Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,12

head like a lead pipe, stronger than all the smells ripening in this pit. Prisons were a fucking cornucopia of odors and energies, yet without even making eye contact, hers was the most potent. And most pleasant. And most alluring.

And…

And it made me forget, just for a few glorious seconds, that I was trapped in this hellhole.

My inner dragon responded to her immediately, scratching at my chest, bellowing to high heaven, desperate to get out and scent her for himself. To throw her on his back and whisk her away somewhere remote and luxurious. To hoard. The stereotype had merit: we dragons loved to hoard, and I’d satiated that need for decades working as a jeweler, surrounded by gold and gems and diamonds…

But she shone brighter than any pretty stone—and I’d barely glimpsed her face yet, nothing beyond an elegant profile and a flash of bright blue eyes.

Protectiveness lanced through me when one of the processing guards shoved her into the open cell next to Rafe’s. A snarl hummed in my chest, and I pressed my lips together, clenched my jaw, fighting to contain the beast within. I couldn’t shift. The collar wouldn’t allow me—but that didn’t stop my inner dragon from trying. His anxiety spiked when she disappeared, a flood of adrenaline threatening to make me move, to break formation and risk the wrath of the warlock fucks who patrolled the cellblock.

Calm down, you shit.

Across the circular room, Rafe studied me with a deep frown, arms crossed, eyes slightly narrowed. If he’d noticed my agitation, others had too. A warlock named Thompson, one of the cellblock’s permanent guards, glanced my way, and without meaning to, I locked eyes with him. The man was built like a mountain, tall and fierce, the figure of a warrior—but I still surpassed him. Big as he was, I was bigger.

But he had a wand on his hip.

Usually I let the alpha bullshit go—eyes on the ground, look away first, allow the fuckery of this place to roll off my back. No point in making waves.

But the witch did something to me.

Made me want to fight.

My inner dragon bristled, dusting off months of slumber and roaring. My vision sharpened. My nostrils flared. My heart thundered. Instinct kicked in, dragon’s blood scorching through my veins, a lifetime of experience in my bones. Bloodlust and war drums and the smoke of fire-bathed cities—

Thompson squared off with me, his eyes hard, daring me to make a move.

Shifters were a combination of man and beast, and contrary to what the rest of the supernatural world thought, we were in control of which side ruled us. In here, it was best to let the man call the shots, even if I wanted to sprint across the cellblock, clotheslining Thompson in the neck with my arm on the way, then rip into the witch’s cell and massacre the others, keep her all to myself…

I looked down first. Bowed my head, seething, waiting, brimming with the wild energy before a shift. Useless. I’d have to walk it off when I got the chance. Faustus and Helen twitched and fidgeted by their cell doors, sensing my predicament, and I shot them each a glare. Don’t say a fucking word.

The birds yielded to me—the only real alpha in here, no matter what Deimos thought.

Once the guards got the newest inmate of Cellblock C situated, they bailed. Left her to fend for herself. The added muscle vanished through the main door, and eventually we were down to the standard three assholes. Well, two assholes and Thompson, who, for all his posturing, occasionally seemed interested in doing his job. The other two fuckers let Deimos do what he pleased and put bets on inmates during fights.

As soon as we were given the all clear to move freely again, I charged straight for her, following her scent—such a strange scent, at that. Floral with the briar rose, yet that candle smoke was so alluring to a dragon. An unpredictable woman, perhaps, in the way her scent had me picturing a dark shoreline with choppy waters, the air tense, on the verge of a tempest. Had to see her. Had to meet her. Know her. Smell her—

“What are you doing?” Rafe intercepted me just before I reached her cell. Inside, I could hear her settling on the prison-issued bed, those cruel springs groaning beneath her. The vampire refused to let me ignore him, however, even when I tried to barrel by; he snagged my arm, grasp tight