Charlotte speaks to both of us in her dulcet tone, but her eyes are fixed on the wood slats holding up the top bunk. “It’s good that we have each other. Gray and I were friends before, but being cellmates is far better. He always looked so okay with being alone here, but I knew he wasn’t. I’m glad he’s unlocked, and that he has people worrying about his safety. No one worries about him; they only worry about themselves around him, if that makes any sense. Never met a gentler man whom everyone feared. People are weird.”
Cass’ feet dangle from the top bunk. “You keep using that word: unlocked. You mean his magic, right? His animal’s unlocked?” It’s the first time I’ve heard her vocalize a lapse in understanding Charlotte’s meaning.
“More than that. Arly couldn’t read auras before this morning. It’s not just the magic-muting cuffs she broke. All four of us are about to experience magic in ways we never dreamed.”
I haven’t tapped into that ability since this morning. To be honest, it spooked me to see auras so clearly. That gift belonged to my mum, not to me.
“What does that mean?” Cass asks, giving voice to my own wondering.
Charlotte speaks with authority. “The ancient magic wasn’t meant to be lost forever, watered down to nothing. Diminishing year after year. Things in the world have gotten out of hand, so nature has demanded a reset.”
My stomach lurches. “Are you saying that we’re going to be able to tap into magic that’s gone extinct?”
Charlotte keeps her eyes on the underside of the top bunk, as if she’s searching the stars for meaning. “That’s what you did this morning, reading our auras. Aside from your Mum, apparently, that gift was thought to be extinct. We’ll see what else comes out.”
The ominous nature of her sunny tone stills my fidgeting. “What does that…”
But the echo of heavy boots interrupts my query. I’m at the door with more eagerness on my features than I have the power to compose. Gray is one of us, and he’s coming home.
That’s when it hits me that this is our new home. Our safe space, free from the prying eyes and expectations with which we constantly have to stay in line. This cell, small and impersonal as it is, makes a difference in our sanity.
The officer doesn’t say a word to us, but deposits Gray in the room and leaves with a sturdy, “Lights out in a couple minutes.”
The second the door shuts, I want to jump into his arms.
Except, that’s weird. Why would I do that? He’s a friend in our group. Welcoming him back from an injury would be more of like, pats on the back and asking if he’s alright.
I glue my back to the wall beside the door, lest I actually do leap into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist.
I let the girls greet him, Charlotte with a hug and Cass with a chuck to his shoulder. I stay back, ensuring he has a fair bit of space from my attack of unnecessary affection.
His eyes land on me, as if questioning the space I’m purposefully keeping between us.
“How are you feeling, Gray?” I work out, my voice pinched and overly light.
He undoes his top four buttons, exposing his white tank to the room. The muscles in his neck and shoulders are tensed, but his expression reads neutral. “I’m better. Crisis averted. I didn’t shift in front of the entire cafeteria. That’s the important thing, right?”
“Absolutely,” Cass agrees with a chipper grin. “What’d Nurse Jen say about your head? Concussion? Did your brains fall completely out? Do we get to reprogram you with only the things we want you to know? Because that could be a lot of fun.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Nah. She checked me and everything. I might have a nasty lump on my forehead tomorrow, but nothing more than that. She just kept me there for the obligatory six hours to make sure I didn’t faint or vomit or anything.”
“You scared us,” Cass scolds as she hops up onto her top bunk and dangles her feet.
Gray taps her bare toe with the side of his fist, like a boxer approaching a speedbag. “Sorry about that. It was either unconsciousness or a giant wolf in the middle of Prigham’s.”
“Yeah? Well, tell your wolf to cool it. This one was worried sick about you.” She jabs her finger in my direction, accusing me of something I can’t in good conscience deny.
I glare at her for ratting me out as Gray turns to face me. Before he can say anything, I hold up my hands. “I was worried a normal, appropriate amount. We’re in this, the four of us, right? When one of us knocks themselves stupid, we should all feel it.”
Gray takes a step toward me, his head angling to the side. A small smile toys with his lips. I should really stop staring at his mouth.
