Page 30 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
Exhaling, I release all tension before closing my eyes. I prepare myself for the inevitable pain of a piercing bullet ripping through soft flesh, the pellets shredding me from the inside out. I suppose I deserve it, but I resent being felled by such a weak opponent. From the shame alone, the pain is welcomed.
But the pain never comes.
When I cautiously open my eyes, the criminal no longer has a head.
A torso and legs buckle and tumble as a crimson-speckled Lowell hunches over the remains. Swallowing a mouthful, he gapes his maw to fit the rest of the man’s body down his throat. What remains of the criminals behind Lowell is nothing but a sea of carnage and unrecognizable body parts. Some have been partially eaten while others have simply been tossed to the side. There looks to have been a struggle, but none of it was done by Lowell.
His neck muscles strain to pull the criminal’s body to his stomach, choking down the flesh like a bird swallowing a fish that is much too big. His pupils fixate on me, watching my expression as legs and feet disappear down his throat.
I don’t know the face I wear while watching him. I’ve never seen anyone beeatenlike that before. But for some reason, I find it… sexy.
My skin is kissed with flames, eyes focused on the mass of grey scales towering over me. His shadow envelops mine, cooling me off before a single bead of sweat can form.
Licking his lips, Lowell strides over to me, his hand extended. “Well, that was exciting.”
I shake myself back to reality, my hands trembling as I place it on Lowell’s palm. It’s surprisingly soft despite the scars. I decide that my quivering is from the adrenaline wearing off, rather than the overwhelming surge of lust I feel after seeing Lowell tear those men apart. The latter would be too embarrassing to think about.
“I didn’t think anyone would be here,” I say, eyeing the splashes of drying blood across his bare neck.
Lowell shrugs, lifting me to my feet with ease. “Hiding out in an abandoned restricted area is actually pretty smart. I should have expected it, though. Sorry about that,” he says while picking at his teeth with a claw.
I’m intimidated by Lowell’s nonchalance, but I try not to show it. He was not worried for a single moment during the attack, even seeming to enjoy it, and I’d rather be shot at again than show him weakness.
Lifting my chin, I swat at the grains clinging to my pants. “I’m thankful they didn’t get any piercing shots off. That could have made things a lot worse,” I say, my cheeks flushing with humiliation at my uncontrolled voice cracks.
I gasp when Lowell grips me by my waist to throw me onto the seat of the sandcycle, a laugh caught in his throat at my expression. “Yeah, you should be thankful, because otherwise, no one would have been there to save your ass.”
Blushing deeper, the corners of my mouth dip into a frown. “Well, if I didn’t shoot the only bandit who had piercing shots,” I point a finger at him, “frommy hip, mind you, you would currently havemanyholes in your chest.”
Lowell rolls his eyes, blotting blood off his chest with a spare kerchief from the sandcycle side bag. “Ah, my hero. Protecting me from a single bullet,” he says with heavy sarcasm.
I puff out my cheeks in a pout, not dignifying this asshole with a response.
He sighs in resignation, his shitty grin back in its usual place. “I’ve never seen anyone hit a moving target from such a distance before.”
“While it’s not the accolade I’m looking for, I’ll take it, for now,” I grumble, maintaining my frown.
With a smirk, Lowell grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, turning my head back and forth inspecting me. Using the clean side of the kerchief, he blots the cut on my cheek. “Now you’ve got another cut, but this one’s underneath mine. You collecting them now? Like a true outlaw?” he jests.
My tongue touches the roof of my mouth at the way he emphasizes “mine.”
I cough, swatting him away to turn my focus towards the open pass. “Yeah, right. As if they’re deep enough—” my words stutter. “What was in those weird glass globes, anyway?” I deflect, refusing to meet Lowell’s overbearing stare.
His eyes remain on me, curious. “Probably a bunch of chemicals shoved into a container. Escaped city criminals are fucking idiots.”
Ignoring the gore that litters the ground around me, I hop off the sandcycle and trot over to where the intact flasks lie. Lowell doesn’t follow me. Instead, he grunts his disapproval. I can almost hear his agitated expression.
The same brown liquid I saw before sloshes around inside the globes, but up-close, the color appears iridescent across the surface. I pop the cork off, dribbling a small amount to the ground. The liquid hisses and pops as it disappears into the sand, a small cloud of decaying stench wafting up and into my nostrils.
“You done?” Lowell shouts, impatiently leaning against the handlebars.
Not a single marker or indication of the contents is listed on the flask. Inspecting it further, I spot scratches obscuring where a manufacturer’s stamp was pressed into the glass.
“Yeah…” I finally reply, holding the flask up and pointing to it. “Can we bring this with us? I want to see its properties beneath a microscope.”
“Hell no. Get on the damn cycle, May. We’re burning daylight,” he snaps.
I place the cork back onto the bottle and a drop spills out and onto my boot. The caustic substance sizzles, but to my surprise, no damage is done. Only a light ring of white remains as the substance evaporates into the air with a puff of smoke.
