His chest expands violently, moving my whole body in and out while too many things throb.
“Nurse Jen,” Gray insists. “Can I take her to Nurse Jen?”
“I’ll take her,” Officer McGregor says with a small scold. “We don’t just let inmates go running around the pen. On your feet when you’re ready. You two,” he motions between Charlotte and Cass, “go get in line.”
To his credit, Officer McGregor doesn’t lash out when Cass fixes him with a glare so scathing, it makes me wince. “She was my cellmate. I don’t know if you can see the bandage on her forehead, or if you’ve noticed the bruises she’s always got all over her body from everyone ‘accidentally’ bumping into her, but I’m through with this nonsense. Absolutely through trusting the guards to take care of us. You are completely useless.”
McGregor rolls his eyes. “Look, I sent them to solitary. What else do you want from me?”
Cass stands and points at my forehead. “That was Jerry, who’s walking around without a mark on him!” Then she reaches down and yanks my sleeve up my arm, exposing a few bruises. “This one was Ursa in the chow line. This one was Amos at brick detail. You look at her and tell me you’re doing a good job guarding her. Tell me this is the best you can do.”
The guard steps toward Cass, using his few inches of height to tower over her. Little does he know, Cass isn’t the type to tolerate intimidation. “Cool it, Miss Chang.”
She leans up, jutting her chin and getting that much closer to him. “The next bruise I see on her is on your head.”
He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I can tell Cass is concocting a plan on the fly, and coming up with nothing concrete. “I can’t wait to see your face when you find out.”
Officer McGregor points to the door. “Chow! Not another word.”
“Arly needs to go to the infirmary,” Charlotte tells the officer in her even voice, though she meets my eyes with a meaning I don’t grasp. “No matter how fine she claims she is, she needs to stay there.”
Her gaze seems to be telling me that me being in the infirmary is part of the master plan.
Then Charlotte touches Cass’ elbow, which acts as a diffuser to the bomb that Cass carries in her verbal arsenal at all times. The two move in perfect synchronicity, which grants me a modicum of peace.
Meanwhile, Gray’s voice is coming in hard pants. “I can’t do this. It’s coming. Arly, I…” He looks at me with terror, and it’s then I see his eyes are yellow and his brows have thickened. Then he quickly buries his face in my hair to hide out.
Rafe is coming. If I can’t calm him down, Rafe will protect me, which won’t do anyone a lick of good. “Nothing hurts, Gray. Nothing at all. Think about when we get out of here.” I work quickly to pull a future out of my hat. My trembling fingers comb slowly through Gray’s silky russet hair as I sew a kiss into his jumpsuit. “Think about the house we’ll live in.”
His breath hitches, so I kiss his chest again.
“My home on the Henley property has five bedrooms. One for you and me. One for Cass and Charlotte. One for guests, and one for…” I don’t know how to work Paxton into our future. Is he in our bedroom? Does he have his own? “Five bedrooms. The fifth’s for Sloan. It’s on a big plot of land, so Everly Ann can have plenty of space to move around. You have to see her. She’s the cutest thing ever. A white teacup terrier with a pink diamond collar.”
I exhale when Gray chortles into my hair. His face is still hidden, but I think we’re making progress.
“I want teal rugs. Is that okay? Maybe teal with silver accents.”
“Whatever you want, Arly-girl.” His voice is husky, but it’s his, so I’ll take it.
“I want to watch the sunrise with you. I miss the sunrise.” I don’t mean for melancholy to sneak its way into my voice, but it catches by accident. I haven’t seen the sunrise since I landed myself at Prigham’s.
Gray kisses my hair. “All the sunrises. All the sunsets. They’ll be ours, not theirs; I’ll make sure of it.”
His mantra of “ours, not theirs” sings softly into my psyche. Oh, that the world could be ours, and not theirs. But if that’s not possible, then I’ll settle for this moment and claim it as ours, not theirs.
“On your feet, shifter,” Officer McGregor says, not entirely antagonistically, now that Cass is gone.
