Captured By The Alien Barbarian: A Sci-fi Alien Romance series (Planet Atraxis Warriors)

Chapter 3

Ilong for a life preserver that can tow me back to the blissful shores of dreamless slumber. You know, where one doesn’t have nightmares about being lost or pursued through bizarre landscapes by sinister shadows.

Sharp teeth rip into my skin. My mind plays the nightmare on a loop, showcasing those pearly whites slathered in drool, snapping ever closer and closer. I attempt to throw my arm up as a face shield, but my limbs feel like they are made of lead and betray me. It’s as if an invisible force holds them down and leaves me powerless to fight back against my circumstances.

I wake with a start and a scream on my lips.

Blinking, my eyes feel as gritty as beach sand, making it difficult to focus. Eventually, though, the fog lifts and my vision clears.

My mind, however, is a different story. Utterly confused, I try to make sense of my surroundings. Jagged rocks adorn the ceiling. Am I the victim of a mining mishap? Scoping out the rest of the “cave,” I note that the walls are smooth, like those of an actual building, and there is furniture. As I look further around, I discover the cave has an unusual aesthetic—smooth walls, furniture, and even kitchenware. Oh, and there I am, in someone’s bed. Stark naked, naturally. Because it’s totally normal to wake up in a strange cave, covered in furs, and dressed in only your birthday suit.

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.

“Mine,” he says softly, a smile playing on his thick lips. And for a moment, I can’t help but wonder if they are as soft as they appear. Everything else about him is hard. Wait. Did he just call me his? As if I were some object to own? Oh hell no.

“Who the heck do you think you are? What did you do to me? Let go of me,” I say, hurling every ounce of emotion into my words. I practically spat at him. I throw the frustration that I feel for just losing the best chance of ever becoming rich at him. I throw my anguish that I had nearly died.

His grin expands leisurely, as if he were basking in my furious attention.

“Now, why would I do that, little Nika?” he asks, his voice rolling over me like a velvety purr.

Feeling daring, I give a tentative wiggle. My stomach brushes against him, and he immediately closes his eyes and moans. I gasp, realizing what has just transpired. Even through the thick hide blanket and his leather pants, I feel the considerable weight of his... eagerness resting against my stomach.

My traitorous body betrays me, my nipples hardening beneath the blanket as they rub against the soft fibers.

“I am not your prisoner,” I say, attempting to maintain my composure. Why does my voice sound so damn husky?

The male has the audacity to smirk down at me, and a chill spreads across my body. No one should look that attractive and wicked simultaneously. It just shouldn’t be possible.

“Oh, but you are very much my prisoner.”

* * *

I gaze upat the male in absolute and utter shock, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. How on Earth—or more accurately, how on Atraxis—do I respond to something like that? Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to expect an answer.

The alien rises to his feet, towering over me and peering at me down the length of his body. There’s one obstruction to our unbreakable stare, and that’s the sizable bulge at his groin. As my eyes shift from his face to his package, I swear I see it twitch. As I watch, it grows, hardens, and lengthens until I can hear it straining the leather of his pants.

I swallow heavily, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. He is colossal. I thought my late husband was well-endowed, but this guy puts all of humanity to shame.

All the while, the alien observes my expression, looking insufferably smug. I despise his arrogant ass. After a moment of flaunting, he steps away. It feels like a dismissal, as if he’s right, and I’m wrong, just because. I loathe it. But I have no idea how to argue the point with him, especially while tied up.

I hate how my brain rationalizes that, all things considered, I should be grateful. I’m alive—sore, but alive.

This beast is the first alien I’ve ever seen up close and personal. I’ve watched countless vids featuring beings from other galaxies, and while some are quite humanoid, some are truly terrifying. The only humans who get to interact with aliens are usually from the very upper crust of society—the filthy rich and the government officials. Never someone like me.

