The Star Caster (2 page)

“I am here because I wanted to see you. I want you.” There he goes with that simple honesty yet again. Oh gosh, I’m crazy.

I swallow to regain my composure, because I know that he doesn’t really mean that he wants me. That’s ridiculous. “Fine,” I concede. “Why do you want me?”

I watch as the man bends down so that he is level with me. He rests his hands on the edge of the barbed wire, where the wire is safe to touch. I’m hit with the jealousy of his freedom and feel a flash of anger at his brazen movements. I won’t look at him while he crouches down on the floor like he cares about my feelings and my weakness at having to look up at him, and turn away from him so that I can once again see the darkness that surrounds me. I feel his eyes on me, but continue staring in the opposite direction, knowing that I won’t let myself fail.

“It appears that you do not care about the answer,” he replies.

I sigh as every muscle in my body tries to turn the other way, to look at him again. I hold on though, determined. “I guess not,” I manage.

The man shifts positions, and I’m lulled into a false sense of security
; so, I look at him. I find him sitting, cross-legged on the floor in front of me. I almost turn away again, but think better of it as I realize that it would be childish. I settle for staring into his endlessly grey eyes as they stare into my own. We stay like that for a moment, watching each other before he speaks again. “I want you because I cannot help it,” he says.

I stare at him, dumfounded. “Why are you so cryptic?” I ask, frustrated.

“I’m honest. That’s who I am. I can’t change that.”

I scoff at him and roll my eyes. “Bull,” I challenge him. “You’re just being difficult. You enjoy watching me beg you to answer my questions.”

He shakes his head in response but doesn’t speak this time.

I sigh and rest my head back on my knees as I pull them against my chest. In my
haste, I carelessly let them leave the safety of my arms, and into the grasp of the wire. The material of my jeans snags as I pull them, and I am glad that I decided to wear loose jeans today. I shift, suddenly uncomfortable, and bite my lip as I feel tears burn in my already tight throat. I’m trapped in this position, and it frustrates me to know that this man is watching me, and probably enjoying my wasted struggles. I open my eyes wide, hoping that the damp air will steal the tears before they fall over my cheeks. I am rewarded with dry eyes that remain strong as they look at the man before me.

“If you aren’t going to speak, then leave,” I order the man.

He blinks and leans back, resting his hands on the floor behind him. “What would you like me to say to you?” he asks, almost as if he truly wants me to tell him what to say.

It’s my turn to shake my head, and I bite my lip, thinking about this stranger. What did he really want with me? Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? A sudden thought strikes me, and I turn to meet his eyes, hoping that he will still be honest. “What is
a metamorphosis?”

“Metamorphosis is a change,”
he says quickly.

I decide
to push him. “Is that all? Is there really nothing more?”

“It is when someone, much like
yourself, becomes who he or she is meant to be. That is the change that occurs,” he answers.

“Then why were those two men talking about my metamorphosis? Are they planning on selling me?”

“They must be waiting for your metamorphosis. And I don’t think they plan on selling you,” he says with a smile.

“Then what could they possibly want?”

“I am not certain of their plans for you. However, I do hope that you find out soon.”

Of course,
I think. As usual: nothing. I can’t believe I thought that answers would be found in the words of this cryptic man. I want him gone from here; I want to be left alone with my mind and imagination. I want to be able to pretend that this never happened, to dream as if none of this was real, to escape my current reality and run from this. “Please go away. Please leave me alone,” I finally manage.

“
Why do you want me to leave?” he asks.

“Frankly, I want to be alone, and I’m tired of your backwar
d answers.” I want so badly to lean my head back against this prison, to rest my head against the barbed wire and feel no pain at all.

“I answer the questions that you ask,” is all he says.

“Just leave,” I say a little more harshly. I beg him to understand the venom beneath my words, and am elated to see that he stands. I watch as he dusts his jeans off and turns away from me. His jeans are quite tight and I can’t help but watch as he moves. He rubs his hands against his upper legs, cleaning them as well, and sighs as he looks down at me with sad eyes. Inside, I begin to feel alone and cold now that he is moving away from me.

He turns just as his figure b
egins to melt into the shadows. He looks like a little bit of mystery mixed with seduction. I pull in a deep breath at his muscular figure, and allow my eyes the opportunity of tracing his lean body. He is beautiful from this distance, and I silently wonder who he is and what he’s doing down here with me. He doesn’t appear to be like the men that so desperately pulled me into their vehicle; he seems different, somehow, and I can’t help but feel the connection with him once more.

He looks at me for a moment before turning around again. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I hear him begin whistling the soft melody of Beethoven again. I make my decision before thinking, and speak. “Wait,” I whisper.

Chapter 2

The man turns around slowly,
seemingly afraid that I’ll just tell him to leave again. He waits where he stands, somewhere beyond the orange glow, and I have to swallow to gather my courage. It’s even more awkward talking to someone that I can’t see.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I am like you,” he says.

What does that mean? Of course he’s like me. We’re both human. Or does he mean something else? Does he mean that he was captured as well? Is this the life that I’m going to lead as well? Will I
forever be a face on a milk carton? I guess it’s time to stop asking myself these questions. “Did you help them capture me?”

The man begins to walk back over to me. I can tell that he knows that my questions are going to continue. He sighs as he sits back down on the cold, hard ground. His grey eyes stare at me as he figures out what he is going to say to me. “I aided them,” he
admits. “However,” he adds when he realizes that I’m not going to freak out, “I did not plan your kidnapping.”