I grip my boyfriend with my good arm. “His name is Gray, not shifter.” Rarely do I bother correcting people, because it’s hardly ever worth it, but I can’t tolerate Gray being less than a person, even in speech. “My boyfriend isn’t feeling well. He takes it hard when I get hurt.”
Officer McGregor shakes his head at us. “Your boyfriend’s going to get you killed. Be smarter than this, Princess. They already hate you because your father got a good number of them locked up in here. Dating a shifter on top of that? You’re doing this to yourself.”
Anger rises up in me and comes out in a shout I cannot control. Maybe I don’t want to control it.
Maybe I’m just now realizing that control is a weapon of the enemy.
“Their own fathers got them locked up! I’m the only one allowed to be mad at my dad for being at Prigham’s. Not them. And if a shifter happens to be one of the only decent men I’ve ever known, then I’ll be the luckiest fae in the world and snatch him up while the entire world smells like shite because they’ve all got their heads up their arses!”
I can tell Officer McGregor has been on the job too long, because my impassioned speech does nothing to penetrate his “whatever, kid. I’m just punching the clock, here,” expression. “Chow for you, Gray the Shifter,” he says, making a show of saying the name and the race, like a jerk. “Infirmary for you, Arlanna Scarlett Valentine, Fae Princess.”
“I don’t need to see Nurse Jen. Nothing’s broken or bleeding. What’s she going to do for a few bruises?”
Gray stands and kisses my temple, his arm around my waist. “The same thing everyone does when you take a spill. Absolutely nothing.” He locks eyes with the officer, who postures, but doesn’t argue.
Everything aches all the time now, but I’ve grown used to the throbbing. Still, my hip is bothering me, now that I’m standing, and I’m pretty sure my steps look weird, though I’m doing my best not to limp.
“Infirmary,” Gray rules, though I can tell it pains him to be parted from me. “It’ll be okay.” I know he says this last part for Rafe, but it bolsters me, as well.
A hallway guard escorts Gray to chow, and Officer McGregor takes me down the corridor toward Nurse Jen, where I know I’ll finally get a break from the chaos.
15
Boneless
Arlanna
I know I shouldn’t trust the guards, but Nurse Jen is a happy medium. She’s not like the stoic figures who only see violence when it’s a disruption to whatever daydream they’re having. She takes things in and actually seems to care about me. And not just me, but anyone in her office who requires medical help. There’s something to be said for having a stellar bedside manner. I realize that when Officer McGregor deposits me in her office, I don’t tighten up or throw up my walls in the slightest.
Nurse Jen sticks out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “You again? I thought I told you we’re never to meet like this!” She rests the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically. Then she gives me a genuine look of sympathy, her head tilting to the side. “What happened, Princess?”
I don’t mind the nickname when it comes from her.
“My leg fell off,” I drone.
“Again? Let me get the stapler.”
We share a snicker. “I’m alright. It was Malrick and a few others being charming. Knocked me to the floor and beat on me a little. I blame the concrete. This place seriously needs some carpeting.”
She pats the stool across from hers. “Show me where it hurts, other than the obvious.”
“Which parts are obvious?”
“Your forehead, your nose, your split lip
, and I’m guessing your hip, judging by your limp.”
“That’s the brunt of it.” I pop open the buttons on my jumpsuit and tug down the top to show her my elbow, which is red and scraped, but not bleeding. “Here, my wrist, my ankle, and my hip feels funny.”
“Funny bone injury and a hip bone injury. Boy, are you living the dream.” She takes out a cotton swab and dabs at my elbow, pausing a second for the impact of the sting. “So, what was the trigger?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m a shifter’s whore.” I try to play off the whole thing like it doesn’t wound me, but it’s a bad acting job.
Nurse Jen freezes and then straightens to meet my eyes dead on. “Is that so? I’ve treated the shifter a few times for injuries on brick detail. He’s never been anything but respectful to me. I can’t imagine him treating a woman like a whore.”
