Cautiously, I move off the bed and walk to where she stands. I don’t sit and she doesn’t ask me to.
She removes the covers one at a time, and my eyes span the lavish spread. There’s a plate piled high with what looks like a variety of steaming hot meats. Another plate contains a mixture of bizarre-looking fruit. A third is filled with strange-looking rectangular chunks that could most likely be compared to cheese. A bowl contains some bizarre watery khaki-green stuff that looks as appetizing as dog food. My nose twitches. She pours a glass of some weird red concoction and hands it to me. “Drink this.”
I take a step back, shaking my head. “I’m not eating or drinking anything.” For all I know, they’re trying to poison me. Not a single thing will voluntarily enter my body for however long I’m here.
A small smile curves up the corners of her lush mouth. “That’s your choice.” She sits back down, facing me. Her intense gaze makes me uncomfortable.
I feel like a circus animal in a cage. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“I apologize. It’s just I’ve never seen a human before. You’re very beautiful. I can understand it.”
I’m not sure what to make of that, so I don’t acknowledge or respond to her statement, although I’m sure she’s expecting a reaction. She smiles pleasantly, and I frown more sternly. “Don’t you have someplace else to be,” I suggest a few minutes later, when I can’t take any more of the pleasant staring or the awkward silence.
“The princess has assigned me to take care of your every need. And I’d like to get to know you better. So no, I don’t have anywhere better to be right now. I’m Dali, by the way,” she says, extending her arm.
I eye her hand suspiciously, but I grasp it nonetheless. Her skin is arctic cold, and I yank my hand back, startled.
“You are so warm.”
“You’re so cold.” We trade nervous smiles. Another blast of chilly silence fills the space between us. “Who is the princess?” I ask, more for the sake of asking something.
“She’s the heir to the Amaretti throne. She’s eighteen, same as you.”
“I’m not eigh— Wait, what day is it? How long have I been gone?” I scratch the side of my head.
“It has been three Earth days since you left.”
“Since I was abducted, you mean.” I sound colder than I intended. I’m sure Dali had nothing to do with my kidnapping. She’s only following orders.
She turns her head, grimacing. “I am very sorry about that. But I’m sure the king will let you return to Earth once the wed— Once he no longer needs you.” A faint red hue tinges her skin from below the surface.
It’s not the first time I’ve spotted this. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why does your skin change color?”
Her eyes widen, and she more or less falls out of her chair. “You can see that?” I nod. “To my knowledge, no one outside the Amaretti can detect the subtle changes in tone under our skin. It highlights our emotions. Different colors are linked to different emotions.”
Okaaayy. So that’s more than a little weird. “That must get embarrassing?”
“We can choose to shield our emotions, although sometimes it’s easier to let them shine. Emotions are more powerful than words.”
Hmm. That’s quite profound.
“What does red mean?” She purses her lips. “Is it a trade secret? You’ll have to kill me if you tell me?” I crank out a laugh before I remember my surroundings. Now isn’t the time to be making jokes at my own expense.
“That’s not it. I’m not sure what I’m permitted to share.” She plays with her lip in a very human-like gesture.
The tentative connection we were forming shatters. I can’t ever forget that I’m being kept here against my will. And apart from the snippets that Logan and Haydn have shared with me, I know next to nothing about my captors. From what I’ve been told, the Amaretti are master manipulators and I’d do well to remember that.
“Anger. Red denotes anger or frustration.” She says it quietly in a very matter-of-fact manner.
“Oh.” I wrinkle my nose. “So which one were you feeling just now?”
A tiny smile graces her lips. “A bit of both. I’m sorry you’ve been involved in this. It’s not right, or fair.” Her smile shrivels up and dies, and her skin tone flushes a brighter shade of red. A fierce frown contorts her stunning features. Whipping around, she looks at the rapidly cooling food. “If I taste everything first, will you eat and drink then?”
