Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,83

pay off this debt of kindness.

Time to think about how to get the hell out of here. If Tully could get in, we could get out.

And I would.

One way or another, Tully and I would escape this hellhole—and we were taking my guys with us.

16

Rafe

Brilliant sapphires glittered down at me as I lay flat as a board on my cot. Eyes I had studied for months now, the blue so expressive, so deep, so full of mystery and wonder and the promise of a brighter future—

I had imagined meeting these eyes in the shadowy recess of my cell for ages, pictured them heavy-lidded and blazing with desire. Sometimes I saw them in my dreams, haunting me until morning when an obnoxious siren would rouse me—and I’d suddenly remember that I was here, in prison, not out in the free world where I could see those eyes sparkle with genuine wonder…

But they were here now, so big and blue.

Only they belonged to a fucking cat.

“So…” I winced as Tully adjusted himself on my chest, shifting from the seated position where he’d been lording over me since I’d returned from breakfast to standing, all four paws digging into my bones. He then blinked slowly, those sapphires flashing, and started to pulse his claws in and out of me, massive front paws kneading my jumpsuit, my body, like I was a bit of raw dough. “Oh… Okay. So… Yes, ouch.” I grimaced when the familiar really sunk in on the next knead. “That’s… Okay. Right. Whatever you need to… do.”

Was this a good thing? My only experience with cats were the feral ones who roamed the property back home, mousers who hissed if you got too close and snarled if you dared reach out to touch. Tully, meanwhile, had broken every preconception I possessed about the standoffish feline, and had spent half of last night pressed up against the mousehole, chittering softly for Katja, and then the rest on my cot, curled up in the most awkward of places.

Behind my crooked knees.

Nestled against my lower back.

Across my neck like a damn lead scarf.

I’d woken up this morning to the fat fuck on my face, snoozing away. Had I needed to breathe, he probably would have smothered me in my sleep.

Unfortunately for my favorite witch, Cellblock F had decided to have a riot on the way to the dining hall during yesterday’s supper. The entire prison went into immediate lockdown, leaving the rest of us to scarf down whatever food we could—wasn’t exactly difficult to chug a test tube of cold blood on my end—before being hauled back to the cellblock and thrown into our cells. No one in or out. No post-meal socializing in the common area before bed. The rioting idiots had assured the rest of us a security-heavy night, all the lights kept on, patrols marching in and out of the block for hours. My fellow inmates had emerged from their cells this morning bleary-eyed and cranky.

Tully, however, must have thought it best to continue hiding in my cell. After all, the infinite shadows offered the best hiding spots. Unfortunately for him and his witch, there simply hadn’t been the chance for him to slink back into her cell.

So, he had spent the night here.

And was now clawing up my chest while purring and slow-blinking down at me.

Fucking sadist.

Actually… It sort of felt good. Like a prickly massage from a huge black cloud that in another life could have easily passed for a sidhe, although Tully lacked the telltale white mark on his chest. So. Definitely not a witch or a tricky fairy in hiding, pretending to be Katja’s familiar all these years. Just a standard, run-of-the-mill familiar—who loved his mistress so ardently that he’d scoured the globe to find her.

“You’re a good lad, Tully,” I muttered, risking a quick stroke of his sides, then a tentative scratch behind his ears. The feline perked up, arching into my cautious fingers, and closed his eyes. An unfamiliar calm settled over us, and I sank into the strangely soothing act of petting a cat, of listening to his constant purr and enduring the rhythmic clenching of his paws, claws poking through the jumpsuit and into my cold flesh in even beats.

But of course, peace never lasted in Xargi Penitentiary.

My cell door whizzed open, bolting in place along the wall with the usual clang, and Tully leapt off me with a hiss, fluffed up and furious, the force of his jump landing like a