“His name is Gray, not ‘the shifter’,” I correct her, though my tone is far gentler than it was with Officer McUseless. “And he doesn’t treat me like a whore. Gray acts like I’m precious. Like it’s okay to be fragile.”
Nurse Jen swallows and then nods. “You’re right. I apologize. His name is Grayson. I don’t know why I called him by his race.”
I stand when she finishes bandaging up my elbow. “Everyone does. He never speaks up for himself, only for me. If I get a cool nickname like ‘shifter whore’ then my boyfriend should have a cool name, like, you know, the one on his birth certificate.”
Nurse Jen chortles and shakes her head. “I’m glad he has you. Anyone else might not be as thick-skinned. He deserves someone who sticks up for him.” She pauses for a few beats, fiddling with the problem area on my hip. “That’s old news, though. They’re really this bored that they’re still coming after you for this?”
I take in a deep inhale. “Today was that, combined with our sewing project. The bra we were making was the exact one I used to model. I guess enough of them made the connection and then spread it around.” I can’t meet her gaze. I’m too ashamed. “We were sewing that bra because I made it famous. It was a dying product before I resurrected it.”
Nurse Jen pauses, and gives my confession a few beats to settle in the air around us. “You were sewing that bra because a company didn’t want to pay employees a fair wage. You modeled a product; you didn’t make every decision concerning it.”
“You’re letting me off easy because we’re friends.”
Her mouth crooks to the side. “I like that we’re friends.”
“Me, too.”
She’s a good person to have around, especially when she holds my hand. “Remember what’s true: I matter. I’m a good person. My best days are still ahead of me.”
I repeat her mantra that sticks to my insides, even when my past is icky enough to try to scrape it away.
Nurse Jen squeezes my fingers. “When you get out of here, you won’t model that bra anymore. See? If you make a choice you’re not happy with, you can correct your course and go a different way.”
My jaw firms. “I’m not modeling for Natalia’s Secret when I get out.” When, not if. “That company is dead to me.”
“I think that’s a choice that you’ll be pleased you made.” She motions to my wardrobe. “Gotta stand up and inch that jumpsuit down if you want me to look at your hip properly. This goes further down than your waist.”
I obey, but still put up a decent protest. “It’s fine. It’s not bleeding or broken. It’s just sore.”
Nurse Jen’s mouth tightens as she takes in the scope of the damage, which is a true indication my injury is worse than I realized. “You’ve hit this spot too many times. It’s going to be a bruise on top of bruises. You’ll be able to feel it with every step. How many people jumped you?”
When I don’t answer (I mean, honestly, I didn’t take a headcount while I was getting kicked over and over), she turns and picks up a tin of salve, unscrewing the lid and dabbing some onto two fingers. “This will numb it for a couple hours, but honestly, it’s going to hurt to put it on. The pain might not be worth the temporary relief.”
I shrug, as if the whole thing doesn’t scare or bother me at all. “Whatever you think is best.” I try to sound blasé, but I’m nothing like it. I purse my lips, apologizing to the universe for every bit of privilege I’ve taken for granted.
Nurse Jen’s aura comes into view, her usual forest green brightening with the brilliance of turquoise.
I did that to her. I enhanced her by mistake. I need to stop doing that.
The turquoise is almost blinding, but then it fades to a normal hue after she rubs a numbing salve on my hip. Still, the turquoise doesn’t go away completely. It’s mingled in with her natural forest green—perhaps forever.
I glance down at my hip, mild worry creasing my brow when I see that the skin is already starting to bruise. I’m going to have to sleep with my jumpsuit zipped up, to make sure Gray doesn’t see the scope of the damage and lose his hold on Rafe.
I bite back a scream as her light touch makes sparks of light pop behind my eyelids. Gripping the edge of the stool does little to relieve the pain. It feels like cruelty on top of cruelty.
Then something like ice shoots through my body, surprising a squeak from me. The pain of it all, combined with the ice, turns my knees weak.
Nurse Jen has to catch me when not just my hip, but my entire leg goes numb.
