Kidnapped by the Bear: A Paranormal Romance

by Mia Wolf

  Something passes between the men that I don’t understand. Joshua looks about the same age as Rose. He’s about Warren’s height, which suddenly makes me feel petite. Rose is also on the tall side; it makes me wonder if there’s something in the water around here. They all have a certain glow to their skin.

  “You owe me one,” Joshua says to Warren and walks past us.

  “I owe you more than one,” Warren mumbles after him.

  He takes my hand and we walk up the winding road together. There are lanterns and lamps everywhere, big and small, forming circles of light on the ground like light confetti.

  A soft sigh escapes my lips involuntarily when I see the cave houses up close. “The houses are really something else.”

  “It’s a small village. The lights are usually only there when there’s a festival, but, you know, we help each other out,” Warren tells me as I halt in the middle of the path to stare at a crimson bulb-shaped lamp, hanging from the cave top of one of the houses.

  “Our place is at the top.” Warren points uphill.

  When we arrive, he opens the door for me and we walk into the penultimate cave house. I’m surprised to see that it looks like a normal home from the inside. The ceilings are high and flat, not rounding as they appear to be from the outside. I see two urns standing on the mantle. A family once lived here.

  “What do you think?” Warren asks me, pulling me out of my head.

  “It’s cozy,” I reply, looking at the photos on the walls. “I feel like I’m on vacation.”

  “Well, you are. Rose told me about the stolen sketches. Try to put the work stress aside while you’re here. You deserve a break.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I respond, shaking my head to put the sketches out of my mind again.

  “Would you like some wine?” Warren asks while I touch the walls and stare at old photos and trophies. “It’s somewhat of a tradition to drink wine when you get back from a trip. We used to do that back when my parents were still alive.”

  I nod in agreement, overcome by the feeling that it was a good decision to go here. It’s quiet and peaceful; and New York is many things, but quiet and peaceful do not belong to those. There’s no distant buzzing of horns and traffic; instead, the wind howls outside the window. The village is not cramped and congested, the buildings are not stacked on top of each other. I already like it here, but I don’t want to like it so much that I never want to go back.

  We sit on the couch and drink our wine for a little. When our glasses are empty, I propose to walk through the village some more. I want to see more of the village, more of that amazing architecture that seems to be designed to instill a sense of delight, to make one happy. We go outside and follow the winding, twisting paths at random. Some of the cave houses have porches right by the side of the path while others are farther away from it, having their own stepping stone pathways leading up to it. It all seems so cozy, comforting, and warm.

  “Why do you think we broke up?” Warren suddenly asks. His question catches me off guard and I briefly lose balance, my foot scraping against the pavement.

  “Where did that come from?” I ask Warren as we continue onwards.

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  I frown, thinking about what the right answer to his question might be. Why did we break up? “Well, it wasn’t really going anywhere,” I say and turn to look at Warren for confirmation. “We decided that it wasn’t going anywhere and we stopped. Don’t you think?”

  Warren looks at me and is silent for while. “I think what it really was for me was that I got scared. Things were too good and when they’re too good they always turn bad.”

  “I see what you mean,” I tell him understandingly.

  “Of course, I don’t think that way anymore. I wouldn’t end a good relationship out of fear anymore.”

  We continue in silence, but my heart feels lighter, slowly letting in hope and positivity for the future. We follow the path across the rotunda, where an old man is walking our way. Warren waves at him.

  “You’re back from the city,” the old man says to Warren. He’s dressed in a Shoma which catches my eye. I really like the concept of the Shoma, which I first got to know through Rose’s work. They’re apparently a part of the culture here in the village.

  “Eli, this is Ashley,” Warren says and gestures at me. “Ashley, Eli.”

  “You’re the one Rose works with,” Eli says and I nod.

  “Yes, I am,” I say shyly. Eli smiles at me, and I notice the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He seems to be genuinely pleased to see me.

  “I’ve been telling Warren to get a good girlfriend for ages. I see he has finally paid heed.”

  Girlfriend. Am I really Warren’s girlfriend again? I smile awkwardly and my cheeks turn red without me really understanding why. I look away, trying to hide my flushed face.

  Eli turns to Warren and says, “You look happy, son.”

  We stand in the middle of the path under a canopy of trees and talk amongst fairy lights. Eli and Warren discuss his plans of living in the village and Eli says I should be coming around more often, too. I don’t know what to say so I just smile.

  I thoroughly enjoy my way back home. The village is peaceful and quiet; not a single person is outside and I’m caught up with the beauty of the landscape.

  It would be nice to spend life here after retirement. The thought suddenly pops up in my head, and I’m not even surprised by it. It’s quiet here and exactly what I need after the life I’ve lived. As we go up to the house, I imagine spending my old age under the roof of one of these many cave houses. I’m so glad that I made this trip.

  Chapter 25 – Warren

  I roll over in my bed when I wake up the next morning, stretching my arms and tilting my head, noticing that Ashley has already gotten up. I pick my jeans off the floor, but see that the shirt is missing. I start searching the house and call out Ashley’s name but there’s no response. The hall is empty, and so is the kitchen. Then I notice that the door is standing ajar and when I quietly open it, I find Ashley sitting on the porch.

