Undone, Volume 3 (2 page)

“You know there’s a
big storm coming today?” he had warned. I’d brushed it off.

Now I saw why he’d
cautioned me. The last 30 minutes of the drive would take at least an
hour in these conditions, and that was if we didn’t skid off and
slam straight into a tree trunk. I could see the headlines, “Ash
Black Crashes Out!” Only it wouldn’t just be me, it would be Ana,
and I wanted to keep her safe.

I hoped she’d feel
safe when she finally woke up. I wanted her to feel cherished and
protected. Because once we got there, we weren’t going anywhere.
The snow was supposed to fall and keep on falling for another couple
of days. We’d be snowbound, trapped, cut off from the rest of the
world.

Exactly how I wanted
it.

My need for her built
with each passing day. Every time I tasted her, I craved more. Each
sigh, moan, gasp from her lips teased me, suggesting such a treasure
trove of erotic pleasures. She was a sensual woman, but up until me
she’d never indulged. As far as I could tell, she’d only had one
serious sexual partner before, and he sounded about one step removed
from the living dead. I wasn’t sure she’d ever had an orgasm with
the man. Good thing, too, because if she had I would have had to find
him and sock him in the jaw.

As it was, it sounded
like I didn’t have much to be jealous about. When I touched her she
seemed so surprised, shocked and thrilled about how good it felt. I
felt that way, too. And we’d only just begun.

In Paris we’d fallen
into each other, the way ravenous beasts fell on a meal after days of
starvation. We’d burned for each other and then combusted, joining
together with fierce passion. But we’d never taken it slow. We’d
never played.

Ana had a body built
for sinful pleasures. I had a mind filled with plans. When she woke
up, she’d feel confused and disoriented. Maybe she’d be angry
with me. She’d definitely have one hell of a hangover.

But I’d do everything
I could to smooth things over. The cabin would help with that. Lofted
ceilings with giant, rugged beams, floor-to-ceiling windows
overlooking the mountain range and lake below, a massive stone
fireplace, the romantic setting would serve as my wingman. I’d have
a fire crackling in the fireplace. I’d make sure she took some
Advil and drank water. I’d make her tea with honey and lemon and
toast or whatever else she needed to get back into fighting form.
Because she was going to get a workout.

She could yell at me
all she wanted. She could tell me off, pissed that I’d taken her to
the cabin without her consent. She could pound her fists against my
chest, angry at me for trapping her.

But, ultimately, she’d
be trapped. Snowed in with me. And I needed to consume her, possess
every inch. I wouldn’t stop until I’d had her in every way I’d
craved in all of my fantasies.

She might fight me at
first, but then there’d be a shift. She’d have her fist against
me, but then her fingers would unfurl and she’d clutch my chest.
Her yell would cut off into a moan as I sucked down hard on her
nipple. I could almost taste it, that moment when her protests sank
into sighs, when she melted into my touch, parting her legs to give
me access to her sweet, succulent core.

That’s when I’d
have her. And then I wouldn’t stop, as long as the snow came down,
as long as he roads stayed blocked. I’d have her right where I
wanted her.

Ana

When I woke up, my head
was pounding. And not pounding like, oh, I had a bit too much to
drink last night, pounding like my head was a watermelon and someone
had taken a hammer to it. What. The. Fuck.

I could barely open my
eyes. It felt like lead weights held my lids down. Wherever it was,
it was bright and that made me feel like I should have my eyes open.
Normal people slept when it was dark and woke up when it was bright.
But bright hurt like a knife. I groaned.

“Ana.” Ash’s
voice, by my side. That was good. I closed my eyes again for a
moment. He would help me feel better.

“How much did you
drink last night?”

The question was simple
and innocuous, but the word drink nearly made me wretch. I could
still taste it in my mouth, that drink I’d had, the last one. But I
couldn’t picture it.

I didn’t know if I
fell asleep again, if Ash left and came back, but the next thing I
knew he was sitting beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Here,
take these. Some Advil.”

I managed to open up my
eyes a sliver and make out three pills in his palm. Gently, he helped
me sit up, handing me the pills and then water to chase them down.

