Anna Zaires – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Anna Zaires – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:17:03 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Anna Zaires – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Chained Fate (Molotov Betrothal #3) Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/chained-fate-molotov-betrothal-3-read-online-anna-zaires Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:17:03 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/chained-fate-molotov-betrothal-3-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia Authors: Anna Zaires Series: Molotov Betrothal Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)

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A final war. A fate uncertain. A bond forged in fire.

Alina
My marriage began as a cage. Now, it may be my only sanctuary.

To survive, I must rely on the very monster I once feared. With every tender touch, every protective command, the line between love and hate dissolves further.

He thinks he’s chained me to him. He doesn’t realize... I may be the one who refuses to let go.

Alexei
She is finally mine. My wife. My obsession.

But a shadow looms over us, a vicious twist of fate that threatens to tear her away. I would burn down the world for her, but this is a battle I cannot win with violence.

Her brothers think our vows are her prison. They are a promise. One I will defy heaven and hell to keep

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Alina

The pilot’s announcement that our plane is starting its descent into Geneva cuts through the heavy fog of sleep engulfing me. I try to open my eyes, but they feel swollen and gritty, my lids all but glued shut. I must’ve fallen asleep again while crying in Alexei’s embrace. I give up and keep my eyes closed. My head is throbbing anew, and my nausea is returning. I don’t know if the latter is from my early pregnancy or the tumor eating my brain, and I don’t particularly care. It’s also possible my stomach is revolting from the knowledge of what awaits me when we land.

Awake brain surgery.

Chemo.

Radiation.

Loss of our baby.

For some reason, the last one is the hardest to come to terms with. If I proceed with the surgery and the treatment, the tiny embryo inside me—which I’m convinced is a girl—won’t survive. But if I don’t, I won’t survive, and Alexei won’t allow that.

I want to cry all over again.

I’m also pathetically, embarrassingly grateful that he seems determined to see this through with me. I don’t know how long his resolve will last once he sees me truly sick, but a part of me wants to believe him, to trust him. Not that I have a choice. He refuses to let me go home to my brothers… and some perverse part of me is grateful for that too.

A warm, heavy hand lands on my bare arm and strokes it softly. I swallow the burning knot in my throat and force open my eyes to meet my new husband’s intense, dark gaze.

Alexei’s face is still drawn tight, still tired. I wonder if he’s gotten any sleep since we left the yacht. Somehow, I doubt it.

The urge to touch him, to soothe him, wells up again. It’s insidious, the way the cruel, sardonic curve of his mouth now seems to hold a promise of tenderness, how his hard, mercilessly sculpted features are becoming so achingly familiar to me. Despite everything, my skin tingles at his touch, my heartbeat picking up pace at his proximity, and I know that if he were to lean down and press his lips to mine, the scorching heat of our connection would burn away all reason, all reality.

But he won’t do that. Because we’re landing soon and going straight to the clinic, where the doctors will cut open my skull and excise as much of the tumor as they can.

The thought is like a wet rag slapped against my face.

I swallow against another surge of nausea and sit up. “Where are my clothes?”

I was in a dress before embarking on our submarine journey that somehow ended with us on this private jet, but right now, I’m wearing only his black T-shirt that’s hugely oversized on me.

“I undressed you so you’d be more comfortable sleeping,” Alexei says, standing up. He walks over to a small door I didn’t notice before and opens it, revealing a tiny closet that holds only the dress and the underwear I was wearing. His expression is apologetic as he turns to me. “I didn’t think to grab any clean clothes for either of us. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” I’m guessing he had his hands full, figuring out how to get us here from the other side of the planet and all—though I do wish I had my makeup at the very least. I can feel how puffy my eyes are, and I’m sure I look terrible.

And the worst hasn’t even started.

Ugh. I wish I could turn off that voice in my head, the one that sounds suspiciously like my mom’s. Who cares what I look like when I’m fucking dying? I need to focus on what truly matters, not something as shallow as whether I’ll lose my hair all at once or in patches.

Alexei returns to the bed, carrying my underwear and the dress. Wordlessly, he hands them to me, and I flush, realizing he expects me to change right here, in front of him. It’s not an illogical expectation, given that he’s my husband whose seed is still crusted on my thighs. But my face burns regardless as I snatch the clothes from him and jump off the bed, ignoring the wave of nausea accompanying the sudden motion.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter as I beeline for the bathroom.

I need a shower at the very least.

“You don’t have much time,” Alexei calls after me. “We’re landing in seventeen minutes.”

“Got it!” Swiftly, I strip off his shirt and hop in the small shower stall. There’s no time to wash and blow-dry my hair, so I put it up in a lopsided ballerina bun and focus on rinsing off all traces of our sexfest.

When I’m done, I dry myself, dress in the clothes I was wearing, and pull my hair into a more artful messy bun. As expected, my face is a disaster, all pale, blotchy skin and puffy eyes, but I doubt the doctors will care. And if Alexei doesn’t like what he sees… oh, well. The sooner he realizes he’s made a mistake sticking by me, the better.

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Advertisement Dark Prince’s Mate – A Realm of Dragons & Scrolls Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.books2020.com/dark-princes-mate-a-realm-of-dragons-scrolls-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:08:55 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/dark-princes-mate-a-realm-of-dragons-scrolls-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls Advertisement

Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >93

I thought nothing was worse than dying. Then I discovered there are things that hurt an awful lot more than chemo—like getting your heart trampled on by the insanely powerful superhuman prince who claims you’re his mate. Right after we consummated the mating, no less.

Well, he can have a nice life. The moment an opportunity presents itself, I’m out of here.

I just need to locate someone who’ll portal me back to Earth before he finds me

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Elsie

The warmth of the soft sand beneath my back is welcome in the cool, dry air. The weather isn’t warm and humid like I’ve grown used to in Lona, and instead of smelling like moss and flowers, the breeze carries a stale, salty scent.

Goosebumps run over my arms under the light fabric of my shirt. I stretch out to better soak up the pleasant heat from the sunbaked beach. Squinting at the misty glare of the white sun, I study the colorless sky. There’s not a pterosaur or cloud in sight.

