Taken

by Gwendolyn Casey

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Gwendolyn Casey

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-419-0

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: CA Clauson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TAKEN

  Gwendolyn Casey

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  “Please,” I whisper as roughened hands move over my naked skin, making me shiver and writhe. My arms are bound above my head and I can only see a fire burning near the corner. Everywhere else is darkness. Even the man touching me is darkness. His hands and mouth are setting me on fire wherever they wander.

  His touch moves slowly over my body, learning and exploring, but also possessing. I feel him grasp my hips and squeezing for just a moment before moving on. Then I feel lips on my belly, kissing lightly.

  I arch my back as his fingers come near my chest, wanting him to grip and pinch my aching breasts. But he simply brushes up the sides. I whimper. He never touches me where I need it the most.

  His hands come to my neck where he gently wraps them around my throat. I feel his hard body press down on mine and his breath warms my lips. He growls and I moan in response, my lower half bucking into his, begging to be taken. I feel his thumb brush my lip and I gasp. I look up into his face, the fire light playing tricks so I never see the whole thing at once.

  “Please,” I beg again.

  “Soon,” he responds, his voice deep and rumbling. He bends to kiss me...

  I jerk awake when I feel something on my shoulder.

  “We’re here,” Brandon says. I look down to see his hand on my arm. I turn my head and pain shoots up my neck. I’m slumped awkwardly in the backseat of Rachel’s car with my head against the door. I must have fallen asleep somewhere in Montana. That is the last state line I remember crossing on our way from Minneapolis.

  I give Brandon a sleepy smile and lean away from the door to push it open. The scent of forest invades my nose as I exit the vehicle and look around our camp site. The clean air is refreshing after the last few days. Our road trip has the car and the passengers stinking of fast food and potato chips.

  I look at my best friend who just climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Finally,” Rachel comments, as she puts her arms over her head to stretch. Brandon and Chuck are out of the car as well, doing their own small stretches.

  We’ve come all the way to Wolf’s Head for a music festival being held to support the national park with the same name.

  And now that we are here, I’m eager for a couple minutes alone. “I’m going to take a little stroll to wake up,” I say to Rachel as I walk down the small road cutting through the campground. I try to walk fast so no one has time to join me. I slow down once I’m out of sight of the others so I can take in my surroundings.

  I walk a little way down, passing other occupied campsites. The campground is so packed that it feels more like a trailer park than a woodsy get away. But I find a walking path that leads me into the forest just a couple yards down the road. I’m only a few feet down the path when I come to a ridge overlooking the grand Wolf’s Head Valley.

  The land is blanketed in evergreens and the clear blue sky beyond makes it the perfect picture of nature’s splendor. I can see the small town of Wolf’s Head off to the right, but even that seems to be a production of nature. I half expect an American eagle to fly into the scene to make it complete. I send silent thanks to the US National Park Service.

  I take a deep breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth. I’ve been looking forward to this road trip for a while.

  My last year of college has been rough. I’ve been having trouble focusing, feeling restless and out of place. I’m a forestry major and I know conservation is what I want to do but something feels wrong, like I’m doing something wrong.

  And I keep having these dreams. I can never remember what happens, but I know there is a man. I always forget what he looks like or even why he’s there. I wake up confused, frustrated, and … wet. I’m sure most women are prone to sex dreams every now and then, but these are different. This man is intense, dark and powerful.

  I shiver slightly and then shake my head. Stop thinking about him.

  I look out at the valley below and wonder what history it holds, what secrets. We have plenty of parks back on the east coast where I grew up and the University of Minnesota certainly has its fair share of local lakes and forests. But I’ve been longing to see the northwest for a while, as if there is something different about this place than all the others.

  I’m so enamored with the view that I jump when I feel hands on my shoulders.

  “Sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Brandon says. He puts an arm across my chest and pulls me back against him. “What a view, huh?” he says and leans down to kiss my cheek.

  “Yeah,” I utter, trying to relax against him. We’ve been on a few dates, but I am still not quite used to Brandon touching me. I’m not even used to him calling me Mac. Mackenzie is my name and it’s the one I prefer people use. Only my close friends and family call me Mac.

  Our dates had been fun, but I’m not ready to change my relationship status quite yet.

  Bringing him had not been my idea. Rachel insisted on bringing her boyfriend, Chuck, and he told Brandon. I couldn’t exactly say no.

  To be clear, Brandon is a great guy. He is fun and easy to talk to, not to mention handsome, tall and built. He is the All-American boy with stylish dirty blonde hair and green eyes that would make any girl melt.

  But not me. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable with him, with any guy, in fact. There is always something holding me back. Now I am almost twenty-two and still a virgin. I need to figure out why my girly parts don’t get excited around a man like Brandon.

