My arm burns where the medicine enters, and intuitively, I’m certain something is wrong.
But Kyle busies himself sopping the blood from my face, so I don’t have much space to speak.
“You can go back to your post, Johnson. I can get her to her cell.”
My hand tightens on Johnson’s, my stranger danger flaring up worse than usual.
“I don’t mind.” Johnson squeezes my hand in response, letting me know that he’s not going to leave me unguarded.
I nearly sob with relief. It’s too much, this prison life. I don’t want to pay for everyone’s crimes. It’s wearing me down, being the target at which everything is aimed.
I deserve a lot of things, but not this.
19
Friends and Boyfriends
Arlanna
Sitting across from Sloan at visitation when he comes three days after the riot is surreal. I know what he looks like, obviously, but the details stand out more vividly today. He missed a spot shaving, which isn’t like him. An inch-long patch of dark brown hair grows right where his chin meets his jaw.
Part of me wants to hug him and sob, but when we embraced when I first saw him, it had hurt too badly to hold on for as long as I needed. A few of my new bruises have faded, but not enough. Never enough. Nurse Jen’s salve worked wonders on my hip, but apparently, too many of the bruises yellowed yesterday, so when the inmates doubled up to make up for lost time during laundry detail, too much damage was done.
Everything hurts, but Sloan is here.
Somehow that makes my plight not quite as terrible as it could be.
Gray and his cousin are talking quietly a few yards away. It’s only me, him and some woman I don’t know who have visitors today. No doubt everyone’s afraid to visit, after news of the riot spread to the outside world.
“You’re here.” I’m breathless and caught up in the rapture that comes with seeing someone whose smile is like oxygen to your soul.
Only Sloan isn’t smiling. He looks like he’s forgotten how. “I came to check on you, of course. I also wanted to give you updates on the family.”
“What have I missed?” I keep my spine straight as I sit, trying not to fidget. Sitting at all is uncomfortable, because my hip, knee and ankle took the worst of everyone’s anger when I was jumped yesterday during laundry detail.
Sloan drags a hand from his nose slowly down to his chin. “I can barely remember now. Is it possible to spontaneously combust from rage? Because I’m on the cusp. I read in the paper that there was a riot at Prigham’s, so I caught a flight straight here as soon as I could. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe it was foolish to hope you’d escaped getting hurt in the mix of things.”
My eyes flick to Gray, combing his body yet again for signs of wear. He didn’t take any hits, but I constantly need to verify this.
“Oh, I didn’t get a scratch on me during the riot. I was in the infirmary, totally locked down. I was the safest inmate at Prigham’s. Didn’t even get gassed.”
I don’t expect him to suddenly shout with fury. “Then why does it look like someone’s taken a pillowcase of bricks to you? Why were you limping? Why are you too delicate to hug normally?”
I wince at the spot-on accusation. Sure, I know Sloan’s details, but he’s memorized mine just as well. There’s no point in hiding things from him.
But that never stopped me before.
“Oh, that. Just the usual. Inmates being mad at their parents, but they can’t admit it to themselves, because that would open up a can of worms in their psyches. They take it out on me because they blame my dad for them landing at Prigham’s.”
“That’s still going on? It’s been months!” Sloan’s finger taps twice with purpose on the tabletop. “I need names.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “You’re sweet when you’re murderous. It’s fine. I get it. They need someone to be mad at, and their parents aren’t around. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
Sloan scoffs. “There’s always something to be done. There’s always a chess piece to play. Have you learned nothing from your father?”
I snigger. “I learned that snitches get stiches, and that lesson runs deep. Don’t think I don’t know how Ricardo disappeared.”
Sloan tugs at his collar, avoiding my gaze. “Yes, well, I still want to know who’s knocking you around.”
“Don’t you know how good life is at Prigham’s? Far safer than parents going to jail to pay for their own crimes.” I wave the air to clear it of my sass. “Sorry. You didn’t come to hear about all that. How’s life on the outside? How’s Everly Ann?”
