Conveniently Convicted

by Ivy Asher

  “For my collection,” he replies ominously as he slams the door behind me, and a speckle of magical smoke bursts out from the lock to seal me in at the same time that the chains around my limbs and tail disappear in a puff.

  He walks away, and I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to make of that. Miffed, I pet the spot on my tail that’s now a feather down before turning around to take in my surroundings.

  “Ahh. Cell sweet cell,” I say as I breathe in the nice stagnant air.

  Seeing the extra prison-issued uniforms that are waiting for me on the bed, I gather them and set them on the small desk that sits at the foot of the bed on the same wall. I have a metal toilet and a small sink in here, and that about rounds up the decor. Directly across from me, I can see a wall and the very edge of another prisoner’s iron bars, but at this angle, I’m not able to see the supernatural inside.

  I release a relieved sigh. I settle back on my lumpy bed with my hand under my head, ready to live the Nightmare Penitentiary life.

  Ah. I’ve never felt so free.

  By the time the cell doors open for dinner, I’m starving.

  I’m going to have to get my new system worked out here. The holding jail was super easy to bribe some guards and ally with other inmates to get the good shit. Like Pop Rocks candy and extra pillows. Luckily for me, I was pretty much made for this prison life. There’s no way this place can be harder to navigate than my family.

  I don’t need my matriarch and patriarch to sell me off to be mated to a shifter who just wants me for the alliance and money. I’m not property to be auctioned off, and I’ll be damned if I’m forced to become a trophy mate hanging off some douche’s arm—or worse, under his thumb like I have been with my mat and pat my whole life. No thanks.

  Unfortunately, when your lounge leader decides to mate you to someone, there is no telling them no. I’d be exiled, clipped, and stripped of the Denali name, and that’s if I’m lucky. I’m never lucky, and my no would most likely be a death sentence, even though my matriarch is my damn mother.

  But getting imprisoned? There’s nothing my mat and pat can do about that. Shifter packs aren’t above supernatural law. It can’t be held against me, and there isn’t fuck-all they can do about it. This is my self-induced vacation. The perfect way to get away from everyone trying to dictate or steal my future.

  By the time I get out of here, Alpha Bowen will have moved on to someone else, and my matriarch’s anger will have faded. Hopefully. Now I just need to make sure this vaycay lasts longer than a year.

  I walk in line with the other inmates as we head down the drab gray corridor with a pretty yellow line painted down the middle. I let the movements of the other convicts direct me where to go. After passing the rest of the cell block and heading up a set of metal stairs, the herd of gray clad bodies spills into a large cafeteria room.

  It’s like the Great Hall in Hogwarts except with fluorescent lighting, cement picnic style benches, and it smells like toe-cheese. Okay, so it’s not like the Great Hall at all. It looks like it’s segregated by cliques and gangs rather than Houses. There are definitely no Hufflepuffs up in here.

  I look around the tables, my eyes scanning over everyone. I see a dozen gorgons in the far corner, their hair snakes hissing at one another. They all start laughing as soon as I come in, like they can sense me even though they’re all wearing iron blindfolds. I guess that group is gonna need more time to warm up to me.

  There’s another group of some vampires with a posse of fang bangers hanging all over them. Most of the vamps are forgoing the food completely and are just sucking on willing veins instead.

  I don’t blame the fang bangers at all. I’ve been bitten by a vamp once at a rave. I orgasmed on the dance floor just as soon as their sharp teeth pricked my skin. Vamp venom is a very powerful aphrodisiac, but the crash afterward is a bitch. It was like coming down from the highest of horny highs to dealing with the world’s worst PMS lows. I ate an entire palette of cookie dough ice cream, texted my ex, and plucked out way too much of my eyebrows.

  The fang banger option is gonna be a hard pass for me.

  Turning around, I head to the buffet-style assembly line and pick up a red plastic tray and empty paper plate. The male in front of me turns around and growls when I accidentally bump into his back.

  I roll my eyes. “Calm down, Big Bad Wolf. It was an accident.”

  “The fuck you say?”

