Chapter 8 #2
Bells is careful not to irritate my injured scalp, her movements slow and steady. It still hurts, though, and I breathe sharply through my nose as she works around the sutures.
I don’t immediately bring up the topic of Adam, not wanting to seem too eager. I want things to feel natural, and I wait several minutes before resuming.
“He’s been getting handsy lately.” I sigh and tilt my head into the water, helping her rinse. “I think I just might give in and fuck him as a last screw you to Alpha Knox.”
Bells clears her throat. “I don’t care to hear these things.”
She sounds irritated. I pretend not to notice as I grin and spin toward her. I want her angry. I want her to be jealous when Adam is brought here tomorrow for his scan.
Once she’s hooked, we can use these visits to create an escape plan.
“I know it’s disgusting, but sex with the shifters is amazing,” I say. “They’re big, and I’m sure Adam can fuck.”
Bells grows taut, her muscles visibly tightening before she spins on her heel and storms from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. I smile, beyond proud of myself. This is going to work. It has to.
Bells returns a few minutes later, her eyes cast downward.
“I’m sorry.” She draws in a breath. “I needed to grab something.”
There’s nothing in her hands.
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”
I let the topic drop as she rinses my hair. I think I have her in a good spot. Adam better not fuck things up.
Adam isn’t opening the door.
I grunt, planting my good shoulder against the thick cement and pushing.
“Adam?” I hiss. “A little help would be nice.”
Still, nothing. I try my best to curb my panic as I push again, my feet slipping against the ground. I manage to get the door open a sliver, just enough to slip inside.
The first thing I see is Adam, the shifter crumpled in the center of the room. He’s lying on his stomach, unmoving even as I rush toward him. I’m showing too much emotion, but I don’t care as I press my trembling fingers to his neck, checking his pulse.
He’s alive. Thank God.
I ignore the pain in my chest as I roll him onto his back. His eyes are half-open, but not alert. What happened? I slide my hands down his torso, searching for any sign of injury or explanation. There’s nothing.
I check his neck for blood or signs of a needle injection, peering around and underneath his collar, but any injection wounds would have likely already healed. I fucking hate HPAW.
I push his knotted hair out of his face, then plant myself on the ground between him and the door. If the soldiers want him, they’ll have to go through me first.
Is this about the lie I told Daniel? I reach for Adam’s mouth, prying open his jaw to inspect his teeth. They remain intact.
Daniel said testing would begin tomorrow, and HPAW isn’t known to deviate from their plans. If they decided on tomorrow, they would wait until tomorrow.
Adam’s chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm. It’s comforting. If he were going to die, he’d be dead already.
I remind myself of that fact as I begin counting.
Several hours pass before Adam shifts. He trembles, letting out a low groan as his eyelids flutter open. His dark-brown eyes bore holes into the side of my head before flickering around the room, scanning our surroundings in a manner that feels awfully animal-like.
His arms shake as he pushes himself into a sitting position.
“What happened?” I ask.
Adam doesn’t immediately answer. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair, his nostrils flaring. I’m sure I still carry the faint scent of his mate, but it’s probably mostly dissipated by now.
“Some soldiers came in here after you left,” he starts. “I don’t…”
Adam lifts his shirt, but underneath is nothing more than smooth skin and flexed muscles. Whatever injuries he sustained have long healed.
“They drugged and beat the shit out of me,” Adam continues. “One stomped on my fucking head. I don’t remember anything after that.”
I’d ask what the men looked like, but it wouldn’t matter. HPAW soldiers are nearly identical—tall, muscular men with large egos and low emotional intelligence.
“I doubt they’ll be back,” I promise.
The soldiers have likely already lost their jobs. Leadership won’t take kindly to somebody messing with their goods. They could have killed Adam, and capturing a shifter as strong as him is beyond rare. They may never get this opportunity again.
“Well.” I force out a dramatic sigh. “I thought perhaps leadership began their interrogation a day early.”
Adam meets my gaze. They’re going to begin torturing you tomorrow! I scream the message with my eyes, hoping he understands.
He pushes himself to his feet, wavering slightly before taking two steps toward the bed and collapsing on it. I follow, careful not to apply too much pressure to his torso as I slot myself between him and the wall.
My marked hand hasn’t burned in hours. I’d like to believe Caleb is waiting for a signal to continue communicating with me.
Adam draws in a sharp breath, then rolls us to the side until he’s practically pinning me to the bed. This puts his back to the camera, with me hidden partially underneath him. It’s a terribly uncomfortable position, but it’s a necessary evil.
“Here,” Adam mumbles, sliding his arm under my head.
He’s as stiff as the hard mattress underneath us. I place my marked hand between our bodies, my fingers resting against his chest. I’m ready for the pain.
Adam hesitates, then eases forward. Does Caleb feel the moment our lips touch? A sudden flash of pain that alerts him to our contact?
Adam drapes his arm over my waist, clearly unsure what else to do with it. I feel bad for him. I’m familiar with my body being used, but Adam has been saving himself for his mate.
He let women put their mouths on him, but I believe that’s as far as it ever went. I don’t think he ever kissed or touched them in return. I feel dirty. I’m stealing from Adam and Bells, even if it’s done out of necessity.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice low.
Adam hesitates, then bumps his forehead against mine. “It’s not your fault.”
Then his tongue is in my mouth. He does the same thing as before, licking the roof of my mouth. His tongue feels like a slimy, nasty, little slug.
I hate it, but it’s effective.
My marked hand begins to burn, the pain so sharp and intense that my fingers begin twitching on their own accord. What is Caleb doing to trigger the infidelity pain in our bond?
Is there another woman? How did he choose her?
Jealousy flares inside me. It’s entirely uncalled for, and I grind my teeth as I tap messages against Adam’s chest. It’s so painful, I have to remind myself to breathe, and my muscles are so tight, they ache.
Adam continues tonguing me. I hate every second of this, and I so desperately want to know what’s being said. Is Caleb coming to rescue us? Is he relaying his plans to Adam? HPAW intends to begin testing Adam tomorrow. We don’t have the luxury of time.
It feels like hours have passed when Adam pulls back, finally removing his mouth from mine. The burning of my marked hand stops immediately after.
Have they come to some sort of agreement? Has a plan been solidified? I’m desperate to know.
I wince as Adam rolls off me, flopping onto his back. He’s heavy, and he was pressing a lot of weight onto me. I probably could’ve complained, but I didn’t want to interrupt.
Besides, I wasn’t trying to draw attention to our positioning. HPAW hopefully thinks we’re sleeping.
I prop myself up on my elbow, staring down at Adam. I’m trying to telepathically communicate. He raises a brow, the corner of his lip twitching upward before he throws his arm over his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Evelyn,” he orders.
I doubt it’s nighttime, but there isn’t anything to do in this cell beyond sleep. It’s easier that way, passing the time with blissful ignorance. Staying awake means thinking, and thinking means stressing over things beyond my control.
I lie down, staring at the ceiling. I have to trust that Adam and Caleb have a plan, and that Adam will find a way to communicate with Bells tomorrow.