by Katie May
“I wanted to...um...ask you about Raphael Turner,” Abel stutters out, lowering his gaze to his clenched fists.
Lionel’s laugh is capable of slicing glass. “Why? Were you fucking that man too?” Abel doesn’t answer, continuing to study his hand intently. “Did that Alyssa bitch put you up to this?” Lionel demands at last. “She seems to think I murdered that bastard.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Did you?” Abel queries softly.
“Of course not! I may have hated that asshole, but I’m not fucking stupid. Killing him would be a declaration of war. Besides, didn’t his murderer already get arrested?” There’s a pause during which Abel flicks his eyes upwards. “Now that I think about it, that bitch has been placed here, hasn’t she?” When Able remains silent, Lionel continues with a curl to his lips. “She’s the reason you’re questioning me, isn’t she? My dear Abel, are you in love with her?”
Abel doesn’t respond, meeting Lionel’s frigid gaze without blinking.
“You know, I’m curious to meet the girl capable of killing Raphael Turner. Perhaps I should inquire about a meeting—”
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Abel explodes, his tenuous hold on his temper splintering.
Lionel smiles, as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted out of Abel. His smile reminds me of a lion staring at a gazelle. There’s something predatory about it, all sharp teeth.
“I have to leave,” Lionel says abruptly, pushing back from the table and getting to his feet. “You and your brother will be brought back to your cell.” He pauses in front of Abel, expression unreadable. When he speaks next, his voice is dark and threatening. “Your heart may belong to that whore, but your body belongs to me.” Lionel ducks down and claims Abel’s lips in a harsh, aggressive kiss. When he finally pulls away, Abel’s trembling from head to toe.
Fire lights in my belly at Lionel’s display, but I push the rage down before it can manifest.
“You be a good boy, Abel. And remember, you’re mine.”
Chapter 39
Nina
“Your bodyguard won’t stop looking at you,” Tessa whispers conspiratorially from where she sits across the table.
The cafeteria is loud and raucous this morning. News of Rion’s arrival has spread like wildfire. Everyone is curious about the elusive gang king. But rivaling the curiosity is fear and anger; the shifters have hurt a lot of people, and the demand for blood permeates the room.
“Damien?” I inquire, despite already knowing the stone-faced mage is lurking in the corner of the room. I can feel his eyes like a physical brand burning my flesh. None of the guys liked the idea of me visiting the cafeteria without them present, despite Braelyn’s insistence that she’ll look after me. It’s no surprise that Damien followed me. I’m pretty sure Bronson and Kai are guarding the hallway as well.
Their overprotectiveness causes liquid pleasure to cascade through my veins. While some may find it suffocating, I find it comforting. They each have embedded themselves in my soul, my genetic makeup, and I know they’ll protect me from any future harm.
“God, he won’t stop looking at us,” Haley hisses.
“Not us,” Jenny contests quietly. “Nina.”
“The girl with the golden vagina,” jests Haley, but I sense no malice in her words.
There’s a whacking noise, and Haley releases a pained groan. “You stop that disgusting talk,” Rebecca chastises. “We may be prisoners, but we’re still civil. Behave like a proper lady.”
Haley mumbles something inarticulate as the rest of us laugh.
“The entire cafeteria is looking at us,” Braelyn laments, voice dark. I know she’s gesturing to herself and Jenny.
Kai’s gang doesn’t seem to know how to deal with the shifters’ sudden arrival. Kai has assured his people that they mean us no harm, but one man’s affirmation doesn’t negate the centuries of prejudice and discourse. For as long as anyone can recall, shifters have been the enemy. No one can expect the social standings to change overnight.
Even Kai doesn’t trust the shifters completely, hence Damien’s presence.
“It’s because of your stunning good looks,” Jenny teases. If there’s one thing I learned about the two shifter females who have pledged their loyalty to me, it’s that Braelyn is brass to the point she comes across as rude while Jenny is shy and quiet. The two of them are as different as night and day, yet complement each other perfectly.
