Bears of Burden: WYATT

by Candace Ayers

  She put her hands around his neck and held him to her. His tongue moved over the delicacy of her strawberry nubs, circling her until she moaned again. Suddenly she was leaning forward, her hands pulling his shirt over his head and flinging it across the room. Her tongue licked at his neck, then she pushed him back onto the bed and he grinned.

  "The team was right. You are a wildcat." She bared her teeth at him before pulling his pants off and kicking them to the floor, underwear and all. Derrick was completely exposed to her now, just as she'd wanted. His arousal was obvious, long and thick and jutting out of his pelvis as though it was pointing at her. She was flattered to see the depth of his longing for her. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and moved it to the rhythm of the buzz that had followed them since the merry-go-round. It pulsed all around them, adding electricity to an already energy charged room.

  She worked her magic on Derrick. His body was as she'd fantasized. The golden color of his skin was not just on his face. It was from head to foot, and the deep lines of his etched muscles stood out on every limb and rippled across his torso. Derrick followed Kristin's body with his eyes as she moved her hand over him, finding her way to the exact parts of him that were most sensitive. His passion soared again as her other hand ran over his inner thigh, and he suddenly sat up, laying her back on the bed as he kissed his way towards the soft mound between her legs. She shivered and spread herself for him as he stroked his tongue, cat-like, over her of her sensitive folds.

  She responded to his every touch with a tremble or moan. He let his tongue be his paintbrush on the canvas of her soft flesh until the pounding of both their pulses was too much to bear. Then, he brought his face to within an inch of hers. He kissed her, letting her feel his erection against her sex. She pressed her core deeper against him. "Do it," she whispered, "before I go crazy."

  He slid into her slowly, inch by exquisite inch, with such perfection it was like two puzzle pieces coming together. The effect was instantaneous. Her back arched and his stomach broiled. She dug her hands into his back as he moved inside her. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked when he thought he saw her eyes water.

  "No. I don't ever want this to end," she said, then moved her hips against his. Their bodies pulsed together, forming one unit. Light began to erupt around them, stronger than any Vegas neon. It was like they were on the surface of the sun. Kristin wanted to close her eyes but was afraid she'd miss the rainbow colors that emitted from their bodies, pouring forth from their energy. Derrick didn't have to think about what he was doing. His body was acting on some innate sense. It was like he and Kristin had been pre-destined for this moment, and his body already knew the moves.

  His penis throbbed inside her and she felt it press against the sides of her channel, sending shock waves of heat deeper and deeper into her as he rocked faster and faster until finally the sun exploded all around them and Derrick and Kristin had no choice but to close their eyes and let themselves be carried on the solar waves of their passion.

  They fell together, exhausted, feeling like they'd been melted by a nearby fire. "Let's do that again later," she said.

  Derrick nodded and kissed her head. "Anything you say, Mrs. Wellborn."

  Chapter 13

  Derrick woke up feeling happier than he could ever remember being. He reached out an arm for Kristin and found an empty pillow. His eyes flickered open. She's probably in the shower.

  The big game was today. Okay, it wasn't the Superbowl—not yet—but it was the day Derrick was gonna beat Randy Wolfe's record. He headed for the bathroom. The penthouse was huge. He could get lost in it.

  "Kristin?" he called, pushing open the bathroom door. Empty. There was a second bathroom on the opposite side of the room. He walked to it and pushed the door open. "Kristin?" She wasn't there.

  Panic started to prickle at him. But, that was ridiculous. Why should he panic? Because she changed her mind. He dismissed the idea, walking faster around the penthouse now, shouting for her. "Kristin! Kristin!"

  Her dress was gone. They'd only brought a small overnight bag each. Hers was still there. "She's probably getting breakfast." He pulled his cellphone from the nightstand and dialed her number. He got her voicemail. He tried to sound bright and cheerful. "Hi, it's me. Call me please, I'm looking for you."

  He wandered downstairs. It was 6am. They had a flight that left at 8am. The game started at 3. He had to hurry and find her. Maybe she was upset that they wouldn't get a proper honeymoon till after the Superbowl. He'd make it up to her if that was the problem.

