Captive *Complete*

Chapter Eight

Ethan Miller.

Ethan watched Wyatt’s expression as he washed him, after tending his wound. He observed how his hand absently cleaned the same spot for a full minute now. It was the scar near his heart, and it made Ethan frown.

Wyatt’s face was wearing the same blank expression, yet his eyes showed what his face failed to. They looked dark with chagrin, hurt, and sadness. They flickered with an icy fire of rage and hunger for revenge. Ethan never thought that eyes this beautiful could be deadly and scary at the same time.

His trance of thoughts got cut short when Wyatt heaved a hefty sigh. He moved his hand from his chest and placed the loofah in the basin. Ethan deliberated whether to ask him what was wrong or not. He wondered whether his scar had reminded him of his sister.

Did Janey have heart problems?

"Here," Wyatt smiled meekly and handed him a white t-shirt. The small handmade fireplace was keeping the room warm, yet, he still felt cold being naked and wet. He put on the soft cotton shirt while watching Wyatt rampaging through his tiny closet. He pulled out a red sweater. A Christmas red sweater with Santa's hat embroidered in its front.

Something cheerful that Ethan didn't expect to be inside that closet.

"Merry Christmas," Wyatt murmured; a blush was evident on his cheeks, even under the dim light. Ethan beamed at how adorable Wyatt looked, and his grin widened when he noticed that the sweater was new. It made him more certain that Wyatt had planned this all along.

"How?"

Wyatt’s eyebrows quivered, silently demanding elaboration.

"How did you know that I will come here?" Ethan had more questions he needed answers to, but he figured it would be best to start with something light before going through the deeper ones. He hoped that Wyatt wouldn't feel being interrogated and was trying to make it sound more friendly.

Wyatt smirked and replied sternly. "I thought that we'll discuss everything after you eat?"

"I’m not-"

"Don't lie to me, Ethan." Wyatt cut him off with a knowing look. "Your stomach is this close to growing a mouth on its own and fume at you in protest."

Ethan blushed deeply when he poked his stomach. The gentle touch made him want more. He wanted Wyatt to be wholly his. His lips, his soft skin, and his moans. Everything about him, he wanted to own and claim as his.

He nodded in agreement and watched the man that was and still a stranger, exit the room, leaving him with his troubling thoughts.

Did I do the right thing by letting him in? he asked himself. Why do I feel so attached to him? What will I do next? Would the reasons for killing those people matter?

What would become of us?

It must be the heat of the moment, he mumbled under his breath. He couldn't fully accept that he slept with a man he was supposed to help capture. Being in a fragile state did have a part in what happened, but yet, he couldn't deny how much chemistry he shared with him from the beginning. How much he tried so hard to prove that he wasn't the killer, and even after he was convinced that he was his fugitive, he kept stealing glances and lingering his eyes way too much on his physique. Admiring his lean figure, his intimidating stance, his evident accent, and his husky voice.

Ethan had been in a few relationships over the years, but Wyatt felt different. Something about him pulled Ethan and attracted him, making him feel whole. . .finally. Throughout their lovemaking, he knew that it was wrong and that nothing good could result from that, yet he still let him please, tease, and build an intense fire within him.

A passion that Ethan seemed to have lost throughout the years.

This what he feared the most. . .He fell in love with him.

He sighed, releasing a shuddered breath.

He was sent to track and trap a killer. Instead, he was the one who fell into his trap. . .literally.

He chuckled, amused at how fate brought two opposites together. Two natural-born enemies that shared the same soul, apparently. He was brought back to reality by the angelic and the sweetly torturing voice of his captor.

"Something’s funny?"

Wyatt looked good in a tight gray long sleeve shirt and a pair of dirty blue jeans. They were wrapped around his silhouette fittingly and molded his body showing all those enticing curves. His black ebony hair tied up in a messy bun, a few strands were brushing against his flushed cheek, styled in a side bang. His muscles were refined and flexed as he carried a tray with two bowls. The smell of food was mouth-watering, making Ethan’s stomach roar shamelessly.

Wyatt dismissed his lack of response and had a smirk formed on his lips. He must've noticed the gawking eyes as they studied him hungrily.

