Captive (Igniting the Flame Book 1)

by Dani Matthews

  After the virus spread and killed thousands of innocent women and girls, the supernatural world seemed to collapse for a few centuries. Slowly, the races began rebuilding and trying to repopulate, but even now, there’s about one female born to every twenty males. Us females, we’re in high commodity.

  And that is why I’m here.

  As a female drakon, I’m quite valuable.

  I already know that I’ll be sold on the black market. I’ll end up in a drakon clan filled with abusively violent men, or a government facility, a research lab, or in the hands of some rich bastard that’s obsessed with trying to build his own army.

  It’s well-known that the government and privately owned labs have been stealing supernaturals off the streets in their search to replicate our DNA. They’re trying to prolong the normal human’s lifespan, and make stronger soldiers to do their bidding.

  No matter what awaits me, it’s going to be a nightmare.

  “Did she faint?” I hear Andi ask, and her voice cuts into my thoughts.

  “Does it look like I can answer that?” Brin replies in a dry voice.

  “I’m here. Just thinking,” I tell them.

  “There’s no way to escape,” Brin says in a flat tone. “The cell is about ten by ten, and there’s one door, and it’s locked. They come for us in the dark, so they must be wearing night vision eyewear. We’re completely at their mercy when we can’t see them coming,” Brin informs with irritation thickening her voice.

  I turn my back to the room and run my hands over the cement. “Are there any vents?” I ask. A vent could lead to an airshaft that might lead outside.

  “I already searched for one,” Brin responds.

  “If you’re going to move around, careful of the large bucket. It’s our toilet,” Andi warns.

  My nose wrinkles. I thought I’d smelled a hint of urine. I stop moving and frown in the darkness. These women are in the same predicament that I am, so I doubt they’re lying about the vent. I turn back and fold my arms over my chest, staring blindly into the blackness. There has to be a way out of this mess. At least I’m not stuck with someone who’s a blubbering mess. I have no time for criers, and from the sound of Brin, she’s used to being on her own. She sounds smart and ready to kick ass if she should get the chance. Andi I’m not too sure about. She’s not as easy to read. Maybe it’s because her voice is foreign, and I can’t seem to place her accent.

  “Andi? What are you if you don’t mind me asking?” I question. Right now, anyone with any sort of supernatural ability would be welcoming. As a drakon, I have nothing to bring to the table. The drakon females lost their ability to wield fire when the virus wiped most of us out. We’re basically human these days, but a male drakon can’t impregnate a human, so they need us to give them their heirs and to keep the race alive.

  “I’m a vastrix,” Andi says softly. “But I’m weak, and… There’s nothing I can do,” she finishes in an emotionless voice.

  A vastrix.

  I’m more than just a little fascinated by this news, because their race is about as rare as the drakon’s. They’re not your average vampire. Instead, they have the strix in their ancestry, and all vastrix have retractable black, feathered wings. I hear they have a wingspan of six feet per wing.

  Andi can fly, lucky bitch.

  “What about you, Brin?” I ask.

  Brin sighs in the darkness. “That’s the million-dollar question. I have no idea what I am.”

  My head turns in the direction her voice had come from. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought I was human until I was snatched off the streets and brought here. They keep asking me what I am, but I have no clue,” she says with aggravation tinging her tone.

  “What are you?” Andi asks me curiously.

  “Drakon,” I respond. Long ago, our race was one of the strongest. The men could actually shift into dragons, and the women could call fourth actual wings. But then the world changed, and all the supernatural races began to evolve. The dragon shifters were no more, and the wings disappeared as well. Our kind can no longer shift, but the fire the men can wield is deadly to all other species except for our own. Sure, it can burn like a bitch I hear, but it won’t kill one of us.

  Both women are silent, and I know they’re thinking that I won’t be of any help to finding an escape. I’m virtually a human that my race wants only so they can fill my uterus with their seed.

