Page 17

BENJI

Z oey sits cross-legged in her cell with her fingers absently scratching at her arm. The repetitive motion tugs at something in my chest. It feeds a worry that’s been gnawing at me since she got back.

She’s been quiet. Too quiet. Her usual fire, that stubborn defiance, is smothered beneath something heavier.

I hate seeing her like this. I hate the silence stretching between us.

Before she showed up, this place was nothing but darkness, emptiness, and the occasional hellish laughter of the dregs while they made us beg for mercy.

This place was dead quiet—pun intended—but she brought light and laughter.

She brought life into the place that used to be nothing but whispers of the dead.

Ever since she arrived, there’s been light. Not only from the beam of sunlight that filters through the skylight window in her cell, but from her. She’s been the only thing keeping this place from swallowing us whole, and now that light is dimming.

“Hey, golden girl,” I call softly from where I’m leaning against the bars that separate us. Her head tilts a fraction, but she doesn’t look at me. Still, I have to know. “You wanna tell me what happened out there?”

She stiffens, her hand pausing mid-scratch. “Why?” she mutters. “So I can relive how I keep screwing everything up?”

That stings. The raw defeat in her voice guts me. I shake my head and force my tone to stay light. “Nah. Just wanna know how badass you were this time compared to every other badass time.”

That earns me a faint huff of laughter. It’s barely there, I’ll take it. Her shoulders even loosen a bit. “I hid inside a refrigerator.”

I blink. That’s not what I was expecting. “Wait…like, an actual fridge? That’s cold and probably has stale leftovers? You hid inside a fridge?”

Her lips twitch upward for half a second before she nods.

Damon’s voice rumbles from his cell. “Smart. They never would have thought to look there.”

I nod, impressed. “Not bad, golden girl. You’ve got some survival instincts in you, after all.”

Her smile fades as fast as it appeared, and she pulls her knees tighter to her chest. “It worked for a little while. When I got out, they found me.” She hesitates.

Her hands clench into fists and frustration tightens her jaw.

Her beautiful face is fixed with anger. “I grabbed a knife and tried to fight back. They drugged me—not a fan, by the way. That shit sucks. Next thing I knew, I woke up tied to a chair in some office.”

“An office?” I ask. That’s not a place I expected. A dungeon more gloomy than this small cell block, maybe, but not an office.

“Yeah. There was this guy…I don’t know.” She shakes her head like she’s still trying to make sense of it herself.

My grip on the bars tightens. All the worst-case scenarios race through my mind. “Tell me about this guy. ”

She exhales through her nose. “He kept Eugene away from me. He also took my knife, but then he gave it back.”

I frown. “Wait, he gave it back?”

“He kept Eugene away?” Damon adds.

She nods again, still scratching at her arm. “I think he sees all of this as some kind of game. He doesn’t seem to like Eugene, either, I don’t think. It’s confusing.”

I don’t like the sound of this. Except for the not like Eugene part. That part I like. “Did he do anything to you?”

“No,” she answers without pause. “He cut the ropes from my wrists, hid me from Eugene while he went to talk to him, and then drugged me again. Next thing I knew, I was back here.”

“What’s his name?”

“Avery. I don’t know anything else about him, other than he feels like less of a threat than the others.”

Damon makes a sound that’s almost a growl, and I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

That was the bastard who carried her back.

The one who looked at her like she was something delicate before handing her off to Jace like she was nothing.

I don’t know what his game is, but I don’t like that she was unconscious around him, even if he made her think he was helping her.

If he really wanted to help her, then he wouldn’t have locked her back up.

Pushing those thoughts away, I return my attention to Zoey. “Do you feel different? Weird in any way?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I feel fine. Itchy, though, I guess.”

I narrow my eyes and watch her fingers dig into the fabric of her shirt while she scratches at her back. “Turn around.”

Her brows knit together. “Why?”

“Trust me, golden girl.”

She hesitates, then gives in with a sigh and walks toward me .

“Turn around.”

She does so without question and I reach through the bars to lift the hem of her shirt enough to see her skin.

In the dim light, I can make out the pale expanse of her back.

It’s smooth at first, until I look higher and see the dry, irritated patches along her shoulder blades.

I brush my thumb over one of the rough spots.

The texture is brittle beneath my touch, like cracked earth.

Zoey tenses. “What is it?”

“Dry skin,” I murmur.

Then, before I can stop myself, I lean in and press my lips to one of the irritated patches. A soft kiss meant to soothe.

Zoey stiffens, her whole body going rigid. “Benjamin…”

“It’s okay,” I whisper, my breath warm against her skin. “You’re okay.”

Her shoulders start to relax as the tension bleeds out of her. I let her shirt fall back into place, but instead of stepping away, she leans forward and whispers, “I keep failing.”

Her voice is so small, so unlike her, that it knocks the air right out of my lungs. The guilt. The self-blame. That kind of thing will eat away at a person’s spirit. I should know.

“Failing?” I repeat. My hands find her hips on instinct. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She lets out a slow, shaky breath. “I tried to fight back. Tried to pick the lock. Nothing works.”

I open my mouth to argue, but then I see the way her gaze flicks toward Damon’s cell. The way her fingers grip the bars behind her a little tighter. It gives me an idea. A very good idea.