I’m lying on the shore of a small silver lake with gargantuan trees all around it. The star-shaped leaves are so delicate they’re almost transparent. They catch the pale light twinkling on the branches and sparkling in the reflection of the water. The fallen leaves glitter like a lacy carpet of cobwebs on the ground. The lake isn’t deep because the same trees dot the surface, standing up to their knobby roots in the water.

Betty, my quetzalcoatlus friend, sits close by in the shade of a palm tree, which is such a deep green it almost looks black. She watches me sulkily, her gaze flitting between my face and the weird tadpole-ish thing she’s plucked from the water and tossed next to me. It looks like a giant sperm with catfish barbels and two disproportionately miniscule lizard feet at the front.

“Nope,” I tell Betty. “I’m not going to eat that.”

She extends her giraffe-like neck and pokes the beige-brown, slimy glob with her beak. It wobbles like jelly.

Eww. And I’m definitely not eating it raw.

The tadpole hisses and slashes its tail viciously through the air, kicking up sand as it hits the ground.

“You’d better throw it back in the water.” At the almost dejected way in which Betty hangs her head, I add quickly, “But thanks for wanting to feed me. I appreciate it all the same.”

She lifts her long lashes, blinks innocently with those soft, big eyes, and unceremoniously gobbles up the tadpole.

Gross.

I suppress a shudder as she tucks her head beneath a wing to doze off in the hollow she’s scrubbed for herself in the sand. After a moment, I follow her example and interlink my fingers behind my head to make myself more comfortable and finally process what has happened.

I flew.

I freaking flew.

On a dinosaur’s back, no less.

The knowledge is so unreal and exhilarating that it still feels like a dream.

How much distance did we cover? I have no idea. I only know we were in the air for a long time. The landscape changed from stark iron-blue cliffs and foamy white-capped seas to rolling hills of succulent grass and tree-studded lakes. The vegetation slowly grew denser and darker until it turned into a jungle. We landed in a small clearing next to the water so that Betty could eat and drink. I sensed she was getting tired.

If anyone back home had told me I’d fly across a strange world on a quetzalcoatlus’s back, I would’ve laughed in their faces. How is this even possible? All I had to do to steer Betty in a specific direction was to think where I wanted her to go. Back at the palace, I only had to reach out to her with my mind, and there she was, landing on the balcony.

The strange power zapping like currents of electricity under my skin is responsible for this ability. It’s hard to believe that a short while ago, I lay in a hospital bed in Cleveland, Ohio, while my parents grieved in a corner as a doctor told me I was dying. Just as I was mourning my impending mortality, a circle of lights appeared, and I was sucked onto a different planet, an Earth-like world in what I figure must be a parallel universe. A world where lizard people would’ve gang-raped me and sold me as a slave if a darkly handsome prince with a terrible power hadn’t saved me, claiming that I was his mate.

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I’ve been too preoccupied with staying on Betty’s back to dwell on what happened with Aruan, but now I can’t help myself.

We had sex. He took my V-card, only to treat me with a cold, cruel indifference in the aftermath.

My chest tightens as I relive those terrible moments.

He must’ve hated the sex.

For all his claims that I’m fated to be his, we’re clearly not compatible as mates.

At the time, I was too overwhelmed to think clearly. I simply had to get away. What I’ve done only hits me now.

I escaped.

Holy fuck.

I actually did it.

This is what I wanted. This is what I set out to do from the moment I arrived on Zerra and doubly so when I found out that my presence could be dangerous for this strange, beautiful world. So why do I feel so down, so disturbingly… forlorn at the thought of putting distance between me and Aruan? Sure, we had sex. But it wasn’t like we made love. It was more like “let’s rip each other’s clothes off and just get it over with.”

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Advertisement Dark Prince’s Captive (A Realm of Dragons & Scrolls #1) Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.books2020.com/dark-princes-captive-a-realm-of-dragons-scrolls-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:15:51 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/dark-princes-captive-a-realm-of-dragons-scrolls-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls Series: A Realm of Dragons & Scrolls Series by Anna Zaires
Series: Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

One minute, I'm in a hospital, about to kick the bucket, and the next, I’m in a weird jungle teeming with ridiculously oversized bugs and demon-like lizard people determined to enslave me. Nope, I didn’t die. And no, sadly, it’s not a hallucination.

I'm pretty sure it's going to end badly, but then a darkly gorgeous, terrifying man steps through a portal and dissolves the lizard dudes where they stand before carrying me away.

Apparently, he's a prince with scary superpowers… and I'm his fated mate.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Elsie

“Ms. Barnikoff… I’m terribly sorry to tell you this, but your heart is failing.”

“Uh-huh.” I return my attention to my laptop, on which my Greek Lit paper is taunting me with its awkwardly worded third sentence. “Go on.”

Dr. Moore clears his throat. “Ms. Barnikoff—Elisa—I’m not sure if you heard me⁠—”

“Call me Elsie, please.”

I correct the sentence and look up in time to see the doctor throw a confused glance at my mom, who’s quietly wiping away tears in the corner. My dad, standing next to her, is stoic as always, but even he looks paler and stiffer than usual, which is already pretty pale and stiff.

I sigh and close my laptop, giving my full attention to the doctor—a slim, youngish man who looks like he’s desperately wishing he were anywhere but in this hospital room in Cleveland, delivering this news to us.

I feel bad for him. Almost as bad as I feel for my parents. Which is why I paste a smile on my face and say, “It’s okay. Just give it to me straight. Am I dying?”

He nods grimly. “Unfortunately, due to your medical history, you’re not a candidate for a transplant.”

That’s nothing I didn’t already know. “How long do I have?”

He winces. “Weeks. Possibly days.”

Mom lets out a sniffle, and Dad wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Gotcha,” I say and open my laptop. “I’d better hurry and get this paper done then. It’s due in two weeks.”

Dr. Moore looks like a guppy as he opens his mouth and closes it several times. “Ms. Barnikoff—Elsie—I’m not sure if you⁠—”

“Oh, no, I get it, really. I just have work to do, that’s all.” I turn my attention to the screen in front of me, ignoring the erratic rhythm of the dying organ in my chest and the fatigue threatening to fog up my brain.

There’s a long minute of silence, during which I correct another sentence in my paper while Mom sniffles some more. Finally, Dr. Moore says in a strained voice, “If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you three to talk it over.”

