Captive of Kadar. Trish Morey

       Amber could hardly tell him the reason why her lungs had squeezed so tightly in her chest. ‘I …’ she started, searching for some kind of excuse. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

      He inclined his head. ‘I apologise. We seem to have skipped the usual formalities. My name is Kadar Soheil Amirmoez—at your service.’

      She blinked, still shaken. ‘I’m hopeless with names. I’m never going to remember that.’

      He smiled a little—the first time she had witnessed him smile—and shadowed planes shifted, angles found curves and his dark eyes found a spark. And where before he’d been merely striking, with his strong dark looks, now he tipped over into truly dangerous.

      Her heart gave a tiny lurch. She had reason to feel fear. And yet still she was glad he’d found her again.

      ‘A simple Kadar will suffice. And you are?’

      ‘Amber. Plain old Amber Jones.’

      ‘Never plain,’ he said, in that rich, deep voice.

      She remembered the way he’d looked at her across the market, with eyes as dark as midnight, lit with red-hot coals, and she remembered too the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder and the promise his touch conveyed.

      And maybe the new, brave Amber wasn’t so far away from her as she’d feared.