Summer Camp Captive

by Alexa Riley

  “Carver,” I whisper, snuggling into his side. “Stay with me?”

  “Yes. Always.”

  Am I crazy or did I hear a hint of uncertainty in his voice?

  When he pulls me close like I might disappear, I decide I imagined it.

  Chapter Nine

  Carver

  I haven’t brushed my hair in a while. Pulling a comb through it feels unnatural, but I keep going, forcing myself to look straight into the mirror. The strands are wet from my shower and they cling to my cheeks, my neck. Normally, I would leave them there and let them dry in a way that would hide my scars as much as possible. Even where there was no chance of running into another human being in the woods, I used my hair as a shield. From myself. From the mirror I’m using for the first time in years.

  Fuck, I’m ugly.

  But this is the face full of scars Lainey runs her fingers over. She kisses this mouth and looks into these eyes. And if she doesn’t run for cover at the sight of me…I’m not going to do it anymore, either.

  Last night, I slept with Lainey in my arms in the infirmary—and I’m never spending another night without her. End of discussion. My soul couldn’t survive the nighttime hours without her little body clinging to me, trusting me to keep her safe. No, I can’t live without her feet tucked in between my legs, her breath stirring my body hair. I’m going to need to build up some willpower, though, or she will never get enough sleep. Three times I woke her from sleep to get relief, my cock unable to resist her soft, tight pussy every time she snuggled closer to me for warmth.

  The final time I took her, I was extra desperate because of the approaching dawn when I would have to leave. Leave my girl. In my torment, I did nothing more than spit on her cunt to wet it, muffling her cries with my chest as I fucked her like a crazed beast. I would be worried over Lainey being cross with me for not being gentle enough, but my dick was coated in her pleasure afterwards. And that smile she gave me? Christ, I can barely breathe just thinking about it. I will never, ever get used to having her look at me without recoiling, let alone smile at me.

  An uneven sound climbs up from my chest, thinking of the way I left her, curled up in come-stained sheets, rosy and glowing in the morning light. Poor little thing is probably walking with a limp today. But I don’t know for sure because she is somewhere I am not. And that is unacceptable. Not being there to provide her with meals, help her dress, kiss her sore cunt…it’s as though layers are being peeled off me one by one.

  There is a reason she is inside the camp right now and I’m in my cabin, though. Lainey doesn’t want to live in solitude like me, trapped inside four walls. She doesn’t want to be away from society and her job, the campers she’s so fond of. If I want to sleep with Lainey in my arms every night, if I want to give her the life she needs…I have no choice but to meet her halfway.

  I have no clue how to actually style my hair, so I settle for combing it back out of my face and securing it with a piece of twine. And that’s it. No more hiding the damage on my face. It’s out there for the world to see.

  Next I pull on the wrinkled, button-down shirt I found in the back of my closet. Tighter than I remember, but it will have to do, since I can’t very well swing by the mall…although, if this plan works, isn’t that exactly the kind of thing I’ll need to start doing? Shopping for groceries, taking Lainey to restaurants…getting a job to support her? The closest I’ve come to other people in a decade is scaring the life out of them at the campfire, the night I took Lainey. What if they react the same way to me now? What if living with Lainey in the real world isn’t even possible? What the fuck am I going to do then?

  The animal inside me growls the words take her, keep her, but I bare my teeth and refuse to succumb to the temptation. I kidnapped her once and she was unhappy. I won’t do it again. Not when her unhappiness is like a knife in my heart.

  You shouldn’t be ashamed of those scars. You should be proud of them. And you definitely shouldn’t be hiding yourself away in the woods.

  Lainey’s voice replaces the slavering animal, soothing me, making me whole. Was she right? Are my scars something I could learn to be…proud of? Even more impossible seeming, could other people ever see past them?

  I don’t know. But if I don’t take this chance, I’ll never find out. I’ll never be able to give Lainey the life she deserves. That terrible thought is what finally pushes me out the door, grabbing the bouquet of daisies on the way.

