The Cajun's Captive

by Selena Blake

  “Forget it Amanda. It’s not going to happen,” Sebastian said darkly. A crack of thunder drove his point home.

  “You’re crazy,” she chided even as she pressed her thighs together and tried to think of anything but being in bed with the three of them.

  “I’m not the one thinking naughty thoughts about screwing three men at once.” A jet-black eyebrow rose in a way she found both arrogant and infuriating.

  Obviously, he could read her thoughts. She fumed silently, sprawled across the backseat with the bathrobe gaping open. No doubt, passing truckers would get an eyeful. That just pissed her off more. The Sebastian she'd known and loved would've never put her on display like this.

  She watched the scenery as best she could from her vantage point. The miles ticked by.

  “This is kidnapping,” she said finally, breaking the silent treatment.

  “I've been accused of worse.”

  “I don't doubt it,” she said hotly. He glanced at her in the mirror, as if questioning her sanity. She rolled her eyes and rested her check against the soft leather of the back seat. It smelled of leather and wet dog. Figured.

  After what seemed like hours, she struggled into a sitting position. At least, she was halfway sitting. The ropes were cutting into her skin, and she'd long lost feeling to her fingers. She craved the freedom to move. Craved circulation. Sebastian had been very careful as he'd tied her, even though she hadn't made it easy on him.

  Why he'd bother to tie her at all, she didn't know. Did he think she was going to jump out of a moving car? And why was he taking her with him? She didn't want to be in some shack when Hurricane Camilla roared ashore. The man was crazy. Certifiable.

  He was also like a drug. As much as she tried to resist, she'd never been able to get enough. The only thing that had worked had been moving half a country away.

  She stared at his strong jaw and had the strongest urge to run her fingertips over the shadow of stubble there.

  “You can let me go, you know.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you'll run.”

  “We're back to that?” She sighed and glanced out the window. Dark clouds hung low in the sky and rain pelted them. The windshield wipers were working overtime as they sped south.

  “I'm just basing my decision on history.”

  “I didn't have any other choice. You wouldn't understand.”

  “Try me, chérie.”

  Did he have to use that sweet accent of his? Or call her chérie? Surely, he knew his endearments, as natural as they were, made her heart flutter a bit.

  It shouldn't flutter at all. She should be mad as heck. A few days ago, she'd had the hottest job in New York city, a closet full of great shoes that she could barely afford, and a life without Sebastian. Without his brooding good looks, she'd had her heart firmly in her chest. There'd been no chance of him ripping it from her and stomping on it.

  Now she was tied in the backseat of his car. With no shoes and only a scrap of her dignity. So why wasn't she spitting mad?

  Something was definitely wrong. Maybe she'd hit her head when she'd fallen off his porch. Maybe he'd enchanted her. Did werewolves have magical powers like that? She'd heard rumors...

  “What are you thinking about in that beautiful head of yours?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  She had to stay strong. Use what little bit of strength and anger she had left. Being this close to him put her in serious danger of falling for his temptation. Falling under his spell. It was lust. She had to remember that. That's all he was offering.

  “That's not true. Your pulse leapt the tiniest little bit when I called you beautiful. You can't deny it, Manda. Any more than you can deny your desire for me.”

  She huffed. Of course she desired him. She'd have to be blind not to. It ticked her off that she was so easy to read. So obvious in her attraction.

  “You're full of it,” she scoffed.

  “You deny it?”

  Before she could answer, he pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder. The sudden movement tossed her forward. The second they stopped, he was out of his seat and opening the back door. Her heart thundered in her chest. He had a dangerous look in his eyes. Water droplets pelted his shirt, clung to his hair.

  Somehow, he folded himself into the backseat and then pulled her into his lap.

  “What're you doing?” A shiver raced up her spine. He was too close. Much too close. He would surely read all the secrets in her eyes.

  She looked away.

  “Look at me, chérie.”

  She shook her head.

  Patiently, he cupped her cheek in his hand. Dear God, she wanted to rub against it, wanted to feel his hands in her hair, his fingers against her lips, her skin, her breasts. This was madness. She’d come down here for a funeral, for goodness sakes. This wasn't supposed to happen.

  Reluctantly she met his eyes.

  “That's better.” He stared at her as if searching for something. “Now tell me you don't desire me.”

  Looking at him made her stomach do little cartwheels. She was so tired of denying the truth. Denying her desire for him. She was tired of protecting herself all the time, of trying too damn hard not to be her mother.

  She shook her head again, unable to say the words aloud, but couldn't help leaning into him. His hand stroked her side through the thick material of his robe and she yearned to remove the fabric. To be naked in his arms. To feel his skin against hers.

  “That's right. You can't say it. It's not true. You've always wanted me, mon amour. Just as I've always wanted you.”

  Her eyes swerved up. He knew she'd had a crush on him? He'd always wanted her? What about what he'd said to Jules?

  She started to speak but the words came out in a jumbled heap. The chill bumps came back full force and she shivered beneath the thick robe.

