Lords of the Deep (5 page)

He’d thrown a net around her.

Did the fact that he’d had a net handy mean that he’d gone specifically with the intention of capturing a human? Or had it just been a ‘catch’ of opportunity? Had he been out searching for ‘specimens’ for Miles to study?

Wouldn’t the boat seem like technology to him? A sign that she was from an intelligent race?

Or had he even really noticed the boat? He’d only just surfaced when she spotted him.

How would he even know what a boat was if he lived deep in the sea, she wondered abruptly? If he’d seen one before, if he was familiar with them, wouldn’t he have had more of an idea what she was?

She set the questions aside after a few moments. Without being able to really communicate with them, she not only had no idea of exactly what was going on, but she couldn’t think of any way to convince them that she was more valuable for the knowledge she could give them than what they might garner just from studying her … or worse.

It seemed to her that that was her only hope. Even if she could figure out how to get out of the place, she couldn’t reach the surface without dying either from drowning or the bends.

And what would she do even if she managed that feat? Would the boat still be there? Were they looking for her? Or had they presumed she was dead? Had anyone actually seen her go overboard? Witnessed what had happened?

She tried to recall the scene on the boat just before she’d been pulled overboard, but discovered that all she could really remember was that there seemed to be a lot of activity on the opposite side from where she was. She’d had her back to the others when she’d spotted Damien and thought he needed help. She’d thought he was one of the divers, even though he hadn’t been wearing a suit. She’d been surprised that he wasn’t, but then there hadn’t been another boat in sight and they were too far from land, so she’d thought, for him
not
to be.

She simply hadn’t questioned it, even though she hadn’t recognized him as one of the crew, and she
had
noticed that he wasn’t wearing a suit.

Because she just hadn’t expected to see a man bob out of the water that shouldn’t have been there.

The chances were good, she thought with dismay, that everyone had been too preoccupied to notice when she went over or see what had happened. She hadn’t screamed. She’d been too surprised and it had all happened too quickly. She’d thought, to begin with, that she’d slipped and fallen, and all she’d managed before she hit the water was a sharp gasp.

She hadn’t fallen, though. She distinctly remembered, now, that Damien had caught her hand and pulled her from the boat.

Realizing that she’d come full circle, she settled tiredly on the floor beneath the porthole she’d been staring out of before, ignoring the man still studying her from the window. The floor was icy, though. The moment her bare buttocks settled against it, she shot up again.

Almost simultaneously, the door to the cell opened once more. Angie glanced from the door to the man standing at the glass and then to the gurney she’d taken ‘cover’ under before. She scurried toward it and scrambled under it as Damien stepped into the room, again carrying a tray.

He paused at her sudden movement, staring at her with a mixture of surprise and wariness that seemed completely inappropriate considering the size of the man … until she recalled her suspicion that they thought she was an animal. Given that scenario, she supposed she was a large enough ‘animal’ to inspire some wariness, particularly when they didn’t seem to know what she might be capable of.

It might’ve been funny if she’d been in any state to appreciate the humor of it.

She tried not to focus on his genitals as he moved into the room and slowly sank down on the floor again, settling the tray as he had before. It wouldn’t have been easy if the things had been of more modest proportions. Under the circumstances, and considering the ‘performance’ she’d seen earlier, she found it particularly hard to look at anything else.

A pleasant smell wafting from the tray effectively distracted her—somewhat.

Damien removed the cloth. This time, instead of dropping it to his lap as he had before, though, he dangled it enticingly from his fingers.

Angie eyed it suspiciously. Bait for a trap? Or was he trying to make friends?

Or just trying to tease the stupid beast?

She couldn’t read his expression.

His body language said ‘relaxed’, though. He’d settled on one hip this time, bracing himself with one arm, his other foot on the floor and the knee bent.

She didn’t see how he could possibly leap up from that kind of position with any real speed even if it was a trap.

And why would he want to catch her, she wondered? She was effectively contained. Miles hadn’t left the other room so even if she could’ve figured out how to get the door open, she wouldn’t have gotten far.

She dragged her gaze from the cloth to see what Miles was doing. He hadn’t moved away from the window as far as she could see. When she looked at him, though, he said something to Damien.

She glanced at Damien to see if she could tell from his expression what Miles might have said, but found she couldn’t.

It would really be nice to have that other cloth, though. The floor was icy. She doubted it would help much as insulation, but it was bound to be better than being bare.

And the tie dangling between the cheeks of ass tickled like crazy.

He made the kissing noise again.

She gave him a look. “You are such an ass,” she muttered, smiling when she said it, not because she was actually amused, but because she hoped he wouldn’t catch on to the fact that she wasn’t falling for his cute little kissy noises.

And she wasn’t a damned dog!

His eyes narrowed. Very deliberately, he took the cloth and dropped it in his lap.

“A total ass,” she muttered, dismayed.

He tilted his head curiously. After a moment, he lifted the hand that he wasn’t propping on and held it out, palm up.

Angie studied him doubtfully, but she realized she couldn’t simply hide under the gurney forever. He was trying to instill trust. She got that. She just didn’t know if he was to be trusted.

In fact, she was pretty sure he wasn’t.

On the other hand, he had food, and she was hungry.

She chewed her lip indecisively.

He reached down and pushed the tray a little further away—toward her.

She couldn’t convince them she was intelligent if she stayed hidden under the gurney, which didn’t actually hide her, and refused to eat.