  Groan. Wolf shifters think they’re such hot shit. They’ve fancied themselves the public’s favorite shifter ever since Twilight came out.

  “Go huff and puff on your little piggy, mmkay?” I tell him with false sweetness.

  The wolf shifter looks at me incredulously, and he’s a big dude, but the way he’s squinting at me makes me think he’s a little slow.

  I hear a female snicker behind me, and I shoot her an awkward thumbs up where my hand is still clutching the edge of my tray.

  He, in turn, tosses his tray to the floor with a loud clack—needlessly wasting food, I might add—and faces me, rolling back his shoulders like he wants to intimidate me. “I will fucking crush you, lizard girl.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh, this is gonna be my first prison fight!” I say with excitement. I set my tray down responsibly and then rub my hands together and bounce from one foot to the other. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll give you the first punch.”

  His bushy brows pull together. “Huh?”

  I pat my chest. “Just not the face, okay? I’ve managed to go this long without a broken nose, and I’d like to keep it that way,” I explain. “I know that might not sound like a big deal, but I’m very scrappy. I got in a lot of fights as a kid.”

  He hesitates, like he’s not really sure what to do with me. We’ve created a scene by now, and the entire cafeteria has quieted down to watch our exchange. The workers serving the food ignore us completely though, and the guards stationed along the walls look like they’re taking bets. I wonder if I can get in on that action?

  “Just to be clear, what does the winner get?”

  “What?” he snaps.

  “Bragging rights? First turn at the toilet? You become my prison bitch?”

  A new growl bursts from his chest, and then he charges at me. I jump out of the way, watching as he spins on his heels, fury in his eyes.

  But before he can pummel me, the same female who laughed earlier steps between us smoothly and tosses him a bored look. She’s wearing the same gray scrubs as everyone else, and she has black dreadlocks pulled back at the nape of her neck, dark skin, and golden eyes. She also has a metallic-green tattoo of a tiny lotus flower beside her left eye that seems to shimmer slightly. “Beast, stop your growling and go lick your hairy balls,” she tells him.

  “Fuck off, Zen. This is between me and the lizard girl.”

  I crinkle my nose at the nickname and hold up my finger, leaning around Zen to speak. “Excuse me, if you’re giving out prison nicknames, can it be something better than lizard girl? Because I can’t work with that one. There’s no amount of bedazzling that can make that look good on the ass of my pants. While we’re at it, let’s think up something new for you too. Beast is just so...predictable. And let’s be honest, Belle and that library-giving hottie she’s with really fucked with the terror that the name Beast used to evoke.”

  Beast seems to get irrationally angry at that statement and just starts growling at me like crazy. I blink at him as he starts frothing at the mouth, tawny hair breaking out over his skin.

  “He’s gonna get the collar!” someone yells out with excitement.

  Sure enough, as soon as Beast starts shifting on all fours, some of the prison guards rush over and clamp a metal collar around his neck. His body pauses mid-shift. Everyone winces and oohhh’s. It looks painful as hell, and a shiver runs up my spine at the sight of a shifter stuck in their shift. The unnaturalness of it messes with me, and I watch as he’s led away like a stray to the pound.

  The female, Zen, turns to me
and shakes her head. “Damn, girl. I’ve never seen Beast hate someone so much at first sight.”

  I shrug and pick up my tray again. “I’d say that was a new experience for me...but I’d be lying.”

  Snickering again, Zen follows me as I continue back to the food. The rest of the inmates in line are still paused, watching me. They’re blocking the goods, though, and I really am hungry, so I start to elbow my way between two of them as they watch me, shuffling over awkwardly. “I’m just gonna slide past you and get some of that coleslaw.”

  I serve myself, piling up the creamy cabbage deliciousness in one high mountain. I don’t know what it is, but I just love cafeteria food. I flourished in elementary school. “Mmm. Perfect.”

  One of the cafeteria servers comes up and dumps down some tuna casserole next. I fill up the rest of the plate with that and some red Jell-O. I love red Jell-O.

