The Lost Souls by Madeline Sheehan Read Free Book Online Page A

force, hoping the man would take a hint and leave her alone.
    His heavy brow lifted, and the look on his face suggested he didn’t understand why she thought her nudity was a problem. Even though she wasn’t a fan of strange men seeing her naked, it wasn’t her biggest, most immediate problem. She felt sick, the awful feeling growing worse with each passing second.
    “I’m naked,” she murmured, feeling slightly dizzy. Her vision blurred and against her will, her body slumped down in the bathtub.
    She heard cursing, then felt hands on her, lifting her, and arms wrapping around her. The cold air hit Carrie’s heated body like a smack in the face, and her eyes flew open as her skin shriveled under the onslaught. Then, just as suddenly, she was warm again, encased in something soft, and soon, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.
     
    Curled up on a small sofa in front of a blazing fire in the man’s trailer, Carrie threw up the first two bowls of broth the man gave her. Just as she thought she was going to lose the third, her stomach finally began to settle and her dizziness subsided. Her strength, however, was far from renewed. She continued sleeping on and off, and each time she awoke, the man was always there with more soup and water.
     
    It was dark when Carrie awoke, feeling strong enough for the first time in days to sit up on her own. The only light in the trailer was coming from the flickering fire and a few candles on the windowsill. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she stared at the shadowed figure bent down in front of her, tending to the fire in an archaic-looking stove.
    She realized she didn’t even know his name. Then again, she’d been half -catatonic until now.
    “Hey,” she said softly as she attempted to untangle herself from the pile of blankets covering her.
    He glanced over his shoulder and grunted.
    “My name’s Caroline,” she continued. “But everyone calls me Carrie.”
    “Marko,” he said.
    “That’s a weird name,” she mused.
    Another grunt.
    Maybe he was a caveman? With the full beard and long hair, he could certainly pass for one. Maybe none of this was real? Maybe she had died out there in the snow? Maybe she’d…
    “I’m starting to think I’m dreaming,” she said, shaking her head.
    Marko snorted as he straightened his body. Standing tall, he towered over her. “Then, do you mind waking up?” he asked. “Because your dreams really suck.”
    She burst out laughing because, well, she wasn’t exactly sure why, but she couldn’t seem to stop . Pretty soon, she was clutching her stomach, her body quaking and her stomach cramping as she continued to laugh with wild abandon.
    The expression on Marko’s face as he watched her only furthered her amusement.
    “I’m sorry,” she choked out, holding her hand up. “I’m…sorry.”
    But she couldn’t stop.
    She was laughing. It was a sound, a feeling, she’d forgotten.
    And then, just as suddenly as she’d started laughing, she was crying, shaking and sobbing and blubbering like an idiot in front of a total stranger.
    Her world had ended, she’d lost everyone, she’d been so sure she was going to die and she almost did, but…
    She’d been saved.
    Carrie’s thoughts slid back to before her little world had come crashing to a stop, and she began remembering all she’d planned for herself and how she’d wanted her life to go.
    Instantly calm, she glanced up at a bewildered Marko and studied him—his long black hair, brooding dark eyes framed with heavy lashes, the striking structure of his cheekbones, the strong jaw, the dusky hue of his skin. He looked like a younger, darker Joe Manganiello.
    “Do you ride motorcycles?” she asked.
    His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Uh, I rode stunt bikes in carnivals and…” He trailed off, gaping at her.
    She was laughing again, laughing and crying, releasing months of pent-up emotions—horror and grief from living in fear of the world outside her house,