Captive: a Paranormal Romance

by Marisol Logan

  “Wow,” I muttered. “That's...”

  “What?”

  “That's really amazing, Casey.”

  We looked at each other in silence for a few moments, before Casey cleared his throat.

  “Well, I've always wanted a salt water aquarium, so, knowing Carly was interested...”

  “Casey,” I said, grabbing his hand reassuringly, “it's great. She'll love it. Actually, she'll flip.”

  We both looked down at our hands, interlocked, and my heart began to jump, and nervous warmth flooded my body.

  “That's all I needed,” Casey whispered. “So...thank you.”

  I nodded and pulled my hand away, but he grabbed it quickly, and caught my eyes with his as he did. His were wide, full of intent, as they bore into mine.

  “Slow,” he said, squeezing my hand in his.

  “Slow,” I repeated, though my tone was unenthusiastic. Looking into his dark gray eyes, his sharp, gorgeous face, seeing the hints of defined musculature and chest hair through his light blue t-shirt...and without the ability to go on real dates, and given the fact that we'd already slept together, even if it was only once...slow seemed like it might be difficult.

  He let go of my hand and cleared his throat. “Well, I should let you get on with your day,” he said softly. “I'm sure you have plans.”

  “Just studying,” I replied with a shrug.

  “Then I should definitely let you get to it,” he smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Thank you for the mimosa and the danish,” I said, returning his smile. I knew I should go, but I realized I didn't really want to leave.

  “My pleasure,” Casey said, his smile widening, revealing more of his sparkling, perfect teeth.

  “I'll, uh, see you tomorrow at four then?” I suggested as I stood from the chair and grabbed my purse.

  “Of course,” he replied, standing from his chair to walk me to the door. When we reached it, he opened it for me, and placed a hand on my shoulder before I walked through. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” I said, still reluctant to leave, my skin tingling at his touch.

  He leaned in and pecked me on the cheek and my heart jumped. I resisted the urge to grab him by his chin, which was currently patched with dark stubble, and pull him into my lips for more. We were supposed to be taking things slow...which he seemed determined to make difficult for me.

  I realized in that moment that I wanted him more than I had been admitting to myself. Obviously, I had known something was happening—the increased nervousness, and the lingering, persisting desire to be near him—but now that he had put this possibility on the table, then slid it away and told me I had to wait for it...now I was hungry.

  I stepped in and returned the gesture, kissing him on his stubble-mossed cheek, letting my body fall towards his a bit, so that our legs and chests were in light contact. I let my lips wander and graze his prickly, unshaven jaw before I pulled away, and I felt him shiver and inhale sharply. His hand shot out suddenly and grabbed me by the waist before I could step back, and he pulled me completely against him.

  He lowered his head down to my ear and whispered, “You should go,” and his breath on my neck gave me goosebumps. I bit my lip and nodded as he let his grip on my waist relax and I backed away slowly, reluctantly.

  With a short wave, I finally turned and headed down the steps and the sidewalk to my car, and, not really sure how I was going to concentrate on anything today, let alone studying, I hopped in the Land Rover and drove to the nearest cafe.

  The closest cafe to Casey's house was a juice and espresso bar that made little wood-fire pizzas, called 'The Fire House'. Apparently the building used to be the local fire department decades ago. It was a bit noisier than my usual study spot, but I loved the pizzas, and when my stomach signaled I was ready for lunch, I got my favorite—the Cajun Chicken and Pineapple. I had tried to get Carly to eat some with me one Sunday night after picking her up from her dad's, since she loved Hawaiian pizza, but she said the chicken was too spicy. For me it was perfect.

  I managed to get through the entire textbook section on root canals, getting into a pretty deep focus after my pizza. The barista brought me a second iced vanilla latte somewhere in the middle of my frantic note taking and highlighting, and by the time I looked up from my text book, the sky outside had turned a steely gray and the street lamps had illuminated.

  I rubbed my eyes and checked the time on my phone. Ten after six.