  Pleased with my collection, I turn to figure out what table I’m going to sit at, but Zen stops me as I pick out a small carton of milk. “Can I get some strawberry milk instead?” I ask the servers. The female in the hairnet rolls her eyes and dumps more plain milk into the barrel. I guess that’s a no.

  “Come on,” Zen says to me. I notice she’s opted for a plate full of cornbread. I respect that. “You can sit with me.”

  “Which one is your group?” I ask as I follow her.

  “Does it matter?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.

  I nod. “It does. It’s very important to assimilate myself in the correct prison gang on my first day,” I explain. “It has to be a group strong enough that the other gangs won’t fuck with us, but not top dog because then that would mean we would always be fighting for dominance, and that shit is exhausting.”

  “You’ve thought a lot about this.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve been getting ready for prison for months now. I had to up my time table last-minute though, so I’m not as up-to-date on all the pruno recipes as I’d like to be, but it is what it is,” I tell her on a shrug.

  Zen eyes me for a beat before she chuckles and jerks her head in the direction of a cement picnic-style table with a matching cement bench on each side. Immediately, two inmates grab their trays and move, clearing the way for her. She gestures for me to have a seat, her golden eyes gleaming. I cop a squat and take her in with a new light.

  Hmm, Zen is someone here. I can tell by the way the other inmates react around her.

  I shove a massive spoonful of coleslaw into my mouth and chew while I wait. She’ll either explain the deal around here, warn me, challenge me, or continue to size me up like she’s currently doing. Surprisingly, I don’t get a threatening or even a dominant vibe from her. But it’s clear by the way others are side-eyeing her that she should be added to my do not fuck with list.

  I try the tuna casserole next, and I can’t help the face I make or the noise that sneaks out of my mouth. “So damn good,” I chirp as I swallow the delicious bite down and immediately shove in another. I know I should be getting the lay of the land right now, but this is delicious.

  Zen chokes on the bite of cornbread in her mouth and gives me an incredulous look. Huh, maybe the cornbread sucks here? I make a mental note to avoid it.

  “What’s your name?” she asks after she clears her airway of the offending bite. She opens a carton of milk and downs it.

  “Sinclair,” I offer around another massive bite of tuna casserole and coleslaw. Man, this combo is fucking glorious. “But if you’re handing out nicknames, I’m a fan of Rainbow Dash, because...color, and let’s be honest, she’s by far the best pony. Or, if you want to go the other direction, I’m a personal fan of Baby Shanks. Speaking of, can you point me in the direction of someone who needs to be shanked? I have a sentence I need to get tweaked. I also want to get a shank shack going. Think people would pay good money for some nice shanks in here? I need funds for snacks.”

  Zen stares at me like she’s not sure if I’m serious or not. Why do people keep doing that? Is it so hard to believe that someone might actually want to be here? I mean, with food like this, it can’t be that far-fetched of an idea. I take a bite of my pretty jello and groan. Yep, I’d shank a ho for this jello, no questions asked.

  Zen smirks like she just heard that thought. She leans back and gestures over to something and starts to talk, but a flash of fluorescent green snags my attention. I watch as several guards enter the room and take up position where the guards who carried out Beast were previously standing.

  Each of them wears crisp navy blue uniforms with their names stitched in white on Velcro-attached name tags over their left breast pocket. Their pants are tucked into black combat boots, and their waists are circled by utility belts with all kinds of goodies attached.

  Some of them are beefy as fuck, and some are the definition of dumpy, but the one with the bright hair who’s slowly circling the perimeter of the lunch room has my entire focus. His hair style is trendy, a short crisp fade on the sides and a nice disheveled coif on the top, but the color is blowing my mind. It starts out fluorescent green at the front and graduates ombré-style into a darker jeweled green tone, then into turquoises, electric blues, and finishes as a deep royal blue at the base of his skull.

  Those colors are drool-worthy. But as my eyes track down, I notice his tail, his scaled tail with the feathers on the end...just like I have.

  Fuck.

  I’m immediately drawn in and sucker punched. Because whoever this guard is, he’s a cockatrice, and that is a serious fucking problem for me.

