Blindly Indicted

by Katie May

  “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Whatever. Let me just make you look somewhat presentable.”

  The next hour consists of me being poked and prodded to within an inch of my life. At one point, Bronson wakes up, glances over at me, before curling his lips into a predatory smile. He hooks a sheet in front of his cell door, effectively obscuring him from view.

  “Stay still!” Haley scolds, whacking my shoulder good-naturedly. I feel like an errant child caught with my hand in the cookie jar. She pins back another section of hair with a dramatic flourish. “And...there! Perfect!”

  Tessa helps me into the gorgeous dress, zipping it up and smoothing down the skirt. At least it’s better than the outfits Tessa had bombarded me with only a few days before. That had been a sea of colorful, tight-fitting, revealing clothes.

  This one cascades down my body like silver starlight, the sequins catching in the artificial prison lighting. It’s tight—tighter than anything I have ever worn before—and accentuates my lithe but curvy frame. I’m not busty like some of the other women, but I consider myself well-endowed (at least, that’s what Tessa assured me when I began to fidget). A slit up the side showcases my pale, toned leg and thigh.

  My makeup, thanks to Rebecca, is light and natural. I haven’t actually worn makeup before, though I have heard some of the girls at the Compound complain about theirs. The older woman puts something on both my eyelashes—mascara, she calls it—before lining my eyes with coal. The cherry red lipstick is applied to my lips, and blush dusts each cheek. I want to tell her that the blush isn’t needed, that my cheeks color more often than the average person, but I let her have her fun. Rebecca is an artist with an empty canvas, and her face practically glows as she painstakingly applies each layer.

  And my hair...

  Even Haley can’t hide her smirk of satisfaction. My wavy black hair now hangs in perfect ringlets down to the middle of my back. It’s braided away from my face and half of the curls are placed into an elaborate updo on the top of my head.

  I feel wanton and beautiful. Powerful.

  It takes considerable effort, but I manage to hide my reaction when Tessa finally turns to stare at me. She whistles beneath her breath.

  “Damn, you look hot.”

  “You look beautiful, honey,” Rebecca agrees warmly. Haley, of course, just rolls her eyes and places her fisted hands on her hips.

  “We shouldn’t keep your date waiting...” Tessa titters, grabbing first Haley’s hand and then Rebecca’s to pull them out of the cell. Tessa pauses once to turn back to me. “I’m sorry about what I said before. In the cafeteria. Just...be careful, okay?”

  Bemused by her warning, I nod once to show her I understand.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Rebecca calls as she’s dragged around a corner.

  Haley snorts. “You’ll do just about anything, ho.”

  I giggle at their antics, stopping to brush my hands down the waist of my dress. This entire situation feels almost surreal. I’m about to go on my first date...while I’m in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. It reminds me of one of the romance books I’ve just started reading.

  Only, instead of dashing princes, my men are dangerous, psychotic criminals.

  A sharp intake of breath alerts me to Bronson’s dominating presence. I smile widely, spinning to show him the entire gown.

  “What do you think?” I ask, suddenly shy.

  “I think...” He takes a deep breath. “I think you’re the most enchanting woman I have ever laid eyes on, and I might kill anyone who looks at you twice.”

  Ignoring his threat, I lean forward to place my hand on his bicep.

  “Don’t you usually have to ask the girl out on a date?” I jest with another smile. I feel...giddy. Girly, almost, which is entirely unlike me. I never had material things, and I never wanted them. Until now. Standing in a musty prison cell, I have never felt more like a princess.

  “I did,” Bronson says. “Don’t you remember?” I honestly don’t, but before I can tell him that, he curses again. “Shit, Nina, you look like a goddess. My goddess.”

  My heart gains wings and soars at his admission.

  “What do you look like?” I timidly ask, trailing a finger down his arm and to his hand.

  “I’m...uh...wearing a suit, I guess, and I combed my hair.” There’s a distinct note of embarrassment to his voice that has my grin widening.

