Blindly Indicted

by Katie May

  I don’t like this.

  At all.

  My dragon hisses and howls, my struggles renewing with vigor. It takes time, but I’m eventually able to overpower Damien’s magic and break free from the manacles which lowers me back to the ground.

  Eyes reptilian slits, I hurry to Nina’s other side.

  Her skin seems to...glow. That’s the only word I can think to use, but even that doesn’t fully encapsulate what I see. A golden sheen surrounds her still body, haloing her dark hair and pale skin. It flashes like errant fireworks with each breath she takes.

  “What the hell is she?” Abel gasps, and I don’t like the expression on his face. It’s too wistful, too needy, as if he wants to lock her away and keep her to himself.

  Come to think of it, I don’t like any of their expressions. Cain’s eyes are narrowed suspiciously, and Bronson’s normally broody mask has been removed, revealing adoration and worship.

  And Damien? He looks as if he found a brand new toy to play with. Something shiny to covet as his own.

  Fuck, I need to get her out of here.

  “Is there anything you want to share?” Damien asks me once again, voice curt and succinct.

  I glare at him in return. He seems to have forgotten that I’m the leader. The king.

  “Let’s take her somewhere she can be more comfortable,” Abel suggests, bending to take her from Bronson.

  The shadow wolf growls, arms grasping Nina’s shoulders to hold her still. All four of us raise an eyebrow at that. His behavior is extremely territorial, possessive. Unlike anything I have ever seen before. Bronson doesn’t have girlfriends. Hell, he barely even has lovers.

  He’s almost acting as if she’s...his mate.

  Oh.

  Fuck.

  Without a word, Bronson scoops her up in his arms and carries her to a diminutive room dug into the wall of the one we’re in. There’s only one door leading in and out. Though I don’t like having her out of my sight, I know she’ll be safe and protected with us here.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Cain begins, brows furrowed. “And I’ve seen a lot of nasty shit.”

  “She’s not nasty,” Abel protests, hitting his brother on the back of the head. Cain scowls once at Abel before turning on his heel and stalking away.

  Only when he’s gone, do I turn toward the two that remain. Damien’s expression is as impassive as always, but Abel is looking longingly in the direction Nina and Bronson disappeared in.

  “She’s mine,” I stress, voice more dragon than human. Fire licks at my skin as I survey the threats to my mate, my beloved.

  Damien smirks coldly, grabs a dagger out of his suit sleeve, and moves to sit in front of the bedroom door. Abel merely stares at me quizzically for a moment before placing a hand on my arm.

  “Don’t start a war that you can’t win, brother,” he advises.

  And with that ominous statement—threat—he takes off after his twin.

  What the fuck am I going to do now?

  One thing is certain. Brother or not, friend or not, inner circle or not, if any of these men decide to hurt Nina, I will not hesitate to kill them.

  It was my hesitation to kill that separated us in the first place.

  Chapter 14

  Nina

  I’m dreaming...but I’m not.

  At least, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It almost feels as if I’m in someone’s head again, but that’s impossible. I haven’t ever slipped into someone’s head while sleeping before.

  The man whose head I’m in is staring at Abel.

  “You don’t get to be an asshole and walk away,” the trickster demon is saying assertively, arms moving in a flurry of motion.

  That’s strange. Usually, I can’t hear through the head I’m in, only see. This must be a dream.

  A very, very realistic one. From the scattering of freckles on Abel’s nose to the slight wave of his blond hair, my memory has conjured up an exact replica.

  “Don’t talk to me like you understand.” Cain’s voice reverberates all around me. Deep. Husky.

  Abel’s eyes flash darkly. “I was in Beaunique too. Don’t act like you’re the only one who has shit to deal with.” He takes a step closer until he’s nose to nose with his brother. “But stop dragging her into your problems.”

