His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  Holding my breath, the trunk opens, revealing a swath of blue sky and oh god, but the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Huge with massive shoulders, his body is completely blocking the sun, shrouding us in shadowy darkness. Black hair as dark as ink falls over blue eyes, but there’s no sympathy in that gaze. Instead, he’s looking at me with a mixture of disgust and contempt.

  “Hey,” I say. Or more accurately, the word comes out as “Mmmph!”

  What the hell is wrong with me? This is my captor for crying out loud, and I’m saying hey? The gag still covers my mouth, and I sit up abruptly. But that’s a mistake because blood rushes to my head and immediately, I slump into a shapeless pile, breathing hard. Oh god, oh god, something awful’s gonna happen, even worse than before.

  And the man doesn’t help. With a nasty grunt, he reaches out and forcefully rips the gag from my mouth. Oww! That hurt! My hands raise to my lips and I rub them, the tape making them rose-red and plump. But my captor’s totally unaffected. The dark man takes a moment just to stare at me and the look in his eyes tells me he’s disgusted by the very sight of me.

  His hatred is palpable and shakes me to my core.

  How does he hate me when I don’t even know him?

  Again, I’m completely confused. What’s going on? Why?

  “Get the fuck out,” he growls in a menacing tone, taking a step back to allow me to follow his command.

  Bleary eyed, I look up at him and pant. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything. I don’t have much, but I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  The giant just snarls, eyes running up and down over my trembling body. I can’t help it, my Double Ds are generous and with the way I’m shaking, they sway back and forth, heaving up and down with quick breaths.

  His eyes flare for a moment, going from blue to a hot, searing pitch black. But then shaking his head, the dark man gets a hold of himself. Averting his eyes, he growls harshly, that same disgusted expression on his face.

  “Get the fuck out,” he repeats in a brutal, rough tone. Then he turns away from me abruptly and begins stalking in the opposite direction.

  Wearily, I come to a sitting position in the trunk and reach up to hold my pounding head. The long ride has done a number on me as well as the whack I took when the car stopped suddenly.

  I wonder if he did that on purpose. I wonder if he wanted to hurt me, to give me an extra jolt that my plush bottom couldn’t handle. And from the venom in his voice, I’m not putting it past him.

  Studying my location, I notice that we’re in the middle of what appears to be the forest. Enormous tall trees surround the car, ominous and looming. There’s the crackle of underbrush, probably some hidden animal, and my heart starts pounding.

  Maybe we’ve been driving for hours like I originally suspected. I look around, panicked and afraid.

  The dark man is headed for a small clearing. Oh god, he’s the only person I know. He’s my only possible savior, and I have no choice but to follow him. So I clamber out of the car, trying to ignore my aches and pains, and will my feet to start walking.

  The forest path isn’t exactly easy, there are rocks and all sorts of sticks and stones in my way, but at least it’s nature. It reminds me of the camp sites my family used to visit when I was younger, just more deserted. Daddy would drive for what seemed like days, before turning our Winnebago down a long, winding path. We’d set up camp and explore the land. Mama would even help Ann-Marie and I make the most delicious s’mores.

  But now it’s different. Instead of a homey family vacation, I’m in mortal danger. Dread weights on my shoulders, nausea making my stomach churn. Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I choke it back, swallowing heavily. Ugh, I’m gonna be sick.

  But at least the surroundings are beautiful. Soaring trees reach toward the sky, covering the expansive land in every direction, no sign of nearby civilization anywhere in sight. The forest makes it impossible to tell north from south.

  However, there is a small, seemingly abandoned cabin in the distance and my kidnapper is storming in that direction furiously.

  On weak legs, I follow him, almost falling onto the ground a couple times. My knees feel like jelly as I try to regain my balance. Oh god, oh god, I’m literally following my captor to some unknown hidey-hole where all sorts of terrible things are going to happen. I’ll be ravished. I’ll be put up for sale. I’ll be tied up and chained in the bathroom, a sex slave for my handsome captor.