Saliva pools in my mouth the same time my tummy grumbles in protest at the self-imposed hunger strike. I’m ravenous, and my empty gut feels hollowed out. I’m sorely tempted to take Dali up on her offer, but it could still be a trick. And even if it isn’t, who’s to say that this food is compatible with the human body? The last thing I need is food poisoning or an allergic reaction. I’m not taking any chances.
“No.” I feel compelled to add, “But thanks for offering.” Dali is a model of politeness, and I figure I owe it to humankind to present us in the best possible light.
“As you wish.” She rises serenely. “I have something to attend to. I will check in on you later.” Her steps are light and graceful as she walks to the door. Turning around, she shrouds me in a megawatt smile. “It has been truly delightful to make your acquaintance.” She closes the door before I can respond, which is all well and good, considering I haven’t a damn clue how to interpret her last statement let alone reply to it.
Torture by boredom; that’s their obvious strategy, because all I’ve done for the last few hours is weave a path across the weird shiny floor. Throwing myself on the bed, I moan in frustration. There is nothing to do here but think, and my mind is cluttered with competing thoughts.
I’m concerned about Ella and Jarod. I’m sure they are going out of their minds with worry. For all they know, I’ve simply vanished into thin air. Unless Haydn has somehow figured out what’s happened and advised them. But that’s a long shot, because all I said in my note was that I was going out for a run.
My thoughts meander to the Saven assailants who were first on my trail. Who sent them and why? Certainly, someone on Saven knows what happened that morning, but whether anyone has relayed that to Haydn or Logan is debatable. Even thinking Logan’s name causes my heart to throb with remembered heartache. I can’t imagine he’d be happy to learn of my current predicament, but again, it’s all conjecture.
I can’t rely on anyone to swoop in and save me.
I’m just going to have to save myself.
So far, my prospects aren’t looking that great. I have Logan’s pendant, and I know I could use it to blow up this cell. The trouble is, I’d most likely incinerate myself along with it, which defeats the purpose. Having scoured this cell—inch by inch—there is no obvious means of escape. So the only real option I have is to wait for an opportunity to present itself.
The problem with that plan is it leaves far too much to chance. I need something concrete, something solid to work toward, and so far, nothing is springing to mind. My frustration is mounting by the second.
A widespread blanket of light coats the ceiling of my cell as the sky outside darkens. The more nightfall approaches, the stronger the light grows. I’m lying flat on my back on the bed, ankles crossed and hands entwined behind my head, when a burst of blaring music captures my attention. Scrambling to my feet, I take a gander out the window at the scene unraveling below.
The large open area basks under the glow of a multitude of brightly colored lights zigzagging across the open-air auditorium like a holographic domed ceiling. Crowds are assembled in the seated rows, and a large group stands in an enclosed space to the front of the dais. Two rows of chairs are stacked neatly to the back of the elevated stage. Ceremonial type music fills the air though I can’t work out where it’s coming from. Alternating images flicker from the digital screens, showcasing strange alien cities and faces, until a more well-known one surfaces.
King Adjani’s stony face seems to penet
rate mine, though it’s impossible because it’s only a projection. A chill permeates my bones as I resurrect the contents of our last conversation. Did he do this? Is this his warped way of ensuring I stay away from Logan? Is that what Dali meant by insurance? But insurance for what? No matter how many angles I approach this from, I can’t figure out how I’m relevant in the bigger scheme of things.
My thoughts scatter as the music changes and a line of distinguished-looking aliens march onto the dais. The screen follows their movements, and I gasp as I spot King Adjani and Dante holding up the rear. They take the last two seats on the stage, as the crowd grows silent in excited expectation.
A tall alien male with salt and pepper hair steps up to the podium. He has the exact same nose and angular jawline as the alien men who abducted me from New York. Another weird observation. He talks in an alien tongue, and without a translator, I’ve no idea what he’s saying. I wonder how Dali speaks such perfect English and how she has no trouble understanding me. For a fleeting second, his skin flares purple underneath the surface, and I wonder which emotion that represents. Perhaps it would be wise to befriend Dali and try to learn as much as I can about my alien kidnappers. Any information I glean could be vitally important when it comes to escape. Especially when my life is possibly hanging in the balance.