  With that declaration, he turns on his heel and stomps away. Cain waits until he’s out of sight before releasing a guttural roar, knocking a stack of books onto the ground. His breathing is ragged, erratic, as he sits on a bed and places his hands on his knees.

  From this position, I can see that he is in the cell he shares with his twin. While the others consist of single beds, theirs has a bunk bed resting against the wall.

  Cain abruptly jumps to his feet, grabs a sheet off the bottom bunk, and hooks it in front of his cell as a sort of makeshift veil.

  He seems to be hesitating—his movements slow and uncertain—as he opens a drawer and grabs a bottle.

  His gaze lowers to his pants as he unzips them, freeing his...

  Oh my god.

  If I was in my body, I’m sure I’ll be bright red by now. It isn’t the first time I have seen a...errr...cock, but it’s the first one I’ve seen that sent a lustful fire through me. It’s longer and wider than any I have ever seen before, the tip slightly bent.

  Cain lathers his hand with the liquid from the bottle before stroking the length of his throbbing cock.

  I shouldn’t be watching this.

  I really, really shouldn’t be watching this.

  He begins to stroke himself faster and faster, his other hand cupping and fondling his balls.

  What am I doing?!? I shouldn’t watch this. Oh god, what is he going to think of me? The last thing I want to do is violate the privacy of someone who already hates me.

  It’s a dream, Nina. It’s not real.

  A white liquid squirts from the tip as he roars out what sounds like my name. For a moment he sits there, breathing heavily, before grabbing a towel and wiping at his dick.

  Did he just say...?

  Oh yeah. I most definitely am imagining things.

  But when did my dreams get so vivid?

  I wake up confused and bedraggled. All I can recall are fragments of the strangest dream...

  A warm body is on my breasts, purring contently.

  “Mr. Scruffles?” I ask gruffly, blinking rapidly to orient myself to my surroundings. I feel something soft and fuzzy beneath my back. Dimly, I can hear muffled voices as if coming from the next room over.

  Where am I? How did I end up here?

  My mind replays the moments leading up to this, and I gasp.

  No. No. No.

  Kai’s feral smile...

  Glowing eyes...

  Scales clamoring up the side of his neck...

  Claws...

  I can feel my panic beginning to rise, but I push it down, burying it in an iron sarcophagus. I can’t allow myself to believe the worst of Kai. Not after everything we’ve been through.

  Surely, he has a reason for doing what he did.

  Surely.

  Surely.

  Surely.

  Can I really defend a monster?

  A tsunami of pain crashes over me, and a single tear slides down my cheek. I try to ignore the current of anger and betrayal swirling through my mind.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, I focus on Mr. Scruffles on my chest. Absently, I begin to scratch behind his ears.

  “You came back,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his furry head. “Where did you go?”

  The cat, of course, doesn’t answer, but his purring intensifies. A scratchy tongue presses against my cheek, and I giggle, swatting the cat away.

  “Ewww. Stop.”

  The cat suddenly jumps to his feet and bounds off the bed a second before a door opens and closes. I slip into his mind just as he hides beneath a table, staring intently at the approaching feet.

  I pull back into my head as someone sits on
the edge of the bed. Though I can’t see him, his presence is unmistakable.

  “Bronson,” I whisper, hesitantly playing with the edge of the blanket.

  He leans in closer, warm breath that smells distinctly of peppermint wafting across my face, before pulling away abruptly. He grunts something nonsensical.

  “You probably have some questions,” I venture. I had, after all, passed out in his arms.

  Bronson grunts again, but this time, I take it as an affirmative.

  “I can’t...” he begins, trailing off and clearing his throat. His voice is deep and raspy, husky almost, and sends tremors of heat straight to my core. I can’t quite understand my visceral reaction to the large man before me. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m protecting you from.”

  Protect me? Why would he want to protect me?

  Is Kai forcing him to?

  Questions continue to pile up in my head, but I swat them away impatiently.

