Shifters' Captive:Magical Menages 1(8)By: Bonnie Dee
Sherrie poked through the box of supplies and found a box of cookies. She took a couple and wandered around the cabin eating them while she looked for any escape route she may have overlooked.
Four walls, a window and a door—both facing the direction where her captor was no doubt waiting. There weren’t any possibilities there. She slapped a hand on the ragged quilt covering the futon and dust puffed up, making her sneeze.
Sherrie dropped into one of the chairs and stared at the tiny window that framed leafy green branches lit by the sun. The sound of Walker’s footsteps pacing back and forth in front of the cabin was soft but audible. What was he so bent about? She hadn’t insulted him, or not much, anyway. She got the impression he was attracted to her. Maybe it was the way he’d humped her when he was lying on top of her—that’d be a hint. At any rate, perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Playing him until he trusted her and let her escape was a damn sight easier than trying to fight her way free with a rusty can opener.
But could she seduce a man who wasn’t really a man? And what if she manipulated him right into her pants? God, the thought of him turning while he was screwing her was horrifying. She suddenly realized she should be horrified by the thought of fucking him at all. He was her kidnapper! What was the matter with her that she was actually thinking about having sex with him and was pretty turned on by the idea?
Her skin was itchy and too hot. The feverish feeling had been present ever since she’d seen him naked. What an incredibly fit body. Sherrie rubbed her upper arms and tried to ignore the sensitivity in her nipples and the dull throbbing in her pussy. Sick, wrong and twisted, that’s what it was.
Outside there was the musical sound of a cell phone ringing. She listened to Walker answer it. During the rhythmic murmur and silence of the conversation, he spoke with rising annoyance in his tone. She could tell the call was finished when he cursed loudly then the door opened and he filled the frame.
Sherrie resisted the urge to jump up from the chair and back away. He was intimidating, even if he didn’t intend to hurt her. She met his gaze boldly.
“Who was that?”
“Cox wants me to bring you to his house. His daughter Liberty is one of those stricken with the sickness, and he wants to see if you can do anything for her.” Sherrie’s pulse sped a little faster. A change of location might give her an opportunity to escape. “I doubt I can help, but sure, I’d be happy to go.”
Walker shifted from one foot to the other, and the movement made her think of her mother’s dog Buster when he’d done something wrong.
“I’m sorry. I have to blindfold you.”
“Are you serious? I’m already in this so deep I know you won’t just let me go afterward. What’s the point in blindfolding?”
He shrugged. “Cox demands it.”
“Do you do everything he tells you to, kidnap people and blindfold them? Seems like you’d be capable of making your own decisions.”
“He’s one of the leaders. When the Council decides, the rest of the group trusts their decisions. We’re a pack, not a democracy. It’s how we do things.”
He walked toward her, and this time, Sherrie did step back a pace.
“Turn around, please.” He lifted his hands with a folded piece of cloth stretched between them.
She obeyed his quiet command. The cloth smelled of motor oil and it tickled her face as he covered her eyes. The brush of his fingers in her hair as he tied it and his strong presence behind her sent another rush of perverse excitement through her, as if they were playing a bedroom game. What would it be like to be blindfolded and bound naked to a bed, completely at his mercy? She could imagine soft growls, stroking hands, a playful nip on her breast. Then he’d lunge, cover her with his hot body and give her a fucking like she’d never experienced before.
“Too tight?” he asked.
“N-no,” she stammered. “That’s fine.”
He took her arm and led her outside. She felt the change in air, the ground beneath her feet, and the heat of the sun on her head. Being blind made her more aware of Walker than ever: the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his hand on her arm, and his smell—no cologne or soap, just male scent wafting from his skin. But he wasn’t a man, was he?