  She doesn’t notice me standing behind her so I watch her in silence for some time. Her headphones are on, which explains why she didn’t hear me calling out her name. She’s sitting beside one of the dummies that Rose keeps around the house. She’s wearing my shirt and looks laser-focused, tracing the mannequin’s shoulders and midline with a thin, black lace. I hadn’t noticed how straight her back has become. She no longer crouches the way she used to. Her determination reminds me of myself a long time ago.

  I pull out my phone to check the time. It’s 7 a.m. Too early for work, I think to myself, but I don’t want her to stop, not when she looks so peaceful. I walk up to her, and she recoils for a moment when she notices me.

  I raise my hands and whisper, “didn’t want to disturb you” when she pulls one of the earbuds out.

  “You didn’t. Something came to my mind so I just—” She stops herself mid-sentence and shakes her head. Then she smiles, as if wanting to say that I matter the most right now, more than her work. “Good morning.”

  I smile back at her and nod in affirmation. “You can take your time finishing this up. I can fix you some breakfast. Sandwiches?”

  She nods and smiles warmly at me.

  “I’ll text you when it’s done so that I don’t disturb you again. You can come inside whenever is convenient.”

  I make breakfast for the two of us while thinking about an email I received the other day. It was from a sports car company, ReVolt, saying that they have an open position for an engineer and asking whether I’d be interested to join them. It’s nice of them to approach me, but I haven’t worked on sports cars for nearly five years now and I have zero confidence that I’m fit for the job. Plus, the company that I’m currently working with is doing well. I was going to say no but seeing Ashley hunched over that dummy with that infectious drive in her awoke something in me. I used to be like that, too. When did it all g
o away?

  When I’m done with the grilled sandwiches, I text Ashley. She lazily saunters into the house five minutes later and removes her earphones.

  “That smells so good.” She smiles and sits across from me at the table. She steals glance at my face and asks, “Did something happen?”

  How does she even know that, I wonder to myself? This woman is amazing. I have no idea how I even survived all these years without her. “There’s this sports car company that wants to hire me,” I tell her, slipping one of the plates towards her.

  She looks at me expectantly. “And?” she asks. “What’s the problem with that?”

  “I don’t think I’m a good fit for the job.”

  “You don’t decide that,” she replies a little aggressively. “If they think you’re good enough, you’re probably better.”

  Her words make me smile; they oddly sound like she believes in me. “So you’re saying I should take the offer?” I ask her, biting into the sandwich.

  She shakes her head and takes a bite herself then raises an eyebrow in appreciation. “No, I’m telling you to accept the offer if you like the work.”

  It’s a fair point and I don’t argue with her any further. This woman knows something about the real world, how to value it and how to dance with it. The thing is, I think I’m just trying to be a shadow.

  “You said something about being a shadow back at my place,” Ashley says and all blood drains from my face.

  Can she read my mind? Of course not, the rational part of my brain says. It’s scary nonetheless. Ashley gives me a look of confusion, but I ignore it.

  “What about it?” I ask her as if she hasn’t just given me a mini heart attack.

  “Well, I don’t think I understand what that means. Can you elaborate?”

  It’s not my idea of a good breakfast conversation but I give in anyway. She doesn’t look like she’s going to give up without some answers. Fair enough, too.

  “Do you know about the Allegory of the Cave? Plato?”

  “In theory, sure,” she replies before she shoves the last, large chunk of her sandwich into her mouth.

  “I think I’m the shadow that those people see and not the real thing,” I say, but I’m not sure that clarifies anything, so I try to elaborate. “It’s like I’m afraid of being my true self so I only show a shadow to other people. It’s very metaphysical and makes very little practical sense so don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. And you don’t need to hide parts of yourself just because people won’t take them seriously.”

  And just like that, she ends all turmoil in my head. It’s a funny thing, I think to myself, having someone who has your back even against yourself. What have I done to deserve this?

  Chapter 26 – Ashley

  I contemplate bringing it up to Warren about a hundred times before I actually do. He obviously knows that something is going on, but I keep avoiding his questions every time he asks. I’m flying back to New York tomorrow morning, and I feel that we barely even had time to spend together today. On top of that, I ended up working this morning before breakfast, too. But that’s not what’s on my mind.

  Warren is sitting on the couch as I lurk in the kitchen, pretending to look for food, waiting for an opening.

  “Ashley, I feel like you have something to say to me,” Warren says for the fifth time since this morning.

  “What makes you say that?” I reply, avoiding to really respond to him and randomly opening and closing drawers to seem busy.

  He sighs. “Well, whenever you’re ready then.”

  Why is it so hard? I ask myself. The worst thing that can happen is that he refuses, and what’s so bad about that? Gee, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to be rejected? But I’ve dealt with rejection all of my life. Not in intimate relationships. I want to punch the sassy, snarky voice in my head because it’s not helping at all.

  I gather all of my courage and go up to Warren, without meeting his gaze.

