Page 12 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
Guy shakes his head apologetically. “No, sorry, you’re being served as-is,” he teases with a nod. “But I can promise you with 60% certainty thatyouarenotthe dinner in question.”
“Those are unconvincing odds.”
“When I’ve delivered prisoners to Lowell in the past, the likelihood of their return was usually 0%. He at least has a table set this time, so I think that’s a good thing!” Guy exclaims, pushing open the squeaky cell door.
I can’t help but smile at Guy’s blind optimism. He’s a bit naïve, and I doubt he even knows the breadth of heinous crimes Lowell has committed in the name of the group he serves. However, I find Guy’s airheaded nature refreshing.
Over the past week, I’ve unexpectedly let my guard down around Guy, and to my surprise, Ginny. The Nilsanian newspapers usuallydescribeGaia 4 members as bloodthirsty animals, but Guy is terrified of rabbits (and honestly, everything in general) and Ginny snorts like a pig when she laughs. All of them are so unlike Lowell, and almost pleasant to be around.
I trail behind Guy to Gaia 4’smain room without shackles, both he and Ginny no longer seeing a need to keep me restrained. I have no reason to run out into the middle of the desert, especially since there is the small promise of release.
Emphasis onsmall.Not that I’d prefer death by dehydration as an alternative, in any case.
When we enter, candles are lit at the center of a large mahogany table, a bright-red table runner spanning one end to the other. Two chipped white porcelain plates filled with extravagant foods are on either side, with crystal glasses filled with a red liquid next to them.
On one end of the table, with both arms and legs crossed and a serious expression, sits Lowell. On the other, an empty chair.
Guy ushers me forward, giving a tentative thumbs-up before scurrying away without a word. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough, his tail nearly tucked between his legs.
That’s not a good sign.
I watch Lowell’s eyes shift from Guy to me.
“Good evening,” I greet, pulling back my chair to take a seat. The cushion caresses my bottom not at all like the thin padding of the cell bed, my spine able to take in a moment of decompression.
I glance down at a plate filled with dried, cured, and cooked meats.
Not a vegetable in sight.
When I look up at Lowell, his pupils are fully dilated. The amber has been completely swallowed by deep, black pools.
Tapping a claw over his bicep, he says with intrigue, “I thought you’d be ravenous for food.”
I don’t attempt to lift my fork despite the audible rumbling in mystomach. “I don’t eat meat,” I reply plainly.
A smile of disbelief slowly spreads across Lowell’s scarred face. He hangs his head with a laugh. “Are you refusing what I have prepared? You’re quite picky for someone in your situation.”
I nod, pushing the plate away and down the runner. “Yes, I am refusing. I’ve never eaten meat in my life, and I don’t plan to start.” The stench from the meat makes my stomach turn, a frown creasing my cheeks. Lifting my chin while wrinkling my nose, I sour my expression. “Tell me why you’ve dragged me up here.”
Lowell leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. He’s watching me with such intensity that I’m beginning to believe that Guy’s joke about him wanting to eat me was not just a joke. “No need to make such a spiteful face. I actually admire your commitment to such a restrictive diet,” he sighs, brows relaxing alongside his slouched shoulders. “I’ve been pleased to hear from my second-in-command that you’re diligently assisting with the Sandpit habitat. This is nothing more than an attempt to reward and encourage your compliance,” he says, pushing his plate down the table so that it collides with mine with aclink.“I wascertainyou’d try some escape trick by now.”
My eyes go wide at the sight of Lowell’s plate. Next to a giant slab of meat lay a bountiful mound of vegetables. My mouth waters.
While I’m not ashamed to describe myself as prideful, at moments like this, when my stomach growls so loudly I nearly keel over, I wish I could ease my dignity a sliver.
I rip my attention away from the food and back to Lowell, who revels that he caught me drooling.
I dull my expression, sucking my lips into my mouth to hide them. “Why would I run? First, I would die in a matter of hours, and second, I’m not the monster you seem to think I am. I want to make things better for the animals of this continent just as much as you do. With how much you say you know me, you don’t seem to understand thatthere is more to me than what you’ve read.”
With his long reach, Lowell pulls the meat-filled plate towards his side of the table, exchanging mine with his. He leans over once more to pluck the singular slab of cooked meat from his old plate, leaving only the vegetables behind.
“I could say the same about myself, you know,” he says, digging into his food without a utensil. His fangs gnash at the meat, sloppy and loud, ripping it to shreds like a hot knife through butter.
Seeing how willing Lowell was to eat the food that was meant forme, I’m doubting all suspicions that it was tainted or drugged. But then again, it’s easy to lower your guard when you’re starving.
I bite my lip, the aroma of warm, seasoned vegetables coaxing an abundance of saliva on my tongue.
I’m tentative for many reasons, but since I left for my survey, I haven’t eaten anything other than dried rations and prison gruel. It’s not helped by the grunting noises made by Lowell feasting without care, further urging me to ignore my paranoia… and my self-respect.