The alien doesn’t approach me, but it’s clear he’s equally aware of my presence. His throbbing excitement certainly confirms that. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He struts around the cave, almost tilting his body this way and that so that he’s facing me, as if he’s proud of his arousal.

I find myself meandering through some peculiar thoughts, like what kind of equipment he is packing. It looks larger than average, given the way it is pitching a tent against his pants... What if he has tentacles? Or maybe spikes that would tear me to shreds? What if it secretes a deadly poison or corrosive acid? I am well aware that aliens can mate with humans... but I must confess, I have never taken the time to search the network for images of alien peens. Talk about a niche market. At least he looks mostly humanoid. You know, if you ignore his thick, green skin and that swishing tail.

For the first time in a while, the alien looks at me and asks, “How is your head?”

I give him a puzzled look. As my silence stretches between us, he gestures impatiently to the spot behind his ear. He is asking about the injury he inflicted upon me. The nerve! I shoot him a glare. As if he actually cares.

“Why did you hurt me? What did you even do?”

The green extraterrestrial has the gall to blink at me and feign shock. I detest how even when surprised, he appears so ridiculously handsome. His face is perfectly proportioned like a model’s, his hair composed of smooth black strands, his chest and abs sculpted. It is so jarring to talk to him when he looks so similar and yet so alien.

“You couldn’t understand my words, so I shared the device that allows us to do so. I am sorry that I had to cause you pain.”

“You gave me a translator?” I ask, processing his words with shock. He lives like a freaking caveman, and he just had a translator lying around? Why waste it on me? Those things cost an absolute fortune. Even knowing I was moving across the universe, the government didn’t even bother to offer me one. And it isn’t like I can afford one out of pocket.

“When the younglings become of a certain age, they each receive the device so they can communicate between tribes. For some reason, you didn’t have one.”

What in the world is going on? Younglings? Tribes? He speaks as if he doesn’t come from the colony. But the Earth Government thoroughly checked that the planet was devoid of any sentient life before humans even set foot on it... Unless they actually didn’t.

“You aren’t from the colony?” I say. My mind reels, unable to process the shock and implications of what is going on. Who is this guy? Does anyone else know that a sentient alien race lives here? I have to tell someone...

The alien’s eyes harden, his expression morphing into a scowl. Behind him, his tail ceases its swaying.

He strides towards me with long, confident steps. I become aware that his feet are bare, and as they step closer, the claws that tip his toes also come closer. I squirm backward on the bed. My back presses against the wall, pushing so hard into it that I can feel each crack and crevice in the chilly cave wall behind me.

I am forced to look up at him as he stares down at me. His breathing is heavy, and I clutch my blanket to myself as if it is a shield. With a sneer, he bends over and yanks my hands closer to him. With surprisingly nimble fingers, he reties my binds, making them tighter than before. Thankfully, not painfully so.

As he turns away from me, I can’t help but tug at the binds, trying to ease the pinch against my skin. With less wriggle room than before, my chances of breaking these bindings and escaping have dropped even further.

Eventually, I slump. There is no point in even trying to break the rope bindings now if my captor is so close by. Given how large and strong he is, I would have no hope of overpowering him. I’d just have to bide my time and hope nothing bad happens to me until then.

He busies himself with cleaning the cave. He works furiously, scrubbing at furniture and floors far more than I would have expected a man living in a cave to do. It is far more sophisticated than I had initially given him credit for. As time passes, my energy levels wane. I fight to stay awake, but my body has other ideas. My throat is parched, and if I don’t get liquid very soon, I could be in serious trouble.

He keeps glancing at me, but he never says anything to me. His scowl deepens each time he passes, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing to harass me. And I am grateful to be able to be somewhat ignored.

I sink further and further beneath the covers, pulling them around me for both the warmth and the hopefulness that out of sight means out of mind for him. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to close. I fall into a fitful slumber.

