Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,113

to fly off all this time. Dust and rocky shards trickled down the dented brick; Tully’s purrs stopped for a beat, then resumed seconds later, louder than ever.

“I’m so sorry,” my mate whispered, threading her fingers through Rafe’s and clutching his hand with both of hers. “I don’t know why they—”

“Because I bit you,” he said roughly. His throat bobbed with a harsh gulp, pain flickering over his features, and he pushed up onto his elbows. While Rafe spared me a quick glance over his shoulder, he didn’t seem to notice—or even mind—Tully hooking his claws in to stay stuck to his chest. He did, however, retract his hand from Katja, and the rejection read plain as day across her face. Head cocked, the vampire shifted about, searching for comfort on a bed that offered none, and then frowned at her—at a woman we both felt for, who he had protected and coveted.

Who he now seemed to question.

“Katja, what’s w-with you and the warden?”

I opened and closed my mouth, floundering. What? Of course we all knew that she had been pulled into Guthrie’s office a few times, but as of this moment, she hadn’t—

“There are loads of vamps in Xargi,” Rafe remarked, all raspy and hoarse—like he’d been screaming. Fintan’s bright greens glittered with interest, the fae suddenly hyperfocused on Katja, me and my rage barely even an afterthought as Rafe struggled for every word. “But he chose m-me. Came in all garlicky and wearing crosses. It f-felt personal.”

Cheeks sunken and eyes distant, Katja confirmed the rising suspicions with her silence. This was the Katja of months ago, the one who kept to herself, who guarded her space as viciously as we dragons hoarded our gold. Quiet, calculating with the information she shared—this wasn’t a welcome throwback.

“So, what is it?” Like the weight of holding himself up was too much, Rafe collapsed back onto the bed, and in Katja’s continued silence, I caught him cautiously steering his tongue around his mouth, probing the gaping wounds. His jaw suddenly hardened, resolve settling in, and he propped himself up again. “He called you his kitten—”

“It’s… I… It’s nothing,” my mate muttered with a slight shake of her head, refusing to meet his eyes—and mine.

“No, it’s not.” Fintan popped a knee up on the end of the cot, looming over the scene with crossed arms and a scowl. “It’s really not, and we both know it.”

My inner dragon huffed, a sentiment I shared. These two seemed privy to something I wasn’t—something about my fated. We might not have been deeply, desperately in love, but Katja and I owed it to ourselves to be honest. Fate had a way of dragging it out of you in the end; may as well beat the bitch to the punch.

“The less you know, the better,” Katja managed, flashing a weak smile at all three of us—like we would just accept that and call it a day. My brows furrowed. Fintan smirked. Rafe let out the largest, most unnecessarily dramatic scoff I’d ever heard, then pointed at his mouth.

“You sure about that?”

Arms wrapped tight around herself, my mate rose and turned to leave, only to find Fintan there, once again proving to be a better door than a window. A locked door at that, towering over her by a full head, wider too despite being the wiriest of us males. She waited, staring up at him, then slowly faced me, clutching her ribs, the look in her eye suggesting that I was supposed to, what, move him? Fuck that.

I held my ground, crouched by Rafe, and met her stare head-on. It dissolved from hopeful and pleading to betrayed in a matter of seconds, and while it pained me to witness, something sharp and cruel stabbing into my heart, I refused to fold. If she couldn’t be honest with her mate, who in this world could she be honest with?

“No, Katja.” I finally stood, lording over the lot of them. “Spill it… Tell us everything, before the bastards order an early lights-out.”

22

Katja

They wanted everything?

Fine.

I gave them every little godsforsaken thing.

Every horrific detail. From my mom’s supposed wolfsbane addiction to the debt she ran up because of it, to the deal she made with Lloyd Guthrie to get out of that hole. To live when creditors had been ready to break every bone in her body. Then her refusal to honor the contract. The effigy doll made to ensure she had the most painful delivery possible—her horrific death in childbirth,