Captured By The Mercenaries - Page 18

Patting his chest, I moved past him out the door. “Okay, big guy. I won’t run.” Why would I when he was there to catch me? I was planning on waiting until they were deep asleep to get the hell out of here.

Arsen led me outside and over to the camp fire they had going. Rafe glanced up as I sat on one of the logs that acted as a bench. I wondered where they’d gotten the logs from. With no way to ask, I watched as Rafe continued cooking our meal and Arsen stalked off to do God knew what.

The aroma of the meat cooking on the spit was making my mouth water. It was too small to be a camel, thankfully. I swallowed and eyed it. It looked like some kind of medium sized land animal, like a canine of some kind.

Ugh, dog wasn’t much better in my mind than camel was.

Rafe walked over and handed me a cup. Sniffing it as I took it from him, I realized it was water. I drank it gratefully. My throat was still dry and scratchy. I shivered as I drank, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the breeze and the fact that I was out here in just a t-shirt that hung to my thighs, or from the penetrating stare Rafe was giving me.

My plan to ignore him until he went away seemed to work. He went back to cooking. Sig materialized from somewhere past the glow of the campfire and sat down across from me. They seemed to be willing to trust that I wasn’t going to bolt on them. Little did they know.

Soon enough Rafe was shoving a plate of food into my hands. He motioned to the plate and said a word that sort of sounded like yeast. I frowned at him, so he mimed eating and said the word again.

There was a big slab of meat and broccoli on the plate. I wasn’t sure where they’d gotten the broccoli from. My stomach gurgled at me. I looked over to where Sig had begun eating. Rafe was sitting down next to me with his own plate.

I got his attention and asked, “Knife?” I pointed to the one on his plate and realized I’d left mine in the side of the man I’d fought with. I didn’t regret stabbing him.

Rafe snorted at me as if to say, “Yeah right.” What he did say was, “Het.”

Scowling at him, I asked, “How am I supposed to eat this without a knife?” I motioned to it again. Again he barked out the word no at me.

Sighing, I glanced over at Sig, who set his utensils down—he got a knife—and picked up the meat with his hands and pretended to eat it.

Great. I was stuck out in the middle of this God forsaken desert with guys who thought I was an idiot. My stomach was complaining too much for me to ignore it, though. As distasteful as it was, I picked up the hunk of meat and took a bite. It was delicious. The juice welled up and slid down my chin as I tore my bite from the bigger piece.

Looking around, I internally rolled my eyes when I realized there were no napkins and wiped my chin with my hand. The flavor of this meat was incredible. It was salty and gamey and a little smoky all rolled into one.

Yet another primal pleasure you weren’t anticipating.

That was the point I gave up on any manners and attacked my dinner ravenously. I could feel the men watching. Arsen came back into camp and sat down on my opposite side with his own meal. I didn’t bother trying to talk to them. I only focused on the food. It helped settle my nerves.

When I was finished I set the plate on my thighs and looked around. The men were watching me. Sig was grinning from ear to ear, Arsen was watching me with interest in his eyes, and Rafe…well he just looked angry. I wasn’t sure why. I’d done what he’d asked and eaten.

I glanced around again, wanting to wipe off my hands and face but not wanting to wipe them on my clean shirt. My manners were like my last vestige of civility out here. Sig figured out what I wanted before I could attempt to ask. He stood and walked over to a pump next to the side of the shack. He picked up a bowl and filled it with water then brought it back over to me.

Washing my hands and then using the water to wash off my chin, I kept my eyes lowered. I didn’t want these guys getting any ideas now that it was getting later in the night.

They talked quietly together as they finished their dinners and I waited on my seat as they cleaned up and finished their nightly chores.

The three were standing a few feet away from where I was staring into the fire, discussing something in low tones once they finished up.

I listened to them talk. They could be talking about unicorns and puppies for all I knew, but they just sounded angry. It was almost funny—now that their sharp words weren’t directed at me—how different their language was. I could pick up different accents between the three of them. I was suspecting that Russian was a second language to all of them.

“Colby.”

Glancing over, I saw Rafe motioning for me to follow him. Not seeing another option, I went along. We stepped back inside and I tensed as he and Sig began getting ready for bed. They were stripping out of their shirts, boots, and pants. Thankfully, they left their boxer briefs on.

Rafe crawled onto his cot and I tried to ignore the flexing and bunching of muscle as he did so. All of these guys were ripped. Living in the desert without any sort of comforts would do that to you and judging by the set up they had, they’d been out here a while.

He laid on his side and motioned for me to come to him. He wanted me to lay down next to him on the cot.

I eyed the small expanse of material and shook my head. I may have slept beside Arsen last night, but I’d had no choice in the matter.

Rafe’s eyes flashed with anger. They looked like pools of molten silver in the lamplight. He told me something in Russian and pointed at the cot next to him.

Sighing, I went over and gingerly laid down beside him, giving him my back. It was better than him dragging me onto the cot. And hopefully it would lull him into a false sense of security. Every muscle in my body tensed when he looped an arm over me and dragged me backward into the heat of his body.

Just what the hell is going on? Did they rescue me just to be a body pillow?

His breath gusted out over my head, stirring my hair. I waited to see what he’d do, but he just held me. His breathing was slow and even and I laid there and tried to relax in his hold. Eventually, my eyes drifted shut.

Tags: Cathleen Cole Romance
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