Page 15 of Captured

His wings flared, the first weak flap doing nothing to lift him from the ground as he spotted his quarry. She was already angling toward a bridge, her nimble feet bringing her to the base of it before he launched himself into the air.

Flea’s head turned at his hard downward thrust, eyes widening as she took him in. A rusted metal railing ran along the side of the bridge between them, but the one on the opposite side was missing, so when her bare foot came down wrong and twisted mid-step, there was nothing for her flailing arms to catch as she pitched over the edge.

Chapter Eleven

Flea

Everything froze.

Her breathing.

Her thoughts.

Her heart.

It all stopped as her body tipped past the point of being able to save itself.

Watching the bridge grow further away, darkness moved in from the sides to cradle her as her body picked up momentum. She didn’t even scream as the realization set in that she was falling.

All because of that beast.

She’d finally gotten a good look at him as she tried to cross the bridge. With one of the working bulbs directly overhead, it had cleared enough of the gloom for her to see he definitely wasn’t wearing a helmet of some kind. No, those ridges and horns were all him.

And the eyes.

The light had caught them just right for a moment, flashing golden.

All four of them.

Letting her eyes drift shut as her body relaxed, Flea accepted what was coming. There was no surviving a fall from the edge of a level. It didn’t happen often, but it had happened enough times for everyone to know to be warry of the openings. The upper levels had better safeguards than the rickety rails that were missing from most of the lower ones, but none of that mattered now.

For a moment her mind wandered to the question of if this was really worth it. Was not being forced to bond with some alpha she didn’t know or want worth dying over?

It wasn’t that she denied her dynamic. She had the usual omega urges. A desire for soft things and safe spaces. A longing for family. A healthy enjoyment of good cock when she could get it.

But she could admit to herself that there was fear there.

Fear of the loss of her independence. Of who she was and what she’d worked so hard for. Fear that she’d become nothing more than a coddled trophy trapped in a limited life and controlled by her mate.

Yes, her life was worth losing if it meant she was still herself when she lost it.

The sudden impact was not unexpected, though sooner than she thought it would be and not what she’d imagined. A grunt left her, body curling around something hard as her steady, smooth descent became a turbulent spinning filled with snarls.

It took a moment for her brain to register that it wasn’t the ground she’d hit. The beating of wings was much louder when they flapped around her head, the jerking flight causing her to instinctively grasp at the warm muscles wrapped around her. Fingers dug into her ribs and right hip, hard enough to bruise and cause her to wince.

“Brace yourself.”

The growled command barely penetrated her slow thoughts as the band of his arms tightened around her. Wings struggling to slow their descent gave up the fight, pulling closer to cup around them as they rolled midair until Flea was atop the male.

The realization of what he meant to brace for came just before the impact. Trapped within the shell of his wings, his roar of pain sent Flea’s head ringing, her body pulling tight in reaction, but their motion didn’t stop. The sudden jerk was followed by another short fall, a startled cry finally torn from her throat.

The second impact was just as sudden. Flung from the arms that held her, Flea rolled a few feet before stilling face down on a dusty tiled floor. Falling debris rained on her back but she was too shocked to do more than lie still and suck in more breaths than she’d expected to have left.

The sounds of things falling and bouncing off the floor she lay on seemed muted despite the silence beyond. The rough, sawing noise was her own breath, the urgent pounding her heartbeat throbbing in her ears.

Afraid to move and realize this was just a dream, and she really lay broken on Seventh-Level, Flea started with just one finger. Then two.

Sucking in a deep breath to brace herself for the expected pain, she curled her hand into a fist and pulled it to her, tucking the limb beside her chest. When nothing more than a dull ache bloomed she pulled in her other arm, pressing her palms into the grit beneath her to lever herself upright.

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