Her heart was thundering in her ears with fright, though, when she sucked in a sustaining breath and began to move slowly toward him, watching him warily for any sudden move.

He struck like lightning when she reached the tray and started to settle on the floor opposite him, grabbing her and snatching her against his chest. She was too shocked by his speed—and his betrayal if it came to that—to react. He’d planted her firmly in his lap and coiled his arms tightly around her before she could even suck in a breath to scream. Instinct kicked in. She squirmed, trying to break his hold, flailing her legs when she couldn’t get her arms free. He jerked his legs from beneath her, coiled them around hers and pinned them in place, as well.

She whipped her head to the side to stare at him, more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. He jerked his head back beyond her reach. It was only then that it occurred to her that she could’ve bitten him.

She wrestled with him to break free anyway until she was too tried to try anymore. The moment she stopped fighting, his hold eased on her slightly, not much, not enough for her to break free, but enough that she could drag in a decent breath of air.

She stared at him wide eyed, panting for breath from fear as much as exertion. After what seemed an interminable time, he transferred his hold to one arm, freeing one hand to stroke it lightly along her arms. She was too petrified at first to comprehend what he was doing, but the soothing motion of his hand did calm her. His voice was just as calming when he began to speak to her in a low voice.

Angie swallowed against a hard knot that had leapt in her throat—her heart, she thought.

He wasn’t trying to hurt her, she told herself when she’d managed to calm down enough to gather her wits. Surely if he’d meant to he would’ve? Or if his intention was to grab her and haul her out for Miles to do something horrible, that would’ve already happened?

She wasn’t certain she believed it, but she relaxed fractionally. In the beginning, it was more because she just couldn’t sustain the tension any more, but the moment she let go of the tautness, she began to calm down in truth, lulled by the sound of his voice and his gentle touch.

He eased his hold on her by degrees, so slowly she barely noticed at first. After a time, he uncoiled his legs from hers and shifted her to a more comfortable position, though he kept one arm coiled around her waist. Reaching for the tray, he pulled it closer and picked up something completely unrecognizable, holding it in offering.

Angie studied the food with mixed feelings. It smelled good even if she couldn’t recognize what it was, and she was hungry.

It was almost erotic to have him hold her and feed her.

Almost.

If he’d been a lover, no doubt it would’ve been.

Under the circumstances, she felt more like a pet—a wild one someone had captured and was trying to tame with food.

She looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation and finally reached to take the food from his hand and sniffed it a little suspiciously. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until she’d taken a bite and swallowed it that it occurred to her that it might be laced with something.

Resolutely, she closed her mind to that. She couldn’t just
not
eat. Whether she trusted them or not—and the answer to that was not—she’d starve to death if she didn’t. He loosened his grip on her waist when she started eating, lifting that hand to stroke her hair.

She did
wish
he wouldn’t treat her like a fucking pet!

It was embarrassing, annoying, and really, really scary!

He started talking again.

She wondered if he was saying something like ‘Good girl! That’s a good girl! Eat the poison!’

Chapter Three

“I’d always heard you had a way with animals, Damien,” Miles muttered in admiration, “but I don’t think I really believed it.”

Damien sent him a look of annoyance. “Gods, Miles! She isn’t a damned animal. She’s just … frightened, poor little thing.”

Miles shrugged. “You got her to eat. That’s the important thing.”

Damien coasted his hand lightly over her caplet, enjoying the texture of it. “She doesn’t trust us. If I’d thought she trusted us enough to just eat if we left it, I would’ve. She needed to know I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You think that little trick convinced her?” Miles asked skeptically.

“No. I think she’s been expecting one of us to grab her and hurt her. That’s why she was trying to hide. Now that I did, but didn’t hurt her, I think she’ll
begin
to trust.”

“You think it’s safe for me to go in?”

Damien frowned, trying to decide if his reluctance was because he thought it wouldn’t go over well with her or because he just didn’t want to share her with Miles until he had to. Wryly, he decided it was probably both, but the fact remained that it would very likely only succeed in breaking the fragile trust he was trying to build. “I think two of us might be too much just yet.”

Miles frowned, but he didn’t argue. “Do you think you could get her to talk? She hasn’t said enough for the computer to make heads or tails of it. If she is actually speaking a language we need enough to find the patterns.”

“I can try.”

He touched her cheek. When she turned to face him, he felt his mind go blank for an endless moment. Seeing her so close, feeling the warmth of her breath against his face, inhaling her unique scent, sent heat spiraling through him. He swallowed with an effort, struggled to gather his wits. Finally recalling what he’d mean to do, he said her name.

Something flickered in her eyes. A faint smile curled her lips.

He stared at her, noticing a faint dip in her cheek for the first time when she smiled. Lifting his hand, he traced it curiously with one finger.

“Dimple.”

He flicked his gaze upward to meet hers. After a long moment, he touched her chin and she gave him her word for that.

At least he thought that was what she was doing. He was more fascinated by the fact that she didn’t flinch away from him, that she allowed him to touch her. He looked down at her lips for a long moment, struggling with his rising desire, and finally stroked her nose, her brow and, with each touch, she gave him another word.

His throat felt desert dry. He couldn’t seem to gather enough moisture in his mouth to swallow.

Knowing it was a mistake, but one he couldn’t resist, he touched her lower lip, tracing it lightly.

She met his gaze and whispered something.

He thought she whispered it. He couldn’t hear anything for the blood pounding against his ear drums. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers.