Page 16 of Captured
Chapter Nine
Juliet
He walks remarkably fast for a man who’s carrying a not-so-small woman over his shoulder, but then again, he’s not a man. He’s an alien. A Drakian.
My enemy.
As I wake, we are coming back to the shore, and finally to the large underbelly of the ship. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate, he just walks in there, unfettered by the liquid darkness inside the hallways. The bioluminescent circles have gone dark, having run out of energy as did the rest of his ship. I don’t even try to memorize the way out as he makes his way inside. I can’t remember any of it, not with the speed he walks coupled with the fact that I’m hanging from his back.
My head hurts from hanging upside down and I’m slightly nauseous when the Drakian finally flips me back on my feet. He doesn’t let me go, though, but there’s no fight left in me. I sit down like a rock, with no intention of ever rising up.
I can hear him move around me in the dark like some nocturnal animal. Like a demon, needing no light to clear his path.
Then light comes. A faint green glow spreads across the room, small circles illuminating on the ceiling and the floors. He found a way to recharge the bioluminescent lights after all.
He looks like a nightmare. Black scales cover every inch of his impossibly muscular body, and yellow eyes, blazing like doorways to Hell reflect the low light. There’s a grace to him, something utterly deadly yet beautiful, a raw power. Like the destructive beauty of thunder.
He turns to me, something in his hands. It’s too dark, I can barely see.
Then, he’s too close when I finally know what it is.
“No!” I protest, but it’s too late. He grips my wrists and the shackles click. One end locks to my left wrist and the other locks around a large metal rod, bolted to some huge built-in chest of drawers. “What the fuck? Let me go, you animal!”
I tug on the shackles, the metallic sound bouncing in the shadowy room, but it’s no use. I’m not getting out of it. I stop fighting. I’ve already lost, so what’s the point?
“You.” The Drakian points at me and I just blink, uncomprehending. “Name.”
“You want my name?” I scoff, then immediately regret it as his brows furrow, casting threatening shadows over his features. “What for?”
Yellow eyes stare at me and he straightens, crossing his arms. Waiting. Somehow, him just staring at me like that makes me squirm even more than his snarls and growls. I have no doubt he will punish me if I don’t give him what he wants. Plus, my name isn’t exactly classified information.
“Juliet,” I mutter. “My name is Juliet.”
“Juliet.” He repeats my name, cocking his head just a tad to the side. It’s weird how endearing it is, the way he cocks his head to the side when he’s really listening. Nothing should be endearing about him. He’s nothing but a bloodthirsty monster.
Only he’s not, is he? He’s done nothing I expected him to and everything I thought a Drakian wouldn’t. He repeats my name a few times and hearing it in his voice, I have this strange feeling that it sounds right.
I’m going fucking crazy.
“Now you,” I ask, lifting my chin, trying to hide the heat spreading in my belly at the sound of my name on his lips. When he doesn’t react, my temper flares and I’m suddenly mad. He took everything he wanted from me, at every turn, and he won’t even tell me his name?
“Or do you prefer I call you motherfucker?” I snarl, my tone biting. His brows furrow some more and I know he might not understand everything I say, but he gets the point. I just insulted him.
The Drakian bends, crouching in front of me. I recoil, pushing with my heels, molding my body to the cold steel wall. My nakedness is even more obvious this way, making me feel even smaller as I press my body to the wall. I feel like a mouse in front of a lion. He doesn’t show any sign that my pitiful display of fear affects him in the least. There’s no mercy to be expected there.
His hand shoots out, long, strong fingers gripping my chin. He forces me to look at him, his hold almost bruising.
“No.” The word has some bite into it, the threat unveiled. I don’t need a translator to understand he means no insults. I swallow, twice.
Then I nod.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” I speak low, but there’s no more challenge in my voice. After all, it’s not like I have anything to gain by making him hurt me. “I’d just like to know your name.” Then I add. “Please.”
The Drakian straightens, his imposing height towering above me.
“Rakir.” The word sounds just as alien as he is, the syllables musical and deep, rolling. It’s a strong name, masculine and proud.
“Rakir.” I nod my understanding as he looks down on me. “I need clothes.”
