by Naomi Martin
When you’re stuck in a place like this, with nothing to do and no life or future to look forward to, you find entertainment where you can. For me, that’s amusing myself with the girls, just as some of them amuse themselves with the guys. It’s like one giant incestuous pool where we pass each other back and forth. But, I mean, what else is there to do in here? Yeah, it’s led to some awkward situations and it’s caused a number of fights between various people whose feelings have been hurt, but whatever. That’s for them to work out.
Nora, a platinum blonde shifter like me that I’ve been spending time with lately, scoots over and pats the bench next to her. She thinks she’s got a claim on me just because I’ve screwed her a couple of times. But she doesn’t own me. Nobody does. That’s not how things work in here, unless you specifically declare it. There are a few long-term couples, but for the most part, relationships in the Pit are transitory. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that most of them are transactional. And that goes both ways, with both the guys and girls all getting something they want and need to deal with life in this place.
Anyway, I pretend to not see her and head across the common room, prompting her to call after me several times. I keep walking, pretending to not hear, and set my tray down on the table as I take a seat across from the intriguing dark-haired girl. Both she and the ginger—Elliot, I think his name is—look up in surprise, though Ellliot’s expression is tinged with fear and the girl’s is colored with something close to disgust.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
“I don’t think we asked you to sit down with us,” the girl says.
I shrug. “It’s not reserved seating in here, babe,” I say. “I can sit where I want.”
Her eyes flash dangerously, and a sneer touches her lips. “Don’t you ever call me that again. Who in the hell do you think you are?”
I give her a grin. “I’m the guy who’s going to show you the ropes around here,” I explain. “The guy who’s going to look out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me,” she says, her tone carrying a hard edge to it. “I can take care of myself.”
“So you said. And I like your fire,” I tell her. “But you’re new. You don’t know how life works in here.”
“I’ll figure it out,” she hisses.
“Come on, Gray,” Elliot says. “You don’t need to—”
I turn quick and glance over at the ginger. He looks away from me and falls silent, his pale skin making the red in his cheeks stand out even more.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I growl.
“Leave him alone,” the girl hisses.
“Elliot’s a pussy who spends his days hiding from people. I’ve seen him do it for years now,” I press. “If he’d maybe stand up to some of them once in a while and put them in their place, he might not have so many troubles here.”
“He’s not like you,” she snaps at me. “He doesn’t need to beat people up to show what a man he is. Unlike you, Elliot’s a good person.”
I don’t know why, but her words hit me hard. They cut deep—though I manage to maintain the scornful smirk on my face. But it’s tough to keep up the façade. Once upon a time, I used to think that I was a good person, too. There was a time when I never would have dreamed of hurting someone else. I was never a violent person and always did my best to look out for others.
But then I came into my power and everything changed. The first thing I learned after they threw me into this shithole is that you cannot show weakness. The bigger, older ones will eat you alive. You have to harden yourself. You have to learn to be mean. Violent. And you have to be willing to beat somebody’s ass, otherwise you’re going to be a walking target and when those people smell weakness, they will torment you until the end of time.
And so, just to survive in here, I had to become what I once hated the most—a bully.
“He’s right,” the ginger says, looking at the girl. “I do hide from people. I run from confrontation. I’m not a fighter. I told you that.”
“And you don’t have to be,” she says, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sadly, in here you do,” I say.
The girl rounds on me with fury in her eyes. “Why don’t you just leave us the fuck alone?” she spits. “We didn’t ask you to join us. And Elliot sure as hell didn’t ask for you to be such an asshole to him.”
I sigh, then take a tater tot off my plate and pop it into my mouth, chewing it slowly as I give myself a chance to think. I didn’t want things with her to go this way. I actually just wanted to introduce myself to the girl. Ever since we met on the stairs, I’ve felt something strange. It’s like we know each other somehow. I’m drawn to her in a way I don’t ever recall feeling before. It’s left me more than a little bit curious.
I’ve heard stories about shifters finding their mate, finding that person whose soul they connect with. There’s a world of difference between fucking somebody—even enjoying fucking somebody—and that connection between two souls. I’ve never felt it, obviously, but what I felt for the girl when I saw her was powerful. It was like the wind had been knocked straight out of me. So, naturally, I have to figure out what it is about her that’s drawing me to her so strongly.
“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’ve got no personal beef with Elliot,” I tell them. “Honestly, I hate to see him get picked on the way he does.”
“So why don’t you step in and help him?” the girl asks.
Elliot is staring down into his tray like he thinks he can crawl into it and disappear. Or at least like he wants to. We’re talking about him, but he hasn’t looked up, hasn’t acknowledged what we’re saying, and hasn’t done anything but sit there looking like a scared little kid. In this place, you can’t do that. You can’t look like a scared kid or you’re always going to be a target.
“Ain’t my place,” I reply. “Besides, how would it look if I stepped in and stuck up for him? It’d be ten times worse for him. People would think he’s my bitch or something.”
