Free Captivated (The Dragons) by Ella Elias

“Let me out of here!”
    It was probably the fifth time I'd demanded it, but the shirtless hulk blocking the door only shifted uncomfortably and looked away. I frowned. Clearly he was the “gentle giant” sort, but he wasn't going to come to my rescue.
    I'd never felt so humiliated. What the hell did these assholes think they were doing?
    I kicked the lower part of “the cage” I'd been thrown into, opting to lean against the wall instead of sitting on the bed. Who knew what the hell had taken place on that mattress before I was thrown in here? I was repulsed by the possibilities and made due with the cold bricks at my back.
    Would it have killed me to wear a fall jacket?
    I rubbed as much life into my arms as I could and leaned back, my frown deepening. It couldn't have been more than 62 degrees in the room. It had been cold when they brought me through the “office,” as well.
    I truly couldn't believe this shit.
    How did my cousin get himself caught up with these muscleheads? And worse, how had he botched things up so grandly that I was now the focus of their attentions?
    My attention turned to the door when I heard the clank of keys, and I drew a deep breath, drawing up my inner warrior from the depths of my rage. I might not have any weapons, but they were holding me against my will.
    I reserved right to be pissed.
    I narrowed my eyes when the door opened.
    Maybe it was a shift change for the big guy? I hoped it was more like my chance to find out what the hell was going on.
    I realized pretty quickly that the latter wish might be on the agenda when a less lumbering member of the pack sauntered into the room, rippling biceps and taut abdomen on display through his tight A-shirt, dragons and smoke trailing his arm in black ink. So the “God's gift” member of the crew had come to grace me with his presence? He'd be in for a surprise. I wasn't a giggling dumb-ass by a long shot.
    I steeled myself as much as I possibly could, my glare dagger-like as I watched him whisper something to the giant, who then promptly made his way out to the hallway.
    He turned his focus to me then, and the sight of his dark eyes for the first time unsettled me. He had the sort of gaze that drew power out of the room. They were eyes I wouldn't fuck with, which is probably why I'd never make it in the criminal underworld.
    Which was good. I wasn't interested in being good at cut throat shit.
    I frowned for good measure, but I realized that I didn't mean it half as much as I had a moment before.
    “Everyone treating you alright?” the smoky-eyed hunk asked, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a lighter with a flame insignia metal-worked into it with what looked like real diamonds, rubies, and onyx.
    “Oh, I'm having a lovely time,” I spat, I hoped, convincingly.
    He'd sent me off of my balance with a look and a few words.
    I felt like an idiot, but I'd be damned if I'd let him see that.
    He quarter-laughed, punctuating the sound with a point as he turned his gaze to the floor and lifted his cigarette to his mouth, sufficiently chilling me further.
    Was that like... a thing he did before he went all violent?
    Was he the loose screw in the crew? Is that why they'd sent him in here? To tame me?
    I looked him over warily. He filled the room like a phantom, and I grew quiet. I was still angry, but something about the way he looked at me made me want to hear what he had to say. It was ridiculous that I would even consider he might have something reasonable to suggest, but there it was. I was captivated by the dark of his gaze and the cherry red of his lips, which he pressed together contemplatively, like he was thinking something over.
    I was... the bumbling idiot I'd just asserted I wasn't. It would remain my little secret though.
    “I think we've been nice to you.”
    He said it like it was a prelude to a larger, more impressive point. Like it was the grand, flourishing drape over a perfectly set stage. Like the show was