  I rub my temple and try to brainstorm how to get out of this cell. “Do they bring food?” I question.

  “Yeah, but they just set it inside the doorway and leave,” Brin responds.

  “Have they come for either of you since you’ve been here?”

  Brin makes a sound. “Yes. They secure your wrists and put a hood over your head. They aren’t taking any chances.” She pauses and releases a sigh. “They’ll come for you shortly. They’ll want to know your background and all that stuff. They’ll also take photos of you. Take my advice, don’t fight them. It’s not worth it, trust me. If there were a way to escape, I’d be gone already. All you’ll do is earn yourself a beating,” she warns, and I can tell from the tone of her voice that she’d learned this by experience.

  “And when they ask you to strip down to shower, just do it. Otherwise, they strip you themselves, and it’s… Just don’t,” Andi adds softly.

  “Got it,” I murmur as I store away their advice for later.

  “What’s your name?” Brin asks, and I hear movement as if she’s shifting her body on the cement.

  “Arista.”

  Silence falls over the darkened cell once more.

  It’s pointless to continue standing, so I carefully sit on the pavement. I grimace. It’s cold. As I process where I’m at and that I have cell mates, I try to sort out what to do next. I’m not going to just accept this fate. My life is my own, and no one’s going to control it for me. The first thing we need to figure out is where we’re at. The cell has a damp, chilly feel to it, so I’m guessing we’re underground somewhere.

  “I was snatched in Chicago. Where were you two taken from?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  “I was grabbed in Minneapolis,” Andi offers.

  “Milwaukee,” Brin responds.

  “So we’re likely still in the Midwest somewhere,” I say thoughtfully.

  “That seems likely,” Brin replies.

  “Do you have any idea how many men are involved in this operation?”

  “A lot,” Brin grumbles. “I think I could do some damage to at least one or two, but this place seems to be crawling with them. They don’t give you an opening anywhere to try anything.”

  As Brin’s words sink in, I begin to accept the fact that I may not be able to prevent myself from being sold. But once I’m taken to whoever buys me, I will find a way to escape. I made a vow to Nany that I would never willing accept a fate like this, and my father, he would want me to keep fighting.

  The day I give up will be the day Hell freezes over.

  Two

  Arista

  The sound of the cell door clanking open has me waking abruptly. I’d fallen asleep sitting up, and my neck hurts from the position, and my butt is numb. I can hear multiple footsteps, and I stiffen as my gaze darts around the darkness. It’s incredibly disorienting hearing movement but not being able to see anything. My heart pounds, and my breath rasps as I press my back against the scratchy cement wall in hopes of going unnoticed.

  The sudden touch of rough hands grabbing my arms has me cursing under my breath, and even though I can’t see whoever it is, I immediately begin to struggle. The hands are too strong, and they pin my wrists together as something drops down over my head. My hands are then tightly bound with something narrow that bites into my skin, and I jerk my head back and forth, trying to dislodge whatever they’d slipped over my head. The material is light, and I can breathe easily, but it doesn’t make it any less unnerving.

  I’m forcibly pulled to my feet, and I feel two men on each side of me
. The first step I take, I stumble, and their grips on my arms tighten painfully. As I’m escorted out of the cell, I listen intently and force myself to calm my panic.

  We seem to be stepping out of the cell, and it feels like we’re briefly walking through a heavy curtain. Hard linoleum is felt beneath soles of my shoes, and then I think they might be leading me down a long hallway.

  Both men are silent, and I recall Andi and Brin’s advice to avoid a struggle. This must be the part where I’m interrogated and forced to shower. As much as I want to stay defiant and not show them any weakness, I know that following their advice is probably wise. I can’t escape if I’ve been badly beaten.

  The men bring me to a halt, and I hear a door open. We move forward again, and I sense that I am entering another room. I smell water and steam, and a hint of soap. Looks like I’m showering first.

