Psychic Prison

by Veronica Agnus

  His slow nod was followed with him returning to his seat. Taking a few more sips of his coffee, he lowered it back to the circular marble table between us.

  "In order to become your master in this stupid prison, supernaturals have to participate in underground bidding."

  "Underground bidding?" I questioned and scrunched my face. "That's like...underground cage fights?"

  "Somewhat," he sighed and leaned back into the seat as he lifted his arms to place his hands behind his head.

  "Long story short, it's a place where supernaturals of high status, rank, or wealth bid on prisoners across the world. Apparently Psychic Prison is number two on the list of supernatural prisons, the number one being in Dubai. I only discovered it thanks to Lyla's tracking skills. It's extremely hard to locate since they change the location for every meeting. New prisoners are auctioned off, and usually, it's an intense battle to claim a prisoner that carries a unique trait or birth origin."

  His eyes burned with fury while appearing to be reliving the ordeal in his thoughts. "I underestimated how crazed some of these shifters were. I technically shouldn't be able to tell you this much, but it may be that our mate bond overrides the magical NDA in some instances.”

  "What happens when you say too much?" I inquired, my lingering concern being him getting hurt due to oversharing.

  "Could potentially die," he began, then paused when he noticed my wide eyes. He quickly added, "However, there are steps to that. I'm not feeling the initial constrictions that usually involve troubles with breathing and speaking so we're good for now."

  "Okay," I replied but lowered my mug to the table and peered into his eyes. "Please don't push it. I may be curious, but not enough to risk your life."

  "Yes, marked butterfly." His saucy grin was matched with a wink of pure cockiness.

  "I take it back."

  "Don't be like that." He quietly chuckled, the sound making me grin with admiration for him. Now with some knowledge of our past, it was easier to give in to my feelings around him and not feel awkward or crazy for loving what I originally believed was a stranger.

  "Anyway, due to how quickly they moved to put you on the bidding board, neither of us had the time to research just how much money we'd need. Never would have thought these bids would surpass millions in seconds. Obviously, I know your potential and worth, but these individuals were fed what they wanted them to believe."

  "They were told I killed one thousand supernaturals and lived to tell the tale?" I concluded.

  "Yes," he replied. "But your name isn't one unknown to many supernaturals. I think those who know the history of the Butterfly family and who you once were can already dream of what destructive force they could build by claiming and morphing you into what they desire."

  I gulped at the thought. I may have been in the dark about how powerful I was, but no way did I want to be a tool of destruction. If it wasn't for my confidence in myself, I would have felt immense guilt for killing one thousand prisoners.

  The loss of life was sacred, but I only cherished the lives of those who were truly innocent.

  "So these individuals know who I was and want to take advantage of my captivity by buying me. What makes them believe I have to obey?" I inquired.

  "Well, you're technically in prison for a crime that is on your record. You lose your freedom the moment you're guilty. Go against that, you'll become an outlaw, especially if you end up escaping this place, which I’m sure you've noticed is rather easy."

  "Which you'll explain in a moment?" I encouraged. He bobbed his head in agreement and carried on, "As an outlaw, there's a time limit for your return. There's also the slight chance that you're proven innocent and the charges are dropped. However, if the time passes, then you're considered a villain or criminal. Then it's up to you to mold your destiny by proving your innocence. Almost like trying to discover a saving grace in a world that is desperate to see you shattered beneath the piles of lies and deceit."

  "They do this to their own kind and those who do know of this can't say shit because of NDAs and the possibility of yourself or those you love dying. They're forced to keep quiet and watch helplessly," I concluded. "Unless you actually win."

  "Essentially." He closed his eyes for a moment, and my heart began to increase its pace out of worry. "Atticus?"

  "I'm okay, just need a moment." He took a few calming breaths before his now tensed body began to relax. "I said too much."

  "Are you able to talk about why this place's security is a joke?" I hoped to change the subject from what he couldn't talk about to something less risky. He was already looking slightly pale, and I was positive if we stayed on course with this conversation, I'd accidentally kill my husband.

  "Yes," he replied. "It's all on purpose. Generally speaking, they want to see if supernaturals would choose to escape knowing the consequences they would bare."

  He reached for his mug, while I reached for a sugar cookie.

  "Isn't it obvious that freedom is something that is worth the risk of consequences?" I commented.

  "Yes and no." He sipped more of his coffee, the slight drain of color from his complexion beginning to return now that we weren't talking about the details of the bidding.

  "Yes, because when you escape and prove your innocence, you get to enjoy the task of getting payback." He closed his eyes. "The dangerous part of that plan is if your escape plan fails and you get brought back. From what Lyla gathered, the consequences are ones you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. You either become a guinea pig for experiments they wouldn't try on humans or even animals, or, if they deem you worthless, they throw you onto Level Four."

  Before I could ask, he opened his eyes and continued, "Level Four is for individuals with godly status. It's a place where demigods, extremely rare supernaturals, and omega beasts reside. They throw you in there and it’s game over. No one survives, from what Lyla concluded."

