Page 24 of Enemy of the State

I’m notgood. I have no moral compass. The only guide I follow is the one I’ve created, which consists of two self-imposed rules: children and animals are off-limits, and I never kill if I don’t want to. That’s it. There’s no level of depravity I won’t stoop to.

Digs, along with four other guards, appear before my cell. I don’t attempt to stop the amused snort I emit.Of course he brought back-up.

My captor unlocks the cell and swings the door open, filling the doorway with his large frame. He’s got to be around six-foot-four, maybe six-foot-five. His wide, muscular shoulders fill the space and the tight army-green T-shirt he has on does nothing to hide those mouthwatering biceps or forearms. I’m abso-bloody-lutely an arm woman and all I want to do right now is sink my teeth and nails into his hard muscles. I bet he tastes the same way he smells: like pure masculinity.

I don’t allow my thoughts to show on my face, maintaining the same cocky smirk I’ve worn since Digs and his posse arrived. He steps inside my space, his attention wholly on me, and I resist the urge to clench my thighs together. I can confirm that the mask is still doing it for me. He tilts his head to the side slightly, scrutinizing me, as his intense gaze continues to pour over my body before settling on my face. I wonder what he sees.

The dense air in the cell seems to thicken to the point where it’s hard to draw a breath. It feels as if the predators residing within each of us are warring over the limited oxygen. My snake uncoils herself, fixating on her prey, baring her venomous fangs, hungry to strike. His inner-wolf snarls, peeling back his lips to display his razor-sharp canines, his hackles raised for attack.

Several beats pass before Digs asks, “Are you going to behavetoday, or do I need to have one of my friends here secure you with a straitjacket?”

My eyes dart around the sliver of space next to Digs’s body and find a guard holding the aforementioned restraint, and that’s going to be afuck nofrom me.

Instead of telling Digs that, though, I reply casually, “I suppose that depends.”

“On?”

As I toy with him, my playful smile grows. “On second thought, I prefer to operate on a moment-by-moment basis.”

I don’t miss the roll of his eyes before he turns, retreating toward the hallway. He pauses at the opening to my cage, where he glances at me before ordering me to follow him.

“Oh my God, are we going somewhere?” I feign delighted surprise, staying rooted to my spot in my cell. Flirting with his patience is becoming quite the pastime.

“Let’s go, Lou.”

Lou.I loathe that my exasperation with him calling me that is waning. Outside of my brother’s use of the moniker, people only ever refer to me by my full name, until fuckingDiggory. Unlike when it comes from my brother in a playful, loving way, it sounds like a dark, sinful promise every time it leaves Digs’s lips.

“Where are we going?” I inquire in vain. As expected, no one answers me, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I start for the hallway, my bare feet following behind Digs.

I saunter past the guard holding the straitjacket, then two more I don’t recognize, and the other guard who came to collect me yesterday. As we turn down the next hallway, Digs finally deigns to answer my question. “We’re going to have a little chat.”

My lips twist into something wild and grotesque, and I use it to mask my relief. Torture, I can handle.

“Don’t tease me like that, Digs.”

I’m spread eagle on an X-cross similar to a St. Andrew’s cross, with my wrists and ankles secured to the four corners. Digs disappeared after strapping me to this wooden contraption, and I haven’t seen any of the guards since they shoved me into our usual room.

Having been left in the center of the space, I’m able to take stock of my surroundings, but I don’t find anything out of the ordinary: the light from the camera in the corner still blinks at me, tools still line the shelves, the metal cabinet still looms large in the corner.

The irritating thing about this cross is that there’s nowhere for your head to go. Far too much energy is expended simply to hold it up, and it’s uncomfortable as hell for it to loll backwards; it’s worse when your head slumps forward. They’re obviously designed that way—along with immobilization—but it’s aggravating, nonetheless. I’ve never been attached to one of these crosses before, but I have secured someone else to one to play with. The memory makes my lips tip up into a smile.

Digs reappears after fuck knows how long, dragging a metal chair behind him, the sound scraping down my body like nails on a chalkboard. He shuts himself inside the room and positions the chair against the wall directly across from me. Taking a seat, he rests his boot-clad ankle over his utility trousers and plucks his combat knife from its slot at his waist.

My eyes scan his masked face, searching for a change in his demeanor, but I don’t find anything out of the usual. Of course, there is the glaring fact that Honey Eyes—nor anyone else, for that matter—doesn’t appear to be joining us today. I wonder what that’s about.

I’m not so obtuse as to think that Honey Eyes keeps Digs in check, considering the icy coldness that frosts over his golden eyes when I’m pushed past the point of agony, but something about having him here is moderately reassuring. As if his mere presence keeps things from spiraling out of control. It’s been clear from the start that Digs runs this entire show, but the ease with which he and Honey Eyes interact indicates that they have a relationship that goes beyond that of a commander and subordinate.

Digs begins to pick at the callouses on the palm of his massive, veiny hands with the tip of the menacing blade before asking casually, “You won’t be answering any of my questions today, will you?”

The corner of my lips quirk. “Perhaps if you asked better questions, you’d receive more satisfactory answers.”

His eyes flash with something inscrutable, but it’s gone before I have time to decipher its meaning. The blade in Digs’s hand catches the light as he climbs to his feet, evaporating the distance between us, his hulking body now towering before me.

Neither of us so much as glance down as he slices my black uniform shirt in half down the middle. Cool air swats my skin as I hold Digs’s stare, mesmerized. Dark, tenebrous shadows swirl in his stormy gaze, and it’s a look I’ve seen countless times in the mirror. I guess it takes a monster to recognize one.

The ominous thunderstorm within him is heavy, threatening to rain down hellfire, and fuck if I don’t want that. I’m hungry,starving, craving the taste of what he’s truly capable of.

He flays the shirt, cutting through the short sleeves and tugging the scraps of fabric free, exposing my torso completely.

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