Captive: a Paranormal Romance

by Marisol Logan

  “No,” he said plainly.

  “Then what?” I scoffed.

  “Stay with me...” he murmured, pulling me in tighter against him.

  My breath caught in my chest and heat spread through my torso.

  “I...I have work, and classes, and...”

  “It wasn't a question.”

  “What happened to going slow?” I whispered. “What would Carly think?”

  “I don't care,” he murmured as he brought his face closer to mine. “I have to keep you safe.”

  He took my lips with his, gently, but urgently. My entire body tingled as he moved a hand up to the nape of my neck, cradling my head as he took his kiss deeper. I clutched at the fabric of his shirt and pulled him in, wanting more of him.

  “Ahem,” Ruby cleared her throat in the hallway off the foyer and we both jumped and broke apart.

  “Mother,” Casey said, his voice full of resentment.

  “Carly's ready, waiting in the family room,” Ruby said, coldly. “I think you should go.”

  “Well, I don't want them to go yet,” Casey rebutted, his voice stern. “This is my house, too, and they are my guests.”

  I looked between the two of them as Casey stared her down, his arms still around me, and my hands still holding fistfuls of his shirt. I relaxed my grip and let my hands slide slightly down his chest.

  “I should go—we should—she's right,” I said. “I'll be fine. Please, don't worry about us, we'll be fine.”

  “Alex...” he started to protest, turning his face toward mine.

  I patted him on the chest. “I don't want to start any problems. We'll go,” I added, turning to Ruby.

  She turned and headed back down the hallway, presumably to get Carly from the family room.

  “Alex, please,” Casey begged.

  “I won't go anywhere besides daycare and work,” I promised, “and I'll text you every night, okay?”

  “That's not enough,” he shook his head.

  “I'll file a report with the police first thing in the morning, too,” I offered.

  “Better,” he said, cocking his head. “But I still don't want you to go.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But we have to be smart about this. You were right. I don't want to rush into anything, especially not living together.”

  “It's not living together,” Casey argued. “It would just be for a few nights until we know for sure that Ted has been found and arrested.”

  “But Carly won't look at it that way,” I shook my head. “She'll love it, having both of us together every day. And then when we go back home, she'll be a mess. She won't understand.”

  Casey sighed. “You're right. Okay, call the cops in the morning, text me every night, and don't be out after dark until we know that shithead is behind bars. Please?” he begged.

  “Of course,” I agreed.

  Little footsteps pitter-pattered down the hardwood hallway as Carly came running toward us. We dropped our arms from each other quickly as she approached, but not soon enough.

  “Were you two hugging?” she asked with a crinkle in her tiny nose.

  Casey and I exchanged glances. “Uh, yes,” he answered. “Mommy was hugging me to help me feel better. Remember how I was sick last night?”

  Carly nodded. “But you feel better today, right?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “So why was Mommy giving you a hug if you already feel better?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

  “I guess she just wanted to make extra sure I felt better,” he shrugged. “Hey!” he exclaimed with a snap of his fingers, changing the subject, which was smart—Carly could have asked about twenty more questions if nobody stopped her. “Do you know what next weekend is?”

  “My party!” she squealed, her feet going into a little dance of excitement.

  “Yes!” Casey said, holding his hand out for a high-five, which she gave him. “So, I won't see you in the morning like usual, because I'll be getting everything ready, but I'll see you in the afternoon, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “And I want you to be on your best behavior for Mommy all week,” he said, kneeling down next to her and tucking her curly brown hair, that closely resembled his, behind her ears. “Practice being a four-year-old, okay? What do they do in the four-year-old room at school?”

  “It's called the Cool Cats room, Dad,” she corrected, a hint of sass in her voice.

  “Okay, in the Cool Cats room,” he echoed.

