Wrecked - Taken

by C. C. Piper

  “I don’t feel well.”

  “I know, baby.”

  “What happened?”

  “You’ve had a super high fever. It might be some kind of flu, but I don’t know.” I pressed my hand to her forehead. It felt warm but not nearly as scalding as it had. And she was speaking to me plainly, so I took that as a good sign.

  “Did I…Did I throw up on you?”

  “Not on me, no.” At least not much.

  “Oh, God.” Was she embarrassed? Poor thing. I wanted to be relieved, but I didn’t know if she was out of the woods yet. She shivered so I turned on the hot water, heating the tub a little at a time.

  “Better?”

  She nodded. Rachel had been on top of me in a sort of fetal position, her body curled up into a tight ball. Now, though, she seemed to uncoil herself, her muscles becoming less taut as the warmer water splashed around us. I wondered if she’d tell me to get out now, to leave her so she could soak her soreness away without prying eyes. I’d do it, too, as long as she was strong enough to get around under her own power.

  But then, she did the reverse and laced her arms around my bare torso. She sighed, her breath fanning out across my chest, shoulder, and arm. My erection throbbed between us and I tensed, hoping she couldn’t tell. Fat chance.

  Still, if she noticed the problem, she didn’t say anything about it. She merely laid there holding on to me like I was her own personal teddy bear. I breathed out a long exhale and let my head rest against the tile wall. I’d had no idea if getting her in the water like this would prove to be beneficial, but I did know two things now. One, she was conscious and aware. And two, her fever seemed lower.

  Win, win.

  13

  Rachel

  I listened to Chris’s heartbeat, feeling physically worse than I could ever remember. Every inch of me hurt as if I’d been beaten, and I also felt off, as if my brain wasn’t functionally properly. Nonsensical things kept popping through my head from different times in my life, all of it knotted together like tangled shoelaces.

  Even as scattered as my thoughts were, I grasped onto one piece of information as fiercely as I could. Guard’s name was Chris Green. Chris. I don’t know why it felt so crucial to know this, but it did. It made him real somehow. An actual human being. Flesh and blood and bone. Being with him like this felt just as crucial, and I anchored myself to him, tightening my arms around his chest.

  Something about this flu or whatever it was made me feel as if I’d been cast out to the winds. He was the only thing sheltering me from the storm. I was loathe to give up that shelter even for a second. Even when I became so warm I knew I should release him, I didn’t. I didn’t know what he’d done to heat it up in here so much—my fevered brain threw me the image of him starting a fire though no flames were visible—but I was boiling. Burning up. Droplets fell from my forehead and temple, but I didn’t remember Chris pouring any water on me this time. God, why was it so hot?

  “Good,” Chris mumbled, taking the washcloth he’d set on the side of the tub and dunking it in the water.

  “Good?”

  “You’re sweating.”

  Okay, not exactly what a girl likes to hear, but considering I’d already puked on the guy I guess I shouldn’t have felt as mortified as I did over that.

  “It means your fever is breaking.” He tilted my chin up, his crystalline green eyes peering into my face as if to examine it for clues. “This is what we needed.”

  Exceedingly gently, he poured a small circle of body wash onto the cloth and massaged it into my neck and shoulders, then he took some shampoo and rubbed it into my scalp. It felt glorious, and I let my head sink back as a moan of pleasure issued unbidden from my throat.

  He went motionless, then took a deep breath, pushing the soapy cloth over the rest of me. Well, over every place but the most private of spots, the one he’d touched before. This struck me as funny. It was like he was going out of his way to play professional nursemaid. He helped me rinse, then pulled us both upwards.

  “Let’s get you dried off and back to bed,” he said, his voice noticeably gruff, and his arousal so prominent it was almost ridiculous. He seemed to be ignoring it, which I thought unbearably sweet. He was attempting to be a gentleman even though we were both as nude as the day we were born. Which, considering I felt like a train wreck victim, was probably an admirable quality.

