Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  Wyatt gets it immediately.

  “You have to leave, Ryan. This is a private party.”

  “Oh yes, I know. But I’m not leaving without Brielle,” he say and pulls out his handgun. The whole room grows quiet. It gets so quiet I can hear my mom’s pulse from across the room.

  Ryan grabs my hand, shaking me out of a daze. “Let’s go, Brielle.”

  “Ryan,” Wyatt steps forward. Ryan is too fast for him. “Another step forward and I’ll shoot you. You better stay back now, you hear?”

  Everyone stops in their tracks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see O’s terrified face.

  “Let’s go, Brielle,” Ryan wraps his cold, strong hands around my waist and pushes me forward.

  A thousand thoughts rush through my mind. I can run, but then he’ll shoot me. Someone can get hurt. I’m not sure everyone in the room realizes just how crazy he is. Just how out of control.

  Outside, the clouds that have been gathering ever since the ceremony finished, suddenly break out into thunder. A few aggressive flashes of lighting follow, and all of the lights go out. My mom screams. Ryan pulls me closer. I can’t see a thing anymore. The whole room is a blur. It’s pitch black, and I have no idea where Ryan is pulling me.

  A few moments later, my eyes adjust to the darkness. Then, from the distance I see him. I want to yell out to him to stop, to get away, but I don’t want to alarm Ryan, who has yet to see him.

  With one swift motion, Wyatt knocks the gun out of Ryan’s hand and punches him. Ryan falls to the floor, but he doesn’t let go of my hand, and I tumble onto the floor along with him. Wyatt looks around for the gun, but Ryan is quick. He grabs him at the ankles. Wyatt falls to the floor. Thump. Ryan’s back on his feet. He’s holding the gun over Wyatt’s head.

  “No!” I scream out. My voice can’t stop a bullet. Wyatt moans. He’s been shot!

  Rage boils within me. The fireplace is right next to me. I see the metal poker Mr. Whitewater used to adjust the wood on the flame. I grab it, put it behind my back, and turn to face Ryan.

  “Oh you think, you’re so brave, defending Brielle like that? What, you think you’re some sort of hero?”

  Ryan’s talking to Wyatt, who’s withering in pain on the floor. He doesn’t see me. This is my only chance. I don’t think, don’t give a thought. I simply act.

  I run straight for him, poker extended. It goes through his chest. Blood spurts out of his mouth. I step back to keep it from touching me.

  “Brielle,” Ryan shakes his head. “Brielle.”

  Those two words will haunt me forever. Ryan’s legs give out, and he drops to the floor.

  “You’re going to be okay, Wyatt. You’re going to be okay,” I grab Wyatt and cradle his head with my body. He’s still breathing, but each breath is laborious. He has been shot in the stomach. I hear O calling the police and feel everyone circling the two of us. I feel them there, but at that moment, we’re alone. No one else exists, but us.

  Wyatt opens his mouth and tries to say something.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I say. Hot tears run down my face, and I pray that I’m right. But Wyatt keeps trying. Eventually, he manages to form the words.

  “I…love….you.”

  Epilogue

  Wyatt, O, and I often talk about that fateful day, the day my mother got married. O had her baby while Wyatt was still recovering at the hospital from the gunshot to his abdomen. Wyatt spent four days in the hospital recovering from the gunshot to his abdomen. I spent another two weeks telling him everything about Ryan and I. Everything that I should’ve told him earlier. He was my boyfriend for a year, but he got a little clingy. So I decided to break up with him. At first, I thought he took it alright, but he said that he wanted to be friends. And continued to contact me. When I told him that we could no longer be friends, he got angry. Hit me. Pushed me down. I tried to call the cops, but he smashed my phone. When he finally left, I went to the police station and got a restraining order. He was told to stay away, but he didn’t. I saw him cruising past my house. He came to the café and sat in the parking lot until someone told him to leave. I called the cops. They enforced the restraining order, told him to stay away, but he kept breaking it. And each time that I saw him, I got more and more afraid.

  Then I came to Wyatt’s house. This was the one place where I felt incredibly safe. Ryan couldn’t reach me here. He didn’t know where I was, nor did anyone else. I stopped hearing from him. Months passed, and I thought that he had moved on with his life. Then I got that first email.

  My whole life was turned upside down. I started to panic. Fear ate me up inside. I was terrified. I couldn’t think of anything but him. The only thing that kept me going was that I really believed that he didn’t know where to find me. And then he did.

  I didn’t know how he found out about this place, but then I got a call from my mom. Apparently, her trailer had a break in and some documents were missing. One of them was the letter from Wild, Inc. and another from Wyatt about repaying the debt, along with the letter was his return address.

  “He must’ve just come here on a hunch,” Wyatt says when we talk about it again. Wyatt’s home now, but still a little weak from the medication.

  “Yeah, that must be it,” I agree.

  “I still can’t believe you did that,” he says.

  “Did what?”

  “Kill him like that. That took a lot of courage, Brielle.”