  “What color is the suit?” I whisper, moving my hand across the lapels of his jacket and to the fabric underneath. His breath hitches, heart tempo increasing beneath my hand.

  “Is this some sort of foreplay?” he asks gruffly, and my confusion ratchets up a notch. I think through my recent collection of books, trying to remember if that word had been mentioned at all. I can guess what it means well enough.

  Having fun before a date, obviously. Teasing each other.

  “What do you mean?” I settle on at last.

  “Never mind, my goddess.” He places my hand in the crook of his arm and leads me forward. “I have a lot planned for tonight.”

  Chapter 27

  Bronson

  She’s a fucking vision.

  Radiant and perfect, someone plucked straight off the cover of a magazine.

  And she’s mine. Completely and utterly mine.

  As I lead my goddess through the curving passageways of the Labyrinth, my heart pounds unsteadily. My entire essence is intricately entwined with hers. My wolf cries, demanding escape, but I silence him with a stern glare. The last thing I want to do is mark her and make her mine before she’s ready.

  Before I’m ready.

  There are other men I have to consider, other men who consider her theirs just as much as I do.

  Nina smiles up at me, and her attentive gaze causes heat to bloom across my body. My brain is scrambled like fucking eggs, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her. Bite her. Claim her.

  Sweeping those thoughts beneath the proverbial rug, I lead her to the room I had set up earlier. It took convincing, but Damien eventually agreed to use his connections to get me the supplies I desired.

  A single table sits in the center of the room with a white tablecloth draped over top. Unlit candles sit directly in the center with two plates on either side. Roasted chicken, beans, and rolls are splayed out on silver platters. It’s the best I was able to get on such short notice. My mate should be treated like the queen—the goddess—she is.

  I hurry over to her chair and pull it out for her. Of course, she stares blankly over my head, unaware of my chivalrous gesture. Shit.

  Retaking her hand with my own, being very careful not to startle her, I guide her toward the seat and then push her in. She smooths her hands down her silky dress, a gorgeous smile lighting up her face, and I’m momentarily struck dumb. I’m pretty sure I forget how to speak.

  Recovering my wits, I grab a cloth napkin—read as: a clean shirt I ripped in half for this occasion—and daintily place it over her lap like the fucking gentleman I am.

  “I really don’t remember you asking me out on this date,” she says, and my smile turns smug.

  That’s probably because I didn’t.

  Wolves take what they want, and me? All I want is her.

  “Did I tell you yet that you’re gorgeous?” I ask, scooping a hearty helping of beans and chicken onto her plate.

  “Once or twice.” She giggles, the sound both innocent and melodic, and I swear it sends heat straight to my cock. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be inside of her...

  But, no. That’s not what she needs. She needs me to be her friend and protector, not a lover. Maybe, with time, we can get to that level, but I’ll never force her.

  “You’re beautiful every day, but right now, you’re enchanting. I swear I could stare at you for hours and still find something new to ogle over,” I confess. Only when her plate is full do I fill up my own. It’s been ingrained within me since I was you
ng: my mate comes first. Always.

  She blushes adorably, heat climbing up her neck and to both of her already rosy cheeks. She may find her constant blushing embarrassing, but I find it beautiful.

  I watch her take her first bite of chicken, eyes closing in bliss, before digging into my own. We’re silent for a moment, each reveling in the delicious assortment of food Damien has procured for us, before she speaks.

  “Are you going to tell me more stories of Momma?” she asks eagerly, setting her fork onto her plate. She must sense my glower of disapproval because she immediately grabs the fork and begins eating with gusto. My goddess is way too skinny.

  I don’t even admit to myself how giddy I get when she refers to my momma as her own. Soon, my mom will be. As my mate, my wife, my partner, my family will be hers.

  “Actually...” I trail off to dab at my face with my napkin. Again, I’m a super classy motherfucker. “I was hoping we could talk about you.”

