Blindly Indicted

by Katie May

  Abel pretends to hold a microphone in front of his face and begins to sing about how I have a friend in him. And that I can lean on him when I’m not strong.

  I wonder if he wrote that himself.

  I can’t help but crack a smile, my fear diminishing, as he skips around the room air-drumming on the others’ heads. When he reaches Damien, the mage recites a single word in a weird, melodic language, and the demon collapses to the ground, unconscious.

  At first, I think Abel’s antics are merely that: stupid, childish antics.

  But then I recognize them for what they actually are when a soft hand grabs my elbow and pulls me into a tight embrace.

  Abel was the distraction.

  In the span of seconds, Kai has me in his arms and is gradually backing away from the tiger. My body goes limp and pliable in his embrace, unwilling to fight him. Maybe, if I go willingly, I can stop any unnecessary bloodshed.

  Through Kai’s eyes, I can see Mr. Scruffles stare at me forlornly. His dark, penetrating eyes dig through layers of skin and bones and carve out a piece of my very soul.

  “Kai,” I whisper. “I promise you. He’s a friend.”

  “He’s no friend, Nina,” he responds darkly.

  Damien moves in front of us, blades extended, and I begin to struggle futilely.

  “Don’t hurt him!”

  “He’s a shifter, stupid girl,” Cain drawls from where’s he standing above his brother’s body. When I turn toward him—in tandem to Kai turning—he flinches, as if my attention physically pains him. His eyes drift to his brother as his lips thin into a solemn line.

  Fire lights inside my stomach and spews out in my next words. “Go fuck yourself, Cain.”

  Everybody pauses.

  Everybody.

  Even Damien and Mr. Scruffles, currently engaged in a standoff.

  My cheeks blaze red, and I have the ridiculous urge to bury my face in Kai’s neck. I can’t remember the last time I allowed my anger to get the best of me. Maybe years ago, after a particularly brutal beating.

  At the Compound, I learned that anger only led to more pain. If I gave the men and women a reaction, my own torment would only increase. That fear had been as effective as a gag.

  “Did she just curse?” Abel murmurs groggily. I imagine he’s still lying on the floor, but Kai has already looked away.

  I’m instantly swamped with guilt, and I know I need to apologize to Cain as soon as possible.

  “Babygirl,” Kai says, changing the subject. “He...Mr. Scruffles...he’s a shifter.”

  I remember Kai telling me about shifters. They have three forms. A small animal form, a large one, and a...

  The tiger’s body begins to fizzle and ripple like a mirage. I plaster myself against Kai’s hewn-from-stone-body and gasp as I watch the shift through his eyes.

  As the intense glow fades, Mr. Scruffles is no longer a cat or a tiger.

  He’s a man.

  Oh my god.

  I’m such an idiot.

  Even as I think that, I can’t ignore the fact that he’s the same animal who had stayed with me when I broke apart. Comforted me. Was that his act? Did he merely want to lure me into a false sense of security?

  He appears to be only a year or two older than me. His tanned skin is the color of burnt porcelain, and his muscular arms are sleeved in tattoos—everything from roses to wolves to lions. More tattoos are visible on his defined pecs, curving lower. His straight brown brows shadow even darker eyes, as dark as onyx stones. Puckered lips and a lip ring complete the bad boy look. His dark brown hair is buzzed on the sides with slightly longer waves on top.

  And he’s naked. Butt naked.

  I immediately pull out of Kai’s eyes before I catch a glimpse of his...thing.

  “I can’t control it any longer,” a guttural voice rumbles from behind me, and a current of heat travels down my body at the primal sound. Bronson. He must’ve shifted into his human form at some point.

  “Hold it in, wolfie!” Damien snaps.

  “He can’t control the mating call any more than I can,” an unfamiliar voice says in a lilting accent. Is that... is that Mr. Scruffles?

  Mating call?

  My head swarms with confusion like a nest of angry hornets. A knot the size of a walnut forms in my throat.

  “Control your fucking wolf,” Kai rages, but before he can continue, I’m plucked out of his arms and thrown over someone’s shoulder.