Sloan dips his chin to glower at me. “Your spoiled rat won’t eat anything but salmon and quinoa. I swear, I don’t even eat as well as your mutt.”
A real grin takes me over. “Aw, you’re so sweet to take care of her and keep her life as happy as it can be without her mommy.”
Sloan grumbles and fusses with his suit jacket, but then his mood sobers. “I came to see you and make sure you didn’t get hurt in the riot, of course, but I also came to give you an update on some new developments concerning the king.” Then he surprises me when he motions for Gray and his cousin to join us.
Even more surprising, Gray’s cousin doesn’t look rattled at the invitation at all.
“What’s going on?”
I clam up when they move to the table beside ours.
“Gray needs to hear this,” Sloan insists.
Gray shakes Sloan’s hand, and then Gray’s relative nods to Sloan and me. “I’m Deytant, Grayson’s cousin.” Though he says this only to me.
Then it dawns on me that Sloan already knows him and requires no introduction.
Sloan casts me a look of silent apology, as if he’s sorry he made new friends without me. “Before you go silent, because I know you won’t trust anyone new you haven’t vetted yourself, I had a background check done on Deytant. We’ve been meeting up regularly. It’s actually been a big help to have him in this with me.”
There are about five things wrong with that statement, and Sloan, no doubt, knows them all. If I’m patient, he’ll address them all for me.
When I’m sure my closed-off look is plain on my face, Sloan presses forward. “Anyone in your circle gets looked into, so I dug into Grayson’s background and then Deytant’s, since he’s the only visitor who comes to see Grayson. We ended up hitting it off, so here he is.”
Sloan states the facts casually, but it’s a slice he’s unaware he’s making, proclaiming out loud that Gray has exactly one person in his life who loves him enough to visit him.
Deytant is thicker than Gray, and slightly bigger, which is hard to fathom, given how massive Gray is. They have the same umber shade of skin, and similar chin-length russet hair.
I remember meeting him before, but this time, Deytant seems more engaged, and less exasperated at the prospect of conversing with two fae.
Probably because I look like shite. Cass informed me, oh-so-sweetly, that the bruising under my eyes is worse, and has more purple than yellow now.
My whole leg aches so badly that my teeth grind constantly to keep the throbbing masked. It’s difficult to remain stalwart and controlled when even sitting is painful.
Gray twines his hands atop the table. “I’m only five minutes ahead of you on this one, Arly-girl, so I’m still catching up. You two are really working together? I cannot picture that.”
Deytant might be intimidating if he didn’t have the sweetest, softest eyes that gave away a stunning tenderness to his heart. When I first met him, all I saw was his distrust of anything fae. Now, I cannot overlook the respectful bob of his head in my direction, nor the gentleness in his gaze whenever he looks at Gray.
Crap. My gut’s telling me I can trust this guy, even though I want to keep him at arm’s length on principle. I don’t like being forced to bring a new person into our small circle, yet here he is.
I cross my arms but give the newcomer a nod. My wrist is sore
and stiff, protesting the motion, but it’s worth it to appear unaffected and in control of my situation. “Deytant.”
He can’t be a bad guy; he visits Gray and gives him a connection to the outside world, and to the good parts of his family tree. That’s something.
Sloan takes control of the introductions. “Deytant, why don’t you tell Arly about the rally you were part of three years ago?”
Deytant speaks slowly and with a quietness that belies his hulking presence. It further makes me want to like him.
Deytant leans forward, his forearm on the table. “I supported the movement to get King Regis kicked out of office. I was arrested for it, as was every shifter who dared demand a voice on the council that is entirely fae run. Integration starts with representation, and we still have none anywhere in government. Grayson and I spent a night in the slammer for our peaceful protest, and that’s that. Not a single fae was arrested, by the way, even though there were a fair few with us. Of course, they only saw us dangerous shifters, with our foaming fangs and whatnot.” Deytant shakes his head, disgusted with the whole institution. “So I have a record for speaking my mind peaceably, as does Grayson.”
