Page 13 of Captive Hybrid

Chapter Six

Zenna

At first, the realisation that I could communicate with Mordecai was thrilling. A relief. But now, my gut twists painfully as I follow Callen out of the locker room. The comfort at finally being clean is short lived, replaced by bone-deep fear and anxiety. Now I have a secret to keep from him and every other vampire in this place.

Being part fae, there is only one thing I cannot lie about. My visions. The rest is fair game, but I never found out just how acute wolf’s senses are; if they can sense the flutter of my heart when I lie, or withhold information. Are a vampire’s senses the same? I’m not brave enough to ask.

This time, Callen stalks ahead, leading me back to my cell. To play a game.

Despite the recent shower, cold sweat breaks out over my skin at what his idea of fun might be.

A low chuckle spills from Callen’s mouth, filling the hall to wrap around me like a tight embrace. ‘I can smell your fear. It’s easier to taste now that there are… less odours on you.’ He turns to me with a chilling smile as he unlocks my cell, gesturing with one hand that I should re-enter.

I pause on the threshold, filing away that sliver of information he no doubt gave away without intending to. Other odours can mask what they can scent. Noted. I glance at him, reluctant to step back into the prison. Until I see a tray of food beside him in the hallway. Not in my cage, just outside.

‘Is—is that for me?’

‘Normally, I like to play with the captives, but since Lady wants you well…’ Callen draws a deep breath as though his next words will pain him. ‘If you’re a good girl, then yes. It’s for you.’

I narrow my eyes, expecting a trick, but he holds the door open patiently until my shoulders slump, resigned, and I step inside. He shuts the door… but doesn’t lock it. I gape at him. He’s playing with me alright, just not in the skin-ripping way he normally would, apparently. Godric made him sound like an animal.

Callen collects the tray—his back turned for a single moment as I stare at the door, unlocked—and turns back to me, grinning wickedly. He slides the tray under the lowest bar. ‘You could run,’ he suggests, as though—despite Drusilla’s orders he’s clearly trying to follow—he would very much enjoy that. I can picture him having the time of his life giving me a false head start, then hunting me down.

Instead, I don’t rise to the bait, and simply take the tray and go to sit on my bed. ‘Thank you for the food,’ I say calmly.

‘Oh, come now.’ Callen offers a mock-pout. As he straightens his shoulders, I notice that what I had first thought was a lankier build, compared to Godric, was a mistake; he is well built, but hunches slightly, to hide it, as though luring his prey to believe he’s not a threat. But now I see him. He backs up into the hallway, hands raised placatingly. He nods at the unlocked door. ‘Aren’t you the least bit tempted?’

‘Do you think I’m the least bit stupid?’ I can’t keep the irritation from my voice.

He barks a laugh, returning. ‘Oh, it’s worked before. When a captive is desperate enough’—he drops one eye in a devilish wink—‘it works sometimes.’

I focus on my meal. It’s more substantial than any previous meal I’ve been given. Instead of a dry sandwich or a watery bowl of soup, there’s a full plate of fresh steamed potato and peas and corn, with a surprisingly healthy-looking steak in a light dressing. There’s also a bottle of water, cutlery, a neatly folded napkin, and a small bottle of juice. I glance up at him. ‘What’s with the five-star service?’

Callen clucks at me. ‘Zenna,’ he chides. ‘So suspicious.’

I set the tray aside. ‘I thought you wanted to play a game.’ I sit back, trying to keep my dress from exposing more than my legs. I wish I could keep talking to Mordecai, but I can’t. I block the communication instinctively with what feels like a wall between us. I can’t have him hammering at my head.

‘I do. You’re an interesting little hybrid. You know, I’ve never met a half-breed before. That must be awfully degrading, being neither this nor that, but a blasphemous combination. Never belonging to one Clan or another, just sitting on the sidelines—’

‘Is this your idea of a game?’

He raises a hand. ‘You’re right. Your strange nature aside, I like you. You’re talkative. I mean, there are the blood sluts upstairs who want to be bitten who talk a little, but it’s mostly, oh, please, yes, just like that, oh, Callen you’re so hot—’

‘You really like the sound of your own voice.’

Callen sniggers. ‘It’s delightful, isn’t it? What I want to play is question for question. You can ask me one question, and if I know the answer, I shall give it to you. And I ask you one in return. We shall be honest.’ He leans forward, through the unlocked door of my cell. ‘If you lie,’ he pitches his voice low, ‘I will know. For each lie, I will bite you.’ He offers a dangerous smile. ‘That’s my game. Would you like to play with me?’

Cold dread grips me.

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