  Chapter Ten

  Lainey

  No one warned me about the insanity of visitor’s day.

  From the second I woke up in the infirmary, I’ve been running around like a headless chicken. After catching a quick shower to clean the night’s activities off me, I dressed and woke up the campers, trying without much success to calm their excitement long enough to dress and get to breakfast.

  Cars are already beginning to arrive by the time we finish eating, parents alighting from brand new SUVs, surveying the camp like they’re at an art gallery, each of them impeccably dressed. There is a talent show set to take place, followed by a picnic—complete with Frisbee and potato sack race competitions—and in the rush to set everything up, one might assume I don’t have time to think about Carver.

  One would be incorrect.

  First of all, I’m walking like I have a throw pillow wedged between my thighs. Every inch of me sensitive and chafed from Carver’s body hair. There are marks on my chest and neck that I don’t have a hope in hell of hiding, leading to some censorious looks from the visiting mothers…and some lecherous ones from the fathers. Being checked out by men used to make me uncomfortable, but now I only feel indifferent. I’m safe. Protected. My king is always watching and he wouldn’t let another man within two feet of me.

  Case in point, the group of five male counselors who showed up for breakfast, bruised and wincing in pain with every step. None of them so much as looked at me, their heads remaining bowed, lips zipped. I couldn’t help but pat my pocket where I’d tucked Manny’s ponytail and say a quiet thank-you to Carver.

  Now, as I speed walk from the mess hall to the outdoor talent show, my throat tightens up. Carver has given me the gift of…security. I’ve never had that before in my entire life and it’s so freeing. So wonderful. I’m not looking over my shoulder, thinking I’ll see my mother lurking. Or if the man to whom she sold me will show up and drag me home.

  I suddenly miss Carver so much that my entire body aches. I’ve refused to stay with him, run away from him, allowed him to be attacked by an angry mob. Through all that, he’s remained steadfast and…obsessed with me. Which I don’t really mind, to be honest, because I’m pretty obsessed with him, too.

  Slowing to a walk at the edge of the talent show, I rub the back of my hand over my lips, reveling in the memory of Carver attacking my mouth in the middle of the night. Mauling it while he dry-humped me in the twisted sheets, grunting and thrusting between my legs in a frenzy. In my head, I hear the sound of those same sheets ripping so he could get inside me, his stuttered groan when I took him deep.

  My body is flushed from head to toe, my nipples in tight pebbles, and several nearby fathers take notice, receiving annoyed elbow jabs from their wives. I can barely acknowledge my surroundings, though, because I’m so hungry for my man. And that hunger lasts through the end of the talent show, never ebbing one iota…until we reach the picnic.

  All morning, I’ve been running around so much, I failed to notice how everyone has broken up into families. Little clusters of hugging and laughter. All my favorite campers cling to their mothers, receiving proud back pats from their dads. From my position behind the condiments table, I watch as my fellow counselors hold hands with their significant others or exchange smiles with their parents. I’m the only one standing alone and I stick out like a sore thumb.

  A dull throb begins in the middle of my chest. I need to get out of here. Maybe I’ll just go hide in the cabin for a while and wait until the picnic is over. Once the little groups
of families begin to disperse, it won’t be quite so obvious that I’m the camp freak who has never been loved.

  But that’s not true, is it?

  What Carver gives me is definitely love. It’s real and messy and love. Isn’t it? Yes. And as I stand there feeling like an absolute outcast, I imagine how Carver feels the same thing, multiplied by a thousand. How could I refuse to stay with him? Heart in my throat, I turn in a circle and scan the woods, desperate to catch sight of him—

  A giant body blocks my view.

  “Hi,” says Carver in his gravelly baritone. “Am I late?”