  The color drains from her face, and this time, I don’t stop her when she drops her silverware. “Me?” She looks as if she has seen a ghost, as if the memories of her past are circulating in her head, haunting her. My heart aches—physically fucking breaks—at the pain in her expressive white eyes. What had my mate endured before I had found her?

  “We don’t have to talk,” I decide roughly, unable to handle her agony. It makes me want to hurt someone, anyone. It makes me want to escape this fucked-up prison, find the Compound, and kill everyone inside of it. I might not even use a weapon. No, they deserve to die by my bare hands.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head once. “No, it’s fine. You deserve the truth. What do you want to know about?”

  Now that I have the opportunity, I suddenly find myself speechless. I don’t want to know anything, least of all what they did to her. My hold on sanity is tenebrous at best, and I’m afraid her words will send me spiraling over the edge. Already, my beast is prowling just beneath the surface, preparing to strike. He hates what has been done to his mate nearly as much as I do.

  “I don’t even know what to ask,” I admit on a shaky, rumbling breath. Rubbing a hand through my short-cropped hair, I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “Were you ever happy?”

  “Oh yes!” she says without missing a beat. “That’s where I met Kai.” The way she talks about him...

  I can only hope she’ll talk about me like that one day.

  “You really love him, huh?” For some undefinable reason, that realization doesn’t pain me as much as I thought it would. I always knew my girl had a greater capacity to love than most people. Even after all she’d been through, she came into the prison with an imperious set to her chin and a sparkle in her eyes. She’s a real and vibrant light, igniting the walls around my heart in flames and setting me free.

  “He’s my best friend,” she says wistfully, lowering her head. “But he doesn’t like me...in that way,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. “Like, he never asked me on a date like you did.”

  I just barely hold in my snort. The girl is utterly oblivious. Blade—Kai—is head-over-heels in love with her. Anyone with eyes (ignore the pun) can see that. There can be a thousand people in the room, and his eyes will only ever be on her. I can understand his obsession with her, mainly because I feel it myself. I may be forced to reside in the shadows, but she reminds me that there is light.

  Blade really needs to get his head out of his ass and confess his feelings for her himself. But tonight is my night, and I’m determined to show her what it’s like to be loved and cared for by a shadow wolf.

  “Tell me a happy memory. Anything,” I press, leaning across the table to grab her fork and hold it up to her plush lips. She opens automatically, a rosy hue to her cheeks.

  “My twelfth birthday,” she blurts, and I raise my eyebrow at her. Blushing, she stammers, “Kai always tried to do something special on my birthday. At least, the day we decided was my birthday. I don’t know the real date. Anyway, when I turned twelve, Kai convinced one of the guards to let us take over the kitchen. I don’t know what Kai gave him for him to agree, but we were led to the kitchen only a few minutes later. Kai made me a big chocolate cake with delicious strawberry frosting. It was one of the first cakes I’d ever eaten. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was the first cake I ever had. The only cake I ever had. Kai was somehow able to find candles and a lighter so I would have something to blow out. It’s one of my happiest memories.” She trails off, her lips curving up dreamily.

  For the first time ever, I’m immensely grateful that Kai had been in that shit hole with her. He had given her that memory and, consequently, that smile now gracing her perfect face. I’ll be forever indebted.

  “When’s your birthday?” I ask, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. Goosebumps rise on her delicate skin, filling me with a masculine pride.

  “February twenty-fourth,” she whispers.

  “I can promise you that you’ll only have the best of the best from here on out. Cakes, candles, presents... whatever you want. Goddess, you’ll never feel pain or fear again. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life with everything I have within me.”

  There’s a long, potent pause as my vow settles between us. She blinks at me, startled by my declaration, before her eyes fill with tears.

  Shit!

  Jumping from my seat, I move to kneel before her. I’d promised myself I would never kneel to anyone, but for her, I’ll get down on all fours. Anything to worship at her temple.

