Chapter Twenty #3
“Hey, could I ask you something?” His gray eyes sparkle with curiosity behind his lenses.
“Ask away.”
“Did you ever… meet Lem’s ex?” He fidgets noticeably. “Gabrielle?”
This is too good to be true.
I can’t believe this bloodthirsty madman is practically tying himself up and hopping into my trunk right now!
“I did.” I nod, preparing to spout nonsense. “Quite the lady. Accomplished, affluent… Poised, but with an air of secret sexuality about her. The whole package, really.”
Felix’s forehead lines, his lips pursing in displeasure. It’s bloody perfection .
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason…” His bespectacled gaze falls.
“Oh, sweetheart.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Listen, you have nothing to worry about. Lemuel is enamored with you. It’s obvious.”
“I know, I’m just… thinking about the future.”
I grit my teeth. “By obsessing over the past?”
He blinks at me, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “You know what? You’re right. Thank you, Trevel. I’m really… glad you’re here.”
Something peculiar happens in my chest at hearing that, the sincerity in his voice and his stormy eyes. But then I remember that he’s a psychopath, and if I’m faking this shit, then he most likely is as well.
So I pull the most realistic fake smile I can and murmur, “Me too, darling. Me too.”
Footsteps alert us to someone coming up the hall, and Felix ducks back inside his room, preparing to slam the door. But the unmistakable form of Dr. Love comes from around the corner, and he reemerges.
Dr. Love gapes at me, a protective glare casting over Darcey briefly before he grunts, “What are you doing?”
“We’re just chatting,” Felix answers him blithely with a twist to the lips, likely to pacify his man’s suspicion.
Lem’s eyes bounce back and forth between us, and he looks beyond skeptical. But I don’t care. I got what I came for.
“Well, I should be going.” I smile and wave at Felix. “See you around, love.” Then I peek at Dr. Love. “You too… Love .”
I giggle at my own stupid joke, which, more than anything, is for the purpose of making them both uncomfortable. Then I strut away, forcing myself not to look back.
I won’t get my hopes up that this one interaction will mess with their relationship. But a girl can dream, right?
Following the long halls through the prison, my mind is playing back everything that’s happened today. And yesterday, and in the weeks leading up to right now. Where I am as opposed to where I was the last time I saw Dr. Love professionally is like night and day.
My eyes scan over the crumbling walls and ceilings, streaked with leakage stains and mold, literal cracks in the foundation.
Based on the conversation I had with Byron the other day, this prison is sparsely maintained to say the least, and although it’s allegedly government-funded, said funding either doesn’t cover repairing and upgrading, or it’s not being used for such things.
It takes me a while to find my way back up to general population. This building is a maze, and I just don’t understand why there isn’t, at the very least, the occasional sign indicating where the hell you are. Frankly, it feels intentional. Disorientation is clearly a part of it.
Finally, I make it back home . The bars open the moment I push them— Thank you, Daddy Ivory— giving the illusion that I’m valued , though I realize that beneath Manuel Blanco’s coddling words, he’s using me.
It’s fine. It’s what I’m here for, after all. If someone actually wanted the real me, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
“You’ll never guess what just happened!” I chirp to Byron as I strut inside the cell—free as a bird who gets to let himself in and out of his cage.
Byron is sitting on his bed, back propped against the wall. He spares me a brief glance, but doesn’t respond. He barely even reacts to my presence.
But I keep talking. “After my session with Dr. Love, I decided to pop in for a visit with our pal Felix Darcey.” I breathe a chuckle, though Byron isn’t sharing my excitement. “Apparently, Murder Baby is a tad insecure about his relationship.”
I go for a bottle of water, cracking it open and taking a sip.
Byron’s eyes jump to mine for a split second again, and he mumbles, “Sweet.” Zero enthusiasm.
I narrow my gaze at him. That “sweet” didn’t sound so sweet…
“Are you doing alright?” I step up to the edge of the bed. “You seem grumpier than usual.”
He scoffs. “I’m not grumpy . I just don’t care about Felix Darcey’s fucking problems…”
The scowl he’s wearing is purely adorable, but I choose not to upset him further by voicing such things.
