Captive (2 page)

Except for a miniature fireplace and logs centered on one wall, the body pillow bed in one corner and a large terracotta flowerpot in the opposite corner, the room appeared empty.

She crept to a wall and drew her hand up, down and across it, searching for a hidden doorknob or lever.

“If you’re looking for me, I’m over here.”

She jumped and spun to face the stranger but was tripped up by her hangover and stumbled into the wall. Righting herself, she tried for a casual smile but knew it didn’t pass for anything more than a nervous tic.

When the room stopped spinning, she noticed he had propped himself up on one elbow. His dark, shoulder-length hair and sleepy eyes enhanced his wicked attractiveness. He made no attempt to move closer. Of course, he made no attempt to cover himself, either, and his sheet had slid further down.

She forced herself to look at his eyes. Eyes that shone eerily in the dark like a cat’s. Eyes that appeared emerald.

Odd choice for colored contacts.

“Come here.” He lifted the sheet with one hand and patted the pillow bedding with the other.

Her heart rate revved as she stared at the parts of him beneath the sheet. “I...uh...I...umm.”

“Skittish little thing, aren’t you?”

The only way to stop gawking was to squeeze her eyes shut. “Who are you?”

“You don’t know?” His voice oozed disappointment.

Apparently they had gone through this already. So why couldn’t she remember? What else couldn’t she remember? “Did I—? Did you—? Did we—?” There was no polite way to ask if (a) she’d given herself to him under duress or (b) he’d violated her while she was unconscious.

“Mate?”

Okay, that was one way. Odd word choice but it sufficed. She nodded.

“No.”

She relaxed.

“Not yet.” There was no menace or presumption in his words. He spoke them casually, matter-of-factly, as if they’d already discussed sex and concluded they’d sleep together. When had she given him that idea? Her head ached trying to remember.

“I’m sorry. You seem like a nice guy, but I can’t...you know...do this.”

“Oh. First time, huh?”

“What?”

“Though judging your age, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a virgin.”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax.” The sleep in his voice gave the word a husky sexiness. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it, too.” He got up and strode toward her, eyes hungry and body very ready to make good on his word.

If her pulse was a car, the turbo just kicked in. “Stop right there,” she said, and he did. The surprise was evident on his face. With a body like his, he probably wasn’t used to rejection.

“Woman, this won’t work unless we’re closer. Much closer.” He winked.

She turned back to the wall, frantically feeling for that doorknob. But it was too late. He was behind her, towering over her. Sweeping the hair off her shoulder. Brushing his lips down the side of her neck.

A tingling sensation slid down her spine. “Stop it. I’m warning you.”

“I understand your hesitation,” he said between kisses. “But it’s going to happen sooner or later.”

Like hell it is.
She pivoted around and kneed him in the groin. Swearing, the man grabbed himself and fell to his knees as she ran to the other side of the tiny space.

Ready to defend herself, she looked over her shoulder, expecting to see him lunging at her. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor.

“Hell, woman, what’s wrong with you?” Pain and confusion filled his eyes.

He’d obviously expected her to be a willing participant. Probably figured it was the least she could do after he’d saved her life.

Her head lolled, amplifying the drone in her ears. She wrapped both hands around her skull to make the pounding stop. “God, I need extra-strength aspirin.”

“You and me both.” He slowly got to his feet. “If you needed some time after reawakening, you should have just said so.”

“Reawakening?”

“Don’t tell me it’s your first time for that, too.”

“You mean resuscitation?”

The lines of his forehead wrinkled. He stared at her in puzzlement, as if trying to figure her out. “You don’t have a clue what reawakening is, do you?”

She shook her head no. “Should I?”

“What Yard are you from?”

“Yard?” What was he talking about? “You mean Ranger District?”

He didn’t answer. And he didn’t bother to get dressed or cover himself. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for the view, but it was one more thing compounding her inability to focus.

“Did you pull me from the river? Did you give me CPR? I can’t remember anything that happened after hitting my head.”

