Enjoy Chapter three of my alien abduction science fiction romance, CAPTIVE. Click here to read Chapter One. Click here to read Chapter Two.
An abducted cop and a gladiator prisoner must learn to trust each other with their lives…and their hearts…to escape their alien captors.
CAPTIVE
Chapter Three
Not the best way to seduce a woman.
Dammit. He didn’t have much time to begin with, and now he’d waste more by starting over.
“I...um...I need a bathroom.” Her words brought him out of his thoughts.
He pointed to the corner.
“Nuh-uh. No way. I need a real bathroom, not a flowerpot.”
Looking at the toilet, he realized she was right. Not only was it shaped like a giant flowerpot, but it was also that same ugly orange color. After fifteen years, he’d forgotten how different—how strange—everything looked. Used to it, he rarely thought about home.
Who was he kidding? He never thought about home. Until now.
Damn woman.
He’d spent too long forgetting that life. Yet the best way to win her trust was to take her mind off this place, this situation.
“You’re right. It does look like a flowerpot. Unfortunately, that’s the only real bathroom we have.”
* * *
Even though he stood at the opposite corner facing the wall, Addy shielded her body with a sheet. She sat with a painful bladder ready to burst, but it was no use.
“I can’t go with you standing there.”
“Since I can’t leave, how about I cover my ears and whistle?”
“That might work.”
When he covered his ears, she couldn’t help but notice those ripped, bronzed shoulders. If the guy had been a sex slave for fifteen years, how come he was muscular? And tanned? Did the Hyboreans let them outside?
Whistling the beginning of a late eighties power ballad, Max swayed his head and hips, and his sheet rocked with him. He was awfully happy and relaxed for being a sex slave. Poor guy. Apparently, he’d accepted this horrible existence.
Well, she didn’t. When she got out of here, she’d set him and everyone else free.
When she was finished, she hit the button she assumed was the flusher. A transparent lid whooshed closed, a red light flashed inside, and everything in the pot disintegrated. She barely heard the whoosh of the lid opening over Max’s very loud, very high-pitched singing. “I ain’t got time for the game—”
“Pretty high-tech toilet for a cult.” She secured her blanket.
He kept on rocking his hips and singing.
Stepping right behind him, she shouted, “Hey, rock star, where’s the sink?”
When Max turned to face her, he flashed a playful boyish grin, and her breath caught. She couldn’t help but return the smile. If she weren’t trapped against her will, being with this gorgeous man wouldn’t be that bad.
He strutted to one of the pitchers, picked it up, and sniffed it before holding it out to her. The clear liquid had a pungent cleanser type odor. “This one’s for washing.” He handed it to her, took the other pitcher, sniffed, and then held it under her nose. This time she smelled nothing. “This one’s for drinking. Don’t get them mixed up.”
He set the drinking pitcher down and, taking the other one from her, led her to the “flowerpot.” His large, warm hands positioned hers over the pot before he poured liquid over them. “Rub them together and let them air-dry. There’s your sink.” He pressed the button, and the noise ripped through the awkward silence.
“Umm...how about a hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant?”
“None of that in here. You can take a swig of this, gargle, and spit. Kills the germs pretty good.”
“But you said not to get the two pitchers mixed up.”
“I said spit, not swallow. Relax. It won’t kill you or anything. It’ll just give you the— er...stomach problems?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Gotcha. What else can you tell me?” If she pumped him for information, maybe she could figure a way out.
He set the pitcher down. “How about you tell me something.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Where in Northern California are you from?”
“We’re trapped in a box together against our will, and you want to chitchat?”
“Would you prefer sex?” His devilish grin set his vivid eyes twinkling with lust. “I would.”
Adrenaline surged within her, but she didn’t retreat. She held his gaze. “I prefer to get out.”
“You don’t find me attractive?” His wounded tone tugged at her heartstrings.
Manipulative bastard. She decided not to answer. Instead, she crouched by the fireplace. “What’s that?” Addy pointed to a glowing red cube the size of a dice behind the dark embers. It was too small to have noticed before now.
He crouched next to her, invading her personal space. “Furnace.”
“That little thing’s a furnace?”
“You’d be surprised,” his intense gaze didn’t leave hers, “how one little thing can heat up an entire room.”
Uncomfortably aware of the heat between them, Addy cleared her throat. She peered up inside the fireplace.
“There’s no flue,” he said, though he hadn’t been looking up.
“I can see that.” What kind of fireplace had no flue or at least a vent? She pulled her head out and scanned the barren walls. “If we got in, there has to be a way out.”
“There isn’t.” Max threw a log into the fireplace. It immediately ignited without help from a match or lighter.
What was with all the high-tech gadgetry? And why did he need a fire if the furnace was red-hot? “Then how did the food get in here this morning?”