Sloan’s jaw ticks, and his chin angles toward Deytant. “You have a right to your voice.”
It’s the same truth he’s tried to drill into my thick skull for years.
Deytant straightens, absorbing the Sloan-ism without question. “Yes, I do. Cheers, Sloan.” Then Deytant fixes me with his stare. “You don’t have to trust me, Miss Valentine. I just want you to know that Sloan does, and I’ll help him however I can. He’s one of the few fae who wants change, and is willing to do more than just whine about it. He’s got a plan. A good one, and I’ve been helping him with it.”
An unexpected smile crosses Sloan’s features. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he likes the idea of having a buddy.
That’s what this is; Sloan isn’t just working with Deytant; they’re having fun while they figure this out.
I love that.
Deytant pushes his thumb to his chest. “I take care of odds and ends, and Sloan makes connections, figuring out the best strings to pull. Sloan got me a job detailing the cars for the palace. I may or may not have put a listening device in the back, recording everything the king says during his commutes.”
Gray’s mouth pops open. “Are you serious?”
Deytant chuckles, his hands raised. “Apparently the spy life suits me. Sloan takes care of the white-collar stuff, and I work the blue-collar angle.”
My brows furrow as I study their relaxed body language and the easy way they regard each other. “How much time do the two of you spend together on this?”
Sloan shrugs. “A few nights a week. When he finishes his shift at the garage and I wrap up working for the family, we figure things out in our spare time.”
I turn and finally engage with Deytant, leaning forward so his focus is entirely on my instructions. My bones ache so badly, that this small movement forfeits a portion of my composure. “Okay, then. If you’re looking out for Sloan, I need you to make sure he’s taking turmeric pills.”
My voice is tight as my body informs me it hit its pain tolerance about a week ago. The medicine Nurse Kyle gave me didn’t grant me a sliver of relief. On the contrary; everything is stiff and barely useable. Even as I sit, distress consumes my bones.
Still, I push through, hoping the tightness of my voice comes out as passion. “His joints hurt when he runs out and forgets to buy a new bottle of turmeric pills. And he eats too much red meat if left to his own devices, so when you’re out, order something healthy so he feels gross eating a whole cow. His doctor said he has high blood pressure, and too much red meat doesn’t help matters.”
I know I should stop, but all my worries come bubbling out at once. I wince as my hip protests me angling my torso forward.
My finger taps down on the table between us, punctuating my instructions. “Do not let him wash any of the cashmere sweaters or scarves I got him. He’ll throw them through the washing machine like a caveman. They need to be dry-cleaned. No shortcuts.”
I fish for more, ignoring Gray’s hand on the small of my back that I know is meant to calm me. I’m in so much pain, I doubt tranquility will ever find me again. “He cleans his gun when he’s nervous, so if you see him doing that, talk to him and draw out the problem he’s puzzling on, so the two of you can work on it together. Otherwise he’ll stay up at night and then drink too much coffee the next day to keep himself going. After a few days of that, his ulcer will flare up, and he’ll have no idea why.”
Gray chuckles at the tenacity with which I’m protective of Sloan. “You got all that, Dey?”
Sloan gets up from his seat so he can move around the table and place a kiss to the top of my head. “Stop being perfect. I’m already too spoiled.” Emotion catches in his throat, but doesn’t give him away completely.
Then his demeanor freezes over as his hand reaches back and locks onto Gray’s wrist. “What is this?”
Everything in me clenches, and I can feel Gray tense up beside me.
When Sloan releases his grip, Gray exhales like he’s slowly letting the air out of his balloon of stress. “Took you long enough. I’ve been touching her back in plain sight so you’d notice.”
I love that Gray forces casualness with Sloan.
Sloan does not love any of this.
Gray’s hand returns to my back to rub in slow concentric circles. “I quickly moved from looking out for Arly to being her boyfriend.”
