C6 Shaye

“Well, well, looks like someone has got a hottie,” Cyrmson says as she and my other two roommates sashay inside, eyeing Rowan and me. Her red hair is tied back in a knot at the base of her skull.

Lene smiles like she’s relieved I’m alive and nods her head, making her blond braids bob.

While Everly rolls her violet eyes and plops on the top bunk. “Whatever, get out, Rowan, no one wants your shit in here.”

“Yeah, you’re standing on Jerome’s toes.” Lene points at the invisible spot next to her, where her ghost friend is, apparently.

The way I see it, everyone deals with crap their own way, and if she wants to imagine a friend, then all the power to her.

“Seen any good dead guys?” Rowan mocks.

I punch him lightly in the shoulder. “Stop it,” I hiss. I have to room with these three and none of them are my BFF.

Everly's black hair is shorn to her skull on one side and hangs to her jawline on the other while Egyptian-style tats line her scalp and arms and I swear I see one move.

Rowan leans down and kisses me on the lips.

“What did you want me to do for you?” I breathe against his mouth.

“Not now, gorgeous. We’ll talk later.”

“Spew.” Everly makes gagging noises behind us.

He pulls back. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Okay,” I breathe out.

After a middle finger salute to my cellmates, he struts out of the cell. I long to go with him, but I need a few words with my cellmates.

I whirl around to them. Everly is looking like she’s bored while Crymson picks at her nails and leans up against the bunk beds. Lene is sitting cross-legged on the floor with her eyes closed like she’s going into a trance.

“You three knew about the arena and the fights, didn’t you?” Everyone was clued in except me, and it irks me. I huff, frustrated at how clueless I feel.

Lene peeks up at me with one eye open. “Sorry, we’re not allowed to tell newbs about any of that.”

“But we’re cellmates...I share my food with you.”

“All the sharing in the world won’t matter if we get our sentences doubled or worse.” Crymson looks up from her nails.

“I could have died. Do you not understand that?”

“Stop being dramatic.” Everly sighs. “You’re as vain as the gods. Not everything is about you. Everyone has to fight if their name is drawn. Most just get jacked up, that’s all.”

Crymson snorts. “Many gods and demi-gods really want you dead for what you did and would have killed you out there no matter what happened or who was watching or anything. Anyone who succeeds in ending your life would be praised.”

“Do you know who they put me up against?” My voice raises, but I can’t help it. “Bono. And he had every intention of murdering me right there in front of everyone.” I shiver, recalling the glint in his dark eyes while he squeezed my head.

“You're lucky to have lasted as long as you did with him, he's actually pretty good at killing people. I've watched him do it before and the other prisoners haven't stood a chance against him before they even get in the ring with him,” Lene adds.

Everyly shrugs. “What do you expect, god-killer. No one here cares if you live or die. Actually, I’d take bets that most want to see you dead and your head on a pike on Olympus.”

“Why’d you have to be such a bitch?” I say, tired of their lack of empathy.

“Stop being such a fucking martyr.” Crymson flips her hair over her shoulder. “You killed a god and now a demi-god. And for what?” She pauses, her tone mocking. “‘For justice?’”

“I killed defending myself,” I repeat. “I didn’t murder them.”

For a split second, I think they might be on my side.

“Why’d you have to be so gullible and trust everyone?” Everly bites. “Of course we’re not your friends. I don’t need a reason to wish you dead.”

“Congratulations.” Crymson claps her hands, mocking me. “You’re special, aren’t you? You’re unique and the first ever to be put in the ring without a fight training. You’re the first one of us to do it without any training.” She pauses, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe you can show us how you beat a seasoned warrior. Come on god-killer, I dare you.”

“Easy.” Lene pouts. “You’re freaking out the spirits. No one wants a fight in our cell or for someone to die here. It’ll screw up the karma in here and I’ll never get Jerome to come back.”

“I don’t kill cellmates. It took them days to clean out my last one when I first got here.” Crymson goes back to picking the dirt out from under her nails.

Why did I think raising the topic with them would change a thing? I grumble under my breath and decide maybe it’s not too late to catch up to Rowan.

“Hey, you missed breakfast,” Lene adds. “You’ve got a few minutes before they close the line if you wanna grab something.”

Suddenly, my thoughts about getting away from my roommates sounds like a great decision. “Might do that.”

I hurry out of the prison cell without another word and breathe easier. I never picked them as my roommates, and I mean, I still sleep on the damn floor, so that says a lot about our relationship.

Regardless, I keep my head low and weave through the crowds, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, as I hurry to the mess hall. Whispered words don’t go amiss with my name on people’s lips. But I don’t care about anything but getting some food.

The mess hall is half empty, and I speed up to the counter across the back wall and stand in the small line. By the time, it’s my turn, the older lady behind the counter shoves a tray into my hands. I take it but she grips it, not releasing it from her end.

