Page 17 of Captured
Tired of the fight but unwilling to give her another chance at running, Gra’ar turned and walked back into the room they’d crashed into, keeping the little omega held to his chest, her feet dangling above the floor. Stopping next to his flare, he loosened the grip in her hair and moved his hand to her wrist. With a quick movement of his other hand to the opposite wrist, he dropped her, then with a leg across her ankles, he had her on the floor.
Flea screamed and kicked her feet as he knelt over her, pinning both hands to her lower back. She glared over her shoulder, hurling curses at him that would make most soldiers blanche, though it only made his grin grow wider. Pulling a set of thick cuffs from the pouch at his belt, he had her shackled in less than a minute.
Gra’ar released his hold on her hands though he remained kneeling over her, watching her struggle. He couldn’t help the chuckle that rolled from him at the useless fight. Her bucking did nothing more than rub her plush bottom against his erection, and he was tempted to lean down and grind it into her, but her flailing foot caught his wing and jarred him back to task.
Climbing to his feet, he reached down and snagged her remaining boot. He’d lost the one he carried in the rush to catch her so it was nothing more than another weapon, and taking it from her would help slow her down when she tried to run again.
When.
He knew it wasn’t an if. Flea was every bit the nuisance the Director had claimed she’d be. Gra’ar had been skeptical, but after her flight and her reaction, he was willing to believe.
“Go ahead and wear yourself out, Flea. We’re going to be here for a while.”
Stepping over her, he moved to the door and pulled it shut. There was no lock on it, but it would at least slow her for a moment, and it would help give him warning if something came for them. The window on the opposite side of the empty room was boarded over, so there was no other escape route for her to take unless she could magically jump up through the new hole in the roof.
He had no idea what kind of building they were in. They had fallen into a single room, with the single window and door, which likely meant it had been some type of office. He knew they weren’t on the ground floor though, since he’d aimed to land on one of the taller buildings he could see as they fell. With his wings already tired from the drain of the cold there had been no way to catch Flea and land them safely. Even at the best of times, carrying the weight of another person was something he could only do for short distances. All he’d hoped for was to break their fall before picking up more momentum, preferably without breakingthem.
He cast a glance over his shoulder from the hole in the roof to his dragging wing. While they’d mostly landed in one piece, he hadn’t quite managed not to break anything. The burning pain of the tear was a nuisance, but the lack of feeling along the top edge of his wing was the real issue.
Muscles twitched in response as he looked it over. The heavy bone along the forward edge of the wing seemed intact, but he couldn’t get it to move which suggested he’d dislocated it.
Grimacing, he turned to face Flea again. He had to get the bone back into the socket as soon as possible, but it was going to be hard to do on his own. An extra set of hands would help, but despite being silent now, the look she aimed at him told him how useful she was willing to be.
“How do you know my name?”
He ignored the question as he took hold of his useless limb. Pulling the main bone upright behind his shoulder, he backed toward the edge of the doorframe. It took both hands to maneuver the wing into alignment, the muscles of his back and shoulders screaming protest as he pulled it. Sucking in a deep breath and adjusting his stance until the pressure from the doorjamb was in the right place, he slammed himself backward as hard as he could as he yanked his wing toward the ceiling.
His roar reverberated through the room, but the relief was almost instant. Shrugging his shoulders as the top of his wing tingled with renewed sensation, he gave himself a shake before sliding down to sit on the floor. Back to the door, there was no way the minx could slip by him even if she managed to get to her feet.
“Because I was sent for you,” he finally responded.
Flea had flinched when he cried out, but she glared at him once again. Rolling to her side, she pushed herself into a sitting position before scooting herself backward to the opposite wall.
“By who?”
Gra’ar’s brow quirked as he tugged the end of his torn wing around into his lap. It was an awkward position that strained the already sore muscles, but he couldn’t leave the flap of skin dangling. Digging in his thigh pocket for the med kit he always carried, he fished out a needle and thread, apparently taking too long for Flea’s patience.
“Who sent you after me? How did you find me?”
He glanced up at her before going back to his task. Smoothing the flap into its proper place, he shoved the needle through his skin.
“Director Deveraux. I believe you know each other?”
He couldn’t help the smirk as he glanced up at her again between stitches. The sting of the needle was nothing compared to some of the injuries he’d taken in his time, but it was nice to have something to distract himself with anyway, and her expression was priceless.
Flea grumbled under her breath, the words running together to the point where it was hard to make out what she was saying, but the meaning was clear enough.
“So you’re going to be a good little soldier and drag the omega back where she belongs so she can be sold off to the next highest bidder? Isn’t he tired of me yet? How is anyone still willing to bid?”
Gra’ar chuckled, shaking his head as he tied off the last stitch and released his wing. It wasn’t pretty, but it would hold long enough for the skin to stitch back together as long as he didn’t try to fly.
“He’s more than tired of you. At this point I’d say he’s willing to pay someone to take you off his hands. I’m fairly certain you’ve used all your free passes.”
With the light from the flare dying down between them it was hard to say, but he thought he saw a flash of worry in her eyes. Her expression turned wary before reverting back to sullen anger.
“Can’t you just let me go and say you couldn’t find me? I’m more trouble than I’m worth, I assure you.”
Gra’ar chuckled again, shuffling into a more comfortable position. He’d much rather lay on his belly to spare his wings the pressure, but he didn’t trust the female across from him.