  "Delightful," I mumbled and reached for my mug. I worked on finishing the remainder of my coffee, and Atticus ended up doing the same.

  When we were both finished, he moved on.

  "Essentially, when bidding for you, the price got too high. We're extremely wealthy due to our line of work. However, we were reaching the billions."

  My jaw went slack at the news. The mere idea of me, Alisha Butterfly, the girl with forced amnesia, being worth a billion-dollar price tag was making my stomach churn in anxiety.

  "If you remember just how powerful you are, Alisha, with your family’s background, you'd understand the price tag." I wasn't sure if his assurance made me feel any better.

  "So...what happened then?"

  "Since I was about to lose, and so was a group of three supernaturals, we decided to join forces."

  "The four of you against this individual?" I inquired.

  "Yes." He seemed displeased about the competition. "He was a pain in the ass. Wealthy supernaturals like that don't come out of the woodworks for no reason, especially with how last minute the bidding gathering was."

  "You believe he was tipped off," I concluded.

  "Definitely. Whether he's the reason for your current predicament or is working alongside someone else of a higher power, it was obvious when we won that he wasn't pleased."

  "Do you think he'll try to talk to these other three supernaturals and convince them to give me to him?"

  "Doubt it." He scowled at the idea. "They apparently have an interest in you."

  "I'd take it as a compliment if we weren't in prison," I noted. "Why do I have a feeling they want me for more?"

  "They do." Atticus grimaced. "They may want a relationship."

  "I'm married." My blunt response had him grinning again. The action made my heart skip while my stomach fluttered at his approval.

  "Don't do that," I grumbled.

  "Do what?"

  "Smile."

  "Oops. I let my emotions slip," he sarcastically stated and purposely grinned wider. "Is that better?"

  "That's an
even bigger grin then the last, and wow. Your teeth are super white."

  "I wonder how long they'll last with you?" he randomly noted as he inspected me up and down.

  "Now I'm insulted."

  "Meaning you, or one of your random personalities that like to pop in?"

  "Didn't you describe it as me bouncing off moods and not actual personalities? You make it seem like I have bipolar disorder or something," I complained but leaned back into the seat. "Plus, you're making it sound like a flaw."

  "It's not to me." He gave me a sly grin. "But maybe they'll dislike it so you’ll remain mine."

  "Possessive," I concluded and closed my eyes. "That's one of your qualities, isn't it?"

  "If it makes you feel better, you love that about me," he acknowledged. "And aside from my possessiveness, low level of patience, anger tantrums, and killing sprees, I'm a pretty nice guy."

  I poked an eye open just to give him a judgmental stare.

  "Honesty gets you a long way." He winked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Anything specific you want to know? Lyla's telling me we're going to have visitors shortly."

  "You guys can communicate telepathically?" I inquired.

  "Lyla can. I can respond to her but that's it. As for us, we can speak to one another through our bond, but it may take some time since you have a few walls up."

  "Walls?"

  "You don't one hundred percent trust me."

  "I trust you enough to have sex," I noted.

  "True, but do you trust me enough to catch you if you fell from ten thousand feet?"

  My silence answered his question. He didn't seem to take it offensively.

  "Aren't you mad?"

  "Why?" He shrugged. "I can't expect you to suddenly trust me with your life when it took years to get you to lower those walls. If I have to do it all over again, I will. That's how much you mean to me."

  "So honest." I felt the hotness in my cheeks as I looked away.

  "Still nice to know my honesty make you blush." He rose up and walked over to me. "We should go change into proper attire."

  "Back into the dress?"

  "Do you want to wear that one?" he countered. "You have a wardrobe full of clothes to choose from."

  "Aren't I supposed to be a prisoner down here? How do I have a choice of attire?"

  "Your captivity is based on our rules. I told the others your attire would be non-negotiable unless for training purposes. Monarchs are still royalty and you deserve to wear what you're comfortable with unless asked otherwise for special occasions like meeting your three other masters."

  "So if I wanted to walk around naked, you'd be fine with that."

  "No."

  "Okay, respectable clothing. Got it."

  "You like randomly pushing my buttons."

  "Better than slapping googly eyes on your ass," I randomly replied, my eyes focused on the last bits of twinkling lights as the image began to dim. I rose up but tried to determine what else we needed to discuss in this limited time.

  "Tattoo," I emphasized the single word and looked up into his intrigued eyes. "Earlier. Before, when you used that hypnotic shit on me. By the way, if you do that again, I’m kicking you in the balls.”

  His lips curled up just slightly at my bold comment before I moved on, "I saw you have the same tattoo that I do. This one."

  Pointing to the black ink design, I looked at his left arm and how bare it was. "I'm sure I saw you have the same thing."

  "You're not wrong," he calmly replied.

  "What does this tattoo mean?"

  "That's something I won't answer," he admitted. "It's a special meaning between us and I want you to remember it."

  His reply felt a little harsh to me, and I looked back at my tattoo in hopes that it would trigger a flashback of some kind. Nothing happened, which left me in a bit of a moping mode.

