Captured (The Captive Series Book 1)

by Erica Stevens

  ***

  Braith stared up at the young girl before him. Her eyes were as big as saucer’s, unblinking, completely bewildered as she silently gazed at him. His hand lingered on her leg, brushing briefly against her supple skin. The dark bruises and scratches marking her were vivid against her pale complexion. He didn’t know what had caused the obvious abuse that she had withstood, but he found that he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He didn’t know what it was about this girl, but she intrigued him in a way that no one ever had before.

  She was a pretty enough thing now that the layers of dirt and grime had been removed from her body. She smelled better now that the smoke, blood, and stench of body odor had been effectively scrubbed away. He detected a faint hint of strawberries clinging to her hair, even though they had washed her body in some flowery scent that he found didn’t suit her. She was not one to be wreathed in fragile flowers; she appeared anything but delicate as she watched him from hooded eyes. He sensed that beneath her outward, docile demeanor there was something far more intense, and far stronger than the way she was trying to appear now. Her powerful scent, despite the floral clinging to her skin, was a great indicator of that fact.

  Her features were pleasant, delicate even, but not refined. Her parted mouth was full, her teeth straight and even, and surprisingly white for the lack of hygiene she had displayed upon arrival. Her crystalline blue eyes were full of disbelief, trepidation, and uncertainty. Yet, they also appeared intrigued and curious as she tilted her head to study him. Her hair, scrubbed free of its dirt coating was not a lackluster brown, but a glossy dark auburn and it gleamed in the brightness of the room. The red streaks within it were lustrous, deep and vivid. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen a shade quite like it.

  Though she was far from ugly, he still didn’t understand what had driven him to claim her. He had seen women far more beautiful than her in his extended lifetime. She was too skinny, her collarbone stuck sharply out, the bones in her hands were clearly visible. He preferred his women with more meat on them, but from the look of her upon arrival, it was more than apparent that her life was not one of abundance and pleasure like the women he was used to.

  From the moment he had seen her, actually seen her, he’d been consumed by the need to have her. There had been nothing spectacular about the stage setup, or the people upon it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a single person on it, until she’d been brought forth. He hadn’t even planned to pause at the auction. He had no use for blood slaves, there were enough willing people in the world without having to take blood from the unwilling ones, but when she’d been led forth he had stopped dead in his tracks.

  She had been unremarkable, filthy, disgusting, and bold. Defiance and pride had radiated from her. They were a beacon calling out to him, snagging hold of his attention as nothing in years had. At first he had barely seen her, but the longer he stared at her, the clearer she had become to him.

  He sat back now, tilting his head as he watched her. She studied him with the same intensity with which he studied her, but they studied each other for completely different reasons. She wondered about her fate, what he was going to do with her, and what he sought from her. He studied her because he could actually see her. It was not only completely mind-boggling to him, but also a little disconcerting.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Her melodious voice was low, her forehead furrowed as her gaze ran over him.

  Braith tossed the nuisance heels aside before he rose to his feet. Her lips parted, her head tipped back to stare at him. “What is your name?” he inquired.

  She licked her lips nervously, her small hands pulled at the sleeves of the sweater as she fidgeted anxiously. There were small nicks and cuts on her fine boned fingers, calluses marred the palms of her tanned hands. “Arianna.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, quirking his head to study her. “Is that your real name?”

  A small smile flitted over the edges of her full mouth, for the first time he saw real humor in her eyes. “Yes.”

  He found that he believed her as he settled onto the sofa beside her. Though she tensed, she didn’t move away from him. “I’m Braith.”

  She nodded, her gaze distrustful again as she looked him up and down with shrewd and assessing eyes. “So I’ve heard. Why am I here?”

  “I don’t know yet, Arianna.”

  Trepidation flashed through her eyes, she recoiled slightly before insolence blazed hotly from her. “Everything you do to me will be done by force,” she declared.

  Her defiance should annoy him (she had already defied him more today than anyone ever had in his life), but he found himself somewhat amused by it right now. If no one else was around, he found he didn’t mind her show of courage. He would not tolerate it in front of others again though. “You think so?” He was far more interested in seeing her reaction to his words than her actual response though.

  She looked surprised, but quickly covered it up. “I know so!” she retorted sharply.

  He shrugged indifferently. He didn’t know what he wanted with her or what he was going to do with her. He may decide tomorrow that he didn’t like her here at all; he didn’t believe he would, but he was known for his whims of fancy when it came to women. He was fascinated by the reaction he had to her, but there was no way to know how long that fascination would last.

  One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. He had done a lot of things in his extensive life, many of them not good, but he had never forced himself on an unwilling woman.

  “We shall see,” he said simply.

  Her delicate nostrils flared with fury, he could almost hear her teeth grinding. He didn’t know why he was baiting her, but it was amusing to watch her when she was irritated with him. He found he preferred it to her fear. Her jaw clenched forcefully as she turned away from him. Her hands fisted upon her slender legs as she focused on one of the paintings across the way.

  “Where are you from Arianna?”

  Though she was still holding the appearance of defiance, he could sense the grief that shimmered through her. “Around,” she said simply.

  “You live in the woods?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a member of the resistance?”

  She hesitated, her knuckles turned white. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Resistance members are punished for their disobedience by becoming blood slaves, or being bled dry. It’s a way to discourage our fighting, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” he agreed. “You think that is wrong?”

  “Don’t you?” she snapped.

