“I have something that’ll work.”
Ten minutes later, I stood at the edge of the hotel’s indoor pool, hesitantly testing the water’s temperature with a toe. Emmitt took a two-step running start to jump in and hooked an arm around me as he passed. Grinning widely, he twisted in the air so he landed first and kept my head above water. I sputtered and laughed.
* * * *
Feeling shriveled and water logged, we made our way back to our room before lunch. Emmitt called for room service as I rinsed and changed.
Tired from all of the swimming, I suggested watching a movie while we waited. We flipped through the channels, but the movie we wanted to watch didn’t start for another hour. We settled for a cooking show while we waited. It just made Emmitt hungrier.
I wasn’t surprised when he got up and opened the door before the poor room service boy could even knock. Emmitt pretty much ripped the food from his hands, tossed him the tip, and closed the door in his face.
“Remind me not to forget to feed you. You turn a bit feral.”
He just grunted at me as he tore into his burger.
We ended up watching two movies back-to-back, reclining on our stacks of pillows. Of course, we were on the same bed. Emmitt wouldn’t have it any other way. He took every opportunity to touch me, random touches as if to assure himself I lay next to him.
By the time the second movie’s credits were rolling, Emmitt’s stomach growled again.
“Why don’t you call in an order at the restaurant next door then run and get it? We can watch this next movie, then. If you’re fast, you won’t miss much,” I said.
He called in the order and groaned when they said it’d be ready in thirty minutes. We settled next to each other on our bellies to watch TV, but his stomach kept getting louder.
“You need to think about something else so we can hear the movie,” I said with a laugh.
“I can’t. I’m hungry, and someone down the hall had pizza delivered.”
I leaned over and nipped his earlobe. He let out a defeated sigh and turned toward me.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to think about that, either.”
I grinned at him then turned back to the movie. His stomach was quieter, but he kept moving around on the bed, uncomfortable on his abdomen. When he got up to leave, I crooked my finger at him. He obligingly bent down, and I sweetly kissed him.
“Hurry back or you’ll miss the rest of the movie.”
“I’d rather stay here and skip the movie and the food.”
“Ha! You’re only saying that because you’re distracted from how hungry you are. Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Chapter 18
Less than a minute after Emmitt left, a soft tap sounded at the door. I smiled to myself and sprang off the bed. Emmitt must have used his super speed, I thought as I pulled open the door.
My smile fled when I saw Frank’s cocky grin. Shirtless, barefoot, and sweaty, he looked as mean and ugly as I remembered. I tried to slam the door in his face, but he moved too fast. He thrust his arm in the opening and shoved. I stumbled back, catching myself before I fell. His angry, bloodshot eyes narrowed on me as he advanced a step into the room.
The last time I’d seen him, the dim lighting of the backyard had spared me a detailed view. This time, the florescent light of the vanity cast him into harsh focus. The ragged cut-offs he wore were a superficial token at being clothed. They had more holes than actual material. From the amount of dirt and other unknown stains, he’d most likely pulled them out of the trash somewhere after shifting from his fur.
I glanced around the room, looking for something I could use to defend myself before my brain kicked in. There was no use fighting him. The best I could do was hope for Emmitt’s arrival. I started to scream Emmitt’s name, but Frank clapped his hand over my mouth before I could form the second syllable.
“Time to go,” he growled as he grabbed me. His fingers bit into my arms as he tossed me over his shoulder. I landed forcefully on my stomach and grunted in pain. I quickly braced my arms on his lower back to alleviate the throbbing ache, then I filled my lungs for a second yell.
Frank suddenly turned and took off at high speed out the door. The abrupt turn sent me swinging to the side, and my head connected with the doorjamb so hard my vision tunneled. I hung limply for a few stunned moments and struggled to think coherently. Another hit to the head would knock me out. I feebly wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled myself in closely. I couldn’t let go and hit my head a second time. Being unconscious was not an option. I closed my eyes against the growing nausea, forgetting to call for help.
He turned several times, then I felt cool, fresh air as he began to run faster. My hair flew out behind us, and I held on tight.
With my head so close to him, I couldn’t help but notice his smell. My stomach continued to churn unbearably. He smelled like leftover soup, the kind that was slowly shoved to the back of the refrigerator and found three weeks later.
Bile rose, or rather, fell. If he didn’t put me down soon, I would throw up all over his back. I couldn’t decide if it would help the smell or not.
He stopped abruptly and turned sharply again so my head flew out, despite my hold, and connected with something solid again. I slowly registered the sound of an idling engine as he gave a mocking laugh. Dark spots further clouded my vision as he lifted me from his shoulder.
We stood by the back door of a car. I could see blood on the back quarter panel. My blood. He opened the door and shoved me forward. I reached out to brace myself as everything went black and my legs crumpled under me.
* * * *
When I came to, my cheek was stuck to the vinyl of the back seat. Before I could lift my head, the car stopped unexpectedly, and I flew from my semi-sprawled position to the floor. I felt too sick to move. My head pounded steadily, matching the rhythm of my heart.
A door opened and closed. A moment later, the door by my feet opened. I hadn’t even tried opening my eyes yet, but the feel of his rough hands clamping around my ankles motivated me. He violently pulled me out before I had time to reach for anything.
My chin thumped on the tan carpet of the middle floor divider, and I bit my tongue. Once my waist cleared the door, he stopped pulling, picked me up, and tossed me over his shoulder again. I groaned but was grateful he hadn’t yanked me all the way out of the car. Landing face first on the asphalt would have been much worse than having a shoulder planted into an already bruised stomach.
My fear raised a notch when he turned and started walking again. I wanted to fight but my arms felt like noodles when I attempted to brace them on his back once more. He opened a door and dropped me onto a wooden chair.
I tried to scramble from the chair but was slow and clumsy. He used one hand to pin me in place and the other to zip tie one of my ankles to a chair leg. When I realized he intended to bind me, I fought harder. I connected a fist to the side of his head. It bruised my hand, but he didn’t even notice the blow.
Desperate, I bit his arm and gave a disgusted cry when he groaned in pleasure. It guaranteed there’d be no more biting on my part. I tried kicking with my free leg, but he just caught it and zip tied it to the other chair leg.
He slowly backed away. Hurting and out of breath, I stared at him as he stalked to the window. He moved the curtain aside with his finger to create a minute gap and checked outside. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he moved away from the window.
“I’ll leave your hands free and your mouth ungagged if you behave,” he said as he sat on the bed.
“You need a shower,” I slurred, angry at him and at the taste of rotten soup now in my mouth. My vision swam dangerously as I panted in pain.