My tongue sweeps over my lower lip. My heart pounds unevenly, and I’m embarrassed by the rhythm I cannot control.
His tongue slides across his lower lip, mirroring my action. “No one worries about me in here. This is nice.”
I open my mouth to tell him that can’t possibly be true, but at that exact moment, we’re plunged into darkness, and my entire being flails. The concrete beneath my feet turns to waves on the ocean, and my stomach lurches as the stink of bleach finds me, clawing at my memories until they rise to the surface.
“No!” I call out as the trunk door slams shut, encasing me in the stale scent of a car’s interior. I’m accompanied by nothing other than complete and total blackness.
I hear the sound of Cass’ feet hitting the concrete, but Gray zips to me first, his arms gathering me close, so our hearts are pressed together. “Easy, Arly,” he whispers. “Hang on to me.”
My hands flail like I’m drowning while I make stupid noises of panic. I’m certain I’ll lose my only friends in this place, pathetic as I am. I might always be trapped in the trunk, screaming in the dark while the world spins without me. Gray can get a handle on his wolf, but I might never be able to master my monster so seamlessly.
There is a darkness in me that might not be fixable. Sloan tried. The therapist tried. I don’t want Gray to know there’s no hope for my sanity.
Gray catches my fist and flattens it to his chest. He traps both my arms between us, tightening his embrace, so any flailing doesn’t give way to more loss of control. “Shh,” he soothes, his cheek pressed to mine.
Finally, the world begins to slow its spinning, and the bleach gives way to cinnamon as the silk of his hair brushes my face.
“Just like that,” he croons in my ear. The scratch of his stubble centers me as he turns his chin over his shoulder. “I’ve got her. Can you ladies clear the main space? I don’t want to bump into you and knock you down.”
Cass squeezes my shoulder, but rough hands grabbing me from the trunk plague my mind, confusing my senses. I’m in the trunk all over again, being taken where Sloan will never find me. “No!” I scream, jerking from her touch. “Don’t take me! Don’t put me in there!”
Gray’s arms around me are stern but not forceful, lending his strength to me when I need it most. “Where are you, Arly?”
“In the trunk,” I gasp, my esophagus narrowing as anxiety spikes. “I’m in the dark. It’s too dark! I don’t know where they’re taking me!”
“How about I get in there with you?”
I gulp, confused by his offer. “You don’t want to do that. It’s dark. It stinks like bleach. They’ve done awful things to bodies back here, and I’m next. They can’t get what they want from Daddy, so they’re going to send me back in pieces until he caves.”
Gray startles and lets out a string of curse words. Then he rests his cheek to mine again, his warmth finding me when I’m certain all I’ll ever be is cold and frightened. “They can’t do that if I’m around. The fae have no idea what to do with shifters. Hold tight to me. I’ll get you out of this. Close your eyes.”
I listen to his instructions, only because it’s the sole salvation that’s keeping me from losing myself completely.
“That’s exactly right. See? Now it’s our darkness. We control it. They have no power if we control the dar
k. It’s ours, never theirs.”
“How can you tell that her eyes are closed?” Cass asks from her top bunk.
“Shifters can see pretty well in the dark, without those cuffs working, at least. It was disorienting for me, too, when I first came here. I’m used to being able to make out shadows, so I know what’s coming for me. Now I can do that again.” He takes a step back, holding me closer and bringing me with him. “I can see if anything’s coming for you, Arly-girl, and the coast is clear.”
My thudding heart follows his truth, even if it ends up being all a lie. His new nickname for me settles in my chest, pinging something precious in me that longs to be treated gently.
“I like that. Arly-girl. It’s cute.”
“You sleeping with me tonight, Arly-girl?” he asks in a deeper baritone, the bristle of his cheek against mine sending untold shivers through my skin.
“Is that okay?” Of course my voice comes out squeaky.
So embarrassing.
His cheek drags mine upward with his smile. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, and it calms me by five percent. “I think Rafe would like that. You might not like it so much, though, since I didn’t get a chance to take a shower.”