  “Shh...” His gaze flicked to her lips and she licked them quickly. Hoping, praying he'd kiss her. Their breath mingled. God, how she'd dreamed of this. Of being this close.

  “We need to get back on the road. Don't wanna get stuck out here with the storm a comin’.”

  He kissed her forehead and lifted her from his lap. That was it? That was all?

  He came back here and told her how much he wanted her? And didn't even steal a kiss?

  “Men,” she mumbled.

  He got out of the back seat, slammed the door and then opened his to get back in the driver’s seat.

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him to get back here and put her out of a dozen years of lust-filled misery.

  Sebastian pressed his foot down hard on the pedal, hoping the tires wouldn't slip on the water. His resolve was in jeopardy. He'd simply meant to prove to her that she couldn't lie to him, show her that he knew her as well as she knew herself. He could see in her eyes how much she wanted him.

  Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to bring her down here to the middle of nowhere. If he'd stayed at his estate, he could already be inside her sweet body.

  Damn. Damn. Double damn.

  His cock was rock hard. They'd be at the cabin soon. He had to get control of himself. He'd already put in a call to Judge Rothburn, who’d be meeting them there soon.

  Manda grumbled to herself. He couldn't quite make out what she said, but a look in the mirror told him she was fuming.

  “What's got yer feathers ruffled, chérie?”

  “You! You, Sebastian. Always playing God. You've kidnapped me. Tied my hands and feet. As if I'm going somewhere.”

  “You're still denying that you ran away from me nine years ago?”

  “I ran away from everything,” she cried. Surprised at her outburst, he looked back at her again. Even in the murky light, he could see pink staining her cheeks. “From you. From here. These people.”

  “Why, Manda?”

  “I didn't want to end up like my mom.”

  What?

  He saw his turn coming
up and gently pressed the break. Just another minute. Then they were getting to the bottom of this.

  Spotting the cabin on the left, he flipped the blinker and pulled into the driveway.

  “You call this a cabin?” Manda asked, her gaze fixed on the wide wooden structure.

  “A fishing cabin, oui. My brothers, cousins and I each have a key.” A button on the dash opened the garage door. When they were safely inside, he turned the car off and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

  She stared at him wide eyed, then shook her head.

  “Now tell me, cher, how did your mother end up?”

  “Please. As if you don't know. She was the laughing stock of Louisiana.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. Her mother had always been warm and friendly. Even when he and his brothers kept snooping around her daughter. His own mother had never been warm or friendly toward him.

  “How so?”

  She let out a frustrated sigh, as if explaining was either painful or beneath her. “Are you going to untie me?”

  He draped his arm over the back of the passenger's seat and regarded her slowly. She writhed beneath his gaze just as he wanted her to. He wanted her on edge, white hot with lust. Because he intended to have her very, very soon. For a very, very, very long time.

  “Not until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “You're insufferable.”

  “Why didn't you want to be like your mom? She was nice. Caring.”

  “She loved a man who never loved her back.”

  He looked in her eyes and could see her pain.

  “What do you mean, cher?” He didn’t understand. His parents had never been in love but that didn't stop him from wanting it. Wanting her.

  “My dad never loved my mother. He had relationships behind her back constantly. I think she died of a broken heart, not heart disease.”

  So that's why she'd only come back when her father died. As far as he knew, they hadn’t seen each other in the nine years she’d been gone. And now that her dad was dead, well, she didn't seem entirely upset about it.

  Damn, he wished he'd known. He would have been there for her. Puzzle pieces started to fall into place. So that's why she'd run. She'd thought her feelings, her desires, were one sided.

  He didn't see how. He'd always craved her. Women never made sense to him. Especially human women. They expected men to read their minds. Afraid to say what they wanted, take what they wanted.

  She brushed the hair from her eyes and he caught sight of her bound wrists.

  “Hold that thought.” He got out of the car and went to turn on the overhead light. While the garage door was rumbling closed, he opened her door.

  “Promise not to run?” he asked.

  “Never,” she said but her words lacked conviction. She wiggled toward the edge of the seat.

  The bathrobe gaped, showing off her creamy skin. Just a little farther and he'd be able to see her breasts. Veuillez Dieu. She caught him looking at her and frowned up at him. She was terribly cute with her pouty lips and crinkled forehead. Her long hair was disheveled around her face, almost dry.

  “Let me help you,” he whispered and gathered her in his arms. She didn't make a sound, merely held herself rigid.

  As he carried her into the house, brilliant blue lightning lit the sky. Silently he counted the seconds until he heard the first crack of thunder.

  “Storm's movin' fast. I'd better get started,” he murmured against her cheek, reluctant to let her go. He felt and heard her sharp intake of breath. So, she wasn't as unmoved as she wanted him to think.

  That made it even harder to put her down, to step away from her, when all he wanted to do was strip her down and touch her everywhere. Kiss and lick until he’d explored every inch of her body.

  He left her standing in front of the leather sofa in the living room and went to find the candles and flashlights. He deposited those on the coffee table in front of her and then went to bring the patio furniture in off the deck. Her gaze followed him the whole time.

  He could feel the tension growing. Her impatience. Her resistance. Her anger seemed to boil just below the surface.

