Captive (Igniting the Flame Book 1)

by Dani Matthews

  I’m careful to keep my back to the guards as I shower, and after I wash my body as much as I can, I wash my hair as well. When I’m finished, I quickly grab a towel and wrap it around my body, drying myself without releasing the towel.

  The clothes that have been set out happen to be another white tank and pair of pants. Once I’m properly covered, I use the towel to dry my hair. Instead of waiting for them to order me to fix my hair, I automatically move to the drawer and pull out the brush. There’s new hair caught in the bristles, and I pluck out strands of red.

  I feel their eyes on me as I run the brush through my damp hair. When it feels smooth, I pick up a rubber band and pull it back.

  “Quit stalling,” one of the guards tells me.

  I turn and give him a look. “Would you have told me to brush my hair?”

  He just stares at me silently, his expression irritated.

  “Exactly,” I say a little caustically as I walk over to him.

  He grabs my arm rougher than necessary, and I hide a wince. Looks like someone’s a little testy. I’m led out of the room and down the hall. I’m taken to a new room, and it’s much smaller than the one I’d been interrogated in, and it has just a table and chairs. A pair of handcuffs are attached to the table top.

  “Sit,” the guard orders.

  With gritted teeth, I sit down in the hard, plastic chair.

  “Hands.”

  I hold my hands out, and he fastens the cuffs to my wrists. After making certain that I’m secure, the guards then leave the room. I’m all alone now, and I look around warily. There are no windows or mirrors. The room is literally bare of anything but for the table. What is going on?

  A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I should have fought them, but I just don’t see the point of acting irrationally without a well-thought plan. If you can’t guarantee an escape, why give away the fact that you’re willing to take them on in a fight? All it does is ruin the element of surprise.

  I know that there will come a time when I’ll be able to detect a weakness in their security, and I plan on getting the hell out of here when that time comes.

  The door opens, and I look up as the man who’d interrogated me the other day enters the room. Behind him are two other men, and I study them as they step inside—the last one closing the door. They aren’t guards, because they aren’t wearing the black fatigue uniforms. Instead, they’re dressed in casual wear that consists of jeans and tees. One of them is carrying a briefcase—which looks out of place with his casual attire.

  “Arista Carmichael,” my captor introduces to the men. He motions for them to take a seat.

  I eye them suspiciously as they sit at the table, the one with the briefcase sitting closest to me. Neither of the men introduce themselves, and the briefcase is set on the table and opened.

  The briefcase owner looks at me with surprisingly warm eyes. “My name is Anton, and I just need to verify that you are indeed a drakon. This will be relatively painless,” he says lightly, his voice warm and rich with a hint of kindness.

  I watch him apprehensively as he pulls a syringe out of the case. I stiffen when I see it, and I pull on the cuffs, trying to put distance between myself and him.

  “Easy, it’s just a simple blood test,” he assures.

  Movement from the corner of my eye has me looking in the direction of my captor. His eyes are narrowed on me, and he looks like he’s ready to intervene. Without much of a choice, I grit my teeth and stay still.

  Anton slides his chair closer to me, and I watch as he ties a rubber tourniquet around my upper arm and wipes the inside of my elbow with a cotton ball. His hands are gentle as he slides the needle in my vein and draws blood.

  Why the hell am I having another test done? I’d like to ask, but I’m certain my question will go unanswered. With not much else to do, I silently study the man taking my blood. He doesn’t seem too threatening. He’s tall like the other men, but he isn’t as thickly muscled as the others. There’s just something about him that radiates intelligence, and I could envision a set of glasses perched on his nose while he sits behind a computer.

  After the blood has been taken, Anton places a bandage where he’d drawn my blood, and then he turns to his suitcase. I can’t see what he’s doing, but the room is completely silent as he rummages around behind it. I see him shaking something, likely a vial, and then he turns to the blond man next to him and nods. “It’s confirmed.”

