"Put the gun down and your hands where I can see them!" Kent calls out.
Camelia stiffened, hearing his commanding voice. Five minutes passed since they last spoke when Kent last instructed her to say hidden until he called the secret word.
She hears scuffling and heavy breathing. A gun shot fires in the distance. Camelia felt her heart stop as she stared at the phone screen in horror. The urge to run out of her hiding place and see what was going on was overwhelming.
She almost moved, but stopped, holding her breath, a lump lodging in her throat. It was worse to know what was happening and not able to see the outcome. It was pure and utter torture. Much like being handcuffed at the wrists and ankles, unable to move.
Silently suffering in her own misery.
Stuck. Trapped. Confined.
Another shot fires.
Kent.
The blood in her veins turned to ice. She was left paralyzed as the worst scenarios kept replaying in her mind. "Kent?" Calling out his name in a small child-like voice, afraid she'd never hear his voice again.
All movement seized. She couldn't hear anything but a deadly echoing silence.
"Kent!" She screams not holding back. Camelia pushes the clothing out of her way and crawled out of hiding.
"Stay where you are." Kent replies to her breathlessly. "I'm fine. The bastard got away." He says in disgust. "Son of a bitch!" He roars hearing him banging on what sounded like metal.
Camelia nearly choked at hearing his voice. Thank god. She rocks back and forth like a mentally unstable person, tears of joy streaming down her face. After this ordeal she would need therapy for sure. She was beyond traumatized. It was the scariest time in her life.
Forever changing.
Forever damaging.
*****
Stefan continued to sputter curses, cranking his neck left then right. He flexed his arm and hooked his gun back in its holster after running after the culprit. He shot the bastard in the shoulder but he still got away.
It was a man, dressed entirely in black with a matching black mask covering his entire face except for the cut out holes for the eyes and mouth. Their brief scuttle left his rib cage throbbing, holding his side. Whoever it was punched him very hard.
But Stefan gave as good as he got.
Power was humming through his veins thanks to his heart pumping adrenalin vigorously in his body and his rage and fury was almost blinding when he swung at him with all the strength he could muster. With one punch to the face, he left the man with a broken jaw, likely shattering his teeth in the process.
Stefan flexed his palm, pain radiating from his knuckles. He checks his fingers, feeling for any broken bones and not finding but his knuckles smeared with blood from his own broken skin.
Afterwards Stefan and the intruder pulled out their guns at the same time. He warned him to put his gun down but the bastard refused not speaking at all. The only communication he received from the masked figure was a slow shake of his head, No.
The man raises his gun and points it directly at Stefan's chest. With narrow, focused eyes of a hawk, he watches his black gloves finger beginning to pull the trigger. Stefan with his own gun raised, fires without a thought.
The man ran for his life holding onto his bleeding shoulder. Stefan knew his shot wasn't life threatening, aiming directly for his shoulder to immobilize him long enough to catch him and get the answers he needed.
His plan was to interrogate him until he received information of the whereabouts of his boss. Instead of falling to the ground like he expected, he turned and ran, Stefan hot in pursuit. What Stefan didn't expect was the man to keep going and jump like a highly trained acrobat, easily climbing a nearby tree and swinging over the edge of the high brick wall surrounding the mansion.
Only when he heard the screeching of tires burning into the asphalt did Stefan burst into a run to the front entrance, ready to get a clearer shot and try to stop him from fleeing the scene. That's when he fired his gun a second time at the back of a speeding, swerving black van.
The only lead they had in the last month got away.
Stefan walks back and slams his fists hard against his car, causing a dent on the hood. If he had super strength he would have ripped his car into shreds enable to feed the rage coursing through his veins.
They had been working non-stop on finding any clue to Nathan Diam's whereabouts. Just when they thought the threat didn't seem immanent, he strikes when they least expected it. Stefan should have known better, should have hired more undercover operatives. Should have had a surveillance team posted outside watching the house from afar.
They would have caught the masked figure and had the answers they needed to narrow down the search. Damning himself a thousand times for not being prepared, Stefan clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
It was a ill judgment on his part.
One thing he was sure about–if Camelia hadn't called and alerted him of the threat she would have been already captured and in the back of the van.
A shudder racks his body. Thinking of the what if's...
Only when he heard her frantic voice did he wake from his dark thoughts. The voice of a siren. The very ones who called out to sailors to lure them to their deaths–powerfully alluring, mysterious and incredibly feminine.