“Byron, what’s wrong?” I continue to prod, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Tell me—”
“ Nothing is wrong, Trevel,” he snaps. “Leave it alone. I’m fine .”
Flopping over onto his side, he grabs his pillow and petulantly covers his head with it.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s too cute for real life, but this needs to stop.
We didn’t speak about the blowjob through the hole in my mattress.
I was fine with it, being that the bliss from that experience was so strong, even I had nothing to say.
But my timorous new roomie seems to have come out of the experience even more withdrawn.
Barely able to make eye contact, speaking in one-word grunts.
Much to my dismay, the fooling around may have regressed our relationship.
Fine… So I may have crawled into his bed this morning to watch him sleep again. But I barely even realized I was doing it! I’m not trying to be creepy or anything… With the nature of my troubled sleep, having him nearby is a comfort. I suppose I got carried away.
Regardless, I simply cannot fathom why he’s able to hook up with his other friends so easily, but with me, it’s a big fat problem.
We’re well aware that my toxic trait is being tragically attracted to people who want to use me, and a saboteur of anything genuine , or healthy .
Prime example… Andres Alvarez. His sister was perfect, and we had the makings of something truly special.
But I squandered it the moment an atrocious human being with tattoos and a big dick showed me a hint of sexual attention.
It’s a sickness, I’m telling you. Red flags make my pussy wet.
That’s not to say I think Byron is a horrendous plonker like Andres was. In fact, he’s a smart, loyal, if wildly misunderstood, catch. But it doesn’t take X-ray vision to see that he’s hiding his true self. Shields up sky-high and fighting to keep his demons tucked securely beneath his surface.
Naturally, it just makes me like him more.
See? Infinitely more attracted to the science projects.
Crawling over to him, I place a hand on his waist, feeling him stiffen beneath my touch. I roll my eyes because, despite how good his body feels to touch, all soft skin and plump muscle— he rarely wears a shirt, and I’m living for it —he’s driving me mental with his alleged straight-boy problems.
“Byron, for the love of God… what is the issue?” I can predict his response before he even starts, so I add, “And don’t say nothing !
” He slowly lowers the pillow from over his face, peering up at me.
Those chocolate-brown eyes stuffed full of glistening distress.
“What on earth is so bad about giving head?? Honestly, I cannot with you… So you sucked some dick. Big deal! Believe me, there are much worse things than enjoying a cock in your mouth on occasion…”
“Fucking kill me now,” he groans, rubbing his eyes.
Taking a long breath, I release it slowly. Centering my chi, because this beautiful, stubborn bloke is testing me a bit.
“Talk to me,” I hum, gliding my finger along the waistband of his jumpsuit pants. “Tell me what’s going on inside you, Raph. I promise I won’t judge anything you say. Of all people, I’m the last person who could ever judge anyone. Trust me.”
Byron finally allows his eyes to melt with mine. That feeling of him even considering lowering the mask and letting me truly see him is like a high from some designer drug I’ve been given to sample. And I’m instantly addicted; craving more of him , and all his messy issues.
He props up a bit on his elbow, eyeing me carefully. “You don’t… You wouldn’t understand.”
I cock my head. “Try me.”
He chews on his lower lip before muttering, “It’s… complicated. The reason I’m here, and the things that led to it… I didn’t… I never got the chance to…”
I’m vibrating, at the edge of my metaphorical seat, awaiting his words with bated breath. Whatever it is that’s choking him up must be serious. I can see his stiffness, feel him grappling like a visible change in his chakra.
He’s afraid…
Terrified to step out of the shadows.
Cupping his jaw, my hand caresses his face. And he actually leans into it. “Tell me your secrets, Byron. I promise, I can keep them.”
I’m bloody good at it, after all.
“I’m not… supposed to be here,” he finally whispers. “It was… a mistake.”
My heart is beating faster and faster as my fingers trail over his throat, onto his chest, feeling his do the same. “You can tell me anything, Byron. You can trust me.”
He looks like he’s weighing this for many heavy moments. But at last, he says, “I don’t speak it out loud…” And before I can tell him it’s okay, he adds, “I write it.”