“Thanks, babe,” Braelyn drawls, and I imagine she’s rolling her eyes. Still, she sounds slightly flustered by her mate’s words.
“I still can’t believe Rion is here,” Haley breaks in around a mouthful of food.
“I don’t understand why,” Tessa adds, and there’s a distinct hitch to her voice that I can’t quite place.
At Rion’s insistence, we’ve been keeping the revelation of our bond a secret.
“The world can’t know you’re my weakness,” he had said earnestly.
All they know is that Rion is negotiating peace with Kai and that Braelyn and Jenny have become friends with me.
“It’s because of a girl,” Rebecca huffs. “It’s always because of a girl.”
Haley chuckles, and Tessa’s breath hitches once again. Something about her reaction makes me uneasy. My blood simmers in my veins as a nest of snakes slither and hiss in my stomach.
Wracking my brain to change the subject, I ask, “What have you guys been up to lately?”
Tactful, no. Helpful, yes.
Immediately, the ladies regale me stories about their weeks in the prison since we last caught up.
Haley is in the midst of telling us a story about her Incubi lover when I feel hands on my shoulders.
Startled, I drop into Rebecca’s head.
Rion stands behind me looking as gorgeous as ever.
Dark hair frames a proud and arresting face. Chiseled cheekbones, a strong jawline, and jubilant eyes complete the ensemble. There’s a beauty to him—a barbaric, untamed type of beauty—that reels me in like a fish on a hook. With his sleeves pushed up, I’m able to see the numerous tattoos coloring his tawny skin.
“Ladies,” Rion says with a wink. Haley giggles, ducking her head, and Tessa’s eyes go wide, pupils dilating. A wistful expression crosses her pretty face as she stares up at the shifter.
Braelyn and Jenny are the only two who don’t seem mesmerized by his beauty. If anything, they look annoyed at his intrusion.
“Don’t trust me?” Braelyn quirks a brow.
Rion’s grin grows as he intertwines our fingers.
“Excuse me, ladies, but can I borrow Nina? I have something I need to talk to her about.” Without waiting for their response, he tugs me out of the seat, eyes dancing with mischief. My confusion grows as he begins to drag me out of the congested cafeteria. I thought we decided to keep our relationship—if you can even call it that—a secret.
But Rion does what Rion wants. I don’t know why I expected anything different from the enticing, eccentric man.
Just before I pull out of Rebecca’s head, I catch a glimpse of Tessa’s face contoured with unbridled rage. Hurt flashes in her eyes as she stares off after us. I pull myself out of Rebecca’s head, stomach churning uncomfortably.
What did I do wrong? Is it because Rion showed an interest in me? Is it because I left them?
As my mind races, so does my heart—anger, hurt, and frustration vying for attention.
Rion pulls me out of my thoughts with his next words.
“I want to take you on a date,” he says abruptly, pulling me to a stop in the hallway.
“What?”
“A date,” he repeats. He places his lips to my ear, and warmth radiates through my body accompanied by a kaleidoscope of emotion. “I want to take you on a date.”
A date. With Rion.
The thought both exhilarates and terrifies me. I imagine a date with Rion would be just as crazy as him. He’s an enigma, someone I can’t quite understand but yearn to know more abou
t. One moment he’s silly and teasing, and the next he’s a stone-cold killer. I still remember his voice when he threatened Braelyn.
Who exactly is Rion?
“Earth to Buttercup.” Rion snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Do I need to get a space shuttle? Learn to moonwalk? I tried moonwalking once, but I tripped over a plant and broke my wrist. And ass. Did you know you can break an ass? I didn’t. Apparently, it’s a real fucking thing. And when I say ‘fucking’ thing, I mean it literally. It can happen when someone fucks you in the asshole real hard.” He pauses, breathing unevenly, before continuing. I wonder if he can even help himself. “I’m not propositioning you for anal. Don’t worry about that. I am, however, asking you on a date. A real date. Not a fake date. I was going to take you to one of those classes where you can get drunk and paint pictures, but the last time I tried crafting, I glued my hand to my face. Ten out of ten would not recommend.”
