Did you drug me?” I asked instead, finally putting two and two together, and he barked out a loud laugh. That absolute bastard!

“Why yes, I did. And you're absolutely right; it's not affecting you anywhere near as quickly as it should be. By my calculations, you should have been out cold a full five minutes ago, and yet here you are, still telling me all sorts of juicy secrets. It's a fun side effect of this particular drug. It works like a bit of a truth serum until you pass out.” His grin was full of smug self-satisfaction, and yet it didn't seem to prevent my mouth’s running away from me.

“You're really attractive,” I blurted. What. The. Hell.

“So I have been told.” The arrogant asshole. Who says shit like that? “Tell me more about why these drugs aren't affecting you, Kit.”

I clamped my jaw shut hard. I have kept my abilities secret for years; it would take more than a little dose of fuck-knows-what to make me spill my guts on that one. Folding my lead-like arms across my cashmere covered chest, I sat back and glared hard at my captor. Vali. I liked it; it suited him better than Dragomir or Românul.

He met my glare with his own thoughtful look, and we stayed locked like that for several moments before my vision started to blur and my eyelids felt like they were carrying extra weight with every blink.

“Wait.” A thought occurred to me. “I never told you my name. How do you know my name?”

Just my luck, whatever I had been drugged with was finally doing its job and I was sinking fast into unconsciousness. No response came from Vali except a deep chuckle and rustling of fabric before my chair was reclined flat underneath me.

“Sweet dreams, dragă,” he snickered, as though I had any choice about going to sleep. Bastard.