Page 30 of Captured
Chapter Fifteen
Juliet
My scream is lost in the void as we fall, the wind slashing at my face, my lungs inflating impossibly in my chest. Somewhere along the way, I closed my eyes in an instinctive gesture of self-preservation.
Then all that air blows out in a single breath as a powerful impact slams me against something hard. My jaw clenches, the coppery taste of blood spreading on my tongue. My eyes shoot open and I gaze, shocked and numb as I seem to fly in midair.
Only I’m not flying. I’m dangling above the abyss, Rakir’s strong, scale-clad arm wrapped securely around me. He’s holding tight, nearly crushing me. Saving my life for the second time. Rakir’s talons are embedded deep in the rock, holding us both with a strength that baffles me. But as amazed as I am, this is no time for wonder.
I blink, turning my dazed, numbed gaze around and up.
The soldiers, or more precisely, the mercenaries, are not giving up. I can hear their shouts coming from high above and it’s not long before the first head peeks down over the cliff and right at us.
“I can see them!” a soldier shouts. “He’s holding onto the cliff.”
“Let’s see how fast that ugly mountain goat is.” I recognize the merciless tone of Captain Henrick. “Shoot them down!”
Laughter erupts as another head peeks above the rocks.
I grit my teeth. Those are just banters, but I know this type of men. They won’t give up easily, and they won’t leave a job half finished. They’ll shoot until they’re sure we’re both dead. Then they’ll come down and won’t stop looking until they find our bodies.
“Juliet.” Rakir’s rough, heavily accented voice calls my attention.
“Hold,” Rakir instructs me, his tone urgent. “Hard.”
I nod, my mind suddenly clear. It’s like shedding a thick blanket and I can see everything happening in slow, precise motion. Rakir holds me close as I move to his back, holding on to him like a small monkey, my arms wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist.
He loses no time, but even then, it’s a close call. Energy beams shoot by us, hitting the rock wall as the soldiers shoot to kill. He crawls along the wall like some sort of monstrous spider, his talons embedding in the rock, agile and strong. More energy beams shoot by us as a rain of rocks fall on our heads. I yelp in pain as they fall on my head and back, burying my face in the crook of Rakir’s neck.
The Drakian doesn’t pause, doesn’t stop. We move with a dizzying efficiency, crawling away fast. I shut myself away in my mind, holding on to the steady rhythm of Rakir’s heartbeat, allowing the strong sound to lull me into some kind of floating peace.
It seems to go on forever, hanging from Rakir’s back with my eyes closed, but finally Rakir jumps and a thud tells me we’re down. He doesn’t stop there. The movement returns as he runs and I don’t bother asking him anything. He’s faster than me, stronger than me.
He’s the only reason I’m still breathing.
The cool air of the forest makes way for the blazing sun and I finally look to see we’re back on the shore of the lake. Back to the Drakian ship.
Rakir stops only when we’re inside the control room, gently easing me down. My arms are numb and my legs buckle under me. I try to shake the weakness away, but it’s just too much.
My entire body is encased in freezing cold, ice running through my veins instead of blood. I try to talk, but the words jumble together in my brain and nothing but a pitiful whimper gets out.
Is this what shock feels like? The thought comes with some sort of detached fascination. I’ve been a soldier, a pilot fighter all my life. The path was an easy one to follow, avenging my father’s death by killing Drakians the flame that ignited my entire life.
But the last few days have turned my world upside down. Everything I thought I knew is wrong, the people I thought were on my side are killers and the monster that haunted my nights is now my lover.
I gaze at Rakir as he settles down in front of me, his scales fading to make way for the rugged, absolute beauty of his features. He doesn’t seem affected in the least by our recent brush with death. He’s like some ancient idol, too perfect to be true. Or just too perfect for humanity.
He frowns as he looks over me and concern shades his yellow eyes. He proceeds to rub my limbs with vigor, spreading heat bit by bit inside my skin and deep into my muscles. The warmth finally slithers all the way to my brain and after a few moments I can finally think.
“They were here to kill you.” I state the obvious, I know, but I need to hear it, even if I’m the one saying it. “Not me. I’m nobody. The Black Star wouldn’t come all this way just to blow me to hell. They were here for you.”
“Yes,” Rakir answers, the single word too much and not nearly enough at the same time. “For me.”
I must look better, because after a few more seconds, Rakir turns away from me to face the wall of screens that make up the command room. I keep looking at him, his perfect, muscular silhouette framed by the light. Bit by bit my brain settles down into place, my thoughts clear once again. I watch, fascinated, as Rakir’s black scales fade completely, melting into his skin like some sort of liquid. He doesn’t pay me any more attention now that I don’t blink in catatonic stupor. His fingers race across the boards of the control room, pressing buttons and flicking on tiny lights.
As I watch him a new unease spreads in my mind. I’m missing the point here. Missing a point so big it should be burning a hole in my brain.
“Why is the Black Star after you?” I approach as Rakir stares at a small screen covered in strange Drakian writing. He ignores me, focusing intensely on words I can’t read. “Who are you, really?”