  Since I told him I could walk, he didn’t carry me back to my bedroom. But when I stumbled, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to keep me upright. Once we arrived at the threshold of my room, he halted.

  “Shit! I forgot.” The bed had been stripped of its duvet, blankets, and sheets. Oh, yeah. The puke. He started to head towards my closet, but I stopped him.

  “I need to lay down.”

  “Okay, but don’t you want your pajamas?” he asked.

  “No, don’t leave me.” My words came out sounding like a recalcitrant child’s, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want him out of my sight.

  “I’m not leaving you, Rachel, but…”

  “I don’t want any clothes.”

  “That’s fine.” He swallowed as if trying to keep his composure, then he steered us back the way we’d come. “I’ll put you in my bed.”

  I nodded, but once he’d situated me on the mattress, he made to go again. I snatched at him, my hand encircling his wrist. “Stay. Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He gestured toward his closet, glancing down at his gorgeously exposed body. “But I should at least…”

  “No,” I interrupted him again, maintaining my grip. He could’ve broken that hold anytime he wanted. Even when I wasn’t sick, I knew he was stronger than I was, but he didn’t. “Stay with me just as you are.”

  He paused but eventually nodded his acquiescence, filling me with a sense of relief. I didn’t know why I felt it so important that he remain in physical contact with me, but I did. I felt as if I’d fall into a million pieces if he didn’t.

  The ever-present chill began to make me shiver, and I pulled up the sheets as he sat on the edge of the bed. At first, I thought I might have to ask him to come closer, but after keeping his back to me for a second, he settled himself by my side. I lifted his arm so I could cuddle against him. He let me, but when my movements made his hand brush briefly over my bare breast, he sucked in a breath and squinted his eyes shut.

  I comprehended something I hadn’t thought of prior to then. By making him agree to share his king-sized, four-poster bed with me, I’d put us in a compromising situation. I could tell he wanted to do the honorable thing, and I’d made that difficult for him with all my insistence that he stay within arm’s reach. Regardless, I couldn’t apologize for it. I needed him.

  I’d never been this unwell before, and it frightened me. Despite feeling better than I had, I still felt off. Shaky and unsteady. Weak. And I still ached all over, too, from my bone marrow outward. The sensation was disconcerting.

  The night passed in a series of disjointed dreams and nightmares. I woke up screaming once, yanking him out of a sound sleep. It must have been a symptom of this horrible flu. He soothed me, pressing his hand to my cheek.

  “Am I feverish again?”

  “You never lost your fever completely, it just goes up and down. Right now, it’s up, but not as high as it was.” Evidence of this was on his sheets in the form of my perspiration. I’d soaked through them twice, and we kept scooting over to find a fresh dry spot.

  “How can you tell when it’s higher?” I asked. We had no medical supplies here other than some over-the-counter pills.

  “Because you quit making any sense.” His next words were sad. “I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. I keep disturbing your sleep.”

  “No. I’m sorry that I’ve endangered your life like this. I…” He trailed off. “I have a satellite phone. I called to request an airlift to a hospital, but it quit working. I’m going to continue to try to call out
tomorrow. I can’t keep you here anymore. It’s not right.”

  My breathing accelerated along with my pulse. “Won’t you get in trouble if you defy your employers?”

  “Fuck that! This is stupid. It doesn’t matter what happened with your dad and his business. You don’t deserve to pay for his crimes, and you certainly don’t deserve to die because you didn’t have access to medical attention when you needed it.” He jumped out of bed, pacing furiously. “I’m not a good person, Rachel. And if something happens to you because of me…”

  “You’re the one who’s taken care of me, Chris. It’s not your fault the phone won’t work.”

  “I should never have let this happen to you. It’s so wrong!”

  “While I agree you might want to reconsider your career choice, I know you’re not a bad person.” Now that he’d left the bed, I began to feel shivery, and even seeing his masculinity in all its glory wasn’t enough to stave off the chills.