  “So I have a fashion design event-dinner kind of thing that I’m attending tomorrow evening,” I say and gulp down saliva, finally able to look at him. “For some stupid reason, they want everyone to bring a date.” Warren smiles. “I know, right? I don’t get it either.” I laugh nervously.

  There’s an awkward silence before I realize that I still haven’t explained to him why I’m telling him all of this. But isn’t it obvious?

  “Right. So.” I pause and take a deep breath, hiding my trembling hands behind my back. “You can say no, by the way. And it would be totally fine. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not like I haven’t gone to the event alone for the last five years. Plus, it’s probably the most boring event in the history of events.” I roll my eyes, and I know that I’m blabbering when Warren interrupts me.

  “I would love to go with you, Ashley,” he says. “It would actually be an honor.”

  All of the thoughts tumbling through my head silence at once, spreading a peaceful calm through me. “Thanks,” I say, not completely believing yet that he has actually agreed.

  “But I don’t have a tux,” Warren says, looking up at me. A smile spreads across my face.

  “I know exactly the place to go.”

  When we land in New York the next day, I take Warren to Vincent Rudd, the man who’s responsible for dressing up most of the celebrities for the red carpet. He’ll know exactly what to do with him.

  “Just make sure Warren’s comfortable with whatever you choose,” are the only instructions I give to Vincent.

  He’s a stout man with a well-groomed beard and a mustache. But there’s a command in his posture and the way he carries himself that makes people take notice whenever he walks into a room.

  “I’m not going to wear anything flashy,” Warren tells me, and I give him an assuring smile.

  I’m just glad he agreed to tag along.

  Vincent showcases Warren wearing one tux after another, and I immediate reject the first three. What I don’t tell Warren is how my mouth is watering at seeing him in all of the attires. His broad chest and hooded eyes make him fit to be a model. It’s got to be something in that village.

  The fourth outfit takes my breath away.

  “I like this one,” Warren says, adjusting the collar and brushing invisible dust from his shoulders. “What do you think?”

  I’m covering my mouth when he looks at me. I’m standing there speechless. I clear my throat and snap out of the thoughts I’m having, all of which include undressing Warren. Not cool, Ashley.

  “I think this is the one,” I say as if my stomach isn’t full of butterflies at seeing Warren dressed like a movie star.

  We drive back to my place so I can get ready, too.

  I ask Warren to occupy himself for a while because it’s going to take me a while to get ready. I disappear into my wardrobe and sift through dresses upon dresses. In the excitement of going to the village, I had completely forgotten to think about what I’m going to wear to the dinner. Or perhaps, I was planning not to go.

  I’m supposed to wear an original design, one that I haven’t yet worn to another event. Only one fits the bill. I chose a Vanilla ice-cream white, sleeveless dress that starts at my bust and flows down to my legs. The undertones of the creases look like shadows from a distance. The fabric is loose and it clings to my body, making me look curvier than I actually am. It’s good enough, I tell myself, and I’m ready to go.

  I walk out of the room, holding one end of the dress to lift it up a little. Once I put my heels on, the dress no longer touches the floor. Warren’s sitting on the couch watching TV. “Shall we?” I ask him. He turns around and widens his eyes once he sees me, which makes me smile.

  “You look like a goddess,” he says, his eyes locked onto me. “Is that lipstick waterproof?”

  “Yeah, why?” I ask him stupidly before he gets up from the couch and kisses me on the mouth. His tongue looks for entry, and I grant him that. The hot kiss lasts fo
r longer than we technically have time for, and we’re both hungrily looking at each other in the aftermath. Warren seems to be showing great restraint, I notice his tight fists.

  “I hope my hair’s fine,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension.

  We head to the dinner, and on the way only run into light traffic. I have a feeling that this evening is going to be a good one after all.

  When we arrive at the venue, a line of reporters and cameras is waiting by the red carpet, taking pictures and interviewing guests. I usually talk to the media a bit at these kinds of events, but I don’t want to make Warren uncomfortable. So once we’ve exited the car, I walk straight toward the entry, passing by all the reporters who are suddenly screaming my name and hurling questions at me. We’re almost at the end of the red carpet when a reporter insists that we at least get a picture taken. I’m about to reject the offer when Warren throws an arm around my waist and turns toward the camera. He pulls me to him and my arm accidentally lands on his chest when I try to balance myself. Of course, the flash goes off at exactly that moment. Warren doesn’t seem bothered at all as we go inside the auditorium, but I’m thinking that the media will have a fun time speculating who I’m with tonight. They'll want to dig up Warren’s past perhaps. I don’t tell Warren any of this, and I soothe myself by thinking that it might not happen at all.

  “So, how the event usually goes is that there’s an award ceremony in the beginning, then a dinner, and for some bizarre reason, there’s a drinking and dancing party at the end. It’s never part of the plan but it always ends up happening,” I tell Warren curling my arm around his. “Oh, and we have to pretend to like many of these people while we find our way to our seats.”

  We’re looking at the sea of people ahead. The ceiling of the hall is ten times higher than in any regular building, and the clamor of the conversations immediately gives me a headache. We’d better get moving—I know that as soon as the news spreads that Ashley Wang has arrived, I’ll be surrounded by people.