Page 9 of Demon Rejected

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Strong hands grabbed me. They freed me from the straps that held me captive and frozen. My mouth was covered by a strong, warm, calloused palm, while a pillowcase covered my head. The arms lifted me, and a stench that spread in the room filled my nose. Somehow, I detected the scent of fresh-cut grass and forest on the man who held me in his arms. Whoever did that had serious strength because I tried to wiggle. It was almost impossible for me to move.

“Shh, I’m here to help you."

A nauseating scent filled my nose and mouth. The world lost its shape and my body went limp against the firm chest that offered me warmth and comfort. After so many days of being drugged, I lost count of time. Whatever happened next, it could not feel worse than what they did to me.

Sparky whimpered. She tried to get to me, but I felt alone during my drug-induced stupor. I was locked in a glass cube. Sparky tried to push through the cube and get to me, but it was impossible. Even her flames that could burn woods were not strong enough to break my prison.

Cold.

Fear.

My body shook hard and my teeth chattered. Sometimes I hoped they would break and I would choke on them and end this all. End a life of pain and misery. Deep darkness swallowed me. The strong hands that took me out of my bed, that broke the restraints just to create new ones, felt like a promise. Was there hope out there for me?

I whimpered again. My brain had a long series of words that it was dying to ask.

“Shh, you’re safe. Stay quiet."

That voice. Strong, male, and confident.

The air smelled like fire, only my dream was made of ice. I was cold. The man carrying me held me close to his chest. It was warm, like a stove, like a wall of muscle heated by the sun. My fingers grabbed his jacket.

“Shh, Little Flame, it’s all going to be good."

He ran and ran. Twigs broke. His large feet pounded against the ground. A few times, leaves and small branches touched my face. Some scratched me, thin fingers of the forest stretching out for me. I could smell it and was aware of the way he shook me in his arms. Forest surrounded us. At some point, he stopped. I heard a car door opening with a horrible screeching that was fit for a haunted house. He sat me into a car seat slowly and closed the safety belt over my chest, pushing my arms and my hair out of the way. He leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.

“You are safe now, Little Flame."

Why was he calling me Little Flame? His voice sounded like gravel and honey at the same time.

The engine started with a deep rumble. My kidnapper had an old truck with a strong engine.

Sparky was there. She jumped into my arms and licked my face.

“Hi, girl. I missed you too."

She was warm and made of flames that flickered under the night stars. Sparky curled up around me, allowing me to sink into oblivion close to her.

As I slept, I knew this must have been a crazy dream. My subconscious always brought Sparky to me when I was afraid. Something shifted around me. The darkness felt calm and warm now.

The scent of coffee woke me up.

As I moved my hands slowly, I felt complete freedom. During the last few weeks, months, days-- I don’t know how much time passed--time was of no consequence to me.

“Hey, Little Flame,"

A man that I never saw before but who felt in a strange way familiar stood next to me, looking at me as if he awaited answers. I pulled back, the same reflex I had in my mom’s closet kicked in. My feet felt weak, and I looked around me in the hope that there would be a weapon.

“I can offer coffee and breakfast and we can talk, Little Flame!"

I took the man in. He was sexy as hell, to be honest. That was my luck--to get myself an attractive kidnapper. His hair was shoulder-length, wavy, and had a few silver streaks touching his temples. His skin looked tanned, the perfect canvas for beautiful intense green eyes with golden flecks. That plaid shirt hid a muscular body with large muscles. He sat on a chair in what looked like a mountain cabin.

I looked at myself for the first time.

My wrists held bruises from the straps they used on me and older, deep scars. I wore a soft long flannel nightgown.

“Did you change my clothes?"