Abby's POV
"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered with a shaky voice. I'd been holding back tears. I felt like I would die. How long could I hold out like this. This man, this alien who towered over me and could easily crush me was testing my will. I felt a pull to him, he was powerful. It felt like a damn spell. All I wanted was to cower at his feet and be his pet. Why did I have to get captured?
'Fuck!' I cursed under my breath, breaking a tear.
His eyes were fized on my like a hawk, his shadow cast over me. My back was cramped from being tied to that chair. How long could I keep lying? He needed to let me go.
"Please let me go, I have nothing to give. I'm at the bottom of the food chain. Other human men would make better servants for you. I am starving, thirsty, barely mascular. I'm a dissapointing male who has nothing valuable to offer. Other human men may be like me. We lost our women to the virus, our species is dying down and our world is already dead. We are hopeless. You won't find anything here. I suggest you pack up and leave with your alien ships.''
For a moment, the look on his face made me think he believed me. "Werewolves.'' He spoke in that low annoyed tone.
"What?'' I looked up, my eyes meeting his. His eyes were like an ocean that pulled at my soul. There was something captivating about him. Not the size of his arms, shoulders or fingers. Not the fact that I could feel his aura of authority where he stood. Not the sight of his lips, his hands, his body. Christ, something was so wrong with me. Was it because I'd never seen a man like him? Was he some kind of witch able to make me feel things?
"Were are no more aliens to you than you are to us. We are werewolves.''
"Like men who become wolves? I read that in a book.'' I scoffed, finding it damn funny. Nothing surprises me anymore. The world had after all ended in a span of three years. What new thing could come out of the shadows?
"What's your name?'' He asked, surprising me. He wasn't annoyed, he was rather curious. Finally, this was my chance.
"Abby...Abraham.'' I corrected quickly, hoping he couldn't tell male and female names apart. "My name is Abraham. Very nice to meet you Mr Werewolf. Please let me go.''
Fuck! Too quick. I was being greedy. Easy Abby. Biuld rapor first.' I could almost here my teacher's voice in my head. Sister Hailey, a forty year old woman who took care of us back at the camp, taught us how we would survive if the unthinkable ever happened. If we were captured by men. Safe to say I got captured by worse, but a man is still a man.
"May I know your name...please.'' I flashed a gentle smile, hiding how I'd slowly been working the ropes tying my hands at the back of the chair.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Zarak. Alpha Zarak Vex'thor, werewolf Prince, seventh of my name, commanding war warrior and the Lycan Killer. "
I tried to hide my excitement at the sound of his voice, or my confused expression at all those titles. Was he...royalty?
"Hello, Prince.'' I smiled sweetly, knowing he was a little taken aback by my response. He was royalty, and I was a dirty, low-class woman pretending to be a man. "I'm prepared to answer any questions you have openly. But my throat is dry. Could I get some water please.''
Zarak tilted his head to the side, then nodded. "Wait here.'' He walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing through the large chamber.
I had just commanded a prince. I smirked, finally able to get the ropes free. Finally, this was my chance to escape before he returned.
My breath was ragged, and my heart pounded in my chest as I rushed to the table. My eyes darted over the assortment of cruel tools arranged in neat rows, each one a testament to his intentions. But I didn't have time to think about that. My fingers closed around the hilt of a knife, the cool metal grounding me, reminding me that I wasn't completely powerless.
Zarak had hesitated. I'd seen it in his eyes, a flicker of doubt, of something softer than the cruel determination he'd shown before. But I couldn't rely on that. He was still a monster, and I had to escape before he changed his mind. I had to survive.
I positioned myself near the door, the knife clutched tightly in my hand. The blade was sharp, a small but lethal weapon. I couldn't help the small surge of pride that filled me. He might be strong, but I was fast, and I was ready.
The door opened, and Zarak stepped back into the room, his presence overwhelming. He didn't see me at first, his gaze focused elsewhere, but as soon as he turned, I lunged. The knife shot out toward him, my heart hammering with the hope that this would be enough.
But just as the blade connected with his chest, it folded up, like a flimsy piece of metal hitting solid rock. My eyes widened in horror, and a sickening dread curled in my stomach as I stumbled back, the knife now useless in my hand.
Zarak looked down at the bent knife, then back at me, a slow, smug smile spreading across his face. "A human cannot hurt an Alpha," he said, his tone dripping with narcissism.
I clenched my fists, trying to hide the fear creeping up my spine. "You deceived me. You didn't need water," he continued, taking a step closer, his eyes narrowing.
I swallowed hard, summoning what little courage I had left. "I needed to escape before you kill me," I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt. It wasn't much, but it was something, and the defiance in my words was enough to make me stand a little taller.
His smile faltered, a flicker of something like confusion crossing his features. "But that's impossible. No one can lie to me. The gods forbid it. Only a mate can have free will against her Alpha."
Mate? The word echoed in my mind, but I didn't understand. I shook my head, trying to push away the confusion, the panic. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice trembling. "Please, just let me go."
His gaze darkened, the brief hesitation gone. He stepped into the cell, his towering presence swallowing the space between us. "I've exhausted my patience," he said, his voice low and deadly. The air seemed to thicken around me, making it hard to breathe.
And then came the order, sharp and unyielding. "Strip."
My heart sank, and the weight of his command pressed down on me like a vice. The knife fell from my hand, clattering to the floor as I stared up at him, my mind racing but finding no way out. The fight was gone, replaced by a cold, paralyzing fear. I was trapped, and he knew it.