“Thank you! You were very helpful,” I call after him as he exits the room, closing the door behind him.

It’s important to be gentle with doctors. They suffer greatly when delivering bad news.

Mom’s sniffles grow louder as she approaches my hospital bed. She perches on the edge and reaches for my computer. “Elsie…” Her blue eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. “Darling, why don’t you let me take that and⁠—”

“No.” I snap the computer closed again and stuff it under my blanket. The slender laptop weighs a pound and a half at most, yet moving it tires me out—yet another sign that Dr. Moore isn’t lying. Not that I have any reason to think he is.

Between the never-ending cough, the dizziness, the nausea, the heart palpitations, and the swollen legs, I have all the symptoms of heart failure, and I’ve known it for a while, which is why I resisted coming to the hospital for so long.

“Darling, please…” Mom lays her hand over the blanket covering my laptop. “I know how dedicated you are to your studies, but that’s not what’s important right now. You should⁠—”

“What, travel? See the world? Eat all the food that makes me vomit?” My tone is sharper than I intend, but I can’t help it.

My parents have been on a mission to make me “live” ever since this all started, a.k.a. since I was in diapers. If they’d had their way, I wouldn’t have attended school or done anything other than frantically grasp at experiences that are, at best, uncomfortable and, at worst, fucking agonizing for someone with my physical limitations. They can’t seem to comprehend the fact that my body does not want me to have fun or enjoy life in any way, shape, or form. My best bet at a semblance of happiness is escaping into my mind, which is exactly what I do when I focus on my studies.

I may only have a few days left on this earth, but I’ll be damned if I spend them moping about my fate and gazing at the sunset or whatever. I have a fucking paper to finish.

Mom must realize she’s not going to win this fight, so she sniffles a bit more, kisses my forehead, and stands up. “Okay, darling, whatever you want.”

“You are the strongest girl we know,” Dad says gruffly, coming to stand next to Mom. “If there’s anything you need⁠—”

“I’ll be fine tonight.” I cough and pull out my laptop from under the blanket, doing my best not to show how much effort the movement entails. “Thank you, guys. I love you.”

“We love you too,” Mom says, wiping at her wet face. “So, so much. We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” I say and blow them an air kiss. “Bye.”

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Advertisement Fit for Love Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/fit-for-love-read-online-anna-zaires Wed, 19 Mar 2025 15:57:28 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/fit-for-love-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Anna Zaires Advertisement

Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

I slept with my trainer. And as it turns out, I’m not the only one.

Apparently, he sleeps with all his clients.

So I block him—the last thing I need is another a-hole in my life. Especially one as irresistibly charming and handsome as Ashton Vancroft.

The catch? Three years later, our best friends, Emma and Marcus, get engaged, and we are both forced to play nice at their destination wedding in Florida.

Is he really the self-centered playboy I’ve made him out to be? Or is there something more to this fitness-obsessed now-billionaire that I missed the first time around?

Well, after getting stranded on a secret island together and being forced to hunker down in the same cabin, I guess I have no choice but to find out

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Part One

Three Years Earlier

Chapter 1

Kendall

Ugh, why are men such dogs?

Mr. Boss’s Wife Number Five turns around, arching a trendily bushy eyebrow. “What did you say?”

Oh, crap. Did I say that out loud? I put on my most professional smile. “Nothing. Just⁠—”

“What is that mopey face doing on my set?” Tierre vigorously fans himself with peacock feathers. “I told you, I can’t have any negative juju here.” He points his bejeweled finger into the distance, away from the dreadlocked white tiger, the albino iguana, and the giant mist machine working overtime—in other words, the usual things that make one think “high fashion.” Or just “high.”

I back away until I’m out of Mr. Boss’s sight. It’s my first week on the job, and I’ve already been in hot water twice—once for getting barked at by Tierre’s female French bulldog (a bitch that is apparently hypersensitive to “sad juju vibes”) and now again for somehow looking “mopey.”

I mean, I do feel a bit sad and mopey. Or more than a bit, to be honest. I may have even cried in the bathroom on my lunch break yesterday. Which sucks because the cheating asshole I was dating doesn’t deserve a single tear. Unless it’s somebody tearing him a new one—a task for which I’d gladly volunteer.

I should probably just stop dating. Become a nun, stop waxing, and forget pedicures. Or worse, date total losers, like my friend Emma does. The guys she goes for could never get another girl of her caliber, so she’s been spared the heartache of getting dumped by yet another hot dude. Or dumping him after finding out he was dating three other girls at the same time—which is my latest situation.

Whatever. I need to focus on de-mopefying myself… somehow. Maybe I should listen to some Bach? Meditate? Rewatch Zoolander?

“Hey, wait up,” Wife Number Five says, catching up to me.

“Hey… you.” I mentally kick myself for not writing down her name as soon as Mr. Boss introduced us. The problem is, a second later, he also introduced me to his dog, and as a result, I’m not sure which of them is Cleopatra and which is Catherine. The mnemonic for both is that there was a historical queen with the same name, but that only helps when it comes to not forgetting the names.

“Are you going through a breakup or something?” she asks.

Shit. The last thing I want is to have a girl talk with my boss’s wife. Then again, if she sympathizes, maybe she’ll ask her hubby to be nicer to me.

“I got cheated on,” I admit.

She cocks her head. “And then?”

And then? “I dumped his ass.” And I might’ve stuffed his favorite T-shirt into the garbage disposal and let it run.

“I see,” she says sagely. “That’s one of the many problems with the whole monogamy paradigm.”

“Oh?” Please, for the love of God, don’t invite me to an orgy—because that’s where this seems to be headed.

“Not sure if you know this, but Tierre and I have an open marriage,” she says, proudly lifting her surgeon-sculpted nose. “This way, cheating is impossible.”

Is it? “That sounds really evolved,” I say as nonjudgmentally as possible. “I’m just too possessive for that, I guess.”

“You’re just young,” she says. “Your passions are running wild.”

“Thanks?”

She’s in her mid-forties to Tierre’s sixty. Rumor has it, the gap between Mr. Boss and each wife gets wider with each iteration. Then again, also according to rumor, he may not be interested in women at all, except that he thinks a wife keeps people guessing at his sexual preferences and therefore gives him an air of mystery.

