Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,41

this hellhole reminded me that I was in prison, like the leather strap around my neck or my pathetic shower shoes, or Deimos and his crew fighting for a stupid table…

Then, you know, it was business as usual: feeling helpless in a system designed to break you down, to make you feel lower than dirt, like you really were a criminal.

Never mind that most of us were innocent.

The fae emerged from the shadows of his cell faster than I had that first day, loitering in the doorway and scrutinizing the cellblock with impossibly green eyes. In turn, I watched him over my shoulder, from his sculpted face to his perfect posture to his large, elegant hands rubbing bloody, raw wrists. What was he: innocent or guilty? Criminal or bystander?

Impossible to tell at first glance.

While he hadn’t so much as peeked my way, I felt someone else watching me intently. Elijah’s caramel gaze drilled into my forehead, and I let out a sharp exhale, beyond annoyed with this particular side of him. Even if it wasn’t intentional, he had no right to be all huffy. So, rolling my shoulders back, I looked him dead in the eye—a challenge in the shifter community—and cocked my head to the side, daring him to say what his eyes screamed, what the clench of his jaw so obviously implied.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Elijah stared back, his expression softening somewhat, but not once did he blink. Neither of us flinched. Neither backed down. He conceded slightly, but this dragon shifter was an alpha through and through: he bowed to no one, not even me. Unfortunately for him, spending all this time in his company, in Rafe’s, meant I’d also found a slight backbone—and I wasn’t about to fold either.

“Guys…” Rafe flicked cards around the table, dealing out the first hand of a new game. “You know I fucking hate it when you do this—”

“It’s nothing,” Elijah rumbled.

“We’re fine,” I insisted, mouth dry. Both of us had ended up talking over the other, which made Rafe shake his head and shoot us one of his famous Oh my fucking god, you two looks that always made me feel like we were being ridiculous. And maybe we were, but I’d never been in this situation with anyone before.

Never been in this situation—period. Never responded so strongly to a shifter, my body igniting with a look. Never floundered around a handsome vampire, unsure where we stood: acquaintances or friends or cellmates who flirted every now and again to distract from the doldrums of their current situation?

And then add a third hottie who I couldn’t stop looking at, couldn’t help but drool over, and I was basically screwed. Prison wasn’t supposed to be a high school soap opera. I wasn’t supposed to be worrying about men’s feelings; I was supposed to be planning an escape so I could get far, far away from this place and find Tully, then go home and never leave my apartment again.

Just as he did with me, Deimos swept over to the fae and walked him out of his cell. I swallowed hard, the memory of the demon’s hot breath on my neck making my stomach churn. That first day, he had taken such liberties with me—taken advantage of my fear, using a very long moment of weakness to touch me, to wrap his arm around me and whisper in my ear. Back then, he had tried to sweet-talk me, to coo and purr, to make it seem like his crew was the safe port in this hellish storm.

What tactic would he use on the fae?

A fae who didn’t exactly seem fazed to be here, despite the bruises peppering his skin, the dried maroon blood under his nose, a streak of it cutting from his mouth to his chin. The guards had beaten the crap out of him—that much was clear—and yet he strolled alongside Deimos with such a confident stride that it made me wonder…

Had he been in prison before?

Was this old news?

Did he play the political game behind bars?

The thought of Deimos acquiring a fae underling didn’t sit well with me, and from the way both Elijah and Rafe watched the situation unfold, their smiles gone, the feeling was mutual.

Deimos and the fae stopped at his usual table, his tattooed hand sliding seductively down the fae’s arm, lingering over his fingers. Right. Apparently seduction was his only angle. Rafe and I exchanged a quick glance before I fully turned around on my stool to shamelessly stare, the