by Dany Stone
Screaming for release.
Release is the last thing I’ll be allowed again.
The second set of doors open directly to the female guard’s desk. Only a few steps until I’m back in handcuffs, no longer will have any way of fighting back.
Of ever regaining my freedom.
My hands tremble against my side.
The doors shut and bolt behind me the instant I’m through. The female guard reaches back behind her protected partition, reaching for a jumpsuit, a pair of flipflops, and whatever basic shit I’ll be allowed to possess.
Distracted from me for just a moment.
A moment that is all the time I need.
All I need is a link to her identity – a touch, a shred of clothing – and I’ll be able to—
A hand clamps around my arm. “Not this time, Nightshade.” The reaper shoves me forward, his grip relentless. His hands are warm against my naked skin, a brush of contact that sets me tingling in all the right places. He growls when I try to shake him off and something inside me grows hot at the sound.
“Listen to me, bitch.” He presses his mouth against my ear. “You will cooperate and finish this booking. Then I’m going straight to your warden for the transfer.” Something brushes my ear. A bite? A nibble? “And I think you’ll find Hell’s prison a million fucking times worse than this penitentiary shit.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I reach a hand up to his face, brushing his jawline and he jolts back like he was slapped. His dark skin tints with red, almost like he’s – blushing?
Gods, who knew he could actually look adorable?
“Hands. Off.” He shakes me away from him. Still growling under his breath as he gathers his cloak around him like some omen of doom.
Yeah, a little too late to hide behind that façade.
“Inmate.” The female guard looks between us as she shoves my prison garb under the security glass, her gaze narrowed, irritated. “You will keep your hands to yourself. At. All. Times. Am I underfuckingstood?”
“You may be underfucking,” I say, “but it’s not my business to pry.”
One eyebrow snakes upward before she slaps the partition shut. “They’ll have a fun time eating you alive in here.”
“And it’s nothing compared to how they’ll treat you in—”
“Hell, right?” I cut the reaper short. “Do you spend all day parroting your own phrases?”
Irritation tightens his features and he turns away from me, still being all Mr. Doomy in his weird-ass cloak. “I only repeat things that are necessary to hear.”
“Because of course I can’t wait to hear all about my future torture in hell.”
His ridiculously kissable mouth curves up in a smirk. “Commit the crime, pay the time.”
“Don’t be condescending.” There’s more than one crime on my record.
Far more.
Exactly why you were never supposed to get caught—
He glowers down at me, his gaze intense, and I find myself covering my breasts with my stack of prison garb. Teasing more than actually hiding. His gaze drops down the length of my body, long, probing, drawing out more emotion from me than I should allow.
But something about his eyes—
I press up against him, hands twining around his arm, and a sharp intake of breath escapes him.
A yielding.
His body pressing back against mine.
Before he goes still.
“I’m warning you, inmate – get your hands off of me. Or I’ll be forced to—”
“Give in?” I whisper the words against his neck. A suggestion. An invitation. “No one is expecting us yet. We have just enough time.”
He’s quiet.
For a long moment, he’s quiet.
Then, slowly, he begins pushing my hands off of his arm.
“We can work something out.” I tighten my grip, all my fear rising to the top, frantic in a way that threatens to lose control. “I have powerful friends. They can hide you, give you anything you wish. Just don’t subject me to this. Let me go free.”
He looks down at me with unreadable eyes.
“I’ll work out something with Death. Just give me time. I just can’t stay here in this—”
Something strikes me from behind, a sting sparking down my back, singeing down into my skin. The breath in my throat freezes.
The reaper’s mouth is moving, red flaring through his face, but his words are a hum of white noise rushing through my ears. Blankness binding my awareness.
The room blurs.
He’ll never help you.
No reason to ever think you could trust him.
So why did I think it would be OK to risk myself? To put myself in his hands and plea for mercy he will never give?
Hot fingers scald against the back of my neck, and I kick out, only to miss him completely.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
I can’t afford to stay in HAVOC, I most certainly can’t go to hell. With all the supernaturals I’ve double crossed, plus the officials I’ve evaded?
They’ll have my ass the second I step through those doors.
My legs fold beneath me like I am nothing but paper, life of no more worth than this.
Not like this.
Can’t end like this—
The prayer thuds in tempo to my heartbeat. Pain pushing through the numbness and into my veins. Infecting me with a surge of adrenaline that worsens the paralysis rather than release me. I lay still where the reaper dropped me, the concrete floor hot and brutally rough against my skin.
Listening as the door opens and footsteps approach.
Almost to the counter.
And still I cannot move.
You can make it up.
Have to find some way out of this.
Does the female officer not see? Or does she simply not care?
You made too many enemies, Lux.
Why should anyone care about you?
I pull my feet up under me, teeth clenched against the crazy unending surge of pain.