“Wathefuck?” I
slurred, wishing I could sleep again.

“Baby, are you OK? I
know you’re a lightweight, but this seems—”

I groaned again,
digging the base of my palms into my eye sockets.

“I’ll let you sleep
again, it’s just that it’s almost three o’clock so I was
starting to get worried that you’d barely moved.”

“Three clock?” I
squinted at him. How was that possible? The last thing I remembered I
was at a party. A big party for New Year’s Eve.

“You’ve been asleep
for about fourteen hours.”

That wasn’t right.
Listing to the left, happily I found Ash and leaned against him. He
wrapped an arm around me. That felt better.

“Did you take
anything last night? Any pills or—?”

“No.” I shook my
head, then I wished I hadn’t. Movement was a bad thing. But I felt
certain I hadn’t done any drugs. But why couldn’t I remember a
goddamned thing?

“Somebody might have
slipped something into your drink. Motherfuckers.”

Bits and pieces came
back to me from last night. A girl dancing all up on me. Ash up on a
bar doing shots. Standing and talking with Johnny. And Connor.

“Connor,” I
mumbled, even my mouth feeling heavy and sleepy.

“Yeah, he said he saw
you drink something before you passed out. Have some water.” Ash
handed me a large bottle and sat with me, coaxing me to finish nearly
the whole thing.

I needed to sleep some
more. I tried to fight it. He said I’d already slept for 14 hours,
but I couldn’t stay awake any more than I could fly.

“Where are we?” I
managed, my eyelids stubbornly refusing to open, my head sinking
deeper onto Ash’s shoulder.

“My cabin in
Mammoth.”

“What?” That
breathed a bit of life into me. My eyes not exactly wide but at least
partially open, I looked around me. A rustic antler chandelier
overhead, wide-beamed wooden planks underfoot, we nestled on an
oversized leather couch in front of a gigantic stone fireplace. Had
he said Mammoth? Like the prehistoric wooly mammoth creature?

I must have said that
last bit out loud because Ash chuckled and pulled me closer, kissing
the top of my head. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you rest
some more?”

“Was going to New
York,” I whispered, trying to make sense of this, my body sinking
into him with complete trust but my mind reeling about, foggy and
confused and upset.

“I’ll keep you
safe.” He kissed me on my head. And with that I was out again like
a light.

§

I didn’t know what
time it was when I woke up again, but I could see it was dark outside
the windows. Lights were on inside, though, and the fire still
burned.

From somewhere I could
hear a piano, the notes lilting and flowing out. It was Ash playing,
I knew instantly. He had a way of expressing himself, showing how he
felt through the keys. He was playing that song, the tune he’d
first played for me at the arena in Santa Clara. So haunting, aching.
The melody had grown from that first time, developed through us
playing it again, together, expanding and deepening. It pulled at me.

But even more than
that, I really needed to pee. Slowly, I brought myself up to sitting.
Then slowly, oh so slowly, up to standing. I realized I was wearing a
too-big sweatshirt and sweatpants. They must belong to Ash.

Ash was at my side in a
second. “Are you OK?”

“Bathroom,” I
managed. He helped me over to it. I wondered if that’s what it felt
like to get old, when meeting bodily needs seemed to pose a nearly
insurmountable challenge. Ash would take good care of me if we grew
old together.

Where had that thought
come from? Clearly I was still under the influence of some kind of
drug much more powerful than mere alcohol.

Door closed, I took my
time, as if I could have done anything else. Cold water felt good
splashed on my face, and I found a washcloth to remove some of the
more ridiculous clown-like smudges of makeup. Nothing could be done
about my hair, though. It had a life all its own, standing up proud
and tall like a 1960s beehive. So be it. Nothing but a long, hot
shower could tame that mane.

When I finally emerged,
Ash met me and walked me again over to the couch. “How are you
feeling?”

“Like I got run over
by a truck. Did I?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Because I can’t
remember a damn thing about last night.”

“I guess you did some
shots. And had something else to drink which I have to guess was
laced with something. Could have been rohypnol, or GHB, or zolpidem.
Or even a benzodiazepine, like temazepam or midazolam.”