  The blond man turns his light green eyes towards my captor and says coolly, “We will take our leave now.”

  “Very well.” My captor steps forward with a key and unlocks my handcuffs.

  I watch them drop onto the table with confusion. What is going on?

  Anton closes his suitcase and rises to his feet along with the blond man. When I see Anton take a step towards me, it finally sinks in that I’ve been sold.

  I bolt from the chair and back away from them, my eyes scanning the room for an exit—though I know it’s pointless.

  A blur of movement comes at me before I can process it, and I suddenly find myself slammed against the wall, a steely hand wrapped around my throat. My captor—or ex-captor I should say—snarls at me with disapproval as he tightens his grip, causing me to struggle for oxygen. My fingers claw at his hand as I desperately try to draw air into my lungs.

  A knife suddenly comes into view—and it presses against my ex-captor’s throat in a very threatening way. My eyes lift, and I see that the blond man is standing behind him, the knife held firmly in his hand. “I believe she is ours now, so I suggest you take your hand off her and let us handle this,” he warns calmly.

  The hand that had cut off my oxygen slowly releases me, and cold blue eyes give me murderous glare before he carefully backs away from me.

  The blond removes his knife and slips it in his pocket.

  Anton looks at me as if he’s trying to coax me into some sort of compliance, but I am having none of it. I back away from him, shaking my head. “No.” As much as I want to escape this hell, I don’t want to leave without Brin and Andi.

  The blond sighs. “Just do it, Anton.”

  Anton looks at him with frustration evident in his brown gaze. “If we can just—”

  I bolt for the door. Once they take me from this horrible place, I’m afraid that I’ll never see Brin and Andi again. The blond man cuts me off and wraps his strong arms around me. “No!” I scream as I struggle against him, trying to find any weakness in his hold.

  A prick pierces my shoulder, and my head swings around to see Anton standing there. I glare at him accusingly before everything goes dark.

  Five

  Arista

  I wake slowly and stretch my body as I struggle back to consciousness. It dawns on me that I’m no longer resting on hard cement, and my eyes fly open with alarm. I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling with confusion, and then I abruptly sit up, putting a hand to my head as my vision seems to spin until the world settles once more.

  With wide eyes, I look around the room. It’s decently-sized, and the walls are painted lavender. All the furniture—and by this I mean the elaborate, white dresser with the large mirror above it, and the nightstand—are all white. There’s even a chandelier hanging from the ceiling with dangling crystal beads.

  What the….?

  I scramble off the bed and note that the headboard is tall and intricate, and the bedding is lavender with a white, ornate comforter. The floor beneath my feet is cool, and I look down to see that it’s hardwood.

  My feet are bare, and my eyes trail up my legs to see that I’m wearing white, satin lounge pants, and a simple camisole tank. Who the hell changed me? Panic rises in my gut, and I rush to one of the two white doors in the room, and I yank on the doorknob of the one that’s closest. It opens easily, and I blink at the unexpected sight of a small, private bathroom. Like the room I’d woken up in, it’s lavender and white. There’s a clawfoot bathtub with a shower curtain pushed to the side, and a to
ilet, a sink and counter, along with a vanity on the opposite side of the bathroom. No windows.

  I spin on my heel and hurry back into the other room and try the next door. This one is locked, and I slam my hand against its surface. “Hey! Let me out!!” I shout.

  Only silence reaches my ears.

  After drawing in a deep breath, I turn and look around the room once more. It’s ridiculously feminine, and I eye the white lamp on the dresser and then the little bits of décor, including a jewelry box. I debate what to do, and then curiosity wins out. I cross the room and begin opening the dresser drawers. They are filled with lingerie and clothing. The clothing has me snorting as I pull out a casual, white sundress and hold it up to inspect. Yeah, right. I drop the fabric and turn, glancing at the nightstand. Another lamp rests atop it, and there is a tissue box held in a decorative holder. I walk over and open the nightstand drawer. Inside, there’s a new brush, lotion, lip gloss, and a few other useless things. I shut the drawer and scowl.

