Page 103 of Caged Kitten

Katja

Seated in the back of a chauffeured stretch limo, Tully on my lap and Lloyd to my left, I stared out into the darkness speckled with twinkling starlight—barely visible against the hazy outdoor lighting of Xargi Penitentiary. Slowly, the driver steered us around a curve, headed out from the rear of the building and down the side, on the way to the main front gates. On a death march.

One story ends, another long, horrible one begins. Then the sweet release of death.

I swallowed thickly, hugging Tully to me and sinking into my seat, trying desperately to drown out Lloyd’s rambling. He hadn’t shut up since we left his office after I ditched the jumpsuit, where his hand had snapped around my arm and hadn’t let go until we were in the car. Even though he wasn’t touching me anymore, unless you counted his thigh jammed up against mine, I could still feel his fingertips on my skin, bruising into my flesh like claws. I didn’t dare look, but tomorrow morning, wherever I was, I knew I would find five purple marks, ugly and glaring, a stark reminder of what I was in for now that I… belonged to him.

“And the view,” he all but moaned, basically talking to himself at this point, infatuated with the sound of his own raspy voice. “Oh, kitten, you’re going to love it. Panoramic views from the master bedroom, which we will of course be sharing. I already have a new wardrobe on the way for your walk-in closet. The en suite has this spectacular jetted tub that you’ll never want to leave… And then, of course, there’s the playroom.” I caught his wicked leer out of the corner of my eye. “That’s still under construction. I’d be happy to incorporate your thoughts on the design…”

I nodded just to show that I was listening—I wasn’t really, but screw him. At no point did I want to do anything that might encourage him to grab me, shake me, or repeat any of the crap that had spewed out of his mouth. Tully carried on kneading my arm, but his claws gritted in harder with Lloyd’s gaze sweeping over us.

My familiar hated him.

Hatedhim—like I’d never seen him hate anyone before. I’d had to bear-hug him to my chest to keep the enormous black cat from shredding Lloyd’s face to ribbons the first time they met, and Tully’s yowl had ricocheted through the lobby when our new master tried to pat his head. We’d had a talk as I got ready to leave: no hurting Lloyd. It was part of the deal to keep my guys safe, and I couldn’t put them at risk. Tully might have adored all three—Rafe in particular—but his connection to me, to my emotions and sorrow and pain, might just push him over the edge.

“I thought it might be a bit obvious to go red walls for the playroom,” Lloyd said with a luxurious sigh before lunging at the champagne bottle chilling in a nearby holder. “And black is even more cliché, so I’ve got some color swatches for you to go through tomorrow while I’m at work…”

Biting down hard on the insides of my cheeks, I let my head loll to the side so I could look out the window at the gravel grounds, at the shadowy wolves patrolling the outskirts, on high alert after the riot.

Ugh. He made me sick, just being near him igniting the churn to end all gut churns, but it was my simmering magic that threatened to really mess me up. As agreed, I hadn’t been allowed a wand after Lloyd removed my collar in his office, taking his time, hamming up the creep factor with his hands around my neck, his fingers brushing through my hair, his lips caressing my ear with every disgusting word. Once it was gone, my inner well threatened to go nuclear—just spill over and erupt so that magic flooded from every pore. Only I wasn’t permitted to cast; nothing big, nothing beyond a few cosmetic glamor spells that Lloyd had approved before he sent me off to change out of my jumpsuit with a hard smack on the ass and a guard watching my every move.

If I didn’t let some of this out soon, I’d empty my guts onto his lap—and I just might never stop. My simmering magic needed an out, and it needed it now.

But I had to play the part—for Elijah, Rafe, and Fintan. I had to be a good girl if they were going to survive Xargi. Maybe they would find their own way out, and maybe they would serve their full sentences, longer today than they had been yesterday.

All for trying to help me escape…

The familiar burn of tears had me blinking hard and sniffling, tearing my gaze from the window to the front of the limo. With the divider down, the warlock driver was just there—and our eyes clashed in the rearview mirror, mine blue, his a chocolate brown that instantly had me thinking of Elijah.

The warmth of his touch.

The comfort of his presence.

The fiery rumble coloring every word—

Only the driver’s eyes lacked all of Elijah’s warmth, and despite the distance, I could practically feel his stare dripping down my body—right to my cleavage. Humiliation scorched in my cheeks, and I eased Tully up higher to shield myself as Lloyd rambled on and on about the new house. Not that Tully could cover everything; Lloyd had shoved a tiny red dress at me before he sent me off to change. Short. Tight. Thin. Useless cap sleeves and a plunging neckline. Easy to predict what my impending wardrobe would consist of if he was doing all the choosing: Lloyd Guthrie wasn’t exactly the most imaginative psychopath when it came to womenswear.

He had even given me back the enormous black heels I’d come in with and then insisted I straighten my hair. Add some color to my cheeks—I’d supposedly looked a bit pale when we met up tonight. Sickly. Shocker.

Shuddering over the gravel, the limo eased around the front of the prison, then straightened out, the guardhouse at the main gates dead ahead. Lloyd would lift the ward to let us pass, and once we were through, Xargi would disappear, forever invisible to the outside world behind the magical barrier. Lips pressed together so they wouldn’t wobble, I risked a quick look back at the building that held my fated mate captive. My vampire. My fae—prince or not, I still wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. I loved Fintan for who he was, for his humor and his wit, for his bravery and his audacity. The fact that he might be a prince never factored into anything; although Rafe’s poetry had certainly endeared me to him that very first night, and I craved his depth ever since.

Gods help me. This was it. The great stone building swam the longer I stared at it, tears blurring everything, making it so much worse. I’d never see them again. Never touch them, laugh with them, play cards late into the evening and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist—

Why are you accepting this?I faced forward with a frown, that little whisper at the back of my mind sounding more like me than I had felt in months. She was still in there, the confident business witch who had built Café Crowley from the ground up, who had been profitable for years, who loved her staff and spent most of her days smiling. A lonely witch, sure, but that Katja had been braver than the one sitting in the car tonight.

And it wasn’t magic that made her—me—brave. It was gumption and guts. It was taking a risk on a business that could have bankrupted me. It was surviving alone in Seattle, just me and Tully, after the only other member of the Fox coven, the last piece of my heart, was torn away and burned to cinders, Dad’s ashes scattered around the roots of a newly potted fern that thrived on my apartment balcony.

I… I could be her again.

Gumption and guts.

Risk.

I had so much to lose now, a found family stuck inside those stone walls, precarious, trapped under Lloyd Guthrie’s thumb—same as the Fox coven.

No more.

Be brave, kitten. I’d stopped hearing my dad’s voice inside Xargi, but I swore I heard him now, his murmur tickling my ears.

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