I nod, understanding. They must have forced
him into it. Whoever these men are, they disgust me. However, I figure that this man doesn’t trust me enough yet. I can’t ask him if he’s been kidnapped. He could have some sort of wire or microphone. He might not want to tell me, considering I will end up in the same life. I sigh, wondering where to go from here.

“What more do you want?” he says after a m
inute.

“I don’t know,” I say
. “I guess I want to know why I’m here, in this cage. I could be in a cell, in a room with a lock on the outside.”

“It is safer to keep you there,” he says. The man leans back again, waiting for me to process this information. Was it safer for them – my kidnappers – or me?
And how would this prison be safer for me anyway? It could never be safer than a simple cell.

“Why me?”
I ask before my brain can catch up to my mouth.

“You are the person they are after. That is all there is to it. I do not know who you are to them. I suppose neither of us will until after the metamorphosis. Don’t you agree?”

I shrug in understanding; I did see his point. “What is your name?” I ask him a moment later. I almost feel rude for not introducing myself but realize, once again, where I am. How could I have forgotten? Oh, because we were actually having a nice conversation. I didn’t think that kind of stuff happened in times like these.

He smiles. “My name is Sterren.
And what is your name?”

“Danika,” I state.

Sterren stands suddenly and does something very unusual and unheard of in this time period. He bows to me. His hand, palm first, touches his stomach, and he just bends in half. I almost laugh, but blush instead. This was not a normal kidnapper-kidnapped relationship. He must have been forced to help them. But didn’t I come to that conclusion moments ago? Why am I pushing so hard?

“Do you know if I’ll be here forever?” I finally ask.

Sterren shrugs. “I do not know what they want with you,” he repeats.

I sigh and whimper as I accidentally lean against my enclosure. I watch as Sterren moves so that he is squatting in front of me. H
is grey eyes stare at me and his brow furrows. In one swift movement, Sterren is standing over me, his grey eyes sad and angry. He turns away and leaves me staring after him, my mouth open.

What the heck was that? He is one strange guy.
Why would he be so polite, and then just walk away with no acknowledgement of my existence? He didn’t even say goodbye to me. Oh well, I guess he’s not
that
different than the others.

I lean my head down; my forehead rests on my arms so that my eyes are bathed in complete darkness. I’m so tired, but it’s impossible to sleep here.
This is absolutely ridiculous. Safe? Nothing is safe when barbed wire is involved. I sigh, frustrated, and allow the tears to fall, warm and quick, down my face. I’m so happy that I’m alone right now. This loneliness is best at times like this, times when you’re too weak to keep it together.

The
stress of this, of this whole mess, collides and forms one huge problem. I cry over how I got myself into this, how I’m stuck like this, and how Sterren is simultaneously intriguing and annoying me. There’s nothing I can do to get myself out of this mess, and this hopeless feeling, combined with my other reasons for crying, drives me crazy. I spend the next half-hour crying like this. The only reason I stop is because there are no more tears to shed.

Footsteps rouse me from my sniffling.
I sit up, knowing that I won’t let myself look weak in front of whoever is coming to taunt me. I wipe the tears from my face, hoping that the dim light doesn’t draw attention to my puffy eyes and red cheeks.

“It’s just me,” Sterren states as he walks into the light.
He looks around and behind him as he walks toward me, and I raise an eyebrow at him. “Technically, I’m not allowed to do this,” he adds as he gets closer, and I can see why. Sterren is carrying a blanket, along with cheese and crackers. I’m hoping the cheese and crackers are for me, but lose my hope when Sterren lays the blanket across the dirty floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I need to keep you awake until they come to retrieve you,” Sterren answers.

“Oh,” I
say simply. Well that’s unexpected, and I can’t seem to grasp the idea that Sterren is staying until I see him recline, his hands resting on the blanket. “Why are you doing this?” I ask after he relaxes. I hope that he isn’t here to trick me into trusting him and instantly pull my defenses back up. I shouldn’t have let them slip in his presence in the first place.

Sterren opens the crackers and the pre-sliced cheese. I watch as
he makes himself a cheese and cracker sandwich and sticks it in his mouth. Then, he makes another, this one with two pieces of cheese in the middle. I stare at the food, jealous and a little angry. He swallows the first one, then sticks the second in his mouth. My jaw nearly drops open in shock. Wow, he’s rude and inconsiderate.

I lower my head until my forehead is resting against my knees. I open my eyes and look into the dark cave I’ve created and trace the hem of my jeans as I bite my lip.
Maybe Sterren wouldn’t look so comfortable working with these crazy kidnappers if he was a little nicer, a little bit more like a gentlemen.

“Here,” Sterren whispers. I look up to find that he’s holding out a cheese and cracker sandwich, his fingers waiting carefully on the other side of the barbed wire.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him.

“You’re hungry,” he says matter-of-factly. He waves the sandwich and I reach forward. The cheese is still
pretty cold, the cracker is rough and salty, and my stomach growls, even though I attempt to contain my hunger. I don’t want Sterren to feel like he owes me some food.

“Thank you,” I mumble in response.

Sterren nods, sensing my discomfort with the situation, and I silently thank him for letting it go. He hands me another cheese and cracker sandwich, and even though I ask him not to, he hands me a third and fourth cracker.

Afterwards, Sterren leans back on his blanket. His long legs are extended in front o
f him and he rests on his elbows; his light blue shirt hangs loosely on the sides, tighter near his chest now, and I can see his lean muscles more closely. Sterren leans his head back, stretching his neck, and the material of his shirt rises so that I can see the bottom of his flat stomach. His skin is tanned and I can see his defined abdominal muscles. This guy has a six pack.