She watches me with cold interest. I’m not sure what to make of it. I test the cuffs around my wrists, and a clang fills the room. Yep, I’m definitely shackled to a bed.
“My name is Dr. Brina. You’re in the medical ward of Nightmare Penitentiary,” she tells me in her smooth feminine voice.
I look around at the gray stone walls and floor. I guess I’ll just have to take her word for it, because nothing about this place—well, aside from the hospital bed and the heart monitor—screams medical ward to me.
“Do you often suffer from psychotic episodes?” Dr. Brina asks me, her head tilting in a creepy way as she waits for me to answer. She must read the confusion on my face, because she elaborates. “You attacked a guard...unprovoked.”
Ah. That.
“He’s a cockatrice,” I tell her, like that explains it all. My voice is scratchy, and my throat hurts, and I look around hopefully for a glass of water, but there isn’t one.
Her scarred eyebrow lifts in question. “You are the same species, and that is what motivated your attack?” she presses, clearly not understanding my explanation.
I shrug, not willing to get into it with a weird stranger who’s looking at me like a bug she wants to pull the legs off of under a microscope.
“Well, you seem to be recovered,” she tells me, and I can’t help but notice the tinge of disappointment in her tone. She pulls a light from her pocket and flashes it in my eyes. I blink through the brightness, flinching slightly at the burn as my pupils contract.
“You had a few bruises on your ribs from where the guards kicked you, but those are all healed up now,” she states in an oddly cheerful tone as she steps away. “Apparently, you slept right through that beating, so we’ll have to make sure you’re awake for the next one.”
That announcement has my head snapping in her direction, and she gives me a wink as she walks over to the door and opens it. Fluorescent hair, angry turquoise eyes, and plump lips glower at me from the other side.
Shit.
“You’ll learn very quickly here at Nightmare Penitentiary that the staff looks out for our own.” She turns to the guard I brained with a cafeteria tray. “If you plan to beat her to the point of unconsciousness, I simply ask that you have her drink what’s in the vial before she passes out. I’m sure she has very filling dreams, and I could always use a good meal.”
The guard nods, but I’m completely lost as to what she means.
“Have fun,” she calls over her shoulder as she steps out of the room. The cockatrice guard steps in and closes the door behind him.
For a moment, the two of us just stare at each other. There isn’t a hint of bruising or a bump from where I smacked him with the tray earlier, so either I didn’t hit him very hard or he’s healed already. I try to stay focused on his eyes so that my gaze doesn’t wander up and down his form, because this male is a very nice looking specimen. He’s hot, plain and simple. My cockatrice wants to get to know his cock...atrice. And that’s just plain dangerous.
I’ve learned that I can’t really be trusted when it comes to attractive males. Or bright colors. I tend to do really stupid things when I come into contact with either. And this dude is both hot and colorful. He’s like fucking neon kryptonite.
“Who are you?” I demand, trying to sound as haughty as possible even though I’m strapped down to a bed.
Instead of answering, he just crosses his arms and props his back against the wall next to the now closed door.
“Are you going to beat me to a pulp or what?” I ask, hoping that him not moving toward me is a good sign. I really don’t want to be beaten up. Shifter bodies may heal quickly, but it doesn’t mean we don’t feel pain.
Silence.
He just stands there, watching me, the expression on his face unreadable. The lack of communication is really scraping my paranoia raw. I just want him to do something.
“Well, get on with it,” I snap, my anxiety ready to burst out of my chest.
Still nothing from tall, hot, and colorful. Not even a tail twitch. He just studies me, but I have no idea what the hell he’s thinking. It’s unnerving and makes me feel completely vulnerable.
“Not interested in talking, huh?” I ask as I fiddle with the metal cuffs on my wrists. If he’s not going to do anything, then I’m not going to waste my time. I won’t just lie here and wait for someone to fuck with me. “Fine. I can talk enough for the both of us.”
Using a jiggy-hip move that makes the male’s eyes come down to my waist, I shimmy myself down the hospital bed until my feet are hanging off the end and my head is even with my hands. From this vantage point, I’m able to reach my hair, where I have a couple of pins tucked away. “We both know why you deserved to be smacked with a cafeteria tray,” I begin as I dig through my orange and yellow hair, trying to find one of the pins to grab. “You were sent here by my mat and pat, weren’t you?”
He gives me a blank stare.
“My matriarch and patriarch sent you here because they found out I got myself arrested and they want you to bust me out, right? Well, bad news for you, I have no intention of going anywhere.” Finally finding one of the pins, I pluck it out, scraping my scalp and yanking out a few hair strands in the process.
I look over at him as I turn my head and snatch up the pin with my teeth. He does nothing as I lean over and stick the pin into the lock of the cuff on my right hand. I watch him the entire time, like a challenge.
He’s a guard at Nightmare Penitentiary. Dr. Brina insinuated that he came here to beat me, and I’m giving him a very justified reason to do so. Plus, I started it in the cafeteria.
I try to read his expression, but there’s nothing. He’s not giving away a single thought or emotion, just continues to watch me as I try to break out of my restraints. And his green and blue hair...dammit, I keep getting distracted by it. It’s very bright.
I wrench my gaze away and continue to dig the pin in, which would probably take someone else a very long time, but I’ve always had a gift when it comes to picking locks. I’ve also had plenty of opportunities to master my skill. You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been shackled.
Finally, the telltale click sounds in my ears, and I grin with the pin still between my teeth as the handcuff pops open. Spitting it into my now free hand, I quickly get to work on the left one. “Hmm, if you were from my mat and pat, you’d probably be more verbose. My mat always likes the talkative types.” I shoot a look over at him while I work. “So maybe Alpha Bowen sent you? But really, it doesn’t matter much. Because the answer is the same. I’m staying here.”
The second cuff pops off, and I sit up victoriously before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and popping the pin back into my hair. I get up and start looking around the room, wondering what exactly the good doctor wanted me to drink so that she could feed off my dreams. Fae are seriously fucked up supernaturals.
As much as I try to seem aloof about the male’s presence, I’m completely befuddled, and I’m very aware of his presence. What the hell does he want? And more importantly, why the hell isn’t he saying anything?
I run my hands over the vial that says, “drink me” and wrinkle my nose at it as I uncork it. “How very Lewis Carroll of her,” I mumble before moving over to the sink and dumping the contents out.