I lift my head to meet her gaze, her eyes narrowing as she slides another sausage onto my platter. “You give them hell, girl!”

I don’t need to ask her what she’s talking about. It’s written across her face. The anger in her pinched brow, the tenderness in her parted lips like she’s desperate to say so much more. She knows about my fight in the arena. She had to be talking about that.

Her words take me by surprise. I don’t expect anyone to be anything but hurtful to me in this place, so this is new. For a moment, I’m frozen to the spot, my mouth open in surprise. Someone pushes me and I stumble forward.

“Get a move on,” she barks and shoves the next tray into the guy behind me.

I turn and hurry to an empty table where I plonk down on the bench and dig into my food. Something swirls in my chest, a strange feeling as I keep repeating the words in my head.

You give them hell.

With a curt smile, I eat my breakfast. Two sausages, a large pile of scrambled eggs, and two slices of toast. There is no skimping on the butter either.

By the time I wash it all down with the orange juice, I grab my apple and bite into its sweet flesh, the snap crisp and juicy. My stomach is fuller than it has been in a long time.

A shadow falls over me, and I look up to a familiar face that turns the food in my stomach.

“You’re with me. Get up,” Xanth states, his eyes deep and staring right through me.

Fury charges through me at seeing him after he’d watched me in the arena. Like the rest of them, he knew before I did and maybe even earlier than I suspect that I was going in to fight Bono. Yet, he made himself comfortable and watched the show.

I hate that part of me still thinks about our time together and how much that memory will never leave me, will always make me crave him. Except, I push it all back, tired of being the butt of everyone’s entertainment in this joint.

“Did you hear me?” he says loud enough with an authoritative voice, that I realize he’s playing his part and has no intention of showing me any leniency. That I am only a diversion to him, and our time together was nothing more than scratching an itch.

I grit my teeth and take another bite of my apple before dumping it into the empty tray.

He reaches for my arm, but I jerk away from his touch. Swallowing my food, I hiss between my teeth, “Don’t touch me.”

The room falls silent.

“Shaye,” Xanth growls out in a low voice, his hand going to his tazer baton. “Don’t make me drag you out of here.”

I push up from the table, picking up my tray and for a moment imagine smashing it into his chest. But that won’t give me anything, but a beating and thrust into solitary. Or worse... put back in the arena. I swallow down the bile burning the back of my throat and go to return my tray.

“Leave it.” Xanth yanks the tray from my grasp and drops it on the table. “You’ve got a meeting.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture with my chin. What meeting is he talking about? “Lead the way.” I know there’s no way I can get out of wherever he wants me to go.

And even the other prisoners crammed in the cafeteria are not meeting Xanth’s stare as he marches out into the hallway. It’s like a cloud of anger is floating around him ready to strike and swallow anyone who pisses him off.

Good. He should be mad. He’s the one who watched me nearly die and didn’t do a damn thing. Didn’t even blink.

Out in the hallway, we walk in silence and I can’t stand his brooding, not even consideration of what happened to me. Not even a fucking apology.

He ignores me and continues walking. I don’t want to talk to him. But then I can’t help but find out where we’re going and I hope it’s nowhere bad.

“What meeting are we going to?” I skid to a stop. If he plans on taking me to the arena again, I will fight him. I don’t care what we had before. This place is full of monsters like him who get off on misery and pain and I won’t add to his addiction.

In three quick strides, he reaches me, and I take a step backward, bumping into the wall. He blocks me with his body and his arms on either side of me.

“What is your problem?” His dark gaze stares into my eyes before sliding down my lips that I involuntarily lick my lips.

I try to push against him, but his chest is solid, hard muscle. “What do you think?” My voice dips in sarcasm. “You did nothing while I almost died against Bono.”

“You expected me to shield you? Coddle you in this hellhole?” His nose flares. He takes a step forward and towers over me, his dark gaze drilling into mine as he presses me against the wall of the alcove. “My hands were tied and they still fucking are. I couldn’t do a damn thing, or they’d flay us both for the buzzards to eat. Only the strong survive, Shaye.”

I shove against him again, anger flaring hot and hard in my chest. “That’s it? You’re not even going to apologize or ask how I am?” He didn’t even visit me in the infirmary.

“You want flowers?” He snorts. “They’ll grow over your unmarked grave ’cause that’s the only time you’re ever getting out of here.”

His harsh words cut my soul and I can tell that what we had in the past meant absolutely nothing to him. I straighten, refusing to let them know he’s terrifying. How his power flicks across the darkness in his eyes and down his skin, coiling like a poisonous snake about to strike.

He looks over his shoulder at me and scowls. “I’d think you’d be a little more thankful you’re not in solitary or dead.”

