Stolen Jewel by Alexis Abbott

Jewel

Ifeel like a ghost as I wander listlessly through the log cabin. My bare feet pad across the creaky wooden floorboards in almost perfect silence. The blaze in the fireplace has burned down to a low crackle, and that’s pretty much the only consistent sound I’ve heard through the house today. It feels so strange to float around and just soak in the sensations of being alone. As though without someone else to talk to and contrast myself against, I might as well not even exist. It’s been a long time since I last felt comfortable by myself, which is weird. I used to be the kind of girl who guarded her alone time fiercely.

My friends-- or rather, the convenient acquaintances I made at college were always begging me to go out to bars and clubs. I would agonize over finding the perfect excuse to get out of social events, just so I could go sit by myself at home instead. It’s not that I don’t like people, but between being on campus surrounded by other students or at parties surrounded by drunk strangers, it got overwhelming sometimes. Those rare nights curled up with a good book or hunkered over a journal writing my heart out in messy cursive felt like luxurious staycations to me back then. I constantly turned down offers for dates, hangouts, even study sessions that could’ve really benefited me, if I already had an alone-time date planned with myself. I needed an escape from the madness. I needed to hear nothing but the wind blowing around in my own head for a while before jumping back into the real world. Being alone felt free. Liberating me from the expectations of others, like my so-called friends and professors and, worst of all, my perennially-disappointed father.

But today I’ve been alone since I woke up that way in the middle of the night. Instead of feeling rejuvenated by my time alone, I’m anxious. I jump at every little sound outside. Every twig that snaps or animal that rustles through the bushes sends my nerves into a tizzy. I don’t want to be separated from Stefan. I miss him. I need him here to feel complete. I’ve never been that girl before, but something has changed deep inside of me, and I know who to blame.

“What did you do to me, Stefan?” I whisper, shaking my head.

I stand at the window watching the gravel and dirt driveway that winds into the darkening forest. I stare at it so hard my eyes start to blur, and I can almost envision that familiar vehicle emerging from the void. If I close my eyes, it’s not hard to pretend the crackling fire is the sound of car tires on crunchy gravel. I can almost hear the key turning in the door, the thump of footsteps, the pleasant rumble of Stefan’s voice through the empty house. But it’s all just pretend, because the day is winding down, and he still isn’t back from… wherever he went.

I look down at the note clenched in my hand. I unfold my palm and the paper crinkles out to reveal Stefan’s flat, neat handwriting in black pen. I’ve been carrying the damn note around all day since I found it pinned to the door. My eyes scan over the words for the umpteenth time.

Jewel, I’m out on a supply run. Don’t leave the house, don’t answer the door for any person or any reason. I’ll be back as soon as possible. - Stefan

I’ve read over it so many times, scrutinized every syllable, wrung the meaning out of every single word until it’s bone-dry. Nothing more to decipher. No hidden meanings for me to break down. But as straightforward as it reads, I can’t help but agonize over it. After all, it’s not like I’ve had anything else to do today. There’s no cable, no internet. I don’t know where my phone is, and it wouldn’t be useful out here on top of the lonely mountain anyway. There’s an old radio Stefan found under the kitchen sink, but I don’t have the technical skills to make the damn thing work, much less play music. So I’ve just been haunting the log cabin like a sad ghoul, meandering in and out of different rooms in my oversized sweater and long, warm skirt. I’ve kept Stefan’s note either in my hand or my skirt pocket all day, like a talisman. Like if I can just keep the note close, it’s almost like keeping him by my side.

I tuck the note back into my pocket and wrap my long, heavy sleeves around myself as I stare out into the late afternoon haze. Last night’s snow has more or less melted to expose the browning grass underneath. A powerful wind whips up and rustles around the property. The old cabin creaks. The trees sway and bend at the edge of the woods. The loose window pane in the living room rattles and lets a little draft filter through. I think about how easy it would be for someone to break in if they found me here. This place is not a typical safehouse, I can tell. We’re working with what we have. I thought I was isolated at the first safehouse, but compared to this, that was downright city living. The only soul I’ve met up here was that sheriff, and that didn’t go as well as one might hope.

My heart sinks when I remember how things went down. How I was proud of myself for stepping in to defuse the situation until Stefan got so angry at me. I didn’t expect it-- I thought he would be thankful or at least appreciative, but instead he was mad. When we fell asleep last night, I thought all was mended, but what if I’m wrong? What if all my incessant questions and intervening got to him, and my stunt with the sheriff was the final straw? What if Stefan didn’t really go on a supply run, he just needed an excuse to get out of here and abandon me?