  Silence falls behind me in the picnic area, followed by alarmed voices. Shouts. Distressed cries from the children. I don’t care about anything but the man in front of me, though, who is clutching a fistful of daisies. My head falls back so I can look into his beautiful face and I gasp in delight, because I can see all of it. Every inch. His eyes, they’re weighed down with nerves, but not so much that I don’t see the affection there. For me. “Carver. You came?” I swallow a sob. “You’re here.”

  He shifts in his size fifty boots. “I didn’t want you to be the only one without a visitor.” Clearing his throat, he hands me the daisies. “You should always have someone to sit with. As long as that person is me.”

  A laugh trembles out past my lips. “I’m so glad you’re here. I-I’m so glad I found you at all. I’m…” I throw my arms around his waist and squeeze, his pleased rumbling dancing in my ear. “I love you, Carver.”

  Again, there’s a wave of gasps behind me, but I pay them no attention. I’m too busy having my chin tilted up by my giant, his disbelief radiating down at me. “Did you say you love me?”

  I nod, tears falling from my eyes. “Yes.”

  His exhale blows my hair back. “I guess flowers really are better than hair.” My laughter is cut off by Carver’s mouth, because he picks me up, laying a tongue kiss on me that is most definitely not appropriate for a family picnic. He seems to realize that, though, easing back with a growl. “I will plant you fields of flowers. I will love you and protect you until the end of time. You’re my girl, my obsession, my princess. I love you in a way they haven’t invented yet.”

  Bliss and contentment explode inside me, and I want nothing more than to let Carver drag me off into the woods so we can express our love, but he seems determined to stay put. And I think I understand why. He showed up here because he wants a life out in the open. With me. I’m going to give that to him, the way he gave me peace and security.

  I wiggle free of Carver’s hold and take his hand, leading him toward the picnic. A sea of startled and downright terrified faces part like the Red Sea, including the men whose asses Carver whooped last night. Children hide behind their parents. Mouths are agape but silent. So I take advantage, refusing to let him regret coming here for me.

  “Aren’t we lucky to have a war hero among us, ladies and gentlemen?” I stop and lean into Carver’s side. “I’d like to introduce Lance Corporal Carver Shade. I’m honored to have him here as my guest.”

  No one says anything, so I nudge Carver. “Hello,” he rasps. “Nice to meet you.”

  Again, there’s no movement. Until one of our youngest campers ambles forward out of the crowd. “Are you The Butcher?”

  “No, I’m just Carver.”

  “You’re tall.”

  “You’re observant.”

  Laughter ripples through the crowd.

  “Our Frisbee got stuck in the tree,” says the camper, pointing off at a spot in the distance. “Could you reach it for us?”

  And so went the afternoon, Carver retrieving objects from high locations and demonstrating his ability to lift several children with one arm. Slowly but surely, the adults began to relax around him, and the children—obviously sensing Carver’s innate goodness—ended the day by placing a crown of flowers on his head.

  Definitely fitting for a king.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carver

  One month later…

  Watching Lainey cross the street through the window of our apartment, I can’t help but fondle my stiff cock through my pants. My little princess has become my twenty-four-hour-a-day addiction, and the habit only grows more potent. More obsessive. I banged my sexy girl less than an hour ago, yet here I am, hating the fact that she’ll be out of my sight for twenty minutes. She’s only going grocery shopping, but I’m like a caged animal watching her walk farther away.

  Knowing she needs the freedom, I drop my hand and force myself to leave the window, pacing the living room floor instead, careful to avoid the hanging light fixture. I focus on the fact that she’ll return to me shortly. I’ve found a way to make Lainey happy and I’m never going to stop.

  Never.

  A lot has changed in a month. One of the fathers who was present at Camp Brax’s visitor’s day offered me a job working construction. It only took a week to receive a promotion to foreman. After all, I can do the work of four men, a skill that tends to save money. The men I work with were wary of me at first. I kept waiting for one of them to pick a fight with me, the way males used to do in Detroit. It never happened, though. They became my friends instead.

