Lee glanced at me, his arms filled with my luggage as mere annoyance became exasperation apparent on his face, as I stood. He finally dropped my backpack and shook his head. Reaching around me, he turned the key in the lock and threw the door open.
“Here you go, Your Highness. Home sweet home,” he growled.
Inside, a small bedside lamp threw shadowy fingers across the doorway and terror spread through my veins.
“No…” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat as I took in the layout of the room. It appeared to be almost an exact duplicate of the motel room in Milwaukee. The same room I’d spent three of the worst days of my life, and had almost died in. The bed was in the same spot, the bathroom. It even smelled the same, like cigarette smoke, stale sex and cat piss.
“No,” I said again, this time the whisper turning to a moan. My vision darkened and my sight telescoped to a pinpoint focusing on the bed, my heart pounding so loudly it was all I could hear. Everything disappeared except the terror, the absolute certainty, that Dreyven was behind me and was about to drag me back to Milwaukee.
“No!”I yelled, backing out of the room, stumbling into someone behind me. I shoved away from them with all my might and ran.
I didn’t know or care where I was going, I just needed to get away. I darted for the gravel road, ignoring the voice that called after me. There were no other buildings nearby, nowhere to hide, just a field across the gravel road with weeds, a few trees, and some bushes up ahead.
My feet hit the gravel without slowing. My breath heaved in my chest, the air a wheezing rattle I just ignored. My legs stung as branches whipped out and struck me as I ran. A tiny voice in the backof my head asked me why the hell I was wearing shorts? I could feel blood running down my legs from scratches, but I didn’t care. The oppressive need to escape overrode everything else.
I heard the crunching sound of feet racing across the gravel behind me, so I ran faster. A part of me knew I wasn’t in Milwaukee, but I couldn’t think clearly about what was happening, and I couldn’t escape the certainty that I was back, that Dreyven was after me and was trying to drag me back to that old life.
I didn’t know how long I ran before I felt, more than heard, someone pound up next to me. Strong hands wrapped around my body and carried me almost gently to the ground.
While our speed made us hit hard, I felt those arms wrap around me protectively, my captor struggling to keep me from escaping. I fought the grip that encircled me with everything I had, screaming, struggling, even biting at one point.
Despite my efforts, the arms holding me were like steel bands pinning me to the ground beneath a male body that had to weigh a thousand pounds.
Things went black for a long time as I yelled and fought the monster that held me, his strength unrelenting. I cursed, I swore, and I screamed, but I couldn’t escape.
Finally, after what felt like hours, my body exhausted, I collapsed, shuddering and crying. I waited for it, waited for the groping hands, the sloppy kisses, the pain… but it never came.
And slowly, I came back to myself.
Sound came first. I heard a low voice saying my name, whispering over and over, telling me it was okay, that I was all right, that no one would hurt me.
Then came touch. I felt arms that were gently but firmly holding me up against a body that I dimly realized couldn’t have belonged to Dreyven or Ricky. Ricky was dead, and Dreyven had been shorter and heavier, a little more prone to fat. This was a firm, muscled body, and heat ran off of it in waves.
Sight returned last. I saw stars beginning to twinkle against the dark blue sky, and a crescent moon peeking up from the horizon.
I took a deep breath, and the voice murmuring to me paused. I realized that the arms wrapped around me belonged to Lee Devereaux. We were propped up against the base of a tree, the cabins of the motel a silhouette in the distance against the setting sun.
I was leaning back against him, one of his arms wrapped around my chest, the other stroking softly through my hair. He had his legs twined with mine to keep me from escaping. The realization of what had happened drove home, and I froze.
The first thought that came to my mind was, I was such a god damn fuck up. I tried to blink my eyes clear of the crusted tears that clung to them. My hand came up to wipe my face and the grip around my chest tightened.
The second thought that came to my mind was…How could I possibly be getting an erection in this situation? I felt the straining of my cock against the zipper of my shorts as I rested in the safety of his arms, and was really glad it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see the effect his grip had on me.
“You… you can let me go,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming, my nose congested and snotty from crying. I felt the change in him when I spoke. He’d been relaxed when I first came back to myself, his arm wrapped loosely across my chest. That changed when I spoke. He’d stiffened when I’d moved, then slowly relaxed his grip.
“You sure about that?” he asked. His voice rumbled beneath me and I could swear to god, part of me wanted to just turn into his arms and bury my head against him like a little kid. But I wasn’t a kid, had never really been a kid. I could do this.
“Fuck,” I sighed. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He released me slowly, almost hesitantly, which I couldn’t blame him for, really. He probably didn’t want to have to chase my ass again. I scooted off his lap and onto the grass a short way from him.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I began, unable to meet his eyes. Fuck. So much for my career. Once word got out about how I’d missed my first major event, and then went completely mental over something as simple as a bad hotel room, I’d be lucky to sell a caricature at a street fair, much less a graphic novel.
“For what?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle. “Being human?”
His response startled me into actually looking up at him. He sat in partial shadows, the last rays of the setting sun playing golden rays on his face, making his green eyes glow like emeralds. I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected to see in his face. Derision? Anger? Disgust? I didn’t see any of that. Instead, his eyes seemed to hold… understanding. Concern. Compassion.
“I’m sorry for being an idiot,” I said, wiping one hand across my eyes before turning to blow my nose in the napkin I’d found wadded in my pocket. “Sorry for thinking I could do this in the first place.”