I mean, it would make sense. There’s no doubt he can travel much faster without me slowing him down. I’m a liability. Another wave of panic seizes me as I gaze out the window, and I imagine Stefan in that car, speeding like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction of here. What if all this trust-building is for nothing?

I reach into my pocket and give his note a squeeze. The crinkly paper calms me a little. I remind myself that Stefan has already done so much for me. To save me and preserve that safety, he’s sacrificed a lot. Maybe more than he even lets on. He deserves the benefit of the doubt from me, at the very least. I have to believe that he’ll come back for me. I just have to.

I close my eyes and imagine him driving back to me, and it makes my heart swell with affection. My strong, powerful, stoic Prince Charming rushing back through whatever land and weather to return to me. He could come bursting through that door smelling like pine and adventure any moment now. Infuriatingly, he didn’t give me a projected hour of arrival or anything to go by. The minutes melt into hours and hours of waiting and wasting away alone in this big empty house.

I’m so vulnerable here without him, but it’s not just that. I miss him. Not only as my guardian who makes me feel safe even in the wildest of circumstances, but as a person in his own right. I miss his masculine scent that washes over me when he pulls me close to his chest at night. I miss his looming presence, his massive height and size that ward away other predators-- Stefan is the apex, the top of the food chain. When I’m with him, I’m protected prey. A dainty fawn under the possessive watch of a grizzly bear. I even miss his way of remaining stoic and calm in the face of chaos. No matter what happens, he maintains that quiet peace that stills the tremble in my soul. I miss his growly voice and his dark sense of humor. I really, really miss the way my body feels when he touches me. Those calloused, magical hands moving over my curves and bending me to his will. Willingly.

I shiver, getting goosebumps all over. I rub my upper arms. I’ve been feeling chilly all day without Stefan to keep me warm. That fireplace is no replacement for his delicious body heat. But the sunshine is fading out now, and the air is only going to get colder from here on out. I decide to take matters into my own hands and run myself a nice, hot bath to warm up in.

I traipse across the cabin with my skirt dragging the floor. I don’t know who owned this cabin before it came into Stefan’s hands, but they certainly weren’t minimalists. I’ve pretty much spent the day poking my nose into closets, under sinks and into cupboards, looking for what’s been left behind by the tenants years and years ago. Everything is coated in a layer of dust, but there’s a lot of useful stuff lying around. When I get into the bathroom, I start rifling through the cabinets for anything bath-related.

“Ah, jackpot,” I mutter as I open up the cupboard under the bathroom sink.

I pull out a big glass canister of what looks like Epsom salts. I unscrew the lid and draw in a deep whiff, pleased to find that it’s scented like lavender. I decide to keep digging, and I find another glass jar full of little crumply dried flower petals and leaves. It looks very homemade, and seems to have been sealed up for a long time. The lid takes some coaxing, but when it pops off, I get another lovely waft of floral scent. I pick out yellow, pink, and purple blooms dried to shriveled bits on my palm. I lift them to my nose and breathe in, closing my eyes. It’s like walking through a garden, and it brings a smile to my lips. In a burlap bag twisted and tied shut, there are a few bars of fragrant but rustic bars of soap. I also find a stash of clearly-handmade white taper candles stacked in the back of the cupboard with a tiny matchbox. There are only two matches left, but I only need one. I light the first candle and set it in the dusty, rusting candelabra on the bathroom counter, then use the first flame to light a few more. The soft bronze light of late afternoon ripples across the bathroom walls through the window.

I start the water in the clawfoot tub. It sputters a little at first, then spurts out cold water. I turn the knob and wait for it to start steaming. I grab the jars of bath supplies and start adding bits here and there. A handful of lavender Epsom soaking salt, a sprinkle of dried flowers, and a bar of soap on the ceramic edge of the tub waiting for me. I stretch and shrug out of my sweater and skirt, folding them on the counter. I sweep my dark hair back into a messy bun, which I secure with a small length of twine I found in the kitchen. I leave a soft white towel out for afterward. Chills erupt on my bare skin as I dip my toe in the tub. The hot water beckons to me. I lower myself down into the warm, wet bath with a sigh of satisfaction.

“Oh yes,” I murmur to myself.