“Come closer,” she says.

Reluctantly, I do—and it’s like diving into a pool of perfume.

“I know exactly what you need,” she whispers, leaning in.

“Oh?” Seriously. Don’t invite me to an orgy. I beg you.

She pulls out a business card. Printed on it in neat letters is the word “Essence” and an address. “Go to this gym and ask for Ash,” she says. “Thank me tomorrow.”

Oh. A workout. That’s a great idea. With enough endorphins in my body, I may look less mopey after all.

“Thanks.” I pocket the card.

“No problem.” She hands me her credit card, and when I glance at it, I see which of the two queen names is hers. “The first session is on me.”

Does she realize she sounds like a drug dealer? “Thanks again, Catherine,” I say earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

She waves that away. “I’m a good judge of character, and I think you’re perfect for this job.”

I feel like kissing her for saying that, but that’s inappropriate, right? Not to mention, if I do kiss her, she may invite me to that orgy, so I just thank her gushingly instead and commit her name to permanent memory.

* * *

Emma calls me right as I finish telling my cabbie where I’m headed.

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Advertisement Beautiful Chains (Molotov Betrothal #2) Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/beautiful-chains-molotov-betrothal-2-read-online-anna-zaires Thu, 07 Dec 2023 05:55:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/beautiful-chains-molotov-betrothal-2-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Authors: Anna Zaires Series: Molotov Betrothal Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >60

Alina
Alexei Leonov. My stalker. My captor. And now, my husband. On a yacht in the middle of the Pacific, he is the source of and solace from my suffering. He will stop at nothing until I’m bound to him in every way. And marriage is only the beginning. Alexei
For eleven years, I’ve plotted and waited, consumed with fantasies of what it would be like once Alina Molotova was finally mine. Now that I have her, my obsession with her is only getting stronger. My plans for her may be ruthless, but I’ll do whatever it takes to chain her to me—mind, body, and heart. Only, there’s one thing I didn’t count on. One variable I didn’t plan for. The twisted hand of fate.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Alexei

25 Years Earlier, Moscow

“‘—And that’s when the young prince saw the beautiful princess.’”

Mama pauses in her reading, and I shift uncomfortably, my bottom sore and aching from Papa’s belt. She glances at me and pushes herself up to sit straighter against the piled-up pillows. Her mountain of a belly moves with her, as big as the tower in the book she’s reading.

It’s so big I might be able to fit in there, and I’m already five. Or if not me, then my little brother, Ruslan. He’s only three.

“Want me to stop reading so you can go play?” Mama asks softly as I lay my hand on that huge belly in the hopes of feeling my baby sister kick. She does that a lot lately.

“No, keep going,” I say and nestle closer to Mama. She’s been on “bed rest” forever, ever since my baby sister crawled into her stomach and made her sick. Because I’m grown, I remember a time when things were different, when Mama bathed us and played with us, but Ruslan doesn’t. He thinks it’s always been like this, that Mama has always been this unmoving mound of a person who can kiss us, and read books to us, and that’s about it.

Mama smiles and wraps her soft arm around me as she turns the page. “All right, darling, let’s continue.” Her voice takes on the dramatic cadence I love. “‘The princess lived in a tower surrounded by dragons. Her father, the king, locked her in there because he wasn’t a nice man. He didn’t care that the princess wasn’t happy living there all by herself, so when the young prince came to ask for her hand in marriage, the king refused. He said—’”

“Why did he refuse?” I interrupt. I’ve asked this before—Mama has read this story to me many times—but I still want to hear her answer. “And why was he not nice?”

What I really want to know is whether the king used his belt to punish the princess, the way Papa does with me and Ruslan. But that question might upset Mama, and her doctor said she’s not allowed to get upset or she’ll die. That’s why I haven’t told her that Papa punished me today for breaking the old Chinese vase in the living room. She doesn’t like it when Papa uses his belt, and she also doesn’t like it when I behave badly. I actually wasn’t at fault this time, but I can’t tell her that without Papa finding out the truth. It was Ruslan who broke the vase, but when Papa asked us about it in that scary voice of his, my brother started crying and I told Papa that I did it.

I’m bigger and stronger, so the belt doesn’t hurt me as much.

“The king refused because he didn’t think the young prince was good enough for his daughter,” Mama replies, giving me the same answer as before. “As to why the king wasn’t nice, well, darling… some men just aren’t. They’re born that way.”

Like Papa.

I want to say that, but it might upset Mama. She doesn’t like it when anyone says anything bad about him. I know because she fired Kristen, our American nanny, for calling Papa “abusive.” I don’t know what that means, but it must be bad because Mama liked it that Kristen was teaching us English. Now Ruslan and I don’t have anyone to speak English with except my toy soldiers, and they don’t know it any better than I do.

“Ready to continue?” Mama asks, and I nod eagerly.

This is my favorite story, and even though I know every word and have learned to read it by myself, I like how Mama tells it best.

With a sigh, she keeps reading. “He said, ‘You are not worthy of my daughter. If you truly want her hand in marriage, you must first slay every dragon around her tower.’ The king knew the young prince wouldn’t be able to do that. There were dozens upon dozens of dragons—” She stops abruptly, and I feel her stiffen.

Worried, I sit up to look at her. “Mama?”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m okay. It’s okay. Come here.” She pats the blanket, and when I’m curled up against her again, she continues. “‘There were dozens upon dozens of dragons, each scarier than the next, and only the bravest, strongest man would be able to fight them—and even he would eventually lose.’”

“But the young prince didn’t lose,” I say, excitement fizzling through me. I know where the story is going, and it makes me want to jump up and down on the bed. I don’t do it, though. The doctor said if I jostle Mama too much, she will die and so will my baby sister.

Mama stiffens again, and when she speaks, her voice sounds different. Strained, like she’s having trouble going number two. “No, he didn’t lose. It took him many years, but he—” She groans and attempts to sit up higher against the pillows. “Darling, please get—ahhh!”

