Page 89 of Caged Kitten

Katja

Purposefully ignoring my boys, especially as Rafe tried to navigate the world without his fangs, was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

And it had only been a day.

And… You know, not counting my entire family dying and then having to listen to the grim details from a psychopath who thought he literally owned me. That was harder—on my heart, on my mind. But my body yearned to be near Elijah. Longed to sidle up to the fire and bask in the warmth. I missed whispering with Rafe for hours through that mousehole between our cells, and I was desperate to spend today’s greenhouse shift with Fintan—nine hours of laughter and chatter with a dash of actual gardening.

Sad, really, to feel so bereft without them. I mean, they hadn’t been in my life for all twenty-nine years, and then, bam, there they were—like they had been there all along. Scary to consider the intensity of our bonds, both as individuals and as a group, but for their own sake, I had to stay away. Distance myself. Push back anytime they tried to wriggle closer like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was the most natural thing—easy and simple, normal in a place that was anything but.

I didn’t realize any of this until I went without.

Didn’t realize what I’d had until I lost it.

Sure, I had been aware that they catered to me, forming a protective trio of handsome muscle so that no one could touch me when they were around. It still made me a little uncomfortable, having all these men standing up for me, fighting for me, getting in trouble for me, but going without it today and yesterday had been… shitty.

Terrible.

Not the lack of protection—just the lack of them. I had a solo bakery shift yesterday, Elijah stuck in the metal shop, which meant it had been easy enough to pretend they didn’t exist. As soon as we all reconvened in the cellblock, however, it became infinitely more difficult. Even Tully seemed a bit judgmental when I just hid out in my cell, interacting with no one. Thompson was gone—he hadn’t come back since my attack—and the rest of the guards were obviously in Guthrie’s pocket. Hopefully they had already reported to him that suddenly I was a loner, that his plan was working.

I would never give in… but let him think he had won this small battle by isolating me. If it meant keeping my guys safe, I could take this—the heartache, the longing, the loneliness.

Unfortunately, Fintan was the most difficult to ignore. Elijah and I had our fated mate connection, which made my body topsy-turvy when I forcefully distanced myself from him, and Rafe and I had our intense conversations that made me feel alive, like I wasn’t being held captive in a prison, the prickle in my neck a constant reminder that we were tied together…

But Fintan had no issues bulldozing personal boundaries.

He had been my shadow ever since Cooper and Williams marched us out to the greenhouse after breakfast, and even though one of the guards there had ordered him to work in the compost section today, he outright ignored them as soon as they turned their back, hot on my heels and talking at me as I harvested carton after carton of plump, juicy raspberries. They were due for the States, set to be shipped tomorrow and enchanted not to spoil.

He had kept pushing, my gorgeous fae, nattering on about everything and nothing. Sometimes I could tune him out—me and the others even joked about Fintan’s future success as the world’s first fae white noise machine—but not today. My mind, heart, and body didn’t want to tune him out, so I heard every word, felt his every breath on my neck, the heat flaring between us whenever he hovered too close.

And my treacherous heart desired all of that. It wasn’t love, not yet, but every so often I realized I was veering in that direction, a dingy adrift in a stormy sea, land ahead and murky depths below. I could drown—or I could carry on to the shores.

Right now, I had purposefully chosen the depths, taking in water and struggling for air, but there really was no other choice. No one else I cared about was getting hurt on my watch.

Fingertips stained red with raspberry juices, I plopped the final few berries in and sealed the plastic carton. Nice as it was to work around greenery, the flora thriving under the care of witches and warlocks, elves and fae, even an earth elemental in her grey jumpsuit, greenhouse duty became monotonous after a while, especially if you were assigned to harvest. Pluck the stock, package it, wheel it to processing before it shipped out. I added this carton with all its organic labels and artisan stickers to the last available spot on my metal cart, then sighed as I looked to the rear of the massive space. Time to drop off another batch, the processing area annoyingly chaotic and the guards with clipboards beyond curt.

Bathed in greenhouse heat and humidity, the random bursts of sprinklers adding to the overall smothering damp, I brushed the sweat from my forehead and turned around—only to find myself alone, an empty, seemingly endless track of dirt sandwiched between tables of greenery ahead. Fintan had disappeared at some point, maybe sick of being ignored, and longing stabbed through me. Longing and hurt, neither of which I was allowed to feel.

I had chosen this.

I was ignoring them.

It shouldn’t hurt me if any of the three respected that. This was what I needed to happen—to be left alone.

So… Why did it feel so crappy to suddenly be alone?

Ugh. As the color drained from my cheeks and my gut bottomed out, I shoved the cart with its unwieldy wheels toward processing. The thing felt like it weighed two tons, but the heat made everything harder and my body still hadn’t fully recovered from its beating. Tully’s constant snuggles and purrs had mended just about everything, but today I had woken up with a dull ache all over and an overwhelming exhaustion that I hadn’t let him fix.

In a way, I almost felt like I… deserved it.

That I should feel like garbage.

Which was ridiculous and totally projecting and not rational, but here I was, trudging along with a cart of packaged raspberries, relishing the stiffness in my shoulders, my lower back, and my knees. It was guilt manifested—guilt for Rafe’s loss, for abandoning my fated mate, for blocking out the one man who knew how to really make me laugh.

I wished he were here right now, ambling along beside the rickety cart, even if the conversation was one-sided.

It was a sea of green, purple, and grey at processing, other inmates loitering around as their harvest was counted and approved. I nudged my cart to the back of the group, happy for a break while I waited my turn, struggling to get my wheels over the bump between dirt floor and grey tiled stone. Perspiration collected on the nape of my neck, back with a vengeance seconds after I brushed it away, and it dribbled between my shoulder blades, no doubt staining my jumpsuit just like everyone else.

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