The Krinar Captive – Emily & Zaron’s captive romance, set just before the Krinar Invasion
The Krinar Exposé – my scorching hot collaboration with Hettie Ivers, featuring Amy & Vair—and their sex club games
The Krinar World stories – Sci-fi romance stories by other authors, set in the Krinar world
Prefer action, fantasy, and sci-fi? Check out these collaborations with my hubby, Dima Zales:
The Girl Who Sees – the thrilling tale of Sasha Urban, a stage illusionist who discovers unexpected secret powers
Mind Dimensions – the action-packed urban fantasy adventures of Darren, who can stop time and read minds
Upgrade – the mind-blowing technothriller featuring venture capitalist Mike Cohen, whose Brainocyte technology will forever change the world
The Last Humans – the futuristic sci-fi/dystopian story of Theo, who lives in a world where nothing is as it seems
The Sorcery Code – the epic fantasy adventures of sorcerer Blaise and his creation, the beautiful and powerful Gala
If you like audiobooks, please visit annazaires.com to check out this series and our other books in audio.
And now, please turn the page for a little taste of Tormentor Mine and The Girl Who Sees.
Excerpt from Tormentor Mine
He came to me in the night, a cruel, darkly handsome stranger from the most dangerous corners of Russia. He tormented me and destroyed me, ripping apart my world in his quest for vengeance.
Now he’s back, but he’s no longer after my secrets.
The man who stars in my nightmares wants me.
* * *
“Are you going to kill me?”
She’s trying—and failing—to keep her voice steady. Still, I admire her attempt at composure. I approached her in public to make her feel safer, but she’s too smart to fall for that. If they’ve told her anything about my background, she must realize I can snap her neck faster than she can scream for help.
“No,” I answer, leaning closer as a louder song comes on. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
She’s shaking in my hold, and something about that both intrigues and disturbs me. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, but at the same time, I like having her at my mercy. Her fear calls to the predator within me, turning my desire for her into something darker.
She’s captured prey, soft and sweet and mine to devour.
Bending my head, I bury my nose in her fragrant hair and murmur into her ear, “Meet me at the Starbucks near your house at noon tomorrow, and we’ll talk there. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
I pull back, and she stares at me, her eyes huge in her pale face. I know what she’s thinking, so I lean in again, dipping my head so my mouth is next to her ear.
“If you contact the FBI, they’ll try to hide you from me. Just like they tried to hide your husband and the others on my list. They’ll uproot you, take you away from your parents and your career, and it will all be for nothing. I’ll find you, no matter where you go, Sara… no matter what they do to keep you from me.” My lips brush against the rim of her ear, and I feel her breath hitch. “Alternatively, they might want to use you as bait. If that’s the case—if they set a trap for me—I’ll know, and our next meeting won’t be over coffee.”
She shudders, and I drag in a deep breath, inhaling her delicate scent one last time before releasing her.
Stepping back, I melt into the crowd and message Anton to get the crew into positions.
I have to make sure she gets home safe and sound, unmolested by anyone but me.
* * *
Get your copy of Tormentor Mine today!
Excerpt from The Girl Who Sees by Dima Zales
I’m an illusionist, not a psychic.
Going on TV is supposed to advance my career, but things go wrong.
Like vampires and zombies kind of wrong.
My name is Sasha Urban, and this is how I learned what I am.
* * *
“I’m not a psychic,” I say to the makeup girl. “What I’m about to do is mentalism.”
“Like that dreamy guy on the TV show?” The makeup girl adds another dash of foundation to my cheekbones. “I always wanted to do his makeup. Can you also hypnotize and read people?”
I take a deep, calming breath. It doesn’t help much. The tiny dressing room smells like hairspray went to war with nail polish remover, won, and took some fumes prisoner.
“Not exactly,” I say when I have my anxiety and subsequent irritation under control. Even with Valium in my blood, the knowledge of what’s about to come keeps me on the edge of sanity. “A mentalist is a type of stage magician whose illusions deal with the mind. If it were up to me, I’d just go by ‘mental illusionist.’”
“That’s not a very good name.” She blinds me with her lamp and carefully examines my eyebrows.
I mentally cringe; the last time she looked at me this way, I ended up getting tortured with tweezers.
She must like what she sees now, though, because she turns the light away from my face. “‘Mental illusionist’ sounds like a psychotic magician,” she continues.
“That’s why I simply call myself an illusionist.” I smile and prepare for the makeup to fall off, like a mask, but it stays put. “Are you almost done?”
“Let’s see,” she says, waving over a camera guy.
The guy makes me stand up, and the lights on his camera come on.
“This is it.” The makeup girl points at the nearby LCD screen, where I have avoided looking until now because it’s playing the ongoing show—the source of my panic.
The camera guy does whatever he needs to do, and the anxiety-inducing show is gone from the screen, replaced by an image of our tiny room.
The girl on the screen vaguely resembles me. The heels make my usual five feet, six inches seem much taller, as does the dark leather outfit I’m wearing. Without heavy makeup, my
