Prison Princess (Paranormal Prison) - CoraLee June Page 0,16

at it. I’d never seen any before.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Try it. I think, right now, you’ll find it helpful to calm down a little bit. It might make you feel tired eventually. That’s okay. We’re going to stay here tonight. Upstairs. The assassins don’t come here. They’re not welcome with the Fae. I only gained entrance here myself last year. Long story. Anyway, try the drink.”

I picked up the mug and took a sip, nearly gagging at the aftertaste. “Bitter.”

“You’ll get used to it. Three or four sips, you won’t notice it anymore.” He took a big sip of his and then a bite of the chicken. I’d eaten before. That wasn’t foreign. So why did it feel like this was the very first meal I’d ever consumed?

“So who did you kill?” The chicken was moist, and I hungrily took bite after bite. Still, I managed to get the question out.

He lifted his eyebrows. “At eight or in general? Because there are too many people to specify in one conversation if you want a whole list.”

“At eight.”

He took another bite, chewed and swallowed. He really had a beautiful jawline. I took another drink of the booze. He was right. The bitter went away. “You’re handling this very well. I told you I killed someone starting when I was eight.”

I shrugged. “I spent my life in a prison. Do you think you’re the first murderer I’ve ever spent time with?”

“How many specifically? Do you remember their names?” He had practically eaten all of his chicken.

“There was Mae. She was a bear shifter. She killed a brew witch that tried to steal a lock of hair from her mate.”

“That sounds honorable,” Cypress replied between bites of food. I started stuffing my face with chicken and continued to talk with my mouth full.

“She was nice. Didn’t stay long. She taught me how to braid my hair.” I thought back fondly on the woman before continuing. “Then there was Brie. She killed her husband for cheating on her.”

“Revenge kills are my favorite,” Cypress replied with a wink. I swallowed before taking a long gulp of my drink.

“Was it a revenge kill when you were eight?” I asked unabashedly.

“No. He was my best friend,” Cypress said, growing quiet. “They put us in a room together and said whoever survived gets to live.”

I gasped. That was horrible. How could anyone do something like that? “So you killed him?” I asked.

Cypress picked up his drink and stared over the rim of his mug before gulping down the rest of it entirely. I met his hard stare head-on as he drank. When he was done, he set the mug down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand with a hiss. “I might as well have. Gilbert killed himself to save me. Selfless bastard. Now stop with the questions and finish your food. I want to rest for the night, not deal with you.”

I nodded and took another drink. My cheeks had been growing warm. My belly was fuller than it had ever been.

“You know that means you didn’t kill him, technically. So...your first kill had to be later.”

He sort of shrugged. “It felt like I killed him. And when I was nine, I lodged a bullet spell in the back of the head of the bastard who gave that order. So, yeah that was a revenge kill. I didn’t flinch. I was made for that work.”

I was officially stuffed. I’d hardly gotten through a quarter of the plate. It felt wrong to waste it. Was there a way to save it? In case food stopped later. That had happened sometimes, for punishment.

“You’re done?” He eyed how little I had eaten.

My cheeks were so hot, and I had no idea if that was from the booze or from embarrassment at not being able to consume my meal. “I’ve never had so much food. I was wondering if we could take it with us?”

“No need. You won’t starve with me, and this will go bad. We don’t have a way to keep it fresh on the road.” He put out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll reclothe you and get on our way. Your father needs to rethink his wards if he wants to do this kind of thing again. Breaking in with his daughter is hugely more difficult than doing it alone.”

I stumbled slightly. I was always clumsy—like the stairs outside—but that was a bit much. He smirked at me. “Don’t worry.