  Whatever’s covering my head is yanked off, and the bright lights blind me. I wince and close my eyes against the brightness. After a couple of tries, I open my eyes, and they adjust to the florescent lighting.

  First thing I do is look at my captors. They are tall, muscular men with emotionless eyes. They’re dressed in black fatigues, and I can see that they have guns.

  “Shower. Clothes are on the counter,” the blond guy with ears that are too big for his head says in a curt tone. He pulls out a knife. “Wrists?”

  After a brief hesitation, I hold out my wrists, and he slices the zip tie that had been binding them together.

  Now that I’m no longer bound, I turn my head and look around the room. It’s an all-white, sizeable bathroom of sorts. Located in the corner is a large shower with no curtain. A small shelf is attached to the wall, and it has soap, a cheap razor, and a bottle of shampoo. There’s a toilet across from the shower, and next to it is a sink and counter top. I see a single white towel, and a scrap of white fabric beside it.

  Both men stand silently in front of the door, guarding the only exit—their eyes trained on me expectantly.

  As much as I want to fight them, I tell myself to remain docile. If I willingly do as they ask, maybe when the time is right, I can take them by surprise and get the hell out of here. With gritted teeth, I turn my back to them and walk as far away as possible. Very reluctantly, I pull off my shoes before removing my clothes. I leave them in a discarded pile on the floor and walk over to the shower, turning it on. There’s dirt in the corners of the stall, and grime has collected in the cracks on the wall. I try to ignore how unclean it is and rinse off as fast as I can.

  While I shower, I keep my back to the men and ignore them, though I can feel their eyes on me. At least they’re keeping their hands to themselves. If they were to try anything, that would give me very good reason to fight them—even if it would be a losing battle.

  I wash as quickly as I can, and when I’m finished, I hurriedly grab the towel and dry myself off before wrapping it around my body. They’ve already seen my goods, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to flaunt them in front of them. I grab the white fabric off the counter and see that it’s a skimpy, white bikini.

  Disgust courses through me, but there isn’t much I can do about the choice of clothing—or lack of. Keeping the towel in place, I slip on the bikini bottoms. With my back still to the men, I drop the towel and pull on the bikini top. When I’m dressed, I scowl. I might as well be wearing nothing. Just what kind of photos are they planning on taking?

  “There’s a brush in the drawer. Brush your hair and pull it back into a ponytail,” one of the guards tell me.

  I hadn’t noticed the small drawer, and I step forward and pull it open. There’s a brush inside and a package of rubber bands. I pick up the brush and see strands of hair caught in the bristles. Oh great. It’s not even a new one, but considering this is the equivalent of a prison, it shouldn’t surprise me.

  Knowing the guards are only going to give me so much time, I pull out as much hair from the bristles as I can. Then I begin brushing my long, dark hair. There is no mirror, so I can’t see myself, and that’s just fine with me. After my damp hair is smooth, I set the brush down and pick up a rubber band. Once my hair is fastened back as they’d requested, I turn and look at the guards. Now what?

  The one with the trimmed beard motions me towards them.

  I look down at my bare feet. No shoes?

  “Let’s go,” he says impatiently.

  No shoes it is.

  I keep my expression grimly resolved as I cross the room to them. Both wrap their hands around my upper arms in steely grips and escort me out of the room. I look around curiously as we enter the hall, and it consists of dirty, white walls and dirt-smudged tiles. There are only a few doors that I can see, and nothing stands out or gives away where we are or who’s behind my abduction.

  The guards walk me to the nearest door on the right side of the hall, and they open it and escort me inside. I look around, feeling uneasy. Four men stand inside the room, and there’s a table with two chairs near them. A stand supporting a black, backdrop cloth is on the opposite side of the room, and in front of the backdrop is a camera on a tri-pod.

  One of the four men walks over to me, and he looks to be in his early thirties. His expression gives nothing away as his ice blue eyes scan me from head to toe. “Follow me,” he clips out. He turns, giving me his back and walks away, clearly expecting me to follow without protest.

