Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,135

streak; I would probably need Tully’s abilities in the very near future.

The warlock considered me for what felt like an eternity, then sniffed and picked a bit of fluff off his suit’s charcoal-grey jacket sleeve. “If he fucks with me, I’ll skin him and wear his pelt as a hat.”

Another surge of anxiety vomit, fire sizzling up my throat. “Okay, and lastly—”

“What makes you think you get any more conditions?”

I knew I’d been pushing my luck, and I nudged it just a little further with a flick of my head, tossing my hair over my shoulder to show off the side of my neck Rafe hadn’t scarred. Lloyd’s gaze plummeted to my throat again, to the pinpoints of pain left by his fingertips, to the bruises forming slowly but surely. Gods. He was going to choke me until I passed out regularly, wasn’t he? A shiver raced down my spine, eyes burning with a new batch of tears, but I pushed through, needing this last condition approved most of all.

“Lastly,” I started again, voice thick, each word a chore, “Elijah, Fintan, and Rafe are taken care of once I’m gone. They’re treated well in here. I’ll do whatever you want, go wherever you want, so long as they are looked after… or freed.”

Lloyd chuckled coolly. “I’m not releasing them. They have a sentence to serve—which has just been extended for causing a riot and murdering a handful of my guards, I might add.”

“Okay, just…” Gods, I couldn’t believe I was saying this, doing it, throwing away my life and legitimizing this bastard’s insanity. But I would. For them, I had to. “None of them get hurt. Or maimed, or tortured, or singled out. They stay together in Cellblock C. Just leave them alone, and don’t order any other inmates to do the dirty work for you.”

“My, my… That’s a tall order, kitten.” He pinned me with a frighteningly serious look, and just as I started to really sweat, he flipped, mouth twisting into what he must have thought was a sinfully handsome smile. “But you’re worth it.” Easing off his desk, Lloyd tipped his metaphorical hat to me, bowing slightly as he said, “Agreed.” His hands then settled on the back of my chair, caging me in on either side, and he dropped down to my eyeline, his breath hot and his eyes wanting. “Now, seal it with a kiss, Katja Fox… like you’ve made a deal with the Devil.”

As much as I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and turn away, I just sat there and let it happen. Stared at him as he planted his thin, vile mouth on mine in a hard, domineering kiss. Lloyd’s eyes fluttered before they closed, and his soft, barely there moan had me fighting my gag reflex. I looked away, out the window and beyond the blurry horizon, then squealed when his hand suddenly fisted in my hair and wrenched my head back. His tongue thrust between my parted lips, and I did everything in my power not to bite it off.

I took it. I took him and his mouth that tasted like burnt basil and nicotine and mint. I sealed the deal. I dealt with a man who thought he was the Devil, who saw himself as invincible and all-powerful.

In these walls, Lloyd Guthrie was exactly that.

The harder he kissed, the more I wanted to just vomit into his mouth. Instead, I kissed back—barely—so that he wouldn’t make me do it again. Nothing too enthusiastic or he would know it was an act.

An eternity later, he retreated, looking all too pleased with himself, still hard as a rock.

“Good girl,” he purred, and another shiver of disgust shot down my back. A cold numbness followed, slow and steady as it worked its way down, cutting me off from him, from this place, from everything.

Disassociation.

I used to do it a long time ago—processing so many deaths in the family was bound to mess you up a little, but I had taken the steps. Gone to therapy. Processed the grief to the best of my ability. Come out of it a different person, but still whole. No need to disappear inside myself anymore. No need to run from reality.

But maybe that would be the only way to survive what was to come.

Lips wobbling, misery burned behind my eyes, in my nose, and I looked back to the windows again, trying desperately not to cry.

“Tell me, kitten,” Lloyd murmured as he ghosted a finger along