  “How did you arrive at that conclusion?” he asked, incredulity oozing from his tone. “We’ve known each other for all of a month.”

  “Because bad people don’t give a crap when something negative affects someone else. You do. Bad people would never watch over someone as sick as I’ve been the way you have. You’ve done everything you could to help me.”

  “You shouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

  “No argument there,” I said, smiling at him. But it wasn’t his fault I was here. Yes, he worked for those responsible, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that he hadn’t realized what he’d been in for with this job.

  Maybe this was the only time he’d done something like this. If so, he could turn his life around. He struck me as someone far too smart for guard work anyway, especially for the nefarious people he’d found this time. The truth was, dumb as it may be, I trusted him. When the rubber hit the road, he’d done what he could to save me, including subverting the expectations of whoever had hired him.

  “Rachel, I care about you, and I…” He twisted back around, offering me a look so heavy with remorse it made my eyes fill up with tears.

  “Stop beating yourself up, okay? I care about you, too. So you made a mistake working for these people. You know what they’re all about now. From here on out, you’ll make better decisions, right?” He nodded solemnly, and it may have been my fevered imagination, but I could’ve sworn his eyes had grown suspiciously shiny. “Come back to bed, okay? I’m cold.”

  Without a word, he did as I asked, pulling me firmly against him. I reveled in the warmth of him and the way he made me feel. Even though I’d been forced into these circumstances with him and I desperately wanted to go back home, I was so glad he was the one with me instead of someone else.

  “I’m going to make this right, I promise,” he whispered, his lips whisking along the edge of my ear.

  “I believe you.”

  14

  Christoff

  Dawn poured through the window, throwing Rachel’s flu-ravaged countenance into stark relief. Thankfully, after our last conversation, she’d slept a little more placidly this time, a fact for which I felt immensely grateful. I’d tried the phone over and over, but whatever had happened to disrupt the signal or had broken inside the phone itself was still an issue.

  She spent the ensuing three days napping off and on, her fever refusing to leave her body entirely. I worried about the damage it might be causing her. It hadn’t risen back to the dangerous point it had early on, but the way it continued to linger concerned me.

  She had a couple of bouts of nausea that left her unable to eat, then this afternoon, her upset stomach was replaced with a headache so painful I suspected it had to be a migraine. I’d made an ice pack out of towels, hoping to make it go away.

  Rachel had been weak from the moment she’d contracted whatever evil malady this was, and now, she needed my assistance with nearly everything. I bathed her, fed her a liquid diet, and even took her to the restroom, only leaving her long enough for her to do what she needed to before I helped her back to bed.

  During one of her more restless moments, she’d spotted a bookshelf in my room. On it were several different volumes of history, some art books, and a few children’s stories. She’d asked me to read her Charlotte’s Web.

  “It’s got a sad ending,” I warned her, but she’d insisted. She cried at the end, just like I’d been afraid of, so I told her we should read Dr. Doolittle next. I didn’t know if the story really succeeded in distracting her, but at least it had a much happier tone.

  If it’d been me that had been cursed with this shit instead of her, I would’ve been sure this was karma here to kick my ass and show me what an imbecile I’d been. It tore me apart to watch her go through all this, yearning to take her place and yet being helpless to do so. The only thing I could do was keep her hydrated, clean, and as well rested as possible, then pray it would pass.

  On the fourth morning since the start of her illness, I woke to find her sitting up, staring out the window. It was raining outside, the precipitation lashing against the pane, and I scrubbed the sleep from my eyes, reaching out an arm to check on her.

  “You okay?”

  She twisted to meet my gaze. “Yeah. I feel better today.”

  “You do?” I asked, hearing the trepidation in my own voice. I didn’t mean to doubt her, but she’d rallied to a certain degree previously, only to suffer a relapse or a new symptom.

  “I really do.”

