Page 59 of Claimed By a King

“Oh, yeah. Now everyone’s hopped up on one thing or another. Even those who didn’t want to get forced on them.”

As soon as she says that, I’m reminded of the girl who got her teeth removed. She seemed… well, they all fucking looked and acted like they were on a trip all the time. But there was just something about her that made it seem out of character. Now I’m wondering if she was forced to take whatever was handed to her.

“But for the last two weeks, they’ve been forced off the drugs. And the Prospect who’s chosen them has been in complete control of everything from their training, food, and all that stuff.”

The more she explains, the sicker it all sounds. I’m not going to pretend I like those women, or that I’d ever go outof my way to help them. But that doesn’t mean I wish this upon them—or anyone, really.

“So like…” I pause and swallow when my voice cracks. “What kind of training are they going through?”

Finally finished with what I assume is foundation, Irina moves on to my eyes. The featherlight touch of the brush tickles as she swipes it across my eyelids.

“Everyone does things differently,” Irina says. Her tone sounds different, serious, with a hint of ominous undertone. “Some play mind-games. Others refuse them food. It really depends on the Prospect.”

The words she spoke weeks ago sound in my mind like warning bells, but I push them down and focus on what she’s saying now.

“When it was Noose’s turn, he pretty much starved his girl. All he allowed her to eat was a carrot every other day.”

I straighten in my chair. “How did she win if she was malnourished?”

Laughing, Irina explains, “The body and mind are capable of the impossible. Hey, weren’t you going to study human behavior or some shit like that? You should know that nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it.”

She’s right. Oh, my fucking God! It’s as though I’d forgotten that. Nothing is impossible if you just want it enough. Since Chris died, I’ve been treating my situation like it was a done deal. But nothing is set in fucking stone. And I owe it to Chris and myself to get the hell away from the Reapers.

“So how many rounds is each fight?” I ask, desperate to get more info and see if I can use it to my advantage. Maybe I can sneak away while everyone else watches the fights. “Or is it just until one of them dies?” Since Irina is still busy working on my makeup, I do my best not to cringe at my callous words.

“It depends,” she answers. “Rusty can stop the fight if he wants to. But there’s never been a need to do it. It’s not like there’s a shortage of crack whores and desperate women.”

Before I can come up with another question that doesn’t sound like I’m digging, Irina tells me to sit completely still.Then I feel something wet being painted on my lips and, much to my horror, outside the seams.

The more I focus on the feeling of what she’s doing, the more certain I am that she isn’t giving me a traditional look. With my luck, she’s probably exaggerating or giving me a clown makeover.

I kind of hate that I care because it shouldn’t matter what I look like. But it’s not my vanity that’s stirring, it’s worry. The more I stand out, the harder it would be to slip away unnoticed.

“There!” Irina finally announces after what feels like an eternity. “Go have a look in the bathroom mirror.”

As soon as I make it to the bathroom and look at my reflection, I gasp. “What the hell?”

“Right? It looks fucking awesome,” Irina says, misreading my stunned expression.

I blink once, twice… but the Halloween inspired makeup doesn’t go away. My face is painted white, and with the dark contouring she’s added, I look even thinner than I’ve become. My lips are blood-red, completing the macabre look. She’s added some black at the corners of my mouth, so when I open wide, it looks like my lips are cracking.

The same cracking effect is made on my forehead and under one eye. There’s even some black painted to look like stitches. It’s eye-catching and macabre, yet I can’t deny Irina knew what she was doing.

“So what do you think?” she asks.

At the same time, I say, “Am I an undead maid?”

She laughs and hip bumps me like we’re friends, which we’re not. “I don’t know. You can be whatever you want, I just think—”

Before Irina can finish talking, the room goes dark. With the lights out, it’s so dark I can’t see anything at all.

“The hell—”

“Shh!” Irina snaps. There’s a lilt of fear to her tone, which instantly puts me on edge.

We hold our breaths and wait for what feels like an eternity. Then I feel the familiar metal around my wrist and hearthe click as Irina puts the handcuffs into place. It’s just like what she’s done every night. Cuffing us together so I can’t go anywhere without her.

“What did you do?” Irina hisses. “What the fuck did you do, Zoe?”

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