Once the offending liquid is gone, I turn and face the male who still hasn’t moved from his spot. “So? Who sent you?”
I don’t expect an answer, so I almost flinch when his voice comes out for the first time. “No one sent me.”
Sweet cockatrice’s feathers, his voice is sexy. “Oh, good. You’re not mute after all,” I snark, though it comes out breathier than I would have liked.
I palm the now empty vial—this would make an epic shank—and move to the wall opposite the guard, mirroring his posture and his wall-lean. I’m almost certain I see a flicker of amusement in his eyes as I copy him, and his dimple ticks like he’s working to keep it in place instead of allowing it to move and reveal his beautiful smile. But from one blink to another, his features return to unreadable stone.
“No one, huh? Who exactly is that a code word for?” I ask casually, swallowing down my scoff.
If he thinks this is my first interrogation rodeo, then he’s in for a surprise. I know all about the half-truth tricks that won’t change your scent or otherwise give you away.
“Is that what this is all about?” he asks, his head cocking to the side in a way that I find myself mimicking.
Stop it, Sin. No following the pretty colors and trying to make them do naughty things to you.
“You think that I’m here for you?” he asks. This time, there’s no mistaking the amusement that lights up his turquoise eyes. He shakes his head and raises his eyebrows like my presumption is ridiculous. “I’m not sure what you’ve got going on outside, Sunrise, but from the sound of things, it’s a lot of shit I couldn’t give two fucks about.”
I preen as the nickname Sunrise leaves his full lips. He’s spot on. I pulled inspiration for the colors of my hair from the sunrise that dawned on the morning I crawled out my window and walked away from my lounge’s land. I appreciate his appreciation for my colors. But when the rest of his words fall out of his lips, my appreciation dims dramatically.
“And I’m just supposed to, what? Take your word for it?” I ask, my hand tightening on the glass vial still in my grasp.
“As long as it means no more lunch tray attacks, I don’t care what you do. I’ve worked at NP for years. Just know this is your first and last warning. Don’t come for me again. You’re a female cockatrice, and that fact alone has earned you the mercy I’m showing today, but don’t push me to show you what life looks like without that mercy,” he tells me, the warning sending a shiver scurrying up my spine.
His tone growls don’t fuck with me, but the look in his eyes is almost begging me to. His relaxed posture against the wall and the slight tilt of his head is completely throwing me off. He’s warning me away with his words, and yet also ensuring every color in his hair can be seen while maintaining non-threatening body language. He’s reeling me in and simultaneously pushing me away.
Desire lights through me and also dims from the mixed messages, like I’m some fucked up strobe light. I’m impressed and irritated at the same time. I’ve never met anyone who made me want to lick every inch of their body until they worshipped me, and then promptly rip their head off. I study him for a beat. He could be telling the truth, or he could be a very skilled plant.
I tilt my head down and look up at him through my lashes. My bright green eyes are filled with contrition and my posture just a skosh shy of submissive. Two can play this game.
“Then I’m sorry for hitting you...twice,” I tell him sweetly. I let my gaze rake over him appreciatively and keep my smile from going wider when I notice his pupils dilate. “Mercy looks good on you,” I purr. “But I promise, you don’t want to see me take mine off either.”
I push off from the wall and move slowly toward him. His kissable lips part slightly, but his relaxed mien doesn’t budge. All I want to do is nibble on him and find out if he tastes as good as he looks. He doesn’t budge as I close the distance between us. There’s no hint of worry. No tensing of his well-developed muscles. He’s confident that between the two of us, he’d win. How cute.
I stop inches away from him and move my own head so he can get a good look at all the pretty colors in my hair. A smile twitches at the corner of his lips, but he tamps it down. I stand there and just watch him, giving him a little taste of the awkward silence he fed me earlier. I give his bright hair one last glance and then offer him a seductive smile as I lean in.
“You stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you,” I declare, and then I crack open the door and purposefully rub against his side as I duck out of the room. The door closes with a click behind me, and I smile, unable to help it. I walk down the gray hallway, with no idea where I am in the prison. I figure someone will stop me at some point and tell me where to go. I hold up the Velcro name tag I just silently ripped off the cockatrice’s uniform as I swing left around a corner.
I read the name that’s been stitched on it. Well, Officer Rook, I think I’ll ask around about you. I smile at my sleight of hand and picture him noticing the missing name tag later and wondering where it went. I chuckle at the thought and high five myself for my mad skills. Prison is going to be so much fun.
Now to find Zen and find out about that shank shack customer list I asked for earlier.
Wait…
I stop in my tracks. Grinding my jaw, I pull my other hand forward and stare at my empty palm for a blink. That worm! He stole the vial I had in my hand!
I shake my head, lost between irritation and mirth. What a shit. I chuckle, impressed by the ballsy move, and continue back down the hall in the direction I hope my cell is.
Touché, Officer Rook. Touché.
4
“I’ve seen some shit.”
I nod in commiseration at the female wolf shifter where she sits against the chain link fence in our recreation yard. Recreation yard is putting it nicely. It’s basically just a huge square of dirt and weeds and the occasional concrete piece broken off from where there used to be a sidewalk.
“You haven’t seen shit,” the gorgon with the harmless eyes counters. She doesn’t hang out with the other ones or have to wear a blindfold, and they sneer at each other every chance they get. “Until you’ve walked in on someone shoving a sub sandwich up their ass, you’re still a newb.”
Someone else titters. “That was hilarious.”
“Oh, go flick your clit. I’ve seen plenty of shit,” the wolf, Sophie, says. “I’ve been in here longer than you have!”
The red snakes on the female’s head hiss. “We’ve been in here for five years.”
“So have I!” Sophie growls.
Zen’s eyes shoot over to the female, and I see her lotus flower tattoo gleam beneath her eye. Just like that, the anger between the two immediately dissipates, and they sigh on a calming breath.
“Sorry, Sophie,” snake-hair says.
The wolf shifter is too blissed out on Zen’s zen power to reply. She tips her head back and breathes it in, her whole body relaxing. “I love that shit, Zen.”
Our leader just smirks and continues to sit with her legs crossed as she retwists some of her dreadlocks. It seems like very meticulous work.