“Rion,” I cut in, gripping his face between both my hands. Though I can’t see him, I picture his tawny skin framed by thick black hair. God, I wish I could see him. Actually see him and not just rely on others' perceptions. You never know whose vision of the world is skewed. “You want to take me on a date?”
“Either that or sleep,” he confesses. “It’s the cat in me. Actually, if you have yarn, I can play with that. Shit. No. Abort. Abort. Abort. Playing with yarn on a date is not what the lady wants, is it? Don’t answer that! I can use my mate-mind-reading capabilities to tell you the answer would be no. Just kidding. I don’t have any mate-mind-reading capabilities.” His body shakes beneath my hands as he practically bounces with excitement.
I think he’s wrong about being an extension of his animal. Rion is a puppy personified.
His enthusiasm is infectious and brings a smile to my lips. If I could, I would bottle up Rion’s essence and inhale it deeply. There are very few people who can make me smile like he can.
“Wolf Man already had his turn!” Rion continues, and I can almost picture his luscious lips pushing out in a pout. “It’s time for Cat Man to show you a purr-fect evening. Wait. Don’t quote me. That sounded ten times better in my head.”
“Yes,” I cut in before he can continue rambling. He’s a verbal freight train barreling straight toward a brick wall. But, for some reason, I find it endearing and charming. “I would love to go on a date with you.”
“Thank fuck, or this would’ve been super awkward. Come on! I already have it set up.” He recaptures my hand and leads me down the musty-smelling halls. A moment later, he pushes open a door and leads me through.
I slide into his head to realize we’re in the throne room. A single easel sits in the center of the room, a barrage of paint on a table beside it. In front of Kai’s throne, Abel rests on a sofa cushion, naked, with a blanket covering his groin.
“Um...?” My cheeks blaze as I take in his expansive, golden chest, blond hair, and muscular thighs. An easygoing smile dons his face.
I haven’t talked to Abel and Cain about what I saw in Abel’s mind. His encounter with Lionel feels personal. They’ve been more reserved since they returned, lost in thought more often than not. I know that I wouldn’t want someone sifting through my mind without permission. I did tell the twins, however, about my abilities, both of which they took as well as I expected. Needless to say, not that well.
I can’t forget the flicker of pain that crossed both their faces at my confession. The betrayal. The hurt. Despite their grim smiles, I know I’d hurt them immensely by omitting the truth.
It’s been a week, and Cain has yet to talk to me.
“I lied earlier!” Rion’s vision shakes as he jumps up and down. “We’re totally painting and drinking wine.”
“Errr...”
“You’ll paint Abel first while I focus on him for you, and then I’ll paint you. It’ll be super fun!”
“I’ve been sitting like this for two fucking hours,” Abel gripes. “Do you know how awkward it is to have my brother walk through the door and see me in all my glory? I think I traumatized the poor bastard despite the fact we have identical fucking bodies—even our cocks.”
Cocks.
My cheeks turn even redder as all of my blood flows there.
“Don’t worry.” Rion presses his lips to my temple. “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you want to do something else, we can. If you want Abel to leave, he will. You’re in charge, Buttercup. Always.”
My stomach twists as I stare at Abel through Rion’s eyes. He really is a work of art. Though he isn’t as muscular as Bronson or even Kai, defined muscles make up his arms and stomach. There’s a spatter of golden hair trailing beneath the blanket.
And the blanket...
As my breath hitches, my mind utterly enraptured, the blanket begins to tent with Abel’s arousal.
“Fuck, Bambi. You can’t look at me like that. I don’t want to blow a load with Rion’s eyes on me. I’m into a lot of kinky shit, but that’s next level.”
Rion snorts, guiding me toward the easel. I honestly don’t understand how they expect me to paint Abel with no vision.
“You should be honored,” Rion huffs at Abel. “My eyes have been known to give multiple people orgasms. They don’t call it an eye-fuck for nothing.”
Placing his hands on my shoulders, Rion positions me how he wants me. This angle allows him to see the top of my head, the easel, the paint, and Abel still languidly propped up on the floor.
