Page 24 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
Pulling the band from the braid, my hair tumbles from its confines. The ends are frayed with each strand matted like coarse twine, the dryness only exacerbated by the weather.
“I’ve always been bad at it. My grandma would do it for me,” I reply, my fingers getting stuck as I try to run my fingers through it.
With an obnoxious sigh, Lowell pats the space between his legs,stretching them out into a V. “Then sit.”
I don’t know if exhaustion, stress, or anxiety are the factors for my lowering guard, but I plop down between his legs without question, my back turned. The sand is chilly at this time of night, goosebumps spreading over my skin as a shiver runs down my spine.
At my chilled wiggle, Lowell snickers. He gently drags my hair to my back in one swipe, and I almost feel bad for my exaggerated flinch as his knuckle grazes my neck. I’m still not used to the feeling of his scales.
Slowly, Lowell runs his claws through my hair, each knot slicing apart like a warm knife through butter. I’m impressed that he doesn’t snag once, my shoulders tensed and bracing in anticipation of pain that never comes. He makes it seem so easy.
“Your hair is the color of chestnuts,” Lowell muses quietly, a hint of admiration on his tongue.
His claws scrape my skull and I shiver, this time for a different reason. The sensation of his sharp claws dragging over my skin feels divine, my lips parting in delight as my head lolls.
With an unexpected dexterity, Lowell hooks chunks of hair into the crooks of his fingers and begins to weave them into braids. I can tell he’s taking his time, my thick hair partly to blame.
“Back before Nilsan set their eyes on this area, it used to be home to many oases,” Lowell starts, his voice low and rumbling. “Some say the pools of water would glow at night, the plant life carrying a type of energy akin to electricity.” He pauses, smacking his lips. “But we’ll never know, since most of it was destroyed when Nilsan and Ataria plucked every living plant from this desert.”
I hum, ignoring his jab, and instead lean into his hands while he rakes his claws through my hair repeatedly. “Grandma told me there were fish that looked like rainbows. She said that if you touched one, it would send a painful tingle through your entire body.”
Lowell loops the final pieces of hair together at the end, securing it with a band. He lets out a longing sigh, his chest brushing against my spine. “I wish I could have seen the old world.”
I pull the braid over my shoulder, my eyebrows rising in shock at how sleek it appears. I wouldn’t have expected such a high level of precision from such offensively designed hands, nor the tenderness.
“Thank you,” I say with a faint smile, bumping Lowell’s chest.
I jump when his snout blows air in my ear, his voice a sultry whisper. “You’re very welcome.”
Heat rises from my body like the kindling of a newly started fire, and I swallow shakily. Rolling my lips between my teeth, my cheek brushes against Lowell’s nose as I turn to face him. When I capture his gaze, his pupils are large. Obsidian devours the small ring of amber.
My heart palpitates, drawing in a sharp inhale to fill my lungs.
My heart is beating too fast.
Eyes that once stared at me in anger and hunger now appear almost… inviting. So beautiful in the moonlight that I can nearly see my reflection. I wonder what they would look like if they saw me undress.
I snap my gaze forward.
What the hell am I thinking?
Suddenly pushing to my feet, I keep my face turned away from Lowell, and most importantly, out of the light. I have no doubt my beet-red face would give away my current swelling of emotions.
“What are you doing out here, anyway?” I ask, voice cracking with nerves.
I hear Lowell shifting his position in the sand, but I don’t look. There is sounds of metal clinking as he resumes working on the sandcycle.
“Your feet could barely reach the footrest, so I’m raising them,” he says plainly.
My chest squeezes in a way it shouldn’t, my lower abdomen warming in a way that itdefinitelyshouldn’t be.
“Ah, I see,” I say. My cheeks flush deeper.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s so you can balance yourself properly when firing your crossbow, not because I care about your comfort,” Lowell says with a hint of playfulness. It’s hard to tell if he’s telling the truth or not.
I push the tip of my shoes into sand, swaying my hips. “I could shoot a target while falling off a cliff. Don’t concern yourself with my aim.”
Lowell laughs, his low, gravelly, hissing voice sounding like music. “Alright, then. Don’t disappoint me tomorrow.”