  Now what am I supposed to do?

  There aren’t any windows in the room, and I am stuck in here until someone lets me out. Feeling frustrated, I stand beside the bed and look around my new prison. It’s certainly more comfortable than the cell, but it’s so feminine it makes me want to trash it. Whoever decorated this room can try to gloss it over the best they can, but it’s still a stupid prison.

  As my thoughts shift to Andi and Brin, my chest aches, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. I don’t know where I am, and I have no idea what is happening to them. As stupid as it sounds, I’d willingly trade this room for the cell I’d shared with Brin and Andi—as long as they were there with me.

  I miss them so much.

  With a soft sigh, I begin to pace as I focus my attention away from them and concentrate on my new predicament. The cell was impossible to escape from, and this one looks just as secure. However, I’m not sure what is outside this room and who has me. It’s quite likely that I’ve been sold to a drakon clan, but their security might have holes in it. I need to stay alert and watch for any signs of a flaw so that I can use it to my advantage.

  I stand there for a few more minutes, and then impatience gets the best of me. I stride to the locked door and pound my fists against it. “Show your face asshole!!”

  No response.

  “I want to speak with whoever’s in charge!” I shout.

  With gritted teeth, I wait.

  When I hear the sound of a key being inserted into the lock from the other side of the door, I instinctively take a step back, bracing myself for whatever is going to happen next.

  The door swings open, and an unfamiliar man stands there. He’s tall and muscular with short, dark hair and unreadable hazel eyes. His build and the way he carries himself tells me that he has some sort of authority, and I’m not sure if he’s the leader of this clan or just the muscle that carries out orders. He’s dressed as casually as the men that had bought me, and the sight of him has my eyebrows furrowing. His casual clothing seems out of place in such a sophisticated atmosphere.

  His eyes hold mine, and there’s a wealth of warning in his gaze. “I will take you to Lethe Cassavettes so he can explain your situation. I ask that you stay calm, or I will have no choice but secure your wrists,” he advises.

  Lethe Cassavettes? The name doesn’t ring a bell, but whoever this Lethe is, he must be the one in charge.

  The man is waiting for me to respond to his warning, and I nod.

  He motions that I can step out of the room, and I willingly leave behind the purple nightmare and look around with surprise. I’m standing in what looks like a large living area. The walls are painted a jade green, and the center of the room is sunken down a few steps. There’s a few plush, white couches with colorful throw pillows as accents, and a glass table sits before them. A large TV hangs from the opposite wall. Two steps lead up to the opposite side of the room, and there’s a hall that leads to the left. To the right of the hall is a set of double white doors. Once more, I note that there doesn’t seem to be any visible windows.

  The man leads me across the living room and towards the double doors. As I cross the room, I look around, feeling completely weirded out. To go from one extreme to the other is quite disorienting. When I look in the general direction that I’d come from, I see four other doors on the opposite side of the room—near the room that I’d been locked in, and I’m assuming those are rooms or cells too. When I face forward again, I watch as the double doors open easily in the man’s grip, and we enter a small foyer that is simply decorated with white walls and gray tiles. Before us is an elevator with a keypad next to it. To the very left is a steel door with a keypad next to that as well.

  The man types in a code at the elevator, but his finger moves too fast, so it’s impossible for me to memorize the code. A moment later, the doors slide open, and he ushers me inside.

  I glance at the panel in the elevator wall and see there are four buttons. There’s a basement, first floor, second, and a third. I watch as he presses the first floor button, and the elevator begins its descent.

  I fold my arms over my chest and look at the man. “Do you have a name?”

  His lips tilt in what could almost be called a smile. “Cassius.”

  “Where are we, Cassius?” I ask.

  “Lethe will tell you everything you need to know.”

  I have further questions, but I’m apparently not going to get anything more out of him.