“I’ll probably paint you looking like a cactus or something by mistake,” I admit with a blush, grabbing the paintbrush from the table and dipping it into the yellow paint.
“You don’t have to be good, Bambi. I’ll love and cherish it even if it sucks ass,” Abel calls. He moves to get himself into a more comfortable position, his hand resting on his hip as the blanket slides down even lower, revealing dark pubic hair.
Heat throbs through me, settling in my lower region. I press my thighs together tightly, hoping the pain will abate.
“While you paint, I’m going to be asking you some questions,” Rion says, gaze momentarily flicking down toward me before he corrects himself. “I want to get to know my beautiful, perfect mate.”
“I’m not perfect,” I protest meekly, using the yellow to paint Abel’s hair. It doesn’t quite encapsulate the hues of gold scattered throughout, darkening the strands, but it’s the best I can do with the limited supplies I have. “How did you even get the paint?”
“Damien knows a guy,” Rion replies dismissively. “Now, we’ll start easy. Have you ever painted before?”
“No,” I answer instantly, dipping my brush in a cup of water. Using Rion’s vision for guidance, I blend some white and brown paint together. “Never. I don’t think I really doodled before either.”
I think Rion is going to ask me to elaborate, but graciously, he changes the subject. “Grey’s Anatomy or Vampire Diaries?”
“Huh?” I pause mid-stroke to quirk a brow at him.
“You never watched Grey’s?” he asks in horror.
“Team McDreamy,” Abel calls.
“We’ll have to change that straight away,” Rion agrees. “Do you remember the cell I first brought you to? I have a television there that I might be able to connect to Netflix. You know, because I’m awesome and all that.”
“And so incredibly modest.” I giggle, focusing on the painting once more. Unfortunately, Abel’s body resembles more of a blob than any human anatomy I’ve ever seen before. “Do you have two cells? The one we visited on the shifter side of the prison is in a different location than the other one.”
Cheeks crimson, I begin working on Abel’s nether region with a dollop of red paint. I draw the “blanket” over his thighs and just below his belly button.
“I have two cells,” Rion admits. “One is with the other shifters, and the other—the one I took you to—is in an entirely separate hallway, not a part of either gang. It’s a place I can be myself without worrying about the pressu
res—and why does Abel look like he’s taking a mean shit?” Rion’s vision cants to the side as he tilts his head, focusing on my painting.
“It does not!” I protest immediately, though now that he mentioned it, I can see the resemblance.
And this is even before I started working on Abel’s facial features.
“Don’t worry, Bambi,” Abel says easily, playing with the golden hairs on his chest. “I’ll take a shit every day of my life if it means being with you.” He winks at me, face glowing with mirth.
“I’m sure that was supposed to be romantic, but it came across as a little weird,” Rion muses. “Now, I can’t stop picturing you kneeling over Nina and shitting in her—”
“Stop!” I squeal, placing my hands over my ears. I barely resist singing “la, la, la” until they stop talking.
“So you don’t have a poop fetish, Buttercup?” Rion queries with amusement.
“No! Stop it! Ew!” I whack him with the brush, paint splattering. Still, I can stop the giggles from shaking my body.
Out of all the guys, Abel and Rion are the most light-hearted and jovial. It’s very, very rare that I see cracks in their jubilant masks. They embody a warmth and light that seep into my very soul, setting me aflame.
“My turn!” Rion cheers suddenly, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around. I place my hands on his waist to steady myself, and his muscles contract under my touch. His attentive gaze causes heat to bloom across my body, unfurling like a flower in spring.
“Your turn...?” My question is answered when Rion grabs the paintbrush out of my hands and trails it down my cheek. My jaw slackens, eyes widening, at the cold liquid.
“Rion!” I squeak, pulling out of his head and dancing away.
“I’m right behind you, Bambi. I’m not going to hurt you,” Abel says softly—a warning. A moment later, his strong arms wrap around my chest, holding me steady. For the first time, this position doesn’t trigger a flashback. I know that it’s Abel who has me, and I know he’ll never intentionally hurt me.