  Bronson’s, if the muscles are any indication.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal, slapping at his rock hard backside. My cheeks flame when I realize my hand drifted lower than I’d intended.

  Behind me, I hear Abel whisper to someone, “He needs this. We’ll find them in a moment.”

  Needs what?

  What does he need?

  We walk for only a few minutes before I’m gently placed on a warm bed. The smell reminds me of Bronson—no specific fragrance comes to mind, but it’s both masculine and musky.

  Bronson, with a huff, begins wrapping me in blankets until I can’t even move my fingers. I remain rooted in place, more confused than anything.

  One second I think the men are going to kill my cat...errr...not my cat...

  And the next, I’m being mummified by a shadow wolf.

  Only when I’m safely cocooned does Bronson stop growling. He places his head in my lap with a happy hum.

  “It’s his wolf,” Cain says scathingly from somewhere nearby. Bronson tenses, his growls returning, before he calms back down. Cain must’ve done something to placate him. “He needs to protect you. Nurture you. Be near you.”

  “Why?” I whisper, and I’m surprised when I realize my voice is soothing Bronson, which only exacerbates my confusion. His growls gradually decrease until they turn into contented purrs. He nuzzles his face against my neck, his beard prickling my skin.

  I can hear the smirk in Cain’s voice when he answers, though it now comes from farther away. “Long, long story, Trouble.”

  “Where’s Mr. Scruffles?” I whisper, terrified of what Kai and the others will do to him. I know now that he’s not actually a cat, that he lied to me, but I also know that he saved my life twice since I arrived here.

  “They’re just having a conversation,” Cain replies amusedly.

  Why don’t I like the sound of that?

  Chapter 19

  Mr. Scruffles

  Well...

  This is fun.

  Hanging from the rafters in the “king’s” throne room is exactly how I thought my day would end. Add onto that the brutal beating his mage pet is inflicting...

  Oh! Shiny!

  My eyes latch onto the silver ring on Blade’s finger as another punch connects with my face, ripping my precious lip ring out.

  I have been betrayed by the shiny.

  “Now, now, boys, that’s not very nice,” I gasp as blood forms in my mouth.

  “Cut the shit, Rion,” Blade growls. Honest-to-fuck growls. A little dramatic, if you ask me, but I’m not one to...

  Oh. Is that a new ring? I always knew he had the one on his right hand, but the one on his left looks brand new. Rings are a bitch in a fight.

  “What were you doing with Nina?” Mage Bitch asks coldly. I don’t think that’s his real name—pretty sure it starts with a B or D—but us shifters always refer to him as Mage Bitch or Blade’s Bitch. Both anagrams work.

  Mage Bitch is a scary fucker with cold eyes and an even colder smile. The man’s colder than an icicle. I’m pretty sure his balls are cold too...you know, blue balls.

  Speaking of icicles, I’m rather parched. Hanging from the rafters while being tortured does that to a man. Perhaps if I ask nicely, they’ll humor me with a glass of water?

  It’s sort of ironic that they would hang me from the ceiling considering that’s how I stalked Nina the majority of my time here. Technically, I wouldn’t consider my actions “stalking.” It sounds much darker than what it actually was. I much prefer “watching
someone without their knowledge or permission.” It’s all about the words.

  Damn. I’m a poet. I should really consider a career as an author—

  Mage Bitch places his dagger against my throat.

  “Start talking,” he hisses darkly.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I blow at a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to my blood-soaked mouth. “I’m her mate.”

  Blade roars and barrels forward like a bull. Both Man Whore and No Love hold him back. Yes, those are the names we have coined for the twins.

  Man Whore... do I really need to explain? The trickster demon has more lovers than I have tattoos on my body, which is fucking saying something. We once joked that his dick is actually a fish that dies if it doesn’t get wet at least twenty times a day. Of course, he hasn’t used one of his playthings in days, not since Nina arrived. The women of the prison have begun to grumble.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman without cock.

  Okay, I apologize if that’s sexist, but you haven’t met the women in this prison. They scare me more than their esteemed “king” does. And yes, king was said sarcastically.