He placed the tray on the coffee table near the bed, then settled himself in a comfortable looking chair across from him.

"Eat it while it's hot," he said, following his own advice.

Ethan picked up the bowl of stew. It was good, hot and filling, and his tummy urged him to eat. It took all the manners he could muster not to shovel it in as fast as he could chew.

"Good," he noted about halfway through his generous portion.

"Thanks. But you may get sick of it before we've finished the pot. My energy source for appliances is propane, and taking the tanks down into town to get them filled is a pain, so I use the stuff sparingly. Quick hot showers using a tankless heater. One-pot meals that last a few days when I hang them in the fireplace over to the side."

Ethan remembered the fireplace in the living room. He remembered the two iron swing arms that would make that arrangement possible; as long as the fire burned or embers just gave off heat, the food-and coffee in that pot as well-would remain at a low simmer.

Which probably explained the strong coffee.

"Am I. . .I mean, are we going to be here for a few days?"

He corrected himself and was glad to see a glow in his captor's eyes; a gleeful glint that brightened his angelic face. Ethan found himself being seduced by that southern charm again, by those taunting lips that were creased and slightly agape. . .so inviting.

He composed himself when Wyatt cleared his throat, snapping him out from his erotic fantasies.

"Unless you heal a lot faster than the average bear, yes. Besides, the routes to here are closed with the thick snow." He watched the smirk fade from his face as he looked apologetically at him.

"I'm sorry for shooting you. I could've stopped him, but I froze."

Him?

Ethan placed the empty bowl back on the tray and looked at his captor, who looked down at his feet. He knew better not to ask who he was talking about. He had better and far more important questions he needed answers to. Besides, it would be just that crazy guy who came earlier.

Luke.

He smiled sweetly as he said. "But you found me and saved me from an imminent death."

Wyatt’s face did brighten a little bit, and a faint smile touched his features.

"I did," He nodded. "You would've died if I didn't find you."

Ethan smiled in gratitude, then bit his lip nervously. He wanted to ask as his curiosity was eating on him.

"I asked you before. How did you plan this?"

Wyatt shrugged and looked down at the bowl with the little food left, and sighed.

"I had a hunch, you could say. I knew that it would be you who'll come looking for me, so I got prepared."

"The bear trap?"

Ethan asked a bit harshly. He couldn't help it. His foot was throbbing in pain.

Wyatt quickly shook his head. "I told you not to get out and that you'll hurt yourself if you did. That trap was my security system against unwanted visitors. . . I'd never want to cause you such pain."

"Sorry," Ethan mumbled, blushing again from how fierce the love in Wyatt’s eyes.

They sat there in comfortable silence. Wyatt was staring at the floor with a torn expression. He seemed to be in deep thoughts, and from time to time, he would frown and clench his jaw.

"Who are you? And what am I to you?" Ethan broke the silence and squeezed Wyatt’s hand encouragingly.

The latter chuckled, and his body shook when he did. He placed his bowl with cold food on the tray and turned around to face him fully.

"You started asking important questions, I see. Well, my name is Wyatt Alex Greene. Does my name ring a bell?"

Ethan frowned, thinking about the name that sounded oddly familiar. He gave up with a huff after a full minute of digging through his troubling memory and glared at Wyatt, who chuckled dryly.

"I'm the son of Ronda Ellis Greene, the former FBI agent. . .Psychic Unit, to be more exact."

"Ronda?! As in Madam Red?!" exclaimed Ethan and his voice cracked from how excited and amazed he was.

Ronda was a crazy woman with some impossible powers. She was his idol when he was a kid. He used to admire her courage and strong will when she used to oppose his father and his methods. She was the only person who confronted and stood against him, which made Ethan's love and respect for her to grow even more.

"She was amazing." He muttered sadly, as he remembered her early death. That day made Ethan so determined to join the police force and chase away corruption. Even as a child back then, he could tell that her death was no accident as the police deemed it to be.

"That she was," Wyatt mirrored his expression. "So was Janey. She was pretty much like her." Wyatt giggled at the memory and glanced at him with eyes glazed by tears.

