Crimes of Fire (Wayward Fae Paranormal Prison Book 1)

by J. N. Colon

  He easily dodged my hits. “You have some bumps on your head. Taking out these tight plaits will feel better.”

  I stiffened. Since when did the unseelie prince care about my physical wellbeing?

  “Just relax,” he demanded. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

  True.

  I opened my mouth to still press him, but his fingers suddenly dove into my undone hair, massaging my scalp. The reaction was instantaneous. My body slackened, and my head angled back without my permission. I almost let a moan escape.

  No one touched me like this—ever—until Viktor Hale.

  I licked my lips, and my lids fluttered closed. “You don’t have to do that,” I mumbled.

  “It’s fine.” He already had the other one unraveled, his fingers on both sides of my head.

  Magic fingers. I could only imagine what else they were capable of. A hot shiver rippled down my spine. Oh, hell. I was putty in his hands.

  Why was he doing this? He’d almost done a complete one-eighty. “What happened to the no touching the seelie-dae rule unless to commit harm?”

  He gave a gruff rumble. “That was only a guideline. I’ve revised it.”

  What else was included in this revision?

  Viktor’s fingers disappeared. His body slowly moved around, settling in front of me. My lids remained closed as his hands pressed on either side of the table next to my thighs.

  I swallowed hard, afraid to open my eyes. He would be there, too close.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, his husky voice sending electric sparks through my core. My knees brushed against his legs.

  I sighed and finally lifted my eyes to find his face barely more than a few inches from mine. My heart tapped out a frantic beat as his presence consumed me, stealing my ability to think straight.

  As Viktor leaned in, his breath skated down my chest. “How did you win that fight, Sloane?”

  I sucked in a ragged breath. Sloane. Not seelie-dae. He called me Sloane. His lips curled around my name like a warm caress.

  My tongue felt thick when I tried to talk. If I inched forward, our lips would meet. “I’m stronger than I look, Viktor.”

  His intense stare roamed over me, spreading a deep flush everywhere. Something unreadable flared in those icy irises. “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

  Chapter 14

  When Viktor handed me a glass full of an iridescent, fizzling liquid, I glared at it with a dramatic grimace. “You’re crazy if you think I’m drinking that.”

  We stood at a tall table in the V.I.P. area of the club—an actual club now. Music thumped through the cavernous cement chamber, and where I’d almost gotten annihilated an hour ago, people danced provocatively. The splatters of blood had been washed away with magic, and black lights made the neon colors of the plastic cups and drinks pop.

  How did a club exist in the basement of a prison?

  Viktor rolled his eyes and pushed it at me. “It’s moonberry wine. It’ll help with the pain.”

  “Who said I was in pain?” Of course I was. I just didn’t want to admit it.

  He shot me an incredulous expression. “You nearly got your ass kicked.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “You still walked away like a boss.” He motioned his hand over my body. “With a few bumps and bruises.”

  I peered into the cup. “What’s in it? Alcohol?”

  “It’s a type of fairy wine.” He knocked back a gulp, the tattoos on his neck momentarily mesmerizing me. “It’s made by flower fairies during a full moon.”

  “Whatever.” I took a sip and an explosion of sweet flavors coated my tongue. “It tastes like candy.”

  The edges of his lips twitched. “We Fae like sweets.”

  I took a bigger sip. I guess we did.

  Since I’d won the fight, I was allowed in the V.I.P. area where Viktor had sat the first time I slipped into the club. Helena sulked in the corner, trying to kill me with a death glare. I tilted my cup toward her and flashed a shit-eating grin. The split in my lip zinged, but her fury-laden face was worth the pain.

  “She’s going to claw your eyes out.” Viktor’s rough whisper sped right by my ear, and I had to fight back a shiver from the warm sensation of his breath.

  “You’re making it worse.” For all Helena knew, he was murmuring dirty things to me. “Maybe you should tell your girlfriend not to worry.”

  Viktor shifted back with a smirk. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Does she know that?” I leaned my elbows on the table to stare up at him. I was having trouble looking away from the unseelie prince. If I weren’t careful, I’d become a helpless spider stuck in his treacherous web.

