Page 13 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
Ah, fuck it.
I pick up the fork and spear a floret of roasted broccoli. Ground peppercorn sprinkled along the crown falls to the vegetables below as I lift the green floret closer, the steam warming my face. When I place it in my mouth, I’m taken to heaven. The flavor and texture explode across my taste-buds with such intensity I close my eyes, lolling my head back as my shoulders relax. I chew slowly to savor the taste, a moan bubbling up from my throat.
The table shakes suddenly and my eyes shoot open. Lowell grips the edge of the table tightly, his gaze dark-yet-observant.
I swallow, nerves building in my abdomen.
Maybe he really will eat me. He looks troubled.
I clear my throat, correcting my slouched posture. I should have never let my guard drop. I do the only thing I can think to ease thetension: deflect.
“So, what makes you think I’m some sort of villain? Or is your disdain only because of my involvement in the Misya Swamp project? I’m not the only one to blame, you know,” I point out, shoveling another forkful of vegetables into my mouth. I sigh deeply with delight.
Lowell exhales so fiercely it lifts the cloth runner’s edges right off the table. He looks like he’s barely listening to me speak, his eyes glossed-over and pupils wide.
I continue to chew, aware of Lowell as he follows the path of my hand while it brings my fork from the plate to my lips.
After a few moments, he replies to my question. “Your failure to do your job is the reason the project continued. Nilsan does not have the earth’s best interest in mind, so anyone involved is my enemy. It’s as simple as that.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Do you invite all your enemies to dinner, then?”
Lowell breaks his focus on me by sloppily tossing the large, dripping slab of meat into his maw. Just like before, his teeth slice through it like paper. The meat slides down his throat with minimal chewing, the juices dripping down his chin and chest. “I need your expertise and compliance right now more than I want you dead. Unless you’d like to go back to your cell without dinner? That can be arranged, if you’d like.”
I purse my lips into a pout, stabbing my fork into a roast carrot that I fantasize is Lowell’s hand. Now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t want to let it go easily. Even if holding my tongue is a challenge.
Taking my silence as an answer, he continues, “Don’t misinterpret my intentions.” His growling, hissing voice turns unusually quiet. “It was Ginny who insisted I treat you to a proper meal. She’s convinced that improving your mood will inspire ideas, and I trust her judgment. If I had it my way, you wouldn’t be eating at all.”
I snort in amusement. Lowell’s tone sounds as if Ginny scolded himlike a parent would a child.
“If you want to improve my mood, don’t force me to be around you,” I sass, placing a carrot between my teeth.
Lowell smirks. “Because you’re afraid of me.”
He somehow thinks there are lines to be read between. Well, he’s right, but I don’t want him to know that.
“Because you’re insufferable,” I say as a cover, the sentiment just as true.
Lowell roars a laugh, standing from his chair. He rips the green bandana from his neck and tosses it to the ground, the thick muscles of his throat now exposed. “No, May, Iknowyou’re afraid of me.” He points a claw to his Adam’s apple, dragging it down to his collarbone. “You’re terrified you’ll end up here. I can smell it on you.”
I avert my eyes, my heart rate quickening as he approaches. Claws scrape against the ground as he walks, thundering steps shaking the glasses on the table.
I inhale, collecting my nerves. Guy warned me to play nice, but the adrenaline pumping through my blood telling me to run and fight makes the words difficult to heed. Suppressing fear is no longer my choice.
Lowell halts a few inches from me, hunched and intimidating. He tilts his head, huffing a loud breath through his flared nostrils.
My body trembles at his increased proximity, legs quivering uncontrollably beneath the table.
Don’t panic. He needs me. He won’t hurt—
He slams his fist on the table.
I cringe in reaction.
“Look at me, May,” he growls.
I reluctantly drag my gaze to meet his face. His irises are nearly glowing, his nostrils flared and his jaw tight.
“The Sandpit’s time is running out, which meansyourtime is runningout. I’m already more than aware of your failed efforts, so don’t push me more than you’ll regret,” Lowell hisses, his fist tightening. “The only thing keeping you alive is the organ between your ears. You don’t want to be useless to me, and Goddess forbid,don’tpiss me off. Got it?”