He doesn’t mention his own preference, but in this moment, I don’t care. His arms are around me, so the whole of the world is less terrifying. I don’t have to think about Sloan sitting alone in a crummy roach-infested motel. I don’t have to think about my dad calling me his princess, treating me like I’m revered, and then selling me out to pay for his…
No, I don’t have to think about any of it.
“Tighter,” I whisper, and Gray obliges. I need the pressure of his embrace to keep me from being taken, from never being found.
When he stops us beside our bunk, his knee nudges between mine, tapping the outside of my calf to the frame on my left. “You feel that?”
I feel too many things, but I don’t say that. “Our bed?”
Again, I feel his smile prickle my face. An airy snicker puffs his breath across my shoulder. “That’s right. Our bed. Boy, Rafe sure loved that. Ours, not theirs.”
Cass and Charlotte whisper to each other, which gives me the much-needed illusion of privacy. Now the butterflies in my stomach can let their imaginations run away with them. If they can fly out of the trunk and find happiness—giddiness, even—then maybe I can, too.
Maybe I won’t always be trapped.
12
Guard Dog
Gray helps me to sit down on the ledge of the bed, and even goes so far as to lift my feet for me, so I can slide into place easier. “Eyes still closed?”
“Yep.” I scoot over to the edge nearest the wall, loving the luxury of finally being off my feet. Those bricks were no joke.
There’s a rustle of fabric, and then the creak of the springs. When Gray sits on the mattress beside me, the weight is off. He should be heavier.
Something wet touches my cheek and sniffs loudly near my ear. I shriek and startle, my eyes flying open. Of course, that plunges me back into the trunk, and before I know it, I’m flailing on the bed, fighting the sheets for freedom as they tangle around me. “Gray! Gray, I can’t see! There’s something in the bed! Get it out of the trunk!”
And just like that, Gray’s proper weight sinks on his side of our mattress. “Easy, Arly. It’s me. You’re safe. Close your eyes. It wasn’t a ‘something’ you need to be scared of. It was Rafe. I thought it’d be okay to let him out, even though it’s after hours.” He pauses, and his hands cuff my forearms to keep me from floundering further in the sheets.
My breath comes out in heavy pants. “Gray?”
Again, he flattens my fingers to his chest, only this time, there’s no fabric for me to grasp. Just pure, ridiculously firm muscle, covered by a coarse smattering of hair. “Feel that?” he asks me in the dark. “Nothing to be scared of. I’m not leaving you in the trunk. I got you out.”
“Cool! I want to pet him!” Cass says, jumping down from her bunk.
And just like that, Gray’s gone from my side. “Hold up, Cass. My clothes are on the floor. Give me a second to shift.”
My mouth pops open. I was just lying in bed with a naked man. I’ve never seen a naked man in person before. I guess that’s still true, since it’s pitch black. Even so, my cheeks heat at the forbidden nature of the whole thing.
I was touching the chest of a naked man.
I hear panting now, so I guess Cass is petting Rafe. Charlotte giggles, so I know she’s out of bed, too. I want to get out and feel his fur, but I don’t trust myself to sit up and try to make spatial sense of the dark.
The girls fawn over him, cooing and commenting on how soft he is. How big is he? What shade of gray? Is his tail wagging?
I listen to their happy back and forths, and finally the cutely indignant, “Oh, fine. Rafe, you’re a party pooper. Stop nudging me toward the bed; I was just going.”
Charlotte squeals with pinched glee. “He’s tucking me in! Rafe is tugging up the covers and tucking me in! Oh, you’re a good boy. Yes, you are.”
“Goodnight, Rafe!” Cass shout-whispers from her top bunk.
When the mattress moves this time, my heart thuds dramatically, but I don’t panic. Instead, my fingers reach for the fur I’ve been longing to explore.
I miss my Everly Ann with a gutting loneliness. Her fur was short, and she was always happy to see me.
“Oh, so soft.” A calmness fills me that I couldn’t find mere seconds ago. “Rafe, you’re a cloud brought down just for me. Such a big boy, too.” From nose to tail, he’s nearly as long as my body.
