“Have a wonderful holiday and get lots of presents!”

I hugged Annika, my colleague and friend, goodbye and almost ran to my car. We had just survived two gruelling days of stocktaking, and it was already eight o’clock on Friday, the twenty-second of December. All that stood between me and several days of glorious freedom was a quick stop at Lidl, then food, bath and wine, preferably in that order, although after stocktaking I had almost lost the will to live.

My fourteen-year-old twins were spending the weekend with their father, which meant I would have the flat entirely to myself. No arguments over the television, no mysterious disappearance of every clean glass in the kitchen and no one shouting for me from another room while holding a functioning mobile phone. Just peace. I had a good bottle of wine waiting at home and every intention of soaking in the bath until I resembled a prune. I could shave everything that required attention while I was there and be ready for tomorrow’s Shibari bondage course, which had been Alex’s present for my fifty-first birthday.

Some women received jewellery. I got rope. To be fair, I had been delighted.

I parked my Opel Corsa outside Lidl and hurried inside. It was freezing, I was exhausted and I had no intention of spending longer beneath the fluorescent lights than absolutely necessary. Ten minutes later, I had secured wine, breakfast and several items that technically qualified as food if one lowered one’s standards sufficiently.

I put the bags into the boot and returned the trolley. A huge white van drove past and stopped nearby.

Good luck finding a proper parking space with that thing.

A man approached from my left. He was attractive, broad-shouldered and wearing jeans and a T-shirt despite the cold. That should probably have concerned me more than it did, but I was tired and already thinking about my bath. He looked directly at me. I turned towards him, putting my back to the van.

Then everything went dark.

When I became aware of myself again, my mouth felt as though it had been filled with sand. Something covered my head. A bag. There was a bag over my head, and cold air touched far too much of my skin.

I was naked.

Not good!

Panic exploded through me. What the hell had happened? I tried to move, but my arms and legs felt weak and disconnected, as though they belonged to someone else and had only reluctantly agreed to accompany me.

The bag was suddenly ripped from my head. Light stabbed into my eyes. A stranger caught my arm and dragged me upright while another man held open a heavy door. Beyond it lay darkness.

The first man shoved me towards the opening. “Kill the Incubus, witch, and you’ll be free!” he shouted in a thick accent, laughing as though he had said something tremendously funny.

I resisted. At least, I attempted to. My body had apparently decided that standing was already an ambitious goal. I kicked at him, twisted and grabbed for the doorframe, determined not to enter whatever room required the words kill the Incubus as an introduction.

My heroic resistance inconvenienced him for perhaps three seconds. He shoved harder, I stumbled through the doorway and the heavy door slammed behind me, followed by the unmistakable click of a lock.

Every instinct screamed at me to kick it, hammer my fists against it and demand to be released. I managed not to. Barely. The men had drugged me, stripped me and thrown me into a locked room with someone they expected me to kill. Battering my hands bloody against a solid door was unlikely to improve matters.

A small victory for common sense. I’d take what I could get!

The cell was cold, not quite cold enough for me to see my breath, but without a stitch of clothing it would become uncomfortable very quickly. Wonderful. Drugged, abducted and naked. At least my evening was no longer boring.

I turned slowly, taking in my surroundings. The place was filthy. Dark stains covered the stone floor, and several bodies lay scattered around the room in various stages of decomposition. Apparently, Halloween was still in full swing here. The smell should have been unbearable, but the air was strangely fresh. That made no sense whatsoever, but it ranked fairly low on my current list of concerns.

The only clean part of the cell was occupied by a male mannequin sitting against a wall.

At least, I assumed it was a mannequin.

It was too perfectly formed to be real. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, long dark hair and a face that looked as though someone had taken every attractive feature available and combined them without any consideration for fairness. He was also completely naked.

My gaze travelled down his body almost involuntarily.

Interesting! Not too small, not terrifyingly large. Juuust right!

Trust me to be abducted and still find time to assess the merchandise.

Then the sex doll opened his eyes.

Goddess help me! Not that I believed in any goddesses anymore, but those eyes deserved divine intervention. They were the brightest blue I had ever seen, as though a diamond had exploded inside each iris and left glitter behind. Did it say blue diamond glitter on his passport under eye colour?

And he was looking directly at me.

I froze!

The man didn’t move. Heavy metal manacles encircled his wrists and ankles; each connected to thick chains disappearing into the wall. His posture was relaxed, almost regal, despite the restraints and the carnage surrounding him. Not bored, exactly. Tired. So tired that he had apparently moved beyond panic and come out the other side into weary acceptance. But there was still intelligence in those impossible eyes. Awareness. Calculation.

He was real!

Probably.

I mean I could be hallucinating!

His face was all sharp cheekbones, dark brows and a strong jaw softened by full lips and a hint of stubble. His hair had clearly not been cut for some time, but instead of making him look neglected, it only added to the whole tragically imprisoned aristocrat effect. Even chained naked in a dungeon, he looked better groomed than I did after a normal working day.

I swallowed. My mouth was still painfully dry from whatever they had drugged me with.

“You really need to tell your interior decorator that Halloween is over.” I gestured towards the bodies. My best friend Julia would have been proud. Kidnapping had not yet cured me of inappropriate humour.

The man blinked twice, then smiled.

Good grief! The smile transformed his face, warming the exhaustion in his eyes and making him look both younger and considerably more dangerous. He liked my joke. A small win, but I was collecting those.

“Ah, please forgive me,” he replied, his voice deep and melodic, carrying the trace of an accent I could not place. “I have been somewhat tied up.”

He lifted his shackled hands and rattled the chains.

Despite myself, I laughed.

His smile widened, as though my reaction delighted him far more than it should have.

“Pray tell, what season should my decorator be preparing for now? And, rather more importantly, what year is it?”

My amusement faded.

“What year?”

End of excerpt