  “So, did you look at the band line-up for tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Not yet. I’ll look it at it now.” I subtly shrug out of his arms and start walking back to the campsite, but he hangs an arm around my shoulders as we go.

  Brandon acts like my indecision about this relationship isn’t a big deal, but he must be getting frustrated. I don’t deny his advances, but I don’t exactly greet him with open legs either. Then again, maybe he thinks this will be the weekend that things change. We are sharing a tent after all. Another one of Rachel’s ideas.

  When we get back to the site, Chuck is starting to put together a tent while Rachel sits at the picnic table reading the instructions. Judging by Chuck’s reddened face, it is not going well. Chuck is another good-looking guy with dark brown hair and the body of a boxer.

  Rachel sits there with her brunette locks and make-up looking perfect despite the long car ride and bounces her foot as she reads the pamphlet. “Do you see the letters on the poles that I’m talking about or do you need help?” she questions. I can tell she is pushing Chuck’s buttons to see how he handles it. I’ll have to talk to her about that later. It’s only the start of a long weekend and I don’t need them breaking up a half hour after we’ve arrived.

  I head to the car and pull out my purse from the back seat to find my phone. I open Safari to look at the festival’s website when a box pops up. It states the phone’s battery is under twenty percent.

  I reach back into my purse to fish out my charger when an image comes into my mind. It’s my charge
r plugged into the outlet next to my dresser … back in Minnesota.

  “Ugh,” I say. “I forgot my charger. Anyone else use an iPhone?” Everyone shakes their head. “How am I friends with only Android people?” I laugh.

  Rachel jumps out of her seat. “Why don’t you and I head into town for groceries while the boys set things up? We can look for a charger.”

  “Yes, please,” Chuck grunts and Rachel smirks back at him.

  I look at Brandon. “Are you okay setting up the tent?”

  “I’m insulted that you even asked,” he says before breaking into one of those cute boy smiles. He really is perfect. My subconscious shakes her head at my body. Why can’t you see that?

  Chapter Two

  The small-town grocery store in Wolf’s Head is crowded as everyone stocks up for the festival. We are slowly maneuvering down the wine and spirits aisle when Rachel pokes an elbow into my side. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “What?” I say, playing dumb.

  She lifts a dark eyebrow at me. “Come on, Mac. I’m dying to know. Are you going to give it up to Brandon or not?”

  I let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s stopping you?” she asks, putting a twenty-four pack of Bud Lite in the cart.

  I shrug and push the cart down the aisle. “I know he is hot and all, but I just don’t feel anything below the waist when I look at him.”

  Her mouth turns down as she looks at me. “Well, that’s too bad. Does he know how you feel?”

  I shake my head. “How do you say something like that to a man without hurting his feelings?”

  Her eyes light up. “Do you want me to ask Chuck to tell him?”

  I let out a chuckle. Rachel can be such a drama queen sometimes. “Thanks, but no. I’ll do it, eventually.”

  “You should probably do it sooner rather than later. That way you both can be free the rest of the weekend.” She looks around and lowers her voice a little. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are some real studs around here. And not like the lumber-sexuals back at school. I mean real lumberjacks.”

  “What’s a lumber-sexual?” I ask.

  “It’s like metro-sexual, but they dress like lumberjacks with flannels and beards. They have the look but none of the muscle or rough persona to back it up.”

  I simply shake my head and smile. Where does she hear these things?

  When we finally have our alcohol and junk food we head to the front of the store.

  There are only three registers and each one has at least four people in line. “Why don’t I go to the gas station we saw down the street? They usually have phone chargers,” I suggest as she picks a lane.

  “Might as well,” Rachel mutters as she grabs a celebrity magazine off the nearest rack.

  It’s a beautiful fall day where it is warm enough for shorts, but the humidity is at a minimum. I have on capris jeans, a t-shirt with a hoodie, and my turquoise Vans. Comfy but cute, at least in my mind. I take my hoodie off and wrap it around my waist as I walk down the block toward the gas station. I pass by a bunch of quaint storefronts that are essential in any small American town. There’s a salon, an insurance agency, a post office, a dog groomer, and a jewelry boutique. Wolf’s Head has all the small-town charm with a lush green forest as a back-drop. I would love to live in place like this after I graduate.

  I go into the gas station and I’m greeted with a smile from an older gentleman behind the counter. He has glasses with white-gray hair, but he is tall and his shoulders still have some muscle, making it hard to determine his age. I smile back and decide to go to the bathroom before looking for the charger.

  After I do my business, I wash my hands and look at myself in the mirror. I have my red hair tied up in a bun on top of my head with crazy tendrils that always sneak out. I try to smooth them down before I notice that my cheeks are a little red. I need to double up on the SPF this weekend. Not that I don’t want a tan. That would be wonderful, but my pale Irish skin prefers to freckle.

  I put a serious look on my face and stare clearly into my light brown eyes.

  “Brandon,” I say. “We’re just not compatible.”