"She was as crazy as my mother. Straightforward, strong, and hyperactive. She would always tell me about some crazy dreams she'd have. She had the most vivid and detailed imagination, and one of the most accurate guesses. . .I loved how she would see good in people, even if they weren't." He gritted his teeth at the last thought, and his eyes darkened.

"She trusted your father even though I told her he was up to no good."

"Wyatt," Ethan stammered.

"No, Ethan. No. . .You wanted to know then hear me out."

Ethan nodded, and dejection was evident in his eyes. A struggling tear dropped on his cheek when he saw Wyatt welling down tears.

"Wyatt?"

Ethan said with a tone dripping with sadness and concern. He pulled Wyatt, who struggled a little bit in his grip, into his arms and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"Just let it all out, Wyatt."

"It's not fair, Ethan." His captor sniffed and breathed a shuddered breath on his neck. "It's not fair for her to die. I failed her. . .I failed to protect her."

"I am sorry," Ethan felt a guilty pang in his chest. He remembered the fact that she wanted to tell him something that day. The way she looked at his father with pure horror in her vibrant blue eyes, how she glanced back at him when a nurse ushered her outside his room.

That last look of despair she gave him, was still glued in Ethan’s memory; a look that screamed help aloud.

"I am sorry," He mumbled again and tightened his grip around Wyatt. He kissed the top of his head. "I know that my father was the reason she is dead right now, and I am sorry."

Wyatt pulled away with tear smeared face and wide red brimmed eyes.

"You don't know?!"

"What?"

Wyatt chuckled bitterly, and it turned to a burst of full-on laughter. His chest shook as he laid down on the bed with his hand over his mouth. Ethan watched him try and fail to compose himself. His laughter was musical and contagious that made Ethan wanted to laugh as well.

"What's funny?" He demanded with an uncertain chuckle.

The laughter died, and the tears were still flowing down Wyatt's cheeks. He looked at Ethan and shook his head.

"I'm not going to be the one to break this to you."

"What do you mean?"

Wyatt stood up and grabbed his jacket from the closet.

"I need some fresh air. You rest a little bit."

Ethan frowned at him and opened his mouth to argue, but the other just left the room, slamming the door softly after him.

He heard him whistle for his wolf and close the door of the cabin. Ethan stared at the dark night outside of the window and frowned.

"What was I supposed to know?" He asked aloud and slid down to rest his head on the pillow.

He glared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, and when his eyelids grew heavy, and he was close to drifting to sleep, he heard the front door open again. He groaned as he sat up and glared at the bedroom door waiting for Wyatt to walk in.

After a few seconds, the door opened, and two men walked in. Ethan’s eyes widened as he stared at his friends and colleagues.

"Mark,?! Nate?!"

His tall friend, Mark Summers, grinned widely, and so did Nathan Dennis, who lunged at Ethan and hugged him dearly tight.

Amazed, Mark said. "George was right."

Nathan pulled away and stared at him carefully. He frowned when he saw the cast on his foot and the bandage around his leg.

"That bastard." He snarled and looked at Ethan apologetically. "We should've been here sooner. The creep did a number on you."

Ethan, who was still stunned, rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"It's really you guys?"

He chuckled, and they both smiled back at him. Nathan turned to Mark and they both nodded.

"We were by the cabin this whole afternoon. We couldn't just burst in and risk losing you, so we had to wait for him to leave."

"Yeah," Mark confirming what the little guy said. "We heard you moaning in pain, and it was really hard for me to keep Nathan from going mayhem at the place."

Ethan blushed, and his eyes widened. They heard him moan. They were there the whole time, and they heard everything. It would've been really awkward if they walked in on both him and Wyatt when they were. . .

"Yeah," He said nervously and felt bad for confirming something that was wrong. He was moaning in pleasure and not in pain. He was thankful that his friends thought he was groaning, yet a part of him felt bad for claiming something wrong against Wyatt. His captor, felon, and most wanted killer. . .his Wyatt.

"Ethan," Nathan snapped him back with a stern look. "We'll need your help to capture him."

Ethan couldn't stop himself as his body and mind reacted on their own.

"No, Nate. You don't understand. Wyatt is different. . .He's not bad. He's misunderstood." He looked back and forth between his friends who gave each other knowing looks.