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Advertisement Terrible Beauty (Molotov Betrothal #1) Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/terrible-beauty-molotov-betrothal-1-read-online-anna-zaires Sat, 01 Oct 2022 08:39:05 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/terrible-beauty-molotov-betrothal-1-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance Authors: Anna Zaires Series: Molotov Betrothal Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

A family contract. A dark bargain. No escape.

Eleven years ago, I met him. A year later, I was betrothed to him. Now he’s come to claim me, slaughtering anyone standing in his way.

My husband-to-be is a monster from a family as ruthless and powerful as mine, a man who deals in violence and destruction... a man terrifyingly like my father. For over a decade, he’s stalked me, shadowing my life.

I fear him. I hate him. Worst of all, I want him.

My name is Alina Molotova, and Alexei Leonov is a fate I can’t escape.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Present Day, Location Unknown

Cool lips brush my throbbing forehead, bringing with them a faint aroma of pine, ocean, and leather. “Shh… It’s okay. You’re okay. I just gave you something to ease your headache and make this easier.”

The male voice is deep and dark, strangely familiar. The words are spoken in Russian. My fuzzy mind struggles to focus. Why Russian? I’m in America, aren’t I? How do I know this voice? This scent?

I try to pry open my heavy lids, but they refuse to budge. Same goes for my hand when I attempt to lift it. Everything feels impossibly heavy, like my very bones are made of metal, my flesh of concrete. My head lolls to one side, my neck muscles unable to support its weight. It’s as if I were a newborn. I try to speak, but an incoherent noise escapes my throat, blending with a distant roar that my ears can now discern.

Maybe I am a newborn. That would explain why I’m so ridiculously helpless and can’t make sense of anything.

“Here, lie down.” Strong hands guide me onto some soft, flat surface. Well, most of me. My head ends up on something elevated and hard, yet comfortable. Not a pillow, too hard for that, but not a stone either. There isn’t much give in the object, but there is some. It’s oddly warm as well.

The object shifts slightly, and from the foggy recesses of my mind, the answer to the mystery emerges. A lap. My head is lying on someone’s lap. A male someone, judging by the steely, thickly muscled thighs underneath my aching skull.

My pulse accelerates. Even with my thoughts sluggish and tangled, I know this isn’t normal for me. I don’t do laps or men. At least I haven’t thus far in all of my twenty-five years.

Twenty-five. I grab on to that sliver of knowledge. I’m twenty-five, not a newborn. Encouraged, I sift through more of the tangled threads, seeking an answer to what’s happening, but it eludes me, the recollections coming slowly, if at all.

Darkness. Fire. A nightmare demon coming to claim me.

Is that a memory or something I saw in a movie?

A needle biting deep into my neck. Unwelcome lassitude spreading through my body.

That last bit feels real. My mind might not be functioning, but my body knows the truth. It senses the threat. My heart rate intensifies as adrenaline saturates my veins. Yes. Yes, that’s it. I can do it. With strength born of growing terror, I force open my leaden eyelids and look up into a pair of eyes darker than the night surrounding us. Eyes set in a cruelly handsome face that haunts my dreams and nightmares.

“Don’t fight it, Alinyonok,” Alexei Leonov murmurs. His dark voice holds both promise and threat as he gently threads his fingers through my hair, massaging away the throbbing tension in my skull. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself.”

The edges of his calluses catch on the tangles in my long hair, and he pulls his fingers out, only to curve his palm around my jaw. He has big hands, dangerous hands. Hands that have killed dozens today alone. The knowledge roils my stomach even as some knot of tension deep inside me unravels. For ten long years, I’ve dreaded this moment, and finally, it’s here.

He’s here.

He’s come for me.

“Don’t cry,” my husband-to-be says softly, brushing away the wetness on my face with the rough edge of his thumb. “It won’t help. You know that.”

Yes, I do. Nothing and no one can help me now. I recognize that distant roar. It’s the sound of a plane engine. We’re in the air.

I close my eyes and let the hazy darkness take me.

Chapter 2

11 Years and 3 Months Earlier, Moscow

A tentative knock falls on my bedroom door. “Alina, are you in there? Come on, it’s time for our lesson.”

Yeah, fuck that. I pause the game I’m playing on the Wii and thumb up the volume on my iPod until “Get Low” by Lil’ Jon & The East Side Boyz is blasting in my ears, drowning out the annoying voice of my tutor.

Muting the sound on the TV, I resume the game and guide Mario down the road, ignoring the continuous knocking. I don’t know why I have to take English lessons all summer long when I’ve been studying at a boarding school in New Hampshire for the past three years. By now, my English is as good as any of my American classmates’, my Russian accent nonexistent. Sure, my spelling and grammar could be better, but I’m just heading into ninth grade. I’ll learn all the stupid rules eventually.

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Advertisement Midnight Days (White Nights #2) Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.books2020.com/midnight-days-white-nights-2-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Thu, 18 Nov 2021 05:10:03 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/midnight-days-white-nights-2-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia, Romance Authors: Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls Series: White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >127

Read Online Books/Novels:	Midnight Days (White Nights #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B094DMCDSD
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My instincts warned me that Alex Volkov is a dangerous man. My mind told me to run when he set his sights on me with unfaltering determination. It’s not that I didn’t try to resist, but Alex had a game plan. He was always one step ahead of me, skillfully drawing me deeper into his web. Even when he gave me freedom, it was only an illusion.
Books in Series:	White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:	Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls

1

Kate

The full impact of the last twelve hours only hits me when Alex Volkov’s private plane comes in for landing over St. Petersburg, Russia. I sit up in the double bed where I’ve been sleeping and look out the round window that’s next to the bed. The sky is a magnificent thin, winter blue. Far below, a city is mapped out on the ground. Judging from the increased pressure in my ears, we’re dropping in altitude.

I check my watch. It’s seven in the morning in New York City. That makes it two o’clock in the afternoon in St. Petersburg.

The side next to me is undisturbed, the sheets unruffled and the pillow undented. There’s no sign of Alex. When he ordered me to bed, he was in the middle of a hushed, intense discussion with the guards who boarded the plane with us. The usual guys, Igor, Leonid, Dimitri, and Yuri, were there, as well as a few new faces. Has he been working all night?

A knock falls on the door, startling me from my thoughts.

“Kate?” a gruff voice calls from the other side. “We’re landing shortly.”

Igor.