Only her voice did the opposite, luring him out of the darkness and encouraging him to follow her light. A light that offered one hope, tranquility, peace and righteousness–a beacon that called home.
If it cost him his life to make sure she was alive and protected he would do it in a heart beat. She was too special, too innocent to be corrupted with such occurring events. A person with a kind and gentle soul that deserved everything life had to offer. He adored her as a child and he adored her even more now that he's seen her all grown up.
Even after ten years her innocent nature grew instead of dissipating. It was attractive and welcoming. He couldn't help but get wrapped in her web, her fingers, her presence molding a person to do right by her. She was one-of-a-kind in his book.
As long as he lived, she would be out of harms way, Stefan vowed.
He shakes his head, takes a deep calming breath and strides toward the dark house. It was the only house on the street with a power outage, assuming they must have manually shut it using the electric panel box located in the garage.
But the garage doors were closed. He frowns and scans for any broken windows and finds none. Stefan scouts the area and strides to side of the house closest to the garages. He finds a side door open allowing entrance into the garages and it was hanging off its hinges.
Stefan pulls out his gun and small flashlight, turns it on and bends his knees slightly holding his gun in position. He nudges the door with his shoe, listening it creaking open. The light flashes over the St. James's parked cars and he quickly shifts to scan his other surroundings.
Nothing else appeared out of place nor missing.
Stefan doesn't leave one corner unchecked only to make sure the kidnappers didn't leave one of their partners behind. He strides to the electric panel, puts his gun away, places the flashlight in his mouth biting down with his teeth, allowing him visibility as he works to turn the switches back on. A surge of power hums through the walls as the house comes back to life.
The last of the lights turn on in the garage above his head. He squinted against the glare, blinking several times against the stinging in his eyes. Stefan takes the flashlight out of his mouth, turns it off and places it back in his pocket. He looks around for something to barricade the door long enough to keep intruders out until it could be fixed.
He spots a black metal horizontal shelf, behind the door. It looked heavy, large and strong enough to hold any intruders at bay.
Stefan shakes it slightly and when it doesn't even wobble due to its weight, he deems it more then sturdy. Pushing with all his strength with legs pulled back and arms outstretched around the poles, it still doesn't budge. With all the gardening items on the the 5 tier shelf Stefan estimated it be at least four-hundred pounds.
Trying again, he braces himself wheeling in all his energy and pushes, again relying on his legs and arm muscles to help aid him. The metal scrapes in protest against the concrete floor but it only moves a few inches, blocking the door partially. The veins in his neck strain against his skin and his face turns red as he tries again and again until the door is completely blocked.
He wipes the perspiration accumulating across his forehead and exhales loudly running his palms against his jeans. Stefan fast walks towards the door that connects the garages and the house and opens it. Pulling out his gun once more he checks the foyer and finds it empty.
The front door was still locked, checking it with a free arm. His eyes move left and right all around the house from the ceilings to the walls.
After he took a good half-hour, checking the entire first level and finding no evident threat, Stefan starts moving up the staircase.
"Kent?" Camelia trembling voice echoes into the empty house.
"Remember don't move until I give the signal." He instructs. "I'm in the house and checking if we have any unwelcome intruders hiding somewhere. How are you holding up?" He asks keeping his eyes and ears alert.
"I-I'm fine...I think." She replies, releasing a exhausted exhale.
"Good. Stay as quiet as possible." He says reaching the top of the stairs and heads towards the left. The hallway on both ends was long and expansive.
After reaching a set of double doors he tries the door. It was locked. There were two bolted key holes. Stefan frowns in confusion. They were the same locks you would find on a front door.
Even in his grandfather's large mansion, they had only one room with such limited access ability and it was the wine cellar.
"Camelia? I'm on the left side of the house and I came across a room with a set of double doors. Are they usually locked?" He asks trying them again.
"It's my parent's bedroom. My father always locks their room when they aren't home for safety reasons." She confirms with hope in her voice.
"Ok, good. I just need to make sure. Are you on this side or the other side of the hallway?" He asks working his way back towards the front of the stairs.
"I'm in the west wing, the other side." Camelia replies in a stronger tone. Stefan could feel her emotions were under more control. "Can I come out now?" She asks eagerly.
