Lost (Captive Heart #1)

by Carrie Aarons

  Tucker pushes open the door to the recreation building and snow falls in before we stomp over it in our path.

  And then all I can do is gasp, and start to cry.

  On one wall, leaning due to no proper stand, is a small tree Tucker must have cut down in the woods. It’s topped with a sparkling princess crown from the toy closet, and dotted with colorful crayons.

  “There we no lights or a star, so I improvised. I hope you like it.”

  I’m breathless as I push up on my toes and fall into a kiss. “Oh Tucker, it’s perfect.”

  No one has ever given me something quite so special.

  “That’s not all.”

  Tucker points underneath the tree and I see a bunch of square items thrown beneath it. He pulls on my hand and brings me toward it, and I’m still in such shock that he cut down a tree for me that I almost don’t notice the fifty or so VHS tapes beneath the tree.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I jump on him until he is forced to hold me as I straddle him.

  “Wow! A curse word. Now I know I did good.” Tucker accepts one of my frantic kisses before letting me down to inspect the loot.

  “Where did you find these?!”

  “I found them hidden in a back room in one of the utility buildings. The Marsh’s definitely didn’t want the kids hooked up to modern technology, which they thought this was.”

  He points and I follow his finger to see one of those TV carts with an old clunky set and a VHS player.

  “My God … it looks like one of those ones we had in high school!”

  Tucker booms out a laugh. “Shit you’re right. Like the one Mr. Bromwick had in biology when we watched the inside of a vagina during sex. Why did that turn me on?”

  “Because you’re a pervert,” I tease him as I sift through the movies on the floor.

  They’re almost all Disney movies, but when I get to the bottom of the pile, I spot an old favorite.

  “This is what we’re watching.” I hold out the VHS copy of Now & Then to Tucker.

  I think I broke my copy when I was a teenager. That’s how many times I watched it. Not only did I love the story of the four girls, but I used to pretend Roberta and Scott would be like Tucker and I. Eventually, he’d realize I wasn’t just a girl, but that he liked me enough to kiss me.

  “Never seen it. That’s fine, I want to watch whatever you want to watch. This is your present.”

  I stand, following him to the little movie-watching fort he’s built us out of old crappy blankets and mattresses. Once he pops the movie in and I hear the opening credits start to roll, I snuggle into his arms.

  “Thank you for this, Tucker. Thank you for doing this. It is perfect.”

  “You’re perfect.” Tucker kisses my head where I lay in his arms and I feel his hands start to drift up under my shirt.

  “Uh-uh, no nookie until after the movie ends.” I put his hands back in safe places on my body as Samantha stuffs another cigarette into her car’s center console.

  “Only because it’s Christmas,” Tucker sighs and settles in.

  After a day of binge-watching childhood movies, and a dinner of spaghetti and frozen meatballs, one of our more luxurious meals, we’re back in our cabin.

  “I feel bad that I didn’t get you a present.” I’m lying half-naked in Tucker’s arms, feeling better than I have in a month.

  “Babe, really, it’s no big deal. Watching movies with you, and hearing you quote five-year-old dialogue all day was more than enough of a present.”

  I still want to give him something. I skate my hand over his incredible abs, tracing the dips and peaks gently with my fingers. I feel Tucker suck in, not sure if I’m tickling him or going for something more. I trace the line of curls that I’m well aware descends to his impressive erection.

  Tucker refuses to put the travel size blades anywhere near his junk. Says he might cut the “precious cargo.” I don’t mind it actually. The curls leading down and around his cock are hot, and kind of, well, dirty. It’s hot and rugged, and it makes me feel like he’s a mountain man saving me from the wild. Which he kind of is.

  I slip my hand below the waistband of his boxers and circle my hand around his engorged tool.

  “Mmm, is this my present?”

  “No,” I say as I slither down his body, my hand slowly stroking his swollen cock, “This is.”

  And I close my lips around his head.

  “Fuck!” Tucker’s hips buck up off the mattress as I take him in deep, swirling my tongue around the base of his cock.

  “Holy shit, how do you do that?”

  I give a brief sound of pride that comes out as a gargle, and Tucker growls at the sloppy noise.

  “Yeah, babe, fuck that’s hot. Swallow my cock.”

  I love it when he talks dirty like that to me. He’s the first and only to do it, and it makes my whole body throb and ache.

  I take him deep in my throat once … twice—

  “Get on your back. Now.”

  I do as he says, because jeez, he’s so hot when he talks like this and I want whatever delicious thing he’s planning.

  Tucker tears my underwear and T-shirt off, and all I can do is wriggle my body, wishing he would go faster.

  “Do you want me to eat your pussy first, or just slide my cock into you?”

  I’m panting. “It’s your Christmas present, so what do you want?”

  Tucker groans and looks skyward.

  And then thrusts into me.

  We both lose our breath for a few seconds, doing nothing but staring at each other while we adjust to being connected. This feeling will never dissipate. This innate need for him. For his body. It’s a hunger that will never be satisfied.

  “I love you.” He leans down on his elbows and frames my face with his hands.

  I’m surrounded by Tucker, inhaling him and tasting him and feeling his massive staff thrust slowly between my legs.