  Once again, I swallow back my anger and stiffly follow him to the backdrop.

  He glances at me, his eyes studying me for a moment before he turns and grabs the bottom edge of the backdrop. He flips it back, revealing another color. It’s red. After he smooths it out, he turns back and gives me a look. “Stand in the center.”

  My blood is beginning to boil with the instinctual urge to defy him, but instead, I calmly move into place. I won’t hold back though if he dares suggest I take anything off or strike a sexy pose. If Brin and Andi are correct, and all these men want are a picture and some information, it’s just not worth making a scene.

  The man with the cold eyes moves behind the camera and looks at me expectantly. “Back straight. Smile.”

  More than just a little pissed, I give him a sarcastic ‘I want to kill you’ smile.

  He just smirks, and the camera flashes. “Turn around.”

  I draw in a deep breath and struggle with my temper as my fists clench at my sides. There’s six men in the room since my earlier guards have yet to leave, and I have no idea where the hall outside leads to. I can’t just blindly try to escape. I need a plan—a plan that’s guaranteed to work.

  I turn my back to him, and I hear the camera click.

  “We’re finished. Sit down at the table,” he tells me.

  When I’m facing the room once more, I see that he’s walking to the table. I follow behind and watch as he settles in a chair. He opens a lap top and begins typing on the keyboard. I pull out the opposite chair, and once I’m seated, a guard steps towards me with a syringe.

  I abruptly stand with alarm. “What is that?” I demand.

  “Sit!” the blond man barks as he looks up from the computer screen. “There’s nothing in it. He’s just going to draw some blood.”

  “For what?”

  “Do it. Or he will make you,” he warns me.

  I wisely sit back down.

  “Your arm,” the guard says, looking down at me expectantly.

  Since I don’t have a choice in the matter, I grudgingly rest my arm on the table. I watch as he ties a rubber tourniquet around my upper arm. He then sticks the needle in my vein, causing me to wince. After he draws enough blood to fill the syringe, he pulls the needle back out and walks away—leaving the room and disappearing down the hall.

  “Blood tests typically tell us what kind of supernatural race you are since some of you try to lie.” He gives me a disturbing look. “Are you going to lie? Because I must warn you, there are consequences to lying.”

  I look him dead in the eye. “I’m a drakon.”

  He
nods, not looking surprised. “Good. I thought so. Moving on. Full name?” he asks as he types something on the keyboard.

  There’s no point in lying since I have nothing to hide. “Arista Carmichael,” I say stiffly.

  “Age?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Clan?” he asks, not bothering to look up.

  “None.”

  He stops typing and peers at me. “Which clan were you born into?”

  “I have no idea,” I say honestly. “I grew up with a human. The woman you killed,” I say bitingly.

  He studies me for a long minute and then must decide that I’m not lying. “Parents’ names?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His eyes narrow. “What do you know?”

  “Not much of anything. I told you, I grew up with a human. My father left me with her and never came back.”

  “And the human never knew his name?”

  “No.” Actually, Nany probably had, but she’d refused to tell me. Now I know that her reasoning was likely for this very situation. If I don’t know anything, they won’t try to track down my original clan. My father didn’t want me brought up in it because of the violence, and I certainly have no wish to meet the clan my father hated.

  “Luckily for you, we like women with blank slates. So do our buyers.” He turns and nods at one of the guards, who promptly leaves the room. He turns back to me. “That is all I need for now. You will receive clothing and be taken back to your cell.”

  That’s it? I’m relieved that I hadn’t given into the urge to defy them earlier.

  “You may go,” he says pointedly, interrupting my thoughts.

  Asshole.

  I rise to my feet and walk towards the guards at the door. The guard that had left a moment earlier steps back into the room, and he hands me a pile of white clothing. I promptly slip on the simple, white tank and the draw-string, white lounge pants. I’m not offered shoes, but I’m not going to complain. I’m just relieved to be covered once more.