  He sat back as he studied her, leisurely stretching his legs out as he folded his arms behind his head. The bright blue of her eyes was ablaze with indignation and righteousness as she glared at him. It pleased him to smile serenely back at her. “If your kind would simply just agree to work with us, then punishment wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “Agree to be your slaves in other ways you mean? Agree to be your servants? Agree to do whatever you wish, whenever you wish it, with no regard for our own wants, desires, and beliefs?”

  He was fascinated by the fevered tone of her voice and her impassioned words. For someone so young, she was very firm in her beliefs and aspirations. Without thinking, he reached out and seized hold of her hand. The urge should have staggered him but there was something about the gesture that seemed right, as did the warmth of her hand within his.

  He heard her breath freeze; her heart sped up as he began to try and soothe the tight pressure of her fists. Her head tilted to the side, those large innocent eyes were surprisingly earnest as she watched him. “It is the law of the world that the strongest will prevail,” he informed her.

  “And you are the strongest?”

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes gleamed with annoyance, she tried to pull her hand free but for a moment he held onto it. He finally relinquished it to her when she turned away from him and focused on the wall again, apparently determined to ignore him. H
e wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “You do not agree?” he prodded.

  Her head bowed as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater again. “You did succeed in driving us out of our homes, forcing us to run and hide. You do feed off of us, and you have certain attributes that make you physically superior. So yes, I suppose that makes you stronger. In your own minds at least. It does not give you the right to do what you have done to us though.”

  “Many people returned to their homes when the war was over. Many people picked up the lives that they had left behind. It is only the resistance that has remained hiding and fighting and dying within the woods for the past hundred years.”

  She turned back toward him, her defiance melted away as indignation blazed forth. “Is that what you believe? That they simply picked back up exactly where they left off? That they returned to their homes to something good? That they have been thriving since the war ended!? Even within the woods, with no walls, and no real homes, we have more than the ones that returned to their lives. They are starving, with little clothing and no money. There were no jobs to return to that didn’t involve being some sort of servant to your kind. That doesn’t involve being beneath you! There was nothing for most of them, as they were forced into menial roles that would keep us stupid, and weak, while building your people and your world to ever higher levels.

  “I’ve heard that there was a time when there were schools, when we were taught things, and educated. They do not exist anymore; they are things of legend now, whispered about in awe, as so many other things are. Things that we used to have and enjoy, but will never again know if your kind has anything to do with it! There is survival of the fittest, and then there is cruelty. I may be paying the price now for my role in the resistance, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I stood up for what I believe in, I have pride in what I believe in, and no matter what you do to me, you can’t take that fact away!”

  There was true wrath in her voice by the time she was done speaking. Her hand was trembling within his as she had unknowingly seized hold of his hand with both of hers. The fervor in her voice, the true conviction with which she spoke, was almost enough to make him understand her plea, her cause. But he knew the way of the world, and the way of the world was that only the strong survived. He found it unfortunate that her people had been relegated to such roles, but it had been necessary in order to insure that the humans remained submissive after the war.

  Vampires had spent far too much time hiding and slinking within the shadows, frightened of the mob mentality of humans. It was where the myth had come from that vampires couldn’t walk about in the day. It was completely wrong, they could move about in the day, they had simply preferred to hunt at night when there were less people around, and those that were around were usually easier prey. But as the vampire numbers had increased, so had their compulsion to be free of the shadows. He had helped his father lead the attack, taking them all into battle and securing the world for their own means. The war had been time-consuming and brutal, but in the end they had come out the victors, and Braith had every intention of making sure it stayed that way. He was not going back to the shadows, and he was not going to let the inferior humans relegate him to such a role again. No matter how much she believed in her words.

  Although, most humans had little fight left in them anymore. They were too frightened and beat down to offer much resistance to the vampire rule anymore. Except for a group of humans that hid within the woods, plotting against them, and causing more death and trouble to his kind than Braith would have liked. A group that he now knew this girl was a part of.

  A kernel of anger curled through him as he studied her. She represented everything that he had been fighting against, everything that he hated so much, and yet he was holding the hands clinging so fervently to him. She seemed to realize her grasp upon him as a look of shame crossed her face moments before she released his hand completely.

  “I see.” She didn’t speak again, but simply turned away, her head bowing down. She tried to stifle a yawn, but the dark shadows under her eyes belied her attempt to hide her exhaustion from him. “I will show you to your room now.”

  Her head snapped up, her eyes darted rapidly around the room. He sensed her urge to flee, but they both knew there was nowhere for her to go. “My room?” she croaked.

  “Unless you would prefer to spend the night with me.”

  Her mouth dropped in horror, her gaze snapped back to his. He could hear the frantic beat of her heart pounding crazily in her chest as she made a small sound of alarm. “No!”

  Braith found himself a little insulted by her vehement cry. He was many things, but he wasn’t as hideous as she appeared to believe he was. He quirked an eyebrow at her and wondered to himself how this frail slip of a girl could cause such a strange reaction within him. She was nothing special nor was she the type of woman he preferred. His usual type was curvy, graceful, beautiful, and eager. No this girl was challenging, pointy, skinny, and anything but eager as she gazed at him in revulsion.

  “I didn’t think so,” he murmured, studying her from under lowered lids.

  He rose abruptly, ignoring her as he moved across the room and turned back at the doorway of the side apartment. She had risen, but remained unmoving by the sofa, her hands folded before her. The daylight filtering through the windows turned her hair the color of a dark flame that burned brightly within the room. The subtle light was kind to her sharp angles, making her appear gentler, prettier. He froze as he soaked in the splendor of her. She may not be beautiful, but she was the most magnificent thing he’d seen in years.