Rook considers me. “So that’s why you’re hiding out in here?”
“Why? You wanna break me out for some money? Prison guard salary not cutting it for you?” I snark.
“I do alright for myself,” he says, not really answering my question.
“Hmm,” I say, taking another big bite of apple.
“If you don’t want the match, why don’t you just tell the male that?” Rook asks me, like it’s all just that easy.
I give him thecome the fuck onside-eye. “Because it’sAlpha Bowen,” I answer, knowing the name alone will explain all the reasons why his question is ridiculous.
I watch Rook and wait for the telltale recognition and concern to enter his eyes, but he just looks at me blankly.
My mouth drops open in shock. “Are you seriously telling me that you don’t know who that is?” I demand, studying him for any hint that this is all some kind of ruse.
“Should I know who that is?” he questions.
I shake my head at him. “Uhhh...he’s only one of the most powerful cockatrice alphas in the world. Of course you should fucking know who that is! Did you grow up in a cave?”
Rook snorts. “No, but my lounge travelled a lot. We stayed out of the useless conflicts and the gossip.”
I pause and take a moment to try and imagine what it would be like to grow up in a lounge like that. But...I can’t. I’ve never heard of a lounge that wasn’t into power plays and politics.
“Must’ve been nice,” I tell him around another bite of apple.
“Sometimes it was. Sometimes it was lonely,” he admits, and I’m taken aback by the confession.
I study his face, and he lets me. There’s no hardened mask or defensive posture. He’s relaxed, enjoying himself even. Here, in this really uncomfortable room. How...strange.
The solitude and quiet of my cell wraps around us tightly, and it feels oddly intimate and safe in this moment. I wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met under different circumstances.
“My lounge was always up in all the shit...and it was still lonely,” I tell him, suddenly wanting him to understand that the grass wasn’t greener on my side either.
“I guess we have that in common then,” he says, surprising me. Our eyes lock, and there’s a moment that passes between us. It’s not just attraction. It’s nothing close to wariness. There’s a palpable link between the two of us that makes my heart rate quicken in my chest. We have...things in common. I’m suddenly seeing him as a person—as a fellow cockatrice. As someone who might’ve been just as lonely as me.
Shaking my head at myself, I try to sever the connection that feels like it’s trying to snap into place. Although I can tell that he feels it too. But instead of trying to ignore it like me, he’s just watching me steadily, drinking my every movement and expression in like he thirsts for it. Maybe I was wrong in my assumption. Maybe he isn’t the one that Zen was hinting at.
I clear my throat, needing to break this emotionally-charged silence between us. “Alpha Bowen is known as the king of destroyed lounges. He takes what he wants and doesn’t care about the destruction or ruin left in his wake.”
“You’ve seen this?” Rook asks, his eyes going wide with shock and worry.
I pause. “Well, no...not exactly, but everyone knows what he’s about.”
Rook raises an eyebrow in question, his stunning tropical water gaze glimmering with disbelief and reproach.
“Don’t start that devil’s advocate bullshit with me, okay?” I warn. “Alpha Bowen tried to claim me as repayment for a debt. He didn’t bother to ask me what I thought of the whole thing, just like my mat and pat. That’s all I need to know. Someone who can do that could never care about me, and I’ll fucking rot in this prison before I live under someone’s boot for the rest of my long, feather-blessed life.”
Rook raises his hands in surrender, and I bite into my apple, chewing and stewing on anger, hurt, and frustration.
“I get it. I wouldn’t want that life either,” he admits, and my seething softens ever so slightly. “So when you’re not getting yourself locked up in prison, what sort of stuff are you into?” he asks, and I’m thrown off by the question.
I groan and shake my head.
“What?” Rook demands with a smile so gorgeous that it almost has my breath hitching.
Look away, Sinclair. Do not stare directly into that megawatt smile, or you’ll go blind.The safe eclipse viewing advice feels strangely applicable here, so I’m going with it.
I turn away and stare at what I think are claw marks in the wall behind Rook’s head instead.