* * *

I awaken with a start,adrenaline making me feel like I’m running even before I’ve opened my eyes. Every limb, muscle, and joint aches, a chorus of agony that won’t let me forget how poorly I slept. My neck protests the most, having contorted itself into a position that would impress a circus contortionist. On top of all that, despite the furs draped over me, I feel cold.

The alien glides across the room, each step as silent as a whisper. It is unnerving—if I hadn’t seen him, I would never know he was there. He reminds me of a cheetah, lean muscles hiding fearsome grace and agility. I am all too wary of him now. He is deceptively fast with his movements. Combined with his natural stealth and the lean muscles gracing every inch of him, I know I don’t stand a chance against him.

But that won’t stop me from trying to escape. I refuse to be his prisoner. I simply must bide my time and wait for the perfect moment to escape.

The male starts piling up the wood fire, and soon he has a roaring blaze going inside the cave. The heat from the fire chases away the chill, and my shivers gradually subside. He then hoists a spit over the flames, and before long, the intoxicating scent of roasting meat tickles my nose. The fat glistens and drips into the fire, sizzling as it is engulfed by the flame’s flickering embrace.

My stomach roars like a ravenous beast, a traitor to my resolve.

His lips quirk in a small, knowing smirk.

“Hungry, Nika?” he asks.

It is then that I notice the assortment of loops and tools he wears around his waist, an alien utility belt filled with various tools and implements unknown. With a casual flick of his wrist, he uses one of his small blades to slice off a piece of the mouth-watering meat.

“Open your mouth,” he says, as he holds it out towards me, as though he expects me to obey without question.

I glare at him, my lips firmly pressed together. I am not a dog.

Instead, I glare, my lips pressed firmly together. Even though I am tied up, I will not lower myself to be fed by him, like some helpless toddler. My self-respect still smolders, refusing to be snuffed out. And does he really think I am stupid enough to eat food prepared by my captor? It could be poisoned or drugged. Or worse, kale.

Tutting disappointedly, he shakes his head at me, as though I have failed some test, like I have let him down by my refusal. Anger and hunger gnawing at me, I watch him devour the rest of the meal. He exaggerates each bite, locking eyes with me as he lifts each delectable morsel into his mouth. He is cruel, taunting me with the food I so desperately crave. I am more than annoyed. In retaliation, I hiss at him, baring my teeth like some feral beast. If he wants to play the savage animal, then that’s just how I will treat him. His eyes widen, the pupils dilating with surprise, and then he erupts into laughter. The sound is deep, resonating through him in a way that stirs up unwarranted, traitorous feelings in the pit of my stomach. Feelings that I refuse to acknowledge.

I won’t let my body and its completely irrational responses distract me from my goal of escaping this alien’s clutches.

He moves around the room, tidying up after himself. For someone so annoying, he is surprisingly neat and clean. It is bizarre, given his otherwise barbaric behavior. The cave floor looks like it has been scrubbed within an inch of its life, and now that I look, I can easily spot the stone tiles. The sparse wooden furniture is well maintained, and even storage is stowed out of sight on shelves filled with jars and containers in every shape and size.

He even has an animal hide, expertly trimmed into a rectangle, hung up like a piece of abstract art. I have to admit, he has good taste—the hide showcases a medley of lovely pastel blues and deep purples splattered across its surface. It is a testimony to his unexpectedly refined taste.

Who is this alien, capable of great strength, stealth, and cleanliness? What is his purpose with me? And, more importantly, when will dinner be ready? If it smells anywhere near as good as breakfast, I doubt I will turn him down again.

My gaze snags on the only indications of disarray in this otherwise clean home. Crumpled sheets and soiled bandages are piled near a slatted wooden door. I almost choke on my own breath when the absurd realization hits me—they must have been what he used to treat me. So, this alien has cared for me and cleaned me, all while I’ve been blissfully unconscious! Who would’ve thought? His hospitality is both surprising and ironic.