  I’ll confront Kai...later. Once I wrap my head around everything I had seen.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” I whisper, lowering my eyes down to the blankets. I can’t see him, but he can see me, and that is an unnerving sensation.

  “Try,” he growls, but I know his ire isn’t directed at me, but the situation.

  “I don’t know you,” I begin, and this time, his growling increases, and I know it’s directed at me. Blanching, I attempt to curl in on myself, make myself as small as humanly possible. My instinctive reaction elicits a curse from the large man, and he rises from the bed, footsteps pacing the room. “Kai told me not to trust anyone.”

  “You can trust me,” he protests vehemently. “I will never hurt you.” There’s no doubting the sincerity, the passion, in his words. A lump forms in my throat, making it impossible to swallow.

  “Why? You don’t know me either.”

  He doesn’t respond, and I wonder if I struck him speechless. I tend to have that effect.

  The bed dips as he sits back down once more.

  “Ask me anything,” he demands, his voice still that sultry growl.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ask me anything.”

  “Umm...” I tap a finger against my chin. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “White,” he replies gruffly. “It’s the color of your eyes.”

  My heartbeat, which had returned to its normal rhythm, speeds up once again.

  “What’s yours?” he asks, and then immediately curses. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “Pink,” I admit shyly, lowering my eyes once more. “I like pink.” It had been my favorite color to see in the Compound. One of the workers, Anya or something, always wore that color. I thought it was pretty and happy, a vibrant hue that broke apart the drab grayness I had grown accustomed to.

  “Pink,” he repeats, and I can’t quite read his tone. “When did you lose your sight?”

  “I don’t remember,” I admit hesitantly, “but I must’ve been really young.”

  “So how do you know what pink looks like?”

  The tension in the room is so thick I’m gagging on it. Trembling, I wrap my arms around my stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” Bronson says abruptly. Gruffly. “I didn’t mean to sound confrontational.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmur. His face is suddenly inches from mine, his spicy, masculine scent surrounding me. Embracing me. It’s the strangest thing—he’s an absolute stranger and yet I feel the irresistible need to lean into him and revel in his warmth. My heart is palpitating in his presence. Overcome by emotions I can’t quite put a name to, I place a hand on his shoulder and push him back.

  “So... you’re a shadow wolf,” I begin, desperate to change the subject. I want to tell him everything, reveal to him my deepest darkest secret, but a tinny voice in my head warns me against it. I can’t trust anyone, even friends of Kai.

  Even handsome wolves who make my heart do funny things in my chest.

  I recall his beautiful wolf form. Glossy black fur. Sharp canines dripping with saliva. He had been terrifying, but at the same time, heartbreakingly gorgeous and majestic.

  “Yes,” he grunts, and I wait, wondering if he’s going to say more. Bronson doesn’t seem like the type of man who talks more than he has to, though. After a moment, he places a hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze. “I can shift into a wolf.”

  “Well, that’s kind of obvious,” I reply with a smirk. His chuckle is dark and seductive, a surprisingly addictive sound.

  “I can shift in the shadows at any time,” he continues.

  “Kai mentioned that you were born this way. How else can you turn?” There’s so much about this world I don’t know. How can you turn? A bite? Scratch? Is it painful? And are both his parents wolves or only one?

  Silence descends between us, suffocatingly pronounced. It feels as if his eyes are infernos burning my skin.

  “Yes,” he settles on at last, and he doesn’t elaborate. I don’t ask him to. The silence between us is precious, precarious almost, and I’m afraid that it will inevitably implode.

  “What do you like to do?” I blurt, cheeks burning. Once more, he gifts me with his rare, salacious chuckle. He really should laugh more—he’ll have the world eating out of his hand...paw.

  I imagine his smile is wolfish when he speaks next. “Hunt.”

  Goosebumps blossom on my skin.

  “I used to run with a pack,” he admits, and his tone takes on a wistful, dreamy quality. “My momma and sisters, my cousins, my friends.”

