by Katie May
If Kai told him about my past, what else did he tell him?
“So you know that I’m not exactly the most socially apt person,” I say, only half teasing.
“And it was only you and Kai there?” Cain presses, ignoring my attempt at a joke. A rather pathetic one, if I am being honest.
I move my second knight and sit back, waiting for him to take his turn. “That I know of. There may have been others, but I was kept apart from them. Kai was the only other prisoner that I met.”
“And you don’t think that’s suspicious?” he questions, voice rising marginally. When I flinch, he works to keep his tone at a controlled volume. “It’s just kind of odd, that’s all.”
My anger festers low in my stomach like a swirling ball of heat. His accusations sting—gut me—more than I care to admit.
“What are you saying, Cain? Just spit it out already.” I ball my hand into a tight fist, and Cain’s gaze drops to it immediately.
“I...I don’t know what I’m saying,” he admits at last. “Rook. H8 to H5.”
“How about we make a deal?” I place my hands beneath my chin and tilt my head to the side. Cain’s gaze lowers briefly to my lips before snapping back to attention. My heart flutters, but I keep my face blank.
“What kind of deal?”
“If I win, you have to at least try to be my friend.” Acid forms low in my stomach, tangling with the ball of lead and nerves already present.
“And if I win?” he counters with a dismissive scoff.
“Then I’ll leave you alone.” I try to ignore the current of dread spiraling through my mind at the prospect, but I’ll do it. If it’s what he wants, I’ll do it.
Cain considers me silently for a moment. A long, stifling moment that feels more like an eternity.
“Alright,” he agrees at last, nodding. “You have yourself a deal.”
Hands sweating, I manage a frail, weary smile. “Be prepared to get your butt kicked.”
“Butt kicked.” He snorts once. “Do you really not swear? Not even ‘ass’?”
I make a face, moving my pawn across the game board and capturing one of his. “Not really. I mean, not if I can help it. That’s literally all I heard back at the Compound. I’m sure Kai told you, but it wasn’t really a nice place.” Understatement of the century. “I don’t like things that remind me of there.”
“Like loud noises and sudden touches,” he deduces. My face gets hot at how much he observed in such a short time. And this is coming from someone who hates me. I can’t even imagine what a person like Kai has noticed.
“I could say the same about you,” I muse as he announces and then moves his queen.
“I don’t want to talk about me.” His voice is curt, a crack of a whip, but I can sense an underlying pain just beneath the surface. There’s a part of his story that he doesn’t want to talk about with me. A part of his story that made him the bitter man before me. Maybe, with time, he’ll trust me enough to share that vulnerable piece of him, but I doubt it. At the moment, he’s merely tolerating me, but that tolerance is as fragile as finely spun glass. One wrong move from either of us and it will shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Then we’ll talk about me.” I capture his rook with my bishop, barely managing to hide my squeal of excitement. “Ask me anything. I’m a book that is open.”
There’s almost a smile in his voice when he speaks next. Almost, but not quite. “I believe the saying is an open book.”
“Book that is open. Open book. Is there really a difference?” I wave my hand in the air dismissively. “Either way, you can ask me anything.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Did you kill Raphael Turner?”
“Of course not!” I protest immediately, adamantly. “I never even met the guy.”
His vision dips once as he nods, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself.
“How did you escape the Compound?”
It’s the first time any of them has asked me that question. Not even Kai has bothered to ask. My throat is suddenly unbearably dry while my hands become slick with sweat.
“They were moving me to what I called the torture room. It’s a big room full of windows in the Compound, a few hallways away from my cell.” My heart is doing somersaults in my chest as the memories bombard me—memories I have tried to keep dormant. But like with any ghost, they creep up and haunt you when you’re least expecting them. “The usual guard and torturer was on duty that day. I don’t know his name. Everyone just called him Man.”
“Man?” Cain interrupts.
“I know. I thought it was a stupid nickname too.”
I visualize Man the last time I saw him, through his own eyes as he stared at his reflection in the window. Body hunched over with blood erupting from his stomach. Eyes flashing with pain and fury. Lips pulled back into a snarl.
“What happened?” Cain’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it before. It travels over me like a lover’s caress, as light as a butterfly’s fragile wing.
“I fought back.” My hands tighten around the edge of the table, knuckles turning white in Cain’s vision. “I broke apart my wooden bed and used a prong to create a makeshift weapon. When a different guard—the weakest—tried to take me, I stabbed him and ran. Man came around the corner, no doubt hearing the commotion, and I attacked him too. Scratched his face, bit him, punched him. I wanted him to hurt the way he always made me hurt. I think I took him by surprise because for some reason, I was able to overpower and escape him. I remembered my plan with Kai...our escape route. And I did it. I actually escaped. At least, I thought I did.” I remember the fear of waking up in an unknown hospital room. William’s visit and his accusatory voice. The month in a dirty prison cell awaiting my inevitable fate.
That sense of security had been wrenched away from me only seconds after I’d found it.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Cain points out as he stares down at the board. To my horror, I note that his queen now has easy access to my king. Checkmate.
“It’s not,” I whisper. And neither is your own pain.