I have a good mind to tell him to go to hell, but it’s not his fault I’m locked in here. Taking my anger out on the guard won’t help.

He knocks again. “Did you hear me? You have to take a seat and buckle up.”

I rub my eyes in an effort to clear the lingering grogginess. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“You have ten.”

I suspect Alex slipped something into the juice he insisted I drink with my dinner. My sleep was almost comatose. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been too apprehensive to drift off after the events of last night.

Last night.

A shiver creeps over me at the memory.

After someone delivered my hospital access card to Alex’s house, he had our bags packed in a hurry. Despite my protests, he bundled me into his plane and took me away from my home, my job, my mom, and my friends. For several months maybe. He delivered the blow with reserved regret but unstoppable determination, telling me in no uncertain terms that I no longer have a choice.

It’s nothing short of a kidnapping.

Yet that’s not the most troubling thought at the forefront of my mind. It’s the knowledge that someone wants Alex dead. After the failed assassination attempt in New York, his life is still at risk. I thought—I hoped—that whoever shot Igor gave up when they didn’t succeed, but the card delivery indicates otherwise. Whoever is after Alex is going to try again and is willing to do whatever it takes, including using me to get to Alex.

Not only am I a liability to him now, but my life might also be in danger—and Alex refuses to go to the police. He thinks they can’t help, and maybe he’s right. Other than my card going missing for a few hours, we don’t have any evidence of foul play. Also, there’s the possibility of corruption. I didn’t consider that before, but it’s not uncommon, especially where the Russian mafia is concerned. Alex’s business dealings aren’t exactly clean.

What a freaking mess.

Throwing the covers aside, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Without the warmth of the soft blanket, goosebumps run over my arms. I’m naked. I vaguely remember Alex undressing me and asking if I wanted a sip of water. After that, everything is a blank.

I look around for clothes and spot an overnight bag at the bottom of a closet alcove. I’ve never seen a plane like this. The cabin even has a vanity and en-suite bathroom.

After finishing my shift at the ER last night, I didn’t have time to shower. Everything happened in a whirlwind of action. So now I have a quick shower and dress in the clothes Marusya, Alex’s housekeeper, packed for me. They’re not my own clothes—which would’ve meant my standard casual wear of comfortable jeans, a sweater, and Uggs—but the new ones Alex bought for me. The off-white slacks and matching cashmere sweater are more formal than my usual style, as are the similarly colored high-heeled boots.

I’m brushing out my hair when the door opens. Alex stands in the frame, still dressed in the black pants and shirt from yesterday. Stubble darkens his jaw, and his hair is messy, the short strands standing in every direction as if he’s dragged his fingers through them several times. Despite those signs hinting at a sleepless night, his gaze is alert, as is his stance. His tall, powerful frame crowds the space, trapping me like a rabbit in a cage.

Bravely, I maintain our eye contact. I’m not angry at him for trying to keep us safe. What upsets me is how he’s going about it. He took away all of my choices and dragged me onto this plane. His single-minded resolve is nothing if not scary. Only I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he intimidates me. I normally pride myself on being a self-assured woman, but Alex is in a different league from anyone I’ve known. Just how different, I’m still discovering.

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Advertisement White Nights (White Nights #1) Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.books2020.com/white-nights-white-nights-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Wed, 15 Sep 2021 06:10:52 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/white-nights-white-nights-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance Authors: Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls Series: White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >83

Read Online Books/Novels:	(White Nights #1) White Nights
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls
Language:	English
Book Information:
"A one-sitting, unputdownable read that will have your pulse racing from start to finish." ~ L.J. Shen, Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Power. That's what I think of when I spot him across the ER. Power and danger. One of the wealthiest Russian oligarchs, Alex Volkov is as ruthless as he is magnetic. He always gets what he wants, and what he wants is me, in his bed. He's the kind of trouble every woman should run from. The bullet his bodyguard took for him proves that. I should stay far away, but for one night, I give in to temptation. Before I know it, he's pulling me deeper into his world of excess and violence, invading not only my life but my heart. How much trust can I place in a man so dangerous? How much do I dare risk for his love?
Books in Series:	White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:	Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls

Prologue

The assassin takes aim.

This is his favorite moment, right before he pulls the trigger. He’s calm and focused, his senses heightened. In that split second before he takes a life, it’s as though everything happens in slow motion. He’s aware of his own breathing, deep and even, and of the steady beating of his heart.

One living being about to destroy another. There’s power in that, and beauty. He’s grown to appreciate it over the years, to derive enjoyment from something that had initially eaten at his soul.

He’s not a psychopath. Maybe others of his kind are. If so, he envies them. No, he has emotions, deep, strong emotions that fill him to the brim. He loves and hates with equal passion.

Yet he rarely feels anything during a hit. Not anymore. When he’s on the job, he simply thinks of himself as a hunter—a hunter with a very specific prey.

This particular hunt has been longer and more difficult than most. His target is as dangerous as the assassin himself. The man he’s about to kill displays many of his own traits, and he has no doubt his prey was once a predator himself.

Then again, none of the men he’s commissioned to kill are angels. He doesn’t kill the innocent. He dispatches the guilty.

The man in the scope of his rifle is fully deserving of what’s about to befall him.

Taking a deep breath, the assassin gently squeezes the trigger.

1

“Kate, I’m sorry, but we need you right now.”

June Wallers, the nursing supervisor, bursts into the tiny room where I’m wolfing down my dinner.

Sighing, I put down my half-eaten sandwich, take a sip of water, and follow June down the hall. It’s not the first time this week that my allocated dinner hour has turned into a ten-minute snack break.

The economic climate has taken its toll on New York hospitals, with budget cuts leading to hiring freezes and staff layoffs. Even now, the Emergency Room at Coney Island Hospital is three nurses short of what it needs to function properly. Other departments are also short-staffed, but their patient flow is more predictable. At the ER, however, it’s always a madhouse.

This week is particularly trying. With the beginning of winter, it’s flu season, and one of the nurses got sick. It’s the worst time for her to be off, given the extra influx of patients. This is my fifth twelve-hour shift this week, and it’s a night shift, something I hate to do but can’t always avoid. June begged and I gave in, knowing there was no one else available.