  He walked for five minutes that felt like hours. People passed by, a few stared, most didn't seem to notice him. They were all involved in their own romances, their own games. He called her phone again and this time it clicked over.

  "Kristin," he sighed, relieved. "Where are you? I'm downstairs looking for you."

  There was a low growl from the other end. Derrick thought for a second that he'd gotten the wrong number. "Kristin can't come to the phone right now. She's tied up at the moment." It was such a cliché thing to say, but that's why Randy thought it was funny.

  "Who is this?" Derrick asked. He could barely get the words out.

  "Guess."

  He listened to the heavy breathing on the other end. To the deep tone of the threatening voice he'd heard on the news from time to time. "Randy?"

  "That's right Wellborn. Do as exactly as I say and your girlfriend lives."

  "Wife," Derrick corrected automatically.

  Wolfe paused a moment. Derrick could almost hear him grin on the other end. "Wife," he repeated. "Even better."

  ***

  Kristin wished she hadn't gotten hungry during the night. More than anything else at this moment, she wished she'd just gone back to sleep instead of downstairs for a snack. There was a fully stocked mini fridge in their room. Why hadn't she just gotten something from there? Her wrists burned as she tried freeing them from the ropes once again. It had only been a couple hours and her hands were already going numb.

  "I have to pee," she called from the closet where she lay squinched up like a bug. The door opened and a man she didn't recognize stared down at her. He placed a bowl on the floor and shut the door again. "Are you serious?" she yelled.

  She had no idea where she was. She barely remembered anything after bumping into Randy Wolfe. She'd thought it was a funny coincidence that he was in Vegas at the same time they were, until he'd pulled a gun on her and made her follow him to a limo waiting outside. She thought it was hilarious being abducted by a superstar in a limo, until the man inside the limo hit her from behind when she turned her head, and everything went black. She woke up tied up in this closet. She only knew it was a closet because there were clothes hanging in it.

  "Hey!" she screamed again. "I'm not peeing in a fucking salad bowl!"

  The door opened again, only this time the man who opened it had a bat. Kristin felt it collide with her head, and then she felt nothing else for several hours.

  ***

  Derrick sat in the locker room, his head in his hands. His palms were sweating. He thought he was gonna puke again. Coach had been waiting to pounce on him for going to Vegas the night before a game, but when Derrick had finally arrived at the stadium he'd looked so bad, Coach had said nothing. Wolfe had sent Derrick a picture of Kristin, her hands tied, her face bloodied. The room spun as someone slapped his back to congratulate him again on his wedding. He was going to kill the fucker. Painfully. He put his head deeper between his knees and resisted the urge to shift that always tried to overtake him under times of great stress. Now was not the time. He had to think.

  Let him have it. Wolfe could have the record. Derrick didn't care. All he cared about was getting Kristin back. If that meant he had to fake an injury and pull himself from the game for the rest of the season, so be it. Nothing was more important than saving her. Then he’d kill Randy Wolfe.

  "You alright Derrick?" Tate asked, coming up beside him. His arm was still in a sling, but
his depression had lessened.

  "Fine," Derrick mumbled.

  "You don't look so fine."

  Bolero yelled from the back, "Didn't you hear? He got married last night? He'll never be fine again." The team cackled and Derrick put his hands over his ears.

  Tate watched him carefully. "Where's Kristin?" he asked.

  Derrick shook his head. Randy hadn't told him what to say when someone asked about her. "Out," was all he could think of.

  "Out? What does that mean?" Tate laughed.

  Derrick looked at him and Tate jumped back. His eyes were red and glowing a horrible black color that made him look like he belonged in a hospital bed.

  "Come on guys. It's game time," Coach yelled. Derrick put his helmet on before anyone else could see his face and followed the others onto the field.

