Page 98 of Caged Kitten

Fuck me for letting him.

“You think all I can do to the vampire is remove his fangs?” Lloyd said casually. A beat later, his tone dropped and darkened. “Watch me. I’ll rip them all apart, one piece at a time, and you, kitten, can have a front-row seat to the carnage.” He sniffed, ticking each of my boys off on his fingers. “I’ll peel the flesh from that fucking fae’s bones and feed it to the wolves. I’ll lob off the vampire’s limbs and toss them into the sun so you can watch them fry—have us a bonfire. And the dragon…” He cocked his head to the side, staring so hard at me like he could see clear through to my soul, to my heart and all its desires. “I’ll pull out the dragon’s teeth, rip out his nails, pluck every hair from his head. We’ll see how deep we need to dig to find his scales. They go for quite a bit on the black market, dragon scales… Better than any armor out there. They even repel magic—did you know that? His hide is worth a fucking fortune.”

Heart racing, I swallowed hard at the churn of an anxiety puke, which was dangerously close to mingling with my pissed-off magic and choking me. This was why I had tried to separate from them, but Fintan had been right: it was too late for that now.

I’d damned them all.

“I…” Think quick, Katja. These weren’t empty threats; Lloyd would do everything he said and more to my guys if I didn’t respond correctly. Tough as it was to wade through the brain fog, I stitched together a slapdash plan that just might work—if I had the leverage over this creepy asshole that I hoped I did. If not, we were all screwed. “I have some conditions.”

Amusement flickered across his features. “Oh, is that so?”

With a deep breath, I sat up straighter, businesslike, as if I were dealing with a particularly douchey vendor. Warmth dribbled down my wrists, blood plopping onto the floor from the fresh cuts, but I blocked it out—tried not to count how many seconds stretched between each drop.

Fifteen.

Fifteen seconds and then plop.

“The collar comes off,” I said evenly. “My magic is turning foul the longer it just sits there. It’s making me feel ill, and I…” No need to give him further ammunition. “It has to come off.”

Lloyd considered it for a moment—plop—and then nodded. “Agreed. Can’t have you rotting from the inside, but no wand.”

“Sure.” Like I even needed a wand at this point. As soon as the leather disappeared, I’d probably go off like a bomb. As a warlock, surely he expected that. Every super and shifter in here was suffering with pent-up magic in one form or another.

“Second…” I licked my lips, unsure if I wanted to play this card just yet but knowing I would hate myself if I didn’t. “Tully comes with me.”

“What the fuck is a tully?”

Ugh, just hearing Lloyd say his name made the anxiety churn amp up a notch, like he had finally found the heart of me and stomped all over it. “He’s my familiar. He… He’s a cat. He followed the bounty hunters who took me and snuck in with a guard. He’s been living in the shadows of my cell for a while now. He’s… my best friend. Please.”

Panic reared its ugly head again when Lloyd’s face twisted, his teeth gnashed, his fury so sudden and dark that it made me jump. But it was gone just as quick as it appeared, replaced by an unreadable calm—calm that wouldn’t last, a maelstrom swirling beneath the surface.

“I can’t have some familiar protecting you from me,” he growled, and I frantically shook my head.

“No, he won’t.” Of course he would—Tully would die for me. All familiars would die for their witches and warlocks; the only difference with me and him was that it went both ways. I’d give my life for that spoiled brat ten times over. “I promise—I’ll make sure he doesn’t interfere. I just want him with me. He… He’s good at healing.”

Lloyd’s lingering erection implied a penchant for violence and a mean sadistic streak; I would probably need Tully’s abilities in the very near future.

The warlock considered me for what felt like an eternity, then sniffed and picked a bit of fluff off his suit’s charcoal-grey jacket sleeve. “If he fucks with me, I’ll skin him and wear his pelt as a hat.”

Another surge of anxiety vomit, fire sizzling up my throat. “Okay, and lastly—”

“What makes you think you get any more conditions?”

I knew I’d been pushing my luck, and I nudged it just a little further with a flick of my head, tossing my hair over my shoulder to show off the side of my neck Rafe hadn’t scarred. Lloyd’s gaze plummeted to my throat again, to the pinpoints of pain left by his fingertips, to the bruises forming slowly but surely. Gods. He was going to choke me until I passed out regularly, wasn’t he? A shiver raced down my spine, eyes burning with a new batch of tears, but I pushed through, needing this last condition approved most of all.

“Lastly,” I started again, voice thick, each word a chore, “Elijah, Fintan, and Rafe are taken care of once I’m gone. They’re treated well in here. I’ll do whatever you want, go wherever you want, so long as they are looked after… or freed.”

Lloyd chuckled coolly. “I’m not releasing them. They have a sentence to serve—which has just been extended for causing a riot and murdering a handful of my guards, I might add.”

“Okay, just…” Gods, I couldn’t believe I was saying this, doing it, throwing away my life and legitimizing this bastard’s insanity. But I would. For them, I had to. “None of them get hurt. Or maimed, or tortured, or singled out. They stay together in Cellblock C. Just leave them alone, and don’t order any other inmates to do the dirty work for you.”

“My, my… That’s a tall order, kitten.” He pinned me with a frighteningly serious look, and just as I started to really sweat, he flipped, mouth twisting into what he must have thought was a sinfully handsome smile. “But you’re worth it.” Easing off his desk, Lloyd tipped his metaphorical hat to me, bowing slightly as he said, “Agreed.” His hands then settled on the back of my chair, caging me in on either side, and he dropped down to my eyeline, his breath hot and his eyes wanting. “Now, seal it with a kiss, Katja Fox… like you’ve made a deal with the Devil.”

As much as I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and turn away, I just sat there and let it happen. Stared at him as he planted his thin, vile mouth on mine in a hard, domineering kiss. Lloyd’s eyes fluttered before they closed, and his soft, barely there moan had me fighting my gag reflex. I looked away, out the window and beyond the blurry horizon, then squealed when his hand suddenly fisted in my hair and wrenched my head back. His tongue thrust between my parted lips, and I did everything in my power not to bite it off.

I took it. I took him and his mouth that tasted like burnt basil and nicotine and mint. I sealed the deal. I dealt with a man who thought he was the Devil, who saw himself as invincible and all-powerful.

In these walls, Lloyd Guthrie was exactly that.

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