Page 142 of My Monster’s Keeper

They scramble.

But, in the end, my cell gets a new paint job, and I get some relief.

I sit down and glower at the door, waiting and floating on the waves of my heat that has crystallised into a white hot rage.

***

They have started again with their subtle pseudo torture. It wasn’t immediately noticeable. A low song in the background played on repeat. No food or water for over twenty-four hours. Fucking weak.

The failed attempt to knot me has them all on edge. No one dares approach me now.

Every moment I get, I taunt that fucking sly prick. I remember him growing up, awkward, useless. He might think he’s a big shot now, but I’d put money on him being a big nothing at the end of the day.

I just need to get out of here. One fuck up, and I’m free. And then I can go get my murder.

The heat is a constant just beneath my skin. When the alphas come in, it rises, and I have to fight the need to present my pussy to them or rip them limb from limb.

I close my eyes when I hear footsteps, tapping my foot along with the music and humming under my breath. In my head, there are four words.

Stix

Puppy.

Frost.

Wilder.

I repeat them over and over, all day long. Every minute that I am awake, I repeat those names. They are the reason no one can touch me, the reason the shadows cloak me now in darkness, an eerie murder coat.

“Get up,” the thin monster snarls. It’s tall and white, with huge, razor-sharp teeth, and no sense of humour. Although I think I saw it grin when I impaled Grant with a bone stake last week.

Turns out, not a vampire.

Okay, so, yeah, it’s been four or five weeks. I’m tired and hungry, and the cold has moved into my bones and lives there. They’ve broken several of my body parts. I think I’m mending, but the pain is as constant as the hunger and thirst.

The heat is the worst. In all the weeks since they injected me, it has not gone away. It just sits there, driving me crazy and pushing me to homicidal levels of rage. The constant arousal is criminal, but worse is how it fogs my mind and makes me forget my alphas.

I heard one of the alphas that came to the door asking if I had bonds because this doesn’t make sense. It took days, but then I remembered that last time we were all together.

Bonds.

That’s what’s keeping me safe and keeping me all murdery.

Bonds that I can’t feel, but my mind and body know. I ache for them. I miss them constantly. Are they okay? I keep seeing Frost falling into the black water. Wilder resigned as he is fought into that court. Stix’s devastated eyes as he’s slowly encased in stone, and Puppy, my poor Puppy, caged.

No. It won’t end like this. I won’t let it.

I push slowly to my feet, pretending I’m in more pain than I am. Shuffling my feet and curling my shoulders to appear smaller, weaker. The monster steps back but flings a piece of filthy material at me.

It smells rank.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Then go naked!” It hisses.

I toss the material to the floor and glare so hard that it flinches. Not so tough now, are you?

I haven’t seen Diablos, but I heard they have him somewhere else. Not sure about Hartley. I hope they are okay, too, but most of my mind and energy is reserved for watching my captors, learning them.