  “There's no whining, and you have to do everything the first time you're asked,” she rattled off the rules. “And you clean up after yourself, and...and no pouting. And you have to raise your hand before you talk. Do I have to raise my hand to talk to Mommy?” she asked, pursing her lips and tilting her head.

  “No, I think that one can just be for school,” I said.

  Casey pecked her on the cheek and squeezed her tightly before standing up and putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it gently.

  “I'll talk to you tonight?” he asked. I nodded. “Okay,” he sighed, and I could tell he was reluctant for us to leave. I certainly didn't blame him, finding it hard to make myself walk out the door recently, too. “You two take care, and I'll see you on Saturday.”

  “Love you, Daddy!” Carly yelled as she rushed through the door toward my car, her new blue tang backpack flopping and bouncing with each of her little steps.

  “Love you, baby!” he called after her.

  “I better go,” I said softly. “I'll text you when we get home, okay?”

  “Thank you,” he said, sliding his hand down my arm and squeezing my hand. “Bye, Alex,” he whispered.

  “Bye,” I waved, and left. Carly was already climbing into the car, and asked me what was for dinner as I buckled her into her car seat.

  “I don't know,” I shrugged. “Maybe you can help me cook something?”

  “Okay,” she said. “But not fish!” she added sternly, pointing a cute, chubby finger in my face.

  I laughed “Okay, no fish.”

  The next day at work was rough, as my body still ached from Ted's attack on Saturday night. I had called the cops right after I dropped Carly off at preschool, and gave them as much detail about Ted's physical description as I could, even telling them his DJ name and that he had been in the theater program at the college if they wanted to look him up there.

  They told me I'd have to come in and file an official report, but they'd go ahead and keep an eye out for him.

  It was now lunch time, and I asked my Aunt Melinda if I could leave work early to go file the report.

  “Oh my god,” she gasped. “What happened?”

  “This guy, this total asshole,” I said, feeling my voice go tight as I had to rehash all the stressful, awful events to the woman who had basically raised me since my mother died from cancer when I was thirteen, “tried to drug me at that club Amy and I go to sometimes.”

  “This weekend?” she asked, her round freckled face scrunching with concern.

  “No,” I shook my head, “last weekend. This past weekend though he ran into me at The Fire House and was angry that I got him fired—well, I didn't get him fired, but one of the owner's friends reported him, I guess.”

  “You didn't report him?” she asked, her tone going serious and stern.

  I shook my head.

  “Well, is that what you're going to report now, at the police station?” she pressed.

  “Actually, I was going to report that he attacked me this past weekend,” I admitted.

  “Jesus, Alex!” Melinda gasped. “If you had turned him into the cops the first time, he wouldn't have been able to attack you again! What happened, are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I sighed. “Just some scrapes on my elbows and some bruises on my knees. I'm fine.”

  “How on earth are you fine?” Melinda interrogated. “You weigh about a hundred and ten pounds these days, and don't know anything about self-defense if it doesn�
�t come out of your purse.”

  “Casey showed up,” I answered, as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Casey?!” she echoed in disbelief. “What—how?!”

  “I don't know how, but that's why I didn't call the cops on Saturday. He showed up, he fought the guy off, and then ran away like he couldn't breathe, and he looked like he wasn't going to make it home, so I tried to follow him home in my car—”

  “Well how is he? Is he alright?”

  “Yeah, he's fine,” I said. “He—I guess his parents have come up with an emergency treatment or something. I saw him yesterday and he looks great. Amazing, actually.”

  Melinda cocked her head at me and pursed her lips.

  “What's going on with you two?” she asked.

  “With me and Casey?” I clarified, hoping that my cheeks didn't flush in embarrassment and give me away. “Noth—nothing,” I stammered.

  “You are the worst liar, Alexandria Leigh Jensen,” Melinda smirked. “I know how infatuated you were with him back in high school. Is there still something there?”

  “That was five years ago,” I said, swallowing nervously, undecided if I wanted Aunt Melinda to know yet or not.