  I really want him to take a running dive off a cliff—

  Damn. I can’t wish for his death, not when he means so much to Nina. My heart refuses to allow me to continue that thought.

  I want him to get a nasty, painful sunburn every day for the rest of his life. And he’s not even allowed to put ointment on it. Ha!

  There. That’s better. My amended statement gets an internal smile from me. Apparently, Blade is allowed to endure menial torture at the hands of the dreaded sun.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, shifter scum?” Blade demands, shaking off the twins and stalking closer. I give him an indolent look.

  As a shifter, I have a lot of the same characteristics as my animals. That means I’m a lazy bitch who gets distracted by—

  Blood.

  I glance down at where Bitch Mage’s—or is it Mage Bitch’s?—dagger breaks skin.

  Son of a biscuit.

  “Are you supposed to be her mate too?” I direct at a glowering Blade. “Because you’re a pretty shitty one.” Smoke billows from his nostrils, and scales erupt on both his cheeks and arms. Little mister dragon is close to losing his self-proclaimed cool. “You didn’t bother to ask her who her visitor was, did you? What if it was someone from her past? What if she was hurt? You are just so stuck in your ways—”

  The scariest roar I’ve ever heard reverberates through the room. Even Damien, normally calm and collected, blinks rapidly. Blade looks seconds away from sinking his teeth into me, but I know I have him. Hook. Line. And sinker.

  Without a word, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, no doubt to take Nina from her other mate and coddle her. I wonder how that will go.

  Wolf Man seems like quite the intimidating asshole. It goes against his primitive instincts to share his mate. If I had to take a gander, I would say he currently has her wrapped in a cocoon—symbolizing a wolf’s nest—and is hand-feeding her berries. He’s also probably growling and barking at anyone who gets too close.

  Obsessive bastard.

  Not that I can blame him.

  I am the one who hid in the rafters and watched her as she slept. Again, not in a creepy way. More in a “you’re my mate and I must protect you” sort of way. What can I say? Cats love climbing. And hunting.

  Especially tasty treats like Nina.

  Turning toward Mage Bitch, I flash him a cocky smirk.

  “What are you going to do now that your master is no longer here?” I query with genuine confusion. “Can you even piss without his permission?”

  His eyes flash with unparalleled fury, and I know I hit a sore spot. Really, that should be the first indicator that I need to shut the fuck up, but my mouth doesn’t know when to stop. I can’t even blame the cat in me because while cats are prissy, they’re not stupid.

  “How does it work? Does he bend over and have you wipe his ass? Do you use your tongue? That’s pretty kinky, if you ask me. It’s kind of sad, really, how little he values you. I mean, you’re the most powerful person in the Labyrinth, maybe the entire prison, and yet do you think he’s going to allow you near his precious mate Nina? Hell no. I see the way your eyes follow her—like she’s the only thing that matters. You want her...but you’re never going to have her. He won’t let you. Not someone as dark and twisted as you.” I physically bite down on my lip to keep from going off on another rant.

  Really, Rion?

  For a moment, I think he’s going to kill me. I can see the intent in his eyes, the tautness of his muscles, the tension swarming through him like a thousand gnats.

  Instead, he lowers his knife.

  “You saved her?” he asks, brushing the blade on his suit sleeve. Crazy fucker. How he maintains his immaculate appearance while simultaneously being a psychopathic serial killer remains a mystery to me. I’m always drenched in blood and guts after I make a kill. And then I spin around in a circle singing, “Don’t you rain on my parade.”

  It’s a cat thing.

  “Nina?” I clarify, realizing I have yet to answer his question. At his impassive look, I nod like a fucking bobblehead. “Oh yeah. Twice. Like a badass motherfucker. Why do people say motherfucker, by the way? Because you can bet your mage ass that I never fucked my mother. That bitch is long dead. Anyway, yes. I killed two people. Disgusting men... I’m talking about their tastes, by the way, though their personalities were something else too. The first one put his hands on my girl. I couldn’t let that stand. Bitch had to be taught a lesson.” I cackle malevolently. Honestly, I sometimes terrify myself, but in a loving way. Can you lovingly terrify yourself? “The second man was a guard.” Red flares over my vision as I think about what he tried to do. What he almost did.