  ***

  Tate couldn't believe how badly they were doing. The first quarter was just ending, and the Peregrines were down by 21. To nothing. Derek hadn't made it five yards across the field. Every time he moved he seemed weighted down with invisible sandbags. Coach was yelling at him on the sidelines. Tate wondered if he should say something to Coach. Derrick had looked more than a little sick before the game started. He’d looked like death.

  Maybe if I get Kristin on the phone it would help. He couldn't believe she wasn't here. She was one of the few women he'd met that had a true love of sports. Derrick was lucky to have her, she was a pretty awesome lady.

  Tate watched Coach scream some more at Derrick—he hadn't stopped screaming since yesterday when Derrick had left that message saying he was in Vegas. Tate finally felt bad enough for Derrick that he went down to the locker room to get his phone and track down Kristin. Only problem was, Tate didn't have Kristin's number. Derrick's locker was open and his phone was unlocked, sitting on the shelf inside. He opened it up and saw a new text message. Maybe it's her. Maybe they'd had a fight or something and she was texting now to say she was on her way.

  He opened the message and almost dropped the phone. It was a picture of Kristin. Her face was a mass of bruises. Blood pooled around her nostrils. Someone held her head up by her hair, a picture of a Greek sailboat on the wall behind her unconscious head.

  The message read: Try harder. We don't want people to think you're throwing the game, idiot.

  Tate replaced the phone in Derrick's locker. He recognized the background in the shot. Son of a bitch. He'd seen that painting on the news recently when Randy Wolfe had bought it at auction.

  Chapter 14

  Halftime had just started. Coach was pulling Derrick into his office, screaming at him again. Tate dodged past everyone and yanked Derrick right out of Coach's path of attack, much to his dismay. Tate heard Coach screaming at him now as he ushered Derrick down the hall and to a semi-quiet corner.

  "What—"Derrick started to ask.

  Tate silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I know what's going on. I saw the picture of Kristin those fuckers sent you. I know where she is."

  Derrick stared in silence at him, his brain going into overdrive. "Where?" he asked.

  "Wolfe's house. That's who's got her, right? He wants you to throw the game?" The idea of it all made Tate sick. He'd heard of people betting on games, sometimes against their own teams, but stealing people's wives to force the outcome? He thought this might be a football first.

  "Not exactly," Derrick's voice croaked. "He wants me to throw my game. Not the whole game. He doesn't care if we beat the Broncos or not, as long as I don't beat his record."

  Tate's jaw fell open. "Of all the sick... Why didn't you call the cops?"

  "I was afraid they'd kill her. I didn't know where she was. I couldn't risk that." Derrick's heart was thundering in his chest. He looked around the locker room to see if anyone else could hear it.

  "Well, now we know. Let's call the cops."

  Derrick shook his head. "No, by the time they get there, it could be too late. This guy’s obviously a few bricks shy of a full load. There’s no telling what someone so unstable might do."

  "What do you mean?" But Derrick's lips tightened and his arms folded across his chest.

  "Well fuck man, let's go get her ourselves then. Now!"

  "What? During half time?"

  "Yeah man, why not?"

  Derrick considered this. They had at least twenty minutes before Randy would realize he was gone. Could they do it? He wouldn’t risk Kristin’s life.

  Derrick's phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at it, afraid to answer.

  "Hello?" he put the phone to his ear.

  "Derrick. Where's Kristin?"

  It took him a minute before he realized who the voice belonged to. "Mrs. Walker?"

  "Where is she?" her voice was urgent. Derrick didn't know what to say. Finally, he settled for the truth.

  "Randy Wolfe has her."

  "I knew it."

  He heard Kristin's father in the back, cursing.

  "You… how could you know?" Derrick asked. "Did he call you too?"

  "I keep telling Kristin—we're psychic."

  Derrick wanted to laugh, but how could he argue with them? They were calling him. They evidently knew something was wrong. Whether it was psychic ability, or some innate knowledge that sprung up when your child was in trouble, he had to admit there was something more than just guessing going on here.

  "We're here in Washington," Kristin's mom said. "Tell us where to go."