  “I kissed her once and have regretted it ever since.” He dragged his hand through his hair, mussing up the bluish-black strands. “Helena has this weird obsession where she thinks we’re going to get married and live happily ever after. I don’t do marriage, and I sure as hell don’t do happily ever after.”

  “Right there with you.” I downed another gulp. Thankfully, the aches lashing at my body began to dull. “No such thing as happily ever after.”

  He tapped his cup to mine. “It’s just a lie your parents tell you to help you sleep at night.”

  A bitter laugh slipped out. “I didn’t even have that.” Nightmares riddled my dreams and waking hours.

  Viktor arched a questioning brow.

  “I haven’t had enough of this moonberry wine to go there.” I finished it with another deep sip.

  Mmm. That was tasty.

  “Want another?” Before I even answered, he was beckoning someone over.

  A Fae appeared—a pixie maybe—electric orange tufts of hair pluming from his head. He placed another cup in front of me and nodded toward Viktor. I grabbed it, tilting it to my lips while the unseelie prince watched me. He’d been doing that a lot after we left the medical room. I had no idea why he was still gracing me with his royal presence. He usually couldn’t stand to be near me.

  Viktor reached into his pocket to draw out a box of juniper sticks. “Want one?”

  I shook my head. Indulging in one Fae vice at a time was enough.

  He stuck one between his lips, lighting it with magic. The pungent, spicy blue smoke drifting out was lighter than human cigarettes, mist-like even. Viktor held the green stick between his tattooed fingers while he sipped his drink.

  He followed my gaze to his hand. “Got any tattoos?”

  “Nope.” I didn’t have a problem with them. I had a problem with strangers touching me.

  “Want one?” He stepped close enough that I inhaled citrus mingled with pine from the juniper stick.

  I licked my lips. “Why? You want to give me one?”

  He shrugged. “I did some of mine.” He surveyed my exposed skin. I’d found a tank top in the medical room to throw on because I had no intention of hanging out with these people in Kimber’s revealing sports bra. “I could give you one,” he said

  I held my breath for the punchline but it never came. Oddly enough, I didn’t mind having him touch me.

  “Hi, Sloane.” Tristan appeared next to us, shattering the salacious thoughts suddenly running rampant about the unseelie prince. “Viktor.”

  Viktor stepped back to put more space between us and frowned at the seelie. “I don’t remember inviting you to the V.I.P. area, Tristan.”

  “Maddox said it was cool.” He gave a casual shrug. “I wanted to talk to Sloane.”

  “Did you now?” His chest expanded as he moved closer again, almost in a possessive manner. “Too bad we were talking.”

  Did I just enter an alternate universe where Viktor Hale not only wanted my company, but he didn’t care to share me with anyone else? “I can talk to you both.”

  Viktor’s head snapped in my direction, those eyes narrowing. “He can’t stay.”

  “Why not?” Was the prince just being a spoiled brat who didn’t want someone else stealing attention away from
him?

  “Because I don’t want him here.” The tendons in Viktor’s jaw flexed so hard I could hear his teeth grinding over the music.

  I propped my hands on my hips, wincing at the pain ripping across my torso. “Well, I do.”

  Ice leaked through those silver irises, attempting to freeze me to the spot. Viktor Hale did not like being told no. Too bad I didn’t give two shits.

  After staring me down for another minute, he shook his head. “Whatever.” He grabbed his cup and stomped away.

  Tristan took Viktor’s position across from me. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “No.” Maybe his interruption was a good thing. I needed to get close to Viktor, but things had gotten strange tonight. I kept waiting on the unseelie prince to deliver heinous insults or toss me against a wall.

  “I saw your fight earlier.” He fidgeted with a button on his shirt as he surveyed the bruises, scrapes, and welts stippling my body. “What possessed you to enter one?”

  I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I needed money.” Viktor had given me an easy lie when he assumed that I needed cash.

