to be, you enjoy the wickedness.” He cranked his neck to look at me. For a moment, I could feel his sexual charge, the desire billowing off his skin like a snare, capturing me in his web.
Grinding my teeth, I faced Lynx, hearing him chuckle. “Again.”
Crack!
Her gut-wrenching scream cut through the air as the whip drove over the open wounds of the first one, Lynx’s sobs clotting in my throat. The guards fully moved in, holding her up as her legs dipped underneath her weight.
One more. Just be done with it.
Sucking in my own cry of grief, I lifted my hand and lashed out.
A noise I couldn’t even describe as human gurgled from her throat before her head dropped forward, her body going limp.
“I’m impressed, 85221.” Hexxus faced me, holding his hand out. Everything in me wanted to refuse, to whirl the whip until no one in this room was left standing.
Seething, I placed it back in his hand, his self-satisfaction itching my skin.
He reached out, sliding his finger under my jaw. Pulling it away coated in blood, he sucked the red liquid off. “Mmmm…even your blood tastes sinful. Feral. Full of life.”
He grinned, his eyes glowing like an idea had come to him.
“Now for your punishment.” My stomach dropped, a rush of alarm cooling my skin, as if thrashing my workmate hadn’t been enough. “Flogging is not sufficient for you. Nor is the hole.”
I swallowed.
“You, my pretty thing, are meant for more.”
“What?”
He stared at me for a moment before his expression turned to a taunting sneer.
“I think you will do well. It’s for the truly debauched.”
“Do well? For what?”
“The Games, my pet.” He smirked. “You are going to fight in the Games.”
Chapter 17
“Wakey, wakey, fishy.” My eyes fluttered open at the singsong voice. Brown eyes looked back at me only an inch away from my face. “Good morning. Glad to have you back.”
“Oh gods,” I muttered, taking him in before I tucked my face back into my arm.
Opie stood with his hands on his hips, wearing a pink loofah for shorts, two round scrubber brushes like a bra, and more cleaning pads for a hat and shoes, his beard braided with garbage ties. Bitzy was on Opie’s back wearing a swimmer’s cap, her large ears sticking out of it.
Chirp. Her middle finger sent me a good morning greeting.
“Yeah, good morning to you too,” I grumbled.
Chirp.
Groaning, I pushed myself up to lean against the wall. Last night I had fallen into a deep sleep, but terror trotted so heavily through my dreams, Lynx’s cries haunting my soul, I felt as though I hadn’t slept at all.
“Against my principles,” Opie motioned to the cell, “I swept it while you were gone. Can’t you tell? It’s so sparkly. I mean, I hate it, like really hate it, but you can’t deny my skills.”
I peered around, noticing not one bit of difference in the empty cage.
“Uh. Sure.”
“It’s in my genes, I guess.” He shrugged, his fingers playing with his loofah shorts. “Can’t fight perfection.” He held up his hand. “Don’t get all used to it. My soul almost died. It was a huge sacrifice. I mean, I hate cleaning.”
“As you say.” I rubbed my face, trying to wake up. “So…what’s the outfit for today?”
“Shower scrubbing.” He twirled around, grabbing onto his scrubber pad hat. “I made it last night.”
“It’s perfect.” I raked my fingers through my hair, rolling it up in a topknot.
“I know, right?” He rubbed his hands in circles over the scrub brushes across his chest. “Master Finn, our head brownie, said I looked foolish, and I’m an embarrassment to our kind…” Opie stared at his covered feet, sadness wrinkling his forehead.
“Well, this Finn sounds like a dreary asshole.” A wave of protectiveness soared through me at the thought of anyone taking Opie’s happiness away because he didn’t act the same as a typical brownie. “Miserable git. You just be you. The best-dressed brownie on the block.”
Chirp!
Two middle fingers waved in the air like a hallelujah, Bitzy’s head bobbing in agreement.
A smile grew on Opie’s face, and his hips started to wiggle back and forth like a song was playing in his head. “That’s right, baby. I make work more fun. I can tell they’re all jealous of my costumes.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” I winked at him, watching him twirl in his loofah like a ballerina. “Maybe you can make me a warrior costume.”
Chirp.
Opie stopped turning, his joyous expression falling.
“Oh, right.” He nodded at Bitzy. “I heard—” Whack. Bitzy’s fingers knocked him