Chapter 18

“I’m back, bitches!” I spread my arms wide on either side of me as I wake from the sedation the guards put me under. I expect streamers and balloons and a “We’re Glad You’re Still Alive” banner to be hanging from the ceiling. Instead, I wake in an empty tunnel of the Labyrinth. Alone. And in an uncomfortable, paper hospital gown.

Well, suck my cock and call it a candy cane. Where’s the red carpet? The party? My sexy as fuck mate in a sexy as fuck nurse’s costume, prepared to kiss my boo-boos better? I explicitly told Damien that I wanted him to purchase a sexy nurse’s outfit for Nina. The bastard didn’t answer, obviously, because we’re not telepathically linked despite how loudly I mentally scream. Either way, I thought as bros, he would know to do it for me automatically, especially since he’d benefit from it as well. And I’ve been injured, so that deserves some benefits. Nina in a short white skirt?

Oh, fuck.

The thought of my precious mate in an itty-bitty, teeny tiny, little nurse’s outfit, one that shows the bottom of her ass cheeks and her perfect cleavage, makes me hard as a rock.

On a scale of one to ten, would it be horribly weird if I stroked one out in the middle of the tunnel? Just a quickie.

I fucking need that relief after the day—week?—I had.

Being treated by Brina, the sadistic fae doctor of the prison, is not my idea of fun. The bitch relished in every scream of pain I made as she applied skin grafts to the burns on my body. It wasn’t too long before my natural healing capabilities kicked in, but that didn’t stop the psychopath from stabbing me with her rusty needle and smirking like the devil she is.

I swear my dick has never been more limp in my life. Even memories of Nina weren’t enough to penetrate the consistent haze of pain I found myself in.

Nina…

I miss my buttercup with an intensity that leaves me breathless. Or that could maybe be because of my depleted oxygen from smoke inhalation.

Just keeping it real.

I yearn to set eyes upon her beautiful, heart-shaped face. Those porcelain cheeks that always seem to flame when she’s embarrassed or turned on, both emotions I love to see on her and evoke from her. That silky black hair that looks fucking great around my fist.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my gown is pulled up and my hand fists my erect cock. I start at the tip, collecting the pre-cum, and use the liquid as lube, stroking myself from base to tip. My other hand reaches down to fondle my balls, and I push down on them, balancing that precarious and blurred line between pleasure and pain.

Instead of my hand around my dick, my imagination changes it to Nina’s luscious mouth, her eyes hooded as they stare up at me, half-mast.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Squirts of cum erupt from the head of my cock as I come, covering my hand and my stomach. I continue to stroke myself through my orgasm, until it no longer feels as if I might physically die of cock-icitis. That’s a real thing. Look it up. Seriously, type in Google, “death by cock.” You’ll thank me later.

Humming beneath my breath, I push my hospital gown back down, not bothering to clean myself up first, and awkwardly wipe my hand on the scratchy fabric. As soon as I get back to my prison cell, I’m going to enjoy a nice warm shower. Preferably with Nina.

Naked.

Oh, yes.

Don’t be getting another boner yet, Rion,I tell myself sternly. And then, to my dick, I add, You behave yourself, mister, or no orgasms for you.

I swear my cock depletes like a puppy being kicked, when its tail lowers itself between the dog’s legs.

Now, where the fuck am I?

I survey the graffiti-stained walls of the unfamiliar tunnel the guards have dropped me in. If my calculations are correct…the sun sets in two point five hours, and the moon is at a horizontal seventy-degree angle, and I’m approximately twenty-two point seven feet below ground, which means that the large hand on the clock is nearing a three while the short one is at five…

Which means I’ve been unconscious in the tunnel for about two hours.

And no, I’m not full of shit.

Shut up.

The guards always drug us prisoners when they bring us into and out of this level of the prison. We’re not supposed to know how to maneuver the ever-changing pathways of the Labyrinth. Of course, it’d be impossible to do that in the first place. The halls of the Labyrinth are constantly twisting and changing, almost as if they have a mind of their own. As if they’re a sentient being that breathes and bleeds. And even when you think you have a handle on the pathways, you have to account for the traps—everything from walls of nails to poisonous halls to crumbling floors.

Only the section that houses the cafeteria and cells remains still, though that has been reported to change at random as well.

Okay, so where the fuck am I?

I try to search for any location that seems familiar, but there’s nothing but gray walls, busted, rusted pipes, and clay floors covered in dried blood and dirt. It’s not the usual bloodstains from Damien’s torture sessions…because trust me, I can tell the difference between normal blood and the blood from Damien’s enemies. That blood almost seems…darker, if that’s even possible.