  “How old are your sisters?” I imagine my voice is the same as his. I’ve never had sisters...or family. Heck, I never even had friends. I can’t quite ignore the pang of jealousy that grips me.

  “Marbella is sixteen now,” he tells me. “And Lola will be thirteen. And Ali, if she was still with us, would be seventeen.”

  “What happened to Ali?” I ask on bated breath, though a part of me is dreading the answer.

  “She was killed,” he states at last, voice matter-of-fact.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know my condolences aren’t necessary. There’s no amount of apologies I can give that will bring back his sister.

  “She would’ve liked you, you know,” he says. I smile softly.

  “What was she like?”

  “Wild. Crazy. Compassionate. She loved life and everything in it.” There’s an obvious smile in his voice as he talks about her. Love and warmth emanate from him in waves. This girl—this wild, crazy, compassionate girl—had stolen his heart and irrevocably broke it.

  I have the strangest need to comfort him, to wrap him in my arms and assure him that he’ll survive this. His scars are still raw, still bleeding, and I desperately want to provide that thread that stitches him back up. The need is almost a physical compulsion, my body arching toward his.

  Before I can give in to these primal urges, the door to the room is pushed open, and I jump, shrieking. I immediately shy away, cowering beneath my arms.

  “Bronson,” Kai snaps.

  The wolf growls low in his throat. “What?”

  “There’re guards here.” I can hear the barely contained rage in his voice, a current of anger spiraling through him. Bronson hisses slightly.

  “Why? They never fucking come down here.”

  I don’t need vision to know Kai is looking directly at me. “They’re here for Nina. Apparently, she has a visitor.”

  I don’t get a chance to ask the thousand of questions mounting in my head before the pain begins.

  Chapter 15

  Nina

  Have you ever stuck your finger into an electrical socket before? I did, back at the Compound. Not willingly, of course, but I still remember every excruciating detail.

  A white light burst behind my eyes, and a humming sensation ran through my veins. My skin tingled, itched, as I experienced a momentary paralysis. During that agonizingly long second, on the grimy Compound floors, I thought I was going to die.

&nb
sp; Actually, I was certain of it. As my body lit up like the Christmas trees Kai used to tell me about, I succumbed to my fate.

  That’s what it feels like now—an electrical current coursing through my body, setting my skin and nerves ablaze. I scream as white-hot pain pierces me in the gut. Somewhere in the distance, the noise muffled, I hear an enraged snarl and a startled cry.

  “What’s happening?” I sob, rolling off the bed and pressing my face against the floor. Both Bronson and Kai release identical pained growls before first one thump and then another resonate all around me. Their growls cut off abruptly.

  Panting, I search for the nearest mind, only to come up empty. Either they left the room...

  ...or they’re unconscious.

  Or dead.

  My head is spinning, reeling, turning constantly. I’m unable to grasp one thought through the blistering, agonizing pain.

  Footsteps echo around me, and I eagerly slide into the nearest mind.

  Dozens of guards in navy blue uniforms surround me, weapons strapped across their chests. One of the men steps forward, kneeling before me. He’s only a few years older than I am with light brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and malevolent smirk. He pushes at my shoulder, and I release a whimper at the contact. My body still feels as if it had been set on fire, stomped on, and then skinned alive.

  All of which I had endured more times than I can count.

  “She’s strong,” the guard murmurs, poking me. “Most can’t stay conscious for more than a second.” I want to swat at him, demand he stop touching me and ask him about the others, but I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, only a scream will emerge.

  Pain. So. Much. Pain.

  It’s a tsunami crashing over me. Consuming me. Drowning me.

  “How is she still conscious?” the guard whose head I’m in says to no one in particular. He turns, staring first at an unconscious Kai partially shifted into his dragon form and then at Bronson, fully shifted. My heart cries out as I note their limp bodies, closed eyes, and stilled chests.

  No. No. No. No.