  Oh god, oh god, a tingling starts in my body despite myself, and I scream at it to stop. I shriek mentally, willing this ungodly attraction down. He abducted you, the voice in my head screams. This stranger tied you up and held you hostage, and yet you’re thinking about being his sex slave? What is wrong with you Anna?

  But the thing is, he’s my only option for survival, so when I get to the cabin, I let myself in, expecting the worst. I’m expecting to see broken down furniture and garbage on the floor, the sound of mice skittering.

  But instead, the interior is warm and cozy as opposed to the deserted hidey hole I predicted earlier. The furniture looks like it’s hand-crafted, comfortable and homey. There are real log beams, plus a cozy fireplace in one corner, loaded with chopped wood. What in the world? This doesn’t look like a prison, it looks like someone’s getaway cabin.

  If I were here under different circumstances, maybe I’d be able to enjoy the warm, earthy color scheme and dark wood finishes. I’d delight in the fact that there was no TV but instead a huge floor to ceiling bookcase lined with thick books. Oh, and I’d really go crazy over the cozy blankets and footstools resting near the fireplace.

  The place is just my style, but it doesn’t matter. I was snatched from the street, brought here against my will. There has to be some way to get out of here that doesn’t involve walking a hundred miles through the forest at night.

  So padding down a short hallway, I keep exploring. There’s a kitchen, small and neat and there, the brooding man’s bent over the fridge as he inspects a container of something clear.

  Oh, god. Is he going to drug me?

  What is that? Formaldehyde? Rubbing alcohol? Something dangerous?

  The small space makes him look even bigger and goosebumps prickle my skin at his angry demeanor.

  He’s terrifying.

  Absolutely fucking terrifying.

  And absolutely gorgeous. Up close, I can see those broad shoulders outlined in a flannel shirt, and he must be at least six four. He’s got a strong jaw and nose that looks like it’s been broken before, with sharp, angular cheekbones and a mobile mouth.

  But I really need to get out of here. It doesn’t matter how good he looks, this man’s my kidnapper for crying out loud. It’s so wrong to even have these thoughts. So taking a deep breath, I decide to talk my way out of this situation. You can do it, Anna, the voice in my head says. You can do it. You’re a smart girl.

  Tentatively, I begin.

  “Listen, I don’t know what you want, but please set me free. Whoever you’re looking for, I can assure you I’m not the one. Please just let me go.”

  I didn’t mean to sound like I was begging, it just came out that way. But desperation is dictating every action at this point.

  Wringing my hands, I stutter through my next proposal. “I-if y-yo-you want, I can help you find the right girl.”

  Did I really just say that?

  Desperation, remember?

  It makes you do crazy things.

  The hulking man barks at me, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  But I won’t be deterred. At least not yet.

  “Please don’t hurt me. Just tell me what you want.”

  Clearly aggravated by my persistence, the dark man turns in my direction. Those glacial blue eyes glower at me, a shiver running down my spine.

  “Stop acting like you don’t fucking know what this is about. You’re getting exactly what you damn well deserve.”

  I can tell from the tone of his voice that he trul
y believes that.

  Totally confused, I blink before shaking my head. “I swear I don’t know what’s going on. Please just tell me.”

  Enraged, the man closes in on me and I take an impulsive step back.

  ”You fucking know!” he roars at me angrily, a muscle ticking in that hard jaw line. “You fucking know,” he snarls again, big fists gripping the counter.

  He looks like he’s ready to blow a gasket any second now.

  When I continue to stare at him, he finally decides to shed some more light on the situation.

  “You’re the fucking whore who seduced my younger brother Chance last night.”

  Chance? Who’s that? I don’t know anyone named Chance, and I blink back at him, puzzled.

  Then a lightbulb flickers somewhere in the distance and my conversation with Ann-Marie comes rushing back. That’s right, my sister’s new fiancé is named Chance. The rich one she knows nothing about.

  This is his brother?

  What in the world?