So here I am, skipping dinner again. At this pace, I’ll be skin and bones before the flu season is over. The flu season diet, my mom likes to call it.

“What’s the emergency?” I ask, walking faster to keep up with June. At fifty-five years of age, my supervisor is as spry as a twenty-year-old.

“We’ve got a gunshot wound.”

“How bad?”

“We’re not sure yet. Lettie’s shift just ended, and Nancy is with the patient.”

Shit. I almost break into a run. Nancy is a first-year nurse. She’s trying hard, but she needs a lot of guidance. She should never be on her own without a more experienced nurse present.

“Now you see why we need you,” June says.

I nod, my pulse speeding up. This is why I went into nursing. I like the idea of being needed and helping people. A good nurse can mean the difference between life and death for a patient, particularly in the ER. It’s a heavy responsibility, but I don’t mind. I like the fast pace of work here, the way twelve hours fly by. By the end of each day, I’m so exhausted I can barely walk, but I’m also satisfied.

The ER teems with activity when I enter. Approaching one of the curtained-off sections, I pull back the drapes and take everything in with a quick glance. The gunshot victim lies on the stretcher. He’s a large man, tall and broad. I guess him to be somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties.

Nancy, the first-year nurse, is applying pressure to the chest wound to stop the bleeding. Two men stand nearby, but I pay them little attention, all my focus on the patient.

After making quick work of washing my hands and pulling on a pair of gloves, I take charge. The patient’s pulse is weak, and he’s having difficulty breathing. The bullet must’ve hit a lung.

“He’s going into hypotensive shock,” I call out.

Dr. Stevenson rushes over. He swiftly confirms that the patient is experiencing a tension pneumothorax. A few minutes later, we’ve got a tube inserted into his chest.

The patient’s pneumothorax decompresses, and he drags in a breath. Good. Now we need to stop the bleeding. There’s both an entrance and an exit wound. The bullet went straight through. Judging by the location of the injuries, it must’ve just missed his heart. Another inch and the man would be occupying a body bag instead of this stretcher.

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Advertisement Angel’s Cage (Molotov Obsession #2) Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/angels-cage-molotov-obsession-2-read-online-anna-zaires Sat, 29 May 2021 22:37:20 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/angels-cage-molotov-obsession-2-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Romance Authors: Anna Zaires Series: Molotov Obsession Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

Read Online Books/Novels:	Angel's Cage (Molotov Obsession #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anna Zaires
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B08ZNZ2R4H
Book Information:
Back in the devil’s lair, I’m at the mercy of a man who fascinates and terrifies me, a tender killer whose obsession with me is growing by the day. Nikolai Molotov is as much my captor as he is my protector, his compound both my safe haven and my gilded cage. If only I could resist his lethally seductive touch... or fight his growing hold on my heart and mind. Because no matter how far I delve into the enigma of his past, I still don’t know the answer to the most crucial question: Just how dangerous is his love for me? Note: This is the conclusion of Nikolai and Chloe’s story.
Books in Series:	Molotov Obsession Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:	Anna Zaires

1

Chloe

I’m back. Back in the devil’s lair.

The thought loops through my pain-dazed mind as the car rolls to a stop in front of Nikolai’s ultra-modern mountain mansion. A man and two women in hospital scrubs—presumably the medical team Nikolai mentioned—are waiting for us on the driveway with a gurney. Behind them is Alina, Nikolai’s sister, her beautiful face pale and worried.

I register all this only in passing. All my senses are consumed by the man holding me possessively on his lap.

Nikolai Molotov.

The devil himself.

His powerful arms are wrapped around me, securing me against his large body, and even though I’ve just seen him kill two men, I can’t help but derive comfort from his touch, his warmth, his familiar cedar-and-bergamot scent. His taste lingers on my tongue, my lips throbbing from his kiss, and as much as I want to deny it, dread isn’t the only emotion filling the pit of my stomach at the thought of him keeping me here against my will.

“Just a few seconds longer, zaychik,” he murmurs, smoothing back my hair, and a shudder ripples through me as my eyes meet his tiger-bright gaze.

I can see the monster underneath his beautiful façade. It’s now clear as day.

Pavel jumps out of the car first, opening the door for us, and a wave of dizziness crashes into me as Nikolai climbs out, holding me clasped against his chest. Though he’s careful, the movement sends a stab of nauseating pain through my arm, and the distant mountain peaks spin in a sickening circle in my vision as he gently places me on the gurney.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on breathing and not passing out as I’m wheeled inside the house, with Nikolai barking orders to the medical team in between speaking Russian to Alina and Lyudmila. I presume he’s explaining what happened, but I’m in too much pain to care either way.

I’ve never been shot before, and it’s not fun.

When I open my eyes next, I’m in my bedroom, with the doctor and his team bustling around my gurney. Within seconds, an IV is taped to my left arm, and I’m hooked up to several monitors. I have no idea where all this medical equipment came from, but my bedroom appears to have been transformed into a hospital room.

The doctor, already in scrubs and a surgical mask, asks if I’m allergic to latex or any medication as he pulls on a pair of gloves.

“No,” I croak out, and one of the nurses attaches a bag of liquid to the top of the IV stand. Immediately, a pleasant lassitude spreads through me, making my lids heavy.

The last thing I see before the world fades away is Nikolai standing in the corner of the room, his golden eyes trained on me with fierce intensity. There’s still a dark smear on his cheekbone—blood from the man he tortured to get answers—but with the sweet relief of anesthesia spreading through my veins, I can’t help the loopy smile that curves my lips.

I’ll keep you safe, he said, and as the darkness claims me, I believe him.

He’ll keep me safe from everyone except himself.

2

Nikolai

My sister intercepts me as soon as I step out of Chloe’s room. She must’ve been standing in the hallway the entire time.

“How is she?”

“She’ll live, no thanks to you.” My tone is harsh, but I don’t give a fuck.

It’s Alina’s fault we’re in this mess. She told Chloe I killed our father. She gave her the car keys, enabling her to flee.

At my words, Alina flinches but stands her ground. Her face is still pale and puffy, but her green eyes are clear and she no longer smells like a drug cocktail. “I mean, what’s her condition? What did the doctor say?”