“He’s right. I’ve been here long enough to see how it works,” Elliot says, surprising both me and the girl. “And when you’re perceived to be somebody’s bitch or somebody who can’t defend themselves, it’s a lot worse.”
I chew on another tater tot, looking at the dark-haired girl. She’s gorgeous, there’s no question about it. Those sparkling icy blue eyes of hers really stand out against her midnight black hair and alabaster skin. She’s thin with curves in all the right places, and just looking at her gives me a hard on. But it’s something more than just her looks that are drawing me to her. It’s deeper. More visceral. And I can’t understand what it is.
“Listen, we got off on the wrong foot,” I say reasonably.
“Yeah, because you came off like a Neanderthal asshole,” she spits.
A grin stretches across my lips. “You’re right. I did,” I agree. “But that’s not who I really am.”
“No? Then who are you?”
“Gray Montrose,” I tell her. “Bear shifter.”
She looks at me skeptically for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m being sincere. I suppose I can’t blame her, I did come on kind of strong. But that’s just what life in here does to you.
“Raven,” she finally says. “Raven McCabe.”
“And what’s your power, Raven McCabe?” I ask. “What landed you in this shithole?”
“I’m an elemental,” she replies.
I nod. “What type of elemental? There’s a bunch of you running around.”
She looks down at the table and doesn’t answer right away. Her expression is reluctant, almost afraid.
“I’m a fire elemental,” Elliot offers.
“I still don’t know everything about my powers,” she finally admits. “I was still in the process of learning to control and hide them when…”
Her voice trails off, but I don’t need her to finish the statement to know what happened to her. Or at least to have an
idea. I’ve heard it too many times already.
“Your family?” I ask.
Her eyes shimmer with tears and she picks at her fingernails. “Killed,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “They murdered my mom and dad. Right in front of me.”
“Son of a bitch,” I say, pulling a hand through my hair.
A tense silence descends over the table as all of our thoughts turn inward, as if we’re all remembering how we ended up here. Tears race down Raven’s cheek and I’m overcome with the desire to hold her to me, to comfort her. But given that we’ve only just started speaking civilly to one another, that’d probably be pressing my luck. Still, I find the overwhelming urge to comfort her interesting.
“I’m sorry for what you endured,” I finally say.
She raises her eyes and scrubs away the tears with the palms of her hands. Sniffing loudly, she takes a moment to gather herself. And in that moment, I can see her strength, the backbone of steel inside of her. This is a girl who, despite the tragedy she suffered, is not one who will be beaten down or forced to submit. To anyone.
“I’m sorry for everything that all of us have had to endure,” she says.
“Amen to that,” Elliot adds.
And just like that, the clouds of dark tension that have been hovering over us like a thunderstorm start to dissipate. We talk and laugh, sharing stories from our pasts and getting to know each other a bit. I even find that Elliot isn’t so bad. He’s a little different than I expected him to be, honestly. He’s funny. Smart. I’ve never had a problem with him, but I wasn’t exactly falling all over myself to hang out with him. I see now that maybe that was shortsighted on my part.
All the while, though, that sense inside of me that draws me to Raven grows stronger and deepens my own curiosity. Is this what finding your mate feels like? I had always assumed my mate would be a shifter like me. I don’t know what it is, but simply being near her makes me feel somehow a little more whole. A little more complete.
I don’t understand it, but I can’t deny it any more than I can deny my own nature.
Chapter Nine
Raven
“No, no, no,” Gray says. “Like this.”
I watch as Gray steps around and unleashes a flurry of punches at the bag, each one landing with a hard, solid thump that rattles the entire thing. We’re in a gym filled with all sorts of weightlifting equipment—which, to my mind, only adds to the whole prison motif of the place.
The “amenities” in the Pit seem more like the kind of enrichment activities they give animals in a zoo. The rudimentary gym, even more rudimentary library, and a few other things we’re “given” are designed to help keep our minds occupied. Keep us from thinking about, let alone plotting, an uprising in here.
Of course, the silver collars we’re all forced to wear effectively hamper any potential revolutions.
There are maybe a dozen or so people milling about the gym. I see three guys lifting hard but the others are standing around in clusters, talking and gossiping together. Honestly, though, in a place like this where nothing happens, I have zero clue what there is to gossip about.
He steps aside and helps position Elliot where he wants him, then moves around behind it, holding it in place.
“Okay, combination. Right, left, right,” Gray instructs. “And go.”
I sit on a nearby bench watching as Elliot throws the series of punches at the bag. The impact of his fists are far softer and less solid than Gray’s. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t a fighter. But I give him props for trying to learn to defend himself. And I also give props to Gray for taking the time to teach him when he didn’t have to do anything to help him.
The last few days, the three of us have hung out together almost exclusively—much to the chagrin of some obviously upset girls who clamor for Gray’s attention. But he’s blown them off, choosing to spend time with Elliot and me instead.
And I have to say, the fact that it seems like Gray’s taken Elliot under his wing is not only unexpected, I think it’s downright adorable. They actually seem to get on pretty well together, which is surprising. They seem so opposite from one another, but really seem to enjoy each other’s company now that the ice has been broken between them.
