Page 50 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
I sigh. “I’m tired of you answering my questions with more questions, Lowell.”
He chuckles, amused by my irritation. “You’re no fun,” he says with a sigh. “Although I was mostly angry with you, my emotions were muddled. I invited you because I…” Hesitation hangs in his throat, reluctant to speak before finally letting himself go. “I thought I was attracted to you. I wanted to have you alone with me purely out of selfish curiosity. I loved that fiery glare in your eyes each time you scowled at me, and I wanted so badly to see it again… and again and again. More than anything, I desired to see those green eyes roll, glaring at me and filled with disgust and hatred.”
He scratches the back of his neck, timidly. “I told Ginny that dinner for you was a reward, and she advised me to send the food to your cell. I insisted on bringing you to the dining hall… and then you know the rest.”
“Wait, youthoughtyou were attracted to me?” I point out, rubbing my lips together. The lewd look I get from Lowell as I do so does not go unnoticed.
He clears his throat awkwardly. “The line between lust and hate is oddly thin.”
I hold his gaze with guarded eyes. I don’t want an answer, but I also need to know so desperately my heart may burst.
“Well… how do you feel now?”
Lowell’s pupils dilate again, spreading across his iris like a sweeping shadow. He speaks with conviction, no longer stumbling over his words. “I no longerthinkI’m attracted to you. Iam.”
The fluttering butterflies explode in my stomach, goosebumps rising over my skin. My hair stands on end.
This is really bad.
I press my palm to my cheeks, my body set ablaze. “Even after everything we just talked about? You told me I’m a murderer.”
Lowell presses his tongues to the tip of his fangs. “Takes one to know one.”
“Stop joking around. I’m being serious!” I shout, flustered.
I’m tired of him running circles around my questions, especially ones as serious as these. My heart can’t take it anymore.
Gently rolling his eyes, Lowell sways his clawed feet in sync with the lolling of his head. “If I had a good reason, I’d tell you, but I don’t. My heart doesn’t hate you nearly as much as my head, and that’s the only explanation I can offer. Sorry to say, but there isn’t some complicated romantic reason.”
Oddly enough, I feel similarly about him. The irrationality of my attraction often feels like a cosmic joke, but the strength with which it burns makes me wonder if the circumstances of our lives would have ever mattered at all. He’s arrogant, dense, and controlled by his emotions, but he’s also loyal, protective, and quick to make jests. As I continue to learn about Lowell and hear his laugh, hisses, and quips — the more his status as my enemy seems insignificant.
“How long have you felt this way?” I ask, my chest rising rapidly with anticipation.
A devilish grin pulls at Lowell’s lips, his sharp teeth reflecting in the lamplight. “When you tried to stab me with that fork.” His laugh is reminiscent-yet-filthy. “I was completely and totally captivated. Like I said, never before has a human tried to fight or resist me with such ferocity, let alone unarmed. Goddess, I was so fucking hard when you kicked me.”
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. While this man is clearly a maniac, my affection for him feverishly blossoms no matter how hard I try to fight it.
“Did you lose attraction for me when I tended to your wound? That wasn’t very ferocious of me,” I jest, nodding at his favored leg.
Lowell swipes at his lips, his split tongue branching out to either side. “Absolutely not, because I knew then that you had some sort of feelings for me too. If you didn’t, you would have let me die.”
I suck my lips into my mouth.
He laughs pointedly at my shock at being found out, sticking a claw out at me. “Sucking my cock obediently isn’t ferocious or combative either, you know. You kind of gave yourself away with that one.” His words are a low and sultry hiss. “Lucky for you, I don’t need you to fight me to get an erection, anymore.”
I shyly place my hand over my face. “You’re wrong. You have no idea how I feel about you, Lowell.”
He gives a dismissive look, one eyebrow rising. “You forget that I can smell the arousal on you, idiot. You’re not as discreet as you think you are. It smells like a damn brothel in this tent half the time.”
“Excuse me?” I gasp, my voice cracking. Embarrassment stabs at my cheeks like a thousand needles, complete mortification stinging over my skin.
Lowell bellows a laugh so hearty and deep his eyes wrinkle, his hand reaching for his side. He gasps for air, the laughter quickly dying to a soft cackle between wheezes, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
His genuine laugh is so cute.
My body reacts without thought, warmth pooling between my legs. I greedily drink in the cream-colored scales on Lowell’s nearly bare chest as it rises and falls. I’m enamored by his scars, his threatening eyes, and his claws that could cut through steel — all of which are juxtaposed by his immature attitude and goofy smile.
“I was never trying to be discreet! Your senses are invasive and unfair,” I refute, distracting myself by painting on the last layer of the metallic liquid.
