Page 13 of Captured By the Alien Captain
“Call it whatever you want. I need a rematch.” Feeling like he’d shove me in that bland room for hours again otherwise, I don’t want to risk dying of boredom.
There’s still so much I don’t know about Runar. I want to take advantage and discover whatever weaknesses this captain has.
I need to get the upper hand on him. If he beats me again, I don’t think my pride will survive another blow.
4
Runar
Bringing her to our training room, grunts fill the air as beings fight with each other. Constantly sharpening our skills for the promise of future battles, this room is never empty.
If one wants a challenge, someone will always be here to accept.
Now and then, I’ll find myself in this part of the ship. Sometimes, I sit back and watch while waiting to point out weaknesses. Other times, I put use to my fists to make sure I’m not falling behind.
This room is also a way to help pass the time—those feeling a little stir-crazy use sparing to burn off some steam and frustration from being trapped on this small vessel.
Before our home planet no longer became habitual, my kind thrived in the wild. From hunting for our meals to plucking herbs for healing, we never had to depend on all of this high-techequipment surrounding us. We lived free without any threats holding us back.
While generations have passed for my kind since abandoning our old lifestyle, the need to be free runs deep in our blood.
As comfortable as our new home is, there’s no denying the itch to get out of this metal box.
Jax takes in the room with an impressed nod. Her mouth curves into a smile when she sees the different weapons lined up along the wall. All made for close combat.
“I do not think so.” Before she can even ask to get one, I lead her over to the corner of the room. Far away from anything sharp. She may be distracting me with that glint of excitement of hers, but I’m not stupid.
She’s skillful with a gun, but I don’t have a clue about where her talents are when it comes to knives and swords. This woman will slit my throat without hesitation. She’ll grin while doing so too.
Painting too vivid of a picture in my mind, I run a hand down my face to keep my face blank. I don’t acknowledge the stir forming deep in my chest.
I will not allow a female human to make me feel anything but disgust.
Deflating, she rolls her eyes and ignores the attention our arrival has garnered. Hitting the mat, she does a stretch. Her hands lift high and the edge of her shirt teases pale skin beneath. It’s a different tone compared to her arms and legs.
All too naturally, my eyes follow the flutter of her clothes. Catching myself before I take in the dip of her navel, I search for something more interesting while cursing under my breath.
“Will you be sore when you lose again?” Clearing my throat, I ask the taunting question as I wait for her to be ready. Knowing this is going to run very similar to her attacks in the interrogation room, I plan for this match to end quickly.
My fingers curl at my sides. I don’t want to hurt her, not even in a sparring match she’s encouraged. She’s so soft, so easy to break. I hardly trust myself to take this match seriously.
In the back of my mind, there’s this pesky little voice encouraging me to humor her. To flatten her small weak body against the mat and make her admit her defeat.
“Your confidence will be your downfall.” Hissing the words, she positions herself in a stance and pulls me away from my disturbed thoughts.
“Your determination to be victorious will be the very same.” My lips curve at her glare. “Come at me with everything you’ve got, Human.”
She’s not the type to beat around the bush either. The moment the words leave my lips, she’s throwing herself in my direction. Quick as a predator in the wild, I struggle to follow her movement.
However, her method is useless. She’s like a mere pebble being tossed at a solid brick wall.
Dodging most of her hits, I’m surprised by the few that land. As much as I want to tease her about the light sting of her hits, I keep the taunts on the inside.
This is meant to be a way to let off some steam. I don’t want her to believe we’re truly fighting. If she holds this loss against me, I’d hate to consider what murderous thoughts will be roaming her thoughts as she continues planning my downfall.
Catching her boot in an attempt for a swift kick, I tug at her body so gravity is no longer in her favor. She’s weightless, crumpling toward the mat beneath us the moment she loses balance.
Tackling her to the ground, her growl fuels me. Even now, she refuses to cave and admit this battle is mine. All because she hates losing.