  The elevator doors slide open, and Cassius escorts me into a hallway. I look around at the nondescript gray walls, and black carpet beneath my feet. There are a few doors here and there along the hall, but nothing that tells me where we’re at and where those doors lead. Cassius walks me to the last door and opens it, motioning for me to step inside.

  I step forward and see that we seem to be in a study of sorts. The walls are a blood red, and the carpet black. There’s a dark desk on the opposite side of the room, and on the wall is a large painting of a black, snarling dragon.

  I am definitely in a drakon stronghold.

  “Please, take a seat,” Cassius tells me with a hint of sternness in his tone.

  I look up to see that he’s nodding at a comfortable looking chair that sits across from the desk. There’s no reason to defy such a simple request, so I walk over and sink into the chair. The faint hint of cigarette smoke tickles my nose. Whoever this Lethe is, he must like to smoke. Not surprising. All drakons have an affinity for fire and smoke.

  Cassius pulls his phone from his pocket and presses a button before putting it to his ear. He waits a moment and then asks, “Is he on his way?” He listens a moment to whomever is on the other end of the conversation. “Yes,” he replies. He disconnects the call and slips the phone back in his pocket. “Lethe will be here shortly.”

  “I’m assuming he’s the clan leader?” I question.

  Cassius nods and stations himself beside the door. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions, but it’s best if Lethe answers them,” he says lightly.

  With a nod, I face forward again and study the dragon painting. The dragon’s eyes are red, and it’s snarling with fire emitting from its deadly jaws. I wonder what Lethe will be like. Judging by his study, he’s a man that demands respect. As I scan the room slowly, I try to see if there’s anything that might tell me more about him, but his study isn’t really all that personal. There’s a black couch along the back wall, and a glossy, black table that has an array of expensive decanters filled with different colored liquids. Most are clear or brown—so this tells me they’re likely filled with liquor.

  All this room tells me is Lethe likes his liquor and enjoys cigarettes.

  My lips press together tightly. I’ll have to tread carefully during this meeting, and afterwards, I’ll have a better idea as to how to go about getting out of this mess. At least I’ll find out what is expected of me, and disgust fills me. If he thinks he’s going to mate me off to someone, he’s in for a very rude awakening.
I’ll kill whoever he tries to mate me with. One thing I will never do is willingly tie myself to a man. If I’m ever forced, I’d prefer him to be the one to die, but I’m also willing to sacrifice myself to escape an abusive mating.

  I’m bitter now as I think of the world I’ve been born into. This is one of those rare moments that I wish I were human. Sure, they have a shorter lifespan, and they are weaker than supernaturals, but at least they still have the freedom to choose who they want to be with.

  The silence in the room drags on until I hear the door open behind me. I turn my head to get my first glimpse of him, and I watch as a man steps into the study. He nods at Cassius, and I watch as Cassius slips out the door, closing it firmly to ensure us privacy.

  The man—Lethe—walks towards his desk, and I study him intently. Like most drakons, he’s quite good looking. He’s tall and muscular, and he fills out his jeans and short-sleeved shirt nicely. He exudes a sex appeal that I try to ignore, and instead, I take note of the noticeable weapons he has attached to his body. I count at least two knives and one gun. The man is ready for a fight, and I don’t know if he’s expecting me to try to flee or if carrying weapons on him at all times is normal.

  As Lethe settles behind his desk, I let my eyes lift to his face. His hair is black as night, and the sides are cut short while the center is longer—a faux hawk, I believe. His face is masculine but with a facial structure that probably makes women take a second look—and probably a third considering that face is attached to a sexy body. A shadow of whiskers lines his strong jaw, and dark eyebrows hover over chocolate brown eyes. Right now, those eyes are staring fixedly on me, and he seems to be looking me over as well.

  I simply stare back with cool eyes.

  The corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly, betraying that he finds me amusing. “I’m Lethe Cassavettes,” he introduces.