Conveniently Convicted (Paranormal Prison) - Ivy Asher Page 0,14

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.

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

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