  “I love you too.” I tilt my chin up and he meets me, locking our lips in a slow but mind-altering kiss.

  “You’re the only present I’ll ever need, Char.”

  I start to tear up, the weight of this moment hanging on me.

  Tucker stills his movement, the tornado of lust he’s stirred up in my core plowing on with a sharp throbbing. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  “They’re … happy tears. I’m just … you mean so much to me. This is the best I’ve ever felt in my life.”

  I grab his back and force him to keep up his movements. I’m so close to the edge of what I know is an orgasm that will rob me of sight and hearing. That will make me feel inches from Heaven.

  “Look at me. The whole time. You look at me.” Tucker pulls his head up, his eyes inches from mine and I obey.

  Our gazes are one, and we’re feasting on the expression of the other, spurring our impending climaxes by watching what our bodies are doing to each other. He’s stroking me so slowly, with the same rhythmic pace. We’re sweating and gasping and I may lose my mind if I don’t come soon.

  I get there first. Or maybe Tucker is right there with me. I wouldn’t know. Because once the ball of pleasure hits the bottom of my spine, my vision goes white.

  I’m nothing. There is nothing. Except Tucker and pleasure. I’m stuck in this abyss of heat and pure bliss and I never, ever want to come down.

  I never, ever want to let go.

  34

  Tucker

  The new year comes and goes, and along with it more snow. You’d think we are in Siberia, not the Poconos.

  Things are fine, time passes, Char and I are in love.

  But with each passing day, as it nears closer and closer to April, I worry about what we will do. Where will we go, will we be caught?

  How can I subject Charlotte to this any longer? She doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve to be stuck out here in the cold, even if she does love me. I should want better than this for her. But instead, I keep us here. Because I want as much time with her as possible.

&
nbsp; I don’t even care about being caught anymore. In my mind, it’s inevitable. But I care about having just one more week, one more day with her. Because after I’m detained, who knows the next time I’ll be able to touch her.

  I’m reading in the recreation building with Char, a habit I’ve gotten into with no outside work to do.

  “I’m hungry, I’m going to go grab a snack from the mess hall. Do you want anything?”

  I look up and see her standing by the door. “No I’m okay. But give me a kiss before you trek off.”

  She skips to me and leans down to where I’m lying on the hard wood bench.

  “I love you,” she breathes into my mouth before pecking me.

  I swat her ass as she bends over. “Hurry back.”

  She leaves and I turn my attention back to the Goosebumps book I’m reading. Char calls me childish, because I won’t read any of the classics on the massive shelves, but these are just too good.

  I get lost in the chapter until I hear her scream my name.

  And it’s like someone just shot at me I’m up so quick. I’m running for her, for the mess hall, as quickly as I can.

  I run through the snow, kicking it up every which way, and bound into the mess hall. Char’s not out front in the main eating area, so I race to the kitchen.

  Not in there either.

  “Tucker …”

  I hear her faint, cautious voice from the supply room. I slowly make my way in and see a sight that stops my heart in my chest.

  Char is clutching her arm, blood gushing from a tear in her sleeve. And before her, growling and baring its teeth, is a coyote.

  Its large, one of the biggest coyotes I’ve ever seen. Its beige fur is matted and tufted with snow and dirt. But there is something wrong with it.

  “I don’t know how it got in. But it broke through the back door, maybe it smelled the food …” Char’s voice is wobbly with tears and she’s trying to whisper.

  This animal attacked her. And there is something wrong with it.

  You can see it in the eyes. It looks just like the dog that wandered into our backyard when I was nine-years-old. The German shepherd had looked mangy and … off. It was shaking and its eyes were bloodshot and it had foam coming from the corners of its mouth.

  It was rabid.

  That’s what this coyote looks like, in a ready-to-pounce position. Ready to pounce at my wounded girlfriend.

  The coyote that just bit her is rabid.

  And I have no idea what to do. Maybe if we can just slowly back out of the supply room and shut the door.

  “Char, I want you to slowly move backwards.”

  She takes two tentative steps toward me, never looking back, and the animal makes a guttural sound low in its throat.

  “Okay, stop,” I whisper frantically at her.

  I survey the scene. The coyote is too close to her, and I’m closer to the door. If Char runs, she might be able to make it out before the animal can leap and I can shut the door.

  The coyote keeps having these … all I can think of to describe them is “dizzy spells.” It’s the perfect distraction and opportunity for us to get out of this room.

  Char is whimpering, and I know she’s scared, but also in pain. Blood from her arm is still dripping rapidly onto the floor.

  “Okay,” I whisper at Char, “Here is the plan, baby. Stay with me now. See how he keeps swooning? Next time that happens, I’m going to say, ‘go.’ And when I say go, you’re not going to think. You’re not going to look. You’re just going to run.”

  Char chokes out a quiet sob. I can’t move a muscle to touch her or comfort her, but I can talk to her.

  “Baby, this is going to be okay. I love you. You can do this. Okay? Nod that you understand.”

  She bites her lip and nods.

  I turn my attention to the coyote, praying that it will get woozy soon. We stand there frozen for what feels like hours, but in reality is probably only a couple of minutes. My bones ache from standing stock-still when so much anxiety and adrenaline are coursing through them.

