“Do you have a point to this little share and tell?” I ask Zen, crossing my arms in front of me.
She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes slightly before opening them again. “Your anger is very potent. Tasty, too.”
That catches me off guard. She must be some kind of fae or demon to be able to feed off that. “What do you want, Zen?”
“Nothing,” she says simply. “Yet.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yet?”
“Mm-hmm. You think I took you in because of your bright hair and affinity for cafeteria food?” she asks, shaking her head. “Cockatrices aren’t all that common, but they are wily. You could come in handy,” she answers cryptically. “You also have a price on your head.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
She nods in affirmation. “Seems Alpha Bowen wants you. Bad. He’s offering a lot of money to the person who can break you out and bring you to him. And word in the prison is...there’s someone on the inside who’s taking up the offer.”
A sick feeling churns through my stomach. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know that all the attempts to break me out were because of him. But I didn’t realize he would get all obsessive about it. I mean, ordering his shifters to fetch me from jail is one thing, but putting up a breakout bounty on my head in Nightmare Pen? That’s just crazy. And someone on the inside…that can only be one person. Rook.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say before I start to turn around.
“Sinclair.”
I stop, barely suppressing a sigh. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. Nothing is free in here. Least of all information.
Zen steps forward to be in front of me once again. Her dark eyes hold mine, her lotus flower tattoo glimmering slightly in the sunlight. “The next time someone tries to break you out, we can help each other.”
She holds my gaze meaningfully, and I nod. “Deal.”
I’m not sure if she wants out or if this is an excellent enterprise opportunity, but as long as I get to stay in here, I don’t care.
With a nod, she turns and walks away, and I let out a breath. Feeling my tail flick inside my pocket, I frown as my eyes immediately shift over and up, where I see Rook standing in the guard tower, looking down at me from the window.
I clench my teeth, digging my hands into my pockets so that I can grip my rebellious tail and hold it still.
Even if it is a coincidence that another cockatrice works here, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard about Alpha Bowen’s price to get me back. And what better person is there to break out an inmate than a well-trusted guard?
I turn and stalk away, my footsteps angry as I kick up dirt behind me.
I lift my chin with determination. So that colorful hot fucker is going to try to make money by breaking me out? He can fucking try.
5
The lock release on the metal door of my cell buzzes like a hive of pissed off bees. I jerk awake and stare at the door as an over-muscled guard who happens to be on my not a fan of me list leans in. He glares at me, and I glare right back. He just interrupted an epic dream I was having where I rode the face of a mystery man while his tail did all kinds of delicious things with my ass.
I close my eyes, ignoring the expectant look on the guard’s face, and try to invite the dream to come back and ravish me the way a girl deserves to be dream-ravished. Something slams against the metal bed frame that’s attached to the stone wall, and I cover my ears from the ringing noise it creates.
What the hell?
I sit up quickly and eye the asshole guard with the smug look on his face as he reholsters his baton.
Dick.
“You have visitors waiting for you. Hurry up before we send them away,” he snaps, his sand-brown eyes alight with the joy that threats and mistreatment must give him.
Wait. Visitors?
I wrack my brain for all of two seconds before I deduce exactly who might be waiting to speak to me. It’s not like the list is that long.
“Yeah, go ahead and send them away,” I tell him, not at all interested in speaking with anyone who isn’t currently inside this prison.
The torturous light in the guard’s eyes dims slightly and then lights back up like someone just poured gasoline on this fucker’s messed up thoughts.
“On your feet, inmate,” he orders, and I stare at him for beat.
Is he serious? First he threatens to send my visitors away, and now he’s going to force me to talk to them just to fuck with me?
He rests his hand on the baton that’s once again hanging from the utility belt circling his waist, the warning clear. I roll my eyes and stand up, pushing my feet into my prison-issued Crocs. I was up late last night chatting away to my new troll bestie, Joe, in the toilet and changing the black slip-on shoes into a tie-dye rainbow of color. I can’t help but smile with pride as I stare down at my colorful feet. It’s almost enough happiness to help me get through what I know is about to happen.
Almost.
I follow Sandbag—the loving nickname I just gave this sandy-eyed douchebag of a guard—out of my cell. I pass Sophie the wolf and the water fae, and I give them a tough looking chin jerk in greeting. I giggle at the thought of looking like a hard-ass, and Sandbag shoots me a glare over his shoulder.
Jeez. Someone needs to miss a dose of steroids or accept that the stuff is just going to make his shrinky dink even smaller, and then cheer the fuck up, because he is grumpy.
I’m buzzed through doors and led down unfamiliar hallways, and each time I have to stop and wait and get going again, my irritation and anger begin to boil in my chest. By the time I’m stopped just outside a door with Visitor Room marked on it, I have a solid mask of fuck off in place. Sandbag shoves me inside, and I snarl at him over my shoulder as he slams the metal door shut and leers at me from the peephole hatch.
I turn to find a metal chair, a phone attached to the wall, a thick scratched pane of plexiglass, and two people I have no interest in speaking to...my matriarch and patriarch. I stare at them with dead eyes and fold my arms over my chest, as if somehow the move will offer another layer of much needed protection.
My pat’s ruby red eyes grow soft when he sees me, but my mat’s green eyes do the exact opposite. She looks me over and finds me lacking...just like she always does. I think I’ve only ever witnessed a smile on her face twice in my life. Once was when my pat had announced that he acquired a rival lounge and that the alpha of said lounge—who had slighted my mat in some way—was no longer breathing. The second time I saw her lips tilt up with cruel happiness was right after she told me that I now belong to Alpha Bowen.
A fist slams against the metal door behind me, and I turn around to meet Sandbag’s elated gaze.
“You’ll stay in here until you talk to them,” he declares, and I wonder if he’s a sadist or if he’s being paid off. Probably both.
I release a resigned sigh and then turn and walk to the metal chair. I sit down and pick up the phone receiver and slowly bring it to my ear.
Satisfaction blooms in my mat’s eyes, and she stares at me for a beat before picking up the receiver on her side of the dirty glass barrier.
“Maybe I should kill your little pawn out there when this is done,” I announce casually, hiking my thumb over my shoulder to point to the guard. “I’ve been looking for a way to extend my sentence, so if he doesn’t return your calls after this, you’ll know why.”