My heart continues to pound a daunting rhythm inside my chest.
Cain is silent for a moment, fingers tapping against the table, before he moves his king one spot over.
In direct line of my queen.
“King to E8,” he says softly.
My lips curl into a smile before I can stop them. “Checkmate.”
Chapter 22
Nina
I don’t hear from Mr. Scruffles in the following days.
The guys keep me contained to the cells and cafeteria, rotating shifts so one is always with me while the others are away.
And while I don’t see my shifter cat, I do run into Tessa.
Abel leaves me at a table in the cafeteria to go grab some food when I feel a hand on my arm. Startled, I whip my head in the direction of the intruder and inhale her unfamiliar lilac scent.
“Shit. Sorry,” Tessa curses, pulling her hand back as if I’m toxic. I try to calm my racing heart. It takes considerable effort, my breaths huffing in and out, before I’m finally able to plaster on a smile.
“It’s okay. I just don’t like being touched.”
“Girl, with those sexy hunks of man meat around, how could you not like being touched?” she jests, jabbing her elbow into my side conspiratorially. I manage a weak chuckle, but jealousy grips my heart in a steel claw and clamps down. I don’t like her referring to the guys as sexy hunks of man meat...and I don’t know why. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“I’ve been...busy.” To be honest, this is the first time I’ve been out of any of the guys’ sight. They have different approaches for watching over me, but one thing remains the same: they track my every move.
Damien will often stand in the corner of the room, an extension of the shadows, as he listens to me babble about anything and everything. Sometimes, he’ll add his own input, but mostly, he’s content to let me rattle away.
B
ronson will wrap me up like a delicate and precious package he wishes to treasure. Abel calls it “manhandling,” but Bronson calls it “protecting.” The giant shadow wolf will always find excuses to touch me, sniff me, or play with my hair. Oh, and feed me. I’m pretty sure that’s his favorite pastime.
Kai will regale me with stories about his time before the Compound. We never address the elephant hovering over us, preparing to stomp down. We’re merely biding our time, our heads in the gallows, waiting for that dreaded blade to drop. I know it isn’t his fault that he never came back for me, but knowing it doesn’t assuage the ache in my chest. We have years of tangled history we’re only just beginning to unravel. Years of hurt and pain, but also love and joy. Though our conversations aren’t stilted or awkward by any means, they seem superficial compared to what we could have.
Cain, during the few times he took up “babysitting duty” (his words), humored me with various games. I finally learned how to play monopoly, though I’ll be the first to admit that I suck at it. I felt awful taking money from a grumpy Cain, so I gave him a free pass when he landed on my property. Every. Single. Time. He ended up with all the money, and I ended up with a bruised ego.
And then there’s Abel...
Though I can’t see him, I can sense him behind me piling up meats, greens, and fruit onto my plate. Bronson gave all the men a “health diagram” they had to follow in order to get me healthy again.
“Nina? Are you listening to me?” Tessa snaps her fingers in front of my face with more amusement than ire.
“What? Yes, sorry.” I duck my head, twin flames rising to both of my cheeks.
“I was just asking if you’re doing okay,” she repeats, stumbling briefly over her words. “I know the guys have taken an interest in you.”
“They’ve been good friends,” I agree with a soft smile.
“Friends?” Tessa releases an unladylike snort. “Honey, they do this shit all the time. They find a new plaything every time a woman comes to the prison. They use her and then discard her. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Believe it or not, I actually like you, Nina, and I don’t like a lot of people.” She leans even closer to me, her mouth millimeters from my ear. “They’re not good men. You don’t want their attention on you.”
“They’re my friends,” I protest weakly, feebly. Tessa connects our fingers and gives them a quick squeeze.
“If they’re truly your friends, they’ll leave you alone. They have a lot of enemies, and you now have even more than them.” Her voice is a hushed murmur, barely audible over the raucous inmates currently present in the cafeteria. “The other women are getting mad at you. They no longer have the attention they once had, you know? I’m afraid of what they’ll do to you.”
“Do to me?” My brain struggles to understand all the information she’d just pelted at me, but it’s like a bucket that’s already overflowing. Every new gallon of water just slides right over the edge.
“Be careful.” Tessa gives my hand another squeeze before hurrying away. Not even a second later, Abel drops a plate of food in front of me.
“What did she want?” His voice is cautious, wary, and one glance through his eyes confirms that he’s staring after Tessa. “Did she tell you I fucked her or something?” He tries to laugh, but there’s a slightly manic edge to it. His gaze flickers back to me and settles there.
“What? No, she didn’t say that.” I shift uncomfortably at the thought of Abel “fucking” Tessa. I know the guys aren’t exactly saints...
“Oh, she didn’t?” Abel’s voice is heady with relief.
“No, but you just did.” I try to keep the accusation out of my voice, I really try, but it spews out before I can take it back. Internally grimacing, I slip out of Abel’s head and stab at the chicken with my fork.
“Bambi,” Abel begins placatingly. He grabs both my wrists and pulls my hands toward him. “Didn’t I tell you that the past is the past? I don’t do that shit anymore.”
My heart begins to gallop like a stampede of wild horses.