Perhaps he isn’t the epitome of evil that my mind first jumped to—even if he does call me his prisoner. Maybe he just is a terrible host, not knowing how to show even the tiniest amount of hospitality. I think back on what I’d do in case of a kidnapping. Don’t develop Stockholm syndrome, for a starter. Then the goal would be to humanize myself, to make the kidnapper see me as a person, someone they can connect with.

Armed with my brilliant idea, I decide to give the conversational reins a go. “My name is Ariana,” I say. I bravely lift my chin and offer him the most endearing smile I can muster, probably not much, given the anxiety-producing circumstances. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

He glances up at me from the other side of the room, his eyes wide. His expression gives a sense of being utterly taken aback, as if the idea of gratitude is a foreign concept. “You’re welcome,” he says. For a brief moment, his eyes soften in my direction.

“What is your name?” I ask, bonding moment in full throttle. Seizing the opportunity to shift to a seated position, I maintain my death grip on the blanket. I try to pretend that it’s a completely normal occurrence to wake up in a strange alien male’s bed, entirely naked. Cool, calm, and collected.

“Taccit,” he says at last. He turns his full attention toward me, tail swishing behind him animatedly. I have to resist asking if it ever stops moving. His expression is uncannily earnest, and I can’t help but wonder why he seems genuinely excited to tell me his name.

I respond with a beaming grin. Finally, we are getting somewhere.

Abruptly, his open expression slams shut, and the previously harmonious smile morphs into a scowl. The grin that adorns his sensual lips swings downward, and his ebony eyebrows lower into a menacing glare. Meanwhile, his tail whips into a frenzy behind him, stirring up a dust devil.

Hold up, what have I done?

“What’s wrong?” I ask, barely resisting the urge to move away from him.

“Why do you bare your teeth at me?” Taccit snarls. Suddenly, he is up and marching to the other side of the room, putting space between us.

“Bare my... what?” I say in confusion, my heart pounding like it’s trying to smash through my ribcage.

“I try to be friendly, only for you to insult me!” He spins back around to fix me with a menacing growl, the deep rumble echoing around the cramped room. He takes a few threatening steps towards me, causing me to squirm to put some distance between us.

“I smiled at you!” I defend, somewhat out of breath. “I was being friendly!”

His stride falters. His gaze narrows suspiciously as he scrutinizes my every inch. Those nostrils of his flare repeatedly. Is he... smelling me? I have heard that some extraterrestrial beings can detect emotions. Is he smelling how absolutely petrified I am at that moment?

“Explain how that was being friendly,” he asks, more commanding than questioning. I hate when people tell me what to do. Yet, I am so frightened of this alien right now that I am willing to ignore his tone. After all, when your safety hangs in the balance, some sacrifices must be made.

“I was... smiling,” I reply, my voice cracking.

After giving me a long, appraising look, he slowly lowers himself closer to the ground, crouching a short distance from me.

“Your species bares their teeth... when they smile?” He certainly doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Ah, yes. Humans have this peculiar habit of showing their teeth when they’re happy. Or when we’re, you know, just being friendly. Like this... May I demonstrate?”

He nods, his yellow-eyed gaze practically burning a hole through me. Doing my best to comply, I attempt a weak smile. I turn up the corners of my lips, producing what can only be described as the world’s least sincere smile. It ends up more like a pained grimace, but I figure it will have to do—it’s not like he’d know any better, right?

His expression falters for a moment, and that oh-so-familiar panic starts creeping in. He disapproves. My attempt at a grin becomes etched in place as I watch, anxiety levels spiking for his reaction.

Finally, he forces a smile himself. It is more like he is copying me, rather than showing a genuine emotion. And then it strikes me: his teeth are sharp. Very sharp. His smile resembles more of an animal baring its fangs than an actual smile. It is downright terrifying, to be honest.

I’m not even sure my own smile remains in place, given the way my heart races. If he makes any sudden movements, I am fully prepared to jump out of my skin.