  I stretched and packed my things up while contemplating grabbing another pizza to take home. I had to pay my tab for the second latte anyway, and then I wouldn’t have to cook or stop somewhere else. Maybe a healthier one than the Cajun Chicken, I thought, like the Red Pepper Margherita, or the Spinach Artichoke? I paid for my latte and decided on the Spinach Artichoke pizza to take home, along with a green jasmine iced tea.

  “I'm going to go put my book bag in my car and I'll be right back,” I told the cashier, who nodded and said the pizza would be about seven minutes in the wood-fire oven.

  Stepping out into the evening air was a bit more of a shock than I thought it would be, as it was quite a bit colder than I had expected. It was March in Kansas, so I should have expected cold, but, it had been strangely warm the past two weeks, and I'd gotten used to leaving my coat in the car.

  I walked to the end of the block, where I had parked in the free parking lot, and shivered against the icy breeze, jumping when I heard someone call my name.

  “Alex?” came a man's voice. I whipped around and squinted through the dimly lit parking lot.

  As the man came closer, my heart jumped and pounded in my chest, and my stomach churned nervously and threatened to send my first pizza back up.

  “Ted?” I asked nervously, retreating slowly toward my car as he approached.

  “Alex, you have to call my boss and tell her I didn't drug you,” Ted said sternly, jabbing a finger at my face as he stormed toward me, closing the gap between us.

  “I didn't say anything to your boss,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady so he wouldn't pick up on my fear. “And you did drug me.”

  “I need this job, damnit!” he snapped. “That was my best gig, and I've had other clubs cancel because they only hired my for the potential draw from the larger club. I know you didn't say anything—it was that bitch who stuck her nose in that night.”

  “Well, if I didn't report it, I doubt they'll believe me—” I started, but he cut me off, raising his voice, and stepping in closer.

  “Just do it, Alex!”

  I stepped back and my body came up against the cold metal of a car. Not my car, unfortunately.

  “Hey, there's no need to get upset,” I said as calmly as possible. “I will call first thing in the morning, okay?”

  “No, you can call right now,” Ted demanded.

  “Fine,” I agreed, shaking as I reached for my phone from my book bag. As soon as I grabbed it out, he slapped it away and I jumped, a yelp escaping my throat as his hand made contact with the back of mine. I heard my phone shatter on the pavement, and my throat turned into a solid rock. My breath turned shaky and hot tears started to form in my eyes.

  “I know better than that,” he said. “You would have just called for help. You will use my phone. I've already got the number dialing.”

  He handed his phone to me and I held it up to my ear, hearing the rings...three...four...five...six...

  “I don't think they’re going to answer,” I said, shaking my head.

  He held the phone to his ear, and I heard the voice mail message sound as he did. “Damnit!” he cursed. “Well, we'll just keep trying until they answer.”

  “Ted, I promise I'll call them, okay?” I said. “I don't want to stand out here in the frickin' cold.”

  “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before,” he snapped.

  “Before what? I didn't file a report, I didn't say anything to the club owner,” I argued. “I didn't do anything!”
<
br />   “None of this would be happening if you hadn't been such a prude bitch!” he barked.

  My mouth fell open and my eyes went wide. “Are you fucking serious?” I scoffed.

  Rage bubbled up inside me and before I could stop it, my hand flew through the air, landing with a crisp, cold slap across his hard cheek.

  He glared at me for a second, then lunged, grabbing me by the shoulders and pinning me against the car. My bags fell to the ground, spilling books and papers onto the concrete. I squirmed against him, but he was stronger, so I pulled my knee up hard and fast, driving it into his crotch. He howled and stumbled back, and I turned and started to run. He lunged at me again, taking me down to the ground with a sickening thud. I cried out as the contact with the pavement knocked the wind out of me, and sent sharp pain shooting through my chest and knees and elbows.