Deytant makes a sound that sounds half like a chuckle, and half like he’s choking. “Boyfriend? I’ve never heard a shifter use that word before. I’m glad I got to be here for this. Wait until the pack hears.” Then he gives birth to full-blown laughter, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “A shifter has a girlfriend!”
Gray doesn’t get defensive at the ribbing. He’s a man who’s secure in his choices, so he merely casts Deytant a lazy smile. “Indeed, I do. The pack can bite me if they don’t like it.” He leans forward. “Actually, the pack can do and say absolutely nothing about it. Not a single one of them has visited me here, other than you. So you’re allowed to laugh, but they get no say in how I live my life. I’m happy with Arly, and that’s that.”
Deytant wipes condensation from his eyes. “Fine, fine.”
Sloan is less than amused as he resumes his seat, staring Gray down. “I asked you to watch out for her. This was not what I meant.”
Gray sobers. “I’m doing what you asked, but yeah, I’m with Arly. Sometimes that’s a good thing, and other times, it’s a bad thing.”
I whip my head toward him, scrunching my nose in silent argument. Then I quickly iron out my features, because even that slight movement distresses my joints.
“Let me explain.” Gray smirks at me. “When I’m near her, for the most part, people are too afraid of me to mess with her. But the second she’s a few feet away, she’s fair game. And perhaps she’s more of a target now, because she’s a traitor to her race or something—choosing a shifter to be with instead of one of her own.” Then he clears his throat. “Or, more accurately, alongside one of her own. Shifters don’t own the women they’re with. I’m one of her two boyfriends.”
My cheeks heat and I’m certain I’m crimson from head to toe. “Gray, that’s not his business!”
Sloan straightens. “Everything about you is my business! From birth, I looked after you. Don’t you know how much it’s killing me not to be there for your big moments? You got your first boyfriend, and I didn’t even get to scare the pants off him?”
I throw my head back, wishing I had a better hold on this conversation. “I thought you’d prefer my boyfriends with their pants on.”
Sloan touches his lips as he processes. “About that. Boyfriends? You’re with two guys in there? What, are you making up for lost time when your father kept you away from everyone? Who is the other guy?”
I pinch the bridge of m
y nose. “Is this necessary information? I thought you were supposed to be the one talking. What’s the news from the outside, Sloan?”
Gray squeezes my shoulder, his lips touching my ear as he speaks. “I respect Sloan. It wouldn’t be right to hold back important things about us. I don’t want him not to trust me with you.”
“Smart man.” Sloan’s gaze is none-too-friendly. “Though, we’re back on square one with trust. You were supposed to watch over her, not kiss her.”
I hold up my hand before anything else can come out. “Make nice with Gray, and you can meet my other boyfriend when I think you’re ready.”
Sloan scoffs, opening his mouth to protest, but Deytant slaps his hands together. “Five more minutes left for visitation. Family matters can wait for another day. Arlanna, it’s nice to meet you. Let’s get down to it, yeah?”
I respect that the new guy is taking charge and leading us away from dangerous waters.
“There’s a new bill in the works,” Deytant explains, his voice lowering as he leans in conspiratorially, “and you’re not going to like it.”
20
A Clairvoyant’s Worry
Paxton
I finish brushing my teeth, rinsing my mouth out before I purse my lips in Gray’s direction as he does the same. “You’re seriously not talking? You have to know how crazy that’s going to make me.”
He shoots me a full-fanged cheesy grin, but it falls quickly, letting me know that whatever’s about to drop down on us is going to be more than we can bear. “Enjoy the looney bin, then. I told you, I’ll lay out everything when it’s the four of us. You’ve got to wait like, one more minute, if the girls are quick with their showers.”
Though I know they won’t be. Charlotte’s had to help Arlanna in the shower for the past two days. Her side’s been too bruised for her to lift her arm more than a few inches.
Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2) Page 12