“Whoa. Easy, Princess. Let’s get you lying down.” Worry wrinkles the corners of her mouth as she helps me to the hospital bed. “I was hoping the relief would kick in quick, but that’s got to be some sort of record. Weird.”
“Is it supposed to feel like my entire leg is boneless?” It takes two tries to hoist myself onto the padded table before I finally acquiesce to accepting her help up.
Why was Charlotte insistent that I come here? She made it seem ominous, like it super mattered I was here, but so far, all that’s managed to happen is a bandage, some mopping up of my grosser cuts, and then my whole leg going boneless.
Nurse Jen tests my reflexes, which thankfully, seem to be intact. I seek out her aura this time, and it’s a gentler forest green with swirls of turquoise. “I used a little more than I normally would, because honestly, I can tell this is going to be a bad one. It’ll wear off enough for you to walk eventually, but you might be stuck here until it does. I’ll make sure you don’t miss chow.” I can tell she’s upset with herself. “It disinfects, too, so the longer we can keep it on your skin without it rubbing off, the better it’ll soak in to where the real damage underneath lies, and do its real work.” She glances up at me with a veil of hesitance. “If there’s a lot of damage, then it’s going to hurt for a while. Fair warning.”
She’s clearly never had her fingers broken by her father’s ex-business partners. Pain doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. It’s the psychological junk that trips me up.
I turn my body and lay down on the hospital bed, feeling like I’m falling a little, because the thing is so narrow, and my left side isn’t all that stable. I stare up at the white stucco ceiling, wondering if hiring an interior designer was that far out of the budget when they made this place.
Nurse Jen tidies up the things on her desk, shuffling papers and folders, sorting her bottles of ointments and whatnot into some sort of order that’s lost on me. “Anything you want to talk about while you’re stuck here? I think you already know I’m a good listener.”
I open my mouth, actually ready to get a few things off my chest, but before I can, an alert booms in the overhead speakers. “Lockdown. Lockdown. All officers to the cafeteria for code orange.”
I hear a click from the door, and my stomach drops as I sit up halfway, propping myself on my elbows. “Are we locked in?”
Nurse Jen stands, her shoulders instantly tensed. She unlocks the top drawer of her desk using a key that hangs around her neck under her shirt on a chain. My eyes widen when she pulls out a taser and a guard’s baton.
Though she’s always looked badass, it�
��s pronounced that much more in this moment.
“What are you doing with those? What’s a code orange?”
Nurse Jen doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but keeps her eyes on the rectangular pane of reinforced glass separating us from the rest of the prison. The once cartoonish and bright tattoos on her arms now seem dim with menace. “I don’t know why the warden insists on using code words for that. All the inmates except for you are well aware of what’s going on. They’re in the thick of it.”
I want to shout at her, but I manage to keep my volume in check. “What is it?”
“Riot in the cafeteria. It’s lucky you came here, really. They would have gone after you first thing.”
My mouth goes dry as the image of Charlotte warning me to go to the infirmary flashes in my mind.
She knew. She knew, and she saved me.
16
Code Orange
Paxton
I don’t see who throws the first punch, or even who takes the first hit. All I hear are the shouts of people taking sides, and then more fists on flesh. While my head whips around, Gray’s already springing into action.
Turns out, there’s a significant difference between having had a security team around you your whole life, and being born as walking security.
“Under the table!” Gray shouts to Cassia and Charlotte, who comply with differing levels of resistance. Charlotte goes immediately and peeks out at the scene from beneath the bench, but Cassia shrinks down slowly, glowering at Gray for keeping her out of the fight. It’s clear she’s itching to test out her new magic on the crowd, getting lost and then found at just the right moments.
I meet them down there, and Gray’s hand on my shoulder centers me. “I’ve got Paxton. Cassia, you watch Charlotte. We’re just going to wait out the madness under here.”
“This sucks.” Cassia doesn’t bother hiding her true feelings. If she did, then I’d really start to worry. “If I shadowmeld in the mix, I can put people on the ground without being seen.”
Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2) Page 9