The perfumed, flowery water surrounds me. Steam rises and crowds around my face to open up my pores. The humidity makes the baby hairs around my forehead and temple curl up into tight pinscrews. The hot water soothes my tensed-up muscles. The chill in my bones slowly ebbs away under the warmth. Dried bits of flowers and leaves float around in the pink-tinged water. A petal drifts over to land on my nipple bobbing just above the water’s surface. I lean my head back and sigh as my troublesome thoughts come leaking back in. Not even a relaxing soak can fully wash away my nerves. I am, after all, on the run.

My mind wanders as I think about what I’m running from. It’s hard to know exactly. My departure from real life happened in a total whirlwind, and there are a lot of factors I still don’t understand. As usual, my thoughts circle back to the one person who has always been able to make me feel small and afraid: my father. I feel a twinge of guilt thinking about him. I never expected to have to make such a choice, but I realize now that early on, I made the decision to choose Stefan over my own dad. As far as Dad knows, I could’ve just run off without saying goodbye. I wonder, what if everything Stefan’s been saying is a lie? What if he doesn’t even realize it’s a lie? How can we trust the Bratva’s intel on my father when we can’t even trust them in the first place? If Dad ended up just being an innocent bystander in this whole thing, or even worse, a victim-- how would I feel then? Guilt washes over me and I feel sick to my stomach. My father, the man who raised me and taught me all that I know-- betrayed by his own daughter.

But then again, if what Stefan says is true, then my father is the traitor, not me. I wasn’t supposed to have to go on the run. I wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. Dad was meant to just pay the ransom, get me back, and we would move on with our lives. I know my father has the money to do whatever he wants. So, if he wanted to save my life, he would have. Right? If he’s really choosing money over me, then I shouldn’t feel guilty. I mean, what kind of father refuses to pay a ransom to get his only child back from dangerous criminals?

I wince a little at the thought of Stefan as a dangerous criminal. At first, I thought of him that way. He did drug and kidnap me, after all. My dad taught me right and wrong, and I know what Stefan did to me was wrong. But then, I can remember lots of times my father did things wrong, too. And Stefan has been kinder to me than anyone I’ve ever met, even though he’s supposed to be the villain in my story. I should fear him. I should be happy he’s not here right now. If I was really smart, maybe I would’ve spent this rare day of freedom plotting how to actually escape. I could have started walking down the mountain or something, just tried to find someone out there in the wilderness who could save me.

But save me from what? I could run, but where would I go? And when I got there, would I miss Stefan? Would I regret my decision? Something deep inside my heart says yes. If I leave him now, I’ll wish I didn’t. Besides, Stefan has already proven more than once that he can just track me down and bring me back. Every escape scenario I imagine ends with Stefan catching up and nabbing me again. I tingle all over at the thought of him finding me out in the woods, his dark eyes all blazing with ferocity. I remember the way he threw me over his shoulder and carried me through the woods like I weighed nothing at all. Just a wayward feather he found floating on the wind and decided to take home.

I close my eyes and run my hands down my body. I imagine that it’s his rough fingertips instead of my soft touch on my bare skin. I picture his thick, strong forearm pushing under the water to spread my thighs apart. I picture the look of possessive fury on his face if he found me out in the woods again trying to escape. I want him to gather me up in his arms and cradle me to his hard chest. I want him to throw me on the bed and ravish me, punish me for being such a bad girl. Even the idea of Stefan grabbing me in that parking lot and throwing me in the back of the car turns me on now. I don’t fear him like I once did-- but there’s just enough healthy fear left to make my fantasies oh so exciting. Stefan could have his way with me if he wanted. His muscular body could restrain me without breaking a sweat. I’m just his dainty, flimsy little sex toy, and if I try to run, he’ll only drag me back home.

My nipples stiffen, my pussy aching to be filled. My hand slips between my thighs and I gently stroke my clit under the hot water. My cunny is so soft and velvety to the touch. My fingers tweak and pull at my nipples. I bite my lip as my eyes roll back in my head. I picture Stefan’s handsome face glaring at me as he leans over me, tall and imposing. I want him to overpower me, to take control and do what he pleases with my body. I rock my hips as the tension inside of me tightens up more and more. My fingertips circle and pet my stimulated clit until I’m on the edge of coming. I back away a little to tease myself, staying just on the precipice without spilling over. Every time I get close, I move my fingers away for a moment. My pussy clenches and aches as I build up my need for release higher and higher. Right as I’m about to finally let myself come, I hear a strange sound from across the house.

My eyes go wide open and I sit up in the bath, looking around in fear. It’s the unmistakable thump of footsteps and rattling keys at the front door, sounds I’ve been waiting to hear all day long!