"Ethan, we know that you must be traumatized-"

"No," he cut Nathan off and glared at them for thinking such a thing. They must've thought that he was sympathizing with his captor. They weren't here to witness when Wyatt carried him to the cabin. When he cleaned and tended his wounds. When he fed him and embraced him lovingly. They didn't know the Wyatt he's known in these past few days. The man he got to know. The fragile, sensitive, and caring person he could be.

"Ethan, you don't understand. We aren't trying to hurt him but to help him. He's messed up." Mark stated, and Nathan backed him up.

"Yeah, Ethan. He thinks that he's possessed and that he's as powerful as his mother. According to what he said at the police station, he killed those people because a voice inside his head told him to."

Ethan frowned and looked between them with teary eyes. His heart was telling him not to believe them, but his mind was declaring what they said as logical.

"He's a danger to himself and the people around him, Ethan. You have to help us stop him."

Ethan stared at the ceiling with a determined look. He had a long debate with his friends, and he made a decision. Something that he'd follow throughout and make sure to succeed in doing. His mind and heart. One of them was tricking him, and he found out which wasn't.

The bedroom door opened, and in walked Wyatt. He looked at him a little bit longer than usual before he got distracted by his wolf, who whined near the closet and kept twirling around.

Ethan grew nervous as Wyatt removed his wool scarf and tried to open the closet to hang it.

"Wyatt," Ethan looked at him. "Who shot me in the woods?"

He watched him heave an exasperated sigh, then grumbled, annoyed. "Seriously, Ethan. I'm not in the mood-"

"I need to know." He demanded sternly, and Wyatt looked at him intently before glancing back at the closed closet. His expression grew cold, and his eyes darkened with anger.

"I did."

"But you said-"

"You understood what your mind and heart wanted to be convinced by. You saw me that day, and you must've remembered that I was the only one there. . .I was the one who aimed that rifle, and I was the one who pulled the trigger and shot. . .but I wasn't the one in control."

"What do you mean?" Ethan's breath hitched, and his eyes prickled with tears. He hoped that whatever would come out from those addicting lips, to be anything that would disprove Nathan and Mark’s words. Anything that would give his heart a chance to win against his decisive mind.

"I’m possessed, Ethan." Wyatt was now seated by his side, which made Ethan push back a little. The little movement didn't go unnoticed by his captor, who nodded to himself.

"Ethan, you have to believe me. I know that this is hard for you to comprehend, but I'm more powerful than my mother. Janey and I shared some strange abilities. Those abilities were the reason my parents died. . .that my sister died."

"Why did you kill those people?" Ethan demanded, not holding back his tears as his hand glided under the blanket and touched the taser gun.

Wyatt gave him the same calculating look, then glanced back at his wolf, who was still whining and glaring at the closet and sighed.

"I thought you would be different, Ethan."

Ethan panicked and grabbed the gun, thinking that he was going to kill someone. Either kill him or Nathan, who was waiting patiently to intervene. A firm hand was placed on his own, and he locked eyes with those icily blue eyes. They looked disappointed, sad, and mad. . .Really mad.

"I thought you would be, because you have her heart."

His words were processed rapidly as his mind pieced back together with the puzzling thoughts and memories. He gasped when he finally understood what he meant, and his heart broke for what Wyatt did next.

He kissed him with so much passion and force that took away Ethan's breath. The kiss was loving and hunger filling. He felt Wyatt's cold hand around his neck as he pulled him closer than before, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away, and the look in his captor's eyes made him feel alert. He knew that the kiss was special. It was definitive and had a finality to it.

"I know that your friends are here, Ethan." He muttered nonchalantly and smirked sadly at him.

"Wait," he was cut off by Nathan, who aimed his gun at Wyatt and nodded for him to do as planned.

Ethan froze in place as he held the taser and aimed it towards Wyatt. His eyes still shed tears, and he couldn't hold them off. He felt that something horrible would happen. The way he kissed him told what Wyatt failed to say in words.

That was their last kiss.

Something glinted in the dim-lighted room as Wyatt held something shiny towards Ethan. He felt the panic in the atmosphere as a silence-breaking bullet banged.