  Char is quietly crying and clutching her arm.

  And finally, the coyote starts to sway.

  “Go!” I yell at Char, and I run blindly.

  I get out of the supply room, something flashing in my vision as I sprint for the door. I think it’s Char, the long golden brown locks flying in my face have to be hers. But I can’t look to check. I have to close this door. Because either way, she’s safe. She’s either out here with me, or in there alone.

  I slam the wooden supply door shut and run to one of the long wooden tables.

  “GAH!” I scream as I struggle to push it against the door.

  But I get it there, blocking off the movement of the door as the coyote throws its body against it.

  That’s when I hear her gasping, shuddering sobs.

  “Tucker …” Char is collapsed on the ground, holding her arm that is still pouring blood.

  “Jesus Christ, baby …” I run to her side and fall to my knees, slipping in the small pool of blood that’s collected on the floor. “Let me see your arm.”

  She’s reluctant to let it go. I see the pain in her face as she winces but stops clutching it. I take it in my hand and Char cries out when I run my fingers gently along the jagged bite.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” I see the fear and the agony in her eyes and I just want to make it stop.

  The coyote bit her on the outside of her forearm, but the bite is big, not just a graze. One of its teeth has to have punctured a vein or something with how much she’s bleeding. She needs stitches, maybe even surgery. And she needs a vaccination, and a hospital …

  “We have to take you to the emergency room.”

  Char pulls her arm back into her body. “Tucker, no! We can’t go there. They’re bound to know exactly who we are.”

  I’m not going to sacrifice her health for one more minute. “I don’t care anymore. You need help, medical attention. We have to go now!”

  I look around for anything to pack her wound with to transport her, and find some kitchen towels in the back. The thudding in the supply closet has stopped, meaning the coyote either left, is occupied with the food in there, or is roaming the camp waiting for us to come out of here.

  “I have no idea how clean these are so we have to move.” I wrap her arm in the towels and secure it with Saran wrap. Hopefully it will hold.

  “He came for the food, it wasn’t the first time, Tuck. There was a hole in the back door that we never saw. He’s been raiding the supplies in the back. I startled him, or he startled me. I have no clue. He was rabid, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, not wanting to frighten her more.

  But the rabies is polluting her blood stream as we speak, and if she doesn’t get looked at soon, she could get sick. Really sick. She could die.

  “All right, time to go.” I try to put my arm under her shoulder and around her waist to lift her up, but Char stops me.

  “No, please. Tucker let’s just see if it gets better. It will stop bleeding, and then we can bandage it up. There is alcohol here. When we can get back into the supply closet, we can get the first aid kit. And it will be fine. We can’t go to the hospital Tucker, please … I can’t lose you …”

  Char starts hysterically crying and I know this isn’t doing any good to help her heal.

  “Okay, okay. Shh, baby,” I take her in my arms, cradling her on the cold floor of the mess hall dining room. “We can see how it is tomorrow. Let’s get you wrapped up, you can sleep.”

  I stand, making my way to the supply room door. I have to get in there if I have any hope of cleaning out Char’s arm and bandaging her properly.

  “Tucker, no.” Her voice is the definition of scared behind me.

  “I have to, baby. I need to at least clean the bite properly.”

  Pressing my ear to the door, I don’t hear one stir of movement on the other side. Cautiously, I move the table back, the metal screeching against the
floor as I move it.

  When I open the supply room door, the coyote is gone. Thank God for small miracles. I rummage through the chewed out boxes and locate the first aid kit.

  When I make it back to Char, she’s shivering and pale. “I don’t feel well.”

  “I know baby, let’s get you back to the cabin.”

  I heft her up, holding her while she hugs my neck and I grip the kit in my other hand. Please, please fucking heal her. Please let her be okay.

  I am not a religious man, but I swear when I sprint from the mess hall to our cabin, when I pour alcohol on her bite and she screams out in torture, when I wrap the bandages tight to the soundtrack of her quiet sobbing, I pray to God, Allah, Buddha. Anyone who will listen.

  Please let her be okay.

  35

  Tucker

  I barely sleep the entire night. I just wrap my arms around Char and will the universe to make her okay.

  I guess I fall into a fitful rest, because when I wake up next to a silent Char, the morning rays are coming in through the window.

  Startling, I immediately roll her to check on her.

  And find that she’s on fire. Her forehead and skin feel like the inside of an oven, and she’s sweating and shaking.

  “Char! Char!” I shake her, but she only mumbles something unintelligible and her eyes flicker open and shut.

  “Shit!” I curse and try to sit her up.

  Her body is like mush and she’s so hot, everywhere. Her fever must be close to the brink of dangerous, if not there already. I check the bandage on her arm, and see a wide blood spot seeping through the layers of bandage I applied last night.

  I tear it off, trying to wake Char with my words in the process. “Please baby, come on, get up. I need you to talk to me. Charlotte!”

  Nothing rouses her and when I finally get the last layer off, I have to suck in a breath.

  Char’s arm is three times the size it normally is, and not only is the bite bleeding, but now it’s pussing.