Returning to the moment, I watch as King Adjani steps up to the podium next. I can only assume that this whole spectacle is related to the agreement the Saven have recently reached with the Amaretti. I don’t understand a word he says either, and my attention is waning when two new vivid images emerge on the digital screens.
To the left of the stage, the image of a striking-looking alien girl appears. Her hair is hidden underneath some form of elaborate multi-colored headscarf secured stringently around her head, showcasing her beautiful face. Heavily made-up eyes, fanned by a thick set of jet-black lashes, glisten like emeralds as she stares starkly ahead. Her tiny nose is in direct contrast with her full red lips, set within a delicate, flawless face.
My eyes flit to the other screen, and a shrill cry escapes my lips. A succession of quivers rips up and down my spine. The image is a close-up of his face, and my hand reaches out involuntarily.
Logan’s eyes are an empty hollow shell, completely devoid of the usual spark. His expression is respectful yet solemn as he stares vacantly ahead, his lips pressed tight. While he isn’t looking himself, nothing can detract from his beauty, and he draws audible gasps from the crowd. My eyes drink him in, absurdly thirsty after an almost deadly drought. His impact hasn’t lessened in the slightest, and my heart pings in my chest. Unadulterated longing consumes me.
The girl adjusts her headscarf so that it’s covering her eyes. The screen changes angle, capturing Logan and the alien girl as they approach the stage from different directions. They meet in the middle in front of the podium. Logan bows. The girl steps forward, placing her right hand on his left shoulder. Then she performs some weird half-curtsy. They break apart and stand behind King Adjani and the other alien male.
Every nerve ending in my body is primed and raring to go, as my entire being craves its other half. Shivery tingles skate over my skin, and electrifying invisible antennae emanate from my body, weaving a path toward Logan.
I watch the screen as his chin juts up in shared understanding, and his eyes grow round in astonished recognition. He clenches his jaw. King Adjani is speaking again, and Logan leans down and whispers something to the girl. She meets his guarded gaze with a shocked one.
“Logan? Can you hear me? Can you feel me?”
He stiffens slightly, but I receive no reply. Either he’s purposely not responding or we’re too far apart to communicate telepathically.
“Logan?”
The silence is pretty telling. Does he already know I’m here? Was he part of this? I shake my head vociferously. No. He wouldn’t have approved of this. Not when he’s spent weeks insisting I behave like a virtual prisoner and he left Haydn with me because he believed I needed protecting. I can’t imagine he would do something like this.
Unless his father somehow coerced him into it.
Nausea rises to the surface, and I genuinely think I’m going to puke. What is going on here?
More foreign words are spoken, and then a raucous cheer rings out from the crowd as my door crashes open and two boisterous alien males stumble into my cell.
Whirling around, I flatten my back to the wall and eye them warily. My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest. Both are uniformly tall, not that it surprises me anymore. Though they share some similar traits, their hair and eyes are different colors.
The dark-haired blue-eyed one stares with unabashed inquisitiveness. The black-eyed one has thick white hair that flows to his shoulders. He reviews me with scary intent, and my heartbeat races out of control as adrenaline submerges my system.
Both are wearing the same silver and black jumpsuits I’d seen previously on my kidnappers. They must be the Amaretti equivalent of the military or the police.
The blue-eyed one is tan, like Dali, while his much scarier-looking partner is rather pale faced. On closer inspection, that could be due to intoxication of some sort. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, and he sways slightly on his feet.
Closing the door with a quick swipe of his hand, he stalks toward me, a determined smirk on his lips.
I’m trembling all over as I press myself farther into the wall. “Don’t come near me!” I hold a hand outstretched in warning.
He stops and says something to the other one. They must be speaking whatever language the Amaretti speak because it’s complete gobbledygook to my ears. Their intonation is melodious and high pitched, and it’d be quite amusing if I weren’t so potently terrified. Turning slowly around, he wets his lips as he strides toward me with renewed purpose.
Holy crap. Things are about to go south.