You can do this you can do this—
One leg propped up, only a little farther and I will be able to pull myself up.
Even though there is no strength in me to run.
No fight.
You can do this—
My eyes throb, fire igniting behind the ice until the continual burn begs for tears.
Begs for the release that will not come.
The footsteps stop directly behind me. Can’t turn, can’t look back, but I know he is there. Can sense his presence even when I cannot physically see him.
Him.
It isn’t just the reaper looking down at me now.
Panic laces my veins, adrenaline that screams at me to get up, break out of my paralysis.
Screaming for me to do the impossible.
An adrenaline that aids me in propping up my other leg. Pulling myself up inch by inch, fighting my way through haze and dizziness and terror until I am sitting up, trembling arms pulling my legs against me.
The feeblest protection I can find for myself in a moment’s time.
Arms shaking harder as the guard crouches down in front of me. Too close for me not to know what is going to happen.
Too close for it not to be over in a moment.
Let it be painless.
Let it be fast oh please let it be fast—
He shifts slightly, moving into my line of vision.
Lowered just enough for me to see his face.
Ten
KI
I lower my hand to her face, gently brush a bloodied strand of hair from Lux’s eyes.
Looking deep into the eyes I thought would never see again.
“Lux.” Blood is streaked across my finger as I smooth the hair back.
And still she does not blink.
Still does not move.
Looking through me like I am a mirror.
Behind me, I hear the reaper begin to pace.
I’ll be dealing with y
ou later, motherfucker.
“Lux.” I try again, louder this time. I move my hand from her hair to her Touching the streaks of blood, searching for wounds.
Testing to see if she would blink.
This is not how it’s supposed to be—
I press an index finger into the hollow of her throat until I’m finally aware of a pulse.
Her breathing pattern is stable.
But the magic-suppressant in her blood is racing out of control.
Almost as if she’s on the verge of—
She kicks a foot up toward my face in an arc that would have connected solidly with my stomach if I didn’t manage to stumble back. I sit back on my heels a safe distance away from her feet.
And find myself staring into the anger lasering through her gaze.
Dissecting me with the rage and distrust I know is everything I deserve.
Because of you.
She’s like this because of you.
Why wasn’t I prepared to see her like this? Beaten, bloodied, death in her eyes?
When I look into her face, I don’t see Lux at all.
Instead, she is a wild, injured animal seeking any way to claw her way free.
Even if she has to destroy you.
LUX
I aim another kick upwards, the movement sending a hot spiral of pain scorching through me. Burning like the betrayal within me.
The injustice that Ki is here. Now. Involved in this mess.
The one I sent away to protect.
You’re still telling yourself that?
After all the other reasons?
Ki jolts up to his feet, the tight lines of his jaw never relaxing. Hands spread in front of him in the universal gesture for peace as he looks down at me.
Eyes softened with concern.
Not with the rage I expected.
No sign of the triumph a victor would have in this moment.
Mouth pinched, I lower my foot, feet planted solidly back on concrete. Search for the strength to get up.
His gaze remains locked on me.
Oh sure. He’s content not to see me for weeks at a time but somehow he shows up in one of my most humiliating moments.
Where’d you get your timing, jerk?
“Here.” He bends down over me His grip closing over my arms, helping to gently tug me up. “Let me help you.”
Stay away from me.
Stay away from my heart.
Is this some kind of Citizen Terrorist Control diversion? Go ahead – send in the ex-boyfriend, soften her up before we drag her ass into interrogation.
They’d be sorry once they had me in interrogation.
Because I don’t know how Aiden got away and I certainly don’t know where he took the real Shroud.
OK, so I have some very strong suspicions.
But, you know. I know nothing.
Um, Fracture to Lux? Kind of a good time to guard my thoughts. A penitentiary like this is almost guaranteed to have some sort of mind-reading spell in place.
My best bet at survival is to play innocent.
I grab at the counter to steady myself, teeth clenched against the endless surge of pain.
Ki still hasn’t released me.
He’s standing too close, too concerned, for me to hold to my initial anger. Instead find myself melting towards him, the ice that has enclosed my heart shattering in the most vulnerable areas.
Melting as I look into the concern in his eyes.
Concern that warms the love I once thought I had for him.
Love that was one of the reasons I sent him away.
Sent.
Him.
Away.
Panic makes a headway and I shove him back, my palms striking his shoulders. He releases his grip like one awakening from a trance.
Takes a step back.
Anger darkening the concern before he straightens. Head tilted, eyes searching mine.
In that moment there is no resemblance to the man I loved in his face.
“You don’t need to be in the middle of this.” His voice softens. A plea far more dangerous than his anger. Reaching loving fingers into my heart. “This is what I told you would happen. You refused to remove yourself from their radar and now you are—”
“Wrongly accused? It’s nice to hear you still believe in me.” This time I’m the one to step back. Away from the temptation of thinking he’s real, away from the tugs on my treacherous heart. “There is no going under the radar for me. Not now. Not ever.”