The man paced, seemingly lost in thought. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him she didn’t remember his heroism. Bruising his ego only moments after bruising his manhood couldn’t be good.

“Look.” Addy tried hard to ignore the muscular definition in his legs and butt as he strode back and forth across the floor. “I’m really very grateful that you saved my life. Resuscitated me. Whatever. But if I said or did anything to lead you on while I was in shock, I apologize. So how about you give me my clothes and show me the door.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

Why should that matter? What did he want to do, track her down? Well, she wasn’t about to give him a Google map to her front door. “Northern California,” she answered, as unspecific as she could be without appearing to be unspecific.

“You live there. Right now. That’s where you live.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Son of a bitch.”

The hair on her body bristled. “Where are my clothes? I want to leave.”

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and thumb, the same way her patrol captain did when agitated. Though this man was a foot taller than her captain, twice as broad and three times as menacing.

“I said I want to leave. Now.”

He stopped, made a show of looking around the empty room, and with palms up in front of him, shrugged. “You can’t.”

Addy clutched her toga and yanked it higher. “Why not? Where am I? Who are you?”

“You don’t remember how you got here?”

What was wrong with this guy? Didn’t she just tell him that? Did he expect her to give him a reward or something? Or maybe he wanted a ransom. Great. That’s another thing her mom could blame her for. She could hear her mother now.
Some cop you are, Addy, getting yourself kidnapped. Now we have to waste our retirement money getting you back.

“Are you holding me for ransom? What kind of single-celled pond scum takes advantage of the person he saved? You did save me, right?”

“Son of a—” he whispered, then shouted at the wall, “How the hell do I explain this?”

Addy stepped back.

He drew out a long sigh then locked his eyes on hers. “I didn’t save you and I didn’t kidnap you.”

“Then how did I end up trapped in this...this box with you? Who are you?”
Please don’t be a serial killer...please don’t be a serial killer...please don’t be a serial killer.

He stepped toward her then stopped when she flinched. Raising his hands in front of him, he pointed to the fireplace. “I’m going to throw a log on the fire. Okay?”

She hesitated. Brighter light would make it easier to see him. That way she could give a more detailed description to the police artist. And if it was a trick, she was ready to fight. Her fingers curled into a fist. She nodded.

The man moved to the small woodpile next to the fire. The three identical logs, each about one foot in length and four inches in diameter, appeared way too cylindrical to be real. Damn. If she could have identified the tree from which they’d been cut, she might have gotten a clue as to where she was.

He tossed a log on the embers and the fire sprang to life.

Addy stepped sideways—back sliding against the cool wall and bare feet squishing into soft pillows still warm from where he had slept—until she stood behind him. She stuck out her chin. “Okay, the log’s on. I want answers.”

“My name’s Max,” he said, still watching the fire. “They took me, what, fifteen years ago, maybe? I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Took you where?”

He turned to face her and searched her eyes. “You really have no idea, do you?”

She resisted the urge to shake her head. She’d do the interrogating, thank you very much. “You said
they
took you. Who’s
they
?”

“The Hyboreans.”

“Who are the Hyboreans? A cult? What do they want?” When he didn’t answer, she started to ask again.

“Babies,” he said. “They want us to make babies.”

His reply was so preposterous, she laughed. “What is this, some kind of prank? Am I on some reality TV show? Pierce put you up to this, didn’t he? Where is he?” She searched the wall for a hidden camera. Any minute the crew would open the door and they’d all have a good laugh.

“If it is a joke, it’s on me. This is the first time I’ve been with a female who didn’t understand her role. Why would they throw you in here without bringing you to the Yard first?” he asked the question more to himself. “Well, hell. The only obvious reason is because you’re ovulating.”

“Excuse me?” The smoke from the fire reached her. Its odd scent seeped into her head, making her dizzy again. Warm. Flushed.

“You can’t get pregnant unless you’re ovulating. They probably examined you, realized you were ready, and didn’t want to waste an opportunity.”

“Y-you’re not an actor. You’re psychotic.”
Oh my God, maybe he escaped from an insane asylum.
She pounded her fists on the wall. “Let me out of here,” she hollered. “Let me out.”