“There’s a door”—Max stood and pointed to the wall behind her—“but it’s controlled from the outside.”
She ran her hand along the wall and down its corners, looking for a crack where the door might be.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the wall, and looked at the ceiling, bored. “Do you seriously believe I’ve been stuck here this long and haven’t already tried everything you’re thinking? I’m telling you there’s no way out of this room unless they let you out.”
“Has anybody ever escaped?”
“Not from this—”
“I mean from out there. You said we’re only in here until we…you know.”
“Yes, I know. I know very well.”
Ignoring the innuendo, she pointed to the wall. “Has anyone ever tried escaping from out there?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
“And?”
Max’s eyes hardened. “He failed.” He strode to the other side of the space with fists clenched. She heard his intake of breath and the slow release before singing about having a little patience.
“What happened to him?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Good. If he wasn’t going to help them get out of here, then let him be frustrated.
“You want to know what happened? He escaped. He got caught. He was killed. That’s it.” Again, he spoke in that monotone card-game-directions voice.
“You know, you’re a real pain in the ass.” She hoped her anger hid the terror coursing through her. The cult murdered the people who tried to escape? She clamped her teeth together to keep her jaw from trembling.
Max sauntered toward her, a knowing smirk on his face. “And you,” he began in a sultry tone, “are even more beautiful when you’re fired up.”
The sudden one-eighty change in his demeanor caught her off guard. Her fear-thudding heart now flipped in excitement. He’d obviously practiced that voice more than a few times.
Max ran a finger up the length of her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. She stepped back. How the heck did he turn on the bedroom eyes that fast? “Don’t,” she breathed.
“It’s why we’re here.”
“What about your song, ‘Patience’?”
He moved closer. “I ran out.”
She bumped the wall next to the fireplace. The smoke’s unusual fragrance seeped inside her head, making her dizzy. Or was the dizziness due to Max, half naked, closing in on her, desire burning in his eyes?
Maybe if she kept him talking, he’d change his mind. “How many times have you done this?” Idiot. Don’t talk about sex!
Stepping too close, he tilted and bowed his head seductively. “Enough to know how to satisfy you.”
Her belly quivered. No doubt he told the truth. Heat from the fireplace coursed through her body, warming her most secret places. She slid along the wall, her heart thumping like a jackrabbit’s. Her throat dried. She couldn’t look away from his penetrating eyes. His sleek, muscular body moved like a bobcat stalking his prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce and tear into her.
Was it wrong that a small, wild part wanted him to? No doubt the sex would be awesome.
What was she thinking? It didn’t matter that Max was hot. It didn’t even matter that her body responded to his sexual prowess. She didn’t know him, and she didn’t want to have sex for some murderous cult. And she sure as hell didn’t want to get pregnant by a man who slept with countless women and fathered— “How many babies have you made?”
He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “No idea.”
“You’ve been a sex slave for fifteen years, and you don’t know if you have kids?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I were sterile.” He rested his hands on the wall, trapping her between thick arms.
Anyone emanating masculinity and sex like he did couldn’t be sterile. His lips, mere inches from hers, tempted her to taste him. Their breath mingled in sensual intimacy. If she could glance away it might break the trance, but his gaze held hers captive. She swallowed. “Doesn’t it bother you to know you have children out there somewhere?”
He paused. A far-off look clouded his eyes. Was he backing down?
With a shake of his head, the lustful eyes returned. “No more talking. It distracts from the seduction.”
“But I—” His mouth, soft yet powerful, covered hers. Liquid heat flooded her veins. His lips coaxed hers open, offering a sampling of his fruit-sweetened tongue. Then, slowly, he withdrew.
Breathless and trembling, she couldn’t move. Her mouth tingled from his five o’clock shadow. Never in her twenty-three years had anyone’s kiss equaled Max’s sensuous hunger. Never had her body reacted with this level of intensity. She couldn’t get any wetter if she stood in the rain.
The room swayed as if she were tipsy. Lightheaded.
His sexy half-smile spoke of unleashed desire. “Don’t be afraid.”
Supercharged, her body revved on the starting line, waiting for her brain to give the green light. But the signal never changed. Her thoughts chanted: Sex. Slavery. Selling babies.
He planted soft kisses on her neck.
Shivers shot throughout her body. Her nipples tightened with the need to be touched. Her head spun with drunken passion. She closed her eyes, lost in carnal desire. In one swoop, he lifted her into his arms and carried her two strides to the pillow mattress. The soft bedding cradled her backside.
“Please, Max. I can’t do this. I don’t know you. I don’t love you.”
“None of that matters to the Hyboreans.” He removed the sheet from his hips, and her breath hitched at the sight of him in all his naked glory. “Just relax and go with it, and they won’t hurt us.”
