Jay
Caleb left me down here with another pair of his men, and one of them can’t stop ogling me. It’s the same smoldering look Caleb gives me, but it doesn’t elicit the same burning feeling in my core.
I’m no stranger to someone wanting me dead. I just didn’t think I’d be back here, trapped in a cage. At least for now, this guy is on the other side of it. And as long as he remains that way, the beast inside remains at bay.
I’m slumped on the ground with one knee pointed to the ceiling and the other extended. My elbow rests on my knee, and my eyes are trained on the men. One thing I learned in my time fighting, no matter how much I want to, I can’t be the first to look away. Showing any sign of submission can invite predatory behavior. So here I am, having an unwanted stare down with the ugliest motherfuckers.
Yay me.
Moments that feel like an eternity pass like this. Finally, he looks away. Which means now I can stop looking at his stupid face.
But just when I think my nightmares are over, this tiny loss—that should be meaningless—enrages him. And that was my other concern: whether his tiny ego could handle the loss.
His hands ball into fists. “You rogues are all the same.”
Here we go.Another privileged male to tell me how I’m the same as everyone else when he’s probably never even had a real conversation with a rogue before.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Enticing him isn’t necessary because I don’t want to kick his ass in front of his friend. Ignoring him would only rile him up. Even if his friend also shares the same smug look on his face that I’d love to punch clean off it. I also don’t want to rile him up by ignoring him. So instead, I try my best to disguise the disinterest in my voice as curiosity and say, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“They steal and murder. Completely uncivilized. They give wolves a bad name. And they always smell bad.”
“Not me. I’ve had a bath, thank you.”
Okay, I shouldn’t have said that, even if it was a little funny. But if I don’t make a joke, I’ll get snippy. Why does everyone act like they are above judgement. They hunt, don’t they? Which means they kill. It’s so hypocritical.
“Did I say you could talk?” he bellows.
His yelling causes my wolf to rise to a stance. She’s slowly waking up.
Well, there’s no turning back now.
I pick a small pebble of concrete off the floor, rolling it in my hand before tossing it at the wall. Fuck my life.
Now seeing that de-escalation is futile, I toss aside the bigger person act. “Ooh, testy, aren’t we?”
He cranes his neck. “What’d you just say to me?” The other pushes off the wall, his post, to step closer to the cage. He’s just as quick to rage as the other.
I sigh. I’m going to have to fight them both, aren’t I?
My wolf paces, eager to play. We don’t like being caged. Add the taunting, and now you’re just asking for it.
Nonetheless, if I can avoid it, I will.
I exhale audibly and shake my head. “Nothing. I said nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I know what you did to my friend.”
I tilt my head. “Which one?”
“Barrett. The guy whose... penis you broke,” Thing One says.
I tap my chin. “I broke two penises. So, forgive me if I don’t recall which one.” I’m hoping this little reminder will deter them from taking things further. “But was he the one with the eye twitch... ?”
“Yeah, that’s him!” Thing Two says enthusiastically.
Thing One hits Thing Two’s shoulder.
“Oh. I mean...” His tone returns to aggression. “You know the one, bitch.”