  I reached for my phone, which was now next to me on the ground, but he saw me reaching and wrenched my arm behind my back, my shoulder straining painfully in protest.

  Suddenly, he rolled me onto my back, which crunched against the hard concrete, and straddled me with his considerable weight. I continued to squirm and struggle, trying to get a leg free to kick him in the chest, but I couldn't.

  Just as I was about to scream for help, someone grabbed Ted from behind and wrenched him off of me, throwing him to the ground, his body thumping loudly against the pavement.

  “Are you okay?” the man asked, and I knew the voice in a second as I scrambled to my feet.

  “Casey?!” I gasped. “What—what are you doing here?!”

  “Are you okay?!” he repeated, more forcefully and intently.

  “Yeah—I'm...I'm fine.” The elbows of my sleeves were damp with blood, and my ribs were sorely bruised, but I was fairly sure nothing was broken. I was incredibly shaken, though, and it didn't help matters when Ted jumped to his feet and grabbed Casey from behind.

  “Casey!” I yelled.

  “Stay back!” he snapped, and held an arm out signaling I should not come closer.

  My heart raced and I was still on the verge of tears. Casey whipped forward and sent Ted hurtling into the ground in front of them, with another chorus of crunches and thuds against the concrete. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Casey pulled Ted up to his feet and threw a punch at his face, and I heard the crunch of Ted's jawbone mixed with a groan of pain.

  Casey still held Ted by the collar with his left hand and lifted him off the ground—with one arm? I wondered in confusion and watched in awe—throwing him through the air, which sent him thudding into the hood of a car in the next row over.

  “Call the police,” Casey ordered. I grabbed my phone off the ground, and it was shattered but it still worked. Before I dialed, though, Casey collapsed to his knees and started convulsing.

  “Casey!” I cried, running to his side.

  He pushed me away. “Call the police!” he repeated, more urgently.

  “Casey, what the hell is going on?!” I asked, trying to get close to him, but he kept me at arm's length as he shook violently and uncontrollably.

  He staggered to his feet and growled in agony, clutching at his chest as his breath turned to panting and wheezing.

  “Casey!” I yelled. “We have to get you to a hospital!”

  “No! No hospitals!” he barked, though his voice was hoarse and strained.

  Without another word, he took off running, still staggering and convulsing as he went.

  My heart was still racing, and for a few moments I was frozen in shock. Gathering up my things and shoving them back into my bag, I rushed to my car once my senses came back to me. I jumped in and followed the direction Casey had run—back toward his house. I squinted into the dim orange light of the street lamps, scanning for any sign of him.

  Within a few minutes, I had reached his house, but had not seen him on the way. How could he have beaten me back here? I wondered. I was only a minute behind him, in a car.

  I parked in front of the house and raced up to the front door, heart thumping wildly in my still-pained chest. I banged on the door frantically, realizing just as it swung open that I probably looked a disheveled mess.

  It was Ruby, and she scowled at me with pursed lips.

  “Is Casey here?” I asked through panting, shaky breaths.

  “Yes,” she answered, tersely.

  “Is he okay?” I pressed.

  “No thanks to you,” she snapped.

  “Well, can I see him?” I begged.

  “Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “You nearly got him killed. I think you should leave,”

  “But—”

  “Goodbye!”

  The door slammed shut in my face and I heard the distinct sound of multiple locks clicking in succession.

  Defeated, I trudged back to my car and climbed in. Once in the driver seat, I couldn't hold back the tears and sobs anymore, and cried the entire drive back to my house. But it was less about what had happened to me. It was mostly about Casey—would he be okay? Was it my fault? It was my fault. He was so worried about me after the first incident with Ted, he was....following me? How could he have known where I'd be? How did he show up at just the right time? Many questions flooded my tired, agitated mind, but most of them were shoved to the back and the most pressing question stayed in the front—was he going to be alright? Or did he just do irreparable damage to himself...for me?