"No. Again, not until I confirm nobody else is in the house. Now stay quiet, I've made you talk enough." He walks passed more doors, deciding to work towards the last door at the end and work his way back.
The first door was left ajar. Stefan opens it wider, pointing his gun finding a room encased in pink and white with double sided shelves alongside a beautiful satin covered queen sized bed.
The shelves were lined with books as Stefan's eyes scan over the feminine room. Taking it all in, he lowers his gun to his side and inhales a gulp full of the sweet, intoxicating scent of floral perfume encasing the room like an invisible cloud.
This was Camelia's bedroom.
The books, her scent, it was all over the place. She still grew up loving the color pink, he thinks with a small lift of his lips.
A t-shirt lays sprawled on the carpet and he picks it up. Bringing it up to his face, Stefan bends his head and nostrils flare as he inhales the scent of the flimsy shirt. He closes his eyes as a sense of peace descends over him.
It smelled just like her.
It smelled so good it nearly made him shudder. Like a taste of heaven, her scent alone nearly unhinged him, it was so addicting. The muscles beneath his skin flexed and strained against his blue shirt.
Reluctantly he lowers the garment, still in hand, Stefan continues to look around turning slowly. There were two doors, one closed and the other slightly left open. With purposeful strides he goes directly to the open one finding a bathroom. After exiting he checks the closed door guessing it was her walk-in closet, and he was right.
It was large and welcoming with rows and rows of clothing of every color of the rainbow. Shelf upon shelf held rows of shoes and designer handbags.
Just before turning away his eyes catch a tall unmoving figure in the shadows. Stefan stiffens and raises his gun, moving quietly like a leopard spotting its next prey.
He glides closer to the shadow, hidden behind a row of fur coats. Stefan inches slowly and aims his gun ready to confront whoever was there. Jumping in front of the shadow, he then stops and closes his eyes, blowing out a deep breath.
It was a headless mannequin covered in a white sheet.
Bits of flashy red were peeking out of the bottom of the cover. He was about to turn away to continue on his search when he feels a pull reigning him in to inspect what was beneath–a sense of deja-vu overcomes him.
He's seen the familiar color before.
Not being able to help himself, he reaches for it and begins to lift it when the sounds of a movement behind him deters his attention.
"Kent!" Camelia exclaims breathlessly.
*****
She nearly screamed when she saw an unmoving figure and leapt back a step. Originally thinking he was an intruder, she whipped her gaze back around her large walk-in closet and instead watched Kent stand completely still, one hand clutching the white sheet covering the dress she hated.
She froze. Acute panic shot through her.
Watching wide-eyed, the realization of what he was about to do slammed into her as he started to unveil the red fancy dress.
Camelia could never look at it again.
It turned her life upside down.
Just like Pandora's box, when her curiosity lead to the unleashing of evils into the world, Kent was about to do the same to her and flood her with distressing memories of a night that made her feel worthless and unwanted. She lost more than she could ever gain–ending all her hopes and dreams, leaving despair in it's wake.
Camelia chose red specifically for that night.
The color red represented excitement, a focus of attention, confidence, providing a sense of protection from fears and anxiety. She had hoped it would help alleviate some of her anxiety but it did the exact opposite. It ended being one of the worst nights of her life next to the one she just experienced that evening.
"Kent!" She calls out.
Stefan abruptly lets go of the sheet.
He gave her specific instructions to stay hidden, feeling a surge of annoyance run through him. She could have jeopardized her safety. Stefan was ready to give her a scolding as he turned to face her but the words on the tip of his tongue vanished into thin air when he took one look at Camelia's face stricken with worry and fear.
Stefan hated to see the distress in her eyes. Instead of speaking, without thinking, he opened his arms wide open in invitation to come to him.
She hesitated in her tracks, witnessing the scowl etched on his rugged face. But when he opened his arms she ran forward. A pair of blue frightened eyes met his as he grabbed her and pulled against his broad chest. He could feel the tension vibrating through her. Burying her face in his chest, she wraps her arms around his waist.
Her legs felt like a thousand pounds now that the adrenaline pumping through her veins dissipated.
After, what felt like a eternity, he pulls back, holding her shoulders.
"Are you ok?" He asks with concern looking deeply into her beautiful exotic blue eyes. "It's over now."
"No it's not," she whispered back. "It hasn't even begun."