  ***

  Half time was ending. Wolfe took the field, his eyes searching for his enemy. He hated Wellborn. He was a smug punk, and not nearly as good looking as the women seemed to think. The whistle blew and everyone filed into place. His eyes searched the faces, but Wellborn wasn't there. He searched the sidelines. He'd played so badly the first half, their coach probably pulled him from the game.

  "Idiot," Wolfe mumbled. Then the ball was in play and the third quarter was rolling quickly along. Wolfe got the ball and ran with it, scoring another touchdown for his team. Every new yard he gained, felt to him like he was sticking a dagger deep into Wellborn's chest. His eyes scanned the sidelines again, wanting to see Wellborn's face. Something didn't feel right.

  "Time out," Randy yelled, and ran over to his coach. "Where's Wellborn?" he asked.

  "What?"

  "Wellborn, where is he?"

  "How the hell should I know? What's the matter with you? Get back on the field!" His coach screamed but Wolfe ignored him. Their coach was always screaming. He started back onto the field, then veered to the Peregrines side, surprising the hell out of their coach.

  "Where's Wellborn?" he shouted. This was getting ridiculous. He wanted an answer.

  The coach smiled. "Worried he's gonna beat your record?"

  Wolfe felt his body start to tingle and pulled it back in. Shifting in front of a million people was probably a bad idea.

  Coach tried to ignore Wolfe. He'd never liked the guy. He was happy when the Peregrines had traded him last year. When he saw Randy wasn't going away, he finally decided to say something. "Don't worry about your record tonight Wolfe. You saw Wellborn the first half. Sick as a dog. Can't even stand. I had Tate take him home."

  Wolfe turned and left the field.

  Chapter 15

  Tate was a life-long Washingtonian and knew very nook and cranny of the state. He knew exactly where Wolfe's place was without even having to use his nav.

  "I keep forgetting that Wolfe used to be on the Peregrines," Derrick said, grateful for Tate's help.

  "Yeah, but that was before I joined the team." Tate eyed him, the prankster in him wanting to surface even now. "You know there's rumors about Wolfe."

  "What kind of rumors?" Derrick asked.

  "Oh, people say he's a vampire. Likes to drink the blood of small children and animals. Nothing too unusual for football." He made the joke then instantly regretted it when Derrick didn't laugh. "Sorry man, I'm an asshole when I get nervous."

  Derrick's face was set in a hard line that looked like he'd neve
r laughed at a joke in his life. He wasn't mad at Tate though, he was in shock. They were pulling up to Wolfe's house and Kristin's parents had just arrived... along with his own parents. They stood glowering at each other, but at least no fists were flying.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked his parents, jumping out of Tate's car before it had even stopped moving. He felt bad dragging Tate into this. He didn't even know the whole story, and there wasn't time to explain it.

  "What are you doing here?" Derrick repeated.

  His parents looked at each other and shrugged. "We never left. It was all a bluff. We could never disown you. You're our son." His father's words swelled Derrick's heart with warmth, but there was no time for warmth right now.

  "How did you know we were here?"

  Derrick's father nodded towards Kristin's parents.

  "You called my parents?" Derrick asked, incredulous. If Kristin were standing here, she'd be thrilled about that. Just the thought of her sent cold shivers up his spine. The buzz that had been following them since the playground faded in and out. "We have to hurry," he said, his voice breaking.

  "How do we get in?" Kristin's father demanded.

  "I thought stakes were only for vampires," Tate said, joking, running a hand over a wooden stake poking out of a bag slung over the back of Kristin's father.

  Kristin's father rolled his eyes. "If you stab anything through the heart with a stake, it will die. Doesn't matter what it is. Doesn't hurt to use wood, just in case."

  The response caught Tate so off guard he stopped walking around and really took in the situation. Kristin's parents... Derrick's parents... kidnapping and wooden stakes. "What's really going on here?" he asked, suddenly sensing that there were important details he was missing.

  Derrick turned to him, "Randy's a werewolf. I'm a werepanther. Vampires are real. Though, there aren't any here. I don't think." He looked at Kristin's parents. They shook their heads. "No, none here."