With a quiet sigh, I brush her hair away from her neck and let my fingers trail over the delicate skin there.

My other hand gives her hip a light squeeze.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, my voice low in her ear.

As close as I can get with the damn bars in the way.

Then I glance toward Damon’s cell. “Isn’t it, Damon? ”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then Damon’s voice rumbles through the darkness, deep and rough. “Yeah. It is.”

Zoey lets out a shaky exhale, but I can tell she’s still holding onto something. That self-doubt. That fear. I won’t let her drown in it.

“I can help,” I tell her, loud enough for the others to hear.

“How?”

“By making you feel better. The only way I can right now.” I squeeze her hip again and let my lips graze her ear. “Do you trust me, golden girl?”

She hesitates, but only for a second before she nods. “Yes.”

A slow smile tugs at my lips. “Good.” I press my lips to the soft skin of her exposed neck. “Let me know when it’s too much.”

One hand squeezes her hip, while the other slides the strap of her thin white tank top down her arm.

I gently press her against the bars so I can kiss down her neck and along her shoulder.

Her body relaxes under my touch, and my hand on her hip slides to her front, where my thumb rubs along the sliver of skin above the waistband of her short blue shorts.

“You’re so beautiful, golden girl.” My hand slides down her arm until it rests over her hand where I interlock our fingers. She lets out a small gasp when my other hand slips beneath her waistband, and I kiss her shoulder. “So beautiful.”

“Benjamin,” she says, her breath hitching when I run my finger through her folds.

“What is it, golden girl?”

She doesn’t answer, but her breath picks up when I slide a finger inside of her and she lets out a small moan that goes straight to my dick .

“So wet for me,” I whisper, adding a second finger and beginning a slow, pumping rhythm.

She turns her head toward me until her mouth is close enough for me to claim. I kiss her, silencing her moans. I slide my tongue into her perfect mouth.

When she sighs, I pull my head away. “Look back over at Damon.”

Her eyes flutter. “I can’t see him. I can’t see anyone.”

“He can see you. Let him see how beautiful you are when I make you fall apart.” I pump my fingers in and out of her, punctuating my words with a palm against her clit that makes her gasp and shudder.

She turns her head to look back at the darkness of Damon’s cell. We can’t see him, but I know he’s watching.

I quicken my pace. I can hardly see her face, but I can see the way her mouth slacks open, and feel the way her hips buck against my palm. Her fingers squeeze mine, and her other hand slides to the bar behind her, fingers curling around the metal, her knuckles white.

She moans, the single most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. “Let go, golden girl. Relax. I’ve got you.”

“Benjamin,” she whispers, her head falling back against the bars.

Her body writhes in my arms, her hips rolling in time to my fingers.

“Say my name again, Zoey. Say all our names.”

Her breaths come out in pants. Such beautiful pants. “Benjamin.” I bite her shoulder. “Damon.” I lick away the sting. “Cole.”

My dick strains so hard against my pants, I half expect it to bust through the bars itself. I tilt my head down again so I can kiss her shoulder.

“Beautiful,” I say, pressing my hips between the bars so my erection presses against her ass.

Her nails dig into my hand where she’s gripping me, and I imagine her nails scraping down my back. I curl my fingers inside her and she comes on my hand with a cry of pleasure.

Once she comes down from her high and her legs wobble, I slide my hand out of her pants and band my arm around her middle.

It’s a little awkward because of these damn bars, but I finally lower her to the floor while maneuvering my arms around the bars.

Then I take pleasure in enjoying my meal by licking my fingers.

Someone grunts, and I look in the direction of Cole’s cell to see a glass half-filled with water appear in the dim light of the corridor, being pushed our way by the knife. “It’s from earlier, non-drugged.”

Perfect.

Grabbing my empty tray, I push it through the bars and strain my arm until the tray can reach the glass.

With slow and careful movements, I guide it closer to Zoey’s cell, then return to her.

“Hey, I know you’re exhausted, and I’m not at all sorry about that, but there’s a glass of water for you in front of your cell.

I wasn’t able to get it any closer on account of how fucking awkward it was to move, but it’s the rest of Cole’s water from earlier.

There aren’t any drugs in it, so it’s safe to drink.

I think you need it more than anyone right now. ”

Her lips turn up in a smile and she retrieves the water, drinking half of what’s left before looking around. “You guys should have the rest.”

“Drink,” Damon demands, his voice strained.

“But—”

“Do it.”

She turns to look at me, but I shake my head. “You heard him.”

Without arguing further, she finishes the water and starts to lie down, but I stop her. “Come back here.”

“For another round?”

I chuckle. “I’ll give you as many rounds as you want, golden girl, but right now, let me take care of you in a different way.”

She does as I ask and returns to where she was lying. I pull off my shirt and dip it into my own water before holding it through the bars. “I can clean you easier if you slide your pants down, or you can do it yourself.”

After a momentary hesitation, she slides her shorts halfway down her thighs, exposing even more how beautiful she is. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her hip before proceeding.

Once she’s cleaned up, I toss the shirt into the corner of my cell and snatch my blanket from the cot and cover her. She falls asleep with me lying on the floor next to her, stroking her golden hair, completely satiated.