My eyes skim the room quickly, desperately seeking something I can use as a weapon, but it’s devoid of objects. Swallowing my fear, I run through all of Haydn’s instructions, as I attempt to regulate my out-of-control breathing.
Jumping down on the other side of the bed, I glare at the approaching alien. The dark-haired one loiters uncertainly in the background. Perhaps I can appeal to his better nature. Assuming he has one.
The scary white-haired one stops on the other side of the bed and we face off. Supplanting my poker face on, I stand ramrod straight as I penetrate his eyes. Don’t show any weakness. Never let your guard down. I repeat the mantra over and over in my head as my razor-sharp eyes stay glued to his. Watch facial expressions and bodily movements. Your opponent will always give himself away. It may only be a slight twitch or motion, but he’ll do something to betray himself.
Haydn’s instructions are imprinted on my brain much the same way Logan’s face is imprinted on my heart.
The alien’s leg trembles a smidgeon, but it’s enough to give the game away. I dart sideways as he lunges over the bed at me. While he attempts to straighten up, I raise my leg, and my foot connects with his ribcage, sending him sprawling backward on the ground. Weakened by his intoxicated state, he is too slow to react. I jump up and slam my feet full force into his torso. He twitches and the impact bangs his head off the floor.
Never let your guard down, I recall too late. I swing around as the other alien pins my arms forcefully behind my back. Dammit! He’s releasing a string of foreign language as scary-face squirms on the floor. Without any time to waste, I angle my hand and grab the most delicate part of his anatomy. Squeezing my eyes shut, I twist my wrist. Hard. His hold on me loosens instantaneously. He staggers back, clutching his hands between his legs as he lets out an almighty roar.
Good to know their physiology is apparently similar to ours.
Sensing movement behind me, I whip around as would-be-assaulter number two climbs to his feet. He rotates his neck from left to right as he crunches his knuckles and steps menacingly toward me. Stepping back, I eyeball him as we circle
each other.
I feint forward and he falls for it, leaping straight at me. Stepping sideways, I spin around and lash out with my arm, hitting the exact point at the ribs that Haydn showed me. Dropping to his knees, he clutches his side, clearly winded.
The other one is starting to recover, and I wonder how much longer I can fight them both off. They converse urgently, spitting words at one another while they shoot deadly glances my way.
I hop from foot to foot, my muscles tense and ready. Jumping up, they rush me together, but I’m expecting it. At the last second, I dive on the floor and scurry through their legs. I’m pushing up off my hands when one of them clasps my ankle and I face-plant the ground. A bone-crunching sting crisscrosses my cheek, and I bite my tongue to stop from crying out. Kicking, I fight the pull, but it’s too late. The white-haired scaremonger has both my ankles in a rigorous grip as I thrash about on the floor. He flips me over and my top rides up, exposing my naked belly. Something sinister flashes in his eyes.
Oh, God, no.
My upper body is hoisted from behind, and I’m tossed onto the bed. Pale face crawls the length of me as the other one holds my wrists over my head. Raw, naked fear accosts me and I quake all over. I’m bucking underneath him, but his considerable bodyweight has me pinned to the bed.
Launching myself at him, I head butt him, putting as much strength as I can into the motion. Stars explode behind my eyes as ratcheting pain scampers over my skull. Wet and sticky liquid leaks out of my nose.
Scary features slumps sideway, holding his head in his hands. My vision is sketchy as I elevate my lower body and somersault back. My feet thrust into the alien behind me and he stumbles back. Scrambling frantically, I stagger toward the main door and pummel on it. “Help me! Please. Help!”
Arms restrain me from behind, squeezing all the air out of my lungs, as I’m dragged to the other side of the room. The white-haired freak is furious as he traps me on the bed, slapping me hard across the face. The room spins. A secondary blow causes an outpouring from my nose, and I’m gushing all over the place. A heavy weight settles on top of me as hands shift the hem on my shirt. I want to fight, to push him off, but my body feels like Jell-O, and I can’t get my arms to cooperate.
Saven Disclosure (The Saven Series Book 2) Page 17