“Stefan!” I gasp.

I hastily clamber out of the clawfoot tub and wrap the white towel around my dripping curves. Goosebumps pop up on my cool skin as I rush across the cabin toward the front door. I’m unsure of what exactly to expect. Reason tells me it’s Stefan, returning to me after a long supply run mission. But what if it’s not him? My brain rapidly sifts through the options, and it doesn’t look good. If it’s not Stefan, it could be the sheriff. He knows I’m up here, and if he watches over this region half as well as he claims to, maybe he’ll have noticed that the car is gone somehow. Maybe he’s here to check on me-- or get me alone. It could even be one of the ‘hooligans’ the cop mentioned. Even worse than that, I run through another scenario: that it’s someone from the Bratva, here to finish off the job Stefan started.

I stand quivering in a towel as the door bursts open, and my heart soars with joy to see Stefan walk in. He’s carrying several bags of stuff, groceries from the looks of it. He looks instantly relieved to see me still here, though he does raise an eyebrow at my towel-clad body.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he says in that growly tone that makes me melt.

“I was taking a bath,” I blurt out. Well, that wasn’t the first thing I wanted to say to him upon his return, but oh well. He makes me so flustered sometimes.

He smiles, and his handsome face looks instantly softer for a moment. He sets down his bags on the kitchen table, then turns to me. Stefan reaches out and touches my cheek gently. He looks exhausted and stressed out, but relieved to be back. I lean into his touch, then turn and kiss his palm. He pulls back and starts putting away the groceries. I’m overjoyed to see him, but I can’t let my curiosity just fester without answers.

“You were gone for such a long time,” I point out.

“Longer than I meant to,” he answers. “I’m glad to see you’re still here.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, where would I have gone? You took the car.”

“You would’ve run off if I left the car?” Stefan teases with a smirk.

I blush. “I mean, no. Probably not.”

“Good. It’s not safe out there,” he says simply.

I heave a sigh. “Are you going to tell me where you went or not?”

“Are you alright?” he asks, frowning at me.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… bored. And scared. You know, it’s really not very nice to get up and leave in the middle of the night like that,” I bring up defensively.

“If you had been awake when I left, you would have tried to come with me,” he says.

“Of course, I would have!” I pout. “That’s the point. You didn’t give me a choice.”

“Have you eaten yet today?” Stefan inquires.

“I--no. I wasn’t hungry,” I answer. My stomach chooses this exact moment to growl, and Stefan gives me a bemused look.

“I’ll make us dinner,” he says.

But when he turns away to put a box of rice in a high-up cabinet, I stare at him. Something is off. He’s being oddly cheerful and cryptic, avoiding the subject of where he went and why he was away so long. I push a little more.

“Your note certainly didn’t give much away,” I complain. “Where did you go?”

“Like I said, on a supply run,” he answers. “How do you feel about chicken and rice?”

“Stefan, come on,” I groan, tugging on his arm. “I need more than that.”

“Chicken, rice, and beans?” he suggests.

I roll my eyes. “Not about dinner. I mean I need more information.”

“I met with a friend while I was out,” he adds.

“Okay. Who? What friend? What did they say?” I question.

“Am I on the stand right now?” he grumbles.

“You leave in the middle of the night with nothing but a cryptic-ass note, and you’re giving me a hard time?” I snap.

Stefan turns around to face me finally. He looks serious.

“I had a long way to go. It was a brief meetup. I got what I needed and I left. Then, I stopped at a small-town grocery store for supplies,” he explains.

“So if you had to go to a small town for groceries, where did you meet the friend?” I ask, trying to read between the lines.

“Jewel, drop the lawyer act,” he warns.

“You’re hiding things from me! You’re the only person I have in this world right now, and you’re keeping secrets,” I accuse. “I don’t get it, Stefan. You want me to trust you, but then you do shit like this. I was so scared when I woke up alone. I thought you’d abandoned me.”

“I would never do that,” he growls.

“Why did you leave me out? I could’ve gone with you and helped out,” I insist.

He moves closer, leaning over me. “Everything I do is to keep you safe, Jewel. You would not have been helpful to me on this supply run,” Stefan says.

I feel hurt. “I’ve bought groceries before, you know,” I scoff.

“Some things I have to do on my own,” he grumbles.

I throw up my hands in frustration, only to remember I have to hold my towel up. Blushing and clinging to my towel, I tell him, “You act like we’re in this together, but then you keep secrets. You always have to stay a step ahead of me and keep me in the dark. If you want my trust, you have to earn it.”

