Page 48 of Whispers of the Dead

I chuckle and lean back against the bars with my arms crossed over my chest, getting comfortable. “Well, you see, I don’t give a single fuck about what Eugene likes and doesn’t like.”

Her gaze shifts when Wilkes lunges at her. His movements are clumsy and fueled by anger. Zoey sidesteps his first swing with surprising ease and quick, honed reflexes. Then she uses his momentum to shove him toward the bars a mere couple of inches from me.

The violent protests from the other captives disappear into the darkness. My entire focus is on the fascinating woman in front of me with stunning blue eyes and an underappreciated fierceness.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunts, backing up toward the bars on one side of the cell.

Wilkes snarls and grabs at her again, but this time he gets too close to the wrong bars. Damon’s hands shoot out like steel traps and lock around Wilkes’ wrist with a sickening crunch. Wilkes howls and stumbles back, cradling his now-broken wrist.

A grin spreads across my face, and I’m pretty sure my eyes are shining with glee. What a successful experiment.

The room is electric now. Damon’s hands retreat through the bars. The other captives start shouting again. Their voices melt together into a mixture of threats and concern.

“So protective,” I muse aloud, though mostly to myself. My gaze shifts between Zoey and the surrounding darkness of the other cells. My grin widens when I meet her fiery gaze. I’m sure I’m probably showing all my teeth at this point. “Perhaps we need to reconsider where we keep you. Isn’t that right, firecracker?”

To my ecstatic ness, Zoey doesn’t back down. She lifts her chin and glares at me with all the defiance she can muster. My dick strains against my zipper. “You’re all the same. You think you can control people, but you can’t. Play the little game you want to play. You’ll never control me.”

Her words are sharp, but I see the exhaustion in her eyes. She’s holding on by a thread, and yet, she burns brighter than the damn sun.

“Oh, I don’t want to control you.” I take another step closer. Then another. Until her back is against the stone wall and she’s forced to crane her neck to look up at me. Lola’s barks drift into the background. The other captives go wild at our proximity. Wilkes whines about his stupid broken wrist as though I’m supposed to care. “That would be boring. What I really want is to see what makes you burn.”

Zoey’s jaw clenches. “You’re not going to break me. No matter how hard you try.”

Her defiance is delicious. Intoxicating. I take another step forward until my body is flush against hers and reach up torest my forearms on the cold stone above her head, sealing us into this little bubble of privacy. “Good. Otherwise, that would take the fun out of it.”

“Are you going to teach her a lesson or what?” Wilkes spits onto the floor before scrambling to his feet, still cradling his wrist.

I shoot him a glare so potent that he hunches his back to make himself smaller. My tone is sharp when I speak. “Clean that up.”

Confused, he glances down at the spit puddle. “I don’t have a rag.”

“Then use your shirt, or I’ll use your face.”

His face turns red with anger, but he takes off his shirt and grumbles the entire time he wipes up his spit from the floor. The amount of times these guys have to clean up their own messes out of this cell is getting ridiculous.

“Now get out.”

Wilkes hesitates and glares at Zoey one last time, but I shift my body and block her from his view. When he doesn’t move, Damon’s hand shoots out and wraps around Wilkes’ neck, pulling him against the bars so hard his head bounces off the metal. “Step away from her or I snap his neck.”

Wilkes’ eyes widen, but all I do is grin. “Do it.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” When no one speaks or moves, I decide to take this little game to the next level. I’m so glad I came in here today. After straightening my spine, I drop a hand into Zoey’s beautiful golden blonde hair. I lift the strands and bury my face in them before taking a large whiff. “Glorious.”

“Step away,” Damon repeats.

“Do what you need to. I’m not moving.”

Lola is going wild at this point. I should have brought her in here with me. That would have really livened things up.

Wilkes whimpers. “Boss?—”

The word ends on a gurgle when Damon tightens his grip. Losing Wilkes would make no difference to me, but then I would need to go fetch someone else to come in and clean up his body, and the cycle would only continue.

“Don’t bother me when I’m busy, Wilkes.” I press my lips to Zoey’s forehead. “Have they denied you the basics, such as a shower?”

“Yes,” she squeaks out with hesitation.

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