“Don’t do what?”
“You know...shit.”
Giggling, I pull my hands out of his and resume eating. Bronson will have a fit if I don’t eat everything on my plate. “That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
“I mean, it’s...wait a minute. Are you teasing me?” His voice is suddenly closer, a hair’s breadth away, and I imagine he’s leaning over the table. God, I wish I could see him. The golden hair flopping over his forehead. The tanned skin with a crescent white scar just under his left eye. The thick lashes. The high, chiseled cheekbones.
I have his face memorized despite the fact that I haven’t technically ever seen it.
“Maybe I’m teasing you. Maybe not.” I shrug, hiding my smirk with my hand. “But it would be quite painful not to poop. You should see the doctor. Brina, was it? You should see Brina about that problem.”
“You little...” Abel jumps over the table and takes me in his arms, his hands roaming up and down my sides, tickling me. I laugh hysterically, attempting to swat him away, but Abel is relentless. When he finally stops, I’m breathless and panting and smiling like an idiot. I reach out and cup his cheek, his days-old scruff rubbing against my palm. He leans closer until his nose nuzzles mine. “What are you doing to me, Bambi?”
It’s suddenly difficult to talk. To breathe.
“I don’t know what you mean.” There. That sounded coherent enough, right?
He leans even closer, hot breath fanning across my lips, but in the next second, he’s ripped off me. I scream, throwing myself into his eyes to see Kai towering over the trickster demon. Scales cover his arms and cheeks, and red, reptilian eyes are currently narrowed.
“I can explain,” Abel protests, lifting his hand to protect his face. Kai roars, smoke and a tiny bit of fire emerging. With a grace and stealth suited for a trickster demon, Abel sidesteps the next swipe of Kai’s clawed hand. “I thought it was actually kind of funny.”
Is this about what had just happened between me and Abel? Is Kai mad about that?
“You switched my BODY SOAP WITH GLUE!” Kai roars, stalking forward. Abel chuckles once, turns toward me, and then breaks into laughter. I can’t help but join in; his laughter is contagious, addicting, but the expression on Kai’s face? The indignation, anger, and latent amusement? That’s priceless.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s shirtless with peeling white strips of glue on his muscular torso.
With a whoop, Abel takes off in a run down the hall leaving Kai in his wake. I slip into a random prisoner’s head when Abel’s out of range. The entire cafeteria watches with bated breath as Kai’s fangs and claws recede and his eyes return to normal. With a self-satisfied grin, he plops down into the seat Abel vacated. I slide out of the prisoner's mind and into Kai’s.
“He’s right. It was actually kind of funny,” Kai says, stealing a piece of my chicken.
“Then why did you go all ‘dragon’ on him?” I ask. When he tries to steal a second piece, I swat at his hand.
“So he would leave and I could have you all to myself.”
Smiling, I pick at the strawberries Abel had put on my plate. A rare treat in the prison, reserved only for the inner circle. “Clever.”
We sit in companionable silence for a couple more minutes until I say what has been burning a hole in my gut. No, not just a hole. A gaping chasm.
“We should tell the others,” I blurt, dropping my fork and pressing my palms flat against the table. Kai’s gaze doesn’t waver from my face.
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s too dangerous. If the others knew...” He shakes his head ruefully. “No.”
His words are the flames to my tinder, and my temper flares red hot. “It’s my choice.”
For a moment, Kai doesn’t speak, stewing in silence. I expect him to yell, to scream, to demand that I listen to him, but he surprises me when he says, “You’re right.”
Ever
y argument I had conjured up flees. “Huh?”
“If you want to tell them, I’ll support you. You know that I’ll do anything for you.” He places one hand on top of mine. “But, Nina, you have to understand the dangers.”
“Do you know what I am?” My words are a whisper, and I can’t ignore the stab of betrayal. If he knew this entire time...
“No.” His vision distorts as he shakes his head. “But that’s the problem. Not one supernatural species can do what you can. The men... I trust them to an extent, I honestly do, but everyone has a price. A turning point.”
I pull my clammy hand out of his own. Through his eyes, I see the blood drain from my face leaving me even paler than normal. My silver, milky eyes stand out starkly. “And you think my unknown species will be the price. The turning point.”
It’s not a question.
Am I worth really that little? One minuscule detail will alter someone’s entire opinion of me?
My heart seems to be growing in a steadily shrinking vise. What little air remains in my lungs leaves with my next swooping exhale. Pain grips me and refuses to let go.
Pain. Anger. Hurt.
My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of a dozen different emotions.
“I don’t know,” Kai settles on at last. “But I don’t want to test it.”
Chapter 23
Damien
The man’s a screamer.
The noise is melodic to my ears. Addicting. Better than any drug on the market.
At four foot nine, he’s significantly smaller than the average man. Orange hair sticks out in all directions, matted down in the center with blood. Freckles dot his sinewy face and large nose. In normal circumstances, I would consider him ugly.
But when he screams?
He turns beautiful.
Not as beautiful as my Angel, of course, but nothing compares to her.
“Sean, Sean, Sean.” I shake my head in feigned disapproval. “This will all be over the second you tell me what I want to know.”
