Page 69 of Caged Kitten

Fintan

“Gentlemen…” Towel slung low around my hips, I bowed and gestured toward the shower-room door. “I’ll take it from here.”

Williams and Katz shot each other a look, then meandered toward the doorway—and clear through it, shutting the door soundly behind. I straightened with a smirk, then crossed my arms and ambled around the wall that separated—barely—the male and female shower quarters.

“And where are they going?” Katja looked beautiful in anything, but wrapped in just a thin strip of cloth that barely passed as a towel, she was exquisite. The shower shoes were a bit of an eyesore, but I wasn’t exactly interested in her feet, was I? While I yearned to drop my gaze, to explore the barely concealed curves ordinarily hidden behind that purple jumpsuit, I kept my focus on her face.

For which I should get a fucking medal of honor, really.

“They’re standing guard,” I told her, about to lean on the edge of the wall, all casual and nonchalant, before opting to stand tall and firm instead. I mean, yes, I intended to woo her in this place, but no inmate willingly set their bare skin on the grungy bathroom tile, myself included. Would I rather have seduced her in the greenhouse? A supply closet? Literally anywhere else in this entire building? Absolutely. But beggars couldn’t be choosers in Xargi—and this was the first time in my extraordinarily long and banal life that I was a beggar. For now, I’d take what I could get.

The witch’s fiery brows crept up, and she glanced toward the closed door. “Uh… Why?”

“So no one bothers us.”

My shrug had her eyebrows inching ever higher. “What? And why would they do that?”

“I’ve access to my accounts now.” Despite my pathetic earnings from backbreaking labor in the greenhouse—labor I only occasionally indulged in, usually when my little jewel was watching—I had been in this shithole a month now. When permitted, I could check my finances, where I’d learned that “charity” donations had been transferred straight from my accounts and into the warden’s bottomless pockets. No matter. Unlike many inmates, I now had hundreds of thousands of dollars at my disposal. No amount of slow and steady siphoning by the pricks in charge could change that.

I mean… Based on the assumption that Rollo had acquired a grand hunting party and spent the last month scouring the entire realm for his most impish of little brothers, theoretically I wouldn’t be here much longer. Neither would Katja. And, I suppose, neither would Elijah and Rafe. I couldn’t fathom any scenario where she would willingly leave them behind, not after the fucking and the biting and all that nonsense.

Katja stared back at me in an expectant silence, like my statement wasn’t obvious explanation enough, and I cleared my throat, then threaded my hands behind my back.

“Well, for ten grand a piece, they’ll do as I say… for today, anyway.” Her eyes rounded, lips slightly parted, and I beamed as I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet, beyond pleased with the response. “And I told them I wanted to worship at your altar—”

The witch exhaled a sharp, barking sort of laugh, then threw her hands up, arms still stiff enough to keep her towel in place. “You are the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met.”

I tipped my head to the side, smile barbed, and then closed the distance between us in two long strides while she was busy rolling her eyes. Katja started at my sudden nearness, at my swift and silent approach, then stiffened when I caught her by the chin and steered her back to me. Gone was the incredulous grin, replaced with another flicker of genuine surprise, perhaps even a pinch of fear and a dash of uncertainty.

“I’m not a man,” I whispered, dropping the smug, dashing pretense for a touch of the brooding fire she seemed so drawn to with her dragon and vampire. When she tried to twist away, I gripped harder, fingertips bruising into her jaw like a snare, forcing her lips into a delectable pucker. “I’m a prince, Katja, and I know quality when I see it.”

Her throat bobbed with a gulp, the motion making the pink dots on her flesh just beneath the collar twitch. “Why?”

“Why?” Hardly a question of why I saw quality in her—Katja had never struck me as a woman who required a man to sing her praises so that she realized her value—but rather why her. I loosened my grasp on her jaw, ghosting a finger along it instead. “Why not?” When she didn’t immediately swoon, I released her and grabbed my towel, dramatically wrenching it from my hips and tossing it onto the ground, baring myself—regretting it only slightly, given the state of the floor. “Am I not beautiful to you, witch?” Cock slowly swelling, heat percolating in my loins, I smirked when she stared as pointedly at my face as I had at hers, refusing to even sneak a peek downward. “Tell me honestly.”

“You’re very attractive, Fintan,” she remarked, still quiet, still slightly unsure of the situation. I could work with that. She then wet her lips and sighed. “You know that, I know that, and the millions of women you’ve—”

“Don’t forget the odd man.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Right. Men and women in all the courts and all the worlds know that you’re hot. It’s a fact.”

“And all those others…” I shifted closer, gaze falling to her mouth, then the collar around her throat. What I wouldn’t do to remove it, to let loose the magic festering inside. “They pale in comparison to you.”

“I bet you said that to all the others too.”

Her scoff suggested doubt—not that I could blame her. “Never.”

“I…” She leaned in closer, scrutinizing the furrow of my brow, the slight downturn of my mouth. “I don’t know why I believe that.”

“Because I don’t enjoy telling you tall tales,” I admitted, flashing a little grin despite my best efforts to remain as stoic and brooding as her other suitors. “No lies, Katja.”

“I thought fae can’t lie.”

My chuckle had her blushing. “Ah, well, that’s the biggest lie of them all.”

Those lovely sapphires dropped to the ground—not to my magnificent form, but to the filthy flooring underfoot. She toed at the tile, frowning, then pinned me with another searching look that had my cock on its knees. Why did I lust after her when she was serious? When she was mean and teasing and standoffish? Fucking why indeed.

As if reading my mind, she forced out another whisper. “Why, Fintan?”

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