win in my book. Rodriguez, recently off his victory, took most of the food for himself and his fellow shape-shifting group.
“You want to talk about it?” Tad took a sip of his coffee, his slice of toast sitting in front of him, untouched.
Nibbling on mine, I sucked down coffee to soften the dry bread sticking in my throat. I needed nutrients, but it tasted like shit, and my stomach was dicey at best. Though the food here was utterly tasteless and too bland to upset anyone’s stomach.
“Not really.” I shifted on the stool uncomfortably, every muscle and nerve crying out for painkillers.
“Will you retaliate?”
“Yes.” I snarled. That bitch stole my blankie.
I used to have trunks stuffed with blankets. Faux fur, silk, cashmere—all of them so soft you melted into them. I never thought twice about the mounds of comforters, pillows, and blankets piled on my bed. Now the possessiveness I felt for a scratchy, smelly blanket should have frightened me. When you had nothing, those items you did have were treasures, and someone stealing them from you was the ultimate crime.
Tess and her gang would find out soon what a bad idea it had been to take stuff from me.
“You look like hell.”
“So I’ve been told.” I chewed down the rest of my meal. “You two are making me feel so good about myself.”
“Two?”
“Kek.” I rubbed my head, a deeper pounding thumping at my skull.
At Tad’s silence, I looked up at him.
“What?”
“Just be careful.” His lips pressed together, his gaze drifting over to the demon table where I knew she sat. Three words and he validated my suspicion about why a demon had latched on to me. And not for sexual favors or a prison pet.
“I am.” I brushed my hands free of crumbs and pushed myself up to stand, though it took a couple tries.
“You sound like me.” Tad chuckled as I keened and hissed getting to my feet, wrapping my arm around my torso. “Moaning and groaning over there.”
“At least I will heal, old man.”
“Keep that fire, girl. You will need it here.” He winked at me, laughing.
Biting my lip, I grabbed my empty coffee cup. I knew it would take me longer than usual to get to the laundry room and did not want to chance being late.
“Here.” He shoved his toast to me. “You need it more than me.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You need to eat. You’re old and decrepit, remember?”
“Exactly. It’s wasted on me.” The youthful glint in his eyes suggested he was far from his deathbed. “Just take it. Someday I might need kindness from you.” He dipped his head at the bread. “Take it.”
Cautious, I took his offering, giving him a nod of thanks. Then I limped across the cafeteria and dumped my cup in the bin.
Something changed in the room, like fog rolling over a mountain, licking your skin with its presence. My arms prickled with the sensation, the hairs standing on end. It was also when I noticed the early morning murmur had gone quiet. The room was holding its breath.
My heart thumped at a rabbit’s pulse. Slower than normal, I twisted around, my body shrieking in response. But just as fast as the pain struck my nerves, it vanished. As if the figure before me was emanating a sedative, taking away all my discomfort.
I was eye level with a black shirt, the chest underneath massive, forcing me to crane back to look up at the beast of the man. My throat strangled the air in my lungs.
Holy shit. Warwick Farkas.
To be this close to a legend. An icon. My brain struggled to recognize that he was real.
He stood less than five inches away, staring down at me, his intense aqua eyes even more unnerving this close. His weighty gaze rolled over me with curiosity as his head slanted to the side, a touch of disgust creased his brow.
He probably saw me as no more than a bug pinned to a board.
I didn’t back away, holding my chin up, swallowing audibly.
His attention trailed down the lash mark on my face, the swollen eye, and halted on my broken lip. Flames flared down my back in a burst, licking my skin with perspiration. I swiped my tongue nervously over my lower lip. A crease appeared between his eyebrows before he journeyed down to the dried bloodstain on my uniform, how I still cradled my wound, and the bruises and cuts over my exposed skin.