Page 12 of His Hostage

I wake up sweating profusely, and I notice my sliding glass door is open. “Shit, not again,” I mutter, wiping my forehead with my pillow.

Outside, the moon still shines, but morning is creeping its little head through the horizon.

I feel down, in between my legs. I’m soaking wet. It’s as if he actually came in last night.

I’ve never been this excited before from a dream, but last night was incredible. The way he took control and stared into my eyes, coming in through my bedroom window, fuck! I have to admit, it’s a fantasy of mine, even if the guy is bad news.

I walk over to the sliding glass door, nightgown sticking to my thighs. Oh, man, if someone could see me now, they’d raise their eyebrows and wonder what kind of a deviant I really am.

That isn’t public information. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m just a divorcee trying to find a little inspiration in life.

I nearly close the door, but when I look down and see the thing I dread the most out here, I flinch.

A rattlesnake is inside my room, and it’s shaking its tail wildly.

Holy shit.

Of course, I scream. I cry like a helpless little girl. “Oh, my God!” I repeat over and over again.

I’m paralyzed with fear. I don’t know what to do, how to react, or anything. Do I play dead? Is that what they told me to do in Girl Scouts?

I look into its eyes, and I see it register my fear.

Everything seems to slow down. Its body slithers toward me, and I nearly faint with disgust and terror.

It lunges, practically jumps off the fucking ground, and its fangs extend. I’m going to get bit. I know it. I close my eyes and brace for the shocking pain of the bite.

But it doesn’t come.

I hear a large crashing sound. My eyes open, and I see… him? My neighbor Rowan has pounced on the snake.

“Rowan,” I scream and look at my body for any bite markings. He throws the snake outside and dusts himself off.

“Are you all right?” he asks, out of breath.

“Kill it!” I scream.

“I don’t kill innocent animals,” he says.

For a split second, his eyes look exactly the same as the snake’s. He glances down at his legs and sighs loudly. “But the bastard did get me. How ‘bout you? Are you okay?”

“You’re bit?”

I can’t deal with this. I look all over my body and, though I’m shocked, I’m actually okay. I hate to admit it, but he saved me just now.

“The bastard got me right in the thigh,” he says, lifting up his jeans.

I know he’s hurt, but his body is offensive. The denim curls up over his muscular thighs, and I can’t help but move my eyes more towards the bulge at the center of his jeans. It’s not fair.

“You have to go to a hospital. Like right now,” I say, in a hurry. “Um, shit!”

I grab my desert handbook, a present a friend got me before I left home. I’m way too flustered to read a word and there’s nothing about snakebites anywhere inside of it.

“You have to suck the poison out,” he says.

I stop and glance up at him, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “That’s a myth,” I tell him.

“Woman, it is not a myth,” he mutters. “Does it look like I’m happy about this? I just saved your life, and you can’t suck out a little venom from my thigh?”

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