Chapter Seventeen
T oday, I’m knackered, and cranky to boot.
Not in the mood for cuffs or shackles, or cold showers or grouchy guards or sitting alone at a cafeteria table, staring at the most depressing dinner ever, like Beefaroni and a juice box.
Truthfully, I should be so lucky, because that’s by far one of the least disgusting meals they provide here—a fact that’s sad in its own right.
Despite how unenthusiastic I am, I have no choice but to endure the miserable monotony. Though there is one shining beacon of light amidst the darkness…
Byron Kang. A neon color when everything else is drab.
I don’t even register who else is at his table, or what they’re doing… I’m too busy studying the lines of Byron’s face, the downward curve of his lips, and the way the bottom one is jutting out the tiniest bit in a pout that I both love and hate at the same time.
Why is he so sad? Don’t get me wrong, it looks good on him, but still. I want to choke the life out of whatever, or whomever, is making him so gloomy.
But then I notice it. The thing that’s most certainly responsible for his angst… A fresh-faced and timid-looking bespectacled master of camouflage known as Felix Darcey, who’s parked right across from my sexy fighter.
Not everyone thinks that adorable freakshow is so great. At least I have one person on my side.
Felix Darcey haters club, right here.
The others are clearly welcoming of The Carver’s presence. But the hot angry boy is not , and I don’t blame him. He said his friends—Luthor and Ren—don’t care about The Carver murdering his other friend, confirmed by the way they’re chatting and laughing with the doe-eyed doctor-stealer.
The rest of the meal is spent with me watching Byron while trying not to be super obvious. For some odd reason, Joy allows him and his mates to use her cellphone, and I’m quite curious to know who they’re speaking to… Someone important, I assume.
My curiosity is overpowered, though, when I note something in the looks and smiles between Byron and Officer Jameson… I can’t be certain, but it seems flirtatious, reminiscent of a possible fling.
She’s the one who gave him Skittles the other day… If that isn’t a sign that two people have bumped uglies, then I don’t know what is.
My mood sours at the thought. I can barely even enjoy toying with The Carver by locking eyes and waving at him.
Before I know it, we’re all being herded back. Felix, the golden child, is already gone, most likely cozying up with Dr. Love somewhere in the East Wing…
Why does he get to have unlimited prison sleepovers?? I’m mates with the Warden, for fuck’s sake.
Meanwhile, Byron is walking behind his friends, head down, shoulders hunched. He just looks too sad … And while I’m certain associating with me will only ruin him more in the long run, I’m too enamored by him to stay away.
Inching up behind him, I whisper, “Why the long face?”
He jumps a foot in the air. It’s hysterical.
“Fuck, man…” He sighs, shaking his head. “You gotta stop doing that.”
“Or you should be paying more attention to your surroundings.” I lift an accusatory brow. “Isn’t that part of the fighter training?”
He glowers at me, and mother of god , is it sexy. “Yea, well… You’re surprisingly nimble. Like a…”
“Kitten?” I grin, and he squints.
“I was gonna say squirrel, but sure. We can go with yours.”
I chuckle, then bite my lip. “So, who were you speaking to on the phone?”
Byron’s face goes momentarily nervous, but he covers it up. “No one.”
“If you say so.” I huff.
He gives me a slightly narrowed look, lips twitching. That expression is downright lethal.
His eyes fall to my mouth, and my dick moves. “Cut’s almost gone, huh?”
“Too bad,” I hum. “I kind of liked it.”
He scoffs, though the grin is a little bigger this time. “Weirdo.”
“Oh, Raph, you have no idea…” I sigh, and he frowns.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Uh, I would. That’s why I asked.” He gives me a pointed look.
Excitement fizzles inside me at this playful banter. God, I love it. I don’t want it to end…
Unfortunately, it does when we reach the doorway that splits us.
“See you around, Raph ,” I hum teasingly, winking at him.
He simply shakes his head like I’m tapped as I turn away, following the other guard who’s bringing me to my cell. As hard as it is, I force myself not to look back. Keeping him on his toes by playing the mysterious stranger.
Hey, I have to at least try , right?
I’ve yet to figure out Byron’s situation. I was sensing something between him and Joy… But then he could be bisexual, or bi-curious, although he does behave rather straight, tension and sexy fist fights aside. It’s hard to tell whether he’s even interested in my throwing myself at him.
Still, it’s not just about how bloody fine he is, or how he looks at you like he could tear you apart with his teeth and you’d thank him for it. There’s something buried deeper than the muscle and ink and smoldering looks.
Whatever it is, I want at it. Desperately .