  Not that I’m friendly enough to bring them around my princess, though. No, that’s where the friendship ends. No amount of time is going to make me trust other males around what’s mine, which is why I’m wearing a path in the floor over her doing some simple shopping. Thank God she puts up with me.

  Hell, she does more than put up with me, doesn’t she?

  My gaze strays to the row of picture frames on our mantle, scenes from the last month. Since we moved into town, Lainey has made a point of us going out in public. We’ve gone to the park and lazed in the sun for hours. Restaurants, the library, festivals. Wherever we go, she keeps her chin up, her fingers twined with mine, daring anyone to comment on my appearance or size.

  She’s…a gift from God. My gift. One I have the privilege of waking up with every day of my life. A compromise meant I’d leave the woods and live in town, as long as she slept in our home instead of at camp…and in nothing short of a miracle, she agreed. I’ll never stop being shocked when I open my eyes and find her smiling back at me. Soon I will have enough money in my bank account to purchase a diamond big enough to anchor a ship—only then will I propose. I know Lainey doesn’t care about material possessions, but I won’t allow anything but the best to rest upon the hand that holds mine with such sweetness. Such defiance, love and determination.

  A wave of need sends me back to the window, searching for Lainey on the street even though she hasn’t had enough time to shop yet. I’ve become even more anxious since she missed her period. A pregnancy test is one of the items on her shopping list, and I’m torn between lust over her potentially swelling stomach and fear that she’ll eventually go through pain because of me.

  My desire to tuck her into bed for the length of the pregnancy isn’t going to fly, either. Not with my Lainey. The summer is almost over, so she’ll no longer be working at the camp, but I know she’s already planning on finding another job once it ends. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, I have to get through a mere trip to the store—

  Lainey comes into view and I start to smile, relief filtering into my stomach…

  Until I realize she’s running. From a man.

  My roar puts a crack in the window.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lainey

  Didn’t I know he wouldn’t stop looking?

  At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the store, but no. It was him, watching me from the opposite end of the frozen food section. The man who took money from my mother in exchange for my freedom.

  I didn’t think, I just dropped my hand basket full of food and started to run. My Swiss Army knife is in my boot, but my pursuer carries a gun. I’m outmatched and I’m not taking chances, especially because I might be carrying a new life inside me. Carver watches me from the window, so I knew as lon
g as I got outside, I would be safe. And that’s where I am now. I’ve just broken free of the sliding glass door and I’m gunning toward our building when I hear my king let loose an unholy sound that stops pedestrians in their tracks.

  Without turning around, I know the pimp is probably wondering if hell has opened up and set a demon free, but I don’t stop to confirm. No, I keep running, my knees almost giving out when Carver slams out of our building onto the street, wrath contorting his features and making him seem twice as large as usual.

  People in the neighborhood have learned to love Carver since he left the woods and we moved in together in town. He rescues cats from trees, helps little old ladies with their bags and makes everyone feel safer, in general. They know if he’s angry, it’s because I’m somehow in jeopardy…so instead of running away, every head on the street turns in my direction. Based on their shocked expressions, I’m still being chased by the man. I pick up speed.

  “Lainey!” bellows Carver, beating a fist on his chest. “Mine!”

  Another few seconds and I’ve reached him, sobbing in relief when he pushes me behind his wall of a body. “That’s him,” I whimper, clinging to the back of his shirt. “You can’t kill him, though. Please. They’ll take you away from me.”

  I have no idea if Carver hears me or not…and now all I can do is hope the situation turns out okay. Peeking around his right side, I watch the pimp skid to a halt in front of us, his face draining of color. “Jesus Christ.”

  “As far as you’re concerned, I might as well be,” Carver grinds out. “Because I’m going to decide whether you live or die.”

  Noticing his audience, the man draws himself up to his full height, which is still two feet less than Carver’s. “I paid good money for her.”