  But he could smell her desire. He knew that once he dipped into her he wouldn't be able to stay afloat.

  “You can have a seat, you know,” he told her as he passed by with the last of the chairs.

  “I have to pee,” she said between gritted teeth.

  “Well, then... We do have a bathroom here. We're not totally primitive.” He let the last word hang in the air.

  Her eyebrows shot skyward.

  “It's through that door over there.” He pointed.

  “And how am I going to get there? Hop like a rabbit?”

  Her sassy response made him smile. Damn, he’d missed her. Andre was right. He was a fool. Sometimes he was stuck in his own world and needed a good smack upside the head.

  “You do remind me of a bunny...” he mused, stalking closer.

  Her blue eyes flashed up at him with a silent message. One that said as soon as she got free she was going to make him pay.

  “But I don't mind carrying you.” He couldn't stop his gaze from roaming over the creamy flesh, starkly pale against the midnight black of his robe. She had no idea just how he wanted to gobble her up, nibble every delicate spot from her ears to her toes.

  “If you'd just untie me—”

  “Non. You will run. Then I'll chase. And I'll bring you back. You'll just wear yourself out, petite.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to keep me here?”

  “I should think it obvious,” he whispered in her ear. He rubbed his cheek against hers and then lifted her into his arms. He strode across the room to the knotty pine door, and nudged it open with his foot. He let her down gently and smiled at her frown.

  When he started to leave, she called after him frantically.

  “Oui, mon amour?”

  “Untie me. Now!”

  “Sorry. No can do. Here. I'll help though, yes?” He cocked an eyebrow and gathered the robe in his hands. How he loved to tease her. How he wanted to please her, pleasure her in every way he could think of. But she had to learn how to trust him first.

  Manda's eyebrows shot up and she grabbed onto his arm with her hands, bound at the wrists.

  “Don't look,” she ordered.

  “Why not, chérie? You have nothing I have not seen.”

  “You've never seen me naked,” she whispered fiercely.

  He chuckled. That was a problem he intended to remedy very shortly. “I'll turn my head,” he told her sweetly.

  The tiny bit of gentleman left in him said to simply untie her. But the darker side of him took perverse pleasure in her slow submission. His hard won acceptance.

  With her hands and feet bound, she flopped down on the toilet.

  “I can't believe this,” she grumbled.

  “You must learn that I'll take care of you chérie.”

  “Why?”

  “A husband always takes care of his wife.”

  Chapter Five

  Sebastian left her sitting there wide-eyed. He figured she'd call him to help her up, but she didn't say a word for endless minutes. She was either confused as hell or hoppin’ mad. He wasn't sure which. As he lowered the storm shutters, he figured he'd find out soon.

  Finally, she called his name followed by “untie me you brute. I have to wipe.” He could see her grinding her jaws together and her eyes glistening. For a brief second, he feared he'd pushed her too far. He conceded and untied her wrists then stepped from the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Patience wasn’t his strong suit.

  “What did you mean by 'a husband always takes care of his wife?'” she called a minute later as the toilet flushed.

  “Just what I said.”

  “We aren't married.”

  At her heated retort, he opened the door and pulled her against him. “But we will be.”

  “Says who?”

  “S
ays me. Judge Rothburn will be here in a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes!” She sounded panicked. “He can't see me like this. Sebastian, untie me this minute!” Her old accent was starting to come out.

  A knock on the front door drew their attention.

  “Too late,” he murmured and untied her feet. He hauled her against his side and opened the door. The graying judge stood on the porch, an umbrella at his side. Sebastian’s cousins, Burke and Laurent, stood behind.

  “Judge Rothburn, thanks for coming so quick. Please come in.” Sebastian stepped aside to let them in. “Burke, Laurent.” He nodded in greeting as they stepped past him.

  He felt Manda's gaze on him, but she said nothing. Did nothing more than take slow, deep breaths. Then he felt her muscles tense as she leaned ever so slightly for the door. He closed it none too gently, flipping the locks. He buried his face against her neck and whispered against her skin, “Don't even think about it, chérie.”

  “Too late,” she whispered back, mocking him.

  “Don't forget, petite, that I have excellent night vision. If you run, I will hunt you down.”

  “You didn't before,” Amanda tossed back, but inside she was on fire. The image of herself fleeing into the darkness with him hot on her heels was a dream she'd had hundreds of times.

  It always ended the same way...

  Eventually he would catch her, his hands biting into her flesh as he hauled her against him. She was too tired to put up a fight. In fact, she almost sagged with relief. His body was big and strong and warm. The warmth she craved.

  He turned her toward him roughly, tearing off her clothes with desperate hands. His eyes glowed a beautiful silver. He made no effort to hide his erection, made no move to release it.

  Instead, he reached for her, running his hands over every inch that he could reach. Her skin was taunt with goose bumps and his touch slowly warmed her, made her wet with desire.

  Without a word, he stepped back and his clothes disappeared like magic. In the darkness, she had a hard time taking in the view but knew he was solid and strong. His cock was long and thick, jutting out towards her.