Abducted for love ( Bad Boy BBW BWWM Romance)(4)

By: Amanda Horton

She sighed and turned her head looking the other way up the boardwalk. She could go that way and avoid the whole thing. There! But it was dark and mostly deserted the other attractions being for the daylight hours. There was just one person walking towards her and dressed in a trench coat in this heat, he looked creepier than Jed and Lance could ever be.

The brothers were having a heated discussion, their voices rising in the still night air. They were speaking a foreign language and Claire couldn’t understand a word, but she knew a fight when she heard one. They probably wouldn’t notice her if she walked by really fast.

Trench coat guy was almost at Cool Joe’s far corner now and he gave Claire the willies, so she began to walk down the boardwalk toward Jed and Lance. She slipped her hand into her purse and felt around for the little canister of knockout gas she had bought for just such occasions. It was somewhere in there, but her questing fingers couldn’t seem to find it. Why did she carry so much junk?

Never had the walk away from Cool Joe’s taken so long, or felt so perilous. Claire felt her heart beating double time, as she seemed to inch her way down the wooden slats, her hand still searching her purse for the ever-illusive protection she carried.

Not far now. Not far. Just keep going. Don’t look at them. Just walk like you’re not worried at all.

The argument was getting louder but Claire kept her head down. And then silence, nothing but the sound of her shoes on the wood. Shocked Claire looked up. Jed was there, in front of her. She hadn’t seen him move. His eyes were glowing in the darkness fixed on her and Claire stood still, like a rabbit in headlights. Her heart hammered in her chest, her knees going weak. She thought in a moment of added panic that she might wet herself. Those eyes were not normal. They were not human! Her fingers moved in her bag and closed around something cold and metallic.

Then there was a blur of movement. An arm grabbed her around the waist and spun her backwards and down to the ground. Claire cried out in alarm pulling her hand out of her purse and pressing the plunger furiously. The air filled with the smell of flowers. The arm let go of her and a gruff voice she didn’t recognize said “Stay down!”

Shaking Claire lay on the wood. She was half behind a big metal trashcan. She pulled herself into a ball and clasped her hands over her ears. She could hear growls and bangs. There were screams and something clattered to the ground near her. Then something else, small and wet landed on her legs and she tried to make herself smaller. A terrible smell filled the air, like liquid metal and Claire realized it was blood.

“Oh God! Oh God!” she repeated over and over. “It’s not real! It’s not real!”

With a thud next to her, Claire opened her eyes. She looked into the anguished face of a man about to die. He was pale and his clothes were soaking through with red. It was too much for her. She stood up, and ran.

Around her things whizzed through the air. Growls and grunts, thuds and booms filled her ears to overflowing. Figures darted faster than she could see around her. But all she wanted to do was go home. The urge to not be there anymore was so strong that Claire would have crawled over a heap of dead bodies to get away and not even have noticed.

But suddenly something growled right next to her. Something huge and black was standing there. She spun, pressing the plunger on her still clasped canister. The air filled with the scent of flowers again. She got a glimpse of fur, a muzzle and then something landed heavily on her head, knocking her to the ground. The world swam sickeningly, and darkness rose like a merciful angel to claim her.


Daylight slid gently into the room through a slice in the curtains. Claire watched dust motes hover and glide on the faint air currents and for a moment the world seemed peaceful and quiet. Then she heard voices in the next room. She couldn’t’t quite make out what they were saying but they seemed sort of familiar, but not and far away.

Claire lay in a warm, fuzzy daze for a few minutes until she realized that the ceiling wasn’t hers. She looked at the curtains. They had a yellow pattern of flowers on them. Then she looked down at the covers that matched the curtains. She sat up in alarm. This isn’t my apartment! And immediately lay back down again. A wave of nausea ran over her like a runaway truck. Gulping air she tried to force the bile back down.

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