  “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” I plead, brushing a finger beneath first one eye and then the next.

  “Why me?” she sobs.

  I continue to collect one tear after another as I consider what to tell her without scaring her away. I settle for the truth. “I’m not a perfect man. Hell, I’m not even a good one.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I talk over her. I need to get these words out before I decide not to. She deserves to know the truth about me—the good and the bad. “You want to know what I did to get here? I killed a man. A man who worked for the Council. Unbeknownst to my family, he began seeing my little sister, Ali. She fancied herself in love with him, but he only saw her as something he could fuck on the side.” My hands clench into fists as my anger courses through me. Even now, years later, the memories continue to bombard me. “Ali eventually told me about him, and I tried to warn her away. I swear I did.”

  This time, it’s Nina who’s catching the tears as they fall from my eyes. Her soft hands rest on both my cheeks, holding me hostage.

  “She wanted him to leave his wife, but he refused. Ali then threatened to tell his wife the truth about their affair...and he killed her. Raped and killed my baby sister.” I’m crying harder now, my entire being unraveling with each word. In a demented, self-deprecating way, I wonder if I could’ve done more for her. What if I had fought harder? What if I had told my momma?

  What if?

  What if?

  What if?

  “And then what happened?” Nina’s crying as well, silent tears that glimmer in her eyes like a milky pool.

  “And then I killed him,” I say on a breath. “I murdered him for what he did to my sister. I’m a monster. A fucking monster.”

  Leave me.

  Don’t leave me.

  Run away.

  Don’t leave me.

  Run. Run. Run.

  Nina cranes her neck and presses her soft lips against mine. I’m so startled that I freeze, heart dancing, before wrapping my arms around her and pulling her to me. Almost hesitantly, asking a question without words, I press my tongue against the seam of her lips. She replies by opening her mouth, accepting all I’m willing to give her.

  And I’m willing to give her everything.

  Her tongue wrestles playfully with my own, and I have to wonder if this is the first time she has ever been kissed. Ever been touched, at least willingly.

  Don’t think about that.

  All thoughts flee as I allow myself to live in the mom
ent, live in her. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her body pressed against my own.

  “Bron,” she whimpers, and I groan at the nickname.

  “I want to take care of you, Goddess. Let me take care of you.” I curve my hand around her delicate neck before trailing it lower, pushing down the straps of her silver gown. Her chest heaves with each breath she takes, her desire evident. “I’m not going any further until you say it. What do you want, my queen?” I press a tantalizingly soft kiss to her collarbone.

  “I want... I want you to make me feel good,” she breathes, and I swear I almost blow my load right then and there. I feel like a fucking virgin boy seeing a tit for the first time.

  “Anything for you, Goddess,” I murmur, pushing her dress farther down until the dark skin of her areola is revealed. White-hot pleasure cascades through me, coursing straight to my cock, and I begin to grind myself forward. I kiss each new swath of skin exposed until her dress settles just beneath her breasts, her pink nipples already pointed. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Moving cautiously, unwilling to startle her, I kiss the skin around first her right nipple and then her left, never touching her where she so desperately needs me to.

  “Bron...” she cries, arching her back. Her hips begin to move in tandem, seeking friction. “Please.”

  My goddess shall never beg for anything. Obediently, I take one of her pert nipples into my mouth while squeezing the other one. My other hand travels down her stomach before curving around her ankle and hoisting it up. Her gorgeous dress slides up her thighs.

  “You’re perfect,” I whisper, trailing my hand up her smooth skin until I reach her inner thigh. “God, I never thought I would meet you. I didn’t think I deserved a mate. But you... you’re everything. Absolutely fucking everything. Let me worship you.”

  She mewls something inarticulately, hands tangling in my hair to keep me in place. I want to bury my cock in her, but I know she’s not ready for that. Not yet.