“And you have to learn not to ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Stefan says grimly. I puff myself up and step closer, too.

Leaning right up into his face on my tiptoes, I reply, “Don’t assume what I can and cannot handle. I can decide that for myself.”

“Is that so, malyshka?” he snarls.

He grabs me and pulls me in close, his lips colliding hard with mine. I reach up to put my arms around him and my towel drops to the floor. Stefan kisses me harder as his hands rove up and down my naked body. I tingle under his touch, my body warming up to him instantly. Stefan hurriedly unzips his trousers and pulls out his cock. My mouth is salivating for him as he puts his hands on my waist and easily lifts me up. He whirls around to hoist me on the kitchen counter, shoving groceries out of the way to make room.

He leans in to kiss me again, both of us groping and pawing at each other in a frenzy. The tension between us is so palpable I could cut it with a butter knife. We’ve been apart for almost a whole day, and we can’t bear it. We need each other desperately, no matter how bitterly we argue. His body knows mine, and vice versa. We don’t even need words right now.

Stefan lines up the thick head of his shaft with my slick opening and pushes inside. I wrap my legs around him as he rears back and slides all the way back in again. He pumps into me again and again, his cock slamming against my g-spot as he fucks me on the counter.

“Fuck, I missed you,” I gasp.

“I thought about you every second,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” I whisper between sighs of pleasure.

He thrusts hard, his balls smacking my ass as he pounds my pussy. We are both so fired up with frustration-- the angry kind and the sexy kind. It all muddles together like a cocktail in my head, intoxicating me with every thrust of his hips.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he grunts. He emphasizes every word with a powerful plunge into my cunny. I tingle and moan around him.

“I’m not fragile, Stefan,” I whisper. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

His dark eyes flash and he fucks me deeper and harder, just like I wanted. His shaft shoves in and out of my tight pussy, the swollen tip notching into my g-spot over and over until I’m nearly frantic with pleasure. He caught me on the very edge earlier, and now I’m desperate for a release. Stefan pounds my cunny like he’s angry at me, and I love it. I drag my fingernails down his strong, broad back while he pounds me.

“I need this,” I gasp out. “I need you.”

“You have me, Jewel. And I have you,” he murmurs.

“I belong to you,” I agree breathlessly. “I’m all yours, Stefan. I’ve just been waiting all day long for you to come home and fuck me right.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he growls.

He picks up the pace, pummeling my cunny until I have tears in my eyes. My body is thrumming from head to toe. I feel him tightening up, too. He’s so close, and I am eager to get him there. I clench my pussy tighter around him and he groans with bliss. I rock my hips to match his thrusts. His dark eyes lock with mine and we stare into each other’s souls as we tip over the edge together.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Stefan growls.

“Nnngh, yes,” I whimper.

He seizes up and releases his thick, precious seed deep inside me while my cunny spasms around his thickness. My pussy gushes all over his cock, both of us panting and clinging to one another as the endorphins whirl around us. I feel his shaft twitching as he empties out every last drop inside my fertile womb, and I hold him here until we’re both sated.

Once we finally catch our breath, Stefan slips out of me. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders to keep me warm and modest. I slide off the counter onto my jelly, wobbly legs. Stefan kisses me slowly, deeply. He brushes the hair out of my face.

“I’m going to start on dinner,” he says softly. “Do you want to help?”

I smile up at him and nod. “Let me go put on something… normal. I’ll be back.”

“Good idea,” he says, patting me on the ass.

I get dressed in comfortable clothes and jump into helping Stefan cook dinner. The evening is winding down. The wine comes out and my stress level goes down as we spend time together. Stefan manages to get that old radio working, and we listen to golden oldies while we enjoy our first real dinner together in the living room. The fireplace crackles as the last log gets consumed by flame. I’m getting so sleepy from wine and good sex, nodding off on the sofa. My eyelids are getting heavy. Sleep calls to me like a seductive lover. Curled up under a blanket, I watch Stefan get up to put more logs into the fire.

I sleepily ask him, “Now can you tell me what’s going on?”

He comes over and kisses me on the forehead. My eyes shutter closed. I’m so tired.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, Jewel. Get some rest,” he says.

“You’ll be there when I wake up?” I yawn.

He snuggles up next to me on the sofa and pulls me in close.

“I’ll be here. I promise this time,” he says.

I have so many questions, but I’m too tired to make words happen. Warm and content in my protector’s arms, I finally drift off to uncomplicated sleep.