but consent was huge for me and if he thought I'd settle for less, he really was going to see a side of me I didn't show often.
"I'll say this now. I may be in this situation thanks to some not-so-mysterious supernatural that hates my guts, but if anyone tries to touch me the wrong way again, they'll enjoy more than just a kick to the balls."
My open threat was like telling the universe to keep me accountable for when I did lose my shit and triggered my BTS. I'd ask for forgiveness after I explained the exact day and time I'd vowed to go apeshit on anyone who pushed me there after ignoring the 'Don't Touch Me' policy.
"All right, Cassandra." Omarion crossed his arms over his chest. "Noted."
"Good." I returned to eating, ignoring his existence. Five minutes went by before he spoke. "There are three main floors to this prison. The prison itself is deep down in the depths of the Earth. It doesn't mean there aren't any outside properties, but you need to take magic portals to go there and that requires privileges."
"Privileges?" I inquired. "So not kicking the guard in the balls. Got it."
I swear his eye twitched, but he carried on.
"Some prisoners get privileges from those on the outside that claim ownership of them."
"So..."
"Cassandra."
"I actually have a genuine comment here," I assured him. "So, they're slaves."
"No."
"That sounds like slavery to me," I remarked.
"I won't finish explaining if you keep interrupting."
"Continue on," I encouraged.
"As I was saying, some prisoners get claimed by supernaturals on the outside. Think of it like an auction when a new prisoner is added to the directory."
"That..." I paused when he gave me a stern look.
So hard to not comment when all of this sounds like utter madness. Talk about loss of rights.
"To a human, maybe it's like slavery. To supernaturals, it can be proof that the prisoner has potential or is extremely valuable," he revealed. "For example, you're a Level One prisoner and yet you're on the bidding block."
"Oh, no." I stared at him with large eyes. "Please don't tell me I'm going to become a sex slave?"
"No," he bluntly replied.
"Food slave?"
"Why do you sound pleased about that?"
"It's honestly not bad when you never go hungry. Food usually comes with water or some form of drink, and if I'm given washroom privileges, I'm as good as a child in a candy store."
"How do any of those guys stand living with you?" he questioned. "I can't even last fifteen damn minutes."
"Patience," I said like I was a meditation instructor. "And alcohol."
"You're too much." He uncrossed his arms and carried on, "Level Two is for shifters that can lose control in their animal forms. Wolves, Dragons, anyone that seems like a worse threat and difficult to put down when they go ballistic."
"I should have been there," I muttered under my breath.
Was it weird to feel left out?
"Level Two is for those they want to keep under the radar."
"Like everyone else in this prison?"
"Not necessarily," he acknowledged. "It's those who are easily forgotten in the real world. Doesn't mean those that are there don't have just as much potential as the lower level inmates, but they're usually not on the bid list and just waste away."
"Great..." I trailed off. "Wait. Who's winning on this bid list for me?"
"Everett."
"What?! He's bidding on me? Uh...isn't that weird?"
"It's what's keeping you alive," Omarion stressed. "We have to go by the rules with this investigation or things will get messy. He and the others don't want to get your human ass accidently killed by the wrong move. He's clearly going to win this bid war if none of your bros will step up to the plate."
"Are they bidding money?" I inquired.
"Depends. Sometimes property or magic potions. If the deal is super high, they'll even do favors. Those are dangerous bargains, but if the person is worth it, supernaturals have no problem with it."
"Intriguing," I noted. "What about Level Three?"
His golden orbs darkened then, and there was that creepy feeling of desolation.
"Lethal prisoners who could destroy half the planet if they truly wanted to. Rare hybrids, chemically mutated supernaturals, or mystical breeds such as Elemental dragons or Mutant werewolves. The most dangerous are Monarchs."
"Are you referring to monarch butterflies?” I inquired, trying to picture what could be so dangerous about those.
"Monarch is a term for royal or alpha supernaturals that are born to rule. They're individuals born into wealth, great prosperity, and are practically blessed by the universe itself to