  “I’m just sorry that I didn’t do it earlier, before he shot you,” I put my hand in his. “I knew how dangerous he was, and I just let it go. Let the scenario play out.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Wyatt smiles and kisses the top of my head. “You didn’t know he was going to shoot me. He’s crazy. You couldn’t have predicted any of this.”

  I try to believe him.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaningto ask you something. I’m thinking of taking that job in LA working for my father’s company. After I get a little better. What do you think?”

  “I think that would be so exciting. Yes, definitely. A nice change of place. You need that.”

  I’m happy for him, but another small part of me is a little sad. What would that mean for us, then?

  “Well, I can only do it on one condition, though,” Wyatt flashes his mischievous smile.

  “What’s that?”

  “You have to come with me. Will you?”

  I look at him. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “What would I do there?” I ask.

  “Anything you want. It will be a new start for us. What do you think? Please say yes.”

  I think about it for less than a second. “Yes! Yes!” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Of course, yes!”

  Then something occurs to me.

  “But only under one condition,” I say pulling away from him. “We go horseback riding first. After you get a little better, that is.”

  “You want to go horseback riding?” he asks. “I thought you were afraid?”

  “I am,” I smile. “Well, no. That’s not entirely true. I’m a little apprehensive, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

  Wyatt pulls me closer to him and kisses me.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he whispers through the kisses.

  * * *

  THE END

  Indebted (Book 2)

  When unemployed college graduate Annabelle receives a mysterious job offer from a company to which she has never applied to, she can't say no. But the job comes with a complication.

  Her boss is a sexy and arrogant soon-to-be billionaire playboy who always gets what he wants. He likes to play games and he's keeping a secret: he's Annabelle's one and only one night stand.

  As they get locked into a game of seduction, both are shocked to find themselves falling for each other...

  **WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!

  Chapter 1

  I came here so that no one would hear me scream
. The redwoods surrounding me are muffling my sobs. Birds are flying away frightened, and rabbits are running for their lives.

  I have been here for a few days already, all alone, surviving on energy bars and bags of dried fruit and nuts. I brought real food – dried soups and pasta – and a tiny camping stove for heating up food and water, but I just don’t have the energy for all that.

  I haven’t had much of an appetite in weeks, actually. Not since it happened. A part of me thought that my appetite might return here. But it hasn’t. Now, the forty-pound bag stuffed with all the food and supplies that I have no use for serves no purpose except to make my shoulders raw.

  But there’s nothing to do. I’m lost and angry and self-destructive, but not self-destructive enough to throw away food. I’m in the backcountry of the Yosemite National Park. I haven’t seen another human in four days. Who knows what awaits me in the five days to come. My supplies could mean the difference between life and death, and I am not throwing them away.

  * * *

  Looking down at my topographical map, I try to figure out how much longer it will take me to get to the lake. I have been hiking for five hours, and I want to get there before the sun dips below the horizon and the chill of the night returns. I haven’t had a shower in days, and I need to wash off the thick layer of dirt covering every inch of my body.

  According to where I think I am on the map, the lake is still about half an hour away. But I’m wrong… I take a few steps around the bend and see it right in front of me.

  Majestic and elegant, a thick forest of pines surrounds the lake, which cradles it as if it’s a gem.

  I drop my bag and run down to a barely-existent path through the pine trees. As I run, I peel off my clothes piece by piece until I step out of my panties and jump into the ice cold, glacier water.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” I yelp.

  The water rushes over me and through me and, for a brief moment, I forget everything that has happened. My mom isn’t dead. I didn't spend two years of my life nursing her. I didn't hate my dad for leaving her right before she got sick and never returning.

  * * *

  I rise out of the water. The warm sun feels nice on my erect nipples, comforting even. I dip back down, this time submerging my head. Freezing water rushes over my head, and I scream under water.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!”

  I scream. The water is so cold I feel like my lungs are collapsing within my chest. I scream again. I had to be a rock for two years, and I just can’t take it anymore.

  The temperature difference between the air and the water is probably more than 50 degrees, and I can’t get enough of the water. It’s focusing my mind. Nothing else exists except right here and now.

  It’s quite a change from the world where I came from. That world of anxiety over the future and the depression over the past makes me wish that I were the one who had gotten cancer instead of her. It would've been easier for me to handle.

  Here, I don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. My mind doesn’t spin in circles on what could’ve been or what might be. Rising out and diving back into the crystal-clear water centers me.

  Alive.

  Awake.

  Aware.

  I’m present in this moment, and this moment is all that matters. It’s all I have.

  * * *

  “Hey! Hey, there!” A deep voice pierces my solitude.

  Who is this asshole infringing on my one moment of fun and hope? I turn around.

  “Mind if I join you?” he yells from the shore. “You’re the first person I’ve seen in two days.”

  “Whatever,” I yell back and dive under the water.

  It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let this stranger invade my fun. The lake is more than two miles across. There’s room for both of us here.

  When I come back up for air, the stranger is waist deep in the water. His body is tan and strong. He descends into the water and comes back up again. When he comes up, every defined muscle in his body glistens in the sun as if he is a Greek god.