  “You have a child together,” she said softly. “And he's totally gorgeous.”

  “Aunt Melinda...” I groaned in disgust at my aunt commenting on Casey's looks. She was right, of course, but I didn't want to hear her say it.

  “Well, I mean, if there is something going on,” she continued, “just...be careful. I don't want you and Carly to get hurt when things don't go the way you hope they will.”

  “I know,” I sighed.

  “So there is something?” she smirked and cocked her head.

  “Maybe,” I smirked back, biting my lip. “And if I don't go file this report today, he's going to flip,” I added.

  “Good, I'm glad somebody is talking some sense into you,” Melinda said, putting her reading glasses on and turning her attention to the patient files on her desk. “And looking out for you, apparently. Go, take the rest of the afternoon off. The schedule is light anyway. We'll be fine here.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I love you, Aunt Melinda.”

  “Love you too, Lexi-loo,” she said, singing my nickname that only she called me. I smiled, then grabbed my things and headed out for a quick lunch before I went to file the report at the police station.

  When I finished talking with the officer and filling out the paperwork, I texted Casey: Report filed at the station.

  He texted back immediately.

  Good job. That guy belongs behind bars.

  Then a few moments later, as I walked to my car from the station, he texted again.

  I don't know if I can wait until Saturday to see you.

  My heart flipped in my chest and butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  I know, I texted back, once I was in the driver's seat of my Land Rover. We'll make it, though. We've been doing this for years.

  Well...not all of this, he replied. Are you heading back to work?

  Going to run by the store for some dinner stuff. Melinda gave me the rest of the day off, I responded.

  Have a good night, he messaged. Call me if you hear anything from the police.

  Okay. Talk to you later.

  I tucked my phone into my purse before I started driving, and was in a daze through most of my drive to the grocery store. To be honest, I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through the week, either. A lot of deep cleaning and rearranging my house to distract me, I supposed...

  CHAPTER 8

  The day of the party finally arrived after a week that seemed to drag on endlessly, and no news from the police station about Ted. Casey had texted me every day to check if they'd notified me, and to see how I was doing, but he didn't send me any texts like he had on Monday after I filed the report. Nothing mentioning that he missed me or couldn't wait to see me. Part of me was relieved, because it made it easier to distract myself throughout the week, but part of me was admittedly a little disappointed that he wasn't vocalizing his yearning for me.

  I managed to get Carly down for a nap after lunch, and spent the entire ninety minutes she was asleep thoroughly primping myself. I showered and shaved my legs, and put on the new black skirt with a plain white, v-neck t-shirt. I curled my hair and then tussled it with my fingers until it was in loose waves that rested like dark chocolate ribbons on my shoulders. I plucked my eyebrows and applied my makeup, as natural as possible, but with a subtle dark, smoky eye.

  When Carly woke up at three thirty, it was pretty much time to go, and I grabbed the present I had wrapped in Finding Dory wrapping paper from the coat closet.

  “You got me a present?” she gasped in awe.

  “Of course I got you a present, silly,” I laughed as we loaded into the car in the garage. “It's your birthday.”

  “My birthday is actually Monday,” she pointed out, as if I didn't know.

  “Oh, well,” I smirked, “you can wait until Monday to open it, if you want.”

  “No way, Mommy!” she exclaimed in excitement. “I'm openin' it today!”

  “That's what I thought,” I chuckled as I finished buckling her into her seat.

  We arrived at Casey's house about ten minutes early, but his aunt and uncle had arrived before us. Blue, black and yellow balloons lined the entire walkway up to the front door, and Carly squealed with excitement as we approached the open door. When we went inside, her little mouth went wide open when she saw the dozens of fish and ocean decorations hanging from the ceiling in the foyer and dining room to our right. The dining room even had one of the lights that projected an underwater effect onto the wall.

  My mouth dropped open, too.

  Casey rushed into the dining room as Carly and I walked in to set the present down on the buffet, with the other gifts.