  Her voice sounded stronger, and I sat up to study her more closely. For the first time in days, her deep green eyes weren’t glassy or weepy, and the color in her cheeks seemed more natural and less the result of her temperature running amok.

  I touched my forehead to her cheek, my most recent method of checking for fever. My hands were rougher and less sensitive, and I didn’t want to misread her one way or the other. I backed up, then did it again. She didn’t feel any warmer than she should, which meant…

  “It’s gone,” she said, grinning broadly at me. “It’s finally gone.”

  I brought her some solid food, and she not only managed to keep it down, she was ravenous for more. I made her slow down but gave her as much as she wanted. It was amazing to see her eating again. She stood, wobbled slightly, then made her way out of my room. I hurried to join her, standing by as she stumbled her way toward the living space, there to stabilize her in case she needed it. I was thrilled when she made it all by herself.

  Rachel had gone from hot to cold and cold to hot so frequently, but on the second day, I’d convinced her that both of us wearing pajamas would be better than going around naked. Truthfully, this had as much to do with my own sanity as it did with keeping her warm.

  Those first twenty-four hours in the buff with her had nearly driven me out of mind. My feelings of anxiety for her, the stress of not being able to make her any better, the sexual frustration of the past month, and the guilt surrounding the whole shebang worked in unison to send me right around the bend. If she’d gone on wanting us both to wear nothing but our birthday suits, I was pretty sure I’d be certifiable by now.

  She seemed to be back on the mend, but I kept observing her for any signs of deteriorating again. After four days of near hell, I didn’t want to count my chickens before they hatched. But as the sun set, and she continued to be chipper and in good spirits, I started to allow for the possibility that she might truly be returning permanently to good health.

  That day I worked nonstop to clean up everything, replacing all the bed linens with the fresh ones kept in cedar chests at the foot of each bed. I felt a little sad knowing that we were going to sleep in our own beds tonight, but we would. Now that she was well, I had no excuse to hunker down next to her.

  As evening approached, she drifted off on the sofa, and I tickled the bottom of her foot through her sock. “Looks like you’re ready to saw some logs.”

  She blinked awake. “I wanted to stay up later tonight now that I’m better.”

 
; “You may be better, but you still need to recuperate. Want me to tuck you in?” I asked, half-teasing and half not. Now that the moment had come to go our separate ways, I found myself stalling.

  Jesus, I was a jerk.

  Instead of telling me that she was a grown woman, to leave her alone, or even to go fuck myself, she stretched out her hand and touched my grizzled chin. I hadn’t shaved since she’d gotten sick, and my beard had taken advantage of the free rein, probably making me look like an old bum. She ran her thumb under my eyes. “You look exhausted.”

  I was exhausted, not that it mattered. I decided to make light of it and offered her a cheeky but sardonic grin. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You didn’t get any more sleep than I did, did you? Or at least not restful sleep.”

  I shrugged, not sure where she was going with this. Her empathy was kinder than I deserved. “I’m good.”

  “The answer is yes.”

  I frowned at her. Had I missed something? “Yes?”

  “Yes, I want you to tuck me in.”

  Gotcha. I stood and pretended to bow. “One turndown service on its way, miss.”

  After taking separate showers and getting ready for bed, Rachel and I padded down the hallway. I felt so grateful to see her gait remain steady as a rock as she climbed onto her mattress. I pulled her blankets up around her chin and dipped my head to her cheek, ostensibly to check her temperature, but really because I wanted to touch her one last time. She’d been nothing short of clingy over the past four days, but instead of being tired of it, I knew I’d miss it.

  Miss her.

  Enough of that.

  “Goodnight, Rachel,” I told her, then stood to leave.

  “Goodnight, Chris.”

  As worn out as I was, I should’ve conked out immediately, but I didn’t. I kept tormenting myself with images of Rachel weeping, talking in her fevered sleep, and writhing in delirium. I didn’t know if it was due to witnessing everything so up front and center or because she wasn’t here in my bed anymore, but every time I shut my eyes, those images were all I saw.