How I long to see Everly Ann again. She’s a white teacup terrier, but she’s nothing as soft as this pup who can’t stop licking my wrists, flipping them up atop his head whenever I pet him too slowly.
I scratch behind his ears nice and good, then run the velvet of the tips between my thumbs and forefingers. “You’re a lamb, aren’t you. A sweet, gentle lamb. Feel those ears? The softest things on earth. You’re just my sweet little softy, aren’t you?”
I’m in love with Rafe; there’s no question to it. He licks my fingers until he pauses at the heel of my palm, sniffing and then licking curiously.
Before I can make sense of it, Rafe is off the mattress. “You’re cut,” Gray says in a worried voice. “You’ve got a slice on your hand just there.” I hear the rustling of fabric and he sits back down, picking up my hand and resting it palm-up on his thigh.
His naked thigh.
Well, I can feel the hem of his underwear. I can’t tell if he’s wearing boxers or boxer-briefs. Definitely not briefs.
I’m thinking about his underwear far too much. He’s decent-ish. That’s what matters.
“Bollocks. I promised Sloan I would look out for you. Now there’s a mark on your hand.”
“Brick work,” Cass tells him. “You alright, Arly-girl?”
I smirk that she’s adopted my new nickname, too. “I didn’t even notice, really. Stung a little when I washed my hair, but nothing like, you know, bashing your head on metal and knocking yourself out. I can’t believe this even registers to you after nearly giving yourself a concussion.”
“I promised Sloan I’d look out for you. I’m sorry. I won’t be in the infirmary tomorrow, okay? I’ll get a better hold on Rafe.”
“You worry too much, Mister. I gave Sloan permanent grouch lines, making him worry like that. He shouldn’t have put that on you. I’m his ulcer, not yours. A few scrapes are inevitable in a place like this. It’s not Sloan’s fault I’m in here, and it’s not yours.”
It’s my father’s.
I wince at the truth I’m not ready to touch. I know Sloan’s theory is that I have a right to my own voice, but letting the blame for my incarceration rest firmly on my father isn’t something I can speak into the universe. I’m too afraid of the ramifications.
Too afraid of my own voice.
It’s like Gray can sense my insides clenching, steeling myself agains
t it all. “Deep breaths,” he encourages, holding my hand until he hears me comply. “That’s the way.”
He doesn’t shame me for being a big old baby, nor does he make me talk about things that are best left to languish in the dark.
I don’t want to talk. I want warmth, comfort and a good night’s sleep.
“Lay down,” I whisper, making an executive decision without consulting my better judgment. Sloan would freak out if he knew I was inviting a man to lie down with me in only his underwear.
Daddy would… I shudder to think what Dad would do to Gray if he found out.
But he won’t find out, because he chose to be apart from me.
Which means I’m not under his thumb anymore.
“Are you sure? I’m not in my jumpsuit.”
“However you’re comfortable,” I amend.
“I think that’s up to you, because I’m comfortable like this. I shared a cell with three other blokes before coming here, and we all slept without the jumpsuits.”
Charlotte, of all people, chimes in with a cheery, “We don’t mind!”
Cass snickers, and I hear her jumping down from her top bunk and settling into Charlotte’s. “Goodnight, children.”
Gray laughs, and I wonder if he’s blushing. I want to know what it looks like when his cheeks turn pink. I reach up and touch his stubble, hoping to feel some sort of heat so I can really let my imagination run away with me.
“You sure it’s okay with…” His question trails off, so I don’t answer it. No, Sloan would never be okay with this. Neither would my dad.
If Gray thinks I have a boyfriend, he couldn’t be more wrong.
“Lay down, Gray,” I repeat, firming up my bravery and running headfirst into all the things I’ve always wanted to do, but never had the chance.
Well, not all the things. But this one thing belongs to me tonight. Me and Gray.
He’s careful as he slides under the sheets, like he’s afraid to brush my body. One touch of my hand to his shoulder, and he exhales, his arm sliding under my neck so he can tilt me toward him, like last night.
Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1) Page 9