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “She got lucky. The bullet went straight through her arm, just barely grazing the bone. She’s lost a good amount of blood, but not enough to require a transfusion. She also has a sprained ankle. Other than that, she’s just bruised and scraped all over.”

“Kolya…” My sister looks as miserable as I’ve ever seen her. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know about the—”

“Stop.” I’m not in the mood to listen to her apologies and justifications. She might not have known about the killers hunting Chloe, but that doesn’t excuse what she did. Nor does the fact that she was high on her meds. Before I say something I’ll regret, I ask, “Where’s Slava?”

“Lyudmila took him to visit the guards. I asked her to keep him out of the way for now, given… you know.” She waves toward Chloe’s door.

“Good thinking.” I know I shouldn’t mollycoddle my son, but I’m oddly reluctant to expose him to the brutal realities of our life, the way our father did with me. Hunting and fishing is one thing—I’m happy to have Pavel teach Slava that, along with other key life skills—but I’d rather not have him see his tutor covered in blood.

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Advertisement Devil’s Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) Read Online Anna Zaires http://www.books2020.com/devils-lair-molotov-obsession-1-read-online-anna-zaires Sun, 18 Apr 2021 23:43:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/devils-lair-molotov-obsession-1-read-online-anna-zaires Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, New Adult, Romance Authors: Anna Zaires Series: Molotov Obsession Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

Read Online Books/Novels:	(Molotov Obsession #1) Devil's Lair
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anna Zaires
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B08N6XC5LG
Book Information:
Live-in tutor wanted for four-year-old. Must be willing to relocate to a remote mountain estate. $3K/week cash. On the run from ruthless killers, I’m down to ten bucks in my wallet and a half-tank of gas in my ancient car when I spot the ad. The job sounds like the answer to my prayers, but there’s a catch. The child’s father is the most beautiful, most dangerous man I’ve ever met. Darkly seductive and filthy rich, Nikolai Molotov is a tantalizing mystery, a lethally alluring contradiction. Bruised knuckles and tailored suits, tender endearments and dirty promises—my new employer draws me in like a magnet, even as my instincts scream for me to run. I should’ve heeded them… because I’m not the only one with secrets. My safe haven just might be the devil’s lair, and once he’s claimed me, it will be too late to run.
Books in Series:	Molotov Obsession Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:	Anna Zaires

1

Chloe

A car backfires and the storefront window to my left explodes, blasting shards of glass in a wide radius.

I freeze, so stunned I barely feel the glass biting into my bare arm. Then the screams reach me.

“Shots fired! Call 911,” someone on the street is yelling, and adrenaline floods my veins as my brain makes the connection between the sound and the glass explosion.

Someone is shooting.

At me.

They found me.

My feet react before the rest of me, propelling me into a jump just as another sharp pop! reaches my ears, and the register inside the store explodes into splinters.

The same register I was blocking with my body a second ago.

I taste terror. It’s coppery, like blood. Maybe it is blood. Maybe I was shot, and I’m dying. But no, I’m running. My heartbeat is roaring in my ears, my lungs pumping for all they’re worth as I sprint down the block. I can feel the burn in my legs, so I’m alive.

For now.

Because they found me. Again.

I make a sharp right, sprinting down a narrow side street, and over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of two men half a block behind me, running after me at full speed.

My lungs are already screaming for air, my legs threatening to give out, but I put on a desperate burst of speed and dash into an alley before they round the corner. A five-foot-tall chain-link fence cuts the alley in half, but I climb up and over it in seconds, adrenaline lending me an athlete’s agility and strength.

The back of the alley connects to another street, and a sob of relief bursts from my throat as I realize it’s the one where I parked my car before the interview.

Run, Chloe. You can do it.

Desperately sucking in air, I sprint down the street, scanning the curb for a beat-up Toyota Corolla.

Where is it?

Where did I leave the damn car?

Was it behind the blue pickup truck or the white one?

Please let it be there. Please let it be there.

Finally, I spot it, half-hidden behind a white van. Fumbling in my pocket, I extract the keys, and with violently shaking hands, I press the button to unlock the car.

I’m already inside and jamming the key into the ignition when I see my pursuers emerging from the alley a block behind me, each with a gun in his hand.

* * *

I’m still shaking five hours later as I pull into a gas station, the first one I’ve seen on this winding mountain road.

That had been close, much too close.

They’re getting bolder, more desperate.

They shot at me on the fucking street.

My legs feel like rubber as I step out of the car, clutching my empty water bottle. I need a bathroom, water, food, and gas, in that order—and ideally a new vehicle, as they might’ve gotten my Toyota’s license plate. That is, assuming they didn’t already have it.

I have no idea how they found me in Boise, Idaho, but it might’ve been through my car.

The problem is, what little I know about evading criminals hellbent on murder comes from books and movies, and I have no idea what my pursuers actually can track. Just to be safe, though, I’m not using any of my credit cards, and I ditched my phone the very first day.

Another problem is I have exactly thirty-two dollars and twenty-four cents in my wallet. The waitressing position I interviewed for this morning in Boise would’ve been a lifesaver, as the café owner was open to paying me cash under the table, but they found me before I could do a single shift.

A few inches to the right, and the bullet would’ve gone through my head instead of that storefront window.

Blood pooling on the kitchen floor… Pink robe on white tile… Glazed, unseeing stare…

My heart rate spikes and my shaking intensifies, my knees threatening to buckle underneath me. Leaning on the hood of my car, I drag in a shuddering breath, trying to get the mad drumming of my pulse to slow as I shove the memories deep down, where they can’t squeeze my throat in a vise.

I can’t think about what happened. If I do, I’ll fall apart and they’ll win.

They might win anyway because I have no money and no clue what I’m doing.

One thing at a time, Chloe. One foot in front of the other.

Mom’s voice comes to me, calm and steady, and I force myself to straighten away from the car. So what if my situation has gone from desperate to critical?

I’m still alive, and I intend to stay that way.

I extracted all the glass shards from my arm a couple of hours ago, but the T-shirt I wrapped around it to stop the bleeding looks strange, so I grab my hoodie from the trunk and put the hood up to hide my face from any security cameras that might be inside the gas station. I don’t know if the people after me would be able to get access to that footage, but it’s better not to risk it.

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