  I cringe. That sounds stupid.

  I try again. “You are a great guy, but I’m just not looking for a relationship.”

  Ugh. That’s even worse. That one is just a flat out lie. I am ready for a relationship. I’m ready for love. And sex, my body screams.

  “Brandon, I am a freak and you deserve better.”

  I nod. That one is true.

  I give up and head out of the bathroom.

  I find the aisle with the phone cords and I grab the pink one. I head to the register still looking down at the charger when I run into a brick wall.

  That’s what it feels like anyway.

  Large hands capture me around the waist to keep me from falling as I look up … and up. I feel my mouth fall open as I take in the most ruggedly handsome man I’ve ever seen.

  Ice blue eyes fringed in inky black lashes glare down at me. His dark brown hair is a few inches long, but he has it pushed back off his forehead. The beard makes it so I can’t see his whole face, but it’s trimmed close enough that I can see the hard edge of his jaw. Tan skin, straight nose, and a strong brow all come together to create one beautiful man. Of course, the blue flannel, jeans and work boots make it the complete package. I guess Rachel was right about the guys around here.

  His eyes move over my body and his grip on my waist tightens as they move back to my face. Our eyes meet for the first time and I feel myself sink deep into the blueness. Everything seems to go quiet as he stares back at me. His pupils seem to get bigger and I swear I see a little yellow in his irises. I feel a strange heat move up my neck and suddenly my vision blurs. When I try to focus, I don’t see the man, it’s something else. It’s bodies entwined in fire light, a strong muscled back with small hands gripping the shoulder. The man is thrusting, slowly but forcefully. I feel my pussy clench at the scene. Lust overwhelms me, making my mouth open slightly.

  The stranger growls, low and deep, jolting me from my vision to look at him again. I can see the hunger in his gaze.

  His large hands span my waist, feeling hot and possessive. My own hands have settled on his biceps and are squeezing gently. It is like gripping flannel covered footballs. I find myself wanting to move my hands up his broad shoulders so I can feel more of his strength.

  I hear a cough come from somewhere and reality seems to settle around me.

  I blink and shake my head, not sure what just happened.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, trying to step back, but the man’s hands pull me closer. The intensity of his gaze is frightening, deep and piercing. But it’s somehow familiar.

  My thighs clamp together and I lose my breath as he brings me further into his arms.

  “Donovan,” a voice says. I look around his shoulder to see the man from behind the counter approaching us slowly. “Why don’t you let her go?” He speaks gently, as if he is trying to calm the man holding me.

  Donovan. The name rolls through my head like a bell tolling.

  I look up at him again. I can see a tic in his jaw, but his grip lessens and his hands move away from my waist. He stands up straight and starts to back away, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Come along, young lady,” the older man urges as he touches my shoulder.

  I let him nudge me around Donovan toward the door. Something is placed in my hands, but I continue to stare at the gorgeous stranger, completely confused by him.

  Next thing I know, I’m at the glass door and a bell dings as the old man opens it for me and gives me a gentle push. I look down at my hands to see I am still holding the charger. “Wait. I haven’t paid,” I sputter.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he utters and continues to guide me. Once I go through the door, he locks it behind me.

  When I turn back I see Donovan still standing there, still staring at me. I see some
thing there, but I’m not sure what it is. Then he turns and goes through a door at the back of the station. I stand there for a few more minutes, unsure what to do. For a moment, my entire being was focused on that man and now I can’t remember who I was before I saw him.

  Chapter Three

  Back at the campsite the guys have everything set up. The fire is going, the chairs are up and two tents stand tall. I swallow at the sight.

  I didn’t tell Rachel about Donovan. It was too strange, especially the way my body reacted. I can still feel the wetness between my legs. How can I go twenty-one years without so much as a tingle to soaked and swollen in less than ten seconds? And what was with the old man? He acted like I was in danger with the way he rushed me out the door. Was Donovan dangerous?

  “Did you find it?” Brandon asks as I approach the fire and sit in the chair next to him.

  “What?”

  “The charger.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I nod my head.

  “Where is your hoodie?”

  I look at my waist and find it absent of any hoodie. It must have fell off when Donovan had his hands there. Did it fall or did he take it off? I honestly couldn’t remember. “I took it off when I went to the bathroom so it is probably still hanging on the coat hook at the gas station. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “We can go now,” Brandon says.

  I shake my head. “Wolf’s Head was crowded. Everyone is stocking up for the weekend. It’s probably best to wait until tomorrow.”

  He nods, still looking at me like I’m acting strange. Am I acting strange? I try to relax and get back to being normal.

  The sun sinks as we talk and drink the beer we bought. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps going back to Donovan. Donovan. It’s strange how I say his name in my mind, like it’s familiar. His eyes, his face, his hands, his … smell—all familiar. Like I know him somehow.