Page 86 of Caged Kitten

“Let’s skip this, shall we?” I motioned between myself and the dragon with a thin smile. “The part where you deny and I lay out all the obvious. You and Katja Fox are fated mates. Fate brought you together here, of all places, which is quite the fuck-you in my opinion, but I doubt you would have found each other otherwise.”

Jaw muscles rippling through a clench, Elijah dropped his spork and turned his full attention on me, those golden eyes—dragon eyes, I had come to realize—just daring me to continue prying into his personal business. And I would. With pleasure.

“It’s why you protect her without question when there are smaller and more pathetic female inmates in this place—even in our own cellblock.” Not that any of us bothered with Constance and Helen; although under different circumstances, the maenad would have been a blast on a night out. “And it’s why you know her intentions time and time again. You’re linked. I mean, I have a pair of fucking eyes…” I plopped my chin into both hands, head tipped and eyelashes fluttering. “Are you two hopelessly in love yet?”

The terse silence that followed was answer enough, both Rafe and Elijah glowering at me out of the corner of their eyes as the dining hall carried on operating at its usual dull roar. Dozens of conversations raged all around us, yet ours flatlined. Perfect. Just as I’d thought too.

“Fair enough.” Thank fuck they weren’t all moony over each other; that would have been most intolerable. “I always thought the instant and overwhelming love was bullshit. In my opinion, it’s an act—like you lot think you have to be besotted from the word go.”

Not that I had encountered many fated mates in my lifetime, but I’d heard the stories, and the few pairs of shifter couples who couldn’t keep their hands off each other from the second they realized they were fated were just sickening, honestly. Just because you sensed a soulmate hardly meant you knew a damn thing about them. While nowhere near a paragon of wisdom and virtue when it came to matters of the heart, I had a brain. And a sizeable cock. And if my fated mate chewed with their mouth open… there would be issues.

“Look, you care for her at the very least—”

“Obviously,” Elijah growled. Probably more than cared for her. Katja was easy to like—harder to bed—and they seemed to share an unspoken bond that the rest of us could never touch. Nor did I want to. What they had belonged to them, just as what she and Rafe shared was hardly my business. Let him bite her all he wanted—

Oh.

Wait.

Too soon.

“And you care for her as well,” I added, nudging Rafe’s arm with my elbow, on high alert to quell any fangless vampire puns before they left my lips. The glass tube stopped spinning, and Rafe tossed his head side to side, noisily cracking his neck.

“Obviously.”

“Excellent. All our cards on the table, then.” I chugged the last of my apple juice with some difficulty, tossing the empty carton aside as a dramatic sugar-induced shiver bolted through me. “My working theory, therefore, is that your fate has extended to Rafe and me. You’re fated, and now we are all fated too.”

How else could anyone explain why I, Prince Fintan of the Midnight Court, had been picked up by a bunch of supernatural bounty hunters and tossed in prison? This was hardly my failing—but fate intervening, bringing us all together when the bitch knew we most needed each other.

The rest of my posse didn’t exactly jump at the theory. Rafe uttered a curt huff, rolling his eyes, and Elijah just gawked at me like I had sprouted a second head.

“That’s ridiculous—”

“But not unheard of,” I argued, holding up a finger to silence him. Why did they always question every little thing I said? I had centuries on both of them and life experience in realms beyond their own. Surely I had something worthwhile to contribute… occasionally. “I mean, look, Elijah, you’re an alpha dragon. You could conquer nations and rule as the unquestioned lord and master of all who dwelled within…” Without the collar, of course. Pesky fuckers were such a buzzkill. “Yet you don’t want to—or at the very least haven’t tried—to kill Rafe and me, right? I’ve fucked your mate, made her come twice, and this one bit her before you… but at the end of the day, we’re all the best of friends.”

Another tense silence stretched between us, this time with Rafe looking at me like I had lost my mind and Elijah like he wanted to skin me alive. Right. Overplayed my hand a bit there.

“Or…” I cleared my throat, drumming my fingers on the metal tabletop. A quick glance in Katja’s direction showed the witch peeking over her shoulder at us, only to whip around when she caught me looking right back. Honestly. Ridiculous creature. Like pretending we weren’t an established Xargi tribe would fool an obsessive like Guthrie. “Or, at the very least, we three find ourselves begrudging allies in a fucked-up situation.”

“That sounds about right,” Rafe muttered, a faint lisp curling around any s words. He’d have to adjust to speaking without those fangs in the way; the vampire seemed to notice, glowering up at his forehead like he was giving himself a mental pep talk to get his shit together.

“If anything, it explains the ease of our connection,” I remarked. Hunger winning out, I finally snatched the standard rock-hard hunk of bread and crushed it between both hands, then picked through the aftermath like I was eating the saddest, stalest pile of chips ever. “We might not be in love with her, and she might not be scribbling our names on notebooks surrounded by hearts…” The pair raised their eyebrows at me, and I forced a one-shouldered shrug. “Or whatever women do in those human films. Such drivel.” Also known as the movies I watched—alone—when I was very, very, very drunk and lonely. “Anyway, that might not be the case, but we’re drawn to one another. I don’t really want to fuck either of you, despite the pleasing aesthetics, but I’ve also never desired friendship with a shifter or a vampire before. I’m sure you’re swell boys and all, but it’s… odd. Uncharacteristic for me, just as it is to crave a witch.

“There seems to be the possibility for more outside of this prison.” Love and acceptance and growth as a man into someone I had always dreamed of, someone better than the spoiled princeling I’d become over the years. “Whatever the fuck fate has in mind for us, I mean. Love or not, we’re all entwined. Our survival is linked.”

“Pretty speech,” Rafe said with a snort, eyes drifting to Katja across the cafeteria, even leaning to the side when another inmate blocked his view as they sidled by her table. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Rafe I needed to get on board with this—it was the shifter who likely dictated his life around fate’s hand. I allowed Elijah some contemplative silence, then hucked a large breadcrumb at him. He batted it away before it landed, lips twitching in a snarl, but after a few hard blinks, the man was back, those pupil-slits round and ordinary once more.

“I can see the… sense in it. Maybe.” Oh, bitter. So fucking bitter. Though I could hardly blame him: few shifters could fathom sharing their mates, not unless it was with other shifters with whom they shared a pack bond. Wolves commonly shared mates, from what I’d heard. Dragons, meanwhile, tended to fly solo.

And now here we were, two non-shifters swooping in for a piece of the pie.

The delicious, sumptuous, mouthwatering pie.

“Jealous?” Shockingly, it was Rafe who posed the question, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips when he glanced Elijah’s way. The shifter studied him for a moment and then shoved one whole fried egg in his mouth.

Bravery in its finest form.

“A little,” he managed with a mouthful of egg, his response making Rafe’s grin blossom into something real for the first time all day.

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