She barely had time to register his words before his heavy body covered hers. His kiss hijacked all thoughts except one. Would sleeping together really be a bad thing?
He tugged on her toga, slipped a warm hand inside, and brushed his fingertips up the side of her breast. Goose bumps tingled her flesh, tightening her nipples. Her body yearned to be explored.
How could she feel this aroused by a man she’d just met?
Sex. Slavery. Selling babies.
Hot, hungry kisses trailed down her neck, throat, and over her breasts.
“No,” she whispered.
“We have to.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You don’t understand. Trust me. Just go with it.” His lips were on hers again, probably to shut her up.
Addy wriggled to get free, but the toga opened, and his erection pressed hard against her.
Heat radiated from the deep center of her tightening belly. She barely heard herself gasp above her heart pounding against him. He obviously thought he could make her change her mind, and perhaps under different circumstances he could have. Lord knows she shamefully wanted him. It was as if she were intoxicated with lust.
Wait. Was she intoxicated?
Had he slipped a date rape drug into her breakfast?
She clenched her jaw so tightly it ached. Her ears pounded. Angry heat coursed through her, waking her from her sexual stupor. “Did you drug me?”
He didn’t answer.
“Get off of me, Max.”
A knee slipped between her thighs, nudging her legs apart.
She couldn’t shove his rock-solid body off. “I said get off, you fucking animal!”
Max froze. His dead weight crushed her chest. He looked down in disbelief, as though he too had awakened from a spell and realized what he was doing. The next instant he jumped off.
Precious air rushed into her lungs. She covered up with the blanket and scooted against the wall, putting as much distance between them as possible.
Staring at her, horrified, Max backed to the other side of the room. He stepped left, then right, then back again, as if he didn’t know in which direction to go. Not that he could go anywhere anyway.
He kicked the metal bowls and pitchers, launching them into the walls with a powerful crash. They ricocheted off, painting the room with pink splatters and black goop. Liquid mixed into the black breakfast pulp and streaked down the walls like mascara tears.
She pulled the blanket tight and coiled into a ball, crushing her back against the wall, wishing to melt into it, watching him through dry, unblinking eyes.
“You’re right. I’m nothing more than an animal.” He back-kicked the wall with enough force that Addy felt the vibrations on her side of the room.
He rubbed his hands hard up his face, into his hair, and let his shoulders fall against the wall. “I can’t delude myself any longer.” Slowly, his body slid down until he was crouched on the floor. Their gazes met, and for the first time since he had washed her hands over the flowerpot, he saw not a sex object, but her. Addy Dawson.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Saying nothing, she stared with what must have been a stupid look on her face at his distraught eyes. Her heart ached in empathy for him.
Him? Her cheeks flamed. How could she feel sorry for him?
She had seen his sexual desire. She had felt his strength. She hadn’t been able to fight him off. The only reason she was whole right now was because he stopped. He stopped because she called him an animal. It wasn’t much of an insult, but it apparently hit a nerve.
“I won’t force myself on you,” he said. “I refuse to be their stud.”
His eyes filled with anguish she didn’t understand. Anguish that came from someplace other than his attack. Whatever the cult had done to him in the past, this incident was merely his last straw.
The muscles in his face hardened with hate. He jumped to his feet and pounded on the wall. “Listen up,” he shouted to whoever was on the other side. “I’m through being your goddamn stud. I’m through being your alpha gladiator. Fuck your consequences. And fuck you.”
Another kick sent the bowl crashing into the wall. “Torture some other Earthling, you alien bast—”
Zap! Max grunted in pain, clutched his choker, and stumbled backward. A longer zap, and he fell to the floor, motionless.
A second passed before Addy blinked. A second passed before she breathed. A second passed before she remembered last night’s paralyzing pain. Fingering her own choker, she didn’t wish that agony on anyone. Would he be okay?
She heard his labored breaths above her own frightened panting. He was alive. But was he paralyzed? Blind?
Damn her emergency training. As terrified as she was, she couldn’t remain clenched up in a tight ball. She had to help him. She leaned forward to crawl toward Max when a silent blast of cold, white fog surged behind him as if a smoke bomb had detonated. Instead of inducing a coughing fit or making her eyes sting, it enveloped her in its icy embrace.
Her heart thundered. Her gut clenched. She shivered from the cold and fear. Would the cult murder them?
Through the vapor, a monstrous, furry, gray arm reached in, grabbed Max by the ankle, and yanked his naked body out.
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Romance with a rebel heart
I'm enjoying a revisit to this world and the dynamics between Addy and Max. I think it's been quite some time since I read Captive.
ReplyDeleteDid you read the first publication of it (pink cover with the sword published with Forever Yours) or this publication of it after my rights reverted? It it was the first, then you might notice some changes including 2 additional scenes from Max's POV. :)
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