“I will have to remember this behavior. My people do not bare their teeth when they smile,” he muses, nodding to himself. Seemingly done with me, he returns to whatever it is he had been doing on the far side of the cavern.

Out of the blue, Taccit asks, “Are you in need of a drink?”

“Uhm... no, thank you,” I reply.

Truthfully, I am dying for a drink, but then there is the inevitable aftermath—having to relieve myself. In case you’ve forgotten, I am currently cuffed and tied to a wall with nary a bathroom in sight. I don’t dare imagine what solution he might come up with for that situation. I opt not to press my luck.

Taccit turns from me and shrugs his hulking shoulders, seemingly unfazed. His tail is held stiff out behind him.

“It is a shame that you do not find what I offer you desirable right now. You will need to eat and drink eventually,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I’m aware that pain can make you feel unwell. I apologize for not having any more medicine to help you out.”

“Oh, er, thank you.”

Maybe I really have been too quick to judge this guy. He appears terrifying, but his actions aren’t entirely malevolent. He has rescued me, presumably fending off that rabid beast in the process, and even tried to feed me. The only thing that doesn’t quite add up is the cuffs and the little prisoner title.

“Hey, umm, Taccit?” I venture, testing the waters. His back stiffens, and his tail goes as rigid as a ruler. Slowly, he turns toward me, his expression unreadable.

This time, I try a closed-mouth smile, not a tooth in sight. “Is there any chance you can remove these cuffs and set me free?”

There is a pause that seems to last an eternity. I begin to think he won’t respond at all.

He grunts out a simple, “No.”

“What?” My temper flares, overriding my fear and any last vestiges of logical thought. I plow ahead with reckless abandon. “I’m not a slave, and I’m not a prisoner! You can’t just go tying people up for no reason. You have no right to do this to me!”

Taccit stands tall, looming over me. I am instantly reminded of just how big, this guy is. Mental note—don’t provoke the big alien guy with freaking razor-sharp claws and sharp, pointy teeth like something out of a nightmare. “You don’t have much of a choice, my little Nika. You are a prisoner whether you like it or not,” Taccit says. His tail slams onto the ground, a sharp crack noise echoing off the walls and making me wince.

Correction: don’t piss off the alien guy with claws, pointy teeth, and bulging muscles that could probably squash me like a bug without breaking a sweat.

“I refuse to be your prisoner,” my voice cracks. My eyes threaten to spill over with tears, but I swiftly blink them away. There is no way I am going to let this extraterrestrial see me at my weakest.

I have endured quite a bit of misfortune these past few years, but I have not let it defeat me. When my husband passed away shortly after we moved to this strange planet, I coped. I resisted the advances of Walter and stood my ground, and now I will not allow this alien brute to dominate me.

My irritation bubbles over, and I blurt out, “What did I ever do to you? Why do you even care if I stay or go?”

Taccit fixes me with a thoughtful stare that sends a shiver down my spine. If I had hackles, they would be on the rise right about now.

“Because you are my mate,” he says simply, like the matter has always been decided and agreed upon. As if it were the most obvious fact in the galaxy.

Oh boy, I had it all wrong. I realize with a sinking feeling that I have been wrong about Taccit. He is not a misunderstood alien with a heart of gold. Rather, he is a very bad, very evil alien. A grade-A, villainous creep.

My mind races, trying to devise a plan. One thing, however, is crystal clear.

“I’ll never love a beast like you.”

* * *

A jolt awakens me.Again. If I were keeping count, this would be, oh, the five-thousandth time I’ve startled awake in a state of sheer panic. Ever since I moved to this confounded planet, it feels like every aspect of my life has been spinning wildly out of control.

Blinking my eyes to clear the haze, my vision focuses on the cave ceiling, and I groan. Instead of waking from my worst nightmare, I am, in fact, living it—complete with the role of a prisoner.