I looked at him. “Did
you just start speaking another language?”

He dropped his head,
looking slightly bashful. “I know a lot about drugs.”

“Are you a pharmacist
on the side?”

He looked up at me and
shrugged his shoulders. “Ana, I’m not a perfect man. Far from it.
But give me a shot.”

“Ash, I literally
don’t even know where I am right now.” Was he trying to have a
relationship conversation?

“Sorry, right.” He
hustled away, then returned with a fresh water bottle and a mug of
what looked like tea. “Here, keep hydrated.”

I drank. “So you
think I got drugged?”

He nodded. I wished I
could remember more about last night, but it was like trying to
recollect a strange dream, the fragments appearing then twisting away
before I could collect them and make sense of it all.

“I think I need more
Advil.” He brought me some more, and I washed them down, starting
to feel just the slightest bit more human.

“The last person I
remember seeing was Connor.”

Ash nodded. “He found
you right before you passed out.”

Had he also given me a
drink? Possibly the drugged drink? I wished I could remember. “You
don’t think he…?”

“No,” Ash dismissed
my unfinished question. “No way. Connor wouldn’t do that to you.”

I didn’t exactly
share his confidence, but I had other fish to fry at the moment
anyway. “So, where exactly am I? Because I thought I had plans to
go to New York.”

“You did.” He
nodded, looking a bit grim. “But I brought you here to a remote
cabin in the California wilderness instead. Without your consent.”

My eyes widened.
Nothing like ripping off the Band-Aid. “Excuse me, what?”

“I kidnapped you.”
He shrugged. I didn’t find it cute.

“Ash, are you
joking?” I looked around and he really didn’t seem to be joking.
I was surrounded by a rustic mountain cabin. An
expensively-decorated, four-to five-million-dollar range rustic
mountain cabin, but still. What the fuck?

“You were passed
out.”

“Because someone
drugged me.”

“And I didn’t want
you to fly to New York. I wanted to spend some time with you. So I
rented a car and drove us here.”

“Without my consent.”

He nodded.

“While I was passed
out.”

“Yes, that’s
right.”

“Ash, that’s so
fucked up and creepy!”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

I looked around, not
sure whether his ready agreement creeped me out more or calmed me
down. Crazy people didn’t know they were crazy, right?

I had been planning on
flying back to New York today, but I hadn’t bought my ticket yet.
My parents didn’t expect me back for another few days, nor did my
boss at the library or my piano students. It wasn’t a disaster. But
it wasn’t what I’d planned. And he hadn’t exactly asked me
first.

“Where are we again?”

“Mammoth. Near
Yosemite.”

“In the mountains?”

He nodded. “And I may
as well tell you we’re in the middle of a huge snowstorm. We won’t
be able to get out of here for a few days.”

“What?” Now I
remembered hearing something about it, people talking about the West
Coast storm of the century at the party before his show. People from
California were saying they might spend an extra night or two in
Vegas instead of trying to fly back into delays and possible airport
closures.

To offer confirmation,
Ash walked over to a sliding glass door and flicked on a light
switch. Outside, thick swirls of white enshrouded every inch.

“Oh my God.”

“We’ve got plenty
of food and firewood and a generator in case we lose electricity.”

“You are crazy.”
Who did that, driving to a remote cabin, intentionally cutting
yourself off from civilization in the midst of a massive storm? I
could practically hear my mother’s voice in my ear, asking if we
had enough canned goods and had we checked for batteries in all of
the flashlights.

“Yeah, I am. But I’ll
take good care of you while we’re here.” He smiled and I felt the
start, just the slightest start of something else in me. Something
not like a headache or a hangover or storm-induced panic. Something
warm in response.

“Are you hungry? I’m
not much of a cook but I can boil some mean pasta.”

My stomach rumbled in
response. I realized I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. It was loud
enough that he heard it and, chuckling, he headed into the kitchen.

I sat on the couch. Not
only did my legs not exactly feel like standing up, I wasn’t ready
to cheerfully pitch in on a romantic cabin dinner together. I still
felt so disoriented. Hadn’t I been wanting a break from Ash?