  But if Chance looks anything like the man in front of me, it’s no wonder why Ann-Marie was giddy and tripping over herself this morning.

  This man may be enraged at the moment, but I still have functioning eyes. And he’s gorgeous as sin, that body and face making me heat inside. But he’s fucking furious, and rages again.

  “You think you’re so hot?” he sneers. “Guess again. I’ll be damned if I let a fucking gold digger marry my brother. You’re after his money, just fucking admit it.”

  Dumbstruck, I stare at him, amazed. This is all starting to make sense. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s after the wrong woman. Because it’s Ann-Marie that he wants, not me.

  Laughter bubbles up inside of me, a crazy, witchy sound, and I feel relieved, a load rising from my shoulders. Gleeful shrieks erupt from my throat and my shoulders shake with the action.

  This is all just a misunderstanding. He has the wrong girl and I tell him that in plain English.

  “You have the wrong person,” I giggle him, bent over in two, gasping for air. “That woman you described is my little sister, Ann-Marie. Not me.”

  But he doesn’t look amused at all. Those blue eyes burn holes into my face.

  “Chance came home this morning, filled with fucking rainbows and light, claiming that he fell in love with a beautiful redhead. He said her name was Anna. You’re Anna,” he states and his tone is matter-of-fact.

  He still doesn’t get it. This is all one huge mistake.

  Shaking my head, I try to make him understand.

  “No, that’s my sister, Ann-Marie. Not Anna. My sister has red hair, too. We’re both redheads,” I babble.

  And the words start rushing out then.

  “Besides, my sister is the gorgeous one, not me. I wasn’t at any party last night. I was on my sofa reading a book.” My words are reassuring as I look at him, hoping to see understanding in the icy depths of his gaze.

  But it never happens. If anything, the dark man looks even more enraged after my explanation. He’s not buying what I’m selling, I can read it all over his face. That hard-set jaw and those narrowed eyes don’t believe a word I’m saying.

  Instead my kidnapper growls.

  “Shut the fuck up. That’s a crock of shit. Don’t insult my intelligence. I have the right girl.”

  What in the world? No, can’t he see? The woman who’d entrance a man, make him propose after one night, is Ann-Marie, not me! I’m a plain Jane compared with my sister’s peacock feathers, this guy has the wrong girl.

  So I try logic instead.

  “Call your brother and he’ll tell you right now that it’s not me. Better yet, send him a photo on your phone and we’ll have this whole thing straightened out in no time.”

  The dark man just snarls again.

  “Please stop, your excuses are so pathetic. Chance said he met a beautiful redhead,” he sneers, “and that’s fucking you. That’s fucking you,” he spits this time, eyes going up and down over my frame, insolent and hungry.

  And against my will, my nips pop out. I can’t help it, this guy is so gorgeous and he’s looking at me like the Big Bad Wolf, ready to eat up my curvy frame. My tits stand out at attention even as below, my insides gush hotly. Oh god, it’s just his eyes doing this to me, that knowing gaze traveling over every inch of my frame.

  And snorting, the dark man turns away again.

  “I knew you were a slut,” he grinds out. “Only fucking sluts have nipples like rocks. Cover yourself!” he barks harshly.

  I don’t know what to do, it’s not like I have a jacket or something. So reaching a tentative hand, I pick up a blanket from the couch, shrouding myself in it, and start again.

  “Listen,” I rush. “You have the wrong girl. I swear, it’s not me. It’s my sister you want, Ann-Marie. She’s the model, she’s the one who’s got the charm, who makes men fall to their feet. Seriously, I’m just plain old Anna, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

  But the man swings blazing blue eyes to me again, traveling over every inch of my features. I can feel how he eats me up, my quivering, plush mouth, my big brown eyes devoured by his.

  “You’re such a slut,” he spits again. “Such a fucking slut, and shameless too, trying to blame it on some make-believe sister. Just shut the fuck up,” he roars.