I glance around, half expecting the alien Taccit to be lurking somewhere in the shadows. The cave is quiet—eerily so. Even the fire has given up, leaving behind a pile of smoldering embers. What I do find, however, are a few pieces of dried fruits and nuts conveniently placed beside my bedding. At least my captor, bless his evil little heart, has thought to feed me.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl, loudly protesting its empty state. How long has it been since I last ate? I know at least a day has passed... but could it have been more?

Eagerly grabbing the familiar-looking food, I devour the berries—despite their dry, chewy texture, knowing they provide the energy I need to stage my daring escape. Beside the plate, a leather canteen with a cork stopper begs for attention. I sniff it suspiciously, but finding no sinister smell, I take a cautious sip. Ah, water. Just the sight of it makes my whole body sing with anticipation.

Guzzling it down, I feel it travel down my parched throat and settle in my stomach. By the time I drain the last drop, my stomach feels satisfyingly full—albeit slightly queasy. I can’t help but pray that my alien captor hasn’t spiked the water, cunningly taking advantage of my desperation. But that would be silly, right? I am already at his mercy, after all...

As if on cue, my eyes dart around the cave, searching for the elusive Taccit. I listen intently, but all it does is magnify the silence. No ominous alien footsteps or menacing laughter echo nearby.

Opportunities like this don’t come around often. It is time to plan an escape.

I pull hard at my binds, trying to tear myself free from this temporary prison. Unfortunately for me, they are securely tied to a metal ring. I scan the room and notice that there are many such rings, some of which are used to hang hides or display other decorative trinkets.

Taking breaks occasionally, I tilt my head as if it will magically make my ears more receptive to any sounds of someone returning. The world outside the cave is equally quiet. Even the birds have gone on strike. My anxiety levels skyrocket. If even the native creatures are giving Taccit a wide berth, what does that say about him? His name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as my anger grows exponentially. How dare he treat me like this? How dare he tie me up and keep me prisoner? And worst of all, how dare he simply assume I would mate with him? Marry a monster like that? Not in a million years! Soon enough, I come to the sad conclusion that no matter how much I yank at the metal ring, it is going nowhere. So I switch tactics. If I can’t get the rope off the wall, then I will get it off my body.

A determined scowl mars my face as I strain once more against the ropes, desperately attempting to squeeze my fingers through the confounded loops. My thumbs, the bumbling buffoons that they are, prove much too large for the task and steadfastly refuse to slip through. I find myself cursing their very existence, blaming my thumbs for being a hindrance rather than a help.

As far as ropes go, the one that binds me is far from being soft and kindly—quite the contrary. Its construction appears to be from an array of lengthy, thick, and pointy strands of pale blue, dried grass which vaguely reminds me of an angry porcupine. The more I flex my wrists in an attempt to break free, the more those straw-like daggers dig into my skin. However, I am undeterred. Even if it means suffering a few scrapes and scratches, I am determined to seize this possibly fleeting opportunity.

Unfortunately, as I persevere in my efforts, the initially small abrasions soon become increasingly painful. Blood wells. Every attempt to slide my hands through results in a hissed exclamation of pain.

This isn’t working either. Appealing to both logic and desperation, I decide that a new strategy is in order. I resort to tearing at the bothersome rope with my teeth. I swear as a few strands wage a painfully prickly war against my gums. It does, however, prove to be far more successful. I can see the faint glimmer of progress toward sweet liberation.

With renewed fervor, I vigorously attack the remaining strands until at last, my hands are triumphant in their quest for freedom.

A small cry of elation escapes my lips, though it is short-lived as I promptly find myself cradling my wounded wrists and hands. Tears cascade down my cheeks, and I furiously scrub at them, despising myself for this show of vulnerability.

With lingering pain in each finger, I force them into motion, snatching up the blanket that had served as a shawl until this moment. I clutch it tightly, draping it protectively over my shoulders and body like a cocoon.

Without a single glance back, I dash headlong toward my freedom.