I lift my chin forcing my eyes to remain dry. “I made a mistake with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let me go.” I heave a sigh, looking past him to the empty hall.

But instead of letting me pass, he lets out a growl and pushes his body to mine, pinning me in place. My body is buzzing from his closeness.

My skin warms where his fingers touch my chin and neck and my heart is pounding underneath his touch.

I refuse to give in, to swoon from his aggression. It’s all a ruse. Wanting what he can’t have. He doesn’t care about me.

If he did, he’d have done something in the arena or want to check on me afterward. Not barking orders of going to some meeting with him like I’m nothing more than a dog he has to walk between lab experiments. I clench my fists and grind my teeth down hard.

He grips my chin with his fingers and forces me to look into his eyes sparking a dark fire. I shiver despite the heat of his body so close to mine. My body craves him even though my mind is screaming to run, not to fall for him again.

His mouth crashes down on mine and I shove against his chest. Traitorously, I’m kissing him back even as I beat against him. Even as I hate him. Even as I remember him watching me get beaten. Our mouths devour each other. He nips at my lips and I can feel his beard scruff on my chin.

My heart jackhammers in my chest and I feel like I'm falling. I grip his arms to keep as steady as I can with desperation and lust swirling inside me. And I want more yet I want him off me.

My fingers dig into his arms to keep from falling over backward, from the desperation of our hungry mouths coming together, and from the lust swirling inside me, demanding more. My stomach clenches with desire, inflamed with lust.

Too soon though, he's grinning against my lips and pulls back, looking at me under hooded eyes.

"We are far from done," he says with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

And I want to slap him, yank on his grey uniform, and draw him back to me. Instead, I rub a hand over my mouth like I'm trying to wipe off his kiss. "Bastard."

He chuckles and saunters away from me and down the hallway. "Keep up, god-killer. You won't want to meet the Warden thrown over my shoulder or with that juicy ass red from the palm of my hand."

I flick him the finger and jog to catch up to him because I have no doubt he would do exactly as he promises or maybe both. And I can’t avoid the Warden... doing so might get me thrown back in that pit and I doubted I'll get lucky enough to survive twice.

Xanth opens the Warden's door, holding it open for me.

"You're late." The Warden glares straight at me from behind his metal desk with papers scattered across the surface. He steeples his fingers and leans forward, his partially bald head gleaming in the fluorescent lights.

Behind me, Xanth closes the door and leaves us alone.

"How are you doing after your first fight? Quite a show you put on for everyone." His concern for me is faker than the certificates on his wall.

"Show?" I choke out on a dry throat. Why did I think anyone in this place would care for anyone but themselves? Everyone has their agenda, and my thoughts can't stop drifting back to Xanth. "Glad I could entertain everyone with my near-death."

And my stomach twists in on itself that I had to kill someone. Even though I hated Bono, I didn't want him to die, not because of me. Involuntarily, my hand drifts up to touch my neck, still sore from where he tried to choke me. And a weariness creeps into me at the eager look in the Warden’s brown eyes.

He waves a hand at my comment. “First fight jitters are expected. Now, I have a way for you to get a reprieve from the next fight. Save up your strength for a big reveal later.”

My stomach drops at the implication that he has plans to send me back in so soon. I can barely breathe thinking about it and my healing body aches, reminding me I barely escaped the arena before.

“Do I have a choice?” I ask, sarcasm laced with fear in my voice.

“Not if you want to remain on my good side.” His grin leaves me shivering. He leans back in his chair, shuffling through papers before pulling one out of the stack before checking his watch. “On your next meal delivery to the boiler room in max security find this inmate.”

When he pushes the paper toward me, I gawk at the mugshots of a guy with tattoos covering his body, hair shorn short, with a clown image sketched into the back of his skull.

“His name is Cason Riley. He was charged with murder of a demi-god about a year ago but took years to catch him.”

“Why me?”

“You look like someone who can get anything she wants,” he replies. “Find out what he knows about Project X and report back to me immediately.”

I set the photo down and shake my head. “What makes you think this guy will talk to me? And what’s Project X?”

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t sell yourself short, Shaye. You’re a beautiful girl and with the right motivation and a little cajoling, I think you’ll accomplish anything you set your mind on.”

“And what if he doesn’t talk?”

“He will…once you get his attention.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do to get this guy’s attention?” I stand with my hands on my hips. I’m not willing to prostitute myself.

Don’t worry. You have a choice.” He glances at his watch. “I have a meeting I need to get to, but I’ll check in with you later.”

Arguing with the Warden isn’t going to get me anywhere. I see the fiery determination in his eyes as though he expects me to protest, but I won’t give him that chance. He removes his cellphone from his pocket and waves me to the door.

I push to my feet, a heaviness settling in my stomach.

And on my way out, Rowan’s words play on my mind.

I need to get you ready to defend yourself.