Captivated (The Dragons)

Captivated (The Dragons)

©Ella Elias/3distributionsco 2013

All rights to this title are reserved to the author and publisher.

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A 13, 423K word/ 60 page motor club novelette

Title Page

Copyright Page

Captivated (The Dragons)

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W
hen Darla's cousin Vinnie screws up, yet again, it lands her in the cage of the local  'Dragons' motorcycle club. Livid, she demands to be set free immediately, refusing to give into the effect one biker has on her in particular. When she's offered a deal in exchange for Vinnie's safety despite him losing the club's shipment and disappearing, Darla takes it, but try as she might, Link's effect on her starts to wear at her resistance while she works to pay off her cousin's debt.

A standalone novelette (with the potential to grow into a three-part novel serial -
Feedback
, as always, is welcome).

“Let me out of here!”

It was probably the fifth time I'd demanded it, but the shirtless hulk blocking the door only shifted uncomfortably and looked away. I frowned. Clearly he was the “gentle giant” sort, but he wasn't going to come to my rescue.

I'd never felt so humiliated. What the hell did these assholes think they were doing?

I kicked the lower part of “the cage” I'd been thrown into, opting to lean against the wall instead of sitting on the bed. Who knew what the hell had taken place on that mattress before I was thrown in here? I was repulsed by the possibilities and made due with the cold bricks at my back.

Would it have killed me to wear a fall jacket?

I rubbed as much life into my arms as I could and leaned back, my frown deepening. It couldn't have been more than 62 degrees in the room. It had been cold when they brought me through the “office,” as well.

I truly couldn't believe this shit.

How did my cousin get himself caught up with these muscleheads? And worse, how had he botched things up so grandly that
I
was now the focus of their attentions?

My attention turned to the door when I heard the clank of keys, and I drew a deep breath, drawing up my inner warrior from the depths of my rage. I might not have any weapons, but they were holding me against my will.

I reserved right to be pissed.

I narrowed my eyes when the door opened.

Maybe it was a shift change for the big guy? I hoped it was more like my chance to find out what the hell was going on.

I realized pretty quickly that the latter wish might be on the agenda when a less lumbering member of the pack sauntered into the room, rippling biceps and taut abdomen on display through his tight A-shirt, dragons and smoke trailing his arm in black ink. So the “God's gift” member of the crew had come to grace me with his presence? He'd be in for a surprise. I wasn't a giggling dumb-ass by a long shot.

I steeled myself as much as I possibly could, my glare dagger-like as I watched him whisper something to the giant, who then promptly made his way out to the hallway.

He turned his focus to me then, and the sight of his dark eyes for the first time unsettled me. He had the sort of gaze that drew power out of the room. They were eyes I wouldn't fuck with, which is probably why I'd never make it in the criminal underworld.

Which was good. I wasn't interested in being good at cut throat shit.

I frowned for good measure, but I realized that I didn't mean it half as much as I had a moment before.

“Everyone treating you alright?” the smoky-eyed hunk asked, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a lighter with a flame insignia metal-worked into it with what looked like real diamonds, rubies, and onyx.

“Oh, I'm having a lovely time,” I spat, I hoped, convincingly.

He'd sent me off of my balance with a look and a few words.

I felt like an idiot, but I'd be damned if I'd let him see that.

He quarter-laughed, punctuating the sound with a point as he turned his gaze to the floor and lifted his cigarette to his mouth, sufficiently chilling me further.

Was that like... a thing he did before he went all violent?

Was he the loose screw in the crew? Is that why they'd sent him in here? To tame me?

I looked him over warily. He filled the room like a phantom, and I grew quiet. I was still angry, but something about the way he looked at me made me want to hear what he had to say. It was ridiculous that I would even consider he might have something reasonable to suggest, but there it was. I was captivated by the dark of his gaze and the cherry red of his lips, which he pressed together contemplatively, like he was thinking something over.

I was... the bumbling idiot I'd just asserted I wasn't. It would remain my little secret though.

“I think we've been nice to you.”

He said it like it was a prelude to a larger, more impressive point. Like it was the grand, flourishing drape over a perfectly set stage. Like the show was about to begin, and I might or might not like it once it did.

I forced a pout to my lip, but it didn't seem to affect him, to my non-surprise.

“Has anyone laid a hand on you or denied you anything to eat?”

I cocked my head, giving him a look that asked him to get to the point, but I didn't answer him. One minute you're partying with friends, the next you're riding on the back of a motor bike with your hand tied to the asshole chauffeuring you to a literally, cold cage of a cell with a bed that's probably been used in several amateur prison porn videos.

The night was not supposed to end like this.

Tall, dark, and scary took another deep drag of his cigarette, looking me over appraisingly. It wasn't a threatening look, thankfully. I could see that he was profiling me the way someone in the FBI might do to a suspect, but I felt a little naked under his gaze.

He had eyes like that. Maybe he was a Scorpio. My first boyfriend was a Scorpio, and he had eyes like that. It seemed like they could see everything inside of you.

“Do you know why you're here, Darla?”

I inhaled loudly, my irritation beginning to rise again. Maybe I wasn't so intimidated by him after all.

“You Tarzan, me Jane?” I asked bitterly, my adrenaline flowing again as I stared him down.

He gave me that quarter-laugh again and licked his lips, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“What can I get you to eat, sweet thing?”

Oh the fucking nerve.
Sweet thing?

He was obviously trying to get a rise out of me.

I didn't answer that question, either. If I hadn't known how my spirit reacted under pressure before, now I did. I didn't care how dark, eerily calm, or pretty he was. He had no right to keep me in a cage. Fuck him.

“Not hungry?”

His eyebrows rose.

“You're a fiery one. I'll give you that. You're going to have to eat sometime, though.”

My eyes met his with an unmistakable dare, and he gave me a nod. I watched, still burning imaginary holes into him with my eyes, as he reached into his vest, his Claw embroidered cuff slipping over a six-pack that should come with a “just slather with oil” tag and pulled a small bell out of his pocket.

He turned his gaze to me, looking me over a moment longer than necessary, and set the  tiny bell at the foot of the metal mesh closing me off from him.

“Ring it when you're ready to talk.”

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T
alk about what exactly?

Did these assholes think I knew something? I had zero ideas about why I was there, save for the fact that there was only one person who could have motivated these bike-riding danger chasers to glance my way.

I rubbed the circulation back into my arms and slid to a crouch against the wall. I was freezing, but I wouldn't even let myself look at the bell. The thought was just ridiculous to me. Ringing the bell was the equivalent of crying “Uncle,” and I hadn't even been here overnight, yet. There was no way in hell I was doing it.

My thoughts turned to Vinnie, and I considered that this hadn't been the first time he'd gotten me into a bind due to a sheer lack of cautionary thinking on his part.

It was crazy to me just how thoughtless he could be, but I'd always protected him. He'd had a jacked up start in life, and my grandmother couldn't stand him. I think he reminded her of my uncle, and she saw nothing but trouble when she laid eyes on him.

That feeling came across in her tone and the different ways she doled out punishments. I was more a nerd until I started developing, so my grades usually lived up to expectations, and my idea of fun consisted of making jointed paper dolls, their props, grand world ensembles, and kick-ass gowns. Most of the trouble I found myself in was because of Vinnie, and she knew it. I guess that's why I always wound up half-punished, while he got the belt, missed meals when she sent him to bed early, and far less affection.

That had to be why I wasn't as enraged with him as I could've been right then. He'd gone off and done something stupid, but he'd inherited the wild inclinations, and he hadn't enjoyed any encouragement that he could even possibly turn out differently than his dad.