Page 74 of Babalon

Grabbing a tray and the bare minimum of food, I stroll over and sit next to Kace, avoiding all the other empty seats at the table.

“What the…” he starts.

Turning to look at him, I could see that he was caught off guard by my presence—he and Nadia need to get better at being discreet and watching their backs. In a room full of convicted killers, he isn’t guarded enough.

“I hope you don’t mind that I join you for meal time.”

“Uh, not at all, but why don’t you choose another seat instead of nearly sitting on my damn lap?”

“Good idea, but I am already sitting so I don’t see the harm in it. You look like you were deep in thought, care to talk about it?”

He pauses, looking me up and down, pinching his brows together. I don’t know what he was looking for per se, but I don’t care. We were like night and day. He seems bright with his pale blond hair and vivid blue eyes. If I don’t know any better, I would say he has the lingering blemishes of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Like he has spent entirely too much time indoors instead of out in the sun like a normal human being. He has color in his features though, he looks full, healthy, and strong.

I, on the other hand, am thin where he is athletic, dark hair, grey eyes, scarred, tattooed, and have gone stints longer than socially acceptable between baths. To the point I have permanent dirt stains on my fingertips from the nights I would wake up clawing at the filthy floors beneath me. Nightmares having consumed my dreams and left me fighting for my life amongst the stars in the sky.

He obviously came from money, whereas I scraped my way out of poverty into more of the same—like most of the men in here. Being poor leads to many of the decisions made by criminals;society and communities shunning us until we are forced to do what was necessary for survival.

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing anything with a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger. We met the other day. I know we may not have exchanged names but that is not important. Either way, I am Lucien, and I know you’re Kace.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Word gets around. Especially when they’re whimpered and gasped.” I almost laugh.

Turning to take a bite of a simple bologna sandwich, I sense him tensing beside me—I must have struck a nerve.

Goody.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“You’re not as discreet as you think you are. I saw you with that officer the other day in your cell. The way her throat took you was… impressive, to say the least.”

Kace never gave me the impression of a violent man, but I may have been wrong to assume that, especially when he leans in and his voice lowers a little in volume. The words he speaks laced with venom.

“If you so much as open your goddamn mouth about what you saw, or about her again, I’ll rip your fucking throat out. Do I make myself clear?”

Gritting my teeth, it took everything in me not to retaliate. I warned him about his language once before, yet here he is again, disrespecting the Lord. He will be punished for that—his one chance has come and gone.

“I told you to watch your mouth, this type of behavior isn’t conducive for a friendship.”

“I don’t give a shit about your friendship, Lucien, mark my words though. It’s the only promise I’ll ever give you.”

Reigning in my anger, I smile, tilting my head to the side while feeding the sandwich into my mouth. We stare at each other for a moment before he stands up, grabs his tray, then talks away.

He has quite the soft spot for the officer, which may present a problem. I cannot quite corrupt her further if he is standing in the way. I suppose I will need to find something that pushes him right out of the picture. It is amusing to see, however, how far he is willing to go to keep the woman who has spent the last three years of her career making his life miserably safe.

How odd.

Chapter twenty-three

Kace

It has been nine days, fourteen hours, and forty-seven minutes since I asked Nadia to let me love her. From that conversation, I gathered that she was more concerned with her job and not surrendering to charges that would likely end with her in a position that mimics mine. I don’t blame her for that notion, but for someone who is always so guarded, I’m shocked to see that she didn’t respond in fear from the prospect of being loved by someone.

Perhaps she thinks I can’t do anything of the sort, that I can’t love her. That loving her isn’t possible. Maybe I’m just overthinking things, hoping she doesn’t lock herself away from me.

Either way, she hasn’t put distance between us, but the conversation has yet to come back up, even in our brief encounters. I don’t know if I should be grateful that she’s not opening up again or if there is a need to be concerned. All I knowis, I’ve been obsessing over it since the moment the words fell out of my stupid mouth.

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