Page 4 of Angel Captive

“Hello?” My voice bounced off the walls and my head pounded. I pressed my hands to my temples as the memories flashed through my mind.

Melody!Was she here? What had the fuckers done to her?

“Hey, shitheads, answer me!” I stood, holding out my hands as I shuffled forward. “I demand you tell me where my friend is.” And where the hell I was. What did they even want with me? Organ harvesting? I shuddered.

“Shut up,” yelled a muffled male voice. It echoed and sounded like it came from another room.

“Hello?” I said. “Who are you?”

“The king of the universe now shut the fuck up.”

I kept moving forward, my hands striking metal. Bars? I curled my hands around them and yanked forward and back, trying to open them, but they didn’t budge.

I felt along the wall, the bars shifted to a stone wall and I followed it around until reached the metal again. No windows. Only one way out. I was in a twelve-by-fifteen-foot prison. I peered out the barred door, but it was pitch black out there. I stretched a hand out as far as I could for another door or something. But I only felt empty air. I trailed myhands down the bars for a lock. Nothing. It must be at the top and electronic. I could do electronics. Whatever idiots had kidnapped me, they didn’t know who they were dealing with. I could make anything with a computer or wires work.

I clamped my hands on the bars and climbed up a foot. My arms shook. God, this was harder than it looked. I gritted my teeth and hauled myself up another half inch and I still hadn’t reached the top of the door. Just how high was this thing? Then another thought zapped into my mind... what kind of beings did they imprison in here to have such tall cells?

Pushing down my morbid imagination, I eased up another hair. My legs and arms strained to keep me up. How was I going to reach the mechanism to unlock the door if I had to hold on with everything I had? Sweat coated my palms and I started to slip.

“No, no, no.” I gritted my teeth, holding on. All I had to do was reach the device and figure out what the locking mechanism was. Maybe even pop the case off and expose the wires. “I am not staying here another moment.”

Suddenly hands grasped my arms from behind and I yelled out.

I was yanked off the bars and pulled to a muscled, male chest.

“Cut it out, Sofria.” His voice was a deep, rich hue.

The kind that made me melt whenever I listened to audiobooks. The timbre was so sensual that he could read a grocery list and I’d be drooling.

Except his hands were squeezing my arms painfully. “Ow, you’re hurting me. Fucking let me go.”

His grip eased a fraction, but he didn’t release me. I twisted and tried to jerk free from his iron grip. In the hallway, fluorescent lights hummed on, and I blinked against the sudden brightness. Curses shouted from nearby and I guessed I wasn’t the only one light-blinded.

My assailant tossed me aside with a growl, and I landed hard on the stone floor. My hands splayed out to keep from smashing my nose on the stone floor.

“Thanks, asshole.” I stood and faced him. My breaths stalled in my chest. The guy—correction, alien—was at least six foot seven with muscles everywhere. Sawed-down black horns that curled up out of his head and dark, purple wings. Damn, he was fine. He looked like a cross between a muscled angel, a demon, and whatever pretty, purple birds were called.

He strode over to me, getting so far into my space that I scrambled back a bit before I caught myself.

“Hey, back off, buddy.”

“You are not Sofria.” His brow furrowed, highlighting the amethyst of his eyes.

Gods above, my favorite color.

“Um, no.” I ran a hand down my sides. My clothes were gone, and I wore a dingy yellow prison uniform. I didn’t even want to know who changed my clothes.

“Then I am sorry if I hurt you.” His wings pressed against his back with a soft whoosh sound.

“What did this Sofria do to piss you off so much?”

Several emotions crossed his face that I couldn’t decipher before his mask returned. Now that the light was on in the hallway, I could make out more of his features. Dark brown hair, tanned skin, a full mouth. But there were also bruises, cuts, and scars.

“Did she do that?” I pointed to the gash over his eye that was crusted with blood.

He grunted and stomped to the back of the cell.

“Are you just going to lay there and go to sleep?” was this some weird survivor rendition and he’d been instructed not to help me? Except, I’d seen the depth of his emotions, he couldn’t be that great of an actor for a low-budget show. I’d seen too many of those to know.

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