Page 19 of Wicked Dove
“Bathroom first,” he clarifies, and I turn to him with narrowed eyes, only to find him a foot behind me.
“You’re supervising me, remember?” I insist, trying to inch closer to the door, but there’s nowhere for me to go.
“Exactly. You have to do as I say.” He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip as he assesses me and I scoff, pretending as though my cheeks aren’t on fire.
“Well, maybe I can use those keys to make a run for it.” I hold my hand out for them, but he spins them on his finger, ignoring me.
“There is norunning for it.”
My lips purse in frustration as his spicy scent threatens to capture me. “You don’t look like you’ve tried,” I claim, desperate to put space between us, and he shrugs.
“I haven’t.”
I rear back in surprise. “Why?”
“Because I know it’s pointless.” Frustration leaks into his tone and I gulp.
“I don’t want to die.” I hate the truth the second it slips from my lips.
If he notices how vulnerable I am in this moment, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s too busy leaning around me to slip the key into the lock, with his eyes settled on mine. “Then you’ve got six hours to live your wildest dreams,” he rasps, making my heart flutter as the lock for the door opens.
I consider making a run for it, but as the door fully swings out, it reveals a short hallway with only two doors to choose from. One is labeled bathroom, the other, canteen.
“Bathroom first,” he grunts, and I sigh, hating the tingle of defeat ghosting down my spine.
“Fine.”
He doesn’t wait for me, taking the keys with him as he approaches the bathroom door with a different key ready. I’ve been eager to leave the confines of the room, but now I need a moment out of his proximity to feel as though I can breathe again.
I’m clearly taking longer than he would prefer because a moment later, he’s glancing over his shoulder at me with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to. I follow after him as he steps through the next door, hurrying before he lets it swing back at me.
Stepping inside, he sets about taking care of himself as I assess the room.
White tiles shine from every surface: the walls, the ceiling, the floor. A vanity spans the entire length of the far wall, featuring a mirror and four sinks. There are two piles of clothes on either side of the sinks, presumably a fresh set for each of us. They look like direct replicas of what we already have on. Continuing around the room, there are two toilet stalls to my left, while four shower heads line the wall to my right. I’ve never been more relieved for the opportunity to shower, but the downside is apparent; there’s no privacy.
The shower heads are exposed like I’m back in high school, only there, the girls and boys were separated, and I don’t think I’m going to be offered the same grace here.
My pulse thrums through my veins nervously as Kael heads to the vanity, splashing water on his face. I need a minute to hide, so I hightail it to the toilet stall, locking the door firmly in place before I heave a sigh of relief.
The sight of the toilet reminds me I haven’t gone to the bathroom in forever. How I’ve managed it, I don’t know, but I hurry to pee, too far gone to care about the sound as I drag out every second before I head back out into the open space.
My mind is a mess, rattled with dwindling hope, a hot and grouchy cellmate, along with the revelations that my chances of survival are slim to none.
I want to rely on Walker coming to find me, but how the hell is he going to know to look here? Whereverhereactually is.
Pumping myself up, I shake my shoulders and hands, desperate to rid myself of the fear souring my stomach. Just as I reach for the lock, I hear the shower turn on from the other side and my heart lurches.
Act normal, Elodie. It’s no big deal.
Opening the door, I keep my gaze trained to the left, heading straight for the sink without glancing toward the showers.Running my hands under the faucet, I keep my head dipped so I don’t catch a glimpse of him in the mirror.
I’m excelling at avoiding his existence until I need to dry my hands, and in the midst of looking for something to use, I spot him in the reflection of the glass and pause.
I’m enraptured, watching as his back muscles flex as he stands under the spray, completely naked.
“What are you waiting for?” he hollers, not bothering to look at me, and I’ve never been more grateful because I don’t need to be caught ogling him right now.
“I’m not showering in front of you,” I mutter, and he snickers, shrugging as he reaches for the all-in-one shower gel shampoo combo attached to the wall.