So I’ll keep digging. Keep scampering after him like the lost puppy I so clearly am, in hopes he might one day toss me a bone. Literally.
A big one, too, based on how it felt jamming into me. And looked, tenting his pants. I’m guessing at least twenty-four centimeters. Fingers crossed.
Back in my cell, I tidy up, then pace for a while, waiting for Kent. Typically, he comes to check on me after each meal to see if I need anything… Within reason. Superficial requests only.
But tonight, I’m not taking no for an answer. He’s going to give me what I want. And what I want is Byron Kang.
Manuel Blanco’s errand boy arrives right on schedule.
“All good, Mr. Fenwick?” Kent asks, peering through the bars.
I love how he calls me that… As if I’m a guest of his boss, not an animal in a cage with no bloody choice.
“I have a favor to ask of you, my dear friend.” I lay on the charm thick, though it comes out slightly sarcastic. Must be the accent.
“For the last time, I’m not bringing you Peppermint Schnapps.” He rolls his eyes.
“But it’s basically mouthwash!” I whine. His impatient glower tells me to stop fucking around, which I do. “Will you please bring Byron Kang to my cell?”
Kent’s expression shifts, his brows jumping in surprise. “Byron… Kang.”
I nod enthusiastically. “I would like him to come for a visit. No supervision.”
He blinks as if he’s unsure whether this request classifies as within reason. “For how long?”
“However long is allowed.” I shrug.
The suspense is killing me while he mulls this over. “I’m not really supposed to move inmates…”
“You move me… With your rendition of ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings.’” I’m chewing on my lip to keep from cackling at my own stupid joke, even more so because of how disgruntled he looks. “Sorry. Please? It’s rather important…”
He’s still contemplating.
“You can ask The Ivory if you want. Tell him it would mean the world to me.”
Kent lets out a long breath, pushing himself off the bars. “Hang on.”
He stomps away, and I’m back to pacing. Hopefully, if this does work, Byron isn’t upset about my dragging him away from his nighttime routine. Although, I have to figure he’d appreciate a disruption from the monotony of prison life as well… Regardless of whether he allows me to touch and sniff him.
Footsteps have me rushing to the bars. My heart leaps, stomach tightening in elated surprise. Kent has returned, walking behind a bemused Byron Kang. I’ll admit, I’m shocked. I hadn’t expected it to work, especially so fast.
Jumping back to seem less eager, I’m jittering as Kent opens the bars for Byron. He pauses for a moment of clear skepticism before ultimately striding into my cell, peering back as Kent slams the door with a clunk.
“I’ll be back before lights out,” Kent says. And then he leaves.
Leaves me alone with the sexy, brooding object of my obsession.
I’m speechless. Byron Kang is actually in my cell right now.
“So… this is weird,” he rumbles, shifting his weight. “Why am I here, Trevel?”
God, I love how he says my name…
“I just… figured we could hang out.” I speak quietly, losing a bit of my edge due to how awed I am that he’s even in here, and we’re alone, and…
Oh, bollocks. What if he ends up hating this?? What if we have nothing to say to one another?? We’ll be trapped alone, forced to endure the awkwardness!
Byron nods casually, and my panic subsides. He doesn’t seem physically repulsed by my bringing him in here. So… that’s good.
He rubs his hands together, fidgeting. “Did you…” His voice trails, eyes flicking in the direction Kent just went. “Who was that guy?”
My brows knit. “You don’t know Kent?”
He shakes his head. “He’s not a guard… right?”
“He’s the Warden’s personal security,” I tell him.
Now he looks even more confused. “Okay… But why would he do this for you?” He peeks behind me, at my giant rifled-through gift basket. “Is that from him too?”
Considering what to tell him, I air on the side of caution and just say, “More or less.”
Byron’s face takes on an intensity I haven’t seen since he was on top of me with his hand curled around my throat. “Huh… I guess I didn’t know you’d already started… working the system. ”
Gaping at him like he’s speaking Swedish, I tilt my head. “What on earth are you talking about?”
His jaw is visibly tight. “Trading sex for favors, Trevel. You know, the only way people get things in here…” He looks at my goodies again. “Judging by the size of that thing, you must’ve really… gone the extra mile . ”
A gust of befuddled laughter escapes me. “I’m sorry… I must be missing something. Are you saying the only way to get things in this prison is by… pleasuring the guards??”
This is news to me… Though it would explain why inmates have things, despite there being no commissary system to speak of.
Byron’s dark eyes are boring into mine, as if he’s trying to read something. I don’t mind. It gives me the opportunity to bask in the beauty of his deep brown irises.