No matter what choices I made, they would still come after me.
The same way they hunt every other supernatural.
Because we’re too valuable for them not to pursue.
He releases a frustrated grunt. “Lux—”
“Get away from me.” Before I lose my resolve.
Before I regret sending you away.
“You can’t even walk.” He laughs under his breath. “And you want to get rid of me?”
Teeth clenched, I jerk away. Fury blinding my eyes, leaving him a mist in my vision.
An illusion that is not dissolving.
Too close.
Too dangerous.
He advances another step, blocking the reaper with his height and for a moment the illusion that we’re alone together seems oh-so-real. “Lux. I’m the only one who can help you. Why do you think I’m here?”
You can’t trust him.
No more than you can trust the reaper.
I lift my chin, defiant against the plea in his eyes. Against the plea in my own heart. “Go. Go back to your radar-safe little job and arrest every supernatural you see and leave me to fight my way out of this then. It’s not like I’ll be alive long enough to be a bother.”
He doesn’t back away like I expected. “You know then.” There is an eerie calmness to his voice. An acceptance that sends coldness stinging into my veins.
He’s involved.
In this deeper than you would have ever dreamed.
I clench my teeth tighter. Arms trembling as I clench them around me. Rendering my own support. “If you know, then why aren’t you getting out?”
A muscle pulses in the side of his neck. “Because I know you deserve to die.”
Eleven
KI
If only she didn’t feel so damn good.
I take over Lux’s booking once we reach the chipping room. Keep my gun trained on her as she takes the solitary seat at my command, stoic against her every pleading glance, even though every aspect of her body is torture. I want to pull her back against me again, feel her soft skin as I force her to shift in my grip, changing form just to tease me. Let my hands explore her body before coming to rest on her breasts. A quick flick of my thumb against those pert nipples before—
Whoa.
Get yourself under control.
I’ve told myself I would never fall prey to her again, and in a situation like this it’s even worse. One look into her eyes and I’m malleable clay in her expert touch.
Bloody damnation, what kind of spell has she placed on me?
She turns to glare back at me from her seat and I get a good glimpse of her curves straining against her tight orange jumpsuit. Hell knows she’s going to need all the help she can get in a hungry penitentiary like this one.
No feelings, Ki.
I might as well tell myself to stop breathing.
I stride to the cabinet. Take my own sweet time applying my fingerprint and unlocking the supplies I need.
“Missed me already, deuce?” She laughs, a mocking sound in the silence.
“Just considering my options for eliminating you,” I say, and her eyes widen, She turns her back to me, like it’s possible to actually cut me out. Her eyes are wide with innocence, as fake as the rest of her. I mean, seriously. Lux Nightshade? She didn’t even have to tell me the name’s fake as hell. I knew it on our first date.
Whatever game she’s trying to play with me now, it won’t have any affect.
Any affe
ct at all.
I eye her as I retrieve the gun. Hold her gaze as I slide a fresh chip into its slot, lock it in place. Her shoulders tense at my closeness, all the hint I need to ease up beside her. The fingers that grip the chipping gun brush along her thigh, soft enough to be mistaken for an accidental touch. I wait for her to jerk away, to berate me for my boldness. But instead she stays very still like she doesn’t know I’m there at all.
Impressive ice queen impression.
“What?” She attempts folding her arms, but the handcuffs restrict even that movement. It’s adorable watching her struggle.
I’d like to see how she’d react if I pushed her down on a cot and claimed her mouth with mine before moving down to—-
Ahem.
What the hell is wrong with my runaway mind?
I tug at the chair restraints, tighten them around her. Snap them in place tighter than necessary. She watches me out of the corner of her eye and I carefully smooth away all expression. There’s no way in hell she’s able to read my thoughts, no way she should have any inclination what I’m thinking unless—
I glance down at the bulge in my pants. A little too obvious to miss.
Traitor.
The corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk. “Remembering how easily affected you are, sir?”
Damn her. The way her tongue dropped the word sir –
She glances down at the proof of my arousal and her smirk widens, curling the corners of her mouth. In the old days, I used to kiss that smirk away, tame her with a few well-placed licks.
Now?
I don’t trust myself to keep looking at her.
“Do I need to remind you that you were magic-locked only a few minutes ago?”
Her gaze darts to the glass door, where the reaper can be seen waiting in the hallway. “The weak resort to trickery when there’s no other way.”
“And where would you have gone?” I release the straps with a snap. “This place is locked down with every protective spell imaginable. Anti-magic curses present in every stone.” I will myself to remain calm, focused as I meet her glance. “The handcuffs aren’t just to keep you away from us. They’re also for your protection.”
“Good to know they teach lying 101 in the pen’s courses,” she says under her breath.