  I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything. My kind doesn’t associate much with other cockatrices outside of our lounge. We have a get together every five or so years where lounges come from all over the world so we can keep an eye out for potential mates, but I’ve never seen this guy.

  I’d remember him.

  Bronze skin, forearms I want to lick, tall and muscled with a straight white smile, bright turquoise eyes, and fucking dimples. Dimples! What sort of female can go up against that?

  I’m immediately on guard. My tail twitches with both interest and annoyance, and I sink down and hope I’ll continue to go unnoticed by him. He lazily makes his way around the lunch room as my synapses fire off with all the possibilities that could explain his presence here.

  Could he be an Alpha Bowen henchman? Or someone my mat and pat hired to get me out of here and bend me to their will? Is the ether blessing me with eye candy? Or is his presence a simple coincidence, and I’m reading into it because that’s what I’ve had to do my whole life in order to survive? I simmer in my thoughts and paranoia, wondering what the hell I should do.

  I stalk him like prey with my eyes as he moves through the hustle and bustle of the room. Fellow guards greet him as he passes and so do some of the inmates. More than one of the convicts in this room swoons and sighs as he graces them with a dimpled, gleaming smile.

  I bet he smells good.

  What?

  I jerk myself away from those thoughts and try to figure out what to do. He’s making his way closer to where I sit, while Zen is still chatting away, but thankfully, he still hasn’t spotted me. I’m not sure what I’ll do when he does. He’s getting closer.

  Will I see recognition in his bright turquoise eyes? Ten feet away. Attraction? Eight feet. A death sentence? Six feet.

  Shit!

  Just when I think I’ve finally escaped all the anxiety and stress, this fool has to walk in and ruin it. Four feet. Anger blooms in my chest as he gets even closer. Two feet. Nope. I can’t let him fuck this up for me. I can’t.

  I meticulously fold my paper plate into a pie shape and move it and my milk carton to the table. He’s right beside me now but still hasn’t looked my way. I grab the empty tray with both hands, stand up, rear both arms back, and let ’er rip.

  Smack!

  He grunts as the tray makes contact with his head. I’m so fast that he doesn’t even get a hand up to help protect his gorgeous face.

  Shouting so
unds off all around me, and I’m only able to get in one more half-cocked whack before something presses into my side, and my body lights up with pain.

  I drop to the ground and fold in on myself, electricity and satisfaction surging through me. I clench my teeth as my vision tunnels, and all I can see are pairs of black combat boots as they step into my shrinking line of sight right before I pass out.

  3

  I smack my lips together to combat the dry cardboard thing currently going on in my mouth. A rhythmic beeping calls my attention, but the feel of cold metal around both of my wrists seems like the more pressing issue to focus on. I groan and work to force my heavy lids open. I blink the room into focus and then jump when I realize there’s someone standing close to me...just watching. Creepy.

  She has skin the color of cream with Kool-Aid red hair and brows. The intricate braids in her tresses and the pointy tips of her ears give her away as fae. But the vicious vertical scar that starts mid-forehead and runs down past her left eye, ending at the apple of her cheek, is not something most fae would have. Fae are vain as fuck, and they also have healers, so the scar on this female’s face, along with the glint of mania in her jade green eyes, immediately sets off the beeping monitor that’s recording my now rapidly pacing heart.

  She watches me with cold interest. I’m not sure what to make of it. I test the cuffs around my wrists, and a clang fills the room. Yep, I’m definitely shackled to a bed.

  “My name is Dr. Brina. You’re in the medical ward of Nightmare Penitentiary,” she tells me in her smooth feminine voice.

  I look around at the gray stone walls and floor. I guess I’ll just have to take her word for it, because nothing about this place—well, aside from the hospital bed and the heart monitor—screams medical ward to me.

  “Do you often suffer from psychotic episodes?” Dr. Brina asks me, her head tilting in a creepy way as she waits for me to answer. She must read the confusion on my face, because she elaborates. “You attacked a guard...unprovoked.”