  A dry laugh slipped out of Tristan. “I was worried for a minute when you didn’t get up.” He lifted his cup, draining the rest of the moonberry wine. “I almost ran out of the crowd to help you.”

  “I don’t need rescuing.” Tristan was too sweet for me. My screwed-up life and the baggage stacking around me would eat him alive.

  “I know. It’s just a habit.” He brought his empty cup to his mouth and ripped off a piece of plastic, chewing it.

  What the hell? “Did you just eat plastic?”

  An adorable grin spread over his face, bringing out those boyish dimples. “This isn’t plastic.”

  I scrutinized my own cup, unconvinced.

  “Fae would never use plastic dishes and don’t even think of suggesting Styrofoam. We try to keep mother nature clean even from in here.” He poked at the edge of his cup. “This is made from flowers. It’s edible.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Would I lie to you?” Those dimples winked again. “Try it.”

  I gulped down the rest of my drink before ripping off a piece of the cup. I’ll be damned. “It tastes like honey.”

  “I can’t believe you let the seelie-dae fight!”

  I whipped around at the harsh voice booming from a few feet away. Fine tremors ran through Faolan as he stood in front of Viktor.

  “Someone used magic,” Faolan spat. “There’s no other way to explain how she won.”

  Viktor casually shrugged. “She won. Get over it. Don’t be sour that one of your shifters failed.”

  Faolan’s eyes blazed an eerie yellow, and he took a step toward the unseelie prince until the tips of their boots touched. “That’s bullshit, Vik. I want a rematch. Sloane and Maria.”

  Viktor took a deep breath through his nose, his shoulders widening. The two Fae were nearly evenly matched, but Viktor stood a hair taller than the shifter. “Challenge my decision one more time, Faolan. I dare you.” His words sent chills over my skin. “I’d love a reason to tear you apart.”

  Faolan’s pupils elongated. Shifters emerged from the crowd, their eyes glowing like nocturnal animals in a dark forest. Daemon’s moved to their shifter allies.

  The unseelies and seelies began to push forward, moving nearer to Viktor. The lines between the groups were clearly drawn.

  “You think I’m afraid of you?” Viktor hadn’t so much as flinched. “I could kill half the Fae in here with a snap of my fingers. You’d be dead in seconds.”

  Faolan stood his ground, but the color drained from his cheeks. “You’re getting cocky, Vik.”

  Viktor snapped his fingers and Faolan recoiled. “I’m the unseelie prince. I have every reason to be cocky. Don’t forget who rules this place.” The temperature dropped several degrees with the sharp scent of winter permeating the air.

  The alpha shifter took a step back. “We’ll see how long that reign lasts, Hale. Your ruling days are numbered.”

  Faolan slithered into the crowd like a snake, the shifters and daemons following.

  Viktor’s gaze swung in my direction, shadows melting over his expression. I couldn’t read him like other people, but an edge of danger always surrounded the unseelie prince. Could anyone—besides me hopefully—really pose a threat to him? Faolan seemed to think he could. Did someone else want him dead?

  I stared at the slip of paper in my hand, unable to contain my broad smile. A new work order that didn’t involve scrubbing disgusting bathrooms had come in. Laundry duty? That had to be the crème de la crème of jobs. It couldn’t come at a better time either. My ribs still ached like a son of a bitch, and my shoulder was nearly useless. Just last night I’d kicked that shifter’s ass and gotten a little closer to the unseelie prince.

  “You lucked out today, huh?” Officer Garrett—the only C.O. that didn’t hate my guts—escorted me to the laundry room. “This is one of the coveted jobs.”

  “How did I end up getting this position today?” There was no denying how most of the inmates and guards felt about me.

  He stopped in front of a heavy metal door and pulled out a set of keys to unlock it. “Maybe someone took pity on you.” His violet eyes lingered on my marred cheek.

  Did the seelie prison guard know about Viktor’s secret club in the basement?

  I followed him inside where the fresh scent of laundry detergent swirling through the warm air softened the harshness of the metal and concrete consuming the floors and walls. We turned the corner, and the space suddenly shrank from the sheer presence of the guy shoving a sheet into one of the washing machines. Viktor Hale turned, his brows lowering on his forehead when he found me.

