Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,115

cheeks, but each tear fell like a hot little droplet of magma. Anger—at Lloyd, but mostly at myself. Anger and disappointment. “It’s my fault he did this to you.”

I held up a hand when all three spoke over each other—to interject, maybe even rush to my defense. They did that a lot, and it gave me a serious case of the warm and fuzzies that I had three breathtaking, strong, compassionate, hilarious dudes who were willing to go to bat for me time and time again. But enough. I didn’t deserve their white-knight status. We protected each other, but the scales were exceedingly tipped in my direction after the number of times I’d had to be rescued in here. Even if it felt like I finally had a family again, like I wasn’t alone after five years of orphan status, enough. I’d fucked up. This was my fault, despite Lloyd being the sicko who pulled the strings, and I would have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.

“I should have hid it better,” I insisted, pleased that in spite of the fiery tears, I kept my voice even—determined to make them see that I wasn’t flawless, that I was a person fully capable of screwing up. Protective hotties might be my kryptonite, but with Lloyd circling, that had become a detriment for everyone involved. Hesitantly, I brushed the pair of thick round scars on my neck, and a flash of pleasure jolted down my body, pebbling my nipples and buzzing in my clit. Beside me, Rafe cleared his throat, jumpsuit slightly tented. I loved his bite. Loved how it felt at the time and how I now carried him with me wherever I went.

But I should have made sure no one else, especially Lloyd Guthrie, could see it.

Because of course he would retaliate. His whole history with my family was one big, bloody, brutal retaliation.

“He doesn’t own you,” Elijah growled, glowering at a spot just over my shoulder. Slowly, that dragon gaze slid to mine, and he shook his head. “Fate is the decider of our destinies.”

Eyes locked, I knew he wanted to add a mate in there if he could—insist that I belonged to him, and vice versa, because some mystical force had paired us up long before we were born. Our bond was written in the stars, or whatever, and no one could change that.

But I couldn’t hear the words right now—couldn’t listen to him say it in front of the others and somehow diminish the kindred spirit bond I shared with Rafe, him and me unified by his bite, or the wildfire connection I felt with Fintan, all hot and heavy and fun.

He spared me that. Of course he did. Guilt stabbed another hook into me for doubting him.

“Right.” I glanced up at the sound of Fintan’s cool chuckle, the fae rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe for shifters, but that’s hardly the case everywhere else.” He then shuffled in front of me, blocking the others with his gorgeous angles, his tousled locks and brilliant green gaze. His hands found my shoulders as he stooped to fill my eyeline, eyebrows slightly arched, his tone a little too serious for my liking. “I need to know everything about the contract. Do you understand? Everything. Perhaps I can sniff out a loophole.” Then his mouth quirked, brevity shirked, and he wiggled those brows in a way that always made me giggle. “We fae are rather adept—”

“How the fuck would she know anything that’s in the contract beyond what that boil of a man told her?” Rafe asked dryly, and when Fintan eased aside, I found the vampire sprawled back on the cot again, looking absolutely destroyed—like he could sleep for a century. “D’you think he just has it lying around?”

“If he values it, probably.” Fintan settled back against the wall, arms folded, ankles crossed, his gaze so very far away as he studied the cell’s dark arched ceiling. “I’ve never abandoned a deal—especially if it was signed in blood. No fae would, and I’m sure our dear warden is the same. He’s probably got it here, just to keep it close. I mean, I bet he’s framed it if he’s that obsessed with Katja.”

We all glanced warily in Elijah’s direction when he snarled, eyes a brilliant and terrifying gold. Fintan then sniffed, fidgeting with his jumpsuit; he’d been trying for weeks to make it more stylish, but there was only so much you could do with