“Good, that’s better. A lot better,” Gray says. “But you’re still not following through. You need to follow through with the punch. Here, like this…”
He bounces back on his heels, hands up in the position he’s been teaching Elliot, and snaps off a wildly flurry, his movements so fast I can barely even see them. But he connects hard with the bag, sending it swinging wildly on its chain. Elliot looks from me to Gray, obviously impressed but looking a little intimidated.
“Follow through. It’s important,” Gray tells him. “You’re not a small guy. You could do some real damage if you wanted to.”
“But I don’t want to,” Elliot says.
“No, but you should know how to defend yourself,” Gray urges. “You may never use what I’m teaching you, but you should know it, nonetheless. Could save your life.”
I watch as the boys grow absorbed in their lesson and let my mind wander. They’re so different from each other, but they’re both also very handsome. And I can tell they’re both trying very hard to win my affection. Elliot is sweet. He’s just naturally kind and compassionate. He has a streak of empathy in him a mile wide, and it’s something I absolutely adore about him.
Gray, on the other hand, is a bit rough around the edges. He’s very plain spoken, to the point that he sometimes comes off as rude. Over the past few days, though, I’ve learned that he’s not really like the front he puts up. While he doesn’t have Elliot’s capacity for kindness and compassion, he’s not without his share of both traits. Away from the others and out of their eye, he’s a far different person. He’s caring and empathetic, very solicitous of my thoughts and feelings.
I get the feeling that Gray isn’t being that way with me as part of an act, a ploy to get into my totally gross institution panties. The Gray I’ve seen behind closed doors over the last couple of days is the real Gray Montrose, I’m sure of it. Yeah, he may still be growly and act like the tough guy when we’re around people, but I’m starting to see through it. It’s a front. A role he has to play. I don’t think you can be as kind as he’s been when we’re not in front of people if you’re not naturally inclined to be that way.
“Good, good.” Gray nods and slaps the bag. “That was real good, man.”
The three of us have formed a small, tight-knit unit. Despite a rough start, we gravitated to one another so quickly and have bonded so closely, it’s almost like we were supposed to be together. I see the looks we get from some of the other prisoners and it’s obvious they don’t like us—the girls, mostly because I’m taking Gray’s attention away from them—but he doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. And I have to admit, as vain and shallow as it is, I like having the attention of the boys focused on me.
From a practical standpoint, they’ve both helped me get settled into the routine of the place and learn some of the ins and outs. They’re teaching me who to avoid and who is okay to hang out with—which, in their opinion, is pretty much only them. Without their help, I don’t know how I would have ever gotten acclimated to life in the Pit. There’s still a lot I need to figure out, but they’re teaching me.
But the best thing about our little clique is the fact that they’re with me so much that it’s kept Captain Sherman at bay. Oh, I still see him cutting glances at me when he patrols the area. He looks at me in ways that make me feel uncomfortable as hell and I can all but read his mind. Sherman wants nothing more than to get me alone with him—a thought that makes me shudder in both revulsion and fear.
But with Gray and Elliot by my side, he hasn’t pushed it. And they both seem to have come to some sort of unspoken agreement that I’m never to be left alone. That one of them will be with me at all times. Their protectiveness is cute, and it’s also appreciated. I like
to think I’m tough and can handle myself, but deep down, I know that without my powers, I’m vulnerable. And I hate that.
“Okay, good job, man,” Gray says. “Keep workin’ on it, then I’ll teach you somethin’ new.”
Elliot nods eagerly. “Thanks, Gray.”
They both stand before me, sweat running off of them in sheets. Elliot is trying to catch his breath but has a smile on his face. He seems to be enjoying the newfound camaraderie with Gray. I’d also have to say that Gray is enjoying their friendship, as well. And for my part, I’m enjoying my time with the two of them. I like being around them. I like their company. They make being in this hellhole a lot more tolerable. I’m able to bear it because I have them both by my side.
But more than that, there’s something about being with the two of them that feels like doors inside of me have been opened. Yes, there’s the physical attraction I have to both men. I’ve never had a crush on two people at once, and if pressed to make a choice between them right now, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Selfishly, I like them both. It’s an unexpected thing, for sure. I never would have thought I’d find myself attracted to anybody in prison, let alone two boys. And yet, here I am.
But the doors opening inside of me have nothing to do with romantic feelings one way or the other. I feel my power churning inside of me, like it’s growing and gaining strength. It’s like Gray and Elliot were the keys that unlocked something in me that allows me to tap into more strength and power than I ever have before.
Or, at least, something that lets me know it’s there. I haven’t had the courage to try using my power again. The last two times I tried, it ended with excruciating pain and I’m not in a big hurry to repeat that mistake. Which is frustrating as hell. The power is there, it’s mine for the taking—more power than I’ve ever known. But I’m too scared to even try tapping it. These fucking collars are the most evil, draconian devices ever made and the fact that my people—elementals—made them for these bastards makes me sick.
“I need a shower,” Gray says.