Page 7 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
Panic skyrockets as my predicament dawns on me. Attempting to sit up, my hands refuse to cooperate. My horrified gaze lands on the rope that binds my wrists, tethering me to the wall not far from the makeshift bed.
What is going on? Why am I tied up? Who lives in a cave like a hermit? Is it a reclusive miner? And why the rope?
I cling to the hide blanket draped over my body in an attempt to shield myself, feeling the fur brush against my very naked thighs, stomach, and chest. As if I need that tactile reminder of my clothing-challenged status.
Should I call out for help?
Suddenly, memories of the previous evening come flooding back. I feel light-headed—my nightmare may have been all too real.
Tentatively, I reluctantly inspect my wounds, bracing myself for a gory mess. To my surprise, I am bruised and have a few stinging cuts, but I am far from grievously injured. A few smears of blood cling to my leg. Was the bear-like alien a figment of my imagination? A twisted dream?
A crusty white substance clings to my skin. I scratch at it and a whiff of antiseptic stings my nostrils. Antiseptic, maybe? So, my rescuer cared for me, wanted me to heal. But why would they tie me up?
I glance up as the room’s light is obstructed—the cave entrance, previously open, now has a visitor. Someone with a talent for blotting out the light, it seems. My eyes widen as I take in this hulking specimen in the doorway. The light silhouettes his body, so it’s hard to make out his features. Except that he is huge. He’s taller than any male I have ever laid eyes on, perhaps seven feet or taller. I mean, if I stood side by side with him, I doubt the top of my head would even brush his chin.
My eyes drift downwards, doing a mental inventory of this absolute unit. His shoulders are broad, his arms and biceps bulging like a wrestler who accidentally wandered into a body-building competition. He could probably carry ten times the amount of rocks I do from the mine without even breaking a sweat. I follow the slope of his chest down to the tapered hips. Even his thighs are thick with muscle. I’m talking tree trunks here, folks.
The man—or alien—rumbles something at me. At least, I hope he’s asking me something and not growling at me like some feral beast. Tough to say. Either way, it sends shivers down my spine. I’d never admit it to anyone, but those shivers are not entirely from fear. Something about him catches all of my attention.
As he steps closer, I do my best to hold my ground. I wish that somehow I could become invisible, but alas, no such luck. A gasp of pain slips free as I yank my manacled hands as far as they would go.
The male pauses, tilting his head as if studying me.
Now that he steps inside and is no longer silhouetted by the outside light, I can make out his features.
He looks like some primitive barbarian in his ensemble of furs, leather, and an array of belts and shoulder pads. Quite the contrast from the uniforms I am accustomed to seeing.
My gaze roams his body, taking in the spectacle before me. Seeing aliens is one thing in videos, but this is different. He is... awe-inspiring. Muscles upon muscles, biceps for days, and washboard abs that could make a model pea-green with envy. Based on the number of small scars that mar his body, none of it looks like it has been easily gained through visiting the gym, unless it is a gym filled with angry bears.
When he saunters fully into the room, a gasp slips past my lips. He has a tail! How did I not see it before? It stretches out behind him, swishing back and forth like, dare I say, a dog.
This is the kind of alien you would see in all the crazy action vids, filled with stunning visual effects, that would have fan-girls drooling and chasing after like lovesick teenagers.
And he has tied me up.
Mustering my best scowl, I stare him down. Or attempt to. In all honesty—I probably am not very intimidating, considering he is much larger and I am, well, bound. But I refuse to cower. No matter how much this male makes me feel like a hamster facing a tiger.
“Release me,” I say, giving my bound wrists and chain a tug for emphasis. He studies me, his head tilting in a way that sends his long black hair cascading over his shoulder. We lock eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if this guy speaks English. I try again, this time speaking Common. I’m not that great at the intergalactic standard language, but it isn’t hard to get my meaning. After all, you can get the idea from my body language alone.
The guy just sits there silently staring at me.
He must be part of the colony, right? I wasn’t aware that any aliens came with us, but I also didn’t stick my nose in other people’s business. I mean, who is this guy? Why the barbarian-chic wardrobe?
Suddenly, the man bursts towards me, with a speed that his size would suggest is impossible. I manage a squawk of fear before his body pins me to the bedding. His colossal thighs on either side of my waist, his hands grip my head, forcing me to look towards the cave entrance.
I scream as if vying for a horror movie role, clawing at his hands and arms. But my nails seem futile against his thick skin. Something hefty wraps around my ankles, and kicking only results in a tsunami of pain. It seems that my wounds aren’t as healed as I believed.
Leaning further over me, his chest nearly suffocating mine, his breath grazes my face and neck, raising goosebumps. I hold myself taut, glaring at him from the corner of my eye, silently daring him to push his luck. I refuse to submit to him.
Despite my silent threats, I can’t stifle the hiss of pain when something sharp pierces behind my ears. He holds my chin at an uncomfortable angle with one hand while the other brandishes something that glitters in the dim light. And then he presses it behind my ear.
The mother of all migraines strikes me, like a thousand tiny jackhammers have started a very angry construction project in my brain. One moment, I glare at him and the next, I writhe beneath him as darkness envelops my vision. Icy tendrils burrow into my brain and snake down my spine. And then, just as quickly as the pain appeared, it disappears. Weird.
Tears stream down my face, and I cling to his wrists like a lifeline. His hands, once firm, now cradle my face gently. He brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, wearing an expression of awe and wonder, and even coos softly as if to soothe my pain like I am a child.
Blinking up at him, I wonder what the hell is wrong with this guy. He has gone from attacker to doting caretaker in a matter of seconds.
His golden eyes, flecked with brown, bore into mine. Goosebumps erupt as he gazes at me like I am everything he could ever want.