  “My favorite ladies!” he exclaimed, swooping Carly up and spinning her in a circle in the air.

  She squealed with delight. “My favorite Daddy!”

  “I'm your only Daddy! Of course I'm your favorite,” he said as he set her back down.

  “Casey, this is...amazing,” I said in awe.

  “This? Oh...this is nothing,” he said with a bashful grin.

  “This is not nothing,” I laughed. “This is, like, professional party planner level. I'm serious.”

  “Well, I wanted the best for Carly. Hey, Carlito, go check out the cake!” he said, stepping closer to me as soon as Carly wandered out of the room toward the kitchen. “But no touching!” he called after her, without taking his eyes off of me.

  “Okay!” she replied.

  “Speaking of amazing,” he murmured, running his fingers down my arm and then taking my hand once he reached it. I blushed as he squeezed my hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. “You look incredible.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I didn't mean it as a compliment!” he joked. “Do you know how difficult this party is going to be for me, Alex?” he asked facetiously, dropping his voice to a raspy almost-whisper and stepping in closer, trialing the fingers of his other hand down my side until the reached the waist of the skirt, which he fondled absent-mindedly.

  “Oh, are you staying Alex?” Ruby asked as she came into the dining room with a bowl of chips.

  Casey let go of my hand and whipped around to face her. “Of course she's staying,” he snapped. “Why wouldn't she stay?”

  Ruby shrugged and gave me a cold look. “She has her party for Carly, and we have ours.”

  “She has always stayed for our party, just like she does on Christmas,” Casey argued. “What is the deal?”

  “Well, your aunt and uncle know about what happened last week,” she explained, her voice curt and icy. “I don't know if they'll approve, since you almost died, and it was her fault.”

  “Oh for—we've been through this a hundred times,” he growled in frustration, “I chose to go! It was my fault!”

  “If she hadn'
t been in trouble, which seems to be a recurring trend lately, with her irresponsible life choices—”

  My jaw dropped and I scoffed, as my stomach went hot with a mix of rage and embarrassment.

  “Oh my god, Mother,” Casey sighed.

  “—then you wouldn't have had to risk your life for her, would you?” Ruby finished, her arms crossed and hip jutted out to the side. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun that tugged at her skin, making her face seem even more sharp and pointed, and angry and judgy, than it usually did.

  “You can't be serious,” Casey scoffed, letting out an icy laugh. “She has had to take on a hell of a lot of responsibility to raise our daughter, because of...” he trailed off, but he was pointing at her. Why was he pointing at her? I wondered. “Me,” he finally said. “Because of me.”

  Ruby shook her head. “Your defense of her is admirable,” she retorted, her tone sardonic. “Is she going to take care of you, too? Since she's so responsible?”

  The doorbell rang before either of us could answer.

  “That's Doctor Barron,” Ruby said. “Can we please just be civil?”

  “That was my plan,” Casey grumbled. “I'm not the one who came into the dining room looking for a fight.”

  Ruby sighed and spun on her heels to go answer the front door, and Casey turned to face me.

  “I should go,” I said, my voice strained and throat tight.

  “No, no no no,” Casey said, grabbing my elbows lightly. “Please. Stay. I...I really want you here.” His steel-gray eyes bore into mine as he pleaded. He raised his brow at me, and tilted his square chin back, his chiseled face propositioning me for an answer. “You haven't even seen the cake!” he said, suddenly switching gears from pleading to excitement. He grabbed me by my hand and pulled me into the kitchen.

  In the middle of the breakfast counter sat a three-tier cake, covered in ocean blue frosting, fondant coral and kelp, and all the characters from the Finding Dory movie. The topper was the seals on the rock, sculpted in fondant, that Carly always liked to imitate.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered.

  Casey and Carly, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating pretzels, snapped their heads to me. Casey wore an amused grin and Carly's jaw dropped.