Which it is, because I say it is.

As I walk through the winding hall, I can feel an open breeze on my bare ass. Yes, my hospital gown is only secured by a single tie at the back of my neck. My back and butt are on display.

Which makes me even more excited to see Nina. The things we can do…

I suddenly have a vivid image of dirty nurse and sick patient foreplay.

“Nurse, I need your help.”

“What’s the matter, sexiest shifter in the world?”

“There appears to be something wrong with my cock. Can you have a look?”

“Of course. But I’ll need to get up close and personal. Would you be okay if I use my mouth? I can get a more accurate reading that way.”

I laugh giddily as I squeeze my eyelids shut, focusing on the bond I share with Nina. I would almost describe it as a silver cord laced with glittering gold stars. It seems to connect my heart to hers, my soul to hers. Obviously, the cord doesn’t actually exist, but it sure as fuck feels real when I caress it like one would a pet and get an answering tug in return.

I’m coming for you, Buttercup,I think with another gleeful laugh. I’m pretty sure that if anyone were to see me, they would think I was insane. Which is just plain rude, if you ask me. What societal definition decides who is insane and who is sane? Maybe what they actually mean is that sane is in. So, if you’re considered insane, you’re actually on the in of sane. Obviously.

It’s not rocket science.

As I continue walking, following the direction of the silver cord, I suddenly become aware of something in the distance. It almost appears to be a…a door. There are multiple padlocks prohibiting anyone from entering the room. Or maybe keeping whatever is inside the room from escaping.

You know that curiosity killed the kitty cat, Rion. Don’t be an asshole,I think to myself, even as my stupid feet glide me towards the locked door. What can I say? I have a fetish for death.

This close, I can see that there’s nothing overly significant about the door. It’s simply…a door. Made of wood. And a knob.

So a door.

But there are numerous chains crisscrossed over the surface, with more padlocks than I care to count. What is the prison protecting? Or maybe they’re hiding something?

Or maybe it’s another way out of here.

My curiosity is instantly piqued as I stick my ear against the door, listening intently.

I know that guards come and go when they need to collect inmates for one reason or another. And I also know that my shifters scouted the usual entrance and never saw them arrive or exit. We always suspected that they had more than one way in and out of the Labyrinth, but since the maze is always shifting, always changing and distorting, we could never be certain.

Is this another exit?

Is this potentially a way out of this hellish prison?

The thought makes my heart beat erratically.

And with my connection to Nina…

Is it possible for us to explore more of the Labyrinth? With the mate bond, we’ll always find our way back to her, which means we can never get lost. At least not truly. Not if we have her as our guiding compass, leading us back to safety like a lighthouse adjacent to a roiling ocean, helping wayward sailors return home.

Curiosity my guiding force, I get on my belly and attempt to peer underneath the door. While the door appears to be made of wood, I detect powerful magic vibrating around it, almost as if a mage or warlock placed a spell on it. But if there’s anyone who can defeat a spell like this, it’s my very own bro ho, Bitch Mage.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” I ask in a singsong voice. I don’t expect anyone to answer, I honestly don’t.

But a guttural growl reverberates through the still air, and the entire door begins to shake. And shake. And shake. I can hear the sound of claws running down the door, accompanied by louder growls, which are immediately followed by distorted screams. Screams of agony and pain and anger.

I jump to my feet so quickly that I get whiplash, my head spinning faster than the cars on a rollercoaster as fear crashes into me. Like, I totally want to find a litter box and take a scared shit into it right about now. Maybe I’ll call it a shitter box.

What the hell is that thing?

I begin to back away as the door continues to shake and shake and shake, almost as if the creature on the other side is trying to get out. Trying to escape. Trying to stick its claws in my skin and turn me into human confetti. And I rather like being whole and in one piece, thank you very much. This sexy ass body would not look good as confetti.

But why would the prison have a monster guarding the door?

Unless…

Unless it truly is a way to escape.

Before the thought can solidify, before I can act on one of the thousands of thoughts running rampant through my head, the Labyrinth releases a creaky groan. Suddenly, the world begins to spin, and I stick my hand against the stone wall, struggling to remain on two feet. The pathways around me begin to change with the magic of the prison, and I watch in horror as the mysterious doorway fizzles out of existence, replaced by an empty hallway interspersed with flickering torches. Now, instead of my connection with Nina leading me to the right, it directs me to the left.

As my feet begin to move in that direction, I can’t help but think about the mysterious doorway and the monster on the other side.

What, exactly, is the prison hiding from us?