  “Wow, it’s cold,” he laughs. I smile and try to look away from his toned stomach and all six clearly defined muscles that form his six-pack.

  My fingers sweep over my thighs. Suddenly, I come to my senses. Somewhat.

  I am naked. Completely naked. Shit.

  “This feels amazing, doesn’t it?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I nod. Are we really going to talk about the temperature of the water?

  “What are you doing here?” he asks, coming closer.

  He submerges into the water up to his shoulders. My mind focuses on his face. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, but his jawline is strong and powerful. His eyes are piercing blue, the color of the cloudless sky. Long strands of light brown hair fall into his face.

  He dives under the water. I wrap my hands around my body as if there is anything I can do if he opens his eyes under the water.

  He rises out of the water a god. He tosses his head and all hair from his face dances and falls into place. A beautiful, friendly smile forms on his lips.

  * * *

  “I’m Tristan,” he says. “What’s your name?”

  I want to lie but lose my train of thought. “Annabelle.”

  “Annabelle? I’ve never met anyone by that name before,” he smiles. His white teeth sparkle in the sunlight.

  “I’ve never met anyone named Tristan before,” I mumble.

  I’m flirting. I haven’t flirted in who knows how long, and something about saying those words reminds me that I am a woman. It’s a nice feeling.

  “Tristan? Where’s that from?”

  He smiles again. It takes everything I have to not reach out and brush my fingers along his luscious, soft lips.

  “From a lot of places, but really it’s from an old English story about star-crossed lovers, Tristan and Isolde.”

  Of course, I know that. I wrote a term paper on Tristan and Isolde junior year in college. I meant why the hell he has that name.

  “Sounds like your parents were romantics,” I smile.

  “You can say many things about my parents,” Tristan says, “but I’m not sure you can say that.”

  I nod. My arms are no longer shielding my body. I spread them out wide around me. It’s not deep enough in this spot that I can’t reach the ground, but I like treading water. I bob up and down, periodically exposing my collarbones and a bit below that, all the while still staying decent.

  “And what about you, Annabelle?” He smiles. “Annabelle is kind of a literary name too, wouldn’t you say?”

  I roll my eyes. He is, of course, referring to the famous Annabel Lee from Edgar Allen Poe.

  “Yes, it was as if my mom wanted me to become depressive.”

  I don’t mean to mention her, but I do. And the very thought of her makes my throat close. This is why I have come here – to get away from thoughts of her. To get away from a world that is made up of her.

  “Oh no, not at all,” he laughs.

  There is a sweetness in his smile. The type of kindness I have never seen in people out in the real world. He is real, true, and honest.

  “I think it’s simpler than that. I don’t know your mom, of course, but she probably loved Edgar Allen Poe, and he loved Annabel Lee, and so she fell in love with his love for her and everything that that name represented.”

  “You think it was as simple as that?”

  “Yes, I do,” he nods. “Things typically are.”

  That isn’t even a bit true – things in the real world are complicated and complex, full of layers and emotions and misunderstandings. Yet here, with Tristan, the world seems simple. Black and white. Easy to navigate. I nod.

  “So how are we going to do this?” Tristan asks.

  I have no idea what he is talking about.

  “Get out of the water.” He smiles.

  I look down and remember that I am naked. I look up at him. Through the crystal-clear water, I c
an see that he is completely naked as well. But I can’t make out any details. I feel a strange tingling in the area between my legs. If the water wasn’t so cold, I know that I would also feel warm and moist.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be a gentleman, I’ll get out first. But you have to look away.”

  Look away? Why? I don’t want to look away.

  “Because it’s cold here. I have a lot more to offer than what you’ll see coming out of this glacier water.”

  I smile and turn around. “Okay, I promise.”

  I hear him rise out of the water and splash on his way to shore. I have every intention of keeping my promise, but then I don’t. I turn around slightly and sneak a peek.

  Tristan’s back is to me, but I can see his perfectly toned legs and firm buttocks walking toward the shore.

  “Okay, I’m done,” he yells, his voice echoing across the lake.

  I turn around. “Okay, don’t look!”

  Tristan turns his back and disappears into the woods.

  I climb out slowly, suddenly well aware of my body and its various shortcomings. My legs are a little too short, my stomach a bit too big, my breasts a little too small. But as I get closer to shore, I feel a strange kind of confidence building up within me.

  I have been hiking in the woods by myself for days, and I have not seen a mirror in close to a week. And yet, looking down at my body, I can see that I am wrong. My stomach is flatter and somewhat defined. My arms are strong and my shoulders powerful. My breasts are firm and small, but pleasant to look at.

  Infused with an unfamiliar sensation of confidence, I feel my shoulders straighten out. This is my body, and I am okay with it. In this moment, I want Tristan to look. I hope that he too will break his promise.

  I don’t see Tristan on the way to my backpack. Dripping wet, I search my bag for something clean to wear. Finally, I find a thin white dress, which I packed in case it got really hot and I had to wash all of my clothes. It seems perfect for the occasion. I put it on, gather all of my discarded clothes from the path leading to the shore and leave to find him.