  “Did he suffer?” Mage Bitch, sick fuck, looks as if he’s seconds from orgasming in his pants.

  “Not enough.”

  “Hmmm...” He slides the dagger cleanly into his suit sleeve. “Next time, come get me.”

  “So you’re not going to kill me?” I inquire, quirking a brow at him.

  Yes, Rion, remind the psychopath that he wants to kill you.

  Fucking shit. How did I live this long again? Oh, yeah. I started my own fucking rebellion and murdered everyone who got in my way. Duh.

  Whistling beneath his breath—I’m pretty sure it’s some Beyoncé song—Bitch Mage meanders away, probably to go creep on Nina.

  Now it’s only me and the twins remaining.

  Man Whore is staring at me with wide eyes, a mixture of bewilderment and awe in his gaze. No Love is scowling, though that’s not a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man smile.

  “You gentlemen going to let me go?” I question, pulling at the restraints. They’re laced with magic designed to damper a shifter’s natural strength. Only a very powerful mage—or in this case, Bitch Mage—is capable of performing such a spell.

  “Mommy, I’m scared,” Man Whore whispers to his brother, continuing to cast me side-eyed glares. No Love rolls his eyes to the heavens.

  As the two of them depart as well, I call to their backs, “Don’t mind me! I’ll just be hanging around!”

  Of course, I begin to cackle hysterically.

  Sigh. The things I do for love.

  Chapter 20

  Nina

  I wake up wrapped in blankets with a possessive wolf humming beneath his breath. I untangle myself quickly from the heated death trap and attempt to get my bearings.

  Blinking sleep away, I cant my head to the side and follow the music. The second I’m in range, Bronson hooks an arm around my waist and deposits me onto his lap. An enticing smell permeates the air, and I slide into Bronson’s mind to see already cut pancakes slathered with syrup on the table.

  “How long was I asleep?” I question as he stabs a slice with his fork and feeds it to me. The last thing I remember was verbally sparring with Cain and then Kai arriving. My dragon h
ad kissed my forehead, promising me we’ll talk in the morning, before unconsciousness claimed me.

  “Hours,” Bronson huffs, offering me another bite of pancake. I open my mouth obediently, and he slides it in.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. “For taking care of me.”

  His chest rumbles, and he mutters something nonsensical before hugging me closer to him.

  We eat for a moment in silence. Well, I eat. He feeds me. I’ll never admit to anyone how much I like being taken care of. It’s a drastic change from the vulnerable, little girl I had been only a few months ago forced to survive on stale bread and dirty water. The girl who couldn’t trust anyone, because everyone had an agenda. The girl who trembled at her own shadow. The girl who embraced the darkness because the light was too much for her to bear.

  “Where are the others?”

  “I’m hurt, Angel, that you didn’t notice my captivating, magnetic presence earlier,” Damien answers dryly, and I startle. Bronson whips his head in the mage’s direction.

  He’s standing in the shadows of the cell like some sort of avenging angel of death and destruction. As always, he’s immaculately dressed in another pressed black suit and stark white shirt. His black hair is styled away from his face, the perfect combination of unruly and gelled. Staring up at him...

  It’s the same as glancing at your feet only to discover you’re thousands of miles above ground on a tightrope. There’s danger in his eyes, a savage type of beauty.

  “The others are sleeping,” Bronson whispers, focusing back on the plate of food.

  “And Mr. Scruffles?” I tentatively inquire. A snake pit has formed in my stomach, and the slithering reptiles are hissing at me, their venom a physical pain.

  “Mr. Scruffles,” Damien snorts. “That’s a good one. But alas, your pussy is still alive and well.”

  Bronson flicks his gaze upwards and growls. Though my vision of the mage is slightly askew, I’m able to see him twist his dagger between his fingers, the blade slicing at skin. Blood wells, a bright startling red against his porcelain skin.