  And before I can move, he growls and grabs me roughly by the waist before throwing me over his shoulder. My head swims from the new position, the world spinning in a dizzy circle.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he’s up to the second-floor landing in a minute and stops outside a wooden door. But no, there’s no use for door handles because kicking it open, a small room comes into view with a comfortable looking bed, dresser and reading nook.

  From my inverted position, I take in the furnishings around the room. It’s sweet, actually. Small but homey with lots of cozy accents and plush pillows.

  But niceties be damned. The man dumps me on the bed, ass jiggling, boobs bouncing and he pauses for a moment, taking in my flying assets. But whirling, he snarls once more.

  “Such a fucking slut,” are his final words.

  And just like that, he’s gone, the lock in the door snicking into place.

  The space immediately feels empty without him. The room is small, and I hate myself for feeling lost without him. I hate how I immediately want the dark man back, even if all he wants to do is yell at me.

  But I’m gonna fight. I’m not gonna give up, and tiptoeing over to the door, I test the knob, confirming my suspicions. I’m locked in here. Crossing the room to the large window, I try the latch and it doesn’t budge.

  My heartrate quickens with each new discovery, panic chilling the blood in my veins.

  There’s no way out.

  I listen to his retreating footsteps and again, fear fills my lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

  This is all just one huge misunderstanding. I’m not supposed to be here. I should be walking home from work right about now, not in the middle of nowhere with no escape in sight.

  This is fucked up. So fucked up.

  I’m trapped and the worst part is that no one even knows I’m gone. The dark, handsome kidnapper is my only human connection … and I have to do whatever he wants.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Robert

  The wooden stairs take the brunt of my frustration as I head back down to the first level of the house. Once in the kitchen, fury locks my jaw in place and I pound my fist against the granite counter.

  The impact of the blow to my knuckles doesn’t even register as I try to regain an ounce of my control.

  I could wring Chance’s fucking neck for being so fucking reckless.

  Who the hell gets engaged after knowing someone for only one night?

  My dumbass brother, apparently.

  There’s no talking sense to that boy. Fresh out of college, he’s in a phase where hormones control his life. Still, I can’t remember being quite as idiotic during that phase of my l
ife.

  At the tender age of twenty-two, my brother Chance is what I like to call “young and dumb.” Or “younger and dumber.” Or “youngest and dumbest,” your choice.

  Because when he came home this morning, giggling and filled with news of his engagement to the town’s most notorious gold digging tramp, I’d seen nothing but deep streaks of red.

  In a tizzy, my little bro went on and on about how perfect she was, how beautiful, how giving, and yes, how unbelievably well-endowed.

  “She’s gorgeous Rob,” he breathed, mooning like a fucking cow. “A ten out of ten.”

  I snorted, disbelievingly. More like this chick had plastic boobs and a fake chin, plus brains made of cereal. My bro was such a fucking dumbfuck, I could kick his ass inside out and he’d thank me.

  But Chance was in a world of his own.

  “No seriously,” my bro mumbled, eyes faraway. “She’s like an hourglass,” gesturing with his hands, making a wave. “Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect.”

  I snorted again.

  “Fuck,” was my only comment. Because what the hell? Chance was dizzy on pixie dust, he’d drunk the Kool-Aid and the only thing to do was to wait for it to wear off.

  But that was the problem. How long was it gonna take before he came down from his high? Tomorrow? The day after? A week later? The way it sounded, this golddigger had him by the balls, and they were going to City Hall to tie the knot stat.

  So I took things into my own hands. I had to get this girl out of Chance’s orbit until he calmed the fuck down. I had to drag her out of the city until my bro got his head screwed on straight and saw the red-headed slut for who she really was – a professional whore.

  So yeah, I hatched the kidnapping scheme. I’m a bastard, a complete and utter arrogant asshole, and shit, it’s caused some problems in the past, sure. But nothing to go to jail for, just some crossed wires plus a couple payments to the local police.

  Because after tracking her down in the bad part of town, I could definitely see why this “Anna” chick wanted to marry rich.