Her body began to shake and heart wrenching sobs burst free. She was choked up, at a loss for words. Camelia could barely breathe, the tightening in her chest was making it difficult to inhale and exhale. The only reassurance this night had given her was his strong arms wrapped securely, cocooning her from all harm.
A safe haven.
"Breathe in for four seconds and breath out for four seconds, it's called combat breathing." Kent nods his head in encouragement, watching her take labored breaths. "That a girl." He mummers gently stoking the wayward layers of hair away from her face.
"I-I've never been so happy to see you..." Camelia smiles despite the small tremors wracking her body. Kent's own smile stretched across his face and he envelops her in a secure side hug, kissing her hair repeatedly.
Camelia leans into his warmth, closes her eyes and sags in relief, resting her hand on his hard chest. Kent wraps his arms around the bare flesh of her back and waist and stokes her skin tenderly. Tingles spread where he touches her making her realize her semi nakedness. She blushes and groans in embarrassment.
Reluctantly pulling away from Kent she blinks rapidly, desperately trying to focus on anything but his prying stare. She bit her lip, trying not to show him the burning pink blush coating her cheeks.
Camelia didn't move, didn't even breathe.
"Camelia?" He grabbed hold of her once again, drawing her against him.
She went rigid.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Massaging the back of her neck, attempting to ease the knots there.
"Nothing. I couldn't sit and wait any longer." Stating the truth.
Her breasts brush against his chest. She wondered if he noticed she was topless wearing only a pink bra. If he did, she couldn't tell. Squirming in his embrace she noticed her white t-shirt bunched in one of his hands. She stops and glances into his questioning eyes.
"Something else is wrong, I can see it. Tell me." He demanded, pulling her chin up with a finger.
"It-I uhh...." Camelia was too embarrassed to say it out loud so she shifts her eyes to the shirt he's holding.
He frowns and trails his own eyes in the direction hers took. The air in his chest constricts and his eyes flashes a hungry glint as they travel over her torso. Stefan noticed but never really looked too worried about her well being to witness her only in a pink bra and sweat pants.
He couldn't help himself as he stared. Appreciating the gentle rise of her chest and the generous, over flowing pair of breasts encased in a very beautiful and very pink satin bra. Her abdomen was flat with faint visible muscles stretching under her smooth skin.
She was extraordinary. Exquisite. An angel. And one of the sexiest woman he had ever come across.
Stefan gulped, feeling his Adam's apple contract. He blinks out of his trance as he glanced at her unsure eyes once more. Numbly he lifts the shirt before her and she takes it without words. Turning her back to him she pulls it over her head and pushes her arms into the sleeves, pulling down the material over her chest.
Camelia clears her throat in embarrassment and nervously pulls at the end of her shirt as she faces him once more. The pink blush fueling her cheeks very nearly matched the color of her bra as she refused to meet his stare.
Their was a brewing attraction between the two of them. That much could not be denied. His body called out to hers and he could feel the heat molding into every fiber of his being. A light stirring rose in his groin and he straightens, his muscles bunching beneath his clothing.
"D-did you check the whole house?" She asked timidly.
"I was doing that when you walked in." He replies in a stern voice and a lift of his eyebrow.
"I couldn't wait any longer." Good thing I did too, she thinks to herself. "Are the guards ok, I thought you said they were knocked out?" She continued, trying to change the subject.
"They're only unconscious and appear unharmed. They were most likely given a sedative." He replies still staring at her, his heavy gaze pinning her to the spot where she stood.
Trapping her. Burning into her soul.
For a moment she thought he was going to touch her as he shifted and moved his body within centimeters of hers.
His features could not be read as Camelia tried to decipher what she saw. His strong jaw and firm mouth was clenched together. His thick black hair was disheveled, falling around his face. His muscles flexed, humming with strength and power.
Though the two of them didn't make any further physical contact, she could still feel his fingers stroking her bare skin. She could feel his warmth wrapping around her like a safety net. Camelia had to force herself not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair. The urge was almost overwhelming as her body came alive with electricity.
But his eyes stopped her.
She gazes deeply into them. They spoke a foreign language that could only he translated into need, lust and desire. He looked at her as though she was his next prey and he could devour her whole.
A starving man who had been given his next meal.
For a fleeting moment, as she gazed back into his sky blue eyes, she thinks how easily she would succumb to the urge and be that next meal.
And it scared her.
______________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading everybody!
Whoa, That was a close one! **wipes forehead** :)
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Shaz