Page 63 of Babalon

Once he left, I turn the water on a low trickle and pull out a clean shirt. It will leave me with an odd number of full uniforms but that’s alright. Running the fabric under the water, I use it to soak up just enough to wring out across my shoulders. Wetting them before lathering my bar of soap and running it across my skin.

It didn’t take me forever, but I am just finishing up with my feet when Ronald returns, dropping down on his bed, going back to his book— bag of chips in one hand and a piece of candy in the other.

“Want one?” he asks, seeing me eye the little red disk.

“What is it?”

“Reeds cinnamon candy.”

“Sure,” I reach out, and he drops one in my hand.

Sliding into new clothes, I put away the soiled ones and tread back to gen pop where I sit down on one of the bench seats. Hoping to get lost in whatever TV programming they are allowing us to watch today, but the longer I try to focus on it, the harder it becomes.

I glance over my shoulder a time or two, looking for the female guard—eager to see her once more before shift change or chow. As I scan the area for what feels like the twentieth time, I finally lock eyes with her. She is sitting in the guard booth, possiblygoing over the fire exits and other safety measures within this part of the prison. I guess it’s dry and boring because when she makes eye contact with me, she straightens her spine and allows herself to stare back versus paying attention to what is in front of her.

She doesn’t really strike me as the type to be easily distracted, so I’m a little surprised that she maintains eye contact again. Unlike earlier, she doesn’t wear her emotions all over her face.

Good girl.

The inmates will eat her alive if she lets any sort of emotion through, they see it as a weakness and will use it to their advantage. I would hate to see one of these fuckers rip her apart; there’s a reason they don’t put women in max—one I prefer not to think about.

Holding her gaze for a few more breaths, I look away. First down at the floor just a few feet away from where I am sitting, then I turn forward and face the TV. I have a feeling this girl is not only going to hold her own here, but she’s either going to do really good, or really, really bad.

Chapter nineteen

Kace

Present Day

Like the first time we fooled around, we go a week or so without speaking. I don’t know if I should be thankful that this is becoming a pattern for us, or not. On one hand, it’s nice to detach from the intensity and consuming nature of whatever is brewing. Yet, on the other, I want to yank her back to me because I feel like she is getting too far away. If I let her continue to do that, she may turn on me and bite the hand that—well, I don’t feed her anything besides my cock, but you know how the saying goes.

I will say, however, that the longer she steers clear of me, the more I wonder about what happened to her, and that’s where I am at now. I’m bound and determined to learn more aboutNadia. We may have exchanged entirely too many glances over the past few years, and entered into many heated exchanges, but she’s mine now, and though, I cannot provide for her in a normal sense. I can give her something someone else took from her—safety. Well, as much as I can, being bound to the restrictions of prison.

Like a glutton for punishment, though, I need to talk to her. I have nothing to say, but hearing her voice would be nice after not getting to put up with her bullshit for the past week.

Stepping up to the guard booth, I knock on the thick glass window to get her attention. She’s inside typing away on the computer, I assume she is putting together a report for an incident earlier today—something about the homies jumping one of the kinfolk. Not any of my business.

When she snaps her head up at me, those once bright silver eyes, now hallowed out by the darkness of this prison, glare up at me. I watch as she shoves the keyboard away and steps around the desk to the door and unlocks it. Her right hand instinctively dropping to her baton before wrenching the heavy metal door open.

If we ever have a zombie apocalypse, she would be safe in her little panic room.

“What do you want, inmate?”

“Just to see your pretty face, of course.”

“That doesn’t entail talking. You can look through the glass like all the others. So, what do you really want?”

“Damn, give me some credit, your highness. I came to talk to you, that’s all. Can you escort me to the rec yard, or do I need to fight someone first before you come out of your hole?”

“Kace, do not fucking test me today. I don’t have the patience to deal with anything, let alone the animosity between us.”

She thinks there is animosity? That’s far from the truth. I might have been relatively harsh on her last time we weretogether, but she earned that by getting me sent to seg. I was only returning the favor.

“Your voice sounds normal. I take it you followed my instructions on how to care for your throat?” I ask lowly, not wanting other inmates to eavesdrop. My mouth curling into a slight smirk as I arch a light-colored brow.

She went still; her mouth snapping shut. She looks like she wants to pop off and say something, but she knows better now. With her eyes raking over me, from head to toe and back up, she shakes her head and proceeds to ignore my question.

“Let me finish up this report and I’ll go with you.”

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