  “We got a new partner for you today,” Officer Garrett said with a light chuckle. “Maddox is on kitchen duty.”

  The infinitesimal narrowing of Viktor’s eyes made my hackles perk up. He had been friendly last night, maybe a little more than friendly when we were alone in the medical room. He’d bandaged me up and massaged my scalp for shit’s sake.

  Now he’d gone and flipped that switch to the ice prince again.

  Viktor gave a grunt and returned to the washing machine. “I hope you know how to do laundry, seelie-dae.”

  “I think I can handle it.” I’d done a million loads before.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Officer Garrett winked before turning and strutting out of the door.

  My gaze trailed to the buns of steel encased in his navy uniform pants. Definitely quarter-bouncing worthy.

  I turned back, catching Viktor’s hard glare lingering on the officer’s retreating form. “You don’t like him?”

  He shrugged. “He seems to like you. Is the feeling mutual?”

  I scoffed. “I don’t even know him. And he’s a guard. Isn’t that kind of thing against the rules?” Actually, a lot of things done at Wayward Fae Penitentiary were against the rules, including last night’s fighting, for one.

  A humorless grin split his mouth. “Would that matter?”

  I motioned my hand to the piles of laundry surrounding us. “Are we going to work or not?” I didn’t want to discuss my love life with Viktor. Plus, I was supposed to be wooing him with my feminine wiles, according to the queen.

  Too bad I didn’t have those. I had no idea how to get someone to like me. I’d hooked up with a few guys before, but I never initiated anything. And it was never all that exciting. I watched the unseelie prince as he grabbed a bin of dirty laundry, his wide shoulders straining beneath his t-shirt.

  Hooking up with him would be terrifying and exhilarating. I licked my lips imaging those hands trailing over my body—

  I shook myself and turned away before he caught me staring. Shit. I was supposed to kill the guy. Not start crushing on him.

  Viktor showed me how to use the machines and we worked in silence, shoving clothes into the washer and then the dryer. The droning hum filled the silence but being in such close quarte
rs with him was nerve-wracking. My skin twitched and I kept finding myself watching him. He moved with so much grace for someone his size.

  He bent to grab another pile of laundry. I licked my lips following the lines of his rock-solid body. Officer Garrett had nothing on Viktor’s assets.

  “What did Faolan mean last night about your rule ending?” I blurted, nervously fiddling with a towel I should have been folding.

  Viktor pivoted toward me with a taut expression. He remained quiet for so long that I didn’t think he’d answer. “The shifters want control of the prison.” He let out a long sigh and pulled fresh sheets from the dryer. “Faolan wants the club and the black-market business.” Viktor jerked his chin toward the bin he’d just tossed the sheets into. “Help me fold these.”

  I closed the distance between us and grabbed one end of the sheet. “How are two underage Fae fighting for control of this place? I’m surprised an older prisoner isn’t trying to take over.”

  “I’m a prince, so that’s pretty obvious. And Faolan…” He cracked his neck, a flash of fire lighting his eyes. “His father is Cortland Jorah, the alpha of the biggest dochar pack in the Otherworld. He’s dangerous and has a lot of power within the shifter community. Faolan is following in his footsteps, trying to take control of whatever he can. It’s why he climbed to the ranks so fast during the two years he’s been in Wayward Fae Pen. He challenged the other shifters for leadership and won.”

  I held back a shiver. He did not paint a good picture of Faolan. “Why don’t you get along with the shifters?”

  “Shifters and unseelies were allies a long time ago.” He gave a casual shrug. “We’re not anymore.”

  There was definitely more to it, but like the illegal merchandise, he was tight-lipped on the subject. I was surprised to get this much out of him.

  When I reached for the bottom corners of the sheet, a sharp pain slashed my shoulder, and I hissed, dropping my arm.

  Viktor rubbed the light coating of stubble on his chin as he studied me. “You could always get your little seelie boyfriend Tristan to kiss your boo-boos better.”