  CHAPTER 7

  I awoke the next morning to a stiffened, sore body that felt worse than it did the night before. Even though I had taken a shower right when I got home the night before, I drew a hot bath and added lavender Epsom salts and a few drops of some bath oil that was supposed to help with muscle pain my Pilates instructor had given me a year ago. I wasn't sure if it was my muscles or bones or both that were causing the pain, but I figured it wouldn't hurt either way.

  After I finished my bath, which helped with the pain a little bit, but not much, I tried to study, but couldn't focus—too many thoughts about Casey and the night before. I had texted him just before bed:

  I hope you are alright. I tried to see you but your mother said no. Just let me know you're okay.

  He hadn't responded.

  To occupy my mind and distract me from obsessing over Casey, I went on a deep cleaning binge through the entire house. I started with the bathrooms, scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees which did not feel good after last night's forceful meeting with the concrete. Then I moved on to the kitchen where I pulled out the oven and swept up a disgustingly surprising amount of crumbs and debris, then wiped down the fronts of all the cabinets and cupboards with a magic eraser sponge. In the playroom, I organized all of Carly's toys and dusted her shelves, and cleaned the smudgy little hand prints off the window. And in the family room, I moved all the furniture to vacuum underneath where they had been, and ended up deciding to rearrange the whole room.

  My cleaning and rearranging spree did not do my body any favors, and I collapsed on the couch for a nap at 2 pm, checking for a response from Casey before I did. None. A warm knot formed in my stomach and I felt my hands go sweaty with nervousness, but my body was so sore and exhausted, even my agitation over Casey couldn't keep me awake for much longer.

  My phone buzzing on the coffee table jolted me awake, and I snatched it up.

  It was a text from Casey, and my heart jumped. I read it with somewhat blurry vision.

  You're late.

  My eyes flashed to the clock on my phone. 4:15. I was supposed to pick up Carly at 4 pm.

  I ran to the garage and hopped in my car, and drove to Casey's as quickly as possible without speeding enough to get me pulled over. Not just because I was late. Because I wanted to see him...

  I ran to the door and he must have been anticipating me, because it swung open before I could knock. I faltered a bit on the steps when I saw him, stunned by how perfect he looked after everything, and suddenly realizing I was a sloppy, beat up mess from the scuffle last night and the cleaning spree today. How
did he look healthier than normal, when last night he seemed like he was on the verge of collapsing, or worse, from being out of the house?

  But as soon as I got inside the house, I didn't care. I didn't focus on any of the dozens of questions I had. I just threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. He stumbled back a step and laughed, before wrapping his arms around my back and returning the embrace.

  “I was so worried about you,” I murmured in his ear.

  “I'm fine,” he whispered.

  I pulled away, letting my hands slide down to rest on his stony chest, so I could look at his face.

  “But...how?” I asked. “I don't understand—last night you looked—”

  “I got back here just in time,” he said softly. “Ruby and Rex have been working on an emergency treatment for me, and apparently it works.”

  “How did you get back here so fast?” I questioned.

  “I took a shortcut...through some backyards,” he admitted with a smirk. “Ferris Bueller style.”

  I laughed softly. “Impressive.”

  “I doubt you would say that if you had seen it,” he chuckled. “It was probably the least graceful thing I've ever done in my life, and that's saying a lot.”

  “I'm just so glad you're okay,” I said. “They wouldn't let me see you last night, and you didn't respond. I—I was afraid—”

  “Hey, it's okay,” he said, his hands lightly rubbing my back. “How are you?”

  “Me? I'm, uh...pretty banged up,” I admitted.

  “Did you call the police?” Casey asked.

  “Shit,” I cursed, dropping my head. “I—I forgot.”

  “Alex...” Casey sighed, shaking his head.

  “I was worried about you!” I defended. “I thought you were going to die on the sidewalk somewhere!”

  “Well, now Ted's still out there!” Casey argued. “And you're not safe!”

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked frantically. “I'll buy some pepper spray or a rape whistle or something! Is that okay?”