  His heavy sigh caught my attention, but my head lifted up slightly and warm lips pressed onto mine. The kiss was tender, rich with love, and I allowed myself to soak up the brewing compassion as we deepened the kiss.

  Only a minute passed before he broke it, but he kept our distance close while he whispered, "It's symbolic to who we are. To what we've always aimed to achieve. That's something I need you to discover on your own, or you won't obtain the same feeling of empowerment as it once delivered."

  His eyes twinkled with pride as he smiled just slightly.

  "Just know that I'm on your side, even when I'm a jackass. We're married, partners, and destined mates. Carry that knowledge with dignity, and after we've done introductions, we'll get into details before you really start this daily prisoner life."

  With one peck on the lips, he moved away, his scent still wrapped around me like a glove. He headed for the door but paused before it.

  Turning around, he was in front of me once more. I looked at him in bewilderment, but he took a step back, reached for my right hand, and lifted it up until his lips pressed against the back it.

  "Atticus Phoenix," he formally introduced. "Phoenix is my dragon and I'm twenty-seven years old."

  We're five years apart.

  "We'll talk more about our past later, and any other questions you suddenly have. If you need anything woman-wise, Lyla can cater to your needs. Simply state her name and she'll show up."

  "How-"

  "She's an owl shifter. They can listen to words that drift through the air. When you say her name, she'll know where you are. Sometimes it may not work depending on where you are in the prison due to the few barriers they have up, but down on this floor, you'll be just fine."

  He let go of my hand and grew serious.

  "We'll have to find you a servant or two once you get used to the prison schedule. If you have anyone in mind, let me know."

  "Does them being my servant give them immunity of some sort?" I inquired, the random thought of Kitty coming to my mind.

  "You have someone?"

  "She was ordered to get me some food from that underground cafeteria. I'd have to learn more about her, but my gut tells me she's not here on normal circumstances."

  "Whoever you deem worthy of being around you is fine by me. If you want this woman acting like a servant to remain off-limits by those who want to screw her over, we can get that arranged. Just be careful about making too many friends."

  "I feel as though I'm not the friendly type."

  "You aren't." His smirk was priceless. "You normally hate people. That includes any type of supernatural."

  "Yet they think I'm shy." I dramatically sighed.

  "Good alibi if you wanna kill a bunch of people." His compliment made me grin widely.

  "You get me."

  "Just as you understand me." His solemn words made me reach out to him, and before I knew it, we were hugging.

  "I'm not sure how long it'll take me to remember my past, but please know that I want to. I'll figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, please...stick by me. You're the only one I feel comfortable showing this side to, but know the moment we walk out these doors, we're back to bold supernaturals with a cold anger complex."

  "Understood," he whispered and slightly hugged me back. "As long as I get to slap your ass once in a while."

  I leaned back to give him a look. "You have no shame."

  "Why should I? If I like my woman's ass, I like it." He emphasized his statement with a slap to my ass.

  "Hey!"

  "Company's here."

  He was at the door and opening it up before I finished a blink. "A new dress is laid out on your bed. I already made it so when you walk through the door, you'll be in the middle of your designated room. Guess we'll be doing the tour after our conversation and just to warn you now, this is merely one out of four parts of this floor. You'll get acquainted with it soon enough, but remember you're not the only one down here."

  The last part of his statement was a cold reminder of this new circumstance.

  "Understood." I gave him a firm nod and he took one long glance
my way before he bobbed his head and left.

  With a heavy sigh, I peered down at the plate of cookies.

  "All mine," I declared and took the entire plate.

  "Why do I have a feeling he left that there on purpose?" Saphire pondered.

  Welcome back.

  "I never left, you know," she pointed out. "Merely giving you privacy."

  Thank you. It's appreciated. All of this...is really overwhelming, and it's as though we're not getting a break to absorb it all.

  "We'll get one soon. Surely after this introduction."

  I'm nervous.

  "As we should be." Saphire wasn't going to sugar coat this for me. "We may now know what I am, but that doesn't aid us in this place, especially on this floor. After introductions, we need to formulate a training plan. We can walk the walk just fine within these walls, but if someone picks a fight, we're going to have a problem."

  Couldn't agree with you more.

  Heading to the door, I walked out two steps and was in my designated room as Atticus had instructed.

  Peering over to the bed, I saw a gorgeous purple dress that shifted to black and had little black rhinestones that morphed to purple on its way down. The dress would hook around my neck, had no sleeves, and would fit me like a glove.

  Yup. Just the way I like it.

  Walking over to the mirror, I took a moment to stare into my reflection. This day was going to lead into a long night, and I probably wouldn't sleep until early morning, but at least I'd know where I stood in all of this.

  It was about time for me to take control of what was mine, and that all started with surviving this place that would be a mix of heaven and pure hell.

  It's time to meet my three other masters.

  Four Supernatural Masters Of Fate

  "Of course I'd struggle with this damn zipper!" I cursed. "Saphire? Don't you know some juju spell to fix this?"

  "Nope." Her honesty made me groan.