“Whoa.” Max jumped up and grabbed her hands. “Settle down. Don’t make them angry.”

His words sent shivers through her and a new fear exploded inside. She pulled her arms free, hit and punched him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Hell, woman, control yourself!”

Was that anger or panic flashing in his unnatural green eyes? What would he do to her? Was he capable of murder? She unleashed frightened fury on him in blow after blow, striking him with anything she could—fists, feet, fingernails.

He tried muscling her but couldn’t get a solid grip on her limbs spinning wildly.

Pain like a bolt of lightning struck her neck and ricocheted through her body. She screamed and collapsed to the ground, every muscle spastic from the jolt.

Get up, Dawson.
Weak and heavy, as if her body had been magnetized and stuck to a metal floor, she couldn’t move. Max crouched next to her, keeping some distance between them. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him.

An instant later, the spasms stopped. As she rubbed the pain from her neck, her pinky got caught in a...necklace? Where did that come from? She wasn’t wearing one last night. She rolled the thin, light chain between her fingers. Did it match his? Did he give it to her?

Hot anger pulsed through her veins, and she jerked the chain. The damn thing didn’t break. Obviously, her strength hadn’t returned.

“Don’t.” It sounded more like a warning than a command.

Locking a defiant gaze on his eyes, she slid four fingers between the necklace and her throat and yanked hard. The chain dug into the back of her neck. It still didn’t break. What was it made out of, steel? She yanked again and again, each time harder than the last.

“Stop,” he shouted. “Listen, woman, before they—”

Another jolt of electricity pierced her neck and shot through her body. She curled onto her side.

“Are you okay?” He moved closer, but still didn’t touch her.

Addy’s forehead slid back and forth on the floor, as she shook her head no. “What’s happened to me?”

“It’s the Hyboreans. Are you hurt? Can you see?” She must have given him an odd look because he explained, “Too much voltage can blind you. Or worse. Hell, woman, for your own safety, don’t anger the Hyboreans.”

It wasn’t until he wrapped the blanket around her that she realized it had fallen off—at what point that actually happened, she had no idea and, quite frankly, was too beat to care.

He scooped her up into his arms.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she said, unable to stop the trembling.

“Shock collar. It’s their way of keeping us in line.”

“No, I mean how did I end up here? Kidnapped. Into white slavery. Where on Earth am I?” She could have sworn his face paled but couldn’t be sure through her tears threatening to escape.

He eased her onto the pillows. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Drained, yet unwilling to shut her eyes, she fought heavy lids. It was no use. Exhaustion owned her. A hot tear slipped from the corner of her eye, making its way to her ear.

The feathery weight of another blanket covered her. A finger brushed across her wet temple.

“I won’t hurt you,” Max whispered.

She drifted into darkness.

*  *  *

She was beautiful. Hell, what naked woman wasn’t? Though this one didn’t have the large breasts and wide hips typical of the women they had brought him in the past. This one was muscular, strong, and a ball of fire.

Max grinned.

She definitely could hold her own, with that knee to the groin and the kicking and clawing. He examined the stinging marks on his chest and knew he’d find the rest of his skin under her fingernails. The woman could draw blood. He’d give her that. But she’d never hurt someone if she didn’t learn how to throw some weight behind her punches.

He watched her fight exhaustion...and lose.

She looked vulnerable lying in his bed with her reddish-blonde hair spilled around her. He imagined her sweeping that long hair down his chest, and could almost feel the tickle. Blood pumped through him, bringing him to readiness.

He could take her right now. She wouldn’t fight. She couldn’t.

Their mating would please the Hyboreans. And happy Hyboreans didn’t punish people.

Usually.

Her breasts rose and fell with each fast and shallow breath. A tear slid across her face.

Ah, hell. Only a beast would take a defenseless woman.

Inhaling deeply and then letting it out slowly, he commanded his body to relax. With a gentleness he forced himself to control, he pulled the blanket over her and then wiped away her teardrop.